#brer d

[eric9794]

Some new art I've done

[flo-nelja]

AO3 Meme

I've been tagged by @vampirenaomi, thank you!

If you want to do it, tagging @allen-kunekune, @anysin, @mnemosynelethe, @calimera62, @andersssandrew

1 How many works do you have on AO3?

1033

Most of them are very short.

2. What’s your total AO3 word count?

2253582. It's a lot.

3. What are your top 5 fics by kudos?

Your God will be my God (Jon/Martin, 924 Kudos)

Watchful (Jon/Martin, 552 Kudos)

The flower and the fairy (Original smut, 499 Kudos)

Only in a dream we are as one (Jon/Martin, 458 Kudos)

Spin their webs in the depth of our brains (Jon/Martin, 451 Kudos)

Damn, there was a time when TMA was popular. :D

4. Do you respond to comments? Why or why not?

Yes, always. I don't get that many, it's easy.

5. What’s the fic you’ve written with the angstiest ending?

Oooh, there is competition! Looking at the fics I've tagged "Bad ending" rather than all of them.

Pain and revenge is a dark rapefic, On the edge is about the characters turning evil, Le destin ne recule pas is about a desperate and failed attempt to prevent the Ragnarök, by the villains even.

6. What’s the fic you’ve written with the happiest ending?

Same, looking at the tags

L'ennemi intérieur was a longfic with dark parts but a happy ending for Stan and Ford

7. Do you write crossovers?

Rarely, compared to the total number of fics, but it happens! I had this series of Flander's Company crack crossovers.

8. Have you ever received hate on a fic?

Yes but not recently and not on AO3.

9. Do you write smut? If so, what kind?

Yes. And it's... mostly dark smut, to be fair. Unhealthy relationships, noncon, supernatural horror tropes.

I must have a few happy smut fics here, but not that many.

10. Have you ever had a fic stolen?

Not that I know.

11. Have you ever had a fic translated?

Yes! Some by myself but it doesn't count, exist in bilingual, French and English. But I also had fics translated by another person, a few times.

12. Have you ever co-written a fic before?

Yes, there's a fic a friend abandoned and let me do things with with the parts, and there's this RP adaptated

13. What’s your all-time favorite ship?

It's so hard! To remember the intensity of past shipping feelings! But then I will use an objective metric: the number of fics.

It's Bill/Ford from Gravity Falls. Not a surprise, this one has sooo many of the tropes that make me weak. Betrayal and science nerdery and deals with the devil and all.

14. What’s a WIP that you want to finish but don’t think you ever will?

My Silmarillion fic from the PoV of the villains, Les Ténèbres sur nous

15. What are your writing strengths?

For fanfic, I'm usually good at seeing the hidden implications of canon details.

16. What are your writing weaknesses?

I'm so bad at surprises and plot twists, at walking the line between "everyone must have understood this" (I'm wrong) and "no one could understand this" (I'm wrong)

17. What are your thoughts on writing dialogue in other languages in a fic?

The whole dialogue, no, unless it's a bilingual bonus that we're meant not to understand (and/or the character does this in canon)

An intranslatable word from time to time, Japanese honorific... it depends. Sometimes it sounds weird, sometimes it sounds weird not doing it.

18. What was the first fandom you wrote for?

Writing my own stories about other people's characters before I knew what fanfic was: Brer Rabbit when I was a kid.

IIRC the first fic I wrote knowing what fandom was, was a Ruroni Kenshin fic. Discovering the world of fic made me realize that I could write even if my style wasn't perfect.

19. What’s a fandom/ship you haven’t written for yet but want to?

I have hundreds of fandoms and plan to write a lot more, but in immediate plans, maybe something about the Hilda cartoon.

20. What’s your favorite fic you’ve written?

Ouch hard to decide again. I often rec Les enfants de l'acide because it's a fandom everyone knows, Vestiges de l'ordure et de la lumière because it's one of the best horror/dark humor smuts I wrote, channeling the original almost, I showed it to my grandfather even.

For my personal fave, it must me one of my BillFord fics, maybe De l'autre côté de l'éternité

[pierrotdameron]

La campagne de financement

[pidayforpi]

Oh right, one thing that the..."handsome cartoon foxes/wolves" artwork reminded me about (and before I get too embarrassed to talk about):

[Confession 1]

I actually had a..."canine phase" in my teenage years. Mostly wolves, and especially foxes. Characters I love(d) include Robin Hood, Brer Fox, Honest John, Foxy Loxy (the...old cartoon one), Gideon Grey, Finnick, Nick Wilde...

I was also interested in other mammal characters, like Duke Weaselton, Sheriff of Nottingham, Sly Cooper, Gideon (Pinocchio), Stan Woozle...

I actually also had a ferret (and mustelids in general) phase, which lasted for about a year only.

After discovering the Duckverse in 2019, I...kinda shifted my interests to birds (you can't blame me when the very first birb characters I encountered were Panchito Pistoles and José Freaking Carioca???). My interests also became more stable since then. (For example, I have been interested in Disney ducks to this day) (Before, my interests shifted quite frequently, so I had never been actually engaged in a fandom).

I still like the characters I mentioned above, as well as other non-avian characters I have started to like after 2019 (e.g. Wile E Coyote, Bugs Bunny, Max Goof, Pete) (Funny that I have known them since childhood, but only started to love them rather recently). I still love them very much, along with my Daffy, Fethry, Ari...

[Confession 2]

Nick Wilde. Oh, Nick.

Out of all the foxes I once loved, I would say Nick is the most important one.

Because Nick once had a disproportionately important impact in my life.

I can't stress enough how accurate the description of a "disproportionately important impact" is.

Okay, before you die from cringe, please note that I was a very-teenager teenager when Zootopia aired. I know it's cringe, but the feelings were very, very real.

To keep it short(er), Zootopia entered my life in a...rather difficult time of mine. I now realise that was a period of depression...which Zootopia (and Nick) had both a positive and negative effect on. I have stated in my Undertale story idea cringe that Zootopia had occupied my mind for much longer and deeper, and that cannot be closer to the truth.

Let's say that the spring of 2016, when Zootopia was on screen, was one of the happiest, most memorable, and most dramatic moments in my life.

Nick was (is) my favourite character in the movie, and so...he kind of symbolises the effects the movie had to me. Both positive ones, and negative ones.

Again, I cannot stress enough how accurate this description is.

As far as I know, Zootopia is the longest of those many "transient interests" I had in my childhood. It had stuck with me for...3 years actually, through times of very high and times of very low.

Even approaching a decade, if there's a movie that has affected me the most, it is still Zootopia.

[sbnkalny]

admiral-craymen: I loved the dark Knight is what people would want it in the first aren't They at heavy risk to bleeding out?

admiral-craymen: He personally really loved the pc engine games in full attack form his snout will be so large it snaps OFF my neck and wowza

admiral-craymen: This form Of dragon has taken on a new game "vise challenge": you put your dragon in full Attack form His snout will be so large it snaps off my neck

admiral-craymen: New Game "vise challenge": you put your dragon in the game’s seventh episode.

admiral-craymen: There's a new game "vise challenge": you put My big stupid pill case for morons who take idiot pills? I need Something to carry more of them!

admiral-craymen: There's a new game "vise challenge": you put your finger in the dam - now I can't Remember what I said in a depressed voice.“Hi Ebony.” he said back

admiral-craymen: There's a New game "vise challenge": you put a pink bow on your avatar so people know a lot about shitting but damm

admiral-craymen: There's a new game "vise challenge": you put my mind to -d

admiral-craymen: New game "vise challenge": you put a 250-lb meatloaf in THE oven

admiral-craymen: New game "vise challenge": you put your Hands up, bend your knees, bounce around in space

admiral-craymen: New game "vise challenge": you put your balls in a vise and tighten it

admiral-craymen: There's a new GAME "vise challenge": You put your balls in a few days of its irresponsible youth, was to lie low, like Brer Fox, just before the end of the cork by lighting it, letting it Burn and blowing it out.

admiral-craymen: New game "vise challenge": you put on, it's a gentle stripping back to me? may 19, 1998 rumors going Around that a researcher who tried and failed to reach her

[davidpwilson2564]

Bloglet

Monday, January 23, 2023

Highly unlikely that Trump will face criminal charges for efforts to overturn election results in Georgia.  Some of the lesser Trumpers, the foot-soldiers, may be in trouble. (Giuliani among them.)

Tuesday, January 24,  2023

Marjorie Taylor Greene has found a pal in Kevin McCarthy.  He’s really enjoying it.  Like giddy highschoolers, they take selfies of themselves together.  It is stomach turning to watch.  He has put her on some committees.  Homeland Security is, I think, one of them.  And she’s nuts.  You wouldn’t trust her with your guppies.  Someone else on the scene down there in D C says “Oh, she’s changed.”  Meaning she now thinks 9/11 and Sandy Hook are real?  But still an election denier, like McCarthy and his unsavory friends.  Matured?  The woman is in her mid-forties, not her teens. 

Jeff T., whom I haven’t seen since a high school reunion way back, says he is coming into town this weekend to enter his dog into the big show.  Says we could get together.  Says I might come down to the Javits Center and see him and maybe (though he didn’t say this I can’t help thinking it) meet his dog.  I didn’t tell him: dogs instinctively dislike ex paperboys.  More about this anon.  

Wednesday, January 25, 2023

MTG says she is keen to be DJT’s running mate.  The clown car is filling up.  

Wretched weather.  

My eightieth birthday (too fast!) approaches.  

Disney World at Orlando remains of great cultural interest to my sister’s family. She tells me that Splash Mountain is closed (I think I mentioned this before)...it had a Song of the South theme.  Brer Rabbit, Brer Bear...Uncle Remus stories.  Not p c.  Now closed but devotees can purchase a jar of water from his (pseudo) sacred site, at a cost of two hundred dollars.  As if it had some curative powers.  

to be continued

[cannabrer]

I’m making something

[honeyofaplace]

Some veeery old flip-phone photos from one of the times I was evacuated off Splash Mountain. Awful quality, but wanted to share anyway. This is my favorite scene in the ride and it was very exciting to get up close with a couple of the animatronics and see things at angles you normally can’t view from the log!

[frc-ambaradan]

Let's rewind 73 years and 3499 issues back to Topolino #1

Times were dire in 1949. Italy had just exited II World War in... erm... not the best shape 🙄. Italian currency, the lira, had fall to about a 30th of its pre-war value. People had barely the money to buy food, let alone newspapers or -god forbid!- comics.

Saving money was publishers code word. Milan based publishing house Mondadori had just resumed printing Topolino after two years of stop due to the war (they acquired it in 1935 from Nerbini), and in 1949 sales had dropped: it was time to cut the costs. What better way than to put to work some unused rotary presses?

The previous year Mondadori started publishing an italian version of the Reader's Digest (the Selezione dal Reader's Digest), which was a monthly publication, that meant the rotary presses bought specifically to print it had a substantial idle time. Maybe they could use them to print Topolino?

Well, yes... but there comes the problem: the Selezione dal Reader's Digest had a completely different format that newspaper size Topolino.

Selezione dal Reader's Digest #8 dated May 1949

It was Arnoldo Mondadori's brilliant intuition to transform the big, inconvenient newspaper into a smaller digest size comic book with Disney stories only.

Starting from Topolino #737, Mondadori began advertising the big changes that were about to come. Changes that would affect not only the size of the publication but its frequency too: Topolino wouldn't be a weekly publication any more but a monthly one.

Inside page of Topolino (newspaper) #738 announcing the big changes!

Issue #738 was the last one in newspaper format. In April 1949 comes a totally new magazine starting over from issue #1: it's a little booklet of 100 pages, sized 12,5×17,8cm with a bright red cover dominated by a joyous Mickey Mouse dressed as a band conductor . It was the beginning of a new age.

At Mondadori, though, they were not entirely convinced about the success of the operation. Such big changes tend to scare customers away, especially if you consider the price increase from 15 to 60 lire! But it was those same customers to prove them wrong (I mean, was Arnoldo Mondadori ever wrong?).

The readers loved the new Topolino. Sales increased rapidly and already in issue #8 readers could find a postcard in which the publisher asked them how would they feel about Topolino becoming a fortnightly publication? Just asking... :D

So... "Do you want Topolino to become fortnightly? Write YES or NO in the box to the right"

Topolino became fortnightly in 1952 and in 1960 it was back to be a weekly magazine. From 1961 it is fully in color and in 1967 it acquires its signature yellow spine.

Topolino #1 had a circulation of about 100.000 copies. Despite the wide diffusion a mint copy of it, nowadays, it's worth around 2000€ that's mainly because it's HIGHLY sought-after.

(Obviously a reprint of) Topolino #1 😜

The first story of Topolino #1 is actually the 27th and last chapter of Guido Martina's "Topolino e il cobra bianco". The story was previously published on Topolino newspaper from issue number 713 to 738. And this issue also marks the debut of Eega Beeva in Italy by publishing Floyd Gottfredson's story "The Man of Tomorrow".

Mondadori kept publishing Topolino up until 1988 with minimal changes and even after that the magazine basically remained untouched. The biggest difference between today's issue #3500 and 1949's #1 it's the binding, and the modern Topolino is a bit larger.

We can undoubtedly affirm that Arnoldo Mondadori is the father of Topolino as we know it today. And we must thank him if Topolino is the most long running comic book in Italy (sorry, Tex, but the years spent in newspaper format DO COUNT 😏).

Here's a list of the stories published on Topolino #1 (worth to be noted, Martina's "Topolino e il cobra bianco" is the only italian one: the italian Disney school was just at the beginning):

Topolino e il cobra bianco The Man of Tomorrow Gladstone Returns Brer Rabbit Bucky Bug as fire fighter Li'l Bad Wolf - Red Riding Hoodwinked Pluto saves the ship The Old Castle's Secret

From left to right: Arnoldo Mondadori, Topolino's editor-in-chief Mario Gentilini and Walt Disney in Milan during the Salone del Bambino book fair (September 1965). Source.

[mugasofer]

Re: "fanfic of Christian canon by a believer is probably better compared to science fiction", it's like how loads of isekai anime source material are clearly aping the same inspirational source novels like Sword Art Online, but because they file the serial numbers off, they get to call it "development of a genre" instead of fanfic. See also "this giant robot anime is a direct response to Eva."

Yeah, I can't help but wonder how much copyright law has distorted our very idea of "genre".

For example, DC Comics successfully sued Captain Marvel and other imitators into the ground back in the day for copying Superman. But as the superhero genre has become more popular, that's come to seem kind of ridiculous. Pretty much every superhero setting these days has a Superman analogue - Marvel has half a dozen! (Hyperion, Gladiator, Sun God, Sentry, and Blue Marvel are all direct Superman riffs, and arguably Ikaris, just off the top of my head.) Even DC themselves, thanks to absorbing other companies, have ended up with a bunch of these guys floating around - Icon, Captain Atom (and Dr Manhattan via him), and, of course, Captain Marvel Shazam for instance.

Traditionally, when someone came up with a cool idea for a story like the Arthurian knights or Robin Hood or Brer Rabbit or whoever, people would just build on that openly. That was a huge part of what a culture's storytelling tradition was. But we're censoring what used to be the majority of fiction to varying degrees.

And not always successfully, as with the aforementioned examples, or LotR/D&D-based fantasy, or what have you. But often enough. You may be able to make a mainstream Superman-knockoff story like Invincible, but good luck doing that with, say, Spider-Man.

[dirtylowdown2]

Bo-Bo Jenkins 10 Below Zero FORTUNE 838

Detroit, 1956 v/g, with Robert Richard, hca; James ''Brer Rabbit'' Johnson, g; Ted Walker, d

via Miriam Linna

different version on 45...

[disneylandguru]

Aww, how nice! Brer Rabbit got Brer Fox and Brer Bear a gift! 🎁 #disneyland #disney #disneylandholidays #disneylife #disneygram #disneyparks #disneylandholidaytime #instadisney #disneyfan #crittercountry #splashmountain #disneylove #disneyig #disneystyle #disneymagic #disneylanddetails #waltdisney #d #disneyaddict #disneyinsta #disneylandcalifornia #disneylandanaheim #disneybound #disneystore #disneylandresort (at Disneyland - Theme Park) https://www.instagram.com/p/B50tYcLAO8i/?igshid=1tjifllk2vaop

[sierracolorstheworldofwords]

Eric Derekson x fem chubby reader

An: This is something I wrote a few months ago, it’s just a mess of fluff. I’m posting it Bc idk I felt like I should?? Idk. Ummm yea

ALSO I DO NOT SEE ENOUGH CONTENT FOR MY BOY!! And this was originally posted on my Wattpad, Emmawinterfrost. So if you like this, please check it out!

Holding hands while sitting on swing sets.

Staring at the sunset.

Sneaking out, late at night for kisses under the magnolia tree.

Straddling your motorcycle, you looked at Eric as the sun rose and peaked over the hilly horizon, spreading its orange arms out, extending yellow and red tinged fingers of light.

He twisted his yellow handkerchief, and pushed his glasses up.

"...D-do.. Do you really ha-have to go?" He whispered, looking down, tears in his eyes as he stood in front of the white picket fence of his yard.

Biting your lip, you looked at him, and softly replied: "You could always come with me, Eric.."

"You.. you know I can't. He'll find me.."

"And I'll protect you from him."

He looked up, brown eyes becoming tainted with the morning light, turning into soft honeyed orbs full of watery tears.

"Pluh- ple- Please, don't go.."

"Come with me."

Eric clenched his handkerchief tighter, twisting it through his hands, he looked away from you, away from the sunrise which stood behind you, and towards the road you were going to take.

He looked back to you, conflicted, his eyebrows furrowed.

"I— where are you even going?"

"Out."

"O-Out..?"

"Yes. Out. Out of this small town, out of Mississippi— out of having to stay here for the rest of our lives...Out.

"B-but.. wh-what about your family? What.. what about me?"

"Eric, come with me— we can both get out! I got enough money saved for us and we could get an apartment and—"

"I can't."

Your shoulders slumped, eyes filling with sadness as you looked at him, tears starting to pool inside of your eyes.

"You can— but only if you want to."

"But my dad.."

"Your dad treats you like shit and you know it."

"Well yeah- but—"

"You don't deserve that and you know it."

All the memories flashed between you, the first kiss behind the school, holding hands in the hallways, soft glances at each other across from the library.

Nervous, exited, young love.

You wanted him to come with you, and he wanted to come.

"I—I..." He glanced at his white, neat house, covered in greenish gray Spanish moss and ivy, trees leaned over the roof, protecting, and safe, like his mother's arms— yet, at the same time, trapping him, wrapping their fingers around his throat like his father's tight grip.

Those trees always reminded him of his mother, her tanned skin and soft, brown eyes.

He could hear her laughter swimming through the trees, riding the wind like how fish ride the waves.

He could have sworn he heard her voice, telling him to go.

Eric looked back at you, and then towards his childhood home once again.

What lay there? What ghosts rested in those empty halls?

He could remember stumbling, a toddler, chasing his big brothers.

He could see himself by his mother's knee as she peeled potatoes, telling him about Brer Rabbit and how he nailed fox's tail to the roof.

He could see the day after his mother died, all of them dressed in black.

He could see his father getting worse after his mother died, drowning himself in alcohol.

He could see his brothers, laughing and giggling, tugging and pulling at each other, the day before the accident.

He could see his first girlfriend as they sat underneath the tree, her small form against his.

Then, he could see you.

You, throwing pebbles at his window the day after the break up, and climbing up the tree near his window to bring him ice cream and his favorite candies.

You, sneaking him out of the house, and driving him across town to the drive in theater.

You, kissing him suddenly underneath the moonlight.

You, apologizing like crazy and stumbling over words and he could see himself, taking you in his arms and kissing you back passionately.

He could see you.

You.

Dream girl, complicated dream girl who was a complex, puzzle of abnormalities.

You.

Girl who read books about far off places and far off towns and collected maps.

You.

Girl who woke him up at three in the morning to see a meteor shower.

You.

He saw you.

You, the girl who took both of his hands and forced him to go explore the world again.

You, the girl who waited for him as the both of you explored the hills, picking wildflowers and giggling while putting them in each other's hair.

You, explosive girl. You, mischievous girl. You, smiling girl. You, giggling girl. You, curious girl. You, loving girl. You.

You. You. You. You.

You, the girl who was his friend even when other kids left because they said he looked like a freak.

You, the girl who even though all the kids made fun of her, tried her best to be herself.

You, girl who stuck by him and told him about far off places.

You, the girl who refused to believe what people told her.

You, the girl who showed him he could be confident too. You, the girl who changed his life for the better.

You...You..he didn't want to lose you.

He couldn't afford— he couldn't handle losing anyone else.

He didn't want to lose you, the only spark in his life.

Realizing this, he looked away from the house, and towards you, the sun pierced his eyes as it shone behind you; creating a halo of light.

"I'll go." He said.

Your eyes widened in surprise.

"You will?" You whispered.

"Yes."

You kicked down the kick stand of your motorcycle and helped him on.

You gave him a yellow helmet, and put on your orange one.

"Let's go." You said, putting up the kick stand, and revving up the bike. He wrapped his arms around your waist, and swallowed nervously.

"It'll be alright, I promise." You said, starting up the motorcycle and riding onto the slick, long road.

Eric looked back, one more time, watching the old trees grow smaller and smaller.

Then, he looked forward, at the long road, and welcomed the change.

Smiling, you looked forward and yelled;

"Hellooooo bright world!"

Laughing, he yelled back;

"Helloooo bright world!"

And giggling, both of you sailed down the road, welcoming the adventure.

[thebearwitchproject]

Folk-Belief in the Virginia Lowlands (1894)

The following text was  first published in The Journal of American Folklore Vol. VII, No. 25 (  April-June,1894). It notes several folk beliefs from settlers along the James River in the Tidewater region of Virginia. 

FOLK-BELIEF IN THE VIRGINIA LOWLANDS. - These people retain many of the customs and forms of speech which were used in England during the early half of the eighteenth century; their language has the sound of a bygone period. The counterpart of their speech can be found only in books printed in England one hundred and fifty years ago. In the old family burying grounds scattered along the James River from Jamestown southward to Hampton Roads are old tombstones which bear inscriptions dating back to 1700 A. D. One has the following - 

                         Here Lies John Roscoe, Gentleman                           Boren in Chorlie England, 1684                                                                               Died at Blunt Point Va. 1734. 

These stones were of course brought across the water from England, as were also the bricks for the houses, the foundations of which are still visible. The old plantations have been divided up among the children from one generation to another, until now each family has not more than twenty or thirty acres and a little house of two or three rooms. 

They have many quaint signs. When a rooster crows after five o'clock in the evening, the women and children all turn out to run him down, that they may feel of his feet if they are cold. The crow foretells a death in the family, but if his feet are warm an early wedding is expected. 

The girls burn small pine knots until they fall to pieces, then extinguish the fire, and from the centre of the knot they take what seems just like a hair from some one's head; the color of this hair tells them the color of the hair of their future husband. 

I did not believe they really found any such thing in a pine knot, until they burned some in my room to prove it to me: there really was in each knot what looked like a hair - sometimes black, sometimes light. 

On certain days of the year, the girls look in pools of water, expecting to see the face of their future husband; and at eleven o'clock on the first night of May all the girls go in groups of three or four and pick sage: the first beau of their acquaintance whom they meet after this is to be the future husband. 

When there is a death in the family the clock is always stopped, and never started until after the burial; this custom is universal. 

After death the medicine is religiously saved, the cork being removed from the bottle, which is left standing several weeks on the mantel; if the quantity remains good, everything is all right, but if, by evaporation, the quantity should grow less, then the medicine is understood to have been tricked, and thus to have caused the death. 

Any suspicious little bundle of twigs or sticks found under a house or doorstep are supposed to have been placed there by some old, evil-minded negress, such persons being supposed to have the power of working charms and "tricks." It would take quite a sum of money to hire one of these poor people to take up the ashes from their fireplaces after twelve o'clock at midday, so strong is their belief that it would bring trouble upon the house. 

They have strong religious feelings, and the children are taught when they rise from the table after meals to say, "Thank and bless the Lord Par." They often keep up this custom until they are full-grown men. 

The remedy for hamorrhage is a common grass sack placed on the floor under the bed, and a few years ago the remedy for rheumatism was to have the patient stand nude one hour in a barrel of very cold water. 

They call their aunts and uncles "Sis" and "Brer" instead of uncle and aunt; thus it is "Sis Fannie" and "Brer Billy." And they have a way of speaking it as if it was all one word; so at first I thought for a long time that a lady's name was Sisanna, but found later it was "Sis Anna." Another name I thought was Bertoody, until it proved to be "Brer Tootty." 

"Come day, go day, God send Sunday," is a phrase used to describe a family who live well today without saving for the future. 

They are firm believers in "haunts" and tokens, and the sight of a haunt is thought a sure token of a death. The Lord is always called by the name of " Old Master," and the Devil is known as the " Old Boy," or "Old Harry."

 In speaking of anything at a distance they call it "yonder," as, for example, " Yon is Brer Willie's boat;" and they sing many old songs in which the word " yonder " is often used. 

They have one beautiful custom: when a death occurs in the neighborhood, all out-of-door work is suspended until after the burial; if these poor, ignorant men are ploughing when they hear the tidings, they do not wait to go to the end of the furrow, but the horses are stopped instantly, and all their time and sympathy are given to the afflicted; often fifty persons will watch with the dead in a house of two rooms.

[brercalebphd]

Pendulum To Gods Creation, Brer Caleb, Ph. D. Deception Protocol Simplif...