#Places Far From Ellesmere

[imagine-that]

Thing of the past

One shot #56

Summary: Regulus’ wedding brings up old feelings, especially since it’s not to you…

Pairing: Regulus x gender neutral! Reader

Warnings: none unless you count angst lol

A/N: it’s been a while!!!!! I missed this, just haven’t gotten around my laptop as of late, it sucks lol. I’m trying to get back into it I promise, this is mostly just an old edited draft, but I love it so much, and I hope you guys do too!!!!!!

As you slowly rose to your feet, your breath caught in your throat, watching the bride enter the room with all eyes trained on her.

She wasn’t an exceptionally pretty girl, but that was just in your bitter opinion. In reality, you knew she was quite stunning. It wasn’t that you were insecure about yourself, it was more the tired anger bubbling inside you, making you wish you could deny the beauty of the woman gliding past you, enchanting the hall with her smile.

The groom, well you couldn’t bring yourself to look in his general direction either. Your head bowed as though you were saying a prayer for the happy new couple, you nearly toppled over just sitting back down.

The minister stood at the front, ordaining the ceremony with a cheerful tone but your heart was racing so loudly in your throat that you barely registered a look. The people sitting next to you occasionally glanced with narrowed eyes, reminding you just how out of place you really were.

Of course you’d begged Sirius to come with you, be your arm to hold for the day but he would rather be hung upside-down by his robes than set foot back into the House of Black, so you had been forced to take on the burden alone.

you heard a chorusing of ‘I do’s’ over the loud beating of your pulse and turned your attention to the front of the room, trying your best not to seem more anxious than you really were. 

Celestina Ellesmere was really a sight for sore eyes, despite your own best efforts to see otherwise. Her dress was perfect for the wedding, completely as extravagant, elegant, traditional and proper as the Black family themselves prided themselves as. Her thick, dark red hair was curled to perfection, just as you envisioned Walburga insisting on, as there was no way possible she was allowed to decide such things on her own. The only thing that seemed out of place was the smile on her face, too bright to belong in a house so darkened with rage.

Had it been any other day than this, perhaps you may have cracked some kind of Weasley related joke, just to watch Walburgas face contort as it did when she was angry, which was most definitely often. Of course that would have earned a grin from Regulus.

And Regulus. Oh Regulus, the reason you had showed. He looked like a far more grown up version of the boy who had let you stumble over his feet at the yule ball without a word, yet chuckled every time he had to catch you by the waist. He was a less innocent version of the quiet boy who gave you a book he had already read without so much as an explanation, and then waited patiently to hear your thoughts while he ran his fingers through your hair.

He looked like a right and proper Black himself, looking just as sullen as the rest. You frowned, watching as his gentle eyes looked cold, dark. 

Smoothing your ensemble over with your hands, you reminded yourself you were there to support him, despite the pain it brought. He deserved a familiar face aside from family and you knew he never had many friends.

Truthfully, Celestina seemed like a terrible match for him. She was just as quiet, and even more compliant by the way Walburga seemed to be bossing her around when you had arrived earlier. 

You remembered her being from Beauxbatons when the ball had rolled around and she was a nice enough girl. But her cheerfulness and social nature was far from that of Regulus. He kept to himself always.

“You may kiss the bride.” The minister said, drawing you back from your analysis of the poor girl. Everyone seemed to be clapping so you joined in, trying not to watch as their lips finally met.

The ceremony ended as they walked out the back of the foyer and others followed, making their way to the front yard.

“Do you know the bride or the groom darling?” A young french girl asks and you automatically know she’s a friend or relative of Celestina.

“Groom. Reg and I go all the way back to Hogwarts.” You explain dryly, trying not to draw out the topic too much.

“Yes they were very close.” Teases a woman behind you and you grit your teeth, recognizing the sound of Bella’s voice instantly.

She had taunted you and Reg for year after year of your relationship, making visits to Regulus’ family all the more wearing on your nerves. 

The young girl nods kindly and walks away to your dismay, leaving you with Bellatrix.

“What are you doing here?” She demands.

“I am supporting a friend.” You hiss back defensively, trying to walk away from her.

“Reggie doesn’t need your support dirty blood!” She growls back and you scoff, pushing her further away from you.

“I am not here to discuss my bloody blood status so if that is all you want to talk about, bugger off. Actually either way, leave me alone.” You tell her, storming off towards the reception.

You stand around the corner for a while once you reach outside, trying to collect your thoughts. Everything seems so messy, so wrong. Its selfish to think Regulus should have been kissing you up there instead but you just know it’s true, despite however wrong it may be.

“Y/n, I told you, I don’t care if my mother doesn’t approve. She’ll get over it, but I will never get over you. You have my word.” He’d promised, kissing your knuckle with the silver band on it. Just moments prior, he slid that ring on your finger as a sort of promise, the kind you only make to your truest love.

“But Reg, you and your parents are so close. I know how much it means to you to impress them...” You argue, a worried frown on your face.

“They are not going to disown me over the person I bloody love. Besides, they need at least one golden child, and that certainly isn’t my dear older brother.” He joked, making you sigh at the implied competition. 

Still, you had accepted the excuse with open arms, hugging him tightly with glee when he told you you would always be his person.

The music quietly starting across the yard lulled you slowly to a less tense state, taking deep breaths with your hand wrapped around your necklace chain instinctively. 

Regulus still looked dashing as ever as the couple made their grand entrance as a married union, earning loud applause and whistles of encouragement from even the worst of the Black family. Andromeda was the loudest, yelling and whistling with a childlike glee you hadn’t seen in a long time.

Her eyes caught yours as Walburga went to scold her and she immediately b-lined to you, a storm of blue hair running towards you.

“Hello you!! You look absolutely lovely. I can’t believe you came!!!” She says, immediately embracing you in her arms.

“Hi Andromeda, it’s been a while.” You say with a light laugh, trying to keep your smile up for her sake.

“Blimey, I thought you would run for the hills with Severus before you would ever show your face here! Not that I’m not pleased to see you of course, I’m just surprised Reggie was allowed to even invite you. His mother is.... well bloody hell you know how she is, I don’t need to explain it.” She says, taking you swiftly by the arm, dragging you towards the refreshments.

“Perhaps Walburga had a change of heart? Either way, I’m not here to cause trouble. I’m here to congratulate my FRIEND Regulus. That’s it.” You say, more to assure yourself than her.

Andromeda fills a glass from the glittering crystal fountain and takes a quick sip.

“Well you look rather eye-catching doing so... a little too much for an exes wedding if you ask me.” She teases and you sigh.

“Is it so wrong for me to prefer to look my best in front of him? We haven’t spoken much since Graduation or since our... run in in Diagon Alley. I was shocked to even get an invitation, let alone a personal note with it.” You explain and her eyes widen at the new information you didn’t realize you’d given her.

It was true, you hadn’t seen him since about a year ago on a trip to Diagon Alley with your niece. You were taking her to get her first group of supplies for Hogwarts and there he was, looking closely into the window of a very recognizable storefront.

You held up a robe for Halle, raising a brow to ask if she liked it, to which she shook her head and stuck out her tongue in disgust.

“Halle you have to have plain robes for school. I know you don’t love them and they’re a little boring, but they’ll get better once you get sorted.” You promise her, giggling as she dramatically sighs, throwing her hands up in dismay.

“If you cooperate with the rest of the rules for school things, I will let you pick out the most amazing pet you can think of to join you there.” You offer, earning a large grin with an excited nod.

Just as you finish getting her items rung up with your brothers money in hand, you notice a shaggy head of raven hair loitering across the way. Your face grows a grin and you take Halle’s bag, taking her hand and leading her towards the familiar face with you.

“Aunt/uncle y/n, can I pleaseeee go look at the new brooms? There’s Annie’s family right there, she’s a friend! I’ll be good I promise!” She begs, pouting her lip at you. Annie’s mother looks up at the sound of her daughters name and gives you a smile, nodding in agreement to the idea.

“Yes I suppose. But behave please! When you’re done we’ll go get your wand, alright?” You promise, but she’s already with the group before you’re finished.

You turn back around, finding a familiar face staring back at you.

“So you’re a parent now?” Regulus says with a smile, making you practically swoon at the sight.

“No no, Halle is my brothers. I actually thought you had met but I suppose I was mistaken.” You reply, smiling back shyly.

“We have actually. I was only kidding.” He explains, smiling wider at your flustered nature.

“Right, right. How could I forget.” You giggle, a pained smile taking over as your face blushes. “So what brings you to Diagon? I mean last I checked you didn’t have any little ones of your own running around but it has been a while.” You joke, making him shake his head with a small but suddenly awkward chuckle.

“No um... I’m actually here to pick up... pick up a ring.” He explains, his adams apple bobbing as he swallows.

“Oh! I should have known, I mean you are standing outside the jewelry store.” You respond, trying to lighten the mood and hold back a frown.

He nods, his face having since lost the smile you loved. You bite your lip, a nervous habit adopted in times of need such as this one.

“Reg?” You say after a moment when he turns to go back towards the store.

“Hm?” He responds, his eyes once again meeting yours and filling you with an equal mix of dread and glee at his quick, almost excited reaction to the nickname.

“What’s her name?” You ask, swallowing thickly as the question escapes your lips.

He looks surprised at the question, turning his full attention back to you.

Regulus takes a deep breath before giving you an answer. 

“Celestina Ellesmere.” He responds, without so much as a lick of joy or love in the answer. You nod with a sad smile, not bothering with a goodbye as you turn around to find your niece, letting a few tears fall down your face as you silently hope for him to stop you, which never comes.

“We ran into each other when I was bringing my niece to the shops, that’s all.” You explain, giving her warning eyes to tell her there’s nothing more. You felt bad for lying but knew it was best it stay your own little secret.

“And what about this special invitation? You have to explain that as well!” She demands.

“It wasn’t special, it was personal, that’s all.” You try to dismiss but she’s not having it and you know it.

“Fine! Come here.” You sigh, pulling her with you to a quiet and empty corner. She eagerly follows, wanting more.

“When I got the invite I was shocked enough. I went to throw it out, rip it up, whatever I was going to do with it.” You start, taking a glass of whatever drink from a nearby tray and downing it quickly.

“Well when I ever so harshly put it back in the envelope, I found a note from Reg himself that said ‘It was good running into you, I really wish things could be different for us. Perhaps in another life, things would work like we wanted. Hope to see you, R.A.B.’ It was odd and kind of scary. We hadn’t properly spoken since graduation, as I already mentioned. And now I am here.” You say in a low voice, trying to keep your cool. Andromeda fails to keep her own, gasping at full volume.

“You have got to tell him! I can tell you still love him too, he must know!” She insists, practically jumping up and down with excitement.

“No! Bloody hell, he’s married now Andromeda. It wouldn’t do anything but ruin his happy life.” You say with a sullen tone.

“But-” She starts and you shake your head.

“But nothing! I’m not going to ruin his life, his future for my own selfish needs. Despite my own feelings, professing my undying love to the man who just professed his own to another woman would do no good. I can’t do that to him or myself no matter how much I know that will hurt when I’m old and wondering all the what ifs, but I love him far too much to ever drag him through that hurt alongside me.” You cry, tears making their way down your face. Andromeda reaches over and pulls you into a tight, warm hug.

“I’m sorry, you love who now?” A voice says behind you, warranting a loud gasp from your formerly sobbing lips.

“No one! Your-your brother! That’s who.” You exclaim, trying to brush away the tears nonchalantly.

“Y/n, my brother is in love with his best friend, I highly doubt you and him have ever had much to do with each other romantically, now please explain what you meant by everything I have just heard you say.” Regulus demands, ushering Andromeda away and taking her spot, stood directly in front of you.

“I can’t do that Regulus.” You say sternly, going to leave the spot anxiously.

He grabs your arm gently, his warm hand resting in the crook of your arm.

“You’ve not called me by my full name since the year we met. I know why you’re calling me it now, but I just... I need to hear it for myself... Please Y/n.” He pleads, his eyes full of something you can’t fully determine.

“Regulus...” You sigh, trying to get a better distance between the two of you.

“Please.” He asks again, his gaze meeting yours.

“You shouldn’t make me do this to you on your magical day. It’s rather cruel. But if I must...” You reply, watching as he nods in agreement.

“You should have never put that note in my invitation. I should have never come to begin with. You are a married man now Regulus. We’re not the same idiot teenagers we were at Hogwarts when we promised our love to each other. We’re grown adults with other responsibilities and one of yours now belongs to your wife.” You scold and he rolls his eyes, earning a swift smack on the arm. He chuckles in shock as soon as the impact meets.

“This is not funny!” You cry. “I loved you then and I love you now and I never wanted to tell you that ever because you deserve to have a good full loving marriage and I shouldn’t be selfish and risk ruining that for you-” You ramble until he steps in closer, trying to kiss your lips.

“Regulus!” You shriek, pushing him back.

“She calls me Regulus.” He says plainly, as if it’s an excuse.

“What?” You ask back, eyebrows drawn in confusion.

“She calls me Regulus.” He repeats with a shrug. “No Reg, no Reggie, no nicknames or terms of endearment at all really. Just my name.” He continues.

“I don’t dislike her. I just don’t love her either. I feel indifferent towards her, and she’s my wife now.” He laughs in disbelief. “Every bloody man I know tells me how lucky I am to be with a woman as beautiful as she is, as kind as she is but when they do that all I can think about is YOUR eyes, YOUR lips, YOUR smile, YOUR hair between my fingers. People rave about her but the only person I can think of is you y/n/n.” He confesses and you stay silent, biting your lip just like you used to.

“Why in merlin’s name would you marry her then for gods sake?” You ask hoarsely, tears in your eyes once again.

“Why do you think?” He responds, running a hand over his face. “My mother wants pureblood, and she always gets as she wants.” He says simply, as though it’s just a fact of life for everyone.

“Why would you invite me then? Why make me watch your suffering while going through my own?” You question, feeling especially small in such a grand room.

“Because I couldn’t do this if you weren’t in the room when it happened.” Regulus admits and before you can inquire what he means by that, he grabs you by the face and kisses you again, only this time you give in for a few moments of bliss.

“Stop, stop... Reg please.” You hum, trying your best to keep your mind straight through the haze.

“I can’t, they’ll notice I’m missing soon darling.” He hums back, pressing his lips lightly on yours again. You push him back gently, looking him in the eye, both of you flushed.

“I’m not... I can’t let you do this...” You sigh, your lip pouting naturally.

“Let me do what exactly? Be with the woman I truly do love? Trust me y/n/n, I don’t need permission to do this. I’ll gladly do it without a second thought because you and I belong together and we both know it.” He declares, running his hands over your body slowly.

“Reg, it’s more complicated than that and you know it... there’s vows attached, and they aren’t between the two of us. I may love you, but I am not your woman on the side.” You laugh, grabbing his hands and placing them at his sides.

He takes a deep breath, weighing his words in his head.

“I didn’t choose this for myself love. I don’t choose anything for myself. The only thing I’ve ever truly had for me was you. I know this isn’t an ideal situation but... please give it a chance. Let me show you we can be more than just a behind the scenes thing, because I’m not sure I can go on if you don’t darling.” He pleads, his gaze practically melting you.

“Regulus please, please stop. I can’t listen to you without turning to warm butter when you call me your pet names, I can’t even think straight. This is wrong, we both know it.” You murmur, staring down at the floor to keep from seeing his moment of defeat.

“I can’t be with her you know. I can’t- I won’t be with her when you’re still out there and I know how you feel for me.” He promises, groaning in frustration.

Suddenly, a dreaded idea occurs to you. On any normal occasion, you would have never once, even for a split moment wanted such a thing, but looking at him in his suit, practically on his knees for you while another woman stood in the other room, waiting for his company, it was the best you could come up with.

“Then don’t. You don’t have to know.” You whisper, taking his face into your hands gently, letting a tearful smile take over your face. He looks puzzled, his mind nowhere near where yours was at now.

“We’re a thing of the past Regulus. Your family would never accept this, we both have always known. It should stay untainted, two young people in love for eternity. That’s all it could ever be. Your bride deserves better, as do you.” You continue, carefully drawing your wand from your pocket with shaking fingers.

His eyes leave yours and dart down to your hands, the realization hitting him all at once.

“Y/n/n, no. You can’t- you would never-“ he begs, his eyes once again filled with sadness.

“It’s for the both of us Regulus. In due time, perhaps the story of us will take a turn… but for now it has to be this way.” You say, your voice so soft you weren’t sure he’d hear a word you said.

He holds up his hands, trying to pull your wand from your grasp but you back away swiftly and take a deep breath before uttering the word “Obliviate” with tears falling down your face.

Regulus shuts his eyes as his memories are stolen from him and you take that split second to slip out and disappear into the crowd, wiping the salty tears from your cheeks and sniffling as you hide in the back, watching as they call for the first dance.

There, you see his face reappear, joined by that of Celestina as they join hands, gliding around the floor in the way you were sure his mother had insisted they learned. He spins her around and you feel the ghost of his hand in yours again, shutting your eyes to savour the feeling.

As their dance comes to a close, you watch the small smatter of applause and make your way towards the door, not looking back. Though if you had, you’d have seen his once again cold, indifferent gaze change to a glimmer of recognition as his eyes caught your figure exiting the festivities, going alone into the starry night.

#regulus x you #regulus imagine #regulus x y/n #regulus black #imagine #imagines #fanfic #fanfiction #regulus angst #regulus black x reader #regulus black x you #regulus black x y/n #character x you #x you #young marauders #harry potter imagines #harry potter marauders #harry potter fanfic #harry potter imagine #harry potter fanfiction #harry potter universe #young regulus black #angst #harry potter angst #fanfic angst #angst fanfic #angsty regulus #regulus fanfiction #regulus black fic #marauders era angst

[lepurcinus]

Today in important facts about bunnies 2:

The record for the longest distance traveled by a lagomorph was 388 kilometers. This was set by a female Arctic hare, in a period of 49 days.

This hare, etiqueted as "BBYY" (nicknamed "Abby") was part of a research made by Dominique Berteaux of the Université du Québec à Rimouski who wanted to know how the animals move across the arid landscape. Abby was one of a group of 28 hares that were trapped, tagged and fitted with satellite tracking collars to track their movements.

Due to the nature of lagomorphs to only stay in a small territory for most of their lives, with little or no long journeys. It came as a great surprise to the scientists to discover that the group of hares had been traveling anywhere between 113 and 310 kilometers. But none hopped as far as BBYY. Her route was also unusually linear: From Alert, she traveled southwest to Lake Hazen, the largest body of fresh water above the Arctic Circle. The area is protected from the region’s most vicious winds, so it is a kind of polar oasis, with more vegetation than elsewhere on the island. But BBYY kept going, several miles past the lake, before finally turning around, passing the oasis again, and heading back toward Alert.

It is believed that Abby actually made a much longer journey, as contacts with her were eventually lost.

What is known is that after reaching a point she turned around and stayed in one place until she finally passed away.

This research opened several doors for scientists in the way of understanding the nature of lagomorphs, and it is believed that the arctic hares (and even other species) were much more nomads than they initially seemed.

Sources:

#arctic hares are like my favorite hare species #they're so interesting #and cute and powerfull and i ;-; #arctic hare #lepus arcticus #nature #animals #animal facts #hare #Now I need a movie based on this #imagine doing something like this with some rabbits and end discovering real life Watership Down lol #important facts #important facts about bunnies

[the-world-annealing]

Independence

The year is 2000 BC: older than the Epic of Gilgamesh, than the Minoans, than alphabets. Imagine you are an alien observing Earth. Looking for signs of intelligent life, you might first note Egypt (because wherever you go in history, you may expect Egypt to be there), the Indus valley civilizations, Norte Chico across the Peruvian coast. All cradles of civilization, few far from the equator.

But let's head north.

Turkey, China, central Asia, chiefdoms in south Europe. No great monuments here, no magnificent cities, but still villages, worked bronze, pottery.

Further north still.

Hunter-gatherers in North America and Siberia. A few agricultural societies in Europe, whose constructions are the biggest manmade thing above the 55th parallel.

Further north still.

Scandinavia, central Canada, the northern reaches of Russia. Iceland, void of humans, destined to remain so for several more millennia.

Further north still, past the polar circle.

Canada's islands, northern Russia, Greenland. The last of these is a new world, the latest large landmass that humans have reached, the first settlers having crossed from Ellesmere only 500 years ago. They mostly cling to its southwestern shores: comparatively balmy, in some ways preferable to Canada's northernmost reaches.

Further north still?

Peary land, North Greenland. Northernmost solid ground on earth: only ice lies beyond. Just a handful of fjords here bother to thaw at all: the average temperature exceeds zero only at the height of summer. During winter, temperatures reach 30 below zero, sometimes dipping even lower.

In this place, in this time, people live. They live in small tents with central hearths, and cover the floors in animal skins. They have no soapstone lamps, no harpoons, no sled dogs. Their main game animal is twice their size: they hunt it with stone tools, in temperatures that would kill an unprotected human within an hour.

These are not Inuit: if any people in this era could be called Inuit, they are in Alaska, on the other side of the continent, having moved little since their ancestors crossed the Bering strait. These are not even the people who the Inuit replaced; the Dorset, whose ancestors dwell in Canada still. We call these people Independence 1, after an American's name for a local fjord. For once, no alternatives existed: this land was truly empty by the time he arrived there.

Because the people called Independence did not survive: 2000 BC is the beginning of their end. The climate cools, mercilessly continuing a millennia-old trend. People will stop moving here, cutting their last line of contact with the outside world. By the time these people disappear, they will have been isolated for centuries. The man who indirectly named them had no idea of their existence, and yet no name could have been more fitting.

What was their life like, those final few generations? What did they think, at their end of the earth, as the sun disappeared beneath the horizon, not to return for a sixth of the year? Did they believe all the world was an icy shore, like theirs? When the last of them died, did she believe humanity died with her?

Peary land is not the furthest point from the African savannahs, neither measured in absolute distance or by the path humans travelled to reach it. But it is, indisputably, the most different. And when a future humanity travels to even stranger places, pray they remember those poor dead, who did the same thing long ago, and ultimately failed.

#on the-world-annealing dot tumblr dot com: emotions about doomed hunter-gatherers #prehistory #paleoanthropology #greenland #history #stone age #people being people

[partyopedia]

Unveiling Nature's Gems: Orchid Lake, Brompton Lakes, and Coopers Beach

Coopers Beach has something for everyone, from relaxed beach vacations to exciting water sports. The area's lively culture adds to the charm of the place, and charming local markets show off the unique things the area has to offer.

Coopers Beach: Nature's Lover Heaven Coopers Beach is renowned for its captivating beauty that leaves visitors awe-inspired. The soft, powdery sands caress your toes as you take leisurely walks along the coastline. The turquoise waters extend as far as the eye can see, beckoning you to take a refreshing dip. This pristine stretch of shoreline is a haven for beach lovers, nature enthusiasts, and those seeking a peaceful retreat.

Are you looking for a beautiful place to get away from it all, where you can relax and enjoy the beauty of nature? Look no further than Brompton Lakes, which is a real secret gem in the beautiful Shropshire countryside. Brompton Lakes is a great place to spend a vacation because it is surrounded by beautiful nature and is close to the beautiful Ellesmere Lake. It will leave you wanting more.

Coopers Beach, which is near the beautiful Brompton Lakes, is a fascinating place to visit because it has a great mix of natural beauty, lively culture, and fun things to do. Set on the peaceful shores of Brompton Lakes, it offers a quiet place to get away from the busyness of everyday life. This beautiful beach is a great place to spend a holiday if you want to do something special.

[thinkingimages]

You know at least a hundred Annas, stranded in fictional love affairs written by men who do not know that Ellesmere exists. Come to that, women are all Annas, caught or not, Annas sweating their way from one day to the next. They know the wars within their orbits, between children and husbands and lovers, need and desire and the desperate necessities of symmetry, how they will be always and for ever culpable, exiled for their visceras, eviscerated for their exiles.

Aritha Van Herk (Places Far From Ellesmere, 82 83)

Thus, Ellesmere is a space where all Annas, fictional or real, can escape from gender impositions. In Ellesmere, women are free to explore their personal fictions. Ellesmere offers a possibility "of a new story; Anna can invent herself in an undocumented landscape, an undetermined fiction" (125), since "reading is a new act here, not introverted and possessive but exploratory, the text a new body of self, the self a new reading of place" (113). Ellesmere becomes a place where literary heroines can participate in a different fiction, and their readers can explore and liberate themselves from the gender constraints of the society they left behind in the south. Moreover, van Herk is conscious of having fictionalized herself: 

You know you are a character in a larger novel, a novel of geography and passion, reading yourself as you are being read by a comprehensive reader. How would this reading read your places, you self written between habitations, the braille of fingers on each locational inflection? (Places 118)

Ellesmere becomes a shelter for Tolstoy's Anna and all entrapped literary heroines as well as for the fictional and real van Herk. Because of an effective erasure of the boundaries between fiction and non fiction, writer and reader, Ellesmere becomes a space of freedom for readers as well. Ellesmere, then, is described in terms of mystery, escape and, to a certain degree, adventure. Ellesmere is viewed in terms of blankness: it is described as an "undocumented" and "unaltered" desert. It is romanticized, idealized and rendered mysterious as an ideal place for women....

#Aritha Van Herk #Places Far From Ellesmere #Literary Quotations #Lit Quotes

[astralforests]

After the herds have gone, the calving grounds can seem like the most deserted places on earth, even if you can sense strongly that the caribou will be back next year. When they do return, hardly anything will have changed. A pile of caribou droppings may take thirty years to remineralize on the calving grounds. The carcass of a wolf-killed caribou may lie undisturbed for three or four years. Time pools in the stillness here and then dissipates. The country is emptied of movement.

The coming and going of the animals during the short summer gives the Arctic a unique rhythmic shape, but it is to be felt only in certain places. Mostly, summer and winter, the whole land is still. The arctic explorer George De Long called it “a glorious country to learn patience in.” Time here, like light, is a passing animal. Time hovers above the tundra like the rough-legged hawk, or collapses altogether like a bird keeled over with a heart attack, leaving the stillness we call death. In the thin film of moisture that coats a bit of moss on a tundra stone, you can find, with a strong magnifying glass, a world of movement buried within the larger suspended world: ageless pinpoints of life called water bears migrate over the wet plains and canyons of jade-green vegetation. But even here time is on the verge of collapse. The moisture freezes in winter. Or a summer wind may carry the water bear off and drop it among bare stones. Deprived of moisture, it shrivels slowly into a desiccated granule. It can endure like this for thirty or forty years. It waits for its time to come again.

Long, unpunctuated hours pass for all creatures in the Arctic. No wild frenzy of feeding distinguishes the short summer. But for the sudden movements of charging wolves and bolting caribou, the gambols of muskox calves, the scamper of an arctic fox, the swoop of a jaeger, the Arctic is a long, unbroken bow of time. Twilight lingers. There are no summer thunderstorms with bolts of lightning. The ice floes, the caribou, the muskoxen, all drift. To lie on your back somewhere on the light-drowned tundra of an Ellesmere Island valley is to feel that the ice ages might have ended but a few days ago. Without the holler of contemporary life, that constant disturbance, it is possible to feel the slope of time, how very far from Mesopotamia we have come. We move at such a fast clip now. We draw up geological charts at a snap, showing the possibilities for oil in Tertiary rocks in the Sverdrup Basin beneath Ellesmere’s tundra. We delineate the life history of the ground squirrel. We list the butterflies: the sulphurs, the arctics, a copper, a blue, the lesser fritillaries. At a snap. We enumerate the plants. We name everything. Then we fold the charts and the catalogs, as if, except for a stray fact or two, we were done with a competent description. But the land is not a painting; the image cannot be completed this way.

Lying flat on your back on Ellesmere Island on rolling tundra without animals, without human trace, you can feel the silence stretching all the way to Asia. The winter face of a muskox, its unperturbed eye glistening in a halo of snow-crusted hair, looks at you over a cataract of time, an image that has endured through all the pulsations of ice.

You can sit for a long time with the history of man like a stone in your hand. The stillness, the pure light, encourage it.

Arctic Dreams, Barry Lopez

#arctic dreams #wildlife #time #nature #barry lopez #reading 2022

[ladywynneoutlander]

Letters of Outlander

Jamie Fraser to Jenny Murray (with a note from Young Ian), Drums of Autumn Ch 34, began September 19, 1769 (Part 2)

Saturday, 1 October

  A great surprise today. Two guests have come from Cross Creek. You will recall, I think, my Telling you of Lord John Grey, whom I knew in Ardsmuir. I have not said that I had seen him since, in Jamaica, where he was Governor for the Crown.

  He is perhaps the last Person one should expect to find in this Remote Place, so far Removed from all Traces of Civilization, let alone those Luxurious Offices and Trappings of Pomp to which he is Accustomed. Surely we were Most Astonish’d by his appearing at our door, though we at once made him Welcome.

  It is a melancholy Event that has led him here, I am Sorry to say. His Wife, embarked from England with her son, contracted a Fever on the voyage, and Died of it while on the Ocean. Fearing lest the Miasmas of the Tropics prove as Fatal to the Boy as to his Mother, Lord John determined that the lad must go to Virginia, where Lord John’s family has Substantial Property, and Determined to escort him there himself, seeing that the Lad was greatly Desolated by the loss of his Mother. 

  I Expressed Amazement, as well as Gratification, that they should chose to make such Alteration in their Journey as required to visit this Distant Spot, but his Lordship dismisses this, saying that he would have the Boy see something of the different Colonies, so as to appreciate the Richness and Variety of this Land. The had is most Desirous of encountering Red Indians -- reminding me in this Respect of Ian, not so long ago.

  He is a comely lad, tall and Well-form’d for his Years, which I believe are near Twelve. He is somewhat subject still to Melancholy from his Mother’s death, but is most Pleasant in Conversation, and Mannerly, for all he is an Earl (Lord John is his stepfather, I believe; his father having been Earl of Ellesmere). His name is William.

Tuesday, 4 October

  The Indian in the corncrib died early this morning, in spite of Claire’s best efforts to save him. His face, body and limbs were entirely suffused with a dreadful Rash, giving him a most Grewsome and Mottled look.

  Claire thinks he suffered from the Measle, and is much Concerned, this being a Vicious Disease, plaguish and quick to Spread. She would not suffer anyone to go near the Body save only herself -- she says she is Safe from it, by means of some charm -- but we did all Assemble near Midday, whereat I read some Scripture suitable to the Occasion, and we said a Prayer for the Repose of his soul -- for I trust that even unbaptised Savages may find rest in God’s mercy.

  We are in some doubt how this poor soul’s Earthly Remains shall be Disposed. I would in common course send Ian to summon his Friends, that they might give him such Burial as is common among the Indians.

  Claire says we must not do this, however, for the Corpse itself may Spread the Disease among the man’s own People, a Disaster which he would not Chuse to bring upon his Friends. She advocates burying or Burning the Corpse ourselves, and yet I am reluctant to undertake such Action, which might be easily Misunderstood by the man’s Companions -- they thinking that we Sought by this means to hide some Complicity in his Death.

  I have said nothing of this Concern to our Guests. If Danger seems Imminent, I must send them away. Still, I am loathe to Part with their society; so isolated is our situation. For now, we have Laid the Body in a small Dry Cave in the hill above the House, wherein I had thought to build a Stable or Storehouse.

  I ask your forgiveness for thus Unburdening my Mind at the cost of your own Peace.  I think all will be Well in the end, but for the Moment, I confess to some Worry. Should Danger -- either from Indians or Disease -- seem to threaten, I will send this Letter at once in the care of our Guests, that it may be Certain of reaching you.

  If all is Well, I will write quickly to tell you.

Your Most Loving Brother,

    Jamie Fraser

Postscriptum, 20 October

  We are all Safe, though the Manner of our Deliverance is most Melancholy; I will tell you of it later, having no great Heart for the matter at present.

  Ian has been Sick of the Measle, as has Lord John, but they are both Recovered, and Claire bids me say that Ian does Exceeding well, you shall have no Fear for him. He writes in his own Hand, that you may know it is the Truth.

--J.

Dear Mam --

  I have been Sick, but am all Right agayne. I had a Fever, with most Peculiar Dreams, full of odd things. There was a great Wolf that came and spoke to me in the Voice of a man, but Auntie Claire says this must have been Rollo, who Stayed by me all the time I was Ill, he is a very Good Dog and does not bite very often.

  The Measles came out in small Bumps beneath my Skin, and itched like Fury. I should have thought I had sat down on an Anthill, or wandered into a Hornet’s nest. My head felt twice its usual Size, and I sneezd quite Ferocious.

  I had three Eggs to my Breakfast today, and porridge, and have Walked to the privy alone twice, so I am quite Well, though I thought at first the Sickness had left me Blind -- I could see nothing but a great Dazzle of Light when I went outside, but Auntie said this would soon be remedied, and it was.

  I will write more later -- Fergus is waiting to take the Letter away.

Your most Obedient and Devoted Son,

        Ian Murray

P.S. The Porpentine skull is for Henry and Mattie, I hope they will like it.

#Letters of Outlander #Outlander #Jamie Fraser #Jenny Murray #Young Ian #William Ransome #Lord John Grey #Willie #LJG #measles #Drums of Autumn #DoA #Diana Gabaldon

[winebleeds]

@breathingliife​    sent    ❛     💎🎭 🌛 🐢 🌉 🏠 :eyes:        ❜

⤑   MULTIMUSE MUNDAY

💎 which muse is the biggest drama queen

it’s a tie between jamie & maddie. it’s more obvious with maddie due to her bubbly personality having a little huff & making dramatic hand movements; i think it’s more for show since she’s actually calmer the more someone knows her. however jamie can get on dramatic tangents & get pouty. like, sprawled on the couch with holly on top of him as he complains about some minor topic, like a guy didn’t clean the equipment after using it again, as though it’s a crisis.  

🎭 which muse is the easiest to write

liz but that’s only because i’ve been writing a variation of her for almost a decade. while i may have moments where i focus on one muse over the other, i am the most consistent with writing replies or things for liz. if i did have all four at once to write without previous connections, then i think maddie would be the easiest in terms of replies. though, i could see jamie becoming easier too as i get a better grasp on him. so ig what im saying here is that raleigh is the hardest while the others just depends on the day.

🌛 which muse is the biggest dreamer

in terms of having the most dreams when asleep, then it’s jamie. they’re mainly nightmares though, and they’re worse in verses where he serves in the military. his dreams are connected to his state of mind. so if he’s happier, then they’re vibrant but mundane. his most weirdest one was the one with holly was a horse & everything was still inside his apartment & not bothered by the size.

but as in dreaming about the future, then it’s surprisingly raleigh. he’s always been the most set on ‘when i grew up im gonna be this & live here’ sorta kid. even if his earlier may change (he wanted be an astronaut when he was five/six lol), he could always tell someone how he expect his life to be without a shrug. and, now that’s he’s grown up & got a career & dogs, he still has a focus on the future. at first, it starts with the little things, like trying to cook without burning something or get that piece of cosplay sown. but it goes bigger too where he wants a bigger house & wants a family & sees himself having his own kids running with the dogs in his backyard. he dreams about that a lot, whenever sipping on his tea to finally rest for the night.

🐢 which muse always runs late

answered here !! however, the least late is liz, though jamie is pretty punctual too. like, if either of them are late to something, it’s an emergency & should worry. 

🌉 which muse is most consumed by wanderlust

as a kid, raleigh. i mean, he was into space & would just, read about how far planets are & was curious about space travel. but he liked travel books, too, & saying which places he would visit. but even closer to him, he wondered around ellesmere being in awe with the tiny creatures or how the hay looked when bailed. like his gravitation to hiking come from these younger years. sometimes the little things can distract him, but he’s not the same ‘woah’ type like he was in his younger years; i think being bullied about it took that away from him. 

as an adult, or today, then it’s maddie. especially with the recent move to a bigger city, or even in being within city & the lights, she absolutely loves to explore around the different places. it’s a very more internal wanderlust, since she won’t travel too much on her own (codependency). but if some of her friends were like, ‘lets go to paris’ tomorrow, she’ll join & tour all around for the days they’re there & take plenty of pictures to show liz & jamie. 

🏠 which muse is a happy homebody

raleigh. while liz is a close second, raleigh could definitely just stay in his place all day everyday. he’s the least social of the four because of it, preferring to just, chill inside his house besides the times he takes his dog to the park. and that would even be worse once he gets a place with a reasonable yard instead of stuck in an apartment. he has to force himself to go to big events like cosplays or not regret most invites to a night out. a lot of it has to do with his work making him more tired, but it’s also (the d********n) his social nervousness.

#( v. answered ) #tho i will tag this with #( r. headcanon ) #since some of the stuff for him is important here. #breathingliife #( v. ooc )

[buckyownsmyheart]

Duty [1/12]

CHAPTER 1: Reaching an Understanding

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x reader

Word Count: 3.2k

Warnings: None! Maybe baby swear words

Series Summary: Ex-army doctor, and now on-mission-for-the-Avengers doctor, Major (Y/n) (Y/l/n), had prepared herself for anything. That was, of course, until she met a devastatingly charming Sergeant from Brooklyn with a quick wit and a kind smile. I wonder what will happen.

Series Masterlist

Prologue

The next day, things in the briefing room were a little tense. A feeling of unease spread through you as you walked into the room, trying to ignore the subdued murmurs and eyes tracking your movements from agents, healthcare professionals and Avengers alike. You steeled yourself against their gazes, daring anyone to question your integrity before Nick Fury quietened the chatter from beside you. 

“Some of you have already met your new on-mission doctor, Major (Y/n) (Y/l/n), and those who haven’t will have heard about her. She will be helping us keep healthy from now on. There will still be the same team here in the medical bay, but she’s the needed add-on. Any questions?” 

Before anyone had the chance to form a thought that might lead to a question, he continued. “Alright, dismissed. Avengers I need you to remain behind for further briefing and report clarification.” There is a jostling and scraping of chairs as the agents leave the room. 17 gives you a wink on their way out before the room becomes quiet once more.

Fury eyed the room. “Your recent infiltration into the HYDRA camp was successful in giving us insight into their new project, but that’s as far as the success goes. I don’t want a fuck up like this again.” He distributed updated files around the table, and you took the closest seat, next to Black Widow. Looking down at the classified file, you weren’t sure you were meant to be reading this but opened it anyway, your curiosity beating your wish to abide by any rules. And you read.

********

S.H.I.E.L.D CLASSIFIED

PROJECT: MOONSHINE, (accessory to HYDRA), 05 SEPT 2019

Named after the technically legal, but often lethal, home-brewed alcohol, HYDRA have created a facility now known to be located within the EUREKA RESEARCH FACILITY in ELLESMERE ISLAND, 79°59′20″N 085°56′27″W. The base, previously owned by the Canadians before HYDRA took over, is secluded and only reachable by jet, with food, fuel and other supplies brought every 6 months.

Recent information has shown their proceedings, including images [see page 3 through 5] of their testing on human subjects, in an attempt to produce the same effect as the serum, successfully trialled on Steven G. Rogers, but by forms of mutilation and pain endurance, as recreating the serum, as shown on James B. Barnes, was deemed unsuccessful in producing the desired effect.

The methods include electrotherapy, fire exposure, exhaustion and debilitation techniques. These hope to push the cells within the body to mutate themselves to survive the conditions. 

TOP SECRET SPECIAL HANDLING ONLY

1

********

You looked up to Fury, reeling a little from the information. You shifted in your seat as it felt too hard and your feet placed uncomfortably on the floor. You hadn’t reached the pictures yet but had a good enough guess as to what they contained.

“We’re working with the Secret Intelligence Service, or MI-6, on this.” Fury reported and looked to you as he said it, “They’re working with our team to find out more. Until then we can only wait. Major, you’re dismissed.”

You stood up, maybe a little too quickly, and walked out the door before you were given any more files. You walked to your quarters and flopped onto the bed. Rubbing the heels of your palms into your eyes to try to try and rid them of tiredness, and make your brain deal with the new information. There had always been people capable of causing such pain, but the thought of people intentionally inflicting that sort of torture on many people was enough to make your stomach turn, and you considered yourself to have a pretty strong stomach. In an attempt to distract yourself, you decided to head down to the medical bay, trying to familiarise yourself with your new surroundings and try and lessen the stares people had given you being the new girl. You rolled out of bed, not daring to look in the mirror and walked back out of your room.

Two flights of stairs and several corridors filled with loud colourful art later, you found the bay. The set up was much like a normal hospital ER, with a bleak looking desk at the front. Someone was scribbling frantically behind it, the bags under her eyes indicating their understaffing and overworking, a permanent feature of any healthcare professional, apparently even if they worked for billionaires. She looked up as you approached and gently returned the smile you gave her. 

“Hi Major, what can I help you with?” Her voice carried a slight roughness to it, but not in an unpleasant way. It was an oddly comforting husk that made you feel like she would have perfect control of any situation that arose.

“Hi Angie,” you smiled, reading her name badge. “I wanted to get acquainted with everything, see what’s what and how you guys run things. I’d love to help out as much as possible.”

“Would you meet the people who run the show?” she drummed her fingers on top of the now closed folder, “Dr Cho is currently with someone, but I can find some of the team?" 

Before you could answer, her eyes flickered to something behind you, causing you to turn and see what she was looking at. Your eyes met with piercing blue ones and you couldn’t help but give a sigh.

“Hey Doc,” Bucky Barnes grinned sheepishly, “Been given orders to have my arm re-looked at, would you be able to help?”

Narrowing your eyes at him you turned back to Angie to ask for her opinion, but she was already holding out a file that had a printed ‘James B. Barnes’ on the top.

“Room 4 is empty,” Angie gesturing to a room with the same unbothered air as she busied herself with other tasks, but you thought you could see the trace of a smile. You realised you weren’t going to get any more help on this one, and so opened his file, pretending it had something to do with his current injury. In reality it was a record of his previous injuries, and had zero relevance at the moment, but it kept your hands busy and felt it made you look important and not like you would rather be anywhere else but stuck in a room with him. You made the short walk into room 4, not looking to see if he had followed you, and sat in the chair in front of the computer. When you had fortified your composure, you turned to him. He was sitting on the bed, idly playing with sheet covering it, and now seeing his open face and off-guard composure, there was no ignoring how good-looking he was. He had changed from his tactical gear into a plain red Henley that stretched over his chest, and you could see the strain of the trousers he wore, their blue bringing out his eyes in a way that should be illegal. You averted your eyes and coughed a little, trying to rid the frog that had managed to wind its way into your throat.

He interrupted your train of thoughts, “I’m sorry for yesterday.” You looked back at him with surprise, not expecting an apology. “I was rude to you and I didn’t give you a chance before immediately dismissing you.” He didn’t break eye contact, and in an attempt to distract yourself from the unusual things your stomach was doing, you tried to drop your rigid glare into something you hoped was more comforting and busied yourself washing your hands. 

“It’s alright. I’ve been underestimated my whole life; I’ve now learnt not to take it personally.” You looked up and met his gaze. “C’mon Sergeant, let me see how much I hashed up that arm,” you saw his shoulders drop a few inches. Maybe he wasn’t so bad after all, you knew you had a tendency to be a little defensive at times. After peeling the bandage back, you couldn’t help but murmur a few exclamations as all you saw was faint pink section of skin. A small yellowing scab and peeling of the skin around the edges were the only indicators of any injury.

“Perhaps you’re a better doctor than you think,” Bucky said, giving a small laugh. A small smile wormed its way onto your face.

“Mind if I poke around it a bit?” You glanced up at Bucky, “Why did they even send you down here? It’s healed perfectly.”

“Not at all, all yours.”

You worked your fingers around the edges of the wound, massaging the skin and seeing it whiten and then pink, showing signs of healthy tissue and vessels. You felt Bucky’s eyes on you, but had to resist the temptation to look up, otherwise you might fall right into them.

“It’s amazing,” you confessed to him, “I can still feel the dissolvable stitches I put in there but everything else has healed completely. You would expect this sort of recovery within 12 weeks, not 14 hours.” 

“I’ve never seen it heal as fast as this," He motioned to his arm. "Steve and I would have been a little less uptight at the whole situation if we knew.” 

He nodded to the desk, where you had placed his file.

“All the information on my healing and other enhancements,” he said, his tone had hardened slightly, “Are all in there,”

“Oh, the doctors here have already tested you for this sort of thing?”

“Not the doctors here.”

You looked up at him and your face fell with realisation, of course HYDRA had kept records on him. Sympathy and pity gripped your heart, and you felt your cheeks heat up.

He snapped at you suddenly, and the temperature in the room seemed to drop a few degrees. “Don’t look at me like that, I’m not broken, and I don’t need your pity.” You knew he wasn’t pissed off at you, he was pissed at the situation, but doesn’t mean his words didn’t sting you a little bit. Bucky yanked down his sleeve and stood up quickly.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to make you feel uncomfortable.” You reached over and gathered the bandage from the bed next to where he had been sitting, “I don’t think you’re broken. You’re healing, there’s a difference.” You looked into his eyes, trying to convey the sincerity you felt with those words. When he didn’t move, you offered a truce, “Let me take out a few of those stitches on top. It might be a bit more comfortable for you.” He nodded and silently took one of the spare chairs. He did have the grace to look a little ashamed at his outburst, but you figured asking for a second apology in 10 minutes would be a bit too much.

You were quiet as you cut the offending sutures, and when you were done, Bucky pulled down his sleeve and spoke, his voice soft, “Umm, you uh-, you figured out how to use Stark’s coffee machines yet?”

“Not yet,” you laughed, “Haven’t been brave enough if I’m honest. Never seen so many damn buttons on a machine in my life!” 

He gave you a small chuckle, “How about I show you? To make up for being an ass. Today and yesterday. I know all doctors and soldiers have a sweet spot for coffee.”

You smiled, he was trying to make amends and you appreciated that. “Lead the way, Sarge.”

-

“You press this button, and then the water should come through this part, and you get your regular filter coffee. Tastes exactly like it did in the 40s, better even,” Bucky said as he pressed the button. Steaming hot air jetted out of one of the pipes on the side, singeing a hole in Bucky’s shirt and exposing the glint of his metal arm as he swore profusely at the machine, and then at his shirt for good measure. It had become apparent in the past 30 minutes that as much as Bucky claimed to be able to work the coffee machine, he actually had as much of an idea as you, potentially even less.

“Looks like it’s going really well for you Terminator,” Sam Wilson entered the kitchen, and as he caught sight of you, he smiled and extended out a hand. “Hi, we sort of met in the quinjet, but I’m Sam.”

You took it, “(Y/n), nice to meet you. You don’t by any chance know how to work this machine? Half-robot over here is about to blow something up.”

Sam laughed and wandered over to where you were stood, pressed a few buttons on the side, and coffee started dripping into the jug. He turned to you and quipped, “You’re really trusting old-man over here with showing you something technological? For someone quite intelligent, you don’t seem very smart.”

You leaned back and laughed at his comment, Bucky however, looked put-out.

He glared over at him, “What do you want, Wilson?” 

“Steve is looking for you down in the boxing ring, says he’s ready to kick your ass again.”

You looked at Bucky, “Steve beats you in a fight?” Then grinned over at Sam as annoyance crossed Bucky’s face.

“Not today he won’t,” Bucky grumbled as he trudged away from the coffee machine, muttering incoherently except for a few words that I’m not sure Steve would appreciate hearing. 

As you enjoyed the bitter and warm smell of fresh coffee, Dr Bruce Banner walked into the kitchen and gave you a warming smile. He too pressed a few buttons on the machine, and a green froth fell into his mug.

“It’s so good to have an actual medical doctor on the team, they all kept coming to me on the battlefield,” he gestured around him, as if the Avengers were all there, “With life-threatening injuries! Expecting me to patch them up and send them on their way! I only dealt with tropical diseases in India! It was an entirely different thing!”

Sam turned to him, “You’re meant to be a genius Banner, what’s the use of your 7 PhDs if you can’t do anything useful with them?”

You laughed at the interaction, “It’s a pleasure to be on the team, happy to help in any way I can.” You paused, contemplating your next words carefully. “This might be a bit invasive, but what’s the deal with Sergeant Barnes? Is he normally this grumpy?”

Sam looked up at you, but it was Bruce who answered. “He’s still getting used to being able to be the good guy. I think he feels he doesn’t deserve it and so lashes out before anyone else can push him away first. He doesn’t like letting people in. Took Sam a bit of time to figure that out too.”

Sam laughed softly, “He’s the biggest damn grump I’ve ever met, but underneath he’s also a softie and an idiot. Give him time, he’ll be more bearable.”

You just nodded, pondering what they had both said. It made sense, he was still decompressing and figuring things out, maybe you could let him off the hook for being such an ass. You stayed in the kitchen for an hour or so with Sam and Bruce, getting the inside knowledge on the Avengers, the ins-and-outs of the compound and where to find the best bagels nearby. If you were wondering, it’s the deli on the right as you exit the compound.

“Right,” You turned to the two men, “I've been avoiding my unpacking, so I should probably get going, but it was lovely meeting you both properly, and thanks for all the information, I reckon I’ve got enough to blackmail the whole team now.” You said with a wink before walking out the door, waving over your shoulder.

-

In your room, your bags stared at you, lying on the floor, daring you to open them. You stared right back at them. You had been caught in this gridlock for the past 10 minutes and couldn’t quite find it in yourself to begin the task. You reprimanded your lack of motivation, and you had just managed to open your bag and sat on the floor, trying to organise some of your junk. You looked at the photos you had brought along, and they made your insides smile. There were some of you and your brother, the rest of your family, and some of your old army section and other friends. You felt a twist of guilt as you realised you hadn’t rung them yet to let them know you had arrived. Your brother, being a hacker, probably could find out that information if he was really concerned, but you felt bad if it got to that. 

After a quick text letting them know you were safe and happy and that you would ring them later, you found yourself being drawn to your gym clothes. Maybe you should be checking out all the facilities that the compound had to offer. It would seem rude not to. Not because a certain someone who had captured your attention was probably still down there, sweating a little and most likely looking quite good. Not at all. You would never. Trying to move your thoughts away before they became slightly perverted, you pulled on some kit, letting your dog tags hang out in the open, clattering on your chest as you made your way down.

The gym was pretty standard, with weights and machines in one corner, cardio down the far wall, and free space with various mats and equipment dotted around. What drew you was the small boxing ring and punching bags dangling from the ceiling in the opposite corner. Unfortunately, no sign of Bucky. Not that he was the sole reason you were down here. You began to wrap your hands and after a quick warm-up you started jabbing at the bag, getting a feel for it again, before tightening your muscles and pushing yourself a bit harder.

“Not sure the bag is good enough for you Major,” Bucky spoke from behind you, appearing out of nowhere and making you jump, “think you might need a more challenging opponent.”

You let up on the bag, steadying it with one hand, “You offering yourself up, Sergeant? Is Steve that much better than you that you’re going to sink to my level?”

“Not sure the bag would agree with that statement, you were giving it a harder time than Steve and I put together,” He provoked, patting the bag with a pretend sympathetic gesture. “I would like to think I could put up a better fight than the bag though.”

Steve rounded the corner, from what you assumed was the changing rooms, and addressed Bucky. “I’ve seen her file Buck, let’s just say she would have had you nose-deep in mud in the 40s. And I’m not going to be putting my money on you today.” You grinned at Steve.

“Alright, it’s on.” You paused, straightening up and chucking him a pair of gloves from a nearby bench, “Don’t think I’m going to go easy on you just because you’ve got a pretty face.” And with that, you parted the ropes and jumped into the ring.

Chapter 2

tags:

@broco8 @nerd-without-a-cause @sebbbystaaan @mcubuckyandsteve @cutepiemimi13 @velvetwonderbucky

(strikethrough means I couldn’t tag you!) 

#duty #bucky x reader #bucky x y/n #bucky x you #bucky barnes fanfiction #b.b fanfic #bucky barnes imagine #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes fic

[sonumus]

GAEL.

gael never got fully drunk in situations like this. of course, he could get tipsy, as he already was, but he was always very far from passing a certain limit as it could easily make his job very difficult, especially because right now he was feeling way more inclined to spend his time taunting ellesmere than simply paying attention to the auction. as he was, not drunk enough, he could easily notice the slight tremble on his skin and the tension that started to ooze from his body, all the signs he needed to go on.

probably, when ellesmere called him to make him company this wasn’t really what he had in mind, but gael found it very easy to put his well behaved facade aside to bring some entertaining for himself, some vengeance for how easily ellesmere got a hold on him and made him stumble and lay down his masks even for a second, so he simply hummed. he was still close, knowing very well that his voice would reverberate nicely at the other’s ear, a sly curve taking over his lips as he watched him drink with interest. “ — so it wasn’t anything that took your interest….” he started, his left hand no under the table, away from prying eyes, settling over the other’s thigh, rubbing it over the smooth material of his pants. “ — i hope the second is better, but… don’t you think… “ his fingers pressed at the sides of his leg, massagind the muscle lightly. “ —  …. that it would be way more interesting if we could find something that would interest the both of us?” and as he asked, he turned his face to look at him, expression neutral as his hand started to get closer and closer to ellesmere’s body.

gael never really played fair, but this was probably only the second time he was deliberately seducing and provoking the other man like that, usually leaving for the sculptor to do so. he doubted very much, however, that he would get mad at him for doing so, even if a small part of gael felt bad for taking advantage of the clear infatuation he could sometimes notice on his actions —— he couldn’t lose his time thinking about this now, he couldn’t lose his grasp of control over his own feelings. this was a transaction, a job exchange like any other. so he left to his hands to grip just a tiny bit more firmly at the place his leg met his hip, letting his finger brush a bit against his crotch as he did so and, with his other hand, he took the flute he had left over the table until then, slowly drinking all the champagne again as he looked straight ellesmere’s eyes without stopping his other motions. when the pushed the flute away from his lips they were a bit more shiny, and gael’s fingers under the table ghosted lightly at the bulge that was starting to form at the front of the man’s pants with the lightest of touches, both his hands then coming to rest over the table as he took some pity on him. “ — i think i need to go to the bathroom and it seems the next pieces will all be very abstract… why don’t you show me where it is?” he asked, a little knowing smile on his mouth, eyes glinting with something unholy.

innocently he heard gael’s first words, naturally shaking his head in negative. ellesmere broke the movement completely, however, when he felt gael’s hand on his thigh, his eyes shooting him a poorly contained surprised look. his cheekbones rose with vestiges of a smile, but his lips never got to show it. ellesmere looked down, to observe the fingers there, almost a way of making sure he wasn’t crazy, that he wasn’t merely feeling, but the touch was actually there. gael was, indeed, initiating something, like he almost never did. it made his heart race, beating loudly inside his head, screaming in all sorts of joy and fear. silly joy, of course, but he couldn’t contain the sensation, the way it made every last hair of his body stand on end. and after the first implication of those first words paired with that touch, ellesmere regarded him with an extra interest glinting in his eyes.

he swallowed, a response at the tip of his tongue, but the words really never left. ellesmere wanted to suggest a good few things they could do that would be more interesting, and all of those ended ina scenario of them both at a random corner in that place, fucking. and even though he was extremely guarded in that subject, ellesmere couldn’t find within himself any reservations about the thought of letting himself be talked into having sex in a public place. not when it was with gael. he tried to say something, lips parted as a hum suggested a possible reply, but ellesmere was promptly discouraged of talking when he felt gael’s daring finger go a little farther. he couldn’t trust his own voice there. so he blinked, thoughts all scattered away as he perceived just how dry his mouth had turned in those few seconds. licking his lips, he closed his mouth and swallowed again, moving his legs, spreading them a little wider in a clear and desperate invitation. all the while, he watched with wonder gael drinking his champagne, as if he was not doing anything out of ordinary under the table. it made his insides turn into a mess, just how he could look so sinfully natural.

such a touch would have had no impact on him coming from anyone else, not with that screaming intensity. with gael, however, ellesmere found himself hardening under his fingers solely on the thought alone of having his touch more intimately. of having his touch without asking for it. and when it was taken away from him, he wanted to retrieve his hand and urge gael for more. instead, he closed his legs slightly and looked around. “ — uhm… ” his eyes averted to the back of the place, spotting a hallway that led to the rest-rooms. ellesmere licked his lips and got up, smiling almost too timidly to gael, face burning with the idea of the minutes that would follow. “ — this way, come on. ”

#muse ; ellesmere saunders. #ship ; gael & ellesmere. #gael & ellesmere ; thread 001. #sayu. #threads.

[rjzimmerman]

Excerpt from this story from Mother Nature Network:

These are turbulent times for the Arctic. Not only is it heating up about twice as quickly as the rest of the planet, causing a disastrous decline of Arctic sea ice, but it's also increasingly vulnerable to environmental harm from activities like mining, drilling and fishing.

In hopes of buffering a swath of the Arctic from this upheaval, Canada is creating two new marine sanctuaries in the Arctic Ocean spanning a total of 427,000 square kilometers (165,000 square miles). This alone may not protect the region from climate change, but the Arctic needs all the help it can get, and well-managed ocean preserves can be a significant boost for struggling ecosystems.

The largest of the two new sanctuaries — Tuvaijuittuq Marine Protected Area (MPA), covering about 320,000 square kilometers (124,000 square miles) off the northern coast of Ellesmere Island in Nunavut — was announced by government officials on Aug. 1. The name Tuvaijuittuq means "the place where the ice never melts" in the Inuktitut language, referring to thick, multiyear sea ice that persists throughout the summer. Tuvaijuittuq is located in an area long used by Inuit for travel and hunting, although there are currently no permanent human settlements within or adjacent to the new sanctuary, according to a government fact sheet.

Dubbed the "Last Ice Area" by conservationists, this region is expected to be the last place that retains summer sea ice until climate change renders the Arctic Ocean ice-free in summer, which may happen within just a few decades. That makes it an important refuge for sea ice itself, which has benefits that go far beyond the Arctic, as well as local wildlife that depends on it.

Under the ministerial order that designates the Tuvaijuittuq MPA, no new human activities will be allowed to occur in the area for up to five years, with a few exceptions. These include the exercise of Inuit rights for wildlife harvesting, scientific research consistent with the MPA's conservation objectives, and activities related to safety, security and emergency response.

While the unveiling of Tuvaijuittuq is a first step for that MPA, Trudeau and other officials also announced the completion of another ocean refuge, known as the Tallurutiup Imanga National Marine Conservation Area, that has been in the works for years.

Located south of Ellesmere Island, Tallurutiup Imanga protects about 108,000 square kilometers (42,000 square miles) of priceless marine habitat and cultural context in Lancaster Sound and Baffin Bay between Devon and Baffin islands.

"It is a large natural and cultural seascape that is one of the most significant ecological areas in the world," according to Parks Canada. "It is critical habitat for species such as the polar bear, bowhead whale, narwhal and beluga whale. For Inuit living in the region, called both Tallurutiup Imanga and Tallurutiup Tariunga by the Inuit, it is a place rich in culture and wildlife."

#ocean sanctuaries #marine sanctuaries #Arctic #Canada #Tuvaijuittuq Marine Protected Area #Tallurutiup Imanga National Marine Conservation Area

[sky-loves-anime-blog1]

â–· New Zealand roundtrip

I honestly don't know why I waited 26 years to do this. Jumping out of a plane is really the best experience I have had in my life so far! When we jumped it was the perfect autumn day with blue sky, sunshine and a pleasant 20 degrees. The North Island is home to the most famous cities Auckland and Wellington and there are more beaches. The billiger-mietwagen.de editorial team combines the concentrated knowledge of online editors and travel experts from all areas of the company. These areas are often very scenic and can usually only be reached by car. With a rental car you are also particularly flexible in your travel planning. For example, take a leisurely cruise on the nostalgic steamer TSS Earnslaw across Lake Wakatipu (from approx. NZD 65). Lake Wakatipu is the third largest lake in New Zealand. - Hostel accommodation - |} Read more about campervan hire New Zealand here.

>|}

If I would do the tour again, I would rent a big camper and stay overnight in it.

With about 400.000 inhabitants it is situated in a scenic location on different hills around one of the most beautiful natural harbours of the country.

You should definitely take enough time to discover this area of New Zealand!

You could also walk the first few kilometres of the Kepler Track or visit the firefly caves of Te Anau.

Day 1: Christchurch to Lake Ellesmere/ Te Waihora (45 km)

Even today, many buildings from the time of Queen Victoria give the city a Victorian atmosphere. You turn off the coast and through the area of Te Puke, the largest growing area for kiwi fruit in New Zealand, the tour continues south to Rotorua. You drive up to Mount Eden, one of the 48 extinct volcanoes in the Auckland city area. In our New Zealand travel guide you will find over 100 tips for the North and South Island including 5 suggested routes. You should plan at least half a day, whereby many people stay several days in the park and stay overnight. There are different places where the boats drop you off and you can walk different routes. Despite the devastating earthquake, Christchurch has a lot of places to stay. There are many motels in the city, but Christchurch also has some really nice boutique hotels. So it is only too understandable that the Coromandel Peninsula is very popular with the Aucklanders as a recreation area. Auckland was built on 48 extinct volcanoes, of which Mount Eden with 196 m is the highest mountain in the area. Our travel module leaves you free to choose when booking your flights. But of course we are also happy to help you with your flight booking. On the North Island you will visit the natural beauty of the Bay of Islands and the Coromandel Peninsula.

#roundtrip south island new zealand

[kenmaniac]

“I had a nightmare about you and I just wanted to make sure you’re okay.” (elle e gael)

with his left hand he attempted to rub the sleep out of his eyes for the fourth time, the dim lights of his small bedroom making it feel even smaller, but cozy with his stock of books, the slightly opened big window, messy bed and warm blankets. as gael looked around, trying to make sense of elle’s words over the phone attached to his ear, he fixed his gaze at the armchair not too far from the bedside lamb and considered, not for the first time, that he really had to get rid of the pile of clean clothes that he didn’t bother putting on place, simply groaning for a moment at his client still waiting on line — truth be told, he needed at least one hours before becoming an actually functioning human being.

he could sense it, though. the worry washing through ellesmere words, hitting him like a cold shower or a too sour coffee on his tastebuds. it wasn’t something he could ignore and, in defeat, he let his body fall against the bed once more, grabbing the pillow that was before under his head to hold it against his chest. “— ... what was the dream about?” he asked softly, grimacing at the huskiness and sleepness of his own voice; suddenly, the whole thing seemed much more intimate than he anticipated. the most curious thing, though? is that in his currently hazy state of mind... that didn’t seem all that bed. 

#ask meme respondido #ch: gael feder #ship: ( it’s like million little stars spelling out your name. ) — ellesmere sanders ✘ gael feder #softzinho.... #asamyia

[whenfrasermetbeauchamp]

To his extreme surprise, the next few years were in many ways among the happiest of Jamie Fraser’s life, aside from the years of his marriage.

…

Above everything else, he had Willie. Helwater was dedicated to horses; even before the boy could stand solidly on his feet, his grandfather had him propped on a pony to be led round the paddock. By the time Willie was three, he was riding by himself—under the watchful eye of MacKenzie, the groom.

Willie was a strong, courageous, bonny little lad. He had a blinding smile, and could charm birds from the trees if he liked. He was also remarkably spoilt. As the ninth Earl of Ellesmere and the only heir to both Ellesmere and Helwater, with neither mother nor father to keep him under control, he ran roughshod over his doting grandparents, his young aunt, and every servant in the place—except MacKenzie.

And that was a near thing. So far, threats of not allowing the boy to help him with the horses had sufficed to quash Willie’s worst excesses in the stables, but sooner or later, threats alone were not going to be sufficient, and MacKenzie the groom found himself wondering just what was going to happen when he finally lost his own control and clouted the wee fiend.

…

“I shall be leaving tomorrow.” Jamie spoke matter-of-factly, not taking his eyes off the bay mare’s fetlock. The horny growth he was filing flaked away, leaving a dust of coarse black shavings on the stable floor.

“Where are you going? To Derwentwater? Can I come with you?” William, Viscount Dunsany, ninth Earl of Ellesmere, hopped down from the edge of the box stall, landing with a thump that made the bay mare start and snort.

…

The ninth Earl of Ellesmere had his chin thrust out as far as it would go, but the defiant look in his eye was tempered with a certain doubt as he intercepted Jamie’s cold blue gaze. Jamie set the horse’s hoof down slowly, just as slowly stood up, and drawing himself to his full height of six feet four, put his hands on his hips, looked down at the Earl, three feet six, and said, very softly, “No.”

“Yes!” Willie stamped his foot on the hay-strewn floor. “You have to do what I tell you!”

“No, I don’t.”

“Yes, you do!”

“No, I…” Shaking his head hard enough to make the red hair fly about his ears, Jamie pressed his lips tight together, then squatted down in front of the boy.

“See here,” he said, “I havena got to do what ye say, for I’m no longer going to be groom here. I told ye, I shall be leaving tomorrow.”

Willie’s face went quite blank with shock, and the freckles on his nose stood out dark against the fair skin.

“You can’t!” he said. “You can’t leave.”

“I have to.”

“No!” The small Earl clenched his jaw, which gave him a truly startling resemblance to his paternal great-grandfather. Jamie thanked his stars that no one at Helwater had likely ever seen Simon Fraser, Lord Lovat. “I won’t let you go!”

…

Without a word, Jamie grabbed the boy by the collar, lifted him off his feet and carried him, kicking and squirming, to the farrier’s stool he had been using. Here he sat down, flipped the Earl over his knee, and smacked his buttocks five or six times, hard. Then he jerked the boy up and set him on his feet.

“I hate you!” The Viscount’s tear-smudged face was bright red and his fists trembled with rage.

“Well, I’m no verra fond of you either, ye little bastard!” Jamie snapped.

Willie drew himself up, fists clenched, purple in the face.

“I’m not a bastard!” he shrieked. “I’m not, I’m not! Take it back! Nobody can say that to me! Take it back, I said!”

Jamie stared at the boy in shock. There had been talk, then, and Willie had heard it. He had delayed his going too long.

He drew a deep breath, and then another, and hoped that his voice would not tremble.

“I take it back,” he said softly. “I shouldna have used the word, my lord.”

…

“Have you really got to go, Mac?” he asked, in a very small voice.

“Aye, I have.” He looked into the dark blue eyes, so heartbreakingly like his own, and suddenly didn’t give a damn what was right or who saw. He pulled the boy roughly to him, hugging him tight against his heart, holding the boy’s face close to his shoulder, that Willie might not see the quick tears that fell into his thick, soft hair.

Willie’s arms went around his neck and clung tight. He could feel the small, sturdy body shake against him with the force of suppressed sobbing. He patted the flat little back, and smoothed Willie’s hair, and murmured things in Gaelic that he hoped the boy would not understand.

At length, he took the boy’s arms from his neck and put him gently away.

“Come wi’ me to my room, Willie; I shall give ye something to keep.”

…

“What’s that little candle for?” Willie asked. “Grannie says only stinking Papists burn candles in front of heathen images.”

“Well, I am a stinking Papist,” Jamie said, with a wry twist of his mouth. “It’s no a heathen image, though; it’s a statue of the Blessed Mother.”

“You are?” Clearly this revelation only added to the boy’s fascination. “Why do Papists burn candles before statues, then?”

Jamie rubbed a hand through his hair. “Aye, well. It’s…maybe a way of praying—and remembering. Ye light the candle, and say a prayer and think of people ye care for. And while it burns, the flame remembers them for ye.”

“Who do you remember?” Willie glanced up at him. His hair was standing on end, rumpled by his earlier distress, but his blue eyes were clear with interest.

“Oh, a good many people. My family in the Highlands—my sister and her family. Friends. My wife.” And sometimes the candle burned in memory of a young and reckless girl named Geneva, but he did not say that.

Willie frowned. “You haven’t got a wife.”

“No. Not anymore. But I remember her always.”

Willie put out a stubby forefinger and cautiously touched the little statue. The woman’s hands were spread in welcome, a tender maternity engraved on the lovely face.

“I want to be a stinking Papist, too,” Willie said firmly.

“Ye canna do that!” Jamie exclaimed, half-amused, half-touched at the notion. “Your grandmama and your auntie would go mad.”

“Would they froth at the mouth, like that mad fox you killed?” Willie brightened.

“I shouldna wonder,” Jamie said dryly.

“I want to do it!” The small, clear features were set in determination. “I won’t tell Grannie or Auntie Isobel; I won’t tell anybody. Please, Mac! Please let me! I want to be like you!”

…

“I baptize thee William James,” he said softly, “in the name o’ the Father, the Son, and the Holy Ghost. Amen.”

Willie blinked, crossing his eyes as a drop of water rolled down his nose. He stuck out his tongue to catch it, and Jamie laughed, despite himself.

“Why did you call me William James?” Willie asked curiously. “My other names are Clarence Henry George.” He made a face; Clarence wasn’t his idea of a good name.

Jamie hid a smile. “Ye get a new name when you’re baptized; James is your special Papist name. It’s mine, too.”

“It is?” Willie was delighted. “I’m a stinking Papist now, like you?”

...

“Good.” Jamie reached out and ruffled Willie’s hair in dismissal. “It’s almost time for your tea; ye’d best go on up to the house now.”

Willie started for the door, but stopped halfway, suddenly distressed again, with a hand pressed flat to his chest.

“You said to keep this to remember you. But I haven’t got anything for you to remember me by!”

Jamie smiled slightly. His heart was squeezed so tight, he thought he could not draw breath to speak, but he forced the words out.

“Dinna fret yourself,” he said. “I’ll remember ye.”

— Voyager

Gifs: section1rules.tumblr.com, Season Three, Episode Four, October 1, 2017 (horse riding)

Gif: smartbitchestrashybooks.com, Season Three, Episode Four, October 1, 2017 (walking)

Gif: outlanderamerica.tumblr.com, Season Three, Episode Four, October 1, 2017 (bastard)

Gif: lordjohngreys.tumblr.com, Season Three, Episode Four, October 1, 2017 (“Mac”)

Gif: pinterest.com, Season Three, Episode Four, October 1, 2017 (stinkin’ papist)

Photo: Starz, Season Three, Episode Four, October 1, 2017

Book: Voyager, Diana Gabaldon, 1994

Tumblr: October 15, 2018, WhenFraserMetBeauchamp 🏴󠁧󠁢󠁳󠁣󠁴󠁿❤️🇬🇧

WFMB’s Tags: #Outlander #Season Three Episode Four #S3E4 #Of Lost Things #Voyager #Chapter Sixteen #Above everything else, he had Willie #Dinna fret yourself, I’ll remember ye #Jamie Fraser #Willie #William, Viscount Dunsany, ninth Earl of Ellesmere #William Clarence Henry George Ransom #William Ransom #William Fraser 😬 #146 #101518

#Outlander #Season Three Episode Four #S3E4 #Of Lost Things #Voyager #Chapter Sixteen #Above everything else he had Willie #Dinna fret yourself I’ll remember ye #Jamie Fraser #Willie #William Viscount Dunsany ninth Earl of Ellesmere #William Clarence Henry George Ransom #William Ransom #William Fraser 😬 #146 #101518

[otheroutlandertales]

Anonymous said: Give me the conversation between Jamie and Bree after she meets Willie for the first time. Please and thank you.

Ties of Blood and Memory

by @wunderlichkind

„Da!“ Brianna called from the hallway. She sounded a little breathless, Jamie thought, taking his eyes off the letter he was writing. .

„Aye, in here, mo nighean,“ he called out to her, and seconds later she stormed into the room, a sight to behold. Tall as she was, her red hair freed from hat and bonnet, face flushed, she looked like a fierce warrior, a true Scot, his magnificent daughter. Jamie felt a wave of affection for her as he cocked his eyebrow at her flustered state.

„What is it, Brianna?“

She paced a few steps around the room before finally deciding to sit down on a chair opposite him. „I met John Grey today,“ she said.

„Oh? Weel, how’s he been?“ Jamie asked, pleasantly surprised, but still distracted by the letter in front of him.

„He wasn’t alone.“

It was her tone that made him look up at her again, and her face – in a testament to her mother’s heritage – that made him understand immediately. He dropped the quill and waited for her to go on, keeping his face blank. He had known that this might happen, if not consciously, he was still aware of the possibility. It was something he wouldn’t let himself dream about, a reunion of his children, his family coming together. It was something he would have avoided at all costs, had he a say in the matter.

„Were you ever gonna tell me?“ she finally asked, unusually quiet, her temper giving way to a variety of other emotions that neither of them could quite place yet.

Jamie shook his head, whether to say no or to signal that he didn’t know, he wasn’t sure.

„He’s here?“ he finally inquired, his voice sounding weak to his own ears, less sure than he had spoken in a long time.

„He looks exactly like you,“ Brianna confirmed, and after a moment of hesitation added, „like us.“

She had expected him to be defensive. Angry, possibly. She did not expect for her stoic, strong-willed, dependable father to start crying.

He didn’t look at her and he barely made a sound. If not for the unusual glint in his eyes and the tense set of his shoulders, she might have mistaken his reaction for refusal to explain himself.

Brianna stood, frozen in place and unsure of how to react for a moment, until finally crossing the room to lay her hands on his shoulders.

They remained like that for quite a while, until she felt his tremors die down and he reached out to cover her right hand with his left.

„I hope ye ken that I do trust ye, Brianna,“ Jamie finally said, voice rough but grounded, sure. „It’s not that I didna want to tell ye; I kept it from ye for his sake. And maybe mine.“

„Because he’s the Lord of Ellesmere,“ she stated, „John told me.“

„Aye. He’s the Lord of Ellesmere and I most definitely wasna.“

It still seemed odd to her, this persistence to leave a young man in the dark about his ancestry, to never have him truly know his heritage and family, just because of social status and appearances, but she begrudgingly had to accept that her objections to the situation sprang from her own history, and not only that – her own time.

„Tell me about his mother,“ she asked instead of arguing, curious and wary at the same time. Jamie raised his eyes to her at the unexpected question, as if checking whether she really wanted to hear the truth, whether she was prepared for it, could handle it.

„Her name was Geneva Dunsany,“ he finally began, slowly. „She... was an extraordinary person. Young. Very willful and stubborn.“

She could see the memories playing behind his eyes, his gaze far removed from the dark and stuffy room they sat in. Brianna watched him closely, a spectator to his remembrance, her scrutiny going unnoticed. She couldn’t quite place his look, she thought, distantly fascinated, but she was sure of one thing – it wasn’t the look he wore when he talked to Brianna about her mother.

„I think we both kent it was a mistake, especially after...“ His voice trailed off and for a short moment he seemed conscious of his surroundings and his audience again, for a slight hue of pink tinged his cheeks. „But she was determined and so scared of what was to come, and I was weak and angry, and frankly scared too...“ Jamie trailed off again and this time, Brianna knew that he would not continue talking. He had rejoined her in the present and left Geneva Dunsany behind, shielded from her prying eyes.

„I left Helwater when the resemblance became too obvious,“ Jamie continued after a few quiet minutes and turned to face her. „You canna tell him, Brianna. He’s safer this way. He canna know.“ His voice was firm, resigned. He was hiding behind the carefully erected wall of composure again and she took a moment to scan it for cracks, tells to reveal what was going on behind it.

Finally, she nodded. „Fine, Da. But I want to see him again before Roger and I leave. I promise, I won’t tell.“

#otheroutlandertales #outlander fanfiction #mod wunder #ch: bree #ch: william #ch: jamie #ch: geneva #canon compliant #book: abosaa #oot #*

[theministerskat]

Finding Mac

Well, here it is, finally, my submission for The @thelallybrochlibrary Prompt Exchange.

PROMPT #11: Jamie marvels about how for someone who didn’t raise any children of his own he sure has a lot of children living here with him on Fraser’s Ridge. (submitted by @annalisedemoodboards)

This kind of got away from the prompt (and me) but the elements are there!

William arrives on the ridge in hopes of bridging the gap between the man he once knew and the one that stands before him.

Extra special thank yous to @whiskynottea and @ourkissgoodbye for all of their encouragement, comments, wording help, the list is endless. To @futurelounging for final edits and comments. And @smoakingwaffles who has no idea that she helped with small elements of this.

This does have spoilers from a Daily Lines that DG posted for book nine. They’re not obvious, but they are there.

AO3

It had been a month since William Ransom, the Ninth Earl of Ellesmere, met Mrs. Brianna Fraser MacKenzie for the second time. Shock had frozen him in place when he first saw her in that parlor in Savannah. He could tell she too was surprised by the sudden encounter, though the amused look on her face made him think that it wasn’t necessarily unexpected for her. The temporary paralysis of meeting his recently realized sister wore off quickly. They had taken to each other easily, as though they were picking up where they left off more than three years prior in Wilmington.

It was she who convinced him to return with her to Fraser’s Ridge. William accepted Mrs. MacKenzie’s invitation, under the guise that it would be a fine opportunity to inquire after the well being of Fanny. Truth be told, he wanted to spend more time with this intriguing woman who looked so much like him. He had never longed for a sibling, being content with just the company of himself, but he didn't want to let the opportunity to get to know her pass him by. And not just her, but the rest of her family as well.

They talked amiably during their journey together from Savannah to the Ridge. He truly enjoyed the company of Mrs. Mac- Brianna . . . Bree. She insisted on William calling her Bree, saying that no matter his feelings, Mrs. MacKenzie was just too formal. She was his sister. He still had a hard time wrapping his mind around the notion. He thought about her quite often after his rendezvous with Jamie Fraser that night when he put two and two together. William recalled when he first met Brianna, her husband, and their two children; remembered their effortless conversation and the feeling it left him with. He had instantly felt at ease with her, like meeting an old friend. The reason for the familiarity he felt back then was painfully obvious to him now. They were very much alike not only in physicality but in temperament and interests also.

As they drew closer to their destination, William could feel the anticipation rising in him. Fear, excitement, and apprehension mingled together in the pit of his stomach. He didn’t know what to expect of this visit, how he would be received, or even what he wished to gain from it. That day when Jamie Fraser left him standing in the middle of that small stuffy office, had left him with a desire to know more about the man who sired him. “I’m not sorry.” That’s where they had left it and it just wasn’t enough.

He would never forget the look on Fraser’s face, the face that looked so much like his own, when he caught sight of William and Brianna riding up the path. In seconds his expressions went from one of confusion, to recognition, then perfect contentment, before it set into one that couldn’t be read. He had greeted William with simple formality, “Lord Elsmere,” and a nod. William had returned it with a curt but polite, “Mr. Fraser.” Since then few words had been exchanged between the two of them. The majority of his needs he conveyed through Mother Claire, who had welcomed him with a motherly embrace. He hadn’t realized just how much he had missed her. All of his thoughts before arriving had been solely focused on how it would be between him and Fraser, forgetting that he already had one person on the Ridge who seemed to deeply care for him.

After the initial sensation surrounding his arrival, William struggled to find a place amongst the day-to-day activities of the homestead. All the tenants, and his new family, had made him feel welcome. He tried to help as much as he could with daily chores, but everyone had their set ways of doing things that had him feeling as though he was in the way most times.

The one place William didn’t feel as though he was in the way was the stable. He was familiar with the care taking of horses and he found that this was where he could be the most helpful. The Ridge did not boast a large barn like those of his childhood, but it was still welcoming, more so even for its intimate feel. The others saw his expertise in this field and acquiesced the majority of the work there to him. He even found himself gravitating there when his situation became too overwhelming for him.

A week after he had arrived, the Frasers, MacKenzies, and Murrays, along with the few other Catholic families of the Ridge had come up to the big house for the christening of Rachel and Ian’s son. William smiled to himself seeing Rachel standing there with her son and thinking back to his first day on the Ridge when she had presented little Oggy to him with one of the biggest smiles he had ever seen. The happiness on her face made his animosity towards her and Murray fade instantly. Though Rachel, as a Quaker, did not subscribe to the idea of baptism, she had relented for the sake of her husband. The priest had come in from Baltimore to perform the sacrament and a small feast had been laid out in the parlor. Once everyone had gathered together, the priest began the ceremony.

He was only half paying attention to the things that were taking place in front of him, his mind elsewhere, but he came to himself as the business at hand reached its conclusion.

“I baptize thee-” William James. It hit him like a horse’s kick to the chest. He felt the bloodrush to his head upon hearing the priest’s words, “in the name of the Father, the Son, and The Holy Ghost.” They were the same words Mac had used when he had baptised William the night before he left Helwater.

“Amen,” the group responded to the priest’s prayer.

Those assembled began giving their well wishes to the proud parents and infant wiggling in his grandmother’s arms. Bringing his hand to his chest in reflex, he looked around searching for familiar blue eyes. William finally caught sight of him, back turned and making for the front door. He had come to the Ridge to speak with Fraser, get to know him, understand him, but thus far he hadn’t accomplished that. It was out of fear that he had been avoiding the confrontation; fear of losing the image of the man he once knew, fear of disappointing Fraser himself. Feeling overwhelmed with the memories that had begun to drown him, he turned and headed for the back door in search of solitude.

The warmth and smell of horses and other livestock hit him immediately as he slid open the door to the stable. A long sigh escaped him. It felt like home; no matter where you are a stable is still a stable. William relaxed against the door behind him, and he began to allow his mind to wander to the places he had been trying to keep it from going all week.

Every now and again he would catch Fraser in an interaction with Brianna, or Roger Mac, or any of his other children and wonder to himself what his life would have looked like if he had always been a part of this family. Would Fraser have sought William’s council on matters pertaining to the tenants and share a laugh about things their womenfolk had done like he did with Roger Mac? Would they have developed a sixth sense with one another like he had with Murray while hunting, always knowing where the other was and what they were doing without vocalization? Would the the drumming of Fraser’s fingers against his thigh be the same cadence that he had when thinking over one of Brianna’s improvements to the Ridge if William were to bring about an idea, or would he get his own special beat? There were so many what ifs that he couldn’t fully process them all.

What was abundantly clear to him was that Jamie Fraser loved his children dearly, even the ones that William came to understand weren’t his by blood. He knew that kind of love, was the recipient of it himself. Lord John had never treated William as anything other than his own, and he understood how deep a parent’s love could run for a child regardless of that one missing connection. The thought of Lord John made his heart wrench with guilt. He hadn’t come here in hopes of replacing his father, but it still felt like a betrayal to him.

He turned his thoughts to the times when he was little and just how much time he had spent with Mac over the course of those few short years. They would talk about everything and nothing, the towering Scot always taking the time to listen to his stories and troubles. There was so much already between him and Jamie Fraser in terms of a relationship, but it was hard for him to merge the two men in his mind even though they were one in the same. It had been so simple with Mac, just the two of them and usually the horses, no one else to worry over. But with Fraser it was complicated; there were others to think of now, entire families that would play a role in what they would be to each other from here on out.

Lost in his own mind, William didn’t realize that the soft lull of the deep Scottish burr wasn’t coming from his memories.

“Trying to escape the commotion of the house?”

William nearly jumped out of his boots, his movement startling the mule in its pen to his left. Turning to where the voice had come from, he saw Jamie Fraser in the far corner stall brushing out Miranda, an amused smile pulling at the corners of his mouth. Allowing William a moment to collect himself, he continued whispering sweet Gaelic nothings to the horse. William’s chest tightened at the familiarity of the scene before him. Even after all these years the sight and sound were calming to him.

“It’s quiet here, save the noises of the animals.”

“Aye,” Fraser nodded.

“I remember,” William said before he could stop himself, “Mac … you. The night before you left.” Fraser stopped his ministrations then.

“I thought ye did. Ye looked like ye’d seen a fetch when the priest started wi’ the words. Knew ye’d come here to set yer mind straight.”

“You did? How?” It came out more accusatory than he meant it and he softened his expression to take the edge off the question.

“Just because we havena been talking, doesna mean I havena been watching ye. This is where ye’ve been comin’ when it all gets to be a bit much, aye?”

This small detail that Fraser had picked up on made it clear to Willie that they had both been doing the same thing over the last week; taking each other in little by little, getting to know the other again through small observations. Both unsure of how to proceed with the other.

“It’s more the feel of it than anything else. Reminds me of simpler times, at Helwater.”

“Well, ye were always a good hand in the stables and a fine rider, no matter how small ye were.” Jamie smiled at that, one that reached his eyes. There was something else to his face then also. Pride, William thought.

“I had a good teacher.” There was a moment when his words hung in the air between the two men. But when one pair of slanted blue eyes met its match, they both let out a round of laughter.

“I suppose ye did, no matter how stubborn a wee fiend ye were.”

“Did you teach Brianna?”

“No … I wasna the one who taught her to ride.”

“You weren’t? But why not? From what Lord John has said you weren’t sent to prison until after she was of an age to ride. I wouldn’t expect you to have kept from teaching her just because she was a girl.”

“I wasna there to raise Brianna.” William saw Jamie tense as he spoke the words. “I didna get to know her until she was a grown woman. I havena raised any of the bairns I consider mine … ” his voice drifted off as though there were more he wanted to say.

William could sense there was more to the story regarding Jamie and Brianna’s past, but there was time enough for that later.

“You have a lot of them here on the Ridge, with you. Children that is.”

“That I do,” Jamie said with a chuckle, the mood lightening, “And I love them all the same. Even wi’ all the trouble they bring me sometimes.”

They shared a comfortable pause. William was relieved that the tension and awkwardness between them seemed to have faded.

“But they don’t only bring trouble. The lass set this up, ye ken?”

“Who? Set what up?”

“Brianna,” Jamie responded, a smile pulling at the corner of his mouth. “She told me after the two of ye arrived. She wanted us to finally have the same chance to know one another, like she and I did.”

“She is an extraordinary woman. I’m sorry for the time you may have missed with her.”

“Dinna fash, I have her now, and these moments I’ll have forever.” Jamie met William’s eyes then, “And you, I have memories with you. Even from afar, I got to watch ye grow … Weel, til’ you could ride that is,” he said with a slight chuckle, “Then ye wouldna leave me be.”

William made to interject, but Jamie stopped him.

“I was able to be there with ye, William, something I didn’t get with Brianna. Spend time with ye’, teach ye things. It was the first time I got to really help raise one of my bairns. And I can only hope I played a small part in the man that ye are today.”

William realized he hadn’t been the only one clinging to the memories they had shared in the past, and that they had meant just as much to Jamie Fraser -his father- as they had to him. He and Mac were the same man, all other circumstances be damned.

Jamie held out his hand to William then. He reached out and Jamie placed the small wooden rosary in hand.

“I thought ye might still have a place for it.” William knew very well the statement wasn’t solely about the rosary. He rubbed the beads between his fingers, worn smooth from years of consolation sought in them.

“Will ye stay then?” Jamie asked.

“Yes, I would like that.”

#outlander #olpromptexchange #outlander fan fiction #outlander fan fic #jamie fraser #william ransom #brianna fraser mackenzie #kat writes #da jamie