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hiswhiteknight · 3 years

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Unbelievably Outlandish– Part 11

Summary: Before starting down a new crossroads, the Reader goes onto an adventure of literary traveling. Suddenly tossed into an unbelievable story that has swept the world, The Outlander Series itself. How will a twenty first century woman survive?

Note: I own no characters, except reader, clearly this is based off the lovely book series Outlander by Diana Gabaldon and tv show. This follows more the tv show, but it’s far from accurate. I’m going to try to get better with using less proper English, but who knows maybe I’ll get into Scottish slang.

Pairing: Jamie Fraser x Female Reader

Words: 1700

Warning: Angst, playfulness, cursing, slow start, obvious fighting and violence, mention of suicide

** I hope I tagged everyone, this chapter isn’t the greatest, but I had to write through some writers block. Hope you like the chapter. If you want to be tagged, please feel free to message me

You tossed and turned throughout the night, in and out of a dream nightmare scape. The more you felt comfortable with the reality of the situation the deeper into despair you got. You thought survival would be something that kicked in and convince you to follow to rules and deny this sadness that has been growing in your core. You thought it was just easier to ignore and take this situation moment by moment. Recently, it has quickly become evident that there is not much you do to fix the problem in front of you. You could try to get away and more likely die or grow accustomed and slowly lose yourself, your brother, and everything you’ve learned to love in the 21st century. Most the books that helped you become this strong, independent woman – whom like your knowledge of those books could not exist in this world.

And where were you bags, Jamie was supposed to return them to you. You planned to give him a few slap against his ears and some nasty words with defending the woman you caused you to snap. He clearly found his time to distract himself with this devil, jealous woman. You quickly shook off the feelings, no person was worth giving them that much control of your feelings. Jamie was too grounding and has had too much affect on you.

Angus barreled his way down the surgery, “Let’s go Lass, we have to be on our way.”

Pulling yourself up from your make shift bed down there, you grabbed your luggage and made your way up to your horse. You were tightening some of your bags, when Jamie approached you. You chose to ignore his presence. He cleared his throat and tried to hand you your bags, “Y/N.”

“Mr. MacTavish,” you answered, pulling the bags from his hand and pushing your dagger in your belt of your dress. He stared at you, trying to figure you out and how to approach the situation.

He nodded his head, “Oh we’re back to this again.”

“To what are you referring, sir,” you answered back continuing to secure your luggage, which you were purposely taking your time completing.

“Mr. MacTavish,” he answered back at you, waiting for you to respond. When you didn’t he grabbed your wrist to stop your movement, a growl erupted from your chest.

“You’ll find it a good idea to unhand me good sir before you lose a hand,” you finally looked at him. His expression didn’t change, he waited for you to respond like you were friends or share your feelings. You just stared at him a bit longer, getting more uncomfortable with his silence. He was a patient man, that was for sure. “Took you long enough to get my bags back to me from your lassy girl, I’m sure she enjoyed your attention,” you shot back, turning back to your horse, “Hope it was worth it for you.”

He cleared his throat again, “That’s what this is about, you think I was with Laohaire,” he pointed back at you. A smirk grew on his face, “And that upsets you.”

“Nothing you do can upset me because I don’t care about you, do whatever you want,” you jabbed him with your finger harshly, “Mr. MacTavish,” you finished turning back to your horse, “Unless you touch me and I’ll gut you like a fish.”

“Jamie, Dougal wants you for something,” Angus walked up to you and Jamie. Jamie looked at you for a second later before turning towards Dougal. Angus looked at you, yelling after Jamie, “Watch this one Jamie, she might be having a special lady moment,” Angus joked while walking in the same direction.

You quickly went for your dagger to go after Angus when Murtagh pushed his hand in front of you, giving you a stern look and the ‘gimme’ motion with his hands, “Hand it over girlie.” You grunted again and handed over your dagger. “That a lass, now let’s get you on that horse,” he squatted to help you onto your horse. You took a deep breath to calm yourself down, Murtagh was growing on you, like a father figure. It has been a very long time since you felt a bond like that. “Don’t be too harsh on young Jamie, it isn’t like what you think,” Murtagh shared.

“What do I think,” you looked down at him.

“Stupid doesn’t suit you,” Murtagh said to you, shaking his head. He mounted his horse next to you, “We’ve got a long trip ahead, it won’t do you any good to push him away like that.”

“I have no feelings Murtagh, it really doesn’t matter to me. I’m just here to make sure everyone doesn’t die of dysentery,” you say to him before pulling forward to follow the moving crowd of men.

The ride was peaceful and chilled. It was a beautiful way to practice mindfulness and looking at the grand scheme of your predicament. You watched the men exchange their taxes, a older version of capitalism and taxes. Your tried not to think of how difficult this might be for different families. Often you set up a mock hammock and read what books you could bring on your journey or write a journal entry or story.

Occasionally you walked around the little villages and helped the citizens free of charge or what they could pay. Angus kept a close eye on you, still not fully trusting you, especially because you kept mostly to yourself or quiet. Ned and Murtagh was who you found yourself talking to most of the time. You could listen to Ned recite poetry and tell tales all day. Murtagh would just grumble about your actions and chilly disposition. And Jamie would try his hardest to stay in your good graces, but you didn’t move from you stance of trying to keep your distance, which you could tell bothered him.

You were walking about as the men collected the taxes when you heard a commotion. It caught your attention and you moved closer to see if you could help anyone at the moment, when a women came chasing a animal out with her broom. It ran into your feet and you looked upon a small puppy staring back at you. “Stay out of my food mutt,” the lady shouted.

“Excuse me, does this puppy belong to someone,” you asked, picking up the dog and cradling it to your chest. It couldn’t be more than a few months old.

“That runt is a menace around here, going to get himself killed,” she shared with you, “Cute, but no one has business around her for a puppy like that.”

For the first time in a long time, you felt a little bit of home, “So, if I took the puppy no one would care.”

“Willing to pay for it,” she asked you, looking to see if she could get a quick buck.

Scrounging in your pockets, “I got a few coins, would that be worth your troubles?” She nodded and took the cash and you lifted up the puppy to get a better look at it. It was a female puppy, who looked like a border collie with some brindle coloring. She just stared at you, you pulled out some scraps you kept in your pocket to snack on and fed the dog, “Alright, let’s keep this between us for a bit, shall we?” The puppy tilted her head, while continuing to munch on the snack you gave her.

You went to introduce her to your horse when Angus shouted at you, “No way, you can’t keep it.”

“Whatever I chose or not chose to travel with is known of your concern,” you say, letting your horse sniff at the puppy who just let it happen.

Angus yelled for Dougal as everyone continued to pack for the next village trip. This caught the crew’s attention, “We can’t worry about feeding another mouth, lass, leave the pup.”

You felt anger grow in your chest and looked to Murtagh who was shaking his head no, “I promise that won’t be anything you will have to worry about. She’ll be my responsibility. I’ll train her and take care of her. Any issues, I promise I’ll be the first to find her another home, please Dougal,” it killed you to have to ask for permission.

Jamie stepped up, “She’s been nothing but helpful Dougal. She’s kept to herself, she the only girl on this trip. She’s lonely, let her keep the pup.”

This was the first time you looked at Jamie for longer than 5 seconds without quickly looking away. Ned chimed in, “Jamie’s right, Dougal, the girl deserves a companion. She’s a responsible young lady, she won’t let the puppy get in the way.”

Dougal rolled his eyes, “You’re in charge of it girl, the first time it kills one of the animals here is the time it gets tossed. You got it,” he pointed to you.

“I swear, scouts honor,” you give the girl scouts oath symbol. He looked at you strangely and continued getting ready to head for the bar.

For the first time in a while, you felt a glow in your chest. You squeezed the little creature, when Jamie walked up to you. “Seems you made a friend,” he whispered from behind you. You turn to look at him, “Cute little thing.”

“I didn’t need you to jump to my aid,” you said to him, hugging the puppy.

He nodded looking down at you, reaching to scratch the puppy’s ear, “I know, but if you don’t want to be friends with me, you minus well have someone to talk to. She seems like a good ally.”

You look at him for a moment longer, feeling a little chip in your armor, “Jamie.”

Taglist: @doctorwhatwhenandwhere @damnedandbroken @blushingpogue @blancastans @slytherinambitious @kinky-asher @lovesanimals @bilesxbilinskixlahey @ dreamybab3 @stuckupstucky @glassesandthunderthighs @ nerdypartytrashpsychic @merlehs @0-cries-0

“Hold that thought, I have a little show I have to put on,” Jamie shared walking away in his ripped and sewn back up shirt. More armor chipped away because it was easy to avoid thinking about Jamie’s feelings when you didn’t witness the scene his uncle caused. He was going through something and you continued to push him away. Maybe you had to reframe your thoughts on Jamie.

Part 12

#Jamie Fraser #jamie fraser x reader #jamie fraser imagines #jamie fraser imagine #jamie frazier x reader #Outlander #outlander fanfiction #outlander imagine

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espoirmerveilleux · 4 years

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An update, and more to come! I would be remiss if I didn’t thank @nanokouw and @csota for talking me through the panic and anger of realizing I switched tenses, and for encouraging me to make changes that improve the flow of this whole entire thing.

Excerpt:

"Oh, Christ, I'm … I'm crying, Elsie! I never do, and so far this morning I've done nothing else. Listen, I don't suppose there's a chance you'd be free to come out, would you?"

"I'll be right there, soon as. What can I bring? Do you need anything?"

The alarm in her friend's voice registers. "It's not … we're fine here. Everyone is fine. There is no emergency, and I don't want to take you away from Charles. Only Richard's finishing out his commitment to the hospital this week and I'm all alone out here. And clearly not handling it well!"

"Oh, honey, hush now. It'll be alright. I'm so glad you rang. It just so happens Charles is away till Thursday late and I've nothing pressing, and I was wondering whether you were in Yorkshire this week anyway. You see, it was meant to be!"

"If you're sure," Isobel hedges, swiping at renegade tears. "I'd come to you except I've got tradesmen in and I'm stuck here a couple of days till they're through. And I haven't got a kitchen at the moment, but there's good takeaway and a bakery in the village, and I can still put the kettle on. Um …" She pauses for a moment; doubt doesn't get a foothold often, but this … thing … girlfriends … it's foreign territory. "I don't suppose you'd stop here? A day or two, perhaps?" She rushes the words out, finishing on a gasp. "What am I saying? That's too much to ask."

"Isobel." Elsie's tone puts Isobel in mind of a headmistress: masterful and commanding, brooking no argument. "Of course I'll stay. Separating Angus from MacTavish will be a laugh anyway, once they're reunited. And I'll bring wine. What else?"

"Yes," Isobel allows. "Much wine, I think. Nothing else; just you." Shaking her head, she amends, "Oh, and your swimming costume."

#ejb writes #fanfic #downton abbey #richobel #isobel crawley #dr richard clarkson #look after you #modern retirement au #special guest:#elsie hughes

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geethedentist · 5 years

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The Sassenach Warrior

Catch up on Chapter 5 here!

Chapter 6: The Wonders of Whisky

Rising from the chair, I froze halfway trying to decide if I should go after Jamie. Dougal had suddenly became aware of my presence once again, as if coming down from an intoxicated state. I suppose he was.

He smiled. It was not a nice smile.

“You look very pleased with yourself.”

“Pleased? Ye should come back and see me when Scotland and the Bonny Prince are victorious.”

I crossed my arms. “Forgive me, but hasn’t there already been two failed Jacobite risings?”

That remark dampened his euphoria. “Watch it lass, I expect ye to remain civil. Ye’re only here because I still dinna ken what yer game is. Ye ken nothing of those risings and what Scotland has been through.”

“I am being perfectly fucking civil. You on the other hand, are a complete barbarian. I take it that Jamie is only here to be used as a prop?” I gestured toward the door through which Jamie had just left.

He let out a long breath. “Please try to understand. ’Tis nothing against the lad. He just happens to be the owner of a verra strong example of English brutality and ruthlessness. He swore loyalty.”

“He did no such thing and you know it. I was frankly shocked he sat there for the past hour and let you do that. Good night.” Before he could say anything else I swept up my half-full mug of ale and my meat pie and stomped up the stairs.

I awoke an hour or two later in a sweat and a coating of pie crumbs. Sighing, I draped my arm over my face. The dream was quite unsettling. Dougal was the one flogging Jamie and once again, I was sitting there watching with a mug of ale. Jamie had looked pleadingly into my eyes. The dreams were worsening since I had been taken by the Scots, but they had started when Uncle Lamb died. I let out a shaky breath and climbed out of bed.

There was a figure in the back alley of the tavern below. My stomach flipped when I realized it was Jamie. His familiar form was hunched over as he sat on a wooden bench. His knuckles were a mess of blood, though he made no move to staunch the flow. It was rhythmically dripping onto the ground in front of him. It ran between the cracks in the stone. I tore myself away from the window and tried, unsuccessfully, to go back to sleep.

The next morning my head felt heavy; it hovered dangerously close to my bowl of porridge. What should have been the most sound sleep I’ve had in weeks was punctuated by horrible dreams of varying content, guilt for some reason, and other feelings I did not care to identify. I blinked heavily and parted my jaws in an enormous yawn.

“Ye look like ye’ve been up all night,” Murtagh commented.

“I suppose I had gotten used to sleeping on the ground.” I answered. Then I swung my head to look around the room. “Where is Jamie?”

“Why?” Angus interjected, a large annoying smirk on his face.

As much as I wanted to hit him, displaying hostility would only encourage it. I tried for nonchalance. “I just noticed that he isn’t here. That’s all.” I added a shrug for good measure.

“The lad woke up hours ago, he’s spendin’ the day in the stables if I’m not mistaken.” Murtagh answered me, ignoring Angus. So Jamie wished to be left alone.

That evening saw us all in the taproom once again. I had just finished supper when I noticed with dread that the tavern was much more crowded than it had been the previous night. Dougal was drawing a larger audience then, and word was spreading. Jamie was led in by his uncle. I imagined that the days he was flogged looked quite similar to this.

Dougal then began the exact speech from the previous night, and hearing it a second time made it far less impressive and far less passionate. I wanted to spare myself the sight of Jamie’s anguish by spending the night in my room. But tonight, I was going to make sure he was okay.

We had not spoken in two days.

It took longer for the taproom to clear out this time. A young man with light brown hair was the last to drop his coin in. His cheeks were ruddy and covered in dense patches of freckles. Dougal bowed to him. “Alba a ’toirt taing.”

A confused expression momentarily crossed his face before he nodded and made his way to the front door. He passed the armchair in which I was sitting.

“Save your money.” I said to him.

He stopped. “He’s going to save Scotland.” I almost felt sorry for the innocent, deluded look in his eyes.

“He thinks he’s going to save Scotland.” I said, putting my legs up on the table.

“Well, what’s he going to do with all that money?” He demanded.

I sighed. “What’s your name?”

“Peter, Miss.” He hadn’t commented on my attire, but I could feel him staring at it.

“Peter. What you just saw was a carefully rehearsed ploy in which that man exploited his nephew for money. Sure Dougal cares about Scotland and I imagine that he’s going to attempt to use that money to raise an army against England. But if you ask me, he’s a child in a grown man’s body. A couple pence is not going to help. Feed your family instead.”

His eyebrows knit together. “I shall keep that in mind, Miss. You’re quite the cynic aren’t you?”

I smiled insincerely. “Being a pessimist is wonderful. I am either always right or pleasantly surprised. Have a good evening sir.”

After he had gone I dimly realized that he wore no tartan and spoke no Gaelic. My thoughts were interrupted by the sight of Jamie attempting to shrug back into his destroyed shirt. Tonight was different than last night. He was not angry. He was defeated. The floor above us creaked as Dougal entered his room after having counted the night’s earnings.

I put my hand on his shoulder. “Can I help?”

He did not say anything, but nodded once. Permission granted, I took the two tattered ends of the shirt and tied them in a knot at his back. The scars shone in the candlelight.

“At least now it won’t fall off.” I whispered.

He still said nothing, and I realized that he was holding his breath.

“I have - I have no idea how to sew.” I said stupidly and unnecessarily into his silence.

His fingers drummed on the counter, I saw fresh scabs. His head turned slowly towards me. He gave the most infinitesimal smile, but it was the most I’ve seen in days. “I didna think ye would, Sassenach.”

My breath came out in a laugh, and he continued. “Maybe I’ll teach ye one day.”

I was still laughing, more out of some unexplained relief than from what he said. “No thank you!”

He pretended to be taken aback. “No thank you? All Scottish boys are taught to sew and knit ye ken.”

The barman approached and placed a glass of amber liquid in front of Jamie. I sat up straighter. “What is that?”

He picked up the glass and swirled it around. The way the liquid caught the light was pleasing to look at, and just watching it made me feel warm. He took a sip and savored it before answering me. “It’s whisky, Sassenach. Ye’ve never had?” I could tell by the gleam in his eye that he was hoping I would say no. I shook my head, still staring at the glass.

“Then I am honored to be the first that ye shall drink it with.” He waved the barman over and had him pour me a glass. “Leave the bottle, if ye please.” Jamie told him before he went into the kitchen.

I held my own glass at eye level right in front of my face. He was intently watching me inspect my whisky. I sniffed it, and the scent was complex. It smelled like Scotland. After the first swallow, there was a small fire burning merrily in my belly, a warm trail down my throat, and several unidentifiable flavors commingling on my tongue. It was magnificent.

Half an hour later, the bottle was almost empty, and the small fire had become a raging blaze. We had spent that time laughing hysterically and having a belching contest. I hadn’t realized how badly I needed to get drunk, and I said as much as I reached to pour some more.

Jamie’s eyes widened. They were becoming a bit glassy and bloodshot. “Sassenach I fear ye may be drinkin’ me under the table and I am ashamed.”

I snorted. “Please, I could drink any one of you under this whole tavern.”

That sent him into a small fit of laughter. “Would ye like to test yer theory on the lads, then?”

My reply came without thinking. “Actually, no. I find I can only handle them in small doses. I’m quite enjoying this sad little drinking party and all two of its current members.”

He smiled. “Me too.” After a short pause, he tentatively reached out his hand. “Ye have something in your hair.” His speech slurred faintly. “Um. Do ye want me to get it out?”

I shrugged. “If you think it will help my tangled mess look more presentable.”

Permission granted, his hand continued reverently up to the top of my head.

“Coltach ris an uisge ann an allt, mo nighean donn.”

He carefully extracted some piece of lint, and lowered his eyes to my face. I watched as he switched his gaze between me and the glass of whisky I had suspended near my lips. Suddenly, Jamie MacTavish abruptly reminded me why I had not spoken to him for two days.

“It looks just like yer eyes …” He breathed.

I lowered the cup with a sharp exhale. He was beet red, and that’s when I realized he was in over his head. It didn’t matter now if I ignored him completely. He would still be torn apart when I left no matter what. I silently cursed myself for not leaving sooner.

Being in the company of these Scots was the longest I had been in anyone’s company since I lived with my uncle. Before this, I had never had time to forge any kind of profound connection. I had kept interactions and acquaintances short and unattached. It was safer for me that way.

Jamie sat there sweating now, and gazing at me expectantly clearly hoping that his fuck up would reward him. I shuddered to think what sorts of sober thoughts would make it out of my drunken mouth.

Instinct took over and an irrational urge to make him angry at me manifested itself. If I had known all that was going to unfold after, I would have gone to bed right then and there. I suppose I thought that angering him on purpose would make it easier for him when I was gone. If he hated me, he’d be glad to see me go.

I attempted to look him straight in the eye, although at this point my vision was beginning to spin slightly. “Why do you let Dougal do that to you?”

He stiffened. “I could ask you the same.” He said lowly.

I clenched my teeth together. “It isn’t the same and you know it. He’ll put your back on display every night!”

“Not the same?” He chuckled humorlessly. “Dougal is controlling and manipulating both of us.”

“Excuse me but nobody can control me.” It sounded ridiculous and delusional on its way out of my mouth. “You on the other hand, can take your body back anytime you like!”

“Then ye prove ye ken nothing of clan politics!” He half shouted back at me. “As for you, ye can leave anytime ye like as well. Ye can leave and keep running, I ken how badly ye want to.” His burr was growing quite broad, almost to the point where I had to strain to understand him.

“I can’t.” I whispered. “You’ve got me all figured out don’t you?”

“And I canna leave either.” He suddenly had the same vulnerable and tortured expression as the say he showed me his back.

“But the scars … He’ll bring you a constant reminder each night if he keeps this up. I know you hate the pity it brings down upon you.” I suppose I had been trying to get him to oppose his uncle because I was powerless to do it for myself. Perhaps I enjoyed the fact that I was only one who had seen them.

“The scars are there and they always will be, ’tis hard to forget the past when it’s written all over your body.”

Admittedly, I had drunk much as I did that night for two reasons. The first was to be a bit of a show-off, and the second was because I truly loved the whisky. There came a moment when I entered a completely different plane: that of the hopelessly intoxicated. It happened in an instant, and the world tilted dangerously. But the spinning was accompanied by that strange sentimental, affectionate feeling that only alcohol can bring. I put my hand on his shoulder.

“I have trouble forgetting the past too.” For weeks I had hovered between wanting to push Jamie away and wanting to keep him close, and I had chosen both within the past five minutes.

“I can help…” His voice was barely a whisper. My heart was a hammer in my chest. It drowned out the creaks and moans of the tavern. Jamie’s face drew closer to mine, his mouth hung open slightly and his eyes were focused intently on my lips. The world surrounding him kept spinning and it made my head throb painfully. If I kept my attention on him, everything was stable. He was the focal point. I involuntarily inched forward to close the gap.

The front door banged open and raucous laughter accompanied it. A brief mixture of disappointment and relief came flooding as I nearly catapulted myself as far back as possible as quickly as possible. Rupert and Angus had returned, each with a girl in tow.

Angus waved at us without taking notice of the fact that we were both red in the face, breathing heavily, and sinfully drunk. “Jamie! Ye should have come with us!” He called cheerfully.

“I was otherwise engaged.” He answered stiffly, plucking at his tattered shirt between his thumb and forefinger.

I stood listening to this exchange numbly trying to process the last thirty seconds. Eyes shut tight, the room revolved violently although I stood still, albeit swaying a bit.

My eyes popped open with the realization that I was being addressed. “What?”

“I said,” Rupert repeated, “are ye sober?”

My face scrunched as I tried to put him into focus. “I am moderately functional.”

He howled with laughter. “I’ll take that as a no!”

As they thundered up the stairs Jamie had risen from the stool with an expectant expression. I twisted my fingers nervously. “I - I should follow their lead and head up to bed. I’m afraid I’m not going to feel very well at all come morning.” At this, I saw the line between his eyebrows deepen.

“Thank you for introducing me to the wonders of whisky,” I added, trying to lighten the mood and bring back the platonic nature of our relationship.

“Aye, Sassenach. Sleep well.”

I staggered up the stairs, clutching the railing. Jamie had returned to his seat at the bar. I saw him push the whisky away.

Laying on my back, I felt as though I was floating in water, being slowly pushed and pulled, but somewhat weightless as well. My mind too muddled to think, I passed out no thanks to the waves of vertigo swirling around my head.

I have always found that when all one wants to do is sleep, it the absolute last thing that one is able to do. I awoke painfully and peeked under the drapes. The sky had the faintest light to it, no longer dead of night but not quite dawn either.

I shuffled over to the washbasin and chugged a glass of water. Hands braced on the edge of the basin, breathing deeply, all of my problems hit me at once. I angrily shoved hair out of my face attempted to regain some control in order to figure things out.

Right then, first problem: my near kiss with Jamie. Before contemplating a solution, I gave myself a stinging chastisement. What in the ever-living fuck were you thinking Claire?!

Oh God, it was so bad. It was irreversible. I could not even recall how my face made it into such close proximity with his. I suppose it happened involuntarily. I could hear his heart pounding from where I sat. … Or was it mine? An irrational surge of anger overtook me. I wondered what could be going through Jamie’s head at the moment, I was almost certain that he was awake as well. Oh no. Would he try again? Curse that whisky, I thought, blaming the alcohol. And then it became clear. If alcohol got me into this, it would get me out.

__________________________________________________________________

Everybody must have been waiting for my arrival downstairs the following morning because it appeared they had bet both upon the time I would arise and upon how horrible I would look.

Dougal and Ned were out collecting some of the rent, but Rupert and Angus sat in the taproom barely able to control their laughter. Murtagh was chuckling as well. Out of the corner of my vision I noticed Jamie staring intently at me. I did my best not to look at him, afraid one glance would acknowledge that I did in fact remember everything.

“How are ye feeling today lass?” Angus clapped me on the shoulder as I took a seat.

I glared at him. My eyes felt swollen and heavy. “Better than ever, thank you for asking.”

“Ye ken,” he continued, “one of the best things to cure a hangover is alcohol, believe it or not.”

My stomach lurched. “Do you want me to vomit on you?”

After another round of laughter at my expense, everyone left to go about their day and I was finally allowed to eat my porridge in peace. Well, almost in peace.

“I’d say I’m sorry they were makin’ fun of ye, Sassenach. But that’s what ye get for winning a whisky drinking contest against a Scotsman.” Jamie had moved to sit across from me.

“So it was a contest? I hadn’t noticed.”

He shifted uncomfortably. “Claire, I - how much do ye remember from last night, exactly?”

Moment of truth, I hoped my acting skills were up to the task. “Well I must admit that it was a bit of a blur after the belching contest. I do believe you relieved my hair of a piece of lint but that is about it.”

A flash of grief crossed his face, he blinked rapidly and exhaled strongly through his nose. But as quickly as it had come, he pushed it away.

He tried once more, “are ye certain?” Oh God. He knew. But I was clinging to my story like a piece of driftwood in a storm.

“I’m afraid so, but one thing I do remember is how much I loved that whisky.”

The conversation continued cordially after that, but each of us knew the truth. I kept telling myself this would all make it easier for Jamie to forget me when I left. So in a way, I was thankful that he knew I was lying, that I refused to accept the truth about what happened.

As for my leaving, I had partially solved that problem as well as I lay in my drunken stupor. I thought about Dougal and his obsession with financing an army for the Prince. I could either wait until we returned to Leoch to inform Colum of his brother’s latest financial venture and still run the risk of not being set free.

Or, I could help Dougal along. Perhaps if I had some money to contribute to the cause, he would see fit to trust me. It was as Uncle Lamb used to say: “Throw money at the problem.” Perhaps Dougal would leave Jamie alone as well. However, this was where my plan was incomplete.

Should I sell something? Become a whore? Rob a bank?

That evening, the perfect opportunity would present itself to me when Rupert and Angus urged us all to come with them to have a bit of fun.

“If ye were wonderin’ where we were last night when we got back, now is yer chance to find out!” Angus was attempting to herd us out the door.

Dougal and Ned declined. Murtagh, Jamie and I shrugged and followed them. We strolled down the central street, chatting amiably until we turned a corner and stopped in front of a seemingly dark inn. I raised an eyebrow.

“Now I ken what yer’re thinkin’,” Rupert began. “But this isna just an inn. Claire I’d wager ye will be the one to enjoy this the most.”

Rupert and Angus were both standing with their backs to the tall fence that separated the inn from the property next door. Sheets of paper adorned the fence, town bulletins, advertisements, someone’s lost cat. Then I saw it. Or rather, I saw me. I saw my own face and my own kinky mop peering back at me from a wanted poster pinned right next to Rupert’s head. My eyes widened but he took no notice and kept talking. I looked helplessly at Jamie and tried discretely to dart my eyes in the direction of the poster. His eyes narrowed as a puzzled look came across his face. It did not take him long to find it.

“Oh Jesus,” he said softly.

Murtagh had seen it too, but he said nothing. Jamie’s fingers were tapping rapidly against his thigh. I could tell he was improvising a plan. They would sell me out to Dougal right away.

“Ah I see why ye wanted to come back,” Jamie said suddenly and loudly. “This is where ye met those bonny lasses, isn’t it?”

“Aye well that’s part of it!” Angus said.

He stepped forward, put his arms around their shoulders, and steered them away from the fence toward the side entrance to the inn, where the only light seemed to be coming from. Angus had begun animatedly describing his meeting with the girl from the night before with Rupert chiming in occasionally. I all but lunged forward and ripped the poster down, shoving it immediately into my pocket. Murtagh stood watching me with his arms folded. I lowered my head guiltyly and followed the others.

#Outlander #outlander fandom #outlander fanfic #jamie and claire #jamie x claire #Jamie Fraser #clairebeauchamp #the sassenach warrior

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peach-salinger · 5 years

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✧･*ﾟscottish surnames

→ link to my scottish female name masterlist → link to my scottish male name masterlist

under the cut are 733 scottish surnames. this masterlist was created for all in one breath rp at the request of lovely el, but feel free to link on your own sites! names are listed in alphabetical order. ❝mac❞, ❝mc❞ and ❝m❞ are split into three sections because i mean... look at them. please like♡ or reblog if you found this useful.

abbot(son), abercrombie, abernethy, adam(son), agnew, aikenhead, aitken, akins, allan(nach/son), anderson, (mac)andie, (mac)andrew, angus, annand, archbold/archibald, ard, aris, (mac)arthur

(mac)bain/bayne, baird, baker, balfour, bannatyne, bannerman, barron, baxter, beaton, beith, bell, bethune, beveridge, birse, bisset, bishop, black(ie), blain/blane, blair, blue, blyth, borthwick, bowie, boyd, boyle, braden, bradley, braithnoch, (mac)bratney, breck, bretnoch, brewster, (mac)bridan/brydan/bryden, brodie, brolochan, broun/brown, bruce, buchanan, budge, buglass, buie, buist, burnie, butter/buttar

caie, (mac)caig, (mac)cail, caird, cairnie, (mac)callan(ach), calbraith, (mac)callum, calvin, cambridge, cameron, campbell, canch, (mac)candlish, carberry, carmichael, carrocher, carter, cassie, (mac)caskie, catach, catto, cattenach, causland, chambers, chandlish, charleson, charteris, chisholm, christie, (mac)chrystal, (mac)clanachan/clenachan, clark/clerk, (mac)clean, cleland, clerie, (mac)clinton, cloud, cochrane, cockburn, coles, colinson, colquhoun, comish, comiskey, comyn, conn(an), cook, corbett, corkhill, (mac)cormack, coull, coulthard, (mac)cowan, cowley, crabbie, craig, crane, cranna, crawford/crawfurd, crerar, cretney, crockett, crosby, cruikshank, (mac)crum, cubbin, cullen, cumming, cunningham, currie, cuthbertson

dallas, dalglish, dalziel, darach/darroch, davidson, davie, day, deason, de lundin, dewar, dickin, dickson, docherty, dockter, doig, dollar, (mac)donald(son), donelson, donn, douglas, dorward, (mac)dow(all), dowell, (macil)downie, drain, drummond, (mc)duff(ie)/duff(y), duguid, dunnet, dunbar, duncan, dunn, durward, duthie

E, F

eggo, elphinstone, erskine, faed, (mac)farquhar(son), fee, fergus(on), (mac)ferries, fettes, fiddes, findlay, finn, finlayson, fisher, fishwick, fitzgerald, flanagan, fleming, fletcher, forbes, forrest, foulis/fowlis, fraser, fullarton, fulton, furgeson

gall(ie), galbraith, gammie, gardyne, (mac)garvie, gatt, gault, geddes, gellion, gibb(son), gilbert, gilbride, (mac)gilchrist, gilfillan, (mac)gill(ivray/ony), gillanders, gillespie, gillies, gilliland, gilmartin, gilmichael, gilmore, gilroy, gilzean, (mac)glashan, glass, gloag, glover, godfrey, gollach, gordon, (mac)gorrie, gourlay, gow, graeme/graham, grant, grassick, grassie, gray, gregg, (mac)gregor(y), greer, greig, grierson, grieve, grimmond, (mac)gruer, gunn, guthrie

hall, hamill, (mac)hardie/hardy, harper, harvie, hassan, hatton, hay, henderson, hendry, henry, hepburn, herron, hood, hosier, howie, hugston, huie, hume, humphrey, hunter, (mac)hutcheon, hutcheson

I, J, K

(mac)innes, irving, iverach, ivory, jamieson, jarvie, jeffrey(s), johnson, johnston, jorie, (mac)kay, (mac)kean, keenan, keillor, keir, keith, kelly, kelso, keogh, kemp, kennedy, (mac)kerr(acher), kesson, king, kynoch

laing, laird, (mac)laine/lane, lamond, lamont, landsborough, landsburgh, lang/laing, larnach, laurie/lawrie, lees, lennie, lennox, leslie, lindsay, little(son), lithgow, livingston(e), lobban, logan, lorne, lothian, lovat, love, loynachan, luke, luther

MAC-

mac ruaidhrí, mac somhairle, mac suibhne, macadam, macadie, macaffer, macainsh, macalasdair, macallister, macalonie, macalpine, macanroy, macara, macarthy, macaskill, macaskin, macaughtrie, macaulay, macauslan, macbean, macbeath, macbeth(ock), macbey, macbriden, macbryde, maccabe, maccadie, maccaffer, maccaffey/maccaffie, maccalman, maccambridge, maccann, maccance, maccartney, maccavity, maccaw, macdowell, maccheyne, maccodrum, maccomb(ie), maccorkindale, maccormick, maccoll, macconie, macconnachie, macconnell, maccoshin, maccoskrie, maccorquodale, macclaren, maccleary, macclew, maccloy, macclumpha, macclung, macclure, macclurg, maccraig, maccrain, maccreadie, maccrimmon, maccrindle, maccririe, maccrone, maccrosson, maccuaig, maccuidh, maccuish, macculloch, maccurley, macdermid/macdiarmid, macdougall, macdui, macduthy, maceachainn, maceachen, macelfrish, macewan/macewen, macfadyen, macfadzean, macfall, macfarlane/macpharlane, macfater/macphater, macfeat, macfee, macfigan, macgarrie, macgarva, macgeachen/macgeechan, macgeorge, macghie, macgibbon, macgillonie, macgiven, macglip, macgriogair, macgruther, macguire, macgurk, machaffie, macheth, machugh, macichan, macinnally, macindeoir, macindoe, macinesker, macinlay, macinroy, macintosh, macintyre, macisaac, maciver/macivor, macilherran, macilroy, macjarrow, mackail, mackeegan, mackeggie, mackellar, mackelvie, mackendrick, mackenna, mackenzie, mackerlich, mackerral, mackerron, mackerrow, mackessock, mackettrick, mackichan, mackie, mackilligan, mackillop, mackim(mie), mackinven, mackirdy/mackirdie, mackrycul, maclafferty, maclagan, maclarty, maclatchie/letchie, maclaverty, maclearnan, macleay, maclehose, macleish, maclellan(d), macleman, macleod, macleòid, maclintock, macllwraith, maclucas, macluckie, maclugash, macmann(us), macmaster, macmeeken, macmichael, macmillan, macminn, macmorrow, macmurchie, macmurdo, macmurray, macnab, macnair, macnally, macnaught(on), macnee, macneish/macnish, macnicol, macninder, macnucator, macpartland, macphail, macphatrick, macphee, macphedran, macpherson, macquarrie, macqueen, macquien, macquilken, macrae/machray, macraild, macrob(bie/bert), macrory, macrostie, macshane, macsherry, macsorley, macsporran, macsween, mactavish, mactear, macturk, macusbaig, macvannan, macvarish, macvaxter, macvean, macveigh/macvey, macvicar, macvitie, macvurich, macwalter, macwattie, macwhannell, macwhillan, macwhinnie

MC-

mccabe, mccain, mcclelland, mcclintock, mcconell, mccracken, mccune, mccurdy, mcdiarmid, mcelshender, mceuen, mcewing, mcfadden, mcgeachie/mcgeachy, mcgowan, mcilroy, mcinnis, mcivor, mckechnie, mckeown, mclarty, mclennan, mcneill(age/ie), mcowen, mcphee, mcpherson, mcwhirter

maduthy, magruder, mahaffie, main(s), mair, major, malcolm(son), malloch, manson, marr, marno(ch), (mac)martin, marquis, massie, matheson, mathewson, maver/mavor, maxwell, may, mearns, meechan, meiklejohn, meldrum, mellis(h), menzies, mercer, micklewain, milfrederick, millar/miller, milligan, milliken, milne, milroy, milvain, milwain, moannach, moat, moffat, mollinson, moncrief, monk, montgomery, moore, moray, morgan, (mac)morran, morrison, morrow, morton, mossman, mucklehose, muir(head), mulloy, munn, munro, (mac)murchie/murchy, murchison, murdoch, murphy

N, O, P, Q

nairn, naughton, navin, neeve, neil, neish, nelson, ness, nevin, nicalasdair, niceachainn, (mac)nichol(son), nicleòid, (mac)niven, noble, ochiltree, ogg, ogilvy, o'kean, oliver, omay/omey, orchard(son), orr, osborne, park, paterson, patrick, patten, peacock, peat, peters, philp, polson, power, purcell, purser, qualtrough, quayle, quillan, quiller, quinn, quirk

R, S

(mac)ranald(son), randall, rankin, reid, reoch, revie, riach, (mac)ritchie, roberts(on), rose, ross, rothes, roy, ryrie, salmon(d), scott, selkirk, sellar, shannon, sharpe, shaw, sheen, shiach, sillars, sim(son/pson), sinclair, skene, skinner, sloan, smith, somerville, soutar/souter, stein, stenhouse, stewart/stuart, strachan, stronach, sutherland, (mac)swan(son/ston), swinton

T, U, V, W, Y

taggart, tallach, tawse, taylor, thom(son), todd, tolmie, tosh, tough, tulloch, turner, tyre, ulrick, urquhart, vass, wallace, walker, walsh, warnock, warren, ward, watt, watson, wayne, weir, welsh, whiston, whyte, wilkins(on), (mac)william(son), wilson, winning, wright, young

#names #masterlist #surnames #last names #name masterlist #rph #scottish surnames #scottish last names #roleplay help #roleplay #rp #mine #my stuff #surname masterlist #last name masterlist

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thelallybrochlibrary · 6 years

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The 7th of April is World Health Day and the Librarians at The Lallybroch Library have come up with a list of various health themed fics to read!

A Medical Emergency by marlosbooknook

It was just a regular busy day in the A&E for Dr. Claire Beauchamp, until a certain red headed Scot came in.

Birds of a Feather by Compactor

In April of 1940 a wounded soldier and an outsider, James Fraser, and a WWII nurse, Claire Randall, meet for the first time.

Doctor? by suspiciousteapot for @imagineclaireandjamie

Imagine Jamie survived Culloden and went through the stones and wind up in the hospital where Claire is now a Doctor. Frank is not in the picture. :)

For the Love of a Solider by @writtenthroughtime

Word Prompt from my Blog: AU where Jamie and Claire are in the 1940s. Claire is a nurse and Jamie a Scottish solider. Both trying to fight their attraction but can’t help falling in love anyways.

In Name or in Blood by @lenny9987

When Claire finds a sick infant abandoned in the woods, she rushes it back to the warmth and safety of Leoch. When her medical skills prove effective and the child’s life is no longer at risk, she finds she wants to keep and raise the baby with Jamie.

Jimjeran Book 1: I Choose You by BetweenScenes

Claire is a nurse in the Peace Corps, spending 18 months in the Marshall Islands. Down the road, three Peace Corps volunteers–Jamie, Angus, and Rupert–are running the local elementary school.

Keeping Faith by @thatsoccercoach

When he’d come home from work that morning Claire had already been at the front door with her bags, a look of fear in her lovely eyes. He’d felt completely helpless as he’d taken in the sight. His delicate wife, one hand on her lower back, the other low on her belly sheltering their child.

Laughter is the best medicine by @smoakingwaffles

Outlander Polaroid series: Building the house on the ridge

Let Us Not Talk Falsely Now by @gotham-ruaidh for @imagineclaireandjamie

Imagine if Jamie was a wounded soldier and Claire a combat nurse who met in a field hospital during the Vietnam War.

New Life by Nikki_Herzog

Claire Beauchamp arrives to her new job as a nurse at the Scottish Helicopter Ambulance Service, where she meets helicopter pilot Jamie.

Nurse Randall by @kalendraashtar

Claire was born to be a healer. But how did she find her calling, training as a nurse during WWII?

Primum Non Nocere by FaerieChild

Surgeon Claire Beauchamp understands the long established principle of the medical profession that first, one should do no harm. But what happens when a married Claire Beauchamp meets the free and single Jamie MacTavish?

The Doctor and The Captain by @kalendraashtar

Jamie and Claire meet in College.

The Dunbonnet’s Cave by Zoe1078

A response to a tumblr prompt: “What if Claire had a medical conference in Scotland, in her time, and couldn’t resist visiting Lallybroch. She then finds a stone or discovers the cave Jamie stayed in and sees something Jamie carved there.”

There’s Not a Word Yet for Old Friends Who’ve Just Met by fardareismai

Claire Beauchamp is looking for a roommate for her last year of medical school. Once she decides on a girl named Jamie, she’s in for several shocks.

Time is A Cold Wind by @mibasiamille

After his car breaks down in the middle of the Scottish wilderness, escaped soldier Jamie Fraser stumbles upon the standing stones of Craigh Na Dun. Desperate to avoid capture, he touches the stones and wakes up 200 years in the past, staring up at the ceiling of Claire Beauchamp’s cabin with a bullet in his leg. As she helps him recover, he notices something familiar about this strange woman, living alone at the base of a fairy hill. Once he discovers the truth, he must decide whether to tell her and, alternatively, reveal to her the difficulties of his own plight.

Scalpel & Needle by @kalendraashtar

Jamie and Claire are surgeons working together but they can’t see eye to eye. However, a secret admirer has found a special place in her heart.

Spend Your Time by simply_sassenach

Claire is a doctor in residence at a hospital in Inverness, Scotland. One night, a large, red headed patient comes in with a bruised rib after being in a bar fight. His name is Jamie Fraser. Something about Jamie draws Claire to him. She wants to be around him. However, she must decide whether she wants to be around him only as friends or something more.

If anyone else has some recommended reading specifically for World Health Day, please let us know!

#outlander #fan fiction #world health day #recommended reading #the lallybroch library #*category

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ecampbellsoup · 6 years

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Outlander First Impressions: Chapter 8

Here are chapters 1-7 if you missed them.

“Following the direction of her gaze, I spotted the tall, red-headed figure of Jamie MacTavish, just entering the hall.”

Laoghaire…🙄

Ok listen: I did not dislike Laoghaire at first. I truly did not. She was a wee, immature girl who had a crush on Jamie.

HOWEVER—when you decide to try to derail a marriage because you want something that was NEVER yours to begin with, then we have a problem.

Furthermore, when you try to have the wife of the man you want killed, then yes, I loathe your actions and I have no respect for that kind of character.

Sorry RDM—despite your efforts to make her “sympathetic” on the show, you certainly did not win the sympathy vote with me and Laoghaire. And I don’t find her any more palatable in the novel either 😂

“Catching my signal, the young man made his way through the crowd, smiling.”

Ooooooh sweet Baby J

Gosh darn it. He’s so precious.

He sees the woman he desires waving at him and hastily waltzes over to her

SMILING.

He is a smitten kitten. No doubt about that.

“And putting a hand under my elbow, he steered me toward the archway, leaving the girl staring after us with an expression that made me relieved that looks in fact cannot kill.”

HEHEHEH bye Laoghaire 🤣🤣🤣🤣

OH BUT SHE WILL STILL TRY HER DARNDEST TO KILL YOU, CLAIRE.

Also, this moment played out a bit differently in the show—Laoghaire looks more disappointed rather than wrathful. Quite a bit of a difference in tone. This was likely more so a directorial choice than one from the actor.

“…if he were to see the scars, he couldna see me anymore without thinking of my back. And I’d be able to see him thinking of it, and that would make me remember it, and—he broke off, shrugging.”

The pain of being flogged affects Jamie more than he lets on. It is an acutely bitter memory. It is not something he fancies to share often or truthfully with hardly anyone.

Which makes the fact that he chose to share all of this with Claire that much more stunning.

He truly, deeply trusts her. And trusts that when she looks at him, she will not see the scars, but only him.

“Involuntarily I reached out, as though I might heal him with a touch and erase the marks with my fingers. He sighed deeply, but didn’t move as I traced the deep scars, one by one, as though to show him the extent of the damage he couldn’t see. I rested my hands at last lightly on his shoulders in silence, groping for words. He placed his own hand over mine, and squeezed it lightly in acknowledgment of the things I couldn’t find to say.”

OH MY WORD 😭😭😭😭😭😭

This is hands down my favorite excerpt I’ve read from Outlander thus far.

Absolutely exquisite and truthfully something I LONGED to see in the show, but yet have been privy to.

This is crucial and imperative to the narrative of Claire as Jamie’s healer. It is enchanting that she would seek to touch his scars and bind up the wounds of his heart.

YES I AM A PUDDLE ON THE FLOOR RIGHT NOW CAUSE MY WEE HEART MELTED!!!!!!!

“While I hesitated, Jamie broke from the embrace and looked up. His eyes met mine, and his face twitched from alarm to recognition.”

Hmmmmmmm.

Ok I know I do not own Jamie Fraser—he is Diana’s creation.

But I’m just going to be honest with my opinion: I have a decidedly difficult time believing the Jamie, who has been established up until this point, would randomly MAKEOUT with some wee gal he couldn’t have cared less about the previous evening.

Justttttt do not know if I agree that this is a believable action on his part. It makes it seem as if his love is cheap and prone to any whim of lust.

“I may ha’ one eye, lass; it doesna mean I’m blind.”

Oh wow. Another zinger from Alec!!!

Alec has the conversation with Claire about how Laoghaire is not fit for Jamie—and then almost implies that it is CLAIRE who is a match for Jamie instead.

Very, very intriguing that someone suggests this long before there was any threat from BJR.

OVERALL OBSERVATIONS:

Murtagh is essentially non existent in the book thus far and I am MISSING him!! Likewise, Rupert and Angus are not around much either. I am so thankful the show integrated them more and developed them as wholesome secondary characters.

I just previously stated this to a certain extent—but occasionally Diana will build up a character arc or fixate a narrative and then contradict herself later. It truthfully is a tad frustrating. To be fair: people (characters) do occasionally contradict themselves; we are imperfect. However, as I mentioned with the example of Jamie randomly kissing Laoghaire: that action does not fall into alignment with who Jamie has been established to be at this point. In my opinion it does not developmentally or characteristically make sense and so it gives me a smidgen of whiplash.

However, I LOVED THIS CHAPTER!!!! Truthfully, this chapter had elements to it that I absolutely adored—particularly when Claire traced the lines of Jamie’s back. It was such a moment of tender intimacy; I ate it up with a spoon.

Until chapter 9, au revoir!

#outlander #outlander first impressions #outlander first impressions chapter 8

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crispyafterdark · 1 month

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Angus MacTavish, the Scottish strongman from Fugget About It's

"You Only Try Haggis Once"

#fugget about it #shirtless #muscular #bodybuilder #you only try haggis once

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butcheswithcats · 6 years

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Myself (she/her, they/them) and my sweet and lovely boy Angus MacTavish, who is way more photogenic than me, lol.

America’s Next Top Cat Model, purrhaps?

#purrfect!#butch #cats #submission

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elcinelateleymickyandonie · 3 years

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Chester Conklin.

Filmografía

- Ganarse la vida (corto de 1914) - Policeman / Bum (debut cinematográfico, sin acreditar)

- La extraña situación de Mabel (corto de 1914) - Marido

- Mabel al volante (corto de 1914) - El padre de Mabel

- Atrapado en un cabaret (corto de 1914) Camarero / Lacayo (sin acreditar)

- The Masquerader (corto de 1914) - Actor de cine

- Romance perforado de Tillie (1914) - Mr.Whoozis / Singing Waiter (sin acreditar)

- A Bird's A Bird (corto de 1915) - Marido

- The Love Thief (1916) - Papel menor

- La cabaña del tío Tom (1918)

- Yankee Doodle en Berlín (1919) - Oficial de húsares de la cabeza de la muerte

Faldas (1921)

- Té: ¡Con una patada! (1923) - Jiggs - Conductor de taxi

- Deseo (1923) - Oland Young

- Anna Christie (1923) - Tommy

- Norte de Nevada (1924) - Lem Williams

- El pez galopante (1924) - Jonah

- La patrulla de incendios (1924) - Bombero

- La esposa de otro hombre (1924) - Rumrunner

- Codicia (1924) - 'Popper' Sieppe

- Battling Bunyan (1924) - Un extraño

- Un año de vida (1925) - Froquin

- El mago de Oz (1925) - Papel menor (sin acreditar)

- El fantasma de la ópera (1925) - Orderly (sin acreditar)

- La esposa de mi vecino (1925) - Camarógrafo

- Under the Rouge (1925) - Sr. Fleck

- ¿Donde estaba? (1925) - Elmer

- La escalera sinuosa (1925) - Onery

- El gran robo de joyas (1925) - Cootie Joe

- La novia enmascarada (1925) - Wine Waiter

- Una mujer del mundo (1925) - Sam Poore

- Los compradores de placer (1925) - Burke

- El gran amor (1925) - Perkins

- Detrás del frente (1926) - Scottie

- Juventud fascinante (1926) - Él mismo

- Una celebridad social (1926) - Johann Haber

- La mujer salvaje (1926) - 'Kodiak' MacLean

- Dilo de nuevo (1926) - Prince Otto V

- La duquesa de Buffalo (1926) - Gerente de hotel

- El naufragio nervioso (1926) - Mort

- Amantes de la medianoche (1926) - Moriarity

- La dama del harén (1926) - Ali

- Estamos en la Marina ahora (1926) - -Capitán de la Marina Smithers

- Pisos de McFadden (1927) - Jock McTavish

- Un beso en un taxi (1927) - Maraval

- Cabaret (1927) - Jerry Trask

- Tacones de goma (1927) - Tennyson Hawks

- Díselo a Sweeney (1927) - Luke Beamish

- Dos jóvenes llameantes (1927) - Sheriff Ben Holden.

Los caballeros las prefieren rubias (1928) - Juez

- Romance perforado de Tillie (1928) - Dueño del circo

- El gran ruido (1928) - John Sloval

- Locos por la suerte (1928) - Samuel Hunter

- Beau Broadway (1928)

- Varsity (1928) - Pop Conlan

- La casa encantada (1928) - Mr.Rackham

- Taxi 13 (1928) - Angus Mactavish

- Marquis Preferred (1929) - Sr.Gruger

- Sunset Pass (1929) - Ventoso

- Casa del terror (1929) - Chester

- The Studio Murder Mystery (1929) - George (Studio Gateman)

- Escaleras de arena (1929) - Tim

- Fast Company (1929) - Presidente de la Cámara de Comercio

- El virginiano (1929) - tío "Pa" Hughey

- El espectáculo de espectáculos (1929) - - Policía de tráfico en el número 'Bicicleta construida para dos'

- Columpio alto (1930) - Sheriff

- El comerciante del amor (1930) - Nelson

- El maestro barrendero (1930)

- Su majestad, amor (1931) - Emil

- Aleluya, soy un vagabundo (1933) - Domingo

- The Big Broadcast of 1936 (1935) - -Trabajador de alcantarillado (sin acreditar)

- Tiempos modernos (1936) - Mecánico

- The Preview Murder Mystery (1936) - Comediante

- La llamada de la pradera (1936) - Sheriff Sandy McQueen

- Hotel Haywire (1937) - O'Shea (sin acreditar)

- Río abandonado (1937) - Sheriff Alec Grundy

- Todos los días son vacaciones (1937) - Cabby

- Zenobia (1939) - Farmer (sin acreditar)

- The Spellbinder (1939) - Courtroom Extra (sin acreditar)

- Cabalgata de Hollywood (1939) - Sheriff

- El Sr. Smith va a Washington (1939) - Sección Hombre en Prensa de la Galería del Senado (sin acreditar)

- Chip of the Flying U (1939) - Joe (sin acreditar)

- Henry Goes Arizona (1939) - Conductor de autobús (sin acreditar)

- El gran dictador (1940) - Cliente de barbero

- Li'l Abner (1940) - Alcalde Gurgle

- Sweetheart of the Campus (1941) - The Prisoner-Vagrant (sin acreditar)

- Here Comes Mr.Jordan (1941) - Vendedor de periódicos (sin acreditar)

- Harmon of Michigan (1941) - Mandril de gasolina

- Un pie en el cielo (1941) - Hombre llorando durante el bautismo (sin acreditar)

- Jesse James at Bay (1941) - Town Drunk (sin acreditar)

- Los viajes de Sullivan (1941) - Old Bum (sin acreditar)

- Honolulu Lu (1941) - Joe - Keystone Ko.

Valley of the Sun (1942) - Soldier at Hitching Rail (sin acreditar)

- El notable Andrew (1942) - Tendero (sin acreditar)

- Romance on the Range (1942) - Miembro de Lynch Mob (sin acreditar)

In Old California (1942) - Town Drunk (sin acreditar)

- Hijos de los pioneros (1942) - Old-Timer

- La historia de Palm Beach (1942) - Sexto miembro Ale and Quail Club

- Me casé con una bruja (1942) - Party Bartender (sin acreditar)

- Sra. Wiggs de Cabbage Patch (1942) - Borracha (sin acreditar)

- X Marks the Spot (1942) - Vagrant (sin acreditar)

- ¡Los verdugos también mueren! (1943) Cook (sin acreditar)

- Ley de Artemisa (1943) - Dueño de un caballo (sin acreditar)

- The Avenging Rider (1943) - Town Drunk (sin acreditar)

- Riders of the Rio Grande (1943) - Barfly (sin acreditar)

- Así que esto es Washington (1943) - Inventor con ametralladora de bolsillo (sin acreditar)

- Sweet Rosie O'Grady (1943) - Cliente de Flugelman's (sin acreditar)

- Mi reino para un cocinero (1943) - Conductor de taxi (sin acreditar)

- La vuelta al mundo (1943) - Waiter (sin acreditar)

- El milagro de Morgan's Creek (1943) - Pete (sin acreditar)

- Knickerbocker Holiday (1944) - Town Trumpeter (sin acreditar)

- Las aventuras de Mark Twain (1944) - Juez del concurso de salto de rana (sin acreditar)

- Hombre de Frisco (1944) - Hombre de equipaje (sin acreditar)

- Buenas noches, cariño (1944) - Bottle Man

- La rosa amarilla de Texas (1944) - Drunken Gambler (sin acreditar)

- Una hoja de higuera para Eva (1944) - Camarero

- El gran momento (1944) - Paciente asustado (sin acreditar)

- Salve al héroe conquistador (1944) - Western Union Man (sin acreditar)

- Something for the Boys (1944) - Papel secundario (sin acreditar)

- Sunday Dinner for a Soldier (1944) - Fotógrafo (sin acreditar)

- Can't Help Singing (1944) - Jugador de póquer (sin acreditar)

- Traición desde el este (1945) - (sin acreditar)

- A Guy, a Gal and a Pal (1945) - Propietario de la estación (sin acreditar)

- Millones de Brewster (1945) - Stage Doorman (sin acreditar)

- Tener un crimen maravilloso (1945) - Propietario de motel (sin acreditar)

- El gran John L. (1945) - Haggerty (sin acreditar).

Road to Utopia (1945) - Concursante aficionado al banjo (sin acreditar)

- Pequeño gigante (1946) - Hotel Valet (sin acreditar)

- Suave como la seda (1946) - Doorman (sin acreditar)

- Fear (1946) - Railroad Switchman (sin acreditar)

- The Hoodlum Saint (1946) - Cop (sin acreditar)

- Two Sisters from Boston (1946) - Street Cleaner (sin acreditar)

- Ella escribió el libro (1946) - Man at Bar (sin acreditar)

- Cantando en el maíz (1946) - Austin Driver

- Canción de Scheherazade (1947) - Sailor (sin acreditar)

- Canción del páramo (1947) - El carcelero

- The Trouble with Women (1947) - Comedia nte (sin acreditar)

- Los peligros de Pauline (1947) - Comic Chef

- Primavera en las sierras (1947) - Old-Timer

- Jesse James Rides Again (1947, Serial) - Roy (sin acreditar)

- El hijo de Rusty (1947) - Empleado de panadería (sin acreditar)

- Merton of the Movies (1947) - Keystone Kop (sin acreditar)

- My Wild Irish Rose (1947) - Hombre escoltado fuera del teatro por la policía (sin acreditar)

- The Wreck of the Hesperus (1948) - Hostler (sin acreditar)

- ¿No es romántico? (1948) - Townsman (sin acreditar)

- Un domingo por la tarde (1948) - Empleado (sin acreditar)

- Knock on Any Door (1949) - Barber (sin acreditar)

- Tulsa (1949) - Patrón del casino de juego (sin acreditar)

- La hermosa rubia de Bashful Bend (1949) - Messenger Boy

- Brimstone (1949) - Borracho (sin acreditar)

- Jiggs y Maggie en Jackpot Jitters (1949) Amigo de Jiggs (sin acreditar)

- My Friend Irma (1949) - Camarero del salón de té gitano (sin acreditar)

- El semental dorado (1949) - Viejo

- El hombre del buen humor (1950) - - Jardinero que corta arbustos (sin acreditar)

- Joe Palooka en Humphrey se arriesga (1950) - Prentice

- Fancy Pants (1950) - Invitado (sin acreditar)

- Never a Dull Moment (1950) - Albert (sin acreditar)

- Shakedown (1950) - Chet (sin acreditar)

- Right Cross (1950) - El camarero de Haggerty (sin acreditar)

- The Milkman (1950) - Hombre (sin acreditar)

- Let's Dance (1950) - Watchman (sin acreditar)

- Mi espía favorito (1951) - Cómic corto (sin acreditar)

- Son of Paleface (1952) - 2nd Bartender (sin acreditar)

- Doc Corkle (1952, Serie de TV)

Private Hell.

La bestia con un millón de ojos (1955) - Ben Webber

- Mujer Apache (1955) - Dick Mooney

- Rock-A-Bye Baby (1958) - Bit Role (sin acreditar)

- Paradise Alley (1962) - Sr.Gregory

- A Big Hand for the Little Lady (1966) - Old Man in Saloon (película final).

Créditos: Tomado de Wikipedia

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Chester_Conklin

#HONDURASQUEDATEENCASA

#ELCINELATELEYMICKYANDONIE

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coneycat · 7 years

Text

DUNKIRK--E.J. Pratt

The English May was slipping into June With heralds that the spring had never known. Black cavalry were astride the air; The Downs awoke to find their faces slashed; There was blood on the hawthorn, And song had died in the nightingales’ throats.

Appeasement is in its grave: it sleeps well. The mace had spiked the parchment seals And pulverized the hedging ifs and wherefores. The wheezy adverbs, the gutted modifiers. Churchill and Bevin have the floor, Whipping snarling nouns and action-verbs Out of their lairs in the lexicon, Bull-necked adversatives that bit and clawed, An age before gentility was cubbed.

A call came in from the Channel Like the wash of surf on sand. Borne in by the winds against the chalk escarpments. Into the harbors, up the rivers, along the estuaries, And but one word in the call. Three hundred thousand on the beaches. Their spirit-level vision straining West! A vast patience in their eyes. They had fought pig iron, manganese, tungston, cobalt; And their struggle with hunger, thirst, And the drug of sleep. Had multiplied the famine in their cheeks For England, By forty miles divided from her brood. Seven millions on the roads in France, Set to a pattern of chaos Fashioned through years for this hour. Inside the brain of the planner No tolerance befogged the reason — The reason with its clear-swept halls, Its brilliant corridors. Where no recesses with their healing dusk Offered asylum for a fugitive. The straightedge ruled out errors. The tremors in the sensory nerves, 40 Pity and the wayward impulses, The liberal imbecilities. The reason reckoned that the allied guns Would not be turned upon the roads To clear the path for the retreat. It reasoned well — Brutality, an art which had been bogged In some stray corner of the field In that Gallic- Anglo-Saxon fumble of the game.

REGATTA AND CREW

Millenniums it had taken to make their stock. Piltdown hung on the frontals of their fathers. They had lain as sacrifices Upon the mortuary slabs of Stonehenge. Their souls had come to birth out of their racial myths. The sea was their school; the storm, their friend.

Foot by foot and hand to hand They had met the legions On the beaches and in the surf. Great names had been delivered unto them;

Caractacus, Taking his toll of the invaders In his retreat to the fens and hills;

Boadicea, The storming of Londinium and Verulamium, And the annihilation of the Roman ninth;

Alban, Alfred, Athelney, Edington! And in the march of their survival They had fought the poll tax and burned The manor rolls under Ball and Tyler. They had led the riots against the Enclosures. They had sung ballads to the rhythms of the gibbets. The welts had been around their necks and ankles. They had swept the Main with Hawkins and Drake.

Morgan-mouthed vocabularians, Lovers of the beef of language,

They had carved with curse and cutlass Castilian grandees in the Caribbean.

They had signed up with Frobisher, Had stifled cries in the cockpits of Trafalgar. They had emptied their veins into the Marne. Freedom to them was like the diver’s lust for air. Children of oaths and madrigals. They had shambled out of caves To write the clauses of the Charters, To paint the Channel mists, To stand hushed before the Canterbury tapers.

THE RACE ON THE CHANNEL

The Royal Yacht squadrons of the Thames and Cowes, Those slim and rakish models of the wave-line theory, Flying the ensign with their Club devices — Grand-daughters of Genesta and the Galatea Whose racing spinnakers Outsilvered and outflew the sea gulls off the Isle of Wight. Cutters, the pride of Folkestone and Sheerness With their press balloon jibs, Their billows of flax and hemp Smothering their single masts And straight-running bowsprits. Excursion paddlers — Last of the family known as the fleet of the butterflies, Purveyors of moonlight sonatas and Sunday siestas. The fireboats from the London Fire Brigade. Luggers with four-sided sails bent to the yards And slung obliquely to the masts, Smelling of the wharves of Deal. Smacks that built the Grimsby name. Yawls with their handy mizzen sails — The Jacks-of-all-trades on the English coast. Barges spritsail-rigged with jigger booms. Bluff-bowed billyboys and Norfolk wherries, Skiffs that stank of herring roes and Yarmouth. Dutch scoots and square-stemmed bawleys rank With kelp, fish scales and the slime of eels. And with them all, the merchantmen. Three-funnel liners turbine-driven, Cabin cruisers, with whaleboats, rafts, and dories Tied to the grimy tails of barges drawn by tugs.

A Collingwood came from Newcastle-on-Tyne, Trelawney and Grenville of the Cornish Line, And Raleigh and Gilbert from the Devon Seas With a Somerset Blake. They met at the quays — McCluskey, Gallagher, Joe Millard, Three riveters red from Dumbarton Yard, And Peebles of Paisley, a notary clerk.

Two joiners from Belfast, Mahaffy and Burke, Blackstone and Coke of Lincoln’s Inn, A butcher from Smithfield, Toby Quinn, Jonathan Wells, a Sheffield bricklayer, Tim Thomas of Swansea, a borough surveyor.

Jack Wesley, a stoker, by way of South Shields, And Snodgrass and Tuttle from Giles-in-the-Fields, Young Bill of Old Bill with Hancock and Reid, two sons of a bishop from Berwick-on-Tweed, A landscape gardener of Tunbridge, Kent, Povey, a draper from Stoke-on-Trent, Arthur Cholmondeley Bennington-Grubbe With Benbow of the Boodles Club, A Ralph Abercrombie, a Fetherstonehaugh With Smith, and Ibbs, and Jones, and Buggs — They met on the liners, yachts and tugs; The Princess Maud, the Massy Shaw, The Crested Eagle, the Nicholas Drew, The Gurgling Jean and the Saucy Sue.

Two prefects from Harrow — Dudley and Fraser, Fresh in their gray flannel trousers and blazer, Helping two tanners. Muggins and Day, To rig up a sail at a mizzen stay. Were hailed by a Cambridge stroke — “ Ahoy! Will you let me go on your billyboy? ”

A curate from Cardiff, the Reverend Evans, Inspired with zeal by a speech of Bevin’s, Called on a Rochester verger named Burchall, Likewise inflamed by a speech from Churchill — Together they went to a Greenwich jetty And boarded a lighter — the Bouncing Betty.

Meadows, the valet, tapped at the door Of Colonel Ramsbottom, late of Lahore: ’Twas dawn, and the Colonel was sick with a head; “ The Dean and his lordship, the Bishop, are here. And your sloop, sir, is ready down at the pier. And may I go with you? ” Meadows said — “ No,” roared the Colonel, as he creaked out of bed. Blasting out damns with a spot of saliva, Yet the four of them boarded the Lady Godiva.

A Captain with a Cape Horn face. Being down on his luck without a ship, Had spent ten years in his own disgrace As skipper of a river ferry — Tonight he was taking his finest trip As master of a Norfolk wherry.

The junior partner, Davie Scott, Of MacTavlsh, MacEachren, MacGregor, and Scott, Conspired with Murdoch, MacNutt, and MacPhail To go to Gravesend that evening and sail For the Beach in Mr. MacTavish’s yacht.

HEARD ON THE COLLIERS

“ I’ve been in a bit of a muss, mesen, With my game left leg,” said Eddie Glen, “ And every night my faintin’ spells, Contracted in the Dardanelles.”

“ My floatin’ kidney keeps me ’ome. My shoulder too ’as never ’ealed,” Quoth Rufus Stirk of ’Uddersfield, Cracked with shrapnel at Bapaume.

“ Ovv, wot’s a kidney, look at me, A bleedin’ boulder in my lung,” Said ’Umphrey ’Iggins of Bermondsey; “ A ’Igh Explosive ’ad me strung On the top of a ruddy poplar tree For thirty hours at Armenteers, ’Aven’t spit straight nigh twenty years.”

“Now, my old woman,” said Solomon Pike, “ Says ’Itler’s sueh a fidget like; ’E steals the cows and ’ens from the Danes, ’E rummages France, ’e chases the Poles, And comes over ’ere with ’is blinkin’ planes To drive us to the ’Yde Park ’oles Where there’s nary a roof that isn’t leakin’. Swipin’ the pillows right under our ’eads. Shooin’ us out from our ’umble beds. ’E’s a mug, I says, in a manner o’ speakin’.”

“ How lang d’ye ken it’ll take to get through it? ” Said a cautious drover, Angus Bain. “ It’ll take a bit o’ doin’ to do it. The blighters are dropping bombs like rain,” Said the costermonger from Petticoat Lane.

Out on the Channel — laughter died. Casual understatement Was driven back from its London haunts To its clinical nakedness Along the banks of the Ilissus.

In front of the crew were rolling mountains of smoke Spilling fire from their Vesuvian rims; The swaying fringes of Borealis blue; The crimson stabs through the curtains; The tracers’ fiery parabolas. The falling pendants of green from the Verey lights; The mad colors of the murals of Dunkirk.

Space, time, water, bread, sleep. Above all — sleep; Commodities beyond the purchase of the Rand.

Space — A thousand pounds per foot! Not up for sale In the cabin suites or on the floors of the lighters. The single Mole was crammed with human termites. Stumbling, falling on the decks of the destroyers. Sleeping, dying on the decks of the transports Strung along the seaward end.

The solid black queues on the sand waited their turn To file along the bridgehead jetties Improvised from the army lorries, Or waded out to swim Or clutch at drifting gangplanks, rafts, and life belts.

Time — Days, weeks of the balance of life Offered in exchange for minutes now.

Stuff of the world’s sagas in the heavens! Spitfires were chasing Heinkels, one to twenty. The nation’s debt unpaid, unpayable. Was climbing up its pyramid. As the Hurricanes took on the Messerschmitts.

THE MULTIPEDES ON THE ROADS

Born on the blueprints. They are fed by fire. They grow their skin from carburized steel. They are put together by cranes. Their hearts are engines that do not know fatigue In the perfection of their valves. In the might of their systolic thrusts. Their blood is petrol: Oil bathes their joints. Their nerves are wire. From the assembly lines they are put on inspection.

They pass tests. Are pronounced fit by the drill sergeants. They go on parade and are the pride of the High Command. They take, understand, and obey orders. They climb hills, straddle craters and the barbed barricades. They defy bullets and shells. Faster than Genghis’ cavalry they speed, Crueler than the hordes of Tamburlaine, Yet unknowing and uncaring. It is these that the rearguards are facing — Creatures of conveyer belts. Of precision tools and schedules.

They breathe through carburetted lungs; If pierced, they do not feel the cut, And if they die, they do not suffer death. And Dunkirk stands between the rearguards and the sea.

Motor launches from the Port of London, Lifeboats from the liners. Whaleboats, bottoms of shallow draught. Rammed their noses into the silt, Packed their loads and ferried them to scoots and drifters. Blood and oil smut on their faces, The wounded, dying and dead were hauled up Over the rails of the hospital carriers In the nets and cargo slings.

IN THE SKIES

The world believed the trap was sprung. And no Geneva words or signatures of merey Availed the quarry on the sands. The bird’s right to dodge the barrels on the wing, The start for the hare. The chance for the fox to eross his scent. For the teeth to snap at the end of the chase, Did not belong to this tally-ho.

The proffered sword disclaimed by the victor, The high salute at the burial of a foe Wrapped in the folds of his flag. The wreath from the skies. Were far romantic memories.

As little chivalry here As in the peregrines chasing the carriers. As in the sniff of the jaekals about a carcass!

Here over the dunes The last civil rag was torn from the body of war — The decencies had perished with the Stukas.

From Dover to Dunkirk, From Dunkirk to Ramsgate, And baek to the dunes. Power boats of the enemy Were driving torpedoes into transports and colliers, Lifting the engines clear from their beds. Blowing the boilers, sheering the sterns. And the jettisoned loads gathered up from the sea Were transferred to other decks And piled in steep confusion On the twisted steel of the listed destroyers. On the rough planks of the barges. Into the hatches of the freighters. Jammed against bulkheads and riddled ventilators, On the coils of the cables.

On quarterdecks and in the fo’c’sles. On the mess tables and under them.

“ Was that roar in the North from the Rodney We hope to God it was.”

Drip of the leadlines on the bows — “ Two fathoms, sir, four feet, three and a half.” “ Wake up, you dead end. You’re not on the feathers now. Make room for this ’ere bloke.” “ Stiff as cement ’e is.” “ Git a gait on, Or the Stukas’ll be raisin’ boils on your necks.” “ Ahoy, skipper, a can of petrol.” “ Compass out of gear — Give us the line to Ramsgate.” “ Follow the skoots.”

The great birds, carrying under their wings The black distorted crosses, Plunged, straightened out, I.aid their eggs in air. Hatched them in fountains of water. In craters of sand, To the leap of flame. To the roar of avalanche.

And in those hours. When Death was sweating at his lathe. When heads and legs and arms were blown from their trunks, When the seventh day on the dunes became the eighth. And the eighth slumped into the dawn of the ninth. When the sand’s crunch and suck under the feet Were sounds less to be endured than the crash of bombs In that coma and apathy of horror —

It was then that the feel of a deck. The touch of a spar or a halyard. Was like a hold on the latch of the heart of God,

I’s the Navy's job! It’s their turn now, From the Beach to the ports. Let the Stukas break their bloody necks on the Mole; Let the fires scorch the stars — For now, whether on the burnished oak of the cabins, Or on the floor boards of the punts, Or in the cuddies of the skiffs. Sleep at last has an even game with Death.

The blessed fog — Ever before this day the enemy. Leagued with the quicksands and the breakers — Now mercifully masking the periscope lenses. Smearing the hairlines of the bombsights, Hiding the flushed coveys.

And with it the calm on the Channel The power that drew the teeth from the storm, The peace that passed understanding, Soothing the surf, allaying the lop on the swell. Out of the range of the guns of Nieuport, Away from the immolating blasts of the oil tanks.

The flotillas of ships were met by flotillas of gulls Whiter than the cliffs of Foreland; Between the lines of the Medway buoys They steamed and sailed and rowed.

Back to the roadsteads, back to the piers Inside the vigilant booms, Back to the harbors. Back to the River of London, to England,

Saved once again by the tread of her keels.

#dunkirk #poetry #ej pratt

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