st. bride's

my only contribution to the penumbra rabbits discourse is: what if juno got rabbit and rat mixed up bc they’re similar words and similar-ish animals and no one on mars has ever seen an actual rabbit so the sewer rabbits are really just. regular giant rats. possibly w a few extra eyes bc it’s mars but overall just. a fairly normal large rat like u get in sewers and subway tunnels on earth

10

80s movie kisses (part 3)

“My wife was a healer. What they call in the Highlands a charmer, but more than that. She was a white lady— a wisewoman.” He glanced up briefly. “The word in Gaelic is ban-druidh; it also means witch.”

“The white witch.” Grey also spoke softly, but excitement was thrumming through his blood. “So the man’s words referred to your wife?”

“I thought they might. And if so—” The wide shoulders stirred in a slight shrug. “I had to go,” he said simply. “To see.”

“How did you know where to go? Was that also something you gleaned from the vagrant’s words?” Grey leaned forward slightly, curious. Fraser nodded, eyes still fixed on the ivory chess piece.

“There is a spot I knew of, not too far distant from this place, where there is a shrine to St. Bride. St. Bride was also called ‘the white lady,’ ” he explained, looking up. “Though the shrine has been there a verra long time— since long before St. Bride came to Scotland.”

“I see. And so you assumed that the man’s words referred to this spot, as well as to your wife?”

Again the shrug.

“I did not know,” Fraser repeated. “I couldna say whether he meant anything to do with my wife, or whether ‘the white witch’ only meant St. Bride— was only meant to direct me to the place— or perhaps neither. But I felt I must go.”

He described the place in question, and at Grey’s prodding, gave directions for reaching it.

“The shrine itself is a small stone in the shape of an ancient cross, so weathered that the markings scarce show on it. It stands above a small pool, half-buried in the heather. Ye can find small white stones in the pool, tangled among the roots of the heather that grows on the bank. The stones are thought to have great powers, Major,” he explained, seeing the other’s blank look. “But only when used by a white lady.”

“I see. And your wife …?” Grey paused delicately.

Fraser shook his head briefly.

“There was nothing there to do with her,” he said softly. “She is truly gone.” His voice was low and controlled, but Grey could hear the undertone of desolation.

Fraser’s face was normally calm and unreadable; he did not change expression now, but the marks of grief were clear, etched in the lines beside mouth and eyes, thrown into darkness by the flickering fire. It seemed an intrusion to break in upon such a depth of feeling, unstated though it was, but Grey had his duty.

Voyager

anonymous asked:

You can't leave Vietnam AU like that, we need to know the resst ;)

Vietnam AU

“This is the day the Lord has made,” Murtagh FitzGibbons Fraser intoned from the lectern of St. Bride Church. “Let us rejoice and be glad.”

Jamie sat up a bit straighter at the end of the front pew, twining his fingers through Claire’s, exchanging a small smile with his godfather.

For as long as anyone could remember, every Sunday morning the Fraser-Murray clan had attended eight o’clock Mass at the church their forefathers had built at the turn of the nineteenth century. Just a ten minute drive from the Big House, it had originally served just the family and tenants of the Fraser estate. Jamie, Jenny, and Murtagh were the only Frasers remaining in the area – most of the extended family had moved to Asheville or Raleigh after World War II – but those three stubborn Frasers had held strong.

Jamie and Jenny’s parents had been married at St. Bride’s. The three Fraser children – including the eldest child, Willie, who had died of smallpox when Jamie was small – had been baptized there. Murtagh – who lived in his own cottage on the estate with his wife Suzette, who he had brought home from France after landing on the beaches of Normandy – ran the lector program. Jenny and Ian had been married there, and Young Jamie and Maggie in turn had been baptized there.

And as Claire rose with Jamie, watching Father Kenneth kiss the Word of God, smile out at the congregation, and begin reading from the Gospel of Luke – she saw herself and Jamie standing before the priest at the altar. And standing off to the side below the gorgeous stained glass window of Michael the Archangel, just behind the baptismal font, gently holding a fussy newborn while reciting the baptismal promises. And exchanging proud smiles with Jamie as a beautiful red-haired girl received her First Communion. And holding Jamie’s trembling hand as they watched a handsome red-haired boy be confirmed.

This was her place. He was her place.

“Thanks be to God,” she whispered. Serene.

“I was thinking of taking Claire up the mountain – to the old cabin. I can check on it, and maybe bring back a bottle or two for dinner?”

Murtagh chewed thoughtfully on his pancakes. “I haven’t been up there since the fall – would be good to make sure it’s gone through the winter without any major damage. Take note of what would need a repair, all right?”

Claire nodded her thanks as Suzette poured another cup of steaming coffee. “What’s the old cabin?”

“It’s the house that was built before this one – on the highest part of the Ridge.” Jenny wiped maple syrup off Young Jamie’s face with the corner of her blue-and-white striped napkin. “It’s just a few rooms – we haven’t updated it much over the years, except added a generator for electricity.”

“We stay there overnight sometimes when there’s a lot to do in the whisky caves,” Jamie added, serving Claire another slice of Mrs. Crook’s excellent bacon before nibbling on one himself. “It’s where we let the bottles age. We only take them out once a year, to sell them to the restaurants and bars in town – but I want to find a good one for us to enjoy tonight.”

“And why’s that?”

“Because you’ve got Jamie smiling again, Claire,” Ian said quietly from across the table. “And Lord knows, Jenny and Murtagh and Suzette and I have been trying to do that since he got back from ‘Nam.”

Claire dropped her eyes to her lap, cheeks flaming. Under the table, Jamie lay a gentle hand on her knee, squeezing softly.

Murtagh coughed.

“Well then. Can you pass the strawberry jam please, my dear nephew-in-law? These bannocks won’t eat themselves.”

Fresh air. Pine. The soft, damp smell of decaying leaves. Flashes of green as the first grasses and flowers shot up from the forest floor.

And Jamie – solid and quiet beside her, never letting go of her hand, silently savoring the stillness.

It had been about two hours since they’d left the house – Jamie toting a backpack full of snacks from Mrs. Crook, Claire wearing Jenny’s pre-pregnancy jeans and hiking boots. They hadn’t spoken very much on their journey – both lost in their thoughts, both afraid to pierce the quiet with the sound of their voices.

“It’s just up over the crest of this hill,” he said softly, after a while.

“How can you even tell where we are? It’s just trees and more trees,” she teased.

He flashed a brilliant smile. “My father started taking Jenny and Willie and I hiking in these woods as soon as I could walk. He’d take me up to the caves and let me play with the spare pieces of wood while he and Murtagh and my grandfather Simon sorted the bottles. Believe it or not, there are plenty of landmarks along the way – trees and rocks that you’ll recognize in time.”

In time.

For Claire would be coming back.

Right?

They hadn’t talked about it – hadn’t even broached the topic. But it was Sunday afternoon, and Claire’s plane ticket back to Boston was for tomorrow morning.

Panic surged.

Jamie – ever perceptive – stopped as they crested the hill.

There it was – a small cabin, simply shingled and with just a few windows. It was immediately clear why the first Frasers had chosen to build there – for the ground in front of the cabin gently sloped into a grassy clearing.

“There used to be a barn here as well, but it was gone even before my grandfather was a boy. This place – it’s always been a refuge. A – well. I knew a guy in the Marines whose parents were German, and he told me of something called a ‘fridstool.’ A private place where you can be alone with your thoughts.”

Claire turned to meet Jamie’s eyes. The one-o-clock sun streamed on his face, sparking his hair like fire.

“And you’re OK taking me here? To your private place?”

He sighed and settled his hands on her hips, turning her to face him. Licked his lips, and burned his eyes into hers.

“I want to share *everything* with you, Claire. Here – in my most private place. Where we can pretend we are the only man and woman in the world.”

Another surge – but this time of love. And want.

And need.

“Yes,” she replied to his unspoken question. “Of course. Yes.”

He swallowed, and smiled, and gently led her down the hill.

rEmEmBeR cHaZ wOLCOTT?
BC I DO
IF YOU DON’T
THEN HERE

Chaz Shiggy Bop Wolcott is a 29 year old man who has been dancing ever since he could walk! HOW COOL IS THAT?? He did his first show when he was around the age area of really young, and he went to do regional shows more into his adult life! He did so many regional shows, like 42nd Street, Meet me in St Louis, Seven Brides for Seven Brothers, Gentlemen Prefer Blondes, and my personal favorite role of his, Legally Blonde! And so many more!
(Note- One of the regional productions of Cats he did, in which he played Pouncival and the understudy for Misto, was directed by none other than Jacob Brent! The Misto in the movie! Ahhhh!)

At some point after his graduation(really short time, I wanna say a day but that’s probably wrong), he was called and asked to audition for the national tour of CATS! THAT’S SO AMAAAAAZZZINNGGGG. And thus, he got his first touring experience as Mistoffelees in the first national tour of Cats! So exciting!

Some regional shows and dance classes later, a little show that some of you might know called NEWSIES!!!!!!! started on Broadway! With Jeremy Jordan! And Kara Lindsay! And Ryan Steele! Omg!

Chaz saw the show and LOOOOOOVED it! He even took his mom to see it once because he’s an A+ son like that.
Everyone he knew was texting him and saying he’d be perfect for it! Which he was!
So he auditioned! Sadly, it was not meant to be. But he kept trying!
And trying.
And trying.
And trying.
:(
7-8 Newsies auditions later, he got a call that would change his life forever. He got in as Buttons in the FIRST NATIONAL TOUR! Nobody could be more proud of him.

And thus, a new(sie) chapter of his life began!

There’s a saying that says that a cast is like your family, and the cast of the tour of Newsies was no exception! For over a year they toured together, and people did leave the tour, and people did join! But no matter what happened, they still remained a family, even if one wasn’t there anymore.

And as so many do, he stagedoored after almost every show to meet his fans! There’s a good bunch of broadway people that don’t do this, so it was amazing when he treated every single fan with love and respect, and didn’t treat them like he was above them or like they weren’t worth his time. Which every single fansie appreciates more than words can say. And it didn’t just stop at the stagedoor! Social media as well! He’d respond to fansies through Instagram and Twitter all the time, and even help them through their personal problems. Which is something that he doesn’t have to do, yet he does anyway. And I think that’s amazing.

But it wasn’t all fun and games. In June of 2016, something happened to his leg/foot in the middle of the show, so he had to call out, because every dancer must know their limit, and his was reached.

He took 3 months off, which was a sad experience for every fansie who wanted to meet him.
And honestly, for every dancer who loves what they do and couldn’t imagine life without dance, I can’t imagine it was a pleasant experience for him either.
(But he went to a Tony Awards party thing, was on the Tyler Mount vlog, went to a gay pride parade, and saw many shows, so hE’s aLrIgHt). And he still kept in touch with his fans on social media, so that was cool.

3 months later, he finished his physical therapy and was finally cleared to go back to the tour! Yay!

A little more than a week before his first show back, I had a friend who offered me an extra ticket she had to the show, so of course I had to take her up on the offer!

The ticket ended up being for his first show back, which made me more happy than words could say.

Without going into details about literally everything, he was astounding in it. Truly amazing. You wouldn’t even think he was injured in the first place. I screamed during his broom solo. Sue me.

I surprised him at the stagedoor cause he’s my guy and I love him. Not gonna go into details, but he was kind enough to take me backstage(which made me feel bad cause there were at least 100 more people at the stagedoor), which was an experience I’ll never forget.

Sooooo, he was back up and running on the tour again!

It was also announced that this amazing show would be filmed live and put in movie theaters across the globe, which only made everybody sob in delight. My friends and I were terrified because Chaz never actually said online that he would be in it, but I was lucky enough to confirm with him that he indeed would.

But, all good things must come to an end.
October 2nd of 2016, the tour ended.
All tears and tissues aside, Newsies on Tour was something that nobody will ever, ever forget. Which brings us back to…
Don’t cry because it’s over. Smile because it happened! The cast and show had brought so much hope to fans everywhere, and nobody can thank them enough for that.

But Chaz’s career most certainly didn’t die. He became a member of the Broadway Collective, a company that travels across the US and gives jazz, tap, and vocal lessons to aspiring actors and actresses everywhere. I was lucky enough to be able to take a dance class from him, so I mean this when I say this, if you ever get the chance to take a dance class from him, please do. You’ll have the time of your life.

And there’s definitely more chances to do so! Ever since he finished the collective, he has been teaching non-stop at the Broadway Dance Center, which is $20 a class(Not bad at all!), and he has his own classes called Jazz with Chaz that he has scattered through the week! And that’s only $5!!! Amazing, right?

My favorite thing about his classes is that he still makes it an amazing experience even if you don’t see yourself as an amazing dancer. He finds a way to make it fun and energetic, without you having to be crazy flexible or know how to do a million tricks, which is something I think a lot of people can appreciate. I know I can. You always come out of his class feeling like you just did something amazing, which you did, even if you didn’t tilt your leg over your head. You feel like you did something amazing because you had //fun//. Each one of his classes gives you such an energetic high that you can’t keep a smile off your face, because of how supportive he is and how obvious it is that he wants you to succeed. And to me, having someone teach your class who doesn’t pick favorites and looks at you with a smile worth a thousand words when you even just do a single pirouette, is the best kind of support a dancer can have.

And to end this, Chaz is an amazing individual, and if you’re ever in any situation where you can meet him, take a class from him, or even just see him in a show, I can guarantee you that it’ll be something you’ll never regret or forget. He’s done so much for so many people, and treats everyone he meets with love and kindness, and that’s something everyone needs more of nowadays.

I never know how to end these things so

Love, Hannah 💙

Uncles and Nunkies

Nunkie Jamie

A small blond boy in homespun breeks leaned on Jamie’s knee, staring up at me in wonder. 

“Who’s that, Nunkie?” he asked in a loud whisper. “That’s your great-auntie Claire,” Jamie said gravely. “Ye’ll have heard about her, I expect?” 

“Oh, aye,” the little boy said, nodding madly. “Is she as old as Grannie?” 

“Even older,” Jamie said, nodding back solemnly. The lad gawked up at me for a moment, then turned back to Jamie, face screwed up in scorn. 

“Get on wi’ ye, Nunkie! She doesna look anything like as old as Grannie! Why, there’s scarce a bit o’ silver in her hair!” 

“Thank you, child,” I said, beaming at him. 

“Are ye sure that’s our great-auntie Claire?” the boy went on, looking doubtfully at me. “Mam says Great-Auntie Claire was maybe a witch, but this lady doesna look much like it. She hasna got a single wart on her nose that I can see!” 

“Thanks,” I said again, a little more dryly. “And what’s your name?” 

He turned suddenly shy at being thus directly addressed, and buried his head in Jamie’s sleeve, refusing to speak. 

“This is Angus Walter Edwin Murray Carmichael,” Jamie answered for him, ruffling the silky blond hair. “Maggie’s eldest son, and most commonly known as Wally.” 

We call him Snot-rag,” a small red-haired girl standing by my knee informed me. “ ’Cause his neb is always clotted wi’ gook.” 

Angus Walter jerked his face out of his uncle’s shirt and glared at his female relation, his features beet-red with fury. 

“Is not!” he shouted. “Take it back!” Not waiting to see whether she would or not, he flung himself at her, fists clenched, but was jerked off his feet by his great-uncle’s hand, attached to his collar. 

“Ye dinna hit girls,” Jamie informed him firmly. “It’s not manly.” 

“But she said I was snotty!” Angus Walter wailed. “I must hit her!” 

“And it’s no verra civil to pass remarks about someone’s personal appearance, Mistress Abigail,” Jamie said severely to the little girl. “Ye should apologize to your cousin.” 

“Well, but he is…” Abigail persisted, but then caught Jamie’s stern eyes and dropped her own, flushing scarlet. “Sorry, Wally,” she murmured. 

Wally seemed at first indisposed to consider this adequate compensation for the insult he had suffered, but was at last prevailed upon to cease trying to hit his cousin by his uncle promising him a story. 

“Tell the one about the kelpie and the horseman!” my red-haired acquaintance exclaimed, pushing forward to be in on it. 

“No, the one about the Devil’s chess game!” chimed in one of the other children. Jamie seemed to be a sort of magnet for them; two boys were plucking at his coverlet, while a tiny brown-haired girl had climbed up onto the sofa back by his head, and begun intently plaiting strands of his hair. 

“Pretty, Nunkie,” she murmured, taking no part in the hail of suggestions. 

“It’s Wally’s story,” Jamie said firmly, quelling the incipient riot with a gesture. “He can choose as he likes.” He drew a clean handkerchief out from under the pillow and held it to Wally’s nose, which was in fact rather unsightly. 

“Blow,” he said in an undertone, and then, louder, “and then tell me which you’ll have, Wally.” 

Wally snuffled obligingly, then said, “St. Bride and the geese, please, Nunkie.” 

Jamie’s eyes sought me, resting on my face with a thoughtful expression.


Uncle Ian

All of the children were clustered round Young Ian, staring and asking so many questions that they collided with one another, and pushed and shoved, arguing as to who asked what and who should be answered first. 

The children had paid no attention to the elder Ian’s remark. They already knew Grandda was dying, and the fact was of no interest by comparison with the fact of their fascinating new uncle. A tiny girl with her hair in stubby plaits sat in Young Ian’s lap, tracing the lines of his tattoos with her fingers, now and then sticking one inadvertently in his mouth as he smiled and made hesitant answers to his inquisitive nieces and nephews.

9

name moodboard: brigid
                                       (for @neighborhoodly)

Mythological Celtic goddess of fire and poetry. ‘The high one’ or 'strength. The 6th century Irish abbess Brigid founded Ireland’s first women’s religious community. In Great Britain, she was known as St Bridget or St Bride.

Karolina Kurkova walks the runway at the Studio St. Patrick collection during Barcelona Bridal Fashion Week 2017 on April 26, 2017 in Barcelona, Spain

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