Archives for the Date May 24th, 2019

kvetchlandia:William Claxton     Hot Dog Stand, 3 AM,     Los…

kvetchlandia:

William Claxton     Hot Dog Stand, 3 AM,     Los Angeles     1961

rainmanjdog: did-you-know: This isn’t a dinosaur fossil; it’s…

rainmanjdog:

did-you-know:

This isn’t a dinosaur fossil; it’s a mummy. 

Scientists think the 110 million-year-old nodosaur was swept to sea by a flooding river, sank, landed on its back, and was pressed into the ocean floor.

It’s so well-preserved that it still has intestines and weighs 2,500 of its original 3,000 lbs. 

(Source, Source 2, Source 3)

He looks like a dragon!

Truth to Triumph

gotham-ruaidh:

Previously…

Chapter 12: The Respite

September 25, 1904

Riverside Hospital, North Brother Island, circa 1937. For decades, this was the place New Yorkers went to be quarantined – when you had a disease like measles or typhoid or leprosy, which was a social death sentence. 

Riverside Hospital was abandoned in the 1960s. It still exists – a haunting, overgrown ruin – for anyone brave enough to visit.

“And how exactly did you end up here, Herr Müller?”

The middle-aged German gentleman smiled at Jamie,
squinting in the sunshine of the balmy autumn day, enjoying the fresh air of
the hospital courtyard.

“The measle, Mr. Fraser. My wife and daughter had it
first – my daughter had it when she was pregnant with my first grandchild. I
took her here to the hospital so that Dr. Beauchamp could treat her.”

“Why did you come all this way? It’s not easy to get here
from Kleindeutschland.”

Mr. Müller smiled sadly. “We don’t live
there anymore – we couldn’t, after Tommy was killed on the boat. But my other
son Paul – one of his friends moved to Yorkville. So we live there now too.”

Yorkville was a neighborhood on the Upper East Side of
Manhattan, bordered roughly by Seventy-Ninth and Ninety-Sixth Streets. It was
just about as far north as one could get from Kleindeutschland while still
remaining on the island.

“But I’m sure there must be a hospital in Yorkville – why
come here, to North Brother Island?”

“Because of Dr. Beauchamp. She healed so many of my
friends and family – and was such a comfort for us, in our time of need. She
cares for people like a mother would. So we knew that she would know what to do
for Petronella.”

“And did she?”

Now Mr. Müller positively beamed. “Of course!
Dr. Beauchamp took very good care of her. And Petronella named her daughter
Clara, in her honor!”

Deeply moved by this man’s clear affection and respect
for Claire, Jamie reached across the bench to squeeze Mr. Müller’s
hand.

“That’s so wonderful,” he said sincerely.

“We are lucky to have her. She fights hard for the
patients in her care. She must fight equally hard for the things and people she
loves. Like you.”

Surprised, Jamie’s brow furrowed. “How – ”

“It’s written all over your face, Mr. Fraser. I was there
at the celebration in the beer garden, a few weeks ago. You are good together.
And don’t think I don’t know who you are – you are doing God’s work, with your
articles.”

Jamie flushed – and not because of the sunshine.

“Those bastards must pay for what they did to us.” Mr. Müller’s
voice was low, full of promise. “To our families. To our community. They see us
as worthless trash, fit only to make their beer and sew their clothes. But we
are much more than that. Ja?”

“Ja,” Jamie agreed. “Thank you, Herr Müller.”

“It is my pleasure. Come visit us in Yorkville – my wife
makes the best sauerbraten. So much better than the scheisse I am served here!”

Jamie shook Mr. Müller’s hand and stood, leaving him
basking in the sunshine, his hospital uniform gently flapping in the breeze.

“It seems quiet here today.”

Claire chewed on her sandwich, thinking. “We generally
don’t have a constant stream of patients coming through our doors – most of our
beds are in the infectious disease ward. People come here to be quarantined. To
stay away from society for a time.”

“Like me, I suppose.”

She cut her pickle in half. “Nobody would think to look
for you here – you’re safe with the consumptives.”

He smiled. “So – what do you want to do for your
birthday?”

Her brows narrowed. “Let me guess – Henry told you this
morning.”

“Poor kid is beside himself that he hasn’t found the
perfect gift yet.”

She offered him the remaining bites of sandwich – cold
chicken with grainy mustard on hearty rye bread – and he pushed his half-eaten
bowl of chicken noodle soup across the table.

“He’s so thoughtful. But he should also know that he
doesn’t need to get me anything. Having him in my life is enough of a gift.”

“Not so fast – surely there must be something you want.
We’ve only got just about three weeks.”

Slowly she glanced around them – taking note of the
nurses and doctors quietly chatting at the neighboring tables.

“A wedding.”

Jamie blinked. “So soon? Are you sure?”

“I’m positive.” She slurped the soup. “It doesn’t need to
be much – we can do it in the parlor at the house. Just us, and Mama and Papa,
and Henry. Nanny Fitz, too.”

He swallowed the last bite of her sandwich. “May – may I
adopt Henry? Give him my name?”

She reached across the table to take his hand. Not caring
about anyone or anything that could see.

“I would be honored, Jamie.”

His smile was dazzling. She squeezed his hand, brushed
the crumbs from her uniform, and pushed back her chair.

He gathered their lunch dishes and set them to the side
before following her out of the staff dining room.

In the darkness of the hallway, with nobody else around,
he pressed her against the wall and kissed her. Tasting spicy mustard and salty
pickle and the joy of forever.

julesbeauchamp: Gold Dust Woman: Ch.6 – “Honeyvoiced” a/n:…

julesbeauchamp:

Gold Dust Woman: Ch.6 – “Honeyvoiced”

a/n: This might be my favourite chapter, so far and I’m so excited to finally share it with you! As usual, a big thank you to darling @lcbeauchampoftarth for her beta work. And to all of you guys who like/comment/reblog this story and who enjoy this version of JC. Let me know what you think about this chapter; I hope you enjoy

Song mentioned


The next few days were blissful for Claire. Slow, like a river stream. A foreign sensation of peace had wrapped itself around her, and for the first time in a very long time, she actually felt good. She took the opportunity to rest and truly refocus, her withdrawal symptoms having reduced in severity as well.

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Deep as the Road is Long (Part III, Chapter 21)

desperationandgin:

Rating: Smut break!!

Also Read On: AO3

Previous Chapter

A/N: Call this the interlude before the downhill slide into the ending of the fic. Only 7 more chapters until the story is over!

May 2017

Since moving in with Claire, Saturday mornings have become his favorite. The shop is manned by Jenny or Ian, Claire is off on weekends, and they can spend the time wrapped in one another until ready to get up and go about their day. Today though, there’s no such luxury as she has him up before nine in the morning, dressed and leaving to shop for shelving to go in their bathroom.

“More for me to put together?” he’d quipped, but they’d gone, stopped to eat first, and now they’re back home, him wading through pieces he needs to put together so that they at least somewhat resemble what’s on the box. She’s sitting on their living room floor, one leg sticking straight out, the other curled so that her foot is pressing against the opposite inner thigh. Her hair’s piled high on her head in a curly, sloppy bun, and Jamie has to stop what he’s doing to simply look at her in the soft gray shorts she’d changed into, the old and worn t-shirt she’s now wearing. There’s a pen between her teeth and her glasses are on as she looks over a grocery and other miscellaneous items list.

She’s never looked more beautiful.

“What do you think? Tacos sometime this week?”

He doesn’t answer her.

“Or burgers if you feel like cooking outside.”

“Aye,” he breathes out, still staring.

“‘Aye’ to the tacos or the burgers?” she asks, glancing up at him and then smirking at the look on his face. “Did you hear anything I said?”

Blinking a few times, Jamie finally focuses on her again. “What?”

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Could we get an update for tagalong pleeeaaase? Maybe something with the druid dancers too, like Fergus hears about it and wants to go see, and Clair freaks out, or just any update would be loved ❤❤❤

The Tagalong – Part Fifteen

Fergus disobeys Jamie’s order to return to Lallybroch and instead follows them all the way to Craigh na Dun, inadvertently following Claire through the stones.

Part One, Part Two, Part Three, Part Four, Part Five, Part Six, Part Seven, Part Eight, Part Nine, Part Ten, Part Eleven, Part Twelve, Part Thirteen, Part Fourteen


They headed straight over to the Moran household where they found a crowded scene. The other boys’ parents were all torn between wanting to take their sons home and wanting answers. Luckily, all were willing to wait for Reverend Wakefield and the authority he carried with him to arrive (to say nothing of the guilt they would all feel leaving with their boys when his was one of the two missing).

“We’ve still a few men out searching for Roger and the French lad,” Robbie Moran explained as he ushered the reverend, Claire, and Mrs. Graham into the cramped house. “We’re hopin’ the other lads’ll tell what they know and we can do a more thorough job of it, but they’re… they dinna make any sense.”

“What have they said?” Reverend Wakefield asked, his gentle tone belying his concern.

“They say they dinna ken where they’ve gone, that they… that the lads just… disappeared. But they must have seen somethin’ happen—some direction they were headed or whatnot,” Moran insisted.

“Did they say where they were?” Claire piped up. “Where the lot of them had been riding, I mean.”

“They’d gone farther than they were s’pposed to,” one boy’s mother volunteered from a corner. “And they ken it weel. They dinna want to say and risk gettin’ in deeper trouble.”

“Can I talk to the boys?” Claire asked.

“They’ll no listen to you any more’n they’d listen to the rest of us,” the other woman said with defensive skepticism.

“Well it can hardly hurt for me to try. My son is missing,” Claire reminded her as she adjusted Brianna on her hip. “And I’m going to try whatever is open to me, even if you think it’s useless.”

“Have ye tried questioning them separately?” Mrs. Graham asked. “There’s things they may’na be comfortable sayin’ in front of the others—or in front of the lot of ye—that they’d maybe confess to the reverend one on one.”

A short time later, Claire and Reverend Wakefield had the kitchen to themselves while the boys were brought to them one at a time for inquiries. Mrs. Graham joined the other parents with Brianna asleep in her arms.

A plate of biscuits sat on the table and as each boy came in, Claire would pour him a glass of milk to have with the treat. Anything to put the children at ease and encourage them to cooperate. For the most part, it failed. They’d already closed ranks, perhaps believing they were protecting themselves.

But one of the younger boys in the group began crying when Reverend Wakefield asked where they’d gone when they left on their bicycles.

“We need to know where to be searchin’,” he told the lad, a curly haired and freckled boy called Grant. “Cannae be findin’ them if we dinna ken where to look.”

“Mattie said there was witches or druids about and did we want to spy on ‘em,” Grant responded. “I didna believe ‘im but Roger…” Grant looked up guiltily at the reverend.

“Roger believed it?” Claire pressed, drawing Grant’s attention her way.

The boy nodded. “He said he kent where to find ‘em and rode off. Fergus stayed behind wi’ me cause he’s slower too but when we got closer, he said somethin’ in French I didna understand and went faster.”

“Closer to where?” Claire continued, her blood surging through her veins.

“Craig na Dun,” Grant whispered.

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