Wolfie

Fussy & meticulous. Lover of all things Outlander. Murder mystery enthusiast. Avid foodie. Aspiring fanfic writer.

[scarletwritingwolf]

I binged “The Art of Healing” last night. There were moments when my blood chilled and I actually was in shock. I rooted so hard for them. I had all the feels. I was so enthralled with this story. Please tell me you have plans to go on....? 🙏🏻🙏🏻🙏🏻🙏🏻

I do have plans to go on I promise @flutefantasy 😁😁😁😁 I’ve got the next chapter.

Thank you for your lovely words ❤️❤️

[introvertobviously]

Introvert life.

[scarletwritingwolf]

There will be a delay of a day or so posting my chapter, I’ve succumbed to a horrible cold 😬😪

[loquaciousliterature]

“Harry screamed, so loudly that he felt his throat might tear, and for a second he wanted to rush at Dumbledore and break him too; shatter that calm old face, shake him, hurt him, make him feel some tiny part of the horror inside Harry.”

—-

Part 1 / 2

More HP Comics  //   Patreon

[outlander5evr-deactivated202003]

Redeem Me: Chapter Two

So I’ve heard your requests and am going to do my best to stick to a posting schedule. I actually wrote ahead for this one. ( I know, I can’t believe it either). As of now, it’s Monday, Wednesday, Friday (12 AM EST/ 5 AM GMT). 

Enjoy! 

Again thanks to @notevenjokingfic​ for helping me make this plot work,  (and for still talking to me even though I bug her A LOT),  @lburks226​  for decoding my trash grammar/ punctuation, and to  @happytoobservenolongerdistant and @jack-andthestalk for asking the right questions and tuning out the finer points. And of course to everyone else who has supported me and given me feed back for this story! 

P.S. — I know this fic is set in the UK but all the legal references will be primarily US based. B/c I’m an American law student and I don’t like change. (Also the whole solicitor v. barrister thing in the UK really confuses me).

Also thank you to @lburks226 for this AMAZING moodboard that I’m still not over! 

Chapter Two: At World’s End 

It was the last day of Claire’s first week as a nurse in the NICU at Trinity hospital. And while she took no small amount of joy in caring for her tiny patients, she wasn’t at all sad that she wouldn’t be seeing them tomorrow.

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[futurelounging-deactivated20210]

Still Here

Chapter 2

Chapter 1 / Master List

A/N: Thank you to @theministerskat for the beta help and to all readers who offered words of encouragement after Chapter 1. Thank you!

Fraser’s Ridge, 1797

“Come here, Mandy. Grind this in the mortar for me. It pains my wrists.” Claire sat gingerly upon a wobbly stool and made room for her granddaughter to finish preparing the supper.

“Did you injure your wrists?” Mandy asked, the corded muscles of her forearm pressing tight against her skin.

“No, just old, I’m afraid. It’s all coming apart. Soon the wheels will completely fall off and I’ll be stuck in the mud,” Claire answered, tapping her fingers against her skirts. “Do you recall Hiram Murphy’s wagon that broken down in the road? Your father had to talk him down from a spitting rage for two hours before he agreed to let them move it. Quite unreasonable, he was.” Claire kneaded her hands in her lap, her eyes somewhere far off.

Mandy set down the pestle, brushing away the powdered seeds caught on the edge of the mortar. “Oh, I do recall that day. Mama was ranting half the night about it.” She caught her grandmother’s eye and smiled. “Do ye… Would ye tell me something of your time before? Before ye came back?”

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[ianmuyrray]

dear god I love this story so much

I wish this was a google doc where I could respond with squeals line by line

Her blinking, Luke, Claire, Luke, the grocery store, Luke

especially that one line about choice driving Mandy to the future!

…and Luke

[written-rebellion]

Perfect Distractions

A/N: whooo! Posted on a Thursday for once!

Jamie’s distracted, Claire’s daydreaming, and as always, the facts of this fanfic are contrived specifically to make fluffy university/modern-day au scenarios. Please let me know what you think!

Part One: [Chapter 1] [Chapter 2] | Part Two: [Chapter 1] [Chapter 2] [Chapter 3] [Chapter 4] | Part Three: [Chapter 1] [Chapter 2] [Chapter 3] | Part Four: [Chapter 1] [Chapter 2] [Chapter 3] | Part Five: [Chapter 1] [Chapter 2] [Chapter 3] [Chapter 4] | Part Six: [Chapter 1] [Chapter 2] [Chapter 3] | Part Seven: [Chapter 1] [Chapter 2] [Chapter 3] | Part Eight: [Chapter 1] [Chapter 2] [Chapter 3] [Chapter 4] | Part Nine: [Chapter 1] [Chapter 2] [Chapter 3] [Chapter 4] | Part Ten: [Chapter 1] [Chapter 2] [Chapter 3] | Part Eleven: [Chapter 1] [Chapter 2] [Chapter 3] | Part Twelve: [Chapter 1] [Chapter 2] [ Chapter 3] [Chapter 4] | Part Thirteen: [Chapter 1] [Chapter 2] [Chapter 3] [Chapter 4] | Part Fourteen: [Chapter 1] [Chapter 2] [Chapter 3] [Chapter 4] [Chapter 5] Part Fifteen: [Chapter 1] [Chapter 2] [Chapter 3] | Part Sixteen: [Chapter 1] [Chapter 2] [Chapter 3] | Part Seventeen: [Chapter 1] [Chapter 2] [Chapter 3] | Part Eighteen: [Chapter 1] [Chapter 2] [Chapter 3] | Part Nineteen: [Chapter 1] [Chapter 2] [Chapter 3] [Chapter 4] | Part Twenty: [Chapter 1] [Chapter 2] [Chapter 3] | Part Twenty-One: [Chapter 1] [Chapter 2] [Chapter 3] | Part Twenty-Two: [Chapter 1] [Chapter 2] [Chapter 3] [Chapter 4] | Part Twenty-Three: [Chapter 1] [Chapter 2] [Chapter 3]

Part Twenty-Three: Timing | Chapter 4

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[three-drink-amy]

In the Eye of a Hurricane

Six months after the end of the war, Jamie Fraser is still trying to readjust. He’s in for the shock of his life one rainy night when who should show up at his home, but the nurse who saved his life, Claire Randall. Since they last parted, they’ve both learned how much the war changed them and those around them. Together, they’ll learn the dangers facing them after the war might be just as deadly. 

Because I can’t focus on just one thing, I started another outlander fic! Here is the first chapter! I hope you enjoy! 

Chapter One

The rain pounded against the roof but it still was not loud enough to drown out Young Jamie’s cries. Jamie stood there watching his brother-in-law attempt to clean the young lad’s fresh wound. Making up his mind, he sat behind the boy and put him on his lap. Ian looked up and nodded to Jamie in thanks. Young Jamie continued to thrash around as if Ian was cutting his leg off.

“Ye need to hold still,” Ian urged his son. “If I’m to finish this up, ye need to stop.”

“It hurts!” the young boy cried. “Mam never makes it hurt!”

Jamie held in his laughter best he could. He avoided eye contact with Ian. Ian sighed. “Yes, well she isna here, lad. Ye should have known better than to fall and hurt yerself when she was away.” Ian stood up, walking back towards the bathroom cupboard to see what he could find.

Jamie still held his nephew on his lap, rubbing a hand up and down his arm. “Ye’ll be alright, lad,” he reassured. “I ken it hurts now, but soon ye’ll be up and running around as wildly as before.” He heard a sniffle from his lap and he looked down to see Young Jamie wiping his nose on his sleeve.

So much had changed around Lallybroch while Jamie had been off fighting during the war. The biggest change of all was the little boy sitting on his lap. His sister had been single when he’d shipped off. He came back years later and she was married to his best friend and they had a small child. They’d told him at each step, of course. He’d tried to make it back for their wedding but at the last minute, they couldn’t give him the leave. In the middle of a war, the last thing he’d expected to find out was that his sister was having a bairn. Young Jamie had been an unexpected bright spot. Even before the lad was born, Jamie spent lots of time thinking about all the things he’d teach him. Sometimes it kept the realities of war at the back of his mind for an hour.

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[three-drink-amy]

Next chapter will be posted tomorrow! 

[thekingparrot]

Fort Augustus  -  Epilogue (Chapter 21): Scots Wha Hae

This final chapter is an Epilogue, the title being a famous poem and song written by Robert Burns.

Most of the historical data is true, but it is not chronologically correct.

I hope you’ve enjoyed reading “Fort Augustus”. I will continue with “Perspectives” and plan to start another story next week. Thanks for your comments and interest.

This and all previous chapters now available on AO3

[geethedentist]

The Sassenach Warrior

Chapter 1 here!

Chapter 2: Mistrust 

The first thing I realized the next morning was that my feet were no longer aching. The second thing was that this was true because I had spent most of yesterday sitting on a colossal horse in front of an equally colossal Scot. 

Oh. Right. 

I hadn’t even opened my eyes and already my tension and agitation were through the roof. Perhaps I could pretend I was dead so they’d leave me alone, like a dog. 

“Get up lass.” The toe of a boot gently tapped my shoulder. 

My eyes screwed shut even tighter and I gave an annoyed moan; the one that translates to please let me sleep. 

The side of my head was crusted with dried blood and throbbed fiercely as I attempted to drag my body into a sitting position. They were all staring at me. 

“Well?” I began. “Is there any food left or must I catch us breakfast?” Without waiting for an answer I slung the bow over my shoulder and stalked off into the woods. Before long, heavy footfalls were crunching the leaves in my wake. Dougal had sent one of the men to watch me. I sighed exasperatedly and whirled around. 

“If you must be out here supervising me, do try and tread lightly. Or better yet, just stop moving altogether. You’re scaring anything I might be able to catch.” 

“My apologies, mistress.” Rupert, startled by the outburst, stopped and leaned against a tree. 

“Claire will do just fine.” I told him, stooping to examine the ground. 

“’Tis just that Dougal prefers to have ye within someone’s sight at all times,” he said. 

“So I can see,” I replied dryly. “He is quite a cautious man, especially given the fact that we have already established that I will not be trying to escape. Yet.” I added darkly. 

“That will just be Dougal’s nature. As war chieftain of clan Mackenzie, he is always prepared for the worst. I suppose that’s why he thinks ye a spy in the first place.” 

“Do you think me a spy?” I asked, figuring I had nothing to lose by putting him on the spot. 

“I - I dinna ken,” he replied after a long, nervous pause. “But all the lads agree it was verra peculiar, findin’ an English lassie quite like you all the way out here.” 

For the first time, I realized just how peculiar that must have been for them. I grudgingly decided they had a right to be cautious, but not to the point of holding me against my will. 

“Do you even know what happened yesterday?” I asked, eager to tell the story to perhaps persuade him towards my innocence. 

“Oh aye, Jamie told us after ye passed out last night. He wouldna shut up about it come to think,” he laughed. “Said ye must be the bravest lass in the world, holdin’ yer own against those thievin’ menaces.” 

“He … said that?” I said, one side of my mouth rising in an involuntary smile. “Wait! Shh!” I waved my arm in Rupert’s direction, gesturing to keep quiet. 

“But I wasna even …” 

“I said shh!” I cut him off, jabbing my finger repeatedly towards the dense trees ahead of me. About fifty feet away, there was a small deer feasting on some low hanging leaves. It was barely visible behind all the foliage. 

“How did ye even see …” 

“Shut up!” I said in a high pitched whisper. 

It was a difficult shot. There was a very high chance of hitting one of the two trees on either side of the animal. Breathing deeply and clearing my head, I readied the bow. Suddenly, an unpleasant but all too plausible thought crossed my mind. Who was to say that I couldn’t kill Rupert and run off? Hide in the trees and get Dougal as well? I could grab the ring and run like hell. I shook my head. I was a lot of things. But a cold blooded murderer wasn’t one of them. There were people who deserved my arrows much more. I reminded myself to be patient. 

The deer fell to the ground. Rupert let out a cheer, and I let out a long breath. 

“That was some fine archery Claire! Where did ye learn to do that?” He said excitedly as we approached the kill. 

“From my uncle.” I told him. He bent down to retrieve the deer. “Hey! I can carry it!” I did not need anyone carrying anything for me. Besides, the deer was relatively small. But most importantly, I was the one who killed it. I hoisted it onto my shoulders.

When I plopped the deer on the ground back at the camp, I was pleased by the sight of many open mouthed men. All except Jamie of course, who smiled broadly and said, “I told you all she’s an incredible shot!” Even Dougal had the grace to look impressed.

_________________________________________________________________

As Castle Leoch loomed closer, the knot in the pit of my stomach felt heavier. I had no idea what awaited me. For the past day, I had just been getting used to my current company of Scots, and to think how many more were about to join it. As expected, numerous pairs of eyes were glued to me as we entered the town of Crainsmuir. I now had to crane my neck up to see the castle, an imposing structure with lots of tiny windows. It was bustling with activity as we entered the courtyard. Once again, the inhabitants of Leoch seemed to stop what they were doing to downright shamelessly stare at me. I felt Jamie stiffen behind me. He didn’t like it. I couldn’t explain how or why I knew that, but I just did. As Dougal dismounted and happily greeted a little red-haired boy, the trance was broken. Returning to their work and conversations, their eyes kept wandering in my direction as Jamie helped me off the horse. 

Murtagh was now laughing with a stout woman with a kind, round face. Her mouse brown hair was tucked up under a bonnet. She turned toward us.

“Jamie!” She exclaimed as she pulled him into a hug. Then she caught sight of me, and for the first time I realized that I must look like a lunatic, trousers aside. I gave a nervous laugh and suddenly the wound on my temple began to throb. My hands defensively rose to my head; my hair was falling out of its binding and wayward curls stuck out in all directions. I gingerly pulled out a twig and flicked it away. 

“Mrs. Fitz, this is Claire.” He introduced me before she could say anything. She blinked, and looked from Jamie to me and back again. Whatever she had been thinking of saying did not make it out of her mouth. 

Instead she said, “How do ye do Claire?” I shook her hand. 

“Er, hello,” I tried to smile like a normal person. Mrs. Fitz was squinting at Murtagh, clearly expecting him to elaborate on my presence. 

“Well,” Murtagh began, “we found Claire alone out on the Great Glen, or I suppose Jamie was the one who found her.” 

“Aye,” Jamie picked up the story, “I was tryin’ to find the lads after we separated when the redcoats started chasin’ us. Instead I found Claire takin’ on two o’ them! They almost captured her!” 

Mrs.s Fitz’s eyebrows went up. 

“Although Dougal doesna think so,” Jamie muttered. 

“And so Claire is going to be havin’ an audience with Colum,” Murtagh finished. 

Her eyebrows shot up even further. “Looking like that?! She looks like she’s been through hell and back!” She seemed horrified. “We must get ye cleaned up dear, yer head must hurt something fierce.” She began ushering me inside, “ye must eat something as well.” I immediately liked her motherly qualities, something I wasn’t much accustomed to. 

We entered a long, dim hallway lit with torches. An uncomfortable feeling of being swallowed up came over me. It almost felt like I was entering a prison, never to see the light of day again. One look back to see the fading light. Jamie was right behind us, and I was glad of it. He seemed like the only friendly face I had come across in this whole mess, and the only one who completely believed me, and didn’t pressure me with questions. We arrived in a long space with a low ceiling with dozens of pots and knives and unprepared meat and vegetables; the kitchen. It was empty at the moment, save for a teenage girl with long, pale blonde hair. She had been preparing a cup of tea. Her eyes widened when she saw us. I followed her gaze, which led directly to Jamie’s face. 

“Good afternoon Grannie,” she said to Mrs. Fitz. “Hello, Jamie. It’s been much too long!” Her cheeks turned pink. 

Jamie nodded distractedly, “Aye, ’tis good to see ye, Laoghaire.” 

“Laoghaire dear, this is Claire. I suppose she’ll be staying here at Castle Leoch for the time being.” Mrs. Fitz introduced me. 

“Greetings to ye, Mistress Claire,” the girl curtseyed, but her eyes remained on Jamie. I nodded slightly and gave a small smile in return. 

“I’ve brought ye here to wash up and have a wee snack. Jamie can help ye. Laoghaire and I will prepare ye a bed and some clean clothes.” She gave us towels and took her granddaughter by the hand, prying her out of Jamie’s personal space and out of the kitchen. 

“Thank you very much!” I called after her. “Someone seems interested in you!” I elbowed Jamie in the arm. 

“Ach no,” he looked away. “I barely know the lass. Let’s get cleaned up aye?” He gestured to a basin of water, clearly eager to change the subject. 

I gratefully splashed the water into my face and gently scrubbed my fingers over the cut. It stung. Jamie exhaled strongly from behind me. “Does it hurt much? I wish I had found ye earlier, Sassenach. I could have prevented him from grabbin’ ye.” 

“I was lucky you were there at all, Jamie. There is really no need to feel guilty.” 

“Have ye any idea what ye’re going to say to the Laird? After that scene with the redcoats, and of course Dougal, it seems no one trusts ye, be it English or Scots.” 

I gave an annoyed grunt. I had been focusing all of my energy on the task at hand, simply washing my face. Now I was again worrying about all the lies I had to tell in order to protect myself. 

“I am going to tell him what he wants to hear, and then I am going to get my ring back, and get as far away from your uncles as possible.” 

“I can share in that sentiment,” he said grimly. “They think I am after the title of Laird of Clan Mackenzie when Colum dies.” 

“He is ill?” I asked, reaching for a cloth to dry my face. 

“Er, aye. I suppose you’ll see shortly.” He answered, stepping up to the basin. 

“And you don’t want to be Laird?” I already knew the answer. 

“I’m no Mackenzie. I’m just a fugitive living on a soldier’s pay.” 

So he couldn’t claim the name of his true clan. He couldn’t go home. He was dependent on Dougal and the Mackenzies to provide for him. Water dripped down his face creating streaks in the dirt as he set his teeth and pressed his lips into a thin line. He hated it. 

“A fugitive?” I couldn’t hide the curiosity in my voice. “For what?” 

He smiled ruefully. “Obstruction. I was defending my sister’s honor from a certain Englishman named Black Jack Randall,” he spat the name. His knuckles turned white as he gripped the side of the basin. 

“I take it he had his way with her all the same?” He winced and closed his eyes. I had guessed correctly. “I’m sorry, Jamie.” 

“’Tis not the worst of it,” he said softly. “Jonathan Randall is the scum of this earth.” He paused, and seemed to come to a decision. 

“Look,” he whispered. His hands came around behind him and lifted the tattered linen shirt halfway up his back. My eyes widened and I inhaled sharply. Slowly, I reached out a hand. My fingertips lightly drew across the web of raised flesh. An intricate maze of scars ran in all directions across his back. He was as taut as the string of my bow. His hands trembled slightly.

“He did this to you?” 

“Twice,” he choked out. “I had never seen someone enjoy himself so much. But that still isna all of it.” He let the shirt drop and turned to face me. I said nothing, waiting for him to continue.

“I might have only gotten away with one flogging, had I given my body over to Randall. When I refused, he had resolved to be as ruthless as he possibly could.” Jamie’s eyes remained on the floor. 

I reached out to place my hand on his shoulder. “I would have done exactly the same thing.” 

He gave a half smile, “I ken ye would have, Sassenach.” 

In that moment I considered spilling my life out to him. He had literally just shown me his scars. I was overcome to know that he had placed this amount of trust in me. I somehow got the feeling that there were very few others who knew about the scars, let alone seen them. But my instinct to protect myself from anything and anyone was too strong. I was the only one who had my back. But I almost felt guilty for not giving something back to Jamie in exchange for the immense faith he had given me. 

“And then you escaped, obviously,” I chose instead to have him finish the story. 

“Aye, Dougal got me out, and brought me to France. I have only just returned to Scotland, a fugitive in my own home. Ye dinna ken what it’s like.” 

“Don’t know what it’s like? Don’t be so quick to assume things.” I snapped. “I do know what it’s like. Look at me. What do you think I’m doing here? I’m running.” He opened his mouth to speak, but seemed at a loss for words. I immediately regretted the outburst, both because he didn’t deserve it and I because I had just volunteered way too much information. It seemed I had given him something in return after all. 

“I’m sorry, I …” he stammered, but he was cut off. Mrs. Fitz had come back. A nod of approval at my now clean, non-bleeding face. 

“That’s much better. Colum is expectin’ ye soon dear, come wi’ me.” She turned back around the corner into the hallway, and I began to follow. 

“Claire,” Jamie grabbed my hand, and I felt no impulse to yank it away. There was an urgent look in his eyes. “Ye need not be scairt of me, nor anyone else here. So long as I’m with ye.” 

I gulped. And when you’re not with me?  

__________________________________________________________________

Both of my hands were raised in defense and I backed up toward the window. 

“No. Absolutely not.” 

“Now Claire, be reasonable. Ye canna enter the Laird’s chamber wearin’ that!” She thrust the dress out in my direction and I flinched. It had flowers on it. She had already tugged all of my hair back into its usual bun, but about ten times tighter than I do it. 

“I can and I will. I know you mean well, Mrs. Fitz. I mean you no disrespect. But unless the Laird himself comes down here and succeeds in wrestling my body into that thing, I will not be wearing it.” 

A knock at the door. It was Dougal. “Come wi’ me lass,” he said. “Thank ye, Mrs. Fitz for makin’ her look … somewhat presentable. 

The Laird’s chamber was enormous, almost as large as the kitchen. The walls were lined with bookshelves. Several bird cages inhabited the room as well. There was a large oak desk sitting in front of the window. The Laird himself was about half the size of his younger brother. I could now see what Jamie had meant. Colum’s legs looked like gnarled old tree trunks, and it looked painful to do much walking. I supposed his condition was worsening over time, as was the paranoia over who would be the new Laird.  

His back was facing me, his hands clasped behind. I walked over to one of the cages. “Do ye find the birds fascinating?” His voice was gravelly and I jumped. 

“I find them delightfully ironic,” I said dryly. He chuckled. 

“So ye ken why ye’re here, then.” He finally turned around. Long gray hair fell to his shoulders and his beard was kept short. His blue eyes betrayed no expression about my apparel or head wound. 

“All I know is that I’d like to relieve any suspicions you may have and be on my way.” 

“Getting right to it then,” he pulled out a chair. “Please sit.” 

“No thank you, I’ll stand.” A defense mechanism. I took a deep breath. “Your brother believes me to be a spy for the English, and he seems quite proud of himself at having ‘captured’ me.” 

Colum chuckled again, my characterization of his younger brother apparently quite accurate. “I take it Dougal has told you what happened?” 

“Aye, ye were wanderin’ around the Mackenzie boarders, armed to the teeth. Ye were in the company of some redcoat soldiers in pursuit of the Scots when Jamie found ye.” I winced. For what Colum lacked in physical strength, he made up for with the way he chose his words. 

It now appeared that I was in league with the English soldiers, helping chase down the Scots after the raid. We then staged the attack on my person just so that I would be captured by said Scots and would thus have ample opportunity to spy upon them, and report back to the English. “That’s your trademark is it?” I said, challenging him. “Twisting something in order to make it fit your own beliefs.”

“My main concern is the safety of this clan, and if there’s the slightest chance that can be compromised, I canna let ye go anywhere. So far all ye’ve told me is that ye are not a spy, and nothing else.” 

“So you’re looking for my life story? I was trying to return to my uncle, he is the only family I have left. My horse was stolen from me and I got lost.” It was unexpectedly painful to speak of Uncle Lamb as if he were still alive. The Laird’s eyes narrowed. That still did not explain what I had been doing in Scotland in first place, and he knew it. He did not ask, but used my omission as condemning evidence. 

“I am sure ye understand why ye must stay here. Until I have reason to believe ye otherwise, ye shall be an honored guest of Clan Mackenzie.” 

I snorted. Guest.

“However,” he went on. “I’ve made some assumptions as to how ye perceive my brother. Ye will soon learn, if ye havena already, that he loathes the English more than all of us because he seems to be the only one willing to act upon it. I will not be surprised to discover that the raid was his idea in the first place. I am unable to oversee him, as ye can see. He is reckless and blinded by emotions.” 

“What kind of emotions?” I crossed my arms, intrigued. 

“Ah, smart girl. The emotions that accompanied the first Jacobite Rising, to give just one example.” 

“I see. So what is it you are trying to ask of me?” I could smell it from a mile away when someone wanted something. 

“Well, if ye are not a spy, as ye say, I suppose I am askin’ ye to try yer skill at it.” 

“Why in the world would you trust me?” I asked, bewildered. 

“Innocent until proven guilty, I imagine.” He spread his hands. “As the only one in this castle who has no prior connections either to me or Dougal, I can trust ye to act as a third party. Until ye give me reason not to, that is.” 

__________________________________________________________________

I lay in bed that night, going over the strange dynamic that was the ruling force of Clan Mackenzie. Jamie was smart to not want anything to do with it, although I could see he possessed the qualities of both his uncles. While they worked together, they clearly did not agree on particular matters and a certain mistrust hovered between them. I silently made a pact with myself to play double agent, to see which brother would grant me my freedom first. 

[jack-andthestalk]

Our Son, Arc II, After Goodbye, Chapter 11.

Thank you to @balfeheughlywed the goodbye bit is thanks to her. @ladyviolethummingbird Thank you!

Lees verder

[outlandish-blog]

NOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!! That bitch! I need the next chapter NOW!

[geethedentist]

The Sassenach Warrior

Catch up on the prologue here! 

Chapter 1: Not Alone Anymore

Three Months Earlier 

It’s odd how quickly one’s life can change, not that mine had gotten off to a swell start anyway. Happenstance and fate become intertwined to create what you never thought possible. For years I clung firmly to the belief that I was a walking attraction for rotten luck. It took a fair bit of time, but much later I realized I was wrong. 

I had been walking relentlessly for three days, feet throbbing with each step. The rolling, rocky hills now behind me, I had entered an expanse of forest. Sheer exhaustion necessitated an overnight rest in a large, green glade. I had all but collapsed onto the soft grass the previous day. There was a small pool of water, and it was warm and peaceful. But it was time to get moving. An uneasy twinge of fear lurked at the back of my mind. I packed up my tiny camp, glancing nervously over my shoulder like a skittish animal. It was eerily silent, which could only foretell yet another (possibly deadly) predicament. I still needed to put a bit of distance between myself and the last village, where I had almost received a thorough beating for continuously refusing to give up my horse to a ragged group of men calling themselves The Watch. 

They took my horse. 

After my especially hasty retreat out of England, and riding through nearly half of Scotland, I had heard there was a port in the Highland town of Inverness, where I could finally board a ship again. The minor issue of financing this voyage remained firmly in the back of my mind, for I had nothing. It was strange being this destitute, not knowing where the next meal was coming from or going days on end without human interaction. I supposed I should be accustomed to it by now, it even gave me an odd thrill at times. 

I was reluctant to go, to leave this momentary peace and venture back into the unknown once more. Here, nobody chastised me for wearing trousers or carrying a sword. Sometimes I believed myself a traitor to womankind. Other times I thought perhaps I was its savior. Too often I had been on the receiving end of outright anger. Others merely stared in shock, content to observe from a distance as if watching some sort of exotic show or attraction. Many laughed at me. Of course, my nature is not what one might deem “typical.” My breech of the status quo is offensive to many, but it only served to fuel my passion for fighting, adventure, and knowledge. I thought of Uncle Lamb, who had gifted me all three of these things, so woefully unattainable for countless others. He always knew dolls and lace never satisfied my spirit. He gave me my first bow and taught me how to use it. The only thing I had left of him was his ring, which I kept on a chain around my neck. It gave me comfort, having him close. 

A twig snapped. My reverie dissipated like a fog. I was on my feet in a second, ears strained, listening for more. My breath caught as voices materialized out of the trees. I became completely still, perhaps I’d be swallowed by the shadows, be granted invisibility. I saw a flash of red. 

Oh God. 

I snatched the bow off my back and made to run when I heard, “Oi I found one!”

I had remained frozen and indecisive for a beat too long. 

My heart was threatening to burst out of my chest. I felt my pulse everywhere at once. 

“Where’s the rest of your lads huh?” the redcoat continued, having fully entered the clearing. He was a short man, with a thick neck and a pink face. His teeth were badly stained.  

His small beady eyes nearly popped out in surprise as he took in my pants, boots, and weapons. 

“You’re a lady!” He sputtered. 

“Very good! Your eyesight appears to be functioning normally.” I shot back with a sneer. 

Another soldier had entered the glade. A bit taller than his companion, he seemed much more able to prevail in a fight or a chase. His face reminded me of a rabbit. “Lady or not, she and her company raided our stores!”

While it was completely within the realm of possibility for me to have done this, I stood there wide eyed shaking my head. Plainly, a bunch of hungry and fed up Highlanders had attempted to nip a bit of food and perhaps a cow or a horse from the English stationed in the small town I had avoided the previous day. 

“So you’re just out here all alone, right after we discover the Scots robbed our depository?” He said it in a tone that conveyed he obviously didn’t believe that this was as coincidental as it appeared. 

“Yes! Precisely!” A jolt of anger and desperation shot through me along with the reality that they were not going to believe me no matter what I said.

The rabbit faced man was advancing menacingly while his partner prepared his rifle. I didn’t like the hungry, animalistic way their eyes traveled over me. Suddenly, rough hands grasped the front of my shirt and I felt rotten breath on my face. “Boy she’s a pretty one.” He breathed. 

“How dare you!” I could not bear to imagine how many others he could have done this to, and his feeling of contentment knowing they could do nothing to stop him.

And then, in my typical fashion, I proceeded to ruin any chance I had of a peaceful escape. Grasping his shoulders, I drove my knee up as hard as I could. The building adrenaline caused me to be shaky and clumsy, and I missed my mark. The man looked stunned as we glared at each other for a second. The next thing I registered was a fist colliding with the side of my head. I half dropped to the ground as I felt warm blood oozing down my cheek. Panic rising, I scrambled away on my knees, grabbing the bow off my back. 

“You little bitch!” He shouted. “Who do you think you are?” 

“Not your plaything!” Shaking from anger now rather than fear, I had made my decision. Arrow in place, I slowly pulled the string back. 

At that moment, the sound of running footsteps became apparent behind me. A small squeak of fear threatened to escape my throat. I was surrounded. My mind was frantically working out some fantastical lie to tell if they decided to take me and question me. A petite, innocent lady shouldn’t and wouldn’t be pointing her lethal homemade arrows (lovingly sharpened to perfection) in a good Englishman’s face. There is most definitely something amiss with that.

“Surely ye don’t mean the lass any harm? She isna with us. She travels alone.” 

My shoulders slumped in relief at the unmistakable Scottish voice behind me. My accent had earned me mistrust from many of the Scots I had met since arriving here. But overall I found them to be very kind and hospitable people who placed a high emphasis on family. The man behind me was undoubtedly one of the raiders that I had been mistaken for. I was thankful he had done what my less than rational mind had conveniently chosen to leave out before I raised the bow. At least now the fact that I had never seen these men before was now out in the open. 

Behind, I heard the unmistakable sound of a sword being drawn. He knew as well as I  that this had no chance of ending peacefully.

     “No harm at all.” The soldier said, a nasty smile creeping up his face. He stepped closer, rifle now raised. I stepped back. 

    “I dare you to try that again.”

“Now what would an English lady be doing out here in the mud with a bunch of filthy Scots, pretending to be a man?”

The man spoke from behind me again, “I tell ye she had no part in this. Let her be.” His voice was deep and soft, but not void of threat. I wanted to turn around to see who the voice belonged to, but I also didn’t want to turn my back on the redcoats.

“I am not pretending to be anything. What you see before you is simply a woman who happens to despise corsets. Dreadful things in my opinion. Trousers enable much more movement and freedom don’t you agree? I wouldn’t be able to do this!” 

I was only vaguely aware of my fingers releasing the string. Moments like these always seem to happen in slow motion. I heard a sharp inhalation from the Scot at my back.

The plump man screamed as the arrow pierced his boot. His gun fell to the ground. The other dropped his rifle in surprise. Fuck. I had only meant to shoot the ground near his feet to scare them a bit. Perhaps my aim was a bit too good. I was in big trouble now, and I could only dig myself a deeper grave from here on out.

I turned and ran … 

… right into a very large, very red-headed Scot. 

“Ooof!” The sound of the breath exiting my lungs all at once. 

 He was so solid. 

“Come on!” He said urgently. I staggered back, reeling from the impact as he caught me by the wrist and began towing me along with him. I allowed a glance back. It appeared that two more soldiers had reached their comrades, apparently unlucky in their search for the missing goods and the thieves responsible. One had stayed behind with the injured man, who was now writhing on the ground. It didn’t take long for the other two to begin their pursuit, running to mount their horses. 

We were both sprinting now. The trees whipped past and my blood pounded in my ears. Suddenly he gave a high pitched whistle, and then I heard great hoofbeats from somewhere off to the right. A giant black stallion came trotting alongside us. We stopped and he quickly swung onto the horse and began to pull me up. 

“I can do it!” I said hotly, yanking my hand from his grasp.

  "Are ye sure about that lass?” He raised an eyebrow questioningly. But of course just to spite me, the horse proved too massive for my short stature. I saw that the side of his face had lifted in a smirk as I settled into the saddle behind him. Soon we were galloping through the forest, me haphazardly clutching this stranger’s waist with my hair flying wildly in my face as the turbulence increased. His own shoulder length auburn curls flew out behind his head. I still hadn’t gotten a decent look at his face.

The horse jumped a large fallen tree trunk and I suddenly became airborne in the saddle. I blindly groped for a handhold and grabbed his kilt to anchor myself. He looked back in surprise; his ears tinged pink. I felt a flush up my neck as well, in spite of the wind whistling in my ears. I had been in Scotland long enough to know what a Scotsman wore under his kilts. I was about to mumble an apology when he jerked the horse sharply to the left and began to ride back the way we came, like a giant circle.

“And just where are we going?”

“Doubling back. They think we still ride ahead of them. We’re going to find the others and ride back into the Mackenzie lands.” he said in concentration, steering the horse away from more fallen trees.

“We?” I’d known him for a good five minutes. I had no idea who he was with, or what he thought he was going to do with me. He was speaking as though none of this mattered. The soldiers were now riding well ahead of us. They hadn’t seen us turn. I thought I heard him sigh in relief. He slowed the horse to a walk and I relaxed my grip on his waist. My hands were clammy.

“I, um, thank you.” I told him, swinging my leg over the horse. Determined not to have any help with the dismount, I slid gracelessly off the horse’s back and almost pitched forward into the mud.

“No problem at all,” he too, had dismounted. I now saw that his eyes were the clearest blue, like the sky on the brightest of days. He had strong cheekbones and a prominent forehead, over which hung a mess of red curls. I then began to register the events of the past ten minutes.

“Allow me to clarify however,” I said indignantly, “that I don’t want you thinking that I was too scared to kill them. This arrow could have easily went straight through his eye had I told it to! And furthermore, I could have escaped without help. I am not some damsel in distress.” I crossed my arms.

I was babbling.

“I dinna doubt it, Sassenach.” He smiled. 

Sassenach. I’d heard that term before. But when he used it, it sounded different. It didn’t sound discriminatory or mistrustful, but endearing. 

Suddenly, I became aware of the absence of the comforting weight around my neck. My hand flew to the spot, finding only bare skin. Uncle Lamb’s ring was gone. It must have fallen off. I cursed quietly. 

“Will ye tell me your name?” 

“I - It’s Claire.”

“Claire.” He smiled, as he said it in his odd Highland way. “I’m …”

“Jamie!” came a cry from someways off. “We thought we lost ye lad!”

Another kilted man was riding toward us. He was short, with a big brown beard. 

“My godfather, Murtagh.” Jamie murmured to me. 

Murtagh raised an eyebrow at the sight of me. He looked me up and down for several seconds. “Ye’ve found yerself a lady then?” He said finally. 

“I - she, redcoats …no!” Jamie stuttered, face flushing scarlet. 

I must have made a face for Murtagh laughed loudly and said, “she doesna seem too taken with ye does she?” 

I heard more riders approaching and decided the time had come to take my leave. “It was very nice to meet you both,” I attempted to mask the anxious tone in my voice. “But I had really better be going.” I began to back away slowly.

“And who might this English lass be? Following us were ye?” A new, accusatory voice asked. He was tall, as tall as Jamie. He didn’t have much hair on his head but made up for it with a dark brown beard streaked with gray. His emphasis on the word English did not go unnoticed. Annoyed, I exhaled loudly and ran a hand over my face. I should have run the second Jamie stopped the horse. But first I needed them to tell me the way to Inverness, and then I could put this whole little hiccup behind me.

With as much politeness as I could muster at this point, I tried to seem as innocent as possible. “Please sir, I was just trying to find my way to Inverness. Could you help me?” 

“Inverness. Is that where your consort is waiting?” 

So he wasn’t going to make this easy. I glanced helplessly at Jamie and Murtagh, as the last two riders of their company had ridden up behind them, watching with interest. “Uncle, Claire means no harm. She almost killed a redcoat!”

“Aye but what is she doing wandering these woods alone? She may be a pretty lass, but she’s also an English lass Jamie lad.” 

Jamie had gone red in the face once more as my last shred of patience disappeared. “What exactly do you mean to say?” 

“What I mean to say is that I canna be takin’ any chances letting ye go free should ye be an English spy!” His voice had risen considerably. 

“What I’m doing here is none of your business! Although I can assure you I have no interest whatsoever in your activities and I am most certainly not a spy!” 

“Rupert, Angus, have you ever seen a woman quite like this one?” He switched his gaze from me to the others. 

“That I have not.” One of the men answered. He was round but strong, with long light brown hair and a beard to match. “I suppose it’s wee bit suspicious.” 

I scoffed at him, and he shrugged. “Why should you be so nervous that I was a spy anyway?” I said, testing him. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Jamie bend to pick something off the ground and a gasp escaped my throat. It was my ring. 

My accuser stepped forward and snatched it from him. 

“Dougal!” Jamie tried to snatch it back. He looked at me apologetically. 

An insincere smile appeared on Dougal’s face. “’Tis evident this trinket is of great importance to our new guest. I think I shall hold on it for a while.”

“No please!” I begged. 

“It would be foolish of ye to attempt an escape lass,” he said. “At least now I am guaranteed ye wilna be leaving us. Show’s over lads, we’d best be on our way back to Leoch. The Sassenach will ride wi’ Jamie.” 

And that was that. 

I stuck my arm up in the air with a scowl. Jamie’s large warm hand wrapped around mine and hoisted me up onto the monstrous horse yet again. 

“I’m sorry about my uncle.” He said as we began to ride behind the others.

I didn’t answer him, but pressed my lips together and folded my arms like a child. We swayed back and forth with the horse’s movements. Ahead, numerous pairs of eyes that thought they were being discreet stole glances back at us. 

“He won’t keep me here you know.” 

“Ooch I think ye’ve made that much clear, Sassenach. Give him time and no cause for suspicion aye?” 

“He seems a very difficult man to budge.”

“That he is. Will ye be getting on to Inverness then? After ye leave.” It sounded as though he expected me to elaborate on this. 

“Yes.” I said shortly, hoping my tone relayed the fact that I was not about to volunteer any information about my plans or reasons. There was no one left on earth who I would trust. He seemed to get the message. 

“That’s a handsome sword,” he commented with admiration. “I’d wager it does well in combat.” 

That was the moment I took a liking to this Scot. His remark was made in reference to the weapon itself, rather than passing judgement on me for wielding it. 

After that, we talked pleasantly. We discussed his sword as well, an extremely heavy thing that was not quite as agile as mine, but ruthless in a fight. 

“Do you use it much?” I asked excitedly, hoping for a story. 

“Oh aye this hunk of metal saved my neck numerous times while I was fighting in France.” 

We passed the next hour or two in companionable conversation. We talked of his time in France, and he spoke of the clan culture which dominated the Highlands. I’d always found upon first meeting somebody new, I draw conclusions and pass judgement subconsciously. I had been prepared to lump Jamie together with Scots like his uncle and the other Mackenzies, as he told me they were called. However, he lacked much of the narrow-mindedness and superstition I had previously encountered, not limited to Scotland. He was educated, like I was.

As the sun dropped and the shadows lengthened, Dougal declared that Leoch must wait until tomorrow. 

I was rolling out my thin blanket away from the others when Dougal, seemingly more calm than before, spoke to me. 

“I know ye said ’tis none of our business, but that answer wilna be accepted by Himself. He’ll want to know what an English lady was doin’, roamin’ around so close to the Mackenzie lands.” 

A small jolt of dread. He was right. If I was going to be questioned by their chief I had better come up with some believable excuse. I would make up a story then, and pray I’d be able to look the laird dead in the eye when I told it. Restless sleep overtook me. 

[thelallybrochlibrary]

March Mayhem: An Ode to Fanfiction

March 5: We all have that one fic we read that lured us in for good. What was that fic? Who is the author? What about this particular fic do you remember that hooked you? Tell us! 

Make sure to tag the authors/link the stories if available! 

Also tag this post with ‘LL March Mayhem’ so the Librarians can see what you think!

[scarletwritingwolf]

The Art of Healing

*Ok I know I haven’t posted anything for agesssss, and I’ve been feeling super guilty. This is just a peek at the next chapter, the rest will come on Sunday! Thank you all for your support so far, if you have time please leave feedback, I’ve love to hear it.*

AO3

Chapter 15: A New Dawn

At the best of times Lallybroch had only a few elements that seemed to be in desperate need of repair, and I had always considered the window of my old room to be one of those needing restoration. It was creaky, didn’t close properly, and there was a level of grime that no scrubbing would ever remove on the panes of the French style design. But at this very moment I was grateful for it, the light of the dawn was streaming through the glass and illuminating the beautiful woman who was sleeping softly beside me. The curly tendrils of her hair framed her heart shaped face, and the deep brown colour of the curls contrasted her seemly luminescent skin. I could easily trace her bluish veins, visible like roads on a map.

The cool draft coming from the gaps in the woodwork of the window made me shiver, Claire’s skin was covered in the still soft beginnings of goose flesh. I gently pulled the blankets further over her, not wanting to wake her. Her eyelids were moving as were her eyes beneath them, the tell tale signs of someone still in rem sleep. I realised that I’d been holding my breath as I watched her, so entranced by her beauty. I exhaled silently but I was afraid that my heart not my breathing would wake her; it was thumping loudly, reminding my body that despite its lack of oxygen that its owner was still alive.

I wasn’t certain that I could do what needed to be done today; pretend not to love this gorgeous creature. My body would surely give me away, someone would notice the way that I gravitated towards her without meaning to, or the way that I would take any available opportunity to study her in order to learn each of her movements and facial expressions. I prayed to the God’s that I would have the strength to love her from the distance that would be necessary today, to draw out the enemy.

Claire would play the role of a friend today, I had instructed Jenny and Ian to go along with this, telling them that I wasn’t ready to introduce her as a my lover, or girlfriend (we had not yet defined what we were anyway, so it was just a white lie for a good cause). We intended to draw Laoghaire out by making her jealous of Claire’s presence.

[catchymemes]

[rummietummiesmummie]

Wonderful creations and thoughtful people.  

The last one though!! 

Can’t cry at work. 

[renee-writer]

Rhe last one and I am crying

[grandparentcore]

conversations over hot tea or coffee that start in the early afternoon and are so engaging that the afternoon flies by and it’s suddenly dusk

[taraknowlshasmoved-deactivated2]

is there ever that one celebrity that no matter what mood youre in, if you feel like crap you just see a picture of them and you just smile and think “thank you for existing” because they have made your day brighter even if you don’t really know them 

[carolrance]

the correct answer is:

[pilgrimkitty]

This is the correct answer. Did you know that when she finds out a studio has asked an actress to lose weight she contacts them and yells at them?

[azriona]

I did not know that, but I do remember an interview where she said she keeps her Oscar in her downstairs loo, because that’s the one her guests use, so they can just go use the loo and don’t have to ask if they can hold her Oscar. Plus then they’ve got the mirror so they can practice their acceptance speeches.

[doll-frakking-house]

This woman is a Gift

[matemisho]

Why do you all expect everyone to know who this actress is???

[bella-cut-too]

Because she’s extraordinary Oscar-Winner Emma Thompson

[seulementmoi101]

Love her!