#wee jamie

[raidermomma]

Jamie, your eyes are ridiculous, calm the fuck down.

[renee-writer]

Hitman Chapter 8 Wee Jamie

Claire woke up next to Jamie. He lays sleeping on his back, arms crossed. She smiles and touches his face. He smiles in his sleep and it causes her heart to lurch. Oh boy. She gets up, pulls her knickers and a robe on, and heads into the kitchen.

Jamie wakes to the smell of coffee and eggs. She is cooking, cooking for him. No one outside his mam ever had. The smell of bacon also wafted through the air. He pulls his boxers on and goes out the join her. She is standing in her white robe with just knickers on underneath. He can tell because it is opened at the front. He sees just a glimpse of the creamy white skin of her breast.

He needs to tell her everything and soon. He has to head to Paris, with his da, to do some business with his cousin Jerrod. He will be gone until after the new year. Before her that wouldn’t have mattered. But now, he sighs, now he didn’t wish to leave. If he hadn’t promised his da. Another sigh as he walks into the kitchen and wraps his arms around her. He kisses her neck as his hand slips under her robe. She turns and finds his lips. The kiss is sweet and languid. It has him wanting her again. Something else new. Usually he is one and done. But with Claire, he can’t get enough of her.

She moans and presses closer. He finds her bum and presses her closer. ‘’Jamie, I can’t let the food burn.’’ He let's her go reluctantly. She turns back to the stove and finishes cooking, plates the food, and they sit down across from each other. He needs to talk but decides to eat some first. Yah, he is putting it off. He is reluctant to break the spell that is between them.

‘’Claire, I need to tell you something.’’ She stops gathering up the dishes and gives him her full attention.

‘’Yes Jamie?’’

‘’I am..’’ he gets no farther as the ringing of his phone pierces the quiet. A ring he hadn’t heard in awhile. His sister’s. He hurries to the living room where his discarded pants lay. He fishes it out. ‘’Jenny. What is.. Oh no! Christ, is he okay? I understand. Yes on the way. I love you too. See you soon.’’ He turns back towards Claire as he pulls his clothes back on.

‘’I have to go Claire. That was my sister. My nephew was in an accident. Was knocked out. They are taken him to the hospital. I have to..’’

‘’Of course. I can go with you, if you want.’’ She had thrown the dishes in the washer and was hurrying to get dressed herself.

‘’You don’t have to.’’ He is searching for his keys. He finds them under her couch where they had slid.

‘’I want too. For you and, I am a trauma surgeon. I can answer your sister's questions.’’

‘’Thank you Claire.’’ She pulls her untamable hair into a ponytail and they rush out the door.

It takes three long hours to get to Inverness. He could have taken that time to tell her about himself but is to stressed about wee Jamie to add anything else. So, he tells her about his family, about the fight with his sister, about his best friend and brother-in- law, his parents, Robbie, Willie and his growing family, and wee Jamie.

‘’He has to be alright. He is such a bonny brawl lad.’’

‘’The fact that he landed on hay helps.’’ She sooths. He had been in the barn with his da and grandsire, had climbed into the hayloft, and gotten to close to the edge. He had fallen straight onto his back and been knocked out.

‘’Aye.’’ They pull into the hospital and Jamie opens the door for her, takes her hand and they run in. He is still in A&E where they find Ian pacing.

‘’Jamie lad, you dinna have to come all this way.’’

‘’Please, where is Jenny? Oh, ‘’ he recalls Claire when she tightens her hand on his. ‘’Ian Murray meet Claire Beauchamp, Claire, my brother-in- law, Ian.’’

‘’Nice to meet you lass. Jenny is.’’ Just then she comes running up and throws her arms around him. He holds her tight.

‘’Jenny, where is he?’’

‘’Off for some tests. Thanks for coming.’’

‘’I could be nowhere else.’’

‘’Who is this?’’ she notices Claire who stands beside Ian and Brian, who had just joined them in Raigmore's A&E waiting room.

‘’Jenny and da, Claire Beauchamp. Claire, my sister Jenny and da Brian. Claire was with me when I got your call and wanted to come. She is a trauma surgeon and can be of assistance with the medical stuff.’’

‘’Very nice to meet you Claire.’’ Brian shakes her hand.

‘’You too sir.’’

‘’Can you come with us to talk with the doctors?’’ Jenny asks.

‘’Of course.’’ She squeezes Jamie's hand before following the Murray’s out.

[contemplatingoutlander]

So who is cuter: Wee Jamie or Baby Yoda?

Inquiring minds want to know. 😂😘

sources (before edits): 01, 02

[whenfrasermetbeauchamp]

Broch Tuarach means “the north-facing tower.” From the side of the mountain above, the broch that gave the small estate its name was no more than another mound of rocks, much like those that lay at the foot of the hills we had been traveling through.

We came down through a narrow, rocky gap between two crags, leading the horse between boulders. Then the going was easier, the land sloping more gently down through the fields and scattered cottages, until at last we struck a small winding road that led to the house.

It was larger than I had expected; a handsome three-story manor of harled white stone, windows outlined in the natural grey stone, a high slate roof with multiple chimneys, and several smaller whitewashed buildings clustered about it, like chicks about a hen. The old stone broch, situated on a small rise to the rear of the house, rose sixty feet above the ground, cone-topped like a witch’s hat, girdled with three rows of tiny arrow-slits.

…

“Should we knock?” I asked, a bit nervous. He looked at me in astonishment.

“It’s my home,” he said, and pushed the door open.

He led me through the house, ignoring the few startled servants we passed, past the entrance hall and through a small gun room, into the drawing room. It boasted a wide hearth with a polished mantel, and bits of silver and glass gleamed here and there, capturing the late-afternoon sun. For a moment, I thought the room was empty. Then I saw a faint movement in one corner near the hearth.

She was smaller than I had expected. With a brother like Jamie, I had imagined her at least my height, or even taller, but the woman by the fire barely reached five feet. Her back was to us as she reached for something on the shelf of the china cabinet, and the ends of her dress sash dipped close to the floor.

Jamie froze when he saw her.

“Jenny,” he said.

The woman turned and I caught an impression of brows black as ink-squills, and blue eyes wide in a white face before she launched herself at her brother.

“Jamie!” Small as she was, she jarred him with the impact of her embrace. His arms went about her shoulders in reflex and they clung for a moment, her face tight against his shirtfront, his hand tender on the nape of her neck. On his face was an expression of such mingled uncertainty and yearning joy that I felt almost an intruder.

Then she pressed herself closer to him, murmuring something in Gaelic, and his expression dissolved in shock. He grasped her by the arms and held her away from him, looking down.

The faces were much alike; the same oddly slanted dark blue eyes and broad cheekbones. The same thin, blade-bridged nose, just a trifle too long. But she was dark where Jamie was fair, with cascades of black curly hair, bound back with green ribbon.

She was beautiful, with clear-drawn features and alabaster skin. She was also clearly in a state of advanced pregnancy.

Jamie had gone white at the lips. “Jenny,” he whispered, shaking his head. “Oh, Jenny. Mo cridh.”

Her attention was distracted just then by the appearance of a small child in the doorway, and she pulled away from her brother without noticing his discomposure. She took the little boy’s hand and led him into the room, murmuring encouragement. He hung back a little, thumb in mouth for comfort, peering up at the strangers from behind his mother’s skirts.

For his mother she plainly was. He had her mop of thick, curly black hair and the square set of her shoulders, though the face was not hers.

“This is wee Jamie,” she said, looking proudly down at the lad. “And this is your uncle Jamie, mo cridh, the one you’re named for.”

“For me? You named him for me?” Jamie looked like a fighter who has just been punched very hard in the stomach. He backed away from mother and child until he blundered into a chair, and sank into it as though the strength had gone from his legs. He hid his face in his hands.

His sister by this time was aware that something was amiss. She touched him tentatively on the shoulder.

“Jamie? What is it, my dearie? Are ye ill?”

He looked up at her then, and I could see his eyes were full of tears.

“Did ye have to do that, Jenny? Do ye think that I’ve not suffered enough for what happened—for what I let happen—that ye must name Randall’s bastard for me, to be a reproach to me so long as I live?”

Jenny’s face, normally pale, lost all vestiges of color.

“Randall’s bastard?” she said blankly. “John Randall, ye mean? The Redcoat captain?”

“Aye, the Redcoat captain. Who else would I mean, for God’s sake! You’ll remember him, I suppose?” Jamie was recovering enough of his customary poise for sarcasm.

Jenny eyed her brother closely, one arched brow lifted in suspicion.

“Have ye lost your senses, man?” she inquired. “Or have ye taken a drop too much along the way?”

“I should never have come back,” he muttered. He rose then, stumbling slightly and tried to pass without touching her. She stood her ground, however, and gripped him by the arm.

“Correct me, brother, if I’m wrong,” Jenny said slowly, “but I’ve the strong impression you’re saying I’ve played the whore to Captain Randall, and what I’m askin’ myself is what maggots you’ve got in your brain to make ye say so?”

“Maggots, is it?” Jamie turned to her, mouth twisted with bitterness. “I wish it were so; I’d rather I was dead and in my grave than to see my sister brought to such a pass.” He seized her by the shoulders, and shook her slightly, crying out, “Why, Jenny, why? To have ye ruin yourself for me was shame enough to kill me. But this…” He dropped his hands then, with a gesture of despair that took in the protruding belly, swelling accusingly under the light smocking.

He turned abruptly toward the door, and an elderly woman, who had been listening avidly with the child clinging to her skirts, drew back in alarm.

“I should not have come. I’ll go.”

…

 She eyed her brother, standing at the window with his legs braced wide apart, hands on the sill and back stubbornly set against her. She bit her lip and a calculating look came over her face. Quick as lightning, she stooped and her hand shot under his kilt like a striking snake.

Jamie let out a roar of sheer outrage and stood bolt upright with shock. He tried to turn, then froze as she apparently tightened her grip.

“There’s men as are sensible,” she said to me, with a wicked smile, “and beasts as are biddable. Others ye’ll do nothing with, unless ye have ’em by the ballocks. Now, ye can listen to me in a civil way,” she said to her brother, “or I can twist a bit. Hey?”

He stood still, red-faced, breathing heavily through clenched teeth. “I’ll listen,” he said, “and then I’ll wring your wee neck, Janet! Let me go!”

No sooner did she oblige than he whirled on her.

“What in hell d’ye think you’re doing?” he demanded. “Tryin’ to shame me before my own wife?” Jenny was not fazed by his outrage. She rocked back on her heels, viewing her brother and me sardonically.

“Weel, and if she’s your wife, I expect she’s more familiar wi’ your balls than what I am. I havena seen them myself since ye got old enough to wash alone. Grown a bit, no?”

— Outlander/Cross Stitch

Gif: fangirlish.com (Claire, Jamie, Donas)

Photos: Starz, Season One, Episode Twelve, April 25, 2015

Photo: tvfeels.com (Lallybroch) 

Gif: smartbitchestrashybooks.com (Jenny & Jamie)

Book: Outlander (Cross Stitch), Diana Gabaldon, 1991

Tumblr: September 20, 2018, WhenFraserMetBeauchamp 🏴󠁧󠁢󠁳󠁣󠁴󠁿❤️🇬🇧

WFMB’s Tags: #Outlander #Season One Episode Twelve #S1E12 #Lallybroch #Outlander/Cross Stitch #Chapter Twenty-Six #Broch Tuarach means “the north-facing tower” #Correct me, brother, if I’m wrong #Claire Fraser #Jamie Fraser #Donas #Jenny Murray #Ian Murray #Ian Mòr #Jamie Murray #Wee Jamie #Jamie Òg #Young Jamie #61 #092018

[outlander-screencaps]

[doyouknowthemuffinmaam]

Poor Claire doesn’t fit anymore.

Did anyone else find it really mean but deliberate that they changed the Lallybroch scene with Claire meeting wee!Jamie again from the books?

In the books he does remember her, and remembers her fondly. To change that felt like a very deliberate stab from the writers to further highlight the distance between Claire and The Fraser Murrays now. It was just another way to make her feel uncomfortable, and out of place, and to highlight her insecurities about not belonging with Jamie and Co. anymore.

I know that they are making certain changes and by and large I’ve actually enjoyed their descisions but this one just felt really unnecessary, and kinda cruel. Like Jenny is being damn cold enough without having having wee!Jamie mean mugging her as well....

[lapsang-and-earlgrey]

Sarah Kincade’s Sausage rolls.

Mrs. Kincade was a beautiful red headed woman she was sturdy but not overly plump and with a kind face and heart. She was an excellent if humble cook, but who needs fancy recipes when you’ve got the produce of the highlands at your door.

This is one of her prize winning recipes. She often served them to her church group or for her husband as a special lunch time treat. When Jamie was home for the holidays, he was an absolute menace sulking around her kitchen to see what she was baking or what he could steal. Sometimes she'd send him off to deliver a plate these to her husband for lunch sometimes they didn't all make it. After Kincade grumbled about the size of his lunch

She died of cancer when she was 67 and that was the last time James visited Skyfall with any regularity. James has fond memories of that little kitchen and this is one of her recipes he still makes. Q loves them as much as he does.

Sarah Kincade’s Black Pudding Sausage rolls

Ingredients (makes 12 small ,8 medium or 6 large)

450 grams (1 pound) of Good Quality sausage meat or unflavoured sausages.

200grams (7ounces)  Black pudding (the good quality oaty kind is best)

260-300 gram (9-10 ounces) block of butter puff pastry or home made rough puff

1 egg whisked with a little water

and a small bowl of flour

Chop the black pudding into cubes and put into a large bowl with the sausagemeat. Using a fork cut the black pudding into the sausagemeat until combined but not mushy.

Roll out your pastry till it's about 3-4mm (1/4 inch) thick

Divide the sausage mixture in two and using well-floured hands and a well-floured surface shape the sausage mixture into long sausage shapes about 3-4cm or 1 1/2 inches in diameter and the length of your pastry. Sprinkling them with extra flour until they no longer stick to your hands as you shape them.

Cut your pastry in half and lay one the sausage on each half. carefully roll the pastry roll over until the sausage is almost completely encased. Use a little of your egg wash or a little water to seek the pastry together. roll the pastry over until the seam is on the bottom. Wrap the cylinders in foil or cling film and return them to the fridge for at least 15 minutes to rest. You can leave them for longer if you need to

Once the sausage rolls are rested remove and use a heavy knife to cut into individual portions sixths for bite size, quarters or thirds for meal size. To help you cut the most cleanly use a cloth or paper towel to clean the knife between cuts. slice the top and brush with egg was made of egg and a splash of water.

If you aren't planning to eat these right away you can quite easily freeze them they do cook fine from frozen. However, don't use sausagemeat that already if you Do Not egg wash them first.

Bake in a moderately in a180 C (360 F) oven for about 15-20 minutes. Leave to cool for before serving. They are best served warm.

[lulu-tan79]

Artlander

1x13 The Watch, Part II

"Jamie, have you no sense? Look what you've done to your auntie's skirt."

"It's all right. I don't mind."

Happy Caiturday!