Dear WrittenThroughTime….you give so much to this fandom. I hope in some small way my story makes you smile, laugh and fall in love with Jamie and Claire all over again in a Modern World.
CHAPTER ONE
“Dammit! Oh GOD. Oh. Oh
God.”
She heard the crash from her perch on the fire escape. And then the swearing. And underlying it all was
the pain. Claire had been sitting out on
her fire escape, watching the sun go down in an orange blaze. Setting aside her steaming hot tea, she crept
down the iron stairs slowly, her big woolen blanket still wrapped around
her. It was a deep autumn night in
Edinburgh, and the chill in the air was sharp.
She didn’t want to appear like a weirdo, but the pain in his voice was
too much to ignore.
And when she saw him, she reacted without thinking. Dropping
the blanket, she crawled through his open window, hand outstretched and voice
soothing. “Hi there. I’m Claire.
I live upstairs. I heard the
crash. Are you okay?” He looked at her,
eyes wild, short of breath and clutching his right arm. A clearly dislocated shoulder. “I’m a nurse.
Let me help you.”
He never said a word, just nodded at her and allowed her to
lead him over to the coffee table. She
sat him down gently and looked him in the eye.
“Brace yourself. It will
hurt. Just…just don’t fight me, okay? I need to get the arm in the correct
position, and then I’m going to put your shoulder joint back in place.” He nodded again, and took a deep breath. She could see in his eyes when he was ready
for her. She nodded back at him, their silent communication forged. Slipping her hand into his, she concentrated
on what she was doing until she felt the joint slide home.
“A Dhia.” he breathed.
He looked at her with surprise, relief, and nothing short of
admiration. She smiled.
“Better?”
“Aye. Thank ye!”
She looked around. “I
need to make you a sling. Do you have a
scarf, maybe?”
“Maybe in the hall closet,” he said, but when he stood up,
he swayed.
“Woah!” Claire placed
her hands on his waist to steady him. “It’s
the pain. You should sit.” He turned slightly and that’s when Claire
noticed his belt. “Wait!” He cocked an
eyebrow. “Your belt. It will do nicely.” And before she realized
what she was doing, she undid his belt buckle, slid it free of his jeans and
used it to immobilize his arm. “It’s
just for tonight. Sleep carefully,
perhaps with a pillow under your shoulder. Tomorrow I’ll bring you a proper
sling from the hospital.” She finished
her ministrations, marched to the bathroom hoping to find some type of pain
medicine or anti-inflammatory in the sink cabinet and then strode through to
the kitchen to get him a glass of water.
She righted the bar stool he obviously tripped over, wrote her mobile
number on a piece of paper and told him to call her if the pain became too
much.
And crawling through the window again she gave him one last
wave, picked up her blanket and mounted the rusty stairs. It was only after she was back in her flat
coming down after her healing adrenaline rush that it hit her. How very firm his waist was. How tall, and big. With a myriad of red in
his longish hair. Hair that curled just
at the nape. And it registered that when
she finally looked him in the eye, he’d had a small smirk pulling at his lips.
Because she was unbuckling his belt….and she felt the heat of embarrassment
flood her face. Jesus H. Roosevelt Christ, Claire! You need to not be so bold!
Downstairs, rubbing the torn bit of paper between his fingers
like a rosary bead, Jamie felt as if he’d been hit by a lorry. Oh, his shoulder felt okay. It hurt, but it was manageable. No, the lorry that hit him had curly black
hair, a no-nonsense manner and a good touch. Not to mention the last image he had
of her leaving his flat. That sweet,
round arse disappearing up the fire escape.
Claire.
Outlander (2014-) is a major US television series based on the historical fantasy novels of Diana Gabaldon, combining time travel with 18th-century Scottish politics and post-war British and American culture. The globally successful series has triggered more interest in Scotland and its history than any other cultural artefact in recent years. Interest continues to grow as Outlander moves into its fifth season.
While hundreds of fan-based gatherings and interest groups around the world promote and encourage Outlander fandom, and thousands of media articles ponder its reach and appeal, there has not yet been an event which takes an academic approach to the series and brings together the multiple areas of expertise involved in its creation. The University of Glasgow plans to do just this: it will host a major international Outlander conference in June 2020 which will offer the chance to discuss the elements that make up this remarkable phenomenon. Link
——————————————————————————————-
There is a great depth of wisdom and knowledge among our Tumblr fandom. Hopefully some among us will be able to present at this conference. Attention fanfic writers - there is a call for submissions on this topic.
These swimming pools with black tiles are my aesthetic.
Make the black tiles out of that black material that absorbs all light and swim over the void.
Fun fact about Vantablack- Because it absorbs all light, it heats up very fast. If exposed to direct sunlight, it takes in all the UV and heat and contains them, and can reach heats well over 212°F, the boiling point of water. So if you did coat the pool in that material, the water would boil as soon as the sun touched it, killing everyone swimming in it.
But that’s not all. The flash boiling of an entire pool of chlorinated water would release the chlorine as gas, which would kill everyone within a 200ft radius of the pool. And it doesn’t end there.
The release of chlorine gas combined with the heat of the black tiles would be more than sufficient to fuse the boiled hydrogen ions with the chlorine, creating an explosive reaction with the nitrogen in the air. So shortly after everyone in the pool boils and everyone around the pool dies of chlorine gas poisoning, the region would explode with the force of a small atomic bomb (8kt for a pool like those pictured above), leveling about 50 city blocks.
You’d think that would be bad enough, but get this-
Such chemical explosions expel gamma rays. Gamma rays ionize hematite, which is the mineral from which the black material mentioned is made. This creates Scopohyoscpnol, a compound known as “The Zombie Drug” because it essentially erases the brain and induces cannibalistic tendencies in its victim. It can be transmitted through saliva, infecting all who are bitten within hours.
So basically, if you did have Vantablack tiles in your pool, you would boil your friends, poison your neighbors, nuke your city, and condemn the globe to a zombie plague. But to be fair, it would look pretty cool.
This is really well-done. I skipped over the username and kept believing even as it got ridiculous.
Dear WrittenThroughTime….you give so much to this fandom. I hope in some small way my story makes you smile, laugh and fall in love with Jamie and Claire all over again in a Modern World.
CHAPTER ONE
“Dammit! Oh GOD. Oh. Oh
God.”
She heard the crash from her perch on the fire escape. And then the swearing. And underlying it all was
the pain. Claire had been sitting out on
her fire escape, watching the sun go down in an orange blaze. Setting aside her steaming hot tea, she crept
down the iron stairs slowly, her big woolen blanket still wrapped around
her. It was a deep autumn night in
Edinburgh, and the chill in the air was sharp.
She didn’t want to appear like a weirdo, but the pain in his voice was
too much to ignore.
And when she saw him, she reacted without thinking. Dropping
the blanket, she crawled through his open window, hand outstretched and voice
soothing. “Hi there. I’m Claire.
I live upstairs. I heard the
crash. Are you okay?” He looked at her,
eyes wild, short of breath and clutching his right arm. A clearly dislocated shoulder. “I’m a nurse.
Let me help you.”
He never said a word, just nodded at her and allowed her to
lead him over to the coffee table. She
sat him down gently and looked him in the eye.
“Brace yourself. It will
hurt. Just…just don’t fight me, okay? I need to get the arm in the correct
position, and then I’m going to put your shoulder joint back in place.” He nodded again, and took a deep breath. She could see in his eyes when he was ready
for her. She nodded back at him, their silent communication forged. Slipping her hand into his, she concentrated
on what she was doing until she felt the joint slide home.
“A Dhia.” he breathed.
He looked at her with surprise, relief, and nothing short of
admiration. She smiled.
“Better?”
“Aye. Thank ye!”
She looked around. “I
need to make you a sling. Do you have a
scarf, maybe?”
“Maybe in the hall closet,” he said, but when he stood up,
he swayed.
“Woah!” Claire placed
her hands on his waist to steady him. “It’s
the pain. You should sit.” He turned slightly and that’s when Claire
noticed his belt. “Wait!” He cocked an
eyebrow. “Your belt. It will do nicely.” And before she realized
what she was doing, she undid his belt buckle, slid it free of his jeans and
used it to immobilize his arm. “It’s
just for tonight. Sleep carefully,
perhaps with a pillow under your shoulder. Tomorrow I’ll bring you a proper
sling from the hospital.” She finished
her ministrations, marched to the bathroom hoping to find some type of pain
medicine or anti-inflammatory in the sink cabinet and then strode through to
the kitchen to get him a glass of water.
She righted the bar stool he obviously tripped over, wrote her mobile
number on a piece of paper and told him to call her if the pain became too
much.
And crawling through the window again she gave him one last
wave, picked up her blanket and mounted the rusty stairs. It was only after she was back in her flat
coming down after her healing adrenaline rush that it hit her. How very firm his waist was. How tall, and big. With a myriad of red in
his longish hair. Hair that curled just
at the nape. And it registered that when
she finally looked him in the eye, he’d had a small smirk pulling at his lips.
Because she was unbuckling his belt….and she felt the heat of embarrassment
flood her face. Jesus H. Roosevelt Christ, Claire! You need to not be so bold!
Downstairs, rubbing the torn bit of paper between his fingers
like a rosary bead, Jamie felt as if he’d been hit by a lorry. Oh, his shoulder felt okay. It hurt, but it was manageable. No, the lorry that hit him had curly black
hair, a no-nonsense manner and a good touch. Not to mention the last image he had
of her leaving his flat. That sweet,
round arse disappearing up the fire escape.
Claire.
Outlander (2014-) is a major US television series based on the historical fantasy novels of Diana Gabaldon, combining time travel with 18th-century Scottish politics and post-war British and American culture. The globally successful series has triggered more interest in Scotland and its history than any other cultural artefact in recent years. Interest continues to grow as Outlander moves into its fifth season.
While hundreds of fan-based gatherings and interest groups around the world promote and encourage Outlander fandom, and thousands of media articles ponder its reach and appeal, there has not yet been an event which takes an academic approach to the series and brings together the multiple areas of expertise involved in its creation. The University of Glasgow plans to do just this: it will host a major international Outlander conference in June 2020 which will offer the chance to discuss the elements that make up this remarkable phenomenon. Link
——————————————————————————————-
There is a great depth of wisdom and knowledge among our Tumblr fandom. Hopefully some among us will be able to present at this conference. Attention fanfic writers - there is a call for submissions on this topic.
Tori