Archives for the Date May 29th, 2019


petramos:Naomi Scott as Princess Jasmine in Aladdin 2019

petramos:Naomi Scott as Princess Jasmine in Aladdin 2019

tiredstarks: attentiondeficithyperactivedeity: uncommonbish: i…




it’s hilarious AF

“My therapist says I was traumatized. But my body mass index begs to differ.”

This is actually the funniest thing I’ve ever seen

avasetocallmyown: “Caitriona Balfe is a very good actress, she…


“Caitriona Balfe is a very good actress, she can’t stand me.”Sam Heughan
       ↳ 𝗢𝘂𝘁𝗹𝗮𝗻𝗱𝗲𝗿 𝗦𝗲𝗮𝘀𝗼𝗻 𝟰 𝗕𝗲𝗵𝗶𝗻𝗱 𝘁𝗵𝗲 𝗦𝗰𝗲𝗻𝗲𝘀

Imagine Frank had already remarried when Claire came back.


I jerked back, slamming into the hard cool bars of my hospital bed as the voice and face of Jack Randall came closer to me. My heart quickened its pace. I felt like I was going to pass out or vomit; possibly both.


The voice was soft and kind. Not Black Jack. Frank. Frank Randall. My…husband. I cringed at the thought. I loved Frank, and always would, but my heart lay on a battlefield two-hundred years in the past.  Shaking, I looked up to confirm my assumption. Yes, Frank. Not Black Jack. His face had deeper lines than before, etched into his forehead and beside his mouth. Part of me–a deeply buried guilt ridden part–wondered if I had been the cause of such impressions; that my decision to stay with the man I loved had marred the face of the man I once held dear? He looked as I felt: full of shock, disbelief, and confusion.

“Hello Frank. I’m back.” I said meekly, not looking him in the eye, afraid to see the glimmer of his six times great uncle lingering in the depths.

His footsteps stopped, and I heard him fall to the floor, knees hitting hard as his hands hit the corner of my bed. I flinched. His left hand came up to cover his eyes as his shoulders shook from silent sobs. I pulled my legs and body into a ball; not willing to touch him, to be near him. His right hand gripped the blankets next to my foot, the knuckles going white. I felt a spike of fear course through me.

“God, Claire! Where have you been? Why did you leave?” His voice was a broken whisper directed at the ground. When he moved his hand, I noticed the flash of the golden band still wrapped around his ring finger. My heart lurched. Had he keep it on all this time? I looked down at my hands, where the twin to his ring sat, glinting in the light, on my left ring finger. Then on my right, the delicate filigree of Scottish silver worked into intricate knots and thistles. A testament to both husbands. My loyalties, heart, and life divided; silver and gold, past and present, of love lost and love returned.

“I-I didn’t mean to go,” I murmured, hoping he would hear me. I didn’t believe that I could speak louder than a whisper at this point. “You wouldn’t believe me if I told you where I had gone, what I had done, the adventure I experienced. A life that I fought against, and now I ache to return to.”

He looked up, tears streaming down his face. A softness that I couldn’t recall ever seeing from him. “Tell me. Please,” Frank begged, his voice cracking on the last word. “I must know. Try to explain it. I swear I will listen!”

I squared my shoulders in an attempt to bring myself more confidence. “The day when I went to fetch the flower from the base of the stones, I didn’t believe what would happen to me was even possible, so I don’t expect you to believe me. Only one person has believed my story, and even then I doubt he truly believed until much later.”

Frank gave a slight nod, reaching out for my hand. At his touch, I jerked my hand back. It wasn’t the same. Touching him did not bring the same confidence and security that touching Jamie brought.

“I heard a buzzing – more of a humming scream – coming from the center of the henge. When I investigated, something happened. Somehow I-I-”


“I fell through time. To 1743. While there, I ran into more trouble and events of history than I can explain.” I looked at his face, waiting to see the look of disbelief.

His brow furrowed. “You fell through time?”

I nodded. “Yes.”

“You expect me to believe that?”

“I tried to tell you–”

“Claire, you can tell me the truth. Was there another man? Is that why you really ran away? If there is, I can’t say that I can fault you.”

“I–what?” I asked confused, not expecting his reaction.

He smiled, but it didn’t reach his eyes. “Claire we were apart for six years during the war, and though I loved–love–you deeply, I fell in love with another. I thought you might have figured that out and you decided to leave me for the chap we saw staring up at your window. That this town was your meeting place.”

I sat in stunned silence, my mind whirling. He was in love with another, had been in love with another three years ago when we came here to rekindle our love.

“I did search for you. God! Did I ever search. I wasn’t ready to give you up. I wanted to have what we had before. You were the love of my life before the war and I needed that light you brought after the war. Margorie, well she helped me get through the war. Helped me remember there was a reason to keep going. You were gone, Claire! There were times I never knew if you’d come back from the front lines. And when you did…” Tears began to flow down his cheeks with a renewed urgency.

“When you did, my heart felt like it could soar. But after you disappeared, when the war was no longer a threat to your life, I was a madman trying to find you. Margie helped. She printed bulletins, plastered the streets from here to Oxfordshire. She knew I loved you deeply, and when you didn’t come back, she was my comfort. She brought me out of the drunken stupors, pulled me from bars, and helped me regain a sense of myself. She pieced my heart back together. We were married last fall.”

I felt my stomach leap to my throat.

“You’re remarried then?” I asked, too numb to allow any feelings take purchase within me.

He nodded, a faint smile tugging at his lips, at what I assume to be, the thought of his new bride.

“And are you happy?” I whispered, clenching my eyes shut.

“I-” he cleared his throat. “I am.”

I nodded. “Good. Then I am happy for you Frank.” This time I reached out and rested my hand on top of his. He looked up. I gave him a smile, that I hoped looked as genuine as it felt. “When I left, I desperately tried to get back to you. I had my suspicions, but didn’t know for sure that you had found someone during the war. I would have forgiven you had you told me. But now, where I was, I fell in love as well Frank. He sent me back here, to you, for protection.”

As I said this, I let my hand rest on my abdomen. “I see now that I–we–would only be a nuisance to you and your new wife. I do wish you happiness, Frank.”

Frank’s eyes widened. “We? Claire, are you pregnant?”

I nodded, a tear falling down my cheek. “That’s why he sent me back. It was the day of the battle of Culloden, he knew he was going to die on the battlefield. He sent me back to protect our child. I-I-” Sobs overtook my body and I let Frank engulf me in a comforting hug.

“You really believe you went back in time?”

“I know I did. I have the memories, the scars, the stories. I could tell you about your great uncle, Jonathan Randall. Or your six-times great grandfather and grandmother Alex and Mary Randall. Mary was my friend. I can tell you the inner workings of the Jacobites and the British invasion of Scotland. From the opulent bedchambers of King Louis to the meager cabins of the Highland people. It’s all real, I know what the history books got wrong!” I cried hysterically into his shoulder, longing for Jamie’s solidness.

I felt Frank take a deep breath. “If you truly believe all of this, I will help you find your man. See what happened to him and his family. I’m sure the Reverend Wakefield would be happy to host you, unless–”

“You don’t need to do this. Nor do you need to break off what you have with…Margorie? Was it?” He nodded. “We’ve both remarried. Let’s leave it at that.”

“I want to help you Claire.” A wave of relief washed over me. He wasn’t trying to alter his life, he only wished to help, and that was exactly what I needed: help and support.  

“If the love you feel for this man is a fraction of what we felt before or even what I feel for Margie now,” he continued. “I want you to find him again.”

I gave him a watery smile. “Thank you.”

He squeezed my hand. “Feel better, Claire. I’ll come back tomorrow. Perhaps I can convince some familiar faces to drop by, and I may see if Margie will come.”

“If she doesn’t feel like being here, please don’t force her. Let her know that I wish her no ill will or hold any resentment towards her. I want you all to be happy.”

“I want you to be happy as well, Claire. I’ll start looking for books to search about the ‘45 when I get back to the Reverend’s. You didn’t mention his name or the side he was on.”

I shook my head, closing my eyes, exhaling deeply. “No, I didn’t mention that. His name is James Alexander Malcolm MacKenzie Fraser, and he was a Captain in the Jacobite army. Prince Charlie thought of him as a friend and a close confidant.”

The surprise on Frank’s face didn’t go unnoticed. “So he is a Scot?”

I let out a snort. “Yes. Scottish down to the core, and a very good man, Frank. You would have liked him. Jamie has past that would make it difficult for him to be around you for long–which is a story for another day–but he would have wanted to thank you, at least for keeping me safe and loving me.”

Frank nodded as he gathered his coat and hat, “Yes, well. Rest well, Claire.”

to be continued…

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