Archives for the Date January 25th, 2020

Fanfiction – Magnificent Strangers

kalendraashtar:

Just one more chapter after this one, guys. I hope you see it through with me. X Special shout out to @holdhertightandsayhername​, who always tells me to believe in what I have to tell.

Part I , Part II, Part III

Magnificent Strangers

Part IV – Remission

Some
events press into our lives with such strength, they effectively cleave it into
two: the before and the after.

A
war. A divorce. The birth of a first child. The invention of electricity. A
vicious car accident.

Being kissed by James Fraser for three
consecutive days, with little interruption
. Before kiss; after kiss – my deliciously punished lips the line separating the
two.

If
snogging Jamie could be considered an Olympic sport, I would definitely be a
proud gold medallist and world-record holder. I would wake up at dawn and
relinquish even dark coffee for some dedicated training. The man was made to be
kissed and I was born to kiss him, two destinies converging in a
saliva-swapping encounter.

Besides
kissing – and some exploratory fondling, mostly done on top of layers of
clothing – not much has happened.
Jamie respects me in an endearing and somewhat infuriating way, and I haven’t
mastered a way to tell him I want to be
respected a little less, or with far less clothes on
. He has read my
fanfiction, so he knows I’m not averse to the fine art of sexing. He is taking
his sweet time and driving me insane.

I
don’t want to be treated like I’m fragile. Even when I know I might be, just
a little
.

On
this No-Chemotherapy Wednesday, I’m
sitting on Jamie’s plush couch watching him play the saxophone. He is executing
a solo cover of Yellow, and I feel
like my insides are rapidly liquifying into a golden-coloured smoothie of love,
desire and awe. He is creating a kind of magnetic Coltrane alchemy; it’s
an almost voyeuristic experience to watch him bend over the instrument lovingly
and turn his breath into jazz.

Jamie
learned to play the sax early in his adolescent years and became quite
accomplished, up until the time he relinquished it to pursue a career in
military service. I cooed in delight the first time I went to his house and noticed
the instrument’s case laying sadly on the corner of his living room.

He
hadn’t played since his diagnosis, because he had no music left in him. But now
he plays for me almost every day.

As
I watch him perform, I want to tell him I put on good black lingerie, inspected
my legs and armpits for any miscreant hairs and dabbed expensive perfume
between my breasts. The beautiful contradiction of strength and tenderness he
applies into his skilled fingers tightens everything inside me, until I’m taut
and desperate.

He
finishes his rendition and I applaud him wholeheartedly, fascinated by the
glint of sweat on his handsome brow. He pulls me into his lap and kisses me
soundly.

“Come
here, wee Viking.” He says hoarsely, still a little out of breath,
gripping my waist tightly. “Hmmm,
ye smell sae good today.”

“Do
I?” I say innocently, brushing my lips against his on a tease. “Just
my usual herbal soap and maybe some residual curry from last night.”

Keep reading

Imagine Master Raymond tells Claire who and what she is. What would he tell her? Do you think Claire really is an Auld one? Is Claire descended from an ancient mystical race?

No Fate But What  We Make 

Chapter 1

I patted Clarence’s side, weighed heavily with two casks
of whisky, eyes keen on my giggling grandsons.

Ian had thought it humorous to give Jem and Germaine a
wee dram when we arrived at the whisky spring. By the time Roger and I returned
from gathering supplies from Clarence’s saddlebags, it was too late.

I’d promised Claire we would return by early afternoon. But
Roger and I had agreed it wise to wait a bit until the lads could at least walk
in a straight line. So the sky had already started to turn shades of orange by
the time we crested the final hill, in sight of the new house.

Ian had wisely gone ahead of us at a faster pace. All the
quicker to reunite with his wife and child, he had said – but Roger Mac and I
knew better.

“I canna exactly tell Bree about this.” Roger sighed on
my left side, shifting a spade to his other shoulder. “Fergus and Marsali wouldna
mind. But Bree, weel…”

“I’m sure ye’ve come to realize during the years of yer
marriage that what yer wife doesna ken, willna hurt her.” I slackened my hold
on Clarence’s lead. “For the small things like this.”

“I ken. Big secrets and bad news dinna keep. But this – ”

“Look, Grand-da! There’s a horse in front of the house!”

I squinted – Jem was right. An unfamiliar horse stood,
hobbled, to the right of the new house, a small pile of saddlebags neatly at
his side.

“Were ye expecting anyone?”

“No. Whoever it is, he’s in the house.” I handed Clarence’s
lead to Roger. “See to the mule, and the lads. I must find Claire.”

I didn’t wait for Roger to reply – only picked up the
pace and strode past my grandsons, mind racing.

With the house so newly finished, we hadn’t yet received many
visitors. It wasn’t John – he would have brought more than just one horse. Not
a backcountry man, either – no animal pelts spilled out of the saddlebags. Soldiers
always came at least in twos.

I leapt up the stairs and onto the porch, pushing the
front door open. Strained voices drifted from the parlor – Claire, and Bree.

In seconds I was there – and clutched the doorframe in
shock.

“Jamie – you remember Master Raymond, from Paris?”

Claire’s voice was higher pitched than usual. Dumbly I
stared at the impossibly old man, wedged into a corner of the settee, legs
barely touching the ground.

Master Raymond stood and bowed.

“An honor to see you again, Monsieur Fraser.”

For only the second time in my life I felt a swoon coming
on.

“The honor is mine, Maître Raymond. Much has happened
since last we met.”

“Indeed. I have been re-acquainting myself with Madame
Fraser. It is her renown as a healer that made it easy to find you, even here in
the backcountry.”

I swallowed, and slowly stepped into the room. Wordlessly
I sank into the chair beside Claire’s. Her hands were clasped tightly across
her knees, the knuckles white.

“I see. And I’m sure you’ve been introduced to our
daughter, Brianna.”

“He met Mandy and Jenny and Rachel, too,” Bree quickly
interjected from her seat beside Raymond. “Mama insisted the three of them prepare
supper – for you and the other men, and for our guest.”

Raymond turned to face Claire. “Mother Hildegard was
right, madonna. God did bless you with another child. And grandchildren, too.”

Pain surged through my heart – Paris, and Faith, and the soul-deep
loss that had nearly destroyed my marriage. I held out my hand – and Claire
gripped it, eyes steady on Raymond.

“You gave me the gift of my life.” Claire’s voice was
tired, subdued. “I didn’t want it at the time – not for a long time. But I am
grateful.”

“And you have this beautiful daughter.” Now Raymond
turned to Bree, gently gathering her hands in his. “I called your mother ‘madonna.’
Do you know why, Brianna?”

I saw Brianna swallow, almost painfully. Mesmerized by
this man.

“She’s a mother.”

“Yes, that is true. She believed the same, when I asked
her this question, many years ago. But it is more than that.”

Claire squeezed my hand. Memories of Paris flashed –
Jared’s house, L’Hopital, the Bois. And I realized that Claire had never told
me about this exchange with Raymond.

“Everyone has a color about them.” Raymond’s words were
careful, measured. “All around them, like a cloud. Your mother’s is blue, like
the Virgin’s cloak.”

He paused. Glanced over to me. Returned his gaze to my
daughter.

“Your father’s is red. Many years ago, before you were
born, I called him the ‘red man.’”

Claire’s hand went ice cold in my grip.

“But you, Brianna – yours is blue as well. It is like my
own.”

Brianna stood up, dropping Raymond’s hands.

“What do you mean?” she whispered. “Are you like us?”

“Your daughter – hers is the same color blue. The most
vibrant I have ever seen.”

I knelt at Claire’s side, wrapping my arms around her as
she trembled.

“Can you travel?”
Brianna whispered.

Raymond sighed. “Yes, I am like you. Or more accurately,
you are like me. And yes, I can walk through time. You don’t remember, but I
would look in on you sometimes, on Furey Street.”

Brianna crumpled onto the settee.

“Why would you never come in?” Claire croaked, voice hoarse
with emotion.

“I knew of the sacrifice you had made to save your
daughter, madonna. I did not want to disrupt that life.” He twisted his gnarled
fingers on his lap. “I did attend your graduation from medical school. I cannot
tell you how pleased I am, Claire. You have done so much with your life.”

I struggled to find my voice. When I spoke, it sounded a
bit louder and harsher than I had intended.

“Are my women yer kin, then? Is that why ye’ve taken such
an – an interest in us?”

He looked at me. Those dark eyes were like staring into
the void of time itself.

“Claire is a cherished granddaughter, many times over. I
am privileged to have known her so closely. The purpose of my visit is to build
the same bond with Claire’s descendants. And to teach them to heal, using the gift
we were all born with.”

The front door creaked open. The boys ran down the
hallway, heading straight for the kitchen. Within seconds Roger appeared in the
doorway of the parlor, hat in his hands. His eyes darted from me, to Claire, to
Bree, to Raymond – clearly the source of tension in the room.

“Pardon. I’m Roger MacKenzie – Brianna’s husband.”

Raymond smiled, ecstatic. “Brianna – he is blue, too.”

Sarah, do you remember what they were talking about when Sam put his hand on Cait’s knee at the Savannah premier? Perhaps he saw her tapping her foot! 🤗

Hi there, Anon! Thanks for dropping by.

So, let me start off by saying: I hope you appreciate me answering this because it meant I had to go back and watch that panel and listen to LR’s voice slash her just being awful 😖😂 But it’s always worth it to listen and see these two in action.

The question was to Caitriona about how she wrapped her head around Claire leaving the 20th century and everything in it — her successful career, her life, her daughter — to go back to the 18th century and Jamie.

Caitriona answered it by saying it was hard for her at first to comprehend how Claire could leave her daughter, but she thought of it like how many of her great-aunts and relatives left Ireland when her father was younger and were essentially cut off from their families for the rest of their lives. She went on to say that while that was difficult to understand, she really understood how Claire could choose to do so for Jamie. She understood that Claire had been living with a giant hole in her because of Jamie’s absence and that going back to him was something Claire had to do. She really understood the “We are neither of us whole, alone” concept that is so pivotal in Jamie x Claire’s relationship.

The moment of Sam putting his hand on her knee comes towards the very end of that explanation, where Caitriona sort of gets flustered looking at Sam, who has this very thoughtful look on his face while listening to her. Her answer ends and sort of peters off at that point, and then this happens while LR is beginning to ask Sam a question:

After this, Caitriona is laughing and Sam gives her this smile. He’s so distracted it takes him a moment or two to realize LR is addressing him.

It very much reminds me of that moment at SDCC in 2015 when Caitriona is speaking, but completely loses herself in the middle of her answer because Sam is giving her A Look™

💜💜💜

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