#Outlander Prompt Exchange

[sixosix]

ALL EYES ON YOU, MY MAGICIAN | LYNEY

please note that lyney and mc are 20+ in this series !! genshin hasn’t explicitly stated lyney’s age but there are a couple scenes where lyney talks about drinking— and i’m stating this now because lyney and mc drink alcohol for this chapter.

warnings drinking, kissing (kinda), hopeless pining, dialogue heavy orz, wc 3.8k

previous chapter | masterlist | next chapter

You and Aether once again find yourselves in an inconspicuous meeting spot, which was just a shadowy corner of Cafe Lutece, your exchanges veiled by the guise of three friends casually eating dinner. Paimon is, of course, stuffing her mouth with the array of desserts; Aether is sipping on a drink she ordered for him, brows furrowed in deep thought, and you’re still wondering why Lyney lied to your face.

After your spar with Lyney, you realized a few things. 1) He knows more than he lets on. 2) He knows that you’re onto him. 3) He could have easily called you out on it, but he didn’t. What was his goal here? Is he playing along?

Or is he hiding something bigger than what you’re trying to go after? Magicians tend to play little tricks to hide a grander one.

Aether hums thoughtfully. “Do you believe him?”

“Definitely not,” you reply swiftly—bitterly, too, because you don’t know what you’re looking for. “I feel like I’m walking straight into a trap.”

You’re a hypocrite, but you’re essentially doing this for them, so you’re better than a hypocrite, at least.

Aether frowns, contemplating. Paimon speaks up on his behalf, fork in hand, “That's strange. Paimon thought you were close! With what it looked like when we found you talking to him.”

“Why?” you demand. It was Lyney who was getting close—literally. “What does it look like to you? I mean, to me, it's as if saying the wrong thing would prompt him to kill me himself. If he wanted to."

Aether suggests, "You should check your eyes."

You huff, stubbornly taking a huge sip of your Fonta. These things taste great. Their sweetness always left you craving it even when you don’t like drinking. Paimon, because she’s an expert, sensed your newly acquired favorite and insisted that Aether buy you one. 

“I feel kind of bad now. It seems that my blackmail is just getting in the way of your drama with Lyney,” Aether admits.

“We don't have drama,” you dismiss, which is instinctual by this point, “We just hated each other. He used to get on my nerves a lot—and turns out he doesn’t plan on stopping.”

Under the muted glow of the street lamps, your words trail off. Your gaze lingers on your palms. It is not obvious—you’d have to look closely, but there were scars on your palms. Most of them were from tending to plants and sharp tools, while the others were marks of burns. You wonder how Lyney noticed.

Aether calls for your name. You’re dragged back to reality when Paimon waves her tiny hands in front of your face.

“Right, sorry,” you laugh humorlessly, turning your hands back around. “Um, what should we do about Lord Tartaglia?"

Aether and Paimon share a confused glance. “Childe? What's up with Childe?”

“I told them that I'm under his faction as a cover.”

“Oh, that's no problem,” Aether assures, snorting dismissively. “Childe still owes me a lot—I'll tell him to keep his mouth shut.”

You glance around the area. There were only a few customers. A Melusine kicks her feet by the entrance as she digs in on her cake, a young man whose face is buried in his palms, and a little girl and her mother share a plate of Conch Madeleine. How sweet.

“Will that work?” you whisper, “I am trying to extract Fatui information. People usually get killed over this.”

Aether, with a sly grin, says, “Again, Childe owes me a lot. My magic word is Teucer.”

Feeling a little hopeful, you decide to look on the brighter side of things. A Harbinger and an Outlander by your side against Lyney and The Knave sounds more promising than years' worth of memorizing Fontaine Flowers’ textbook definitions and a rusty polearm.

“Is there anything you want to find out in particular?” you ask.

"Anything about my sister, really,” Aether says dejectedly. “I've traveled from Mondstadt to Fontaine, and only one Archon gave me a sliver of info. If you find anything, that’s all I ask for.”

Getting blackmailed by such an earnest brother is possibly the most troublesome way of getting blackmailed. Seeing such a longing expression on his face— archons, these idiot brothers caring too much and using it against your family-oriented soft spot.

“And you’ll leave Rosalie alone, right?”

“That’s our deal,” Aether says. “Though, I think Rosalie loves Paimon. You wouldn’t be able to get rid of us that easily.”

You separate ways after Paimon finishes her food. She politely and sweetly asks you to question Rosalie when she will make her next batch of dinner so they can come over. You tell her sure, but you hope not because Paimon, as cute as she is, would end up spilling a secret or two when her stomach is happy and satisfied.

Rosalie is probably waiting for you to get home. You hurry your steps.

Before you can reach the door, a tall, hooded figure swings it open and shoulders past you, not allowing you even a glimpse of the stranger’s face. When you turn, the figure has stopped and looked at you over their shoulder. You can't tell if you've made eye contact; the shadows dancing on their face make it too dark to discern their features.

Feeling uncomfortable, you turn back and shoulder the door open. You feel uneasy knowing that they had been inside Rosalie’s shop. Rosalie has a lot of lovesick admirers, ones that you didn’t hesitate presenting lousy customer service to to scare them away. 

Rosalie is humming happily as you enter, moving pots of plants around to display by the window. She brightens when you wave at her. “Y/N! Just in time—would you mind helping me replace these with the newer batch?”

She doesn’t seem to be creeped out.

You can’t help but ask, “Was that a customer earlier?”

“Mhm,” Rosalie says absentmindedly, fixing the pot in a perfect angle that would show the blooming flowers to the streets. “Bought one of our imports from Snezhnaya—you know the ones that would have died in the next two weeks or so? Our rain is no match for Snezhnaya’s snow, but they were beautiful petals. I’m glad they could be of use, somehow.”

You hum, heaving up a heavy pot of Calla Lilies onto a vacant space. “They were.”

“I didn’t make her pay because I felt terrible knowing it wouldn’t last long, but she insisted!” Rosalie wipes sweat off her brow.

You gesture at the little Lumidouce Bell by the counter, growing taller by the day. “Are we not going to display that, too?”

“We’re displaying it there—it is not for sale,” Rosalie says. “We can’t let them think I’m selling it.”

“It’s just a flower.”

Rosalie wipes off the dirt from her fingers on her apron and pokes at your nose with her pinky. “Yes, but it’s your flower.”

You feel your face warm, flattered, and endlessly endeared. “Right.”

Rosalie smiles knowingly, rising from her knees. “Before I forget—check behind the counter, will you? A package of yours arrived today.”

“A package?” You don’t remember ordering anything. You don’t think you’ve ordered anything at all your entire life.

Everything you owned was either hand-me-downs (courtesy of the House’s previous members and now Rosalie’s collection of dresses) or little things here and there with the money you earned from working in the flower shop. They were all bought and chosen, with Rosalie doing so on your behalf, with your unwillingness to step outside when unnecessary.

“It’s tall,” Rosalie says conspiratorially, “twice the size of a guitar case! Are you practicing the double bass in secret?”

“No…?” You walk behind the counter and find the package beside the door. Rosalie wasn’t exaggerating—it’s taller than you. “Does it say who’s it from?”

“I tried looking, but it only has a cute little cat drawn on it,” Rosalie says, walking past you in a flurry of ruffled skirts.

You frown at it. A cat? You inspect the bottom of the package; sure enough, it has a little cat drawn on it, winking up at you. What the hell?

“The cat is wearing a top hat, did you see?” Rosalie asks loudly to overpower the running water.

Nevermind. You know exactly who sent you this package. The double bass in question is a spear, hence its height. It’s here already? Lyney sure works fast. To think that you never escaped the ever-generous donations of the House—even now, when you aren’t an orphan there.

You sigh. You just told him you didn’t want to owe anything.

Still, you tear open the carton. It rips in a clean line, unraveling itself. You gasp at the sight of the most beautiful spear you’ve ever laid your eyes on. It’s far from elegant, the tip resembling the sharpened spine of a dragon, as if a hunter’s trophy. The shaft, fading from blood red to black on its tip as scales, feels sleek to the touch when you run your fingers through it.

A piece of paper is taped onto it, folded in half, and has the words READ ME printed in bold ink. You cast a glance at Rosalie, who’s still out of sight, then swiftly read the contents of the letter.

Come with me to the banquet tomorrow morning, with an address attached.

Your first thought is to rip it to shreds. Your second one—which happens to be the louder one—is curious about the event. Why invite you? Is this a trap? Did he want to show you something?

A banquet… You catch a reflection of yourself on the shop’s window, seeing a muddy apron, a loose blouse, and pants that most probably belonged to a man before you got your hands on it. A banquet invitation by the famous Great Magician Lyney is like a challenge to your wealth and fame, but Lyney’s not like that. Curiosity ends up winning.

“Rosalie?” you call out.

She emerges from the door. Her dress, even for gardening—unlike yours—is gorgeous and grand and definitely meant for banquets. She unties her apron. “Yes, darling?”

And that’s how you ended up getting all dolled up. Having learned your lesson from last time, you asked Rosalie to loosen your corset. This gown is larger than your previous one, fluffing around your waist and pooling by your feet in a graceful heap of velvet fabric.

You can’t help but notice the wine-red shade of Rosalie’s lips matched the skirt of the gown.

“Can I borrow the lip color you use?” you ask quietly, feeling like you’re already asking too much from her. 

You cast your gaze to the floor, too nervous to behold Rosalie’s expression. You didn’t get to see how she smiles fondly or how her eyes crinkle as you fidget on your feet. When she returns from fetching her box of cosmetics, she holds your chin and grins.

“Thanks, maman,” you try to say, with your mouth wide open and all as she paints your lips.

The brush pauses. Rosalie’s face softens. “Of course, Mon bébé. Always.”

As you enter the main hall, a man in a suit greets you with a tray of glasses in hand. He waits patiently and doesn’t leave until you reluctantly take one with a muttered thanks.

Where is Lyney?

You scan the place. The chandelier twinkles with diamonds, raining on everyone’s heads with a colorful reflection that illuminated their jewelry. Although Rosalie’s gowns were far more expensive than anything you’ve ever worn, it almost seems like it’s nothing compared to the over-the-top dresses and suits excuse of a wealth showcase.

They’re all talking and laughing with each other, sipping idly on their half-empty champagne. Feeling out of place, you tip the glass back and swallow quietly.

Its acidity makes you wince, but the taste bursts with a rich flavor. The last time you consumed anything alcoholic, it was your 18th birthday, and Rosalie slid over a glass of wine. The day ended in you throwing up on the sidewalk, but the memory is sweet. It has you going for one more sip.

The banquet-goers pay you no mind as you walk further inside. They chatter, eat, and tip their heads back to drink, but they don’t spare you even a glance. Perhaps they can smell the money off of you—which was none.

Meow, you hear by your feet.

“Oh!” you say, pleasantly surprised. You bend down to offer your hand out. “Hello, kitty. That’s a dashing hat you have there.”

The cat purrs and rubs itself on the back of your palm. Its dark fur is soft, a telltale sign of a well-groomed cat.

“Are you here with someone?” you ask politely, expecting no response, but the cat starts moving its paws and saunters off with a destination.

With nothing else to do, you obediently follow.

The cat strolls off. It brushes past leather shoes and ruffles and layers of skirts. It walks like it knows exactly where it’s going in the grand room. Maybe the little guy actually does. Its hat bounces as it trots, which reminds you of a particular lilac-eyed individual.

But you stopped following, eventually, because your eyes caught on— speak of the devil.

Lyney grins as cards fly across from one hand to another in a smooth movement. There aren't any stage props or spotlights flashing down on him, yet everyone watches with rapt gazes. That's always been his real talent: a magnet for attention by simply waving his hands. By batting his eyes, he's got everyone enamored.

For all his talk about keeping a fair distance with his admirers, you can’t blame any of them for believing Lyney’s comfort in their presence, his ease in the way they crowd him. He’s a splendid actor.

For some reason, this brings out an unpleasant feeling in your chest. It makes you want to reach out and show them what he’s truly like without a mask—but that doesn’t sound right to you, either. They don’t have to know what Lyney’s like when he wraps his arms around your personal space.

Maybe the alcohol is getting to you.

Before you can turn away, fingers clasp around your forearm and pull you against a body.

Lyney’s smiling wide, a jarring contrast to the fake one seconds ago. “You’re here!”

You get flustered, aware of his audience directing their attention to both of you. “I told you I didn’t like owing anyone anything.”

Lyney laughs melodically, kissing the back of your palm. Is he aware of all these eyes? He has to be—that’s his life’s work. Perhaps he doesn’t care. Perhaps he wants to show off as much as you do.

The air was thick the moment you entered the banquet, scents of all perfumes and roasted meats clashing and clinging to your nose, but suddenly it felt a lot more charged. Like you could faintly register the hair on your arms standing up in attention as you hold Lyney’s gaze.

“Forgive me; I missed you and had to come up with an excuse, somehow,” he says, winking up at you.

“We just saw each other two days ago,” you say.

When the tray of wine passes by once more, you eagerly draw out another glass. The faint buzz in the back of your head is not strong enough to drown out your stupid thoughts about Lyney, of all people.

The man of the hour—Lyney, because he always is—does the same. He murmurs, “You look breathtaking.”

“You should’ve warned me that the banquet would be ten times fancier than what I had in mind,” you say in return.

“And yet, even unprepared, no soul can take their eyes off you.”

You hope Lyney’s just saying that as a compliment, and it’s not what’s actually happening. You crane your neck and notice a whispering crowd as they stare at you. It wasn’t the whole truth. Even when pressed against Lyney, all eyes are on him. You face Lyney, suddenly conscious.

He doesn’t take his eyes off you, even once when his fingers reached out to fish out a champagne flute. Lyney still has that stupid smile on his face, the rim of his glass against his lips. You’re hit with the startling realization that you want to kiss him.

Fuck, what?

Your face burns, breath hitching in a way that has you choking on your drink. What the hell are you thinking? Are you out of your mind?

“I need another drink,” you say after downing your current one in half.

Lyney frowns, patting your back. His warmth sends a pleasant shiver down your spine. “I think what you need is water. How many glasses have you had already?”

You don’t want to be sober when you’re faced with Lyney. You don’t want to be sober when Lyney’s so close. “Not enough,” you say, because you don’t want to be sober right now.

The rest of the signs of intoxication start to settle as the laughter that rings somewhere from afar softens into an echo. The warm lights that showered the room seemed to glow when they rested on Lyney’s face. Though, you can’t quite tell if it’s intoxication or if it’s Lyney’s magic.

“What’s this banquet for?”

Lyney hums, taking one long sip. His lips press against the glass. “We’re celebrating father’s return.”

You think of The Knave instead, tall and intimidating when you stand across her, and wince. “She’s back?”

“Mhm,” Lyney says, his eyes tracing over your face, “has been for a while now, but the orphans decided to throw a little something for her. Can’t you tell? Half of the people in this room are Fatui.”

Oh.

You couldn’t tell, but you should’ve known. The Orphans were raised and trained to be masters of deception, blending seamlessly.

“But… why?” You’re starting to feel some weight on your tongue. 

“We needed sponsors for a party this grand,” Lyney leans in to whisper, eyes gleaming, “and a party this grand would surely attract important people who know a lot.”

You want to ask why he’s telling you all of this freely, but you catch the flush dancing on his cheeks, and it faintly registers that Lyney must be a little drunk as well.

“Lyney, I—”

“Don't worry.” He’s still whispering. You have to draw closer to hear him. “I wouldn't have invited you if ‘Father’ personally came here. It’s just us, and no one will bother you if you’re with me.”

“Then why invite me here?”

Lyney smiles playfully, posture elegant with practice yet shoulders loose with the champagne. “I thought you would have been eager to learn more about the House’s current state.”

Was this a jab to his suspicions? Or was this him trying to reach out and employ a sense of nostalgia? You’re not drunk enough for this.

“Most of the ones we grew up with were sent off to other regions. But the one hosting—do you remember Cecilia?

You remember Cecilia. You have scars that remind you of Cecilia. “How has she been? Good, I hope? No grudges against me?”

“She never held any grudges,” Lyney laughs, and he tells you all about how they’ve all been since you left.

Without meaning to, you and Lyney end up recalling memories back in the House. And without thinking hard about it, you pluck another glass, then another, emboldened by the taste and fruits of alcohol—emboldened by how each sip has you feeling light. You don’t realize it, but you and Lyney end up pressed against each other, fondly remembering memories you thought you left behind. You could never run too far.

Maybe it’s your inhibitions dissipating along with the fizz of the champagne. Maybe it’s the atmosphere. Maybe it’s when Lyney’s tongue darted out to wet his lip, the words died in your mouth, and your head is heavy and very much feeling like it wants to be caught by Lyney. With his face.

“Hey,” Lyney says, his hand trailing across your jaw. As if he’s stopping you. “We’re pretty out of it right now. Don’t kiss me.”

You scowl. “Why? you hate me that much?”

Lyney’s eyes widen. “No. Don’t—don’t pout at me like that.” He covers your mouth. “That’s not fair.”

You haven’t even realized you were pouting. You wave his hand off and slump against him, curling against his comforting warmth. You like the view of the flush on Lyney’s neck crawling all the way up to his ears.

Lyney sighs, his back leaning against the wall as he holds you. You haven’t even noticed that you and Lyney were huddled together in a dark corner. “It would’ve been easier if we hated each other, huh?” He traces his thumb over your lip, looking forlorn. “I wouldn’t have hesitated to protect my status as a Fatuus the moment you came back out of thin air.”

You want to shut him up. “You’re talking too much. Just kiss me.”

“No,” Lyney says, but he doesn’t push you off of him either. “Let’s get you water.”

Ugh. The thought of water makes you sick. You resist the urge to vomit and nuzzle your nose on his collarbone, visibly relaxing when he steadies you with hands on both sides of your hips. This is better than water.

“Did you like my gift?” Lyney whispers to your ear.

You nod against his neck. “It was cool. I didn't know how to repay you, but now… now I regret coming here.”

“Why’s that?”

You run your fingers through his hair, messing up the braid on the side of his head. “Because I want to kiss you, and you’re being annoying. The nerve you have when you’re looking at me like that.”

Lyney slumps against the wall, defeated. “Don’t just say that, Y/N. You can’t go around saying that.”

“I’m not. Why else am I all over you instead of someone else?”

You watch in fascination as Lyney’s pupils dilate. Lyney’s skin feels so soft to the touch and inexplicably warm. Why is he denying you? Surely he feels it, too. Surely he wants it, too.

“Hey,” you whisper, and Lyney trembles. “What’s—what… What are you and Lynette up to? There has to be a reason you’re here, right? Tell me.”

Lyney frowns, pulling away to face you. “What?”

But then light rolls into view, stinging your eyes at the abrupt radiance. Someone has turned the lights on, possibly the culprit of this assault and rude interruption.

“Oh, shit,” a voice says.

Lyney stiffens, hands moving protectively around your torso, shielding you from the light that floods in when the door opens.

“M-Master Childe!” Lyney exclaims, looking torn between standing up and keeping you shielded, still. He has lipstick on his jaw; you want to point at it and laugh.

“Lord Tartaglia’s here?” you ask, stumbling over his name.

“Um,” Lord Tartaglia stands frozen by the doorway, “I’ll be leaving you two to it.”

ive never gotten drunk before so idk how off i am from the real deal, but i did consult my friend who has gotten drunk so hopefully i was at least not too inaccurate LMFAOO

NO WAY NEW CHAPTER. and theyre being stupid. now ay..... TYSM FOR READIN!!!!!! and sorry if this took a while i was being stupid too and decided to rewrite a big chunk last minute. LMK WHAT U THINK

TAGLIST.

@thenyxsky @aeferkssr @1mewo1 @lacrimae-lotos @meigalaxy @hyacinth-daze @miwafei @popochakku @svasilios @heyhazelnut101 @kruinka @waveto-earth @superstar-ethereal @mxplesyrvp @achilleas-dream @episodecete @jellifizz @auranny @motherscrustytoenailclippings @lovelyevil @iawaaaaaaa @rionah @esmetrees @cherryig @kzhwaif @mystiquemare @unknownlololol @sanluvssu @blvdmrcnry @kascar-chronicle @idontevenknow129 @tarathecogsci @lunavixia @beaniedoodz @wendolrea @avalordream @egoistars @rains-mae @magnificentfireball @poemzcheng @fiannee @ask-kurayami-akura @sc4rlett-letter @xxxion

[smashing-teacups]

A Breath of Snow and Christmas

Summary:

It is Christmas Eve, and Dr. Claire Beauchamp's third week on the pediatric rotation at Boston Children's Hospital.

One of her patients is a very special four-year-old named Claudel.

And his favorite nurse, Jamie, is intent upon making Christmas magical for the little lad.

A three part modern AU Outlander Christmas series.

“And last but certainly not least,” said Dr. Hildegarde over the flutter of shuffling notes, “we have our friend Claudel—”

A high-pitched squeal of laughter cut her off, and a dozen pairs of smiling eyes glanced up to watch the friend in question whirl like a tornado around a large redheaded man.

“Who is that? Who goes there?!”

The little boy let out another shriek of delight as the man’s booming voice added, with exaggerated indignation, “Heyyy, where did my— who stole my phone?! I ken I had it in my pocket jes’ a second ago!”  

With a fond shake of her head, our attending looked back down at her clipboard. “Four-year-old male, admitted with cystic fibrosis exacerbation. Go ahead, Dr. Beauchamp.”

Lips still twitching with amusement, I cleared my throat. “Right, Claudel LaRue, direct admit from home for pseudomonas flare. Got his PICC line on the 16th, we are on day”—a pause to check my notes—“eight of zosyn and tobramycin, and as you can see, he appears to be feeling much better.” A collective chuckle rose from our team as the child bounded onto his hospital bed and began an enthusiastic victory dance, waving the stolen phone over his head.

“G-tube feeds going well?” my attending prompted. “How are we doing on hydration?

“Better,” I confirmed. “He actually surpassed his fluid goal yesterday, and his weight is up by half a kilo since admission.”

Dr. Hildegarde nodded, making a few notes on her paper. “Any word from foster mom?”

My face fell. “The nurses say she calls every few days to check in, but they haven’t heard from her since Monday.”

A humming, noncommittal noise, another mark on her paper. “Par for the course with this one. Be sure she knows he’s being discharged on the 30th. Last time, she forgot to come pick him up.” With a sigh, she clipped her pen to the top of the chart and tucked the file beneath her arm. “No changes to his orders, then?”

“No, nothing for today.”

“Very good. That’s it for the morning, then, everyone. Have a safe holiday, and stay warm out there. Call if you need me, Claire.”

I gave a small salute, exchanging goodbyes and Merry-Christmases with the other members of my team as they dispersed posthaste, eager to get home to their families. As the last of the clacking heels and Oxfords disappeared around the corner, little Claudel let out another squeal, smoothing over the needleprick of jealousy in my heart.

Drawn to the sounds of joy, I sauntered to the open door and leaned against its frame, watching with tender amusement as the Scotsman spun in circles, making a show of trying to find the thief who had stolen his phone. I’d only been on the pediatrics rotation for three weeks, but I recognized him as one of the nurses on the unit; at well over six feet tall, with a mop of russet curls and an unmistakable brogue, he was difficult to miss. His name started with a J, I thought — Jeremy? Jason?...

“Ah, Dr. Beauchamp!” he exclaimed as I rapped my knuckles on the doorjamb. “Thank goodness ye’re here.”  

At once mildly (pleasantly) surprised that he knew my name and a bit ashamed that I couldn’t reciprocate, I tried to cover the deficit with a chuckle. “Having a bit of trouble in here?”

“He can’t see me!” Claudel crowed, blue eyes sparkling. “I’m inbisible!”

Catching on to the game, I gasped, jumping back. “Who said that?!”

The little boy howled with delight, flinging himself onto the bed and kicking his legs up in the air. I exchanged warm glances with the Scotsman — Christ, what was his name? — who blinked both eyes at me in a quick, owl-like movement that I only realized belatedly was meant to be a wink.

“He looks so much better,” I remarked, leaning in toward him to speak sotto vocce.

“Aye,” the man agreed just as softly, both of our eyes locked on the boy. “Really turned a corner in the last couple’ve days.”

“Did he get his breathing treatment already this morning?”

“No’ sure.” At my inquisitive look, he smiled a bit bashfully. “I’m, ah… I’m not actually his nurse today. Just here as a friend.” Keep reading...

[underthewingsofthblackeagle]

Foto: Panorama Helsinki / Finland - Dom und Parlamentsplatz (by   tap5a)

“We  only do this for Fergus!”  is a short Outlander Fan Fiction story and  my contribution to the  Outlander Prompt Exchange (Prompt 3: Fake  Relationship AU: Jamie Fraser  wants to formally adopt his foster son  Fergus, but his application will  probably not be approved… unless he is  married and/or in a committed  relationship. Enter one Claire Elizabeth  Beauchamp (Randall?) to this  story) @outlanderpromptexchange  

Chapter 26: The Second Christmas Day (1) - At the French Cathedral

Winter night Berlin by  Nathan Wright from Pixabay

Berlin, Grunewald district, villa of the von Klarenberg family, Friday, 26 December 2025, Boxing Day, 4.17 a.m.

         Matthieu von Klarenberg stretched extensively but carefully. Then he looked at the clock face of the alarm clock on his bedside table. The clock showed 04.17 am. Teresa always tried hard not to wake him when she got up at night for some reason, yet he woke up every time. Matthieu was simply too light a sleeper.          It had been very different in his youth. Especially during the time he had spent as a student at various European universities. "You can carry von Klarenberg away at night and he won't notice," his fellow students had often quipped. At the time, he slept like the proverbial marmot- But since he met Teresa, and especially after they got married, his sleeping patterns had changed elementarily. The reason for this was not only that his wife knew countless ways and means to keep him awake at night. After all, a bed wasn't just for sleeping, as she always remarked mischievously. Matthieu had always had this strong protective instinct when it came to people he loved or was responsible for. It was an integral part of his personality. But since he and Teresa had married, this pre-existing protective instinct had intensified and since the children had been born, there were no limits for Matthieu. There was nothing he wouldn't do to protect his family. If it became necessary, he would kill for them. He knew that. But von Klarenberg hoped that this case would never come to pass.

         Matthieu's thoughts wandered to James Fraser. Jamie, whom he and Teresa were to meet in a few hours and who he had known since childhood, was his best friend. Although the two men had very different personalities and it could sometimes appear to outsiders that they came from different worlds, there were many areas of life where they had not only found common ground but also worked very well together. What primarily united them was their sense of loyalty. Both von Klarenberg and Fraser possessed an extraordinary loyalty to the people they cared about. Once they had established a genuine relationship with someone, they did everything they could to protect and support that person. Von Klarenberg's introverted nature, had initially made him keep his distance from Fraser when they had met. Jamie was so very different, crossing boundaries set by the adults and having a blast doing it. Matthieu remembered very well how once during the summer holidays, when they were 16 or 17, Jamie had soaked the feed of the chickens on a neighbouring farm with grain schnapps. A short time later, they were staggering drunkenly around the farm. The story had not only caused a stir among the entire Fraser neighbourhood, but also some excitement within the Fraser household. The fact that Jamie constantly insisted that he had only given the chickens "grain" did not help to dispel this excitement. Matthieu had only been able to convince his father with great difficulty that he was not involved in this prank. Why should he have taken part in something that was so completely illogical, even pointless, and that would also have serious consequences? After all, Jamie had been under  house arrest for a whole month. No, Matthieu was different. He spent his free time in the summer wandering through the fields and forests of the surrounding area to find a quiet place and then read for hours in one of his books. In winter, he made himself comfortable by the tiled stove in his room, got himself a warm drink and ... read. Jamie Fraser, on the other hand ... well.

         Nevertheless, the two young men became friends over time, and not only because their parents had wished it. This shared value of loyalty laid the foundation for a strong partnership between them early on. It was also this shared approach to life that led to the protection of the people they loved becoming their primary concern. Both men were willing to do anything to protect their loved ones from harm. They would face all challenges and dangers to protect their families and friends. They had already proven this a few times. The common desire to protect others had not only strengthened the bond of their friendship but made it unbreakable over the decades. For what they were willing to do for their families, they were also willing to do for each other.          Both men also had a strong sense of justice. Like Jamie, Matthieu had a strong sense of justice and a desire to right wrongs. As a result, both were willing to stand up for what they believed was right, even if it meant encountering opposition or putting themselves in danger. The conviction that truth and truthfulness were among the most important values of all had also moved them time and again to stand up for causes and goals that were important to both of them or even just one of them.          Matthieu and Jamie might be very different in many ways. While Matthieu was a reserved and controlled person who was not always forthcoming with his feelings or intentions, Jamie had a passionate and direct personality. Fraser often wore his heart on his sleeve. But their shared values, principles and beliefs made it easy for them to work together effectively. The two men drew the special strength of their friendship from the fact that they were able to complement each other through their respective strengths. All this was only possible because they had already found a way to communicate effectively with each other in their youth.

         But since his last visit to Potsdam, Matthieu wondered if the latter was still the case. He had enjoyed meeting the friend again and the time with him, Fergus and Claire had been wonderful. But still, he had felt that something was wrong.          "Jamie?"          Teresa had laid back in bed, turned to Matthieu and then rested her head on her right hand.           "Yes."          Matthieu looked at her, thinking how grateful he was that his wife understood him so well. Before he could say anything, she had wrapped her left arm around his neck and pulled him down to her. As they broke away from each other after a lingering kiss, she said:           "Maybe you can talk to him today?"           "Yes, I hope so."           "I will try to spend some time alone with Claire, then you will have a chance to talk to Jamie."           Matthieu nodded.           "Thank you. Is everything all right with Friederike?"           "Yes, just the usual little hunger pangs in between. Everything's fine.           Maurice is fast asleep too. I stopped by to see him on the way back."           "Then we should get some sleep now too, the day will be long."           Matthieu pulled his wife to him, kissed her again and then pulled the covers over her.

New Palace Potsdam on a Winter Morning by  Bernd Schmidt from Pixabay

Potsdam, Nördliche Vorstadt, Villa of the Fraser family, Friday, 26 December 2025, Boxing Day, 7.30 a.m.

         The day began as planned. When Jamie wanted to wake Fergus, he was already sitting awake in his bed, listening to his new CD "The Three ??? and the missing Dinosaur" for the umpteenth time. It didn't take much convincing to get the boy out of bed, because Fergus was very excited about all the things this day would bring and eager to finally meet his friend Maurice.           "Are we bringing Maurice a present? And do you think I'll get a present from Uncle Matthieu and Aunt Teresa, Dad?"          "Good morning to you too, Fergus. Did our Sir Knight sleep well?"          The boy sighed.           "Sorry. Good morning, Papa."           "Come here."           Fraser pulled the child close and gave him a warm hug.           "I understand you have a lot of questions, Fergus. But the sooner we finish showering and dressing now, the sooner you'll get closer to the answers to your questions."           When they emerged from the bathroom, Jamie helped Fergus blow-dry his hair and then, put on the clothes Claire had laid out the night before: Dark blue socks, dark blue trousers, a white shirt with a small blue bow tie and a blue velvet jumper that had the words "Finnjet" in white letters on the right side. When they came down to the dining room for breakfast, everything was already prepared there, but that morning there was only a "light version" of the opulent breakfast they had enjoyed the day before. Jamie and Fergus greeted Claire and then they were seated at the breakfast table.           After the meal, "the men" helped her clear the table and then Fraser accompanied the boy upstairs again so they could both brush their teeth. Ten minutes later they all met back in the hall, put on their coats and boots and headed down to the garage. Claire and Fergus took a seat in the back of the car. A few minutes later they had already left the Heiligensee behind them. It took about ten more minutes before they reached the Potsdam-Babelsberg motorway junction. Although the temperatures had changed slightly back into the plus range that morning, the sky was cloudy and shortly before they had left the house it had started to snow. Jamie was grateful that they had got out of the house so early. He could now drive slower than he had thought and in all probability they would still reach their destination on time.          They had been on the road for maybe fifteen minutes when Claire had pulled Fergus close to her. The boy had leaned against her as soon as he got in. But then she had noticed that he was getting tired. She gently pulled him towards her so that his head came to rest on her lap.          "You're welcome to sleep a little longer, Fergus. The day will still be long." The boy answered nothing but simply snuggled up to her. Claire spread his coat over him. Then she looked ahead and at that moment Fraser's eyes and hers met in the rearview mirror. They smiled.          Half an hour later Fergus woke up again.          "Well, slept well?"          "Hmmm."          The boy yawned, but this time he didn't forget to put his hand over his mouth.           "Are you hungry? I have another roll with salami in my bag for you."           "Nope, thanks, Claire."           He snuggled up to her again.           "Just let me know if you get hungry later."           "Hmmm."          At 9.40 a.m. Jamie steered the car into the underground car park of "Fraser & Son International" and parked. They got out and Claire helped Fergus put on his coat. Then she quickly combed his hair again and put on his fur hat. A moment later, they took the lift down to the company hall. Fraser unlocked the door to the street, let Fergus and Claire out and locked it again behind him.

The French Dome at the Gendarmenmarkt/Berlin by Ansgar Koreng / CC BY 3.0 (DE), CC BY 3.0 de, https://commons.wikimedia.org/w/index.php?curid=40394219

         Contrary to Jamie's fears, he didn't have to urge Fergus to hurry. For one thing, they had plenty of time, and for another, the boy was too excited that he would finally see his "Uncle Matthieu" and his friend Maurice. This excitement was quite enough to drive him.          Even from a distance, Jamie, Fergus and Claire could see Matthieu and Maurice. Father and son von Klarenberg stood, wrapped in their winter coats, under the large portal that protected the entrance to the cathedral. Fergus wanted to run to greet them, but Fraser held him back.          "Fergus, it's slippery, I don't want you to slip and fall. Be careful. We'll be right there!"          Shortly afterwards Claire, Jamie and Fergus also climbed the steps of the cathedral portal and before Maurice could help himself he was also being hugged and squeezed by Fergus.          "Great that we get to visit you today!"           The boy left his friend a little astonished and immediately turned to his "Uncle Matthieu" who had already leaned down to hug Fergus. When the two broke away from each other again, Jamie and Claire also had the opportunity to greet Matthieu and Maurice.          Then the bells of the cathedral began to ring. Jamie glanced at his wristwatch. It showed 9.55 a.m. It was time to take their seats in the church. Before they entered the church, Matthieu took off his feodora. Maurice also pulled his cap off his head. Fraser almost forgot to take off his fur hat. He quickly hurried to do the same to Matthieu. Then, with an extended hand movement, he pulled the cap off Fergus' head as well. He looked questioningly at his father, but he only pointed forward. Claire, who was unfamiliar with the customs, now wanted to take off her cap too, but Fraser told her to keep it on.          They quickly found a row with enough seats for all five of them. Claire led the way. She placed Fergus between her and Jamie. Maurice followed, so that he came to sit between Jamie and Matthieu. Good, Claire thought, the boys can be close but not get into mischief, because the fathers sit between them. She had to smile.          Now the first  accords of an organ piece were heard and the service began. Following the piece of music, the pastor welcomed those present. A silent prayer followed, during which Fergus unobtrusively tried to get a closer look at the church interior. The pastor ended the silent prayer with "Amen" and announced a hymn. Matthieu pointed to the hymnals laid out and opened his at the song number indicated. Jamie and Claire followed suit. Then those present rose to sing. Claire read the words to the song and tried to follow them. She regretted not asking Jamie about the schedule or details of the service in the days before. But when she looked over at him, she realised that he was as clueless as she was. For he too did not sing, but followed the words of the hymn reading as well. Fergus, she observed, seemed more preoccupied with scrutinising all the details of the church hall than singing. Unlike her, Jamie and Fergus, neither Matthieu nor Maurice seemed to have any problems with the song. She clearly heard Matthieu's clear baritone voice and, albeit softly, Maurice's squeaky singing voice.          When the song had faded away, a presbyter stepped in front of the altar. After a moment of silence, he read the 10 Commandments and their summary by Jesus Christ. Then he said a prayer, which was followed by another song. After the congregation was seated again, the pastor stepped up to the pulpits and began to speak. First he read the sermon text, which for this Sunday was taken from the 3rd chapter of the letter to Titus:          “At one time we too were foolish, disobedient, deceived and enslaved by all kinds of passions and pleasures. We lived in malice and envy, being hated and hating one another. But when the kindness and love of God our Saviour appeared, he saved us, not because of righteous things we had done, but because of his mercy. He saved us through the washing of rebirth and renewal by the Holy Spirit, whom he poured out on us generously through Jesus Christ our Saviour, so that, having been justified by his grace, we might become heirs having the hope of eternal life. This is a trustworthy saying. And I want you to stress these things, so that those who have trusted in God may be careful to devote themselves to doing what is good. These things are excellent and profitable for everyone.��� (Titus 3: 3 - 8, NIVUK)          In his remarks, the pastor emphasised the new life made possible for people through the birth, life, death and resurrection of Jesus Christ. Claire looked over at Fraser. She noticed that the minister's words had some effect on him. Following the sermon, there was another hymn. Then there were some announcements. The collection followed, which was again accompanied by an organ piece.          Then, to Jamie's and Claire's surprise, those present rose and once again a presbyter came forward and offered the greeting of peace. Then the pastor said a prayer of thanksgiving and intercession and led into the Lord's Prayer, which was said by the whole congregation. Claire glanced at Fergus and could see that he was clearly watching everything closely and also trying to memorise a lot of things. He will be asking a lot of questions in the coming days, she thought and hoped fervently that Jamie and she would somehow be able to answer them. After the common prayer had ended with a loud "Amen", the pastor extended the invitation to the Holy Meal. The organ began to play a piece of music softly and when Claire saw Jamie and Fergus sit down again, she too took her seat. Matthieu motioned Maurice to sit down too and then whispered something to Jamie. The latter nodded briefly. Matthieu stopped and shortly afterwards joined the queue of people who were now walking step by step towards the table to receive the Holy Meal.

Inside view of the French Dome, Berlin,  by Andreas Faessler - Own work, CC BY-SA 3.0, https://commons.wikimedia.org/w/index.php?curid=30533293

         Fergus turned in a whisper to Jamie, who had his left arm around Maurice and his right around his foster son:          "What is Uncle Matthieu doing there?"          "I'll explain later," Fraser whispered back.          Claire followed Matthieu with her eyes. The tall man, who measured at least six feet nine inches, even kneeling, still stood out from that group spread out on the three kneeling benches that stood in front of the table.          Only a few minutes later, von Klarenberg returned to his seat, where he stopped again for a moment and prayed silently. Then he too took his seat again.          The pastor announced another hymn shortly afterwards and after it had faded away, the sending and the blessing followed. Then the organ started for the last time and the pastor left the sanctuary towards the church door. Those present rose and slowly followed him to the exit. There, one by one, they were bidden farewell by the clergyman.          When Matthieu and Maurice took their turn, von Klarenberg immediately introduced James Fraser ("my friend"), Fergus Fraser ("his foster son") and Claire Beauchamp ("his fiancée") to the pastor. Jamie froze when he heard the words "his fiancée". Where was Fergus? Had he heard that? How would he react? But then Fraser could breathe a sigh of relief, for he saw that Fergus and Maurice had already arrived at the bottom step of the stairs leading down to the Gendarme Market. Quite obviously, the boys had not noticed anything about the whole thing either. While Matthieu and Claire were still talking to the pastor, Jamie hurried after the boys.           "Stay here, gentlemen!"           The boys looked up at him.           "Come on, we're all going to lunch right now!"           Fifteen minutes later, Claire, Fergus and Jamie were back in Fraser's car and driving to the von Klarenbergs' house.

A villa at Berlin-Grundewald by Bodo Kubrak - Own work, CC0, https://commons.wikimedia.org/w/index.php?curid=19272619           "Why wasn't I allowed to go with Maurice and Uncle Matthieu?" asked Fergus, who was clearly annoyed that Jamie and Matthieu had separated the two friends again for the return journey.           "Fergus, that makes sense," Fraser replied and then added, "because we need your help!"           "Why?" the boy now asked curiously.           "Why? Well, it's quite obvious! There are all the presents in the back of the boot. For Aunt Teresa, for Maurice and for Uncle Matthieu. You'll have to help me and Claire carry them."           "Ah," was all Fergus said, then fell silent. He's probably pondering what we'll bring to the von Klarenbergs, Claire thought. Then she glanced ahead and saw Fraser smiling at her again through the rear-view mirror. She smiled back.          When they arrived shortly afterwards in front of the von Klarenbergs' house in the Grunewald district of Berlin, the tall wrought-iron courtyard gate opened immediately so that Jamie drove through and stopped directly in front of the house entrance. Claire was amazed when she saw the property. Fraser House was an imposing mansion, and yet it was nothing like this city mansion.          The von Klarenbergs' mansion was two storeys high and had a roof truss that had obviously been extended as well. The house was kept in a light, cream-coloured shade that went well with the red roof tiles. A two-storey extension had been added to the left of the almost square main house, probably at a later date. This was smaller than the main house, but still larger than the annexe that adjoined Fraser's villa and in which the Curtius couple lived. When Claire got out of the car, she immediately noticed the surveillance cameras mounted under the roof. They were coloured in the same tone as the house and were guaranteed not to be noticed by an observer who was not standing directly in front of the house. Only if you stood close to the house and looked up could you see them.          As the small group got out of the car, the front door opened and Matthieu von Klarenberg came down the steps of a staircase leading into the house. Once again Matthieu greeted each of the visitors warmly. Then he led Claire into the house while Jamie held Fergus back:          "We're going to move the car into the car park," he said, addressing his foster son, "and then I'll need your help carrying the presents."          Fergus nodded, got back into the car and waited. Fraser got in too and then drove the car a few yards away to a spot where two other cars were already parked. When Jamie had parked the car, he got out, opened the door for Fergus and then took some bags and a large bouquet of flowers wrapped in cling film from the boot.          "What do you want me to carry?" asked Fergus.          "You take the bouquet, I'll carry the bags. They're too heavy for you,"  Fraser replied. Then they followed Matthieu and Claire into the house.

[marauders-omegaverse-fest]

Fic Name: Over the sea to Skye

Writer Name: @soliloquy-dawn

Rating: Explicit

Content warnings: Major Character Death, Dubious Consent

Pairing or Gen: James/Regulus

Prompt: 147

A is a prince/heir of nobility. While being tutored, and in fact on every other occasion, he is always at the window looking down on the grounds, watching the stable boys/gardeners, especially two Alphas, doing their hard work and yet seeming to enjoy their lives.

(heartfelt pining and longing, A sneaking out to see them up close while, later to meet them for real and shenanigans?)

Summary:

“Did you know I am to be married?”

“Yes, I’m aware, my lord. I wish you all the best on this new path in life.”

James might have exchanged one prison for another, but the open skies and green meadows of North England are a pleasant change of pace after a damp, Scottish dungeon. He serves as a groom at the Black estate and lives a peaceful existence, until he attracts the unwanted attention of Lord Regulus Black, the family's youngest omega.

Or, Outlander inspired omegaverse.

[flowersdaggersviolasandblood]

Flower Girl

Name: Pero Ophiin (She/Her)

Race: Wood Half-Elf

Class: Druid (Circle of the Land)

Background: Outlander

WARNING SPOILERS AHEAD!

So to officially start our Out-of-ACT-1 phase, we'll go into Pero first. Technically, I did Admaer first, but that was mostly me just exploring mindlessly and seeing what it looked like. Once again, Pero decided to go above to reach Moonrise Towers. Because I unequipped Lae'zel from my party, I didn't get the prompt where she discovers the trail the Githyanki left behind to the monastery. Now, whether or not Lae'zel will stay in the party, who knows. But for now, she's still here.

After fighting some undead, we found a note referencing Wyll's father and his kidnapping to Moonrise Tower. On our way there, we met fucking Eliminster Aumar, a world famous Wizard who is apparently 3 centuries old!

Now, I'm no Forgotten Realm lore whore, but I have seen his name before when I was still playing D&D with friends. So seeing him in the game still got me giddy. The way he talks too is exceptionally great. I love that Larian really committed to him have an even older way of speaking compared to other characters in game. It made it so fun to watch him as he expressed his large appetite. Despite this, Eliminster is not here to serve as a cute cameo for the lore-knowers. Eliminster came to this neck of the woods to tell Gale that Mystra has a mission for him. In exchange for silencing the netherese void within him, she asks that he blows himself up when he reached the heart of the Absolutes' cult. Pero, and pretty much the majority of the camp, are appalled by this sudden suggestion by the literal goddess of magic.

Pero I would say recognizes the gods and their role in the world, only really paying much reverence to Silvanus and Chauntea, goddess of agriculture and plant cultivation. And knowing Mystra's involvement in Gale's situation, although she didn't at all ask him to do the actions he did in the past, is shocks Pero to her core that Mystra's only solution to not only Gale's condition but to the whole Absolute issue is to have him blow up. It left a sour taste in her mouth and it breaks her heart that Gale has solemnly accepted his fate.

Upon entering the Cursed Lands (that's what we'll call this area going forward. No I will not take a second of my time to find the proper name), we were greeted with a Goblin who asked if we were True Souls. Having learned her lesson the first time she was asked this, Pero goes along with the act of being a True Soul. Picking up a torch in one hand and following the little bugger, she was able to meet a small group of Absolute cultist who were looking for Minthara who would come with a particular lyre that would summon the guide. Fortunately, I was able to catch the Lyre because I didn't let her fall in the chasm lol.

Before we continue with this, I wanted to mention the companions for a moment. While lurking around in this shadowed land, Wyll and Karlach get another visit from Mizora. She returned back demanding that Wyll goes and rescue a captive fiend for her, something that wasn't part of the deal. However, Pero was able to sus out that Mizora is currently in a tight spot as she can't afford for Wyll to fail this mission. Because of this, Pero made a proposition in exchange of going forward with this plan. IF they were to get this Devil release, she too would release her hold of Wyll. Though Mizora agreed, with the fact that she's asking Wyll to perform something that was SUPPOSED to not be part of his contract, there might still be hope for an alternative way to get him out of the deal while also maybe not releasing the captive fiend. Especially if this ends up being another Karlach moment.

Shadowheart also expresses wonderment as she's not greatly affected by the shadow curse that plagues the Cursed Lands. This makes her believe that she's been blessed by Shar and that there must be more to the Dark Justiciars trip to Moonrise Towers.

Finally, Pero asked Halsin further about the shadow curse.

Halsin explains that the lands of the Cursed Lands was under the protection of a fey creature by the name of Thaniel and that Halsin hasn't felt their presence since the curse began. He begged that if Pero learned anything about the boy in the forest or even anything about the Shadowfell that she come find him immediately. Pero also asked Halsin if he was comfortable in her camp, and while he did have his opinions, he felt homey with the party. Even "HINTING" that there's a chance for him to relax and wind down once he has dealt with this shadow curse guilt, he's start to feel like himself again.

Pero also got another visit from her Dream Guardian, a visit that has gotten her worried. This time around, they're dressed down, looking a lot more like their appearance in the EA release, but they're starting to show weakness in their current state and starting to express some mild doubt. This causes Pero to even doubt her decision to not consume any parasite they found along the way, mostly giving them to Astarion since he's currently the only eager one in the party. We'll get back to this later.

Back to the Curse Lands, after playing the lyre, we meet the spiderman!

The party was able to travel a short distance with the guide, especially since he currently holds a magical source of light that keeps the darkness at a greater bay. However, the are ambushed by the Harpers who came to take that magical light from them. Pero opted to betray the Absolute cultist and help the Harper, gaining her respect and learning of the inn that they currently reside in.

While getting to the Last Light Inn, we encountered a horrible sight. Like, deadass it nearly made me cry. We found the corpses of the Tieflings we saved back at Emerald Grove. It wasn't every single Tiefling, but it was enough of them where, if you paid attention to who was who at the grove, you'd recognize at least one of them. Reaching the Last Light Inn, we finally meet Jaheira, a legendary Druid/Fighter character whom, if you played the previous Baldur's Gate games, she once looked like this :D

Now she's, reasonably, a much older Half-Elf now. As shown a long time ago in one of the Panels from Hell showings, Jaheira entangles Pero and was close to starting a fight since, regardless if Pero herself ate a tadpole, the parasite still recognize one of its own. Thanks to Pero's honesty and her knowing that Jaheira would be a great ally to have by her side, she truthfully came forward about her condition along with the artifact that's been protecting her and her friends. This along with one of the Tiefling kids, Mol, coming to her aid and the other Harpers expressing how she assisted them, Pero was able to gain the Harpers trust.

Jaheira explains her and the Harpers reason for coming out to the Cursed Lands, even explaining that they currently have a powerful spellcaster that has protected the area. She too is familiar with the figure, Ketheric, though this time around, it sounds like he's an undead as no matter what damage they dealt him, he would just get back up. Because we're not fully influenced by the parasite and have the artifact that protects them from the Absolute, Jaheira asks that Pero and the gang sneak into the Absolute's ranks, posing at a True Soul and deal a killing blow from the inside.

Before ending this, let's do some mild side stuff! So that strange cow you meet back at the Emerald Grove is here as well. Initially, I discovered that this cow was actually a slime-like creature who posed as a animal, wanting to live a life as a farm beast. While I was able to kill it...Dammon got killed after the fact because the MOTHERFUCKER DECIDED TO RUN INTO THE SHADOW CURSED LANDS AND CAME BACK AS AN UNDEAD THE STUPID FU-

Speaking of Dammon! Because we found him again, I immediately had him provide an upgrade to Karlach's infernal machine. Not only that, but he also provided a flaw Infernal Armor (heavy armor so I can't wear it) and said that they could provide more like it in the future. Pero was also able to speak with a few Tieflings who survived the attack and learned that not every Tiefling refugee was slaughtered, as some of them were kidnapped and sent to Moonrise Towers. Although Pero promises to go find these missing individuals, Pero is filled with mild guilt, Especially when Rolan starts placing blame of Pero for the reason why his friends/family got killed or kidnapped.

Pero also met Raphael again! Before going forward, Astarion asked Pero that if they happen to run into Raphael that he be there to speak with him. Pero was at first worried that Astarion has made his decision to take up Raphael on his deal, but this is actually the part that Pero learns about his scar since she didn't start a romance with him. Little side rant, but goddamn Larian really utilizing the fact that Astarion is one of the favored companion in BG3, because they didn't need to strip him down like that lmao. Now in all honesty, this half nudity isn't necessarily for fan service reasons since it relates to the scars on his back, and HOW ELSE are they gonna show it without taking his shirt off...BUT GODDAM-

Pero also finally got her dance with Wyll as she initially watched him perform alone before joining him. Pero rolled a Nat 1 on her performance, which sounds very on par for Pero lmao. This is also the part where Pero could establish a relationship with Wyll, but I decided for Pero to face away from him. Gotta keep the harem strong bby!

Before we end this chapter in Pero's story. We gotta get on Astarions ass again. Pero and Astarion have a brief conversation together about the parasite. Astarion believes that Pero has potential and that embracing the powers of the tadpole could further this. Astarion continues to bring back in the possibility that they could control the tadpole, which is something Pero discouraged...But then this man had to say this!

Now, from what Pero has seen and experienced: The dream Guardians' powers are seemingly wanning, probably due to the fact that she herself hasn't consumed a single parasite. The Tieflings were killed and some of them were kidnapped, and while that was out of her control, the guilt is getting to her. Then there's Pero's desire to just save her friends, not so much from the parasite itself, but from their own personal fuck ups. Wyll and his pact with Mizora, Gale and this netherese shard within him, Astarion and his relationship with Cazador, Karlach and this infernal machine that might even burn her to a crisp. All of this that has happened practically all at once for Pero is starting to weigh on her and her desire to simply help people is making things worse.

Then Astarion decided to, intentionally or not, play with this fact and use it against her by suggesting that these Mindflayer powers could potentially help her not only destroy the evil it's causing, but also help her friends and those around her. Now, she has no one else to look to for why this is a possible bad idea than Wyll. Wyll got himself into a pact all because HE wanted to help people so badly and didn't know where to start and how to be powerful enough to do it. And he never regretted ever getting into the pact. And while Pero should be able to ascertain that based on the experiences of her peers, she is a emotional person and has a bleeding heart.

The next time we find a parasite...She might be tempted to eat one.

[queen-scribbles]

For the fanfic ask game: F, M and and Y?

F: Share a snippet from one of your favourite dialogue scenes you've written and explain why you're proud of it.

Ooooooh, that's hard. I have a lot. Jaaide's breakdown in Cracks, Trinne has a couple with Alistair and/or Harvey I'm really proud of in OWaP, almost every Ryn/Red interaction in tLBT... I think I'm gonna give this one to Minefield (Exile/Bao-Dur). I really love the whole conversation Evony(Exile) and Mira have, as well as Evony and Bao-Dur's conversation about he label she'd put on their relationship, but I'll single out this

When she looked up, Mira was glancing between her and Bao-Dur with a slowly growing smirk. “What?” “Just piecing together that I was wrong,” Mira said, the storage locker forgotten as she studied Evony. “About…?” Evony prompted cautiously. Despite the brevity of their acquaintance, it wasn’t hard to figure out that Mira smirking was dangerous. “When I thought you and Atton, y’know, hooked up a power coupling.” She settled her weight on one leg and sent a significant look across the cache.  “Shoulda pegged you as someone to go more for the quiet type.”

bc this exchange is what made me write the fic in the first place. I'm proud of it bc it was my first serious attempt at writing Mira and she plays off Evony really well. I feel like I got a good handle on her voice, made her sarcasm and her wit and her care all come through in the conversation, and she managed to trip up Evony about her feelings, which was just fun. :P

M: Got any premises on the back burner that you'd care to share?

There's two, one I have the first half written and the muses abandoned me(Pillars of Eternity), the other it's an outline and some scraps of writing for a "someday, maybe" longfic(SWtOR).

The Pillars one is my Watcher, Adi, and Heodan(NPC she has a crush on, I saved him from early-game death and made him a party member for an AU XD) getting snowed in alone pre-feelings confession and just navigating conversation etc until they can rejoin the rest of the party.

The SWtOR one is what one of my Troopers(Bry) gets up to during the five year gap the "Outlander"--in this case her older sister Vica--is in carbonite during KotFE. It involves fleshing out a Trooper-specific sidequest and then rescuing her fiancé from imprisonment by the Eternal Empire. IT'll be very fun if I ever get the chance to write it.

Y: A character you want to protect.

Pffft. Several, how do I pick? Aloth. Jowan. Aya and Bash. I'm sure there's more I'm forgetting.

Fanfic Asks

[saving-word-crawls]

World of Warcraft Crawl

By: Nikata_Richtofen

Before we begin:

Get a dice set ready - Online dice set is allowed

A notepad or sticky note to keep tabs on the words you need to write or log your tasks for stacking is also recommended.

There are prompts if you are playing, but this should also work if you are not (And you’ll write less if you’re not playing to reward those who are focused) There will also be prompts if you wish to exchange words for irl task/events to allow a better place of sitting at the computer and getting up. I also suggest a stretch and a glass of water per hour on the computer.

I recommend writing this crawl in a separate document so that you can “collect” rewards by copy pasting to your main document. If you are not writing on the computer, feel free to ignore this recommendation and suggest your own in the replies!

This will also focus on pve content for a max level character. Currently this will not include DF content, but will be updated accordingly (as this is part of my word count). It’s also my first word crawl so please let me know how it goes!

Let’s begin!

First, pick your character! - A ooc head start!

Low pop / New player servers - 15 words! Medium pop servers - 20 words! High pop / Full servers - 25 words!

Base Race or Allied Race? - Base Races get 10 words, Allied Races get 20 words Class? - Base Class get 10 words, Dks get 15, Monks get 20, DHs get 50

So the adventure begins!

Your faction leader is calling your character to return! Head to your faction city!

Out of game: Round up to your next 100th In game: 150 if you take your hearthstone, 100 if you take a portal, or 50 if you take a flight path, +5 if this also includes the boat IRL Task: Pick up around your desk.

They are asking for them to show their loyalty, to do so you must complete a set series of tasks! To start, they ask for vocal agreement.

Out of game: Write a d10 roll In game: /roll for your words! IRL Task: Stretch out your fingers

Once you have agreed they send your character to speak to Chromie. “She will send you back in time, where you must complete 3 challenges.” They say.

Challenges could be: recovering a rare item. (Ingame Mog run) …or Saving a rare creature. (Ingame Mount / Pet run) …or Speaking to a special person. (Ingame Questing) …or You have your own reason. (Personal Choice)

Depending on what timeline you choose, the challenge will be weighted more favorably. Asking for help is not frowned upon on greater challenges. In fact, friends bring great power. Share your fellows some attention and respect.

Out of Game: Find a “last three numbers is your word goal” forum post! In game: Write your friendlist amount! 10 per online friend, 20 per offline friend. IRL Task: Message a loved one that you love them or a friend that you care for them! Pet a pet if you have one!

Now you know the goal and met up with Chromie, ask her to send your character to the right timeline. (You may select all three timelines for now, and mark them down for later use)

If you are going to the “Classic” timeline, write a word goal of a d100 roll. Easy goals to help the world of Azeroth are always needed, even if not always participated.

If you are going to the “BC” timeline, write 200 words! There’s some challenge in Outland. It’s called traveling.

If you are going to the “WotLK” timeline, write 150 words! There’s honor in fighting the Lich King. Except there’s a hitch! Add 50 words if your character isn’t dressed for the weather!

If you are going to the “Cataclysm” timeline, write a d20 X 10 roll! Deathwing’s shadow no longer lingers, but his chaos still remains! Your words are a chaotic fate!

If you are going to the “Pandaria” timeline, write a 10 minute sprint! Finding your challenge in the peaceful mists? It’s going to take you time to make it through the looming clouds.

If you are going to the “Warlords” timeline, roll a d100 twice for your word goal! Running through crossing timelines is a struggle even for a bronze drake! And no one wants another “other Guldan”

If you are going to the “Legion” timeline, roll a d10 for a sprint time! You were prepared this time you’re sure of it! But there are a lot of demons to face, maybe you should get a quick practice in. Roll to see just how ready you actually were!

If you are going to the “BFA” timeline, write 200 words! While not as far in the past, the foes you may face will be better at countering you! Chromie will also have to adjust the sands to avoid you meeting yourself at a bad time.

If you are going to the “Shadowlands” timeline, write for 10 minutes! Chromie’s magic can’t quite reach that far. Give her time to find the way to go about it!

Upon reaching the first timeline, they take the time to enjoy your small amount of peace in your selected timeline. Afterall, with time altering magic, they don’t need to worry about a time limit right? So what do you do first?

Do they go see an old friend or fellow? (A NPC from that timeline, try to go find them before starting your journey)

Or….

Do they go visit an old place? (Find a location in the timeline you like the music or look of!)

Spend some time here, write for 5 minutes without a word count goal. Take your time.

Work must still be done however. You did sign up them to complete a challenge, and unsure if how long you take would be held against them, your character finally begins their journey to the challenge.

Out of Game: To head to a close location, write 50 words. To a far location, write 100 words. If you need to cross a sea, write 150 words. Mark your journey!

In Game: For every area you have to cross, write 10 words. If you have to use a portal or boat, write 100 words.

IRL Task: Walk in place or go for a short walk? This can be altered to personal preference.

They finally made it to the actual location! What is it?

Questline start? Write 15 words to greet the quest giver.

Dungeon? Write 20 to act as a map!

Raid? Write 30 to journal your journey so far!

Enemies are about! Mostly small fry! Get at them!

Out of Game: Roll d10 for 3 times. That’s the amount of enemies you must fight. Write that many words! In game: For quests, 1 word per enemy slain or item collected. For Raids or Dungeons, count how many groups of trash you have to get through to the first boss. IRL Task: Roll d20, pick up that many pieces of trash, or clothes, or etc!

Uh oh! The battling has attracted the boss! Aoe go too far? Butt pull? Doesn’t matter! They need to fight right here, right now!

Out of Game: Roll a d10 twice! Sprint for that much to pull through the fight! In game: Questing: How many quests can you complete in a time period? (roll a d6 for time!) Dungeons/Raids:How many attacks does it take to kill? If current content, half your number for D/R, for Quests Double. If not current content, X expansion: Classic/BC/WotLK/Cata - 100 Panda/WoD/Lg/Bfa - 10 SL - 2 IRL Task: Clean a whole object like all the countertops! Complete a home/work assignment! Complete a work out cycle! Get something (however small) done today!

That boss was tough! But it only made your character better at fighting! Your experience is rewarding!

Roll a d20 + 10, take a break for that long! Relax some!

Can’t stay around for much longer! It’s time to continue!

For those not in game or running something with only one boss: Roll a d4 to see how many times you need to loop the previous steps with your own flavor text! In Game: Loop for however many bosses or questlines you wish! Normally recommend one per boss if you need a lot of writing, every two bosses if you need some, or one per wing of bosses on low content!

Your first challenge is complete! Take inventory as fast as you can! Sprint to your word count!

Out of game: Roll a d100 two times! In game: Sell all your extra loot! How ever much gold you get is your word goal! You can either move a decimal point or half or such if it seems too high!

For Mount runs: Roll a d100, if you get a 1 or 100 you got the mount! Write an extra 20 words! For Mog runs: Roll a d20, a 1-5 is how many mogs you got! Write an extra 10 words per! For Questing: Roll a d6, this is how many questlines/loremaster progress you got, write an extra 15 words per!

Your character is back to the current time before you know it! Your faction is proud! Time to cheer a task done! Here’s your reward from your faction!

“Subtract” from your total: However many you want/have! (Feel free to use other rewards you’ve set up forself, here’s my suggestions) Small snack or a piece of candy per 200 words! A free run of anything in the game for 500 words! Youtube/Netflix break! Watch a video/show/movie for 1000! (ot 100 per 10 minutes)

Now that you’ve been justly rewarded, it’s time to run again! Return to the top to flow the charts again!

After completing the third task, all of the faction leaders of your faction are impressed with your character’s dedication and skill! Time to hold a feast in your character’s honor!

Is the mog ready? Write for 15 minutes while you wait for everyone else to get ready! Need to change mog? Write for 5 minutes while everyone gets the table ready!

After this, take a screenshot of your character near your favorite faction leader! (Or the closest you can get to them, Chromie can help if you need her too!) ((Or skip if you can’t!))

Write 100 words for your character telling them the story! Then round up to the nearest 100 for them to respond to your character!

From there, write 10 words for all the dishes your character would eat at the feast!

Wrap up for the evening! Stretch out your wrists and legs as your character sets up for the night. Drink some water and let yourself also have a break!

Congratulations! You completed the word crawl!

[bad-bitch-beauchamp]

Songs About Me - Chapter Three

After karaoke night and Claire's impromptu performance, both Claire and Jamie spend the next day reconciling with their choices from the night before.

Read on AO3

“Stay, Sassenach! One more drink!” 

“One more drink might be the death of me, Mr. Fraser, and if you’d like to watch me embarrass myself again next week, I can’t be on my deathbed tonight!” 

He had tried to convince her to let him walk her home, but she waved him off and pulled the sweater that had fallen off her shoulder back up to its rightful place at the junction of neck and shoulder -- a place Jamie couldn’t tear himself away from until that moment. She wrangled a loose curl behind her ear, tugged on her coat, and caught Jamie watching her every move, drink at his lips, eyes just over the rim of the glass. She could’ve stayed, could’ve responded, could’ve reacted to what she was feeling right then… no. A couple of hours together in a bar and a poor excuse for a solo at closing time did not change the fact she didn’t know this man. This very handsome man, she reminded herself. No. You came out here for yourself. Leave by yourself.

She met his eyes one last time, gave a nervous laugh, declared “Hope to see you next weekend!” all too loudly, and spun on her heel. She had stepped over the threshold when she thought she heard her name from inside, but she didn’t turn to find out. 

———

Claire realized exactly three things when she awoke the next morning: The sun was shining too brightly, the street musician playing on the corner directly below her bedroom window was playing too loudly, and the memories of the last night with the redhead who loved music and books were coming on too fast. Somehow, in the span of a few hours, he had literally become her waking thoughts. She sat up in bed, still cocooned in a cloud of white cotton sheets and linen comforters. What do you even know about him? Probably not even anything. She pulled herself from the warmth of the bed, her feet landing on a soft oriental rug in shades of blues and greens. His eyes were the colors in this rug. Just like the ocean itself. Okay, she remembered one thing about him. The woven textile gave way to worn hardwood floors, on to cool hexagon tiles lining her bathroom floor as she passed through glass french doors between bookshelves on the wall. 

When Claire inherited her Uncle Lamb’s brownstone, she could remember only one thing about the place from her visits: the upstairs was magical. Quentin Lambert Beauchamp was an archaeologist, and although it rarely happened, he had decided he needed a home base to work from. In the historic brownstone, he neglected to update much besides the upper level. As the brownstone was on a corner lot, Lamb declared it must have every window possible to let in the light. Days were too gloomy and cloudy in England, and he would soak up all the light he could while teaching here at Harvard, thank you very much. The most magical room in the entire home (according to both Beauchamps) was lined from front to back with alternating windows and storage -- wide bookshelves on the top, long cabinets on the bottom. The opposite side was almost entirely made of the same bookshelves, save for two sets of french doors leading to a large closet and a larger master bathroom, respectively. The bookshelves traveled up to a curved ceiling, rails and ladders lined the walls to reach the highest and most precious of his belongs (now hers as well). Claire had painted the walls and trim shades of white and cream and ivory. The shelves were stripped and stained with a neutral-tone light wood with white filler. The brass fixtures and ladder rails sparkled in the warm morning light. Claire placed plants wherever she could fit them, and donned the shelves with memories to mingle with the ones Lamb left behind. This room, this place, was her favorite in the whole world. 

Back in the bathroom and walking to the walk-in shower, Claire bent down to reach the sweater she tossed aside the night before. The underside of his hair is this color. Right at the base of his neck, with the extra curls. She shook her head and started the tap. Maybe all his curls would turn that color when he got wet. She turned the faucet as hot as she could stand it, reached an arm for her phone, and set Spotify to only play Blink-182. We’re done with those feelings! No feelings, only the angst possible with punk rock! 

Cold tile brought her down to earth again when she stepped out of the shower, the trails of water dripping down her back and breasts a refreshing break from the onslaught of pounding heat. He felt like a breath of fresh air. Just like this. 

With a towel wrapped around head and a t-shirt tossed on, she made her way back to the bedroom and took a seat on her bed. She desperately wished she had stayed for that last drink. Or at least got his number? Why didn’t I get his number?! Now, she’d have to wait another six days before seeing him again. Maybe her attraction to him was nothing more than lust, but if she could text with him, get to know him better, maybe she could find out. With no way of reaching him, she opted to get dressed and head out to clear her head. Maybe find a place to write? Since her decision to put herself first, she’d put letting off steam by writing and singing. It fell in live with the general creativity that fueled her life, while still being different enough from the greenhouse to give her a bit of rest and peace. As she contemplated where to adventure off that morning and pondered the correct way to lace her Doc Marten boots, her phone rang. A photo of three fresh faces graced her screen, a woman with wild dark curls with her mouth gaping with laughter, another woman with a waterfall of red hair and piercing green eyes made less intimidating by the crinkles at the edges, and a man with deep dimples surrounding his smile and an eyebrow raised in surprise at the camera taking their picture. Claire hit the accept button on the call, and thus the inquisition arrived. 

“We need to talk about last night!” The screen was split in two, with Geillis’ video on top and Joe’s on the bottom with Claire’s in the corner. 

“What about last night? I honestly thought our song was pretty good! I was thinking next week we could do--”

“That’s obviously not what we’re talking about, LJ! But agreed, we did a damn good job.”

“Will you two quit it?” Geillis cut them off and brought her face closer to her screen. “We need to talk about Claire, that viking, and the unreal chemistry. Spill it ALL, Claire.”

———

Jamie had woke nursing a headache, but alas, today would not be the day for rest. He flipped the sign in the window of Fraser Literature from closed to open, and began to check off the list of opening duties. On the list was to water the plants. Set on a table in a small alcove, on top of side table next to an worn leather chair for patrons to sit and peruse a story in, hanging from simple planters in the window that stretched from edge to edge in front of the shop, guarding the aisles of books ready to be enjoyed by people who hadn’t read them yet. Jamie often visited a greenhouse just outside town for the shop’s plants. While a small place, it was teeming with love, peacefulness, and a sense of adventure with green as far as the eye could see, boarding the windows with giant leaves and trailing vines. The feeling inside was something he wanted to emulate in his own place, and so he started adding a wee bit of flora here and there. Rupert and Angus initially laughed off his efforts, claiming Jamie was “destroying the manly vibe” they were aiming for. With every bit of decoration, every little bit of effort however, the shop grew in reputation and success. Jamie was immensely proud of the shop he built, and even more grateful he was able to spend his days surrounded by the words of great men and women, constantly inspired and in awe of the endless stories at his fingertips. 

The boys -- Angus and Rupert, that is -- had brought up the idea of expanding into a few other fine art ideas within the shop. Jamie had been reluctant to agree to anything that wasn’t directly related to literature. As they stood around the front counter, Rupert led the charge: 

“Jamie, man. The people who like books are also the ones who like art and music and such. Why not try to bring them all together?” 

“What if they don’t care about the books? What if they don’t even look at them, and don’t care? What’s the point in having the shop, then?”

It was Angus’ turn to reply with, “Well the point is getting people in the door, and letting your “wee shop” as ye always call it speak for itself, aye?” 

Jamie had to agree with that point. He settled for telling the lads that if they could come up with a suitable idea, he’d agree to it. Twenty minutes later, Angus and Rupert stood in his office doorway saying they would be asking for local musicians to come and perform. 

“Doesn’t seem like yer asking for approval.” 

Jamie didn’t look up from his computer, but could hear the grin in Rupert’s voice as he replied, “‘Tis because ye know it’s a good idea, and ye wouldn’t refuse a good idea.” 

Jamie sat back in the rolling leather chair behind his antique desk and sighed, then laughed. “Why do I even try to control what ye two do? Yer jes’ going to do it anyway.” The lads grinned at each other and shrugged. “Go on then, see if ye can have some posters made up to put in the window.” 

He stood as Rupert saluted him and Angus muttered something under his breath that sounded suspiciously like, “Aye aye, captain,” and stretched his long, lean, muscles. He needed to get a few errands completed, so opted to spend the next few hours outside both to complete his tasks and to get out in the fresh air. He told his friends he’d be back soon, and to let them know if he needed anything. 

With one step out into the sunlight, he immediately regretted the amount he had drunk the night before. Two in the morning was not a suitable time to be out, but for the lass with the dark curls and the whisky eyes, he’d give every moment of his time. From the moment he woke, he thought of her. Thought of how she made him laugh. Thought of how bonny she felt under his fingers, her hips on the barstool as she wiggled back into place, her thigh touching his under the booth table. He thought of how she’d gone up on stage as an act of defiance against him for the insult to her friend’s song, but how instead she ended up showing a piece of her soul to him, and him alone. He thought of how her eyes matched the swirling liquid in his glass. He thought of her abrupt departure after he had asked her to stay, and how he almost ran out after. He thought of how he was so incredibly stupid as to not have asked for her number before she ran. Look what ye did -- now ye have to wait to see her, and yer barely functional as it is. While Angus and Rupert had been gauging his interest for the musical talent in his office earlier, he had been searching the Facebook page for the 21st Amendment, combing it for references to her. To Claire. Maybe she had performed there? Perhaps she and her friends had tagged the place in one of their pictures? There was no sign of her, and she hadn’t told him her last name. Six days to go, mate. Ye can do this. She’s just a lass. Ye don’t know her. 

After a few hours of tedious tasks (could the post office ever be efficient, just this once?), he made his way back to Fraser Literature. It was a warm day for autumn, and the shop would have a cart with discount books out on the sidewalk and the door propped open for fresh air. He would never tire of seeing his name on something he built, something he was so proud of. As he neared the shop however, it wasn’t the name on the window that drew his attention -- it was the many people standing inside, facing the window, looking outside. Jamie stopped and looked around, but not finding anything out of place around him. He took a few steps closer. They weren’t looking outside, but rather at the inside corner of the shop, the corner where the window meets the wall. He was only a few steps away when he saw it, when he heard it. A woman with bouncy curls and a round arse, sitting with her back to the window at a keyboard bench. He didn’t have to see her face to know. Her voice was enough. It was enough at two in the morning to imprint on him forever. 

She was there, in his shop. His place. Claire. God, his Claire. 

With one shaky step and an attempt at a steadying breath, he moved inside his sanctuary.

[outlanderpromptexchange]

OUTLANDER PROMPT EXCHANGE: PRIDE MONTH

Welcome to the Outlander Prompt Exchange: Pride Month Challenge, a fandom event designed to be quick, simple and something new(ish) to help get us through another month of Droughtlander. The rules are simple: be kind and patient with both yourself and others… and get creative! ♥

1 MAY 2021: PROMPT EXCHANGE OPENS

SUBMIT A CLAIM: From the 1st of May readers and writers alike are invited to submit a prompt via the blog’s inbox. This month’s theme is ‘Pride Month’ and you can choose to submit a general prompt with LGBTQIA+ themes or something more specific. This can include any Outlander-related character, relationship, scenario, location, etc.

CLAIM A PROMPT: Prompts are available to be claimed from the Prompt Masterlist below at any time. Simply send a message via the blog’s inbox with the prompt # and it’s yours! Note: each prompt can only be claimed once and will be allocated on a ‘first in first served’ basis.

1 - 30 JUNE 2021: PUBLICATION

PUBLISH YOUR FIC: From the 1st of June through to the end of the month writers can publish their work at any time and in any space. Just remember to use #OutlanderPromptExchange where possible, tag @outlanderpromptexchange and/or send through a link so that we may also share your work. We can’t wait to see what you come up with!

Do you still have questions? FAQ available here!

PROMPT MASTERLIST

1. Fergus might be a little (or a lot!) older than Young Ian but he’s young at heart. That’s all that matters, right? -- Age-gap Fergus/Young Ian (preferably both 18yo+) 

2. Claire is surprised when Jamie reveals he was assigned female at birth.

3. Jamie doesn’t understand why out of all the people at Fraser’s Ridge the grandchild/ren chose to come to him to ask their questions regarding sex and gender identities... yet here he is answering them. For the love of all that is holy, where is Claire? [spoiler alert: she’s around the corner listening in]

4. Young Ian is nervous about coming out to his parents. Luckily he has an abundance of siblings and/or cousins to stand by side as he does so.

5. Brianna runs into Roger at an LGBT Rights rally at or near the university.

6... 

[renee-writer]

The Contract Chapter 18 Thinking it Over

She ponders what Jamie had asked the rest of the day and into the next. It makes sense. Co-parenting is easier with the parents in the same house. But, was there more? That is what has her hesitating.

If it was just about the bairn, she would actually be more comfortable. There is safety in boundaries, in clear lines, in well established roles. Her as the child's mum, Jamie as daddy, and they both responsible equally for the well being of the child. But, having him say that he wants to wake up beside her each morning.

“What is that about?” she says to herself. She is sitting on her love seat, her hands resting on her abdomen. “What did your daddy mean?” The problem is, deep inside she feels the same. That scares her. She isn’t good with love, with relationships. Finding herself in one, with the father of her child, it should be a joyful time. It is, to an extent. But, for the fear.

“It was to be a fling, at the most. How in hell did this happen?” she muses as she rubs her stomach. “How did I end up falling In love?” Her hand flies to her mouth like she had shouted that aloud instead of just thinking it.

“Bloody hell, I love him.” She says. ‘”I love your daddy. That is good for you but freaks your mum out a bit. I don't do love well. Now, I will love you. I already do, little lima bean. It is just other relationships. They are the problem.” She gets up and starts to pace. “Do I tell him? What if, despite what he says, it is just about sex and you? Will I be setting myself up for heartbreak?” She walks through her small flat before realizing it isn’t enough. She gathers up her jacket and heads outside. She starts walking the streets of her neighborhood. “And what of Murtagh. Your daddy's Godfather already hates me. When he finds out about you and then if we move in together? Christ, little one. What am I to do.”

She walks until she must rest. Until she has determined that she must, at least tell him. So, she slips into a coffee shop and calls him.

“I need to talk to you.”

[owlish-peacock36]

Scatter the Night: Chapter 1

This is the first chapter for my fic for the Outlander Prompt Exchange—brought to you by @thelallybrochlibrary. My prompt:

Jamie meets Claire in a New York City night club in the 1920s. Both have started getting tired of the superficial world they live in, until they meet each other! (submitted by @whiskynottea)

This is my first adventure into this time period, so I hope you enjoy! Let me know what you think!

The room was too small, thick with the humidity of body heat and human sweat. They were beasts—all of them—with their eyes glazed with illicit liquor and barely-contained lust. Embers burned on the ends of suggestively pursed lips and lit the cell-like room with a sunset glow.

Jamie didn’t belong here. There was no place for a Scottish farm boy within the smoky speakeasies of New York. And yet, here he was. Hoping for a new beginning, hoping for a different ending.

No, he shouldn’t be here. But, he couldn’t bring himself to leave.

It was intoxicating, the swarm of bodies and drink, swirling about him to expand his own edged mind. Drifting lazily amongst the tables, Jamie found himself on the fringe of the club. His first night here, and he was already a wallflower.

“You’re not from around here, are you?” The voice that pierced his mind held a recognizable timbre, a lilting contrast to the harsh New York rasp. It reminded him of home.

The woman was a stranger, though, a barely visible presence that seemed to haunt the corners of the club.

“From the sound of it, neither are ye.”

“I’ve been here long enough. But you… you’re green. Poor little bunny.” She took a drag of her cigarette, casting a dim, red glow upon her face. She might have been pretty, but the shadows were too strong, and left her a mere silhouette against the carnal earth. “What’s a nice Scottish boy like you doing here? Is it the liquor? The women? I’m sure all the lassies would lose their minds for that accent.”

“That’s none of yer business, Ma’am.”

“Ma’am?!” She screeched, teeth flashing against the darkness. “You’re definitely not from around here!”

Embarrassment colored his face. Was he really so obvious? And who was this woman to call him out on it? He was just trying to start fresh, and it seemed like he already failed.

“I’ll take my leave now. Good evening to ye.”

“Oh! Don’t get so twisted up about it!” The woman had taken a step out of the shadows, illuminating half of her face. Jamie saw a glimpse of champagne eyes and a mischievous mouth. “I’d just thought I’d come to the aid of a fellow expat. Can I give you a word of advice? This isn’t Scotland. It’s New York, and it isn’t very pretty. Trust no one, because nothing here is free. Nothing.”

“Nothing? So, what’ll yer advice cost me?”

She laughed, a genuine sound that crinkled her eyes. “I’ll have to take a rain check on that. You shouldn’t be hard to find. But, if you’ll excuse me, I need to see a man about a dog.”

Then, she was gone, off to swim away in bootleg. And Jamie was left standing in the veil of her smoke.

[thelallybrochlibrary]

Hello Clan!

We know Droughtlander has been a little dry so we are excited to share our friends who are starting a prompt account, @athousandprompts.

The page can be found over on Twitter here giving the rules for writers and prompters. This exchange is for both writers and readers alike, so come one, come all!

If you have a prompt you’ve been dying to read, submit it here.

The Lallybroch Librarians are so excited about this we just had to share the news! We hope many of our writers participate and help make this drought a little less dry! 

[veryfaintveryhuman]

For @thelallybrochlibrary‘s Holiday Exchange and prompted by @holdhertightandsayhername: 

Prompt 23: A “Hogmanay on the Ridge” mood board.

Jen, my apologies that I’m posting this after the deadline, but I hope I did your prompt some justice! May the Frasers celebrate many more Hogmanays together on the Ridge. AS THEY DESERVE. 

Thank you to the Librarians for hosting this exchange, for all of the writers and creators who gave us so much beautiful Outlander content this holiday season, and to Jen for the wonderful prompt (and for all of the diverse prompts that she submitted!). 

I hope everyone’s holidays were gentle. <3 

[underthewingsofthblackeagle]

Foto: Panorama Helsinki / Finland - Cathedral and Place of the Parliament (by   tap5a)

“We only do this for Fergus!”  is a short Outlander Fan Fiction story and my contribution to the  Outlander Prompt Exchange (Prompt 3: Fake Relationship AU: Jamie Fraser  wants to formally adopt his foster son Fergus, but his application will  probably not be approved… unless he is married and/or in a committed  relationship. Enter one Claire Elizabeth Beauchamp (Randall?) to this  story) @outlanderpromptexchange  

Chapter 19: Back to Potsdam

          It was good that Jamie had sent Claire and Fergus to the Gadem right after the tour of the castle, because the influx of tourists had now increased. But Claire and Fergus had still managed to get a nice table for themselves and Jamie in time. They chose from the menu and only a little later their food was brought.

Front court of Wartburg Castle in Eisenach, Eisenach, Germany * Picture by Krzysztof Golik - Own work, CC BY-SA 4.0, https://commons.wikimedia.org/w/index.php?curid=81861557

          Fergus got a small Thuringian dumpling with cress and sour creamed sauerkraut, Claire was delighted with smoked salmon with creamed horseradish and dill, and Jamie smelled with joy his venison stew in a clay pot with peppered mashed potatoes. Then another bowl of steaming potatoes was brought, which Claire and Fergus shared. After the meal there was for dessert warm chocolate cake with cream, vanilla ice cream and cherries.          When the waitress asked the adults if they wanted coffee with their dessert, Jamie and Claire declined. All three were tired. The early departure from Potsdam and the many impressions the nearly three-hour tour of the castle had left on them had made them tired. Even Fergus, whose energy often knew no bounds, now seemed exhausted. Right after Jamie paid the bill, they headed back to the hotel. They all needed a break and some sleep now.

Roast rabbit filet, Thüringer Klöße, and red cabbage * Picture by Sebastian Wallroth, CC BY 3.0, https://commons.wikimedia.org/w/index.php?curid=30471749          They did not meet again until 4:00 p.m. and once again visited the castle cafe. There they drank coffee (Jamie and Claire) and hot cocoa (Fergus) and enjoyed the different kinds of cake. They would have liked to visit the castle garden, but it was too late now. It had become dark and cold and Claire was glad that she had insisted when planning the trip that everyone take their winter jackets, scarves and hats with them. This made it possible to still take a short walk along the south wall of the castle. Then Jami sent Claire and Fergus back to the hotel, promising to follow shortly. When he was sure that Fergus could not see him anymore, he went to the museum store where he bought a number of souvenirs, CDs and books.          Once at the hotel, Claire took Fergus to the Wartburg suite that Jamie had booked for himself and Fergus. Once there, they peeled out of their thick jackets. Then Claire made tea for herself and Fergus. Together they sat down on the sofa and watched a children's movie.

Wartburg Hotel * Picture by Von Kora27 - Eigenes Werk, CC BY-SA 4.0, https://commons.wikimedia.org/w/index.php?curid=93728877

         Meanwhile, Jamie took his groceries to the garage and packed them in the trunk of his car. Then he too joined Claire and Fergus. As he entered the suite's living room, Claire motioned for him to be quiet. The children's movie wasn't over yet, but Fergus had dozed off from exhaustion. Jamie turned off the TV, then carefully carried the boy into the bedroom, laid him on the bed, and tucked him in. He left the nightlight on the other side of the bed on and just leaned the door to the living room. If Fergus woke up, he shouldn't be frightened, but should be able to find him and Claire right away. Back in the living room, Jamie went to the bar, picked up a bottle of whiskey, and looked questioningly at Claire, who nodded at him. He poured whiskey into two glasses, then motioned to Claire for them to sit in the two large armchairs in the bay window. Once there, Jamie handed Claire a glass of whiskey and sat down. When they had both taken a sip, Jamie said:          "I think Fergus is quite ..."           "Exhausted?" finished Claire his sentence.           "Yes, perhaps it would be good if we cut the visit a little short. I would have liked to see the town with you, but we still have to drive back ..."           "And it's back to school on Monday, too," Claire pointed out.           "Right. What do you say we take another little walk around the castle grounds tomorrow and then head back home? We could have lunch on the way?"           "I think that's the right idea. However, I expect Fergus will object."

         Jamie smiled, then took another sip of whiskey and Claire did likewise.          "I know, but I'll promise him that we'll make another trip here next year and then see the historic sites in the city."           Jamie was silent for a moment, then added:           "If that would suit you, Claire."           Claire looked at him but said nothing.           "Fergus will insist that you come along, and ... I'd be delighted, too."          "You two ...," Claire said, adding, "Who can say 'no' to you?"          She then took the last sip from her glass, then held it out to Fraser and said:          "I'll get another whiskey for that, though!"           Jamie grinned, then got up to get the whiskey bottle and fill the glasses again.           Afterwards, they reviewed the day with Fergus.          The boy woke up shortly after 7:00 p.m. and came into the living room, still slightly sleepy.          "Well, did you have a good rest?" asked Jamie, spreading his arms, Fergus nodded, then let Jamie take him in his arms. The latter carried the boy to the sofa and sat down with him. Claire got up and took one of the wool blankets she had brought and wrapped Fergus in it.

         "Well," Jamie then asked, "shall we go and choose something for dinner now?"           "Oh yes," it shot out of Claire, who promptly put her hand over her mouth and looked guiltily at Jamie.           "See, Claire's hungry, I'm hungry too, and you?"           Fergus, who was slow to wake up, just nodded, then pressed himself closer to Jamie. Clearly he needed physical contact with his dad now.

View of the Wartburg from Vachaer Stein at Rennsteig * Picture by  By Hfuss64 - Own work, CC BY-SA 4.0, https://commons.wikimedia.org/w/index.php?curid=82359983

         They agreed that they would order the so-called "Wartburg Classic" twice for dinner. A variety of dishes were served in bowls with a selection of freshly baked bread: Roasted Thuringian ground pork, cured country ham, homemade tomato chili, small Thuringian bratwursts with horseradish mustard, organic cream cheese with cress and honey, small potato dumplings with parsley and sour cream sauerkraut, Eisenach aspic sausage salad with radishes, smoked Schkölen catfish with apple horseradish, and venison stew with root vegetables and rosemary crumble. In addition they ordered two bowls of field salad with goat cheese, orange fillets and walnuts, a bottle of white wine for the adults and apple spritzer for Fergus.           The food arrived just before 8:00 pm. The waiters, who brought the food on serving carts, placed them in front of the sofa. Jamie pulled up a chair and sat across from Fergus and Claire, both of whom were looking quite enthusiastically at the large platters of food.          "Bon appetit!" said Jamie, and then they began to eat.

Dinner * Picture: Pixabay          While Fergus feasted on the bratwurst, Thuringian minced meat and some bread now and then, Claire reached for the salad, cream cheese and smoked catfish. Jamie watched her when he thought she wouldn't notice. A feeling of deep pleasure and inner satisfaction spread through his chest. He was pleased to see Claire so relaxed. Clearly she was enjoying both the meal and being with Fergus and him. Anyone who saw them like this would think they were a happy little family. The thought flashed through his mind, but he immediately forbade himself to think it any further. He didn't want to deal with questions now, which would only make him sad again. He wanted to enjoy the moment, the time together with the two people who meant the most to him. The two people, yes, the two people.           Ninety minutes later, all three were "more than full" and Fergus was getting tired again. Together they put him to bed and before Fraser could even ask him to read to him, he was asleep.           Together, Jamie and Claire put the dishes away and then moved the food carts to the aisle. The staff would take them back from there. Then Claire said goodbye. She too was tired, but she wanted to take the opportunity to have another bath. She had been delighted to discover the morning she had checked into her room that the “Luther room” Fraser had booked for her had a bathroom with a very nice bathtub. Just a few minutes after they said goodbye to each other, she ran water into the white tub, poured in one of the bath additives that were on a small shelf for guests to use. Then she undressed and immediately slipped into the warm water. She stayed in the tub for only 15 minutes, or sleep would have overtaken her. Dried off and dressed in her pajamas, she went to her room, slipped under the covers and was asleep shortly after.

Illuminated Wartburg by night * Picture bySchnufflsurfer - Eigenes Werk, CC BY-SA 3.0, https://commons.wikimedia.org/w/index.php?curid=3557281

          Just a few rooms away, James Fraser stood in the dark bay window of his suite, gazing through the window at the majestic view of the night-lit Wartburg. He took a deep breath. Then he brought the glass of whiskey to his lips and sipped it. Once again he went over the day in his mind. He had enjoyed doing these things with Fergus and Claire. He had enjoyed seeing the joy Fergus had in seeing the historical sites and artifacts and learning all about them. But he had also enjoyed seeing how much Claire enjoyed Fergus being so interested and exuberant. It had made him happy. That day had made him happy. Fergus and Claire had made him happy. If only things weren't so complicated. He almost cursed, but at the last moment he recollected himself. If Fergus woke up and came into the room ...          There was no point in brooding about the future any longer. There was nothing he could do about it now. He had to let "things" come to him. But that was exactly what he hated. He hated not being able to be active, not being able to actively shape something. And when it came to Claire, he didn't dare either. What would happen if she felt pressured and quit? What if she stayed just for the money? Fraser turned and walked to the bar to set his glass down. There was just no point in replaying the thoughts over and over. He had to go to sleep. He needed his strength for the next day.          When he got to the bedroom, a smile spread across his face. Fergus was lying in bed almost completely covered by the quilt. Only his mop of hair peeked out from under it - and the head of Rexi, a stuffed T-Rex that Claire had recently given him and that had since become his nightly companion and, of course, had to be taken to Wartburg. Quietly, he undressed and then slipped into bed.          Shortly after 11:00 p.m., James Fraser fell asleep. He dreamed of Fergus and Rexi and .... Claire. At 4:30 he awoke to Fergus sleepwalking in front of his side of the bed. The boy searched the bathroom and after Jamie escorted him to the bathroom, he carried him back to bed, wrapped him in his comforter and marveled at how quickly the child fell back asleep. Carefully, he slid Rexi under Fergus' right arm. Then he lay down in bed and together they spent another 3 hours in “the Land of Smiles”.          At 8:30 a.m. Claire picked up Jamie and Fergus for breakfast. In the dining room of the hotel, a beautifully laid table with fresh coffee, rolls, orange juice and many delicious side dishes was already waiting for them. They took plenty of time to eat breakfast and Jamie could once again see Fergus and Claire enjoying this time together.

Breakfast * Picture by Bild von Juri at Pixabay           An hour and a half later, they made their way to Wartburg Castle once again. During the day, they could visit the grounds for free and Claire had asked that they take a look at the castle gardens before they left and this request had reconciled Fergus, who was not particularly pleased about their early departure, with his fate.          Together they strolled once more through the outer castle and past the large cistern, then they came to the castle garden. While Claire looked around, Fergus was fascinated by the cannon standing there. They stayed for a while, enjoying the view of the surrounding mountains and valleys. Then they slowly made their way back to the hotel and half an hour later they were in the car. Two hours later they reached Halle, where they took a break and had lunch in an Italian restaurant.           When they arrived back at their shared home in Potsdam at just after 4:00 p.m., they were first greeted by Mr. Curtius, who helped Jamie carry their travel bags into the house. Shortly after, they were also greeted by Mrs. Curtius, who had already set the table in the dining room with tea, sandwiches, cakes and pastries.          After tea, Jamie allowed Fergus to play with his train set in the conservatory for a while. He himself sat down in the living room and went through the daily papers of the last few days.

Tea Time * Picture by Pexels at Pixabay          Claire had taken her leave for her apartment. There she first opened the windows to let in some fresh air. Then she unpacked her travel bag and put away the laundry. When she had closed the windows again, she let herself fall on her sofa. She closed her eyes and immediately Wartburg, Fergus and Jamie were before her eyes again.          When Jamie had pulled her close to him during the conversation with Mr. Klaußner, had he done that just to keep the narrative of their "engagement" going? Surely that was basically unnecessary in front of Mr. Klaußner. Besides, there was the danger that Fergus would see him and ask questions. She didn't know. What she did know was how much she had enjoyed her time with Jamie and Fergus. If only the situation weren't so complicated. What did Jamie have to think if she confessed to him what her feelings were toward him and Fergus? If she told him that she wanted nothing more than for them to become a family? Not because she wanted to help him adopt Fergus, but because she loved both of her "men"? Didn't he have to think she was doing all this for his money? Hadn't Matthieu mentioned that Jamie had had two relationships that didn't end so well?  Matthieu! She had to find an opportunity to talk to him. Maybe then she would find a solution. Maybe then she would find a way to at least talk to Jamie about her feelings.          When Claire opened her eyes again, she had made a decision. She would talk to Matthieu. Although she did not yet know when and how this would be possible, the mere fact that she had made this decision helped her to feel better. She would no longer passively accept this condition, suffer through it. She would do something and even if the outcome was not what she wanted. Anything was better than burying all' these feelings inside and feeling like she would eventually have to burst like a balloon that can't hold its air.          The sun had long set by the time Claire made her decision and the small table light in front of her, gave only a limited glow. She got up to turn on the overhead light when her smartphone announced the arrival of an sms. Mrs. Curtius was calling them all to dinner. Claire went to freshen up a bit. She would go to dinner. Perhaps afterwards she would put Fergus to bed along with Jamie. She would have Monday and Tuesday off, that was the arrangement with Jamie. After that, everyday life would return and soon she would have to start preparing for Christmas.  

[luciemiddleford]

On Fics I'll most probably never write but have ideas for: Outlander/PJO crossover

Main points would be:

* Claire has Fae ancestry on her mom's side (I'm imagining it somewhat distant, like her grandfather or something, not directly per se).

* Claire would be a child of Poseidon (mostly because bloodbending could be GOOD damn it and I rarely see it treated as anything but evil).

* "Uncle Lamb" was her mother's younger brother, who ended up giving her the family surname and getting it all hushed up when said sister died in childbirth.

* Claire being a demigod child of Poseidon works well with her never quite being able to spend much time anywhere, and Lamb constantly moving them all over the world (maybe he realized his niece was being hunted by monsters and that's why he didn't leave her in a boarding school?).

* Part of the reason Claire was hard-ish to track even being a child of the Big Three is because she was constantly surrounded by prominent smells (the collective sweat of the other archeologists in the digs, spices, herbs, tobacco, etc.)

* Maybe her fae grandpa helped to keep her demigod presence subdued as a favour to either Lamb or his sister (Julia? I think it's sorta accepted Claire's mom was called Julia?).

* This was admittedly inspired by me reading @ofswordsandpens 's 7 Seas of Rhye fic and pondering how pre-WWII children of the Big Three were.

* This also comes from an e-mail rant I sent my best pal NickelTheRed about this very thing some days ago, in which I'll quote myself: "I guess I'm just hit again by the impact of the World Wars. What they meant, for the world, for history, for those who thought they had it all in the 20s to have their world come crashing down after 1933 and onwards, while Germany starved and raged and slowly moved towards the horror that followed."

Like, I imagine Claire, like at the start of Outlander (show, I mean, haven't read the books) thought that she would finally be able to make a permanent home with Frank, to settle, just to have that dream crashing with the start of the WWII and after, not only the way that war changed them both, but also how she was whisked away basically right after.

* The fae heritage is my way of rationalizing the faery stones and Claire being able to travel through them. Since after the oath of the Big Three Zeus seems to have moved right to murder whatever children of Poseidon and Hades that happened to survive the war (i.e. Bianca and Nico being so obviously targeted via lightning bolt to their hotel).

Other quotes of my e-mail rant 'cause I think I worded it well there:

"And I keep imagining Claire, asides from the show and the books, as the young woman she was at the start (and boy does the fact that she and her uncle kept moving CONSTANTLY never truly settling anywhere make sense if she was a demigod of the Big Three, especially hunted by every monster in the vicinity and very hard to keep hidden/disguised even before her awareness of her powers makes her even more visible to her hunters), thinking that AT LAST she'll be able to have a HOME to call hers, somewhere to settle and just... enjoy life, when WWII happens and her every hope of having a normal happy life with Frank is torn to shreds and stepped on.

And maybe part of her knows it, that the War will break them forever, even if she won't dare to admit it till she finds herself in the 18th century. Maybe part of her feels her divine heritage calling her to action, inexorably, inevitably.

Because children of Poseidon have control over fluids [I'm taking Percy as a model here sorta], and because I've always interested in bloodbending and sad that asides from his temporary sadistic snap Percy didn't get to expand on it and explore it... because part of me is mad af that bloodbending and any type of blood magic is by default considered bad or evil with no conscience of how much good it could bring...

I imagine that when Claire at last starts being unable to ignore the "magic" in her, the something-more that has always been kept hidden underwraps due to her uncle's loving diligent efforts, is so near the frontlines she can't seem to get the smell of battle off her nose.

With a dying man at her fingertips, desperately needing to STOP BLEEDING and the doctors too overwhelmed to help her patient. Her, a nurse with definitely not enough training to fix his arteries (because oh gods, there was so little time when the world finally exploded, it was there and staring at them, the ticking bomb, but they ignored it too long and there was no time to prepare by the time it did, they couldn't do that anymore). So she's desperate.

There are so many corpses, she's seen so many dead, and not being able to help, to save them so often has broken down her barriers, broken her to the bone.

So she shatters, inside, and then she feels it. Like suddenly being aware of something that had been staring at her face the whole time, veiled till just about then. Her eyes go from honey whisky to sea green, and the blood stops flowing from her patient.

And Claire doesn't know how, or why, but the blood has stopped flowing out and she just wants the damage to be repaired, for fucks shake.

And it is. It IS, and if there are more monsters going after her she doesn't know or doesn't notice, because she's already in the middle of hell and the enemies are endless anyway.

Everywhere, all the time, barely able to rest and breathe, taking every moment of respite like the miracle it is, because tomorrow there may be none.

Seeing Frank maybe once in two years, but being too sunk in her newfound nature - She can save them! More! More! Soldiers keep finding life under her fingertips, and the harried doctors praise her and trust her more, because this girl-woman is EFFECTIVE and in war that's all that matters, and she learns more from them than she had before, while fully aware that her way of healing is intrinsecally different, but works better the better she knows human bodies and how they're supposed to work, to heal - and the endless madness that is WWII takes her full attention.

And maybe her dreams get weirder, and she keeps seeing this imposing, handsome man with a trident that tries to talk to her but she's incased in blood and nothing quite reaches her beyond her name, but she thinks it may be a fuzzy memory of her long dead father.

And one day a stranger with sea green eyes, an american soldier for sure, finds her trapped in a ditch where she thought her days would end - the bomb came so suddenly, there were German soldiers nearby, she could hear them shooting down other survivors but she's trapped beneath at least two corpses and that may have just saved her life. This stranger feels familiar, and yet not, and for maybe the first time she wonders if anyone on her father's mysterious family just happened to live in America, didn't her uncle once say that her father had moved there before meeting her mom?

(It's one of her brothers, but she'll never know that. He dies not two days later in another bomb attack and she can't help but cry like a madwoman over his corpse for hours on end)"

Aka: I need more magical Claire. And demigods. And good bloodbending.

[phaedrecameron]

House of Fraser, Chpt 2, An Unpolished Diamond

“He’s here, but the fiancée is running late,” John Grey stated as he poked his head into Jamie’s office.

“Ah, ok, I’ll go back to the studio until she arrives,” Jamie replied.

“No, Randall said he wanted to start. I’ll show her back when she gets here.”

“Oh.” Jamie pulled off his glasses, grabbed his sketchbook and Randall’s proposal. He brushed his hair behind his ear. He wore his hair slightly long; the deep red locks curling slightly at his nape. Jamie usually wore old jeans and T shirts around the studio, but for the Randall meeting he chose a pair of fitted gray trousers, a crisp pale blue Oxford shirt, his Fraser tartan socks, and brown leather lace up boots.

Jamie followed John into the conference room where Frank Randall awaited.

“Mr. Randall,” Jamie smiled as he extended his hand.

“Mr. Fraser, good afternoon.” Randall’s handshake was firm. Jamie observed his wardrobe was that of a man 15 years older than his apparent age. Jamie motioned for him to sit.

Randall wasted no time, “Mr Fraser, this wedding is very important for me, my fiancée, and my company. I’m sure you understand the importance of image and branding? My fiancée’s dress needs to be remarkable in every way. Understated, but bold. Classic, but forward thinking. Traditional, but modern. Timeless, but trend setting.”

Jamie didn’t dare glance at John for fear of loosing it on the spot. He cleared his throat. “I see. Well, I’ve brought some exemplars..”

“I’ll get tea,” John exited faster than was necessary.

Jamie had laid out several of his sketches by the time John returned with the tea and a woman. Jamie squinted in confusion.

“Darling, Claire, come sit.” Randall directed at this woman.

She came forward. It took a second for Jamie to realize this was Randall’s fiancée. She was wearing medical scrubs and trainers. Her head was adorned with an obscene mass of unruly brown curls barely contained in an off center bun. She held her mobile in her right hand and the strap of a well worn leather cross body purse slashed between her bosom.

John coughed.

Jamie immediately stood and introduced himself. When she shook his hand he caught sight of her eyes. He couldn’t even name their color. They were like the autumn turning of the leaves; brown and yellow, crisp and fragile. There was a quiet strength in her carriage.

“Look at these, Claire.” Randall began to show her the sketches Jamie had prepared.

Jamie cursed himself for his preconceptions. He’d subconsciously assumed Randall’s fiancée would be of the trophy wife variety – barely legal and full of silicone.

“Hmm. This one’s nice.” Claire turned the sketch toward Jamie.

“Aye.”

It was the embroidered satin column dress. The one Jamie was partial to as well.

“Nah darling. It’s too old Hollywood wannabe starlet.” Randall frowned and gently pulled the sketch from her hand.

Claire simply smiled and sat back in her chair. Randall pushed three of the sketches toward Jamie, “these are promising.”

Two were sleeveless halters and one heart shaped strapless. Jamie couldn’t see much of her figure, but he knew none of those would suit her.

“Well, these are just common styles. I wasna sure of Ms. Beauchamp’s measurements or…” Jaime glanced quickly to Claire, “…body type. Different styles generally work with different shapes. I’ll have an assistant take measurements…and perhaps a few photographs?”

“Oh, god.” Claire smiled at Jamie as she tried smooth her hair. “This was not the best idea after spending the night in the PICU.”

Jamie’s curiosity piqued, “what is it ye do, Ms. Beauchamp?”

“I’m a pediatric oncologist. And please, call me Claire.”

“I’ll have to start sending her prepackaged meals to the hospital. She has a tendency to miss meals when she gets over involved with a patient,” Randall patted Claire’s hand. “We can’t have you losing weight once these measurements are taken.” Jamie saw her wince at his words, but then turned to smile at Randall.

“Any theme or specific preference, Claire?” Jamie asked.

“Our professions are very important to us,” Claire said to Jamie, “and the ceremony can help Frank, so however you two think the dress should be, it will be fine by me.”

Once again, Jamie cursed himself. He didn’t know much about brides. His sister’s wedding had been a low key affair. He just assumed the woman would be more interested in the dress.

“Alright, well with the measurements, I’ll prepare more detailed sketches. Ye’ll have to come back for fittings. The dress will be tailored specifically for ye.”

Jamie noticed a pink tinge to her cheeks, but assumed it was the tea. He stepped out and found John in the hallway. “Get Marsali to take Claire’s measurements and bring me the camera, aye?”

John raised a brow at his boss, “Marsali can take the photos.”

“No, no. I’d prefer to do it myself.” Noticing John’s look, “this account is important. I wanna make sure I got everything.”

Jamie and Randall stood off to the side while Claire’s measurements were taken. “I’ve got a good feeling about you, Mr. Fraser.” Jamie tried to keep his smile pleasant. “Here,” Randall pulled cards from his inside jacket pocket, “these are our business cards. Claire’s schedule is erratic so best email her directly about the fittings and cc me any designs or photos.” Jamie noticed a third card. “Oh, that’s our wedding planner, Mary Hawkins, in case that’s of any use to you.”

Jamie nodded. He knew it was none of his business, but couldn’t help himself. “How’d ye meet?”

“Pharmaceutical conference. She was excoriating a rep regarding a faulty drug efficacy study.” Randall smiled. “I knew she was an unpolished diamond.”

Jamie tried to puzzle out his meaning, but Claire was walking toward him. “Are you taking the photos?” Claire pointed to the camera Jamie was holding.

“Aye. Just stand over by that window.” She did as directed. Jamie raised the camera and heard Randall near his ear, “I’ll leave you to it.”

“Bye, darling,” Randall shouted to Claire.

At that moment the camera clicked. Jamie would keep that photo for the rest of his life. He’d keep it in his phone, on his desk, on their bedroom dresser, he’d show it to their son at his wedding, and he would pull it out when he held his first grandchild.