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otheroutlandertales · 5 years

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The next part of the series based on the Audrey Niffenegger book The Time Traveler’s Wife. Part 1

Author’s note: Claire is 48 in this part, and in Paris with Jamie while they look for Young Ian.

The Time Traveler’s Family: Part 2

by @abbydebeaupreposts

Claire came to, her mind sifting through the fog. She could feel boots that were pinching her toes, the heavy covering of a thick skirt on her legs. She experimentally rubbed one knee against the other, noting the absence of the telltale slide of nylon-on-nylon. Taking a deep breath, she felt the push of her stays against her ribs and that at least confirmed she was somewhere in an earlier time.

The melodious peel of church bells vibrated through her chest and with a sudden snap, Claire realized where she was: L’Hôpital des Anges. She mentally chided herself. She hadn’t gone anywhere, she’d only fainted!

It shouldn’t have been hot enough to cause dehydration, but she had walked a good portion of Paris this morning and hadn’t thought to bring any water. On top of that, she’d been far too nervous to eat breakfast this morning.

She hadn’t lied to Jamie . . . exactly . . . she just hadn’t told him that she was also planning on coming here. Provisioning the ship for their journey required them to head out separately in search of supplies and arranging for their safe delivery to the wharf. They were both aware that each day they delayed lessened their chances of catching up to the scoundrels who’d kidnapped Young Ian.

One look at his stressed face when they’d arisen had decided the issue. Claire could not, simply could not utter the name of their daughter knowing how frantic Jamie was to find his nephew. Faith had been gone twenty and more years, but they had the hope of saving Ian. Jamie needed the freedom to direct his energies on that, not dwell on things long since lost.

Claire’s glass face might have given her away, or perhaps that excellent nose of his might have sniffed out the flowers - she still couldn't believe her luck in finding any this late in the year - that she’d buried under the linen lining of her market basket, but he’d been too preoccupied with organizing his own day to pay too much attention to hers.

Thinking of the flowers, Claire sat up and cast her eyes around for her basket, not finding it, she slowly rose and walked a few paces in a circle. Something in her field of vision was off, her eyes sensing the change before she had time to really process it. Was her mind playing tricks on her? Faith’s stone no longer lay at her feet. A strong gust of wind whipped a loose strand of hair across her face and she realized how warm it was, whenever she was, it definitely wasn’t November.

A sharp jolt of panic sent her stomach plummeting. She willed her breathing to steady, counting the in-and-out rhythm. As she did so, she calmed herself by concentrating on the noises around her. The modern world sounded completely different than the time before.

Claire was reassured by the cadence of carriage wheels on the stone street just the other side of the high enclosure surrounding the cemetery, the clomp of horse hooves, dog barks and goat bleats. At last she was able to think logically. Claire forced herself to acknowledge the truth. Faith's grave was missing because their daughter either hadn't come to be or, more likely, hadn't . . . wasn't . . . yet gone. Jesus H. Roosevelt Christ!

When Jamie suggested coming to Paris in all due haste and seeking help from Jared, Claire had readily agreed, feeling the same sense of urgency to get here as soon as possible. If anyone had the information they needed and the connections to secure a ship to give chase, it would be Jamie's cousin. Claire hadn't even stopped to consider the implications of being back on French soil.

Oh God! Claire was sure she didn't have the strength to relive those long ago days and nights full of intrigue, heartbreak and betrayal. It had taken months, if not years, for she and Jamie to both put the past behind them. And they had. They rarely spoke of her, then. And even now, only in the briefest of mentions.

“Red hair like her sister? Like Faith?” Jamie had asked upon seeing Bree’s baby pictures.

Overcome at hearing that name spoken out loud by this man, Claire could only nod, watching as he turned each photo over in his hands, skimming a shaky finger over each line and curve of their daughter’s changing face. When the first one in color leapt from the bundle, he made a low moan in the back of his throat. The one that he used when his feelings - of love, of laughter, of happiness - had robbed him of the power of speech.

Claire had waited more than 7,000 days to hear that sound again and her whole body numbed with the impact. She hadn’t noticed in the busy buzzing of school and work and keeping house, but the truth was it had been years since she felt such a connection to another person. She and Frank never found it again after she returned, that unity of person, but she had it for a brief fleeting time when Brianna was very young, nursing at her breast as they rocked together in the hushed serenity of a 3 AM feeding. That sacred fusion of babe and parent that bonds mother to child in those early days. It was not the same, of course, what she felt for him and what she felt for their daughter, but the way such a deep connection dissolved the individual boundary of self, it was something like it.

Intimacy. A simple word of staggering complexity. Yet the knowledge of him, of herself, of them filled her senses. The solid edge of his rigid thigh pressed against hers, the sharp unfamiliar scent of him, the savory flavor of his tongue lingering on her lips, the dance of firelight from the hearth against the faded red of his hair and the rush of her heart as it glued itself back together again.

Claire held still, spellbound, as an expression of reverence played across his features. She gently touched his hand and his palm went slack transferring the precious images of Bree into hers and fixing her with a burning look of urgency. He was incapable of doing much else. He kept his head cast downward as Claire told her story after story, drinking in the variety of Brianna’s expressions as she boldly stared out at the world with her father’s eyes . . . the same shape exactly as those of her sister.

Even now, weeks after, Claire had yet to speak of it, to tell Jamie how it felt sitting beside him that day . . . the rightness of feeling them and their daughters together even if only for one moment. “Oh that is quite enough of that, Beauchamp!” she reminded herself. Whether she was in the Paris of 1766 or 1744 made no difference. She knew very well there was nothing she could do to change what happened and torturing herself in the meantime only made it a thousand times worse. Faith would always be a wishful dream, something too precious to become real.

Claire swallowed hard, took a couple of deep breaths and reminded herself that the most important thing she needed to do now was get back to Jamie in his own time. With that goal uppermost in her mind, she was able to leave the cemetery and make her way as unobtrusively as possible through the twisting, turning corridors of L’Hôpital which she navigated by muscle memory.

She had learned over many years of such unexpected travel that one of the most important ways to fit in, even if you landed in the wrong century, was walking confidently and boldly. The destination wasn’t important - as long as you looked like you belonged, you did.

Claire reached the great hall, sighing when she didn’t see any sign of Mother Hildegard or Sister Agnes. The front entrance beckoned, the sun was shining on the threshold. But just as she neared, Bouton’s happy yip of greeting stopped her cold and she hesitated, despite knowing better. The soft pitter patter of little nails clicking against the stone approached in double time. Her heart gave a little squeeze and she knew it was her Bouton. That fuzzy, furry face she would know anywhere. She thought about trying to ignore him, but knew from experience that being denied would only result in more insistent barking.

She dropped to her haunches at once and waited for him to roll, then enthusiastically rubbed his belly. The dog abruptly jumped back to all fours a moment before her own ears picked up the sound of boot heels coming down the far stairs. Her friend cocked his ear and tilted his head side to side, watching to see what she would do.

“Sorry, Bouton, I can’t stay. Take good care, I will see you soon.” Claire rose and brushed off her hands, she was across the threshold when something brushed past her. Bouton got in front of her and dropped something at her feet, giving a bark of pride. She bent to retrieve it. A fairly decent hat with which to cover her hair. She smiled at him, feeling warm all over.

“Thank you, mes amis, I couldn’t have asked for a better old chum to run into today,” she told him as she carefully inspected the cloth, and, finding nothing chancy or moving on it, fixed it securely to her head and caught her reflection as she passed by a window. She sighed in relief, seeing how well that one small touch helped her blend in better.

Claire kept walking past the hospital, trying to figure out whether she could use any of the currency quietly clinking in the deep pocket of her skirt. Better not risk it, she decided, taking herself to task for not paying any attention to the coin when Jamie handed it to her. She had no idea if the year was customarily stamped on the money or not and couldn’t very stop and inspect it in public. Besides, she’d already spent a good deal of it purchasing supplies and sending them to the ship before setting out to L’Hôpital. Claire was always conscious of the fact that a solitary woman travelling unescorted in such times would naturally attract attention. She couldn’t pretend to be shopping, not without coin to spend, there were no lending libraries that admitted women patrons . . . Look busy! she reminded herself. Right, but how?

Claire didn’t want to head in the direction of Jared’s home. It was miles away, but she’d inevitably cross to the little district where the apothecary was situated and she might give in to the temptation to visit Master Raymond. He was the one person in Paris, aside from Bouton, who might not be shocked to see her - and her graying hair and the crows feet wrinkling her eyes. Yet, she was hesitant, remembering his sleight of hand in the star chamber. Was he really her friend? She wasn’t sure and that lack of trust weighed heavily in her mind. Instead, she turned south and focused on letting her thoughts roam freely, almost forcing herself to think about not thinking about the Paris of her youth.

Awareness settled over her as her feet struck manicured grass and her head came up. She was in the park near Jared’s warehouse. She had only strolled along its delightful paths a few times, once with Louise and Mary and a couple of times with Murtagh. Yes, over to the right were the huge blooming shrubs he had delighted in showing her. Claire made her way over toward the riot of pinks and yellows she saw in the distance, nodding and bobbing the occasional murmured greeting as she went. If her out of style clothing was noticed, no one stared, nor said a word.

She came to a small bench Murtagh showed her all those years ago tucked under the swaying branches of a willow tree and sat down in relief. Her boots were comfortable but she’d walked a great distance. She was thirsty but put that out of her mind, having no way to remedy the need. She closed her eyes and breathed the crisp, clean garden air. The sound of nature surrounded her and peace descended.

Claire must have drifted off for the next she knew the quiet had been broken by the zing of rapiers clashing and the echoing grunts of effort. Two men engaged in some mock battle. In Brianna’s time they’d called it the sport of fencing, but here, in this time, it was practical training. She couldn’t parse out the words themselves but instantly caught the rhythm of the speech. Gaelic, she was sure of it. Claire shot to her feet in blind panic looking around wildly and realized suddenly that the way the branches fell sheltered her completely from the direction of the swordplay.

She couldn't help moving to the edge of the shelter of protection and peeking between the curtain of swaying branches and leaves. An enormous sigh of longing escaped her lips as she caught sight the back of Jamie’s broad back, red hair glinting in the sunlight as he thrust downward. His broadsword clashing with an almighty clang as it struck the one Murtagh held firm using both his hands. Murtagh pulled both arms upwards, causing Jamie to jump back. A good thing too, or his head would now be laying on the grass beside his feet.

“Fight it that's it, focus . . . Concentrate, lad, no . . . hold on!” Murtagh encouraged. Their arms were rigid, weapons braced against one another in what looked clear to be a stalemate but Jamie’s arms were shaking badly. Her eyes stayed on his left hand, wrapped in the special compression brace she had fashioned together and which Jamie had faithfully worn everyday since they had left the Abbey.

“Christ, man, I canna do it,” Jamie responded as sweat broke out along his forehead. Claire watched as his knees buckled and he fought to remain engaged in the fight.

“Ye ken how to get out of this, lad, so do it,” Murtagh reminded him. Jamie gave a mighty heave and twisted his body forcing the steel to disengage and readjusting his stance. The motions of thrust and parry went on for a few minutes more, but Jamie's body remained with its back turned to her.

Suddenly the two men laughed, patted one another on the back and Jamie threw down his weapon, reaching for a bottle of ale resting in the grass at his feet. She watched, quite startled, as Murtagh shouted then appeared to take a run at the crowd of onlookers that had stopped to gawk at their games. Claire ducked back into the shadows, fearing detection. She didn’t dare move and kept her eyes glued on Murtagh, willing him to stay away from her hiding spot. She held her breath as she watched him retreat back to the hillside to rejoin Jamie. As Murtagh knelt down, Claire caught her first direct view of Jamie’s face and gasped, the sound echoing loudly in the cocoon of her shelter.

He looked good - Jesus-H.-Make-Mine-A-Double-Christ! - better than good. He thrummed with the vitality and self-confidence of a man in his prime. His eyes had lost that haunted aspect that had marked their time in the Abbey and sparkled with amusement at something Murtagh said. His body was sound. She noted that his arm was still tucked up tight to his chest, the fingers splayed and unbending, but that was the only outward sign of his ordeal. Then he smiled and she forgot how to breathe.

Over the years, Claire had forgotten that for all that Paris had been rife with sorrow it had also been the place of Jamie’s rebirth, his healing and in many ways the place of his making. Observing him now, she could see what she’d not noticed, then.

Gone was that impulsive, young man she’d wed. The one who cheerfully told her he hadn’t much to offer a wife, but promised to keep her fed. As if the only barometer for universal happiness - marital or otherwise - was a full stomach. Given his age and lack of experience with courtship, he’d likely thought that to be true.

In his place now stood a man who had walked through the very heart of darkness and survived. It had been touch and go and it had taken months and, Claire realized now, it had taken this city - and a chance to test himself by swimming in unfamiliar - if not shark infested - waters that had become his proving ground. Jamie relearned the way of himself and that had allowed them to forge a deeper connection, one that had stayed in tact all these years.

The phrase “egghead and lard bucket” carried on the breeze followed by a “curiously large head” and then she heard the sound of his laugh and she caught a look at his face as his head turned with a smile as bright as the sun.

Tears sprung from her eyes and she pressed her fingers tight against her lips to keep from crying out. Christ, I hope he knew how much I loved him, that in my restlessness and grief I hope I told him that much, at least. Quite unable to look at Jamie without continuing to fall apart, Claire turned her gaze instead to his companion. He was, per usual, scowling as he kept up a grumbling commentary regarding the olfactory delights of France.

Claire wanted to give him a hug and never let him go. Thank you, thank you, thank you! For being his godfather, for always taking care of him. God, may he be safe, wherever he may be. She prayed. She hoped they would find him one day, that she’d be able to tell him herself how dear he was to them.

As if Jamie had heard her thoughts, he said, “Did I ever thank ye, Murtagh?” Jamie was looking out over the long expanse of high society on parade in the park and not at Murtagh.

“What for?” Murtagh squirmed uncomfortably. Jamie made a scoffing sound. What, indeed.

“For my life? for Claire’s? For our child’s?” Jamie said softly, looking at Murtagh now with an expression of unabashed gratitude. “Willie - afore we left the Abbey - said Dougal didn't want them to go to Wentworth but ye convinced the rest to join ye.”

Murtagh scoffed. “Twasna me, yer lady, she did all that,” he said pausing a moment. “Do ye ken we spent weeks searching for ye?”

“What?” Jamie’s eyes widened in astonishment.

“Och, aye, up and doon the coast. I danced,” Murtagh gave him a shaggy browed wiggle when Jamie laughed, “Aye, that’s about what it was like, But Claire, ye should ha’ seen her, man. We tried everything we could ta talk to as many as we could hoping word would spread and ye’d pick up our trail as yer had gone cold about four days after Ian came limping back to Lallybroch. She told fortunes and did the doctoring and when that didna work she wrote songs and joined me on the stage.”

“My Sassenach?” Jamie’s eyes had gone huge. Claire bit the inside of her lip it was difficult for her to imagine it, too, and she’d been there!

“Och, aye, a bonnie-wee-lark is yer woman and stubborn as the day is long, forebye. When we discovered a band of Roma had stolen her song and was driving our crowds away by using it, there was a stramash the likes of which I’ve never seen. When Dougal was inclined no’ to be generous, she did the same to him and it was she that got the lads to agree wi’ that mad scheme.” What Murtagh hadn’t said was that the mad scheme in question, using the coos as a diversion had been his clever idea, but somehow Jamie knew that.

Jamie placed his hand on Murtagh’s shoulder, “As I said, I owe ye much, goistidh.”

“Jamie, ye are as a son to me. I dinna say it often but ye ken my heart.” Murtagh said so quietly Claire had to hold her breath to catch the words. “How are ye doing? Tell me the truth.” Murtagh’s steady gaze stayed on Jamie’s face. For the first time, Jamie looked uncomfortable in his own skin.

“During the day, I’m fine, dinna think of . . . it, hardly at all,” Jamie told him. “Most nights I’m alright as well. I’m no’ overly fond of cavortin’ with the prince, that poppinjay's bannocks arena quite baked all the way through, if ye ask me and spending time wi’ him is tedious, but sometimes it’s . . . easier to be out wi’ him than home.” Jamie sat heavily on his bum and leaned a shoulder into Murtagh’s.

Claire thought about leaving. This was getting far too personal and her throat felt like she’d swallowed broken shards of misery. “She still looks at me as she did before, makes me feel like I hung the moon for her alone and I . . . canna say what it does to my soul to see her shape change day by day wi’ the bairn. God, she deserves so much more than I can give her. It’s still mixed up for me, Claire and Randall and it’s no’ her fault, but mine. I canna get my mind clear. Yet whenever she is near I ache to . . .” The rest of what he said was lost on the wind, his face had turned away from Claire and Murtagh. She saw Murtagh bend his head and could catch a murmuring response but nothing distinctive.

“Do you think she kens?” Jamie’s face was turned back in her direction and Claire felt lightheaded as she focused on the tender expression in his eyes.

I do, Jamie. Never doubt that. Claire thought as her body started to fly. She sighed in relief and didn’t fight it.

When she came to, she felt the chill in the crisp November air at once and knew she’d returned to the Cemetery of the Angels. She took a few breaths waiting for the dizziness to clear then slowly got to her feet. With enormous relief she spotted her basket leaning against a small stone. She reached inside and pulled the precious bundle of tulips from the bottom of the sack. Still fresh, telling her that not too much time had passed.

Claire reoriented herself and walked toward Faith’s stone. She caught a wink of color that defined itself as she moved closer. Her heart tightened like a vice in her chest. A posy of violets, their beautiful deep purple vivid against that cold gray stone, set precisely between the words Faith and Fraser.

But I am not the man you knew these twenty years past. His words to her upon their reunion echoed in her mind. No, she thought, you are so much more. And with a shaky hand, Claire lay her tulips on top of his, their offerings forming a cross.

Jamie looked up from the scratching of his quill with quiet satisfaction, always pleased when he could get a sentence to go clear across the page neatly, as Claire bustled through the door to their room. “Ach, there ye are, Sassenach, I was just wondering how ye faired wi’ the-” Jamie let out an Eep! of surprise as her body slammed into his, locking him in a full body kiss.

His lips asked questions she wouldn’t answer and he decided to curb his curiosity. She was in a terrible rush to get his shirt off and when she started unlacing his breeks, he responded on an elemental level to the raw desperation of her desire, helping her get her own shirt and then her stays off in short order.

He attempted to stand, to lay her out on the bed and love her properly, but she placed her hands on his shoulders and held him rooted to the chair with a strangled sound that tried for English but emerged as feral.

“What is it, love?” Jamie crooned softly, “Tell me, my own.” He grabbed her hair in a ponytail and yanked it back hard, forcing her to look him in the eye, at last. He stared at her, refusing to look away or let her do so, either.

Her lips were sunkissed and swollen. She looked like she’d been crying. He bent his mouth and flicked his tongue over the valley between her breasts, tang and salt, outside the contoured trail of his lips he could see her skin covered in grime, evidence of the kind of day she’d had.

He inhaled deeply, thinking how he could maneuver his body lower to further the explorations of his mouth when his brain registered something unexpected. He bent his head again and sniffed, casual at first then picking up more steam, like a pig rooting out a truffle. His nose never failed him. After a minute or so he looked up at her.

“Ye care to tell me why ye smell like new cut grass and it’s November?”

“I saw you this afternoon.” Claire said by way of an explanation, which he’d noticed provided no answer at all.

“And ye didna call out to me?” Jamie’s eyebrows rose trying to figure out where their paths might have intersected on their respective errands. He wondered if maybe she’d gone to see Faith, too? But if so, why did she not say anything?

He knew she’d been uneasy ever since learning of Laoghaire but it had been Ian’s abduction - while trying to bring back the treasure they needed to be free of her - that had opened this particular chasm between them. All of the challenges of living then, to say nothing of its dangers, death and disease, floated across her face as she sat beside him trying to soothe him with reassuring words, while he - useless, helpless man that he was - sat on that hill staring into the gloam long after Ian’s ship had slipped over the horizon - still shaking his head in disbelief.

Finally, she adjusted his sling and urged him to action. Before setting sail for France, he offered to take her back to Craigh Na Dun. He had to force the words from his lips and his heart hammered in terror waiting for her response. The fact that his suggestion had not been greeted with the kind of shocked protestation he had prayed to hear but more of a “Focus on Ian, we’ll talk of this later,” came back into his memory now.

He should have told her what he had planned that afternoon and asked her to come, too. But when they arose, she’d barely touched their meal, kept fiddling with her basket, pulling out all her wee notations regarding needed supplies for the ship’s surgery. He tried to broach it a couple of times but Claire wouldn’t make eye contact with him and he found he didn’t have the courage to bring it up and risk her upset. If she’d not mentioned it, then he shouldn’t call it to mind, either. They were back to keeping secrets from one another.

Jamie could bear anything in this world except being parted from her again, but the moment his fingers traced the faded letters of Faith’s name, he knew he’d made a terrible mistake and wished he’d spoken of it first thing this morning. When he returned to an empty room, her absence nearly drove him mad. Her instant need of him upon her return was a much needed balm on his anxious heart.

Claire gave him a shake of the head and a brave little smile that let him know she hadn’t meant she’d seen him today but something else.

“Oh?” He ventured cautiously. He knew what she was and he’d seen it happen a number of times but that was then and it hadn’t happened since she’d been back.

“In the Jardins des plantes,” her gaze was steady but he saw the flicker of deep emotion inside her. It had been over two decades since he’d last been in that park. His mind raced to try and figure out what she needed him to say.

He finally settled on, “Had ye been back in Paris before today?”

“No!” Claire genuinely seemed horrified at the thought. “I haven’t set foot in France since 1743, and I never intended to do so in my lifetime again. You remember how it works?” She was watching him and when he hesitatingly nodded, she continued, “I can only travel a short distance . . . er . . . geographically speaking, that is, and my actions can’t change what has already happened.”

“Did ye see yerself, then?” Jamie asked her but he didn’t seem as upset as she would’ve thought. As if reading her mind he added, “God, I’d love to see ye round and fat in yer silk and lace again, Sassenach.”

“No, I told you, I saw you . . . oh, and Murtagh.”

Jamie made an affirmative noise in the back of his throat. “Ye ken, Paris wouldna ha’ been the same wi’ his sunny countenance.”

“Oh, stop, Murtagh is a great travel companion!” Claire laughed.

“Aye, and no one I’d rather have guarding my back. It was an act of grace, seeing that face, wearing gray whiskers and rags, at Ardsmuir. It felt good to be the one caring for him for once. I hope we can find him again, Sassenach and bring him home.”

“That would be wonderful.”

“Tell me what happened today,” he encouraged.

“I spent the last twenty years not going to the places we shared. To find myself in Paris, then?” Claire shuddered. “To run into myself and to know? I might have tried to forewarn but then I would have condemned myself dreading new day fearing what would come instead of savoring every day to come. Knowing the future hasn’t helped us avert disaster so far.”

“So ye didna want to run into anyone ye knew and ended up in the park?” Jamie surmised.

“Yes, indeed. Imagine my surprise when I realized you were just on the other side of the willow tree that shielded me from your view. You were so young, Jamie. Full of grace and in great spirits. Murtagh brings out a very playful side of you. I’d forgotten how much fun you had with each other. Then, watching you, I realized how much we had enjoyed being here. All the wonderful things we had found here, too. We were part of history, something so much bigger than ourselves. It was thrilling and full of grand possibilities. I look back on our lives here and can’t believe that was us, at Versailles, dining with the prince, so much beauty and luxury.”

At this Jamie snorted, “Aye, too bad the two of us are more at home in a tent on the moor than in a mansion wi’ servants.”

“That’s true, but I still appreciate everything Jared did for us - and is still willing to do for us. Being here set me on the path to becoming a doctor and helped by giving you a different kind of purpose.” Jamie nodded and Claire continued, “It was here we found Fergus.” Jamie smiled in memory. “Nothing turned out like we’d hoped in Paris but it had been magical and after today, I can look back on it and remember it that way.”

“Swords, was it?” Jamie beamed when he heard her sigh lustily.

“Jamie you looked . . .” Words failed her, she had no other way to tell him but to show him, kissing him passionately with an explosion of soft mewling noises he found deeply gratifying, if only because they echoed the ones she was drawing from his lips.

Jamie let himself be diverted for a good long while. Claire hadn’t responded to his physical presence like this since they were in Edinburgh and he was mightily roused by her reaction. Yet, just as she was about to get completely carried away, he pushed her body back and looked searchingly at her.

“Claire?” he began, and she looked dazed, her cheeks pink from exertion. “Was it . . . that is, I dinna want to make assumptions about how yer feeling nor imply that ye should feel--” it was his turn for pinkened cheeks now.

“Jamie,” Claire held her hand out to him,”Just say it, whatever it is. Trust that I will listen with my heart and try and understand. When things go unsaid . . . that's when trouble starts for us, I think.”

Jamie nodded and started over, “I ken why ye couldna bear to . . . I dinna blame ye one bit. But I think maybe yer fretting about making that choice - no’ for yerself or me, but for her sake.” Seeing her stunned expression, Jamie started second guessing himself, but he'd gone this far, he needed to finish. “Will ye maybe find some . . . comfort in knowing she wasna alone today? I was wi’ her, brought her a wee posy, told her how much we both love and miss her; asked her to watch o’er her little sister for us. If she’s anything like Jenny, she’ll have been doing it all along.”

“Oh, Jamie,” Claire bit her bottom lip hard willing herself not to burst into tears. How did he manage to cut her wide open and then cauterize the wound in less than five sentences? “I saw your violets when I brought her tulips. That’s where was. I awoke in the cemetery, but her grave wasn’t there.”

“Christ, Claire.” Jamie’s eyes swam with unshed tears. The second Claire reached her hand to his cheek, they spilled over, across her fingers, leaking down the back of her hand.

“I’ve needed to say something to you since Edinburgh, no, it’s not supposed to make you cry harder,” Claire gave him a sobbing hiccup, “You are, and have always been, a wonderful father, Jamie. I never told you that and I should have. I couldn’t think of anything more important than returning to you to make sure you knew it. Thank you, for giving them to me and for keeping our family together.”

“Ye thought that wouldna make me cry? Jesus, Claire, what ye do to me,” he said into her ear as he crushed her to him.

Sometime later, on the edge of sleep, he whispered, “Yer wrong though, Sassenach.”

“Hmmm?” she said in drowsy reply.

“Knowing the future did help. A great deal. Kept Jenny and the bairns alive, kept me from being hanged. It’s maybe true for the big things ye canna change time, for its stubborn and fights back. But in hundreds of small ways, it mattered. Hearing ye speak of our adventures worries me some, though. Do ye think ye can be content once we have Ian in hand just living a quiet life wi’ me in a highland croft?” It was said in a flirty tone but Claire heard the anxiety underneath.

“Yes, but don’t count the chickens in your kale yard just yet, life may have more surprises in store, General Fraser.”

#otheroutlandertales #outlander fanfiction #mod abby #pair: jamie x claire #ch: jamie #ch: claire #ch: murtagh #canon au #category: mf #time traveler's family #oot

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gotham-ruaidh · 5 years

Note

I was wondering if you can name five of your favourite fanfics and what you think you have learned about the author through them. Thanks!

1. Faith Restored by @lenny9987 - I admire how patient and methodical she is in her approach to writing, and in the execution of how she writes this story. She is incredibly disciplined and teases out small details that are just stunning. And of course the entire premise of this AU just breaks my heart and makes it soar all at the same time.

2. Clair(e)voyance by @notevenjokingfic - I admire her approach to writing, as it’s completely different from my own. She allows stories to ruminate in her head before she starts writing them down - this is a bit similar to my own process, while at the same time completely different as I’ll just sit down and start writing to see what happens. She is so incredibly detailed and creative in her writing, and she sets a standard that I aspire to.

3. Constellations Series by @kalendraashtar - I admire how Kal so skillfully creates these fully-formed miniature worlds in each vignette. I’ve learned from her how to dive in and out of a story and to just leave it alone, no matter how much you may want to return to that world. And through the way she interacts with her readers, I’ve learned to always say thank you to kind words, to always acknowledge and celebrate every reader and every bit of feedback.

4. Dawning in Dust by @diversemediums - I admire how she so skillfully placed Jamie and Claire in a post-apocalyptic world that was one the one hand fantastical and on the other hand completely believable. I learned that we share a deep love for The Walking Dead and all the fascinating plot points that such a world creates. This is the story that introduced us to each other, and I’ve gained a very valued friend as a result.

5. So Long As I’m With You by @claryclark - I am honored that she allowed me to be part of her process in brainstorming for plot ideas and then polishing the story to make a shining gem of a story even brighter. Having such an up close view of her process helped me think about how I plan out my own stories, and it was really fun to share ideas and tips with her.

===> I tag @calliopemoonbeam @just-a-kid-at-heart @mybeautifuldecay @alt-megan @abbydebeaupreposts - what say you?

#outlander #outlander fanfic #writing about writing

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rochibolettieri · 5 years

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Let’s talk about writers and fanfiction

Over the past weeks I saw a lot of writers in my dash receiving tons of nasty anons criticizing their style of writing, writers I really appreciate even if they don’t know me. Then came the plagiarism thing, so i decided to write a few things about the matter (forget my English, is not my first language 🙃)

I have to be honest, a year and a half ago, I thought of fanfiction as a silly thing until I decided to give it a try and read and definitely changed my mind. I have no idea how to write fiction is, the only approach I have about the subject is the journalistic writing I have to do for school and even if it’s different, I get that the feeling of posting something you’ve done can be scary, nerve-racking, gives you a lot of anxiety. Will people like it? Is it a silly thing to post? What if I said something wrong, if I’m misunderstood?

What I intend to say with this, is that it takes a lot of courage to publish something so intimate, something to which you dedicated a lot of time, effort and what you did with love, and also, for free. And I say intimate because I firmly believe that when writing fiction, a part of each writer appears there, a piece of how they are, what they think, their believes. As for example in the last chapter of BTY. I don’t know @balfeheughlywed , we never talked but I read a post recently about how that chapter meant for her to be a love letter to motherhood and it perfectly reflects her intention while mixing it with the story (beautiful chapter btw, I end up crying when Jamie started to talk to their bairn)

When it comes to feelings, many times the way to channel them is through writing. Other times it is through music, painting, dancing, etc. there are a lot of ways to express them, but since we are talking about written stories, let's keep it that way. I think what Lauren did was something beautiful, I’m not a mother but I thought of my mom and what she has been through, and it must have been a terrible yet beautiful experience. Other author I can think of right now is @whiskynottea with Death dreams. Her writing there is so beautiful yet so painful because she talks about things that happens in the real life. I sort of know how it is to live with someone suffering depression and let me tell you, it breaks your heart. Her portrayal of Claire as the partner of the one suffering, and Jamie as the depressed one seems so real, like you can feel what they feel in every chapter, and is a clever decision to add topics maybe not everyone is brave enough to talk about, be it depression, abortion, PTSD, miscarriages, some terminal disease…

Also, I want to comment on the subject of plagiarism. Since the beginning of last year I read OL fanfiction, and I can *shamefully* say that I read a lot, much more than all the books I have on my shelf that I didn’t read yet. And in many cases things are repeated, such as the meeting of the main characters, how they fall in love, the use of quotes from the original books, even the personalities of the characters involved. That doesn’t mean to plagiarize anyone’s work, in my opinion, it’s because within this community, many people think about the characters in a way (i.e. Frank being an abusive sexist who cheats on his partner and doesn’t care), many topics are repeated (Jamie being librarian, Claire being a doctor), what really changes is how each one writes a story based on it, and among everything I read, it's always different, because as everyone is different, so is their writing.

But also, we are in 2019 guys, I doubt there’s something that hasn’t been invented yet, everything gets recycled, so what’s the point in blaming people for writing similar things? Also, what a waste of time to be searching some specific quote of a fic and compare it with another one, i’m tired with only think about it.

For me, writing it’s a very difficult thing to achieve since I suck at words and have no idea how to express my feelings/what I want to say properly (you are seeing that now, haha). But these people out there who week after week transmit magic with each chapter, who write them in such a poetic way, research enough to give a quality content, deserve nothing but praise. If you don’t like what they write, there is only one thing to do, don’t read it. And if you have nothing good to say, it is better to say nothing. There is no reason to be filling their inbox with horrible comments, insults, pointing their mistakes if there’s no a constructive reason behind. Im always saying this but we don´t know what’s in each other lives, so maybe by leaving those things, you’re ruining their day.

There is a huge variety of styles to choose from, so it's a matter of looking for what you like and keep going. There are stories that are simpler to read, others more complicated, with metaphors, more description, maybe more elaborated (I don’t say that the simple ones are bad, but they are easier to read, at least for me, and I like it), some have shorter chapters, others longer. There are about J/C, about secondary characters, one shoots, multichapters, fluffy, angsty, canon divergence, AU... And luckily, the number of people who dare to write their own stories grows day by day, and the ones we already know improves every week, with every new story so, why don’t we go for kindness, good comments, and constructive criticism instead of sending hateful inboxes?

For writers: I can’t express how much happiness you give me every day, how I improved my English since I started reading. Reading every story makes me understand how you write the characters we love (and hate), how you understand them, how can you put them in different scenarios, different eras, in which they are presidents, florists, doctors, professors, businessmen, swimmers, make them go through difficult times, beautiful ones, and that so and all you make them shine. The possibilities you have are immense and I can’t wait to read everything they have to offer, because I’m sure is going to be a masterpiece. I know is easier said than done but it’s better to focus in the ones who really cares for the time you put into this, who waits impatiently for a sneak peak, an entire chapter, background information about your story, pics, whatever. Haters gonna hate and I personally believe it had nothing to do with you, they are just mean people, maybe bored ones who thinks is funny to send those kind of messages and don’t really care if they are hurting you in the process. Keep doing your thing, you are free to do it and there are a lot of people willing to read whatever you do.

Thank you for being brave enough to share a piece of you, of your creativity and sorry for being lazy and sometimes forget to leave a comment, or read the chapters 657946 years later, believe me when I say I do love everything you write and I end up laughing, crying, jumping in my bed when some characters kiss for the first time after a long slow burn, and sometimes completely shooked at the end of every chapter and wanting for more ❤️❤️❤️

@imagineclaireandjamie @missclairebelle @notevenjokingfic @abbydebeaupreposts @kalendraashtar @jmoonrise @sassenachwaffles @lenny9987 @curlsgetdemgurls @bonniebird17 @wunderlichkind @julesbeauchamp @sassenachwriter @ladyviolethummingbird @jack-andthestalk @balfeheughlywed @claryclark @thatsoccercoach @kkruml @whiskynottea @laythornmuse @magnoliasinbloom @written-rebellion @phaedrecameron @takemeawaytocamelot @thefraserwitch @gotham-ruaidh @mybeautifuldecay @mo-nighean-rouge @monigheandonn1743 @suhailauniverse @anoutlandishfanfic @owlish-peacock36 @devaigh @holdhertightandsayhername @dancinginadaydream @crossinginstyle (i’m sorry if i forgot someone 🙏🏼)

I hope this makes sense since I’m writing this with the help of google translator bc I’m tired, sleepy and my English sucks lately 😊

#Outlander #outlander fanfic #outlander fanfiction #outlander fandom #fanfic writers #writers #fanfiction #thoughts #just some sort of love letter to writers #we are all work in progress #so let people be #and create #and express #and among all things #be kind

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whiskynottea · 5 years

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What’s your favourite...

I was tagged by the sweet @phoenixflames12 ! Thank you dear, and thank you for the Wine and Whisky mention! ❤️

Outlander book: Written in My Own Heart’s Blood (aka MOBY) (ABOSAA is a close second)

Outlander character: Claire Elizabeth Beauchamp Fraser

Jamie and Claire moment: “Then they’ll shoot me where I stand, sir, for I will not leave her side!” (MOBY)

Secondary character moment: Ugh they are so many. Ian killing the wolves in the woods, Rachel saying to him “Thee is my wolf.” and Bree playing “warmer, colder” with Mandy to find Jem.

Plot twist: Everything apart from “And then he/she woke up. It was all a dream.”

For Fanfic readers/writers

Canon compliant fic: Out of Time by @futurelounging

Canon divergent: The Last all Clear by @bonnie-wee-swordsman

Modern AU: This is Us by @abbydebeaupreposts , Stealing Tomorrow by @kalendraashtar, Our Story by @westerhos , Clair(e)voyance by @notevenjokingfic

Rare Pair Fic: True North by @ianmuyrray, Death of the Author by @futurelounging , Popcorn And Haydust by @wunderlichkind

Missing Moments: Everything @theministerskat writes and Other Ocean by @ianmuyrray.

Series/Multi-chapter fic: Scalamandre by @futurelounging, Flood my mornings by @bonnie-wee-swordsman, Vergangenheit by @phoenixflames12 and Where You Lead by @mo-nighean-rouge

Trope: Not a fan of tropes here.

OC: Hannah from The Gardener by @futurelounging

Quote: “When she reads what she has written, just as the train is pulling in to the station, she finds the meandering hopes and dreams and worries all converge on one truth. That love is not soaring or proud, but an invisible current carrying two souls downstream. She lifts her feet from the stream bed and lets it carry her away.”

and “This man who has fought and lost and died, rises in the moonlight to soothe his child, to sing with a broken voice and embrace with a battered body and finds he is whole.”

Both from Death of the Author.

And I’m inviting everyone who feels like it to play!

#so many fanfic so little time #tag game #outlander books #outlander fanfiction

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laythornmuse · 6 years

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Where We Begin, Epilogue

Between Jamie’s minor infections a few days after waking and Ellie’s slow weight gain, it took about three weeks to get the entire Fraser family back to Lallybroch. Claire walked up the stone steps to their newly finished house, knowing nothing was unpacked or set up beside the bassinet and the changing table, but not giving a damn. She’d sleep in their home tonight with all three of them under the same roof, even if it meant sleeping on the floor.

4 Months Ago, their wedding night.

Claire never imagined being pregnant on her wedding day, and certainly not as pregnant as she currently was, but as Jamie tucked her into his side while laughing with John, she couldn’t imagine the day any differently.

She wore a simple white A-line dress with a belt of Fraser plain tied around her waist. Jamie wore his kilt and black tailored jacket with a white crisp button down beneath it. They spoke their vows at the Lallybroch chapel at dusk as the stray beams of light penetrated the windowless stone building. Jamie led her through the Gaelic vows as well, and Claire felt the power of their tradition-seeped actions as they said the words many Frasers said before them. Jamie’s arm held her close as his hand cupped her chin, and she felt her hands circle his waist as he pressed a soft kiss to her lips.

That was several hours ago, and now their remaining guests were retiring to the spare bedrooms and bidding the happy couple farewell. Eying her Fraser, Claire felt a heat flush her cheeks as desire sloshed through her veins. Damn hormones, she thought with a grin. Though she desired Jamie often, pregnancy had enhanced the suddenness and severity of her cravings. Her fingernail deftly scratched a path up the back of his thigh and his eyes darkened with understanding.

Within a few minutes, they finished their farewells, and Jamie helped her into the passenger seat of his car. When they turned in the opposite direction of their hotel, Claire shot Jamie a questioning stare, but he remained silent. When he stopped the car, he ran to Claire’s side and led her to the center of a dirt plot.

“Where are we exactly?”

“Well, you see the roped off stakes? It marks where we’ll pour the foundation…for our home.”

Claire’s mouth worked, opening and shutting on its hinge, but words failed her. “Here? I thought you wanted space from Lallybroch.”

He shrugged his shoulder. “It’s about two miles down the road. Far enough that Jenny can’t burst through the front door when's she pleases.” His grin slipped as he met her gaze. “But, I wanted your opinion before we broke ground. It’s a 15-minute commute to downtown Inverness, and its near to Lallybroch while being ours.” He tipped her chin up so her eyes met his. “What do you think?”

“I…think I love it, Jamie,” she breathed as she stepped closer to him. “Really? We can build what we want right here?”

“Mmhmm. I know we agreed to no’ take an official honeymoon with the investigation pending, but I thought this would be a good use for all your nesting energy.”

“Well, it beats reorganizing the drawers again,” she said as she pressed a kiss to his lips.

“Do you love it? Truly?”

“I do,” Claire answered, as she moved her hand under his kilt and took hold of him. Jamie let out a gasp as he ground his hips forward into her grip, his tongue sweeping across her lower lip.

“Damn it, woman. I was trying to be romantic.”

“You were. But I’d like you to ravage me now.”

“Do husbands ravage their wives? It hardly sounds like the holy act the Bible describes.” Jamie whispered against her ear.

“Perhaps in England they don’t.” She snickered as she backed away from him. “But this wife would rather be treated as your whore at the moment.”

Claire dropped onto her hands and knees and pulled her dress up to her waist, revealing her garter belt, stockings and nothing else covering her slick folds. Jamie growled as he dropped to his knees behind her, running his hands over her bare behind and the tight garter bands running down the back of her thighs. Thank God her doctor removed her from pelvic rest.

“If you’re going to play a whore, I want the sounds that come with it.” He pushed himself inside of her fully and a groan escaped him as her wetness surrounded him. His fingers traced her entrance where his cock impaled her, gathering her dripping fluids before his fingers moved to her clit. She trembled as the pad of middle finger rubbed gentle circles into her nub, and a throaty grunt escaped her.

“Like that, Claire,” he moaned as he began to move inside of her.

Claire dropped onto her elbows, pushing backward when Jamie thrust, resulting in the warm thrumming of his tip against her cervix. He stretched her from this angle, and she felt full and exposed as he pushed her knees apart. When his hands pulled her cheeks apart, she cried out and keeled against the thumb that drifted into her cleft.

“Like that, is it?” He growled as he increased his speed. He didn’t realize he could get any harder until she looked over her right shoulder and met his gaze. Her mouth was open, and the sweetest squeaks and cries escaped her as he rode her.

“Harder,” she gasped. “Please. Harder.”

He sank his thumb into her and watched in awe as she convulsed and tightened her core. She screamed out her pleasure as she came, and her tight pulsing orgasm sent him reeling over the edge. They both collapsed onto their sides, breathing heavily as their limbs sought contact with one another.

“God. I needed that,” Claire rasped.

“Aye,” Jamie breathed out, his chest still heaving, as he caught her eye and smiled. “Happy to serve ye, love.”

Claire smacked his side before snuggling into his chest. He pressed a kiss to her forehead as he held her close, and together they stared up at the night sky whispering to each other of their future home, their future lives, and all the happiness they’d find between those roped off stakes.

Hard to believe that was only 4 months ago. The house was planned and built within 3.5 months, a near impossible feat that wouldn’t have happened without their incredibly talented construction firm.

Claire had only officially picked up the keys that morning, but both she and Jamie were anxious for their own space after weeks at the hospital. He carefully tucked a blanket around Ellie’s sleeping form as he unclasped the car seat carrier and joined Claire on the stone steps.

“What’s amiss?” He spoke softly as his hand rested on her hip.

“Nothing. I’m just…so grateful to be here. Finally.”

He nodded as he looked up at home. “It’s not final though, Claire. This is where we begin, the three of us.”

“I know,” she whispered. She met his gaze and let a smirk cross her face. “Are you ready to assemble the crib then?”

“After our bed is made. God, I miss our bed.”

She chuckled and then let out a shriek as Jamie hoisted her up onto his hip. With his lasses in his arms, Jamie carried his small family over the threshold of their new home and began the laughter that would echo through their walls for years to come.

~FIN~

Author’s Note:

Thank you, everyone, for following me on this journey with this first fanfiction that I began nearly a year ago. I’ve met so many wonderful people in this last year, and though I started fanfiction in other fandoms over the years, this may be the first one I ever finished. The Tumblr community is so special and encouraging, and I thank all of YOU for all your asks, questions, comments and likes over the last year to not only get me to finish this fic but then start two more.

Thank you so much for your support <3 @gotham-ruaidh @abbydebeaupreposts @whiskynottea @notevenjokingfic @smoakingwaffles @notyobeerwench @missclairebelle @mybeautifuldecay @jules-fraser @cantrixgrisea @balfeheughlywed

AND ALL THE WRITERS IN THIS COMMUNITY!

#LTM Where We Begin

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phoenixflames12 · 6 years

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A quick comment on commenting

A small continuation to this post:

There’s something really strange about being in the Outlander fandom at the moment, particularly when you cross post (as I do) to AO3 as well as tumblr and that’s the culture of commenting.

I cut my fandom and fanfiction teeth in 2012/13 with the Les Miserables and BBC Robin Hood fandoms over on fanfiction.net when commenting on people’s work was commonplace. Fast forward five years or so and with the popularity of tumblr as a posting platform and the rise of the like/reblog on tumblr, which I absolutely adore- please don’t get me wrong, commenting on platforms such as AO3, in my opinion, unless it’s a fic written by a ‘popular author’, has swerved quite drastically out of fashion. I know that as a reader, I’m as guilty of this as the next person, but as an author who is pouring her lifeblood, and as much time as she has (which is limited at the moment) into her current work and is only hearing crickets and the occasional nightingale of a comment (thanks @abbydebeaupreposts!), it is quite disheartening.

I know that Vergangenheit (the latest chapter, An Escape is on AO3 here) isn’t the typical fic that most people go to for some Outlander escapism. It’s set in period of history that for most people is still very close to home, it’s gritty, it’s painful, it’s ablaze with angst and hurt and loss and has a fractured, very out of character Jamie and a host of secondary characters (i.e the Fraser children) and OCs that cross their paths as its’ protagonists. The title of ‘fic of the moment’ is saved for @missclairebelle‘s epic, painful modern AU ‘Loss’ (do yourself a favour and read her latest instalment) and @kalendraashtar‘s ‘Scalpel and Needle’ and anything that @gotham-ruaidh writes and rightly so, because those ladies have some insane talent- but please, save some thought for the rest of us.

This fandom is full of such talented writers on AO3 as well as here, so please, if you have a moment, send us all some love!

Much love,

Phoenixflames12 xxx

#phoenix prattle #writing things #fanfiction #fanfiction writer appreciation #psa

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thebrochtuarachs · 6 years

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4, 8, 12 👾

bonI don’t know what 12 means. I meant 13. Good lord.

@missclairebelle, you always ask and send me questions. I appreciate it and you so much ❤ also, i didn’t understand what question 13 meant too, haha!

4. What a fic that changed the way the way you write?

I’ve been reading fanfics for a long, long time even before I fell down the rabbit hole that is Outlander - but I would say that the writers in this fandom are just the best of the best in all the fandoms I am in.

I always say I am in awe of other authors’ writing because I really am and do. I’ve written fanfic for other fandoms before just because I wanted to share my own one-shot and fluffs. However, it’s only here in the Outlander that I tried my hand in multi-fic and different themes because there are just too many great stories here and I wanted to see if I can contribute to it in any way, shape or form. (Hopefully, I am)

And to answer the question, I do have a couple of fics that inspired me and changed the way I write:

1. Modern Glasgow by @gotham-ruaidh2. Flood My Mornings by @bonnie-wee-swordsman3. Written in the Stones by @lenny99874. This is Us by @abbydebeaupreposts5. Jimjeran by @betweensceneswriter6. A Wild Night in Vegas by @takemeawaytocamelot7. Loss, Act I and II by @missclairebelle

I know this is lot to list (and I have many more faves and all) but these are the fics (and authors!) that inspired me, challenged me and changed the way I write because they are just so dang good and I am amazed by what they do and create (Hopefully, they know it cause I message them when I read their fics and just fangirl about how I loved their stories, haha!).

These are the fics that I read on the constant and still feel all the feels, the fics that I take either when I’m hiking the mountains or up in the air, etc.

So, yeah. I hope I am writing better with all the inspiration I am getting but most of the time, I find myself on the other side of the threshold and I just fan and feel with the rest of the readers ❤

8. google docs, microsoft word or other?

If I am co-writing with someone or beta-ing a fic, I usually use google docs. If I am writing my fics, I use microsoft word. :)

13. past tense or present tense?

I tend to write in the past tense mostly but I think it’s both sometimes depending on the situation/story. I haven’t tried nor I think I have ever read a fic that is on full present tense - if there is, send me a link because I would love to read it!

#missclairebelle #thebrochtuarachs #mia answers #answers #outlander fanfic #outlander fanfiction #fanfic #fanfiction #fanfic writer #writer #personal #ask me more numbers #hihi!

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themusicsweetly · 6 years

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Do you have any Outlander AU fanfic suggestions?

Oh, Anon, you don’t even know how much I love this question. Thanks for sending it!

First, a GIANT thank you to each and every single fanfiction writer out there. You all are wonderful human beings for sharing your talents with us 💜

Now, where to begin… *crackles knuckles* You can click the titles to find a fic’s chapters chronologically for most and the first chapter for the rest. (In no particular order at all)

Just Desserts by @thescarlettpeacock – Modern AU

We’ll Rise Up by @whiskynottea – French Revolution AU

Clair(e)voyance by @notevenjokingrightnowfic – Modern Mystery AU

Escape by @notevenjokingrightnowfic – Modern AU

Broken Crown by @kalendraashtar – Modern Mystery AU

Bean Sídhe by @kalendraashtar – Claire born in the 18th Century AU

For A Lost Daughter by @bonnie-wee-swordsman – Faith Lives AU (modern to 18th Century time frame)

Flood My Mornings by @bonnie-wee-swordsman – Jamie x Claire in the 1950s AU

The Last All-Clear by @bonnie-wee-swordsman – World War II AU

Infodere by @awesomeeyeroll – Modern Archeological AU

Dawning in Dust by @diversemediums – Post-Modern AU

Modern Glasgow AU by @gotham-ruaidh – Modern AU

We Live for Love by @gotham-ruaidh – Modern AU

Brian and Ellen by @gotham-ruaidh – 18th Century (Brian and Ellen live AU)

Third Time’s the Charm by @lenny9987 – Jamie x Claire in the 1950s AU

Red Jamie and the White Lady by @takemeawaytocamelot – Modern Mystery AU

An Outlander Affair to Remember by @abbydebeaupreposts – Modern AU

Someone to Stay by @magnoliasinbloom – Modern AU

Awake by @magnoliasinbloom – Modern AU

Where We Begin by LayThornMuse (AO3) – Modern AU

Our Story by @westerhos – Modern AU

A Lightened Soul by @sapphiresassenach – Modern AU

Neighboring Love by @writtenthroughtime – Teenaged 18th Century Jamie x Claire AU

The Rebel and the Rose by @mybeautifuldecay – Claire born in the 18th Century AU

Outlander Fanfiction Relay by several (@outlanderfanficrelay) – Modern? Mystery? AU (it could turn into anything at this point! xD)

and not that this is really an AU, or a fanfic really, but check out @bonnie-wee-swordsman‘s SMS Frasers series – because Jamie x Claire et al. with CELLPHONES + EMOJIS! 😂

Most of these are multi-chapter, but there are quite literally hundreds of one-shots out there as well waiting to be discovered! I just have harder time remembering the title + authors for those.

There are probably several I’ve missed, so if anyone has any suggestions please feel free to name them!

#Outlander #Outlander Fanfic #Asked #Answered #Anonymous #My Edit #Fanfic Recommendation #Fanfic List

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thelallybrochlibrary · 4 years

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Hi. I’m looking for a modern day story I read a while ago in which Jamie finds out it was Claire’s mother who had killed his mother and brother in a car accident. Claire had been born on a boat and there were questions about her real identity. I never got to finish the story and don’t know if it was ever finished by the author. Thanks for your help.

Hi there,

It sounds like you’re looking for This Is Us by @abbydebeaupreposts.

Happy Reading!

#outlander #outlander fanfic #asks #fic: this is us #author: abbydebeaupreposts #librarian: julia #Anonymous

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anoutlandishidea · 7 years

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Or should I say Merry FICmas?!

There isn’t a new episode this week, but, DINNA FASH, our lovely Outlander Fandom has a host of wonderfully talented fanfic authors to get you through the latest Droughtlander! This is certainly not an exclusive list, I’m sure I’ve missed peeps (even thought I’ve tried really hard not to) and I know there are talented blogs out there that aren’t even on my radar yet. Please feel free to hit reblog and add your favs!

So, without further adieu, here is a massive list of blogs who’ve taken a look at Outlander, saw an opportunity, and said HOLD MY EGGNOG, I GOT THIS.

@gotham-ruaidh ‘s Modern Glasgow AU Master Post & Shifted

@bonnie-wee-swordsman ‘s Fanfic Master Post

@takemeawaytocamelot ‘s Fanfic Master Post

@imagineclaireandjamie ‘s Tags

@lenny9987 ‘s Fanfic Master Post

@sapphiresassenach ‘s Fanfic Master Post

@notevenjokingrightnowfic ‘s Clair(e)voyance Master Post / tag / Escape Master Post

@owlish-peacock36 ‘s Fanfic Master Post

@magnoliasinbloom ‘s Someone to Stay

@iwanttodriveyouthroughthenight ‘s Fanfic Master Post

@kalendraashtar ‘s Fanfic Master Post

@cagedbirdsong ‘s Completed Works

@whitenightowl ‘s Fanfic Master Post

@hardblazesong ‘s Latest Links

@diversemediums ‘s Master List

@the-fear-you-wont-fall ‘s For New Auld Lang Syne

@abbydebeaupreposts ‘s Master Fanfiction List

@caitbalfes ‘s Ina Writes

@marlosbooknook ‘s My Fics

@turtlesoupstories ‘s Our Fics

@writtenthroughtime ‘s Master Fanfiction List

@mybeautifuldecay ‘s Fanfic Master List

@thescarlettpeacock ‘s Just Desserts / The Midnight Kitchen

@futurelounging ‘s Outlander Fanfic

@moghraidhjamie ‘s My Fic

the entire @outlanderfanficrelay

@mibasiamille ‘s Fanfictions

@internallydeceased ‘s Master Fic List

@anoutlandishfanfic ‘s The Master List of Master Lists

Need more? Many of these amazing blogs are taking part in a Secret Santa Fanfic Exchange right now and/or have new adventures posted that haven’t made it to their Master List quite yet. I also that know some of these blogs have their very own Fanfic Recommendation posts/tags that are definitely worth perusing.

#outlander #outlander fanfic

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theministerskat · 6 years

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Roger and Brianna Outlander Fanfiction

A list of Outlander fanfiction stories that focus primarily on the relationship between Roger and Brianna.

I compiled this list by initially searching the Roger and Bree relationship tag on AO3. If you know of any that have been posted exclusively to Tumblr that are missing, please make me aware of them.

A Deserving Suitor by @kalendraashtar

Roger is dating Brianna and now has to face the hardest test of all - meeting Jamie Fraser.

Auld Fashioned by @thefraserwitch

Brianna and Roger plan their nuptials in modern times.

Autumn Leaves by @mydeerfriend

A Roger x Bree college AU in which Brianna Randall is spending a semester abroad in Oxford and literally runs into Roger Wakefield, the most gorgeous professor in history.

Bree by @theministerskat

Roger tries to escape the pain and heartache he feels when he thinks he has lost Brianna for good.

Chills by @futurelounging

Brianna's inner thoughts as she gets to know Roger and how she experiences a supernatural moment at Fort William.

En Même Temps by @theministerskat

Roger finds Jamie and Claire’s death notice and decides to tell Brianna instead of keeping it from her. They choose to make the journey through the stones together.

Finally Whole by @imgilmoregirl

In the middle of the night, after Roger decides to stay with Bree, he makes a few considerations.

Fifteen Degrees by @breefraser

In the 21st century, Brianna and Roger bond over old ghosts and the strangeness of fate.

Death Of The Author by @futurelounging

A playwright and a director work to produce his play and explore their relationship in the meantime.

Goodbye Yesterday by @monisse

Nothing had prepared Brianna for the heart wrenching feeling of taking Mandy and saying goodbye to her parents, losing them for what would likely be forever.

Hope by @whiskynottea

Roger’s thoughts when he learns that Brianna never wanted Jamie to beat him up.

I Am The Egg Man by @ianmuyrray

Brianna meets Roger on an acid trip when he’s playing sitar for a terrible Beatles cover band.

I Feel A Sin Comin’ On by @wunderlichkind

Brianna is a college student. Roger is a rodeo rider. When they meet, neither of their lives go on as planned.

In Silence by lielabell

Bree laughs as he takes her down, arms and legs wrapping around him as they land on ground softened by fallen leaves.

Let Me Love Her Rightly by virgiliacoriolanus

Her story begins at the stones in Inverness, Scotland--a single touch at the right moment and Brianna fell down the rabbit hole.

Like Dreamers Do by @monisse

A missing moment after Jem’s paternity is revealed in ABOSAA.

Lost and Found by @theministerskat

The MacKenzies visit North Carolina after coming back through the stones to the early 1980s.

Lucky Lad by @abbydebeaupreposts

Bree witnessed a moment of bonding between Roger and Jemmy.

Making Up by @redstarfiction

Roger and Bree make up after an argument.

Ne’er To Be Parted by @redstarfiction

A wee bit of Roger and Bree fluff.

Of Lice and Love by @wunderlichkind

Brianna writes to Lord John Grey to inform him of the discovery of Jem's paternity.

Roger Restored by @ladywynneoutlander

After Roger is rescued from the Mohawk and parts from Jamie and Claire, he contemplates his past, present, and future. He has a decision to make.

Singin’ In The Rain by @writtenthroughtime

Roger has a surprise for Brianna one night after returning to the Ridge.

There Will Still Be by @breefraser

The MacKenzies find their footing after his return from New York.

These Raging Minds by @monisse

Roger learned, not long after he returned, that he shared a bed not only with Brianna, but with her nightmares as well.

Thrush by @ianmuyrray

Roger goes sailing to meet mermaid Bree.

Martha’s Sons by @yarnings

Philosophy from Bree and Roger with Kipling's help.

#outlander #outlander fanfiction #outlander fanfic #outlander fan fiction #outlander fan fic #roger mackenzie #roger wakefield #brianna mackenzie #roger x brianna #roger and brianna fanfiction #brianna fraser #brianna randall #kat reads #masterlist #updated may 4 2019

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otheroutlandertales · 5 years

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Anonymous said: How about one of the stories from Grandfather Tales -- the book Jamie printed when he and Claire went back to Scotland?

Author’s Note: This one is loosely based on the fairy tale Tikki Tikki Tembo.

Other Grandfather Tales

by @abbydebeaupreposts

“Da, Da, Da!” Ian Murray glanced down to see his son tugging on his sleeve. It was getting toward nightfall, but the children had been indefatigable. Not even sitting them all down for dinner had quieted them. Still, it was a special kind of joy to see Og with his cousins. As if that thought had conjured her up, he caught a flash of Bree’s red hair mid-swing as she was tagged by Jem. “Yer it!” he shouted with glee and escaped the long reach of her arm. It was so good to have them back on the Ridge. His eyes swept across the campfire taking in the sight of his mother and his uncle leaning against each other in companionable silence, like him, both content to watch all the children running and playing in the meadow just beyond.

His auntie Claire was helping Rachel put things away for the evening and Roger still wasn’t back from the springhouse with the jugs of ale.

He felt another sharp tug and stared into the sun kissed face of his son, “What is it, a bhalaich?”

“What’s thee names?”

“What? My names?” Ian wondered what he meant. Og still had a tendency to mix his prepositions.

“No Da, thee,” he said pointing to his own chest, “All them.” Og bounced up and down on his heels and made a wide sweeping gesture to encompass just about everybody in his field of view.

“He wants to know his middle names,” this explanation coming from Mandy who had intercepted her father and was now carrying a jug that looked heavy in her arms. Ian quickly plucked it from her, pouring himself a generous glass. When he didn’t immediately respond, Mandy went on, “I’m Amanda Claire Hope MacKenzie and Jemmy is Jeremiah Alexander Ian Fraser MacKenzie, Da is Roger Jeremiah Wakefield MacKenzie and Mam is Brianna Ellen Randall Fraser MacKenzie and Grandda is—.”

“Ah, like the way I am Ian James Fitzgibbons Fraser Murray,” Ian noted.

“And Okwaho'kenha,” Rachel said using his Mohawk name. She scooped Og up and held Ian’s gaze. He could read her like a book, and knew he was going to be fielding this one.

“Well Og, the plain truth of it is, yer name is just plain Og Murray. We thought we’d pick out a name for you in the Mohawk fashion when you got a bit older.” The real story was only slightly more complicated than that, but he could tell from the look on his son’s face neither of these explanations were going to satisfy him. What else could he say? It simply did not match with his mother’s Quaker upbringing nor his Mohawk traditions to give children ostentatiousness names at birth.

Og, unfortunately, had been going through a why, why, why stage -- morning, noon and night -- of late. Now, he could tell his son was gearing up for a lengthy discourse on the subject and had no way to head him off at the pass.

Salvation came in the form of a gravelly voice from across the fire pit, “You should tell him the real story.” Upon hearing his grandfather’s voice, Og squirmed until Rachel put him back down and he raced across the edge of the fire to strong arms that helped him climb onto his lap, Og pulling himself up by latching onto the man’s thick, white beard.

“Story? Thee tell, Moopa!” Og demanded.

“Thee wants to hear it, then?” Murtagh gently teased, for prepositions were hard enough for a bairn to figure out, let alone one with a Quaker mother.

It had been Og who’d christened him Moopa and, of course, the name had stuck with all the rest of the bairns as well. He was pleased to have his own special family name. Murtagh accepted a glass of ale from Claire, who had returned and settled down beside him for what promised to be a good tale, if the smiles on Jamie and Jenny’s faces were any indication.

“This is a story about your other grandfathers,” he began and slowly all the other children came to settle around and listen as well, “Yer Grandda Jamie and your Grandpa Ian, ye ken the one in Scotland?” Murtagh look down at Og.

“Oh, Lallybroch,” he breathed. Og had been told enough stories for the Highlands to occupy a place of almost mystical wonder in his imagination.

“Aye, just so, my lad. Wayback when your grandfathers were around Jem’s age, they had been given charge of the stables, the watering and feeding of the horses.”

At this Og uttered the Cherokee word for horses and, hearing it, Ian shared a private smile with Rachel. “Well, it was getting to harvest season and yer great grandfather, the one they called Black Brian,” this time it was Jem’s turn to exclaim, “Dubh!” Ian watched as Jamie shot his grandson a look of startled appreciation, it had been a long time since he’d heard anyone call his father by that name.

“Aye, that’s what they called him,” Jenny agreed.

“Believe it or no, Granny Jenny’s hair used to be black as night, just like our father’s,” Jamie said, patting his sister’s knee.

“Ye may be younger than me, my lad, but do ye ken ye have almost as much silver on yer heid as me?” Her eyes danced.

“The boys, puffed wi’ self-importance at being given such responsibility, began well enough, mucking the stables and getting the hay. But they soon tired of lugging heavy buckets of water between the well and the stables. Yer Grandda got it into his head to have some fun with poor Grandpa Ian and next thing he knew, a bucket had been dumped right o’er his head. That made your Grandpa so angry that he turned quick as lightning and went after Jamie.”

“Aye, charged me just like that daft bull up in the north pasture,” Jamie confirmed.

“It’s hard to picture Ian going on the attack,” Bree laughed, remembering her gentle uncle as more of a peacemaker than a fighter.

“No… not after the leg, that’s true enough,” Murtagh agreed.

“In his prime, though,” Jenny said, “He was a canty wee fighter. But he got the best of Jamie wi’out landing a single blow.”

“What happened?” Germain demanded. At that, Murtagh snorted and gave all the children a look full of mirth.

“Jamie was so surprised, he backed all the way up to the edge of the well and the next thing he knew, he went arse over teakettle, straight into the well!” At this the children let out delighted shrieks of laughter, and the adults all smiled at the abashed look on Jamie’s face. “Well, now, luckily he didna hit his head on his way down; but he was trapped, and good. Stuck there at the bottom of the well. He couldna climb out, for the stone was slippery and Ian wasna strong enough to lift him all by himself using the rope. Try as they might, he and Ian couldna figure out how to get him out of there.”

“Aye, the worst part was the chores werena done. I thought if Da came back and saw me trapped, he’d likely throw Ian in after me. So, I told Ian to run quick as he may and get help.” Jamie told them.

“I was out back, plucking a chicken,” Jenny added, “Feathers all over my hair. I was sweet on him, even then, and thought I must look a fright but even so I kent he looked worse. All red in the face, wheezing and a look of terror about him. Lord, I thought something terrible had happened to Jamie.”

“Something terrible did happen to Jamie…” Jamie put in and Claire laughed.

“I meant,” Jenny said with the exaggerated patience of someone who has had this argument many times before, “Something really terrible, and the longer it took him to spit it out the more worried I became.”

“What did Ian finally say?” Claire asked.

“He said,” Murtagh cut in, rolling his eyes at Jamie and Jenny for interrupting his flow, “‘James Alexander Malcolm Mackenzie Fraser has fallen into the well!’ That’s why it took him so long to get it out. Ye ken there were several Jamie Frasers living around those parts back then and so he needed to tell the whole name. And yer Granny Jenny said, ‘Oh my lord, James Alexander Malcolm MacKenzie Fraser has fallen into the well! Ye must go find Murtagh!’ And so poor Ian didna even have time to catch his breath and he had to set off again, all over Lallybroch desperate to get my help before Jamie’s Da came back. And at every croft he has to say the same thing, ‘James Alexander Malcolm McKenzie Fraser has fallen into the well, is Murtagh here?’ It took forever for him to get that great long name out over and over again. By the time word reached me, it was too late. Brian had returned. Between the three of us, we managed to get Jamie out of the well. By that time the poor lad was an ice cube. I’m surprised wee pieces of his backside didna crack off with each lash his Da laid down. I dinna think either lad sat down for two days after.”

“God, ‘twas true, there I was shiverin’ and shaking so hard I swear I could hear my balls rattling in-” Jamie abruptly closed his mouth, turning red as he suddenly remembered the women and children. Murtagh gave him a look and he saw more than one of the boys absently touching their own laps in sympathy.

“The next day, I overheard Jamie and Ian talking, and Jamie says, ‘God man, what took you so long?’ And Ian, still smarting from the strapping he got from Brian and then the ten extra his own Da added, turned around, all red in the face and steaming and he said ‘I’d like to see ye do better! Running around the countryside yelling out a name like James Alexander Malcolm MacKenzie Fraser. If I had been the one who fell, it wouldna have taken ye all of two seconds to say Ian Murray and I’ll tell ye now, if I never ever have to say that long name again it will be too soon!’”

“Oh Christ, poor Ian,” Jamie said wiping tears of laughter, “I’d forgotten that part.” Jamie nudged his sister’s leg. “Come to think of it, I dinna think he ever did say my full name out loud again. When I became a mercenary in France, he shortened my name altogether, introduced me as Jamie MacTavish.”

“And so, wee Og Murray, not long before yer parents got marrit, Ian went back to see Grandpa in Scotland and yer Grandpa told yer Da that story. Then, made his son promise that he’d take better care and no’ burden his grandson with a muckle-sized name. The shorter the better, that’s the moral of that tale!”

#outlander fanfiction #otheroutlandertales #mod abby #ch: murtagh #ch: oggy #ch: young ian #ch: jamie #ch: jenny #ch: ian #canon divergence #book: bees #category: general #oot #*

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