#betweensceneswriter

[annagoober]

TBT: This is a great Island adventure “Jimjeran” from 2017 by @betweensceneswriter after finishing Part 1, keep reading, there are additional stories. Enjoy!

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Fanfic

I’ve just re-read “Lovers in a Dangerous Time,” multiply that “re” by three or four, have fallen in love again, with this version of Jamie and Claire and with the writing. Is the scene at the close of chapter 9 the most irresistible? The scene: Claire, married to control-freak Frank, is charmed by the two little girls who move in next door, and by their father, the widower with the finest parenting skills ever. And the most seductive voice, as he proves (here comes the scene) when he and Claire are drinking after finishing cleaning up after his open house, the guest gone, his daughters put to bed, the two of them sitting close on a sofa, well into a bottle of whisky. Imagine the Scots’ burr when Jamie says, “Dance wi’ me?”  

            Another salute, to fellow-commenter reader83, for her excellent choice of “best of” in fan fics. I couldn’t agree more about LIADT and “Conversations in the Dark,” want to say thank you for the nudge toward “Practice,” my current comfort-read (only 7 chapters in, I hope it will be comforting). I’d like to add another trio to “best of” in fanfics: “Saorsa,” @scapegrace74; “Jimjeran,” @betweensceneswriter; “The Stars Will Sing for Us” @fallofrain. 

I wish I could send the author of LIADT a bouquet as meaningful as the one Jamie chooses for Claire, made of whatever flowers signify, “Good writing!” 

[metaborderlines]

"Saorsa" by scapegrace74 (or anything by scapegrace74, actually). "Jimjeran" [J&C on the Marshall Islands as Peace Corps volunteers--this story may be transplanted ANYWHERE] by betweensceneswriter. "39 Days" by isthisclever and "Power Jam" by same, oh and "A Stranger Visits" by kitty perpetua...and...and...

Fanfic Links You Should Really Have.

The Outlander fandom is FILLED with talented fanfic authors and this is in no way, shape, or form a complete list. Many of these blogs have a fanfic recommendation tag that I HIGHLY recommend checking out.

@gotham-ruaidh ‘s Modern Glasgow AU Master Post & Shifted / aka the literary genius who keeps me from going insane on a daily basis

@bonnie-wee-swordsman ‘s Fanfic Master Post  / aka BONNIE IS A NATIONAL TREASURE AND SHOULD BE PROTECTED AT ALL COST, SO READ EVERYTHING THE LASS HAS EVER WRITTEN (I’m quite possibly her biggest fan)

@takemeawaytocamelot ‘s Fanfic Master Post / aka squees forever about Red Jame & White Lady and Wild Night in Vegas

@imagineclaireandjamie​ ‘s Vietnam AU / Flood My Mornings Tag 1, Tag 2 / A Hundred Lesser Faces / Hail Mary AU / Mac Ruaidh / EVERYTHING THIS CREW POSTS EVER / Too Old For Babies / Frank’s Baby / Escape / Fairy Tale AU / Fergus thru the Stones / Our Story / Born Out of Time

@lenny9987​ ‘s Fanfic Master Post aka DELIVER US and everything they’ve ever written on Imagine.

@sapphiresassenach​ ‘s Fanfic Master Post aka omgeeeee A Lightened Soul

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

@owlish-peacock36 ‘s Fanfic Master Post aka seeking and finding every feel available in S&YSF

@magnoliasinbloom ‘s Someone to Stay

@iwanttodriveyouthroughthenight ‘s Fanfic Master Post aka and while I live, I’m dead in feels

@kalendraashtar ‘s Fanfic Master Post aka read everything. just everything.

@cagedbirdsong ‘s Completed Works aka my home is built with four walls of feels

@whitenightowl ‘s Fanfic Master Post aka if you look across the park, you’ll find me submerged in a puddle of feels

Also, not sure how to link to it, but @cranesmuir-witch ‘s prompts are wonderful.

I’ve been commenting that I don’t read a lot of fanfic, but that’s obviously a lie. This is what I read. This is what I check updates on at work, what makes flail like an idiot when there’s a new chapter.

If you read a story or prompt you like, TELL THE AUTHOR. Incomprehensible keyboard slams are our currency and positive feedback is our oxygen. We read the tags (who reblogs things without tags?!) as much as we do the comments, or otherwise anons are always a wonderful option if you’d like to be subtle… but then come off anon so we can love you.

I really felt the need to share the love that y’all have extended to me as I’ve began my fanfic journey. This fandom is the best.

[betweensceneswriter]

Island Hopper-Chapter 28b: Just Add Water Part 2

Shots and the ‘Shungle’

Previously on Island Hopper:  Chapter 28: Just Add Water Some things are instant.  Not usually sons.

ISLAND FEVER (Jimjeran Book 1)

ISLAND HOPPER (Jimjeran Book 2)

FanFic Master List

 The days blended into one another after that.  Mornings began with waking a reluctant child to give him his long-acting insulin.  Jamie started taking Perkaj into the stall with him after I was done with my shower, washing Perkaj’s hair, wrapping him in a towel and sending him in to me.  While they were out of the apartment I would rush into my own clothing. On Perkaj’s arrival back in the apartment I would dry him off, brush his hair, and give him a little privacy while he dressed.  

He was amused by the bustle and pace of our household.  If we ever tried to rush him, he would respond after a deep sigh, “Oh, Mama Peach, I am lazy,” or “Oh, Baba Shamie, I am lazy.”  Jamie assured me that ‘lazy’ didn’t have the same negative connotation in Majel, but it still made me laugh every time Perkaj said it.

Perkaj was also surprised by how often we bathed, but after a few days Jamie said the boy had started to industriously scrub his skin with a washcloth and soap while Jamie washed his hair.

Breakfast was when he would test his blood sugar and give himself injections with an amount based on his level and how hungry he felt.  In the beginning he turned up his nose at the steel cut oats we would usually have for breakfast, but he was delighted by bread with honey or jelly and peanut butter.  Eventually with a sprinkle of cinnamon and brown sugar, we were able to coax him to eat the ‘porridge’ as well.

Jamie had to leave for school a few minutes early so he could drop Perkaj off at his house, or if he was running late I would take him. There the little boy would be fussed over by his family and then walk to school with his brothers and sisters.  His mother would pack him a lunch to be eaten at school, when he would check in with Jamie for testing and another dose of short-acting insulin before joining the other kids on the lawn for lunch & recess.

After school, Perkaj would come home with Jamie.  They would test his blood sugar to make sure it was high enough for play and family time and give him a snack if it was on the low side.  Most days of the week  Jamie would walk him the rest of the way to his house, returning to our apartment to do grading and planning for the next day.  Around six I would take my turn to travel to Perkaj’s house, supervise as Perkaj would prick one of his poor fingers again, and then the little guy and I would assess his dinner plate with his parents & auntie, talking about the insulin amount needed before eating.

At 7:30, one of Perkaj’s family members would walk him to our house where we would tuck him into bed with a story.  One more test and snack or insulin would finish his long, eventful day.  

After Perkaj headed to bed was when Jamie and I made sure to cuddle up to each other, having a little contact while reading or writing letters by the  warm light of the bedside lamp.  More  often than not one or the other of us would nod off accidentally and wake up only when the other person turned off the lamp. Jamie or I would rouse long enough to climb under the sheet and turn to the other for a goodnight kiss before we would drift back into slumber.  

Our life felt strange, broken up into little chunks like this-- repeated interruptions and moments of being apart when we would normally have been together. It wasn’t easy, but I steeled myself with the fact that there weren’t any other good options.  This—serving the health of the islanders—was why I was here; not marriage, not sex, not selfishness.

“Ijab konaan,” Perkaj cried, sitting at the table with his tester and insulin pen in front of him. “Emetak.” He rubbed his face with his hands, smearing the dust from an afternoon of active play into gray streaks on his skin.

Of course he didn’t want it.  Of course it hurt.

Jamie looked up at me, his eyes full of compassion and desperation.  We had to get Perkaj to buy in to his own health if we were ever going to get our own lives back.  

All of a sudden I had an idea.  I grabbed a syringe from my black medical kit and a vial of sterile saline.

“How many carbs are you going to eat, Meester Shamie?” I asked him. He eyed the syringe and then looked back at me, narrowed eyes giving way to a tiny smile of understanding.

He took a deep breath, looking at the soup and muffins on the table. “Hmmm,” he said thoughtfully, “I  know I’m hungry, and I’m lukuun kilep, so I’ll have five servings… some noodle soup and three muffins. How about you, Miss Peachay?”

“Oh, I’m not very hungry,” I responded. “When it’s hot like this, ijab konaan moni, so I’ll have three.”

Without looking off to the side at Perkaj, I picked up the tester, a strip and a lancet. “I wonder what my blood sugar is right now,” I mused. I pricked my finger, the sudden shock of pain giving me shivers, then pressed the drop of blood to the testing strip. “Eighty-five,” I remarked.  “That’s good for before a meal.”

Jamie took the tester I offered him and did the same. He winced and stuck his finger in his mouth after he’d touched it to the testing strip. “Seventy-six? No wonder I’m starving!” He passed the tester on to Perkaj, who had grinned at Jamie’s over-the-top reaction to the prick of the lancet and blood on his finger.

“Okay,” I said. “Five servings means five units.”  I held the vial up as I inserted the syringe and drew out several milliliters of saline. Then I handed the syringe to Jamie.

Up until then he’d been playing along with me.  When I handed him the needle his face drained of color. His raised eyebrows communicated clearly, “You’re kidding, aren’t you?”

Perkaj had tested his sugar and was already clicking the units into his insulin pen.

“One for being little high,” he murmured to himself. “And tree for carbs.”  He screwed on the fresh needle tip and looked over at Jamie. “Why you waiting, Baba Shamie?”

Jamie frowned. “Ijab konaan,” he said, his eyes showing some genuine fear. “Enaj metak.”

Perkaj’s response was adorable.  He patted Jamie’s arm like I’d seen my husband do to him  countless times over the last few weeks. “Is okay, Baba,” he said reassuringly, shaking his head. “It not hurt forever.”

After that, there was no way Jamie was going to let his fear of pain stand in his way.  

“Let’s do it together,” he said.  “Will you count?”

“Juon, ruo, jilu,” Perkaj counted.  On ‘three’ both boys jabbed themselves with their needles and pressed down on the plungers.  They made faces at each other as they did, and when the syringe and insulin pen were returned to the table, Jamie pulled the little guy in for a hug.

“You’re so brave!” He exclaimed. Perkaj grinned and grabbed a muffin.

Out of necessity we discovered that about five minutes after Perkaj fell asleep he would be dead to the world for a solid fifteen minutes.  If we’d saved enough energy, we could engage in a clandestine lovemaking session, covered by the bedsheet, trying to keep the bed frame from squeaking or the headboard from banging against the wall.

Unfortunately, I was gun shy after our ‘coitus interruptus’ and Jamie seemed to be internalizing the stress of parenthood even more than I was. He was still affectionate, and would frequently wrap his arms around me for a hug, come up behind me when I was doing dishes and rub my shoulders, or pull my head to his chest when we lay next to each other in bed reading.  But after my experience being married to him thus far, it wasn’t like him. It was surprising that Jamie wasn’t lusting after me, wasn’t taking liberties with my body, wasn’t making it clear he wanted nothing more than to have me naked.  

Perhaps even more disturbing to me, I was okay with the lack of sex. I tried to reassure myself.  Jamie and I were still cooperating with each other, accomplishing an important thing.   We were still working together, laughing together.  Despite the inconvenience, Perkaj was adorable and Jamie was adorable with him. But both of us were exhausted at night. We were all sleeping in the same room; less alone time meant fewer opportunities when the same idea would strike both of us, when raised eyebrows or a simple caress would be the snowflake that started an avalanche.

But as my dad had said, this was ‘just a season.’

And what a season.  Along with the hot, dry conditions that made it challenging to keep my garden healthy and brought the mamas to clinic fanning themselves and telling me they were lukuun bwil, the level of the catchment continued to drop until the bucket would scrape against the cement bottom of the tank when we drew our drinking water.

One afternoon after school Perkaj announced that he was going to stay and help Baba Shamie cut the grass.  Apparently he and Jamie had been talking on their walk home and Jamie had shared his plans for the afternoon.

“Ikonaan jibaneke,” Perkaj said.  “I want help you!”

Perkaj helped me water my plants and then used the hand-held grass clippers to assist Jamie by trimming the grass near our outbuildings and well.  Jamie used an old school scythe to cut the grass, a wicked looking curved blade on a long wooden handle with two grips.  When he held it on his shoulder as he headed out to the field, he looked like a tropical themed version of the Grim Reaper, with khaki shorts, a tee shirt, and flaming red hair.

I followed the boys as they worked, using a rake to heap up the grass and lift it into our wheelbarrow. Jamie had decided that composting was a necessity to increase the quality of our soil, so we were layering grass clippings with palm fronds and kitchen waste in a heap in the back corner of the property.

I was across the yard when two girls walked hesitantly up to Jamie.  He leaned on his scythe, giving them his attention.

“Meester Shamie,” one of them said, “we no have water to drink.  Our catchment is emmat...empty?

Jamie looked at them, at their water container, and at the big jug by the still, three quarters full from the days’ filtration. He glanced at me.

“Of course,” I insisted, “we have enough to share.”

As Jamie poured water into their bottles, I crossed the yard to the well. Someone would need to draw more well water to refill the solar still.

Through the sunny hours of the day while Jamie was teaching, I had taken it upon myself to keep the reservoir of the still filled with enough well water to keep the trickle of distilled water constantly flowing. When one water jug was filled, I would transfer the hose to the next jug and place the cap on the now-full container.

“Jibaneke?” The little voice asked from behind me. “I help you, Mama Peach?”

Perkaj might have been only seven, but he was an expert at the wrist flick necessary for getting water from the well, and the rapid hand -over -hand motion to bring up a full coffee can. He filled the five gallon bucket in half the time it would take me, then beamed up at me as we carried the bucket together to pour into the solar still.

He stood up on his tiptoes to peek through the sloped glass cover. “Well water enana?” he questioned, brown furrowed.  

“Is it bad?” I responded. “Not bad.  Just doesn’t taste good  for drinking .”

“But Mama Peach,” he said with his forehead wrinkled, “Aolep well water,” Perkaj said.  

It was all well water? I didn’t understand what he meant. Rupert had brought the lower grades over to teach them a lesson about the solar still and evaporation, so I had seen them peering in interest at the setup. I was sure Rupert had explained how the process removed minerals, salt, and impurities from the water.

“Ke?” I asked. “What do you mean?”

He showed the motion of the water with his hands -- the upward wafting of moisture, at which he said, “Well water,” then indicated the abrupt stop at the sloping glass, “Well water also” and then showed the drops falling into the collection channel. “Aolep well water,” he finished, holding up his hands as if to encompass the whole water cycle.

“Well, not exactly,” I tried to explain, hesitantly trying out my baby Majel.  “This is a small version of how the earth makes fresh water.  When the water goes into the air, it leaves behind germs and salt and bitter minerals.  Do you see the white crust on the black fabric?  That's the bad part-what was left behind.”

Perkaj peered into the still through the condensation -covered glass curiously.  “Oh.” He exclaimed, wide eyed.  I wasn’t sure he’d understood, but at least I’d tried.

The day stayed hot past sunset, the air barely holding any humidity.  Without a breeze, the house didn’t cool off even when it got dark.  Jamie had tried to cuddle me, but any place our skin contacted we would stick together, and any movement would feel like trying to detach from an octopus.

Perkaj was snoring quietly in his bed when Jamie got up and headed to the door, shoving his feet into his flip flops.  He headed outside without an explanation; I figured he needed the restroom.  

I was lost in my book when I startled at a faint sound behind me. Was that shifting gravel outside the window? I paused to listen. We’d opened the curtains because it was so damn hot, but that meant anyone outside would be able to see me… and could see that Jamie wasn’t here with me.  Still, none of the island men would even try to  bother me.  I wasn’t a single woman anymore, and they wouldn’t dare insult Meester Shamie…

“Tssst tssst,” a voice hissed from outside the window.  “Tssst tssst.” I pretended not to hear them, hoping inwardly that Jamie would return any minute and this person would fade away into the night and stop embarrassing themselves.

“Miss Peachay,” the voice sang, “I want to talk to you.  Tssst tssst.  You want to go to the shungle with me? Kwe konaan bwebwenato?”

As the invitations continued, I turned slowly to squint out the window.  The light from the apartment shone faintly on the pole supporting the short wave radio antenna.  There was a large hand gripping the pole, and next to the hand… there was curly red hair.

“You dip wad!” I hissed.  “I nearly peed my pants!”

“Shhhh,” he responded.  “Grab a quilt.  Come to the shungle with me.”

Perkaj was sleeping, so I figured what the heck.  I obeyed, grabbing a quilt and the mosquito net, turning off the lamp, shoving my feet into zories, and joining Jamie on the road in front of the clinic.

“Come on,” he whispered, taking me by the hand and leading me across the road.  There was only a little sliver of moon, but it was enough to keep us from crashing into trees as we wove deeper into the ocean-side palm forest.  

We got far enough that we couldn’t see the clinic light anymore, and giggled as we spread out the quilt and covered ourselves with the mosquito net.  

Out of the house it was actually cooler, and I sighed in relief as I looked up at the stars, Jamie’s arm behind  my head.

I couldn’t help it, laying on that quilt, covered by that mosquito net, looking up at those stars. “Oh, Frank…” I breathed.

My husband froze, and then he reacted. “Oh, you did not just call me Frank,” Jamie exclaimed.  I giggled as he rolled over on top of me.  “You take that back,” he ordered, his hand forcing its way under my tank top.

I laughed again, meeting his lips with mine, helping him peel off his shirt, wriggling out of my shorts and panties.

It had been so long and the circumstances were so novel I was fully engaged, blissful at his hands on me,  kissing his neck, reaching for him with my hand.  I attempted to change positions, to urge him inside, but he seemed determined to dominate me, insistent.

His hands were on my breasts and then his mouth was, teasing my nipples, biting them gently.   His hands were on my thighs and he was between my legs.  But he seemed to just be teasing me, pressing his pelvis towards me but then pulling away as I opened to him.

I realized he was waiting for something.

I took a deep breath. “I know who you are,” I whispered.  “Jamie.  Soulmate.  True love.  Partner.”

He paused, relaxed against me, kissed me gently between phrases.

“Provider,” I continued. “Protector. Gift of Providence.  Father of my babies. Friend.  Jimjeran.”

When we joined, finally, I was crying. I reached up and found his face, placing my hands on his cheeks, keeping his lips on mine as we moved together, as we connected, as we bonded ourselves together once again.

The whine of mosquitoes chased us inside, but not before we heard a wolf whistle from Anni and Kona’s yard as we crossed the road in front of the clinic. “Miss Peachay, Meester Shamie!” She exclaimed.  “You go to shungle?”

We headed inside to the sound of her laughter.

The next morning as we were getting ready for work and school, I noticed Jamie scratching himself rather intently  on the ass.  

“Hey Meester Shamie,” I joked, “How did you get a mosquito bite?”

He grinned at me adoringly. “I wonder, Miss Peachay.”

[underthewingsofthblackeagle]

“Tschako with mortarboard” (No. 13) - By Thomas Quine CC BY 2.0, https://commons.wikimedia.org/w/index.php?curid=51816886

14 Days of Self-Isolation Outlander Challenge

Day 2: 5 Completed Multi-Chapters for Later

Here’s my selection:

The Hearts of War by thickplottens (My absolute, absolute favorite!)

Legend of the Faerie Wife by DiverseMediums (Can never read this story without tears in my eyes and so, even if its just a single chapter story, I will highly recommend it.)

A Far Away Infinity by SapphireSassenach (This was one of my first OL Fan Fiction Stories and it stood with me to this day. I can read it all over again. Btw Have I told you that @saphiresassenach is one of my favorite writers? Now you know it :)

Primary Colors by stilesangelofthelord (This story just stole my heart. I only wish the writer would write again!) 

Second Wife by @betweensceneswriter (I had many worries/questions when I started reading this story and was amazed at how the writer closed the plot! I would call this piece a real classic.) 

Thanks again @scotsmanandsassenach for this event. It’s a joy to participate and remember how much talented but often unknown writers this fandom has.  

[theministerskat]

The Lallybroch Library Scavenger Hunt 2019

7. Create a list of fan fiction that is to blame for your own personal headcanons [20 points].

Canon compliant stories are my favorite, so I have read a lot of them. Here are the ones that I have completely accepted as canon.

Arses and Bannocks by @whiskynottea

Young Rupert and Angus live - and make trouble - in castle Leoch.

Fleur-de-Lis by @ianmuyrray

A canon-compliant backstory series exploring what it was like for Ian (and Jenny) during the time between Virgins and Outlander.

Meant To Be by @futurelounging

From Brianna's recollections of Frank taking her and Claire to the mountains every year, this is a short story about what that time might have been like and the inner thoughts of Frank as he navigates raising his daughter fathered by another man.

Second Wife by @betweensceneswriter

After returning from Helwater, Jamie remarries and becomes a step-father. An exploration of Jamie's second marriage, and how it fell apart.

These last two are by the incredibly talented @futurelounging​. Out Of Time explores Claire’s parents’ story, and I am 100% convinced this is exactly what happened. Still Here is in progress, but I swear this is what will happen beyond what DG eventually gives us. It is also responsible for a new OTP of mine, Elizabeth MacKenzie Myers and Luke Murray.

Out Of Time by @futurelounging​

The story of Henry Beauchamp and Julia Moriston.

Still Here by @futurelounging

A story following The Frasers, Murrays, and MacKenzies of Fraser's Ridge and their descendants.

@thelallybrochlibrary

[metaborderlines]

what a good idea

reread your favourite fanfic one more time. as a treat.

[joannclelia]

Happy valentine’s day to ALL the fic writers in this fandom! Thanks for sharing your amazing talents and responding when I message ❤️ I wish I could express my appreciation more eloquently!!! @notevenjokingfic @kalendraashtar @missclairebelle @awesomeeyeroll @ladyviolethummingbird @bonnie-wee-swordsman @balfeheughlywed @betweensceneswriter @claryclark @gotham-ruaidh @imagineclaireandjamie @jack-andthestalk ***sorry if I left you off the list I love you ALLLLLLLLLLL

[kalendraashtar]

Appreciation ask. You are fabulous, you are incredible and your stories are magnificent. ❤️ spread the love and tag the writers you appreciate.❤️

Thank you, you beautiful human you! All my love back at ya for spreading this positivity! ❤️

All my respect, awe and gratitude for @notevenjokingfic, @missclairebelle, @laythornmuse, @holdhertightandsayhername, @sassenachwaffles, @convivialcamera, @whiskynottea, @balfeheughlywed, @phaedrecameron, @mybeautifuldecay, @suhailauniverse, @marlosbooknook, @akb723, @betweensceneswriter, @bonniebird17, @bonnie-wee-swordsman, @claryclark, @westerhos, @curlsgetdemgurls, @thescarlettpeacock, @jack-andthestalk, @written-rebellion, @lenny9987, @gotham-ruaidh, @pissedoffsoka13, @magnoliasinbloom and probably a few more I’m missing! X

[betweensceneswriter]

Hey there, @gotham-ruaidh! Thanks for the mention!

What is your top 10 (or 5) list of heartwarming fics (or chapters of longer fics)? I am going to need some comfort fics and hot chocolate this afternoon.

Readers - please add your suggestions!

—

Flood My Mornings by @bonnie-wee-swordsman

So Long As I’m With You by @claryclark

Loving Jamie by JillianK (on AO3)

Come Hell or Helwater by @lenny9987 

Bean Sidhe by @kalendraashtar

Escape by @notevenjokingfic

Chain of Command by @mybeautifuldecay

Jimjeran by @betweensceneswriter

Shifted and Uitlander by @gotham-ruaidh (shameless self-promotion)

[betweensceneswriter]

Island Hopper-Chapter 28: Just Add Water

Certain things are instant.  Not usually sons.

Previously Chapter 27: So Long, Farewell Surprising things await back on Majuro.

ISLAND FEVER (Jimjeran Book 1) 

ISLAND HOPPER (Jimjeran Book 2) 

FanFic Master List

     Perkaj looked so small sitting next to Jamie on the Jolok boat.  The breeze whipped his fine black hair around his ears.  Before he was discharged that morning, Dr. Langenbelik had coached us on our goals.  Perkaj, as young as he was, needed to be able to maintain his correct blood sugar level for at the least a full week by himself before we were to allow him to move back in with his family.  

     After that we were to spot check--stop in and have him test his blood sugars at a variety of times of day to make sure he was being consistent.  The goal was for him to re-enter his family and be independent of us, but not at the cost of his health.  We could also work with the family to help support him, hopefully getting their cooperation to speed the process of moving back home again.  

     Jamie and I had bundled up Perkaj with the few possessions he had brought along and the medical paraphernalia that he had gained during his hospitalization, along with a coterie of stuffed animals and toy cars, gifts from the nurses who had felt such pity for the unparented wee waif. We had boarded the Jolok boat just in time for departure.

     Perkaj’s dark eyes sparkled with delight as he glanced back at me.  He crouched to come close to me and exclaimed above the roar of the engine and surf.  “We go to your house now!”

     “We will also see your mama and baba,” I said.

     At that, he looked giddy.  “I miss them,” he admitted, then with a smile at me went back to sit with Jamie.

     He was equally excited during the bumpy ride in the back of the pickup truck from Arno Arno to Ine.  I realized from his enthusiastic reactions to everything we saw that he must have had no memory of his own truck ride to the air strip and plane ride to Majuro, and that this could be his first adventure outside the confines of the island.

     “Let’s stop at Perkaj’s house first,” Jamie suggested as we neared Ine.  I watched Perkaj’s face as we got closer, sharing in his joy as we pulled up to park on his property.  Our call to the Iroij had the desired effect, as the boy’s family members came spilling out of the house to greet him.  His mama was in tears, holding him by the cheeks and gazing into his face, clucking at how much weight he had lost but obviously pleased to see him looking healthy again.  His father smiled gravely as he shook Jamie’s hand.

     They invited us to come in, and we entered their house, nodding at the relatives we found already inside.  Perkaj’s mother and father ushered us to a pandanus mat and tried to urge food on us.  Jamie gestured to his stomach and explained that he was full and couldn’t eat anything.  I had a feeling that his stomach was still churning from the boat ride despite motion sickness pills.

     I could pick out the occasional word as Jamie explained everything to them.  At his invitation, Perkaj joined us on the mat and pulled out his zippered kit with lancets, tester, and insulin.  At Jamie’s nod, he took a testing strip and inserted it into the tester.  The room was silent as he twisted the plastic tip off the lancet, but there was a chorus of gasps as he poked his own finger and then touched the droplet of blood to the testing strip. Quiet murmurs followed, but when the tester beeped with the results, Perkaj held it up not to show his parents, but Jamie so he could see the LCD readout.

     “Emmon, good,” said Jamie. “120. Show Baba and Mama.” 

     Perkaj scrambled over to them, squatted between them, and pointed and explained as he looked at the monitor.

     I noticed that Maria was hanging back at the side of the room, so as the attention of the crowd was on Perkaj, I motioned to her to come outside.  She hung her head shamefacedly, not meeting my eyes.

     “I am not good aunt,” she muttered.

     “Yes you are,” I said.  “You came with Perkaj to Majuro.  It is very hard to take care of someone with diabetes.  You remember I am a nurse, so I can help Perkaj until he can manage it himself, but you can be a helper to him when he comes back home.”

     Her eyelashes fluttered as she glanced quickly up at me.  “Jolok bod,” she said.  “Is bad he live in your house? You and Meester Shamie are just married.  Is not time for nin-nins yet.”

     “Ejjelok bod.  It’s okay,” I said, trying as hard as I could to mean it.

      Before long, Jamie had made our excuses, Maria helped me grab a few more pairs of clothing for Perkaj, and we had our driver take us the rest of the way to the clinic. Coming around the side of the truck, I felt a hand on my arm. It was Jamie, concern on his face. “Are you all right, hen?” he asked. Perkaj was pulling his backpack out of the truck, his focus elsewhere.

     “Honestly? A little terrified,” I answered, meeting Jamie’s eyes. “Wondering how we’re going to manage all of this along with the rest of our lives.”

     “Just do the next right thing,” Jamie said. “That’s what my da used to say when Jenny, Willie or I were overwhelmed by a task.”

     I took a deep breath, grabbed my suitcase and swung it out of the bed of the truck.

     “Well,” I said, with a hesitant smile at Jamie, “let’s get inside and make a spot for Perkaj.”

     After dropping my luggage by the kitchen table, I went around the apartment opening up the louvered windows and curtains which had been closed for more than a week. Without a breeze to move the air it made little difference.  It was still stuffy and hot. 

     Perkaj wandered around the apartment, stopping in front of the pantry with its rows of cans and tubs of dry goods.  “Ebol mona,” he marveled, opening his arms to show how much food we seemed to have.

     “Eh bowl?” I asked Jamie. “I know mona is food.”

     “It means full… a lot.”

     After pulling our bed closer to the west wall of the apartment, Jamie moved the couch to create a barrier between the table and the back wall to give Perkaj a spot of his own.

     Glancing at me occasionally, Jamie set up the space.  He pulled a quilt from our storage tub, folded it several times and laid it on the floor, topping it with the pandanus mat Perkaj’s mom had carefully rolled up for her son. I pulled one of the extra pillows from our bed and put on a fresh pillowcase, handing a sheet to Jamie to put on top of the mat.

      Looking through the back window, I caught sight of my raised beds. Having seen the dry yellow grass along the sides of the road , the drooping palm fronds and wilting jungle plants on the way from Arno Arno, I’d had a sinking feeling. I still saw green peeking up above the wooden walls of the beds, so I invited Perkaj out to see my plants.

     Though most of the plants looked a little limp, as I dug down into the soil surrounding them I discovered that just an inch under the surface of the ground there was moisture.  It was only a minute later that Anni wandered over.

     “Meester Shamie asked me to water the plants,” she said, smiling. Perkaj stood up on tiptoes to peek into the box, then grabbed the bucket to go to the well.  He lugged it back having to use both hands to carry it, water sloshing out on his feet.  But he was fascinated and helpful as we dipped cups of water and gently poured them at the base of each plant.

     By the time we went back inside, Jamie had stretched wire from one rafter to the other and was hanging up a sheet to separate Perkaj's little room from ours.

     “Let’s do coconut rice and fish,” Jamie suggested, nodding towards our little visitor. He had reached into the dresser, grabbed swim trunks, and was about to drop his pants when he thought again.  

     “Do you want to see how yer bed feels?” He asked Perkaj, rattling off the translation in Majol afterwards. Once Perkaj had rounded the curtain, Jamie whipped off his clothing and pulled on the trunks, his back to the room.  After a pleasant eyeful, and having never seen the man sheepish about being naked, I couldn’t help but chuckle.  Perkaj was still happily sitting on his bed, setting his zoo of stuffed animals around the perimeter when Jamie joined me in the kitchen.

     “Obviously, I need to rethink the space,” he whispered. “No’ enough privacy yet,”

     “You think he’s never seen a naked man before?” I asked in an undertone.

     “Aye, I’m sure the lad has, but he doesna need to be subjected to the vision of a large, naked white Scotsman.”

     “That would be a traumatizing nightmare,” I joked.  Jamie smirked, kissed me, and headed out the door with his fish spear.

     “Itok, Perkaj,” I called out. “Can you help me find a coconut for the rice?”

      Prepping dinner took a good hour, followed by testing his blood sugar, giving Perkaj short-acting insulin, measuring portions, eating, and cleaning up after the meal. By 7:45 I couldn’t tell who was more exhausted--us or Perkaj. Jamie meticulously wrote down everything in the blood sugar/insulin log, and then we met each other’s eyes, an identical question on our faces.  “What now?”

     We were used to freedom in the evenings, our time being our own to read or write letters, to flirt and joke and laugh, to kiss and cuddle, to freely shed our clothing and make as much noise as we wanted.  But now there was an unfamiliar guest in our sacred space. 

     For the first time, I thought I saw it register on Jamie’s face-the sense of anxiety and discomfort I was feeling. But then he frowned determinedly and turned to Perkaj.

     “Ej awa in kiki,” he said.  “It’s time to sleep.  What do mama and baba do to help you rest?”

     “Erro bwebwenato,” Perkaj replied. His voice held a tinge of sadness.

     “They tell you a story?” Jamie repeated, translating. “Well, come & lie down in your bed, and I’ll tell ye a story.  I have one that’s called Jock & his Mother.”

     We turned on a lamp by our bed and turned off the main lights.  While the boys were on one side of the sheet I put on my pajamas, choosing a longer pair of shorts in case Perkaj saw me in the morning. 

     The story was a little like one I’d heard before, where a simple-minded boy keeps following his mother’s advice a bit too late.  Jock brings home a needle in a bundle of hay, and his mother tells him he should have put it in his hat.  The next day he brings home a plough, and following his mother’s advice, puts it on his hat.  Of course, it’s so heavy it falls into the river. 

     “She said to him, ‘You silly boy!  Ye should have tied a rope to it and pulled it behind you!’” Jamie said, giving the mother the voice of an old crone.  Perkaj giggled.

     “The next day,” Jamie said, “The boy earned a leg o’ mutton... well, they dinna have those on Arno, so maybe it was a… roasted chicken. What do you think he did with it?”

     “Tie it with rope?” Perkaj offered.

     “And pulled it all the way home!” Jamie answered. The answering peal of laughter made me smile.  I sat on the bed, arms hugged around my knees.  All this time I hadn’t realized this talent of Jamie’s.  My only bedtime story from him had been the boring recitation of Scottish history.

     Poor Jock tried to carry a horse on his shoulder and then rode a cow, which of course helped a sad princess to laugh and so they got married.  Jamie slowed his sentences and lowered his voice as the story continued, and just before I heard the floor creak with the movement of Jamie pushing himself up off the floor, I heard a little voice murmur something in Marshallese.

     Jamie crept around the curtain, smiling when he saw me.  He joined me on the bed and was reaching for a book when I whispered, “What did he say?  I didn’t hear him well enough.”

     I could have sworn there was a little mist in Jamie’s eyes as he answered.  “He said ‘Ainikiom ekakiiki ao.’” He paused, the effort of translating wrinkling his forehead.  “It means,” he blushed and met my eyes. “The sound of your voice lulls my soul to sleep.”

     I felt a lump in my throat, the sting of tears in my own eyes as I leaned my head on Jamie’s shoulder. He pressed a kiss onto my forehead and wrapped an arm around me.

     “Tired?” he asked.

     “Exhausted,” I answered.

     “I don’t even think I can read tonight,” he said, reaching over me to turn off the lamp.

     “I won’t argue with that,” I responded, getting up to turn the covers down and pull up the single top sheet. It was still hot and windless.

     Jamie cuddled me for a moment when he got under the covers, but then pulled away.

     “It’s so hot,” he groaned. “I’m missing air conditioning already.”

      It was pitch black inside and out when I startled awake.

     “I want to go home,” a small voice quavered.  “Ikonaan mama im baba.  In my house, my brother sleeps next to me,” Perkaj cried.  “I am alone here.”

     “Jab jan”, Jamie said reassuringly.  “Don’t cry.  Here.  You can sleep next to me.”

     He flipped on the lamp, pushed the sheet out of the way, pulled the mat over until it was touching the side of our bed and tucked Perkaj in again.  Jamie then got into bed, kindly turning toward the little boy and scooting closer to the edge that faced him.

     For the next few minutes, I could hear Marshallese as Jamie murmured reassurances to Perkaj.  The low rumble of foreign speech patterns soothed me as well, and soon I fell back asleep.

      In the predawn hours, I was awakened by large, warm hands that gently stroked my back.  They found their way to the tight muscles of my neck and shoulders, then ran fingers through my hair to massage my scalp.

     I shivered at a kiss on my shoulder blade, at which Jamie scooted closer to me and put his arm over me.

     “Cold, hen?” he asked.

     “Actually, no,” I said, smiling to myself.

     “Me neither,” he whispered, a hand meandering down my side, lazily tracing the waistband of my shorts before slipping fingers under the elastic.

     “Whatcha doing?” I whispered playfully, rolling toward him and being rewarded by an enthusiastic caress of my breast and a thorough kiss.

     “Dying,” was Jamie’s response. “A busy week at your parents’ house, then sleeping apart from ye at the hospital, and now we have an instant son? God, I'm starving for ye.”

     No words were needed to tell him I felt the same.  I’d been trying not to be selfish and resentful, but it was challenging to not feel deprived and disconnected.

     I helped him finish what he had started, wriggling out of my shorts and kicking them onto the floor, then climbing atop Jamie, who made quick work of pulling off my tank top over my head, throwing it to the side to join its companion on the floor.

     “Ifrinn,” he gasped as I used a hand to guide him in, lowering myself onto him.

     Perkaj won’t wake up, I assured myself, confident the darkness would hide us.  He was turned away from us anyway, his breath coming out in a low, even snore. I leaned toward him just to make sure he wasn’t looking in our direction.

     Jamie must have noticed my movement because he hissed under his breath, “It won’t be the first time he’s heard these noi…  Oh, God… oh, Christ...”

     I put my hand over his mouth, increasing my pace. I was close, he was close, and then, a plaintive voice interrupted the process.  “Meester Shamie?”

     I froze. Jamie desperately tried to hold my hips to keep me in place, but I was instantly out of the mood, melting down next to Jamie like an ice cube on a hot car.

     “No no no no no no no…” Jamie pleaded. I pulled the sheet up, panting.  “Bollocks,” he swore, then modulated his voice after a deep sigh.  “Ijin,” he said calmly, rolling away from me toward Perkaj.  “I’m right here.”

Next up on Island Hopper:

Chapter 28b: Just Add Water, part 2 Shots & the “Shungle” 

[yarnings]

New Year Get To Know Me

Apparently I’ll do whatever @futurelounging tells me to

Nicknames: Sam, the one with the kintting

Zodiac: Aquarius, Ox

Height: 167cm (yes, I know, centimetres aren’t SI.)

Time: 14:19

Favorite band/artist: Alan Doyle/Great Big Sea

Song stuck in my head: ChooChoo Boogaloo (Buckwheat Zydeco). Ask the two-year-old why.

Last thing I googled: Churches in [city redacted] (for fic research)

Other blogs: Bicraftual Stitches (I figured most people didn’t want all the yarn spamming them)

Do I get asks: I can’t remember if it was two or three total. One I ignored because it was out of line

Why did I choose this username: Originally this was going to be both knitting and stories, and wordplay is the best

Following: 104. Mostly either Outlander or fibre related, with a few exceptions

Average amount of sleep: I dunno. How do we count time spent dozing while nursing the toddler in the middle of the night?

What I’m wearing: Old GGC year of the volunteer t-shirt, blue jeans (from the men’s side of the store thank you very much) thin cotton socks, leather-soled commercial slippers

Dream job: I still think that maintenance engineer would suit me well, but I’m not sure about going back to school. Got any good tips for getting off the Mommy track? Teaching knitting was fun, but there are huge issues with doing it at Micheals, and outside of the corporate environment I have to do too much of the hard parts.

Dream trip: Algonquin. Maybe a guided backcountry trip? I’ve had back luck trying to go backcountry myself, and I’m sick and tired of having to stern for my giant of a husband.

Fave food: Favourites? I don’t do favourites well. Let’s say mincemeat hand pies. I’d better like them with the amount of effort we just put in.

Play any instruments: Not really. Basics of piano, guitar, pennywhistle and bodhran. Kind of dabbled in harmonica a bit, but that’s too hard for me.

Hair color: Brown

Languages you speak: English, basic French, learning German, beginner Spanish

Most iconic song:  Sing Verdi Very Loud (Beethoven’s Wig)

Random fact: Net-zero houses (even if they’re actually net-zero, and not when a developer sells houses in a subdivision and claims that they’re net-zero) are often a less environmentally-friendly choice. I’ve got the paper on it if you don’t trust something that incredibly obvious to be true

Describe yourself as aesthetic things: Can I just say yarn and pretend that I understood this question?

Tagging: How about @underthewingsofthblackeagle, @betweensceneswriter, @renee-writer and @camilladiconza

[gotham-ruaidh]

I need a new fic that I can really get lost in. Something unique! I want a new take on J and C that will swallow me whole. Any suggestions?

Readers - please help anon out and add your own recommendations!

Dr. Beauchamp, Medicine Woman by @crossinginstyle

Jimjeran by @betweensceneswriter

Clair(e)voyance, Escape, Beauchamp Chronicles by @notevenjokingfic

For a Lost Daughter by @bonnie-wee-swordsman

Mac Ruaidh by @lenny9987

So Long As I’m With You by @claryclark

Renewed by @mybeautifuldecay

Loss by @missclairebelle

Constellations, Bean Sidhe, Scalpel and Needle by @kalendraashtar

Dawning in Dust by @diversemediums

Our Story by @westerhos

The Berserker by @suhailauniverse 

[theministerskat]

Second Wife by @betweensceneswriter is an amazing canon compliant fic that really delves into Laoghaire as a person and her marriage to Jamie. It’s one of my favorites and I’ve accepted it as canon.

I just had a random thought while sitting in class. Are there any stories with a “good” Laoghaire? Or really just anywhere she’s not a antagonist.

Hi,

We love your thought! It is hard to say in regards to this ask, only in so far as though she may not necessarily be portrayed in the best of light, she may not also be an antagonist. This is one of those things that will boil down to how a reader interprets every different author’s portrayal of Laoghaire Mackenzie. 

Here is here character tag over at AO3 if you’d like to dive into it!

[thebrochtuarachs]

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! 

[theshadylaine]

OL Fanfic Hurricane

Jesus H. Roosevelt Christ!

All this amazing fanfic floated through my dashboard over the last several days.  How the hell am I supposed to work????????

I’ve been missing you, lately Part 2 by @smoakingwaffles Guts torn out--major angst!

Chemistry Test part 3 by @betweensceneswriter Hilarious smut.

The Songs of Our Life Part 2 (A Fairy in A bookstore) by @whiskynottea Lyrical angst.

The Coffee Incident Ch 4 “Not A Date” by @jules-fraser Jackass Jamie.

Uitlander Part 6 by @gotham-ruaidh JC & all Randalls in South Africa.

Perfect Distractions Part 4 Chapter 2 (Ice) by @written-rebellion College love.

Where We Begin Chapter 15 by @laythornmuse Jamie’s loaded & Geneva’s insane.

Enchanted by @awesomeeyeroll Storybook prompt.

We Save Ourselves Chapter 7 by @futurelounging Noir.

Scalpel & Needle Part X by @kalendraashtar Claire hates Jamie.

Tales of the Silver Ring Chapter 1 by @thebrochtuarachs Sentimental.

What's in a Name? by @thatsoccercoach Loss and love.

The thistle and the rose part 2 by @gotham-ruaidh_ruaidh Star crossed lovers.

The Nature of Choice: A Decision Reached by @lenny9987 Claire & Bree go back.

Vergangenheit by @phoenixflames12 WWII Era.

I Don't Even Know Your Name Chapter 15 by @kkruml Starts in a bar ;)

The Ripple Effect Chapter 8 by @whiskynottea. Why did she leave him?

I Had to Face the Who Am I, Who is She, What Did I Do? by @abbydebeaupreposts John, Claire & Jaime. Canon compliant!

This Is Us Chapter 30 by @abbydebeaupreposts Sloooooow burn. Angst aplenty.

An interruption in the first law of thermodynamics Chapter 16 by @whiskynottea High school love.

Loss Ficlet: Canis familiaris by @missclairebelle Puppy fluff.

Amnesia by @whiskynottea. Canon divergence.

Scatter the Night: Chapter 1 by @owlish-peacock36 1920s NYC.

THE ART OF HEALING Chapter 3 by camilladiconza Psychologist Claire.

I’m Gonna Be (500 Miles) Chapter 5 by @ladyviolethummingbird Groundhog Day!

OK—what did I miss???