#fittergirl

[magnetictapedatastorage]

Fittergirl (Real name is Kathy Thompson)

Dripping wet, 98 pounds, it’s summer, carrying steel from one side of the room to the other. “Hey, , why you want to do this?” I think to myself, “She wants a baby and we can’t live on a woman’s pay” I say, “I was unhappy sitting behind a desk.” “Hey, Fittergirl, I thought “take your daughter to work day was YESTERDAY!” (laughter) I continue working. Home, soaking wet, exhausted, bruises on my shoulders from carrying pipes. “Kathy, can you go get me MacDonald’s?” “ok.” “Hey, Fittergirl? can you bring me a left handed pipe wrench?” My middle finger goes up. I decide I need to focus on something to be valuable. Because being a 98 pound girl won’t cut it. I decide I’m going to be a kick butt welder. I go to the hall and practice for hours each night. I get decent. Time for a new job site. New foreman, I’ve never met him before. “you ain’t like M.W. are you? ’cause she’s an asshole and you better not be like her.” “I don’t know her, but I’m my own person and hopefully not an asshole.” “Hey Fittergirl? do you wanna suck me off?” I carry a core drill up a ladder because there’s no stairway yet. No I don’t want to suck you off. “She wants a baby, that’s why I’m doing this.” Home. She hasn’t brushed her hair. There’s food in the garbage disposal from yesterday. She’s playing video games. “Can you get me MacDonald’s?” “ok.” It’s raining, next day on the job site. Mud. Slogging. The welder doesn’t show up. My chance. I say to the foreman, “I can weld.” ~skeptical look across his face~….”okay, let’s see what you’ve got.” New machine, plugs it in. I put on my welding hood; I’m going to totally impress him. The rod spits and sputters, just won’t run right. I felt sick. Terrified that maybe I didn’t know how to weld after all. “It’s not working right.” He curses and puts on the hood, picks up the stinger, and lo and behold, doesn’t work for him either. Machine was hooked to the wrong voltage. “Hey, Fittergirl? you shouldn’t be welding. you shouldn’t be here.” I was up near the ceiling. Somehow a shower of sparks happened to fall on the guy who said that. Foreman: “you won me over, you have that line over there to weld, I’ll give you K.Z. to pimp.” Home. It’s my thirtieth birthday. She throws a twenty at me and tells me to buy something. Lovely. “She wants a baby but I don’t think she’d be a good Mom.” “Hey, Fittergirl? Wanna go out with me?” Not really. My welding hood drops and he’s gone and she’s gone and all that exists is the glowing puddle of metal. Salvation. Resurrection. Zen. Meditation. Peace. “Hey, Fittergirl? You’re ok.” “I’m damned good, is what I am.” © 2021 Kathy Thompson, Madison WI

from the summer 2021 edition of Pride and a Paycheck

[imagineclaireandjamie]

Mod Lenny, I keep re-reading part 4 of The High Road and the Low Road hopeful for part 5. Is it coming soon? Thanks for writing!

The High Road and the Low Road - Part Five

After learning the truth from Claire, a furious Brianna runs to Craig na Dun to prove her mother’s crazy only to fall through the stones herself.

Part One, Part Two, Part Three, Part Four

****************************************************

Young Ian looked smug about something. Jamie knew that was rarely a good sign. Having sufficiently scolded his nephew – who hadn’t even bothered to lie or twist the truth about having absconded from Lallybroch without his parents’ knowledge – Jamit turned his attention to the lass Young Ian had brought with him. 

She looked petrified, poor thing. Who was she and what had Young Ian told her as he brought her here? Why had he brought her here? No doubt part of her open-mouthed fear had to do with the yelling Jamie had just done in front of her. 

“Apologies, lass,” Jamie said, bowing his head in her direction. “I ought not to have carried on so in front of ye. I’m Alexander malcolm and–”

“I already told her that’s no yer name, Uncle,” Young Ian confessed. 

“Iffrin,” Jamie muttered under his breath. 

The lass continued to watch him carefully. I unnerved him, her gaze. There was something familiar about her… He must know some of her people – her father or a sibling perhaps.

“Ian says yer name is Brianna?” The name felt awkward in his mouth.

“Brianna,” she confirmed but with a different emphasis, a different accent. Her voice was quiet and unsteady. 

“I met her on the road from Lallybroch,” Young Ian explained. “She was lost and I told her I’d help her find her way to Inverness on my way back. I told her ye’d be fine wi’ her stayin’ wi’ us as I couldna leave her to fend for herself.”

Jamie kept his face controlled, motionless as he fought the urge to wring his nephew’s neck. His rented rooms were small and cramped and he felt no guilt making Young Ian sleep on the floor when he ran away like this – just part of his punishment really. But he couldn’t let the lass sleep so rough. What had possessed the lad to make such an offer?

“Ye’re lost then?” Jamie asked, turning to Brianna, hoping her plight would help to calm and refocus him.

But she only nodded, still too nervous or frightened to speak.

“Well, Ian’s right – I’ll no turn ye away do ye need a safe place, but it’s no the lap of luxury.” 

All he got was another nod.

Jamie sighed and reached past the shrinking girl to take Young Ian by the shoulder and pull him toward the back of the shop. “A word,” he demanded. 

“Where did ys find the lass?” he asked under his breath, his eyes drifting to watch her as she relaxed a little and began to look around the shop.

“It was near the fairy hill,” Young Ian explained quietly. “Craig na Dun.”

A chill went up Jamie’s spine at the mention of that dreaded place. Perhaps the lass – like Claire – had been ripped from all that she knew and was truly lost the way Young Ian said… Had she confided in his nephew? Would she need more help than the lad kent to offer?

“And ye say she’s on her way back to Inverness?” Jamie raised an eyebrow at Young Ian who tried his best to look insulted.

“Tha’s where she asked to be taken,” he explained.

“And so she will be,” Jamie nodded. “Because I’m going to see here there with ye.” (With a stop at the stones if it pleased the lass.) “Then I’m takin’ ye all the way home to Lallybroch.”

Young Ian’s face fell at the prospect.

“But Da’s likely on his way to fetch me as it is and ye cannae afford to take the time away,” the lad objected. “Really, it would help you and them back home more did ye convince Da to let me stay here and work wi’ ye.”

“I’m no interested in an apprentice as doesna do as he’s told,” Jamie countered. “Stop runnin’ away, help yer mam and da for a year wi’out complaint and then we’ll see if ye’re a fair prospect for me to take on. Now, we’ll leave tomorrow if I can manage the arrangements this afternoon. Day after if it takes longer to settle. And whatever this costs me in business, ye’ll be makin’ up to me should I desire to hire ye in future.” Jamie pointed a finger at an increasingly dejected Young Ian before turning to the lass to tell her the plan. 

She was standing Looking over the copy of Pamela from the shelf of popular titles he stocked for patrons to examine. And she was. There was an amazement and reverence to how she held the book, a care to how she turned the pages, a curiosity as she ran her finger over the seams and spine.

“Ye can read then, lass,” he said, unintentionally startling her. 

The book fell to the counter as she pressed a hand to her chest and muttered, “Jesus H. Roosevelt Christ.”

Jamie had been reaching for the book as he saw it falling but was lucky to grab the counter and brace himself as he felt the world shift beneath his feet.

“Uncle Jamie?!” Young Ian cried, dashing over to the man’s side. “Are ye alright?” He looked to Brianna, confused.

But her full attention was on Jamie and she looked frozen and maybe a little terrified.

Jamie brushed off Young Ian’s hand as he got his feet back under him, his own gaze fixed on Brianna, looking her over more closely. The familiarity he’d felt before… how had he misplaced it? She looked like the portrait of his mother still gracing the walls of Lallybroch. He’d always found something irresistible about the way Claire carried herself – not the self-assured confidence of a vain and beautiful woman used to being flattered (though Claire had certainly been the most beautiful woman he’d ever seen), but the confident bearing of a woman who knew and was sure of herself.

Despite the uncertainty and hesitation in her eyes, Brianna stood taller, rising to meet and hold his confused and hungry attention. It was something he’d seen Claire do a hundred times.

“Ye ken who I am?” Jamie croaked, then swallowed hard against the swelling in his throat. His hands felt clammy and shook as he tried to wipe them surreptitiously on his breeks. “Are… are you who I think you are?” he whispered.

“Are you Jamie Fraser?” Brianna asked, her eyes darting briefly – accusingly – to Young Ian. “Your nephew never did tell me your real name.”

“I am,” Jamie nodded. “And ye’re my… Claire – she… she told ye then? She sent ye?”

“She told me,” Brianna confirmed quietly. “She also told me you were dead.”

“Then she is yer daughter,” Young Ian piped up, victory rising in his voice. “I kent ye must be, soon as ye said yer mam’s name was Claire and that she was English. Ye’re the spit of Uncle Jamie and everyone at Lallybroch kens the stories–”

“Ian,” Jamie interrupted sharply. “Go see to the back.”

“See to what in the back?”

“Just go.”

“Ah… right. I’ll leave ye two to get acquainted,” Young Ian rambled, color rising in his cheeks and a smug expression blooming on his face. He disappeared from the room, though, and Jamie finally looked away from Brianna long enough to move to the front door and lock it against further disruption. 

“Is Claire… How is she?” Jamie asked, still too unsure what to make of the grown daughter standing before him. 

“Well, she’s probably worried and pissed at me,” Brianna said with a wary sigh. “My trip here wasn’t exactly planned – I mean, not just to Edinburgh but to seventeen-whatever year this is.”

“1766,” Jamie informed her. “It’s been twenty years since I bid yer mother farewell… I’ve thought of her – of both of ye – and prayed for ye every day since then.”

His voice was quiet and sad, broken and earnest. It tugged at Brianna’s chest in an unexpected way. She’d heard that sorrowful longing before. 

It had been in her mother’s voice when she’d told Brianna about Jamie – about losing him. 

She took a step closer to him and reached out to rest her hand on his arm. He stilled beneath her touch like an animal spooked and debating whether to flee or play dead. The thought helped put her own trepidation into perspective. He was just as intimidated by her as she was by him – perhaps more.

Brianna reached for what they had in common and found further comfort in speaking about her mother. 

“I’m pretty sure she thought about you and prayed for you a lot too,” she told him. “I didn’t know about you for a long time growing up, but since she told me… there are a lot of things about her and about her and Daddy that make more sense now.”

“Frank,” Jamie replied with a tamed disgust that gave Brianna pause. “Did he treat ye well? Both of ye?”

“Always,” she said confidently before flashes of doubt flickered in her now-untrusted memory. “At least… I know he loved me and never treated me… I don’t even know. I never doubted him or questioned that he – and I always though he and Mama were happy. Now… now I wish I’d listened to her more when she was telling me the whole story and that I hadn’t – well, let’s just say I could’ve handled the news about you better.” She flushed, remembering her behavior.

For the first time the air of sorrow and longing lifted and she noticed curiosity creep into Jamie’s face.

“Aye, I can imagine it must’ve come as a shock to ye,” he assured her, his tone slightly cautious. “I didna ken what to make of it myself when she first told me the truth of where she was from. Didna matter much to me either – I was already too far gone for her. But she didna seem to care o’er much for my askin’ her was she a witch.”

Brianna stifled a laugh as the mental image of her mother first as the Wicked Witch of the West popped into her head before it transformed into Claire as Glinda floating in her giant bubble. Traveling by bubble was far more appealing than the thought of touching those stones again.

“I may have called her a few colorful things,” Brianna confessed. “I don’t think ‘witch’ was one of them, though. No, I was thinking more about the poker I hurled through the window,” she added in a quieter voice.

His eyebrows shot up in surprise and then she laughed. The surprise faded to an amused and prideful smile.

“Well… that might be a bit of the Fraser temper,” Jamie told her with a knowing nod, then leaned conspiratorially forward. “Though yer mam did throw a bit of crockery now and again – usually at my head.”

It was Brianna’s turn to mirror his surprised and impressed expression. This time they both laughed, drawing Young Ian from the back room.

“Ye’re no laughin’ at me, are ye?”

****************************************************

Ian had secured them lodgings for the night. They would reach Edinburgh the next day by his reckoning and he assured Claire that it was highly likely that Brianna and Young Ian had already reached the safety of Jamie and the printshop.

“Ye’ve heard it from at least three folks as have seen them making their way,” he reminded her as they ate from a tray in their meagre room. She would (reluctantly) take the bed while Ian and Roger made do on the floor with the pillows and blankets she insisted they take from the bed. 

“Aye, Claire,” Roger chimed in, “she’s no alone and that’s the key thing. She’s safe and we’ll find her.”

“I don’t doubt that,” she asserted, though with less conviction than she hoped to convey. “It’s just… if I’d known he was alive and that they’d be meeting one another… It’s not how I would’ve wanted them to meet is all. For them to be blindsided by it–”

“I doubt Ian managed to keep it secret from her, did he truly ken who she was,” Ian speculated. “He’s the Mackenzie knack for plotting mischief, but no the knack for carrying it out well. More like to muck it up, that one,” he finished with a laugh. 

He rose to carry away the empty tray over Claire and Roger’s objections. 

Left alone, Roger still kept his voice low as he asked Claire, “Have ye thought what ye mean to say to Jamie when ye see him? What it means now ye ken he’s alive?”

Claire face told him what he already suspected – she’d been thinking of little else.

“Ye said it gets worse each time ye try to pass through the stones, aye? And ye werena sure ye’d even survive a trip back… Maybe… maybe it’s because yer place is here with Jamie,” he suggested.

“And where would that leave Brianna?” Claire challenged. “She’s still not over losing Frank and everything she’s ever known has just been pulled out from under her. What kind of mother would I be if I abandoned her now too?”

“Maybe ye won’t have to choose,” Roger replied, hope and resignation warring within him. “Maybe she’ll want to say.”

“I doubt that very much.”

Roger looked at Claire until he caught her attention completely.

“She didna just pass through the stones and run straight back,” he reminded her. “Brianna chose to come to Edinburgh. And she’ll have met a father she didna ken she had. You didna think to stay until ye met Jamie. She might surprise ye.”

“I’ve lived longer with both Brianna and the pull of life on either side of those stones,” Claire pointed out. 

“And? What do ye think will come of it?”

“Heartbreak. Maybe not at first, but eventually. And the bit before the heartbreak has to be enough to help you survive it all.”

“Well,” Roger nodded and smiled. “I’ve heard ye tell plenty of yer time here before ye went back, so I think it’s a safe bet to say it will be.”

[thelallybrochlibrary]

Hi Librarians, I am looking for a fic that I think was a Christmas fic a couple of years ago. Jamie and Claire ended up separated by war in the gulf and Dougal. Jamie is a service dog trainer when reunited and Claire is finishing up her schooling. Thanks!

Hi there @fittergirl​!

The story you’re looking for is An Outlander Affair to Remember by @abbydebeaupreposts​. You can read it here on AO3 or here on tumblr.

Happy Reading!

[supertam87]

@fittergirl I’m so sorry I didn’t get a chance to say goodbye to you this weekend. It was great fun meeting you! I hope you had a good time. I look forward to seeing your pics when they are ready.

[theministerskat]

Get To Know Me

I was tagged by four beautiful women: @ourkissgoodbye @lindseyylu17 @kkruml and @the-notsoevil-queen

The concept is to answer these questions, then tag 10 people you want to get to know better.

Name: Katlyn, Kat for short

Sign(s): Sagittarius

Height: 5′6″ on a good day

Background for your desktop/phone: Laptop is a picture from my wedding of the hubs and I, phone is me and the babe.

Who was your last kiss? Ro baby.

Have you ever been stood up? Not that I recall.

Have you ever been to Las Vegas? Yes, I love it. We go to the strip and Fremont Street, gamble and see shows, but we also explore the parks around Vegas: Red Rocks Canyon, Mt. Charleston, Valley of Fire, and even Zion NP. Maybe I just love going to the parks and not Vegas . . .

Have you ever had a crush on a teacher? Nope

Where do you see yourself in 10 years? Raising a ten year old boy, with lots of trips to Disney and other places under our belts.

Coolest Halloween costume: I have a really simple bear costume that I wear year after year that I love, but one year I made my own Dobby costume, ears and all, that was pretty cool.

Favorite 90′s show: Dawson’s Creek, Team Pacey

Favorite pair of shoes: My winter boots, I’ve had them for 20 years and they're still going strong.

Favorite fruit: Apples, honeydew, and oranges

Favorite books: Harry Potter, Outlander, The Giver, Their Eyes Were Watching God, To Kill a Mockingbird, ASOIAF, 

Stupidest thing you’ve ever done: I bought my house from a family “friend” without getting an inspection. Yeah, that’s been fun.

I’m tagging @muykonos @abbydebeaupreposts @curlsgetdemgurls @faeriesfanficemporium @notevenjokingfic @owlish-peacock36 @pjpes @fittergirl @awesomeeyeroll @phaedrecameron @underthewingsofthblackeagle 

If you’ve already done this, just ignore me.

[thesketchingwitch]

So @fittergirl wanted to know if I would make Claire’s photoshoot outfit for her doll self, and the answer is ‘I already had it made!’ The printshop outfit was sewn months ago so I only had to add a belt! 😬

Let’s hope we have better weather over the next few days and I can get the dolls out onto my boat set ( ?????? 😱 !!!!)

[anoutlandishfanfic]

#TransformationTuesday

So, in a quest to find a post I wrote in February, I was reminded of how much A Child of the Stones has transformed.

The beginning (with Claire and Jamie) hasn’t changed much, plot wise, but I’ve gone thru SEVERAL ideas of how Julia and her parents are reunited.

1. We started with a stone-hopping adventure, which sent Julia from Craigh na Dun to Abandawe:     (THESE CONTAIN VOYAGER/S3 SPOILERS, SO DINNA CLICK IF YE DINNA WISH TO KEN)

Standing Stones / Close Enough to Touch / Return / Wait, What? / Old Wounds / Old Wounds Pt2 / Old Wounds Pt3

2. And then I realized I didn’t like the stones-to-stones idea among many other things and switched it up to her coming thru on the Ridge. Its incredibly one dimensional. I’m so sorry. But, anyway, here it is:

Mighty Oak / Found Pt1 / Found Pt2

 3. After that, I, um, had a brain explosion that resulted in the whole Crawford/Randall thing and decided to rewrite it YET AGAIN.

Here is the final version of their reunion:

In the Days Between Pt3 / Wandering in the Wood / The Lost Has Been Found / More Questions Than Answers Pt1, Pt2, & Pt3*

MAJOR shout out to @maryooch, @justgingernotirish, @the-fear-you-wont-fall, @widchadidcha, @aruza83, @lindseyylu17, @caldineens, @fittergirl, @futurelounging, @tara-58, @mypiegirl, @iwanttodriveyouthroughthenight, @shamelessmiraclemaker, @marshmallow0810, @brandeewine, @bonnie-wee-swordsman, @ladyjane-lj, @everythingyouweretooafraidtoask, @hardblazesong, @romancoin, @akb723, @ceruleanorchid12, @cagedbirdsong, @annalamode, @oodembuns, @texassassenach, @whitenightowl, @macangel56, @lovesmeryl, @andthencamemacdubh, @monaksharp, @diversemediums, @thatwetwomaybeoneagain, @mollymal, @rxqueenruby, @its-me-claire, @xlisaleinx, @thescarlettpeacock, @mgreer69, @unicornadoptee, @iwishiwasalark, @thebrownhairedsassanach, @gotham-ruaidh, @nandan11, and @booklvr4 for hanging in there since pretty much the beginning!**

*Part Three is close to being finished! You can read a peek here. **There are so many of you that I forgot to tag! I read each and every like, reblog, and response. I have a folder going on my phone of screencaps of them. All 550 of you make my day and I treasure each and every follower. (and those of you who I KNOW are lurking and reading, but haven’t hit follow)

[cmhoughton]

Can you tell from reading the script if he will have to slip into an English accent or will he end up being a Scot in the roll?

Thank you for the question, @fittergirl. 

In the screenplay Sebastian is described as 'charming, British’ the first time he appears, and he tells Audrey he's from England in the same scene.  There’s no indication of accent, which isn't unusual.

So, the character is definitely English in the draft I have, but it is dated from about a year ago, well before Sam was involved, so that may change.

[redstarfiction-blog]

Hi, can you recommend any fanfics on AO3 that are not on Tumblr. TIA

Hi Fittergirl, I am not 100% sure whether these stories are on Tumblr too or not but here are a couple of AWESOME ones that are on AO3 that I have been following:

La Dame Blache by Wongirlhttp://archiveofourown.org/works/6686143/chapters/15291928

Hail Mary by Bonnie_Wee_Swordsmanhttp://archiveofourown.org/works/7592512

Weeping Willow by Compactorhttp://archiveofourown.org/works/10232957

After Culloden  by PhoenixFlames12

http://archiveofourown.org/works/8974972/chapters/20520037

Seriously though, just go to AO3 and follow this link (http://archiveofourown.org/tags/Outlander%20Series%20-%20Diana%20Gabaldon/works) to Outlander stories and you will not be disappointed. There are so many amazing authors there and such a huge variety that you will definitely find something you love :)

[takemeawaytocamelot]

@fittergirl I swear I knew that. I grew up like 4 hours from there. Thank you for pointing that out!!

[imagineclaireandjamie]

Imagine that after Helwater Jamie comes home and Jenny insists he marry Mary McNab instead of Laoghaire.  Jamie finally relents and they set up a happy home filled with respect that develops into real, deep phileo love.  It may not be the rock your world type of love that Jamie and Claire had/have but it is solid. Then after 20 years, Claire returns… This one could be really, really angst filled. Thanks for your time mods! 

@jerribwarren submitted:  We all know that if Jamie had to remarry,  Laoghaire was probably the best person for him to marry as a marriage to her was never going to work (between her unrealistic expectations, her jealousy of Claire and Jamie’s apathy after his return from Helwater).  My question is:  don’t you think that if he had married someone (like a Mary McNabb but who wouldn’t necessarily have seen him with Claire) other than Laoghaire, someone he might have actually become friends with and grown to have a genuine affection for, it would have been much harder to reconcile the situation after Claire’s return especially if they had actually had a child or children together?  I would think that he wouldn’t have left his second wife in this situation or would have brought her with him to Edinburgh. I’d appreciate a discussion or even an AU on this subject about how this situation could/would have been resolved.  Thanks and I really love all of the writers for imagine.

Love in Other Words  (Part One of Two)

“I know why the Jews and Muslims have nine hundred names for God; one small word is not enough for love.” - Claire in Voyager

The ancient Greeks had at least four words for love: agape (unconditional love); eros (romantic, passionate, sexual love); storge (familial love); and philia (the love of friendship, regard). 

Jamie and Claire together share all four.

– Mod Lenny

It was Claire. She was really here in the shop with him. At least, he was pretty sure she was real. He could feel the warmth of her in his trembling arms, could smell that fresh, clean scent of her, heard her saying more than just his whispered name. But there was only one way to be completely sure…

“Can I kiss ye?” he asked quietly.

She nodded and blinked at the wetness in her eyes before closing them and tilting her face towards his. Swallowing hard, he refused to close his own eyes as his lips met hers, afraid that she would dissolve just as she had so many times before in his dreams.

But her lips were soft and pliant beneath his own and he let his eyes close as he let his lips part and breathed her in, tasting her as her mouth opened too and their kiss became more desperate, deeper, hungrier.

They parted with a shuddering sigh of relief, knowing they had both felt the same need, the same desire, the same flame that had been there all those years ago. It was still there for them to reclaim if they chose to and heaven help him, but he wanted to––wanted her––more than anything.

He was still getting drunk on the whiskey in her eyes when he heard the door at the front of the shop and Mary’s voice calling his name.

“Jamie? Ye’ll never guess who––” Mary cut off abruptly with a surprised gasp.

“Who’s that?” a familiar voice asked with louder surprise.

Claire stiffened in his arms and her gaze broke from his as she looked over he shoulder at the intruders. He froze, unable to find the words he needed to explain, to push the encroaching world back away from them and the moment they had been sharing when hope had reignited in his heart.

“Oh god,” Claire gasped, pulling away.

Jamie remained speechless and numb in the moment, his mind telling his body to act but his limbs not responding.

Soon after he returned from his parole, Jenny had made the off-hand suggestion that he marry again. He thought he had made his position on the matter clear but come Hogmanay it became apparent that Jenny hadn’t abandoned her opinion and had, in fact, started to take actions of her own to ensure it happened.

When he’d seen her talking with Laoghaire and leading the young widow in his direction, he knew it was with one aim in mind. Before they could reach him he had turned to Mary MacNab who was refilling guests’ drinks and he asked her to dance, setting the half-empty bottle she carried aside before she could find her words. Later, Jenny scolded him about the way he’d avoided Laoghaire all evening.

“Ye want me to court the woman tha’ tried to get Claire burnt for a witch?” he had asked Jenny who looked momentarily surprised but then rolled her eyes.

“No Laoghaire then but ye ought to be wed again and to someone who might give ye bairns. Ye deserve to be happy again, brother.”

“What I deserve is for ye to leave me in peace,” he spat back.

But Jenny’s hints and efforts persisted and Jamie’s resistance wore thin. Jenny wouldn’t leave him be and he knew eventually she would have her way. The best he could hope for was to choose for himself. The thought of having someone to take care of wasn’t completely unwelcome but the memory of Claire and the thought of their child made the idea of raising a family with another woman… He had no desire for that.

He’d been contemplating his prospects when Mary had come to fetch him for Ian and that’s when it occurred to him to marry her. It had been several years since her Rabbie had gone south to London seeking a different life for himself while she remained behind; she too was separated from the person she loved most. He thought she might be able to understand him better than most.

“You’re… you’ve…” Claire stammered glancing between him and Mary before shaking her head and darting away from him and out of the shop.

His mind hadn’t quite caught up to everything that had just happened. Maybe it had all been a vision after all…

Mary’s hand was on his shoulder, rubbing him reassuringly and guiding him to a nearby chair. He could tell she was talking and her tone was soothing but all he could think about was that Claire was gone… again. The flame of hope that had been reignited sputtered and shrank leaving him cold.

The fog of confusion began to clear and he sat up straighter in the chair feeling his face flush with guilt and shame. What must Mary think of it all, walking in and seeing him and Claire like that with…

“Where’s Ian?” he asked, glancing frantically around the shop. It wouldn’t be the first time his nephew had appeared on their doorstep without warning and Mary always made sure to bring the lad to the shop since Jamie was one of the few people he would heed.

“I sent him after Claire,” Mary told him, her posture relaxing now that she could be sure he was coming back to himself. “He’ll slow her down at the least till we can find them and ye can talk to her proper like.”

Jamie looked back at the printing press; he hadn’t finished fixing it––couldn’t remember what had been wrong with it, at the moment––and he had orders still to fill, customers who wouldn’t care that a rug had been pulled out from under his feet and he was still sitting on the floor uncertain whether standing again was possible or if the fall had caused something to break.

“I dinna ken that there’s anything I can say to her that’ll make much difference,” he murmured.

“I think there’s a great deal ye can tell her,” Mary disagreed. “And if you dinna want to say it, then I will. Ye can start by askin’ her no to go again.”

At that he looked at Mary whose eyes crinkled with her familiar, quiet amusement.

“Did ye really think I’d ask ye to let her go?” she asked him, reaching up and tucking in the end of his stock.

“I canna do that to ye,” he protested weakly, “set ye aside like that and leave ye alone without someone to provide for ye.”

“Ye wouldna be settin’ me aside,” she argued softly. “I’m perfectly able to step’ aside wi’out yer help. You and I both ken it willna be difficult for either of us to secure an annulment.”

The ceremony had been smaller even than the hastily arranged one he’d had when he married Claire. He wasn’t as nervous during the ceremony as he had expected to be but by the time they arrived at their small renovated cottage after nightfall, nerves had begun to twist his belly.

Neither had said much of anything to the other as they took in the small space that would now be theirs. One large main room with a hearth and small pantry constituted kitchen, parlor, and study; there was a door to the back that led to the small bedroom.

Mary took off her cloak as Jamie set about shutting the cottage up for the night. When he turned, she had disappeared––presumably into the bedroom––and he sighed with relief.

He shouldn’t overthink this; it wasn’t as though he hadn’t bedded a woman before––it wasn’t as though he hadn’t bedded Mary before. But it had all been different then. I know the look of a true love, and it’s not in my mind to make ye feel ye’ve betrayed it… What I want is to give ye something different. Something less, mayhap, but something ye can use; something to keep ye whole. He wondered if she’d known then that he hadn’t been whole to begin with. But she had given him something and it had helped him then as he faced Ardsmuir. But now… I never had that, she’d confessed. He couldn’t give it to her now either but maybe he could give her something like what she’d given to him in that cave some ten years before.

When he worked up his courage and eased open the bedroom door he could just make out the shape of the bed in the light of the candle. He stopped, puzzled. He didn’t think he’d been standing out in the main room for very long but maybe it had been longer than he realized.

Mary was in bed with the blankets pulled up over her chest; she was turned on her side, her back to the middle of the bed and he could see the stark white of her new shift standing out against the darker wool of the blankets. She appeared to already be asleep.

Quietly, so as not to wake her, he slipped inside enough to close the door behind him and began stripping down to his shirt then eased himself beneath the covers next to her. He lay there on his back with his fingers nervously tapping his chest as he listened to her steady breathing. Should he wake her up so they could get it over with? He scolded himself for thinking of it in such terms; she was his wife now and she deserved more thought and care than that. Still, he didn’t think he’d be able to settle to anything until it was over and the nerves in his belly could be calmed.

But Mary wasn’t asleep.

“Ye ken it doesna have to be like that between us,” she said quietly, startling him.

He froze beside her, felt the bedding shift under him as she strained to look at him over her shoulder.

“I ken ye didna wed me because ye wanted to bed me,” she continued, no self-pity in her voice. “And I dinna want ye that way if ye only see it as bein’ yer duty.”

“It’s no as though we havena… before,” he answered.

“And I ken it helped and hurt ye to do it then. Ye feel yerself bound to yer Claire still and I’ll no have ye takin’ me to bed only to feel regretful about it later. I’ve been in marriages where one of us was lyin’ wi’ the other from duty and I’ll no be the one askin’ ye to do the same; it doesna make for the best of marriages in my experience.”

He felt a stab of sorrow both for himself and for her. He would forever feel himself bound to Claire and sorrowed that Mary seemed so resigned she would never know what a love like that felt like. But he couldn’t give that to her, whether she wanted that or not and she had wed him knowing that.

“So why did ye agree to marry me then?” he couldn’t help asking.

“I suppose for the same reason you asked me.”

“Was Jenny tryin’ to make a match wi’ you and another fellow ye didna care for so much?” The joke caught him by surprise but to his relief Mary laughed. It was a quiet laugh, startled by itself.

“No,” she finally said with a sigh. “I’ve been servin’ yer family at Lallybroch for years now––as ye well know––but since my Rabbie left… It’s different, servin’ folk an’ no buildin’ a home for yerself… no havin’ someone to really care for, to build a home with…”

“Aye…” Jamie murmured. “I ken what ye mean.”

“I thought ye would,” Mary said with satisfaction. “Caidil gu math… Jamie,” she added with hesitation.

“Caidil gu math, Mary,” Jamie responded, relaxing into the warmth of a shared bed and the quiet night. It was becoming clear that navigating this new marriage wouldn’t quite be what he had expected earlier but he was also beginning to suspect that wasn’t necessarily a bad thing.

Claire hadn’t looked back as she burst into the street. She was still too disoriented by everything. Seeing Jamie again––touching him, holding him and being held by him––that had all been overwhelming and emotional, more than she could have imagined. And she had known that there was a possibility that he had moved on, that he would have known she believed him dead at Culloden and therefore unlikely to ever return for him. Life was too long to be lived alone; too short to waste it wallowing in grief and sorrow.

“Hey!” she heard a youthful voice calling behind her and made to step out of the way so the lad could get past and reach whomever it was he was trying to catch up with.

But then she felt him reach out and tap her on the arm repeating, “Hey,” breathlessly.

“Me?” she asked in disbelief even as she searched his face for a resemblance to Brianna. The shape of the eyes was right but his coloring was all wrong and while he had the promise of Jamie’s height, he hadn’t endured the growth spurt that would give him the muscles his father possessed.

“Aye,” the boy panted. “Ye’re…”

“I’m leaving,” she interrupted. “You can go home and tell your mother that I won’t be bothering you again.”

The lad’s face twisted with confusion. “My mam? Ye mean Mary? She’s no my mam and Uncle Jamie’s no my da.”

The wave of relief nearly knocked Claire off her feet. The boy wasn’t Jamie’s. And the more she looked at him the more she could see the marks of Jenny and Ian in him––the Fraser slanted eyes if not the color and his gangliness was certainly more in the vein of Ian’s build than Jamie’s. “You’re Jenny and Ian’s boy,” she guessed.

“Aye. Named for my da. Will ye no come back, Auntie Claire? Ye are my Auntie Claire, are ye no? Mary said it’s who ye were. I ken a bit about ye––Mam and Da always said ye were deid but they’d tell tales about ye of a time when Uncle Jamie wasna around. It always makes him sad to talk of ye, even after he wed Mary MacNab,” young Ian Murray rambled. “Mam thinks it’s why they left Lallybroch for Edinburgh; said they’ve too many ghosts roaming there between them. She blames herself for stirrin’ up yer ghost by pushing Uncle Jamie to wed agin though she also says she’d as soon he be content in Edinburgh than miserable at Lallybroch.”

The sheer volume of words and the pace at which he spoke them left Claire blinking and uncertain.

“I… I am Claire,” she said, no longer quite sure of even that simple fact. “But… I’m not interested in disrupting anything. I just thought… I had heard that Jamie… I don’t know what I was thinking,” she confessed turning to continue up the road. She wasn’t even sure if she was headed in the right direction.

“But… ye came back for him… Ye canna just leave,” Ian objected.

“And I can’t just stay, either,” Claire retorted, unsure why she was bothering to argue with the young teenager. “What about his wife?”

Ian shrugged dismissively. “She’s the one sent me to get ye.”

“What? Why would she do that?”

“I dinna ken. Why don’t ye come wi’ me and ask her?”

Claire looked at the eager lad, her heart aching to believe that if she went with him there was a chance it might stop and curious to see what Jamie’s new wife might have to say.

In the early days of their marriage, Jamie was surprised by how little he knew about Mary and how much she knew about him.

“I served at Lallybroch for near twenty years,” Mary pointed out with a laugh when he expressed his surprise aloud. “Ye think I wouldna notice such about everyone that lived there––especially the laird himself?”

Jamie flushed. “I’m no the laird and Lallybroch’s no mine anymore; and how many of those twenty years did I live under the roof, eh? No even five did ye string all the nights together.”

“Yer nephew may be possessed of the land and the house, but ye ken weel enough to all the tenants as are old enough to remember, ye’ll be the true laird till the day ye die. No sense denyin’ it.”

He chose not to argue but rather to change the subject.

“Have ye heard from Rabbie of late? He’s settled in London still?”

“Aye,” she had smiled before giving Jamie a summary of the last letter she’d had from him.

It took time and effort to get her to talk about herself and her past. As she began to trust him with more of the details of herself and her first two marriages, he found himself sharing more than he expected about his past as well, specifically Claire. He had long ago gotten used to the ache and yearning for her; it was simply a part of him at that point. The comfort of being able to talk of her though, that was new. He couldn’t understand why talking of her with Mary was more soothing and less painful than talking of Claire with people who had known her better––Jenny or Ian. Perhaps it was because Mary didn’t seem to pity him for having been broken by the loss; she too was a little broken.

Though they grew to understand and appreciate each other, the match itself was considered an odd one by the families that lived and worked around the estate. Mary had been right about folk still viewing Jamie as the laird and the laird––even one as respected and compassionate as Jamie––was not supposed to marry one of his servants. It was a fact that might have been overlooked were it not for the never-to-be-forgotten fact of Ronald MacNab and his betrayal.

Everyone had pitied Mary at the time and quietly judged Ronald for what he did to his wife and child whenever he’d been drinking. Everyone who heard about the beating Jamie had given the man his mistreatment of those whose care belonged to him had agreed the bullying drunkard deserved it. Everyone had banded together to see justice done for their laird when Ronald betrayed Jamie. Everyone had settled down to their lives after the fire, content that balance had been restored when Mary along with her Rabbie were taken in at Lallybroch and given occupation.

But Jamie marrying Mary––even so many years later––unsettled that balance in ways that couldn’t be explained. It cast events long past in a questionable light; it elicited narrowed eyes; it encouraged tongues to wag.

Neither Jamie nor Mary was oblivious to the change and neither wanted to be at the center of such attentions. After going to Edinburgh to fetch some things that Jenny wanted for up at the main house, Jamie proposed a change and Mary agreed that one fresh start deserved another.

“I want ye to be happy,” Mary insisted quietly to Jamie.

“I wasna unhappy,” he pointed out to her, taking her hand and giving it a gentle squeeze. “Before I was but… no wi’ you.”

“I’m glad of that,” she told him with a smile. “But I ken ye well enough to know that ye will be if ye let her go again. She can give ye more of what ye need than I can. I’m no ashamed to admit it.”

“And have you been happy?” Jamie asked in turn, suddenly afraid.

“Aye,” she assured him with a nod. “It’s been a peace I didna ken was possible in marriage and for that I’ll always be thankful to ye. I dinna want ye thinkin’ ye havena treated me well.”

“What does it matter how I’ve treated ye in our marriage if I leave it to end like this? I’ll no leave ye wi’out someone to provide for ye.”

“I ken well ye’re too honorable a man to do somethin’ like that, James Fraser.”

“Ye canna stay in a city like this on yer own and goin’ back to Lallybroch would be an insult to ye that I couldna countenance. And there’s nothin’ to say that Claire… She may no want me back…”

“Well, ye’ll never ken for certain if ye dinna talk wi’ her. And ye’re right about Lallybroch; we left for a reason. But ye ken Rabbie’s been after me to visit him in London. He’s wed now and I’ve yet to meet the lass,” Mary mused. “First things first, though. Go after Claire.”

Jamie nodded and rose brushing himself off. Mary set about untying his heavy leather apron for him and gave him directions for the way Ian had set off after Claire.

“I’ll speak wi’ Geordie and lock up here,” she told him. “Then I’ll stop at the butcher and start on supper. Ian will be lookin’ for food after runnin’ about. Mhá lorg thu i.”

(To be continued)

[thelallybrochlibrary]

Hey Librarians, This is a huge ask. Would you compile a list of Christmas fics. Or maybe fics from last year's Secret Santa Exchange?

Hi, @fittergirl! 

@abbydebeaupreposts is a life saver and has a mostly complete list form last year’s Secret Santa Exchange. You can find that here.  (Please note that the-fear-you-wont-fall is now known as @thefraserwitch, so when you read her fic please update the URL accordingly.)

She also has ‘A Naughty, Scotty Christmas’ which is a part of her MacDaddy AU. (PSA- NSFW.)

Now, new to the fanfiction world *this* holiday season is: 

Loss Ficlet: The First Noël by @missclairebelle

Fanfiction - Scalpel & Needle (Christmas Special) by @kalendraashtar

All I want for Christmas is You by @sassenachwaffles 

An Oldie but a goodie:

Our Story by @westerhos 

You can also find all Christmas tagged fics on AO3 here! 

If there are (and we’re sure there are) more holiday themed fics, please let the Librarians know.

Happy Holidays!

[obsessivesassenach]

If you have video of Andrew singing that would be so appreciated @fittergirl 😘

Here’s a few photos of photos from Outlander Las Vegas if you are interested.

[mydeerfriend]

5 Things that make me happy

Thanks @shortiemcbealle for tagging me :)

1. Books That’s an easy one, I love everything about them. The way they smell, how the pages feel when you turn them, that they contain some of my best childhood friends, let me live lives of adventure and love and magic… I could go on forever.

2. Dogs The best feeling is to come home and be greeted by an ecstatic fur ball of enthusiasm that wants to cuddle you to the floor, even if you only left for five minutes to take out the trash. Also, my dog sleeping with her head on my leg.

3. My Bed It’s 1,80×2,00m and the best bed ever.

4. Shipping my Ships I bet y'all know the feeling. I do it preferably from my bed.

5. Food I know I mention this as the last one, but really, it makes the first place. I love food of every kind. I celebrated the new year by eating raclette, pizza and chocolate fondue. No kidding.

I tag all my new followers to say hello and get to know them!

@lynnialljohnson @lovetolearnposts @hauntedduckdefendor @bechebert @rxqueenruby @redstarfiction @mytomorrowtoday @normaparr @chrisinasia @fittergirl @lindseyylu17 @lovelyshadeofgreen @mynormalapple-pielife @mebertolini @texassassenach

[thesketchingwitch]

So I just thought I'd update everyone on the Outlander Art Auction I held for WCC! In the end, I raised a little bit short of £200, so I made up the difference and sent the donation to them at the beginning of this week! Alice Castle, Community and Events Executive, soon got in touch to ask me how I raised the money so I explained about the auction. And this is the result - a lovely card arrived this morning, thanking me for my efforts, signed by several of the WCC team. So can I pass my huge thanks onto the winning bidders, @fittergirl, @pattmich and @teresaargo - you made this donation possible! And just think, ladies, we have possibly helped save the lives of 4 children in Ghana. That's no small feat.

[anoutlandishfanfic]

You have just made my day @fittergirl

I’ve been getting lots of Julia love from my lovely readers lately.

This AU is really all about Julia. I feel like Diana and the writers of the television scripts do really well at portraying JnC and I don’t feel like I can really emulate their writing style. Its just fantastic.

That being said, I do know kids. I know how they think, how they act, how they respond to things. The concept of how much a kid is like their parents is fascinating to me, the whole “nature vs nurture” thing. Kids learn by watching, but there’s a certain aspect of them that just “is” regardless of what they have experienced. Is it genetic? Is it personality? I love exploring this in A Child of the Stones.

Brianna didn’t get to interact with Jamie as a child/adolescent, Willie (to the point of Voyager) only interacts with him as a small child. From what I’ve read on tumblr, there’s hints that they both get to interact with him as adults, but that adolescent interaction is never there. Fergus meets JnC at about the same age as Julia, but the circumstances are vastly different. We see how JnC “parent” a child of that age, yet he wasn’t their flesh and bone. (not that it makes a difference to any of them) I could go on and on about this all day.

I’m writing a novel at the same time as doing this, but I love having the interactive fan community of fanfiction. Its a great way to strengthen one’s writing skills. Having a dedicated and enthusiastic audience before you even write one word is also definitely a perk, although fandoms are a fickle lot.