What an outlandish idea, Claire.

With the plot twist in the s7 finale and now BOMB, I’ve got some fun ideas in how to revive A Child of the Stones… and am contemplating weaving in some elements of how the PJ books handle classic mythology.

I glanced back at Jemima, and had the oddest sense of déjà vu. I blinked, trying to catch the fleeting vision, and succeeded in capturing a sense of overwhelming closeness, of warmth and utter peace. For an instant, I thought it was the sense of nursing a child, and then, odder still, realized that it was not the mother's sense I felt… but the child's. I had the very distinct memory—if that's what it was—of being held against a warm body, mindless and replete in the sure conviction of absolute love.

What are y’all loving right now?

And how to express them without coming across as prudish or disappointed by chemistry… Cuz that ain’t it. 😆

Anthony Liccione

Vera Nazarian. The Perpetual Calendar of Inspiration

The Frasers + disliking chickens' company

Come back to me.

OUTLANDER | Je Suis Prest (2.09)

# so personal to me

OUTLANDER | The Wedding (1.07)

Not a fan of how things play out on screen?

There’s a fanfic for that!

Have a head!canon that you like better?

Write the fanfic!

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Share it!

Five years later, here's Chapter Five!!

Thank you to all of you who’ve been patiently waiting for an update. ❤️ And WELCOME if you’ve stumble upon my fics while I’ve been on hiatus. ❤️ Here's a link to the fic master list and to chapter four if you need a brush up. You can also find it here on AO3.

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Still January 18th, 2019; 11:30am. Hour Five.

A loud rumble emanated from my companion’s stomach and he sheepishly asked, “Ye dinna happen to have anythin’ to eat in that wee bag of yours, do ye?”

I’d planned on grabbing something from the cafeteria for lunch, but I thanked my lucky stars that I’d tossed an orange and a protein bar into my work bag on a whim before leaving this morning. Both, of course, had traveled to the very bottom recesses and it took me a moment to fish them out. 

“Catch,” I grinned, tossing him the orange as I opened the bar and took a bite.

His eyes widened in delight as he caught it and thanked me, then set about peeling it in the most pain-staking way I’d ever seen in my life.

“What on earth are you doing?”

The question had escaped my lips before I could stop it, but Jamie didn’t seem to mind. He gave me a half sort of shrug and continued to carefully strip away the peel, filling the air with the delicious smell of fresh citrus. 

“Taking my time,” he eventually answered in the impeccable comedic timing that I was quickly growing fond of and made me laugh.

“You must have the patience of a saint,” I commented dryly, silently wishing to borrow some of his. “Although, come to think of it, that would come in handy in the NICU.”

He looked up at me with a look of utter satisfaction as the peel fell away in a perfect spiral into his lap. 

“Aye, it does.”

This accomplished, he moved on to removing every bit of the remaining pith. Not a thread, not so much as even a speck of white remained as turned the orange over and over in his hands to double check his work. I took a bite of my bar and chewed it slowly as I watched him divide it in half and set about doing the same to the middle. 

He continued in this manner until both halves met with his approval and — to my surprise— offered one back to me.

“Oh!” I blinked at him for a moment, then held up my bar. “It’s alright, I’ve got this.”

Jamie rose one brow at me, not commenting but clearly communicating that he felt it didn’t constitute enough of a meal. 

I shook my head and insisted, “I’m fine.”

But he didn’t budge. The orange stayed held aloft in the center of his palm until I begrudgingly took it from him. I set it in my lap for a moment and quickly broke off a piece, offering it to him in trade. 

“I’ve plenty, Sassenach,” Jamie smiled, but kindly refused. 

“Why isn’t a whole protein bar enough food for me and yet a mere fraction of an orange is for you?” I narrowed my eyes at him and crinkled my wrapper for effect. “I had the good sense to eat before I left for work a few hours ago, but I’d wager you haven’t eaten for a good while longer.”

“Aye, well…”

His smile widened into a good natured grin as he quickly changed his mind. His fingers brushed against my palm as he took the proffered bar, sending a thrill up my arm and down my spine.

Steady, Beauchamp, I muttered to myself. Let’s not go and make a fool of ourselves. 

“An old habit, I suppose,” he explained.