#Jamie Òg

[the--highlanders]

“We march tae Glenfinnan come morning.” His father was prodding idly at the fire. “I’ll be with the laird, as his piper, an’ you an’ Dòmhnall -” “I’m not going.” The words sailed through the air, shrill and startled. Mairead and Dòmhnall Mòr frowned at Jamie, just for a moment – but Jamie was staring back at them with just as much surprise. For all his misgivings, he’d never even thought those words, let alone felt them slip through his lips. Slowly, the three of them turned to look at Dòmhnall Òg, still leaning against the wall with his head bowed.

Dòmhnall Òg McCrimmon refuses to fight for the Prince. Over and over again, Jamie tries to reach him and bring his little brother home.

[whenfrasermetbeauchamp]

Broch Tuarach means “the north-facing tower.” From the side of the mountain above, the broch that gave the small estate its name was no more than another mound of rocks, much like those that lay at the foot of the hills we had been traveling through.

We came down through a narrow, rocky gap between two crags, leading the horse between boulders. Then the going was easier, the land sloping more gently down through the fields and scattered cottages, until at last we struck a small winding road that led to the house.

It was larger than I had expected; a handsome three-story manor of harled white stone, windows outlined in the natural grey stone, a high slate roof with multiple chimneys, and several smaller whitewashed buildings clustered about it, like chicks about a hen. The old stone broch, situated on a small rise to the rear of the house, rose sixty feet above the ground, cone-topped like a witch’s hat, girdled with three rows of tiny arrow-slits.

…

“Should we knock?” I asked, a bit nervous. He looked at me in astonishment.

“It’s my home,” he said, and pushed the door open.

He led me through the house, ignoring the few startled servants we passed, past the entrance hall and through a small gun room, into the drawing room. It boasted a wide hearth with a polished mantel, and bits of silver and glass gleamed here and there, capturing the late-afternoon sun. For a moment, I thought the room was empty. Then I saw a faint movement in one corner near the hearth.

She was smaller than I had expected. With a brother like Jamie, I had imagined her at least my height, or even taller, but the woman by the fire barely reached five feet. Her back was to us as she reached for something on the shelf of the china cabinet, and the ends of her dress sash dipped close to the floor.

Jamie froze when he saw her.

“Jenny,” he said.

The woman turned and I caught an impression of brows black as ink-squills, and blue eyes wide in a white face before she launched herself at her brother.

“Jamie!” Small as she was, she jarred him with the impact of her embrace. His arms went about her shoulders in reflex and they clung for a moment, her face tight against his shirtfront, his hand tender on the nape of her neck. On his face was an expression of such mingled uncertainty and yearning joy that I felt almost an intruder.

Then she pressed herself closer to him, murmuring something in Gaelic, and his expression dissolved in shock. He grasped her by the arms and held her away from him, looking down.

The faces were much alike; the same oddly slanted dark blue eyes and broad cheekbones. The same thin, blade-bridged nose, just a trifle too long. But she was dark where Jamie was fair, with cascades of black curly hair, bound back with green ribbon.

She was beautiful, with clear-drawn features and alabaster skin. She was also clearly in a state of advanced pregnancy.

Jamie had gone white at the lips. “Jenny,” he whispered, shaking his head. “Oh, Jenny. Mo cridh.”

Her attention was distracted just then by the appearance of a small child in the doorway, and she pulled away from her brother without noticing his discomposure. She took the little boy’s hand and led him into the room, murmuring encouragement. He hung back a little, thumb in mouth for comfort, peering up at the strangers from behind his mother’s skirts.

For his mother she plainly was. He had her mop of thick, curly black hair and the square set of her shoulders, though the face was not hers.

“This is wee Jamie,” she said, looking proudly down at the lad. “And this is your uncle Jamie, mo cridh, the one you’re named for.”

“For me? You named him for me?” Jamie looked like a fighter who has just been punched very hard in the stomach. He backed away from mother and child until he blundered into a chair, and sank into it as though the strength had gone from his legs. He hid his face in his hands.

His sister by this time was aware that something was amiss. She touched him tentatively on the shoulder.

“Jamie? What is it, my dearie? Are ye ill?”

He looked up at her then, and I could see his eyes were full of tears.

“Did ye have to do that, Jenny? Do ye think that I’ve not suffered enough for what happened—for what I let happen—that ye must name Randall’s bastard for me, to be a reproach to me so long as I live?”

Jenny’s face, normally pale, lost all vestiges of color.

“Randall’s bastard?” she said blankly. “John Randall, ye mean? The Redcoat captain?”

“Aye, the Redcoat captain. Who else would I mean, for God’s sake! You’ll remember him, I suppose?” Jamie was recovering enough of his customary poise for sarcasm.

Jenny eyed her brother closely, one arched brow lifted in suspicion.

“Have ye lost your senses, man?” she inquired. “Or have ye taken a drop too much along the way?”

“I should never have come back,” he muttered. He rose then, stumbling slightly and tried to pass without touching her. She stood her ground, however, and gripped him by the arm.

“Correct me, brother, if I’m wrong,” Jenny said slowly, “but I’ve the strong impression you’re saying I’ve played the whore to Captain Randall, and what I’m askin’ myself is what maggots you’ve got in your brain to make ye say so?”

“Maggots, is it?” Jamie turned to her, mouth twisted with bitterness. “I wish it were so; I’d rather I was dead and in my grave than to see my sister brought to such a pass.” He seized her by the shoulders, and shook her slightly, crying out, “Why, Jenny, why? To have ye ruin yourself for me was shame enough to kill me. But this…” He dropped his hands then, with a gesture of despair that took in the protruding belly, swelling accusingly under the light smocking.

He turned abruptly toward the door, and an elderly woman, who had been listening avidly with the child clinging to her skirts, drew back in alarm.

“I should not have come. I’ll go.”

…

 She eyed her brother, standing at the window with his legs braced wide apart, hands on the sill and back stubbornly set against her. She bit her lip and a calculating look came over her face. Quick as lightning, she stooped and her hand shot under his kilt like a striking snake.

Jamie let out a roar of sheer outrage and stood bolt upright with shock. He tried to turn, then froze as she apparently tightened her grip.

“There’s men as are sensible,” she said to me, with a wicked smile, “and beasts as are biddable. Others ye’ll do nothing with, unless ye have ’em by the ballocks. Now, ye can listen to me in a civil way,” she said to her brother, “or I can twist a bit. Hey?”

He stood still, red-faced, breathing heavily through clenched teeth. “I’ll listen,” he said, “and then I’ll wring your wee neck, Janet! Let me go!”

No sooner did she oblige than he whirled on her.

“What in hell d’ye think you’re doing?” he demanded. “Tryin’ to shame me before my own wife?” Jenny was not fazed by his outrage. She rocked back on her heels, viewing her brother and me sardonically.

“Weel, and if she’s your wife, I expect she’s more familiar wi’ your balls than what I am. I havena seen them myself since ye got old enough to wash alone. Grown a bit, no?”

— Outlander/Cross Stitch

Gif: fangirlish.com (Claire, Jamie, Donas)

Photos: Starz, Season One, Episode Twelve, April 25, 2015

Photo: tvfeels.com (Lallybroch) 

Gif: smartbitchestrashybooks.com (Jenny & Jamie)

Book: Outlander (Cross Stitch), Diana Gabaldon, 1991

Tumblr: September 20, 2018, WhenFraserMetBeauchamp 🏴󠁧󠁢󠁳󠁣󠁴󠁿❤️🇬🇧

WFMB’s Tags: #Outlander #Season One Episode Twelve #S1E12 #Lallybroch #Outlander/Cross Stitch #Chapter Twenty-Six #Broch Tuarach means “the north-facing tower” #Correct me, brother, if I’m wrong #Claire Fraser #Jamie Fraser #Donas #Jenny Murray #Ian Murray #Ian Mòr #Jamie Murray #Wee Jamie #Jamie Òg #Young Jamie #61 #092018

[boyneriver-fraser]

Outlander ⎮Season 4 ⎮Drums Of Autumn ⎮ Characters

Claire Fraser (Caitriona Balfe), Jamie Fraser (Sam Heughan), Brianna Randall/Fraser/MacKenzie (Sophie Skelton), Roger Wakefield/MacKenzie, Young Ian Murray (John Bell), Rollo (MacDui), Jocasta Cameron (Maria Doyle Kennedy), Stephen Bonnet (Ed Speleers)

Photos: farfarawaysite.com

December 14, 2018

#Outlander #Season Four #Drums Of Autumn #Characters #Official Portraits #Claire Fraser #Jamie Fraser #Brianna Randall #Brianna Fraser #Brianna MacKenzie #Roger Wakefield #Roget MacKenzie #Young Ian #Ian Òg #Ian Fraser Murray #Rollo #Jocasta Cameron #Stephen Bonnet #25 #121418

[whenfrasermetbeauchamp]

“Uncle. Have ye ever—lain wi’ a woman, when ye didna want to do it?”

Jamie hesitated a moment, his hand tight on my shoulder, but then he said quietly, “Aye, Ian. I have.”

“Oh.” The boy was quiet, and I heard him scratch his head. “D’ye ken how it can be, Uncle? How ye can do it, and not want to a bit, and hate doing it, and—and still it—it feels good?”

Jamie gave a small, dry laugh.

“Well, what it comes to, Ian, is that your cock hasna got a conscience, and you have.” His hand left my shoulder as he turned toward his nephew. “Dinna trouble yourself, Ian,” he said. “Ye couldna help it, and it’s likely that it saved your life for ye. The other lads—the ones who didna come back to the cellar—d’ye ken if they were virgins?”

“Well—a few I know were for sure—for we had a great deal of time to talk, aye? and after a time we kent a lot about one another. Some o’ the lads boasted of havin’ gone wi’ a lassie, but I thought—from what they said about it, ye ken—that they hadna done it, really.” He paused for a moment, as though reluctant to ask what he knew he must.

“Uncle—d’ye ken what happened to them? The rest of the lads with me?”

“No, Ian,” Jamie said, evenly. “I’ve no notion.” He leaned back against the tree, sighing deeply. “D’ye think ye can sleep, wee Ian? If ye can, ye should, for it will be a weary walk to the shore tomorrow.”

“Oh, I can sleep, Uncle,” Ian assured him. “But should I not keep watch? It’s you should be resting, after bein’ shot and all that.” He paused and then added, rather shyly, “I didna say thank ye, Uncle Jamie.”

Jamie laughed, freely this time.

“You’re verra welcome, Ian,” he said, the smile still in his voice. “Lay your head and sleep, laddie. I’ll wake ye if there’s need.”

— Voyager

—————

Photos: @whiskynottea

Voyager, Chapter 62, Diana Gabaldon, 1993

#Outlander #S4E1 America The Beautiful #Voyager #Chapter 62 #Dinna trouble yourself, Ian #Lay your head and sleep, laddie #Jamie Fraser #Young Ian #Ian Òg #Ian Fraser Murray #199 #010720

[whenfrasermetbeauchamp]

Nothin' can keep me from keepin' my word.

No swarm of bees or unicorn herd!

Not gettin' lost and forgettin' the map.

And not the urge to takin' a nap!

Not even the chance to see my favorite magician...

Not even a stop beside a well perfect for wishing!

Oh, if I make a promise to a friend as grand as you,

To that special promise, you can bet that I'll be true!

🎶 https://youtu.be/BwX92kKIpRY

Keeping Promises No Matter What from Sofia the First soundtrack (Disney), Glass Slippers, 2013

Providence

—————

Gifs: @laird-brochtuarach Screenshot: @anoutlandishidea S4E12 Providence, January 20, 2019

Photo edit: @whenfrasermetbeauchamp from Starz key art

#Outlander #S4E12 Providence #Keeping Promises No Matter What #Glass Slippers #Claire Fraser #Jamie Fraser #Young Ian #Ian Òg #Ian Fraser Murray #Countdown To Season 5 #234 #021120

[boyneriver-fraser]

Murtz on the Ridge 🏔: Part 16

Murtz on the Ridge 🏔: Part 16… with Jamie

What they said

The mash’ll be ready for distilling within the month.

Aye, good. The next batch is almost ready for a taste. Tom Burley’s already requested a cask.

What Murtz was thinking

Who th’ HELL is Tom Burley? Ye’ve mentioned the man more than once, and nobody in TV-AudienceLand has a hot clue who he is. Is he an off-screen settler? Yer bookie? Yer invisible friend? Mmmpf. 

Photo: @outlander-online

January 12, 2019

#Outlander #Drums Of Autumn #S4E10 #The Deep Heart’s Core #Murtz on the Ridge 🏔: Part 16 #Jamie Fraser #Murtagh FitzGibbons Fraser ⚔️ #Young Ian #Ian Òg #Ian Fraser Murray #64 #011219

[whenfrasermetbeauchamp]

“What do you think—?” I began, but when I turned to Jamie, he too was staring intently upward. I looked up, too, and it took only a moment to see that the red glow in the clouds above was a good deal deeper than the general color of the sunset sky, and seemed to flicker in an uneasy fashion most uncharacteristic of sunsets.

“Fire,” he said. “God, I think it’s in Leith Wynd!”

…

The fire was not in Leith Wynd, but next door, in Carfax Close. The mouth of the close was choked with excited onlookers, shoving and craning in an effort to see, shouting incoherent questions at one another. The smell of smoke struck hot and pungent through the damp evening air, and waves of crackling heat beat against my face as I ducked into the close.

Jamie didn’t hesitate, but plunged into the crowd, making a path by main force. I pressed close behind him before the human waves could close again, and elbowed my way through, unable to see anything but Jamie’s broad back ahead of me.

Then we popped out in the front of the crowd, and I could see all too well. Dense clouds of gray smoke rolled out of both the printshop’s lower windows, and I could hear a whispering, crackling noise that rose above the noise of the spectators as though the fire were talking to itself.

“My press!” With a cry of anguish, Jamie darted up the front step and kicked in the door. A cloud of smoke rolled out of the open doorway and engulfed him like a hungry beast. I caught a brief glimpse of him, staggering from the impact of the smoke; then he dropped to his knees and crawled into the building.

…

It was no more than a minute before the window above the chocolate shop opened and Jamie’s head and shoulders appeared, red hair glowing like a stray tongue of flame escaped from the main fire. He climbed out onto the sill, and cautiously turned, squatting, until he faced the building.

Rising to his stockinged feet, he grasped the gutter of the roof overhead and pulled, slowly raising himself by the strength of his arms, long toes scrabbling for a grip in the crevices between the mortared stones of the housefront. With a grunt audible even over the sound of fire and crowd, he eeled over the edge of the roof and disappeared behind the gable.

…

“What in hell is he going to do up there?” I thought, and was unaware that I had spoken aloud until the barber, shading his eyes next to me, replied.

“There’s a trapdoor built in the roof o’ the printshop, ma’am. Nay doubt Mr. Malcolm means to gain access to the upper story so. Is it his ’prentice up there, d’ye know?”

“No!” Ian snapped, hearing this. “It’s my son!”

The barber shrank back before Ian’s glare, murmuring “Oh, aye, just so, sir, just so!” and crossing himself. A shout from the crowd grew into a roar as two figures appeared on the roof of the chocolate shop, and Ian dropped my hand, springing forward.

Jamie had his arm round Young Ian, who was bent and reeling from the smoke he had swallowed. It was reasonably obvious that neither of them was going to be able to negotiate a return through the adjoining building in his present condition.

…

A few precarious moments’ work, and the two smoke-blackened figures had come to a safe landing on the pavement below. Young Ian, rope slung under his arms and round his chest, stood upright for a moment, then, as the tension of the rope slackened, his knees buckled and he slid into a gangling heap on the cobbles.

“Are ye all right? A bhalaich, speak to me!” Ian fell to his knees beside his son, anxiously trying to unknot the rope round Young Ian’s chest, while simultaneously trying to lift up the lad’s lolling head.

Jamie was leaning against the railing of the chocolate shop, black in the face and coughing his lungs out, but otherwise apparently unharmed. I sat down on the boy’s other side, and took his head on my lap.

I wasn’t sure whether to laugh or cry at the sight of him. When I had seen him in the morning, he had been an appealing-looking lad, if no great beauty, with something of his father’s homely, good-natured looks. Now, at evening, the thick hair over one side of his forehead had been singed to a bleached red stubble, and his eyebrows and lashes had been burned off entirely. The skin beneath was the soot-smeared bright pink of a suckling pig just off the spit.

…

“Get back, get back!” The Guard captain was at my side, gray beard bristling with anxiety, plucking at my sleeve. “Move yourself, ma’am, the roof’s going!”

Sure enough, as we scrambled to safety, the roof of the printshop fell in, and an awed sound rose from the watching crowd as an enormous fountain of sparks whirled skyward, brilliant against the darkening sky.

— Voyager

Photos: Starz, Season Three, Episode Seven, October 29, 2017

Gifs: varietyofwords.tumblr.com, Season Three, Episode Seven, October 29, 2017

Book: Voyager, Diana Gabaldon, 1994

Tumblr: October 19, 2018, WhenFraserMetBeauchamp 🏴󠁧󠁢󠁳󠁣󠁴󠁿❤️🇬🇧

WFMB’s Tags: #Outlander #Season Three Episode Seven #S3E7 #Crème de Menthe #Voyager #Chapter Twenty-Seven #My press! #the roof of the printshop fell in #Claire Fraser #Jamie Fraser #Fergus Claudel Fraser #Young Ian #Wee Ian #Ian Òg #Ian Fraser Murray #157 #101918

[boyneriver-fraser]

Murtz on the Ridge 🏔: Part 10

Murtz on the Ridge 🏔: Part 10 … with Claire, Jamie, Brianna, and Young Ian

What they said

Ah, yer ma, chiding you from across the seas.

Aye, if you have any sense, you’ll pay heed, or no doubt she’ll cross the sea and tell you herself. Been that way since she was a child.

What Murtz meant

Jenny never met a body she couldn’t judge, chastise, or send outside to wash the muck off themselves.

Gifs: @scotsmanandsassenach @nighean--donn

January 4, 2018

#Outlander #Drums Of Autumn #S4E9 #The Birds And The Bees #Murtz on the Ridge 🏔: Part 10 #Claire Fraser #Jamie Fraser #Murtagh FitzGibbons Fraser⚔️ #Brianna Randall #Brianna Fraser #Brianna MacKenzie #Young Ian #Ian Òg #Ian Fraser Murray #54 #010419

[boyneriver-fraser]

Murtz on the Ridge 🏔: Part 19

Murtz on the Ridge 🏔: Part 19… with Jamie

What they said

I must ask you one more favour. When ye’ve delivered my daughter to River Run, go to Wilmington. Find a man named Stephen Bonnet.

The man who… ?

Aye. Bring him here in secret. I’m going to kill him.

What Murtz was thinking

’Tis only that ye’re the lass’s da to keep me from killing him myself. Bluidy bastard! 😡

Photo: @outlander-online

January 12, 2019

#Outlander #Drums Of Autumn #S4E10 #The Deep Heart’s Core #Murtz on the Ridge 🏔: Part 19 #Jamie Fraser #Murtagh FitzGibbons Fraser ⚔️ #Young Ian #Ian Òg #Ian Fraser Murray #67 #011219

[boyneriver-fraser]

Murtz on the Ridge 🏔: Part 14

Murtz on the Ridge 🏔: Part 14 … with Jamie, Brianna, and Young Ian

What they said

It’s a far cry from the still cellar at Leoch.

(nods)

It does make whisky, though.

Of a sort.

What Murtz was thinking

I’d drink Ardsmuir rats’ milk before I’d cross the street to return to Leoch.

Gif: @scotsmanandsassenach

January 4, 2018

#Outlander #Drums Of Autumn #S4E9 #The Birds And The Bees #Murtz on the Ridge 🏔: Part 14 #Jamie Fraser #Murtagh FitzGibbons Fraser ⚔️ #Brianna Randall #Brianna Fraser #Brianna MacKenzie #Young Ian #Ian Òg #Ian Fraser Murray #58 #010419

[boyneriver-fraser]

Murtz on the Ridge 🏔: Part 11

Murtz on the Ridge 🏔: Part 11 … with Claire, Jamie, Brianna, and Young Ian

What they said

Dougal had four daughters, and Tabitha was the first girl that Jamie ever kissed.

She was the first girl to ever kiss ME.

I want to hear more of these stories.

Plenty more where those came from, lad.

I think that’s enough stories for one night.

Ah, it’s good to have family around the table again.

What Murtz meant

When Fergus, Marsali, and German get here, I’m springing for pizza.

Gif: @mclintocks​ Photo: @outlander-online

January 4, 2018

#Outlander #Drums Of Autumn #S4E9 #The Birds And The Bees #Murtz on the Ridge 🏔: Part 11 #Claire Fraser #Jamie Fraser #Murtagh FitzGibbons Fraser ⚔️ #Brianna Randall #Brianna Fraser #Brianna MacKenzie #Young Ian #Ian Òg #Ian Fraser Murray #55 #010419

[whenfrasermetbeauchamp]

“It’s not a matter of urgency,” Old Simon said, for the dozenth time. He lifted an oatcake, sniffed at it, and set it down again. “Perhaps we’ll do best to wait for the spring planting, after all.”

“They could be in London before spring!” Young Simon glowered across the dinner table at his father and reached for the butter. “If ye will not go yourself, then let me take the men to join His Highness!”

Lord Lovat grunted. “You’ve the Devil’s own impatience,” he said, “but not half his judgment. Will ye never learn to wait?”

“The time for waiting’s long since past!” Simon burst out. “The Camerons, the MacDonalds, the MacGillivrays—they’ve all been there since the first. Are we to come meachin’ along at the finish, to find ourselves beggars, and taking second place to Clanranald and Glengarry? Fat chance you’ll have of a dukedom then!”

Lovat had a wide, expressive mouth; even in old age, it retained some trace of humor and sensuality. Neither was visible at the moment. He pressed his lips tight together, surveying his heir without enthusiasm.

“Marry in haste, repent at leisure,” he said. “And it’s more true when choosing a laird than a lass. A woman can be got rid of.”

Young Simon snorted and looked at Jamie for support. Over the last two months, his initial suspicious hostility had faded into a reluctant respect for his bastard relative’s obvious expertise in the art of war.

“Jamie says…” he began.

“I ken well enough what he says,” Old Simon interrupted. “He’s said it often enough. I shall make up my own mind in my own time. But bear it in mind, lad—when it comes to declaring yourself in a war, there’s little to be lost by waiting.”

“Waiting to see who wins,” Jamie murmured, studiously wiping his plate with a bit of bread. The old man looked up sharply, but evidently decided to ignore this contribution.

“Ye gave your word to the Stuarts,” Young Simon continued stubbornly, paying no heed to his father’s displeasure. “Ye dinna mean to break it, surely? What will people say of your honor?”

“The same things they said in ’15,” his father calmly replied. “Most of those who ‘said things’ then are dead, bankrupt, or paupers in France. But I am still here.”

“But…” Young Simon was red in the face, the usual result of this sort of conversation with his father.

“That will do,” the old Earl interrupted sharply. He shook his head as he glared at his son, lips tight with disapproval. “Christ. Sometimes I could wish that Brian hadna died. He may have been a fool, too, but at least he knew when to stop talking.”

Both Young Simon and Jamie flushed with anger, but after a wary glance at each other, turned their attentions to their food.

— Dragonfly In Amber

Photos: Starz, Season Two, Episode Eight, May 28, 2016

Book: Dragonfly In Amber, Diana Gabaldon, 1992

Tumblr: October 4, 2018, WhenFraserMetBeauchamp 🏴󠁧󠁢󠁳󠁣󠁴󠁿❤️🇬🇧

WFMB’s Tags: #Outlander #Season Two Episode Eight #S2E8 #The Fox’s Lair #Dragonfly In Amber #Chapter Forty-One #The time for waiting’s long since past! #Marry in haste, repent at leisure #Waiting to see who wins #Claire Fraser #Jamie Fraser #Colum MacKenzie #Lord Lovat #Simon Lovat #Simon Mòr #Young Simon #Simon Òg #103 #100418

[boyneriver-fraser]

Murtz on the Ridge 🏔: Part 18

Murtz on the Ridge 🏔: Part 18… with Young Ian

What they said

But River Run’s in the wrong direction. We’d never catch up with the Mohawk.

I’ll take her. I remember Jocasta from Leoch. It’s been an age, but I remember.

What Murtz meant

Sure. I remember Jocasta, but I’ll be dropping off the lass and that’s all about it. There is no Murcasta. 🙄 If the dreamers in the crowd would pay attention, they would ken I have my own story arc, and it focuses on my leading the rebels, not on some foolish notion of romance with the fancy sister of me first love. I thought shipping was taboo in this fandom? If they need to ship, ship me wi’ me own wife. Now, boyneriver… there’s a bonny lass if I ever saw one. 💓💓💓

Photo: @outlander-online

January 12, 2019

#Outlander #Drums Of Autumn #S4E10 #The Deep Heart’s Core #Murtz on the Ridge 🏔: Part 18 #Claire Fraser #Jamie Fraser #Murtagh FitzGibbons Fraser ⚔️ #Young Ian #Ian Òg #Ian Fraser Murray #66 #011219

[boyneriver-fraser]

An Imagining Of What Might Have Been Overheard In Boyneriver’s Living Room During Outlander S4E5 Savages...

OHMYGOD! He’s the BLACKSMITH! 🤯

OHMYGOD! Young Ian doesn’t know HE’S NAMED FOR HIM!* 🤯

OHMYGOD! He’s like a SON TO HIM! 🤯

OHMYGOD! He’s going to make CLAIRE’S RING! 🤯

OHMYGOD! He’s HOME! 🤯

Murtagh FitzGibbons Fraser ⚔️:  making silver foxes sexy since 1768. ❤️

*Ian James FitzGibbons Fraser Murray... look it up 😎

Photos: outlander-online.com Gif: radiocampusparis.org

December 3, 2018

#Outlander #Drums Of Autumn #S4E5 #Savages #December 2, 2018 #MurtaghSaved #Woolam’s Creek #the blacksmith #who knew? #🤯 #Vive les Frasers! #My heart is full #Claire Fraser #Jamie Fraser #Murtagh FitzGibbons Fraser ⚔️ #Young Ian #Ian Òg #Ian Fraser Murray #08 #120318

[boyneriver-fraser]

What’s in a name? What might have inspired Outlander’s episode titles?

Hmm. This one’s a puzzler, but here’s my best guess. 😉

Never My Love (song), The Association, Insight Out (album), 1967

You ask me if there'll come a time

When I grow tired of you

Never, my love

Never, my love

You wonder if this heart of mine

Will lose its desire for you

Never, my love

Never, my love

What makes you think love will end?

When you know that my whole life depends

On you (on you)

Ba-ba-ba-ba-ba-ba (ba-ba-ba-ba-ba-ba)

Never, my love

Never, my love

You say you fear I'll change my mind

I won't require you

Never, my love

Never, my love

How can you think love will end

When I've asked you to spend your whole life

With me? (with me, with me)

Never, my love (never, my love)

Never, my love

Never, my love (never, my love)

Never, my love

Never, my love

Gifs: @whiteraven-s

Gifs: @jamiedornaniseverything

Gif: @strandtk

Gif: @scotsmanandsassenach

Gif: @avasetocallmyown

S5E12 Never My Love

Title Image: blacklanderz.com

#Outlander #Episode Title #Inspiration #Never My Love #The Association #The Fiery Cross #TFC #S5E12 Never My Love #Claire Fraser #Jamie Fraser #Brianna MacKenzie #Roger MacKenzie #Young Ian #Ian Òg #Ian Fraser Murray #Fergus Claudel Fraser #Marsali Fraser #Germain Fraser #Rollo #YouTube #237 #080621

[boyneriver-fraser]

What’s in a name? What might have inspired Outlander’s episode titles?

Holy Bible (King James Version), Psalm 23:1-6

1 The Lord is my shepherd; I shall not want.

2 He maketh me to lie down in green pastures: he leadeth me beside the still waters.

3 He restoreth my soul: he leadeth me in the paths of righteousness for his name's sake.

4 Yea, though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil: for thou art with me; thy rod and thy staff they comfort me.

5 Thou preparest a table before me in the presence of mine enemies: thou anointest my head with oil; my cup runneth over.

6 Surely goodness and mercy shall follow me all the days of my life: and I will dwell in the house of the Lord for ever.

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S5E10 Mercy Shall Follow Me

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#Outlander #Episode Title #Inspiration #Holy Bible #Psalm 23: 1-6 #The Fiery Cross #TFC #S5E10 Mercy Shall Follow Me #Claire Fraser #Jamie Fraser #Brianna MacKenzie #Roger MacKenzie #Young Ian #Ian Òg #Ian Fraser Murray #Stephen Bonnet #237 #080621