#we say TWAS GRAND MAM

[nylonnye2]

No joke a british person just walked past me and said "And when mummy asks how your day was, you say: It was rather splendid, mummy." To her son WHAT THE FUCK ARE YOU PEOPLE

[redwinterroses]

Could you do something with 3rd Life Joel?

Harley I saw your reply on my 2AM post last night and YES the weird Joel thing IS from your ask. XD I had no idea what to do with this originally because Joel has a lot of good moments but I really wasn't in the mood to do much angsty with him (Joel kind of... exudes anti-angst. He's just so factual about everything and the sarcasm is Off The Charts. I love it.)

But I was getting ready to sleep and randomly scrolled past a post about the myth of Black Shuck and the Wild Hunt and my brain was suddenly possessed by a wild spirit of fanfiction so.... Here. Have this Very Odd piece.

(It works best if you read it in a messy Irish accent, lol.)

(also this may be a lead-up to my Trickster God Scar and Archangel Grian thing someday. We'll see.)

~*~

The Wild Hunt

.

.

.

Listen here, child, and I’ll tell ya a tale: the tale of the Wolf King, and a Wild Hunt.

What? Ya know the story? Sit down and hush—you ain’t heard it the way I’ll tell it. And I should know: I seen him myself.

Would ya call yer old granny a liar? For shame. Sit down, you. Eat yer cookie. Listen.

(don’t pinch yer brother, ya nugget, or no more cookies for you.)

He were born out of flames and fire and smoke, y’see. Born when he died, t’be fair, but born in fire all the same. ‘Twas the Grave Maiden what set his roof aflame, she an’ her undead hoard, and of course the Trickster was there as well—fat lot o’ good that did the Wolf King. But he chose his bed, and he laid in it, and we all reap his dreams thereafter.

So there he were, all newly grey and smoulderin’ and his eyes a’burnt like coals and fire and his belly growlin’ for revenge. But he weren’t the Wolf King, not yet—he were then only a lowly red, with naught but one life—like you or me.

(how’d he start with more than one? Well he were a god, weren’t he? Or he were meant to be. No, I don’t know who choses them things—prob’ly the Archangel but don’t tell the cleric you heard that from me. He don’t like me puttin’ the Angel over the Trickster or the Red King. Clerics don’t have much imagination, y’see.)

So what did he do with his one life? With his one, bloody, beatin’ red heart? “Well,” he says, he says to himself, “I need me an army, if I’m gonna take down the Grave Maiden.”

(Shush, child, don’t spoil the story. Yer brother don’t know how it ends.)

“I need me an army,” says he. “But no one will ally with me, and if they did: I’d kill them anyway—” y’see, he had taste for blood, woke with it in his teeth, like any good wolf. “—I’d kill them anyway, the whole world is my enemy.”

So instead of allies, he went to the wolves. And he went to the great da wolf and the great mam wolf, and he says to them, he says: “Give me some of yer children, to fight in my wars.”

And of course the wolves said that was crazy, they weren’t gonna send their children off with some grey-faced red-lifer on a quest to fight the gods. But the Wolf King—

(No, he weren’t the Wolf King yet. No, I don’t know what he were called before. He didn’t matter before.)

The Wolf King—who wasn’t the Wolf King yet—bared his bloody teeth at them wolves and growled at them and said in the words of wolves that they could send their children with him, or he could take ‘em on his own.

Now, wolves is wise—remember that, nugget—wolves is wise, and wolves is knowing. And they looked at this red in front of them and they were knowing that he weren’t lying. And they looked at this red and they were wise and said “Fine, alright, you can take any of ourn that’ll go with ye.”

“Fair enough,” says he. And wolf pups ain’t so wise and so knowing as their parents—remember that, nugget, parents know more’n you give ‘em grief for—so he left with his army: a passel o’ young, foolish wolves.

(Well. Some might say they was foolish. Some might say they was grand and brave and the best wolves to be born on this earth. Some might say that they can be both. Don’t ya go askin’ the cleric though.)

So there he be, this Wolf King and his pack. His army: his teeth and his claws. And now, on moonless nights, ye can hear ‘em: forever huntin’ for the Grave Maiden and her Fallen One and her hordes—she’s his sworn enemy, ya know. But that don’t stop him fightin’ with the other gods too.

He loves to chase the Red King over the mountains—sometimes ya can hear them in the night, howlin’ back and forth at each other, the wolves runnin’ the King and his Hand over the peaks and into the desert dunes. And sometimes the Red King comes after him and the pack too, o’course, but that’s a story for another night and older ears. It’s a bit too sad for cookies by the fire.

(No, love—yer mum’d kill me if I sang the Fall of the Wolf King with yer brother here. He’s too young for that tale.)

He’ll never defeat the Grave Maiden, and he’ll never catch the Red King, and he’ll never burn down all the Flower Kingdom no matter how many times he tries: that’s the nature o’ the gods, y’see, and it’s what makes us happier creatures. ‘Cause they can never finish their stories—they’re trapped in a forever dance of give and take, alliance and war, love and hate. But it’s all real, an’ it’s all true.

And believe me or not but cross my one bleedin’ heart and hope to die (that’s another thing not to repeat in front o’ the cleric, ya hear me, child?): I seen him.

I seen the Wolf King. Just once, but that were enough.

I seen him under the moonlight, racin’ across the moors with his bayin’ army at his back an’ at his front an’ all around him: a sea of white fur, frothin’ about like foam on the surf. All their eyes were burnin’ in the moonlight—I swear it on the Dragon herself. Burnin’ red, they was, like the very flames the Grave Maiden lit. They looked right at me, and I knew—I knew I were his next kill.

(The Wolf King ain’t nice, child. Of course he ain’t nice. He’s mad is what he is. And madmen don’t make for good people to meet when you’re crossing the moors alone of a night, on yer way home from a dance in Crastleton.)

(What do ya mean ya don’t want a sad story? The sad part’s over, child—clearly I didn’t get gobbled up by the Wolf King’s pack, or else who’d be here tellin’ ya this story now, I ask ya? Sit back down with yer sister and listen.)

So I seen him over the crest of the hill, with the moon a silver ha’penny in the sky above and the stars all a-glimmer and a-shinin’ like the lights of the Widow’s crown. And they came down the hill and they swept over me—all them wolves, all glory and soft and fang and hot breath on me face and I closed me eyes—I did!—and just waited for them to gobble me up.

But ya know what happened instead? ‘Course you don’t, that’s why I’m tellin’ ya. Instead o’ teeth and claws and my one life bleedin’ out on the moor… I hears a voice.

No, he didn’t say nothin’, it weren’t words. The Wolf King don’t use human words no more.

But he were laughin’.

Imagine that! Imagine me, not so much older than you, love, alone out on the moor and ringed about by the Wolf King’s army all a’swirlin’ and boundin’ around me: and the Wolf King laughs.

I couldn't help meself, though I'll never know why: but I laughed too.

And then he grabbed me by me arm and we ran.

Oh, my children. If I live to be a thousand I’ll never forget that night.

(Don’t you repeat this to the cleric. Or yer mother. They both think I’m dotty as a bat as it is.)

The Wolf King and his pack run faster than birds can fly—faster than horses, faster than hounds. Faster than I could run, even then: but it didn’t matter. They carried me along, light as a feather and more nimble than a hare. Over the mountain, down the vale, through the ruins of the Flower Kingdom—yes, I’ve seen the Flower Kingdom, but only by moonlight and we didn’t stop, but I heard later that there was fires again so he must have gotten his bite at the Widow and the Soldier when I weren’t lookin’.

And all the while, the whole pack was howlin’. Howlin’ like the front gale of a nor’easter comin’ up the coast: the wolves was howlin’, and the King was howlin’, and Void take me if I weren’t howlin’ too, just like this—

(Oh hush, child, that weren’t even so loud. End’s all, if you ain’t a skittish little creature—get back here and eat another cookie.)

We ran all night, runnin’ and howlin’ and leavin’ fire and fang in our wake. But it couldn’t last forever, as the Wolf King only wanted me runnin’ with him as long as it was sportin’, and even with the wolves carryin’ me along I did get tired. More tired than I’ve ever been before or since, I don’t mind tellin’ ya.

So come mornin’, come dawnin’ of the next day’s sun, I find myself back on the road to Crastleton. My dress were in tatters and my feet were a bleedin’ mess of cuts and blisters that never did hurt, my hair tangled with wind knots and wolf hair, and my throat hoarse from howlin’.

And just before he left, him swirlin’ about with a millin’ mess of wolves around his feet, the Wolf King looked at me—looked at me, I tell ya—and gave me a grin that were full of as many teeth as there are leaves in a tree. He tossed me this, and then he were gone—sweeping up and away off the moor like nothing more than a ghost in a dream.

(Here, look at it. What do you think it is? I’ve always said it’s a claw, but what kinda creature has silver claws, I ask you? Give that back to me now, child—it hasn’t left me side in six times so long as you’ve been alive, and it’ll be buried with me if I can get someone other than the cleric to do the job.)

So of course the Wolf King is real! And so the Trickster and the Archangel and the Grave Maiden and the Widow and the Soldier and the Red King and the Hand and all the rest of them. If ye’re very, very good, and very, very lucky, mayhap you’ll even see them one day.

Because of course, they might be gods, child. But in one way, they’re just like you and me: they’ve got but one life—red and bloodied and barin’ their teeth.

And the Wolf King runs forever, chasing after the Grave Maiden and her Fallen One and even the Traitor when the mood strikes him. He’ll never catch her, but she’ll never outrun him either. The Wolf King hunts forever.

Now—you finish up that cookie and run outside. I hear your mama callin’ for you. And remember: we don’t tell Mama anything Granny says about the cleric, alrighty?

Alrighty.

Goodnight, children—sleep tight; don’t let the phantoms bite.

And just maybe—if you’re real, real quiet—you might hear the howling.

Howl back.

[renee-writer]

The Contract Chapter 8 An Important Conversation

"We should talk." Jamie says as he directs her into his private quarters. She is fasinated by the old wallpaper, the fireplace, just the old feel of his space.

"Yes. How old is this building?" Raised by an historian, her curiosity temporarily overshadows her desire.

"Lallybroch was built around 1706 and this suite, the original Laird's bedchamber, is part of the orginal."

"Wow! I was raised by an historian. My dad's brother, Lambert Beauchamp. He would be fasinated by this whole place."

"Weel, ye are welcome to invite him. I will give him a tour." He watches her face fall.

"He passed away last year."

"Christ Claire. I dinna ken."

"We really don't know each other."

"Aye, so, let's talk. Just talk."

"Can we?" She takes a seat on the loveseat in the corner of the room. He sits across from her in a wingback chair.

"Maybe. We need to try. If this is real, we need to know more then each others wee noises."

"True. Well, I was raised by Uncle Lamb because my parents died in an auto accident when I was five." He goes to reach for her then fisted his hand. She gives him a sad smile. "I barely remember them. Uncle Lamb was an historian and archeologist. I was raised around the world. It was a very unusual childhood. It is where I first started to fall in love with medicine. I saw what it could do, you see." He nods. "I knew I wanted to be a healer. But, not a doctor."

"Why not?"

"To far away from the patients. So nurse practitioner is perfect."

"Aye."

"Uncle Lamb got to see me graduate. I am glad of it."

"What happened?"

"A stroke. He was on a dig and just fell over." He gasps. "What is it?"

"We have that in common. My da was felled the same way. Was in the grain field and.."

"I am so sorry Jamie."

"I was nineteen. My mam passed when I was but eight. The cancer it was."

"Both orphans." It took all that was in her not to reach for him. He nods, biting her lip as the first tear falls. He had grieved his parents passing many a time but, it was different with Claire. She would ken in a way that only Jenny, his sister could.

He looks up and meets her eyes and she forgets she isn't to be touching him. She opens her arms and he stumbles two steps into them. She holds him, weeps with him, as they both grieve.

"Tell me something good." She had lifted his head off her chest after they had cried themselves out. She wipes his face of tears. He smiles and touches his forehead to hers.

"Murtagh. He is my Godfather as well as, CEO. He has become my da. He isna happy about this."

"This?"

"Us. Whatever it is between us." His words tickle across her face. She feels her blood rush to her breast, pool between her legs. No, they aren't done talking yet. She pulls back. He understands and just keeps a hold of her hand. "It is easier if we are touching, aye?"

"Yes, it is. We shall return to that." He nods. "Tell me about Lallybroch Distillery." He grins.

"It was started by my grandda, Jacob. Lallybroch has been in the family since it was built. It has been a hotel, wedding venue, even rented out as apartments, at one point. Auld Jacob decided to return her to her roots. He started farming, then selling the grain spirits, from the essence grain, ye ken, to his neighbors. The fame spread and Lallybroch Distillery was born."

"And you inherited it as the eldest?" She guesses.

"Nae Claire, I am not the eldest. That would be Willy, would have been Willy, then Janet( Jenny), lastly me." She waits, heart in her mouth. What had happened to Willy? "William Jacob Fraser came six months after my parents wedding. My mam was a Mackenzie, ye ken, and her brothers dinna wish her to marry a Fraser. A positive pregnancy test changed their minds. Willy was my hero, the best big brother. He ne' got on me for following him around. Twas just God's providence I wasna with him when it happened." He tightens his hand in hers. "He was swimming in the Loch. A storm came up. He lost his way and drowned. He had just turned five and ten."

She had no words that could comfort so, she slipped off the loveseat and into his lap. She just held him. He didn't cry( was he grieving for Willy earlier too?) He just got still except for the hand stroking her back

"How old were you?" She finally asks.

"Six. Jenny was ten. She dinna want this job. It wasna a gender thing. She had already married Ian and was six months gone with wee Jamie when da died."

"So, that left you?"

"Aye. Aye, and a grand fit it is. This was all I ever wanted. To farm the land. To make the best spirits in the Highlands. Was all I dreamed of."

"Was?"

"Aye, it still is but, now there is something I want just as much."

"That is?"

"You." He lowers his lips to her.

[bee-kathony]

Fraser Memorial | Ch. 5 “Boss’s Boss”

Thank you @sassenachwaffles for being my beta for this chapter! 

Ch. 1 - Sutures | Ch. 2 - Maybe This Time | Ch. 3 - Movie Date | Ch. 4 - Two Pink Lines 

2015

The car door slammed shut behind me, and I jumped, only making Jamie laugh. I was quite nervous to be meeting his father, considering he was my boss’s boss. The owner of the hospital.

“Sassenach, my parents, they’ll love ye. There’s no need to worry.” Jamie slid his hand in mine, giving it a tight squeeze as we walked towards the door of his childhood home, Lallybroch.

“But what if I make a fool of myself?” I asked with a shrug of my shoulders.

“Ye won’t.” Jamie smirked, “Besides, tis no my father ye have to impress. It’s my sister, Jenny.” He smiled, and then opened the door. No turning back now, Beauchamp.

Lallybroch was decorated for the autumn season accordingly, with vases of golden flowers, small pumpkins covering the surface of every table, and a roaring fire to make the scene complete. “It’s so… cozy,” I remarked, and couldn’t help but smile at the inviting feeling I already had.

“It’s a bonny home to be sure,” Jamie said. I was just about to say something about all the family pictures on the wall when I was interrupted by a dark brown haired woman, who looked about eight months pregnant.

“Mo bhràthair, tha e math a bhith gad fhaicinn,” she said, embracing Jamie in an awkward angled hug.

“Piuthar, ciamar a tha thu?” Jamie replied, and I smiled watching the Fraser siblings slip so naturally into their natural tongue.

Jamie slipped his arm around my waist, and that made me refocus my attention on the small woman before me. “And this… is Claire Beauchamp,” Jamie beamed proudly.

“Hi, you must be Jenny?” I smiled, offering my hand. “It’s so lovely to finally meet you.”

I let out a small sigh of relief as Jenny took my hand, and wrapped it with her other one, squeezing it gently. “Jamie’s told me a lot about ye, Claire. And I’ve been wantin’ to thank ye for helpin’ out my daft brother when young Jamie got the chickenpox.” She threw an annoyed look over at Jamie.

“Twas no me that gave him the pox, Janet and ye ken it well,” Jamie defended himself.

Jenny laughed, releasing my hand, “Come on, Mam’s waiting for us in the kitchen. Ye two are late.”

I looked nervously at Jamie, “I told you to speed up, now we’re late.”

“They’re family, Sassenach. Quick to forgive.” He kissed my temple, placing one hand on the small of my back as they joined the rest of his family in the kitchen.

“H-uile duine!” Jamie said, and the room broke into shouts of joy. The scene of Jamie hugging his parents reminded me of the prodigal son, returning home after so long.

“Everyone,” Jamie pulled Claire to his side, and the room fell silent. “I’d like ye to meet my girlfriend, Claire Beauchamp… a resident at Fraser Memorial.”

“Ah, the famous Claire,” said Jamie’s mother, Ellen who was standing by the over with mitts on both her hands. “Tis lovely to meet ye at last.”

Brian Fraser stepped around the table, offering me his hand, “If yer half the woman Jamie says ye are, then it’s an honor to meet ye, Claire.” He bowed his head and place a kiss on my hand.

I couldn’t help but blush, it seems all the Fraser men have a natural charm, and suddenly I wanted to talk with Ellen to find out more about her time dating a Fraser. “Thank you for having me in your home, Mr Fraser. It’s so beautiful.” I smiled.

“Och, call me Brian, lass. Everyone calls me Mr. Fraser at work, and this is home.” He admitted as he placed a hand on my shoulder and gave it a small pat.

Jamie squeezed my side, and I looked up to see him beaming down at me. He leaned down and whispered into my ear, “Told ye they would love ye, Sassenach.”

Someone tapped me on the shoulder, and I turned around to see the man, Ian, that had first brought Jamie to the hospital. “Claire! Fancy seein’ ye here,” he smirked, looking up at Jamie. “The lad hasna stopped talkin’ about ye since I brought him in to the hospital.” Ian smiled, pushing his hand against Jamie’s arm. I took note that they were very close, and thought perhaps they had known each other for a very long time. 

We took our places at the dinner table, and my mouth started to drool at the sight of the delicious food that Ellen kept bringing to the table. Jamie told me his mother always made home cooked meals — this was very different to my upbringing with my Uncle Lamb. We’d always eaten fast food, or whatever local cuisine was available in whatever country Lamb had been exploring on his archeological digs.

I felt at ease around the table with the Fraser’s and Murray’s, like somehow I already belonged.

“So Claire, tell me,” Brian took a sip of whisky, “From someone on the inside… how’s life at the hospital?”

I brushed a loose curl out of my face, “Well, I’ve only ever worked at two hospitals, yours, and then one in Oxford. But I must say,” I smiled, “Fraser Memorial is by far the best. I always love going to work everyday.”

Brian winked at me, and I had to stop myself from laughing — it seems that Jamie did not inherit his winking abilities from his father.

“Good to hear, lass. And ye ken, it’s no long now until it’s Jamie’s turn to run things.” Brian smiled over at Jamie, and I felt him tense beside me. On the drive over, Jamie and told me how his father was thinking about stepping down and handing off the responsibility to him. He had expressed his fears of not being prepared for the job.

As Brian spoke however, I could easily picture Jamie stepping up and taking over the responsibilities at the hospital.

“That’s enough talk about work now,” Ellen clapped her hands gently. “Who wants some freshly baked cookies?”

++++++

I sat on the couch, my feet propped up on Jamie’s lap and sighed, content. My belly was full of cookies and my skin was warm from the fire. Jamie tapped his fingers gently on my ankles and all I wanted to do was sink down into the pillows.

“Do ye want to sleep here tonight, Sassenach?” Jamie asked, and I blinked a few times and he repeated his question.

“We could stay in my old room, I ken it’s a bit of a drive back to the city. And ye dinna have work tomorrow, right?” He asked.

I was very aware of how he had said ‘we’, and staying in his old room. We had kissed — many times — but we hadn’t slept together yet. Not that I was suddenly expecting Jamie to make love to me for the first time in his family home. But I wouldn’t say no…

Rubbing my the backs of my hands lazily across my eyes, I smiled, “Sure. That sounds nice actually.”

“Grand,” he smiled, and raised my feet off his lap to stand up. “I’ll go see if Jenny has any clothes for ye to sleep in. My room is upstairs, and the last one on the right of the hallway.”

“I’ll meet you there,” I watched him head off to find Jenny somewhere in the house and then stood up. Grabbing my bag from the floor, I marched upstairs in search of Jamie’s room. There were so many doors, and I feared walking in on Brian and Ellen asleep in their room.

I walked slowly, counting the doors as I passed by. Just as I reached the last door on the right, a hand came from behind me and pressed on the door. “How slow did ye walk, Sassenach?” Jamie smirked, and then ushered me into the room.

“Here’s some of Jenny’s sleep clothes. She said ye can keep them if ye want, after her pregnancies she hasna been able to fit back into them.” Jamie laid out a matching silk pajama set.  

I walked over to the bed, and held up the black camisole, “Jenny gave me silk sleeping pajamas…” I lifted a brow, “What exactly does she think we’ll be doing in here?”

Jamie laughed loudly, pressing his hand over his mouth. “Christ, I dinna want to think that my sister gave ye those clothes to get me laid.”

“If I was going to sleep with you Jamie Fraser,” I dropped the pajamas to the bed, and walked to stand in front of him, “I wouldn’t bother with any clothes.”

I felt a sense of pride as I watched Jamie’s jaw almost hit the floor. “You’re drooling, Fraser.”

“How can I no when the most beautiful woman in the world says somethin’ like that?” He stepped forward, sliding his hands around my hips.

“Claire…” he kissed me gently, “I would verra much like to-“

I silenced him with a kiss, then took a step back, reached for the hem of my dress, and pulled it over my head.

“Tha mi ‘n dùil sgàin mo chridhe,” Jamie whispered, closing the space between us.

Present Day

Jamie and I held hands as we waited to go into our first ultrasound. I had been so nervous the past few weeks, just hoping that everything would be alright. Especially considering how long we tried to get pregnant and the failed attempts.

“Mr. and Mrs. Fraser?” A woman walked out, and motioned for us to come into the back. I would have thought I wouldn’t feel nervous at a doctor’s office, considering my profession, but this wasn’t professional… this was personal.

“Do you know about how far along you are, Mrs Fraser?” The doctor asked as I laid back on the chair.

“Well, I think about 11 weeks, but I’m not entirely sure.” I smiled. The doctor rolled up my shirt, and squirted the cold jelly onto my stomach.

“Sorry it’s so cold,” she smiled. I reached for Jamie’s hand as we looked at the screen. “So it’s a little soon to tell the gender of the baby, but I would put you at roughly 12 weeks Mrs Fraser.”

Jamie squeezed my hand, “And everything looks as it should be?”

The doctor nodded, “Oh yes. Everything looks perfectly normal, and oh -“ she stopped moving the transducer and took a closer look at the screen. “I’ve got two heartbeats here.”

“Two heartbeats?” Jamie said, “So that’ll be the bairn and Claire?”

The doctor turned to us, and smiled, “You’re carrying twins Mrs Fraser.”

My mouth opened, but no words escaped. I looked up at Jamie, and saw tears in his eyes.

“Taing Dhia!” He kissed me, and I felt my own tears fall down my cheeks. “Blessed with two bairns.”

“Twins…” I whispered, and looked up at the monitor. “I never thought I would be able to have a baby, let alone twins.”

“Well congratulations,” the doctor smiled warmly, then began to wipe off the gel.

“Jamie, can you believe it?” I hugged him when we stepped out of the doctor’s office.

He held me tightly, “I’m so happy, Sassenach. I didna know I could ever feel this much joy.”

“Jesus H. Roosevelt Christ,” I sighed against his chest, “Two newborn babies… at the same time.”

“Tis a good thing we have Jenny to help us,” Jamie smirked, and kissed me.

“Thank God for Jenny Fraser,” I laughed and leaned into Jamie once again. I slid my hand over my belly and Jamie covered it with his. We weren’t a family of three anymore… now we were a growing family of four.

[ecotone99]

[RF] Summer night walk home from the pub

Here I am, outside the pub, lovely warm glow in my cheeks now after some lovely pints with the lads, the boys. Fuck it, they're not my boys, I know them but do I fuck. Don't get me wrong, I have friends, my boys, just not these lads. They're grand lads in their own right, just more acquaintance. D'you see, I was a bit of an outsider when I was in primary school, so I never really had much to do with them, at least nothing good. They're all a bit older too, so you'd expect that. Then I went to school in town ,and they all went to the local secondary, so really I didn't see a lot of them til I was about 16.

I'd a run in with some of them when I was 13 or 14 I think, I told some stupid lies to the wrong lad, next thing I know I'm standing there by the road with a gang of them around me and my pants around my ankles, and that fucker with his light that looked like a gun up to my head. Wanker. Didn't get a slap or anything, just, that changed things for me a little. I was an intense young fella but that was a bit shit.

I got stronger and a bit fitter and sure I was mad about the bit of football, and happy out to play with the under 21s when I was asked. Well able to mix it, so I caught up with them again then. We'd plenty drama between this and then, like farting around with missed communications, me being called a snake and a lickarse for turning up to a game they told me wasn't on, because they wanted the coach gone. Dad didn't help with that side of things either. He was on the board and went fucking nuclear, like fucking Nuremberg. Hauled em all up in front of a panel. That was too fucking far. I think he knows it too. But anyways, years ago.

And there I am, outside, with a nice mist falling on my face outside on a summer's night. It's a weird feeling, like, I was happy out to be inside with the lads in a way, sitting back supping a few pints, making a funny quip or 2, I can be witty enough, but more so with my own friends. Sure these lads mightn't get my humour, the way I went to school in town, and away for college. But being outside the door of the pub, with the lovely silent closeness and hum of the night, with the orangey street light over my head, I like being here like this.

Right, fuck this, there's no reception up here so I'm walking home. It's going to be about a half an hour home, and sure by the time I get signal and there's someone up for me I'll nearly be home anyways. So off we walk, over across the road near the graveyard, then around the corner and up the road, towards the church. It's dark along here, but sure I'll hear the cars coming anyways, I'll keep in out of the way, nothing out tonight only the clouds and myself. Lovely warm night.

Sure I was a lonely enough lad I spose when I was younger. Fighting with the sisters, bored in school, bit beneath me like. I could understand most of it, and I was good at anything I cared about, but just like, meh, who cares about doing schoolwork. Telly or matches or out kicking ball or doing fucking anything other than looking at books when I came home. I told the parents we'd no homework for a month straight. They opened the diary one evening and found about 3 pages of notes from the bitch of a teacher. Did she not realise I really didn't like homework, and I knew it anyways, bored off my shite, who has time for homework. I used get anxious about it though. I had an ulcer when I was 14. Dad just thought I was being a bit of a mope. I didn't know what was going on.

But it's a lovely night here, up the road now passing the school. Few more lights here. The school looks tiny now. Sure it used be massive when we went here before. Everything's tiny. The road. The fence. The walk from here up to the church. Took ages. Small legs I spose. Lovely night for a walk home. Still a nice buzz off the pints.

How many pints did I have? 7 I'd say. I bought my own pint first, then I got Jackie one and we were on a few rounds then. Time is it... half 1. Yeah, surely only 7. Or 8. Fuck it, Dave gave me a jaegerbomb. I never bought him back one. I better get him a drink now the next time. Hanna was on tonight too. She's looking haggard enough these days.

The new church looks nice now in the few street lights, I wonder what the loan is looking like these days. I've not paid anything to it. I spose I should, but like, how do you go about that? Can you put it through the business do you think, tax break like? Ara fuck it, what'll they do, tear it down? Right, point her for home now, that's the highest point here now. All down hill from here. The night is clearing too. Turning into a nice auld evening altogether. Cooling down a bit too.

That's the end of the lights here too between now and home. sure we'll hear the cars. Donal bought me a pint too sure, Carlsberg, where ever he got the notion I'd be drinking Carlsberg. I don't think I've ever seen pints of Carlsberg inside there before. Why did he do that actually, like, twas a bit random. Sure I drank it anyways. Was it a joke? Did the lads give it to me for a laugh. Fucking eejit now'll drink this. Like the time they pissed in the coke bottle full of diluted orange. That was years ago. Ah fuck it he wouldn't have done that. Sure he was at our wedding.

Who's this now ringing. Liam? Fuck it, tis late for him to be on to me.

...

Well Liam, what's the craic?

Haha, langers laaaaad.

Walking home now in the dark, not a star in the sky. Some night ya? Class day for a barbecue alright.

Tomorrow ya. Who's there with ye?

...

Well Paul!

Nah, just walking home now from the pub. Just a few pints.

Hahaha, fuck off, I don't have a dog collar on me, I'm allowed out on my own. She's down home for a few days.

Yea. Hold on, car coming there. Fuck it he's flying. I better stand in.

hfumph

Well, I should be safe enough in here.

Well I'd nowhere to go really so I just fell arse first into the ditch. Car's gone there now. Jesus he was bombing it. Ah lads, It's starting to piss rain here.

Hold on, there's a fertiliser bag here next to me.

Perfect.

Sure look, worse places to sit out a shower like this.

Ya, sure I'll sit here, what's the harm in that.

Nah, I'm kinda off the ground. The briars are holding me up.

Haha, yeah, fine batch of thorns straight into my arse. Nah, it's grand, I can't feel em anyways. Many of ye out at Liam's today?

Fuck, nice crowd. I'm coming up tomorrow to ye, I'm bringing stuff for the barbecue. Right, only a quick shower. I better dig myself out of this and keep going.

Talk to ye tomorrow, ya ya, talk to ye, ya ya bye bye. Dickhead. Haha.

...

Right, sure I better bring this bag home with me, shouldn't really be leaving it in the ditch, litter and all like. Might be out of Ryan's or O’Hara's. Hardly, they'd surely pick up all their bags and use them again. Them Ryan's are after building some size of houses, fair play to them. Off away and made plenty money for themselves. Well able to talk and well able to work. C'mere, if you can build a house like that for yourselves, you've done something right.

Grand night out now again, that shower's after freshening up the whole place. Now, let's see how drunk I am, can I still jump the cattle grid. Ha, there we go, haven't lost it yet anyways. Where's the key for this place now. Fuck it, never mind, it's open. Right, lock this thing now. Into the dog in the kitchen. Sound asleep. She's some house pet. Toast? Oh yes, with real butter and proper Irish cheddar. Heaps of butter. Place is spotless, better put this stuff away. Too late for tea, pint of water will do, lovely stuff. Night dog! Down to say hello the mam and dad, tell em I'm home safe.

...

Hi, I'm back.

Ya, decent crowd.

Donal and Jackie, and a few more.

Ya. What time are ye heading to mass? Ok, sure I'll see ye tomorrow.

Night.

...

Happy out there they are. Fair play to them.

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[mulliganisms]

I saw 3 sips then I had a bells

Nothing beats the old fashioned pub  especially an Irish one but they are now virtually extinct. We should share pictures of property developers jangling their keys outside of closed boozers on Facebook to shame them.  Liverpool Rd N1 mid 70s, one such pub open on a Christmas night -the key to a great holiday for Himself. Himself has to get out Christmas night- his sire, Aulfella was always rearing up, undoing the hard work of Mam. Aulfella was capable of loving or hating anything at any given, depending on his temper. He hid his good moods in the same place as his money - under the carpet in the front room, reaching for them both when he was on his way to Da pub or da club.

Your best guess as to the name of a pub where the Provisional IRA paper An Phoblacht was sold openly, tricolours decorated the wall and the jukebox featured anti -internment hit The Men Behind The Wire? The Crown of course ( I always add upside down as a nod to the Celtic FC halftime favourite Irish Soldier Laddie) For Himself the test of a decent Irish bar is the Guinness - you can tell a decent pint when you can see mark of each sip on the side of the glass. I offer three swallows for you this season - let’s start with a huge, thirsty gulp.

Liverpool Rd N1 mid 70s, a proper Irish pub The Crown. Himself is there with his first proper girlfriend - Dixie. They are deep into their relationship having met across a crowded home and wear department in Tesco Chapel Market. I’m Not In Love played, his hands on her waist and...breathe (exhale loudly. A glance down at the gap left between the skin  of her back and the waistband of the Wranglers reveals a possible future of bliss - the white bra strap shining in the UV light. ..a reverie...were these the hips that turned a thousand faces and burnt red these cheeks of Islington? A small cry escapes her lips - Sorry love - those plastic sandals are harder to manoeuvre than the Green Flash I normally wear for dancing.

Mam was of a somewhat sunnier frame of mind - where she hid when depression struck we never did find out though Himself and  Dabrudders found most of her hiding places. In earlier years, Accomodation was an old store of some kind affectionately known as the shop. Upstairs one bedroom,with two bunk beds and a cot a sitting room with a pull down bed and a stereogram. Downstairs a shop floor with building gear covered in dust sheets, a kitchen with coal fired stove leading out to a yard. The toilet was reached by a run through a coal cellar sometimes fast, sometimes slow ,,, record time on return from a camping trip in Youghal which included The Return of Dracula one night (rather lax enforcement of X certificate in Ireland) and waking next morning to discover the tent had been pitched beside a slaughterhouse - sheep skulls stretched out in greater numbers as the tide retreated from the stony atlantic shore.

In the cupboard in this  dungeon was where the Christmas presents were hid - and played with/ sometimes ruined long before the day. Mam commented on the odd angle of the crossbar on the subbuteo goals - a few years later we could’ve blamed the Tartan army saying it was a souvenir set of Wembley 77. Himself just used a Swan vesta and Mam’s hairnet to repair it (the onion bag not being to scale).

The shop went as part of slum clearance, as did most of the other condemned buildings. Himself and his moved into the renovated Victorian terrace - into the nineteen seventies - bathrooms and central heating , into the peak of Equality in the UK. The new neighbours’ eldest worked part time at Tesco Chapel Market and through this network Himself impressed enough at interview to collar a role packing cheese and butter then progressing to staffing the Deli counter in a double act with younger brother Seamus. Union membership guaranteed good wages which rose in line with inflation of which there was plenty .

Time honoured courting process was in place from the first time he saw the poppers on the nylon housecoat struggling to contain the developing curves. His cotton overall hid his embarrassment but not his intention - all boys schools did not prepare you well for this. Even the Drama teacher the fifth form swooned over paled in comparison. And then their story started - a word in his shell like -not a letter in the Hardy/ Shakespeare/ Tolstoy mould but a hand gesture to approach a friend - not like today. Sexting was Chelsea’s cup winning manager, Mobiles were Airfix planes on string and pawn featured in a passage from Christy Brown’s  Down All My Days which Aulfella could recite by heart - the good suit went in Monday and was redeemed for Sunday mass. Himself was onto a sure thing - if he asked her to dance at the Xmas social she’d say yes.

Consider the obstacles there: asking - the potential for rejection greater than the selection of the Park football sides where every choice was carefully considered to produce a finely calibrated balance. Fourth best defender gone would you select the second best header without the guarantee you’d land a crosser from the top five?  Dancing here did not mean a hustle a bump or even the ska shuffle all of which he could handle. No The Smiley’s People double agent meant a slow dance. So he watched the couples, the elder siblings the pairings of someone’s mate and someone’s sister. Some still together celebrating their second grandchild…

It worked, Nature  took over they “got off”, “pulled” and then they were “going out”. This did not mean going out that much as funds were somewhat limited, opportunities even moreso. There was a date culminating in a faint prompted by a Sissy Spacek  bloodbath scene. The Odeon Holloway Rd witnessed many a coitus interruptus in its years and this apology laden nursing scene in the foyer echoed many of the experiences Himself and Herself played out. Himself caught the climax of the film   a few years later at college ; ditto the coitus although that was more to do with a Malt Liquor (Breaker, Colt 45 ) for 10p promotion - and  Carrie herself could not have levitated his head  off the pillow the next morning.

No, going out meant staying in with the occasional foray for a coke float at Wimpy with unattached girlfriends (never my mates) including Margaret.  Sitting indoors then in a council maisonette. The sitting room was long with the auditorium seats pointed at the shrine - the rented colour set delivering nightly delights. On the sofas, the Elder sister and Geezer fiancee (saving for wedding so not going out) on the armchairs Graham and Ivy the parents, Between them our would be lovers. Telly and smoking that was the evening - Whan the Bert Comes In, Carry On something and Rich Man Poor Man. .When the folks went dahn ve Legion the vinyl came out - Atlantic Crossing with its slow side and fast side and David Essex’s concept album All the Fun of the Fair. Himself had just begun to achieve some minor plateaued competence on the Hofner Guitar Aulfella had bought from a Showband mate (typically flamboyant gesture and much loved) so this obviously was the equivalent of a masters in Musicology allowing him to pontificate and evaluate all music ever created or about to be - for Heads like him and his best mate Pat most music was judged and unless suitably complex, the black cap came out. Himself kept these opinions to hisself or there would be no goodbye fumble in the porch, no warm lips, no ambition destroyed by parental knock, no warmth enough to see him the ten minute walk home.

But in the Crown buoyed by a half pint the opinions flowed as freely as the song. Xmas evening found them with unattached friend Margaret and her extended family of Lydons as in John. The patrons rotated the singing some better than others but all applauded/ gently ribbed then it came to John himself. He starts doing white Christmas, HImself  joins in forcing JL to go faster,make more of a mess of the melody, savour the lyric, thrash it - invent punk This bit might be somewhat exaggerated in memory, especially as JL was not even there.

That’s the first sip now the second and the third, happy ending.

That Pub, When the comedian Himself returned to The Crown years later it had become Waxys Dargle - a theme Irish bar, Shane Mcgowan’s local, etc. Singing would get you barred. There were no old men in suits and ties. Now it is a block of flats. Himself remembered the Goldsmiths Tavern in New Cross - put up a sign no  hats / no guinness - code for  No Blacks no Dogs no Irish I guess. That sign always conjured up an image of Phil Lynott  trudging from door to door whispering to the Jack Russell nestling beneath his Afghan coat - dont worry me darling their women go mad for me. One year, Himself and da family minus one acted in chorus and decamped to The George in Essex Rd where with the families of Dabrudder’s Sunday football side they created a kind of mad  talent show where audience and performers became one - a communion as Boal would call it. Twas grand - it’s now a gastropub where three organic cherries on the slot machine means a village in Cambodia gets a new goat. the pub quiz includes questions based on the budapest metro map of 1959 and it offers 65 different ales in flavours like panetonne and panfried liver but only one mode of atmosphere - tedious. Gentrification as effective a migration prompt as Potato blight.

Gentrifiers

Chorus - Making your town cool - house price house price house price school - repeat ad nauseam

We think buy to let’s an absolute disgrace/ glad we bought 5 at the old stamp duty rate

Here’s to our genius - or was it / our parents stumping up the dough for the deposit

Agents call this place Shoreditich Lite/  I call it prosecco - bubbly bland and white

So pass the craft ale pass the tapenade / if someone mentions brexit pass the hand grenade

Otag kebab’s been skewered by souvlaki food carts/ I loathe graffiti but our kids study street art

Pie and mash, licquor, winkles and wallies are all rebooted as cuisine a la cockney

Fiver for a loaf of bread a petition vs. greggs / Costa flipping coffee costa flipping arm and leg

Can’t buy malt vinegar to put upon your plate just condiment fundamentalists of balsamic state

Riding Monday then flute, Latin Greek / by Tuesday we’re into the rhythm of the week

Lance flunked the grammar despite all the tutors So Granny pays the fees at st mediocres

Everywhere the skips and signs shout out: we’re cooling up your town - time to get out

Repeat chorus and fade

[renee-writer]

Proper Home Chapter 69 What is His Name?

"I must apologize to the chaplain. I recall cursing and screaming in his presence." Claire says as she sits nursing her son. She has been stitched up, cleaned up, and moved to a room.

"I am sure the lad understands. He was about to be born, after all." He can't stop smiling at his wife and son. He is a true beauty with his own think curly red hair and his mam's whiskey eyes.

"I would still feel better if I apologized." She lifts the baby up and carefully moves him to the other side. He is a good feeder. His da's son, she thinks with her own smile.

"I will arrange it. I have something for ye."

"Besides him?" She asks with a soft smile down at her nursing son."

"Aye. A wedding ring." She looks up. "Twasn't time to give it to ye at our wedding." He pulls it out of his pocket. She adjusts the baby to give him her left hand. He slips the engagement ring off and the wedding band( a simple gold band) on before returning the engagement ring.

"It is beautiful Jamie. Yours is in the inside pocket of my bag. I would love to put it on you but.."

"Dinna fash Mrs Fraser. Feeding the lad is more important." He fetches it and places it on his own left hand. Just in time as Faith enters with the rest of their family, bar the bairns who are with Mrs Crook.

"Ohhhh. Look at ye lad. Ye are a verra big boy." Jenny coos at her nephew. Claire adjusts her clothing and turns him out to meet his family. He regards them with alert eyes.

"He is beautiful." Brian comments as he bends down to meet his grandsons eyes.

"Precious. May I?" Ellen holds her arms out.

"Of course." She gently takes the baby in her arms. "Hello. Ohhh ye have yer mam's eyes but the Fraser's slant. Ahhh lad ye will break yer far share of hearts." His grandmam tells him. He is passed amoung the Fraser's and, finally Alex.

"Ye are a chunk. Such a big boy. Uncle Alex is glad he got the bigger tartan." He looks up at the beaming parents. "What is his name, then?"

"We were waiting for someone to ask." Claire replies," would you care to tell them Jamie?"

"Aye," he takes his son back," May I introduce Thomas James Fraser." A series of ohhs and ahhs follow. "And his mam Claire Elizabeth Fraser." He adds when they get quiet.

"What?" His da questions.

"We are married. Was while she was in labor." They both hold out their left hands. "Sae, Thomas here was born in wedlock, if just barely."

"I am sorry. I was a bit stubborn. I was trying to prove something." Claire adds.

"Och lass. Twas yer own choice. In labor. That must have been fun." Jenny says.

"Oh yes." They tell them all about the nervous chaplain, Claire's cursing and screaming, the midwife serving as a witness. "We will have another ceromony when he is a bit older you can come to."

"Aye, at Lallybroch. It will be a grand time. All that matters naught, right now. What is important is Thomas James. That he is healthy and that ye are okay." Her mother-in-law says. "I have a new grandson and a new daughter. A blessed day indeed."

[renee-writer]

A Date For Christmas Chapter 10

"We start with the lights." Ellen explains when Claire and Jamie rejoin them.

"And from the top least ye which to kindle her wrath." Jamie adds.

"Now dinna scare her. Yer mam isn't that bad." Brian defends his wife.

"Let Jamie and Claire do it. They have had us waiting." Robbie teases.

"Ye will understand one day, little bro."

"More mushy stuff." He makes a face that has Claire laughing. She moves to help Jamie with the lights.

"Twas our verra first ornament. The one we put on our first Fraser tree." Ellen explains handing it to Claire. It is the nativity represented inside the delicate glass.

"It is exquisite." Claire says as she gently handles it. The lights are on to Ellen's satisfaction. They are now placing the ornaments. Jamie, smiling, takes it from her. He hangs it high out of the reach of the children.

"Oh, and this one is Jamie's first. See, that is his wee footprint on the side.'

"Wow Jamie. You had small feet."

"They have grown." And she vividly recalls what he felt like, fully aroused pressed tight against her. Grown indeed. She meets his eyes and they lose track of their surroundings. He holds an ornament in his hands but forgets to hang it. She has to remind herself to breath. Whatever it was under the mistletoe and up in his room was still here.

"Are ye going to hang that ornament or just hold it brother?" Jenny teases as she hangs another herself, balancing Maggie in one arm. Ian holds wee Jamie up so he can hang the one he holds.

"Hang it." He forces his eyes away from Claire's and they both draw shaky breathes. Ellen and Brian exchange glances. It is a long evening as Ellen makes it a point to tell Claire the story behind ever special ornament. Finally.

"Here wee Jamie. Yer sister is still to young to do this. Ye get the honor of hanging the star." Brian lifts his grandson to his shoulders and his Uncle Jamie hands it to him. The proud little boy places it on the top of the tree pressing it tight on.

"Veera grand lad. Shall we light her up?"

"Aye grandda."

"Claire, as our guest, would ye like to plug her in?"

"I am honored." She bends over to do it and Jamie's eyes drift away from tree to her firm.round arse. His da sees and nudges him. He looks up to see his nephew watching him with wide eyes. 'Crap' the wean needn't have seen that.

"Ready everyone?" Claire holds the plug right at the entrance to the outlet.

"Aye!" Echoes and she pushes the plug in. The ayes turn to 'ohhs' and 'ahhs'. It is quite lovely. Standing 6 feet with hundreds of lights and a hundred ornaments. They are offset by the silver icicles and gold garland. The star gold reflecting the light deep in and the light around it.

"Son." His da stops him as he heads towards his room and Claire an hour later.

"Aye?"

"There is a box of rubbers in the dresser by yer night stand. We love our grandbabies but wish them born the right way at the right time, aye."

"Da, we...Ahhh..I mean.."

"Jamie the sexual tension in this room was thick.enough that probably even Maggie felt it. We are both adults. Just use em', aye?"

"Ahhh. Thanks da. I....errr we will."