claire is so stupid


female awesome meme || 2/10 lead female characters » claire beauchamp randall fraser

↳ “I was back to the place where’d it all begun. So much had happened, so much had changed. Last I was here I was Claire Randall, then Claire Beauchamp and Claire Fraser. The question was, who did I want to be?”


j e   s u i s   p r e s t.  i  a m   r e a d y.

c: “jesus h. roosevelt christ!”
j: “no, sassenech, just me.”

Short Cut

Paring: ReaderXFinn (JacksGap)

Prompt: Whilst on a spur-of-the-moment trip to Spain with Finn, Jack, Louis, and Ben, you and Finn decide to go on a walk around the beautiful city of Granada only to lose track of both time and where you were.

Written By: Claire

Originally posted by fuckyeaharriestwins

“You’re so stupid.” you laughed, teasing your boyfriend who had just told you an embarrassing story from his childhood. You and Finn had been dating for one and a half years and the relationship had been one for the fairy tales. You had always dreamed of traveling the world and when you met Finn you not only met the love of your life, but also someone who shared in the desire of adventure. 

“I know but I was a kid, you can’t blame me.” he chuckled back in a low voice, wrapping his arms around your waist and pulling you into him. Your lips met and you felt the familiar butterflies as he pulled you in even closer. Your kiss was broken off when you both smiled happily, your lips no longer touching.

“We should head back to the hotel, it’s probably almost time to eat.” you said in a whisper, your faces still close to one another. 

“Fine.” he pouted, moving one of his hands down to your small palm and grabbing it lightly and separating your bodies. He began to walk straight forward, however you pulled him back.

“Finn, it’s this way.” you gestured with your head to a different direction.

“No (Y/N), it’s this way.” he responded, pulling you lightly in the direction he had began to walk in.

“No Finn, this is the way we came.” you said back, now using your free hand to point down the light colored and empty cobblestone road. Finn looked at you with a furrowed brow and then looked to where he was planning on going and then back at where you were pointing.

“My way is a short cut.” he said, pulling you toward him like how a kid would pull his mom. 

“Your way will get us lost.” you protested, pulling against his force.

“No it won’t trust me.” he promised overpowering your strength and forcing you to walk in the direction he had started off in.

“Do you even know where we are?” you asked, your feet catching up to his and walking right next to him.

“No clue.”

“Then how do you know a short cu-”

“Shhhhhh.” his index finger went up to your lips, your feet stopping and him facing you. “Trust the twin.” he said in a quiet voice. 

“Fine.” you spoke, unable to hold back a stupid smile as he began to pull you once again. An hour later, you were still following his ‘short cut’.


10x20 “Angel Heart”
“Claire, do your homework before you do anything stupid.“

There is just so much to love about this moment. From the fact that Dean went to get wrapping paper to wrap this gift for her. That he didn’t wrap it in a newspaper. That alone shows such thoughtfulness and care. 

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Fanfic - Bean sídhe

So I had this brewing within me for quite some time and finally I had a little time to try to write something. It’s AU and follows canon in general things but you’ll figure it out along the story. Let’s do this!

Chapter 1 – Bean sídhe

Jamie inhaled the air, fresh like a crushed mint leave under the shade of the threes. He could smell the deer near him, his deep tang of fur and green things, and closed his eyes listening for the subtle sounds of movement. There, near the burn. He arranged the bow that he was carrying, trying to move fast and light, his feet barely touching the ground.

He came around a bush and saw the deer drinking water, his pinkish tongue flickering, eyes darting sensing danger. He set an arrow in his bow and aimed, breathing deeply and then holding his breath until the moment the arrow would leave his hands. He was a hunter and thought had little place in those moments, when body and mind fused in the most primal instincts.

But suddenly the direction of the wind changed and the deer caught his scent and jumped, galloping across the water and through the nearby threes.

Ifrinn!” He cursed, and before long he was running after the deer, his blood pulsing through him, the thrill of the hunt clouding everything else. He leapt across a fallen log and kept the animal within his sight, breath short in his lungs.

Now it was a challenge, a question of honour. He refused to accept defeat and kept running, his kilt flowing around him, ignoring the throbbing pain in his left flank.

And so, when the deer jumped through the thick bushes into the light, he followed. And then he felt the void bellow his feet.

He was falling through the air like a shooting star, everything happening so fast but at the same time he had time to think “I’m falling. This is it.” He could see the glow of rocks in the bottom of the cliff and closed his eyes, waiting for the impact. But what came was a blow to his right shoulder that made him see red through his closed eyelids, a pain so brutal he felt vomit coming up his gullet.

He hit something in the edge of the cliff, probably an old branch, which slowed his fall and now he was sliding the slope, dirt filling his mouth and eyes.

Eventually he stopped falling, excruciatingly painful electric jolts traveling his chest like thunder trapped in a bottle. He couldn’t feel his legs and felt little of his arms and what he felt hurt like the fires of hell.

It’s mortal. I’m mortally wounded.” He thought, almost dreamily.

Jamie could see the sky above him, two eagles flying in circles near the sun. He watched them fly like sky dancers until darkness took him away, and he welcomed its embrace.


“Wake up, damn you!”

He moaned and opened his eyes, which were much slower than usual gaining focus. The first thing he thought was that the sky was falling and a dark cloud was engulfing him.

“Well, hello there. Bloody finally.” The cloud said. But then his brain recovered somewhat and he saw dark hair and golden eyes staring at him. Unfortunately what made his brain work also allowed him to feel pain and so it came, searing every fibre of his body.

“Ouch!” Jamie growled when hands touched his shoulder.

“I think that’s entirely appropriate.” The lass said, with a sympathetic tone. “You’re quite hurt, my lad.”

“Who are ye?” He asked, speech a little slurred. His mouth tasted of blood and dirt.

The young woman, for now he could see it was a woman alright, ignored his question, ripping the collar of his hunting shirt to look at his shoulder. He felt very much exposed and ashamed.

“Jesus H. Roosevelt Christ!” She exclaimed loudly, making him jump. “This is bad.” The strange lass then proceeded to tear apart his sleeve and curled the fabric in a bundle to apply pressure to his shoulder. Her face was fierce and Jamie dreamily realized her skin glowed like an opal in the light of sundown.

“I’ll have to move you. There’s a storm coming and you need tending, more than what I can do out here.” She bit her lip, thinking. “You’re very big, aren’t you? Oh well, let me think…”

Well he wasn’t stopping her. She could slit his throat right there and little could he do to prevent it. He could barely keep from drowning in darkness again. She was now apparently evaluating his left leg, her fingers probing just above his ankle. Jamie could see angry, black, clouds coming above her shoulder and the air smelled of rain. His nose caught other scent, the smell of lemon and herbs, that was more intense whenever she moved her hair…And the light, yes, the light played on her hair and drew a thousand colours…and her lips were the colour of a rare rose that used to grow near his childhood home…

Suddenly she moved his leg in a rapid movement and there was a flash of pain so brutal that he drifted to darkness again, time only to think “Damn you, deer.”


When he came around for the second time he was jolting in a cart behind a brown horse, his bones echoing the movement with bursts of pain. Jamie could see the back of the rider and definitely was the strange woman with the wild brown hair. It was beginning to rain, still somewhat slow, drops cold and uninvited helping him regain some strength. He knew Scotland’s weather well and within minutes the spatters would become a full-fledged storm. Wherever they were going, better be soon.

They came to a halt moments after. She was next to him almost instantly, putting two fingers on his neck and leaning to watch his face.

“I’ll take you inside now. I’m sorry, but it’ll probably hurt a little.” The lass waited for his nod and then dragged the cart bodily to the threshold of a small cottage. Even through the mist that filled his head, he could see a hearth with embers glowing, a bed, a simple table covered with herbs and bottles, two chairs, a small cupboard who looked a little crooked, a battered cabinet and above it a small chest, which appeared more robust than any other item within sight.

“Do you think you can help me getting you to bed?” She asked, her tone not giving much room for a negative answer. After some pushes and pulls he laid in her bed, trembling from the effort and drenched in sweat.

“Here, drink some water, you’re badly dehydrated.” She commanded, taking a pewter cup from the table. He glared at her, puzzled with her meaning, but he was thirsty alright and with her help drank little sips that helped clear his mouth.

“Now lay still while I get the fire started, I’ll need to boil some water to tend your wounds.”

Jamie, feeling more alert, tried to raise his head to evaluate the severity of his injuries, but as he did so dizziness took over, leaving him feeling sick and helpless. He tried to focus on the shape of the woman as she moved near the hearth, noticing the elegance of her profile and the graceful shape of her neck. She was wearing a simple grey gown and put on a large apron before starting to select herbs and throwing them in the boiling water. The confidence of her attitude, as well as the homely feel of heat and shelter, made him drowsy again.

Eventually she appeared near him again, carrying a steaming bucket and more linen bandages than he could count.

“I have to clean up your wounds before I could do anything else. It’ll hurt a lot, so take a long sip of this.” She extended a flask and he carefully tasted it. It was whiskey, good and strong, and he was thankful for the heated strength that was infused in his belly.

“Thank ye, missus.” He thanked her, trying to sound more polite than he felt.

“I’ll have to take off your shirt.” She said slowly and he noticed she avoided his gaze for a moment. “The kilt can stay for now. Your leg is broken, though. I already set it when I found you but I’ll have to splint it so it heals properly.”

He nodded, feeling some of the heat of the whiskey going to his face, and helped her ease off the damaged and stained shirt. The skin of his chest prickled in the air of the cottage.

“Hold still, now.” And then she started what seemed the longest minutes of his life. He was covered with scrapes and bruises that burned as flaming coals when she cleaned them. Just when he thought he couldn’t bear it any longer without crying out, she stopped.

“I’m sorry.” She said gently. “I’ll let you rest for a moment before starting to work on your shoulder.”

He vaguely wondered what she meant by that, but nodded again. He tried to take deep and slow breaths that would calm some of the pain. She was looking straight at him, a pensive look upon her face.  

“What happened to you?” She asked, suddenly.

“I was hunting, chasing a deer.” His memory was a little foggy but that was clear enough. “I fell from a cliff.”

“It must have been quite the creature to inspire such an act!” She laughed softly. He answered with a humourless grin.

She gave him a few more moments of respite and then took the bandage off his shoulder. Jamie could feel a hot liquid running, evidently his blood, and she was applying pressure before he had time to say anything.

“I’ll have to stitch you up a little, do you want something to bite on?” Her face was determined, her eyes soft but serious.

“I can take it, lass.”

“Suit yourself then.” She went to the table and retrieved some objects that looked a lot like something you’d see in a dungeon for torture. She grabbed a ribbon from the pocket of her apron and neatly took up her hair in a knot, allowing him to see her delicate earlobes. Then she took some water from the cauldron and put it in a basin where she washed her hands like she was trying to scrub off sticky honey from her fingernails.

She came to the bed again, palms turned up to the air, like a priestess begging for inspiration from the ancient gods, her face composed and her eyes fierce.

Jamie would recall the next moments with vividness for many years. She poured something from a bottle that smelled strongly of alcohol on his shoulder, making him grit his teeth. The woman then took his arm and with a series of decisive movements placed the joint in the right place, making him cough with the bile that pilled in his throat. Then she took a long needle and an unidentifiable (at least to him) thread and began to close his flesh, with the calmness and easiness of a reputed seamstress.

Once in a while he could hear her say like in a prayer “I’m here, I have you, I’m here…”. He hold on to that, her voice keeping him from drowning in pain and oblivion, a guiding light that he could use to find his way.

By the end of the affair Jamie was shaking baldy, speechless, the ghost of a scream trapped in his throat. The splinting of the leg was easier but Jamie’s emotions were already so raw that he couldn’t help the tears that formed in his eyes.

After she cleaned everything away, allowing him precious time to dry his tears in the bed linen, she came back and sat next to him on the bed. Her face was soft now and he was surprised but strangely pleased to feel a light stroke of her hand across his hair, moist with perspiration.

They stayed silent for a while, looking at each other, unfamiliar still but not strangers anymore.

“You’re her, aren’t ye?” He said at last, licking his chapped lips. “The Durisdeer healer. The Bean sídhe.”

“Am I?” She asked cautiously, eyeing him with those hawk eyes. “And if I was, would it matter to you?”

“No.” He said almost in a murmur, but clearly she was not convinced for her brow wrinkled in his direction. “You’re helping me when ye had no obligation and I’ll be forever in your debt.”

“Careful now, sir. Forever is a long time.” She smiled, but there was seriousness in her eyes. “About your question…Well…” She said slowly, picking up a small pot and starting to apply some fresh ointment on the cuts of his hands. Her own hands were soft and warm, agile in their work. “Some people do call me that.”

The silence fell between them again, and although it wasn’t uncomfortable Jamie craved to know more about the mysterious woman. “Well,” He thought “At least I owe her my name.”

“I’m Jamie. James Fraser.” He could have stopped there, but something compelled him to share more of himself with her. “The last of my clan.”

“Claire.” She smiled but there was also sadness there, and he was surprised to realize that knowledge made his heart ache a little. “The first of mine.”