for her astounding work

Hillary spent 40 years working in politics. She worked incredibly hard. To the point, even most Republicans were astounded by her work ethic. In the end, she lost to an idiot man-child who got into politics a year ago simply as a fun publicity stunt.

Because even the most qualified woman will always lose a job to the least qualified man. 

That happens to women in regular life too. 

is anyone else astounded by SJM’s drive and ability to write two full length novels a year, plus plan the other ones, write novellas, and cat woman?? And it’s all incredibly well written?? And each book is 500-700 pages??

like what the fuck is she some super human?? a fae who specializes in writing??

i dont understand. Like…..she’s always posting “i finished drafting” etc and Im like GIRL HOW. how are you done already. 

Like between now and october she has to copy edit acowar, work on catwoman, and draft and edit all of ToG6???


like as a writer struggling thru her first novel, SJM’s work ethic ASTOUNDS ME.

also i wanna shove her at george rr martin and patrick rothfuss like Here you BABIES. FINISH YOUR BOOKS 

J/C as Exes AU Part Nine: Only If For A Night

Well, after the amazing comments I got about the last chapter, I just couldn’t help myself and dove in to chapter 9. I started talking to @thescarlettpeacock and brainstorming ideas and then well… She got hit by the bus of inspiration. So at least 90% of this chapter is her amazing work. So please please stop by her page and tell her how amazing she’s done. I’m posting it here so that it’s easy to find for those of you who are following it. But most of the credit really belongs to @thescarlettpeacock

And an eternal thank you, yet again, to my amazing chief editor @akb723 for her astounding work in making this thing actually make sense. And for putting up with not one but two authors for this chapter.

Catch up on previous chapters HERE

“And the only solution was to stand and fight, and my body was losing all the satellites. But you came over me, like some holy life. I know the whole story, you’re the only light.”

- Florence & the Machine ‘Only If For A Night’

Jamie knew he had not gotten enough sleep, even after a dreamless sleep he craved a continued oblivion. As he woke, wiping the sleep from his eyes, Jamie realised at once he wasn’t in his own bed. He was lying on someone’s lap, head cushioned by a pillow, with an arm wrapped around him. She was still here, and by the heaviness of her slender arm, deep into her sleep.

Jamie stirred gently in an attempt to sit himself up, not knowing exactly how long Claire had slept for. As he lifted her arm from his chest, she woke suddenly.

“Jamie-” She paused, voice laden with exhaustion and worry. “Are you okay?”

“Feel like I’ve been run o’er by a draught horse.” He sat himself up and rolled his shoulders while she stretched her arms in the air.

“I imagine that’s to be expected,” she yawned, covering her mouth with a numb hand.

He found he couldn’t bring himself to look at her yet; instead he stared down at his hands, picking at the fabric of his couch. There was a part of him that had been exposed the evening before, a person that Claire hadn’t ever seen before. Amidst the fear and the panic of the previous night, she had sworn as he dozed in and out of consciousness that she would be there in the morning. Could she keep that vow? Would she still see the frightened, cowering man or the man she had woken up to mere days ago?

Without thought, the words had slipped from his mouth. “Yer still here.”

She placed her small hand over his, steadying it from his nervous picking. “I am. I promised I would be.”

Jamie gazed up at Claire, her dark eyes heavy and rimmed with redness against her skin. “Have ye no’ slept at all, Sassenach?”

“A little,” she said with a small shake of her head, hesitating briefly. “I was too worried about you.”

“I thought…”

Cool fingers combed gently through his hair, sending waves of calm through his body.

“Thought what, Jamie?”

“That ye were a dream. Or that ye’d be gone before I woke.”

“I’m sorry,” she said, her voice catching in her throat. “I’m not running anymore. I’m here for you through all of it, Jamie.”

“That’s good,” he said.

With a heavy sigh, he stood up from the couch, stretching his arms and twisting his back, various joints popping. Had he really been curled so tightly around her all night?

“What would you like for breakfast?”

“I’m no’ sure I have much to eat here.”

“You don’t-” Claire hesitated again, as if carefully selecting her words before she finished her sentence. “-but I’ve got food back in my flat if you’d like to come over?”

“Aye, I think that would…” he looked around a moment, the echoes of torturous visions haunting the corners of his flat. “That would be a good thing. I canna be here just yet.”

Claire too stretched and got up. He helped her fix the sheets and fold the mattress back into the couch.

“Jamie, I-” she stopped, looking away from him. He waited patiently for her to get her thoughts in order.

“I… I know it’s a little sudden, and you’re welcome to say no. But… If you’re comfortable with it,  you can come stay with me for a little while.”

The offer hung in the air, heavy between them. It wasn’t a small thing she’d suggested, even if
it was for a short while. Perhaps it wouldn’t be a bad idea. Having her near always helped ground him, or it had in the months since they’d restarted their relationship. And now she’d seen him in his worst possible state; surely they could make it work?

“I have a spare room you can stay in, if that would be easier for you. I’m just afraid to leave you alone right now.”

“Aye. Ian came and stayed wi’ me the last time.”

She looked around his flat dubiously. “If you’d rather stay here, I could-”

“No, Sassenach. Though I appreciate ye considering it. I think… If ye really dinna mind it, I think I’d like to stay wi’ you.” Tentatively, he reached for her, feeling absurdly shy about the gesture. Her cheek was soft against his hand, her eyes closing slowly as she leaned into his touch. Then she placed her hand over his, and turned her face to kiss his palm.

“Alright. Let’s pack your bag then, shall we?” Claire began to walk away from him, eager to get back to her apartment, Jamie however reached for her hand once more, confidence growing.

“Aye. An’… Thank ye, Claire. For staying.” His voice was small, filled with a gratitude she knew she could barely fathom.

She stopped on her way to his bedroom and came back over to him. “I promise you, Jamie -“ Claire stepped back toward him, their bodies flush and her eyes filled with sincerity, “I’m not walking away again. Not now, not ever.” Claire leant forward and gathered him into her arms, embracing him with a fierceness of loving. A sudden desire to kiss him, hard  fell over her. She wanted to reassure him that she did love him still, though she knew it was an impulse she could not act on. Instead, she placed a small kiss onto his jaw, brief but tender.

A moment fell between them, of acceptance and adoration for the other. Both knew that had the  circumstances been different, their desire would win and tenderly they’d fall into an oblivion, but exhaustion and the ghosts of fear hung overhead  instead. It was not the time, not yet.

“I treated you terribly and I’m so sorry. But I’m not running anymore. I’m here for you no matter what. There’s nowhere else I’d rather be.”

“Thank you.”

Pulling his head down, she kissed him gently on his forehead and disappeared into his room. Even after sleeping hard, he was still exhausted. It had taken a few days to fully recover after the last episode. Jamie made to leave for his room, but Claire held out a hand in protest.

“I’ll get everything, just you wait here. It won’t take me long.” She smiled at him, lovingly.

Unable to resist, he smirked at her. “Ye still ken where everything is?”

A soft, musical laugh came from her as she moved about his flat. “You’re a creature of habit, James Fraser. Some things will never change.”

With that, Claire disappeared into the depths of his bedroom, leaving Jamie contemplating the impending change of scenery. What seemed like only a moment had passed before Claire reappeared with a weekend bag - one she had bought him years previously for their anniversary. Jamie hadn’t thought about the day she’d given it to him for an age. He’d come over to her apartment, entering the living room as she scurried off into another room. There sat a large white box on her couch with a piece of paper on top, scrawled with his name. He’d shouted for her, and she’d walked into the room wearing a huge smile on her face and wishing him happy anniversary. Jamie had opened the box with excited curiosity, finding the bag inside. “I thought maybe you’d like it, you know, in case we ever manage to take a little holiday.” He’d started to laugh and removed a folded envelope from his jeans pocket, presenting her with an email for a long weekend on Skye.

They’d talked about marriage that night. Kids, the dogs… A home together… of his home, waiting for them. Jamie shook his head, the images flashing before his eyes. He remembered those nights and days, the whispers and the excited promises. He couldn’t remember those, night right now. The irony was not lost on him, and he imagined it wasn’t lost on her either.  

“Shall we?” Her tone was hopeful and bright. She wanted him in the fresh air and away from the blanket of shadows hanging overhead like cobwebs.


He took her hand and followed her out. The simple touch of her hand in his felt like an anchor, keeping him in the present and not letting him drift out into the murky waters of his memories.


It had been a short drive to her apartment, neither particularly speaking to the other. She had pulled into the car park, he’d removed his bag and they had entered the building in silence. For now, all they needed to talk about had been said. Now was the time for contemplation, to understand the choice they had both made and how it would carry them forward. Separately and together.

Jamie remembered the flat like he’d lived there his entire life. He knew where the mugs were kept, where she stored her shoes and even where she kept the clean bedding. Her spare room, once dubbed “the shit hole”, now held a comfortable bed, a wardrobe and a large drawer unit. The room was almost flooded with light from the large window sitting tothe left of the bed, there was also  a lamp that helped illuminate areas that  the sun was unable to reach t on a small side table.

She had cooked as he had unpacked, everything he would need was neatly stored in his bag – even going as far as to bring his slippers. When Claire had finished, she called him into the kitchen;  an almost double sized portion of scrambled eggs and toast sat next to a steaming cup of tea.

“Thought you might be as hungry as I am.” She grinned, putting down a bottle of tomato sauce. He’d pulled out his chair, sat down and taken a mouth full before muttering out words Claire hadn’t heard in a very long time.

“Claire Beauchamp, I will never find another like you.”


The rest of the day had continued on as if the events of the last year, and last night hadn’t happened. She had sat checking her work, making calls to the hospital while  he had read and tried intermittently to sleep. He woke  now to her singing along to the radio as she cleaned the dishes he’d offered to tidy.

Shuffling from the bedroom, he’d appeared behind her and an overwhelming need to wrap his arms around her midriff and kiss her neck flashed over him. Memories of their history flashed before him in succession; kisses by the sink, torn clothes across tables and lying together… He shook his head.

“You missed your physical therapy appointment,” Claire said suddenly over her shoulder, noticing his reappearance.

“Did I? I dinna ken what day it is, Sassenach - let alone the appointments I have.”

“You did. That’s how I came to look for you. Your physical therapist called me, said I was the emergency contact number in your file.”

He turned away from her, attempting to hide his face. If he’d had full control of his faculties, he could have put on the mask that he’d been able to use most of his life when he wanted hide what he was thinking or feeling. As it was, he didn’t have the capacity for it just yet. “Oh… ah… Weel…” he stopped, the fingers on his damaged hand tapping wildly on his thigh. “Aye. I didna change it… I meant to, after we… I didna have the heart. Though I didna think he’d ever call ye.”

“I’m glad he did. Jamie… I want to apologise, properly. For leaving you, for not being supportive… I just… You deserve better than that and I-“

He interrupted her sharply, his knuckles biting against his flesh and he made a fist. “Sassenach – Claire please stop blaming yourself! It wasn’t –“

“But it was!”

The air between them thickened with tension as words of frustration flooded from their mouths and minds. Though, neither blamed the other, not really.

“I thought ye’d be gone, Claire. That ye didna want me anymore! I was afraid!”

“And I did that to you! I want you to say something, anything! Shout! Call me names if you must!”

Jamie stood, his chest heaving, Claire mirroring his movements. They both knew this wasn’t the right time to be fighting, for this discussion to make it to the forefront already.

“I want you, I want you so much I can scarcely breathe. I made you think that I didn’t want you,  that for the first time since we met, you weren’t everything in the world to me, James Fraser! And all I can do is apologise and promise not to go!”

He stood silent, truly shocked at her admission. She was equally shocked and relieved to have finally spoken the words, she was terrified that it was all far too much and entirely too soon. Time passed silently between them, each second longer than the last. Finally, Jamie spoke.

“What happens the next time ye get scairt?”

“I’ll be right here, guarding your weak side.” She said firmly, her eyes staring into his. “If either of us are afraid, we tell the other. We have to if we’re going to survive – together as one.”

Silence cut like a sharp blade, their hearts a bleeding wound. All cards on the table, admissions made. Jamie found himself replying, answering with a warm feeling flooding his limbs, right into the core of his chest.

“‘Til our life shall be done.”

“Honestly, my mother used to dislike Camila when she first joined TRF as at that time, people still found it hard to accept the death of Diana. However, my mother saw how hardworking Camila is and grew to love her. I think people should start to see that Camila has amazing qualities as Queen. I understand that Diana should not ever be forgotten as she has done some astounding work in her life, but I believe all this loathing and hate towards Camila should not continue.” - Submitted by Anonymous