If I scream at the top of my lungs
Will you hear what I don’t say?
If I dance like I’m on a stage
Will you see I seem out of place?
If I put on a disguise
Will you think everything’s alright?
If I leave before the end
Will you forget that I was there?
@gotham-ruaidh asked: May we please see a small story where a modern Jamie and Claire are out to dinner and realize a truly terrible date is going on at the table next to them? 😘😘
An ask from the Queen herself! I’m honored to write something for you!! I hope you like it!
Jamie helped Claire from the car and they headed into the restaurant.
“I’m looking forward to a night out,” she said. “And having you to myself for an hour or two.”
“Och,” he said, giving her a flat look. “Ye have me to yourself every night, Sassenach.”
“But most of that is unconscious, so it doesn’t count. You’ve been busy with the estate.”
“Aye, we have. The fire at one of the tenant’s houses set us back a wee bit, but we’ll be alright. Dinna fash.”
She smiled and followed the hostess to their table.
They were on a nice date, nothing too fancy, just some time for them to be alone together. She was right, of course. They hadn’t been together as much as they used to be in the last few weeks. One of the tenant’s houses had caught fire and burnt down, so he and Ian had been working nonstop to get everything fixed. So Jamie had promised Claire a night out to thank her for being understanding.
After ordering a nice wine, they talked quietly about any problems at the estate. Claire told him about her friends at the hospital and about some of her favorite patients. It was quite a lovely evening.
Until the pair at the table beside them began to argue.
“No,” the blonde woman said a little too loud. “I will not shh!”
“Anne, please darling.”
“No, don’t you ‘please darling’ me, Grant.”
“Please,” Grant whispered.
Claire glanced over at them and back at Jamie, her brows raised. Jamie did his best to ignore the couple.
“So Jenny invited us to the big house for dinner next week,” he said after taking a sip of his wine.
“Has she? I think our vegetable garden is going well enough that we can bring something over.”
Claire bit down on her lips as her eyes went wide.
“Please, Anne! Hush!”
“You’re expecting me to pay for all this?! I paid last time!”
“I’ll pay you when we get home!”
“Fine. But we’re going to have a talk about this, Grant.”
“I know we are.”
Claire snorted and he shot her a ‘do not laugh out loud’ look. Grant at the other table stood, but was clumsy. He kicked his own chair backwards and it clattered to the floor, making every eye turn to him. In his effort to keep the chair upright, he knocked over the last of his red wine, which broke the glass and splashed the liquid everywhere.
Including down the front of Anne’s pink satin dress.
The woman was furious while her partner turned a deep red, eyes hunting for the exit. They left in a huff, Anne beginning to yell at Grant before they even got outside.
“Well at least we’ve never done that,” Claire said when the drama was gone.
“Aye, we havena had a date go that poorly before.”
“Oh I believe you’re forgetting something,” she laughed, finishing her own wine.
He looked up at her in surprise. He could never remember any of their dates going poorly.
“And what is it that I’m forgetting?”
“The day you took me out for a nature walk. Only your little car got a flat tire. But we were almost there, so we walked. It was nice, until it started raining. Both of our mobile’s died, so we couldn’t get a ride.”
“I remember that day verra differently, Sassenach.”
He sat back in his chair and took a deep breath, remembering.
“Aye, my car got a flat. And it wasne on purpose either. But it meant I got to walk wi’ ye and hold your hand. We talked a lot that day. Real talk, the deep things ye dinna share wi’ just anyone.”
“You make getting a flat tire sound awfully romantic.”
He frowned at her.
“Hush, yer interrupting the story. Anyway. When it began to rain, ye told me the things that scairt ye. How your Englishman broke your heart, how much ye wished that ye had yer mam around, how afraid ye were for how strongly ye felt for me.”
“It still frightens me, how strongly I feel.”
Reaching across the table, he took her hand in his own and traced her silver ring.
“And we’re engaged to be marriet.”
“I’m still scared.”
“I ken ye are, and yet ye trust me anyway.”
“Because I love you.”
“That day was the first time ye said that to me.”
She smiled and squeezed his hand.
“It was. But I’d known it for a long time by then.”
“But ye were brave enough to tell me that, standing in the pouring rain. Yer hair plastered to yer head. That shirt ye wore soaked through.”
“And you thought I didn’t see you staring.”
“I just wondered why ye’d gone out on a date wi’out any underthings on.”
“You couldn’t see through my trousers!”
“Weel, I assumed if ye werena wearing a bra, ye’d have no knickers either.”
Much to his pleasure, her cheeks turned a lovely shade of pink.
“Well I’d thought maybe our date would go a bit further than a chaste kiss. I hadn’t realized you were so old fashioned.”
“Aye, I ken it isna your first choice. But I thank ye for understanding it.”
“I’ve waited this long, I can wait a few more weeks.”
“I think that was the first time I regretted choosing to wait,” he said absently, looking at the dress she’d worn for the night.
Her smile got wider.
“You’ve regretted it more than once?”
“Anytime I see your lovely round arse pressed tight against whatever you’re wearing.”
She took a deep breath, still smiling at him.
“So what of our walk home? How will you make that into a romantic tale?”
“Weel that wasna romantic at the time, ken. But ye wore my coat, to preserve your modesty of course.”
“But when ye gave me the coat back, it smelt of you.”
“You never told me that.”
“I wore that coat everywhere, just to keep ye wi’ me.”
The server came and asked if they’d like dessert. When they both declined, he left to get their check.
“After hearing all of that you have me regretting your choice to be old fashioned too,” she said quietly.
“Weel, I have to agree wi’ ye there, mo nighean donn. Recalling ye in that wet shirt… Christ it’s a wonder I didna take ye to the ground then and there.”
After he’d paid for their dinner, he took her hand and they walked back out to the car.
“Perhaps, after we’re married, we can recreate that a bit?”
“Oh aye, I think we could make that happen.”
He stopped with the passenger door open.
“I love you.”
Just as with each time she said those words to him, heat rushed through his veins like fire. His blood boiled and rushed out of his head and down, but he forced those feelings away.
“And I love you, mo chridhe. Always.”
“It won’t be long now,” she said, sliding into the seat. “Until you’re mine.”
There was a man of double deed, Who sowed his garden full of seed; When the seed began to grow, ‘Twas like a garden full of snow; When the snow began to melt, 'Twas like a ship without a belt; When the ship began to sail, 'Twas like a bird without a tail; When the bird began to fly, 'Twas like an eagle in the sky; When the sky began to roar, 'Twas like a lion at my door; When my door began to crack, 'Twas like a stick across my back; When my back began to smart, 'Twas like a penknife in my heart; And when my heart began to bleed, 'Twas death, and death, and death indeed.
So you married me,” I teased, “to avoid the occasion of sin?”
“Aye. That’s what marriage is good for; it makes a sacrament out of things ye’d otherwise have to confess.”
I collapsed again.
“Oh, Jamie, I do love you!”
This time it was his turn to laugh. He doubled over, then sat down at the roadside, fizzing with mirth. He slowly fell over backward and lay in the long grass, wheezing and choking.
“What on earth is the matter with you?” I demanded, staring at him. At long last, he sat up, wiping his streaming eyes. He shook his head, gasping.
“Murtagh was right about women. Sassenach, I risked my life for ye, committing theft, arson, assault, and murder into the bargain. In return for which ye call me names, insult my manhood, kick me in the ballocks and claw my face. Then I beat you half to death and tell ye all the most humiliating things have ever happened to me, and you say ye love me.” He laid his head on his knees and laughed some more. Finally he rose and held out a hand to me, wiping his eyes with the other.
“You’re no verra sensible, Sassenach, but I like ye fine. Let’s go.
Could you post all the times Jamie and Claire say 'I love you' please? I love your blog!
With pleasure, anon!
He cast a glance at the horizon, where the sickle moon hung low and rising. “It’s nearly winter, and the nights are long, mo duinne.” He leaned across the fence, reaching and I stepped into his arms, feeling the heat of his body and the beat of his heart. “I love you.”
He drew me close again, kissed me gently and whispered in Gaelic, “He will let you go because he thinks you are helpless. I know you are not.” Releasing me, he said in English, “I love you. Go now.”
“Claire.” “Yes?” “I love you.” “Oh.” I was mildly surprised, but undeniably pleased. “I love you too.”
Dragonfly in Amber
“Oh, Claire, ye do break my heart wi’ loving you.”
“Mm. You’d forgotten how to say anything’ except ‘I love you,’ but you said that a lot.” The chuckle came back, louder this time. “Oh, aye? Well, could have been worse, I suppose.”
The slight breeze was welcome, for the early autumn sun was still hot on my shoulders and calves. “I love you,” I said softly, not meaning him to hear me, but only for the pleasure of saying it. He did hear, though, for the hint of a smile curved the wide mouth. After a moment, he rolled over onto his belly on the plaid beside me. A few blades of grass clung to his back and buttocks. I brushed one lightly away, and his skin shivered briefly at my touch.
“I love you,” he muttered, half-awake. “I know,” I said, and fell asleep at once, holding him.
“I know it,” he said quietly. “I do know it, my own. Let me tell ye in your sleep how much I love you. For there’s no so much I can be saying to ye while ye wake, but the same poor words, again and again. While ye sleep in my arms, I can say things to ye that would be daft and silly waking, and your dreams will know the truth of them. Go back to sleep, mo duinne.”
“But here,” he said, so softly I could barely hear him, “here in the dark, with you… I have no name.” I lifted my face toward his, and took the warm breath of him between my own lips. “I love you,” I said, and did not need to tell him how I meant it.
“No.” He swallowed; I could hear the sound of it clearly, and feel the pulse beat in his neck where I held him. “But now I have taken ye back from her, as well. I love you — and I love Ian, like he was my own. And I am thinking maybe I cannot have ye both.”
“I forgot. I love you,” he said, giving me another shake for emphasis. “And I’m glad you’re no dead. Dinna do that again!”
Drums of Autumn
“No,” he said softly, still looking out at the night. “Not then. There are things worth dying or starving for—but not words.” “Maybe not those words.” He turned to look at me, features dim in starlight, but the hint of a smile visible on his mouth. “Ye know of words that are?” ….“What about—'I love you’?” He reached out a hand and touched my face. A breath of air stirred past us, and I saw the small hairs rise along his arm. “Aye,” he whispered. “That’ll do.”
“Jamie,” I said hesitantly. “Do you believe I love you?” He turned his head and looked down at me for a long moment before replying. The moon shone on his face, picking out his features as though they had been chiseled in marble. “Well, if ye don’t, Sassenach,” he said at last, “ye’ve picked a verra poor time to tell me so.” I let out my breath in the ghost of a laugh. “No, it’s not that,” I assured him. “But—” My throat tightened, and I swallowed hastily, needing to get the words out. “I—I don’t say it often. Perhaps it’s only that I wasn’t raised to say such things; I lived with my uncle, and he was affectionate, but not—well, I didn’t know how married people—” He put his hand lightly over my mouth, a faint smile touching his lips. After a moment, he took it away. I took a deep breath, steadying my voice. “Look, what I mean to say is—if I don’t say it, how do you know I love you?” He stood still, looking at me, then nodded in acknowledgment. “I know because ye’re here, Sassenach,” he said quietly.
I stepped close to him and put my hands on his shoulders. “I love you.” He looked down at me for a long moment. “I’m glad of it, Claire,” he said quietly, and touched my face. “Verra glad. Come to bed now; I’ll warm ye.”
The Fiery Cross
I unscrewed the stopper and inhaled. Whisky, and very good whisky, too. “I love you,” I said sincerely, and he laughed. “I love ye too, Sassenach,” he said, and gently touched my foot.
“Jamie—I love you. Be careful!” He didn’t remember Culloden, he said. I wondered suddenly whether that loss of memory extended to the hours just before the battle, when he and I had said farewell. Then I looked into his eyes and knew it did not. “‘Good luck’ will do,” he said, and his hand tightened on mine, likewise frozen to the current that surged between us. “‘I love ye’ does much better.”
“Sassenach … I love ye now, and I will love ye always. Whether I am dead—or you—whether we are together or apart. You know it is true,” he said quietly, and touched my face. “I know it of you, and ye know it of me as well.”
“I love you, a nighean donn. I have loved ye from the moment I saw ye, I will love ye ’til time itself is done, and so long as you are by my side, I am well pleased wi’ the world.”
“When the day shall come, that we do part,” he said softly, and turned to look at me, “if my last words are not ‘I love you’—ye’ll ken it was because I didna have time.”
A Breath of Snow and Ashes
“Yes. Just now, I was actually trying to rank ‘I love you, I like you, I worship you, I have to have my cock inside you,’ in terms of their relative sincerity.”
I leaned back against the pillows, feeling a bit better. The fever had quite gone, but I still felt wraithlike and weak, barely able to sit up unassisted, and I fell asleep almost without warning, after the least exertion. Jamie, still snorting, took my hand, raised it to his mouth, and kissed it. The sudden warm immediacy of the touch rippled the fair hairs of my forearm, and my fingers closed involuntarily on his. “I love you,” he said very softly, his shoulders still trembling with laughter. “Oh,” I said, suddenly feeling quite a lot better. “Well, then. I love you, too. And it will grow, after all.”
“Jamie …” I said, feeling my throat close. “I love you,” he said, so softly that I barely heard him, close as we were. I lay still for a moment, feeling the stone grow warmer in the palm of my hand.
…Then I came back to bed, saw his hair a dark mass on the pillow, and the shine of his eyes in the moonlight. “I love you,” I whispered, and slid under the sheet beside him, putting my arms around him, hugging him close, warmer than the stone—so much warmer—and his heart beat with mine.
An Echo In The Bone
“Tell Jamie,” I kept saying to a misty Ian. “Tell Jamie that I love him.” “Open your eyes and tell me yourself, Sassenach,” said a deep, urgent voice somewhere close. I tried opening my eyes and found that I could. Apparently I had not died after all. I essayed a cautious breath and found that my chest moved easily. My hair was damp, and I was lying on something hard, covered by a blanket. Jamie‘s face swam above me, then steadied as I blinked. “Tell me,” he repeated, smiling a little, though anxiety creased the skin beside his eyes. “Tell you… oh! I love you. Where… ?” Memory of recent events flooded in upon me, and I sat up abruptly. “The Teal? What—”
What would he say to Claire in such circumstances? he wondered suddenly. Probably what he had said to her, in parting. “I love you. I’ll see you again.” He didn‘t see any way of improving on the sentiment, after all.
Written in My Own Heart’s Blood
“I love you, a nighean,” he said, very softly, his breath warm on my skin. “I love you,” I answered just as softly, taking the ribbon from his hair and loosening his plait between my fingers. I pressed his head closer to me, not in invitation, but out of the sudden urgent need to keep him close to me, to protect him. He kissed my breast and turned his head, laying it in the hollow of my shoulder. He took one deep breath, one more, and then was asleep, the relaxing weight of his body against me both protection and trust. “I love you,” I said, almost soundless, my arms wrapped tight about him. “Oh, dear God, I love you.”
“Are ye all right, Sassenach? Is it bad, then?” “No,” I said, and wiped my eyes hastily on a corner of the sheet. “No—it—it’s fine. I just —oh, Jamie, I love you!” I did give way to tears, then, snuffling and blubbering like an idiot. “I’m sorry,” I said, trying to get hold of myself. “I’m all right, there’s nothing wrong, it’s just—”
xx released their third single just ahead of dropping I See You. Contrasted to the sound of their first two studio
albums, “Say Something Loving” is a contemporary twist on the xx we have come
to know and love. Even on first listen, this song stands out from the rest. The
sound is less experimental and therefore more accessible; however, The xx have
not completely departed from their sound. Rather, “Say Something Loving” marks
an important step in their evolution.
speaking, the single contains heavier vocals, melodies, and consistent,
integrated percussion to tell a story. Lyrically speaking, the song is a
brooding plea from the perspective of a lover, trapped in a spiral of
unrequited love. The theme of the song parallels its sound: heavy, darker
instrumentals layered with an anxious backbeat. When the music resolves, the
story does not. The open-ended resolution of the song leaves a cliffhanger: the
fate of the lover is unknown.
group, led by co-vocalists Romy Madley Croft and Oliver Sim, tied together by
producer Jamie Smith (a.k.a Jaime xx), presented the right song at the right
time. Conceived during a very trying year, “Say Something Loving” prepares the
group to perform for larger audiences; each new release gains new traction and
more and more fans flock to their shows.
Jamie Benn was drafted 129th overall in the 2007 draft. The same year, the #1 pick went to Patrick Kane.
In 2015, Jamie won the Art Ross trophy for most regular season points, a year before Kane.
What an icon.