Previous installment:Thanks(Thanksgiving and Bree’s Birthday)
Late November, 1950
“Bath time, little smudge!”
Bree squealed and, like a shot, went barreling toward the bathroom. Turning two years old seemed to have turned on a tap of perpetual energy from on high: energy to throw tantrums, energy to hate going to bed, energy to form VERY strong opinions about what she did and did not plan to eat, and so on, and so forth for all time.
However, she had also decided she loved baths, and by the time I arrived at the tub myself, she was already standing on the bathmat, triumphantly nude and brimming with expectation with her toys in hand. I laughed and kissed the top of her head. “One minute, you goofy girl.”
I poked my head briefly into the living room. “Do you want bath duty or bedtime duty tonight?”
“I’ll take bed, if it’s all the same to you, Sassenach,” Jamie said, looking up from the rolltop. “I’d like to get the rest of the bills paid and ready for tomorrow’s Post.”
“Fine by me,“ I said, taking the chance to stretch my back, already thinking of plopping into bed as soon as humanly possible. “Thank you for handling those, sweetheart.”
“’Course,” he said with feeling, rising and kissing my forehead. “How are ye feeling?”
“Pretty well, at the moment,” I said, pleasantly surprised, now that I thought about it. “Like death, this morning, but I haven’t vomited once since lunch!”
“Victory, indeed,” he grinned, kissing me, long and sweetly.
“MaMAAAA?” bellowed Bree, her voice bouncing ghoulishly around the bathroom walls. “Come’on do insee’pyder, please!”
“I’m being summoned,” I murmured against his lips.
“Go,” he whispered. “Heaven forbid ‘insee’pyder’ have to wait.”
“Oh,” I called when I was halfway back down the corridor, “I think the electric bill came today. It’s on the counter by the phone with the rest of today’s mail.”
“Thank you, mo ghraidh,” he called back.
Tub filled, baby inserted, bubbles abundant, I knelt beside the tub and swirled my hands in the warm water. Bree beamed up at me, ready: “GO! Insee’pyder, Mama!”
“Alright,” I said dramatically, reaching for the green plastic sandbox bucket and scooping up water as I sang: “Theeeeeeee ITS-Y-bit-sy spiiiiiider went UP the water spout ….”
I raised the bucket theatrically. “Down came the raaaaaain AND—”
The payload released on, “WASHED the spider out,” dousing Bree with warm, soapy water.
Fizzy giggles emerged through the waterfall pouring down her scrunched-up face as I sang on. “Out came the suuuun and dried up all the rain, and the ITS-Y-bit-sy spiiiiider went UP the spout—?”
“—AGAIN!!!” Bree finished, knowing the drill and LOVING it.
We had just finished washing the shampoo-spider from her hair and ANOTHER rendition was demanded, when Jamie’s voice came from the doorway. “Sassenach?”
“Yes, darling?” I said absently, reaching for the bar of soap Bree had just knocked into the water.
“What is the ‘selective service?’”
My blood froze absolutely cold. I whirled on my knees to gape at him, praying that it was a newspaper clipping in his hand, or one of his library books, or—
But it was a letter bearing the words ‘Department of Defense’ across the top. The truth was written on his face, the tightness of his voice, the rigid set of his jaw. “Tis the forced conscription for the war in the east, aye?”
“Jamie—” I staggered to my feet, praying in blind panic. Please, God, no. “Jamie—Please tell me—you haven’t been—?”
“To Mr. James Fraser,” he read,
“According to our records, you have not yet registered with the Selective Service, as is required of all permanent residents of the United States.
Please report no later than December 15th, 1950 to the enlistment station named below for registration, or risk revocation of your residency status with the Department of Immigration.
Jamie trailed off, his face a mask of control I hadn’t seen in many years. The sight terrified me to my core—his face of duty, of danger, of great burdens to be borne.
My hands were shaking as I reached for the letter, as I scanned it wildly for some salvation. “But you’re—you’re not even a citizen! They can’t just force you to go off and fight in their wars!”
“Apparently they can,” he said stiffly. “’All permanent residents,’ it says.”
“Jesus…” There was no way out. “Jesus—fucking—”
“FUN-KING!” Bree squeaked from the tub, sounding immensely pleased. Normally, that would have incited riotous laughter, then stern admonishment and promises between Jamie and I to guard our words more carefully. But we barely noticed.
My blood pounded so loudly in my ears I could barely hear myself blurting, “We could go to Canada."
He cocked his head in question. “They dinna fight wars there?”
I gave a jerking shrug. “They don’t usually start them, at least.”
“That’s the coward’s way,” he whispered, his face still stone. “I canna just run.”
“And why not?” I demanded, my voice treacherously close to both tears and shouting.
“Why can I no’ take the coward’s way?” The mask wavered, showing his scorn. “Christ, Claire, do ye no’ ken me at all?”
“And do YOU not know me?” I shouted. “Do you not have the faintest idea what it DID to me to—” It took only the cracking of my voice for the panic to overtake me completely in wracking sobs as my hands went feral. “ —to let you go to your death? For a cause you—shouldn’t even have been dragged into in the first place?? I w—” I choked. I was mere inches from his face, but I could barely see him through the tears. I wrenched a breath from my throat. “—WON’T, do it—again—do you—hearm—?”
Jamie suddenly snatched me hard against him, his voice a cracked moan of despair through his own sobs. “I know, mo chridhe…I know….”
I buried my face in his chest, and could only croak, “Jamie—”
He tried to say something, but couldn’t get a word out.
We clung to one another with every ounce of strength, swaying and weeping for a long time, until
“I’m scairt of this, Sassenach.”
His breath was hot and gasping in my hair. “God, I—dinna want any part of it…. The thought of leaving ye….the—” He let out a sob, and I could feel his tears against my temple, the resonance of his words in my chest. “—Christ, the bairns—”
He buried his face in my shoulder. “I’m so scairt, Claire.”
“What’s you scairt, Daddy?”
We turned to see Bree standing in the tub, still naked as you please, looking up, stricken.
With a small sound that broke my heart, Jamie released me and crossed to the tub. He lifted his daughter up into his arms and pressed her against his chest, not seeming to notice that his shirt was instantly soaked.
“Daddy? What’s you scairt?” she repeated.
I had to clamp my hand over my mouth.
He clutched her tighter, rocking her, focusing his entire being on love of her.
“Use-r words, Daddy.”
Despite everything, he choked out a laugh at that.
“I’m scairt,” he answered hoarsely after a moment, “of having to leave you and Mama, a chuisle.”
I came and wrapped my arms around them both, trying so very hard not to slip into panic. This—this was my home, these three people I held—That it might be ripped from—
He let out another weak, broken laugh and leaned down to kiss us both. I could feel his chest shuddering with the sobs he was suppressing.
The words were in Gaelic, breathtakingly quiet, and he repeated them over and over.
"I won’t…I won’t.”
When he drew back a long, long time later, his eyes were dry. “Now,” he said, kissing Bree and wrapping a towel around her shivering back, “let’s get ye ready for bed, wee cub. Which storybook shall we have, tonight?”
Jamie resolved never to let Claire or Brianna see his fear of this ever again.
“I’ll go tomorrow to register my name,” he said firmly to Claire as he held her in their bed that night, “but it willna come to anything, Sassenach.” There are millions of folk they’ll call up before me.”
“Dinna fash, mo nighean donn,” he crooned, kissing and soothing away her fears. “I’m staying right here—We’ll no’ be parted—I’m right here—”
But he lay awake far into the night and most nights to follow, praying with all his soul.
Dinna take me from them.
[more to come]
From the prompts:
@dlouise2016 said: This may not be appropriate for FMM but in response to your request for Jamie “firsts” & since he is only about 27-28, there was a military draft going on at the time for the Cold War & the Korean War. Since Jamie was certainly a warrior, he must have some strong feelings about war & Claire definitely would with her WWII experience
Fun fact: Despite my love for the occult/paranormal, I’m still afraid to look out of windows or open doors to the outside at night because I was traumatized as a child by the show MonsterQuest. Specifically, after watching one episode, I had a nightmare that I looked out my bedroom window on the 2nd floor of my house and the show’s version of the Flatwoods Monster was there. But here’s what gets me: I googled a picture of it recently and not only is the CGI horrible but
I need more jealous protective alpha Alfred to feed my soul.
I need more of the same anon my soul has a mighty need. who can fulfill our wishes? jelly/protective alpha alfred is like A+++++++ best right there. also hc he totally doesn’t hide the fact he’s jealous and is completely protective in public places. esp like if they have to go out to bars or parties can’t have none of them other alphas looking at his omega. also im just gonna assume this is for usuk so like in addition I think he’d be jealous even of like other alphas getting catches of artie’s scent. cause like when they’re together i imagine artie’s got a good omega scent that’s happy to be around alfred and alfred just like wantin’ to protect that scent as his own. alfred bein hands on, holding onto artie, or keeping him close in public. lotsa scent markin’ too. artie just thinking it’s cute sometimes tellin alfred he shouldn’t have to worry about anything but also not being bothered by it cause alfred’s just like that. oh but triple rip any alpha who goes too far around artie that’s a big no-no on alfred’s part. i rly need to stop i could keep goin’ forever but i get ya anon i need more too. hands up for the boiii. - mod Blue
less romantic for his family, who had to listen to baby Tooru saying “Hajime Hajime Hajime” over and over, because he couldn’t be bothered to learn anything else
first word: also “Hajime”
being around baby Tooru saying “Hajime” so much, he was bound to pick it up
imagine the pair of them as babies having entire baby conversations with just the word “Hajime”
Oikawa complains about the fact that Iwa-chan’s first word wasn’t “Tooru” (“And you call me self-centred, Iwa-chan, when the very first word you ever spoke was your own name!”)
first word: “baby”
baby Takahiro was a very serious kid, studiously learning things about the world around him
he would disappear and his parents would ask each other “Where’s the baby?”
when he figured out the baby was him, it would turn into a kind of Marco Polo game, with his parents calling out “Where’s the baby?” and baby Takahiro replying “Here is baby,” from wherever he was hidden
his favourite toy was a baby, called Baby, so there were usually two babies present when his parents finally found him
first word: “banana”
he doesn’t really know why that was his first word, just that his grandmother was heartily disappointed that it wasn’t “Granny”
his favourite food was mushed up bananas, and that’s his only clue
first word: “run”
baby Kentarou was a speedy little bugger, so he got used to hearing “Don’t you run away!” etc, and eventually figured out it was what he was doing
just imagine a determined looking lil baby Kyouken-chan stumble-running (as babies do) away from bathtime muttering “run run run run” as he went
first word: technically, little Shigeru’s first word was a sentence
he didn’t speak for so long, his doctor thought he was deaf, so he was taken to a specialist, and they left him in a room with lots of loud toys
his first sentence was “Stop it! Too loud in here!”
turns out he wasn’t deaf, just a perfectionist, practicing speaking to himself before he would use it on the adults
first word: “firetruck”
his favourite story as a baby was a picturebook about a firetruck
he learned other words quickly after that, until he was able to recite the book
he would recite it at family gatherings, to the delight of everyone
first word: “Mama”
baby Yuutarou was a traditionalist, and a Mama’s Boy
his mother was also very determined
first word: ?
he just doesn’t know, and isn’t about to ask either
Childhood friends AU. Will Solace and Nico di Angelo were childhood friends who had lost communication with each other when Nico’s family moved away. Years later, Will found an old unopened letter with what seems to actually be Nico’s by then new contacts. Not really thinking it would still be working, he dialed up and to his surprise it started ringing and soon enough, someone answered.
Sorry! I should've been more specific. There is so much fanart of Yuri and Victor together as kids, and I would love headcanons for how they would interact with each other if they met as children!
Ah i see, thats so cute!
So little Yuuri (6) and Viktor (8) meet just after Viktor moves from Russia to Japan. Their first encounter is in the local park when Viktor’s dog gets away from him and runs to play with Yuuri. Yuuri was scared at first but Viktor assured him she wouldn’t bite in the little Japanese he knew. Yuuri absolutely falls in love with Makkachin (Viktors dog) and, well he’s just a kid, but he certainly thinks Viktor is very pretty at the least (He’s never seen anyone that looks like Viktor, his blue eyes and silver hair really enthral Yuuri, and he’s very happy when Viktor lets him play with his hair and vise versa- though he’s a bit shy initially). Yuuri then asks his mum to drop him off at that park everyday, and Viktor does the same.
I most certainly do! Here is a list that took me hours to compile but it’s good to have for reference of all the mods/hacks/fixes/overrides/etc. in my game at the moment (although in my search for the links I came across even more mods I need, so this is by no means all-inclusive):