Thoughts on the timing of the J+C reunion scene

So… The reunion scene isn’t until 306. That’s under six episodes… One to cover Culloden and its aftermath, maybe 1-2 more when he’s in jail, two more for Geneva and William and then boom we meet him again as a printer?
Leaving aside the fact that Outlander is the story of Claire’s life (and yes, by extension her great love but all of the characters connect via her, she is the linchpin)…
That’s actually not a lot of time for all the story that they need to get through on Jamie’s end alone.
It’s a great romance, but there is other story there to be told. It’s all relevant, and as the saga goes on and the cast of characters expands, the emphasis will shift from Claire/Jamie, fairly often.

Poldark’s female leads are sick of discussing one thing

Poldark’s female leads are sick of discussing one thing

Hollywood Has Ruined Method Acting

Hollywood Has Ruined Method Acting



“I dinna care a fig for Laoghaire, and never have!”



“Bastard!” I said again. “You’d marry a woman without wanting her, and then throw her aside the minute—”

“Shut up!” he roared. “Hold your tongue, ye wicked wee bitch!” He slammed a fist down on the washstand, glaring at me. “I’m damned the one way or the other, no? If I felt anything for her, I’m a faithless womanizer, and if I didn’t, I’m a heartless beast.”

“You should have told me!”

“And if I had?” He grabbed my hand and jerked me to my feet, holding me eye to eye with him. “You’d have turned on your heel and gone without a word. And having seen ye again—I tell ye, I would ha’ done far worse than lie to keep you!”

He pressed me tight against his body and kissed me, long and hard. My knees turned to water, and I fought to keep my feet, buttressed by the vision of Laoghaire’s angry eyes, and her voice, echoing shrill in my ears. He’s mine!

“This is senseless,” I said, pulling away. Fury had its own intoxication, but the hangover was setting in fast, a black dizzy vortex. My head swam so that I could hardly keep my balance. “I can’t think straight. I’m leaving.”

I lurched toward the door, but he caught me by the waist, yanking me back.

He whirled me toward himself and kissed me again, hard enough to leave a quicksilver taste of blood in my mouth. It was neither affection nor desire, but a blind passion, a determination to possess me. He was through talking.

So was I. I pulled my mouth away and slapped him hard across the face, fingers curved to rake his flesh.

He jerked back, cheek scraped raw, then twisted his fingers tight in my hair, bent and took my mouth again, deliberate and savage, ignoring the kicks and blows I rained on him.

He bit my lower lip, hard, and when I opened my lips, gasping, thrust his tongue into my mouth, stealing breath and words together.

He threw me bodily onto the bed where we had lain laughing an hour before, and pinned me there at once with the weight of his body.

He was most mightily roused.

So was I.

Mine, he said, without uttering a word. Mine!

I fought him with boundless fury and no little skill, and Yours, my body echoed back. Yours, and may you be damned for it!

I didn’t feel him rip my gown, but I felt the heat of his body on my bare breasts, through the thin linen of his shirt, the long, hard muscle of his thigh straining against my own. He took his hand off my arm to tear at his breeches, and I clawed him from ear to breast, striping his skin with pale red.

We were doing our level best to kill each other, fueled by the rage of years apart—mine for his sending me away, his for my going, mine for Laoghaire, his for Frank.

“Bitch!” he panted. “Whore!”

“Damn you!” I got a hand in his own long hair, and yanked, pulling his face down to me again. We rolled off the bed and landed on the floor in a tangled heap, rolling to and fro in a welter of half-uttered curses and broken words. I didn’t hear the door open.

I didn’t hear anything, though she must have called out, more than once. Blind and deaf, I knew nothing but Jamie until the shower of cold water struck us, sudden as an electric shock. Jamie froze. All the color left his face, leaving the bones jutting stark beneath the skin.

I lay dazed, drops of water dripping from the ends of his hair onto my breasts. Just behind him, I could see Jenny, her face as white as his, holding an empty pan in her hands.

“Stop it!” she said. Her eyes were slanted with a horrified anger. “How could ye, Jamie? Rutting like a wild beast, and not carin’ if all the house hears ye!”

He moved off me, slowly, clumsy as a bear. Jenny snatched a quilt from the bed and flung it over my body.

On all fours, he shook his head like a dog, sending droplets of water flying. Then, very slowly, he got to his feet, and pulled his ripped breeches back into place.

“Are ye no ashamed?” she cried, scandalized.

Jamie stood looking down at her as though he had never seen any creature quite like her, and was making up his mind what she might be. The wet ends of his hair dripped over his bare chest.

“Yes,” he said at last, quite mildly. “I am.”

He seemed dazed. He closed his eyes and a brief, deep shudder went over him. Without a word, he turned and went out.


After print shop and house of joy, I’m most looking forward to seeing this fight in season three. After the fight by the river in season one, we know how well Sam and Cait will do with this scene.

Oh yes, they will be awesome! Can’t wait!

Book spoilers follow.

It’s a matter of constant surprise to me that people deny that both Claire and Jamie were impacted in any way by Frank and Laoghaire (or Geneva, for that matter, though she wasn’t a choice) during their time apart, or that these two characters don’t matter to the story (they clearly do).

These are two very passionate people. Neither of them stayed alone, and that was a choice, miserable as it was. And choices have consequences that echo throughout lives. For Jamie to call Claire names and her to physically hurt him tell us not that either were terrible people (although this isn’t behavior that would make for adequate problem-solving between couples IRL) but that they were both in pain.

Jamie’s quote about himself just as easily applies to Claire, and how reductive thinking can be about these characters as a couple. Loving more than one person–even if that love is not of consistent quality–doesn’t make us faithless. Not loving someone enough to satisfy them–despite our best intentions–doesn’t make us heartless.

Time for a rant!

Every time I see a post on social media criticizing one group or another for its approach to the community, it’s upsetting to see just how many people are left in the world that never outgrew this mindset. To that end, I’ll make a few points, and if they help anyone feel better, great, but it’s really to explain my attitude towards fandom and how I expect to be treated, not a lecture for anyone else.

1. Gratitude. I’m happy that any of the comics or books I loved got made into shows. I don’t expect anything from the creators, and any jokes I make about characters being pointless or dumb are done in humor. I don’t expect fidelity to the source material because I know that there are demands in each medium that are particular to that medium alone.  I’m happy that the creators and actors take time to connect with us when able, and I try not to browbeat them for that communication because I feel that once they have committed that performance to film, the rest is gravy in my eyes. As to fanfic or fan-generated content, it can come when it comes. Thank you for giving me free things I enjoy. Not gonna be demanding about that.

2. Humor. Mine is not universal. I find a lot of things funny that perhaps I shouldn’t, and I do love to curse. I am a broad more so than a lady and if you have preconceived notions of what is acceptable behavior from me because of my reproductive organs, you’re due for disappointment. If you don’t like what I do or find it not funny or offensive, then stop reading now and go to the blog of someone more in tune with your worldview, because I’m pretty set in my ways and life is short.

3. Respect. If you are in the fandom and we disagree, I will do so respectfully and directly to you. If I perceive that disagreement is disrespectful, then I will likely ignore or block you because I don’t have time for trite bull. If you wish to give me advice as to how to behave, please refrain. The responsibility for my behavior is my own, and I ride that pony ALL DAY LONG. I’m all for educated debate, but I’m middle aged and way past where talking smack about another fandom or group or individual makes me feel anything other than emotionally stunted, so I will liberate myself from any situation with those parameters POSTHASTE.

In short, love is love, let’s all get along and of course…

Flea out.