#like can I go back in time and watch Highlander reunion again with the knowledge I have now

[grayintogreen]

Some days I curse my conservative Christian southern upbringing because of how much I missed in life not realizing the power of Ben/Locke and Methos/Joe until my late twenties.

[gloomshrike]

Au Ra Aria

Taknark stepped off of the shuttle onto the stone landing, stretching his arms out as he looked down the long queue outside Kugane customs. He sighed, throwing the strap on his duffel over his shoulder and lighting a cigarette as he joined the line. He patted his coat several times, making sure the letter was still safe in the inside pocket.

“Sir, you can’t smoke here.”

Taknark looked over at the hingan attendant, who pointed at the ground while maintaining a stern glare in his direction.

“It’s outside.” Taknark said, as thin puffs of smoke escaped his lungs with the protest.

“It doesn’t matter. There’s no smoking on the landing.” The attendant snapped her fingers. 

Taknark shrugged, and flicked the cherry to the ground. He closed his hand around the field-stripped butt and let it roll into his coat sleeve before opening his hand with a flourish to show the attendant it had disappeared. He wiggled his fingers mockingly and gave a dry “Ta-da.” The attendant rolled her eyes and left.

Taknark patted his coat again, and felt the letter safe and secure. He sighed and scratched the back of his neck as he waited in the queue. When he finally got to the booth, he handed his papers over. 

“John Johnson?”

Taknark looked through the smudged glass at the inquisitive man in the booth.

“Midlander. On my dad’s side.”

“Right.”

The man stamped Taknark’s papers and passed them back through the slot. He placed them in his coat pocket, and gave it another pat, finding the letter safe and secure. The attendant opened the gate out of the landing, and ‘John Johnson’ passed through with a lazy wave. 

Taknark walked out into Kugane and beelined it for a nearby bench. He placed his duffel on the ground, sat down, and looked around, peeling his sharp eyes for any trace of a No Smoking sign. Absent of one, he let the half-smoked cigarette roll back out of his sleeve and set it alight. He patted his coat pocket again for the letter, finding it safe and secure.

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Taknark walked out of the Kugane night into the bar. The door closed behind him, and the walls cut the noise and bustle of Kogane Dori to nothingness. He glanced through the window to the markets as the people moved silently past. The air inside was still and, for a change, so was Taknark’s mind. The bar was empty save for a few patrons one drink past ‘one more couldn’t hurt’. He made his way to the bar, motioning to the bartender without taking a seat. The bartender walked over, polishing a glass as he went.

“Do you do bottle service?” Taknark asked.

The bartender nodded. “Only sake.”

“How about fish?”

The bartender stopped polishing for just a moment, then resumed. “Sure. Fifth room on the left.”

Taknark nodded, leaving a gil on the counter as he left. He turned down the VIP hall, counting the doors on the left in his head, until the giggling and jovialities behind the paper walls faded by the silent fifth door. He slid it open, and sat on the floor was an old lalafell wearing a hingan robe. On the floor next to him was a conical straw hat and an opened bottle of whiskey, the first quarter of which had already rosied the cheeks of the old-timer. The lalafell looked up, and a surprised expression waxed across his handlebar mustache.

“Taknark!”

Taknark put a finger to his lips in a shushing motion as he slid the door closed behind him. “It’s John, actually. Don’t remember me, Cage?”

Cage hiccuped, pouring a glass of whiskey for Taknark and one more for himself. “Of course. John. How could I not remember? You look just like John.” The old lala couldn’t help but let out a few amused snorts as he slid the drink over.

Taknark took his seat across from Cage and reached into his jacket, producing the letter. He passed it to the old lala, took a sip of the scotch, and winced. “Tastes like Doma’s been free longer than this has aged.”

Cage unfolded the letter, downed the rest of his drink, and shrugged. “Cop salary. What’re ya gonna do.” He looked down at the letter, and in a barely-legible scrawl, read:

I’m all outta fish.

Cage sighed. “Well at least he’s talkin’ to somebody.”

Taknark raised an eyebrow. “He hasn’t been in contact?”

Cage shook his head, and poured another glass. “Nope. The man’s a ghost. Dunno why you came straight here, though. I can think of someone you should’ve asked first.”

Taknark sighed. “Yeah, but I’d rather leave that option for when all the others fail.”

“You and Vyl have a falling out?”

Taknark shook his head. “Not as such. But Vyl’s not the kinda guy you notify when he has something you want.”

Cage let out a chuckle as he took another sip of his drink. “True enough. Look, I don’t have anything concrete, but in your shoes I’d check the Steppe.”

“The Steppe?”

Cage nodded. “He’s half-xaela. Taken as a kid by the empire and trained as a conscript in Othard. He used to talk about getting homesick sometimes.”

“Shit.” Taknark leaned back, resting on his palms. “That’s quite a trip.”

Cage nodded in reply, topping off Taknark’s drink. “One for the road?”

“Might as well. Road just got a lot longer.”

Cage lifted his glass. “To fish.”

Taknark lifted his in turn. “To the long road.”

The glasses clinked and the pair took a drink. Taknark pulled out his cigarette packet, bumping one out and lighting it, letting the smoke wash over the dry taste of cheap whiskey.

“You can’t smoke in here, John.”

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The next few days passed with an agonizing dawdle. It was an unremarkable week of constant rain over the Ruby Sea, gales of wind over the plains of Othard, and a series of innkeepers unenthused with the soaking wet highlander showing up on their doorstep. By the last night of his trip, Taknark found himself convinced that in addition to hosting his quarry, the Steppe may be the only place left in Doma he was allowed to smoke.

At last, the morning after another fatigued, sleepless night, he found himself in the Azim Steppe. He walked through the bazaar in reunion, doing whatever one could call window shopping along a series of tents and yurts. He asked a few of the locals where to find information, and after some pointing and awkward charades with his Questir hosts, he was finally directed to a covered yurt with two xaela standing watch outside. They stood at least 80 ilms tall, with grim faces, large black horns, and armor adorned in the bones of Steppe tigers they’d likely killed themselves. Taknark scratched the back of his head and approached the yurt, expecting no shortage of difficulty getting in.

To his surprise, the warriors left their spears upright, and each placed a hand on the entrance curtain. “Am I expected?” Taknark asked. The guards answered with only a stare, their grim faces unmoving. Taknark shrugged and entered the tent.

It was dark, with only small sunrays being let through gaps in the tent’s construction. An ornate rug covered the floor, upon which sat an elderly xaela, with wrinkled, green skin and the enamel fading from his black horns. He sat in front of a circular tray with an overturned cup in the middle of it. The tent was hazed over with the smoke from the curved pipe the xaela puffed on, looking up at Taknark.

“Gods be good.” Taknark muttered, producing a cigarette from his coat and lighting it. He took a long drag, and looked down at the elderly man before him. “The trademasters told me this is where to go for information.”

The elder took another puff from his pipe. “Liar.” He said, with the ragged voice one would expect from an aging smoker. 

“Excuse me?” Taknark replied, bewildered.

“The trademasters are Qestir. They tell nothing, to anyone. They believe to speak is to lie, and you’ve barged into my tent to testify on their creed’s behalf.” The old man let out a chuckle.

Taknark sighed. “Semantics. I was directed here. Can you help me or not?”

“Maybe. Maybe not.I read a tapestry I cannot change. How could I? How could you? We are but tiny stitchings in that selfsame weave. Help may not be the right word. Are you sure I cannot interest you in semantics?” The old xaela let out another raspy giggle.

“Not today.” Taknark replied, exhaling another cloud of smoke. “I’m looking for someone.”

With a quick motion, the elder snatched up the cup, covered it and shook it, and let a handful of dried bones fall onto the tray.

“Ohhh. A beloved child.” The elder gave a whimsical whistle. “Both Father and Mother for an Au Ra. A true rarity.”

Taknark’s eyes widened. “So you know him?”

The elder sighed. “No, but the bones do. The weave does. Nhaama knows her son.”

Taknark sighed. “You’re not a broker, you’re a fortune teller.”

The elder narrowed his eyes at the bones. “No lies here.”

“No truths, either. Just riddles and magic tricks. I shouldn’t have come here.” Taknark turned to leave the tent.

“You did not choose to come in here. It was the will of Nhaama. Or perhaps, the Will of Karash.”

Taknark stopped and turned around. “You’re a Qerel, aren’t you? Isn’t the Will of Karash a boon of bloodlust for your tribe?”

“Ohohoho, you’re awfully knowledgeable.” The elder remarked with a grin.

“I’m well-traveled.”

The elder picked up the bones and rattled them lazily in the cup as he took another puff from his pipe. “Not exactly. The Chaghan are those who lose themselves to the Will of Karash. They slaughter indiscriminately, and lose themselves to hate.”

Taknark took another drag. “And why would the Will of Karash bring me out here to bicker with you?”

“Heeeeehehehehehe,” the old man wheezed another smoky laugh. “What would drive you to do what you do if not bloodlust and hate?”

“Money.” Taknark answered, dryly. 

“Hehehehe, simpler to open a fish stand. You could make money, and find your friend.”

Taknark’s jaw went slightly agape, nearly letting the cigarette tumble to the ground. “So you do know him?”

The elder slammed the cup down on the tray, lifting it up and looking at the bones. “Yanxia, traveler. Back the way you came. Where chains are broken and fisheater’s fly.”

“Could you be a little more specific?” Taknark asked with a sigh.

“Hehehe, no, traveler. I’ve seen nary of the outside of this tent in a decade. I only know what the bones tell me.” The elder giggled again.

Taknark turned and placed a hand on the entrance flap to the tent. “Thanks for the help.” He said, and exited. After he’d gone, one of the Qerel guards put his head into the tent, finding the elder’s head bowed and his hands folded together. 

“Is everything alright?”

“I am praying to Nhaama, child.”

“For the ijin?”

“For her. No mother should outlive her child.”

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Taknark stood on the cliff overlooking the Gensui Chain, in the middle of the cemetery above The Heron’s Way. He smoked a cigarette, and stood over the crumpled butts of a few already smoked. The fading sunset illuminated the slate gravestone.

Khaishan Ittetsu

“Didn’t make it all the way home, I guess.” Taknark remarked, taking a long drag from the cigarette. “They coulda put something on your stone, though. Maybe a fish, or a sword. A swordfish would have worked nicely, now that I think about it.”

Taknark heard the distinct sound of a slider being racked. “Put ‘em up, Taknark.”

The highlander raised his hands slowly, the smoke drifting off of the cigarette burning in his hand. He turned his head to see a small group of men, plainly dressed and brandishing a firearm each. Seven, he thought to himself.

“You’re a hard man to find, Bryrsig.” The voice called out to Taknark from the rear of the group. “How’s Bozja treatin’ you?”

Taknark didn’t move. “Well enough. Better than Othard nowadays.”

The man moved from behind one of his gunmen, training his own pistol on Taknark’s back. Taknark could feel his gaze drilling into him from behind a pair of cheap sunglasses. “You didn’t give my money to the resistance, did you?” He asked, gritting his teeth.

Taknark sighed. “Two rules, Vepar. No people, no bioweapons. You think I wouldn’t find a case of Black Rose at the bottom of a barrel of spice?”

“You take the money, you do the job!” Vepar yelled. “Where is it?!”

“The Rose? Destroyed it, ‘bout as soon as I found it.”

“Great. An arms smuggler with a conscience.”

“What’s a conscience?”

“Shut it!” Vepar gripped his pistol and snarled. “Turn around. If I can’t recoup my losses I’ll take your fucking head instead.”

Taknark did as he was told, turning around with his hands still raised. “Did you kill Khaishan?”

Vepar chuckled, “Nah. That headstone’s news to me too. I fucking wish I did, though. You and that reeking confederate never gave me shit but trouble.” He gestured with his weapon to the surrounding graves. “At least I won’t have to carry you very far.”

Taknark steeled his gaze towards the group of gunmen. “Here’s as good a place as any.” He looked up at his cigarette, nearly extinguished. “One last drag for the road?”

Vepar thumbed the hammer back on his own gun. “Fuck you. Kill him.”

The lead gunman placed his finger on the trigger, and saw the projectile flying at him. He moved his arm up to shield his head, expecting the hidden knife to strike, or a hidden flashbang to detonate at any moment. Time slowed to a crawl as he ducked, and looked up at the flicked cigarette flying overhead, its dim cherry leaving an orange trail against the fading light. He had just enough time to register the sight before the hole was ripped through his chest.

Bang.

The gunmen fell, and Taknark fired two more shots at the leading lackeys. 

Bang. Bang.

One fell clutching his chest, and the other fell like a bag of concrete as the bullet passed through his eye. Taknark vaulted over Khaishan’s headstone as the group opened fire. Pieces of slate chipped off, and a bullet came whizzing through the stone, grazing Taknark on the shoulder. He rolled out of cover with his palm on the hammer of his revolver, and fanned it.

Bang. Bang.

Two more shots rang out as two more fell. Vepar and the last henchman fired wildly as Taknark rolled between the graves. He heard the click of the rack sticking to the slide release, and the distinctive shlick of the magazine falling. Taknark rose over the graves, drew a bead, and fired.

Bang. 

Between the eyes. The last henchman fell backwards into the dirt as the blood ran down the hill. Taknark moved back from the graves onto the cemetery path, and trained his revolver on Vepar.

“Got time for a couple of questions?” Taknark asked, using his free hand to light another cigarette, keeping his eyes steeled on Vepar.

Vepar chuckled, then laughed loudly, raising his weapon back up towards Taknark. “What is it they used to call you? The Six-Shot Smuggler? Stylish.”

“I haven’t heard that one in a long time. You’ve got a taste for old history, Vepar.”

Vepar grinned. “You’re out, Taknark. I counted ‘em. Any last jokes you wanna make before I vent your fucking skull?”

Taknark took another long drag. “If you didn’t know Khaishan was dead, why risk impersonating him? Why send the letter?”

Vepar shook his head, and placed his finger on the trigger. “What fucking letter.” And squeezed.

Before the trigger moved, Vepar’s hand fell to the ground, still gripping the gun. His jaw dropped and he didn’t have time to make a sound before a katana passed cleanly through his neck. His assailant had his sword sheathed before he’d fallen, and his head rolled off, his face still in stunned silence.

The man stepped forward, resting his sheathed blade over his shoulders. A pale-skinned Au Ra with black horns, brown hair tied in a braid over his shoulder, and piercing blue eyes.

Taknark hummed, and lowered his weapon. “You look sprightly for a dead man.”

Khaishan shrugged. “IVth Legion found out I survived the rebellion. Figured it was easier to die than fight for no money. Again.”

Taknark took a final drag from his cigarette and dropped it on the ground, stamping it. “Well I’ve been chasing you across this continent for no money, and found your headstone instead. I hope you’ve got something really good, otherwise you’re a bigger dick than I ever gave you credit for.”

Their bickering was interrupted by a sound, like a spell failing to cast or the air being let out of a balloon. The pair looked down at Vepar’s corpse, its midlander features blurring as the corpse began to contort. Afterwards, a taller corpse and the distinct head of an au ra lay at the pair's feet.

“Fucking fantasia. I guess Au Ra do stick out nowadays.” Taknark sighed. “I should just avoid horned beings in general.”

Khaishan laughed. “A lot of attitude for someone who just had their life saved.”

“I had it under control.”

Khaishan perked an eyebrow. “How’s that?”

“Do you know why they used to call me the Six-Shot Smuggler?” Taknark asked.

Khaishan tapped his head with his sword sheath. “Sounds self-explanatory.”

“Alliteration.” Taknark replied, releasing the cylinder of his revolver and showing two brass bullets still loaded. “Eight shots. Never carried less.”

“They should call you the Eight-Shot Asshole instead.” Khaishan said with a laugh, turning to leave back down the hill. “I’ve got work, if you’re not too busy playing soldier. Let’s go to Namai before the tigers come to clean up this mess.”

Taknark clicked the cylinder back into place and placed the revolver back into the holster beneath his shoulder. As he moved down the hill, the last light of the day passed behind the cliffs, catching the engraving on Khaishan’s sheath.

Karash

[drunklander]

Drunj!Der Yells About Outlander

Thoughts on Ep. 303

Ok so I was out of town this weekend and rather than word-vomiting nonsense into evernote as I watched the episode like I usually do, I happy-flailed, rage-flailed, made incoherent noises while pointing at my phone, somehow managed to get myself buried in the pillows I was leaning on, chose to not unbury myself and eventually just kept dramatically flopping and throwing the blanket over my head because it was 2:30 in the morning and I was in a special kind of ridiculous mood that comes from running around a warehouse for two hours at the best version of Macbeth ever. (Third time going and it’s still one of my favorite things.)

Anywho...

I think this episode is my favorite so far this season? But like, I still have the same general feelings about it that I had after the first two? I liked Jamie’s side better because it didn’t make me rage. Claire’s side was just about Frank’s #manpain, because of course it was. Last week her side didn’t make me rage and was actually about her so of course now we’re back to #manpain. And obviously I have rage about it. It felt less rushed than the last two, but like I almost wish they cut back on the Claire and Frank stuff to give the Ardsmuir stuff a bit more time? Which isn’t to say that I think Claire is less important than Jamie or in any less pain than him or is any less broken or empty (I don’t feel that way *at all*), I just keep thinking that since they decided to literally just make her side of things about Frank and not explore her becoming a surgeon or her with Bree, that it could have be told in a more concise way since Jamie’s side of things has more plot points to hit along the way? I don’t know... Whatever, at least Frank’s dead now and went out as the steaming pile of shit he’s always been.

The word version of my dramatic flopping is under the cut...

Scotland

I like the walk and talk with LJG. Sets up everything without feeling like an exposition dump. Ok a little like an exposition dump, but I still like it.

Slash I like how we know Lord John remembers exactly who Jamie is and what he did just by him losing his cool for a second with “I’ll not dine with that--”. No further explanation necessary or given.

MURTAGH!!! Guys I’m still fucking ecstatic that they decided to save Murtagh. Like thank you, show. I know I shit on you on the reg, but holy shit thank you for saving Murtagh.

I can’t wait to see their reunion. I’m guessing since we didn’t get it here, we’ll maybe get it when Claire comes back and Jamie’s telling her that Murtagh survived? Like I’m guessing that scene and the Ellen’s tower scene and Claire doing surgery will be in ep. 306 when they’re telling each other what they’ve been through? Since Matt wrote this one and that one?

The first time watching this I was like ok he’s coughing. He can’t be coughing. Because coughing means he’s gonna die and he can’t have been saved just to die. But I love how it plays out.

And I *love* that it’s Murtagh’s bit of plaid. I love that he’s the one who is holding on to the old ways and to the memory of Claire and wants to talk about her. It’s a nice contrast to Jamie who has yet to say Claire’s name because it’s all he can do to hold himself together and talking about her and the baby with others would make him lose it completely. Like he clearly thinks about her all the time and uses what she taught him, but he never says her name because at this point that’s still too much.

I’m also really glad they cut the bit where the plaid was found and Jamie gets flogged again. We’ve seen him flogged enough times that we really don’t need to go back to that yet again. And I feel like with the small tweak to the stuff with Lord John, it wasn’t needed. I like that they just let the plaid be a small symbol that despite the English’s best efforts, the Highland culture hasn’t been entirely snuffed out.

Jamie using what Claire taught him to care for Murtagh and the men makes me feel all the feelings. He can’t say her name, but dammit he loves and misses her so much and has so much respect for her skills as a healer and *assumes fetal position*.

I giggle every time Lord John is referred to as John William Grey. Like they gotta keep including that middle name since they forgot his first name last year. (I know, I need to stop picking on that. But it was dumb and will never stop being dumb.)

I love the small expression on Lord John’s face when he finds out the men eat the rats. Like they’re prisoners but that’s an indignity too far? Reminded me of how Hal insisted that the men be propped up to be shot in ep. 301.

Lord John’s line about how heavy Jamie’s irons must feel give me preemptive sads for just how heavy they are and will remain for Jamie. Because he feels their weight for years after they’re struck off.

Jamie putting pride aside and asking for blankets for Murtagh specifically (not just asking as the leader of all the men) makes me want to hug him and tell him it’ll be ok. (Also, are we just ditching the Fraser part of Murtagh’s name? Because he’s just Murtagh Fitzgibbons twice in this episode? *shrug*) And the look on Lord John’s face there. Like he knows that it’s costing Jamie to expose a point of vulnerability here with this request for Murtagh and he can appreciate just how much Jamie must care for his kinsman since he’s willing to ask.

The look that comes over Jamie’s face while their theme plays as he thinks there’s a glimmer of hope that he can find Claire again murders me. In the best way possible.

“There’s nothing you can do that hasn’t already been done to me. So, try if you must.” Excuse me while I get a bit emotional.

Jamie’s hesitation before telling Murtagh that Kerr mentioned a white witch makes me feel things to the point where I almost forget that all the white witch stuff makes me roll my eyes, but they’re committed to it so whatever. Like telling Murtagh about it is a step beyond just hoping. It’s admitting out loud to that hope. And that’s a vulnerable place to be in, like it makes the hope a bit more real.

Murtagh talking about Claire and the baby and how he thinks of her and wanting to talk to Jamie about it is so sweet and I just love Murtagh so much and I’m so glad he’s not dead.

Seriously though, Jamie’s respect for Claire’s healing and dietary advice throughout this episode kills me with feelings. Frank uses her doctor title to try to hurt her while they fight. Jamie is just filled with respect for his wife’s skill.

Also, I love Jamie using his wine knowledge. Like the dude has suffered so damn much, I’m glad he got a little grin out of still being able to identify what wine it was.

And omg him telling the men about the food plays so much better in the show than it did in the book.

I giggled about the little hiding spot bit, but I really do love that the men respect him enough and are loyal enough that they go along with his plan instead of feeling like he’s abandoning them and rat him out.

And I do like the parallel of Jamie sneaking up on Lord John, but him calling him William Grey again and then reciting his birth order and father’s title really just rubs in again how silly it was to not just go with the name last year that he’s going to use for the rest of the series. (I’m letting this go now, I swear. Until the next time. Because apparently this is the hill I’m willing to die on.)

The flashbacks are a bit much though. Like we eventually see pretty much that entire scene from last year and I really don’t think it was necessary. But like, whatever, it’s not something I’m like ragey about. Just like, I feel like that time could have been better spent...

And yeah, since we didn’t see Jamie at the tower in this episode, I’m guessing we’re going to get it when he’s telling Claire about it. Which I’m here for. Like let us see the emotional part of it when we can then see Claire reacting to Jamie’s emotions. Give me that in my eyeballs please and thank you.

Although I feel like the scene of him asking to be killed as the second part of Lord John’s promise would work a little better if we did get a little more of his despair. Like his last shred of hope of finding Claire again was just dashed and that’s what’s prompting this. But I feel like there’s a little something missing that might have made it land better? Whatever, I still get the point I guess?

Also, this is the second time that someone has promised to kill Jamie and reneged on that promise. First BJR and now LJG...

“She’s truly gone.” JUST WAIT ANOTHER FEW EPISODES, BUDDY! YOU CAN DO IT! IT’LL BE OK!

Thanks, Lord John, for the rando doctor because it would really suck if Murtagh was saved just to die in prison! (Guys I am seriously beyond fucking pumped that Murtagh got saved. THINK OF HIM MEETING BREE! THINK OF HIM GETTING REUNITED WITH CLAIRE! THINK OF ALL THE AWESOMENESS THAT COMES FROM MURTAGH STILL BEING AROUND! I LOVE SHOW!MURTAGH SO MUCH!)

I like that much like Jamie hasn’t been able to say Claire’s name up until this point, Lord John doesn’t say Hector’s.

“Some people you grieve over forever.” I’m hoping I like show!LJG better than book!LJG, but I do like that he can probably appreciate what Jamie is feeling better than most people.

“I think perhaps the greatest burden lies in caring for those we cannot help. Not in having no one for whom to care. That is emptiness. But no great burden.” No comment on this one, just glad that was included because I like it a lot.

Gah but with that whole exchange. Jamie knows that Lord John might be able to understand the depth of his loss and says Claire’s name for the first time and I have feelings.

I wish the moment wasn’t broken up by a flashback, but I do like the back and forth with Jamie telling Lord John that the woman was his wife.

But ugh, Lord John. Nope. Don’t do that. Don’t touch him like that. I know you just bonded but not like to the point where you’d think this was ok. And even if you were feeling things, you definitely wouldn’t do this. Like not just because you’re used to hiding that part of yourself, but because you’re an honorable soldier and the power dynamic here is not ok. You’re not equals and as much as you guys just got real with each other, I don’t think you’d forget that.

And I 100% think that Jamie’s reaction here is strictly PTSD from his rape. Book!Jamie definitely had some homophobic tendencies, but in this scene I really think it’s just his trauma coming back to him. Like his face. Omfg there is zero doubt that he will kill Lord John right there, consequences be damned, if LJG doesn’t move his hand.

I really hope they tone down Lord John’s constantly reminding everyone that he’s in love with Jamie. It’s why I can’t really be on board with him in the books. But if they make some small changes, I can definitely be on board with him in the show.

I like that Murtagh was revealed to be alive now rather than waiting until like the end of the season once he’d been transported. (Because we all thought that if he got to live, he’d end up transported, right? I feel like that was a thing most people were guessing.) Like now we don’t need to have to care about prison randos and we [hopefully] get to see Jamie finding out he’s alive when Jamie tells Claire he’s alive, and then another reunion when [I’m guessing] they find him again in the colonies.

Lord John apologizing for touching Jamie in the prison makes me really hopeful that I’m going to like him in the show. Like I *love* that they had him apologize. They’ve done such a good job adapting the secondary characters that I think it’s not too much to hope that I’ll end up liking him more than book!LJG. But yeah, great change, show. Well done.

Lord John giving Jamie the best life he can because he wants to discharge the debt for his own name, and not because he’s like in love with Jamie or whatever, makes me happy.

(For real, can they just be friends without the gay guy in love with his straight BFF trope? And just let them have a friendship based on mutual respect and shit? Please?)

Boston

Not a fan of the dog as the title card. Like I get that it’s a reference to the book where Bree had a dog, but the dog is in like half a shot in the show so it’s just random to use that instead of something that’s actually related to what they’re exploring in the episode? I mean, who cares, it’s a title card. But it’s still an odd choice.

Oh look! Frank’s in the kitchen! The woman’s place! *eye roll* Except nope it’s not because he’s a nice guy and is cooking breakfast to be helpful. No. Of course not. Because this is Frank and Frank is an asshole. His breakfasts obviously have an ulterior motive. Like seriously, Frank. Bree’s growing up in the U.S. She’s going to like fucking Eggos. Eggos are fucking great. Just ask Eleven. But no. Claire likes America and wanted to become a citizen as something for herself and now Bree’s an American so clearly that needs to be remedied. Let the girl eat the damn frozen waffles, Frank, and stop trying to force *everyone* to be the version of themselves that *you* want them to be.

Look at Claire being all pleasant and conversational. Look at Claire being friendly and making casual, platonic plans. Look at Claire knowing that they’ve decided to live separate lives but still being civil and personable and friendly because they live together. And now look at Frank being a steaming pile of trash. She’s not asking you to go on some romantic date or to pretend like you’re in a regular marriage, you rancid trash fire. She’s literally seeing if you want to go to the movies. And you need to go and make it uncomfortable because clearly seeing a movie twice is just absurd and casually being like thanks for the offer, but I think I have to pass on this one would be the nice thing to do, but you can’t help making Claire feel like shit at every possible opportunity. Like seriously, making Claire feel like she did something wrong there, like somehow with this innocuous invitation she’s breaching the agreement you have, is just a dick move. You’re a terrible person, Frank.

“Nothing a cold martini won’t cure.” I want to be friends with Joe. Joe is great. I love Joe. I wish we had more with Claire and Joe because dammit, Claire needs someone in her life who isn’t trying to make her feel like shit every time they interact.

Oh hey! It’s Frank’s girlfriend! Time to go on a ramble. I’m glad that they had Claire be like yeah, it’s cool to live separate lives. Because Claire knows she’s never going to be what Frank wants her to be. And Frank makes damn sure that she can never forget that. Because Frank is an asshole. Like Claire should have left, promise to Jamie or no promise. It’s stupid and really not believable to me that she stuck around. Your mileage may vary. But she stayed and says it’s cool for Frank to go and lead his life. There’s a line in Drums where Claire is thinking of why she never called Frank out on his affairs: “I could not; I had no right.” She knows that she can’t be what he wants her to be. She knows she’s emotionally unfaithful. The affairs in the book hurt her, she’s only human, but she believes that she really can’t call him out. So I like that here, instead of it being like they’re actually still pretending to be in a functioning marriage, she gives Frank that freedom. Because Claire is imperfect, but still a good person.

And then there’s Frank. And Frank is a vindictive jackass. There’s living your own life and having a girlfriend and whatever, and then there’s inviting your girlfriend to your house on the day of your wife’s graduation party. And then when she shows up, *inviting her in* while your wife wrangles all the guests and has everyone leave. Because Claire went to med school and became a surgeon so of course even that has to be about Frank and how much of a piece of shit he is. Claire can’t possibly have one moment to celebrate her achievements. Nope. That’d be too much to ask. Gotta throw some Frank bullshit in.

“You invited her here. Where our daughter lives.” Claire’s first thought isn’t of how Frank fucked up her day here. Which she’d be totally entitled to do. No, Claire’s first thought is about Bree. Because her priority is to make sure Bree has a loving environment. Even if it means staying in an absolutely shitty situation. (You seriously should have left, Claire...) She does it for Bree. And Frank fucking brought his girlfriend over and threatened the illusion for Bree. Honestly, Claire’s the one here who looks like a good fucking parent. You’re a rancid glob of old cheese that’s stinking up the fridge, Frank.

“You were taking the car, she was just picking me up.” Right, Frank. Sure. You want brownie points for being discreet while also inviting your girlfriend to pick you up from your house where a graduation party is being held. I don’t care if you thought the dinner reservation was at a different time. If you’re actually looking to be discreet, you don’t have your girlfriend come to your damn house.

“You really dislike me that much?” Yes, Claire. He fucking resents you. He’s a shit sandwich. He resents you for not being what he wants you to be even though you’ve been honest about where you were about things from the start, and instead of leaving he sticks around and makes you feel terrible about yourself because he’s a petty, selfish, pathetic excuse of a man.

“Do you honest think that anyone at Harvard believes that we’re happily married?” No no no. Noooope. No, Frank. You don’t get to pull some whataboutism bullshit here. It’s not Claire’s fucking job to convince your Harvard people that you’re happily married. That’s not part of the fucking conditions. She said she wouldn’t talk about the past and that you could raise Bree to think you were her father. She’s doing that. Beyond that she owes you jack shit. Like you’re making it seem like she actually went to your work shit over the last few years, which would be doing you a fucking favor she didn’t have to. Because you’re living separate lives now, remember? It was Claire’s idea. That goes both ways. You get your girlfriend and she doesn’t have to pretend like she’s in love with you. And jfc the fact that you don’t see a difference between not “acting happy enough” at a work thing and FUCKING BRINGING YOUR GIRLFRIEND TO YOUR WIFE’S GRADUATION PARTY makes me want to punch you more than I already do. You really are the world’s biggest douchenozzle, Frank. I can’t wait for you to die. *checks time left in episode*

Having Claire call whatever her name is a harlot is not a good look for Claire. But like I said before and like what’s in the books, Claire’s human and Frank hurt her by bringing the girlfriend around. I can understand why she’d hit back like this. And it parallels Frank reducing what she had with Jamie to just fucking. Except what Frank and this lady have is def not the same as what Jamie and Claire have, because I honestly think Frank is incapable of loving and accepting a woman as his equal.

“Green ain’t your color, Claire.” Yeah, but like deep down she’s not jealous? Like on the surface, maybe, she’s human, but she doesn’t want you? She’s pissed that you were a complete twatwaffle and is hitting back. Because she’s fucking human and we all do shit like this when we’re pissed. You’re still the bad guy here, asshole.

“You wanted to hurt me.” “Maybe I did.” Yeah, no shit you did, Frank. That’s the only fucking reason you’re still around. To fucking hurt Claire. Because you’re so fucking selfish and petty that once you finally wrapped your fucking head around the fact that she’s never going to love you the way you want her to, you fucking stuck around to make her life miserable. You are the worst kind of cruel.

“Maybe I wanted to give you a taste of your own medicine.” Ok but you knew what you were getting into, Fred. Claire has been honest from the start. And she’s clearly been trying to make things as ok for you as she can. (Seriously, Claire, you should have fucking left.) She’s literally living up to her end of your deal while letting you do whatever the fuck you like with whoever the fuck you like. It’s your own damn fault you decided to stay. You lose all right to be this shitty. You can leave and you should leave but it’s your own selfish pettiness that makes you stay just so you can make this woman’s life miserable.

And the loathing in his voice when he says “Dr. Randall.” Like it *kills* him that despite his best efforts to destroy this woman, she managed to achieve her own damn goals. How anyone can think this fuckwad is a good guy is beyond me. (Like you do you, keep thinking whatever you want to think. Each to their own. Yada yada yada. But I will *never* understand it.)

“Have you fucked her in our bedroom?” I honestly don’t think Claire’s upset here about if the fucking actually happened, I think she’s just realizing just how vindictive Frank is that this is something he’d probably do just to spite her.

“File for divorce. You’d have your freedom.” “Yes, I would.” Like yeah, Claire should have left, but she didn’t. Because she promised Jamie and then because she’s a good person who didn’t want to take Bree away from Frank. But I love that she’s turning the tables on Frank now. And being like yeah, you know what. You can leave too. It’s clearly the best move. But Frank’s like nope. And I don’t believe for a second that it’s because he thinks Claire will keep Bree from him. Claire wouldn’t do that. She knows that Bree loves Frank, and Claire isn’t a piece of shit. She’s flawed, but she’s not a terrible person in the way that Frank is a terrible person. Claire would never take Bree from Frank and Frank knows it. He’s literally only staying so he can keep having his cake and eating it too. He can have his girlfriend and still torment Claire at every available opportunity.

“Forgive me, Claire, if I don’t risk everything on your promises. You have not been very good at keeping them.” Uh, buddy? Slow your roll. Yes, she fell in love with another guy when her whole life was turned upside down. That hurt you. I get that. But shit happens and most people can move on without being this much of puddle of raw sewage. And since she’s been back, she’s been exceptional at keeping her fucking promises. She accepted your damn conditions and she has kept them to the letter. Even at the cost of her relationship with her and Jamie’s daughter. So you, sir, can go fuck yourself.

Frank contradicting Claire over Bree’s birthday wish is such a perfect little window into how much of a manipulative, terrible person he is. It’s not enough that he gets to raise Bree as his own like he demanded. No, not for good ol’ Franky boy. Nope. He needs to undermine Claire. He needs to be the good guy who might give Bree a car when Claire says no. He needs to subtly (and probably consistently) make himself seem like the one who truly cares about Bree. He needs to carefully do stuff like this the whole time Bree is growing up so she notices that Claire is a bit distant. That’s not being a good parent. That’s being a terrible parent. Frank really needs to die already. *checks time left in episode*

Omg Claire’s face when she tells Bree she’s proud of her at graduation. Like Claire so obviously loves her daughter. And I honestly think that if Frank wasn’t undercutting her at every turn, she could have managed to have a better relationship with Bree. Like there was always going to be some distance, but I’m thinking Bree might not have noticed as much if Frank wasn’t like always making himself out to be the Good Guy parent?

“I’d like to take Brianna to England. I want a divorce, Claire.” You really are the most selfish prick, Frank. Like Bree’s going to go off to college regardless so this is Frank’s last chance to use her as a weapon to hurt Claire.

And jfc, “We’ll get married as soon as I’m free. I’m finished with this, Claire.” Seriously, Frank. You could have left years ago. You *should* have left years ago. You don’t get to be fucking butthurt here. Claire didn’t fuck with you. *You* refused to accept reality. She tried her fucking best for all these years. Now that you’re *finally* accepting how things are, you don’t get any fucking sympathy. You don’t get to play the fucking victim. You have spent fucking decades making Claire’s life as miserable as possible. You are not a good person. You are fucking scum.

Claire realizing that he’s only stuck around to fuck with her is kind of heartbreaking. Like she had things so much worse because she never was given the space to grieve, and just kept everything bottled up and it was all for a guy who just wanted to hurt her.

“Be reasonable, Claire.” HOW CAN ANYONE POSSIBLY FUCKING THINK THIS GUY IS ANYTHING BUT A FLAMING SACK OF SHIT?! BE REASONABLE?! SHE’S BEEN FUCKING REASONABLE FOR ALMOST 20 YEARS. SHE’S DONE EVERYTHING YOU’VE FUCKING ASKED AT THE EXPENSE OF WHAT *SHE* NEEDED. SHE COULDN’T GIVE YOU WHAT YOU WANTED SO SHE GAVE YOU WHAT SHE COULD. AND YOU WERE NOTHING BUT TERRIBLE TO HER IN RETURN.

Yeah, they took out him being racist af, but show!Frank is just as fucking terrible as book!Frank. Can you please just fucking die already. *checks time left in episode*

“I would like to live the rest of my life with a wife who truly loves me.” EXCEPT THAT CLEARLY YOU’D RATHER TORMENT CLAIRE THAN ACTUALLY DO THAT YOU PATHETIC, PETTY WASTE OF OXYGEN. YOU COULD HAVE MARRIED YOUR FUCKING GIRLFRIEND YEARS AGO. YOU KNEW YOU COULD STILL BE IN BREE’S LIFE. BUT YOU CHOSE NOT TO BECAUSE YOU’RE SO FUCKING SHITTY YOU WOULD RATHER STICK AROUND JUST TO HURT CLAIRE. YOU DO NOT DESERVE A HAPPY ENDING, FRANK. YOU DESERVE A MORE VIOLENT DEATH THAN YOU GOT.

“You couldn’t look at Brianna without seeing him. Could you? Without that constant reminder.” NO SHIT, FRANK. BUT NO, YOU COULD NEVER SEE HOW MUCH CLAIRE WAS HURTING. OR HOW MUCH YOUR FUCKING CONDITIONS WERE RUINING THE RELATIONSHIP SHE COULD HAVE HAD WITH HER DAUGHTER. BECAUSE OF COURSE SHE WAS FUCKING REMINDED OF JAMIE. SO OF COURSE IT HURT HER TO NOT BE ABLE TO SHARE JAMIE WITH BREE. AND OF COURSE SHE FUCKING HAD TO WATCH HERSELF AROUND BREE CONSTANTLY SO THAT SHE DIDN’T SLIP UP. EVEN WITHOUT YOUR UNDERCUTTING HER AS A PARENT, IT WAS ALREADY YOUR FAULT THAT SHE WASN’T AS CLOSE TO BREE AS SHE COULD HAVE BEEN.

CLAIRE YOU SHOULD HAVE FUCKING JUST LEFT. I KNOW YOU PROMISED BUT FFS JAMIE WOULDN’T HAVE WANTED YOUR DAUGHTER TO LOSE YOU AS WELL AS HIM. UGH I HATE EVERYTHING ABOUT THIS. LIKE IT’S SO WELL ACTED BUT I STILL WANT TO THROW SOMETHING.

“Might you have forgotten him, with time?” “That amount of time doesn’t exist.” Yup. Boom. And yet she still fucking tried, Frank. She still gave it everything she fucking had. She didn’t even get to grieve. She fucking bottled everything up and fucking put on a brave face and fucking gave it her all. And you were too selfish and petty to fucking see or appreciate just how hard she was fucking trying. You are literally the worst.

I’m usually ok with changing stuff from being verbatim from the books (with a few exceptions...), but in the scene with Claire and Frank’s body, I kind of miss the finality of the “once” at the end of the line? “I did love you. Once.” But yeah, he was her first love. And that does mean something. But not enough of something for me to not be annoyed that 2/3 of her side of the story thus far has been about him.

I think I find this side of things so annoying and rage-inducing because none of it feels like it earned the right to happen. The choice, to me, for Claire was never Jamie vs. Frank. It was Jamie vs. the entire 20th century. That was the hard choice. The Jamie vs. Frank choice was easy. Frank wasn’t right for her before she left. She chose not to go back to him. And having her stay in a loveless marriage with a manipulative asshole for 20 years is far less interesting to me than watching her try to get along by herself with Bree might have been. But “she made a promise to Jamie” yada yada, and we’re stuck with Frank. Who stopped being relevant ages ago. I know, “jfc, get over it, this is how it is, stfu,” so consider standard disclaimers about this being just my opinion and other’s being able to have theirs and yada yada applied. I hope assume most people who find this take the most annoying have already unfollowed/blocked/blacklisted me. But holy shit I’m glad this asshole is finally dead, and I really hope the Claire and Bree stuff in the next couple episodes is amazing because that’s what I’m here for. End rant.