#outlander 5x04

[sassenach77yle]

“I am grateful for every day we have.”

#83daysofoutlander☆

[cajon-desastre]

A happy face is one of the most apparent indicators of pure delight.

Santosh Kalwar. Nothing Shakes The Smiling Heart

[winnie-the-monster]

[thefrsers]

I didn’t know you could dance like that.

OUTLANDER | 5.04

[flyinghome-againstthewind]

Wednesday 100: Wherever I’m With You

In readjusting to life in the cabin after the Big House, Claire found the once-familiar rhythm each December morning, rising and quietly bustling around the hearth to make tea, piping hot to burn away the chill.

She didn’t look up at the sound of small feet scurrying down the loft’s ladder and into the bed, but when Claire turned back towards them with two mugs, Bonnie was already tucked under Jamie’s arm and drifting back to sleep. Watching them, she felt both the magnanimous loss of their home, and how her whole world could still fit in a one-room cabin.

[aceofwhump]

Hey, I'm currently lacking in whump again. Do you know any good episodes of a whumpee that got hurt somewhere in the torso, which actually takes some episodes to heal? So wound reopening, sewing up again, fever, collapsing, holding the side, whincing, etc are Premium ^^

Special bonus points if the guy is the "bad guy" and gets cared for by his enemy for information etc and they slowly warm up to each other.

I just rewatched the Sergio scenes from Helix for the thousandth time again, seems to be pretty unknown, but I loove the whump. It also lasts a few episodes and his "enemy" has to stitch him up again like 3 times. But the rest of the story is pretty bad in my opinion and season 2 just vanished the build up relationship.

Hello! That is a very good request but unfortunately hard to fulfill. Most whump takes place within just one episode and the characters are either perfectly fine in the next or at most have like a sling or something. That's a dream scenario right there. Multi episode whump, fever, collapsing, plus some bad guy/antihero whumping? I never watched Helix but that sounds amazing.

Oh man I am going completely blank. All the multiple episode long whump i can think of aren't torso related whumps. I've got exhaustion (9-1-1), beaten and taken captive (Outlander).

Mike Warren's gunshot wound in Graceland is multiple episodes long. Shot in season 2 finale, in the hospital and in pain in 3x01, taking painkillers for a few more episodes then gets addicted to pain meds which climaxes in 3x08.

Game of Thrones season 2 and season 3 Jaime Lannister has a very not good time. Full of whump. Long term captivity, loses a hand, infection, etc.

Once Upon a Time 5x12 - 5x15 Hook is being tortured and he's covered in blood and holds his ribs in pain.

Quanitco 1x07 - 1x08 Ryan is shot in the stomach. Alex has to perform field surgery on him.

Homeland 5x04 - 5x08 Quinn gets shot in the stomach and he can’t go to a hospital

Emerald City 1x01 - 1x02 Lucas is tied to a cross with barbed wire, rescued, can barely move his arms, is hiding a torso injury, injury becomes bad and he collapses, is weak, and then gets poisoned.

Followers? You guys got anything? I'm going blank.

[avasetocallmyown]

I could watch ye hold her all day...

[themusicsweetly]

All the awards for Caitriona + Sam’s brilliant Season 5 performances! 🏆🏆

[whiteraven-s]

Outlander │ The Company We Keep

[convivialcamera]

Me: JUST YOU FUCKING WAIT, MY DUDE.

(gif by @elisabetholsens)

[jamiedornaniseverything]

Claire & Jamie Parallels  (5.03 - 5.04)

[sassenach77yle]

||COUNTDOWN || SEASON 5 EPISODE 04  || THE COMPANY WE KEEP ||

#83daysofoutlander☆

Bearing in mind Jamie’s adjuration to “Go canny,” I sent her down the narrow stair alone. Alone, she would be merely assumed to be going to the privy—if anyone even noticed her departure. Both of us together might cause comment. Left by myself in the darkened loft, I drew my own cloak around me and went to the narrow window to wait for the few minutes necessary before I could leave, too. I heard the soft thump of the door closing below, but couldn’t see Alicia from this high angle. Judging from her response to my summons, she didn’t intend to stab Isaiah to the heart, but heaven knew what either of them did intend. The clouds were gone now, and the frozen landscape stretched before me, brilliant and ghostly under a setting moon. Across the road, the horses’ brushy shelter stood dark, dappled with clumps of snow. The air had changed, as Jamie had said, and warmed by the horses’ breath, chunks of melting snow slid free and plopped to the ground. In spite of my annoyance with the young lovers, and the undertones of comic absurdity attending the whole situation, I couldn’t help but feel some sympathy for them. They were so in earnest, so intent on nothing but each other. And Isaiah’s unknown wife? I hunched my shoulders, shivering slightly inside my cloak. I should disapprove—I did, in fact—but no one knew the true nature of a marriage, save those who made it. And I was too aware of living in a glass house, to think of throwing stones myself.

Almost absently, I stroked the smooth metal of my gold wedding ring.

Adultery. Fornication. Betrayal. Dishonor. The words dropped softly in my mind, like the clumps of falling snow, leaving small dark pits, shadows in moonlight. Excuses could be made, of course. I had not sought what had happened to me, had fought against it, had had no choice. Except that, in the end, one always has a choice. I had made mine, and everything had followed from it. Bree, Roger, Jemmy. Any children that might be born to them in the future. All of them were here, in one way or another, because of what I had chosen to do, that far-off day on Craigh na Dun.

You take too much upon yourself. Frank had said that to me, many times. Generally in tones of disapproval, meaning that I did things he would have preferred I did not. But now and then in kindness, meaning to relieve me of some burden. It was in kindness that the thought came to me now, whether it was truly spoken, or only called forth from my exhausted memory for what comfort the words might hold. Everyone makes choices, and no one knows what may be the end of any of them. If my own was to blame for many things, it was not to blame for everything. Nor was harm all that had come of it. ’Til death us do part. There were a great many people who had spoken those vows, only to abandon or betray them. And yet it came to me that neither death nor conscious choice dissolved some bonds. For better or for worse, I had loved two men, and some part of them both would be always with me.

The dreadful thing, I supposed, was that while I had often felt a deep and searing regret for what I had done, I had never felt guilt. With the choice so far behind me, now, perhaps, I did. I had apologized to Frank a thousand times, and never once had I asked him for forgiveness. It occurred to me suddenly that he had given it, nonetheless—to the best of his ability. The loft was dark, save for faint lines of light that seeped through the chinks of the floor, but it no longer seemed empty.

I stirred abruptly, pulled from my abstraction by sudden movement below. Silent as flying reindeer, two dark figures darted hand-in-hand across the field of snow, cloaks like clouds around them. They hesitated for a moment outside the horses’ shelter, then disappeared inside. I leaned on the sill, heedless of the snow crystals under my palms. I could hear the noise of the horses rousing; whickers and stamping came clearly to me across the clear air. The sounds in the house below had grown fainter; now a clear, loud “Meh-eh-eh!” came up through the floorboards, as Hiram sensed the horses’ uneasiness. There was renewed laughter from below, temporarily drowning the sounds across the road. Where was Jamie? I leaned out, the wind billowing the hood of my cloak, brushing a spray of ice across my cheek. There he was. A tall dark figure, walking across the snow toward the shelter, but going slowly, kicking up white clouds of dusty ice. What . . . but then I realized that he was following in the lovers’ tracks, stamping and floundering deliberately to obliterate a trail that must tell its story clearly to any of the trackers in the house below. A hole appeared suddenly in the brushy shelter, as a section of the branched wall fell away. Clouds of steam roiled out into the air, and then a horse emerged, carrying two riders, and set off to the west, urged from a walk to a trot and then a canter. The snow was not deep; no more than three or four inches. The horse’s hooves left a clear dark trail, leading down the road.

~The Fiery Cross

[cajon-desastre]

And hand in hand, on the edge of the sand, They danced by the light of the moon.

Edward Lear. The Owl and the Pussycat

[winnie-the-monster]

“Congratulations! You work fast, Milord.”

[wafflesetc]

I have no life but you, Claire.

[drunklander]

Lauren Lyle is a goddamn treasure.