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Rivers and Roads

@maryloubird / maryloubird.tumblr.com

Pretty little things.
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BEST CAMERA SHOTS OF THE WHOLE SHOW

Y’all.

LOOK AT THE BEAUTY OF THESE SHOTS!!!!!!!!

I WANT TO MARRY THIS CINEMATOGRAPHER.

THE WAY THEY CAPTURED THE LIGHT. THE ANGLES.

THIS IS THE BEST CAMERA WORK OF THE WHOLE SHOW!!!!

WOWOWOWOWOWOWWOW.

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reblogged
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manders1984

From a Starz Originals Promo that aired before Outlander Season 3 Finale

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reblogged
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jammespotter

mood: a wealthy 18th century woman who needs to lie down for hours after anything remotely distressing happens

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reblogged

There is a song by The Fast Romantics called "Why we fight" and ever since the first time I heard the song on the radio, I always thought it really fits Jamie and Claire's passionate relationship, and would make a really good AU prompt or fic. Do love all the mod's writing! :)

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In our bedrooms we are freedeep in the guts of meI love you violentlyuntil the dawn’s early lightThis is why we fight

Cool, fresh air whipped Claire’s face, the mad curls ofher hair pushing free, her whole body thrumming with *life.*

Still she urged her horse to go even faster, gallopingacross the open field, leaping over streams and shearing the tops offwildflowers. Chasing the horizon.

So alive – and free – and full of joy.

Especially because of the man racing on his horse besideher – his red curls whipping around that fine, strong jaw she ached so deeplyto touch, his blue eyes smiling in disbelief at her antics.

For she trusted him with her courage, and her daring, andher thirst for life. And he cherished them for the rare gifts that they were.

They hobbled the horses in their customary spot – a gladewithin the trees, on the far edge of the estate. Very private.

Three years now they had raced their horses – challenged eachother. Always ending up at this same spot, which he had discovered by accidentand which she loved as the one place she felt safe.

For here it did not matter that she was Lady ClaireMacKenzie, wife of Lord Callum MacKenzie, an intimate of the King’s and one ofthe largest landowners on the border with Scotland.

It did not matter that he was Sir James MacKenzie Fraser,nephew of the Lord (via an acknowledged bastard line), an outlaw from hisnative Scotland come into the service of his feeble-bodied uncle. Who protectedthat which was valued most dear – the Lady Claire, sole heiress of theBeauchamp lands that had been subsumed into the MacKenzie holdings upon theirmarriage five years previously.

In this glade – cut off from the manor, and Court, andthe stables, and everyone who constantly sought to isolate them and mold theminto people they did not want to be – he was Jamie, and she was Claire, andthey found refuge in each other.

“Tell me again,” she whispered, watching him play withthe fingers of her right hand. Settled against a live oak whose trunk was wideenough to cradle the both of them – miles from prying ears – they dreamed.

“We’d sleep in my parents’ room,” he began, “in the bed Iwas born in. I’d wake ye wi’ the dawn – just when it’s light enough to see yerbonny face – and love ye, quiet, as the sun came up.”

She swallowed, and he dug his nail into the lines of herpalm. She gasped.

“And ye’d ken in that moment just how much I love ye,Claire.” His voice rasped hot against her neck. His face turned against hercheek, nuzzling. “I’d freeze that moment in time, if I could – if it meantforever. Forever wi’ ye.”

She squeezed his fingers – watched his knuckles pop white– wanting. Wanting so much more than she could ever offer him.

“And then I’d hold you so close to me,” she swallowed. “Notbelieving what we have is real.”

Claire inhaled deeply – then released. “And then we’dneed to scramble for our clothes because the children would come in.”

She felt his smile. “Aye – all of them, all at once. Theeldest holding the youngest by the hand – settling into bed wi’ us.”

“And we’d hold them, and love them – let them know howmuch they were wanted.”  

“Because they are a blessing from God. And they will havechoice over everything in their lives – how to live, where to live. What to do.Who to marry.”

Jamie undid the button at her wrist, snaking one largefinger to trace the fine blue veins there. So soft.

“And then breakfast – and then you’d be off to tend tothe animals, and check on the fields.”

“Aye – and then ye’d come wi’ me, bringing all thechildren, and yer wee basket of herbs too. Because ye never ken when ye’ll findsomething ye can use for yer healing.”

They knew this story – what would, could, would never betheir story – by heart. It was woven from so many hours of loneliness – longingfor the life they may have had, had dreams been reality.

Claire didn’t realize her eyes were shut – or that shehad been crying – until Jamie began kissing her tears away.

She swallowed down a sob – but he knew, he always knew.

“Will we still be dreaming of this life when we are oldand grey, Jamie?”

He kissed the tip of her nose.

“Is this – this moment now – all we will ever have?”

He kissed the edge of her mouth.

“Why do I keep dreaming of a life with you, when I knowit will never come?”

He untied her bonnet, gently setting it on the grass,caressing her temples, gathering bunches of her curls into his capable hands.

“Ye keep me alive. And I ken I do the same for ye.”

He brought her brow to his, fingers tangled in her hair.

“That’s why. Even if it crushes yer heart, *mo nighean donn*.I canna live in a world wi’out ye in it.”

“But I want you to be my *whole* world.”

Fresh tears spilled. And he kissed them away again.

“Ye are, for me. Nothing matters more to me than yerhappiness.”

Bravely he settled his hands on her hips – or where herhips would be, had she not been covered with so damn many layers of skirts andpetticoats.

“Callum is no’ much longer for this world – everyone kenshe marrit ye so that ye could tend him. You know as well as anyone – he’s no’getting any better.”

She swallowed. “No.”

“So – when he dies, then that is our chance.”

“And what if he does not die soon?” Now her eyes opened,whisky eyes – the eyes that could get him drunk with just one glance –flashing. “He has already outlived all expectations. And then there’s Dougal – ”

“What about him?”

“You know that he’ll make a claim on me the instantCallum dies. And he’ll force me to accept him.”

“No’ if I have any say in it!” Jamie drew back, suddenlyflushed. “Ye are no’ a plaything, Claire! Ye are a person – a whole, beautifulperson – and – ”

“With the Beauchamp lands hanging around my neck,” sheinterrupted. Bitter.

“It’s my job to protect ye.” His voice was careful –measured – anger kept barely in check. “I love ye, Claire. I will fight for ye –Christ, I’d gladly *die* for ye, if ye’d let me. And if I canna protect ye atthat moment – when ye’d need it the most – then I canna protect ye at all.”

He turned away, back hunched, head in his hands.

She knew better than to touch him.

“That’s why I’ve never even kissed ye, Claire. When thetime comes, I want there to be no doubt. No whispers about yer virtue – no stainson yer character. For I may be many things, but I’d never play another manfalse. No’ where his wife is concerned.”

She crossed her legs beneath her voluminous gown, handsfolded in her lap. Wanting so badly to comfort him – but damn him, he wasright.

“And between now and then?”

Slowly he sat up – then crawled over to her – and tookher hands in his.

“We race – and we dream – and we plan. We’ve neverdecided on names for the children.”

That got her to laugh – and his heart leapt at the soundof it.

“I do love you, you know.”

He kissed the back of one hand – and then the back of theother.

“I hope our son has a heart as selfless as yours.”

He smiled at her – and the world stopped.

“I hope our daughter will be as strong and confident asher mother,” he whispered.

The race back to the manor house was long over – and bothhorses slowed to a trot as they glided through the main gates.

Jamie was just behind her – befitting his station.

The stable lads were waiting to help her off her horse.

She slid to the dirt – and they bowed.

“Thank you, Sir James,” she called up to her knight,sitting quite still atop his mount.

He nodded in deference to her station.

And then she disappeared into the manor.

Jamie balled her handkerchief – which she had used to dryher brow after their race this morning, and then pressed into his hand as hehelped her tie on her bonnet before leaving the glade – in his fist.

Through the upstairs window, he watched Claire enter Callum’sstudy and curtsy before his desk.

He said a quick prayer, then stepped out of the saddle,and led the horse to the stables to be cared for.

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Outlander fan artists and fans, hello!!

I know we’re all suffering from Droughtlander, but I’ve got an idea!

I’m looking for some fellow artists to get together and make a prompt-based fanart blog (kinda like the wonderful people at @imagineclaireandjamie, except with fanart instead of fanfic).

It doesn’t matter how much experience you have, if any, or which medium you use, just that you’re motivated and love Outlander ;)

So hit me up if you’re interested in being part of this! And please reblog to spread the word :)

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renrenkii

I’m trying not to die laughing but there is this online analyser that is supposed to tell you which famous author you write like and apparently when I write smut I write like Stephen King. I’m fucking crying.

One of my fluffier gregorin fics got me James Joyce.

According to this, my ‘we’re trying to have a society here’ post sounds like Margaret Atwood.

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what ye don’t ken, ye’ll learn...

“She always complained about her ears — said they stuck out,” I said, feeling the tears sting my eyes as Brianna came suddenly to life between us.

“They’re pierced. You don’t mind, do you?” I said, talking fast to keep the tears at bay. “Frank did; he said it looked cheap, and she shouldn’t, but she wanted to do it, and I let her, when she was sixteen. Mine were; it didn’t seem right to say she couldn’t when I did, and her friends all did, and I didn’t — didn’t want—” 

“Ye were right,” he said, interrupting the flow of half-hysterical words. “Ye did fine,” he repeated, softly but firmly, holding me close. “Ye were a wonderful mother, I know it.”

I was crying again, quite soundlessly, shaking against him. He held me gently, stroking my back and murmuring. “Ye did well,” he kept saying. “Ye did right.” And after a little while, I stopped crying.

“Ye gave me a child, mo nighean donn,” he said softly, into the cloud of my hair. “We are together for always. She is safe; and we will live forever now, you and I.” He kissed me, very lightly, and laid his head upon the pillow next to me.

“Brianna,” he whispered, in that odd Highland way that made her name his own. He sighed deeply, and in an instant, was asleep. In another, I fell asleep myself, my last sight his wide, sweet mouth, relaxed in sleep, half-smiling.

– Voyager

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avosoph

i hate when people ask what i do in my free time because whatever i say will be disappointing. like what can i even tell you?? i lay in bed for days without talking??? i sob for hours at a time??? i stare at my tv mindlessly whilst screaming internally??? dunno

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