her face looks orange


“Don’t score my cooking.”

Lost in Time

Here is the second chapter of my new AU! And yes I am still continuing Lightened Soul, so you can stop yelling at me in my inbox :) Here’s a wee peek at Jamie’s mindset. Enjoy and lemme know what you think!

Part 1

Jamie sighed deeply and relaxed his shoulders as he was met with the warmth of fire and the smell of onions and peat surrounding him as he walked through the door. 


Though, Lallybroch was sorely lacking even the basic of necessities during the famine, it was still leaps and bounds better than the chill of his cave.

He had finished skinning the stag he had brought down and was bloodied and muddy from calves to cheeks. He hoped Jenny wouldn’t see him or she would have a fit about him getting muck on her precious rugs. He hadn’t been due back to the house for a few weeks yet, but the stag presented a good excuse to make the trek home. Even though Fergus would have been able to bring the meat home, Jamie needed human contact once more.

He quickly stoked the fire in the kitchen and set about getting the meat cooking.

The chair creaked under him as he sat down a few minutes later, letting the feeling of peace settle into his bones like a tonic, easing him of the pain that came along with his isolation.

It could be worse, he thought. The family could be starving. At least if he had to live out this purgatory without his wife and child, it gave him some comfort that he was able to do even a little to provide for his sister and her children. And his Fergus. The closest thing to a son he would ever know.

Without conscious thought, he reached up to his neck and rubbed the beads of the rosary Jenny had given him before going to war. Let her be safe, she and the child.


Looking up from his prayers, he saw his sister standing in the doorway with a shawl wrapped around her shoulders.

“We didna expect ye until later this month.” She came around and placed a hand lightly on the hand he was tightly clutching the rosary with. “I’m sorry. I didna mean to interrupt your prayers.”

Jamie smiled and patted her hand. “Ye did no such thing. I caught a stag and I needed to skin it before the meat went bad,” he nodded to the fire where the meat was roasting.

He heard her stomach growl at the sight. It had been a good many weeks since everyone in the house went to bed with their bellies full.

“Good, that will do for nearly a week! I could even make a pie!”

Jamie’s own stomach rumbled at the thought of a meat pie.

“What are ye doing up at this time?” He asked to make his own belly forget about the smell of roasting meat.

“Kitty was sick earlier and I was making sure she was sleeping easy when I smelled the food.”

Jamie touched his beads again. “Is she alright?”

Jenny nodded and sat down in the stool next to him. “Aye, she’ll be fine.”

A small amount of relief went through him as he heard this. What would he do if someone in the family got ill? There was nothing to be done. He would be helpless to them. The only healer Lallybroch had ever known and would most likely ever know was gone. And never to return. A spasm of grief went through his body like a musket ball. In a way, it was harder to deal with his lost wife’s absence in the house. A place where they had lived happily together as a family. As the laird and lady.

He could almost see her coming down the stairs, her curls framing her face as she walked towards him with a smile. He saw the two of them stealing kisses in front of the fire when Mrs. Crook had her back turned. He saw her in the potatoes that were keeping their family alive, her healing touch still with them even after she was not.

In the cave – a place she had never been – it was a bit easier. He thought of her and their child always, but it was easier to bare in a place she had not been and would never be.

“You’re thinkin’ about her. Claire. That’s who ye were praying for.”

He glanced up sharply at his sister. She had disappeared from his sight as the past had overwhelmed his senses. Unable to face her gaze, tender and sorrowful, he looked to the fire. The orange and blue flames dancing around in a hypnotic dance.

“Aye,” he answered simply.

“She’ll always be wi’ ye, brother. She lives in the walls of this place, just as Mother and Father do. She lives on in everyone here. Not only through her healing, but from her mind. The potatoes have kept us from starving more than once.”

Moisture threatened to escape his eyes as he clenched his fists to try and reign in his emotion. He never talked of Claire to Jenny. Or to anyone. Even Fergus, who had known her as a motherly figure, had stopped trying to talk get him to talk of her. Perhaps, he spoke to Jenny. He hoped anyway.

“The suffering is too much to bare sometimes,” he whispered, eyes still fixed on the fire.

Jenny made a small noise and reached over to grasp his hand tightly. “I ken, brother.”

“No, ye don’t.” He felt a tear escape the corner of his eye and he made no move to wipe the evidence of his ache away. The ache of the last four years without her. The ache of sending her away.

“Ye have Ian and your bairns. And ye didna ken what it’s like to lose one. Not once, but twice.”

Jenny started at that, leaning back a little as she absorbed the words. She looked down at her hands as she wrung them in her lap.

“No, I dinna ken that kind of pain. But I do know pain, Jamie.”

He stood and walked to the hearth fire. His eyes overflowing from the pain and the smoke. The weight of his heart was too heavy and he needed to release it before it became all too much. Before he had to go back to that awful hole in the earth.

“She was with child, when I…when she went.” His hands clutched the mantle for support as he remembered that last night with her, cradling the child, whispering his love to her belly while she slept. The only words he would ever speak to him. And though he knew it impossible, he wished that somehow the bairn would remember his voice, somewhere in the deepest part of their mind, when they needed it the most.

He took a shaky breath in as he fought to speak through his thick throat. “And we lost our wee Faith in France.”

“Oh, Jamie,” Jenny whispered and came over to hug him tightly from behind as he wept into the flames.

She rubbed his back in a soothing manner as he fought for control. The control he desperately needed least he fall to pieces and into oblivion.

Jenny took a deep breath and grabbed his hand, an anchor in the misery he was drowning in.

“Come wi’ me.”

They stood in the Laird’s study with a few candles lighting the room from the darkness. Jenny reached up and grabbed the large book that his father had started when he and mother moved here. She brought it over to the light and opened it to the family tree.

Jamie glanced at her for a moment, wondering what her mind was up to before glancing down at the page himself, seeing both his mother and father’s script.

He saw the dates of Willie’s birth and death. His own birth and Jenny’s. And his father’s hand that recorded the death of his little brother and his mother.

And then the breath went out of his body and he feel to his knees as they failed to support him. Underneath his name and Claire’s –which he had added as soon as they came home the first time after she chose him at the stones – he saw his wife’s neat script.

Faith Fraser.

He bowed his head as he traced the lines left behind her. One of the only tangible things he had to remember her by. He could picture her here, fighting back tears as she wrote their daughter’s name.

“Ye see, they aren’t gone, Jamie. They will live on as long as we do.”

And then, Jenny dabbed a quill into the ink pot and added a name next to Faith’s.

Baby Fraser

And with that he simply grabbed onto his sister and wept.

Continued here

anonymous asked:

Canola's red carpet outfit was horrible!!!!! That dress didn't do her body any favors, and who told her she could use bangs ?????? Her face already looks like an orange, that wasn't cute at all. On the other hand she was HOT on the performance, but her vocals\dancing were tragic ??? How we used to stan that mess ?


you’ve always been like a dream to me

anonymous asked:

emma and killian + early morning pillow talk about the moment they knew they loved each other which may or may not lead to lazy romantic sex

A/N: So, this prompt has been sitting in my inbox for a while (sorry, anon!) and I’m trying desperately to work through all my current prompts (keep them coming, please!) Anyway, I thought this was super cute and wanted to brush up on my smut skills. I ventured a little away from the aforementioned conversation, instead focusing on post-darkness Emma, seeking out the light in her quiet moments with Killian. Enjoy!

There were still speckles of dirt caked to his shoulder, sprinkled down his skin in the dips in the muscle of his arm. Little blotches tattooed to him, a reminder of what they’d survived. What they’d fought through in the cold, dark night. How far away the battles were with him tucked up in bed, the warmth of their bodies meeting and melting into the cool sheets.

Curses and darkness and evil things had tried desperately, time and time again, to rip them apart. To tear the light out of their hearts, to break them and scatter their love on the wind. But they fought— Christ, how they fought. Clinging to the flicker of hope that kindled inside of them.

The night had been long and cold. Temperatures in Storybrooke dipping below freezing, the heavy air frosting the tips of her hair and numbing her toes in her boots as the Charming Family had trudged through the thick wood. Her own darkness had since been defeated, but that didn’t stop other creatures from crawling out of the quagmire and terrorizing the town. Monsters, it seemed, would always somehow be lurking in the shadows.

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Danse Macabre

Part five of six

Part One Part Two Part Three Part Four Part Six

Universe: Big Dipper AU

Rating: PG-13

Pairings: None

Characters: Mabel Pines, Dipper Pines, Bill Cipher, Wendy Corduroy, Soos Ramirez, and Stan Pines.

Warnings: Gore, graphic depictions of violence, blood, psychological torture, death, violence towards children, self harm, graphic descriptions of corpses

Genre: Horror/thriller

Summary: Bill Cipher will take what he wants and no one, not even a fifteen year old kid, is going to stand in his way.

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