I‘m a bit out of the loop due to real life tragedies, but I‘m seeing so much talk about Sam skyping from *that* apartment. Many people seem to be confused or even surprised.
So, my question is, and maybe I‘m missing something, but: how is it surprising? How is it confusing?
We‘ve known for a while that he/they bought the apartment that was formerly rented by Starz for Caitriona to live in.
We‘ve known for a while that Sam now officially lives there. We‘ve known for a while that he/they got rid of some of the stuff that belonged to the previous owner (the cheetah statue 😄) and had some remodelling done (for example the bedroom wall).
We‘ve also known for a while that, even though he had the wall color changed, he sleeps in frilly, womanly bedding. He bought a very expensive apartment, got rid of stuff he didn’t like and removed the womanly wallpaper, but he didn’t have any money left/didn’t bother to get new, less frilly bedding? Sure.
What we’ve also known for a while is that he sleeps on the same side as the person who took the fist bump pic with Caitriona in that same bed in that same room and whose hand looks exactly like Sam‘s and nothing like the person she‘s publicly engaged to.
We‘ve known for a while that Caitriona’s cat Eddie, who scratches and bites men who cat sit her, is so comfortable with Sam that she happily curls up on his chest in the bed that‘s been her territory for years. Something she used to do with Simon in LA, the person Caitriona used to live with back then. And also that she stayed at that apartment while Caitriona was in London for less than 48 hours instead of staying in the „new“ flat that is only minutes away. (The flat she‘s posted from a couple of times and where she seems to work.)
We‘ve also known for a while that Sam has been spending his nights at that apartment for years (ever since the selfie of him watching football on the living room floor, sometime in 2016, I think? And lest we forget the fact that Caitriona knows what time he gets up in the morning to go to the gym). Way before he officially bought it. And let‘s not forget that he bought *that* one, even though there were several identical apartments for sale in the same neighborhood at the time.
So…I mean.
I’ve said it before: we have lots and lots of receipts. Some obvious, but from long ago (Sam and Caitriona on a trip to Paris in December 2013; Sam and Caitriona cuddling on set; Sam saying „I love you!“ to Caitriona and kissing her on the forehead at Paley or him saying that he „first“ met her parents when they visited the Outlander set). Others are more recent and subtle (like him tweeting about watching Scrooged on Christmas Eve 2016, while the only place on earth where that very movie was airing at the time was Ireland; or Caitriona admitting to their Ibiza vacation, or them being close to each other‘s friends). You can try to refute all or some of them (long shot, but there are always those who explain it all away or just ignore things that don‘t fit in their picture). And then there‘s THIS. „It‘s more than a receipt to me“, that‘s what I said a while ago and I stand by it.
To me, it‘s confirmation. Because you absolutely cannot explain it any other way.
People can call me delusional or crazy all they want, I don’t care, but I think they‘re lying to themselves if they choose to ignore this and don‘t even doubt the engagement story for a second. Listen, I don’t mean to offend anyone, we all have our own way to filter things, form an opinion and deal with the picture we see. Maybe it‘s easier for some people to just ignore it and *choose* to believe Sam and Caitriona aren‘t lying to us - ignorance is bliss, I know. But still. If you believe it, it‘s a conscious decision. A conscious decision to block out the largest, most important piece of this messed up puzzle.
👏👏👏 @lisalein-sails ! Well said! It’s not the least bit surprising or confusing
A/N: I’m so excited to be a part of yet another thrilling writing challenge in this fic community! Naturally, leave it to me to take a perfectly fluffy board, stick a knife in it, and twist! 😂🤷♀️
A modern day take on the Faith storyline, and what it would be like for Jamie and Claire to go through that grieving process together, and what a second pregnancy/the ability to parent together after losing their first child would look like. Naturally, therefore, there is a big old TRIGGER WARNING I need to place here for stillbirth/pregnancy loss. But I do promise this oneshot has a happy ending!
I’d known for four days by the time she came home from Tesco with a pregnancy test wedged surreptitiously between the milk and the K-cups. I busied myself with putting away the produce, feigning oblivion while she ferreted the wee pink box into the folds of her cardigan and escaped to the bathroom on the pretense of putting away the toothpaste and body wash.
When the door clicked shut behind her, I went very still, bone-white hands clenched on the edge of the countertop.
I already knew what the test would show. There was no doubt in my mind at that point.
I knew my wife’s body better than I knew my own.
Her breasts were an easy tell; she’d whimpered in protest when I probed them — gently, experimentally — while she slept. They were tender, aye, and the nipples a little more full already. The delicate veins along her areola were swollen with the increased blood supply, and as recently as that morning the color had started to deepen, darken. In a few weeks, I knew they’d be the color of champagne grapes.
At least they had been. Last time.
She had burst into tears the night before over a dog food commercial. She was short with me, quick to snap blazing whisky eyes up to mine and give me a thorough tongue lashing for whatever my perceived error of the moment was.
And perhaps most telling of all: it was the middle of March, there was still a dusting of snow on the ground, and my normally ice-blooded Sassenach was burning up. She kept kicking off the blankets in the middle of the night, scooting away from my body heat unconsciously when I tried to spoon around her. She’d started cracking the window and turning on the ceiling fan before bed, complaining that the bloody thermostat must be broken, because it was “sweltering in here.”
Aye, I knew. I knew fine well what the test would say.
Apparently, my wife had been less sure.
When the door to the bathroom creaked slowly open on its hinge, I stood motionless for a moment, watching. Claire stood on the other side of the threshold, just out of sight.
She didn’t move.
So I did.
I crossed the kitchen in careful, measured strides, gaze trained on that doorway, waiting for the moment I could find her eyes with mine.
When I did, I froze, every muscle in my body drawn taut, every hair follicle standing on end.
I didn’t breathe — couldn’t — and neither did she.
Tears stood like diamonds in her eyes, shimmering in the light. She looked up at me helplessly, her chin dimpled and quivering, and put a hand to her mouth to smother a sob.
I felt a crack through my chest like a gunshot, and then I was moving again, grabbing for her in the same moment that she reached for me. There was nothing soft or tender about the way we collided — clawing, scrambling to get each closer, tighter — frantic and shaking and terrified.
READING THIS FIRST THING IN THE MORNING WAS A MISTAKE!!!! I AM SO EMOTIONAL OVER THIS RN. I CAN’T HANDLE IT.
@smashing-teacups , my love, you are KILLLING ME with the angst!!! This one shot was so insanely captivating. I swear to god I felt every human emotion in it’s purest form. YOU ARE AN ARTIST!
Tori