Archives for the Date July 12th, 2018

theeggshavelegs: sitlausdeo: southernsideofme: Good dads that…




Good dads that will make you smile


These are so fucking PURE

van-dyne: Bonus: Fan tweets with Ocean’s 8 Cast 




Fan tweets with Ocean’s 8 Cast 

manders1984: For Your Emmy Consideration Poster…


For Your Emmy Consideration Poster Gifs: 

Outstanding Lead Actress in a Drama Series—Caitriona Balfe

Outstanding Lead Actor in a Drama Series—Sam Heughan


Fanfiction – Scalpel & Needle II



Scalpel & Needle (Arc I: Incision), Previously

Scalpel & Needle II

Part VI – Moment of

Time and wounds – there is an indelible relationship between them.
When a significant amount of time has passed over an open wound, it becomes
unsafe to close it with a suture, the risk of infection being too great. The
only benign option remaining is to leave to the body the arduous task of
bridging the gap by itself, closing by secondary intention. A wound touched by
time in such a manner will never truly heal; instead it blossoms with scar
tissue that might fade, but never truly disappears. “I was here”, time will tell through the skin, “And you won’t forget it.” Time doesn’t
actually heal all wounds – but it
might grant us functional scars.

Jamie had scars aplenty, figurative and literal, that he cautiously
shared with Claire over the next few weeks. Sometimes words streamed out of
him, as if he couldn’t wait to be purged of such afflictions; other times, it
was no more than a look filled with renewed pain, a hand searching for hers in
the confessional of darkness.

The man that now bore Jamie’s striking blue eyes and attractive face
was much quieter than he used to be. Silence surrounded him, like an
unbreachable armour, oppressing in its nature. Claire yearned to fill in that
silence with words that could reach him, but usually allowed him to dictate the
rhythm of their conversations.

“Hey.” Claire greeted from the sofa, where she had installed herself
for a lazy-Friday-off-work, shifting
her attention from the television to a newly-arrived Jamie, whose face was
stuck in a grimace. Although still distant from his usual healthy figure, he
had managed to regain a couple of pounds under Claire’s unwavering efforts.
“You look like something Adso dragged in. What’s the matter, Fraser?”

“Headache.” Jamie whispered, as if the mere act of talking was
excruciating. “My head hurts like a fiend.”

“Oh.” She looked at him with
concern swirling in her whiskey-coloured eyes. “Did you take something for the

“Some Ibuprofen, but didna help much.” He sighed and slumped on the
couch next to her, missing her propped up feet by mere inches. “Do ye have
something stronger around?”

“Probably.” Claire said haltingly, studying his face intently. “But
I’m not sure you should be doing strong painkillers.” Her eyes softened, as she
tried to gently convey her concerns, without making veiled insinuations. “Given
everything you went through, you are at risk for addictive behavior.” As
doctors, they were both painfully aware that people experiencing post-traumatic
stress disorder were fairly vulnerable to destructive relationships with
alcohol and drugs, amongst other vices. Jamie had already been on the verge, unreservedly
plunging on a glass of liquid forgetfulness, when Claire came to him at his

“Aye.” Jamie avoided her gaze, suddenly seeming to be absorbed by
the interior design extravaganza playing on the telly. Claire knew it was hard
for him to be permanently under a microscope, his every action studied for
possible future ripples. “Ye’re right, of course.”

“There are other ways to help with the pain, though.” The female
surgeon proposed cheerfully, trying to break the tense moment. “More natural ways.”

Claire opened her mouth to correct herself, blatantly realizing how
that particular remark had sounded,
but a faint shade of pink had already appeared on the tips of Jamie’s ears.
Looking simultaneously scandalized and interested, his eyes travelled from her
face to her breasts – modestly covered by her somewhat unflattering sweater, thankfully – in quick succession.

“Not that!” Claire
protested, although she was acutely aware of the heat of his body, so close to
her on the confines of the sofa. “I meant exercise!
We should go for a hike.”

“Alright.” There was a hint of amused disappointment in Jamie’s
smirk. “Ye suggesting a workout,
lass.” Jamie shook his head in feigned disbelief, grimacing when the pain
intensified with the movement. “Lead the way, Beauchamp’s doppelgänger.”

Claire snorted with mirth, throwing him a cautionary look. “Maybe
that’s why you have that headache – all that wit trying to come out at once, Fraser.”


The air was crisp on the summit of Arthur’s Seat, with teeth enough to prickle the skin, like a
fervent kiss from a windy open mouth. Jamie and Claire had crossed half the
city well into Holyrood Park, in a
pace that was a short step away from running, and then rapidly started the
ascension. On their way over to the top, they had passed and greeted a couple
of hikers already starting the descend and were pleasantly surprised when they
discovered themselves all alone. The surgeons sat in companionable silence,
catching their breaths as their eyes drank thirstily from the beautiful shades
of red and orange over Edinburgh.

Claire looked at Jamie from the corner of her eyes and was
thoroughly satisfied by the beautiful shade of pink on his cheeks, his headache
entirely forgotten after his body had been properly exhausted into submission. It
was a moment of peace for him – those were still fairly rare and precious –, so Claire was content with
just watching him be. For a moment,
she dreamily thought of leaning her head against his shoulder and falling
asleep with the city at their feet; her entire body curled against his skin,
coming alive with sweat.

She was deeply attuned with Jamie’s dispositions after weeks of dutifully
watching over him, so Claire immediately noticed when the air hitched inside
his throat.

“What’s the matter?” Her voice sounded weird to her own ears, as if
it didn’t belong so close to the clouds, too heavy to be on top of a hill.

“I had a glimpse, just now. A
moment of tangency
.” He shook his head, thoughts like stubborn grains of sand
he could shake away from his mind. Jamie’s lips curled in a sorrowful smile.
“Of what life could have been – if I had stayed.”

“Oh.” Claire babbled in questioning tone, offering just enough
careful incentive to hopefully keep him talking.

“We’d come here often, whenever our schedules at the hospital allowed
us. I’d drag ye and ye’d pretend to come unwillingly.” He breathed deeply,
experiencing the air as if it might have turned into poison in between his
words. “Maybe I’d touch ye, if we
were alone – if I was feeling particularly reckless and you being willing. All
those bonnie noises ye’d make for me, scattered over Edinburgh.” His eyes were
dark, gone into a place where the light wasn’t able to touch them. “This might
have been the place where we make the decision of moving in together – where
I’d ask ye to marry me.”

“I’m not really the marrying type.” Claire pointed with alacrity, determined
to hold on to the edges of her shields, so close to come crumbling down under
the force of the battering ram of his words. She could see it too, that
beautiful “what if”, painted in the
sky above them like a watercolour.

“Ach, well.” He clicked
his tongue, as if she was entirely missing the point – she tenaciously was. “But it was a possibility, then.”

“You talk as if you are hopeless of ever being that man again.”
Claire brushed her hair to the side to better look at his face, curls flogging
the back of her neck like a whip. “As if you are mourning yourself.”

“I might build a life for myself in time.” Jamie hesitated, as if
the words might materialize and break in front of his eyes, blinding him with
the shards. “But I’ll never be the man I once was. A bit more, and a whole lot less,
but never again the same. When I was a lad, I had atrocious growing pains –
being so tall and all.” He shrugged, as if apologizing for his outrageous
height. “It’s like experiencing all that pain compressed in a single second, every day. Ye learn to live with it, but
it costs ye. Sometimes, it seems to cost ye everything ye ever had.”

There was not much Claire could say – to contradict him would be telling
a blatant lie; to accept the reality in his words would be to accept that he
harboured a pain she could not heal. In
silence, like in moments of tangency, everything was again possible.

“Did she know?” Claire cleared her throat after a while, when it
became clear he was starting to retreat into himself again. He did not seek it,
the distance – it came for him,
uninvited, like a howl in the woods. “Did she – Mary – know about me?”

The topic had been carefully avoided by the both of them for the
past few weeks. The nurse working for the Doctors
Without Borders
mission was the hole that threatened to break the dam so
shakily constructed, which allowed them to co-exist in a resemblance of harmony.
But Claire felt it was time; her
anger might start to fester, opening a hideous wound that would bleed between

“Aye. She knew.” Jamie
confirmed, absentmindedly playing with the thin steam of nearby wild flower.
“Afterwards, she wouldna stop apologizing. Begged me to let her write to ye, to
explain things and make ye understand.” He closed his eyes for a moment, as if
he could still see the regret in Mary’s eyes in front of him, reflecting his
own. “I told her that I would handle things.”

“And by handle I assume
you really meant push me away.”
Claire said harshly, her lips pursing.

“Mary had just ended a verra bad marriage. Her husband was an uncaring
man, as quick with his temper as with his words. Mary finally filed for divorce,
just shortly before she went to Syria. The scoundrel waited for her, outside
the hospital where she used to work, and beat her senseless for it.” Jamie’s
troubled eyes searched for hers. “Mary didna want me, the same as I didna
want her
. But she was afraid to die and didna want to leave this world with
only the memory of violence upon her.”  He
sharply inhaled the brisk air. “It doesna
justify what happened, but connection
was all she sought from me. Humanity
was all I sought from her.”

“You truly think this is just about the kiss?” Claire snorted humourlessly, shaking her head. Her
temper was starting to rise, along with the wind around them. “Yes, I felt
betrayed and my pride and self-esteem took a serious hit. But that alone didn’t
break my heart.” Her chin quivered a little, her eyes seemingly hypnotized by
Jamie’s. “What truly hurt me is that you didn’t trust me to love you enough.”

Claire.” Jamie’s
faltering voice was almost a plea. “I didna want ye to feel obligated to stay
with me, when I knew the man ye loved wouldna be coming back.”

Yes, I’m sure there were
plenty of noble and self-sacrificing notions on your part.” Claire bit the
inside of her cheek, watching the leaves swirling around, powerless against the
air that moved them. “But can you honestly tell me you didn’t think I couldn’t
handle it? That I would get cold feet and run for the hills at the first sign
of trouble?”

“Ye gave yerself over to me slowly.” He whispered back, slightly
tilting his head. “I knew being part of a couple didna come easily to ye. I
cherished whatever ye gave me, but still there was a part of ye that ye kept to
yerself. Tentative. Guarded.”

“But I did give myself
over to you.” Claire’s lips felt numb
– it might be the cold creeping in, or the ice that filled her veins. “Even overwhelming
fear couldn’t stop me. I gave you as much as I had to give. And I wasn’t in it
just to take strength from you – solely
to take away whatever I needed.”

“I thought –“ Jamie started, but Claire raised a hand, her palm
stretched in his direction to silence his protests.

“You pushed me away – removed yourself
from my life, for as long as you could – to protect yourself from the off
chance that I would choose to leave.”
Her chest felt constricted, as if everything was trying to come out, crawling
through her circulation to the surface at once. “Let it be my choice – my choice, damn you!”

There was moistness on her cheeks, but Claire didn’t bother wiping
it away. Jamie’s eyes were filled with tears, a waveless sea bursting with new

“I should ha’known how brave ye truly are.” Jamie said in a husky
voice. “I shouldn’t have doubted ye.”

“No.” She agreed. “You shouldn’t have. Not without me giving you a reason to. I might be fucked up, but I stand my ground. I know
how to love properly.”

“I used to love ye as a man loves a woman.” He confessed slowly,
touching her cheek with tentative fingertips. “Deeply, aye, but simply enough.”
Jamie traced her temple, his thumb lightly stroking the centre of her forehead,
as if in benediction. “But now I think I love ye as only a soul can love
another soul. Ye are putting me back together and ye’re leaving something of
yerself inside me.”

“You still have work to do.” Claire’s hand enfolded his, caressing
the knotty knuckles of his hand. “Maybe for the rest of your life there will be
nights when you have to sleep on the balcony. But maybe – maybe there is a way for us
going forward. But there can be no fear between
, only around us.”

Their shadowy figures were getting longer, announcing the coming of
the night, when people were left alone to brave their way without a dark likeness
of themselves. Soon enough the surgeons would have to make their way back home;
but there was a fragile understanding in that place that was hard to abandon.

“In spite of every tragedy you witnessed – of everything that happened,” Claire gently asked him, when she found
words again. “Have you found your purpose there? What you were looking for?”

“Aye.” Jamie looked tenderly at her and his eyes were limpid enough
for her to see herself reflected there. “I believe I have.”

Absolute perfection. This brokered compromise, tentative and raw, is so beautiful between them. Wonderful work as always, Queen. 👸🏼 ❤️

The Dodo July 12, 2018 at 08:28AM

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有線中國組 July 12, 2018 at 08:25AM

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