#lord john grey
WE HAVE THE CAST FOR ADULT WILLIAM RANSOM PLAYED BY CHARLES VANDERVAART IN SEASON 7
This is my quest, to follow that star
No matter how hopeless, no matter how far
To fight for the right, without question or pause
To be willing to march into hell for that heavenly cause
– From “The Impossible Dream” by Mitch LeighI yam what I yam & dats all what I yam. -Popeye
What an episode. Beards, Lord John, a multi-faceted Mohawk culture and the Fraser womenfolk kicking tail and taking…
Deep Thoughts #Outlander 411: “If Not For Hope”
Were it not for hope, the heart would break.
-Scottish proverbWe are the music-makers, And we are the dreamers of dreams, Wandering by lone…
Deep Thoughts Outlander 406: Blood of My Blood
Let us live, my Lesbia, and love,
and the rumors of rather stern old men
let us value all at just one penny!
Suns may set and rise again;
for us, when once the brief light has set,
an eternal night must be slept.
Give me a thousand kisses, then a hundred,
then another thousand, then a second hundred,
then yet another thousand, then a hundred;
then, when we have performed many thousands,
we shall shake…
By now, I should know that Claire or Jamie telling the other that they won’t be separated again ends with them being separated again, but what can I say? If loving this show is wrong, I don’t want to be right. We finally arrive in Jamaica, and get to revisit characters, outfits and plot points that went a bit MIA for a while. We also got to check back in with everyone’s favorite Scottish Regina…
Outlander Recap 304 – Of Lost Things
I can’t go on. I’ll go on. ~Samuel Beckett, The Unnamable We stumble. We stutter. We rise. We are lifted. ~Anthony of Padua Scotland, 1968. At the Reverend Wakefield’s house, Roger get his link analysis on, narrowing the Jamie search window to 1766 by theorizing that time has passed at an identical twenty-year rate for both Jamie and Claire. Brianna and Claire are looking though prison records,…
Outlander Recap 303 – All Debts Paid
Boston, 1956. Seven years have passed since the last time we saw Claire. Morning at Chez Settle, and Frank Randall is cooking black pudding in TWO different kinds of fat to try to offset the insidious influence of Madison Avenue on little Brianna. Claire, still looking crisp and professional, is studying gallbladders, but it doesn’t stop her nabbing a bite on the way to the table. As Frank jokes…
Lord John Grey was a surprise a surprise. She had heard her mother speak of John Grey—soldier, diplomat, nobleman—and expected someone tall and imposing. Instead, he was six inches shorter than she was, fine-boned and slight, with large, beautiful eyes, and a fair-skinned handsomeness that was saved from girlishness only by the firm
set of mouth and jaw.
He had looked startled upon seeing her; many people did, taken aback by her size—but then had set himself to exercise his considerable charm, telling her amusing anecdotes of his travel, admiring the two paintings that Jocasta had hung upon the wall, and regaling the table at large with news of the political situation in Virginia.
What he did not mention was her father, and for that she was grateful.
She’d not reproached him. Not with that at least, he thought, suddenly remembering how she’d acted when she’d found out about Laoghaire. She’d gone for him like a fiend, then, and yet when later she’d learned about Geneva Dunsany…perhaps it was only that the boy’s mother was dead?
The realization went through him like a sword thrust. The boy’s mother was dead. Not just his real mother, who’d died the same day he was born—but the woman he’d called mother all his life since. And now his father—or the man he called father, Jamie thought with an unconscious twist of his mouth—was lying sick of an illness that had killed another man before the lad’s eyes no more than days before.
No, it wasn’t fright that made the lad greet by himself in the dark. It was grief, and Jamie Fraser, who’d lost a mother in childhood himself, ought to have known that from the beginning.
It wasn’t stubbornness, nor even loyalty, that had made Willie insist on staying at the Ridge. It was love of John Grey, and fear of his loss. And it was the same love that made the boy weep in the night, desperate with worry for his father.
An unaccustomed weed of jealousy sprang up in Jamie’s heart, stinging like nettles. He stamped firmly on it; he was fortunate indeed to know that his son enjoyed a loving relationship with his stepfather. There, that was the weed stamped out. The stamping, though, seemed to have left a small bruised spot on his heart; he could feel it when he breathed.
Where did you…meet my father?” she asked carefully, her own troubles superseded for the moment by curiosity. “In prison. You knew he was imprisoned, after the Rising?”
She nodded, frowning slightly.
“Yes. Well. Leave it as said that I harbor feelings of particular affection for Jamie Fraser, and have for some years.”
He shook his head, sighing.
“And here you come offering me your innocent body, with its echoes of his flesh—and add to that the promise of giving
me a child who would mingle my blood with his—and all this, because your honor will not let you wed a man you love, or love a man you wed.” He broke off and sank his head in his hands.
“Child, you would make an angel weep, and God knows I am no angel!” “My mother thinks you are.”
He glanced up at her, startled.
“She thinks what?”
“Maybe she wouldn’t go quite that far,” she amended, still frowning. “She says you’re a good man, though. I think she likes you, but she doesn’t want to. Of course, I understand that now; I suppose she must know—how you…er…feel about…” She coughed, hiding her blushes in a fold of her cloak.
“Hell,” he muttered. “Oh, hell and thundering damnation. I ought never to have come out with you. Yes, she does. Though in all truth, I am not sure why she regards me with suspicion. It cannot be jealousy, surely.”
Brianna shook her head, chewing thoughtfully on her lower lip.
“I think it’s because she’s afraid you’ll hurt him, somehow. She’s afraid for him, you know.”
He glanced up at her, startled.
“Hurt him? How? Does she think I will overpower him and commit depraved indignities upon his person?”
He spoke lightly, but a flicker in her eyes froze the words in his throat. He tightened his grip on her arm. She bit her
lip, then gently detached his hand, laying it on his knee.
Diana Gabaldon
Drums Of Autumn
_”We are not in the new world because it is new. These lands are as old as any. It is new because there is hope. And hope in the heart of love…”
ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤᴀɴᴅ ᴅᴏɴ’ᴛ ʟᴏsᴇ ʜᴏᴘᴇ.
ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ ʏᴏᴜ ᴛᴏᴏ ᴅᴇsᴇʀᴠᴇ ᴛᴏ ʜᴀᴠᴇ ᴛʜᴇ ʟᴏᴏᴋ ᴏғ sᴀᴛɪsғᴀᴄᴛɪᴏɴ ᴏɴ ʏᴏᴜʀ ғᴀᴄᴇ.
ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤᴏɴᴇ ᴡᴀʏ ᴏʀ ᴀɴᴏᴛʜᴇʀ,
ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤI'ᴍ ɢᴏɴɴᴀ ғɪɴᴅ ʏᴏᴜ.
ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤsome people you grieve forever;
ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ” ᴡʜᴀᴛ ᴡᴏᴜʟᴅ ʏᴏᴜ ᴄᴀʟʟ ᴀ ᴍᴀɴ ᴡʜᴏsᴇ ᴍɪɴᴅ ᴛᴏᴜᴄʜᴇᴅ ʏᴏᴜʀs,
ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤᴡʜᴏsᴇ ᴘʀɪᴄᴋʟʏ ғʀɪᴇɴᴅsʜɪᴘ ᴡᴀs ᴀ ɢɪғᴛ,
ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤᴡʜᴏsᴇ ᴄʜᴀʀᴀᴄᴛᴇʀ, ᴡʜᴏsᴇ ᴠᴇʀʏ ᴇxɪsᴛᴇɴᴄᴇ, ʜᴇʟᴘᴇᴅ ᴛᴏ ᴅᴇғɪɴᴇ ʏᴏᴜʀ ᴏᴡɴ? “
