An Echo in the Bone (Outlander, #7)

by Diana Gabaldon

“Arch?” she said hoarsely. “I want Arch.” And died.

noooooo mrs. bug 😭😭😭😭

It didn’t matter, though; even the gentlest of up-and-down motions on water, the briefest of journeys, and his stomach promptly tried to turn itself inside out. Every damned time!

awww he gets that fro jamie lol

He wished, urgently, that he had managed to kill at least one of them. But they’d taken him as easily as a child, plucked him like a goose and left him lying on the ground like a fucking turd! His rage was so overwhelming that he had to stop and punch a tree trunk. The pain of that left him gasping, still murderous but breathless.

LMAOOOO THE SCOTTISH RAGEEEEE

“Orders,” he repeated. “You follow orders, of course; you have to. But there will be times when you have no orders, or find yourself in a situation which has changed suddenly. And there will be times—there will be times, William—when your own honor dictates that you cannot follow an order. In such circumstances, you must follow your own judgment, and be prepared to live with the consequences.”

ughhhhh lord johnnn he really is the most honorable mf

In all honesty, she thought, Roger wasn’t the only one keeping things to himself. The difference was, she planned to tell him what she was thinking—once it was settled.

ohhh boy

“Let me be enough,” he said quietly. I started at the sound of his voice, but he hadn’t been speaking to me.

omfgggggggg i love him

“They’re girls,” she replied briefly. “They were born in danger and will live their lives in that condition, regardless of circumstance.”

real as fuck

‘Ne petez pas plus haute que votre cul’?”

“Then I grew older still, and discovered that, after all, it was true. I am the son of a great man.” The hook touched Jamie’s hand, hard and capable. “I wish for nothing more.”

i’ll cryyyyyyyy

He wished he’d had the presence of mind to bring some beer with him, instead of the chicken leg he held.

y the audio cut the chicken leg out?? tf??

Randall-Isaacs’s own father, an officer of dragoons, had died in the Highlands campaign before Denys’s birth, and his mother had remarried a year later.

bro. is this jack randall’s son????

“Well, he needn’t worry about his reception. Since the Gaelic-speaking kids did tell their friends what it was he said, and he took his belting without a squeak, I think his entire form now regards him as Robin Hood or Billy Jack.” “Oh, God.”

LMAOOOOO

sub rosa.

Denys Randall-Isaacs is the son of a Englishwoman named Mary Hawkins and a British army officer: one Jonathan Wolverton Randall, captain of dragoons, deceased, killed at Culloden.

I KNEW IT

“When a man dies, it’s only him,” he said. “And one is much like another. Aye, a family needs a man, to feed them, protect them. But any decent man can do it. A woman …” His lips moved against my fingertips, a faint smile. “A woman takes life with her when she goes. A woman is … infinite possibility.”

General Howe was not merely cocking a snook at General Burgoyne by ignoring his plan, which would be bad enough from Burgoyne’s point of view. By choosing to march on Philadelphia rather than coming up the Hudson to join Burgoyne’s troops, Howe had left Burgoyne essentially to his own devices, in terms of supply and reinforcement.

he said fuck yall good luck lmfao

Do women hold back the evolution of such things as freedom and other social ideals, out of fear for themselves or their children? Or do they in fact inspire such things—and the risks required to reach them—by providing the things worth fighting for? Not merely fighting to defend, either, but to propel forward, for a man wanted more for his children than he would ever have.

“A life for a life, Mr. Murray,” he said quietly. “We’re quits. Don’t let me see you next time. I may not have a choice.” He turned and left, the red of his uniform visible for some time through the trees.

okkkkkk

“Ye’d have been a good fishwife, Sassenach,” he observed. “Ye’ve the tongue for it.” “You shut up, you fucking bloody—”

LOOLLLLLL

“There,” he said. “That’s the best thing I can think of. Having a good hold on your arse always makes me feel steady.”

he’s just like my man fr

But ye’d think there might be ten just men among them—good men?” “I’m sure there are.” His hand was heavy, his arm gone nearly limp. “Or five. Or even one. One would be enough.” “I’m sure there’s one.” “The apple-faced laddie that helped ye wi’ the wounded—he’s one?” “Yes, he’s one.” He sighed deeply, his eyes nearly shut. “Tell him I dinna grudge him the finger, then,” he said.

why is he like this i’m deadass gonna cry

He looked suddenly at me, and for a startling instant I saw Dougal MacKenzie looking out of his eyes, that impatient, violent man who had hungered for war. Not waiting for an answer, he shrugged and went on.

was hamish dougals son?? i forgot about this mf

He took the small package of shredded bark from my hand, retaining the hand itself, and bowed low over it, gently kissing my knuckles. “Major General Benedict Arnold. Your servant, ma’am.”

bruh

For an American general to turn his coat … it was such a spectacular act of treason that the name ‘Benedict Arnold’ became a synonym for traitor. Will become, I mean. If someone commits some horrible act of betrayal, you call them ‘a Benedict Arnold.’ ”

learning more about history in outlander then 4 yrs of HS

coup de foudre,

“You do mean it, then,” I said. “You feel … er … betrothed to her?” “Well, of course he does, Sassenach,” Jamie said, reaching for another slice of toast. “He left her his dog.”

so real lmfao

“One to you,” I conceded. “But I do think that Fergus being the lost heir to the Comte St. Germain’s fortune is slightly more implausible than an ostrich. Particularly if you consider the part about the marriage license. I mean … a lost legitimate heir? It is France we’re talking about, isn’t it?”

WHATTTTTT NO WAY

“You’re a French intelligence agent—is that what you’re telling me?” I said, the penny dropping at last. He bowed. “But you aren’t French, I don’t think,” I added, looking hard at him. “You’re English.” “I was.” He looked away. “I am a citizen of France now.”

this mf wear too many hats

“Monsieur Beauchamp!” “Yes?” He turned and looked back, a dark, slender man whose face was marked with humor—and with pain, I thought. “Have you any children?” He looked completely startled at that. “I really don’t think so.” “Oh,” I said. “I only wondered. Good day to you, sir.”

claire with the subtlety of a gun

“Ian,” she said again, and I saw her small, taut shoulders suddenly slump. “Oh, Ian. Thank God ye’ve come in time.”

noooooo his dad finna die wtf

And told him, without thinking about it, for thinking would have frozen the words in his throat, about Emily. About Iseabaìl. And about the Swiftest of Lizards. “I—havena told anyone else about that,” he said, suddenly shy. “About the wee lad, I mean.”

i’m cryingggggggggg

“I dinna care who she’s sleeping with!” “Oh, yes, you do,” she said promptly. “I don’t!” “Liar, liar, pants on fire,” she said, and on the verge of an explosion, he burst out laughing instead. She looked momentarily taken back but then joined him, snorting with it and her nose going pink.

they literally are so unreal sometimes like why yall laughing rn id kill him 😭😭

“If you find out who she’s sleeping with and don’t tell me, I will kill you.”

LMAOOOO ME FR SHE WANTS THE TEA

It was possible to leave things behind—places, people, memories—at least for a time. But places held tight to the things that had happened in them, and to come again to a place you had once lived was to be brought face-to-face with what you had done there and who you had been.

“Him?” Jamie said incredulously, nodding toward the crumpled Joey. “Why, for God’s sake?” Laoghaire glared at him slit-eyed, crouched like a cat about to spring. She considered him for a moment, then slowly straightened her back, gathering Joey’s head once more against her breast. “Because he needs me,” she said evenly. “And you, ye bastard, never did.”

why do i feel bad for her now like damn ok

“Have ye ever been in the slightest doubt that I need ye?” he demanded. It took roughly half a second of thought to answer this. “No,” I replied promptly. “To the best of my knowledge, you needed me urgently the moment I saw you. And I haven’t had reason to think you’ve got any more self-sufficient since. What on earth happened to your forehead? Those look like tooth—” He lunged across the desk and kissed me before I could finish the observation.

awwwwwwwww

She stared at me in silence. A silence that lengthened past bearing, and finally I stepped around her and walked toward the house. She didn’t turn around, and I didn’t look back. But behind me, I heard her whisper. “You have nay soul.”

bitch fuck you

“This dying hurts me, Dougal. I’d have it over.” The words came into his mind as clearly as if they’d been spoken just now in front of him, rather than thirty years before in a dark church, ruined by cannon fire. Rupert had said that, dying slow. “You’re my chief, man,” he’d said to Dougal, imploring. “It’s your job.” And Dougal MacKenzie had done what love and duty called for.

RUPERT 😭😭😭 i really wasn’t ready to be so deeply hurt by season 1

“A pìuthar, she’d heal him if she could,” he said, as gently as possible without letting go of her. “She told me ye’d asked—and she wept in the telling. She loves Ian as much—” “Don’t ye dare be telling me she loves my husband as much as I do!” she shouted, jerking her hands out of his with such violence that he was sure she meant to strike him. She did, slapping his face so hard that his eye watered on that side.

ughhhh jenny why would claire do that?? be for real

She squatted down beside him, and reaching, put her own pebble on the stone. It was what you did, he thought, stunned, when you came to visit the dead. You left a pebble to say you’d been there; that you hadn’t forgotten.

bro i’m gonna cry

“He’s a nice man, but ye dinna want to drink with him, Fergus says. Ken how some men are sweet and loving when they’re drunk, but some get fou’ and it’s up wi’ the bonnets o’ bonnie Dundee and them not even Scots for an excuse?”

this whole sentence is insane 😂😂

“Can ye help, d’ye think, Mother Claire?” “Oh, yes,” I said, with much more confidence than I actually felt. “Absolutely.” I felt the tension drain out of her like water, and, as though it were a literal draining, tears began to run quietly down her face.

ughhh poor marsali god she must be completely exhausted

“No,” William admitted. “But I think so. He had a staff with him, and so did this man. And there’s something about the way he stands—a little stooped. The man I met in New Jersey was very old, and this one walks the same way.”

ITS ARCH BUG

NOOOOOOO

A hand seized her arm, and she swallowed the shriek before it could tear out of her throat, terrified of giving Ian away. But it wasn’t Ian who had grabbed her. Hard fingers dug into her upper arm, and a tall, white-haired old man looked down at her with burning eyes.

oh god it’s fucking arch

gaze shifted momentarily to John. “And who—who the bloody hell am I?” he demanded, the end of the question rising in a squeak. John opened his mouth, but it was Jamie who answered. “You are a stinking Papist,” he said, very precisely, “and your baptismal name is James.” The ghost of regret crossed his face and then was gone. “It was the only name I had a right to give ye,” he said quietly, eyes on his son. “I’m sorry.”

my godddddddd

Putting back the hood of her cloak, Jenny Fraser Murray looked round at the devastation, then up at me, her face a pale oval glimmering with humor. “Like father, like son, I see,” she remarked. “God help us all.”

LMAOOOOO

“Thee is a wolf, too, and I know it. But thee is my wolf, and best thee know that.”

GODDDDDD