#outlander inspired

[wardenparker]

Sassenach and the Spaniard

Delirious with sickness and near to death, Pero Tovar finds himself on the doorstep of a village outsider who nurses him back to health just before the winter snows descend. With a black cat for company, a mask on her face, and a biting wit that intrigues him, Pero comes to find out that his new companion is more than what she seems. 

With just a touch of the time traveling magic used in Diana Gabaldon’s Outlander series, this story is not a crossover (since it takes place in an entirely different time and place) but inspired by the books and tv show. If you have never read or seen it, don’t worry!

❤ Like or comment on this post to be added to the taglist!  ❤

An Excerpt from chapter 1:

"Your horse," you ask after the pause, as Binx settles comfortably in your lap. "Does he have a name?"

Pero looks up from the bowl, frowning slightly. “Horse.” He tells you, wondering why the hell he would name his horse.

“Right. Of course.” It nearly makes you laugh, the way he looks completely confused by the question, and you scratch your cat’s little head affectionately.

“This is Binx. She will come when she is called. And fetches well. And also hunt is small game occasionally.” The clever feline has graduated from chipmunks and field mice to squirrels and rabbits, and while the notion of skinning and dressing your own animals made you a little sick at first after a lifetime of supermarkets, you have had to adjust. Meat is expensive here, unless you procure it yourself, and you’re not exactly going around with a shotgun looking for big game.

He sends you another confused look and glances at the cat. “Gato.” He mutters to himself, never really paying much attention to the creatures. Why would he ever call one? Calling his horse, yes.  But calling a cat?

“No.” Thank fuck you’re wearing a mask, it muffles the sound of your amused snort perfectly. He seems mildly offended that you would impose a name on the sweet, fluffy girl and it’s the first good laugh you’ve had in ages. “Binx.”

“Gato.” He mutters again, pointing at the feline. “Cat.” He explains, remembering that you don’t speak his tongue.

“You are Pero. I am Sassenach. She is Binx.” It’s probably much funnier to you than it should be, but she’s sitting so proudly and purring so happily in your lap that it just makes you that much more amused.

He’s never heard of a name like that before. He’s heard a lot of names, but it’s making him search for meaning. Instead of asking, he just grunts and shakes his head. A second later, curiosity gets the best of him. “Sassenach?” 

“It means ‘outlander’.” You explain, feeling an odd kind of nostalgia pang for the old way of explaining the word. ”It’s from that new show Outlander!” You used to exclaim to anyone fool hearty enough to ask about the thing that would make you light up from the inside out....“When I arrived in this part of the world, it was the way the villagers referred to me.” The highlanders had been kind in many ways and not at all in others, but when you left them you had taken the name with you as a shield against the unknown. Of course you did not know the customs or the language. You were just a Sassenach. An outsider. No matter where you went.

He mulls that over in his mind and looks around the cottage again with a more critical eye. "Bruja." He decides, figuring that you spooked the religious and simple people in this village. He had learned from his travels that people feared what they did not understand and they did not understand the things they feared. Thank god for the mask hiding your face from his discerning eyes. You know that word as a practicing Wiccan woman...and even though your neighbors never say it with the same kind of derision he just did, it’s very obvious that he now understands exactly what the people in this time think of you.

You don't answer him and again he is reminded that you don't speak his tongue like William did. "They think you are a witch."

#Sassenach and the Spaniard #Soulmate Sunday #Pero Tovar #Pero Tovar x female reader #Pero Tovar x you #Pero Tovar x reader #Pedro Pascal #Pedro Pascal fanfic #The Great Wall #soulmate au #outlander inspired

[retrollamas]

Sing me a song of a lass that is gone

#outlander inspired #ts4 #sims 4 #ts4 edit #sims 4 edit #ts4 outlander #sims 4 outlander #sims edit

[saturnville]

nightmare

45. “I had a nightmare about you and wanted to make sure you were okay.”

author’s note: this was a part two that i never realized could be a part two until someone inboxed me and asked for a continuation of “the soldier’s lady.” this sat in my drafts for two years. so thank you to the supporter whose message encouraged me to finish it 🫶🏾 @queen-dk

Alone he was. Alone, frozen, starved, and afraid. Lost between the beautiful, green mazes. Surrounded by thick stumps covered in damp moss, assaulted by crawlers at every direction, destroyed by his enemies.

Voice too coarse, too far gone to utter even a prayer to the Master he served. His hand, covered in blood and gashes filled with dirt and debris, clasped around his throat. His dry lips parted and nothing more than a small gasp dribbled out.

He cleared his throat. A sandpaper-like substance shimmied along the sides of his throat. He spat it out on a pile of crushed leaves and opened his mouth once more, managing to call out. He was greeted with silence.

Painfully, he scrambled to his feet. A string of obscenities passed his lips. His hands patted his waist in search for his sword. He only felt the tattered fabric of his kilt. Through blurred vision, he searched around, circling himself for his sacred weapon.

Loudly, he cried out again. He was answered with the rustling of the leaves and the clapping of a dangerous thunder. His chest heaved as he looked around, stumbling in every which direction.

Alone, he was. Alone, frozen, starved, and afraid.

She awoke suddenly with a gasp. Thin lavender slip damp with sweat, soft skin heated from distress, she sat up slowly. Her eyes darted around the dark room, save for a beam of moonlight against her bed frame.

With a shaking hand, she brushed the stump of her hand across her forehead, sweeping away the perspiration that rested there.

Her non-dominant hand forced the warm covers off her body. Slowly, she swung her slender legs across the edge of the bed. They dangled, her heels jabbing the wooden frame.

A soft breath flew passed her dry lips. Her hands were a net for her head as she buried her face within her palms. Her cardiac muscle beat harder than wooden sticks against the tenor drums she saw a young boy playing weeks ago.

He was back home, yet subconsciously, she still worried for his well-being, for his safety. For almost two weeks, he’d been walking through the halls of the estate, healthy and strong in stature. Her worry was no longer necessary, but it never seemed to subside.

Theo nibbled along the inside of her cheek. Should she do it, she thought to herself. The young woman reached across her pillow and snatched her robe that warmed it, sliding it over her arms.

Her bare feet smoothed the cold floors as she padded around her bed and out of her bedroom. She started straight down the hallway and made a sharp left turn. In front of his bedroom door she stood. Hesitantly, she knocked softly.

A warm light peaked from the bottom of the door and gentle movements could be heard from the other side. She twiddled her fingers around a loose thread on the stomach of her slip.

After a few moments, the door opened. Theo smiled awkwardly, feeling small under his naturally intense gaze. She had trouble lifting her head to meet his.

“Why’re ye up, lass?” His voice was like water on a hot day—clear and crisp. Aila rolled her shoulders then shrugged.

“Had a nightmare about you,” she said quietly, her eyes nowhere near his. “Wanted to make sure you were okay...”

The man cracked a smile. His teeth peeked from behind his pink lips. Such a pretty sight, she thought to herself. He said nothing, only opened the door wider and nodded for her to enter.

She was hesitant. It was the first time she’d been in his room in the wee hours of the night. Theo stood in the middle of his bedroom, eyeing the knickknacks and other articles around. His desk was in the corner and it was littered with papers, some of them smeared with dark ink she assumed he knocked over.

His clothes were folded messily and tossed on a chest to her right. She shook her head. His messiness would never go away, it seemed.

Ahead of her, the flames of the fireplace danced and leapt swiftly.

“Tell me about this nightmare,” he asked of her. He palmed the door and closed it gently. Theo tore her eyes away from the fire and wrapped her arms around herself. Jamie moved to sit on his bed, hands rubbing his covered thighs.

“You were alone,” she started, eyes locked on the dancing flames in front of her. “had spent days alone in an area you did not know. Cold, starved, and afraid. No one could get to you.”

Jamie cocked his head to the side.

“I had nightmares like that all the time when you were gone.” Her voice was so small that he could hardly hear her. “I was scared you’d die out there alone. Hell, I thought you were dead the whole time you were gone.”

“Theo...” he inched towards her. His large hand cupped hers gently. “Ye should know ye canna get rid of me that easily.”

“You say that like you’re made of metal,” Jamie chuckled with a shake of her head. While any other time she would’ve scolded him for joking in a serious matter, she couldn’t help but feel the weight lift from her shoulders. He didn’t think she sounded ridiculous.

“Might as well be...come here, lass.”

With no sense of urgency, Theo’s legs carried her slowly to his bed. The weight was back. His soft demand made her nervous.

Jamie sensed her uneasiness and smiled. “Why’re ye nervous?”

“I...I don’t know,” she mumbled. Again, he ushered her over and she joined him on the bed. It was comfortable, she thought, as the bed dipped just slightly. Jamie laid against the pillow, while Aila sat upright, her legs crossed and her hands in her lap.

“You’re kind of intimidating,” Theo said after some moments. She turned her head and saw an amused grin on his beautiful lips.

“Is that so?”

Theo nodded. She scooted closer to him, finding it easier to relax. She shimmied onto her back and stared at the ceiling. Jamie turned his head to look at her. “Yeah. Maybe it’s your eyes. They’re pretty but intense. Or the scowl you always wear. You’re gonna mess around and lock your features into place.”

A hearty laugh fell from his lips which pulled a giggle from hers. “You truly believe me that?” Theo nodded . “Indeed, I do.”

“I thought about ye all the time,” Jamie said after some time. The portraits on the wall seemed to be less important as her attention was pulled from them. She met his eyes, “what?”

“I’m convinced,” he started. “that if I hadn’t thought of ye the way I did, I wouldn’t have survived. Ye were the one thing I held onto, Theo. I ken I had to come back to ye.”

“You’re just saying that,” she blew off bashfully. She moved to turn her head to face the ceiling but his hand grazing her skin halted the movement.

“No,” he said lowly. “Ye were the only thing I had to hold onto. And...ye mean a lot to me, lass.”

Theo found herself smiling. It was awkward and her lips quivered as they curled upwards, but nevertheless, she smiled a smile he found beautiful.

Jamie’s eyes fell from his eyes to her lips, tempting to pull her head close to his face and just taste them. He wondered if she tasted like the tea she drank twice a day—once in the morning and once a night.

“Can I...”

“...please,” she breathed.

He wasted no time in bringing his mouth to hers. She released a mewl of satisfaction. Her hands found his hair, and she gripped his frizzed curls tightly. He groaned softly into her mouth and she swallowed his sounds like a delicious meal.

His hands shook as they took place on her thighs. His fingers dug into the flesh and she whimpered softly. Theo’s fingers raked through his hair and massaged his scalp. Achaius felt his insides twist like a freshly wrung towel.

He'd never thought the day would come where he'd confess his feelings for her, let alone have her rocking on his lap like a ship on water and assaulting his neck. He enjoyed it more than words could explain.

"Jamie," she whimpered when it became too heated. She wanted him, but she couldn't put herself in such a position at the given moment. If they continued on, she was convinced things would've escalated in a manner she was unaware if she was ready for. “Can we just—“

Jamie sensed her growing anxiousness and tore his lips off of hers, and placed his hands on her middle back. His ocean eyes bore into hers and she was convinced if she stared long enough, they’d turn into a whirlpool and suck her in. Jamie brought her hand to kiss lips and kissed it gently. “Rest. And when you wake up, I’ll still be here. I promise.”

Theo nodded and rolled over to her side. She didn’t make it too far, as Jamie’s arm bracketed her to his side. She giggled softly, but accepted his closeness nonetheless.

“Good night, Theo.”

“Good night, Jamie.”

#saturnville #original writing #original content #original characters #original story #black!reader #jamie fraser x reader #jamie fraser fluff #jamie fraser x black reader #jamie fraser x female reader #jamie fraser x black!reader #the soldier’s lady pt 2 #old fic turned new #historical drama #inspired by outlander #outlander #outlander x female reader #outlander x reader

[marshmallsy]

this was another super fun zine i participated in for @d20zinejam! i drew my bestest girl primsy for the acoc couture zine (which looks AMAZING btw)

#a crown of candy #primsy coldbottle #d20 zine jam #marshmallsydraws #fun fact i realized only after committing to a scottish-inspired historical fashion getup #that pinterest has been completely taken over by outlander costume appreciation #so uhhh....this took a WHILE to get some halfway decent references

[the-eldritch-it-gay]

My favourite image sequences are Majexatli at the Waning Moon, outdrinking Thisobald Thorm in a way they Will Regret Later. Especially the last 2 images, it looks like a meme template lskdfsñlfsdfñsdñsdfk

They passed all the constitution saving throws and performance checks but at what cost.

#Eldritch IT Speaks #its even fucking funnier bcuz i specifically had halsin with me because i wanted to impress him #and what majexatli does is accidentally get in a drinking contest to the death #since he and majexatli are both outlanders they both got an inspiration point for it #but i imagine afterwards majexatli is standing outside with their hands on their knees like i need to fucking lay down #approval from halsin but at what cost #Salam plays bg3 #OC: Majexatli #local 350 year old druid watches a druid in their 30s nearly die in a drinking contest. gives the whole thing his thumbs up

[fraserstanclub]

“I am a chief. God has made me what I am. He has given me the duty—and I must do it, whatever the cost.” [insp.]

#outlander #outlander edit #perioddramasource #perioddramaedit #jammf #jamie fraser #james alexander malcolm mackenzie fraser #song inspired #anime #bleach #diamond dust rebellion #*lizshit

[rivilu]

Is this what it feels like to win at videogames?

#the answer is yes #bg3 #baldur’s gate 3 #karlach my best friend karlach #halsin #[oc] Alfhart #My very sporadic use of long rests made it so all the outlanders got inspired at once 😭I love them

[athxnacrossing]

Lily’s Outlander inspired conservatory. 🐸♥️🌷

#ac lily #ac #acnh #acnl #animal crossing #animal crossing new horizons #acnh hhp #acnh blog #acnh inspo #acnh inspiration #acnh photos #acnh interior #acnh community #acnh switch #nintendo acnh #acnh pattern #acnh design #acnh screenshots #outlander #conservatory #aesthetic #ac new horizons #ac new leaf #nintendo switch #cosy

[scotland]

Hidden Glen 🍃

📷 Robert Greinacher

📍 #DevilsPulpit, #FinnichGlen 

🏴󠁧󠁢󠁳󠁣󠁴󠁿 scotland.co

#scotland #scottish #glen #outlander #landscape #landscapes #landscape photography #photography #scenery #nature #uk #united kingdom #travel #travel inspiration #edinburgh #glasgow #stirling

[cocolacola]

i dont need more illidari i dont need it Here's my first crack at an oc demon hunter :) this will probably be expanded upon later

#i can draw again! #it won't be much though because im living without AC rn so my hands get too overheated and gross-feeling to draw #if i feel inspired i will render this to some degree #thought about making her a second generation kaelthas follower (so born in outland) but idk if that's canon compliant? #i mean there's a couple decades where illidan was in the black temple so it's not impossible right? i forget. #we will see! #her name is Pinky because of her violet scars + my inspo from Needle my beloved #warcraft #world of warcraft #world of warcraft legion #wow oc #wow ocs #warcraft oc #demon hunter #illidari #blood elf #my art

[loveinstreams]

me when I hear La vie en rose in a show about 16th century pirates

#like I understand why bla-bla-bla but god I wish people would just do some research for once and get inspired by wonderful folk ballads #the only show which gave me that euphoria was black sails with their use of Parsons Farewell #also kudos to outlander for that opening title sing

[artsyjesseblue]

Here’s some Bedtime Lotura.

Sweet dreams!

#lotor #lotura #allura #vld #voltron legendary defender #inspired by a scene from Outlander #a little Altean magic before bedtime

[suzystuff]

When I was young I saw no path before me, I simply took a step and then another.

Ever forward, ever onward, rushing toward someplace I knew not where. And one day I turned around and looked back and saw that each step I'd taken was a choice, to go left, to go right, to go forward or even to not go at all.

Every day people have a choice between right and wrong, between love and hate, and sometimes between life and death and the sum of those choices becomes your life.

The day I realized that is the day that I became a better human.

#quote #inspiring quotes #life quotes #inspirational quotes #life advice #tv shows #ideias #outlander #jamie fraser #netflix #netflix shows #tv series #love #hate #choices

[love-little-lotte]

this concept came to me in a dream.

#as a swiftie and outlander fan #plus i was sooooo bored #outlander #jamie and claire #jamie fraser #claire fraser #taylor swift #swiftie #also i was inspired by timeless #Spotify

[philtstone]

🍌

🍌 favorite funny quote from a wip im using this ancient ask as an excuse to post from this wip that was supposed to be done for halloween and then never was lol

Jamie’s ghost is a sad sort of creature.

He’s not sure when he started referring to her as his. Traditionally, if you’re the sort to believe in such things, ownership of ghosts runs through 1) ancestry or 2) a familial home. His aunt Jocasta, for example, had an ornery old Frenchman in the cellar of the MacKenzies’ old brick tower who had no relation to any of them, but wouldn’t let the damned house go generation after generation; Jocasta claims the bastard had been the mysterious lad who seduced that one grand-cousin of theirs into batting for the other team, which led to his divorcing his wife and moving to Cuba, and who is Jamie to have his doubts, really, when he’s got a ghost of his own.

#this fic is not actually inspired by om shanti om but sometimes i think about the plot and am struck by the similarities #my writing #outlander #claire x jamie

[raven-eruri]

Levi’s smile is frozen in time, forever laced with grief and sorrow. 

Much like this place, he thinks gloomily as he enters the small Bed and Breakfast on Kirstein Street, a bell jingling as he pushes the heavy wooden door. The house, clean and quiet, smells like cinnamon and apples. The landlady emerges from the kitchen, wiping her flour-covered hand on her apron. She greets him cheerfully, producing a small pair of thin round glasses from her pocket as she registers his name in the big leather-bound guest’s book on the counter.

“Ackerman, you said?”

“Yes. Levi.”

“That’s not a common name around here,” she remarks idly. 

“I’m not from here.”

Levi takes in his surroundings, half-listening to her perky chatter. Everything about the house screams old-fashioned, from the floral wallpaper to the gleaming, spotless hardwood floors. As he scans the room, his eyes fall upon the portrait of a middle-aged man hanging proudly above the fireplace’s mantle. He looks about forty, standing proud and at attention, his right fist curled up on his chest, above his heart, inches away from an elegant bolo tie nestled in the collar of his green military coat. Marleyan soldiers wear grey, not green, and rank is shown by stripes on their shoulder pads, not stones around their necks. 

“Who’s that?” Levi asks, a bit curious.

“Hum?” she raises her head, follows his gaze. “Oh, that’s Jean Kirstein, the 16th Commander of the Survey Corps. Great man. He was the officer responsible for brokering the peace treaty that ended the war in 864, after the bombings and the second Marleyan Offensive on Paradis,” she explains. “He was a distant relative of my husband.”

Levi nods. Other portraits are scattered around the room, showing more people in old military uniforms, posing with the same proud salute that was the habit of the old Army. Offering their hearts, if Levi recalls his history lessons correctly. On the right, Levi spots a smaller portrait of a boy with golden hair, a resolute and determined expression painted on his face. There’s a harshness to him, something hollow in how his eyes are fixed in front of him — like he’s looking at something beyond the painter, something only he can see. This is not the kind of expression Levi would have expected to see in someone so young, he thinks as he averts his eyes, uncomfortable. A bit further from the boy’s painting, above the couch, is a small round miniature of a messy brown hair soldier, one eye covered with an eye patch, the other eye piercing and tired. It doesn’t look much like the other paintings — it’s more of a sketch, really, but the lines are sharp and manage to capture the image of the soldier, freezing it in time. It makes Levi feel uneasy, somehow. The portraits are another reminder of the ghosts inhabiting this place, casting an old, eternal shadow over the otherwise warm room.

Levi can’t wait to get away from this place.

“Those are more portraits of the Survey Corps Commanders,” the landlady says upon noticing where his gaze has landed. “This is Armin Arlert,” she points to the young boy with the deep blue eyes, “he became Commander during the Rumbling, after the previous one, Hange Zoë,” she motions to the other portrait above the couch, “sacrificed their life to allow their comrades to escape the island." 

Levi gives her a polite smile, turning back to the counter, eager to escape the weight of the dead commanders’ gazes. 

"My late husband, may he rest in peace, harboured a bit of an obsession for history and all that related to the Jaegerist Insurrection and the Rumbling War. He had the greatest collection of books and writings about that time on all the island. When he passed away, I donated everything to the Sina National Archives, but I didn’t have the heart to get rid of the decoration.”

Levi nods again, uncomfortable. 

“Are you interested in history, dear?” she asks.

Levi fumbles, trying not to show his annoyance at being called dear. “No. Not really.” He picks up his suitcase as she motions for him to follow her up the stairs. “I thought —” he falters. “I thought this was frowned upon?”

“Oh,” she lets out a small humph, condescending. “It used to be, yes. But it’s been over a hundred years now. We Eldian folks remember, of course. But Marley doesn’t care for it so much anymore.” She says that in a strange tone. The words are spoken lightly, but they carry a weight that takes Levi by surprise. 

She breathes through her nose, curious. “Is it your first time in Paradis, dear?”

“Hum, no,” Levi coughs. “I was born here." 

She stops midway up the stairs, raising an eyebrow. "Are you visiting family, perhaps? How lovely.”

“I’m here for a funeral, actually." 

Her face falls upon hearing that, curiosity slowly replaced by sympathy. She lays a hand on his forearm, patting his biceps. "How dreadful. I’m so sorry to hear that. You have my condolences.” She studies his face for a bit longer than Levi feels comfortable being watched, so he casually snaps his head, tossing his hair out of his eyes and motioning to the door on top of the stairs.

“Thank you. Your brochure said the rooms were equipped with a private bathroom?" 

"All of them! We take great care of our guests here; don’t you worry about that." 

She unlocks the door, and they step into a small and plain but cosy guest room. The walls are bare of paintings or portraits, which Levi is thankful for. A double bed sits in the middle of the room, made of sturdy oak wood that matches the rest of the furniture. The quilt lying on top of the bed looks handmade, just like the lace doilies sitting under the lamps on the bedside cabinets framing the mattress on both sides. He takes a few steps into the room, setting his suitcase next to the dresser.

"Breakfast is served from 7 to 9 am. The rooms are cleaned daily, so we’ll ask that you vacate the room for at least an hour each morning. How long will you be staying with us?”

“Only a few days, hopefully,” he responds. He doesn’t plan to spend a minute more in this place than necessary. He’s been here for merely two hours, and already he’s feeling his old self sliding back into place, replacing everything he worked so hard to rebuild. To heal. 

He thanks the landlady several times, each one more strained than the previous one, before she finally takes the hint and leaves the room — and when the door closes behind her with a light click and silence fills the room, he finally allows himself to breathe. 

Deeply, eyes closed. Inhale, exhale. Once, twice, a third for good measure, until he feels his nerves relaxing and his heartbeat settling down.

He doesn’t have time to get distracted or overwhelmed by uneasy memories. 

He’s here for one task, and one task only. 

In forty-eight hours — seventy-two at most — he’ll be back on the boat, returning to his life, job, and Isabel. He’ll leave the island and never set foot there again.

Dragonfly in Amber | Chapter 1

#eruri #eruri fic #eruri fanfic #erwin x levi #levi ackerman #erwin smith #shingeki no kyoujin #this is an Outlander inspired AU #ackerbond #eruri au