and the glorious wind


“Go to bed, you fool,“ Calcifer said sleepily. "You’re drunk.”
“Who, me?” said Howl. “I assure you, my friends, I am cone sold stober.” He got up and stalked upstairs, feeling for the wall as if he thought it might escape him unless he kept in touch with it. His bedroom door did escape him.”

Nightmare Before Christmas Starters

  • “Wouldn’t you like to see something strange?”
  • “Aren’t you scared?”
  • “I am the ‘who’ in the call ‘who’s there?’.”
  • “I am the shadow of the moon at night, filling your dreams to the brim with fright.”
  • “Wasn’t it terrifying?”
  • “There are few who deny at what I do I am the best, for my talents are renowned far and wide.”
  • “I have swept the very bravest off their feet.”
  • “I have grown so tired of the same old thing.”
  • “Since I am dead, I can take off my head to recite Shakespearean quotations.”
  • “The frame and praise come year after year, does nothing for these empty tears.”
  • “Oh, [Name], I know how you feel.”
  • “That’s twice this month you’ve slipped deadly nightshade into my tea and run off.”
  • “I’m restless! I can’t help it!”
  • “But I don’t want to be patient.”
  • “I’ve got the plans for next Halloween!”
  • “I can’t make decisions by myself!”
  • “What’s this?”
  • “I can’t believe my eyes, I must be dreaming!”
  • “Absolutely no one’s dead.”
  • “This looks like fun!”
  • “The monsters are all missing and the nightmares can’t be found.”
  • “The smell of cakes and pies are absolutely everywhere.”
  • “This is a thing called a present.”
  • “There’s something here that you don’t quite grasp.”
  • “There’s got to be a logical way to explain this Christmas thing.”
  • “You’ve poisoned me for the last time.”
  • “These dolls and toys confuse me so.”
  • “I’ve read these Christmas books so many times.”
  • “Am I trying much too hard?”
  • “Just because I cannot see it doesn’t mean I can’t believe it!”
  • “What are you doing here?”
  • “The job I have for you is top secret. It requires craft, cunning, mischief.”
  • “We’re his little henchmen and we take our job with pride.”
  • “[Name], listen to me. It’s going to be a disaster!”
  • “Just follow the pattern. This part’s red. The trim is white.”
  • “I have every confidence in you.”
  • “Won’t the children be surprised?”
  • “You don’t look like yourself, [Name], not at all.”
  • “Hold on! Where are we going now?”
  • “Haven’t you heard of peace on earth, and goodwill toward men?”
  • “Well, well, well, what have we here? [Name], huh? Oh, I’m really scared.”
  • “So you’re the one everybody’s talking about?”
  • “If you aren’t shaking, there’s something very wrong.”
  • “Release me fast or you will have to answer for this heinous act.”
  • “There go all of my hopes. My precious plans, my glorious dreams.”
  • “I sense there’s something in the wind that feels like tragedy’s at hand.”
  • “They’re thanking us for doing such a good job!”
  • “I’ll get you out of here!”
  • “What have I done?”
  • “But I never intended all this madness.”
  • “Why does nothing ever turn out like it should?”
  • “I just can’t wait until next Halloween!”
  • “But they said you were dead!”
  • “How dare you treat my friends so shamefully?!”
  • “I’d like to join you by your side, where we can gaze into the stars.”
  • “It is as plain as anyone can see, we’re simply meant to be.”
A Hundred Lesser Faces: (Seven)

Notes from Mod Bonnie

  • This story stems from the premise: what if Voyager!Claire had gone first to Lallybroch instead of directly to the print shop in Edinburgh?

Many a red-headed man I’d passed on the long road from Lallybroch. Every single time, my stupid, desperate heart had leapt with joy; and every time, I cursed myself for the fool that I was. For Christ’s SAKE, why the bloody hell should he be on the road from Inverness, Beauchamp? Jamie Fraser is south, in Edinburgh, with his wife. With his daughters. Happy. So, pull yourself together. 

So deep had been my longing, though, that my traitorous eyes had tried over and over to convince me that it might be, it MIGHT be this time! (even when the actual travelers hadn’t looked remotely like Jamie). Jesus H. Roosevelt Christ, one had been a very tall boy no more than twelve, and I still had had to see his face from ten feet before I would allow my heart to quiet. Not him. Not him. 

Blind hope, indeed. 

But this time, as I whirled and fell on the hillside, heart exploding, in a single moment, I was certain. Even from a great distance, even two decades later, even not yet able to see his face through the snow-flecked gloom, even had he not been screaming my name, yes, I’d know the shape of that man anywhere. It was Jamie, tearing toward me on horseback, riding like the hounds of hell were at his heels. And the SIGHT of him? A relief and a love smashed through me, so deep and so visceral that I staggered downward; not running, not even making my way down the hill;  just slipping, pulled toward his orbit. 

Alive. I had known for months, believed, had confirmation from Jenny herself, and yet the proof was now there before my eyes. Not under a stone on Culloden Moor; that nightmare was now banished forever. Jamie Fraser was ALIVE.

I saw him kick hard, spurring the horse to an even more astonishing pace—how loudly must he have been screaming that I had been able to hear him from so far away?—and found myself bursting out with joyous laughter at the way his shirt flapped like a sail in the wind. Nothing changed, then, if the ridiculous man had ridden without a coat or a cloak against the wind and the sn—




Please….please, no.

This changes absolutely nothing, Beauchamp. This ends with you going through those stones, sooner or later. Make it sooner. 

But he came for me—Jamie came! He’s HERE.

He’s happy. He may have come, but he’s happy.  Don’t make him suffer by forcing this impossible choice. 

Just let me say goodbye.


Let me hold him, just for —


Can you honestly do what needs to be done if you have to look him in the eye and pull yourself out of his arms?

“CLAIRE!—What are ye—? S T O P !”

I was running up the hill, stumbling and tripping, going as fast as I could. I couldn’t stop. If I looked at him—If I touched him…

Everything seemed to slow to single frames, impressions:

The slow shrill cry of my breaths,

the grass suddenly inches from my nose as I staggered low over a boulder.

Hoofbeats, closer, louder.

I’m running for my life through quicksand,

every footfall sinking me deeper, and slower, as the monster gets closer and closer and—

A fierce whinny, a curse.

A voice— my voice—screaming. “STAY AWAY!”

Boots hitting the ground,


Running, both of us running,  

and I couldn’t stop.

I must not st—

Time smashed into its normal pace again as I fell, mere yards from the crest of the hill, and cried out in pain.

“CLAIRE!” God, he was so close, pounding up the hill behind me, no more than thirty—

Don’t!” I shouted as I scrambled to my feet. 


“DO—NOT—TOUCH—ME!”  I screamed it over my shoulder with all the violence I possessed, a feral beast, cornered and ready to go for the throat as it went down.

Silence fell on the faerie hill. Stillness, and absolute silence.

When human thought returned, I was on my feet at the very top of the hill, the stones screaming their evil song behind me. My body was slung sideways, both arms raised in defense; my head hung at an improbable angle so as to look nowhere, see nothing: not the stones, not him. It was elemental in my body, in that moment: the absolute imperative not to look at him. If I could keep from looking, keep from getting trapped in those eyes, everything would be alright.

It was a ridiculous logic, I knew; somewhere in the recesses of my consciousness, that was obvious. Jamie Fraser was HERE. He wouldn’t simply let me walk away unacknowledged; but such was the depth of my panic and hysteria that I couldn’t move. I was bare millimeters from completely falling apart, abandoning all my noble resolve, and flinging myself into his arms, begging him to choose me  take me and damn the fucking consequences.

But it still wouldn’t change a bloody thing, the rational half of my mind whimpered. He would still be married. He would still have his children. We still could not be together, or at least not under any circumstances that honor would permit. I still could not force him to make that choice. 

Hold yourself together, Beauchamp. No tears, remember? You said you could do the same for him; could be calm and sure for him. Now, do it. Stand strong.

“….Mo nighean donn?”

That flower-stem snap.

That voice—Jamie’s sweet, clear voice; my very heart speaking aloud, quietly, but with every ounce of pain and longing that I felt in my own breast. 

Look at me, mo nighean donn.”

Stand. strong.

My mouth was dry and my entire body was shaking, each word an effort. “— Can't—”

A sudden, vicious snarl. “LOOK at me!”

I half-growled, half screamed, “I—CANT!” 

Desperate. So desperate, that ‘can’t’. I was shaking. Going into shock, in fact. Could feel the darkness and the manic energy and the absolute inability to retrieve words or actions closing—

Claire Elizabeth Beauchamp.” 

He said it like he always said his own name: low and distinct, with honor in every syllable.  


“I have ridden,” he said, in a voice so quiet and deep and measured, “night and day for nigh on a week, terrified that—terrified th—*Please,*” His calm vanished and the words were tumbling out of him in a frantic rush. “Please, for the love ye bear me, for the love that brought ye to find meTURN.”


God, but I can’t stand.

“By everything that is holy…” A whispered moan. “Let me see your face, mo ghraidh.

….and damn my weak, foolish heart, I turned. I looked.

Day and night for a week, he’d said, and I believed it. Even at a distance of twenty feet down the hill, I could see just how bloodshot his eyes were, wide and wild. He was pale, underneath the red of wind and exertion, paler than I remembered. That glorious hair was now worn long. If it had been tied back, the ride and the wind had undone it. It was wild and tangled, whipping about his face, his chin covered in stubble that nearly amounted to a beard. His clothes—nothing but shirt, breeks and boots— were filthy and torn and splattered with mud. He looked, quite simply, dead on his feet.

He was the most beautiful sight I’d ever beheld.

God, you’re so like her, I wanted to moan. I’d known it, had had my heart broken every day to see the proof of him in our daughter, and yet seeing him now before me, I was absolutely run through to find her broad, good-humored face there, the same dark blue eyes aslant the high, flat cheekbones and wide mouth. 

He’d aged, of course, as had I. The lines around eyes and mouth were deeper, the skin more weathered and coarse, but it was still him. His nose had been broken, at some point. It made him look fiercer, though perhaps that was simply fatigue and the vast waves of emotion obviously rushing through him, through us both. 

Jamie had staggered back a pace or two back as he stared up at me, nearly toppling down the steep incline. “Jesus….Christ…” he whispered. The back of his hand was pressed to his mouth as though to stifle a cry, “You’re….You….” The hand became a fist and he shook his head as a gasping smile broke from him. “Claire—God, Claire, mo chridhe!” He moved, about to sprint up the hill. 

I jumped backward. Raised my arms against him. No.

Hurt. Betrayal. Pain. It was as though I had shot him at point-blank range…And something deeper shone beneath it all: some blazing intensity I couldn’t quite identify. He looked as though he would bleed out there on the spot, from this newest wound. 

So will I, my love. 

But he heeded me, standing completely still. His hands shook, half-raised before him. He simply didn’t know what to do with them—I knew because I didn’t know what to do with mine. His mouth worked as he tried to speak, to ask, to say something, but failing. Those eyes held everything, though. Pleading.

Silence on the hill. Silence and screaming. 

“You—survived,” I managed at last, weakly, with something like a laugh.

“Aye—” He exhaled in a huge rush, clearly grateful that I’d broken the stalemate. “It was a verra close thing.” He spoke fast and frantically, babbling, even, as though terrified to let silence fall again. “I should have died in the battle, or from the firing squads after, or of my wounds festering, but— Aye, I—I was—spared.”

“Thank God,” I whispered, and his eyes lit with such hope and relief that I could have cut my bloody tongue out at the root.

STOP this instant, Beauchamp. Nothing has changed.

Jamie was the one to break the silence, this time. “Your letter,” he gasped out.

“You read it, then?” A stupid thing to say. He’d obviously read it, but I clung to conversation just as he had. The stupid words were something, something to keep from falling off the edge of this insanity. “When?”

“By providence, I arrived at Lallybroch the same day you’d left, and….Oh, God, CLAIRE….”

Oh, God, Jamie. 

Each time my name left him, it seemed to tear a piece out of both of us. I could only look down at him, waiting.

“When I saw your hand on that letter,” he said, voice shaking uncontrollably, “the print of your ring in the wax, I …”

He shook his head, at a loss, mouthing it over and over. I…I….

Through the snow, though darkness was creeping steadily around us, I could see the first tear sliding down his cheek. “….I felt as though I were dying.”

So did I. So do I.

“To know you’d survived—that you’d come back, and—and,” his eyes lit up. “Brianna.”

From his lips, our daughter’s name sounded like strange music from another world, and I wanted to listen to it forever.

“It would have been enough—more than enough—only to ken our bairn had lived, that the both of ye had lived and been cared for, but to….Claire, I simply couldna believe my eyes.” He shook his head, violently. “To see…to SEE the lass…our daughter.” Jamie released his sobbing breath and closed his eyes, holding out his hands before him, tears streamed down his cheeks. “Her entire life, there before me… and she so happy and so braw and bonny and—God, it tore out my beating heart.” He heaved a breath and smiled up at me, beaming with love and joy, though it was difficult for him to get out the words. “She’s—more wonderful than I ever could have imagined, mo ghraidh….Our Brianna.”

I forced a smile and choked down a sob. “I’m so honored,” I whispered, so haltingly, so carefully, so, so carefully, “to have been able—to bring her to you, in some way.”

My love.

My own love.

Nothing has changed.

I know. 

I took a step, two steps, backward toward the stones. This was the part where I was to be strong. 

Jamie’s eyes snapped into laser-focus, a predator’s, and that unknown intensity I’d seen earlier flamed now into life. It was anger

“Why would ye just GO?” His voice was still wretched with pain but he was snarling, stammering, growling in mounting fury. “Ye—ye came for me and—Ye came all the way from your time through the stones and then meant to go back and leave forever wi’out even—Damn ye, woman, ye didna even—If I hadna come just in time—Foolish—wretched, FOOLISH—” He hurled the demand toward me with his entire body. “WHY?”

“You *know* why.” It was all but a moan. 

He growled again. “Ye dinna ken —” 

“I know that you’re married,” I got out, moving sideways around the rim of the hill, countering his advance. “I know you have children. Jenny told me everything—how hap—”

“No, Claire, ye dinna understand!” Something had shifted in his eyes — relief? — and he was once again still, though scarcely fifteen feet in front of me down the hill. “Jenny lied. She lied, Claire,” he insisted, the words falling out of him. “She lied and made ye think I was—”

You’re not  ??”

Jenny lied! Thank the bloody stars above, the horrible bitch LIED!!! Jesus H— 

My smile broke through like the dawn, a blaze of glorious, raging happiness as I gasped out, “Then, you’re not married?”

And I watched as that hope shriveled and vanished to dust. His eyes dropped to the ground. “I am marrit.”

I swayed, eyes closed. I couldn’t bear this any longer, couldn’t take this agony raging in my heart, both the emotional and the physical heart. I felt light-headed, felt pain in my limbs. I couldn’t be strong. I couldn’t.

Just a little while longer. Say your farewell, and be gone. It will be alright, Beauchamp. 

“Then she didn’t lie,” I said, simply, my throat burning with the effort not to wail. “You have a wife and two beautiful daughters.” I caught my breath and opened my eyes, managing to smile, though I was so very near the brink. “I meant what I wrote in the letter. Every single word. I want you to be happy—and I’m glad that you are. I’m glad that you have a family and that they have made you happy.”

His brows were drawn up, making him look absolutely crazed. He mouthed the word like he’d never heard it before. Happy?

“But I—” Somehow, I kept up the smile as I whispered through wooden lips and burning throat and the tears. “—but it means—that I have—to go, now— before—”

“NO,” he snarled, springing with sudden force. I staggered still further away around the hill as he bellowed, “You’ll NOT—”

“BE STILL!” I bellowed back.

And once again, he heeded me. 

“For God’s fucking SAKE, you bloody — Scot!” I shouted down at him, suddenly just as furious as he. “Have you NO notion of what — Don’t you understand? I’m giving you up! I’m letting you go!” I gestured wildly behind me to the stones, choking on my tears. “I’m leaving so you don’t have to choose! Do you think I’m so arrogant as to believe I’m worth upending your happy—”

“DAMN YOU, woman, I havena been HAPPY in TWENTY YEARS!”

Silence on the faerie hill. Silence and screaming. 

When he spoke again, it was once more in that quiet, aching whisper.

“Jenny led ye to believe otherwise and may she be damned for it.” He took a step forward, pointing.  “But in that letter, ye renewed a promise to me; and I’ll give ye the same, now.” Another step. 

I stepped back. 

He surrendered, went to his knees, hands clenched in the posture of oath-taking. “No lies, Claire.” His eyes blazed into mine. “Nor secrets. Not ever. Not now. I swear it on Brianna’s life.”

God, my heart…

“Will ye hear what I have to tell?” 

…it simply couldn’t take this.

But I nodded. 

“I left Laoghaire more than a year past.”


The outburst was so violent, so loud and so shrill in the wake of my long silence, that it startled us both. Jamie had to put a hand out to steady himself as he jumped, and the acute panic of a fresh hell showed across his face.  “She—Jenny didna—?”

“No, she BLOODY well DIDN’T!”

“Aye, well—ah …ehm…Claire?” 

He was peering leerily up at me, and little wonder, for I was laughing—actually, CACKLING with laughter, hands clutched to my belly as I doubled over with it. 

“No, Jenny didn’t tell me who,” I sighed, when I had calmed down (marginally). “The only detail your darling sister deigned to divulge about your wife—” 

Of all people. Of ALL the marriageable women in all the bleeding Highlands. He had married —had had children with—loved—

All levity, all scorn dropped out of me, and my voice cracked, a whispering shell. “—was that you were happier with her than she’d ever seen you….And that you had two little girls that call you Da.”

“But they’re not mine, Claire. They’re not mine,” Jamie said again more urgently as I stared. He gritted his teeth. “And I shall wring my sister’s neck for a wicked liar when next I see her, for she kens fine that I’ve not had ninety-nine happy minutes in that marriage since it began.”

I was so cold. Frozen, in every cell. 

“Two years ago, we wed,” he began carefully. “She was marrit before, twice, and found herself a widow wi’ two bairns to feed just as I was newly come back from England.” 

His words were running together, a bit. There was so much warring within him, so much he clearly wished to say, but cold and fatigue and emotion were taking their devastating toll.  

“I’m fond of her lassies—Marsali and Joan. They’re aged fifteen and twelve and have had a cruel, rough way of it, in lives so short. Wi’ all that they’ve endured, I was glad—honored, even— for them to take me into their hearts as a father, but hear me, Claire.” He held my eye. “I’ve shared scarce more wi’ them than what loving gentleness I could offer, and a scant few months of meals shared ‘round the same table. No more.” He shook his head with a sound of shame and regret. “Christ, I sound an unfeeling wretch. I do care for them, I do.

But they weren’t born of his love; nor had he had a hand in raising them.

“Their mother…She…”


“I did have hope, at the beginning; hope that perhaps there could be some — tenderness between us. Nothing like—” He make a vain gesture up at me and closed his eyes, as though he couldn’t bear it. “—like what I kent it could be between a husband and wife, but something good to keep me sane; keep me alive….Can ye see?…Have ye kent that same hope, Claire?…. Only she couldna; or I couldna. I’ll accept the blame in full, but in the end, the ‘why’ and ‘who’ dinna matter. It was a broken thing within months, and I knew that if I’d stayed….” 

He hung his head, and for the first time, I could truly see the twenty years that had gone from his life. 

“I left for Edinburgh; have been there ever since. I provide for them, but I havena called Balriggan home for over a year…nor shared her bed since long before that.”  

The wind whistled between us. What he was saying…

I was numb. I was…It was like I was underwater, with news being shouted to me from dry land as I slowly drowned. 

“I’ve lain wi’ three women, since you’ve been gone,” he blurted suddenly, urgently against my silence, his voice so miserable, his eyes imploring. “Laoghaire, and two single-night encounters, and from one of those—From one of those nights…”

Oh, Jesus…

“William,” he whispered, nodding in confirmation, his eyes absolutely wretched but shining with the need to confess. “He’s a — a bastard, in England, and I shall never see him again. I’ve never told anyone of him, not even Jenny or Ian. His mother, his putative father—they’re both dead. He’s highborn, in the care of a man I trust. John will give him a good life; better than ever a convicted traitor could.” 

He closed his eyes and I could see his mouth working furiously as he tried both to form words and to hold back his weeping. “But he’s my son,” he whispered. “My only son, alive in the world because of me, and he’s bonny and canty and strong, just like Brianna, and there are days when I canna seem to live wi’out seeing him, holding him, or —” And he went silent, hiding his face in his hands until he could manage to speak. “Nor can I regret that he lives, for those years I had near Willie were the closest thing I’ve had to—to — And that only a shell of what….”

He raised a hand up as though he would cup my cheek across the chasm between us; then dropped it. Both hands lay on his thighs, aimless. 

“No. Happiness has not been granted me, Claire.” He stared at his palms, speaking in the barest, broken murmur. “My heart left wi’ you and the bairn; and while it is my duty to go on, to care for those under my protection, as I shall do, I’ve had little joy save the knowledge that at the end, I’d die and be able to find ye, just as I promised. Two hundred years, I said I’d wait. I’ve been counting.”

The snowflakes danced around us in the near-night, oblivious to desperation or to miraculous sparks catching in dark, deep places. 

“And to then learn in a moment that you’d come back…”

I tried to speak; but I was shaking so hard that I couldn’t open my mouth. I clenched it tight, feeling the tears slipping over my lips. 

“Claire?” he moaned, reaching out a hand. “…Lass?…Love?…I feel as if I shall die if I canna touch ye….Please.”

My knees had locked — everything within me had locked, between Jamie and the cold— and as I tried to adjust my footing, I accidentally stumbled backward a pace.

Despair escaped out of him and he jumped up as though to run to me, but he thought better of it, and came back down to his knees.

“Twice, I brought ye here to send ye away, mo nighean donn, because I knew a better life awaited ye on the other side of those accursed stones. Perhaps it does, this day, as well, but this time, I shall beg. Don’t go.” 

He raised both clawed hands to me. The tears were flowing so violently and his face was so deeply contorted so as to be barely recognizable. 

“Don’t go. Stay wi’ me. Stay. I canna…I canna do it…Please.*please*….”  

I was paralyzed, completely immobilized by — by —

“Is it too much to forgive, Claire?” came the cracked moan of my heart through the darkness that had suddenly hidden him from me entirely. “Laoghaire and—and William? Do… do ye not want me?”

God, Jamie…” I whispered, so softly that surely only the grass and the snow could hear. 

It was the first time I had said his name aloud to him.

“….you’re all I want.”

“Then  what   else   matters?”


Nothing else mattered.

And I was flying down to him, and he was flying off his knees to catch me, and the feeling of his arms around me, of Jamie’s arms around me at last was —

Like lightning, striking upon the sand. A flash of light, of power, instantly transforming the hundreds of tiny fragments— the millions of shards weathered to all but nothing by time—into a single, molten one. A whole. 


James T. Kirk and the Eclipse

…Jim came into Main Briefing the next morning to find that Ael was there early, watching Scotty and K’s’t’lk put the final touches on the bones of their scheduled briefing to the Science staff on their progress with the “safing” of the Sunseed routines. “Did you rest well, Commander?” Jim said, standing behind her and looking at the hologram she was examining.  

         “Not too well,”  said Ael. “But any rest which does not involve being shot at is a good one, I suppose.”   She turned her attention back to the image presently playing itself out over the center of the table.  It was a holographic display of an eclipse of Earth’s sun:  a particularly splendid one, the primary’s corona licking and writhing away from the obscured disk of the photosphere like the wind-rippled mane of some furious and glorious beast.  

         Jim had seen this particular image before, at the Academy, and afterwards occasionally elsewhere.  “2218?” he said to Scotty.

         “Aye, that’s the one,”  Scotty said, not looking up from his work at the table computer for the moment.

         Ael glanced from it to Jim.  “It is a great wonder,”  she said.

          “We’re more or less used to it now,”  Jim said. “It happens with some frequency.”

         Ael laughed, one of those small nearly inaudible breaths of humor that Jim had nearly forgotten the sound of.  “Certainly, though, you have considered how astronomically unlikely such an exact fit of the apparent size of star and moon, as seen from Earth, must be.”  She gazed at the image again.  “I thought, when I saw it for the first time, that the image had been taken by some space vessel or satellite specifically positioned for the purpose.”

         “No,” Jim said.  “It just came that way.”

         She gave him an amused and extremely skeptical look.  “You truly believe that this is a coincidence?”

         “The universe has seen stranger ones,”  Jim said.

         Ael raised her eyebrows at him, leaning back in the seat.  “Perhaps.  Though I should like to discuss the statistical realities of the situation with Spock some day:  doubtless even in his dry way he might cast light on the provenance of this miracle which he might not otherwise intend.”  

         Jim wasn’t sure what to make of that idea.  “But there are those of my people who would have taken such an apparition in our own skies as an explicit message from the Powers,”  Ael said.  “An invitation to venture out and discover what it was that had engineered such a spectacular and transient terror.  Or simply a message that so colossal a coincidence could not have simply happened: that it was indeed made, and that there were makers.”

         Jim nodded.  “Oh, we have our own people who think that the Preservers or some other of the ‘seeding’ species passed through fifty thousand years or so ago, and nudged the Moon just enough in its orbit to produce the effect.”  He shrugged.  “There’s no proof of it, naturally.  The Moon does have some microscopic orbital ‘wobbles’ that can’t be accounted for by its interactions with the Earth and the Sun;  but as for what causes them—”  He shrugged.  

         “But meanwhile,”  Ael said, “the wonder remains.  And may yet do us good, for worlds used to eclipses even without such a perfect fit tend to be further ahead in research on coronal science than others.  Earth being one of them.”

         Scotty smiled. “Flattery will get you everywhere, lass,”  he said, not looking up.

         Jim looked back at the eclipse, still caught in the repeating loop of the few minutes of totality as seen from the northern Pacific.  The so-called “Great Eclipse” or “Fireball Eclipse” of 2218 had not only had an unusually long totality, but had coincided with a sunspot maximum, and the solar storm ongoing during the umbra’s track across the Earth had produced coronal behavior like nothing ever seen before during an eclipse—outrageous, frightening, enough to give the impression to a viewer that the Sun was actually angry, and might do something terminal to its subject worlds. Ael reached out and touched the control to let the image continue through its normal cycle.  “…It’s temporary, at any rate,”  Jim said.  “The Moon’s getting slowly further away from us.  Thirty or thirty-five thousand years from now, and the fit won’t be perfect any more.  Nothing but annular eclipses for us, then, until the oscillation stops and the Moon’s orbit begins closing in again.”

         “And then what?”

         “Then it starts to fall,”  Jim said, “and tidal forces pull it apart.  If we’re lucky, Earth ends up with rings.  If we’re not lucky…rings, and most likely a ‘cometary winter’.”

         Ael looked rueful.  “Much later, though, I assume.”

         “Five or six hundred thousand of our years, give or take a few.”

         Ael smiled slightly.  “Not something we need worry about overmuch, then.  Our own concerns lie closer in time.”

         Jim nodded.  The corona licked and lashed in apparent fury;  then there came a tremor at the trailing limb, the solar brilliance piercing through the lunar valleys, and the “diamond ring” effect flashed out in full glory, blinding.  Ael stood up, gazing at it with the expression of someone faced with an insoluble riddle.  “The Elements clearly do have a sense of humor,”  she said at last, as the Sun showed a full blazing crescent of its limb and the corona faded to invisibility.  “Unwise of us to ignore it when we see it being displayed.  Few are angrier, the poet says,  than those who tell a joke and hear no laughter…”

         “I don’t like to step on anyone’s punch lines either,”  Jim said.

         McCoy came in and paused, looking at the eclipse with a somewhat jaundiced eye. Jim noticed the look.  “Problems, Bones?”

         “After I saw the recording of the Bridge view from yesterday,”  McCoy said, folding his arms,  “I don’t much like the look of that.”

         “If you like, Doctor,”  Spock said as he came in the door, “I will send down to Catering for a pot for you to bang on, to frighten away the wolf.”


         “The one you no doubt feel sure is eating the Sun…”

Star Trek: Rihannsu - Swordhunt, 2000


Member: Daniel Kang

Word Count: 1,1k

Genre: Smut

You weren’t supposed to be here. The club, these people, and that smell. What the hell was that smell? Your best friend had dragged you to this place only to leave with some random guy.

You looked to your right and that’s when you saw the vomit scattered on the floor. Disgusting. You stepped over it, careful not to dirty the red bottoms of your heels. Just as you were about to leave you saw him. Standing there at the bar with that statuesque posture of his. Usually, you wouldn’t give a second glance, but his broad shoulders, tight ass, and long backside made you stop and enjoy the view. He was striking to look at, even from behind.

You had come into contact with this man a few times over the past month. That’s what happens when you frequent the nightlife in Seoul. Some people might call it cosmic destiny, the universe pulling you together. You’d call it comedic irony.

You weren’t the type to ogle people. You thought when people did stare they were annoying, but his body, god his body. It made you feel sinful in the naughtiest of places.

Keep reading

Here For You.

-Bobby x Reader

-Expecting parents au, fluff

-Better Together  - I had another dad!Jiwon request so I decided to make a little continuation for this piece.

-I can already imagine this fluffy ball of sunshine with his future kids. He’s honestly so caring and amazing with everyone he meets that i’d bet he’d be the dad of all dads. Also, I am so sorry this only goes up now even though you sent this in like months ago. School and work got rough and unfortunately I didn’t get a chance to do any writing the past month or two. I’m really really really sorry for putting it up so late. I hope you haven’t given up on waiting for it and that it fits your imagination. Father’s day just past and I wish all the dads out there a happy, healthy life. Shout out to all the dads that not only there for their wives and kids physically, financially but also mentally and spiritually. Again, I am so sorry for being this late and I hope you enjoy.

Originally posted by mrskimhanbin

You hiss under your breath, mutter a cuss that gets whisk away faster than your temper lately under the wing of the exhale of a sigh.

“Growing a new life is a beautiful thing my ass…”

Jiwon’s head snaps up at your mumbling of what sounding like a curse in some dead language. God knows what you’re grumbling about now as he shakes his head slightly, having already given up long ago on trying to make out anything you say in your strange trances of wandering around your humble abode all the while glaring daggers his way.

“Whose ass is beautiful baby?” He feigns ignorant anyhow, deciding to amuse himself with one of your all too frequent outburst as of late that he weirdly enough finds endearing. God knows he needs all the entertainment he could get to stay awake having to get up for the 3rd time in the mere 5 hours since you both headed to bed at midnight.

“Of course you’d pay attention to the word ‘ass’”

You drop your body onto the cold tiled floor, chest could barely keeps up with providing your body with enough oxygen to function let alone the dry heaving that sours your lips and sears your throat. Glass of water in hand, he storms into the small bathroom like, like Aquaman…. Seriously, how does this guy survive never wearing a shirt, ever, even when it’s minus 3 billion degree outside. Strong arms and familiar scent bring the comfort not even the most exorbitant of comforters and mattresses could offer as you lay your head onto his bare chest, listening to the calming beats of his heart and the rumble of a giggle from your comment.

“Jiwon, can you please put on a shirt… Looking at you make me cold.” You groan at the salvation of the clear liquid sloshing about meeting your lips, more landing on the floor than your mouth as you shiver under the night cold wind.

“You weren’t complaining about my glorious body last night, baby. And see! I told you the heated floor would be a good investment.” He retorts with all the sunshine might he could despite the graveling in his voice and the low tone of a rude awakening so early in the morning telling you otherwise.

“You say ‘glorious body’ one more time, see what happen.” Ice cold lasers shoot from your eyes as he cowers, pressing a bribing kiss onto your forehead. “Don’t make me regret moving in with you, asshole. We all know how well things turn out that night your glorious body’s decided on exercising its full potential on me.”

“You speak like you have a choice there my partner for life. The little paper in my office said you’re stuck with me in sickness or in health, poor or rich, for this eternity and all the ones after that. Plus, I clearly remember you practically screaming yes after I said let’s make a baby. Don’t act like I lured you into this.” Another searing kiss meets your pale cold skin as tender circles push life back into your frost bitten shoulders.

“I believe the correct phrasing is till death do us part and right now, it feels pretty close to death.” The shudder of another round of acid searing your internal rings through the air like the clearest of bells as you lunge forward over the porcelain bowl. It’s not so much the expelling of various digested unidentifiable content that bothers you, rather it’s the constant dry heaving that drives you insane.

“Baby… I’m sorry. I’d take it all alway if I could. I’ll be the one pregnant and you can just rest. I’m so sorry. I’m so useless… I wish there was more I could do. I just-” He whimpers, mischievousness gone as worry takes hold of his expression and it honestly hurts more than your stomach doing flips and tricks as if it’s a circus performer. Despite the constant complaining and hormone induced mood swing, you cannot be happier to be growing a family with such an incredible human being.

Jiwon had been nothing but an angel taking all the bullshit you’ve thrown his way, treating you so well you’d bet all your money the queen would be jealous. The adoration in his eyes just lulls all the turmoil of being a young parent and all the worries of all the uncertainties of the future to sleep. Sure neither of you are super young nor was this an unplanned pregnancy. Yet there was still so much… how could you put that uneasiness in words. That unsettling feeling of the what ifs sinking deep in your heart just below the elating joy of seeing that red plus sign flashing bright on the small window of the pee stick.

What if YG decide to put the boys on a 6 months world wide tour when you’re near the due date? What if you can’t be a good enough mother and a wife? What if Jiwon hates you now that you’re all bloated and waddling around like a planet with duck’s feet? Would he be happy with his wife looking less than ready for all the crazy stalker fans and the media? What if you drop your own baby right there in the delivery room? What kind of a mother would you be if child services come and whisk your little bundle of joy away then and there? God forbid something happens to your baby during the pregnancy.

So many thoughts ran through your mind that night as you laid in bed in the dark, awaiting his arrival from a long day of practice. Funny though, he had thought a serious talk was about to ensue as his eyes were met with dead silent and shadow that engulf the living room that’s usually brightly lit. He crept into the house, settling down on the bed just next to your stilled snoring body as he placed a small kiss upon your cheek.

“Hey, baby.” you remember him whispering. “Is everything alright? Do we need to talk about anything?” You can still clearly recall the trembling in his fingers as they so gently swept away your dishevel hair to read your expression.

“Yea, we do…” You mumbled sluggishly under an exhausted groan, body stretching to rid the dull aching of your joints. Then you were met with the terror in his eyes and the panic stricken man swallowed you whole in his safe embrace. He sighed heavily yet made no sound as he waited for your next word.

“I have a present for you… I wanted to wait up but I’ve been so tired lately. I guess it makes sense now why I’m so tired all the time. I’m sorry, Jiwon. I know you like it when I stay up to wait for you. You’ll understand when you see my present.” Nuzzling your face further into his chest, you gestured toward the night stand with your eyes close and body moulding against his. A sigh of perhaps relief permeated through the air as you felt his muscles flexing when he reached toward the stand to grab the small white box adorning a little bow waiting patiently all night for its owner.

“Don’t be sorry. My schedule is erratic enough, I can’t afford you risking your health staying up late for me. But… What’s the occasion, love?” He whispered, fear still rooted deep in his gentle words of uncertainty.

“Just… You know me, I’ve never liked the idea of only giving presents on certain dates. why do we need an occasion to give each other present. Why not just giving it on a random day to show that I think about you constantly.” Still refusing to meet his eyes, you let yourself slipped slowly into one of the strange drowsy trances that seemed to be the norm as of late. A swift sound of air rushing from Jiwon svelte fingers removing the bow, a gasp, and a “no fucking way” later, you were rudely awoken from your slumber with a string of wet kisses.

“You’re not joking right, baby? Like, for real. Wait I need to check the date, where’s my phone, where’s your phone, oh my god where’s a calendar when I need one. SSSHIT.” No sooner than the last cuss left his lips, he hopped off the bed lightning fast, diving for any indication of what day it was.

“Why are you looking for the calendar, silly? It’s June 19.” No chance of going back to sleep now so you might as well get up. Sitting crossed legs in the middle of the bed, you watched as he bounced around the room, the test stick still in his hand.

“Because, I need to know it’s not April’s fool. Christ, baby. For a second there, I thought you were gonna make me sign the divorce paper. Thank you. Thank you so much. I’m so happy right now I don’t even know what I’m doing. I need to call my mom. I need to call your mom. I need to call everyone’s mom.” Kisses coming from every angle, you were nearly toppled backward as he surrounded you with as much love as he could give, a bright smile never left his face.

“Jiwon…” Fond memory fading away, a ragged breath leaves your lips as you clutch tightly onto his muscular arm. “I know I complain a lot but I’m really happy we’re doing this. I can’t ask for a better husband and soon to be dad than you. You’re perfect, baby. Stop apologizing.” Pushing yourself off the cold floor now, you try your best for his sake to mask the storm inside with a smile before heading to brush your teeth.

As you glance at your own reflection, the many nights of restless sleep and early date with the toilet had really taken a toll. Your eyes had not been so sunken to the depth of the Titanic since your grad school years. Skin dull and barely much colors, you honestly couldn’t care much for make up with the sheer exhaustion from just waking up. A slight frown finds itself resting upon your lips as the pace of your toothbrush dawdles to a stop. No sooner than a long sigh begins to huff away from your nose, Jiwon already had his arms tight around your slumping frame, hands smoothing up and down against your belly.

“Baby, you know you’re the most beautiful person in this world right? I love you so much. You’re just so kind and caring sometimes I feel guilty because i could only hope I take care of you as well as you do me. You never needed to do much to your appearance, actually you need not anything at all and I fall head over heels for you every. single. damn. time. you look my way.” God the way his voice drips like honey yet there’s just that slight touch of gravel just in the back of his throat from the early hours just drives you insane. You love Bobby and his never ending charms on stage but the Jiwon that whispers in your ears late at night, reminding you of how much he loves you… That’s something you won’t ever get used to. He never fails to light that spark in your stomach, intensify the fire in your heart just with his honest confession while wrapping his arms around your body like you’re the most precious thing in the world.  

“You were always wonderful and understanding when I was anything but that just from being so stress out all the time. I can’t believe I’m lucky enough to call you my wife, to have a baby with you. Don’t you dare doubt yourself, alright?” He had been resting his head against your shoulder so peacefully up till now. With the last whisper, Jiwon presses a big kiss onto your shoulder as he always did whenever a back hug was called for after a long day of work. “I can’t wait for your tummy to get a little bigger so I can boast to everyone just how proud I am of my magnificent wife. I want everyone to know how lucky I am to have you and our baby in my life. I always hate it when the  media made it out to be that you were the lucky one, marrying some rich idol. If only they know how much you sacrifice for this dumb ass husband of yours. How much I depend on you for every little thing. How lost I would be without you. How truly lucky I was to be the one you picked out of all the bastards that pinned after you all those years ago. If only they now how stupendously, extremely infatuated I am with everything you do, everything you are. Even after all these years, I’m just as smitten with you as I was our first date. Thank you for giving up so much for me and now to give me the ultimate gift of all. I love you.” By his confession end, your mouth was rid of the minty foam and tears of pain replaced with tears of happiness as you spin around in his arms, fastening your own tight around his waist.

“How could I ever thank you enough for always being there for me. I know I raise hell and can be so goddamn unreasonable like 90% of the time yet all you do is smile. I don’t want you to think that I-I don’t want our baby, or or anything like that… I just, it’s exhausting sometimes and you know parenting class, it should help but it doesn’t and all it does is make me worry more about this and that and oh my God what if I’m a horrible mother and our baby hate me and you’ll hate me and and an-” Your frantic words were silenced with a fervid kiss. He kisses you as if you hadn’t kiss in months from the grueling tours, as if this was the long awaited kiss you shared on your first date. The kiss that sealed the deal after years of the shy two way crush burning away with passion at the realization that all along you both love each other. He kisses you and not once did his hands leave your body as the affectionately pet and caress peace back into your perturbed self.

“You talk too much sometimes, you know that? Don’t you dare start with the whole what ifs. No. We’re doing this together and sure we got a big learning curve but so what. We got family to support us. We got this babe!” Damn his eye smile and those too good for this word bunny grin. One glance at your handsome man and you already felt like all is right in the world as he effortlessly carries you back to bed. All tucked in, you breathe easy as the serene air settles over the barely lit bedroom once more. Suddenly, your nausea, the back pain, the aching joint, and the constant mood swings seem to be just a small bump in the road. None of it seems to matter much as Jiwon snuggles close into the crook of your neck, large hand protectively yet delicately places over your slowly growing belly. With a smile, you let yourself fall asleep knowing no matter what happen in the future, Jiwon will always be the foundation that get you through.

Part 2.


Imagine Dean knowing exactly how to take care of you after a grueling hunt. 

Pairing: Dean x Reader

Warnings: Pain, Fluff, SMUT

Word Count: 1,900

A/N: This is for @one-shots-supernatural SPN Hiatus Writing Challenge. The line this week was There’s an interesting story behind that. This got WAY out of hand. Sorry about that! Enjoy this while I work to edit On Location for you guys. :) 

You stumbled in the door, kicking off your boots. Your face was covered with sweat, blood, and who knew what else. A shower sounded glorious. That hunt had kicked your ass. You could spar and fight with the best of them, but facing that werewolf on your own had been one of your more stupid ideas.

You headed down the steps of the bunker, moaning with each step you took. Your hand gripped the rail so tightly your knuckles were turning white. You were covered with bruises and scrapes from your fight with the werewolf. It was tough to tell who came out victorious. 

You reached the bottom of the stairs and dropped your duffel bag. You headed straight down the hall in search of somewhere soft to rest your aching muscles before trying to get into the shower.

Dean’s room was the first one you came to. As far as you could tell, no one was home, so you peeled the tank top from your sweaty body and flopped face down onto Dean’s bed in nothing but a sports bra and jeans. He was supposed to be gone on his hunt for another few days. Why you all had decided to tackle separate jobs and not go together like usual was beyond you, but you had eagerly agreed looking forward to a little separation from the boys. Now you were just thankful you were the only one home. Dean would freak if he knew you were in his room, but what he didn’t know wouldn’t hurt him, you thought as you tucked your arms under Dean’s pillow, pulling it closer to you. It smelled strongly of Dean which lulled you to sleep quickly.

“What the hell?”

Dean’s voice rumbled softly through the room. You looked at your watch slowly to discover that you had been passed out for over six hours. Dean’s voice snapped you back to reality.

“Sweetheart, not that I’m complaining or anything, but why the hell are you in my bed half naked? Was this supposed to be some kind of sexy surprise?” he asked, his tone mischievous and teasing.

You buried your head in your pillow and sighed in exasperation. You were too tired and beat up to trade flirty banter with Dean as was the usual habit for the two of you.

“There’s an interesting story behind that, actually,” you started, turning your head just enough to see Dean.

Keep reading

Wow! Take a look at this 1950’s vintage Movado 3 Register Chronograph. This watch features an original, patinated dial with luminous Arabic numerals, a 35mm, stainless steel case and a 17-jewel, manual-wind CML-90 movement. A glorious example! (Store Inventory # 10973, listed at $4800, available for purchase online & in store.) 

Prince On Every Tour: Purple Rain

After the We Can F**k leak and the spiral of simultaneous listening and sobbing, frustrated sighs and “It’s too funky” head bobs, I’ve decided that tonight would be a good night for this. I was gonna wait til my deluxe set got here, but it’s not coming til the 28th and I have a flight to catch the next morning. And I do not recommend scurrying around LAX as a zombie. Plus, @the-beautiful-1 and I will be attending The Revolution concert out here in sunny (sweltering) CA, the same day that the deluxe set will be officially released. The timing just seems right.



He is here yall. Prince. PRINCE. The megastar, the legend, the icon. Seven years and five albums in, he has finally, FULLY arrived, and fiercely so. He has arrived and has, if I may borrow from @just-prince-things, snatched our “proverbial wigs” (maybe even some real ones). 

He opens by telling us he’s come to play with us. And play, he did. Played with my entire life in a 2 hour show. He rises from beneath the stage amidst a cloud of smoke and a sick wind machine, wearing the most glorious white boa we’ve ever seen atop the moto jacket/fitted pants combo 2.0: paisley, paisley, and more paisley. We love it. 

He  immediately launches into Let’s Go Crazy while we are still collecting ourselves from him simply rising from the depths of the stage. Insane guitar playing ensues as he and Wendy verify that they, in fact, created the stanky leg. History, ladies and gentleman. Six minutes and twenty-two seconds in, jacket and boa have disappeared in a literal flash of light and we’re basically shirtless as a very funky Delirious plays. Thank you Prince.

His stage presence is that of 1999 but amplified times 100. As stated, I am firmly of the belief that he had “it” during the 1999 tour we just weren’t really that aware of how IT his it was. Here, he knows it, and we for doggone sure know it now. Who was that friend of friend playing that small club in Paris in a bikini? Because this is an entirely different man. This whole era is an “I told ya’ll so” from Prince to the rest of us. He is 100% in his element, he has mastered all aspects of Prince the artist, and everything that happens after this is literally him doing whatever he wanted to. Because he’d earned it. 

Dancing, while still very extra, is on POINT. He has perfected his mic tricks, his splits are here and not going away for the next decade+, he still is a ball of energy, even smoother and more graceful than 1999. That energy is infectious watching 30 years later, so I can’t even imagine what that room felt like. A room that is full of 50,000 people. 50,000 people that this 5'2 man in more paisley, lace, and makeup than I as a woman will probably never even see in my lifetime has, by a mere 26, completely and utterly entranced with every song, movement, look, you name it. Everything he was able to elicit from these huge crowds of people, night after night at such a young age reconfirms how truly magnetic he was. He is just as much the audience’s leader as he is the group of metallic, Victorian Prince look-alikes playing on stage with him. 

Now, we can argue about that description, but all those things are true. Be honest. It’s okay. We love them too, the final and most well-known iteration of The Revolution. We’ve seen yet another personnel change (hey Dez, don’t you like his band? …sorry couldn’t resist), yet the sound is even tighter. Demanding the stop on the 2 and then wanting 25 during the Possessed jam and them delivering it flawlessly is a testament to how much they’ve all grown as a unit. And if you’ve watched that rehearsal footage an unhealthy number of times like I have, you can attest to all the work they put into it. The addition of the horns (HEY SITH LEEDS ) really gives their sound a new depth that continues to evolve over the years (which I love - horns are phenomenal). Wendy fit like a glove and her comfort on stage being as young and new as she was is pretty incredible. She’s a ball of energy herself here, and her guitar skills are straight SICK. Plus Wendy got that funk.

The band’s dancing has mimicked P’s in it’s progression as well. The coordinated steps between Wendy, Prince, and Brownmark are nice to see and adds another fun little element to the show that we haven’t seen executed at this capacity yet. Even something as simple as the side to side from the entire band during the Possessed jam just makes you wanna groove a little harder. And umm…hello Baby I’m A Star steps? I meeannnnnn…

If 1999 was the emergence of daddy, Purple Rain was the 100 exclamation points after that statement that really drove home the idea. I typically don’t spend a whole lot of time with PR because, haven’t we all spent SO MUCH time here? But every time I revisit, I’m reminded why I love PR Prince oh so much. 

Favorite Number: 

This show was chock-full of hits and jams and grooves ya’ll. I’ll have to narrow this down. Just…hang with me through this.

First of all, Let’s Go Crazy was so good, it truly could’ve been a closer. To start a show off on that note is bold, because it left me thinking “well where else can he possibly go after THIS?” the first time I watched this concert. So many places Stephanie. So many.

Take Me With You was a fun time, and then it got to a place of incredible funk at the end and it deserved to be mentioned.

How Come was ALMOST my favorite number based upon the gif above, and that gif alone. I’m. Still. Growing.

God always holds a special place in my heart because it’s a beautiful song and his vocals ALWAYS stun me. Live versions are just….transcendant.

Clearly classics from this show: Computer Blue (such a life giving guitar solo, honestly), Darling Nikki (come through shirtless body roll, come THROUGH), Purple Rain (by far amongst the greatest guitar playing I’ve ever heard/seen in my life here), and of course the marathon that is Baby I’m A Star. So much funk ya’ll. There’s just so much funk. And he is relentless about it. It’s why I love him. Yes, tell me when I’ve had enough. And I’ll end that train of thought there. Bye.

When Doves Cry gets a mention for - you guessed it - the insane jam at the end. Almost every song on this show is tagged with a sick groove afterwards, making this show go on for much longer than necessary. But I welcome it all. Everyone jammed on this song. Everyone. And I Would Die 4 U is such an elating ditty as is, but live…fantastic. However, my favorite live performance of this song will forever be from the Landover show. I was on my FEET ya’ll.

The Beautiful Ones. RUNNER UP. Easily my favorite song off of the original PR album and THE BEST PEFORMANCE FROM THE MOVIE PLEASE FIGHT WITH ME ABOUT IT. But this performance was just, magical. First of all, we get graced with another boa, pink this time. And he comes out looking like a glorious, headbanded angel in another sparkly, paisley suit and the combination of all those things takes my breath away okay?!

But if I have to choose a number that edges out the rest of these, for me, it’s Irresistible B***h/Possessed. There are few things that bring me more joy than the live version of Irresistible B***h. It’s already one of my go-to’s, but the dancing paired with it during this show takes the cake. Then we have Possessed and the undeniable groove with the band that ensues added to it? Yeah. This is the winner.

(originally posted by @onlyprincegifs)

Favorite Outfit:
So many outfits in this one. So many moto jacket/matching pants combos in different lace and paisley iterations. I loved them all tbh. 

Honorable mention to the Computer Blue poncho/headband/lace fingerless gloves combo. The mess is brilliant. Also the glittery hooded cape/headband combo from Purple Rain. 

I really enjoyed TBO’s outfit because he looked magical and beautiful and maybe it brought a tear to my eye because I love him so much. BUT. I am going with the black, sparkly, lace-back-of-the-pants suit during Possessed as runner up. Winner is the all white lace number also with matching poncho and train during I Would Die 4 U. Again, headbanded angel made of pure light. He’s BEAUTIFUL ya’ll. And I wanna know who caught that shirt and if they still have it!

Still Would Rating: 

So like…I know lookswise not much changed between 1999 and PR. The hair got a bit bigger and the suits got a lot more lace and paisley. However I can always tell the difference. And for some reason 1999 Prince has an edge over PR Prince and I can’t quite place my finger on why. Anyway, he still gets a five. I just wanted to share that.

Overall Rating: 

Good GRIEF ya’ll. This show left me so tired. I am spent. I feel like I swam laps in an Olympic sized pool. And I watched this from my bed. How did ya’ll manage at these actual concerts? I mean, really. This show….was phenomenal. This is the height of his success (and I don’t say that to take away from any other era, this is just fact) and we clearly see why. What a showman. What an artist. What a musician. What a leader. WHAT. A. PRINCE.

PREVIOUSLY , 1999                                                   NEXT UP, PARADE

Chapter 2 of My Reveal story

Oh, man, I have so much work to do!  Have any of you guys seen that one funny comic someone drew, of a stick figure running along, with a sign post to the far right reading, “Life Goals” and a huge hole between the figure and the sign, with “MLB” at the bottom of the hole?  Jeesh, that is totally me!

So here’s the next chapter.  :-)  I know that that “Cat’s got your tongue” pun has been (over)used by this fandom, but I really truly would most likely have put it in there on my own even without other people’s comics putting the thought in my head.  But apologies if it seems tired to you.  :-)  It fit precisely!

I’m so happy to see that others are liking my story!  Enjoy!    

p.s.  I wrote in my first post that there were 4 chapters.  What was I thinking?  there are 5!

Chapter 2  (by JJ Sprinkle)

Marinette was bent over her desk struggling for the thousandth time to pull her mind back to the Math homework in front of her, when Tikki suddenly whizzed before her face and cried, “Marinette!  I think Cat Noir is trying to reach you!  You have to transform!”

“What?” Marinette lifted her head, surprised.

“I - I can *feel* it!  I think he’s using his baton to try to contact you.”

Without hesitation, Marinette jumped up and cried, “Tikki, Spots on!”  A bright light enveloped her, and the familiar weightless, spinning feeling washed over her.  Within a breath, the floor re-solidified beneath her feet, and she felt her body encased in her soft, supple red suit  Immediately her magic yoyo chimed, and Marinette flipped it open.

“What’s wrong?” Ladybug cried without preliminary.

Cat Noir’s wide grin greeted her words, “Bugaboo!  Nothing’s wrong, but I had an idea, and I didn’t know how else to contact you.”

“No akumas?” Ladybug confirmed.  At Cat Noir’s nod, she relaxed, and smiled back.  “What’s up, Kitty?”

Cat Noir could feel his heartbeat speeding up.  After spending the day making Marinette nervous, Adrien just wanted to spend a little time relaxing with his Ladybug.  He knew he’d be able to joke and flirt with her, without Ladybug stumbling, stuttering, and making them both anxious.  He just wanted to hang out with his friend, but never before had they spent time without primarily chasing an akuma’s victim.  Now he was hoping to change all that.  “So I was thinking we ought to start patrolling periodically, to try to catch Hawkmoth’s victims before they do too much damage.  And also,” he added, thinking that might not be enough to pull Marinette from her homework, “if we can find an akuma before it gets to its victim, maybe we can trace back where they come from and find Hawkmoth’s lair.”  He grinned a little nervously, and rubbed his neck.  “Whaddya think, MiLady?”

Ladybug bit her lip and thought to herself, ‘I think that I wish *I* had thought of it.’ Nodding to the screen however, Ladybug replied, “Pretty clever, Kitty!  Finally we could find Hawkmoth!  You want to meet right now?  Where?”

“Let’s meet at the top of the Eiffel Tower, where Guitar Villain fought XY.”

“Okay!” Ladybug agreed.  “Bug out!”  She clicked shut her yoyo, then surveyed her room.  She still had half of her Math homework to finish, and she was supposed to start an essay for History.  “It’s not like I was getting anything done anyway,” she muttered.  So, leaping up to her sleeping loft, Marinette placed a pillow under the covers to fool her parents in case they checked, and then flipped off the lights.  Letting herself out onto the roof garden, Ladybug felt the familiar thrill as she threw her yoyo to the opposite roofline, and leaped off into the night.

Ladybug and Cat Noir arrived at the Eiffel Tower almost simultaneously.  

“Good evening, MiLady,” Cat Noir swept Ladybug a grand bow.

“I’m glad you thought of this, Cat Noir!” Ladybug replied, all business.  She took a moment to survey Paris, and to her side, Cat Noir took a moment to survey her.  The soft lights of Paris highlighted the slope of her shoulder and the curve of her hips, emphasizing her delicate waist.  For a moment, Cat Noir dreamt of placing one hand possessively around her waist and pulling her next to him as they looked out over the cityscape.

Instead, Cat Noir stepped up to the railing next to her.  He wrapped his gloved hands over the railing as the night’s wind shuddered the iron structure.  “I thought we could divide the city into quadrants and take one quadrant a night.”

“You really have put thought into this, haven’t you Chaton?” Ladybug asked, impressed.  She added, “I don’t think I can come out every night though.  I … I have…” Ladybug weighed how much to give away about herself, “I have homework, and parents.”

Cat Noir smiled into the night, thinking fondly, and more than a little enviously, of Mr. and Mrs. Dupain-Cheng.  “I have homework too.  Maybe we could do this every other night.  Let’s just play it by-” he flicked his cat ears back and forth, “-ear.”

Ladybug smiled at his antics, then tossing her yoyo into the pitchy darkness below, she said, “Let’s do the Northwest quadrant tonight,” and swung down the tower.  Cat Noir was quick on her heels, jumping and vaulting from one strut to the next, until they reached the ground.

The two leaped across the rooflines of Paris, generally Ladybug taking the lead but sometimes Cat Noir calling directions.  They criss-crossed avenues and alleyways, swinging past the Arc de Triomphe, hopscotching lamp posts on the Champs Elysee, and heading ultimately for the Sacre Coeur.  Ladybug lost herself in the glorious freedom of flying between the buildings. The wind whistled in her ears, and pulled at her pigtails.  She felt like finally she was leaving the clumsiness and confusion of the day behind her as she sped through the night.

In fact, Cat Noir was struggling a bit to keep up with her.  He doubted she was actually watching out for akumas, but rather seemed to be racing herself through the night.

“Hold up, Lightning bug!” Cat Noir called as they approached the Tuileries.  Ladybug landed lightly on the gravel near a large round fountain, and Cat Noir came to rest beside her.  Both were panting.

“I’m not sure we’re going to see any akumas when we race through the streets that way, MiLady.”

Ladybug looked down at her feet, and hesitated before agreeing.  Then she kicked a pebble across the wide path and said, “Sorry, Cat.  I guess I wasn’t really looking.  It just felt so good to go fast.”  She kicked at another pebble.

Cat Noir put one hand on her shoulder and asked, “Are you okay, Bugaboo?  Bad day?”

Ladybug laughed a little, and shrugging his hand off her shoulder, replied, “No, just the opposite actually.  C’mon, I’ll be slower,” and shooting her yoyo ahead of her, she took off again.

Cat Noir sighed, thinking he should be happy, but in fact feeling a little bereft.  Extending his baton, he took off after her.

Ladybug was more assiduous this time, carefully choosing the route with the most efficient perspective, and more precisely transversing the area.  Cat Noir also stayed professional, pushing his desire to tease and flirt to the back of his mind for the moment.

Finally they came to rest at the Sacre Coeur.  Ladybug chose a smaller dome for them to perch upon, with the view of the city spread out at their feet.  It was small enough that, as they sat, their shoulders rubbed each other’s.  They were panting again.

The two sat in companionable silence, feeling the cool breeze and listening to the muted sounds of Paris at their feet.  The muffled sounds of cars gunning their motors at green lights, and honking at slower motorists, the disjointed singing from a bar somewhere in Montmartre, a girl laughing, solo footsteps… The distant sounds added life to the twinkling city lights.

Ladybug sighed just as Cat Noir said, “I love this city.”

Giggling at their parallel thoughts, Ladybug said, “I do too.”

“So, MiLady,” Cat Noir turned to Ladybug and leaned back on his arms, “You had a good day?  I know a way we could make it even better…” and he playfully waggled his eyebrows beneath his mask.

Pushing lightly on his shoulder with her index finger, Ladybug laughed and said, “Oh, Cat.  You cannot make my day any better than it was!”

“Care to make that a bet?” Cat Noir asked flirtatiously.

“No!” Ladybug answered a little quickly, a blush staining her cheeks.  ‘Hmmm…’ Cat Noir thought to himself, encouraged, but Ladybug’s next words deflated him.  “I mean, there’s a boy at school that I’ve liked for a long time, and today he… Well, he just paid a lot of attention to me.  There’s nothing you could do that could top that.”

“MiLady, you wound me!” Cat Noir dramatically placed one hand over his heart.  Then, narrowing his eyes at her, he said, “You’re not going to tell me about my rival, are  you? This is a cat-astrophe!” and grinned.

Shaking her head at his silly pun, Ladybug replied, “Your rival?  Pfft!”

Cat Noir leaned down and butted her shoulder with his head, cat-style, and teased, “So I’m still the first in your heart, Bugaboo?”

“Seriously, Cat Noir, I really do like this boy.  I’m… I’m sorry…”

Cat Noir kept his head down so that Ladybug couldn’t see his smile.  Schooling his expression, he then looked up at Ladybug and asked, “Is he strong?”

“What?” Ladybug asked, surprised.

“Is he strong?  Is he as strong as me?” and he flexed his biceps to emphasize his question.

Laughing again, Ladybug said, “Of course not!  You’re a superhero!”

“So he’s not as strong as you, either,” Cat Noir pointed out.  A peculiar look crossed Ladybug’s face.  “Does he fight bad guys?”

Pressing her lips together, a tiny bit cross, Ladybug said, “Like you, you mean?”

“Like *us*, MiLady, like *us*.”  Cat Noir moved his hand on top of hers.  Ladybug pulled her hand away, and crossed her arms.

“No,” she replied, a little grumpily, “he doesn’t fight bad guys.”  She tried not to rise to Cat Noir’s bait, but finally said defensively, “Look, he’s just a nice, smart, kind guy.”

“Is he cute?” Cat Noir asked, and shaking his golden, silky hair, knowing that even the dim lights of the night cityscape would catch his natural highlights, Cat Noir gazed at Ladybug with the most appealing expression in his emerald green eyes.  He added, “Is he as cute as me?”

Relaxing again, Ladybug uncrossed her arms and waved her hand dismissively, “Oh please!  Much cuter!  He’s a model!”

Cat Noir shook his head and tsk’ed.  “So let me get this straight.”  Raising one hand, he ticked off his points on his fingers, “You like a boy who is kinda weak, merely nice, but certainly gorgeous.  Huh.  I didn’t realize you were so won over by surface appeal, MiLady.  I would have spent more time on my appearance,” he teased.

Ladybug was back to sputtering defensively, “Cat, that’s not what I meant!  He’s… he’s… also really smart, and thoughtful, and he has a crummy dad, and…” she petered out, uncertain how to explain Adrien to Cat Noir.  He was earnest and kind, not showy but genuine.  He did not flirt incessantly.  He was… breathtaking.

Cat Noir interrupted her thoughts with more flirting.  In a persuasive tone he suggested, “You could date us both and then make a more informed decision.  I’m not afraid of the competition!”

“Cat Noir!”

Leaning forward, almost conspiratorily, Cat Noir added, “I even bet that I’m the better kisser!”

Immediately the image of Cat Noir looming over her, threatening her with his Cataclysm, popped into Ladybug’s mind, along with her memories of pulling his face to hers and kissing him deeply.  To this day, he did not even know.

Cat Noir watched Ladybug go absolutely still, and then her face turn a bright, bright pink.  At her silence, he grinned, “Cat got your tongue?”

As if burned, Ladybug jumped to her feet and shot out her yoyo to the main dome of the cathedral, “Okay, I’m done.  Goodnight, Cat Noir!”

Cat Noir bent over, laughing hilariously.  He wasn’t quite sure why his last outrageous comment had been the final straw for Ladybug, but clearly it was.  Gasping for breath, Cat Noir jumped up to chase after her, still chuckling.

“Wait, wait Ladybug!” he called.

Ladybug did pause, standing silhouetted at the peak of Sacre Coeur’s dome.  Cat Noir leaped up to her, but Ladybug kept her body stiff and her back turned to him.  “I’m sorry, Bugaboo!” he said sincerely, although humor still shaded his tone.  “I didn’t meant to tease!”  He got down on one knee and grabbed her hand in his.  Ladybug finally softened enough to look at him.  He gallantly kissed the back of her hand and promised, “I won’t tease you again.”  Then, he thought better of it and said, “Well, at least I promise to *try* not to tease you again!”  Ladybug pulled her hand out of his grasp.

Rising, Cat Noir asked contritely, “Friends?” and held out his hand.

Pursing her lips, Ladybug glowered at Cat Noir for a moment but then relented.  She grasped his hand with hers and echoed, “Friends.”  They shook.

Cat Noir let go of her hand and pulled out his baton.  “I guess it’s time to call it a night.  Meet to patrol the evening after tomorrow, right?  Same time, same place?”

“Uh, right,” Ladybug replied, somewhat bemused by Cat Noir’s sudden, professional tone.

“Okay, see you then!” he said.  Extending his baton, Cat Noir turned to vault off the building, only to look over his shoulder at Ladybug, “But I *do* think you should date us both.  Goodnight!” and he leaped off into the night.

Ladybug was caught off guard with his last comment, and couldn’t gather her wits quickly enough to get the last word in.  She was left sputtering, alone, with the image of dating both Adrien and Cat Noir stuck in her mind.  

Grumpily she made her way home.

To Be Continued…!  (By JJ Sprinkle)

Rules: Always post the rules, answer the questions given to you, then write 10 questions of your own, and tag 10 other people.

Tagged by: @misanthropicphilantropist thanks for the tag.

Questions for me:

1. Coffee or tee? (Why?)
Coffee, because I wouldn’t be able to function with just 3 to 4 hours of real sleep.
2. Who is the most important person in your life?
My Self.
3. Does Jared Padalecki need a haircut?
Whats wrong with you? Let the moose keep his glorious hair waving in the wind.
4. Do you believe in the supernatural?
Yes. I’ma  a living proof of that stuff.
5. Women with short hair or long hair?
Let them decide what’s best for their personal tastes.
6. If NASA offered a one-way trip to Mars (no chance of ever returning to Earth) would you go?
7. Samsung or Apple?
8. What was the last book you read and how did you like it?
I currently reading American Gods trying to  finish it first and then watch the series.
9. Favorite social media?]
10. How many languages do you speak?
Two, English and Spanish. If coursing like a sailor is a dialect, I’m fluid in that too, in both languages ;)

Questions for you:

1. Which are the most influential books over your lifetime?
2. What your patronus will look like?
3. Where do you think you will go when you die?
4. How many times did you watch Supernatural entire series from the beginning to the last season?
5. Where is your Happy place?
6. If it were possible, would you like for your consciousness be transfered in to an android after you die?
7. Do you believe in our Hot Over Lord Misha Collins?
8. Do you prefer a Human!Cas or you wish Cas to keep his Grace and everything that makes him an angel when he comes back?
9. Which song do you think could perfectly fit for the first kiss on screen of Dean and Cas?
10. Tell me about a recurrent dream that makes you happy.

Tagging: @misanthropicphilantropist rebound @whyjm @sunshine-hunters @trisscar368 @starsinursa @weathergirl83 @calliopecookiejar @naruhearts @amwritingmeta @helianthus21 @tinkdw @jemariel @justrandomspnstuff @gneisscastiel @cas-essence @castiel-saved-me-from-myself @castiellover

In summer’s mellow midnight
A cloudless moon shone through
Our open parlour window
And rosetress wet with dew

I sit in silent musing –
The soft wind waved my hair
It told me Heaven was glorious
And sleeping Earth was fair –
—  Emily Brontë, “The Night-Wind,” in The Night is Darkening Round Me (Penguin Little Black Classic no. 63).
actual immortal/really old marco

Okay, so he’s barely into his twenties when some shit happens and he accidentally/purposefully eats the fruit, not sure on what exactly it does, but it’s pretty and blue and warm and he can almost hear it singing. So he takes one bite that burns like lies on his tongue ‘cause that is nasty as brine, just ew, but it’s enough.

And he learns to burn, and he learns to fly, and he gets away from the bad situation but burns everything down in the process. He was taken, and can’t find home again. As a kid he’d never intended to leave, so he has no idea where his home island even is. And he hangs around in a big city for a year or two, ends up apprenticed just to have a place to stay, and then he looks up and it’s five years later and his old master creaks when he stands and he hasn’t changed even a bit. His master’s daughter is kinda flirty with him now and he realizes that this is not okay. So he packs up and heads down the road, leaves his master heirless and alone and he still regrets that some particularly maudlin days

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