Archives for the Date February 17th, 2018

只有5%人口擁護照 美媒預測:陸客5年內征服地球 February 17, 2018 at 05:26PM

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The performance of intimacy: Why the world can’t stop watching Tessa Virtue and Scott Moir

The performance of intimacy: Why the world can’t stop watching Tessa Virtue and Scott Moir:


Their intimacy shows in everything they do: it’s gentle as they finish each other’s sentences, it’s imbued with desire as they look longingly at one another as they speak, it burns with a sexual chemistry so hot you could set it alight as they weave easily into each others’ bodies on the ice. And they’ve been swearing for the better part of two decades that their intimacy stops just short of love.

kimtaeyeons: – Margaret Atwood


Margaret Atwood

Escape:  The Bree Years



Claire woke to find the room dark and his side still empty.  He had obviously turned off her lamp, and taken the book she was reading from her hands.  She had tried waiting for him to come to bed.  He’d stayed outside for a while as evidenced by the chill air that had crept under the door to their bedroom.  She could hardly focus on her book, but the last thing she remembered thinking was that she’d said her piece….

“Jamie!” She said a little louder. 

“Here.”  His voice was soft, but firm.  

She knew that tone. 

He was laying on the chaise that fit into the corner of their bedroom.  Her eyes adjusted and she could see that he was covered in a blanket, his bed pillow behind his head.  The faint light coming through the small slit between the window and the curtain highlighted his shirtless form.

“You’re angry.”  Claire sat up, tucking her pillow behind her back, and drawing her knees up under the covers.  She wrapped her arms around her legs.  

“I am,” Jamie stated.  Forever honest, she could count on him not to lie to her.  

Jamie sighed and threw one arm over the back of the chaise.  

“Jamie, I -”

“Nay, Claire. Ye had yer say.  And ye turned tail, and walked away wi’out a backward glance.”  He ran his hands through his curls, tousling his hair.  “But that’s no’ really what I’m angry over.  It was yer parting shot.”

Claire shook her head, trying to wake up and remember what she’d said.

Jamie decided to refresh her memory.  

“Ye said ye’d cut my heart out and eat it for breakfast.”  He paused to let that sink in.  “Really, Claire?  Ye’d speak to me that way?  Yer husband?”

She didn’t mean it.  He had to know that.

“I have never,” he said the word harshly, “never spoken to ye that way.”

Claire nodded.  She couldn’t look at him.  

“We’ve had our disagreements, Claire, our differences of opinion.  It’s one of the things I love about ye, the fact ye challenge me to be a better person, and to consider new ideas.  But that,” he tossed his hands in the air, a gesture of surrender, “I dinna ken what that was.”

“I was angry,” she admitted. 

“Maybe,” Jamie said, “Or maybe ye thought ye’d bully me to parent yer way.”

She stayed silent.  There was nothing she could say to contradict that.

“We’ve never discussed discipline, Claire, we -”

“Stop calling me that,” she interrupted.

Jamie cocked his head to the side in confusion.  “Call ye what?”

“Claire,” she said.  

He took a deep breath, and let it out slowly.   

He pushed back the blankets and swung his long legs to the floor.  He leaned forward, clasping his hands between his knees.  The pillow lay stark white in the corner catching the artificial light from outside, a beacon highlighting how distant she felt from him in that moment. 

“I’ve been laying awake thinking about my childhood.  Willie and I, we got the crack of my father’s belt across our arses more times than I could count.  I never liked it at the time, but I dinna think I turned out so bad as a result.” 

He dropped his head, then, and spoke even more softly.

“And Jenny.  God, Jenny had a mouth on her.  She would talk back, all vinegar and sarcasm.  She would never shut up, always had to have the last word.  She was sharp-tongued, and mean.  Drove my father crazy.”

The silence grew.  

“I willna have Bree growing up spoilt.”

“Well,” Claire said, “Too late for that.  We spoil her already with love, and attention, material things notwithstanding.  Mrs. Fitz, too.”

“And that’s my point, Claire.”  

She flinched at the use of her name again.  He really was angry.

“We are people of means, and I’m no’ goin’ to apologize for that.  We have a nanny for God’s sake.  Brianna wants for nothing.  Her Mam is a doctor, and her Da runs a very successful corporation.  Aye, she’s spoilt that way.”

As he warmed to his subject, his accent got thicker.   

“And she’s spoilt in other ways.  We dinna have the same stresses that other parents have.  Even tonight, Mrs. Fitz made our dinner!  Thinkin’ back on my parents, and thinkin’ of what Jenny and Ian have to contend wi’ even having Mrs. Crook!  What happens, Claire, if we are blessed with another child and she’ll have to share that attention?  Does she no’ get reprimanded if she antagonizes her sibling?  If she doesna share?  If she throws a tantrum and hits us?  If we tell her to stop and she ignores it?  What about when we may be bone tired from being up all night wi’ a newborn and she decides to touch something she’s no’ supposed to?  Or she talks back disrespectfully?  How about the day she tells ye she hates ye?  Hmmm?  Are we to just smile and nod and say, ‘Oh Bree ye dinna mean that!’”

“Jamie, I’m not saying we can’t discipline her, I just want us to agree on how we discipline her.”

They sat silent for a while, each lost in their own thoughts.  

Jamie watched his wife hug her knees tighter, resting her forehead on them as if she were trying to disappear. 

“My life, growing up, was steeped in tradition.  Custom.  Ritual.  My father was a rigid man.  He wouldna bend for anything.”

Claire lifted her head to look at Jamie.  

“What ye said earlier about yer Uncle Lamb made me mindful.”

“How so?” she whispered. 

“Children obey their parents.  Parents discipline them when they don’t.  Well, that’s how it was wi’ my father, and his father, and on, and on, and on back.  But maybe-”  He hesitated.  She saw him take two breaths.  “Maybe for you and me it has to go a different way.”

He stood and walked back to bed, carrying his pillow.  

He slid under the covers, and gathered his wife close. 

“Sassenach,” he whispered, and kissed her forehead.  Claire wound her arms around his middle and laid her head on his chest. 

“I’m sorry, Jamie,” she whispered. 

Claire placed a kiss on his chest, and squeezed him tighter.  His fingers made small circles on her skin. 

“I’m sorry, too.”  His voice was low, and sincere.

She couldn’t stop the tears that slid down her cheek and on to his skin.  How did she manage to win this man’s heart?  

More to the point, how did she manage to keep it? 

“I just want us to try, Jamie.”

“Aye.  I ken that.”  He waited a moment before he said what was really on his mind.  

“I just need ye to understand, that even if we come to an agreement, I canna promise never to raise my voice, or that she willna be frightened of me from time to time.  We can have all the good intentions in the world but we are human.  And try as we might to keep our emotions out of discipline, sometimes they may get the best of us.”

He felt her nod against his chest.

“I mean, I admire what ye said about yer Uncle Lamb, but he never had to live wi’ you as a three-year-old, now did he?”  

As the breath from his wife’s chuckle blossomed against his chest, Jamie finally settled into sleep.  

This chapter is dedicated to @crownqueenkate.  She knows why. 

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