#( he lost ALL the joy and passion he had for dancing when his sister died. so to open himself back up to that ??? *huge* )

[daybreakrising]

me when i got home: i am so exhausted i'm probably gonna crash out immediately

the feral gremlin in my brain: time to be completely normal about vautrin again

[oswinpond]

Even after the new film, which certainly popularized Amy/Laurie in a way I’ve never seen before, I keep hearing a lot of the same old arguments: “Laurie never stopped loving Jo”, “Laurie didn’t really love Amy”, “Amy was a second choice/consolation prize”, “Jo should’ve been with Laurie” etc. And a lot of these people claim this is book canon. As I’ve just reread the book, I’ve got a lot of thoughts on all of this... 

(Note: This is all purely based on book canon.)

In the book, after Amy harshly scolds Laurie, he decides to go back to London and work for his grandfather to better himself. At first, he thinks he’s doing it for two reasons: Amy despises him and that hurts him, but also the idea that if he does something “splendid” Jo may love him (or at least respect him, as Amy put it). 

So Laurie decides to write a requiem for Jo “which should harrow up Jo’s soul and melt the heart of every hearer”. But he can’t come up with anything because he keeps humming the dance music reminiscent of the Christmas ball in Nice which he spent devoting himself to Amy all evening. So then he tries to compose an opera with Jo as his heroine, but it doesn’t work. “He wanted Jo for his heroine, and called upon his memory to supply him with tender recollections and romantic visions of his love. But memory turned traitor; and, as if possessed by the perverse spirit of the girl, would only recall Jo’s oddities, faults, and freaks, would only show her in the most unsentimental aspects.” 

Jo no longer fits as his heroine, no matter how hard he tries. So he gives up on that, and his imagination promptly comes up with another heroine for him without even trying: 

“This phantom wore many faces, but it always had golden hair, was enveloped in a diaphanous cloud, and floated airily before his mind’s eye in a pleasing chaos of roses, peacocks, white ponies, and blue ribbons. He did not give the complacent wraith any name, but he took her for his heroine and grew quite fond of her, as well he might, for he gifted her with every gift and grace under the sun, and escorted her, unscathed, through trials which would have annihilated any mortal woman.”

While Laurie doesn’t realize it, the woman he’s imagining is Amy. Amy with the blue ribbons in her golden hair, who put roses in his buttonhole, who he watched feed the peacocks in Paris, and who he first saw again in a carriage drawn by ponies. It’s also a little prophetic, as he does escort the real Amy through future trials. (Bonus: at the same time, Amy spends her time sketching some faceless man who clearly resembles Laurie, but she doesn’t realize it either.)

Contrary to what some in the fandom would claim, Laurie isn’t at all forcing himself to love Amy just so that he can be part of the March family. He doesn’t even realize that she’s become the “heroine” in his story, that she’s the woman he’s fantasizing about. He thinks he’s doing this to improve himself for Jo, but it’s Amy that’s inspiring him. 

And then Laurie realizes that his feelings for Jo are disappearing:

“Laurie thought that the task of forgetting his love for Jo would absorb all his powers for years, but to his great surprise he discovered it grew easier every day. He refused to believe it at first, got angry with himself, and couldn’t understand it [...] Laurie’s heart wouldn’t ache; the wound persisted in healing with a rapidity that astonished him, and instead of trying to forget, he found himself trying to remember. He had not foreseen this turn of affairs, and was not prepared for it. He was disgusted with himself, surprised at his own fickleness, and full of a queer mixture of disappointment and relief that he could recover from such a tremendous blow so soon. He carefully stirred up the embers of his lost love, but they refused to burn into a blaze: there was only a comfortable glow that warmed and did him good without putting him into a fever, and he was reluctantly obliged to confess that the boyish passion was slowly subsiding into a more tranquil sentiment, very tender, a little sad and resentful still, but that was sure to pass away in time, leaving a brotherly affection which would last unbroken to the end.”

This passage alone pretty much puts to rest the idea that Laurie never got over Jo. He actually got over her so easily and quickly that he felt disgusted with himself, thinking this made him fickle. His romantic feelings are gone, and soon will leave only a “brotherly affection” when the last of the hurt is gone as well. Maybe he got over her so easily because he simply mistook his strong bond with her for romance, or maybe it was just a rash and immature first love that was never going to last long anyways, or whatever else... point being, he got over her.

And Laurie was actually trying, and failing, to rekindle any love for Jo (unlike his unconscious growing feelings for Amy, which he wasn’t pushing for at all). As a last ditch attempt to revive that love, he writes to Jo asking if she was sure about her refusal, and when she responds that she absolutely could never love him that way, he accepts it without sadness or complaint this time. He’s already over her, so there’s nothing to be heartbroken over. That was his closure. He takes off the ring she gave him and locks it away with her letters, and that’s that. 

And that’s when he’s ready to open his heart to Amy. He starts corresponding with her so often their letters are flying back and forth constantly. He wants to go back to her, but he doesn’t want to until she asks; she finally does after she hears about Beth’s passing, and Laurie immediately drops everything to go to her “with a heart full of joy and sorrow, hope and suspense” (and this is after he knows she’s turned down Fred, so we know what he’s hoping for now). Amy is his first priority after Beth dies, even though Beth was dearest to Jo. Laurie meets Amy in Switzerland and, without saying anything, they both know their relationship has changed. 

They spend weeks doing everything together and spend all their time out at the lake. Despite the sad tidings, they wind up being their happiest together in Vevey. They both know that they’re in love with each other without even having to say it (they really seem to develop an unspoken communication at this point). And while Laurie knows that she’ll say “yes” to his proposal, he’s still nervous so he puts it off to enjoy his time with Amy in Switzerland. He imagines proposing to her in the chateau garden at moonlight, but instead blurts it out while they’re on a lake in the middle of the day:

Feeling that she had not mended matters much, Amy took the offered third of a seat, shook her hair over her face, and accepted an oar. She rowed as well as she did many other things; and, though she used both hands, and Laurie but one, the oars kept time, and the boat went smoothly through the water. “How well we pull together, don’t we?” said Amy, who objected to silence just then. “So well that I wish we might always pull in the same boat. Will you, Amy?” very tenderly. “Yes, Laurie,” very low. Then they both stopped rowing, and unconsciously added a pretty little tableau of human love and happiness to the dissolving views reflected in the lake.

And there’s so much to say about this little scene. While he had to beg and argue with Jo just to finally accept her firm “no”, he just has to ask a simple question with Amy and he gets his simple answer because they’re on the same page. The rather blunt metaphor of rowing well together, even when he uses one hand and she uses two, is all about how despite their differences they work. They keep time. And it calls back to Jo’s talk with Marmee where they both agree that Jo and Laurie never would’ve worked, in part because their similarities would clash horribly in a romantic relationship (but mainly because , y’know, Jo never once felt a single shred of romantic love for Laurie). 

Now, I can understand where people come from thinking Laurie was “replacing” Jo with Amy with lines like "Laurie decided that Amy was the only woman in the world who could fill Jo’s place and make him happy”. I get how this can be interpreted as Amy filling in for what was meant to be Jo’s place in his heart. But it makes a lot more sense in the context of Laurie’s speech to Jo towards the end when he explains his feelings:

“I never shall stop loving you; but the love is altered, and I have learned to see that it is better as it is. Amy and you changed places in my heart, that’s all. I think it was meant to be so, and would have come about naturally, if I had waited, as you tried to make me; but I never could be patient, and so I got a heartache. I was a boy then, headstrong and violent; and it took a hard lesson to show me my mistake. For it was one, Jo, as you said, and I found it out, after making a fool of myself. Upon my word, I was so tumbled up in my mind, at one time, that I didn’t know which I loved best, you or Amy, and tried to love you both alike; but I couldn’t. And when I saw her in Switzerland, everything seemed to clear up all at once. You both got into your right places.”

Laurie didn’t settle for Amy. Amy took Jo’s place in the sense that they swapped places in how he saw them, from romantic to platonic for Jo and vice versa for Amy. And those wound up being their “right” places. He believes he was always meant to fall in love with Amy and see Jo as his sister, and that he would’ve gotten to this point naturally even if things had played out differently.

I’ll admit I wasn’t a fan of how the 2019 film portrayed Jo in this situation, because in the book she was absolutely thrilled for Laurie and Amy, and is happily surprised when Marmee tells her she’d been hoping for them to fall in love. But in the film, they take her sadness over her loneliness too far IMO, and make it seem like she was actually bitter over Amy and Laurie being together, which unfortunately fuelled the “Amy stole Laurie from Jo” crowd a bit. And after her conversation with Marmee where she admits that she only wants Laurie because she longs to be loved, and Marmee points that “that isn’t the same as loving”, this makes movie!Jo seem “silly and selfish” as book!Jo puts it (because in the book, that was only a “what if” she entertained and never wrote any letter). 

Anyways, to conclude on all of this, when Amy and Laurie are married at and home, we get the thoughts of other characters on their relationship, and the unanimous opinion is that they’re completely in love and happy with each other. Jo herself insists that their happiness will for sure last, and notes how proud Laurie seems to be to call Amy his wife. Laurie, meanwhile, can’t stop talking about Amy through to the end (and Amy is clearly just as smitten). I dare you to read the last half of Part 2 and not find Amy and Laurie adorable together. 

And to hammer that last nail in the coffin on Jo/Laurie as a romance, we get Laurie meeting Professor Bhaer. It’s specifically noted that while Laurie is suspicious of Bhaer and notices his interest in Jo, it was “not of jealousy” but a “brotherly circumspection”. Amy even asks him if he’s at all jealous and Laurie tells her “I assure you I can dance at Jo’s wedding with a heart as light as my heels. Do you doubt it, my darling?” and it says that Amy’s “last little jealous fear vanished forever”. Laurie actually winds up happily supporting Bhaer once he sees he’s a great guy for his sister Jo, and suggests to Amy that they should try to help them out as a couple.

So no, Jo never loved Laurie romantically, Laurie absolutely did get over Jo, Laurie and Amy are so happy together it’s almost obnoxious, Jo is pro-Amy/Laurie and Laurie is pro-Jo/Bhaer, and Amy wasn’t a second choice, she was Laurie’s “meant to be” by his own words.

[vampiresuns]

How Will It Matter After You’re Gone

For Anatole’s day 13 of @arcana-echoes​: Aftermath.

Title: From Disenchanted - My Chemical Romance (Nana was an MCR teen, it’s only fair).

Quick guide: Here you can check on the Cassano-Radosevic family tree. Medea Pryce & Leonore Kaur are Anatole’s best friends, I owe them a post. Medea is a community organiser, and Leonore a therapist in training. Althea is his twin sister, and Navneet his eldest sibling (there’s seven Kaurs: Navneet, Sashi, Althea & Leonore, and Isha, Vaishnavi and Ashok). Navneet and Anatole end up together in one of his timelines.

Dear Vesuvia,

It is with the greatest regret that the Cassano of this City inform to the public that Aelius Anatole Radošević De Silva, Of The Cassano of Vesuvia, has passed away in the Lazaret on the date —.

Taking this time to mourn, while the Cassano and the Consul will remain in the city, striving to find a cure, we inform the city that Consul Valerius has taken the decision to close the doors of the Palazzo.

Due to sanitary measures, no funeral will be held.

Milenko & Amparo

Amparo sat in the middle of the stage of the closed theatre. She wanted to be alone, everyone’s energy threatening to drag her down and never bring her back again, down to a place where the sun does not rise. Not that it matters. The sun could rise a thousand times over, and she feels like she will never notice it again. Losing Anzano, her grandparent, was hard enough. Losing Anatole was unbearable.

Her Anatole deserved the brightest of requiems, and he will have silence, in a bitter city which will probably not mourn him. Not that she can hold it against them — but it still hurts, just like it hurt to feel him die. She always knows when people die.

“Vesuvia lost it’s last honest lover,” she tells no one.

She doesn’t know how long she’s been sitting there, but she knows she must head back, and for the first time in forever, she dreads Death itself.

When she comes back, she finds Milenko sitting on Anatole’s piano, crying.

Valerian

Valerian Cassano spent three days siting in the winter garden of the Palazzo after his great grandson died. He knew the biggest loss would always be for his parents, he had gone through that long before they had to. Losing a child was something one never truly recovered of.

He remembers so clearly the first time he met that child: golden before his hair caught up with his personality, avid to learn, curious, ambitious, resolved, more intelligent than most people he’s met. He reminded him of Vitale, his father in law.

Sometimes, if you spoke to the dead, they would listen, so he tried his luck: “Elysian, my dearest friend, take care of him. Do what we could not.”

Cassiopeia

Cassiopeia Cassano considered herself a lot of things: dedicated, passionate, fair, reserved, thoughtful. Brave... bravery was something she was beginning to doubt in herself. Seeing your parent die of a disease as invasive as the plague could do that to a person — seeing someone like Anatole, with his vitality of a thousand suns, could cement it a little deeper in oneself.

Cassiopeia didn’t like endings, they were predictable and inevitable and, sometimes, unfair. At least Amparo was back, and she didn’t have to worry about wherever she was and if she would be safe. 

A door opened and closed behind her. She turned to find Iris, her spouse.

“How is Lele?”

“She’s eating, at least.”

“And Lenko?”

“Lenko doesn’t want to see anyone.”

“How... how is...”

“Louisa and Vlad? Please don’t make me answer that.”

“And Va—”

“Don’t.”

Her eyes swelled with tears. Holding her own forehead, she began to cry. Iris sat with her, holding her free hand and kissing her knuckles.

“He rearranged the filing system for the Council by himself— he—” a hiccup, “he had so many plans—”

“I know.”

“He was drafting a social reform for—”

“I know.”

“I’m never going to see him walk around with his coffee, nor terrorise the Praetor. I’m never going to see him— I’m never—”

“I know, my love, I know.”

“He would’ve been a wonderful Consul, Iris.”

Iris’ voice trembled. “I know.” They held Cassiopeia closer. The only thing they could think about was how that could’ve been Amparo.

Mircea & Florentino

“Florence?” Mircea Radošević said, looking and sounding lifeless. “Do you want something to eat?”

“No.”

Mircea understood. He didn’t either.

Medea & Leonore

She’s cried too much to be properly angry, but no matter what she does, no matter how much she pets Leonore’s hair she keeps silently crying, snot threatening to make her unable to breathe alltogether. She’s tired, exhausted, and miserably, dreadfully alone. She feels alone in this world like she hasn’t in years. Leonore has his forehead on her forearm, and a hand on his third glass of spiced whiskey. The only reason why he stopped drinking was because he began crying again.

Medea used to think nothing was enough of a hit to fully break Leonore. He had that quality about him: feelings came, they went, and he sat with discomfort running rampant, only to build up after it was gone with a smile on his face.

Not any more.

Leonore sobbed pitifully, choking on his own cries.

After he finally managed to calm down, he looked at her: “How the fuck will I tell Navneet? How am I telling Althea.”

She began crying again. “I don’t know, Leo — I don’t have the slightest fucking idea.”

“Fucking— How the fuck am I going to wake up tomorrow if he’s, if he—”

“I don’t know, Leo... I really don’t know.”

Antupillán

Antu searched the entire city for Anatole, only not to find him anywhere.

He had gone where Antu couldn’t follow, so he did the only thing he could think of: he went back to Anatole’s room, made himself a lair in his wardrobe, and feel asleep.

If you paid enough attention, you could hear him weeping.

Vlad & Louisa

Aelius Anatole, his son, had come into the world at dawn to seal the lesson that Louisa had brought into his life: that if he knows what love is, it is because they exist. He had nicknamed him Lily because he had always been little, shorter than the other kids, yet somehow stood taller, brighter. He figures all parents think the same of their children.

His son came into the world at dawn. Vlad will never know at what time he left it. He will never know if he was scared. He will never know if the fever kept him lucid. He will never have a body to hold, just like he used to before, when Anatole still asked to be tucked in, demanding to be given a hand to tug on while he fell asleep.

He will have no stories to tell him, he will have no more hallway dances to see him dance, no more dreams, no more smiles. 

Death has taken so much from him, all he feels is rage. For the first time in years, he wishes he had died too, but he has a wife, and he can’t leave her alone.

Louisa De Silva never expected to have any children, nor she expected her only son to be taken away from her. She thinks, no, she knows she will feel hollow for the rest of her life, that nothing ever will be the same: happiness will be a ghost of what it used to be. Food will taste blander than before. Joy will be watered, and laugh will take a long vacation never to return.

That Anatole is now with her sister is no consolation at all. She’s always loved Paris, but right now, she’s envious of her. Wherever it is that they are, if there is such a place, her sister will get to hold her son while she didn’t have a chance to even see him die. She holds the arm of the chair she’s sitting in until her knuckles go white. She feels like fainting.

Incompetent and despotic rulers have taken so many things from her: her family home, her parents when they sent her away, and now, while a different tyrant, the offence is the same, worse even, because they too have taken her son.

Louisa De Silva, mother of Aelius Anatole, is a doctor: she doesn’t need to be told all of this was preventable, but it was her son the one who paid the price.

Valerius

“Uncle! Uncle! Look at what I learnt today in my fencing lessons!” Anatole was 8 then.

“Uncle? Was that your boyfriend?” Anatole, aged 9, hanged from a tree branch to ask him that question.

“Uncle!” He had screamed of joy at 11, running to him in the Palazzo after Valerius moved permanently to Vesuvia.

Dearest Uncle, he had written at 15, 16, 17, 18, 19, 20.

“Valeriy,” he had called him not two weeks ago, still so sure they would endure this. They are Radošević’s, they are Cassanos, the are Vesuvians but also Balkovian: that meant whatever life threw their way, they survived it.

Or they were.

Valerius feels a knot on his throat: he doesn’t have Anatole’s resolve, his progressive ideas, he doesn’t have his hope, and whatever amount of those he had himself, they died with him. They died with him, giving his life away for a city which would never appreciate him, which would never value him like he did. They did not deserve the soil of Anatole’s shoes and now he’s dead. The boy had given them summer without them asking, a summer which was snatched away from him: Anatole had slipped from his grip like sun-rays between his fingers. 

The world should stop without him. That it didn’t was an act of cruelty Valerius would never forgive, even if resentment poisoned him. No amount to lying to himself will change the fact his Aelius died, that he failed his brother in protecting him, that he will have no successor, no one to pass the Consulship to, and that no one will ever be worthy.

A year later, he will watch the Count burn in his bed, and he will smile: Good, he will think, If Anatole did not get to live, then neither should you.

[ofcruelfates101]

“ There is no such thing as perfection.”

the courts offer bread and salt to ARTEMISIA of HOUSE MANDERLY. many say that the THIRTY-ONE year old LADY of THE NEW CASTLE ( within White Harbor ) is known to be CALM and WISE, though ill tongues whisper that SHE is SECRETIVE and DISILLUSIONED. when her name is uttered , one is reminded of beautiful but saddened, disquieting eyes, gazes that bore deep into your soul, a touch of serenity, an aura of world-weariness for someone still so young, a tiny flame that flickers in and out, an exquisite smile that was somehow built upon a foundation of hidden but great heartaches, shades of blue and green, soft pink tulips strewn in a messy path. may she be blessed and protected in this war of crowns. ( fc: alessandra mastronardi ) (( also filling freyja stark’s wc of a best friend + confidante )) * she’s also currently in freyja stark’s retinue of lady-in-waiting and her most trusted counsel *

TW (!!) : relationship abuse, violence, foeticide, death, drug abuse

the following intro below is subject to changes as I’m still plotting out ( + still open for ) connections with other muns!! <3

- she’s the eldest daughter in her family and she has two younger sisters who are twins. she also has a few-to a handful of brothers, one of which is the eldest child and current ruling lord of House Manderly. to her close friends and siblings she was known by her nickname of “Artie”

- Growing up, she was always considered the perfect child. the fillial daughter, the perfect nobleborn girl..everything most proud and lofty nobles wanted as a daughter of a powerful house was in her. This was mainly because, she was born with a natural soft personality, a naive heart and an extremely sharp mind which was very much open and yearing to learn everything anyone wanted to teach her. Spotting and sensing this in their daughter from her toddler years, her overbearing parents then were very determined to mold her into the perfect little lady. To be the one of the brightest jewels of the North that many around the whole realm of Westeros would want and admire.

- Extensively groomed, trained and educated very strictly with no expense spared, the combined efforts of the ruling lord & lady as well as their staff, paid off. She grew up to be a poised and flawlessly elegant lady, perfect in all her mannerisms, behaviour and goldenly-charming social skills. They also made sure to introduce and train her in all kinds of artistic skills and hobbies and to their delight, her ingeniously bright brains which soaked up all kinds of knowledge like a sponge were in perfect sync with her motor skills. Thus, she became very talented in all kinds of artistic ventures. Singing, playing musical instruments, dancing, painting, poetry recitation, embroidery, needlework and even cooking & baking was all nicely packaged into her. She was also well prepped to be the perfect wife and perfect lady that was able to run a large household, knowing how to be organized, pleasing to her future husband and with a knack for numbers and how to efficiently handle the staff. And to add the chery on top, Artie was blessed with insanely beautiful features, making her a lady of great beauty. All in all, it was extremely easy for her parents to receive many bids for her hand in marriage.

- Underneath all this outer layers of seemingly shining perfection, was a person who also grew to be extremely compassionate and kind. a person who always had the biggest smile on her face for everyone she met, no matter what social rank they were, and soft helping hand to anyone in need. a person who was yes indeed loyal to her family, but also couldn’t stand not helping or associating with any stranger she deemed good and was in great need. thus this girl held many secrets in her heart too. secrets that only a small circle of people closest to her knew. so many secrets: that involved helping out anyone who was a victim of her father’s ambition, greed and wrath ; that involved getting accquainted with harmless people whom her family either looked down upon/ despised/ were enemies with ; that involved helping any female which were considered a pariah to a society or suffering for some unjustified reason. She kept this secret actions of hers well, not wanting to incur her parent’s wrath or make trouble for their family name or anyone at all. It also didn’t help that Artie was a passive person and hated confrontations more than anything.

- A lot of her secretive activies was done with the help of some of the servants & staff members of her parent’s household. Eversince she was a little girl, she had long won and charmed their hearts with her patient listening skills, her natural emphathy and her ever willingness to help out in any way. There was no malice or spite or hidden agenda to be found in her, just genuine affection. ‘do unto others as you would have them do unto you’.  Artie also did not desire to do great things in life., she only wanted to do small things with great love.

- being rigidly perfect all the time was tiring. Artie often did find herself wondering, yearning even to just live the simple life of a smallfolk. her form of release and escape came in the form of horse-riding. her father, knowing the dangers of the ongoing war between the ironborn and the north, made sure that his daughters all knew how to ride welljust incase that they should need to flee for their safety. artie loved her horse immensely and she had a great affinity with that beautiful animal. galloping away hard and fast were one of the biggest joys in her life as well as interacting with the many different people who came to White Harbor’s ports. Most of the people in the city loved the soft, generous and bright girl who alwasy did her best to bring good cheer and happiness into their lives. Thus earning her titles/monikers like The Little Mermaid and The Priceless Pearl of White Harbor, etc..

- in the romance department however, it would seemed that Artie was cursed with bad luck. she was once secretly in love with one of her closests friends, a tender sweet young secret crush, but never had the courage to let him know for fear of losing their enjoyable friendship. when she was about 15/16, she would then be betrothed to a man that was good but unfortunately, try as hard as she might her affections for him, never went beyond platonic. When she was just only turning 18, her bethrothed died due to fighting in the North-Iron war and her ever ambitious father was quick to find her a new fiance. Someone not from the North and even more richer than her first fiance had been. What her parents had no idea of at first that Artie was in the midst of falling deeply in love with another man through secret meetings. He promised her freedom, great love and passion and the lovers arranged to meet in the dark of the night to elope. Doing something incredibly risky for the first time ever, had Artie feeling at her most scared and highly uncertain, and riddled with guilt. However with the sweet promises of her lover lingering in her mind, she still went though with it.

Her lover never showed up. She waited and waited, till she was chilled to the bone at one of the most hidden ports but he never came and she was eventually caught by her parents. Breaking down, repenting and begging for their forgiveness as well as that of her betrothed for being so incredibly foolish & she would take whatever punishment dealt to her nary a sound, she was then pleasantly surprised when her betrothed Lord was so quick to forgive her. He instead largely reassured her that everything was going to be alright as he had already fallen for her. As long as she stayed faithful to him and open her heart to him, he told her that he would wait for however long it takes to earn her romantic love. She instantly agreed. Thus she was very quickly whisked away from The North and to his home to be wed immediately.

The 19 year old Artie was blissfully happy with her new wedded life at first. Her husband was attentive, charming and really seemed very sincere in his efforts to make her fall in love with him. Artie even thought he could heal her heartache & he would turn out to be the dream soulmate she always wished for..... That was her first grave mistake. A few months later, she found out she was pregnant, but there was also the possibility that the child could have been fathered by her former lover. For there was not much time difference between the night she had lain with her ex and her wedding night. Filled with great anxiety and worry, Artie still trusted that her incrediby understanding husband would not be too angered and perhaps allow her to either give away the child to be adopted by a good family or take the child as his own, because there was the possibility that it was truly fathered by him instead of the other. That was her 2nd grave mistake and the final one that Artie had ever made so far in her life up till now.

Her husband was not understanding. He was not kind. In fact, that night when she told him about the whole matter, he showed her his true colours  and that was of a monster. A monster that verbally and physically abused her, and come morning, she had lost the baby.

It took a long time for Artie to heal and survive out her trauma from that horrendous night. When she finally came out of her grief and darkness, she was a very much changed Artemisia. She was no longer naive. She was no longer idealistic nor hopeful about her chances for a happy life any longer. She was no longer trusting and she had no wish to repair the broken pieces of her heart and soul any longer. She lost her liveliness and was now more content being invisible. A wallflower, no longer a radiant rose of any events.

Her husband still tried to bed her, to make her give him his heirs. But that was the main thing, she wanted to refuse him on. He had killed her precious child  and thus he would get no children from her. Finally embracing the craft of sneakiness and silent strategic planning, she found ways to prevent conception through, strange, and creative methods that she had heard from her days of interacting with the several types of people that were in White Harbor. She dared not risk her actions being found out, thus she never once drank Moon Tea, for that was easily detectable by her husband’s maester. The methods she used though highly unorthodox were sucessfull and for the next seven years of her life, she never fell pregnant.

She was the one who in fact, started the rumors that she was infertile and that she had a barren womb. She let the rumors circulate and became widely-spread, making no moves to surpress or deny those claims. She even supported her licentious husband in his taking of many paramours, and pretended that she had long forgiven what he had done. Oh to pretend! She grew to be very good at pretending over the years. The only people she never had to pretend with was several of her household staff who had been genuinely kind and caring of her when she first arrived. With her natural tendancy from her teenage years to be able to bond well with the small folk through her sincerity of heart, she then grew to be loved by them and she loved them back as well.. They were regarded to her as family and they helped their beloved mistress in turn. Being silent and fading into the background has its many perks. One of which was picking up and learning bits and pieces of information that would could be useful to her in the future.

With her long embedded, culinary skills, Artie over the years would once in a while, cleverly slip in drugs like Milk of the Poppy and dreamwine into her cooking and baking for her husband, finding creative means to disguise their flavours well, so that he would never find out. His health ultimately dwindled down as a result of his addiction....but still it would take a long time before he finally died for she couldn’t do it often and had to play it safe. His maester? She managed to find a way to blackmail the man, so that he would never betray her.

However her husband’s death came not fully by her hands but due to his own faults. He had been visiting one of his paramours at an inn where she worked and it so happened that Artie was visiting an ill relative of one of her servants who was also staying in that inn. His  paramour, a young and giddy girl, had wanted to bake him a pie. However one of the ingredients she used was something he was deathly allergic too and since she had only just recently known him, she had no idea of that fact yet. his mind being adled by copius amounts of ale which he had drunk earlier, didn’t think too much of the meal that his girl brough up to him and ate large chunks of it greedily.

Hearing a yell and a crash at one of the rooms and panicked cries just as she was passing by, Artie then burst into the room to help whoever was in trouble. Upon speedily taking in the view of the current situation, she was able to quickly guessed what must have accidentally occured. Telling the terrified girl that she would take care of the situation, Artie then pressed the girl to flee back home silently and wait for further instructions. Once the girl was gone, Artie neared her suffering husband. She had the antidiote for his allergic reaction. He had made her carry it around her being incase of emergencies such as this. However she made no move to help him. She just stared and stared at him with an austere gaze as he struggled horribly to live. Upon his final moments, she finally uttered a chilly sentence, one that he had said to her during the darkest night of her life thus far & one she had long wanted to repeat back to him.

It didnt take much convincing for the young girl to leave the city and make a new life for herself far, far away. Accident or not, his relatives would certainly be out for her blood, and Artie made sure that the girl had enough money and supplies to last her for a while. Finally widowed, Artie then made her way back home to the North, once the funeral and grieving periods were over. When her dearest and longtime childhood best friend, Freyja Stark nee Umber, asked Artie to join her retinue of ladies-in-waiting, she immediately accepted.

The now-mostly quiet young woman’s real happiness only started prickling back into her life once again, after she was reunited with her bestie whom regarded and loved slightly more than her own bliological sisters. For the past 5 years, she has vowed that she never wants to leave being in Freyja's service and side for multiple reasons. The first one mainly being that she wanted to help her queen through sage opinions and advice whenever she asked of her, and to protect Freyja as well. the second main reason...well, she's more than content ( determined in fact) to live the rest of her life as a old maid. Romantic love was never made for her and she held no more dreams of big, wonderful life and a family of her own. Here was where she could finally hold some tiny semblance of peace.

- Artie’s trust nowadays are only reserved for her family members and closest friends. Her life experiences had made her wiser and the knowledge she had accumulated all over the years of her life in different arenas were being used as she became one of the sharpest eyes and ears for her beloved queen. She believed that the real power was with the common people, not the nobles, and here was Artie’s strongest forte, for she had many loyal connections far and wide with the smallfolk.

-She was still kind but only towards children, her loved ones and people she deemed innocent enough after studying them for some time. The Little Mermaid had lost her spark for life and The Priceless Pearl of White Harbor had been crushed to dust.

[rivalsofnycupdates]

“From the deepest desires often comes the deadliest hate.”

■ ABOUT. ■

name: Colin Peterson age: forty-three occupation: Royals secretary gender: male sexuality: heterosexual

■ HISTORY. ■ tw:death, tw drugs

Colin moved to New York with his mother after his parents went through a nasty divorce. While originally from Florida, the big apple was a place he was excited to move to. He’d never felt at home in Florida, he knew that once he’d graduate high school he would have left anyway, so he was happy to have been able to convince his mother to move there sooner. Something that made him stick out like a sore thumb in his elementary classrooms Florida was his way with numbers. He could never explain why he had a talent with numbers, he just understood them easily from a young age. Throughout Colin’s entire life, he’s always felt a little lost, as high school graduation was approached he felt pressured to choose a career choice. He chose business and accounting because he knew it was something he was good at and a field he could most likely be very successful in.

Six years later that’s exactly what happened, he graduated from NYU and after an internship, he was offered a full-time job on wall street. Throughout his internship and his experience in the workplace, he became one of the best accountants in his company. Although his success increased, he still felt just as lost as he had in high school. As he was contemplated quitting his job to start something new, he’d run into a woman at a coffee shop. His nudge caused her to drop her coffee. After insisting on buying her a new one, they’d begun talking and he knew he needed to ask her out. For eight years Colin was happier than he’d ever been, he felt grounded, he knew exactly where he was meant to be. She was a high school music teacher and introduced him to music, that was where he found his passion. He picked up a guitar and fell in love with it and they formed a singing duo. They would play gigs around the city on weekends or evenings, they performed at their own wedding. He remembers his wedding day fondly, all his friends and family were there, his eldest daughter dancing her heart out on the dance floor. After their second daughter was born their musical duo didn’t perform as much, though they often had home concerts for their daughters every night before they went to bed.

His fairytale came to a harsh end when his wife’s school was involved with a school shooting. That day had been the worst of his life since all of his family had been in that school at once. He was so busy at work that he didn’t hear about it until he received a phone call that his wife and his youngest daughter were two of the victims and were at the hospital. He ran as fast as he could, though he didn’t get a chance to say goodbye. After his wife and daughters’ death, he spiralled, hard. He quit his job and fell into a serious state of depression. He lost touch with his eldest daughter who now lived on his own in the city. Colin couldn’t help but think about the fact that the shooter had somehow gotten away. Months after the shooting, he’d become a regular at a bar, where he’d mostly spoken to a man named Carson Woods. When Colin found out he was part of the Royals, the two realized they could benefit from each other. They needed someone to run the books, and he needed an army to get revenge on the shooter who shot his wife.

■ WHOSE SIDE ARE YOU ON? ■

The Royals brought him back to life, he now focuses on finding the shooter in hopes to get some peace of mind. Since joining the Royals, he didn’t have many resources to help track down the teenager who felt it was necessary to bring a gun into a school. Colin is confident that the gun used didn’t come from his gang since they sell a completely different model and have a strict policy regarding their clientele. With this he wanted to re-connect with his kids, his daughter had written him off, although he will continue to try and reach out, even if she shuts him down every time. Since joining the Royals, his sister-in-law forbids him from seeing his daughter, but that didn’t stop him. The first two years after he’d been patched into the Royals, he waited for his eldest daughter at a coffee shop, every Tuesday. Though she never came. 

■ KEEP THIS AWAY FROM YOUR ENEMIES ■

Every year on the anniversary of his wife and daughters died, he always liked to be alone. He’d plan himself in a bar no one has heard of and get pissed drunk. Three years ago, on the anniversary of his wife and youngest daughter's death, it had been suggested to him that perhaps he spend it with the family he still has. He attempted to reach out and she lost it on him. She’d said things that hurt him more than any other words would. He soon after went to a bar and decided to get pissed drunk, like he did every year. In that moment of weakness, when he was at his absolute lowest someone had offered him some drugs. At that point he didn’t even care what it was, he gladly took it. It wasn’t long after ingesting the drug did he start hallucinating, seeing his wife, and his daughter had she been five years older. For the first time in five years, he was able to talk with the love of his life, and the young teenager he wasn’t able to parent. After that first time, he made sure to track down the dealer that supplied whatever drug he took that night and keep a supply on him at home, which he started to rely on more and more. He knew that Joshua would have his head if he knew, which was why he kept it at home and brought it down to a science, he learned exactly how much he needed to be able to see and speak to his wife without having too much of a hanger the next day. He had intended on taking the same dose every day for the rest of his life, though recently his body has started to get used to the dosage and his wife and daughter no longer appeared in his apartment when he wanted them to. With the fear of not being able to say goodbye to his wife and daughter again, he’d been taking larger and larger doses, hoping to keep the fantasy of his wife and daughter alive while hoping he won’t get found out by his gang members. 

■ RELATIONSHIPS. ■

■ Carson Woods: Carson pulled him out of a hard time after his wife died, and provided him with a job and a family to lean on. 

■ Madeline Janson: Madeline had been someone he’d always admired since her first day working at Sugar Rub. A part of her reminded him of his wife, and he always found joy talking with her when stopping by the salon.

■ Evan Alcott: He and Evan have a lot in common with their family life. They both lost someone they loved, they both have daughters the same age, and somehow bothof their daughters have rejected them due to their affiliation with the gang.  

■ CONNECTIONS. ■

Zoe Peterson > Eldest Daughter

May Barrish > Friend

Patrick Fischer > Friend

Colin Peterson is an OPEN character and is portrayed by Jesse Williams who’s FC IS NEGOTIABLE.

[emeryandens]

Imagine if Rumple and Belle had grandchildren? Belle would be that Grandmother that always has biscuits, tea and, (don’t tell your papa!) ice cream and lollies on hand. Belle would insist on having them over for weekends, and how could Gideon or his wife/husband refuse? The kids were begging to come over. Belle would thrive as a grandmother, as much if not more then she did as a parent. Telling them elaborate stories – the really good kind, with voices and suspense and the chilling hope that the hero makes it out alive. Showering them with cuddles and affection, teaching them something new about the world every day.

Is Rumple even a tiny bit jealous of the love his wife’s showering his Grandchildren with? Ah, maybe he would have been a few years – decades - ago, but if he’s being honest, he loves it just as much as her. They still get to enjoy their time alone together, still get to hold each other and dance and laugh and play childish games. The difference is that on weekends they still get to do all of these things, but with tiny little humans that they both love more than life itself. (Sometimes, given the loneliness and heartbreak he felt for centuries, after Bae but before Belle, he thinks it’s impossible to love this many people at once. Sometimes it feels like his hearts about to explode, but then he sees his beautiful wife holding and whispering to their beautiful granddaughter and everything falls back into place).

But… What if Gideon wasn’t ready to have children? What if he hadn’t found that person, the one that made him feel the way he knew his parents felt for each other (that kid grew up in a house filled to the brim with love. He knew he was loved more than anything, and he saw the way his parent’s looked at each, kissed each other, teased each other and knew that he wasn’t going to settle for anything less – his mother would have killed him if he did. Maybe probably his father would have helped). He doesn’t met his future spouse until a year or two after Belle’s death. His father’s been trying to find a way to break his curse for a long time before the discussion of kids comes up. He’s conflicted… he knows how much his father wants to be his mother… but he loves his spouse so much and he knows how much they want this. He wants it too.

When Rumple finds out about his upcoming grandchildren he couldn’t be more happy. He wants this for his son, the overwhelming feeling of hope and love that he felt for both of his children. But… it means that… he has to put off his plan to reunite with Belle. The idea takes his breath away, the overwhelming sadness and heartbreak is devastating. When Gideon leaves he’s reduced to lying on the ground – he can’t even manage getting to the bed or couch – with tears streaming down his face. But he can’t miss out on this opportunity. He didn’t get to be a grandparent when Henry was growing up, they might have a good relationship now but with their history, it’s never going to feel that closeness. Besides, he knows Belle would be devastated that she wasn’t here to meet her grandchildren. She’d be livid with him if he the opportunity and didn’t come back with stories to tell her – about their first steps, their first words, about starting school and making friends. So, he decides he’ll wait, he’ll still look for the Guardian but he’ll wait to do anything about it, so he can see his grandchildren grow up. Maybe until they get to their early teens.

Eventually there’s three and he loves all of them, of course he does. How couldn’t he? They each have a little bit of Belle in them, her eyes, her love for learning, her laughter. She’s constantly reflected in their actions, their words, their looks. It leaves with an unknowable amount of joy, but with a deep sadness. He watches as they all grow, as they too age whilst he remains the same. His son, whose fair more Belle’s son than his (Belles heart, Belles brain, Belle’s wit. Rumples temperament but he’s better at managing it then Rumple was), gets closer and closer to his age. In just over a decade they’ll be the same age, then Gideon will be older.

The first, Belle Jnr, has more than just her grandmothers name. She’s got the same brown hair, the same eyes, and a love for adventure. She would constantly come home with scratches on her legs, twigs in her hair and a look of wonder on her face. One time she’d fallen out of a tree because she was trying to get away from an ogre that was chasing her. Another time she was a hero who’d valiantly saved a maiden from an evil goblin. When she was with Rumple he’d smile, sit her on the couch and bandage up her knees. He’d ask her if the ogre was big and scary and sneak her a lolly – he made sure to keep some on hand, it’s what Belle would have done. Her love for her parents, grandfather and two younger siblings is plentiful. She’s strong and will damn anyone who tries to hurt them. Once someone pushed her younger sibling to the ground and teased them. She was vicious in her response, Rumple had to intervene to keep her from attacking them. He doesn’t doubt that she would do anything to protect her family. Sometimes, upon consideration, he sees himself reflected in her words. (Don’t tell anyone - but he feels like Belle is his favourite. She helps him see – understand, not just know - for the first time what Belle Snr always told him. That his love makes him strong. Makes him good. For the first time in a long time – maybe even ever – he feels not just happy, but pride. In himself).

The second, Baely – named after her uncle of course – loved more than anything to dance and sing. She liked dressing up in pretty dresses and playing music. Rumple made her a gold dress, just like her grandmothers and Baely wore it for three days straight. The sisters fought at times, Baely likes to be clean and proper but Belle… doesn’t. Belle liked to rile her up, bringing dirt throughout the house, teasing her about her immaculately clean dresses. But they loved each other. They’d make up games, Belle would be the hero and Baely the princess trapped in a castle. Baely had a much softer temperament. She likes to be alone, and when the other children are out playing she often sits, studying and practicing her music. Rumple sees Belle thirst for knowledge in Baely’s passion. She’s constantly trying to learn something new, a new song she can sing or instrumental she can learn. Every time she learns a new song she runs to her Grandfather and excitedly plays it for him. She’s so good. Rumple thinks she’s the best musican in the world. She brings him to tears every time. Her smile is all Belle Snr and the excitement on her face is so adorable it’s almost heartbreaking. (Don’t tell anyone – but he feels like Baely is his favourite. She’s so joyful and happy, her music is so beautiful, that’s it’s impossible not to feel it too. She makes him feel the kind of happiness he didn’t think was possible when Belle died).  

The youngest, Malcolm, truly brings him to his knees. He sees Baelfire in him. In his curly dark hair, his steadfast resolve and his stubbornness. Malcolm knew what was right and wrong, and he stood up for what he believed in. Looking at him makes him feel sadness that even seeing Belle reflected in the two girls doesn’t. Losing Belle was devastating, but at the very least he knew that no matter what, he didn’t regret a single moment with her. Other than her death, every moment was perfect, every second was joyful and they lived the best life together they could. But Bae… God Bae. There are no words that could describe the sear agony that his death left in his wake. Every time Malcolm left the house, his heart beats faster in fear and the intense need to keep him close where he could see him was overwhelming. But he couldn’t. Malcolm – like his uncle – was desperate to get outside, to play with his friends. Rumple smiled, and agreed, hiding the fear in the pit of his stomach. Malcolm was the more social of the three children. He made friends with anyone. He didn’t just take after his uncle either. Rumple saw Belle’s kindness in him. Like both his uncle and his grandmother, Malcolm stood up for other children when they were being bullied. (Don’t tell anyone – But he feels like Malcolm is his favourite. Malcolm who stands up for the little guy, who sees injustices and does what he can to fights them. He makes Rumple feel hope for the future, knowing that Malcolm will be there, standing up for those who need it).

They get older and he doesn’t regret a single moment he spent with them. Each of them make him feel loved in a way that almost shatters him. When he – finally – sees Belle again he brings her stories of her grandchildren. She has tears in her eyes as she tells her that he got to be there for Belle Jnr’s first steps. He tells her Baely got accepted into the finest music school in the Enchanted Forest. She’ll be a star and get to attend balls with flowing gold dresses. Malcolm will bring joy to the whole world, he’ll make the world a better place. Afterwards Belle cries for hours. A deep agony rips through her at the lost time she didn’t get with them. Rumple holds her and whispers that they knew her, even if they haven’t met her yet. He – as well as Gideon and his spouse – made sure they knew her. They’d seen pictures, they’d heard the stories, they loved her. Eventually, in many, many decades they’ll met for her real. And love her even more.            

[punkpanda16]

Mistakes and Miracles- ch.1

Yoongi x Reader

Word count: 3.9k+

Summary: We never know what to expect in life . Just like you never expected to be a single mother at a young age, much less come to find the father of said child is no other than you idol Min Yoongi from the worldide hit band sensation BTS. What will happen to your somewhat “normal”  life when he comes in and turns it upside down? Will you be able to raise a child with your extremely attractive bias?  

Warnings: hints at abuse, thoughts of abortion, reckless acts

Type: Fluff, angst, smut (eventually)

~Your POV~

How did this happen? One minute you are a simple girl living her life as a college student. You were free one moment and now you’re sitting in a hospital room holding a whimpering baby boy.

He was so fragile and pure...everything you always wanted but never knew you needed. He had jet black hair and small almond shaped brown eyes. He was everything good in this world and you loved him with every ounce in your body but he wasn’t yours.

He wasn’t yours but in this moment you swore to commit yourself to him and only him. He would not end up in the gutter. He would never feel the rejection his mother gave him. All he would know from now on is love.

You held a neatly folded letter in your shaky hands as you tried to soothe the crying little bundle...

Dear Y/N,

I know we haven’t known each other long but I have come to trust you more than anyone. At a time in my life when I had no one and no hope, I met you. You cared for me as if I were your family even when we were merely strangers and despite being younger than me you taught me so much about life. I only wish I could have met you sooner. Before any of this happened.

Sadly, the night we met I made a great mistake that I now have to pay for.

I thought I would be able to move on and forget about it but this thing growing inside me is a constant reminder. I found out that it, is actually going to be a boy. But to me he is still nothing. Something that will tie me down and I would I surely to hate.

I was close to getting rid of him but you convinced me to do otherwise because you said it deserved a chance to live. Now, please don’t think I am some heartless monster, he is and always will be my son, but I can’t help how I feel. You know what my past was like.

When I think of my future this baby was never a part of it. The only reason I give it a chance to live was out of respect for our friendship. That’s why he’s is yours now. I could give him life but not love.

His father doesn’t know he exists. I know I never told you who he is but I only kept it a secret because I didn’t want him to feel obligated to be with me over something so insignificant. Things were too complicated to rope him into this too. If he knew and stayed with me, he wouldn’t have loved me like I wanted. It would have been contract, not what I wanted for him, me, and this baby.

But I guess now it doesn’t matter. By the time you read this I’ll be long gone and you know if I leave you won’t find me, so I might as well tell you. His father is Min Yoongi. Yeah, the guys from BTS is the father of this baby. I didn’t believe it either but life happens Y/N and now I can’t change things.

Y/N, I beg you not to hate me, even though I can already sense how angry you are with me, because you are and will continue to be my person,my rock, and savior. You saved me from myself in more ways that you’ll ever understand. Give him the life he deserves. He is yours. Save him like you saved me. I am so so sorry. Never let him know that I exist.

-Emma

Tears began to roll down your cheeks. Pretty soon you were sobbing like the baby in your arms. How could she hate him? Her own son meant nothing to her. She had a horrible past, she herself was a was abandoned and a foster kid that suffered unspeakable abuse. It left her scarred physically and emotionally, but that was no excuse for all the pain she was inflicting on others.

She remained closed off until you met her. You saw the broken women in front of you and felt compelled to save her. You had first hand experience with abuse at a young age but lucky you had a support system that helped you. However, she was all alone. You could never forgive her for what she’s done but you understood.

Then it hit you Min Yoongi...the father is Min Yoongi!!!

~Flashback~

It was your first concert ever. You couldn’t contain your excitement when you got the confirmation email that your BTS tickets were ordered.

Now you stood in front of the huge auditorium next to thousands of screaming ARMY. It was the first time in months since BTS was in Los Angeles so you knew they were about to leave it all on stage. You could just feel the excitement building. The set was about to begin but your attention was pulled to the front of the stage where security was currently fighting with a young women who seemed to be about your age. She was walking out from backstage and seemed distressed.

It look just like another situation in which ARMY got overly excited and tried to get near the boys you all loved so much. Pretty soon she gave up and took the empty space that was next to you. She continued to frown until the boys came on stage. Her smile only grew as Yoongi introduced himself.

“Are you a Yoongi stan?” You asked.

“YES!! Look at that cute grumpy old man up there! He’s the best!How can he be so cute AND sexy?!? I swear one of these days he will get sued for attacking us with his gummy smile!” She responded with the most genuine joy and excitement.

“Right!” You responded.

“Are you a Yoongi Stan too?!” She asked and you nodded your head excitedly.

“Emma” she stuck out her hand.

“Y/N” you took her hand and shook it with a bright smile.

From that point on you knew that you would be friends. For the rest of concert you sang and screamed and cried together.The concert ended and you shared contact information promising to keep in touch. After saying goodbye she headed to an after party. She asked you if you would like to join her but you being the antisocial little butterfly you were, kindly said next time.

Next time, came sooner than expected. Not even a day later she messaged you and asked if you wanted to hang out.

Your friendship grew quickly. She was everything you wanted to be beautiful, smart, and carefree. Her bouncy Titian hair was as wild as her personality. In a short time she exposed you to things like dark parties full of hot sweaty bodies high on drugs and drunk out of their minds. You were hesitant at first but when she was by your side you felt a new sense of confidence. You socialized, danced, and started living for once in your life you let go.

However, she had a peaceful side. Something about her aura outside those parties was so pure. It was like she was a different person at night. During the day she took you to beautiful spots with amazing views where you would sit and read poetry and talk about life. She told you about her past and the horrors she endured. She was only 3 years older but she seemed to hold the answers to all your unanswered questions.

At night, she let go of all the pain with drugs and a drunken stupor. You felt like maybe it was time to fix her...well actually heal her like you were healed.

Surprisingly she never slept with any guy. She may have been drunk out of her mind but she never let that change the values she set for herself. Which is what made later events all the more confusing.

Over the next few weeks you spent more and more time together during the day you talk and listen to each other. At night you would live life her way. Slowly she opened up more and more. Then she began to see you like the little sister she never had. Pretty soon together you worked on the emotional baggage you both carried.

You were always a misfit but she understood you perfectly. She was your best friend so when you found out she was pregnant you stayed by her side.

“I don’t want it!” She screamed as she fell to the bathroom floor with tears streaming down her cheeks.

You stared at the test in your hands and couldn’t believe it. The girl who, even in her most dazed moments honorably kept her dignity, was caring a child. A child she didn’t want. But that just showed how everyone, even someone you idolize, can make mistakes.

“Em” you said softly as you sat beside her. You took her shaking body in your arms and rocked her back and forth like she had to done to you many times before. “Look, I don’t judge you and I’ll support you with whatever you decided to do but maybe you should give this baby a chance.” Her sobs began to quiet down and she looked up at you with sad lost eyes.

“Y/N do you want kids?” The question came out in broken hiccups as she tried to compose herself.

“Of course it’s been my dream since I was young. A family. Babies. It’s what I see in my future.” You replied simply.

“So that means you are passionate about that dream for your future?” You nodded.

“Okay. Now image that same passion except for the opposite. I don’t want to bring a child in this world. The world ruins things that are good and pure. We are born with hope in our eyes but the all the bad things in this world kills all innocence. You and I both know that the light fades. It dies to the point where all you can do is try to live day by day stupidly hoping things get better.”

You felt the tears pool in your eyes but you refuse to let them fall. She was right the world ruins good things but that doesn’t mean there isn’t good out there, she just had to see it at some point and that baby deserved to see it too.

You cleared your throat trying to keep your voice steady as you continued. “ Em, when the light fades you feel like you’ve died while still living. But sometimes you meet people and find a purpose and hope again. That’s what my family is to me. And my friends.”

“That’s what you are to me” she said softly.

“Yes, Em, that’s what you are you to me too. This baby can be another good thing. Even if right now you think it’s not you can at least give it a try.” You gave her a reassuring smile as you looked down at her. You could see her turning your words in her head until she finally nodded.

You stayed with your arms wrapped around her for a while. You sat in comfortable silence as you let the emotions of the day float away.

“Y/N?” Emma broke the silence.

“Yeah.”

“Will you stay with me...not just right now but through it all?” She asked nervously.

“Did you really think I was going to leave you?” You said with a small laugh. At this she let out a small sigh of relief.

You kept to your promise through it all. Every appointment. Every pain. Every sick morning. Every 3 am craving. You were there. Baby shopping and birthing class. That baby became just as much yours as it was hers. You thought the pregnancy was helping Emma. She smiled and laughed. She even stopped her late nights. She read more poetry and lived a healthier life. She seemed to really try for her baby. Up until the day the baby was born she was fine, at least in your eyes.

~Present day~

“What do you mean I can’t take him home?” You practically scream at the social worker.

“Ma’am we are doing an investigation on what happened with Ms. Rose. We can’t just hand over the baby too you. She may have left a letter saying you would take the baby but first we have to make sure you are a competent caregiver for the child.”

Competent!! Competent my ass!!! You couldn’t believe that they had taken the baby from you an hour ago and now he was being hulled to a foster home. You only got to spend 2 days with him at the hospital. They said it was “temporary” but you couldn’t risk it. Emma had told you the things that happen in those places and although you knew it wasn’t always true, you didn’t want to put him at risk. He deserved the best and you weren’t sure if that was you but you sure as hell were willing to try for him.

Lucky for you, you had friends that worked in child services. Ironically, you met them through Emma. They understood the situation better than anyone. They all knew she was not ready to have a child and that she never wanted them. They even suggested she give him up for adoption but she always refused. Now that you think about it she refused because she already had a plan for the baby, he was going to be yours. They, like she, knew that you were the best option for him. Em, may have been wild but she was always put a lot of thought in the decisions she made. Always taking into consideration the pros and cons, in order to get the best result. That’s why you were the one. No one else.

They pulled some strings and within a couple of days he was with you again. The official adoption would take some time but for now he was under your care.

The court days were the worst. Everyone used lawyer talk to basically say your ex friend was a monster. Of course, you were mad at her for what she did and for the situation she put you in but she also gave you a great gift, a baby. A baby that was quickly becoming the center of your universe. You didn’t give birth to him but he was yours. Despite all the current events, she was your friend at one point and the mother of your son, hearing her being spoken about so negatively still hurt you.

On days you weren’t in the courthouse, you spent it with a private investigator. You wanted to know if what Emma said about the baby’s father was true. And if it was, you felt it was only right for him to know. At first you were angry and didn’t want to let that deadbeat know about the baby but the more you thought about it the more it made sense. Emma never told him either out of fear or maybe because Yoongi was the first guy to make her contradict her value system. She always hated being wrong.

Emma may have done things her own way but with things she valued she thought things through. If she would have told him BigHit lawyers, Yoongi, the six boys, and the media would have been knocking on her door within days. She said she knew he wouldn’t love her the way she wanted too in the letter but the truth is he couldn’t, not with his career. His fans and the media were always waiting for him to mess up. As an ARMY, you understood why this baby would be such a scandal.

This was also a part of the reason why you didn’t want to tell Yoongi. You never wanted the baby to be just another headline on a sleazy tabloid. But, he was the father and had the right to know. He was an adult and could decide what he wanted to do. Besides if you kept the baby a secret you knew eventually it would blow up in your face. Besides, If you were going to raise him you needed to have an answer when he asked about his father one day.

And so, the process continued. During this time you devote yourself to the baby. The all nighters were rough but they helped you get your homework done. You kept going to school with the help of your family. However, you had to transfer back to the local college until the court case ended. You got your place, which was small but it was enough for you and the baby. You maintained a job in order to follow the rules set forth by the court. But every spare moment was for the baby. There were times when you thought you couldn’t do it anymore but then you would look at him and be reminded why you did it. Baby Ro, short for Baby Rose, as everyone called him, was your life. Things were so hectic and rushed you never officially got to name him. That day would come when the adoption went completely through.

Three months in you got a call.

“Ms. Y/N Y/L/N?”

“Yes?” You answered. You tried to listen to what the man was saying but you had Baby Ro in your arms crying of hunger. It was time yet again for another 4 am feeding.

“Is this a good time?”

“Umm yes, hold on.” You gently put Ro down and began to feed him his bottle. When he settled down you picked up the phone again.

“I’m so sorry. What can I help you with?” You said cordially.

“Yes, Ms. Y/L/N. I am a representative of the company BigHit Entertainment and one of my clients would like to have a meeting with you.”

In that moment your heart stopped. For some reason a deep fear began to climb to the back of your throat. It prevented you from breathing. Tears began to pool in your eyes.

“Umm...” you cleared your throat in order for your words to come out. “ I’m sorry. What is this concerning?”

“Well, I’m sorry Ms. Y/L/N but my client would like to speak to you in person. You live in Los Angeles, correct?” He said sharply.

“Y-yes I do.”

“Okay. Well my client lives here in Seoul, South Korea, but he was willing to fly out as soon as tomorrow morning to have a meeting with you, however there is a slight snag in the plan.” He said in a worried voice.

“Okay?”

“Ms. Y/L/N, my client is a celebrity so he can’t just walk around busy streets. We were wondering if you could hold the meeting on your home. For privacy purposes. Of course other staff and I will be present. Would that be okay?”

“Sir, I am well aware of who your client is. And I would be more than willing to meet with him in my home if it is necessary. However, I do have one condition.” You paused. “I will meet him alone. Later on I will have a meeting with all of you if I must but first I want to talk to him alone.” You said firmly.

He hesitated for a moment taken aback by your sudden change in behavior. You weren’t shy or nervous or scared anymore, now you were affirmative. “You see Ms. y/l/n... I-I don’t t-think-“

“No.”

“W-what?” He asked nervously.

“If my condition isn’t met then my answer is NO. I want to speak to him as a human being because this issue concerns another defenseless human being not some property. I don’t want to see checks or contracts. I want to see a pair of really eyes that hold emotion.”

He was silent for a few moments like he was asking someone around him what to do.

“O-okay, Ms. Y/L/N, we will do it your way. I will send you my information along with my client’s personal number so we can arrange the meeting, please do not share any of this information or we will be forced to press charges against you.” He said in a threatening voice.

“Very well. I’ll wait for your information.” You were about to hang up when you hear your name again.

“Ms. Y/L/N. Since we all know what this is about. Will the child be present at your meeting?” He asked hesitantly.

“If that is what your client wishes, then yes.” You answered firmly. In all honesty you were terrified. What if this man walked in and took Ro away? The fear was too immense but you knew this had to be done. Hopefully you could speak to his soul and not his stardom. Being a fan of BTS for a while you knew these boys were pure love, respect, and sunshine. However, you never know. It could all be an act for the camera. Your heart truly believed Yoongi was a good man that’s why you agreed to the meeting but the fear of “what if” was still there. Ro was your life you didn’t want to lose him especially not when you were so close to officially being his mother.

“Yes he wants to meet the child.”

“Ro”

“Excuse me?”

“We call him Ro. The people in his life call him baby Ro. If your client is going to meet him I want him to at least know what to call him.” You said coldly. Maybe if you seemed strong and cold they would be afraid to go against you.

“Very well. Yoon- I mean my client will want see baby Ro in a couple of days.”

“That’s fine. I’ll wait for you to contact me and I’ll send my information.”

“Thank you Ms. Y/L/N. We will be in contact. Goodbye” and he hung up. You put the phone down with shaky hands. Tears began to blur your vision as you look at your sleeping baby. Up until this point you saw him as only yours. But he wasn’t just yours...he was Yoongi’s son too. And Yoongi has the right to take him.

Now, it was a waiting game. BigHit eventually sent you information about the meeting. Of course, everything was very private with a lot of regulations but you understood. You would never wanted to do anything to endanger Ro, Yoongi, the rest of BTS, or BigHit. You just needed all this to be cleared up.

A few days later you received a message.

Unknown:  I will be landing tonight. I’ll be at your home around 10 am.

You: Okay. Just please inform me when you are on your way.

He was cold and direct but you knew Min Yoongi, it was all a mask he put on to protect himself from hurt. Inside he was a sweet shy human being like the rest of us. He too felt pain and anger and happiness and love. You hope the sweet shy boy you’ve seen is the one you will meet tomorrow. This was life changing for him, you knew the feeling all to well. Tomorrow you would have to be firm about what you want but also consider how hard this is for him too.

This is my first Fanfic and I will try to update once a week. Thank you for reading and I hope you enjoy. It gets dramatic fair warning ;).

[hopevalley]

Within reason ( I have to preface this because the writing of this show can be truly abysmal at times) - what is the logical drama or challenge Lee and Rosemary are facing this season? Pascale has gone on to say we see a softer, more subdued side of Rosemary this season which makes me think it's something that is going to take more than one ep to nut out.

Earlier, when I was working on getting pages up on my website, I was working on an article that briefly talked about whose families we’ve seen or heard about:

Jack’s (met all living direct relatives)

Elizabeth’s (met all living direct relatives, even Aunt Agatha)

Bill’s (heard about his son, met his ex-wife)

Abigail’s (heard of her husband, son, a father, a grandmother, and a large family)

Lee’s (heard of, we know his little brother died young)

Carson (heard of some; met both sisters-in-law)

Frank (heard of a grandfather; actor talked about his parents in an interview too)

Rosemary (briefly heard of her father)

Clara (heard of her family, husband)

Jesse (mentioned them once but it might have been a lie)

Faith (mentioned her mother was a nurse, and an uncle who runs a quarry)

Anyway, the post I was redoing for the site was a theory that Theo, Rob Estes’s character in s6, might be one of Abigail’s mentioned brothers.

But that just reminded me of all of the characters whose families we don’t actually know, so when you sent this message in, that was the first thing to pop into my head. Lee has already lost a brother; might he lose a parent, too? Or will it be Rosemary who loses someone? We know her father is/was(?) a Mountie. It’s also possible a parent gets deathly ill and they have to go be with them; that takes a toll. Or a parent dies and the other has to move in with them; that can be even more difficult to deal with, but for very different reasons.

Anyway…

Logical, somewhat reasonable considerations for a Lee/Rosemary plot for S6:

Internal family drama (Lee still wants children and she doesn’t; she loses a baby; she can’t get pregnant even though they’re trying; she hits menopause early; she gets pregnant and doesn’t want it)

Health issue (depression, anxiety, or one of them is diagnosed with a health problem: for example, a weak heart for Lee (he’s often stressed) or tonsillitis for Rosemary (fear of surgery and how it might affect her singing voice). It could also be any kind of physically limiting injury.)

Personal issue (Rosemary giving up the stage, Lee giving up on having children. Rosie is the one without a steady dayjob, so maybe she needs something new to keep her occupied…)

Broad family drama (death in the family and/or in-law moving in and/or contact from unwanted family member.)

My personal pet favorite is Rosemary deciding to give up her dreams of having a theater in Hope Valley, either because it just feels too far away, or because the money is tight and she knows she doesn’t really need it. I love it because the first plot to spring to mind afterward is that she could definitely have a sweet plotline with some of the children, especially Emily, where she decides to teach theater and dance so that she doesn’t feel she has to give it up entirely…

Better yet, she still gets her theater (so that the kids can perform in it!) for a sweet and heartfelt ending to the episode.

It also has the added bonus of kind of flipping the script on something Rosemary said a long time ago: that those that can, do, and those that can’t, teach. I’ve always hated that phrase, and I hated it even more when Rosemary said it. Her discovering that 1) it’s not true, and 2) there’s a joy to be found in sharing your passion with others and helping them learn it… It would be a beautiful little bit of growth that would do so much good for her character. I get excited just thinking about it! (I can dream, can’t I?)

Did you have a favorite/thought to share/idea for a plotline for s6? Let me know if you do. There are so many possibilities it’s hard to even guess what kind of story Hallmark will choose to tell. With Elizabeth having had a baby, it’d feel weird to have a baby plot with Lee and Rosemary, but since there’s a baby around it also feels like a topic that would come up? So I guess narratively a really involved baby-having plot would feel like “too much” but the discussion of children and whether or not to have them…that makes more sense and feels like a more sound narrative choice.

(Hey Hallmark… PST. HIRE ME.)

[sagaofstardustmkg]

sky

Petrel’s words bolster Dragom into action. Caleb, Ben, and Janelle…their stories, their tragedies have touched Dragom’s heart in a way he never expected. Everytime he had thought about coming face to face with the puppet masters of their misery he had thought he wouldn’t be able to be stopped from tearing them limb from limb. For all the tears they made him cry…for all the tears they made Haruki shed. He never expected to fight by their sides, bolstered by their power. 

Dragom could forgive them…because their actions were ones that were made out of love…out of desperation. The only way they could see…love for your husband, love for your sister. Even if he wanted to admonish them he couldn’t…because love is such a powerful thing that makes you do crazy things…

Dragom had come to Stardust Academy for a single purpose. To learn more about humans. To connect with more of them and bond together human and orc. Over his time in the academy, Dragom has learned about humans, he’s connected with them, wanted to protect them, and even join in a relationship with one. From what he had learned about humans and about himself…Dragom discovered the key to the universe, the strongest element out there…

Love.

Friends, family, lovers…when brought together, the element is born, when torn apart, it can not die. Love festers out of control within a heart, love explodes in a passionate gesture, love never forgets the first moment it formed, and when the origin points split, love seeks reunion with the one it lost. It seeks a place where it can thrive happily with those that gave it life.

Dragom sees this within those three…

He sees it in himself. Dragom is prepared.

Dragom is going to go home after this, he is going to live a full life for himself, a life that he has always wanted to live. When he died, his afterlife had become nothing more than one to satisfy and push Haruki forward. For him Dragom would carry the world if it meant he would smile. Dragom had given everything up but he doesn’t have to anymore. Dragom is going to go home and Dragom gro-Goramalg Voshor is going to exist as himself.

With his head held high he’s going to go visit his parents and give them the grandest hug he’s given them in years. He's going to bring Haruki and Petrel along of course, the two nestled tightly in his arms. Shaking them around as he gushes about these boys to his parents. Gushing about how he found love, how he found understanding, and how he found a place to belong among the humans.

Dragom pulls his ocarina made of Haruki’s love from his pocket. A glossy blue ocarina made by Haruki’s careful hand, etched with a wave design on its surface. This ocarina symbolized the feelings that Haruki harbored for Dragom, his care for Dragom’s culture and the music that he played. Dragom brought the ocarina to his lips and began to play.

“Quake in anticipation of the solace we'll seize within our storm, do not shun the voices that speak through us, and remember the 'us' that project our voices into the void.”

[ ♪♪♪ ]

The song that Dragom formed was something new and something old. His sun song of love for Haruki combined with new experiences and new feelings. He wanted to form a song that captured all of his emotions, his love, his joy, his terror, his suffering. And not just his but Haruki’s as well, and Petrel’s, and Caleb, and Ben, and Janelle, and everyone else that was here in this moment, this once in a lifetime moment. Though these five years have been filled with memories forgotten and lost to the ether, Dragom wants to find those lost emotions and convey them all in this song.

A journey of five years is what has brought them to this finale. 

Even if he can’t remember it, Dragom wants her to feel what that must’ve felt like.

Listen close to the song that is an ode to their five years of repeated suffering, Dionaea 

Their five years of repeated passion,

Their five years of repeated love.

Dragom bounces in place on his feet, a small dance to contrast the big laddie playing his tune. The amplified magic flows to the rhythm of his song, a gentle breeze that wraps itself loosely around the orc. Tousling his hair and blowing lightly on the edges of his clothes. Every note played sends a pound through the hearts of his peers. It flows so easily through Dragom, into his ocarina, and out into the air, the amplification making his music's effect happen much quicker than ever before. The winds around him pick up all the moisture that can gather forming small clouds above them. The coming rain was for Haruki to use, that boy was always a storm, now he could take control of the downpour…and Dragom, he’d take control of the raging air. Wind and rain, together Haruki and Dragom will conquer any storm and come out on the other side every time.

“We travel the currents of a river like seeds– but the river is magic and the magic is emotion and our emotion draws blood.”

The clouds above, as if responding to the emotions of the song, begin to weep for those who suffered so long. Of course it was just the falling rain but how beautiful is it to turn everything into something poetic? To attach meaning to the meaningless. Another lesson that Dragom had learned with his time at Stardust Academy. The rain pelts his back and the orc points his one eyed glare in the direction of the faerie queen. She is all that’s left…the final obstacle that stands in the way of leaving here with Haruki and Petrel, the final thing that stands between him and a life with meaning. 

He plays out with more intensity. A growing rage, a growing desire, a growing need to go back home! It comes through in his song, the winds respond to his emotions and change to the direction of the faerie queen herself. One final obstacle.

The breeze that passes her by is light at first, the winds dance and frolic around her like it was nothing more than an early day in spring. They begin to pick up speed, becoming more ferocious with each second. That soft breeze quickly changes to a gust as sharp as a blade. Severing a section of greenery from the queen it sends it flying through the air. He will not let his playing cease. He wants her to hurt…to suffer all that they have. A tornado of wind wraps around her slicing and sending a flurry of petals through the sky. If it was only against a moonlit backdrop, it would look like the stars of the night danced for them. 

Dragom’s song ends for a brief moment as a grin comes to his face. He points his claw directly at her with a guffaw!

“Wahahahaha!! Take that one ye hackit beast!! Haru, te rain is all fur ye!” 

The wind of the storm had its time, now it was time for the rain to play its part. Dragom brings his lips back to his ocarina to continue his song to bolster forth his future. And held strong between Petrel’s prophecy and Dragom’s song, Haruki is entrusted with their destiny.

[atarahderek]

Coco head canon: If Héctor were well-remembered and the Riveras never banned music

Héctor – spent a lonely 50 years in the Land of the Dead waiting for Imelda to join him. One night a year to see his family wasn't quite enough to keep him from missing them, or wishing he could dance with his wife again. She showed up in the middle of the night, and when Héctor learned of her arrival, he let out a grito that quite literally woke the dead on his whole block. He had made several friends during his wait, and he kept up with all of them, even when some of them began to fade as they came closer to the final death. He never pushed anyone away, and ended up raising a lot of awareness for the near-forgotten using his songs and his notoriety—something that only grew exponentially when Ernesto de la Cruz was uncovered as a thief and murderer.

Imelda – upon learning that the reason her husband had never returned to her was because he had died on his attempt to return, she grieved as any widow would, trying so hard to be angry with him for leaving and getting himself killed. She had even stopped listening to music for a time, but Coco eventually convinced her to accept it again. Though she never did dance again in her lifetime. She did, however, make the best darn dance shoes in Mexico, and they were one of her zapateria's specialties. Upon her death, she was greeted by an over-enthusiastic Héctor, and her own response was to smack him so hard with her boot his head literally spun. She grabbed his skull to stop it and yanked him into a passionate kiss. What followed was the spilling of all that pent-up anger and grief, along with an assurance that she still loved her idiota. Héctor later confessed that he deserved every bit of her ire. A few days after her arrival, Imelda danced with her husband for the first time in half a century.

Oscar and Felipe – really didn't change much. They still tried to become inventors, applying most of their ideas to footwear in some way. But for all their creativity, neither of them possessed the practicality to make any of their inventions work. So they took up abstract sculpting in their spare time. They created some...interesting pieces. When their toddler grandniece tried painting one of their sculptures, they attempted to pass it off as an alebrije. The family's favorite pieces, including the one with Gloria's contribution of color, sit near their photos on the ofrenda.

Coco – became a very skilled dancer, but never pursued it as a career because Victória came along quite soon after her marriage to Júlio. She preferred to stay rooted to her mother's home and business anyway. However, she designated herself the family music teacher in her father's stead. She gained a moderate amount of skill on a few instruments, and was always a very good singer. But she didn't mind in the least whenever her descendants surpassed her musical talent. In fact, she couldn't be more proud. Especially of Miguel, the first in the family to truly inherit her papá's full musical genius. Coco never suffered full on dementia, her mind remaining mostly clear even as she approached 100. She had had her share of grief in her life, but none of it permanently impacted or prevented the many joys she also had.

Júlio – was always an okay dancer, and had a moderate voice (Coco always thought he could be quite good if he got vocal training). But he hated performing or speaking for an audience, and preferred lending his upholstery skills to the family business anyway. However, he always made a point of taking Coco dancing for their anniversary, and attempted to learn several complicated dances for her. His desire to learn new skills for Coco's sake was one of his most endearing traits as far as she was concerned.

Rosita – had an extensive collection of records. Some of them were de la Cruz records, but she took tremendous pleasure in smashing them to bits when she learned the truth about him. While she had no musical talent of her own, she loved listening to it, and was the most open minded of her generation when it came to new genres of music.

Victória – was a skilled artist and, though she was loathe to admit it, quite a talented dancer. Her work was always very technical, and she used her artistic talent to design prints for shoes and to create portraits of her family members. Like her papá, she hated the spotlight, and would always pretend she knew nothing about music or dancing in order to avoid having to engage in either in public. But Coco had caught her dancing many times in private. It was her abuelo Héctor who brought her out of her shell after her death. He used dancing as therapy to help Victória cope with the grief of leaving her mother behind to bury her.

Elena – is probably the least musical member of the Rivera family, much to Coco's chagrin. Elena always wanted to be just like Imelda, focusing her efforts on running the family business and household. And while she can't dance or play an instrument, and doesn't like to sing anything other than soft lullabies, Elena is a phenomenal cook. She is extremely reluctant to allow family members to travel outside Santa Cecilia, especially for music, fearing the same thing could happen to them that happened to her abuelo.

Franco – is an incessant whistler. He's naturally very quiet, focusing on his work, but when he's not communicating through words, he's using whistling. He grew up on a ranch, and still uses whistling to command horses and dogs. Each of his three kids had a tune designated for them. Whistling carried further than shouting their names did, and the kids knew from the tune which of them was wanted, and from the tone how urgent the command was. Franco's grandkids each have whistles to call them as well. Even Benny and Manny have unique but matching “whistle names,” as they call them; Manny's is an inversion of Benny's.

Berto – played the tuba in high school, but got bored with it as an adult. He's an avid soccer fan, and is also very dedicated to the family business. He takes after his mamá in many ways, particularly regarding musical interest. He can whistle just as well as his papá, and frequently borrows Franco's “whistle names” to call his own children. Of the blood Riveras, he's probably the worst singer.

Gloria* - like her Tia Victória, she's very shy about her musical abilities. She has two left feet, but her talent lies in song. She has a beautiful voice, but is far too shy to let it be heard beyond her family. Even her family is rarely privy to her singing. Her sisters-in-law have tried numerous times to rectify this, but all they ever succeed in doing is driving her further into her shell.

Enrique – focuses mostly on his career as a leather worker and shoemaker, but his favorite hobby is sound design. He has his own Foley studio and a digital library full of his own engineered sound effects, which he licenses to small production companies. He has tried his hand at a variety of musical instruments, but has always gotten distracted by the sound of something new, and has never kept his focus on a single instrument long enough to actually learn how to play it well. His wife has joked that she's grateful he has a wandering ear and not a wandering eye. Enrique is also a very talented poet, and collaborates regularly with Miguel to write and record new songs. He's Miguel's go-to singer when Miguel needs a tenor.

Carmen* - she's mostly just here for the shoes, but give her a ladle, some space and one of her favorite TV shows or records, and she'll put all her soul into her favorite soul music. She has an even more extensive record collection than Rosita did. She's a pretty good singer in her own right, but she has been known to butcher some of the more difficult notes and refrains. She sings while she does household chores, and is found frequently bobbing her head along to music blasting through her earbuds. The other Riveras can always tell what she's listening to, unless she's vacuuming.

Luisa – loves a soft lullaby or love song. She is somewhat shy when performing in public, but will do so gladly as long as she's performing a duet or group piece with those closest to her. She first learned to swallow her nerves and sing in public when she and Enrique went to a karaoke bar for one of their first dates. She almost never sings in public if Enrique isn't part of the song. They are quite possibly Santa Cecilia's favorite romantic duet.

Abel – sings baritone-bass, and prefers to play the accordion over singing. Like his papá, his true love is soccer. He hates being called by whistle, but automatically responds to his own whistle name without even thinking. He has lamented before about how their abuelito has the kids trained like dogs (Franco sees no problem with this). He's in the school pep band and choir, but will likely never have a solo part. He is, however, an integral part of Miguel's garage mariachi band—though he'd rather eat his own accordion and soccer cleats than put on one of those “ridiculous” charro suits.

Rosa – is the one who does get all the solos in choir. She is also first chair among the strings in her school's orchestra. She loves the violin, and is as talented with it as Miguel is with his guitar. Sometimes she'll sing along with her mamá to a record or CD, and she's a pretty good dancer. She loves to hone her skills by performing string battles with band mates or with Miguel, and the two of them typically end their battles with broken strings rather than a clear cut winner. The battles started as a way to determine which of them was to be stuck with an undesired chore, but neither of them really actually lost.

Miguel – this boy IS music. His favorite instrument is the guitar, and he is personally responsible for keeping his Papá Héctor's white skull guitar polished and preserved. He idolizes Héctor, wanting to be just like him—which has his abuelita worried that he'll run off to Mexico City and return in a pinewood box, just like Héctor did. Miguel can play a few instruments, but is an absolute wizard on the acoustic and electric guitar, as well as electric bass. He's a very good songwriter as well, even if he did have a lot of trouble learning to read sheet music when he was younger. By the time he's a teenager, he's already recording and selling albums, and by age 15 he requires an agent. It's quite clear that he will one day be the most famous of the Riveras, perhaps even surpassing Héctor.

Benny and Manny – are both quite young yet, but have already mastered the kazoo and the kitchen pot drums. They regularly make up nonsensical songs, trading off lines as they go. They sing the jingle Miguel wrote for the zapateria's radio commercials.

Socorro – dances like her namesake and sings like Imelda. Which doesn't surprise Miguel one bit. As a baby, she had the most powerful set of lungs he'd ever heard in his life. Her entire nuclear family is well aware of her potential to become a very talented, very powerful singer. Shortly after taking her first steps, she wanted to dance. Her favorite activity is dancing with her papá.

*I use the book published family tree for the names of Miguel's tias, but be aware that it may be wrong. Lee Unkrich has said that it is, and the film crew has as well. I use the name Carmen for Berto's wife because it means “song,” and in the canon film, it's doubtful Elena would name her daughter something like that.

[amatchforyourmadness]

How to you feel about each of Henry's wives?

Are you ready for a huge text? Cause you getting it.I’ll be giving my thoughts in the order in which the marriages took place, but I’ll be putting their ranking in my affections by their name just in case I talk too much without saying anything.

Catherine of Motherfuckin Aragon (#2 ) → I do not have words enough to express how much I respect and admire this woman, despite how many things I disagree or am not overly fond of on her behaviour/way of thinking. And I don’t mean just being a Queen until her very last day or enduring what Henry put her through with grace and poise, I mean even before she walked out of that judgment without Henry’s permission, I mean managing to thrive despite having her father-in-law against her after the death of Arthur. This woman was the first female spanish ambassador to England. This woman, after marrying Henry, when he decided to go fight in France and left her to rule his kingdom, C R U S H E D a rebellion with the same effort someone would take to make a sandwich. AND THEN SHE SENF THE LEADER OF THE REBELLION’S BLOODY CLOAK TO HER HUBBIE IN FRANCE ALONG WITH A LOVE LETTER IN WHICH IT’S IMPLIED SHE SAID SHE WAS PREGNANT. THIS WOMAN DESERVES SO MUCH MORE PRAISE, @ EVERYONE STOP MAKING HER AN OLD WOMAN AND A PRUDE, THIS BITCH HAD CLAWS FOR AGES—

Anne Boleyn (the baddest bitch that you can’t even) ( #1 ) →Despite my passionate rant about CoA, Anne is still (how my quotes and my fic may suggest) my favourite from all of the wives and I feel terrible about her more than undeserved fate. This girl had the brains, had the looks, had the sharp tongue and had the temper that would have made her an icon of our age, had she only been born in our times. The Other Boleyn Girl and other period pieces as well as some historians tend to make her the ‘whore’ of the early triangle that was formed when Henry (the true whore) decided to get rid of Catherine in favour of his younger beloved, but she was far from it. This girl brought a nation to it’s knees, she was the alleged reason for a King to break with the church of Rome and had a full reformation on the country without opening her legs until they were married and that’s a fact. She was very kind and attentive of her friends, ladies-in-waiting and family and I think this is unfortunately lost in the Whore Narrative in favour of overexagerating the jealousness she was sure to feel in the latest years, putting her against every female character one could to have some more conflict in a book and make her more of a lustful, cruel she-devil (Yes, I see you Philippa. I see you. You too, Wolf Hall). However, I do think her role often times is exaggerated in another aspect: She was by no means the leader of the Boleyn Faction, although she had some considerable half of the decisions made to get them where they rose to, the head of the faction were Thomas and George (I can make a whole rant about how this boy doesn’t get half of the value he’s supposed to get) and she wasn’t the whole reason behind any of what Henry did either, she was used as an excuse. I think we shouldn’t either make her the epitome of a Mary Sue with underlines of a bad temper or the scheming bitch that got the crown; She was a human being, and I intend to write her that way as the chapters of The Wives’ Club progress.

Jane Seymour (#6 )  → You can imagine very well why she’s my lowest ranking wive and why I won’t have much to say about her. I deeply dislike Jane and I make no attempt on hiding it. Her reputation being almost sanctified when she had a worse behaviour than Anne during her courtship of the King is deeply infuriating, even more when I think Anne and five other innocent men had their head chopped off due to untruthful allegations only so Henry could place a crown on her head (which actually never happened, she never got a coronation. That makes me slightly happier). She did not have much attractive qualities to redeem their role on the suffering of the previous wive like others did and her decisions weren’t hers as much as they were her brothers’. I dislike her son, finding Edward the most dislikeable of Henry’s kids, her attempts of bringing Mary back into favour were okayish, she all but ignored Elizabeth’s existence and her reign was short and unremarkable. Overall, my least favourite, no doubt.

Anne of Cleves (#3 ) → BABY GIRL. BABY. ICONIC. BEAUTIFUL. ASTOUNDING. SHOW STOPPING. WHAT ELSE CAN I SING OF PRAISE, IDK. ANNE VON KLEVES IS THE WOMAN YOU SHALL RESPECT OR YOU SHALL RESPECT, THERE’S NO OTHER WAY. Let’s start setting one thing straight, this woman was b e a u t i f u l. An absolute snacc. Henry can go fuck right off. You made two of your wives whores, another a sinner and a liar and now you make this one the ugly one? Why don’t you marry a sex doll then, you piece of shit? “The king was so stout that such a man has never been seen,” reported a visitor to court. “Three of the biggest men that could be found could get inside his doublet.” She had waaay more reason to complain than you! He claimed she was not a virgin, yet she asked if he kissing her good night and good morning in her chambers was not enough to be considered consumation of the wedding! At least she didn’t ever need to be under that giant glob you called belly! Okay, I’m going to chill. Anne was undoubtedly the most successful of Henry’s wives, yes, even more than Parr. She was not well versed in singing, dancing or music, due to her education in the Cleves fashion, not in the English, being a pragmatic woman versated in needlework and house management. When the short time of their marriage came to an end and they were declared not truthfully married, she wrote a letter of compliance to the King, knowing full well she was being cast out because Henry lusted her lady-in-waiting, Katherine Howard, and, differently of CoA, setting herself as a faithful servant of Henry’s will. What did that mean? It meant that Henry had finally stepped out of a marriage without a fuss to it and he was more than thankful. She got money to spare, all of her jewels, inumetous mannord and castles and an income that could make us cry over our petty salaries, she was held up as his sister, having only he, himself and his children take precedence to her and she had the most amicable of relationships with him and KH after the whole thing. They visited her and she visited them, all was well. She ended outliving Henry, Katherine Howard, Catherine Parr and Edward Tudor, having died a calm death in one of her castle’s after living a Queen’s life without having to be married to no King at fucking all! Even Mary, that opposed her Protestant views held her in such high regard she gave the woman a royal funeral. This bitch had held a mini-court in all of her residences and she honestly had the best live of all of the wives. I can only congratulate her. Anne of Cleves was the most successful wive, fight me.

Katherine Howard ( #5 ) → Oh, this poor baby. Poor, poor baby. I would rank her higher in the list if I could solely because of how people view her to this day. She was but a teenager that got executed by a love affair that I’m not even sure if really took place because,,,, everyone knows Anne’s story by then??? It’s recent history???? It’s known???? Why would you do this????? But there is so much proof??? Kitty baby, why???? and is called an empty-headed fool by many, and I mean MANY, people in the most unfair of ways. She wasn’t a remarkable queen either in the matters of her reign, but she was kind and gentle and an absolute joy for what’s written in the records of our history. She and Mary did not go along so well (probably because Mary was probably having Anne flashbacks), but Elizabeth and Edward did quite enjoy her as a stepmother. I don’t forget either how she and Anne of Cleves remained friendly after the divorce, having danced all through the night of the day it was made official as Henry retreated to his chambers to sleep, writing each other letters, visiting and lunching with each other. The dignity with which she faced her death is also uncanny, leading me to believe bravery and unfair fates are both traces of the Howard blood she and Anne shared. I wished she could have had a happier life and is not a random choice have her be the center of the TWC’s plot.

Catherine Parr (#4 ) → I confess I did not read or had as much interest on her as the others, although I have read more of her than I read of Jane. She was a smart woman and, although she married the Seymour Fuckboy and people single her out as the Nurse of Old Henry ™, she was one of the best Consorts an english king could have had, no doubt. She managed to strike a good relationship with all the three kids, she was fair and justice-driven, Elizabeth’s life was brightest with her and I can only say that she is the one to be called saint if she put up with Henry Tudor as an old overweight man nearing death and with paranoias swirling around his head like fishes in an aquarium. I will read more about her to have a better portrayal to the fic, but she’s still earned my respect and admiration.

Well… I warned it would be long hahahaha!I hope it was somewhat revealing to you and that I didn’t got you bored in the meantime.Any other questions you may have, feel free to ask them!

[ammiiexxx]

Little Talks

In which Alec and Magnus lie together, basking in their memories before falling asleep.

For Maia c:

You can find this fic also on AO3!

Magnus can remember the first time that Alec slept over. He remembers their cat-and-mouse game of the night before, his flirting, his admittance of how something had set a spark in him that hadn’t been lit in over a century. He remembers the smell of coffee and Alec’s hungover look. His voice thick and groggy from sleep.

“I trust you.”

Despite the stony front, the words held meaning, he knew it.

 He remembers the second night Alec slept over, a few weeks later in a heat of passion and pent up feelings. He remembers the kisses, the soft laughter as Alec tripped over his shoes. Magnus can remember the way Alec’s hands felt against his skin—though calloused from battles—was soft and warm.

Inviting and enticing.

The morning after, Magnus remembers the worry. The fear present in his gut that Alec would leave, but then the gentle assurance that he wasn’t going anywhere. His eyes drank in the features of the warm beams of sunlight against his glowing skin, against the stark black runes on his body, the stubble growing in on his jawline, the creases next to his eyes as he smiled.

Breathtaking.

One night after the other. It added up quickly. Magnus recalls very well the times when Alec comforted him, fighting the demons that haunted his nightmares. When he’d come close and place faint kisses to the nape of his neck wordlessly, or when he’d hum under his breath a small lullaby.

Comforting.

 And now here he is, years after those instances with Alec curled up next to him. They’re both exhausted, the toll of the day weighing in on their bones. They’ve just put the kids to bed, and just turned the lights out, yet the faint illumination of the moon filters through the lightweight curtains. It’s bright enough to see some of the features on Alec’s face, but not bright enough to see beyond the edge of the bed.

Just right.

 “Hey,” Alec calls out, his warm hands dusting lightly across Magnus’ abdominal muscles, “What are you thinking about?”

Magnus only smiles softly, turning to plant a soft, chaste kiss to Alec’s lips. He kisses away the worry in an instant. “You.”

Alec snorts. “Right.”

Magnus only presses closer, his body fitting into the curves and bends of Alec’s figure. He brushes one of his legs slightly over Alec’s, wrapping up against him. His chin presses on Alec’s shoulder. “I’m serious. I was.”

Alec quirks a curious brow.

“I was thinking about the first time you stayed the night,” he confesses. “The way you tried to act all tough and distant when you understood the fact that you stayed the night at the High Warlock of Brooklyn’s.”

Alec gives a questionable look. “That doesn’t sound too romantic, babe.”

Magnus’ eyes fall down to Alec’s chest, fingers brushing across the dark hair against the muscle. He hums. “Maybe. But then I think of the next time you stayed over.”

There’s another soft chuckle from Alec as he presses his head back against the pillow, eyes fluttering closed. Magnus leans forward to press a kiss into the crook of his neck, efficiently surprising Alec, who ducks away. “H-Hey!”

There’s a hint of a playful smile that tugs at the corner of Alec’s lips.

Magnus’ eyes crinkle as he smiles. “I didn’t just think of that night, I thought of all of them. I’ve thought about how many times I’ve had the pleasure of sleeping with you under these gold satin sheets, how we’ve been in this same position just basking in nothing but sweet silence and ourselves…” His hand rises from Alec’s chest to brush lightly against his stubbled cheek, “How lucky I am to be with someone like you for eternity.”

Alec’s hand comes up to touch Magnus’, and a small ray of moonlight catches on the metal encasing Alec’s ring finger. His smile grows, an obvious warmth spreading to his cheeks as he blushes at Magnus’ words.

“I like to remember nights like these too,” Alec confesses. “I remember the night when Mom came home, when you stole her away from the dinner party to ask for her blessing. I remember settling in bed, blissfully unaware, until we were just like this…” he trails, his hazel eyes never leaving Magnus. “You were antsy, which you hardly ever are, and I could immediately tell something was up.”

“You could always tell when something was wrong,” Magnus agrees.

Alec’s hand moves from Magnus’, only to brush away some of the loose strands of his hair away from his eyes. “You took my breath away.”

“You took mine the first time I saw you,” Magnus confesses back. Alec’s hand slides in his hair, a gentle pressure settling on his scalp, pressing Magnus closer as he leans in. The hot pulses of his breath catch on Magnus’ lips before Alec’s press to his own.

The kisses are slow and languid, passionate, but not desperate. Magnus’ toes curl and his magic flares inside him as Alec brushes his tongue gently against his bottom lip before pulling away.

Magnus is almost left breathless yet again.

His eyes flutter open to see Alec still smiling back at him, eyes shining like the warm summer sun. “Do you remember the first night Max came home?” He asks.

Alec turns, his eyes training in on the ceiling above them. “I remember how the both of us were so anxious to leave him alone.” Another hint of a smile appears across his face. “We stayed up half the night trying to make him comfortable.”

“I remember Rafael felt right at home,” Magnus adds. “He slept soundlessly that night.”

There’s a bit of silence that passes between the two of them as they bask in the memories of their children, the wordless reflections of the nights where they hardly had any sleep and the nights they all fell asleep curled on the couch watching old movies.

“In the Institute,” Alec begins, cutting into the silence, “you had your own room. There wasn’t really any sharing of beds or rooms with anyone unless they were already married or something.” He blinks. “I remember when I was young, whenever Izzy had nightmares, she’d come crawling into my bed with her cold, clammy hands and snuggle up until she fell asleep again.” There’s a hint of sadness to his voice that doesn’t go unnoticed.

Magnus gives a soft, yet solemn, smile. “She knew you’d protect her.”

Alec hums, eyes fluttering shut.

Magnus sighs, turning to also stare up at the ceiling. His eyes focus on the rays of moonlight that dance across the surface. “Ragnor was too prude for it, but Catarina was always willing to give a shoulder to cry on when things got bad. Perhaps I was the equivalent of your sister,” he muses, “running into Cat’s arms whenever the monsters came out to play.”

He can hear Alec let out a huff next to him.

“We both have great fashion sense too,” he adds, which earns a heartier laugh from Alec. It dies out a moment later.

“I miss her.”

And there it is, Magnus thinks. The wonderous curse of immortality promises that there are those who are untouched by the curse, slowly fading with time. It manages to hit Alec at the most unique times. Sometimes it’s the simple things, when he cooks or when he watches Magnus pick out outfits for the kids. Sometimes it’s when the memories of old become too much, and what spills out is the hopelessness that he may very well never see them again.

But Magnus is there to comfort him in those times, to provide the understanding that Alec is unknown to. He’s there to assure that no matter how many years will pass, Alec will still have the memories of his siblings to carry with him. He remembers telling Alec that their legacies don’t die when they do, they live on in the memories of those who cherished them most.

For the most part, it seems to provide comfort.

Magnus takes Alec’s hand in his, drawing it up to his lips to kiss at his knuckles softly. He meets Alec’s gaze, which is glossy with tears that threaten to spill over.

“Tell me one of your favorite stories about them,” Magnus whispers. He knows talking of good memories of the past take the weight off his heart. He hopes it does for Alec too.

Alec swallows thickly. “Gosh…uh…let’s see…” he trails, gaze falling as he tries to conjure up the memories. The corner of his lips twitch upward. “Back in Idris when we were younger, Jace and Izzy would always like to run around in the gardens. They were large, and you could easily get lost in them, but their absolute favorite thing to do was race through the hedge mazes and see who could make it through the fastest.”

“I remember Jace would always try to cheat, use a speed rune or something to get through faster, but it never worked.” Alec huffs out another laugh. “The look on his face every time he saw Izzy at the end of the maze victorious.”

Magnus chuckles at that.

“Do you remember when Jace tried to fire that arrow, when he tried to upstage you to try and impress some rookie Shadowhunters?” Magnus asks softly, earning a breathy laugh from Alec, his chest shaking lightly. “He insisted that he could hit the bullseye, but barely even hit the target.”

Alec snorts. “Asshat. He always tried to stand out.”

And again, another veil of silence falls over them, but there’s no solemn air anymore, no looming sadness of their immortality. They focus on the good memories, filled with laughter and smiles, the memories that focus on what joy life could bring.

Alec brings up their wedding, and how his whole family was beaming and how he felt like the luckiest man in the world. He reminds Magnus of their wedding night, of how they resigned to a night of comfort and giggles, huddled under blankets and re-learning the dips and curves of each other as they reminded themselves through every kiss and touch that they loved each other.

His last thought surprises Magnus.

“I remember the night we spent just basking in our memories,” Alec states softly, voice barely above a whisper. “How I remember with each and every memory how lucky I am to have married the love of my life, to have two wonderful children, and to have the opportunity to lie together like this.” He turns back to Magnus, who wears a wide-eyed look at his words. He only smiles, eyes crinkling once again.

Magnus’ lower lip trembles, his heart sighing. “Sounds like quite a night.”

“It does indeed,” he affirms, drawing in closer to press another featherlight kiss to Magnus’ lips. He presses two, three, four more kisses before pulling away. “And I never want to forget it.”

[aion-rsa]

Woodstock 99: Peace, Love, and Rage Review: Behind the Scenes of a Musical Disaster

https://ift.tt/eA8V8J

That ain’t teenage spirit you’re smelling. HBO’s Music Box documentary Woodstock 99: Peace, Love, and Rage reeks of righteous condemnation, judicial indiscretion, and conspiratorial obfuscation. But it’s okay. This is a disaster film masquerading as a documentary, and the found footage makes it all pay off. Director Garrett Price personally opens the film in the voiceover, explaining how the 1999 celebration itself was written to be a comedy, but “played out much more like a horror film.”

Music festivals have come to represent generations. The original Woodstock: an Aquarian Exposition: 3 Days of Peace & Music concert in the summer of 1969 brought half a million people together with the artists who spoke for and to them in a communal love bond. The organizers lost money, the capacity was underestimated, but the audience came together to share what they had to make the weekend legendary. In December that year, the Rolling Stones concert at Altamont was marred by the pool cues and knives of the security team, the Hells Angels. It was deemed the end of the ‘60s.

Woodstock ‘94 happened at the height of the Grunge Revolution, when Kurt Cobain wore a dress but didn’t shave his stubble, and Riot Grrrls blasted personal dissent with the passion of the punk elite and no one cared if they shaved their legs. The organizers lost money, but the fans and the bands were one unit who achieved the common goal of joy. Woodstock ‘99 happened five years later and enjoyed the accessibility of the mainstream’s greatest unifier: MTV. The organizers made money and 200,000 people attended, but the audience got such a raw deal, even the musicians who played got scared. It is remembered as “the day the ’90s died.”

Opening on the 22nd anniversary of the festival, the documentary deems Woodstock ’99 a disaster. They even call in a guy from FEMA, who says it was worse than Hurricane Katrina and the great flood. Told chronologically, Price, who previously directed Love, Antosha, the 2019 tribute to Anton Yelchin, begins with the excitement of a three-day festival.  Held on a former military installation in Rome, New York, the Griffiss Air Base was set up to keep the grounds free of ticketless celebrants.

The security team is exposed as a bunch of amateurs specially trained on which boxes to check in a multiple-choice test, and how to find someone’s personal stash of bottled water in a backpack. “There’s a festival grounds in Germany that was literally built by Hitler,” The Offspring’s guitarist Noodles says in an interview. “It’s a great venue, a lot of fun. The air base was less hospitable than the venue built by Nazis.”

There were nonstop performances held a mile apart from each other on the grounds. One highlighted its mosh pits, the other the dance floor. The biggest electronic artist in the Rave Tent proves his genre’s atmosphere opens doorways to perception. “There is a sixth sense that you develop when you spend your life going to venues,” Moby says in an interview. “We got off the bus and I was like, ‘Something is not right.'”

The film is very generous with behind-the-scenes footage. We are treated to aerial shots of cramped campsites, long ATM lines, leaky Port-O-Potties oozing something that only looked like mud, and $4 water bottles, which sold as much as beer in temperatures over 100 degrees. We are told in advance three people died, 44 were arrested. There were 10 reported sexual assaults.

The lineup for the concert was a mix of hard rock bands, pop stars, and hip-hop acts like The Roots, and ICP. Rapper DMX’s epithetic call and response performance gets special notice. “The Black performer is essentially licensing the people in the crowd to say this word with him,” New York Times’ Wesley Morris says in an interview. “If you got each one of these guys after the show, and pulled them aside and said, ‘is it OK to say the N-word under any circumstances?’ They would, to a person, say, ‘I mean, the right answer is no, right?’”

For returning music aficionados with remnants of the first gathering still in their memories, organizers booked jam bands and a few older acts like Elvis Costello, Willie Nelson, and The Who’s John Entwistle. “The ’99 Woodstock seemed like it was trying to relive a nostalgic moment, along with commercialism and capitalism, but not having a real soulful purpose for the show,” singer-songwriter Jewel says in an interview.

As the documentary points out, a lot of the younger attendees had no idea what Wyclef Jean was referencing in his solo guitar performance of “The Star-Spangled Banner.” They ask one kid, who can’t remember who did it first even though he’s standing directly under a huge stencil of Jimi Hendrix’s name. When Bush’s Gavin Rossdale begins Country Joe & the Fish’s “Gimme an F,” the chanters only seek Amy.  

Music is supposed to have charms which soothe the savage breast. Many people think the final word of the phrase is “beast,” and the documentary further blurs the line. The early ‘90s music artists were anti-misogynist, anti-racist, anti-homophobic and radically informed. Happening at the end of the Clinton era, when MTV pitted boy bands and pop girls against nü-metal rockers, a fur-coated Kid Rock could call Monica Lewinsky a ho and pass it off as a political statement.

Toxic masculinity’s dirty sister framed Britney Spears as a “Girls Gone Wild” extra, and magazines like Maxim and FHM encouraged the idea young men could shout “show your tits” to Rosie Perez without getting bitch-slapped, the documentary posits. Only three women were invited to perform at the weekend-long, two-stage festival: Jewel, Alanis Morrissette, and Sheryl Crow. “I’m baffled how it went from the progressive, enlightened values of Kurt Cobain and Michael Stipe to misogyny and homophobia and the rape-frat boy culture that was at Woodstock ‘99,” Moby ponders in the film.

Of course, none of wouldn’t have happened if it wasn’t all pre-staged. This is where Price dips into the era’s obsession with paranoia. It was the end of the millennium, the Columbine shootings had happened, and the Y2K bug was coming. It was finally time to party like it’s 1999. “Really, the biggest problem was that MTV set the tone,” organizer John Scher says in an interview.

But he downplays it, like he might have been warned by Cigarette Smoking Man from The X-Files. “There’s no question that a few incidents took place. But if you go back in the records of the police and state police and stuff, we’re not talking about 100. Or even 50. We’re talking about 10. I am critical of the hundreds of women that were walking around with no clothes on, and expecting not to be touched. They shouldn’t have been touched, and I condemn it. But you know, I think that women that were running around naked, you know, are at least partially to blame for that.”

Partial blame is all the rage in Woodstock 99: Peace, Love, and Rage. The documentary points out how history paints the original Woodstock like it really was a return to the garden, with peace and love and former flower children having babies to Santana’s “Soul Sacrifice.” But music journalist Steven Hyden reminds us about a group of disgruntled shoppers called “’The Up Against the Wall Motherfuckers,” who didn’t like food prices and burned dozens of stands down.

After Woodstock ’99 grounds started smoking when the candles handed out for a vigil for Columbine victims became torches to burn the place down, the documentary says Rome Mayor Joseph Griffo asked Anthony Kiedis to douse the crowd’s misplaced enthusiasm. The Red Hot Chili Peppers launched into a scorching rendition of Jimi Hendrix’s “Fire.” History blames bands like Limp Bizkit, Korn, and Rage Against the Machine for the destruction. But really, the artistic decision of that song to those circumstances is a no-brainer. “Smoke on the Water” would have been too easy. “Disco Inferno” would have been too obvious.

The documentary talks with the event’s organizers, as well as performers like Korn’s Jonathan Davis, The Offspring, Scott Stapp of Creed, The Roots’ Black Thought. Wesley Morris and Spin‘s Maureen Callahan put things into perspective. The only person the documentary doesn’t talk with is Fred Durst, the frontman for Limp Bizkit, who became the poster boy for the event’s bad behavior. Oh, they talk about him, though. They talk about him like he’s not there, and because he’s not there they must think he won’t see it. At the height of Limp Bizkit’s set, the singer encouraged the crowd to “Break Stuff.” But let’s be fair, it is the name of their song, and Durst is the guy who told the crowd to pick someone up if they fall, not to grope them.

This is what happens when the counterculture makes money. Everyone wants a piece. Woodstock 99: Love, Peace, and Rage is an even-handed dispenser of blame, and has slices for all. The first in a series of music-based documentaries from Bill Simmons’ Ringer Films, this immersive journey bodes well for upcoming tunes.

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Woodstock 99: Peace, Love, and Rage is available to stream on HBO Max now.

The post Woodstock 99: Peace, Love, and Rage Review: Behind the Scenes of a Musical Disaster appeared first on Den of Geek.

from Den of Geek https://ift.tt/3y6dyyP

[wcoastboy]

emptiness, lockdown and a broken heart

so I am one of these kids who idealize love (a lot), I mean I am a cancer for god’s sake and most of my chart is water sings - overwhelmingly similar to lana del rey’s I might add, perhaps that’s why I am very affected by anythings she produces? - and I feel a lot. I always think of some aspects, (physical, cultural, emotional) and some traits that I’d love for a future husband to have. I am very traditional in that sense - I suppose oddly so for someone in the lgbtq community - but as troye sivan’s music says, I really do see a “little house on the hill and children's names,” and I feel like even though lust is my one main cardinal sin (for life, for beauty, for wealth, for happiness, for beautiful young guys, for wine, for good food, and everything pretty, shiny and decadent), I am so very relationship oriented. 

since my first boyfriend, which was 6 years ago, I never really felt strong romantic feelings towards anyone, in mid 2019 and even more so in 2020 during lockdown I started thinking that I had gone numb, I only lusted for pleasure, and yes I did want to connect with someone but it became very hard, especially because I had set some standards to a good and happy relationship which I suppose are not easily met. since that time in 2019 I would be complaning to my friends that I wanted a boyfriend and how annoyed I was by not finding anyone, was I reaching for the stars? in september 2020 I came back to beirut, for the summer semester and for a moment I was so very happy, still longing for a company who could adore me and be devout to loving me, but  I had managed to be accepted into a double major program (a little harder than just one), got my first real job with something I love doing (related to restoration and preservation of national heritage/art/architecture), and paid fairly ok, I also was getting to learn much more arabic and going around nostalgic ancient ruins, ashtonishly beautiful mediterranean beaches, medieval churches and getting high with my friends watching he city lights of beirut skyline dancing in my eyes. 

everythiNg seemed fIne, But I did keep complAining about not finding him. so my friend toLd me “stop looking, he’ll appear.” and though shallow advices bother me, I decided to wat. not a week after, on october 31st 2020, a halLOween night, I was with another friend on a call and a guy messages me on instragram, telling me my pictures were really pretty. one hour into the conVErsation he asked if he could see me, not to go anywhere or do anYthing, just see me. I then tOld him he was welcomed into my apartment, and half an hour later he was here, I opened the door to a gorgeoUs, blonde and blue eyes gemini, whose body was so pretty it made me a bit shy. (please keep in mind that where I live at the time, cases were very low, the country had dealt well with the pandemic until that point) and for 3 hours we talked, we discussed a myriad of personal philosophies (and btw, this is NOT how it works in the gay world), ranging from religion, academia, future plans, family, sexuality, and then yes, we kissed, and he had the most amazing kisses, so sweet-tasting, so tender, so passionate. 

in that day, a day I was feeling so alone (no halloween parties in lockdown..), I was so fulfilled. I learned he is a successfull architect, family oriented, passionate lover, I wasnt, however, in love with him, I still thought of myself as someone looking for love, but eventually he managed to make me fall in love with him. he’d wake up earlier than me to send me good mornings and he’d go back to sleep, he’d write me poems, come at any point that I’d mentioned I missed him, bring me gifts, spoil me with love, car rides and favors, he poured his heart unto me. I was a bit scared tho, so I asked us to go slower, he didnt take it well at first but he agreed, we had this conversation three times, he would insist in buying gifts like gucci shoes or weekends in expesive skiing resorts - which I refused. 

the day we had this conversation for the first time was a m a z i n g at the beginning, I went to a brunch with my architect boss and my work colleagues, collected my salary, went to the gym, came home, got some feedback on university papers (all very positive 90+ papers, which made me very happy as it showed me how capable I am in academia), and my date had invited me for dinner in a restaurant of my choice. I chose a small, traditional Italian restaurant up in the mountains from beirut (a lovely place), which he promtly made a reservation, and I went to get ready. at which point I called one of my best friends, and I just had this epiphany of feeling like a real adult in the first time in 20 years of my life. I truly did feel like I could conquer all? I was doing well at my job, even better at university, getting paid, professors enjoyed my company and invited me for talks, I was handling not one but two programs, I was in a good place with all my friends, I was in a steady pace gym-wise, I hard learned a lot about me and parts of my origin that semester too, I was falling in love with the middle east, and I had my man. a strong, well dressed, awfully good looking blondie who adored me and came to pick me up two hours later smelling so good with his cool sportscar. I felt very fulfilled, I was in awe that in 2020, a year that I had lost my grandfather and so many had perished was ending overwhelmingly well for me - until later that day. 

after the restaurant - and the amazing food - we went around in the car, we made out and more, and eventually we had the third conversation, in which I still was not ready for full commitment (allow me to explain that me, a cancer, when engaging in a stable relationship will be very, very committed, and I couldnt jump in headstrong - as I had done before - within just a month), and simply like that, he dismissed me, left me, took me home and never saw me again. I talked to him the day after in which I told him it was unfair how he made me fall for him and he just leaves me at once. I became very numb, he did keep calling me and messaging me for a month after, asking how I felt and my plans for the winter holidays, asking me for a cooking hangout and whatnot. I was numb, I didnt fight for him or anything. I wish I had. because a month later I was in pain, heartbroken, struggling, hurting, and at that point he seemed to have healed from me, I tried patching things back but its not really working, and at this point, its preopably gonna stay like that. 

the worst part is that I truly had become his friend? so I went through grieving in two different perspectives, the loss of a lover and the loss of a friend. 

cut to february 2021, now the pandemic has worsened to some extent and I am under absolute lockdown, I am not emplyed as the work was short term, I can’t see my friends or go around exploring the scenery, there’s not gym and I lost a couple family memebers due to covid19 and cancer.

I used to deal pretty well with the lockdown, I am kept to myself, a few books and my mackbook go a long way, I can spend days in reclusion. I am also a pretty ok student and now....now nothing. I am hating this lockdown and it truly pains me to see that there are *weeks* left of it, I am not being able to focus as I usually do, I am not even very communicative these days (and I talk too much), its been very heard being heartbroken in a tiny apartment with me and me only, I’ve resorted to several activies so far but nothing seems really effective to be honest. I fear that he is really over me, and he is not even in the country as of now. everything seems so empty, I am not hurting as much as I was a few days ago, the weeks from january 17th to february 3rd were hell for me, now I suppose I can find some joy but the only thing i’d love to right now is lying my head in his chest. 

the one good thing that came from all of this was the fact that because I was so sad, when I got the news that my uncle had died I got so, so sensitive that I ended up falling apart on the phone with my aunt and my sister, whose reaction to my story with him were unecpectedly sweet, both of them now are pretty open and understanding of my sexuality and I was very, very relived to open up to memebers of my family, my kin, my blood. (up until that point I had opened up only to friends). 

and I suppose that now I know that I hadnt gone cold from love, it was just that I hadnt find the one. hopefully I’ll heal faster than my first break up, but it does pain me a lot, because you know these standards I had mentioned earlier? he fit very well in the majority of them.

[mariaslozak]

Witch-themed romance reads, some past, some future, with a couple of books from other genres.

Bewitched, an anthology by Lisa Higdon, Susan Krinard, Amy Elizabeth Saunders, and Maggie Shayne, whose novella Everything She Does Is Magick has a Sleeping Beauty-esque trio of aunts furtively wielding their magic to ensure the unwitting hero’s virginity stays intact until such a time as he and their protegee will fall for each other. Whether you’ll enjoy it probably depends on your feelings about the premise and if the enemies to lovers interaction between the heroine and hero strikes you as hilarious or immature.

Eternity by Maggie Shayne “Three hundred years ago, Raven St. James was accused of witchcraft...Only one man tried to free her from the hangman's noose--Duncan, the town minister, who died trying to save her. Three hundred years later, the accused witch still lives and longs for her love...At last, after centuries of loneliness, Raven has found her precious Duncan. But as he awakens to the passion of his past life, so too does the evil that tore them apart. Now Raven and Duncan must prove their love for all eternity.” (TBR)

The Witch and the Warrior by Karyn Monk, a medieval set in Scotland. “Suspected of witchcraft, Gwendolyn MacSween has been condemned to being burned at the stake at the hands of her own clan. Yet rescue comes from a most unlikely source. Mad Alex MacDunn, laird of the mighty rival clan MacDunn, is a man whose past is scarred with tragedy and loss. His last hope lies in capturing the witch of the MacSweens--and using her magic to heal his dying son. He expects to find an old hag....Instead he finds a young woman of unearthly beauty. There's only one problem: Gwendolyn has no power to bewitch or to heal. Now she must pretend to be a sorceress--or herself perish.” (TBR; have enjoyed a couple of non-medieval historicals by this author.)

A Witch’s Handbook of Kisses and Curses by Molly Harper. “Nola Leary would have been content to stay in Kilcairy, Ireland, healing villagers at her family’s clinic with a mix of magic and modern medicine. But a series of ill-timed omens and a deathbed promise to her grandmother have sent her on a quest to Half-Moon Hollow, Kentucky, to secure her family’s magical potency for the next generation. Complication One: the artifacts [she needs to unearth] are lost somewhere in what is now Jane Jameson's book shop. Complication Two: her new neighbor, Jed Trudeau, who keeps turning up half naked at the strangest times, a distraction Nola doesn't need.” (Currently reading.)

Met By Moonlight by Rosemary Edghill. “When modern day witch Diana Crossways plunges back to 1647 England, she learns that a mysterious man she saw in Salem, Massachusetts is a notorious witch hunter. He holds the power of life and death over Diana--but she also inflames his desire.” (I gave this one a B a few years back.)

Magical Memories by Donna Fletcher. Contemporary set in Scotland. “As one of the world’s most powerful witches, Tempest possesses the ability to do anything - except men her own broken heart. Many years ago, her lover was corrupted by his own magic power, and she was forced to imprison him in a mystical limbo. Unable to forgive herself, Tempest has never allowed another man to get close to her... until now. While navigating her car through a fierce blizzard, Tempest accidentally hits Michael Deeds, injuring his leg. [At her home, where she has taken him to heal, the two begin to fall for each other.] But is Michael the new love she’s been searching for - or someone from her past she dared not believe she’d ever see again?” (TBR)

Bewitching by Jill Barnett. Regency. “Alec, Duke of Belmore, did as he pleased - and he wanted to marry the beautiful, bubbly girl who had positively bewitched him: Joyous MacQuarrie, who had appeared from nowhere and turned stately Belmore Park upside down with merriment and mischief. It hardly mattered that her Scottish bloodline was shrouded in mystery. But Alec's heated desire turned ice-cold when he discovered that this winsome lady was, in fact, a witch --- whose powers of white magic were not always perfectly under control ...Too late, Joy knew she was desperately in love and that nothing could stop the course of their destiny --- the scandal threatening to destroy her and the passion that held them both spellbound in a forbidden, irresistible match.” (This charmed an A from me and became an instant favourite a long time ago.)

Thornyhold by Mary Stewart. From a different period than her wonderful vintage romantic suspense, this book has a much subtler, quieter flavour, being sweet and gentle instead of tense and gothicky. The romance is secondary. “To Cilly, the house, deep in the wild wood, was an enchantment, left to her by the cousin whose occasional, magical visits had brightened her childhood. And as she explored, she discovered more about the woman who had come to seem like a fairy godmother to her: her herbalist’s skills, her still room, her abilities to foresee and heal. She discovered also that the local people believed that Cilly had inherited not just the house but the magical spell-weaving powers that lived on in the house and garden. Slowly, she came to realise that they were right.” (This one needs a reappraisal from me as my original, long ago C+ was based on disapponted expectations.)

50 Ways To Hex Your Lover by Linda Wisdom. @ameliafeministpeabody‘s recent mention inspired me to add this humorous contemporary paranormal, first in a series, to my TBR! The heroine is “a witch who can’t stay out of trouble” and the hero “a vampire cop on the trail of a serial killer.”

Sorcerer to the Crown by Zen Cho. Romantic historical fantasy. The author apparently has mentioned Georgette Heyer and Susannah Clarke (Jonathan Stange and Mr. Norrell) as her major influences. “At his wit’s end, Zacharias Wythe, freed slave, eminently proficient magician, and Sorcerer Royal of the Unnatural Philosophers—one of the most respected organizations throughout all of Britain—ventures to the border of Fairyland to discover why England’s magical stocks are drying up.But when his adventure brings him in contact with a most unusual comrade, a woman with immense power and an unfathomable gift, he sets on a path which will alter the nature of sorcery in all of Britain—and the world at large...” (Reading next)

The Witches of New York by Ami McKay. Gilded Age fantasy fiction. “Two hundred years after the trials in Salem, Adelaide Thom has left her life in the sideshow to open a tea shop with another young woman who feels it's finally safe enough to describe herself as a witch: a former medical student and "gardien de sorts" (keeper of spells), Eleanor St. Clair. Together they cater to Manhattan's high society ladies, specializing in cures, palmistry and potions--and in guarding the secrets of their clients. All is well until one bright September afternoon, when an enchanting young woman named Beatrice Dunn arrives at their door seeking employment. Beatrice soon becomes indispensable as Eleanor's apprentice, but her new life with the witches is marred by strange occurrences. She sees things no one else can see. She hears voices no one else can hear. Objects appear out of thin air, as if gifts from the dead. Has she been touched by magic or is she simply losing her mind? Eleanor wants to tread lightly and respect the magic manifest in the girl, but Adelaide sees a business opportunity. Working with Dr. Quinn Brody, a talented alienist, she submits Beatrice to a series of tests to see if she truly can talk to spirits. Amidst the witches' tug-of-war over what's best for her, Beatrice disappears, leaving them to wonder whether it was by choice or by force.As Adelaide and Eleanor begin the desperate search for Beatrice, they're confronted by accusations and spectres from their own pasts. In a time when women were corseted, confined and committed for merely speaking their minds, were any of them safe?” (TBR, thanks to @seashells-and-bookshelves)

Dance Upon The Air by Nora Roberts. One of the consistently best loved romances by this genre legend. “When Nell Channing arrives on charming Three Sisters Island, she believes that she’s finally found refuge from her abusive husband - and from the terrifying life she fled so desperately eight months ago. But even in this quiet, peaceful place, Nell never feels entirely at ease. Careful to conceal her true identity, she takes a job as a cook at the local bookstore café - and begins to explore her feelings for the island sheriff, Zack Todd. But there is a part of herself she can never reveal to him - for she must continue to guard her secrets if she wants to keep the past at bay. One careless word, one misplaced confidence, and the new life she’s created so carefully could shatter completely. Just as Nell starts to wonder if she’ll ever be able to break free of her fear, she realizes that the island suffers under a terrible curse - one that can only be broken by the descendants of the Three Sisters, the witches who settled the island back in 1692. And now, with the help of two other strong, gifted women—and with the nightmares of the past haunting her every step—she must find the power to save her home, her love…and herself.” (TBR)

The Witches of All Saints by Jill Tattersall. Vintage gothic Regency. “It is February, 1811, in the countryside outside Brighton, England. In every house are people who have been terrified by the most brutal murder ever to occur in the area. Not only has this murder of well-known young woman shocked and repulsed them; it has also raised their deepest suspicions and fears for the safety of their own lives. For the murder had been the handiwork of more than one person, in fact of a group. A group of witches.Tansy Tremayne, coming to live with her aunt's family on their estate, arrived at the dreadful moment of the murder itself - indeed, witnessed a part of the ritual. Witnessed and was witnessed - by one of the participants. He was wrapped in witch's robe, the thin, diabolical music of the flute playing around him. He was someone Tansy would recognize...“ (Tattersall wrote several of the better gothics in the sixties and seventies. B- from me.)

[fransiscasdominicanlitblog]

10 Interesting Fiction Novels

1. How the Garcia Girls Lost Their Accents- Julia Alvarez 

          “ Acclaimed writer Julia Alvarez’s beloved first novel gives voice to four sisters as they grow up in two cultures. The García sisters—Carla, Sandra, Yolanda, and Sofía—and their family must flee their home in the Dominican Republic after their father’s role in an attempt to overthrow brutal dictator Rafael Trujillo is discovered. They arrive in New York City in 1960 to a life far removed from their existence in the Caribbean. In the wondrous but not always welcoming U.S.A., their parents try to hold on to their old ways as the girls try find new lives: by straightening their hair and wearing American fashions, and by forgetting their Spanish. For them, it is at once liberating and excruciating to be caught between the old world and the new. Here they tell their stories about being at home—and not at home—in America.” (Amazon.com)

2. Soledad: A Novel- Angie Cruz

    “At eighteen, Soledad couldn't get away fast enough from her contentious family with their endless tragedies and petty fights. Two years later, she's an art student at Cooper Union with a gallery job and a hip East Village walk-up. But when Tía Gorda calls with the news that Soledad's mother has lapsed into an emotional coma, she insists that Soledad's return is the only cure. Fighting the memories of open hydrants, leering men, and slick-skinned teen girls with raunchy mouths and snapping gum, Soledad moves home to West 164th Street. As she tries to tame her cousin Flaca's raucous behavior and to resist falling for Richie -- a soulful, intense man from the neighborhood -- she also faces the greatest challenge of her life: confronting the ghosts from her mother's past and salvaging their damaged relationship.

Evocative and wise, Soledad is a wondrous story of culture and chaos, family and integrity, myth and mysticism, from a Latina literary light.” (Amazon.com)

3.Geographies of Home- Loida Maritza Perez

            “After leaving the college she'd attended to escape her religiously conservative parents, Iliana, a first-generation Dominican-American woman, returns home to Brooklyn to find that her family is falling apart: one sister is careening toward mental collapse, another sister is living in a decrepit building with her abusive husband and three children, and a third sister has simply disappeared. In this dislocating urban environment Iliana reluctantly confronts the anger and desperation that seem to seep through every crack of her family's small house, and experiences all the contradictions, superstitions, joys, and pains that come from a life caught between two cultures. In this magnificent debut novel, filled with graceful prose and searing detail, Loida Maritza Pérez offers a penetrating portrait of the American immigrant experience as she explores the true meanings of identity, family--and home.** “(Amazon.com)**

4. Song of the Water Saints- Nelly Rosario 

    “This vibrant, provocative début novel explores the dreams and struggles of three generations of Dominican women. Graciela, born on the outskirts of Santo Domingo at the turn of the century, is a headstrong adventuress who comes of age during the U.S. occupation. Too poor to travel beyond her imagination, she is frustrated by the monotony of her life, which erodes her love affairs and her relationship with Mercedes, her daughter. Mercedes, abandoned by Graciela at thirteen, turns to religion for solace and, after managing to keep a shop alive during the Trujillo dictatorship, emigrates to New York with her husband and granddaughter, Leila. Leila inherits her great-grandmother Graciela’s passion-driven recklessness. But, caught as she is between cultures, her freedom arrives with its own set of obligations and dangers.” (Amazon.com)

5. The Brief Wondrous Life of Oscar Wao- Junot Diaz 

      “ Things have never been easy for Oscar, a sweet but disastrously overweight, lovesick Dominican ghetto nerd. From his home in New Jersey, where he lives with his old-world mother and rebellious sister, Oscar dreams of becoming the Dominican J. R. R. Tolkien and, most of all, of finding love. But he may never get what he wants, thanks to the Fukœ—the curse that has haunted the Oscar's family for generations, dooming them to prison, torture, tragic accidents, and, above all, ill-starred love. Oscar, still waiting for his first kiss, is just its most recent victim.

Diaz immerses us in the tumultuous life of Oscar and the history of the family at large, rendering with genuine warmth and dazzling energy, humor, and insight the Dominican-American experience, and, ultimately, the endless human capacity to persevere in the face of heartbreak and loss. A true literary triumph, The Brief Wondrous Life of Oscar Wao confirms Junot Diaz as one of the best and most exciting voices of our time.”** (Goodreads.com)**

6. This is How You Lose Her- Junot Diaz

           “The stories in This Is How You Lose Her, by turns hilarious and devastating, raucous and tender, lay bare the infinite longing and inevitable weaknesses of our all-too-human hearts. They capture the heat of new passion, the recklessness with which we betray what we most treasure, and the torture we go through - "the begging, the crawling over glass, the crying" - to try to mend what we've broken beyond repair. They recall the echoes that intimacy leaves behind, even where we thought we did not care. They teach us the catechism of affections: that the faithlessness of the fathers is visited upon the children; that what we do unto our exes is inevitably done in turn unto us; and that loving thy neighbor as thyself is a commandment more safely honored on platonic than erotic terms. Most of all, these stories remind us that the habit of passion always triumphs over experience, and that “love, when it hits us for real, has a half-life of forever.”  (Goodreads.com) 

7. Dominicana- Angie Cruz

      “Fifteen-year-old Ana Cancion never dreamed of moving to America, the way the girls she grew up with in the Dominican countryside did. But when Juan Ruiz proposes and promises to take her to New York City, she has to say yes. It doesn’t matter that he is twice her age, that there is no love between them. Their marriage is an opportunity for her entire close-knit family to eventually immigrate. So on New Year’s Day, 1965, Ana leaves behind everything she knows and becomes Ana Ruiz, a wife confined to a cold six-floor walk-up in Washington Heights. Lonely and miserable, Ana hatches a reckless plan to escape. But at the bus terminal, she is stopped by Cesar, Juan’s free-spirited younger brother, who convinces her to stay.As the Dominican Republic slides into political turmoil, Juan returns to protect his family’s assets, leaving Cesar to take care of Ana. Suddenly, Ana is free to take English lessons at a local church, lie on the beach at Coney Island, see a movie at Radio City Music Hall, go dancing with Cesar, and imagine the possibility of a different kind of life in America. When Juan returns, Ana must decide once again between her heart and her duty to her family.” ** (Goodreads.com) **

8. Drown- Junot Diaz 

      “With ten stories that move from the barrios of the Dominican Republic to the struggling urban communities of New Jersey, Junot Diaz makes his remarkable debut. Diaz's work is unflinching and strong, and these stories crackle with an electric sense of discovery. Diaz evokes a world in which fathers are gone, mothers fight with grim determination for their families and themselves, and the next generation inherits the casual cruelty, devastating ambivalence, and knowing humor of lives circumscribed by poverty and uncertainty. In Drown, Diaz has harnessed the rhythms of anger and release, frustration and joy, to indelible effect.” (Goodreads.com) 

9. Yo! - Julia Alvarez 

      “At last! A zesty, exuberant follow-up to the wildly popular How the Garcia Girls Lost Their Accents, full of Julia Alvarez's keen observations and tender affection for her characters.The Garcia Girls are back, most notably Yolanda, or Yo, who has grown up to be a writer. In the process, she has managed to get kicked out of college, break more than a few hearts, have her own heart broken many times, return for extended visits to the Dominican Republic her family fled when she was a child, and marry three times. She has also infuriated her entire family by publishing the intimate details of their lives as fiction.This brilliant novel is a full and true exploration of a woman's soul, a meditation on the writing life, and a lyrical account of the  immigrant's search for identity and a place in the world. !Yo!'s bright colors, zesty dialogue, warm feeling, and genuine insight could only come from the palette of Julia Alvarez.” (Goodreads.com)

10. Let it Rain Coffee- Angie Cruz 

      “Esperanza risked her life fleeing the Dominican Republic for the glittering dream she saw on television, but years later she is still stuck in a cramped tenement with her husband, Santo, and their two children, Bobby and Dallas. She works as a home aide and, at night, hides unopened bills from the credit card company where Santo won't find them when he returns from driving his livery cab.When Santo's mother dies and his father, Don Chan, comes to Nueva York to live out his twilight years with the Colóns, nothing will ever be the same. Don Chan remembers fighting together with Santo in the revolution against Trujillo's cruel regime, the promise of who his son might have been, had he not fallen under Esperanza's spell. Let It Rain Coffee is a sweeping novel about love, loss, family, and the elusive nature of memory and desire.” (Goodreads.com)