#I WOULD LIKE TO BE CLEAR. THE WIFE IS NOT ANGELIQUE

[incorrectandjuliet]

Lance: I'm autistic and my special interest is cheating on my wife.

[alltimefail-sims]

I present to you all... Wren's family!

Are you reading The Familiar by @mangosimoothie? You should be reading The Familiar by mangosimoothie and rooting for my baby Wren. (I'm mostly kidding - rooting for Wren is optional, but reading the Familiar is not 😉.)

This was probably self indulgent, and I definitely spent way too much time making them, but even if no one else cares... I'm pleased! I've been wanting to do this for way too long! First we have Wren's father, Dr. Abdou Opara and Wren's mother, Dr. Latita Opara (née Wiley). Then we have Wren's siblings Kingston and Angelique.

Want more info on them or to see their full-body outfits? Fear not...

Many details below the cut! ↓

If you read Wren's original post you already know that Abdou, Wren's father, is a retired engineer and tech investor while his wife, Latita, is the current and very popular mayor of San Myshuno. But I didn't really get to go into detail about Wren's siblings so I'm gonna do that real quick!!

Wren's oldest sibling, Kinston (30 y.o.), has a doctorate from Foxbury in biology, but he was also the captain of the robotics team and has a passion for engineering just like his father. After graduation he combined his two passions and created a bio-tech company that focuses on creating innovations and improvements in the medical field, particularly for surgical procedures and daily disability maneuverability and pain management. Wren thinks he's an absolutely insufferable ego-maniac, but they're not a completely reliable narrator because Kingston's just kind of a nerd with a little bit of a superiority complex (oldest child syndrome), but Wren's parents have always lifted up Kingston as the example and that's annoying as fuck! Oh and if Latita has a favorite child, it's Kingston (she's never proclaimed a favorite out loud but like... it's pretty clear).

Then there's the Opara's middle child, Angelique (27 y.o.), who I promise does not just walk around in pageant crowns and evening gowns (although that would be iconic imo). Although a middle child, Angelique has never had to fight for attention and is Abdou's clear favorite (again he's never said it out loud but like... he's even more obvious). She has a distinguished psychology degree with honors from Foxbury Institute and graduated at the top of her class. The reason she's dressed in pageant-wear is because she recently won the title of Miss America (whatever the sims equivalent is called). She'll be competing for Miss Universe next because she's a bad bitch ig? Lmao. She just is very competitive. Wren thinks Angelique is generally less insufferable than Kingston, but the two of them in a room together is like nails on a chalkboard to Wren. Wren and Angelique are a little closer, but "close" as in like... they get along okay, they'll pick up *if* the other calls, and she nags Wren the least of any of their family members (but that's just because she "has better things to do"). That being said, she does call Wren "baby Wren" which drives them nuts (but she's being affectionate in her own way).

*Fun fact: all of the Oparas are Foxbury alum except for our dear Wren and they never hear the end of it!

*Also a fun fact but, needless to say, Wren's mom doesn't want to end her political career as a mayor: she's working her way up the political ladder to the presidential candidacy, babyyyyy!!! On the flip-side, Abdou has always been a strict parent who cares about "legacy" and that's why they're so anal about protecting the family's public image and why they're especially hard on Wren who thinks all of those things are kind of bullshit.

FINALLY, I do want to note that I didn't include one *technical* family member, Kingston's college sweetheart and fiancé Kasi who Wren actually enjoys being around and thinks is way out of their brother's league.

Anyway okay I'm done now here they are side-by-side as promised:

Irl I imagine their heights to vary (with Wren being taller than their mom but shorter than everyone else) but I was too lazy to use a height slider.

Okay NOW I'm done for real lmao byeeeeeeee

[kindaeccentric]

When I was writing my university bachelor's degree thesis (that I'm still to defend) about Penny Dreadful as a modern adaptation of Frankenstein I noticed how the original novel's homoeroticism is realized by the series in an interesting way.

In the way he is presented, it seems to me that Victor secretly desires men, but thinks that only through creating a perfect one by himself he's allowed to touch other man's skin. His endeavour to pierce the veil between life and death is an excuse, since Victor from the series grew up lonely after the death of his mother and he searches for companionship, for someone who would love him unconditionally, like his mother used to. He believes he can find such love only in a person he creates himself, brings from the dead, and who would see him as his only friend, calm and obedient. Yet his first instinct is to make a man, not a woman, and a handsome man at that.

I can imagine both Rory Kinnear and Alex Price are not everybody's cup of tea (I do find them attractive, they are quite charismatic), but the way the original Creature and Proteus are shown makes them attractive. Proteus we see through Victor's eyes, when he is tending to his body before its even reanimated, when he sketches him (a sure sign of affection) and when he teaches him how to eat in a way that becomes seductive, because of how the camera lingers on his lips and then, in a closeup, on his fingers running down his long throat, immediately bringing to mind erotic imagery. Some may argue that Victor tries to emulate the relationship between his mother and himself taking the parental role and projecting onto Proteus the role of his childhood self, and as much as it is partially true, their relationship bears these marks of hidden desire on Victor's part from the start. The image at the end of the first episode when Proteus is born shows Victor trembling, teary-eyed, looking at the body, a torn and stitched back together, but human body, of a naked man. He's afraid, but not necessarily of the man, but of finally getting what he wanted, it's a fear resulting from excitement. Then the man is touching his face tenderly and Victor, still trembling, cannot stop himself from a little smile. Their faces are softly illuminated by the orange light of the gas lamp, creating an intimate atmosphere of a warm bedroom. Victor practically gasps hearing his own name smoken by Proteus. I doubt all of it was intentional in the way I read it, but it doesn't change the fact that the final scene can be easily interpreted this way.

Then the original Creature, with the violence surrounding his return, presents him as highly masculine, smart, powerful, a direct opposite to the delicate, clueless Proteus Victor could easily form into whatever he wanted. The Creature throughout the entire series is perceived as ugly by some and easily tolerated by others, making his ugliness purely subjective, since, despite his small deformities he remains strangely alluring with his gothic qualities (black long hair, black lips, white skin, yellow eyes, proportional features) of a dark brooding gentleman. With blood on his face he becomes vampire-like (vampires always a symbol of hidden desires and 'depraved' sexuality, the Creature and Victor becoming a mirror image of Vanessa and vampire Mina, both Creature's and Mina's monstrosity an indirect result of Victor's and Vanessa's desire towards having a same-sex companion). The Creature touches Victor's face, a callback to Proteus doing it, but the Creature is not gentle, he smears blood all over Victor's face (blood in vampire narratives was always a symbol for other bodily fluids, that's why it seems so sexy, it also gained another meaning in the 80s, due to the HIV epidemic, which no filmmaker can shake off if they tried, I could discuss it more with The Lost Boys, but no time for that right now).

The dynamic between Victor and the Creature is a reversal of Victor's budding relationship with Proteus, experience winning over innocence. Victor is under another man's rule, and it terrifies him, because it would force him into a position of having to admit his attraction, whereas as the one in control he could have still easily deny it. The Creature, with all his attributes, symbolizes carnal love, he's all 'body', where Proteus was virginal, pious love (to an extent). In one of the scenes where we see Proteus he looks up into the skylight at Victor's apartment and appears angelic, as if in a halo of white light.

It's revealed Victor never had a woman, and the series wants the viewer to believe it's because of his awkwardness and passion for science that consumed him, but his dedication to creating himself male companions instead of searching for a living female one is exactly what makes him seem more queer coded.

It's clear that the lack of paternal figure results in Victor quickly becoming close with older men he encounters (Sir Malcolm, Van Helsing), but it also puts him into a position where he's constantly surrounded by men, with whom he feels more at ease, and is intimidated by women. The rivalry between him and Ethan is that of siblings, until the moment when Ethan teaches him how to shoot a gun. It might be a stretch (it is a bit of a stretch, I admit), but a gun often, especially in horror, alongside a knife, represents manhood and masculine power. Victor allows Ethan to touch him and encourages him to show off with the gun, which is a scene all too familiar from many other movies where the role of Victor is reserved for a woman and the interaction is flirtatious (can't pull examples out of thin air, but if you saw over 1400 movies like me you know I'm not lying). All this adds to the general image of Victor.

The Creature and Victor, when they are on a walk, have a very revealing conversation in which the Creature points out how quick Victor was to grow attached to his more perfect man, and Victor doesn't deny it, he admits that he did in fact feel affection towards Proteus, although the meaning of it as the scorned past partner expressing jealousy over the love he didn't get while someone else did is largely subtext. When the Creature says that he's lonely, Victor answers 'I cannot love you' (paraphrase, because I can't find the exact quote right now) and the Creature, disillusioned, mocks him, 'I do not want what you cannot give' suggesting that Victor, by making himself a meek obedient man, is selfish, cruel, manipulating, and a coward, therefore could not have loved Proteus truly. Then again, Victor cannot bring himself to love his original Creature, because he's not the ideal man he envisioned and by then the Creature being too aware of his flaws of character. The Creature/Caliban/John Clare knows that Victor is 'monstrous', not just because he's someone who desecrates dead bodies, plays God and abandons his creation, but because of his queer desire. It's important that in the case of Penny Dreadful 'monstrosity' signifies many different things, literal (being a vampire werewolf, witch, and so on), metaphorical (bad deeds, like letting your son die a horrible death, cheating, killing etc.) and wholy subjective, merely condemned by ignorant society (Sembene's blackness, Brona's sex work, Lily's want to be equal or greater than men, Vanessa's want for sexual freedom, the Creature's ugliness, Angelique being transgender and other cases), so it's NOT that much of a stretch this time.

We also have the whole problem with Lily. Victor is so attached to Lily (who takes up both Elizabeth's and creature's bride parts in the novel) because he believes that only by possessing a good woman he'll be redeemed for his 'sinful' desires, but he's foolish to think that. This belief reduces a woman to a semi-maternal, semi-virginal angelic ideal with no sexual urges or agency, like virgin Mary. Lily is a true replacement for Victor's mother, and his imagined redemption. As long as she's similar to Proteus, in that she's not sexual, and pure like an angel. Yet Lily is not a woman in that sense. She is another of Victor's creatures, so she partially also takes over the role of the original Creature from the novel, a male. She's not an ideal of a Victorian obedient wife, she has power, or tries to have it, but power in the context of patriarchal society is masculine by nature. The moment she drops her pretenses of a weak delicate wife-like girl Victor does not want her like this. He doesn't want a woman that is sexually liberated, because he doesn't like women in this way, and yet, by being similar to the first Creature (from Victor's perspective, from hers John Clare is similar to Victor-a man, I could delve into Brona's sexuality, but later, this thing is already way longer than I intended) she's 'the man' he wanted.

There is also Henry. Henry Jekyll takes the role of his namesake in the novel, Henry Clerval, Victor's closest friend, and a character most often cited to have homoerotic tension with Victor. It's true that some of the eroticism might be accidental, stemming from the prevalence of homosocial interactions in 'Frankenstein' which in turn is a result of misogynistic nature of 19th century Genevian society and in-novel universe reflecting it, but like I mentioned before, it still feeds into the queer reading of the text and translates beautifully into Jekyll and Victor being both extremely misogynistic towards Lily and their mutual homoerotic tension. In the scenes where Henry purposes his plan to Victor he practically seductively purrs it into his ear, Lily becomes merely a female buffer that allows for that interaction, a female presence which is an excuse for male closeness (here I have a couple of examples actually: Dead Ringers, Sir Gawain and the Green Knight, Scream (in a roundabout way, through murder) and a couple others, but that deserves its own article). I won't even mention more references to the novel, because that's a lot already.

Penny Dreadful, although I believe largely unintentionally, expands on what is already there through the changes it introduces in relation to the novel's plot. I have nothing else smart to say, I just think it's worth considering.

*I use the word 'queer', because that's the umbrella term we use in academic writing for years now and even our lgbt+ group at university is called 'queer', so don't come at me with stupid takes

[alifeasvivid]

(engsey) ugh. why. why am I like this.

Without permission, Angelique enters Mr. Kirkland’s study. After the previous night’s suitor, after seeing the letter her father had sent the Englishman, and after becoming acutely aware of her own passionate feelings, she has made up her mind.

“Ana? What is it?” Arthur rises from his desk, wincing on his bad leg, and observes her with concern. She is normally extremely polite and shy about disturbing him while he works or reads.

“I won’t see anymore potential husbands, Mr. Kirkland, I refuse.”

Arthur’s gaze softens. Of course she’d be feeling rather hurt after that brutish bastard insulted her last night. He limps over to her, without the use of his cane. “What happened last night was no fault of yours. It’s alright if you don’t want to see anyone for awhile, we have plenty of time.” She is only twenty after all, hardly an old maid yet.

Ana sighs and flops down petulantly onto the chaise. “No,” she insists stubbornly. “I refuse. I have made up my mind already as to my choice.”

Arthur raises his eyebrow even as his heart sinks. He tries to tell himself it’s for the best if she has chosen someone. The sooner she is out of his house, the sooner he can let go of his feelings. He sits next to her, though a respectable distance apart and takes her hand. “That’s good then. Who is it?”

She looks down at his pale, but strong, weathered hand over hers for a moment and then stares him straight in the eyes. “It’s you.”

Arthur pulls his hand back. “Angelique, don’t be ridiculous. Your father was quite clear. That would not be appro--” he’s cut off by her kissing him softly on the lips. It’s over as soon as it started but it utterly disarms him.

“It is not,” she insists, emboldened by the desperate look in his eyes. In a move no proper, English, young lady would ever dream of, she straddles his lap, burying her face in his shoulder. “What did you think he meant, Mr. Kirkland? Why do you think he sent me to you, his dearest friend, if not for you to marry me? If not for us both to be happy.” She fists her hands on the edges of his open waistcoat.

Arthur remembers the words of her father’s letter, now in a new context and suddenly everything Alfred had said to him about the whole situation comes flooding back. But he denies it anyway. “No. Ana. No. He knew me when I was a different man.”

Angelique bites back tears, trying to state her case in a manner he will understand. “I disagree,” she says firmly. “You’re just as he always described you. And is it not enough that I want to be your wife? That I want to stay with you?” She trembles. “Arthur... is it not enough that I want you and want no one else but you?”

God help him, this must be a test of some kind. Arthur can’t even bring himself to move her away because touching her at all might be his undoing. He digs his fingers into his knees and stares decidedly at nothing despite the dark velvet skin of her seemly neck and the obsidian curls of her hair dominating his line of sight. “You deserve better,” he insists.

“As far as I can tell, that doesn’t exist. Not for me. Please. We don’t have to keep going through this, do we?”

Arthur breathes in deeply, but it brings no relief, only her perfume. “We do. Until we find someone I deem suitable. As your guardian, this is my right.”

Angelique cries in frustration and anger and stands up, moving toward the door. “I meant what I said. I refuse to see anyone else. I know that you share my feelings, but if that is how you will be, then you and I are at war until you see sense. We’ll see who has the greater strength of will.” She slams the door behind her.

In that moment, Arthur admires her and adores her more than he ever has before. But it’s not enough. She must be made to understand that.

[tamorasky]

Mistress Anna Chapter 5

Rating: M

Summary: It wasn’t uncommon for the women to be eventually cast aside, Anna was just naive enough to believe it would never happen to her.

Relationships: Anna/Kristoff, Anna/Hans (ew) 

Words: 3600

Canadian Frontier Au. 

Ao3

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

It was early in the season when Anna became certain she preferred the winter in Ahtohallan. In Arendelle the snow was always dirty with mud and excrement, not like in the country where it was pure white and soft to fall in. 

She watches the snowfall through the window in the sitting room, her arms resting on the back of the sofa with a smile as flakes fall onto the veranda. Grimm’s Fairy Tales lay abandoned next to her as she carefully watches the fourth snowfall of the winter. 

Anna twists her body on the sofa as she hears the front door open, she furrows her eyebrows at the sound of her country husband’s voice; he never came home early from work. Pulling the book back onto her lap Anna watches as Hans strides into the study, Frederic and Erik both following close behind him. 

Hans was clearly angry, his jaw clenches tightly as he stares at the two men. “He has cost the company hundreds already in the span of 3 months. Tell me how that happened.” The auburn-haired man demands. 

The two brunette men look at each other before staring at their boss, Erik clears his throat. “We…don't know sir. It seems he started in Quebec, traded illegally into the United States and must’ve crossed into Rupert’s land through the Unorganized territories.” 

“I don’t care how he got here.” Hans snarls, startling Anna as he slams his fists on his desk. “I want his head on a pike, do you understand? Men like him are a scourge on our society and need to be dealt with.” 

Anna’s heart races as she watches the scene before her, she had never seen Hans so angry before. She thinks momentarily about slipping out of the sitting room quietly so that he might not hear her and never know she was there. 

Quietly she stands from the sofa, hoping none of the men would notice the movement of purples and whites of her dress. Anna watches the men as she silently stalks through the room, her throat constricting as piercing green eyes meet hers. 

Hans sighs as he smooths his dishevelled hair back, straightening his posture and his suit jacket. “Anna, what are you doing there?” 

“I was just reading. B-but I was just leaving to give you men some privacy.” She explains, playing with the first flounce of her skirt nervously. Hans smiles, coming around the oak desk to make his way towards his country wife. 

He cups Anna’s cheeks as she peers up at him. “No need my pet, Erik and Fredric were just leaving.” He presses his lips to hers briefly, shooting a glare at his two subordinates to indicate for them to leave. Frederic and Erik comply with Hans’ silent demand, leaving the house without another word. 

Anna does her best not to stare at the men, especially Frederic who had always made her uncomfortable and made pointed remarks about her mixed-race heritage. 

“Are you done work for the day?” Anna inquires, running her hands over the lapels of his jacket. 

“It would seem so.” His hands come to circle around her waist as the young woman in front of his fusses over his clothing. At his response, Anna’s beams at him as her hands come to rest on his shoulders. “You’re no longer feeling ill?” 

Anna shakes her head in response, recalling the last few weeks of feeling ill in the morning. She had been able to hide it from Hans until this morning when he walked into the room as she was throwing up. “No, I’m fine now.” 

“Good, I can’t have my pretty little lover being ill, can I?” He asks pressing a kiss to her forehead as he withdraws from her. Anna’s heart drops when he makes his way back to his desk, sitting at it. She holds her hands behind her back as she saunters over to his desk, draping herself over his shoulders as she kisses along his neck. 

“Hans.” She purrs as she runs her fingers through his auburn hair. “You’ve been working all day.” 

“Anna…” He warns, removing her hands from his body. “Don’t be greedy now, it’s unflattering to act like an insolent child.” The young woman withdraws from him, folding her hands in front of her and looking to the ground as if she was a child being scolded by their parent.  

With a sigh Anna walks back into the sitting room, taking her place on the sofa to resume reading. She stares over her book at Hans, watching him work. She never seemed to know what he wanted from her, he only ever touched her tenderly when there were others present and only made love to her at night. 

She had known that European men typically only engaged in intercourse at night in their marital beds she but had hoped for more from Hans. Anna didn’t understand what the fuss around sex; when Angelique had gotten married many of the women in Ahtohallan teased her about the number of activities she and her husband, Gabriel engaged in during the day. 

Since their first night together Hans was gentle in bed, Anna didn’t mind giving herself to him it was her duty to him as his country wife; it didn’t inconvenience her in any way. She knew it was necessary for a successful partnership to thrive. 

Anna closes her eyes as she feels herself become nauseated for what seemed to be the 100th time that day. Letting out slow breathes to control the uncomfortable feeling building in the stomach. 

“Anna, do you mind keeping it down?” Hans calls from the study as he briefly glimpses at the young woman. Anna nods, standing from the couch. 

“I’m going to have a laydown.” She carries the fairy tale book with her out of the room, walking into the foyers encountering Hilde. “Oh, Hilde. Can you bring some peppermint tea to me and Mr. Westergaard’s room?” 

“I’ll do that as soon as I find a moment.” The stern woman replies before stalking into the kitchen. Anna slowly makes her way to her room, sticking close to the walls to maintain her balance. 

She closes the door behind her, placing the book on her vanity as she goes to sit on the edge of her bed. Clutching the mattress as her stomach turns, she lays down across the bed placing her hands over her belly as she controls her breathing. 

Hilde enters the room without knocking, placing the tea tray on the side table next to the bed. The raven-haired woman stares at Anna, laying on the bed clearly trying to stop herself from vomiting. 

“What’s the matter with you then?” 

“I don’t feel well,” Anna whispers as she closes her eyes. Hilde clears her throat staring at the young woman sternly. 

“I’ll send for Doctor Perkins, I can’t have ya getting the whole house sick.” Anna nods at the older woman’s statement, not being able to bare this any longer, she wouldn’t be able to hide this from Hans for much longer. Hilde leaves the room without another word, slamming the door behind her. 

She excepts Hans to come to check on her, but he never does. Unsure if Hilde would have bothered to actually tell him about her condition; the older Scottish woman clearly despised her and felt her presence was a burden to everyone in the house. 

Sitting up as she hears a knock echo throughout her room, Anna was starting to feel slightly better from her bought of nausea. 

“Come in.” She calls. The door opens to reveal Hilde and a shorter grey-haired man who enters the room. 

“Mistress Anna?” The man asks, peering at the girl over his round-rimmed glasses. “I’m Doctor Perkins, I’ll be examining you this evening.” 

Anna nods, looking at the maid before her. “Hilde you can go.” The older woman nods, closing the door behind her as she leaves. 

“Now, what seems to be the problem.” Doctor Perkins asks, placing his medical bag on her vanity. 

“I’ve been experiencing illness in the mornings for nearly 2 months now, just recently I’ve been nauseous throughout the day,” Anna states, fiddling with the end of the woollen blanket under her. 

“Have you noticed any changes in your weight?” He turns to her, raising an eyebrow at the young girl. She stares at him, shocked by his blunt question regarding her weight. 

“I mean…a little bit,” Anna admits. “I mean it must be because I’m not used to Hilde’s cooking.” 

“Well if you were truly ill, it would be more constant. Mistress Anna, may I ask a very personal question?” He closes his bag, causing her to furrow her brows. 

“S-sure.” She stutters, afraid of what he was going to ask of her. 

“When was the last time you had your monthly?” The balding man asks. Anna looks to the ceiling; he was right it was a rather personal question. She begins to think back for these last few months, trying to think about the last time she had bled. 

“I think it was in…October. But I’ve been very overwhelmed with my relocation here and adjusting to this new life.” 

“Mistress Anna, I have good reason to believe that you are carrying Mr. Westergaard’s child.” Anna’s ears ring as he tells her the news; she hadn’t even thought to take precautions against pregnancy. Sniffling she looks down at the skirt of her dress. 

“T-thank for telling me. Are we done?” 

“We are. Good day Mistress Anna.” The older man regards the young woman for a moment before leaving the room without another word. 

A baby. Their baby. Placing a hand over her lower abdomen Anna smiles, tears welling up in her eyes as she processes the news. 

She had always assumed they would have children later; in her experience, it often took months for women to conceive. It was nearly a year into Angelique and Gabriel’s marriage when Kristoff’s sister finally fell pregnant.  

Anna stands from the bed, racing over to the mirror next to her armoire; smoothing the cotton of her dress over her body trying to see if there might be any noticeable difference in her body, but there wasn’t. She runs her hands over her abdomen, nonetheless, knowing she was carrying her child. 

“Taanishi.” She greets her baby as she stares down at herself. Anna bites her lip as she giggles, tears rolling down her cheeks. Meandering back towards the bed she sits back on the edge, wiping her tears away as she composes herself. 

She’s excited to write to her mother about the news, hoping she might be able to return to Ahtohallan for the birth. Knowing it was pointless to write Elsa, for the last five months all of Anna’s letters to her sister went unanswered. But her mother would write back quickly, especially regarding the news of Iduna’s impending grandchild. 

With a deep breath, she manages to compose her emotions but decides to tell Hans after dinner and when he was done work. He was overwhelmed as it was with the independent fur trader who was disrupting the company’s operation. 

She props her pillow up against the headboard, swinging her feet onto the bed Anna lays down on the bed. Resting her hands against her abdomen again, Anna begins to hum softly as her thumb brushes against the fabric of her dress. 

Hilde knocks on the door when it comes time for dinner, yelling through the door at the young woman. Anna can’t bring herself to care about the way Hilde spoke to her, she was so happy at the moment. 

She manages to keep the news to herself throughout dinner, it was easy between trying to eat Hilde’s chewy beef stew and Hans muttering about work. After dinner Hans suggests the two of them retire to the sitting room, she readily agrees to at her lover’s suggestion. 

Anna sits on the sofa staring at Hans as he peruses his library, trying to decide what he would read for the evening. The sewing on her lap discarded as she ponders how she would tell him about the baby. 

“Why did Hilde call on Doctor Perkins today?” He inquires as he picks out a book, flipping through the pages of the book. Anna watches him carefully as he comes to sit in the armchair across from her. Hans places the book on his lap, staring thoughtfully at his young country wife. 

“I wasn’t feeling well today. Hilde called Doctor Perkins to make sure I was in perfect health.” 

“And? What did he have to say?” He folds his hands in front of him, crossing his legs. Anna takes a deep breath, placing her sewing beside her on the sofa. 

“W-well. He said I’m in perfect health.” Her heart swells as she sees him sigh in relief at the declaration. “But he gave me the reason why I’ve been feeling unwell.” 

Hans physically stiffens at this statement, cocking his head slightly as he narrows his eyes at her. “What reason is that?” 

“I’m…” Anna can’t stop herself from smiling as she prepares to tell him. “Hans…I’m with child.” Hans stares at her for a few moments, his expression unreadable. Swiftly he stands, the book on his lap falling to the ground with a loud thud. 

He paces towards the bookshelves and then back across the room, his hands folded behind his back. Anna’s smile disappears the longer he remains silent and paces throughout the room. She opens her mouth to say something, only for him to stop and hold a finger up towards her. 

“Don’t.” He says, balling his fist in the air. “Don’t speak…how could you Anna?” his voice was quiet in nearly a whisper as Hans finally looks at her. Her stomach turns again as he stares at her broodingly.   

“Well…” Anna falters before he raises his finger at her again. 

“I told you not to speak.” He hisses as he takes two steps towards her. His action causes the young woman to shrink into the sofa, pressing her lips into a thin line to keep herself silent. Hans collapses in the armchair again, tapping his finger against his knee. “Do you understand what you’ve done?” 

Anna remains silent, staring to the ground as she feels shame overtake her. She wasn’t sure she actually understood the severity of the situation. She didn’t understand why Hans wasn’t happy to hear about her pregnancy either. 

“I thought you’d be happy.” She manages, her voice breaking still unable to make eye contact with him. 

“Happy? Do you know what people will say, Anna?” He questions, his jaw setting as he scrutinizes her. Anna finally looks up at Hans, contemplating for a moment to argue with him. But when she meets his furious gaze, his emerald eyes baring into her own the young woman finds herself looking back to the ground

“I-I’m sorry.” She manages, trying her best to mask her sadness. She plays with the flounce of her skirt, her lower lip trembling unwillingly as she attempts to stop tears from falling. 

“Now I have to deal with your mess.” Hans huffs, standing from the armchair to march into his study. Anna wipes her wet cheeks as she stands, leaving the connecting room swiftly for the safety of their bedroom. 

Anna ascends the staircase, walking down the hall to their room. As she reaches for the knob she stops, her hand hovering over the brass. Withdrawing her hand Anna takes a step away from the mahogany door, she couldn’t go into there. Instead, the young woman enters the second bedroom on the right. 

This was always Anna’s favourite room, since arriving at Hans’ home she had always referred to this room as the “blue room”. This wasn’t because the room was painted blue, the sheets were always blue but that wasn’t the reason either. The window of the room had a perfect view of the sky, it perfectly showed the various gradients of colour in the sky during the day.

Staring out the window Anna comes to sit on the far side of the bed, closest to the window. She lies down facing towards the window, her tears falling down her temple and the bridge of her nose silently. 

She was devastated that Hans wasn’t pleased about the baby, but she was worried about what he’d make her do. Anna wonders if Hans might send the baby to her mother’s once it was born, she knew it happened. Of course, it wouldn’t be the worst thing for her child to be raised by her mother, the baby would grow up in Ahtohallan and be raised Metis as she was. 

Anna rests her hand over her abdomen, stroking her fingers against where she assumed her child was. She could go visit the baby in Ahtohallan whenever she wanted, Hans couldn’t deny her that right. 

She is unsure how long she lays in the bed, waiting for sleep to take her but it never does. Staring out into the darkness of the night as her heart breaks knowing that she may be separated from her baby. 

A terrifying thought crosses her mind, the idea that Hans might give their baby away to a white family. These things were never discussed among the women, it was only rumours about how missionaries or white family members took babies from their Metis or Indian mothers and sold them to white families for the child to grow up ‘civilized’. 

She didn’t want that for her child, she wanted her child to grow up knowing about the heritage Anna grew up with. Not to be educated in a boarding or missionary school in Canada East or West. She would take her child away from this place before she’d allow that to happen. 

Hearing footsteps down the hallway Anna draws her knees and arms to her body, bowing her head as he curves her back when she hears someone open the blue room’s door. His sigh echoes through the room as he makes his way to the bed. 

The mattress sinks as he sits on the side of the bed, causing Anna’s body to fall slightly to the middle of the bed. She flinches as Hans rests a hand on her waist, pulling her to him as he presses himself against her. 

The couple remains quiet as Hans holds her. Feeling comfortable at the sudden act of affection from her partner Anna slowly uncurls herself from her form; straightening her back so her body perfectly aligned with his. Hans presses a kiss to the back of her neck. 

“Come to bed.” He finally says, playing with the ends of her auburn hair. Anna sniffles nuzzling her head against the pillow. “Anna, my dear. I apologize for my words; you have to understand what people will say about you. I care about you so much; do you love me?” 

Anna turns to face him, not caring about the tears still falling from the corner of her eyes. “I love you, Hans.” He smiles at her declaration, cupping her cheek and stroking his thumb against her cheekbone. “Are you still upset about the baby?” 

He sighs his thumb stilling as he shakes his head in response. Anna feels as if a weight has been lifted from her chest at his answer. “You have to understand my pet my mind’s been preoccupied with this criminal. But of course, I’m happy to hear you're carrying my son.” 

Anna nearly expects him to touch her belly, but he doesn’t instead his hand remains on her cheek. She smiles sweetly at him. “It could be a girl.” 

Hans chuckles at this, removing his hand from her to sit on the edge of the bed. “The Westergaard’s are not known for producing girls. Come to bed.” He stands from the bed. Anna stands from the bed, taking her lover’s hand in her own as he leads them to their bedroom. 

The young man closes the door behind Anna as she reaches behind her back to attempt to unbutton the back of her dress. She frees herself from the garment allowing it to fall to a pile on the floor and strips herself bare. She grabs her nightgown off the bed, shivering while she shrugs it on as the cold cotton touches her skin. 

Throwing the blankets back Anna crawls into bed, the familiar sheets feeling nice against her skin as her nightgown slides up her legs as she settles. The young woman falls into her usual position her back facing away from Hans’ side of the bed while Hans extinguishes the candle on the bedside table. Her breath hitches in surprise when he pulls her body against his, his arm resting over her waist. 

Hans never held her at night, always citing that he was unable to sleep touching another person as he overheats easily. “Good night Anna.” He presses a kiss to the back of her neck before steadying his breath. 

“Goodnight my love.” She responds, closing her eyes as she rests her hand against her abdomen again a smile coming to her face. Anna knew she was fortunate she had a partner who loved her, and in a short nine months, they were going to have a baby. 

[jane-fucking-seymour]

& Juliet Fanfic - “Don’t Give Up On Your Faith”

Words: 4,224

AO3 Link (first in the fandom?)

NOTE: still getting used to the characters.... so yeah.

Even after the play had been written, the piece was published, and the world fell in love with Romeo and Juliet’s story, Anne Hathaway found that she could still enter the Story.

At least, that’s what she was calling it; the realm that seemed to be some sort of suspended reality, something similar to, but definitely not completely tethered, to their usual world. The Real Life, as William coined it.

In Story, the tale of Juliet and Romeo continued, far beyond what the two writers originally intended. It was confusing even to William, who found that he, too, could reprise his usual roles, as time passed in Story.

“Might be good for a sequel of sorts,” William quipped one morning, sitting next to April as they watched Juliet, May and Nurse from afar.

“Eh, I think they deserve some peace, don’t they?” Anne asks, slipping her hand into his. “Everyone does. It’s been quite the last few months for them, a small break won’t kill anyone-” she makes a face at the bad phrasing, which makes William laugh. 

“Fine, fine, no Romeo & Juliet 2, I suppose,” he quips with a smile. “I rather like it here.”

“It is quite nice, isn’t it?” Anne asks with a grin, looking over at him. “A few rules, though: we don’t stay in here for more than a day maximum, and we definitely don’t bring the girls in here.” She looks down at their hands. “We don’t know the full extent of this place, so-”

“April!”

The name is second nature to Anne now: April, the woman of Story, best friend to Juliet. When she’s in the Real World - or alone with William - she’s Anne; but here, with Juliet and company, she’s April. It’s all as compartmentalized as she could make it.

“Oh, ready to go?” April asks, jumping off the ledge to move to meet them. “What’s the plan today, everyone?”

April did always love the adventures and antics they got into in this world; she had a freedom here that, in the Real World, she wasn’t allowed. It was refreshing on multiple levels.

“Probably just going to hang out in the square,” Juliet says with a shrug. “Then I’m meeting up with Romeo for a nice dinner.”

“Oh?” April asks with a smile. “That sounds lovely… how’s that all going, anyways?”

William, who was following originally, is suddenly stopped by a few of Romeo’s friends. With a smile and a wave, he moves away, towards the other side of the square, still in eyeline of each other should they need it. Now that they weren’t fighting, they never wanted to leave each other’s sides - as much as possible, anyways.

“We’re alright,” Juliet continues. “We’re getting through some things. Not really sure what we are currently, but that’s okay for now, you know? We’re definitely friends. I just hope we can get closer.”

April smiles. “That’s a good way to go about it.”

“It’s a fresh start,” Juliet replies. “I like where it’s going.”

“And how about you, May?” April asks, smiling a bit coyly at them. “What about you?”

“Oh, uh… me and Frankie are doing well, thank you,” they reply, a soft smile on their face. “It’s been wonderful, really.”

Juliet laughs at that, pulling May closer. “You can’t stop talking about him, May! It’s adorable.”

May chuckles at that, shrugging a bit shyly. “It’s nice, you know? To have that connection with someone. It’s nice.”

April nods understandingly, smile growing wider as she looks over at… 

“Angelique?” 

“Oh, uh,” Angelique replies, chuckling. “We’ll see how it goes. Lance has been quite the charmer since we decided to… er, you know.” She chuckles. “I’m meeting with him tonight, actually, while Juliet and Romeo go on their little date of sorts.

“Oh, it must be a date night,” May quips. “I’ll be with Frankie. We’ve got a faire to go see.”

April tilts her head. “Oh, where is it? I might take-”

April stops, though, and stares, straightening up a bit.

It’s a chill down her spine, a stoppage of breath, a terrifying reaction to something unseen. 

The group stops to look at her. “April? You alright?” Juliet asks, frowning.

April doesn’t react for a moment before, suddenly, she looks down, a bit confused.

She’s not sure what just happened, but she’s sure of what she needs to do.

“I… need to go,” she says, looking around; sure enough, William is rushing to her side. “Emergency.”

“Can we help-” Juliet starts, but Anne’s already rushing off, having taken William by the hand.

“I’ll be back in a bit!” Anne replies. “Don’t wait up!”

William follows quickly. “You felt it too, right?”

“Yeah,” Anne nods. “Something’s off.”

The duo end up in an alleyway, where they close there eyes, take a deep breath, focus…

… and William opens his eyes to find himself in the Real World. He’s thankful that little trick hasn’t failed them.

The first thing he does is check on the girls; they’re safe, still not back from their trip. With that anxiety lessened, he continues the search for whatever has gone wrong. 

Will looks around anxiously; something’s off, he knows it, but he can’t seem to find anything at the moment-

-which, with a terrifying realization, he knows is part of the problem.

“Anne?” he asks, rushing through the home. “Anne, where are you-”

He stops, however, when he enters the next room, eyes wide.

“Christopher Marlowe?”

Sure enough, the man was standing there, Anne being forced to stand in front of him, a knife to her back. 

“Hello, William,” Chrisopher says. “It’s nice to see you again.”

William shakes the shock away.

“Where are the girls?” Anne asks; it’s the biggest concern to her right now, not even her own safety. 

William expected nothing less; it’s what he would worry about as well.

“Safe, not here, still on that trip,” Will explains. When Anne visibly relaxes, William turns his attention back to the current situation. “I thought you died, right about the time you were outed as not the writer of all my plays.”

“Greatly exaggerated,” Christopher explains. “But don’t worry, I’ll soon reveal myself to the masses… as the new William Shakespeare.”

William blinks.

Anne blinks.

They both reply:

“What?”

Christopher sighs.

“Both of you are rather cute with the whole do-the-same-thing-at-the-same-time thing,” Christopher grumbles, “but now’s really not the time for it.”

He pulls Anne closer.

“I’m done with being in your shadow, William,” Christopher says, taking out something. “And I think this finally my chance to take what’s mine: your works, your legacy… your lady here.”

“Since when are you even remotely interested in Anne?” William asks, giving him a confused look. William was getting more and more confused by the moment.

Christopher takes a moment before he shrugs and nods.

“Okay, fair play, I’m not really after her, but… the Story, that’s what you’ve been calling it, haven’t you?”

Anne tries to look back. “How do you know about that-”

“That’s a conversation for another time,” Christopher says. He starts to move and Anne’s scared he’ll move towards her husband.

“William, back away,” Anne says, voice as steady as it could be given the moment. She tenses when she feels something against her back - something that’s getting hotter by the second. “Get help. Don’t worry about me.”

“And leave you here with him? Not a chance,” William growls out, glaring daggers at his opponent.

Christopher smiles. “One more chance, Will. Give me the play, or I’ll take her from you.” 

“Christopher Marlowe, get the hell away from her-” William starts, but then Marlowe presses the thing further into Anne’s back, and the woman gasps, eyes wide.

There’s some sort of… darkness, of shadow, that floats through the air, coming from Anne’s back and into the woman’s heart. Marlowe backs up, away from Anne, but the woman is still floating in the air, darkness surrounding her.

“Anne!” Will tries to yell, but he’s suddenly knocked down by an unknown, invisible force.

When he sits back up, he looks with wide eyes.

Standing before him is his wife, but her eyes… they’re as black as night. They look straight through him.

Christopher looks pleased.

“Now then,” he says happily, gently carding a hand through Anne’s hair. “I think another rewrite is in order, wouldn’t you agree, love?”

He offers her a dagger… which she takes.

“Anne, please-” William starts, but then the ground shakes and a sigil appears on the ground. His eyes go wide.

“We’re not killing you, William, don’t worry,” he says. “Just everything you’ve held dear will be destroyed over the next 24 hours. Isn’t that right, Anne?”

Anne says nothing as she’s suddenly engulfed in the shadow… and they’re gone. They’re both gone.

William can only stare.

Back within the Story, Juliet was a bit panicked.

“I know April does this sometimes,” Juliet said with a frown, “but never for this long. Does anyone know where she’s gone off to?”

“Not that I know of,” Nurse replies. “She’s usually here by now-”

“There you two are.”

The duo turns to find April there. Juliet almost smiles in relief, but…

“Are you alright, April?” Juliet asks, moving over to the woman with urgency. 

April looks over and, for a moment, Juliet feels a coldness. It’s gone as soon as it came, though, and April gives her a smile.

“Of course, Juliet, why wouldn’t I be?” she asks, the normal tone and warm smile back in play.

Juliet shrugs. “You were gone for half a day without telling anyone where you were.”

April shrugs. “Sorry. Shall we get going?”

Juliet narrows her eyes as April walks past.

A few hours later, it’s clear to Juliet that something’s wrong.

It’s April, she’s sure of it, but it’s also… just… not. 

When the two of them were alone for a moment, Juliet takes the opportunity to talk to her privately.

“You’ve been acting strange all day, April,” Juliet says gently, taking the girl’s hand. “Are you sure there’s nothing the matter?”

April, for the record, isn’t really hearing Juliet right now; all she can focus on is the voice in her head, repeating the same thing over and over:

Kill her.

Kill her.

Kill her.

Kill-

As it continues, April can’t help but remember a time, not so long ago, where she and Juliet fought back against demands like this. April had helped Juliet make her own choices, her own decisions… the same things that aren’t being allowed for April - for Anne - right now.

It helps give her strength and, for a moment, April can see the light in the darkness.

“Shut up!”

Juliet starts in surprise, stopping. “I’m sorry-?”

“No, not…” April sighs; she’s surprised that came out of her mouth. She winces, a hand to her head.

“Are you alright-” Juliet tries, a hand reaching out to try to help steady her friend, but April pulls away rather harshly.

“I’m fine, don’t touch me,” April growls out. “I need a moment.”

April moves past without much fanfare. 

Juliet frowns, watching her friend as she moves into a dark, shadowy back alley.

In said alley, April walks fairly unsteadily, eventually toppling towards the wall. With a deep, shaking breath, she steadies herself.

“This… th-this isn’t right,” April says quietly, to herself. “All of this, it’s not-!”

“But it is, April~”

She can hear him, she can feel him… but she can’t see him.

“What did you do to me?” Anne demands, anger rising the longer this continues. She looks up. “Show yourself, Marlowe!”

“Where’s the fun in that?” he asks, though clearly not anywhere near Anne. She looks around wildly, angrily… but nothing. “No, no, you still have a job to do, Annie.”

A dagger suddenly appears in April’s hands.

“No,” Anne says. “I refuse. I absolutely refuse-”

“You can and you will,” Marlowe cuts in. “You won’t have a choice. This isn’t your narrative anymore, Hathaway. This is mine. It will all be mine.”

“I have a choice,” Anne growls out; to herself or to Marlowe, she’s not sure, but she clings onto the reminder like a lifeline. “I have a fucking choice-”

“Oh, sweetheart,” Marlowe starts, just as the darkness rises once again. Anne feels like she’s drowning in it, fading off into obscurity because of it, completely unable to overcome it.

“You will never have a choice again.”

Anne shakes, dagger laying in her hands… and then slowly but surely, she grabs it and holds onto it tightly.

The darkness is eternal, swirled around her, and she relaxes into it.

“I will,” she replies, her voice devoid of emotion. “I will.”

She’s resigned to it, suddenly; she knows there’s no other way. She knows what she must do - what she has no choice but to do.

The darkness has taken hold again.

“Good,” Marlowe replies. “Now, it must be done before midnight,” he says. “Which is in about… four hours.”

The darkness swirls around Anne more and she closes her eyes, taking a deep breath. Succumbing to it. 

“I will, before midnight,” she promises.

The darkness fades.

Anne puts the dagger on her belt, hiding it from view, before she moves back towards the others.

Juliet looks back as soon as April is seen.

“Are you sure you’re alright?” Juliet tries again, but April gives her a smile.

“Never better, I assure you,” April replies with a grin. “Come on, Juliet, we have much to do before tonight.”

Juliet raises an eyebrow but follows. “What’s tonight?”

April just grins. 

“You’ll see.”

Back in the Real World, William has been trying over and over to get back into the Story… but for some reason, he just can’t. No matter how hard he focuses, how hard he writes… there’s nothing. He’s blocked, it seems, from his own creation.

“Come on, Anne,” he says, a frustrated sigh following. “You need to let me in-”

“She’s not coming, William.”

William glares at the man in front of him: Marlowe, once again, holding a book. He recognizes it immediately, but he doesn’t care.

“Give her back to me,” William demands. “Now.”

“So sorry, can’t do it,” Marlowe replies. “You can read along, though, if you’d like.”

When William gives him a questioning look, Marlowe throws the book at him. William catches it, opens it up… and his eyes go wide and he drops the book immediately.

“Witchcraft!” he exclaims. “That must be witchcraft.”

“It’s something far worse, I assure you,” Marlowe replies. “It won’t hurt you, though. And you can follow along with what’s happening in that realm of hers… and watch when she completely destroys it.”

William glares… but takes the book anyways. When he looks up, Marlowe is gone.

All he thinks he can do is just… read along, as the words appear on the page. 

He joins in just as the clock is about to strike 11:30 at night.

“What’s happening in half an hour again?” Juliet asks; at this point, she and April are alone, walking the streets of Paris, arms linked. “It’s dangerous to be out here alone like this, you know… we should have waited for Romeo, he said he was only going to be another minute or so.”

“I assure you, Juliet,” April replies, “he won’t be needed.”

Juliet stops then.

“Alright, come off it, then, what’s going on?”

April looks back, questioning. “What do you mean?”

“April wouldn’t just blow him off like that,” Juliet replies. “Something’s wrong here. Can’t you feel it?” Juliet shivers a bit. “It’s like a coldness… it’s you, but it’s the air around you, too. Something’s off, and I think it starts with you.”

April tilts her head in thought before she shrugs. The dagger appears in her hands.

Juliet instantly backs up a few steps.

“April?” Juliet tries, but then the girl strikes, trying to slash at the woman. “April!”

Back in the Real World, William squeezes his eyes shut, trying to focus; why can’t he get in?

Juliet backs up again, eyes wide. “What’s gotten into you? Snap out of this!”

April moves forward once more, once again being dodged. “April!”

“Will you just be a good girl for us and die already?” Anne growls out, going for the stab once again.

“Us?” Juliet asks, suddenly moving forward. Somehow, against all odds, she’s managed to grab the arm with the knife without injuring anyone. “Who’s us?”

They struggle. William tries harder, as hard as he can.

Come on, William, he thinks to himself, your wife’s in danger and you can’t even save her? Do something!

Juliet looks around for a moment before she pushes April away, the knife clamoring to the ground. April stumbles, a hand on the wall as she glares.

“Whatever this is… this isn’t you, April, I can tell that much,” Juliet tries.

April sneers. “Be a good little Capulet and stay still, alright?”

Juliet stands firm. “Absolutely not.”

“Then I’ll make you.”

“We’ll see about that.”

They struggle, once again, and April tries to grab the knife, but Juliet successfully kicks it back towards the opening of the alley.

They’re in a standoff once again.

“So, what, whatever this is… you’re just going to let it control you, April?”

“I’m doing what I must,” April replies. “You wouldn’t understand, you foolish girl.”

“You clearly didn’t do your history, because I do understand,” Juliet replies. “I’m the one that would understand more than anyone, April. You know that.”

April winces at the comment, and Juliet takes it as encouragement.

“I thought we learned from before that we all need to be able to make our choices, our own decisions.” Juliet moves towards April now. “Whatever is stealing that from you… you need to take it back. Please, April, we’re counting on you.”

Juliet notices it immediately, but something starts to happen: April is shaking, eyes wide for a moment in fear, lips trying to form sentences that aren’t coming out. April shakes her head, squeezes her eyes shut, tries to talk… but she just can’t.

April collects herself too quickly and suddenly pushes Juliet down. With her towering over Juliet, April smirks… but is stopped by Juliet herself.

“Wait!” 

April stops, raising an eyebrow. “You’ve got two minutes before you die, girl,” she says, a hand extended to telepathically take the dagger back. “Make these last words quick.”

Juliet watches the girl carefully - Romeo should know that something’s up, he should be headed this way soon. April clearly wants something to happen before the stroke of midnight, so… she needs to stall. Just for that long.

Okay, Juliet thinks. She can do this. “Remember when things with Romeo were a bit messy?” Juliet asks. “Remember when I wasn’t able to have a choice in my own life? Remember when you helped me take back my agency, my story?” 

April narrows her eyes, but Juliet continues.

“April, what happened to me then, it’s happening to you now. I don’t understand all of it, but I know you don’t want to do this. You’d never want to hurt me, or anyone. Something is making you. But April… you’re not the type of girl to take this and just go along with it. This isn’t you, this isn’t your story, you have a choice here and I know - I know - that you can beat it.”

April is starting to shake, eyes suddenly less sure and harsh and dark. Juliet takes it as encouragement.

“Whatever’s going on, I promise you, it’s something you can break,” Juliet tried. “It’s something you’re stronger than - something you’ve been stronger than.”

April’s dagger rises into the air, but April’s face clearly shows that she’s unsure of the situation.

“April. Please. Remember yourself, your mission, your entire story. You can beat this. I know you can.”

April looks conflicted - more than she’s ever been, as far as Juliet’s concerned - and when the dagger slowly starts to lower back to April’s side, Juliet has a hopeful look on her face.

April seems to look at her then - really look at her - and there’s a spark of recognition.

“Juliet?”

“That’s me, exactly,” Juliet replies with a nod. “There you go, April, come on, just a bit more. Keep rising above it, you’re almost there-”

But then, suddenly, the darkness surges.

The dagger disappears suddenly and April collapses to her knees, holding her head in her hands, scraming as the whirlwind of darkness continues to surround her and Juliet. Juliet grabs onto her, holding the girl tightly, but eventually the darkness is just too much, even for the Capulet.

The last thing Juliet hears is Romeo calling her name as she collapses to the ground, April having disappeared in the dark.

William feels something break in the back of his mind - a barrier of sorts - before his eyes open to the sight of his wife, on the floor, struggling for breath.

“Anne!” he yells, quickly moving over to her. “Hey, hey, you’re okay, you’re out, it’s alright-”

“For her, yes. For you… hm.”

Anne suddenly straightens up, eyes wide for a moment as tears start to form. She suddenly has the knife in her hands again. 

William glares at the man behind her. “I thought you said you weren’t going to kill me.”

“Change of plans,” Christopher replies with a shrug. “Go on then, Anne. You know what you have to do.”

Anne looks down at the dagger, then over at her husband, who is standing way too close for comfort, and Anne just…

…. Stops.

She’s conflicted - she still is - but she can’t do this. She remembers what Juliet said - remembers how right the girl was, how the choice is hers and hers alone, and she’ll be damned before she lets someone else take that choice.

She’s Anne fucking Hathaway, thank you, and she will not be denied her choice.

“You had…” Anne says, standing up. She stumbles, but William is there to help. “You had a better chance of me killing Juliet before I killed him.”

William smirks at that, pulling her in for a moment before she moves away, looking back at the guy that had cursed her in the first place.

The clock strikes midnight then, much to Christopher’s alarment. 

“How did you do it?” He demands as, suddenly the room gets impossibly darker. “The magick, it was ancient, no one’s defeated it before.”

Anne smirks, the dagger falling from her hands. 

The dagger turns into smoke and, with the rest of the darkness in the room, swirls around Christopher instead. Anne feels it leaving her as well - the darkness, the compulsion - and she falls to her knees as Christopher yells in pain.

When she looks back up, he’s gone.

“Finally.”

She feels someone close pull her in, checking her over. She smiles softly at him.

“You need to rest,” he says quietly. “Whatever that was, it wasn’t good.”

Anne shakes her head, though, leaning into him for a moment before standing. “We need to go into Story. Juliet… we need to get to her.”

William knows better than to argue at the moment.

Sure enough, when they arrive in Story, Juliet is still down for the count.

Romeo quickly ushers them over. “Please! I don’t know what’s happened, I just found her like this and… and some shadows-”

“I know,” Anne replies, instantly at the girl’s side. She holds Juliet closely now, worried eyes scanning her over. “Go get Nurse, please.”

Romeo nods, rushing off. William kneels next to his wife and Juliet, staying close but staying quiet.

“Come on, Juliet, breathe,” Anne says, trying to wake the girl up. She frowns. “Can you see that, William?”

“See what?” he asks, looking down.

“The Darkness… it’s there.” Anne says. Then, with an understanding nod, she gently puts a hand on the girl’s shoulder and focuses.

Suddenly, without warning, Juliet gasps awake.

“I’m honestly surprised that worked,” Anne mumbles, suddenly out of energy.

Juliet scrambles to sit up, looking around.

“April?” she asks, a bit suspicious, but the soft, warm smile from the woman in question allows Juliet to relax. “Is that actually you this time?”

April nods. “It’s… a long story. I think. I don’t quite remember, but… you saved me, Juliet. Thank you-”

That’s all she can say, however, as Juliet quickly pulls the girl into a tight embrace.

“Don’t you EVER do that to me again,” Juliet mumbles against April’s shoulder.

April smiles. “I’m not planning on it, love. Promise.”

Juliet pulls back with a watery smile.

In the days that follow, Juliet is put on bedrest while April is sent away for rest as well. When she arrives back in Story, Juliet is happy to see her.

“Can you explain what happened, though?” Juliet asks. “That guy you’re always with, William… he’s something special, isn’t he?”

“Yeah, he’s something, alright,” April quips with a smirk. 

“No, I mean… he’s special. Like you.”

April looks over at Juliet for a moment; she knew Juliet would figure it out eventually, but… eh, where’s the fun in just telling her?

“Not sure what you mean,” April replies with a grin. “I’m just your best friend, that’s all I need to be.”

Juliet narrows her eyes, but a soft smile rises on her face. “Alright then, April, keep your secrets.” She nudges the girl with a grin.

“It’s your choice, after all.”

[episodesthebadgirlsclub]

A Guide to VH1's Drunk, Loud, Unapologetic Golden Age of Reality TV

Rock of Love,' 'Flavor of Love,' 'I Love New York,' and others are on Prime, so it's time to revisit Somethin's staircase poop.

Watch on:  https://episodesthebadgirlsclub.com/episodes

Spanning roughly from 2006 to 2010, a time period which yielded such glorious shows as Flavor of Love, Rock of Love, and I Love New York, this is, undoubtedly, an opportunity to re-immerse oneself in the golden era of trash television. Without these now-classic shows, the world would never know Tiffany "New York" Pollard, the most GIFable queen of the entire internet. It would never learn that "people who eat basil are lame," or that "stripper shoes go with any outfit," among other gems of wisdom from Rock of Love Bus's glorious (and often wasted) cast member Ashley Klarich. Truly, this earth would have been worse off had it never been privy to Tykeisha "Somethin" Thomas from Flavor of Love season 2 infamously defecating on the staircase after a clock ceremony (more on this later), or Nikki taking a test-tube shot out of Gia's vagina on Rock of Love. These contestants and their hijinks were far from the Hannahs and Laurens of The Bachelor universe, unafraid to let their freak flags wave, get laid, get drunk, be loud, and drag each other ruthlessly.

While there's now an entire universe of 90 Day Fiancé and more than half a dozen Real Housewives franchises fulfilling our raccoon-like need to devour absolute garbage, VH1's staple lineup of 00s reality TV just hit differently. These shows were unhinged in strange and hilarious ways, and remain endlessly quotable, memeable, and, now, nostalgic for reality TV fans. These characters' willingness to go to astronomical levels of absurdity and all-out, televised chaos for the object of their (heavily staged) affection remains mesmerizing, undoubtedly egged on by producers and accentuated by editors' additions of tongue-in-cheek sound and visual effects (like Flavor of Love's Hottie getting a bike chime noise every time she blinked her big, false lashes at someone).

Now, years after their sell-by date, we can joyously revisit these wonderfully subversive pieces of reality TV perfection. Here's a helpful guide to VH1's greatest shows, all of which embody the wildness of an abandoned amusement park run by feral badgers.

If it's rap legends, boss bitches, and bodily fluids you crave, get a taste of Flavor of Love.

After his breakup with 80s actress Brigitte Nielsen (their relationship was documented in the aptly titled series Strange Love, a spin-off of The Surreal Life), VH1 producers gave Public Enemy's Flavor Flav the chance to find The One on Flavor of Love, a dating series that parodied The Bachelor. Unlike The Bachelor, however, the series featured a racially diverse cast of women vying for one of Flav's trademark clocks to wear around their necks, signifying that they would advance to the next round. While many Black writers called out the show for being exploitative and perpetuating offensive stereotypes, the series was a ratings beast that lasted three seasons and led to multiple spinoffs, and the women that stepped into Flav's mansion became some of the greatest contestants in reality TV history thanks to their unapologetic, unadulterated personalities. They kept it real at all times, leading to scenes and lines that are still fondly memorialized on the internet to this day. There was Hottie's assurance that everyone says she reminds them of Beyoncé; Pumkin launching a spit missile at New York; the aforementioned poop on the staircase incident (Somethin explained that she tried to hold it, but her stomach said, "Bitch, you've got me fucked up;" Flav then applauded Somethin for being "real with it"); and too many moments from Tiffany "New York" Pollard to count. For two seasons, New York ran the other women ragged, implementing grade-A trash talk, stare-downs, and fearlessness in pursuit of her man Flav. Her iconic level of drama rendered her worthy of various spin-offs, a Brooklyn art show of works created in her honor, and a throne as the reigning as the queen of reaction GIFs. Every minute of television where the camera is on New York is worth the watch.

Watch :  Seasons1  https://episodesthebadgirlsclub.com/flavor_of_love_season_1 Season2 https://episodesthebadgirlsclub.com/flavor_of_love_season_2

If you stan stripper heels, giant breast implants, and hair teased to the heavens, look no further than Rock of Love.

For three seasons, Bret Michaels—best known as the lead singer of hair-metal band Poison and the co-star of Pamela Anderson's lesser-known sex tape—searched America (and whatever part of France the extremely horny Angelique is from) to find his tour bus partner for life. The incessantly sloppy-drunk contestants came in hot, armed with an arsenal of clear heels, ass-cheek-grazing polyester dresses, and an insatiable desire to make out with Bret Michaels. But they were more than Sunset Strip groupies, strippers, and porn stars; they were women on a mission to get their man (and some screen time). There were standouts from all three seasons, like the big-haired, 80s metal goddess Heather, who got Michaels's name tattooed on her neck; the cackling, painfully earnest cowgirl Rodeo; and mean girl Ashley, whose magnificent implants and the way she said "bitch" made her extra larger-than-life. But those women were just a few in a kaleidoscope of big personalities, including one contestant who took everyone's used socks after a hockey match to keep for her personal use. In the end, Bret never found his true match, but the search yielded hours of premium entertainment.

You love Tiffany Pollard? Then you'll definitely love I Love New York.

After two unsuccessful efforts to win Flav's final clock, Pollard landed a spin-off dating show of her own. For two seasons, Pollard and her frighteningly brutal mom, Sister Patterson, put a group of studs and duds through the absolute ringer as they pledged their undying love for New York. Within that group were some standouts that made for excellent television, like excruciatingly dweeby white boy Mr. Boston, mouthy "stallionaire" Chance, his more tender brother Real (who tragically died of colon cancer in 2015), outspoken little person Midget Mac, Italian mama's boy Frank the Entertainer, and countless others. There was toe sucking, speedo wearing, a pretty bad nosebleed, and a fervent church service led by Sister Patterson. It was worth watching for Pollard's electrifying presence alone, but became a true carnival thanks to the full cast and their antics.

Watch: https://episodesthebadgirlsclub.com/i-love-new-york-season-1-episodes

If it's a group of lingerie-clad women flipping off outdated ideas of respectability you like, go with Charm School.

Charm School sought to do the impossible: reform the hard-partying and harder-fighting women from Flavor of Love and Rock of Love, and turn them into polite, well-behaved ladies. It did so in grossly outdated ways, like telling the women to dress and behave less sexually. But the ladies fought back in every possible way, finding it hard to leave their boozing, trash-talking, and wearing-lingerie-as-outerwear ways behind them. (Bless them for that.) Hosted by Mo'Nique, Sharon Osbourne, and Ricki Lake in seasons 1, 2, and 3, respectively, the show saw contestants forced to perform challenges aimed at molding them into business-savvy, self-sufficient women, and in some cases, contestants seemed to actually care about evolving into better versions of themselves. But many others weren't even trying, and the show will be forever remembered as the one where Osbourne beat up aspiring trophy wife Megan Hauserman after she insulted Ozzy Osbourne during the season 2 reunion. Not the most charming moment.

Watch: 

season1 https://episodesthebadgirlsclub.com/charm_school_season_1

season 2 https://episodesthebadgirlsclub.com/Charm_school_season_2   

season 3 https://episodesthebadgirlsclub.com/charm-school-3

Source: https://www.vice.com/en_us/article/kz4x3y/tiffany-pollard-new-york?utm_source=stylizedembed_vice.com&utm_campaign=kz4x3y&site=vice

[hecohansen31]

Duncan loves his two princesses, lovely wife and dear daughter, and that's why he is working very hard, a lot, so they can have everything they need and want. Problem : what they want is he being with them at home and not at his office, in a plane or in another country. His wife is a bit sad, even if she understands, but his baby girl is not happy at all when her dad leave them.

(A/N): Hello there, nonnie!

I really hope that you will like this!

Also BIG NOTE for all of you “Angel” fans, I don’t know if I just explained myself wrong but the next chapter of this miniseries will be about Michael, it won’t be a sequel to Duncan’s love story with sweet innocent reader, but since you have been so nice with me about this story, I just wanted to do something… so this drabble takes place in the same universe and I will gladly work on any prompt about this couple you might have, just send in everything and I will be at your service!

Love you, lovelies!

WARNINGS; Parent Fights (also a bit of violence from reader, nothing abusive, but… hey be warned…) and Language!

The fact that Duncan was a workaholic was something that had always been present in their relationship, since the start.

But during the first years that they had been an official couple, not only had also she been pretty busy, since Duncan had stepped away from his position at the Shepherd Foundation, putting her in his stead, but also he had started his own company, away from the Shepherd’s lies.

The start was rough and the fact that they lived in separate houses helped a bit, because they were independent, although with time they smashed together.

But Duncan’s mole of work didn’t lessen in the slightest, whereas she managed to reach a strange balance, being the one who handled the house’s resources and other things, outside their offices.

She chose the dates, she chose the gifts and she chose how to pass the time, on their vacation (or better when she made Duncan take one).

Sometimes it was almost as if she had never moved away from her secretary position.

But something changed, after Duncan asked her to marry it, a total surprise on the 4th of July, something which got quite a few laughs from her: he went down on his knees, meanwhile the fireworks went off and she was distracted, and when she turned around to call Duncan to join her, she found him on her knees, in an elegant suite and an expensive ring in a little box.

“(Y/N), angel of mine, will you do the honor of becoming my wife?”.

She had screeched and a month later, they had started looking both for dresses, cakes and churches, and six months later she was pronouncing her vows in front of a secluded circle or friends and family, on a little church next to the beach and a month later they had moved onto their honeymoon, a period of sweet nothings and soft vacation.

They had traveled the world, with Duncan not picking up a single call, which meant pure bliss, since all his attention was suddenly on her, and she was grateful for each small touch, soft kiss and sweet whisper in her ear.

And it was during that time that their first daughter, Angelique was conceived.

A month after their return, she had discovered she was pregnant, and for other nine months Duncan had ignored his work for a bit longer, still working a but he was always next to her during the long night and the nauseous morning.

She had felt the best thank to his support and had been beyond happy when she had been able to hold the little bundle of joy in her arms, looking at Duncan, who had already fallen in love with her, truly smitten, and had just mumbled:

“Angelique, it means “angelic”, I think it would be perfect since your mother is a true angel”.

A pure year of bliss had followed, which meant also suddenly waking up in the middle of the night to feed her, her breasts hurting her because the baby wouldn’t suck on them and bad mood since the nights were spent sleepless.

But it was extremely worth it, mostly when their child reassembled them in both their physical appearance and behaviors (you still couldn’t believe that she had picked up the Shepherd’s pout) or babbled out “mama” or “dada”, giggling victoriously at two full-grown adults doing the “airplane” with her food.

But slowly Duncan had started distancing himself from them: it had started slowly…

“The child is old enough” and “You can handle her” had been the words uttered by Duncan, who had had to “make up for the time he had missed” with his own company, and she allowed, knowing that after the prison, everything had been extremely roughly for the ex-convict.

But slowly, a year had become two and then three and she had had to step out from her position as a CEO over at Shepherd Foundation, and although she hated the stress of it, she somehow missed.

She loved being a mom but she missed the possibility to have more human contact, alongside the feeling of being productive.

The fact that Angelique had started going to a pre-school, when she was three year old had been helpful, but she still needed to be there for her, since Duncan couldn’t, mostly because of the constant trips he was on.

Those trips honestly made her extremely frustrated, since not only she was jealous of what might happen but also of the man itself who got to enjoy life, meanwhile she stayed home, watching the umpteenth Disney movie…

She loved being a mom, she kept repeating herself on the hardest days, but she felt more like a single mom than anything else…

But she tried not to blow up into Duncan’s face: her husband was extremely stressed, she saw it each time he came back from work, sleepless and definitely sad, barely able to hug his princesses, which he loved very much but…

… he just hadn’t the time to show it.

But he had the materials to do it: a new teddy bear would appear in Angelique’s room, after Duncan came back from a new trip, meanwhile a piece of jewelry found its way into her vanity, at the same time.

But she didn’t care about any jewel, she just wanted the old Duncan, the honeymoon phase and the pregnancy one, when and where she finally had some kind of peace with Duncan and her beloved daughter.

So, she tried to put her best façade, hiding the hurt of Duncan’s careless behavior, but whereas she could resist, Angelique was just a child and spoke up truth, at first with her:

“I am sure that daddy doesn’t love me anymore” they had been coming home from a parent’s day, Duncan was supposed to be with her, but he had bailed out at the last minute, which got her to take his place, cancelling an important work date, but she couldn’t leave her daughter alone.

“Oh sweetie, why would you say something like that?” she tried to coo the poor baby, who just looked at her shyly, meanwhile she strapped her in the car seat “… he is just very busy”.

“But he is ALWAYS busy!” she mumbled, protesting shyly meanwhile her hands became fists on her sides, and she could see the hurt in her eyes “… he never spends time with me, anymore”.

“He is busy, sweetie” it felt bitter even on her tongue, it was a straight up lie “… he works himself so so much for us”.

“Can’t he just have a day off for us?” pleaded Angelique, hugging herself, a trait she had taken from her, and she caressed her face gently, making her look in the eyes.

“I will try to do my best to convince, daddy” she promised, before cradling her daughter closer, soothing her for a bit, before kissing all her face, getting a disgusted expression from her “… and in the meanwhile, us, wonder women will get our ice creams, won’t we?”.

“Yay!”.

She had decided to bring up the proposal at dinner, after she had cooked him his favorite meal, thinking about suggesting a vacation, all together, maybe in an hot place since it was extremely cold in DC; they would have their fun, together and maybe Duncan would finally understand the importance of family.

But Angelique, who was as extremely chatty as her dad, immediately jumped into his lap, as soon as he sprawled himself on the sofa, which might seem a good moment to play with him, but she had already spotted anger in his eyes when he had walked in, so she came quickly to usher Angelique away, but the sweet girl kept on insisting and eventually she had to give up to check the pot on the stove.

“Daddy!” she tried to cheer him up, but Duncan just gave her a tired and disgruntled smile “… I am so happy you are back!”.

She had gained from Duncan the ability to twist people around her little fingers, and although her dad was extremely extremely taken by other things, he also fell in her words…

… usually.

Not that night, because he just grunted, which she couldn’t hear, because of the low hum of the oven, meanwhile the pot on the stove started making noises, so not only her ears were full but also her attention was all on not burning their dinner.

But she heard clearly the scream that followed, which got a cold chill to run down her back:

-How dare you ask for more time?! – clear anger shone in Duncan’s voice, and although she understood that it wasn’t directed towards Angelique, the poor child took a step back, scared -Each thing I do it’s for you and your mother! And you SHOULD BE GRATEFUL! -.

-I am sorry, daddy- mumbled the shy baby, trying to keep back the tears, exactly as Duncan did and she felt comforted immediately by her mother’s presence, but then Duncan went on…

-Sometimes I do believe that my life would have been easier without you! -.

This got Angelique to straight up run away from her arms, meanwhile she reached her breaking point.

She raised up from her cradled position, rage shone in Duncan’s eyes, but it was nothing to the one she owned, and the fear to disappoint him disappeared swiftly as she turned around.

He seemed to have realized the shit he had said, but she didn’t care and the slap resonated for the entire building.

-You say another thing like that to my daughter and you’ll regret it-she  didn’t need to raise her voice in the slightest, her calm tone was enough terrifying, meanwhile she held back the tears -You seriously think that we should be grateful to you, when all you do is go out on trips and work, and you never have the time for us… I HAD TO QUIT MY JOB, DUNCAN! I don’t regret it, I love being Angelique’s mom, but… I miss it… and I miss the kind man, who loved me and her over anything-.

She didn’t care if it hurt him, he needed to finally hear the truth.

-Angelique is fucking convinced that you don’t love her anymore! And you go and say some shit like that- she honestly knew that Angelique was listening, but she was far too gone -… and you know… sometimes I think it too, because you are NEVER HERE! I sometimes think that maybe you went back to your old way… because apparently work comes before family-.

And before he could say anything, she turned around, effectively shutting him up.

-… I don’t care what you have to say, I am taking Angelique and we are staying at my mother’s, I don’t care whether you approve it or not, but right now… I don’t want you around-.

She knew it was cruel and it honestly hurt her, much more than she let out, but she needed to comfort a bit Angelique and seeing Duncan would do no good to the poor baby.

She went in her room to talk with her, maybe hug her and prepare the thing, meanwhile she sent a quick message to her mother, about their arrival, thank God they didn’t live far away from her.

Her mother sent a concerned reply but she ignored because as soon as she walked into Angelique room… she found it empty.

She, at first, thought that the child had hidden, she loved playing “hide-and-seek” and maybe that had been her own idea to get over the trauma, but the girl didn’t seem to be anywhere in the room and she immediately moved out of it, almost jumping into Duncan, who had decided to follow her like a lost puppy.

But she didn’t care, in the slightest.

She moved, firstly, in their bathroom, thinking that since it was the farthest place in their apartment from the kitchen it might have helped with covering the noise, but no sign of Angelique neither there.

And neither in the sitting room, Duncan’s office, hers, and their shared bedroom.

Angelique was not at home, anymore.

She couldn’t breath, and when she turned around she was almost grateful that Duncan was there to catch her, after she slowly stumbled, meanwhile an hand went up to her mouth, shaken by sobs and tears.

Where was her sweet girl?

She turned to Duncan, knowing that it would be futile to hide this, although she wanted to egotistically tell him to “fuck off”; she knew that Angelique had probably run away because of the fight with Duncan.

-She is not here? – he asked, his gaze is both worried and confused, and he gently led her to the little armchair in the dining area, letting her sit down meanwhile he gently caressed her shaken back -… sweetie, you need to tell me-.

-She is not in her room and… I can’t find her…- she couldn’t help but breath slowly, trying to catch her missing breath -… she is probably scared and … I am, also, so scared of what might happen to her… she is…-.

-I know, sweetheart – he caressed her back, again, before moving away, his hands going to the phone, and she was halfway through screaming at him, when he uttered the following words -… I am Duncan Shepherd and I am reporting a missing child…-.

Duncan had not only alerted the police, but his own security was spread through the entire city and their neighborhood had also been woken up and everyone had been extremely happy to give the young couple a hand.

A few women had comforted her, suggesting that Angelique had just wandered a bit, meanwhile Duncan handled the men, who had already a gun, in each hand…

The police had realized that Angelique had actually escaped from the front door, and she couldn’t help but feel guilty, because she probably ran away, meanwhile they were fighting, which not only made her feel extremely neglectful but also she honestly didn’t want to think what her daughter might have thought of her screaming at Duncan, her father.

They had decided to move towards the park where Angelique and her went during their free afternoons, it held so many memories, mostly of all the lovely pic-nicks they had made before Duncan became such a workaholic; Angelique and her would be running around, her trying to catch the younger child, meanwhile Duncan shot pictures of the two.

Oh, how she loved those days…

Both her and Duncan started shouting their daughter’s name, just getting a few scream of old men, probably homeless, wanting just to be left alone, so they could sleep in peace and this got her heart to squeeze from fear: what if somebody had come before her, and taken her away?

She tried to keep her fears to herself but by the way she shook as a leaf, she immediately attracted Duncan’s attention, who, after the little scene in the dining room hadn’t dared to touch her, something for which she was grateful and she honestly regretted having slapped him, mostly if Angelique had been there.

She shouldn’t have let her anger take over…

-We are going to find her, don’t worry- he reassured her, his eyes shining with strength and a bit of regret -I actually have an idea… do you remember Angelique’s favorite place, here? The covered slide? -.

She did: her hyperactive daughter, loved sliding down the red slide, going up and down and sometimes getting also her mother to do it (Duncan was sure that he would have destroyed the slide, had he tried it).

There was something that made her fall in love with the toy and she couldn’t help but think that it would have been a perfect hiding place.

-… yeah, of course! – and after a few minutes they were running for it, and a clear and female sniffling sound was heard from it and Angelique’s tiny designer shoes, were shown at the end of the slide, meanwhile her entire body was covered, as if she was hiding.

-Oh, thank God! Angelique, you are here! – she mumbled, meanwhile moving t get closer, but the child retreated further into the slide -… sweetie… what…? -.

-You don’t want me anymore! – the child shouted, her tone whiny and shy, clearly hurt by both Duncan’s words but also their fight and it literally broke her heart -… you fought and hurt each other! -.

-Sweetie, mommy and daddy just lost their temper- she hoped that this, at least, would help a bit -… it won’t happen again, I swear… you have no idea of how worried we…-.

But she just heard a grunt of protest and she couldn’t help but damn Duncan’s stubbornness, passed down alongside his genes to his daughter.

Duncan came over, she immediately wanted to stop him, but he just grouched down next to the slide, putting an hand on it lightly, in order for him to be closer to her, tears finally shone in his eyes, they must have started when they found Angelique and part of her couldn’t help but feel like he had suffered enough.

-Sweetie…- his voice was teary and she could feel the sadness in it and immediately Angelique stilled her moves -… daddy’s extremely sorry… I know that I hurt you with all those words, both you and your beautiful mommy, and I have no excuse for it, but…please come back home, we can’t literally live without you-.

Duncan’s words were easy, but each meant something.

Each had an important meaning telling her that she loved her and was worried for her, and there she recognized the Duncan she had married and Angelique’s father.

Her child was still extremely careful, although she had stilled in her movements, didn’t seem to move in the slightest, not wanting to get out.

-YOU LIE! – insisted the child, and she knew that Duncan’s heart broke and although she hated him with an extreme burning passion right now, she still loved him with the same passion -… you hate me, you don’t want me anymore, you don’t spend time with me anymore and get angry when I ask some-.

-Daddy didn’t get angry with you- she tried to help Duncan, setting down on the other side of the slide, and gently caressing Angelique’s legs to comfort her -… his work is hard and sometimes he loses his temper, I lost it too, but I am extremely sorry for it, and I swear on your teddy bear that I won’t lose it anymore, not in front of you-.

Silence came from the slide and she almost thought about asking Duncan to forcefully take away Angelique, but then the man did something better.

-Angel of mine, I am… incredibly sorry of what I said to you… I am… crying and you know how much I hate crying in front of you and mommy- he spoke, breathing heavily -… and I regret each moment not spent with you and your beautiful mother, I regret the horrible words I spoke to you, and I will vow my life to make it up to you-.

Angelique came out slowly and she sprinted towards her, hugging her close and she immediately whispered shyly in her ear, comforting words, meanwhile the child cried in her arms, and Duncan stared at her; he clearly wanted to join them but he also didn’t want to break the newfound harmony and settled for messaging the security and the police to let them know that they had found Angelique.

-You got us so so so worried, lovely- she hugged the child closer to her, before pushing her back in order to look at her in the eyes -Never do that again, for the sake of my heart-.

The child nodded slowly and dove in for another hug, and she searched the playground for Duncan who was now up near the slide, cleaning his face from the tears, erasing each testimony of them.

It was a truly heartbreaking moment, and she couldn’t help but move her child closer to her, to whisper in her ear:

“Sweetie, go and hug your dad, he needs it, she suggested, gently kissing her forehead and pushing her gently towards him, and although the child was shy, she managed to hug him, immediately adverting his attention from the phone and hugging his daughter back, putting himself to her height and engulfing her in a bear hug, mumbling about how sorry he was.

In the end, Angelique ended up being so so tired with everything that happened that she fell in Duncan’s arms and stayed there for the entire time, meanwhile she drove them to her mother’s house, the woman took Angelique from Duncan with the justification of both privacy and to let Angelique sleep.

Duncan looked like he had aged ten years overnight, and she couldn’t help but caress his face, tenderly, something she did every time she needed to comfort him, with him catching her hand to hold it there before gently kissing it.

-I really messed up- he mumbled, more a question than anything else.

-… at least this time you didn’t end up in prison- she joked sarcastically, meanwhile he did something that resembled a smile with his lips.

-Well it is worse, I let down the women I love- he replied, charming her with a sad smile and those words: Gosh he really really meant them.

-… then all you have to do is get back in our good graces is…- she replied, gently letting his hand go -… less work, more communication and family time; I know that you are constantly busy, but you have employees for that, Duncan, believe me-.

He nodded, reaching again for her hand and bringing it to his lips, soft-spoken deal between them.

-I love you, angel of mine-.

-I love you, too, stupid workaholic of my heart-.

[magnoliasinbloom]

The Midwife

AO3 :: Previously

XV

The soreness was still there as I sat gingerly at the dresser, while one of Jared’s maids—Suzette—attempted to tame my hair into a semblance of matronly respectability. Jamie had nuzzled me awake, his mouth trailing kisses down my body and asking with pleading blue eyes for a repeat of the previous night.

“I ken once is enough to make it binding, but would ye mind verra much…”

I hadn’t minded.

Dressed in a cheery yellow dress, I thanked Suzette and made my way downstairs where Jamie was waiting for me. He had had to leave earlier to settle his affairs at the university and arrange for our passage out of France. His dazzling smile at the sight of me made me bashful, as he took my hand to help me down the last steps.

“Sassenach, ye look lovely.” His lips grazed my knuckles. “No longer my wee milkweed puff.” I recalled his words when he had tangled his fingers in my hair, the curls wild on the pillow. Desire kindled in my belly, and I remembered that Jamie was now mine to enjoy when I would. We would have that night, and every night after that.

“Suzette tried,” I said ruefully, touching the up-do carefully. “And it was kind of Jared to find me a dress more suitable for meeting your family.”

“I have something else for ye, Claire.” Still in his kilt, Jamie reached into his sporran and drew a small velvet sack. He tilted it and poured its contents into the palm of his hand. Bright pearls interspersed with gold roundels twined in his fingers. “These were my mam’s. I’ve had them since I left Lallybroch. They are meant for my wife, a bride gift.” He stepped behind me and laid the necklace around my neck, fastening it at the nape with a kiss. I touched the cool pearls, the significance of this gesture weighing on me like the ring on my hand. “Do ye like them?”

“They’re beautiful, Jamie. I shall treasure them always.” I turned my head, and caught his mouth. Jamie’s hands rested on the bodice of my dress, but with a sigh he pulled away, mindful of the time.

“Are ye ready then? We canna miss the tide.”

“We sail at noon. I can ask Mother Hildegarde for some seasickness remedies.” I was determined to continue my work as a healer, and Jamie fully supported this. We were going back to l’hôpital to gather my meager belongings; after that we would board a coach courtesy of Jared that would take us the port city of Le Havre. After that, we would be bound for England on another of Jared’s ships. Jamie dreaded this—he had admitted he suffered from crippling seasickness, but there was no other way across the channel.

We gripped hands tightly as we climbed the steps to the hospital entrance. He placed a kiss on my temple once inside, in the vaulted foyer; I could hear the hum and bustle of patients and healers down the stone hallway. We veered away from the main sick room and closer to Mother Hildegarde’s chamber. Jamie planned to thank the abbess and lay down our new plans, as well as leave a small donation to the convent for the keeping of l’hôpital.

Repeated knocks on her door were met with silence. I frowned. “Perhaps she is tending to a patient. Or at the convent. I shall pack my bag and ask one of the sisters where we can find Mère Hildegarde.”

“I will meet ye by the garden door, is that alright?”

“I won’t be long,” I promised. I watched the back of him briefly before turning to the passage leading to the novices’ cells. I stepped into my room, noting the bare plastered walls, the tiny bed, the dust motes floating in the shaft of sunlight from the window. I noticed everything for the last time, before I took my other old dress, a blanket, stockings, and small trinkets that had belonged to Maman from a small chest at the foot of the bed. I folded them inside the same burlap sack I had first brought them in, shutting the lid of the chest with a muted thump. With an air of finality, I bid farewell to the room and left.

Malva was waiting for me in the corridor.

I halted in my tracks, my heart beating hollowly in my chest. Fight or flight? I had no time to waste on the petite salope, and made up my mind to walk past her quickly and hope she did not try to stop me. Malva hadn’t uttered a word or attempted to get close to me. I held the sack in a white-knuckled grip, prepared to use it as a weapon if I had to. I met her eyes with as much steel as I could muster. I brushed against her shoulder when she spoke from behind me.

“I can smell him on you.”

Malva’s voice made my blood run cold. At the same time, white hot anger flared in the pit of my stomach. She had wilfully murdered a woman who had done no wrong—nothing but cross Malva’s path in her vendetta against me. I took a deep breath, turned to her, and slapped her with my left hand, forcefully. Her head rocked sideways, with a satisfying crack.

Malva faced me, hand to her cheek. My wedding ring had cut her, blood seeping slowly from the wound. Her grey eyes were pure hatred. She looked haggard and disheveled since the last time I had seen her. Her hands were dirty—something unacceptable in the Hôpital des Anges—and her apron stained.

My voice hissed across the silence in the narrow corridor. “Do not ever speak to me again. Good riddance, you murdering bitch.” I backed away, wary of turning my back on her after our confrontation. Malva could only stare, the palm of her hand dotted with blood. I hoped it left a scar. I hoped she would look at it every day and remember what she had done.

“Claire!” Sister Angelique’s voice rebounded from the stone ceiling. She turned the corner and found us, clutching her habit and out of breath. I noticed that Sister Angelique was not her usual impeccable self. Her wimple hung limply, covering half her head. Much like Malva, she had a worn-out expression on her face and had a handkerchief tied around her neck loosely. I recognized it as a face mask, a policy implemented by Mother Hildegarde years ago. The scent of vinegar permeated Sister Angelique, as she looked at me imploringly. “We need your help!”

* * *

“It’s smallpox.”

I found Jamie at the garden gate, stopping five steps shy of him. Sister Angelique had taken me to the main hospital sick room, filled with pallets of ill Parisians. After donning a face mask of my own, I had looked around me in horror. Many of them were sailors, but others civilians, a red rash covering what could be seen of their face and hands. Some were fevered, others vomiting into nearby clay basins. Sisters Minèrve and Celeste were also infected, lying side by side. And most frightening of all—Mother Hildegarde was among the sick, her broad and sweating form still beneath a woolen blanket.

“Smallpox?” Jamie’s brow furrowed as he tried to come closer. I jumped back and he stared at me in confusion. “What is it, mo nighean donn?”

“You—you shouldn’t touch me. I could be carrying the disease.” I swallowed hard. All round us, the garden lay dormant in hues of gray and brown, awaiting spring to bloom again.

“Not touch ye? Lass, we are bound for Scotland in mere hours!” Jamie said pleadingly, his hand outstretched, trying to bridge the gap between us. I clutched my hands inside my cloak tighter, the smell of vinegar steadying and familiar.

“I can’t Jamie. I… we can’t go to Scotland yet. I could make you sick, or the ship’s crew… we cannot risk it.”

Jamie was quiet, considering. “Ye say ‘yet’,” he responded finally, a resigned expression on his face. “When could we go?”

“I’ll need seven days. Then, if I am not ill, we can depart.”

“Seven days? Ye mean to stay, love?”

“Jamie, I am needed here. Mother Hildegarde is also ill.” Tears slipped unheeded, knowing what I must do. “Give me a week, so I can help the sisters. Go to Jared, and wait for me. You may already be infected, but if you are not, in one week we shall go to Scotland as planned. We cannot wait and also risk your uncle Dougal’s wrath.”

“I canna imagine Jared will be well pleased either,” he said with a brief smile. “He has already risked much by helping us.”

“’Tis the sailors who brought the illness here,” I replied with a shiver. “The same sailors Jared recommended come here to be healed spread the smallpox. We did not see what it was.” His look of horror helped steel my resolve. “It is my duty to help, Jamie. Please understand.”

He took a deep breath, resigned. “We can wait seven days. I understand this is who ye are, mo chridhe, and I would not for the world tell ye to be otherwise. But can I not stay here and help ye? Another pair of hands would be useful.”

I shook my head. “I would not risk your health, Jamie, or your life.”

“Ye risk yers, why not mine?”

“I need to know you are waiting for me, and that will be enough to get me through.” I was weeping openly now, fear coursing through me. This could go badly for me, but I had to put my faith in God and Maman’s memory and believe that we would prevail, and we would go to Scotland together.

“Malva, she’s a wicked woman, a murderer—”

“Do not worry. I will steer clear of her, and try to never be alone with her. I will be safe.” I drew a shaky breath. “And… you must promise not to come back to l’hôpital. It is dangerous, you could fall ill. Promise me, Jamie.”

Jamie reached me in three strides, despite me trying to push him away. He held me tightly to him, and I surrendered, gripping the back of his coat as though my life depended on it. “I promise lass, if it means this much to ye,” he whispered. This is what it felt like, to be torn between duty and love, and my heart ached, with the knowledge that I might not see him again.

“Ye will be safe. Ye have my name and my family, my clan, and if necessary, the protection of my body as well.” He kissed my hair, whispering words of comfort. “I will wait, Sorcha.” Light—Claire. “I love ye, dinna forget it.”

I set him firmly away from me. Jamie’s face was white and strained, what I was imagined a mirror image of my own. His eyes filled with yearning. With a final kiss to my hand—the one that wore his ring—he let me go. I made my way out of the garden, walking slightly hunched as though I were in great pain, as someone who knows she must keep moving, but feels her life and soul ebbing slowly away. I dared not turn around.

I prayed for the strength to let him go, if only for a little while, and not fall on my knees and beg him to stay or take me with him. Let me be brave enough, I prayed. Let me love him enough to see him away safe while I committed to my responsibility as a healer.

“Go wi’ God,” Jamie murmured behind me.

[broken-heartedgirlff]

Epilogue~ High Maintenance

See I’ma rider but nah I ain’t a die 'Cause I wouldn’t take a bullet for a nigga, that’s a lie And that’s word to my mother, she the Filipino queen And she hella high maintenance, I’ma get her what she need That’s some bling, that’s some rings, man that’s all on me Clear her closet out and take her on a shopping spree 

That's right Icy

Angel

“Gigi, can you help me with my homework?” Maddie said  

I looked up to see Maddie at my door frame, and i couldn’t help but smile at the nickname that Mason called me, get passed down.

“Sure Maddie. What’s up?” I said sitting up on my bed,

Adrianna Madison was my  4 year old little sister and I loved her dearly. She was the perfect mixture of my Mom and Dad. She was incredibly smart and always loved being around me. I couldn’t help but to want to be around all of my siblings.

She saw that I was willing to help and jumped up on my bed. All she needed help was to write her name in cursive, which really wasn’t hard, but I know she just wanted to spend time with me, which I didn’t mind.

In the past 5 years, I’ve gotten a little sister, and two new baby brothers on the way. Yes, my mom is pregnant again, and she is a whale. But do not tell her I said that, because she will literally try to kill me.

It’s actually a few days before my Sweet 16 party  and I actually cant wait. I turned 16 a week ago, but I couldn’t have my party until this week because of my mom’s pregnancy. My daddy is helping my mom plan the party, but being that she’s pregnant, no one is actually getting anything done. Mom is stressed out beyond belief and Daddy is stressed out because of Mom, so it’s me and the party planner that I hired, on Daddy’s bill of course.

“Madz where you go?!” Andrea yelled

I rolled my eyes as soon as I heard her voice, “In Gigi Room, Domi!!” Maddie yelled back

Andrea followed Maddie’s yelling and stopped at my door frame, she knew better not to step foot into my room.  

“Mommy is looking for you Maddie, and you ran off! You know she’s mad.” Andrea spoke again.

Maddie pouted, “I just wanted Gigi to help me with homework. I don’t want to be in trouble.”

“Well, go find Mommy before you get in trouble and then when you come back, I’ll help you.” I spoke to Maddie.

She nodded her head and ran off to find our mother. When she left, I started to play on my phone again, but I heard someone clearing their throat to get my attention.

I sighed, “What do you want Andrea?”

“It’s Dominique.” She mumbled,

I looked up at her and the look I gave her, slightly made her cower away from the door.

“I don’t care. What do you want?”

She shuffled her feet, and mumbled something again, but I couldn’t understand her. I honestly was getting annoyed with her presence.

“What do you want Andrea? Speak up I don’t have all day.”  

She sighed and spoke louder, “Since Zoey got an invitation to your sweet 16, and so did a few of my friends, I was wondering if I could come as well? You know, with you being my older sister and all. I did have plans to go with An’Dreanna, but she said if I have to go to the party, she won’t come pick me up.”

I knew just as much as she did, that this was a stretch. I specifically remember telling her that she couldn’t come to my party, I didn’t want her there, I barely want her living in my house. And to add salt to injury, when Daddy built our new house, he combined our rooms by a bathroom, a way to “force us to bond”. But as you can see, I don’t care.  

I knew the only reason she wanted to come was because she hates her maternal grandmother. She literally cries every time she has to go to Aspen to spend time with her grandparents. I think it’s hilarious.

I kind of chuckled, “Whose idea was it for you to ask me that? Yours or Mason’s?”

“It was Mason’s. But Gigi please, I wont be in your way, just let me come to the party Please.” She begged

I got irritated that she used my nickname, so I got off my bed and leaned on my door, I looked at her up and down, and she was honestly pathetic in my eyes.

“First of all, Don’t you ever call me Gigi. You don’t have the right to call me that. It’s Angelique to you. Secondly, Don’t call MY mother Mommy, in my face ever again. The monstrosity that birthed you is behind bars for damn near killing MY father. That’s Your mommy.”

She tried to speak, and I put my hand in her face telling her to shut up.

“Andrea, I really don’t care. and Lastly, no you can not come to my party. Have fun with your grandma.”

I put my hand on my door and slammed it in her face and locked my door.   

Dominic

“She did what?!” I yelled

“Dominic, calm down, okay? Getting upset is not going to make the situation better.” Giselle sighed.

We were sitting in the kitchen after dinner, and Dominique told me what Angel had did to her earlier today. I knew Angel wasn’t the biggest fan of Nique, but she’s only 8. Angelique should know better.

I knew something was wrong when Angel talked about the party all night and Dominique didn’t say a word. Everyone was just as excited for Angel, but Nique just pushed around her food. When Giselle asked Nique if she needed to call An’Dreanna to tell her there was no need to come get her this weekend, Angel spoke up and said:

“Andrea was really excited to go see her grandmother, we wouldn’t want to stop that, now would we Andrea?”

And Dominique said she wanted to go with her grandmother. She’s never wanted to go with her grandmother and she hates being called Andrea.

“Daddy, please don’t say anything to Angel. I can go to An’Dreanna’s this weekend.” She cried

It was hard seeing both of my daughters fight all the time. I should’ve put a damn stop to this a long ass time ago, but I thought Angel would grow out of it, just like she did with Mason.  

“No, you’re staying here this weekend and will enjoy the party, just like everyone else.” I said sternly.

“Daddy, please. She’s just going to hate me more, cause you’re making me stay here!!”  

“Dominique! I said you will stay here. Now, stop crying and get ready for school tomorrow.”

She sniffled, “Yes sir.” and she ran upstairs.

“How did we raise such a brat?” I mumbled.

Giselle chuckled while rubbing her belly. “That’s your daughter.”

I shook my head, “No, she acts just like you did when you were her age.”

I sat behind her on the bench she was sitting on and rubbed her belly for her, she leaned back on my chest and closed her eyes. When I tell you I was ecstatic to hear I got my wife pregnant with twin boys! I was beyond excited, I had 3 daughters and when I tell you, hell was my house, oh, it was my house.

Between Angelique and her attitude, Mason and him just being a terrible teenager, Dominique and her mother and grandparents. All I had was my sweetest angel Maddie, and I knew that was only going to last a while.  

“How are the twins today?” I asked her

She opened her hazel eyes, and slightly rolled them. “These boys are terrible. I’m not having anymore kids after this Dominic. They aren’t even born yet and I know they’re going to be a handful.”

I laughed, “I told you when we found out about Maddie, all you had to do was give me a son, and I would be happy.”

“And you got two, and I’m not doing this again. They kick me all time of the day. Major sits on my bladder, Micah puts his foot in my ribs, I just cant anymore. I want them to come out, but we both know if they come out any time soon, Angelique would blow a gasket.” She laughed.

I sighed, “What are we going to do about her? She grew out of it with Mason, and she’s a great older sister. But not to Dominique, I don’t get it.”

Giselle shrugged, “I don’t know, I’ve never been in this situation, and I’m tired of making excuses for her.”

Angelique was never accepting of Andrea since the day she met her. I understand why she felt the way she did when she was younger, but Angel is 16 and treats her sister like a stranger. She always said “I have a brother and that’s it” whenever people would ask how many siblings she had.  

Giselle started giggling, and I was totally confused.

“What?” I asked her,

She continuously giggled, “I am a horrible parent because I’m laughing but, remember when Dominique was about 5 or 6 and she was at school, and she had gotten her dress wet. After we told her not to, but if she ever needed one of us, she should tell her teacher that she had an older sister and brother at school and they should call us.”

I shook my head, “That was the time she wet herself and told her teacher to get Angel, and Angel had the whole school convinced that Dominique wasn’t her sister.”

“Do you remember Angelique’s response?” Gi giggled.

“God, we are terrible parents, we should’ve beat her ass that day.” i laughed which lead Giselle to giggling uncontrollably and then she burst into tears crying.

“We are horrible parents Dominic!! What if Angel treats the rest of the kids like this?” She wailed

My wife and her uncontrollable pregnancy emotions. 

Olivia

“So, how is your first semester in college going?” I asked Sage over facetime, my baby girl was 18 and off away at NYU completing a degree in Pre-Law, she wanted to be a lawyer, just like her momma.

“It’s fine. I miss all of y’all, though.” She said

“I know, we miss you too. But we are picking you up from the airport to come to Angel’s party. I know you’re happy about that.”

She smiled slightly, and I knew something was wrong.

“Did something happen between you and Angel?” I quizzed

“No momma, I just know some drama is going to unfold and I don’t want to be apart of it. Angel said that Diamond, Aaron’s little sister is coming, and if Diamond is there, then he will be there too, and I don’t want to see him.” Sage explained.

Hell I don’t want her to see him either. Aaron is Sage’s ex-boyfriend, Jeremiah didn’t really like him in the first place, but I wasn’t a fan when I found out that he was abusing my daughter. I been through an abusive relationship and it broke my heart to find out that it was happening for 2 years under my nose, I felt so bad that I didn’t see the signs.

“Did you ask Angel to Uninvite, Diamond?”

She shook her head no, “That’s one of Angel’s best friends and Angel doesn’t know what Aaron did, so she would ask me questions about it.”

“Why don’t you-“

“Tell Angelique Marie Boudreaux Cartier, that my ex boyfriend beat me since I was 15, and I didn’t tell her, yeah that’s smart. You know, she would try to fight him, and then she would try to kill him.”

I laughed because it is true. Her name is Angel but she is anything but that. Once you piss her off, there is no coming back, When I tell you that child can hold a grudge, oh, she can hold one and wont let you forget it. She’s literally Dominic’s twin, she also tends to act like my uncle Xavier when he was around. She has  Giselle’s spoiled brat attitude, with Xavier’s temper and Dominic’s mouth and attitude. She acts just like Dominic and Xavier, and I think it’s funny because Giselle nor Dom know how to deal with it.

“You are right.”

“How’s everyone doing so far?” Sage asked me.

“You know the triplets are a mess, running around here. Having 3- 13 year olds at the same time, is exhausting. Between Marie’s gymnastics/cheer schedule and Reese’s basketball and Aiden’s football, I need another body to just drive them around all day.”

She cackled when I said that, “Momma, you did not call them triplets, they weren’t even born on the same day.”

“Shit, they a week apart, might as well be. They stress me out like they are triplets.” I laughed.

“I really do miss you mommy.” Sage smiled, but ever so sadly.

“You know you didn’t have to go all the way to NYU, you could’ve stayed here and went to UCLA, They have a great program too honey.”  

“I know, but I needed to leave LA for awhile.”

“I completely understand, same reason why I came to LA in the first place.”

“Tell daddy I miss him too, cause I have to study now Mom.” She told me.

“I will. Love you.”

“Love you too, Mommy.”

~~~~~~~~~

A few days later, Sage was home and it was Angel’s birthday party. It was a royal theme so meaning we all had to wear All white with some splashes of Gold. I was sitting in the living room, when Sage ran down the stairs.

“What’s the rush?” I asked.

She had this bewildered facial expression, “My best friend/ cousin is about to kill her entire family. They decided to tell her TODAY that Dominique is staying to go to the party.”

I shook my head, “So, Giselle will be calling me crying.”

“Yupp! I’ll call you later mommy!” She yelled on her way out of the door.

“MA!!!!!!!”

I rolled my eyes, “WHAT!!!!”

“TELL MAURICE AND AIDEN TO LEAVE ME ALONE!!!!” Marie yelled.

“MAURICE AND AIDEN!!!!”

“Ma! We didn’t even do anything.” Aiden said coming down the stairs, with Maurice and Marie following him.

Marie just rolled her eyes, “Yes they did. They wont let me get ready for Angel’s party!”

“Now you know if your father hears Marie, the both of y’all in trouble!” I scolded.

You would think that Aiden and Maurice are twins the way they act. You cant separate them and you cant tell them a damn thing. You can tell they are Jeremiah’s bad ass kids.

“Ma! Ree got a boyfriend!” Maurice yelled as soon as J walked through the door.

“Who has a boyfriend?” He said raising his eyebrow

“Marie.” Aiden and Maurice said at the same time.

“Daddy, no I don’t. I swear.” She quickly responded 

 Which led me to believe that she did, but don’t let Jeremiah hear that. 

Kamryn

I rolled my eyes, I couldn’t deal with the shrieking that Xavier’s girlfriend was crying about now. Like Girl, I am just trying to pick up my children and go home. Mani and Mari were 14 now and my baby boy Zack was 6.

Xavier Valentine Zackary Boudreaux III was born in the midst of my divorce with Xavier and his girlfriend had a problem with everything I did.

I sighed “Calliope, I am just trying to get my children, it’s not my fault that you are still a side chick when it compares to me.”

Kamari and Kamani busted out laughing. This is what she gets. She tried to cause a scene with me in front of X and the kids, and gets embarrassed every time it happens.

“XAVIER! ARE YOU GOING TO LET HER TALK TO ME LIKE THAT!” She screeched.

He just rubbed his temples and sighed, “Callie, if you didn’t start with her-“

“No! If you didn’t constantly cheat on me! With your ex wife who got pregnant and had your son! Why didn’t you make her get an abortion, like you did with me!”

“Girls, take your brother and get in the car please.” I said to them handing them my keys.

They obeyed me and went to the car, after watching to make sure they weren’t trying to eavesdrop, I turned to X and his girl.

“Listen here, I was never going to abort my child, unlike you. I am stronger, I am a better mother that you would’ve ever been. Yes, was Zack born at an inconvenient time, sure but he’s the blessing I was praying for. Where were you when I was having miscarriage after miscarriage? Oh, yeah you were fucking my husband. So your opinion, your wants are not valid.” I said walking out of the house.

I dropped the kids off at home with my mom so that she could help them to get ready for Angel’s party.

“Where you going, mommy?” Zack asked me while getting out of the car.

“I have some business to take care of before we go to the party. Grandma is in the house, she’s gonna help you get ready and take you to the party, I will meet y’all there” I spoke to him, in which he nodded and went in the house.

“Mhm, last time you had business to take care of, we got a little brother.” Mani said smirking.

“Tell Daddy, we said hi” Mari teased.

I rolled my eyes, “Take y’all asses in the house, before I beat you.” I laughed.

~ 

“Fuck!!! Right there!!!” I screamed out, Xavier just grunted as he continuously pounded in and out of me.

“You feel so good.” He moaned, while kissing my lips and then my neck down to my breasts.

I moaned and arched my back, his kisses on my skin always got my going and he knew that.

“Shit, Xavier! Don’t ever stop baby. Your dick feels so damn good.” I moaned again

I wrapped my legs around his waist and my arms around his neck and brought him closer because I knew I was about to cum.

Because he knew my body so well, he started to rub my clit so that we could cum at the same time,  

“Let me pull out Kam.” He strained.

But I kept my legs around his waist, because I was in such bliss, and we both came, making him come inside of me, I didn’t care to be honest, I loved when he did, it made the experience even better.

He rolled over, and we were both sweaty and breathing hard, this was our 3rd round and we were running late for the party.

“You’re on the pill right?” He asked me.

I laughed, “Xavier, I am not, but don’t worry, were good.”

“You sure? Last time we had Zack. I don’t need Callie at me again because of it” He asked again

“Then stop fucking me.” I shrugged.

“You know, I can’t”

“If you can’t handle the consequence, shut the fuck up.” I told him and I got out of the bed and covered myself to go get in the shower

When I got to the bathroom door, I dropped the sheet, “Now come fuck me in the shower.”

And just like that round 4 started…… and my recently straight hair was now curly. He’s just going to get it fixed anyway.

Giselle

When I tell you this party was extremely extravagant. It was overboard. I am ready to kill my daughter. She went over budget and I know I was pissed, but Dominic, he was on a rampage. I was glad the shit was over. So many teenagers and their parents, little kids, people touching my stomach. I was ready to slap someone.

“Who would’ve known that Giselle, is the mean one out of us.” Rosalie and Lizzie laughed

“Shut the hell up, how would you feel 8 months pregnant and strangers keep touching you. I think the twins are giving me a mean streak.” I sighed

“Hell yeah, cause when you were pregnant with Maddie, you were the sweetest person out there.” Lizzie said.

“She’s my sweetest kid to date.” I smiled thinking of Madison, she was like Angel all over again, but I got to raise her this time.

“Have you guys heard back from Katie?” Rose asked me

I rolled my eyes, even til this day, this hoe is a pain in my ass. She gets worse every time she finds out that I’m pregnant.

Last time, she tried to take me to court for child endangerment, Olivia shut that down before we even got a court date. Now, she’s trying to take Dominique away over Christmas break, knowing damn well we planned to take the kids out of the country for their month break, but she wants to be a bitch because I’m having the twins and she cant see Nique, if she’s not in the country.

“There is nothing she can do, I have parental rights over Dominique, she gave those up, she cant demand to see her more when Nique doesn’t even want to see her.”  

“She still cries?” Liv asked, popping into the conversation with Kam.

I nodded, “She hates going with An’Dreanna and she hates going to see Katie. Then Angelique doesn’t make shit better when she bullies her.”

“I don’t understand why y’all haven’t put her through a wall by now. Mani and Mari tried that shit with Zack and I almost went to Jail. Shit Xavier’s little girlfriend did too. She got stomped that day” Kam laughed.

“You’re still fucking our brother?” Lizzie asked

Kam just shrugged, “5 times before the party.” She smirked, and then started to play with her curls, thinking about it.

“That’s nasty, he’s my twin. Why don’t y’all just get back together. You have history, children and obviously can’t stay away from one another.” Rose complained

Kam shook her head, “I don’t love X like that anymore, I can stop at any time, I’m choosing not to, because I know he won’t stop it. I have to. and I don’t want to. I like having sex with him. and his girlfriend just allows that shit. So”

I rolled my eyes and got back topic “We thought she would grow out of it. She hated Mason at first, but she got over it. We thought it would be the same way. Hell Dominic, strategically put their rooms together by a bathroom, and it’s still not working.”

“They just have to figure it out for themselves, I guess.” Rose said.

“Well, it’s only going to get worse, Cause Dominic is about to put Angel on punishment for this damn party.”  

I shook my head, before anyone could talk, all you heard was yelling, and Mason came down stairs to the kitchen.

“What the hell is going on now Mason?” I asked.

“Dad told Angel she is now responsible for Domi. Her phone, laptop, all electronics are taken away, her car is taken away and the only time she can drive it is to take Domi to school and wherever she needs to go. She’s off the cheer team, and can’t even hang out with Sage. Her spring break is cancelled and she has to watch the Domi, Maddie and twins whenever, you guys want her to. Yeah, Gi ain too excited about that.” He said.

My son was so handsome, he was growing into a mini Dominic and I loved it, even if he hated it.

“You’re so handsome honey.” I said, touching his face.

He smiled, “Thank you mom.”

Just then, Angel came downstairs looking for me. “Mom!!! Daddy is being unreasonable!”

“Angelique, you torment your sister, and let’s not even get started about how outlandish this party was. He’s being nice. I would take everything away from you and make you take Dominique everywhere including her visits with her mother.”

“MOMMY!!!!” She screamed at me

I don’t know if my child lost her mind or what, but I am about to hurt her. Pregnant or not.

“Angelique, get out of my face, before I actually hurt you. You now have the responsibility of taking Dominique to seeing Katie and you know the rules!!” I stood up, being stern with her.

Angel started crying, “You know I hate that woman!!! She’s obsessed with me. I’m NOT DOING IT!”

All i heard was her yelling something she wasn’t going to do, and I went to reach for her, but Mason stopped me because he was in between us.

“ANGELIQUE!” I screamed and reached for her, I was ready to choke her out.

“MOM! You peed on me!” Mason said disgusted.

I looked down, because I didn’t feel like peeing, I gasped. My water just broke.

“DOMINIC!”

I instantly felt pain and hunched over while holding onto Mason

“Mommy, are you okay?” Angel asked, concerned

“Go get your father!!”  

Everyone started running around grabbing their own children and grabbing my bags for me.

Dominic came downstairs, wet from the shower in basketball shorts and a t-shirt. He didn’t even have on shoes.

Mason was leading me to the car, and helped me get in the car. We had Mason, Angel, and Domi trained in case I went into labor when Dominic wasn’t around and they were helping me.

D zoomed out the driveway, with our entire family following us.

“You ready!!! The twins are coming!!!” He yelled excitedly

“You did this shit to me. So shut up! I’m trying to concentrate on my breathing!” I yelled mugging his head.

Mason laughed and helped me to continue to breathe.

~ 

After 16 hours of terrible labor, the longest out of all of my children. I gave birth to the most beautiful babies ever.

Dylan Zane Micah Boudreaux Cartier  and Dorian Zacharyah Major Boudreaux Cartier.

Micah and Major for short.

Dominic and I watched in the bed, as Angel held Micah with Maddie and Mason held Major with Dominique, and I couldn’t be happier at this moment.

I have waited my whole life for this.

“So, would you reconsider having-“ He said cheesing from ear to ear

“NO MORE KIDS MAURICE.” I frowned

He laughed and kissed my forehead

“Thank you so much, I am forever grateful for you. I love you.” He whispered to me

“I love you too.”

And we held each other until we both fell asleep.

~THE END~

[huahsu]

YEAR OF THE GHOST DOG

[TL;DR version for the New Yorker -- I loved many great short songs and became obsessed with (1) a very old, much longer one (2) and YouTube comments this year.]  [links to previous year’s lists at the bottom]

A while back, I found myself in an extended funk. The reasons are uninteresting and honestly a bit dumb, a mix of everyday bummers and more existential stuff, all of which manifested in a kind of 360º sluggishness. I couldn’t really figure my way out of it but I believed that I would eventually stop feeling this way.

One night, I saw that someone online was selling a copy of the Emulations “These Are the Things,” a magnificent soul ballad 7″ out of Oakland. I wasn’t exactly homesick for the Bay Area, but something about the song’s roots, as well as its overwhelming feeling of optimistic yearning, resonated with (through?) me. There’s a moment when the singer’s falsetto peaks, and the piano starts cascading, and things feel like they’re going to work out after all. The copy for sale wasn’t in great shape, and it cost $100, an extravagant amount of money to spend on a piece of music. But I convinced myself that I’d feel better at some point, weeks, months, or years later, and I’d listen to my Emulations single, and recall that weird summer/fall.

As often happened with independently produced records of the sixties and seventies, “These Are the Things” was pressed on styrene, rather than vinyl. Styrene is a kind of plastic that’s lighter, cheaper and much more fragile than vinyl, and you can tell the difference by a kind of hollow plink when you put it on a turntable. Styrene also means that it has a limited life, and that each time the needle drags across its grooves, the record degrades a little bit. Over time, styrene records that get played a lot no longer sound as crisp or clear (or so it seems). I listened to it once it arrived, feeling a bit of regret at this wild expenditure, but also imagining my future self’s gratitude. I imagined entering into communion with everyone who had played this copy before me. I decided to only listen to the song once a year, if that--after all, each time I listened to the record, the song was changing, slightly.

A few months later, I felt normal (whatever that means) again, and the record became a marker of...I’m not sure what--maybe a kind of blind, stubborn optimism. Someone years later uploaded the song onto YouTube, which means I can listen to it whenever I want. This fall, I was trying and failing to spend less time on the Internet. But I decided that, instead of going on Twitter and Facebook, I would just read comments fans left on YouTube. I became obsessed with reading all the intimate histories people shared with one another--the chance encounters, the teenage dates and breakups, the seventies shop owners who recalled the days when stocking the right hit single could cover an entire month’s rent. I was listening to the Emulations when I noticed this comment, from Deric Jackson, who was apparently one of the group’s members: “I sung this song when I was 19yrs old. It was a pleasure to record and send this messageout into the airways. I have been with the women that God had given me to marry when I was 22yrs old. I did not understand at that time I was singing about my own life and the women who I had not met, but how wonderful it is to be with my wife fo 35yrs and life is still a breath of fresh air and wonderful. I would like to say to all real men love your wife, never worship her only one to worship is God alone.“ I’m pretty agnostic about most things relating to providence. But I felt as though I had been living in these words: “I did not understand at that time...” Jackson’s song was a prophecy, maybe even a conjuring, of his own path, and I wonder what he hears when he listens to it now. Sometimes you don’t know what’s coming next. But there’s always another song, and it doesn’t always sound the same as the last time.

(LATE 2017 BUT I REALLY DOUBT ANYONE NOTICED AKA THE FRENCH “MO BAMBA”) Junior Bvndo, “T’as ça #3 (Kylian Mbappe)”

I WILL LISTEN TO ANYTHING THAT USES DISTORTION Sheck Wes, “Wanted” OR OLD SCHOOL STABS Santi feat. Shane Eagle and Amaarae, “Rapid Fire” EVEN MORE THAN THAT, I LIKE THINGS THAT SOUND MESSY AND SLOPPY BUT ARE ACTUALLY PERFECT Caleb Giles featuring Cleo Reed, “Name” WOULDN’T HAVE BEEN AS GOOD AS IF IT HAD BEEN PERFECT, THE WARPED AND SMUDGED BEAUTY IS WHAT MAKES IT BEAUTIFUL Tirzah, Devotion Niagara, Apologia SAME, BUT SLIGHTLY OFF-STEP Blood Orange, “Charcoal Baby” THE BEST GENRE OF MUSIC REMAINS “SADE” Sade, “Flower of the Universe” and “The Big Unknown” Amber Mark, “Love is Stronger Than Pride” Bon Iver and Moses Sumney, “By Your Side” Kelela, “Like a Tattoo” 808s AND HEARTBREAK AND NEAR-OCTOGENERIANS Swamp Dogg, “She’s All Mind All Mind” I WASN’T AS ENAMORED WITH A LOT OF “NEW JAZZ” BUT DID LIKE Sam Wilkes, Wilkes Sam Gendel and Sam Wilkes, Music for Saxofone & Bass Guitar …WHICH REMINDED ME A BIT OF THIS FACEMELTING REISSUE (RIYL: ALICE COLTRANE, DON CHERRY, ETC ETC) John Tchicai, With Strings SPEAKING OF TERRIFIC JAZZ-ADJACENT STUFF Dos Santos, “Manos Anjenas” THE ORIGINAL “BIG MOOD” Okonkolo, Cantos THE YEAR I REALLY REKINDLED MY LOVE OF THE CELLO Clarice Jensen, For This From That Will Be Filled Oliver Coates, “A Church” …WHICH I DEFINITELY PREFER TO VIOLIN--ESP PIZZICATO--THOUGH THIS WAS QUITE GOOD Sudan Archives, “Nont for Sale” HARPS ALWAYS SOUND GOOD Leya, The Fool Meg Baird and Mary Lattimore, Ghost Forests ALWAYS HAVE TIME FOR WOODBLOCKS AND VIBES Kate NV, для FOR AS WELL AS MIAMI BASS SIGNIFIERS (KICKSTARTER FOR CITY GIRLS TO RAP OVER DJ BATTLECAT IN 2019) City Girls, “Act Up” AND BANJO DRONE...WHY NOT Nathan Bowles, Plainly Mistaken ALBUMS THAT I LIKED IN 2018, AND THAT I SENSE I WILL LIKE EVEN MORE BY THIS TIME NEXT YEAR Ben LaMarr Gay, Downtown Castles Can Never Block the Sun Neneh Cherry, Broken Politics AN ALBUM THAT I WISH WAS TEN ALBUMS Tierra Whack, Whack World AN ALBUM I WISH WAS JUST A LITTLE BIT LONGER Pusha-T, Daytona OF THE MANY REASONS I MOURN THE DEATH OF “THE ALBUM,” ONE IS THAT I ALWAYS LIKE TO HEAR WHAT PEOPLE DO WITH THAT LAST SONG YG, “Bomptown Finest” OR HOW ALBUMS, FULL OF SIGNS, ANGLES, FLEETING MOMENTS, CIRCULATE AND RE-CIRCULATE Angelique Kidjo, Remain in Light AND HOW THEY ARE LIKE WHAT NOVELS REPRESENTED IN THE AGE OF POETRY—OPPORTUNITIES TO LIVE INSIDE COMPLEXITY, SPACE, A DEMOS U.S. Girls, In a Poem Unlimited ONE OF THE BEST ALBUMS OF THE YEAR WAS A SOUNDTRACK... Kendrick Lamar et al, Black Panther AND TEASER FOR  Jay Rock, Redemption AND ANOTHER WAS JUST SOME RAP SONGS Earl Sweatshirt, Some Rap Songs WHICH ISN’T TO SAY ARTISTS DON’T STILL VALUE AND HAVE FUN WITH THE FORMAT Vince Staples, FM A TWENTY-FIVE TRACK ADVENTURE INTO VIBES Pink Siifu, ensley AND SOMETIMES TWENTY MINUTES OR SO IS ENOUGH boygenius, boygenius ONE MORE ALBUM THING – FIRST SONGS HAVE ALWAYS FELT LIKE THESIS STATEMENTS, AND STREAMING HAS ONLY APPLIED MORE PRESSURE TO THE SOOTHING, BEWITCHING, PERFECT WELCOME Mac Miller, “Come Back to Earth” MAC MILLER AND THUNDERCAT LOOK SO HAPPY HERE whole thing, but esp six minutes in, and even more so about nine minutes in THE BEST VIBES Show Dem Camp feat. Boj and Ajebutter 22, “Damiloun” Koffee, “Toast” HAPPY-GO-LUCKY B/W DEVIL-MAY-CARE Shoreline Mafia, “Nun Major” I LIKE NEF AND EPs PERFECTLY SUIT HIM Nef the Pharaoh and 03 Greedo, Porter 2 Grape 

RAPPING AS FAST AS YOU CAN OVER FREESTYLE/HI-NRG WILL NEVER SOUND BAD TO ME… SOB X RBE, “Paid in Full” SOB X RBE, “Carpoolin’” …ALTHOUGH THEY ALSO SOUND SICK OVER FAKE GHOST DOG BEATS, TOO, THIS WAS ONE OF MY SONGS OF THE YEAR SOB X RBE, “Paramedic!” SAME WITH MEDHANE Medhane, “The Garden” TRIPPIE REDD PUTS OUT A LOT OF MUSIC FILLED WITH TRANSCENDENT MOMENTS, BUT RARELY MAKES TRANSCENDENT SONGS, AND IT PAINS ME A BIT THAT MY FAVORITE SONG OF HIS THIS YEAR WAS Diplo featuring Trippie Redd, “Wish” TRIPPY-ASS DOO-WOP Cuco, “Sunnyside” A STRONG HARMONY IS A VISION OF WHAT LIFE COULD BE Ben Pirani, “How Do I Talk to My Brother?” WHERE WERE U IN 94 Young Echo, Young Echo SWEAR I'VE NEVER HEARD MUSIC THIS “GREY” ManOnMars, ManOnMars IF YOU ARE GOING TO MAKE A FAKE D’ANGELO SONG, IT SHOULD BE THIS GOOD Patrick Paige III, “Voodoo” LIKED THIS, BUT IT’S ALSO POSSIBLE TO BE A BIT TOO FAITHFUL TO THE PAST Teyana Taylor, “Hold On” NOT QUITE FAYE WONG DOING THE CRANBERRIES (RIP DOLORES O’RIORDAN) BUT STILL MEMORABLE Katherine Ho, “Yellow” LIKE THE BEST PARTS OF FEELS-ERA ANIMAL COLLECTIVE, BUT TAIWANESE Prairie WWWW

NEVER THOUGHT TO VISIT THE LOUVRE UNTIL The Carters, “Apeshit” video BROWN EXCELLENCE Humeysha, Departures "BROWN BEATS” FOREVER RIP Cameron Paul

MY FAVORITE DISCOVERY OF THE YEAR Pharoah Sanders playing “Kazuko” in a tunnel near the Marin Headlands LIKE NONE OF ITS INFLUENCES (FOOTWORK, AMBIENT), LIKE NOTHING ELSE OUT THERE, REALLY Foodman, Aru Otoko No Densetsu DARESAY SKI MASK WOULD NOT HAVE BEEN BOOED OUT OF THE CIPHER Ski Mask the Slump God, Beware the Book of Eli THE MOST FAMOUS PERSON I’VE SEEN ON THE BIG SCREEN AT THE PAST THREE YEARS’ NETS GAMES IS Young M.A., “PettyWap” DEMOS FROM A GROUP I HAVE ALWAYS ADORED, BEFORE THEY FOUND THE SOUND THAT I ADORE The Nonce, 1990 EXTREMELY GOOD AND LARGELY OVERLOOKED REISSUE Suzanne Menzel, Goodbyes and Beginnings FOUR TET IS GOING THROUGH HIS LIVE ARCHIVES, AND IT’S A TREAT TO STUDY HIS ARC/EVOLUTION  Live at Hultsfred Festival, 18th June 2004 Live at LPR New York, 17th February 2010 Live in Tokyo, 1st December 2013 Live at Funkhaus Berlin, 10th May 2018 STRANGE TO LIVE IN A MOMENT WHERE BEING WEIRD SEEMS A BIT DERIVATIVE. STILL, THIS IS BLISSFUL SahBabii, “Anime World” HAPPY FACE Smino, “Klink” SAD FACE Drake, “In My Feelings” (especially this version) “JIM FROM THE OFFICE” FACE Pusha-T, “The Story of Adidon” STOLE YOUR FACE Sophie, “Faceshopping” FACE/OFF YG and Mozzy, “Too Brazy” Sammy Bananas feat Antony and Cleopatra, “Slow Down” Kode 9 and Burial, Fabriclive 100 GASSED FACE E-40 and B-Legit, “Whooped" ABSOLUTELY FACEMELTING Todd Barton and Ursula K. Le Guin, Music and Poetry of the Kesh VACATION AWAY MESSAGE SiR, “D’Evils” Bad Bunny x PJ Sin Suela x Nejo, “Cual Es Tu Plan” BEST OPENING DISCLAIMER TO A VIDEO 808INK, “Come Down” “TAGS: LATIN CHORAL CUMBIA GOTH LOS ANGELES” San Cha, “Cosmic Ways”

BEST USE OF “OOCHIE WALLY,” STILL ONE OF MY FAVORITE BEATS EVER Stefflon Don, “Oochie Wally freestyle” BEST USE OF “SUPERTHUG” Rico Nasty, “Countin’ Up” EVERYTHING ABOUT THIS--THE HEADBANG MINIMALISM, THE LAS VEGAS WALGREENS--BUT ESPECIALLY THE LINE ABOUT WELLS FARGO Rico Nasty, “Trust Issues” “ORGASM ADDICT” (RIP PETE SHELLEY) Victor Oladipo, “One Day” “I JUST TOOK A FLIGHT TO FRANCE TO COP CARDIGANS” Black Thought and Styles P, “Making a Murderer” “AT THE EMIRATES I MILLY ROCK” Manzo and Malachi Amour, “Lingard” DOPE TUNE, AND UNEXPECTED KELLYANNE CONWAY REFERENCE JPEGMAFIA, “1539 N. Calvert” YEAH YEAH YEAH (RIP MARK E SMITH) Travis Scott and Drake, “Sicko Mode” R-E-S-P-E-C-T (RIP ARETHA FRANKLIN) Rosalia, El Mal Querer REEL DEAL, “DRIPPIN’ DOPE (SAXAPELLA)” (1989) Gunna, “Top Off” WAMP WAMP (WHAT IT DO) B/W WAIT (THE WHISPER SONG) Vallee feat. Jeremih, “Womp Womp” SAD REGGAETON IS NOT BAD Bad Bunny, “Solo De Mi” SOUNDS GOOD TO ME, 2002-PRESENT Temani, “Power” Westerman, “Confirmation” REAL LIES, POET LAUREATS OF “YOUNG PEOPLE THINKING ABOUT BEING OLD” Tom Demac and Real Lies, “White Flowers” A SONG DESIGNED TO SOUND LIKE IT CAME OUT THIRTY YEARS AGO, WHICH ALSO FEELS LIKE IT CAME OUT A MILLION YEARS AGO (IT WAS JUST JANUARY) Bruno Mars feat. Cardi B, “Finesse (remix)” TAY-K WAS JUST A YEAR AGO Comethazine, “Highriser” FAVORITE 2 BRIDGES MUSIC ARTS “MIGHT AS WELL” RANDOM PURCHASE OF THE YEAR  Kizaki Ondo Preservation Society and Clark Naito, 木崎音頭 Kizaki Ondo FEELS LIKE IT CAME OUT TEN YEARS AGO (IT WAS JUST JAN/FEB) BUT I NEVER GREW TIRED OF IT Rich the Kid, “Plug Walk” ODDLY REASSURING THAT PEOPLE STILL JANGLE Massage, “Oh Boy” Earth Dad, “Walter” ...AND DISCOVER WORLDS FROM WITHIN THEIR BEDROOMS Soccer Mommy, Clean ...AND EXPLORE THE CONTOURS OF GROWLING AND NAGGING Sada Baby and Drego, “Bloxk Party” ...AND CAN USE THE PAST TO MAKE SOMETHING SO VISIONARY AND FORWARD-THINKING Virginia Wing, Ecstatic Arrow Mitski, Be A Cowboy ...AND LOOKING FOR FOURTH WORLDS Arp, Zebra ...AND MAKE IMPOSSIBLE RHYTHMS Heavee, WFM ...AND THAT ARTISTS I HAD NEVER HEARD OF, WORKING IN IDIOMS I HAD NEVER HEARD OF, MIGHT STILL BLOW MY MIND Odunsi (the Engine), rare. JUNGLE LIVES X-Altera, “Blowing Up the Workshop” mix TOP THREE TIMES I SAW STANDING ON THE CORNER THIS YEAR 3 - The Merciful Allah Black Hole Theatre 2 - The Time it All Ended with Fireworks on Grand St. 1 - An Empty Storefront During a Blizzard

{HONORABLE MENTIONS -The Time They Brought a Monolith -THEME DE YE-YO [Respect to the Gods]} SONG OF THE SPRING, SUMMER, WINTER, YEAR,  STILL UNDEFEATED ### A CHURCH AND JOHN LENNON’S “IMAGINE” :: 2017 SIKH DEVOTIONAL MUSIC :: 2016 SPOOKY BLACK :: 2015

[rebeccaheyman]

reading + listening 09.14.20

The Smash-Up (Ali Benjamin), eBook ARC (pub date Feb 2021). A rare five-star review from me on GR and NetGalley.

For fans of ASK AGAIN YES and FLEISHMAN IS IN TROUBLE, Ali Benjamin's THE SMASH-UP is a razor-sharp but deeply heartfelt satire of our contemporary social and political systems, framed as a retelling of Wharton's classic novel, Ethan Frome. Like its original counterpart, THE SMASH-UP is a framed narrative; we begin with an introduction that asks the question that plagues the original Ethan Frome from the very start: What happened? While the answer to that question in Wharton's work is purposefully vague ("a smash-up"), Benjamin's work is driven by answers. What happened? The 2016 election. Harvey Weinstein. MeToo. Police overreach and brutality, Resistance. Bret Kavanaugh. The Women's March. On and on, all these things that happened and are happening as the country tries to remake itself in the wake of all our ugliness rising to the surface. "What happened?" THE SMASH-UP asks. "Well, sit down and I'll tell you."

We follow an unnamed narrator as they drive into Starkfield, Massachusetts, and spot Ethan Frome, who is without a limp but still "hobbled" by a flat tire. The narrator gives Ethan a ride home, and thereafter becomes a one-person Greek chorus of a kind, showing up frequently to uphold the mirror that reflects that which is under the surface of the main action. Once the close third-person narration begins, we're drawn into Ethan's life with documentary filmmaker and activist wife Zenobia (Zo); their hyperactive, Wicked-obsessed daughter, Alex; and their live-in, Millennial, would-be nanny (of a sort), Maddy. Everything is in a state of unrest, from the forever-unfinished home renovation to the country to Alex's attendance at the new-age, ultra-conscious Rainbow Seed School, to Ethan and Zo's marriage. An encounter with the local police throws Zo and her women's activist group, All Them Witches, into the spotlight, and not everyone in Starkfield is happy about it. Meanwhile, Ethan's former marketing agency partner asks him to help make a pending MeToo lawsuit disappear. In the literal and figurative background is Maddy, whose ennui is a challenge and counterpoint to the Fromes' intense attention to every detail of their fractured, fracturing lives.

THE SMASH-UP is a novel of colliding -- who these characters are, what they believe, what they do, how they feel, what they show the world and what they hide -- all of it being forced to the surface by impact after merciless impact. Everything that happens in THE SMASH-UP is just as important as what doesn't; our mysterious narrator from the introduction (whose identity I won't spoil here), says it best: "New ideas, new worlds, new truths, always begin in the negative space. Unlike the groaning heft of What Is, possibility has no mass of its own--no force, no shape or structure, not yet. To most eyes, What Could Be looks like nothing at all. It takes faith to discern this invisible thing, to protect it and tend to it, until the day it comes screaming into the open, startling everyone with the plain fact of itself, a truth that's suddenly clear as day."

The Heiress (Molly Greeley), eBook ARC (pub date Jan 2021). My NetGalley review fails to capture the way I sat on my couch and wept for the duration of the last chapter. Just sayin’.

THE HEIRESS climbs inside Pride and Prejudice the way you slip between the sheets of your own bed, made up with entirely new sheets. This brilliant, compact novel takes as its subject the enigmatic Anne de Bourgh, best known as the cousin Darcy was supposed to marry before Elizabeth Bennet stepped onto the scene. Greeley imagines Anne as an accidental -- or rather, incidental -- laudanum addict, whose treatment with that "remedy" since infancy left her frail and mostly catatonic as she aged. THE HEIRESS follows Anne on a tumultuous journey of self-discovery and becoming that begins with the end of her addiction.

Greeley's writing is deft and authentic, nodding to source material without relying on what readers think they know about Anne's life at Rosings Park. There's a touch of the gothic here, too, as Anne's connection to her land -- hers indeed, since Rosings Park is not entailed -- and the house itself, becomes a critical site of identity-production. Though Anne enjoys somewhat unprecedented independence due to her inheritance, Greeley never loses sight of the way Georgian society shaped, stymied, defined, and limited most women -- or how they flourished in private revolutions despite this.

Readers of THE SEVEN HUSBANDS OF EVELYN HUGO, THE LADY'S GUIDE TO CELESTIAL MECHANICS, and of course, PRIDE AND PREJUDICE, will find THE HEIRESS a triumph.

Luster (Raven Leilani), aBook (narr. Ariel Blake). LUSTER is getting a lot of positive press, and with good reason. Roxane Gay’s brief GR review says it best: “So uncomfortable and stressful and beautiful and haunting and honest and ugly.” Protagonist Edie is anxious and adrift when her anchor drops somewhat of its own accord in the suburban home of her married lover, Eric. The seas there may appear calm but they churn under the surface, where marital, sexual, and racial politics threaten to capsize the appearance of domestic bliss. What ultimately saves Edie -- what keeps her afloat, if I’m really going to beat this metaphor into the ground -- is her identity as an artist, which she interrogates persistently regardless of her mercurial circumstances. 

It’s natural, I think, to draw comparisons to Candice Carty-Williams’ QUEENIE, as these are both novels about young Black women drawing the curtain back on their experience of the world, and delivering the fullness of that experience with honesty of the highest, rawest order. Attempts to place one novel over the other, though, would be remiss; where Queenie’s journey ultimately leads her closer to the refuge of family, Edie’s safe haven is her art -- which is to say, the world is still coming for Edie, and her protection against can be washed away with so much turpentine. 

LUSTER is touted as “darkly comic” and while it most assuredly is that, I also found it deeply heart-wrenching. I felt old reading this, and anxious, and like I wanted to sit Edie down in my kitchen and feed her a nice brisket dinner. There’s some inconsistency around Edie’s age (she’s twenty-three, but often references nostalgia-points that would place her closer to her late 20s or even early 30s), but I just kept thinking about how hard it is to be young and unsure, now more than ever. 

Lady Derring Takes a Lover (Julie Anne Long), aBook (narr. Justine Eyre). This was my first Julie Anne Long novel, and I’m happy to report it was a delight! Delilah and Tristan are fun to watch together -- great chemistry, just enough internal angst to enhance tension without being cloying, and plenty of hot, consensual sex. For me, the difference between an enjoyable historical romance and a snoozer often boils down to the external conflict, and LADY DERRING has it in spades. Delilah and her dead husband’s mistress, Angelique, open a boarding house in a bad part of London, and the goings-on at The Grand Palace on the Thames provide a nice counterpoint to the romance. There’s plenty of fat for Tristan to chew, too, since someone is smuggling cigars into the country, and the king has tasked our hero with finding out precisely who, and how. As always, Justine Eyre’s narration is just this side of too much, but she shines on this recording. I’ve got the second-in-series cued up on my eReader this week, so we’ll see if Long can.... go the distance. I’ll show myself out.

Never Kiss a Duke (Megan Frampton), aBook (narr. Jilly Bond). Another new-to-me author and narrator, and the first in a new series, Hazards of Dukes. I’ll take the second part first: Jilly Bond is a delight! She gets a bit whispery at times -- appropriate times, to be sure, but it was a struggle to hear some of the asides. I also found her transitions to Sebastian’s narration/dialogue rocky at moments -- a sudden, almost comedic drop in register. Once the chapter/POV is up and running, the awkwardness instantly fades, but the transitions were strange for me. Still, she’s excellent, and I hope she narrates the next-in-series. 

To the rest: Fans of Kleypas’ DEVIL IN WINTER gaming hell setting will appreciate the external conflict around Ivy and Sebastian (yes those names are oddly similar to DEVIL’s Evie and Sebastian...a tribute perhaps?!). She is the proprietress of London’s only egalitarian gambling house, and he is her newest employee after having -- oops! -- lost his dukedom. Conflict isn’t as dynamic as I would have hoped, but this was an entertaining listen nonetheless. Hot heat, tumultuous personal histories, quality banter... I’ll be back for the second installment (Tall Duke and Dangerous, Oct 2020).

[itsfinancethings]

New world news from Time: ‘This Is Our Last Chance.’ A Photographer Captures the Energy for Change in Beirut After the Explosion

For the last three decades, the most reliable feature of Lebanon’s government has been its relentless decline.

Here was a country so brazenly corrupt the World Bank abandoned its usual diplomatic language in 2015, declaring the country “increasingly governed by bribery and nepotism practices, failing to deliver basic human services.” Among ordinary people, the lived reality of Lebanese politics produced a gall that rose like the stench of the garbage that has accumulated on the capital’s streets because officials cannot figure out where to put it. In October, the announcement of higher taxes triggered gigantic daily protests across the country. But they have not yet led to any substantial change.

Myriam Boulos for TIMERiad Hussein Al Hussein and his wife Fatima Al Abid in the Mar Mikhael neighborhood of Beirut on Aug. 7. He was buying vegetables there three days earlier when he heard a small explosion. He asked the seller whether he thought it was a shell or a bomb, and where it had landed. “Our discussion lasted approximately one minute and was interrupted by another sound of explosion, one way louder,” he recalls. “I shouted and said we needed to hurry inside the shop, and that is when I was hit by the glass.” He later went back to the building where he was injured to assist with cleaning up. “I wanted to help like I had been helped,” he said. “I wanted to pay it forward.”

Myriam BoulosA volunteer named Ahmad, who works with a Palestinian organization helping victims, prays amid rubble in Beirut on Aug. 5.

Myriam Boulos for TIMEKevin Obeid cuts Jad Estephan’s hair in the Mar Mikhael area of Beirut on Aug. 7, three days after the deadly port explosion. “Let us hope that this catastrophe doesn’t destroy us even further,” says Estephan, who lost his eye at the beginning of the revolution last year, “but rather gives us a much needed strength.” Obeid says he went to Mar Mikhael that day for two reasons: “First, to help the people that lost their houses. As my family and myself have not been directly affected by the explosion, I consider it natural to help those that were affected. It is the least I can do. The second reason was that I wanted to use my skills to help people around me. I wanted to use my skills to fix them.”

The question now is whether the catastrophic explosion of Aug. 4, which wiped away more than 220 lives and the homes of 300,000 people in Beirut, will ultimately take down Lebanon’s unique political system. The country’s constitution — which guarantees government positions to 18 separate religious sects — was intended to balance the interests and needs of a diverse, cosmopolitan nation. In reality, it provides semi-permanent employment for self-dealing elites in political parties that look after themselves, rather than a greater good.

Which is how 2,750 metric tons of ammonium nitrate languished in a port warehouse in the center of a city of 2.4 million people since 2013.

Myriam Boulos for TIMEBranches rest on a sedan. The blast, estimated at one tenth the size of the atomic explosion at Hiroshima, sent a wave of destruction six miles across a city already reeling from shortages of food, water and electricity.

Myriam Boulos for TIME“I felt like I went to hell for seven hours and then I came out of it,” recalls Andrea, a drag performer in Beirut who was injured in the port explosion. “I didn’t know what to think. Did I lose my house? Did I lose my life? Did I lose my beautiful city? It was a war zone.” Since then, Andrea, whose home sustained significant damage, has helped with a relief fund that offers shelter, food and first aid to members of the city’s LGBTQ community who were impacted by the disaster. “If we didn’t have our rights before,” he adds, referring to the fact that same-sex relations in Lebanon can be punishable by up to one year in prison, “now what we have left is very little.”

“We have been living next to an atomic bomb for six years. We stroll around, we walk by it, but we know nothing about it,” says resident Jad Estephan, of what produced one of the largest man-made (non-nuclear) explosions in global history. “How can the people in charge be this conscienceless?”

For a week after the blast, photographer Myriam Boulos moved through the wreckage of her native city, documenting an aftermath nearly as extraordinary as the explosion: Soldiers and police stood idle while ordinary people bent to the task of clearing debris. (“They carry guns,” says Boulos. “They don’t help with anything.”) As she photographed, she also asked questions. “It’s important that we tell our own stories,” she says. “It’s so important to listen to people, because at the end of the day the country is people.”

Myriam Boulos for TIMEAngelique Sabounjian and Cherif Kanaan on Aug. 10. Six days earlier, she was hit in the face with a piece of glass as the blast wave tore through the coffee shop where she was working in Beirut’s Gemmayze neighborhood. Sabounjian walked to the “completely demolished” St. George Hospital, where she would meet Kanaan. She was in “bad shape,” he recalls. “I decided to stick with her and introduced myself.” At one point, with her phone receiving so many calls, “she gave me the password so I could manage the calls from her family.” As Sabounjian tells it, “the experience I lived until Cherif found me was a nightmare.” He stayed by her side, and worked to find her an ambulance, until she received treatment at the Hôtel-Dieu de France hospital. “When I was confident that she was in good hands,” Kanaan remembers, “I wished Angelique a fast recovery and left the room.”

Myriam Boulos for TIMECDs are scattered on the floor of music producer Jana Saleh’s apartment, which was heavily damaged by the port explosion and blast wave. “I Google-mapped the distance between the blast and my home. It’s approximately two kilometers (1.24 mi.). We managed to hide in the glassless bathroom right on time and survived it,” says Saleh. “The concept is a thing of the 80s, during the civil war. The kids and the valuables were hidden in the bathroom. My brother and I spent a lot of time in it. On Aug. 4, I dragged my girlfriend to it. She’s the valuable in this story.”

Myriam Boulos for TIMEJoseph Sfeir, 88, a journalist for six decades, was born in this house in the Mar Mikhael area of Beirut. He lived through Lebanon’s 15-year civil war there, too. When the massive explosion occurred, Sfeir recalls, his reflex was to save his grandchildren—the reasons he came back years ago from France. They were with him in the house that day, but were not injured. His wife, who was on the second floor when the blast shook the city, was wounded. Sfeir is pictured with his sister, Mona.

Citizens complain about their government in every country, but few have better cause than the Lebanese. In a country that made its national symbol a tree, “the Lebanese people had to put out fires that were devastating our forests because our government was unable to do its job,” Nour Saliba noted, recalling a series of forest fires last October. It was the month daily demonstrations erupted in the capital. Protesters demanded an end to corruption and a new constitution.

The pandemic was still months away, but misrule had already sent the country’s economy into free fall, and almost half the 6.8 million residents (including 1.5 million Syrian refugees) lived in poverty. After two weeks of protests in October, Prime Minister Saad Hariri resigned. His replacement lasted mere months, stepping down on Aug. 10 after the protests, which had dwindled during the pandemic, resumed with a seething new anger. “The explosion, it cannot not define us, in a way,” says Boulos. “Of course it’s a turning point.”

Myriam Boulos for TIMESmoke billows from a tear gas canister during an antigovernment demonstration in Beirut on Aug. 8, four days after the blast.

Myriam Boulos for TIMEPeople gather on balconies during the demonstration. Protesters say negligence and corruption across Lebanon’s political system contributed to the disaster.

Myriam Boulos for TIMEA young protester near Beirut’s Martyrs’ Square during the Aug. 8 demonstration.

Riad Hussein Al Hussein was buying vegetables in the city’s Mar Mikhael neighborhood when he was knocked to the ground by the blast wave. He noticed he was bleeding from his head. Someone came to help him. “He used a cotton compress and pressed on my wounds for what seemed like a long time. He said that I had to endure the pain. And I endured.” That lasted about 20 minutes. “I really thought I was dying. I held my savior’s hand while he was helping me and I asked him to say my goodbyes to my family.”

Nothing binds people to one another like a trauma endured together. The explosion devastated three neighborhoods — a poor district east of the port; an enclave of Armenian Christians; and a gentrifying zone of older residents and young, artsy people. But with a damage radius of six miles, the entire city came apart. And then, came together.

Cherif Kanaan told Boulos he was at home when he heard the explosion. “My mum, my brother and I ran towards each other very scared. A few seconds later the whole building started shaking like crazy and the massive blast hit us,” he says. “The look in their eyes will forever haunt me. We really thought we were gonna die.” He left the apartment and sprinted first to the home of his uncle, where everyone was okay. From there, he ran from hospital to hospital, looking for people to help.

Myriam Boulos for TIMESome protesters on Aug. 8 reportedly threw stones and debris at officers or jumped over barricades that had closed off access to parliament, while others entered government ministries. Officers responded with heavy volleys of tear gas and rubber bullets.

Myriam Boulos for TIMEA group of women inside a van avoid thick clouds of tear gas in Beirut on Aug. 8.

Myriam Boulos for TIMEA man who was wounded during a demonstration on Aug. 11. At protests since the blast, researchers with Human Rights Watch have observed birdshot pellets being fired “indiscriminately” at protesters by security forces. After attacks on members of the press at various demonstrations, the Committee to Protect Journalists urged Lebanese authorities to investigate and hold accountable those found to be responsible. On Aug. 13, in a move that concerned rights groups, the parliament approved a state of emergency in Beirut that grants sweeping powers to the military as popular criticism mounts.

He found them everywhere. He held a compress to a wounded nurse outside a destroyed hospital, then cut his own hand lifting a metal pole out of the road. He helped an old man struggling with a bandage, and took off his shirt for a woman carrying two babies from a destroyed hospital. Another passerby gave his shirt for a third baby. Back at the ruined hospital, he spotted a woman with a terrible wound on her face. Her name was Angelique. “I couldn’t quite get her family name at first because of her numb lips,” he says.

Kanaan took her phone, reassuring relatives who were calling constantly. In the mayhem, an ambulance appeared. He bundled Angelique into a scene that would stay with him: On a stretcher was a young girl named Alexandra, struggling to breathe, “her grandpa at the back, a lady doctor next to him, insufflating Alexandra, her dad with a broken left cheekbone, Angelique next to him, myself, a wounded old lady in front of me, a wounded old man next to her behind the driver and a rescuer, I believe,” Kanaan says. In the end, Alexandra passed away.

Myriam Boulos for TIMEHatem Imam and Maya Moumne of Studio Safar, a design and communications agency, photographed on Aug. 10. The explosion “effectively eradicated any semblance of normalcy, and with it any remnant of decency,” the pair said. “The obscenity of the negligence of a state that knowingly stores 2,750 tons of highly explosive materials in its capital’s port is only multiplied by this state’s sickening lack of recourse in the aftermath.”

Myriam Boulos for TIMEA cactus rests on broken glass. Cleanup efforts have been left to volunteers, with authorities all but invisible.

It was six days after the blast that Prime Minister Hassan Diab resigned, saying he wanted to stand with the people “and fight the battle for change alongside them.” The next day, one week to the minute after the explosion, citizens gathered in the wreckage of their capital At 6:08 p.m., what moved through the air was not a blast wave but the Muslim call to prayer, and the peal of church bells.

“Let us hope that this catastrophe doesn’t destroy us even further but rather gives us a much needed strength,” says Estephan. “Because this is our last chance. We must change today, or never.”

—With reporting by Myriam Boulos/Beirut and Madeline Roache/London

from Blogger https://ift.tt/3449SS2 via IFTTT

[tyrionslannister]

Seven for a secret never to be told: I'll write my muse spilling their guts to yours.

   “you must understand… i never thought i’d have to talk about this again. and if i am to be fair, i didn’t want to talk about it ever again.” her words come out a whisper, and she breathes in deeply, tries to remain calm. “but you… of all people… you must know.”

   she stops for a moment, pensive, wonders where to begin. there is oh so much to be said, so much she doesn’t want to say at all. “prince henri wasn’t fond of me at the beginning,” she frowns at the memories. “i was too old and bold… his words, of course. he kept his mistresses and kept me at a distance.”

   she gazes away then, trying to remember, wanting to forget. “i didn’t mind it at first. i know i should at least try to be amiable – if he was to be my husband – but i was so pained by what i had lost… i couldn’t bring myself to do it. not even to pretend.”

   out there, someone laughs. it sounds odd at adelaide’s ears. “he… we both tried to postpone the wedding. we didn’t like each other and we didn’t want to be married and—” she closes her eyes, shakes her head. “but that moment, that peace… it didn’t last long.”

   “he started… visiting me at night,” she says, awkwardly, because how is she supposed to tell the man she loves she has shared a bed with someone else? and still, she hadn’t really. she wonders what would become of her, had she given in. “laying with me. said i owed it to him, because i was to become his wife.”

   she licks dry lips, hopes the room is dark enough so james will not notice the trace of a tear running down her cheek. “he never tried anything… more than that. not for a very long time. and he didn’t do anything either, until…” she stops – has to, otherwise she will start crying again.

   “then he grew… bold. there were times he would try and kiss me, or…” she doesn’t finish the sentence. “i would let him. maybe he’d had a change of heart, after all. and even if he didn’t… even when i knew in my heart he didn’t… i was too tired to fight.”

   she looks into his eyes, even though she cannot see him clearly. “there was this night…” she begins, uncertain of whether to tell him – but something inside of her makes her go on. she hasn’t told anyone yet, and she fears if she doesn’t, those feelings will crush her chest and leave her for dead. “he had dismissed my guards, he did it quite often, and he… came into my room. but this time it was different. he was drunk… violent. and bare,” she adds, rolling her eyes to the ceiling because, out of all that had happened that day, this was what she had forgotten to mention? “he asked me if i wanted to taste him,” she scoffs. it has happened so long ago – still it is so recent. “so i threatened to, um, bite his cock off if he continued his advances. he… wasn’t pleased,” it’s an unnecessary addition, but she makes it anyway. “he did stop, but he beat me for it.”

   “i didn’t know how to react—what to do,” she confesses. “and he took a taste for it, so whenever something would infuriate him… he’d take it out on me.” she takes a deep breath again, tries to figure what to say next. “there was this girl—angelique—she helped me cover the marks. i begged her not to, i wanted to show everyone what he had done, but she always managed to convince me otherwise… i should’ve noticed then the kind of person i was dealing with, but i was oh so lonely. and i feared i would be completely broken if… if it wasn’t for her. she was the only one i could talk to,” she explains, feeling like there must be a justification for what she can only name stupidity. “she told me i shouldn’t try and get him in any trouble, because he was favoured by the queen mother. and i believed in her. catherine de’ medici is not a person you’d want to cross, and i was so… so afraid.”

   she’s crying now, and she knows he can hear it in her voice, but she goes on, knows she must. “a few months ago, before i came back here, henri found about the letters—our letters. he showed up in my room again, and i knew i was doomed as soon as i saw them hanging from his hand.” her hands are shaking, and she rests them on the table. “and still, even when that was clear, a part of me felt… relieved. that i wouldn’t have to live like that for the rest of my life.”

   “he threatened to tell my father about me… about us. he threatened you,” she adds. “he said… you had taken what belonged to him, and for that you had to pay,” she frowns again at the thought. “and then… i was so used to the fear… but what i felt then was… paralysing.”

   “that’s why i didn’t come for you… when i came back. henri promised me he wouldn’t denounce you, but i had been betrayed so many times! uncle declan, angelique… and his word! how could i ever trust his word?” she’s still trembling when she asks the question, tears running freely down her face now. “i feared they might trace me to you and… if they did… all that is precious to me would be lost. and i had lost my home and everything that belonged to me—i couldn’t bear to lose you too.”

   she’s breathing heavily now, trying to stop the tears from coming. “i felt like i should tell you—before the wedding, so you knew. and now you know,” she concludes. henri’s words ring in her ears: i shall return you to naeworth. see you in the dirt where you belong. then you can have him back… if he still wants you. the thought makes her tremble again. “i am not the same i once was, james. i’m not the girl you know—christ, i’m not even a princess anymore,” she mumbles, laughing, though there is no humour in her voice. “but i am still yours… like i was from the beginning. and i will always be. so if this doesn’t make you reconsider—if it doesn’t change anything—then i will try to put it behind me, and focus on my new life, the one i’ll have with you. because that is the only life i want.”

[tessatechaitea]

Wacky Raceland #6

Coming soon to an America near you!

Pat Pending has almost certainly stuck his dick in that giant brain.

• Last issue was called "The Butcher Shop, Part One: Revelations." So you might think that this issue would include, somewhere in the title, "Part Two." But you'd be wrong! You probably weren't surprised by that revelation since that was such a standard set-up. No, this issue is also called "The Butcher Shop, Part One: Revelations." I guess that means it's Part Two of the first part of The Butcher Shop story although it doesn't make that explicitly clear. • Pat Pending's wife is the all-powerful Announcer. He blames her for destroying the world after she went insane. He doesn't explain how or why she went insane but I'm willing to put twenty dollars on "Pat stuck his penis in my amygdala." • The Announcer decides to blast some Wacky Raceland history into the heads of all the racers. Please oh please let it be that moment that I've mentioned twice now about the pinky and the brain. • The Announcer tells everybody about Pat Pending's experiments to help enslave the world: weather control, nanite swarm death panels, dwarf clone armies, and weaponized Scooby Dogs. I knew this was the same universe! Now to just have Slutty Velma behind it all, making plans and gobbling dicks, and I'll be happy! • Too bad for Pat Pending, his experiments revolted, led by the Slag Brothers. In the riot, Pat's wife was mortally wounded so he stuck her brain in a jar. That seems like a shitty idea. Could you really keep loving your partner if they were just brain? I'd bring women home to have sex with and they'd be all, "What's with the brain in the jar?" And I'd be all, "Just put a sheet over it." Then because I was stupid enough to hook the brain up to censors and microphones and computers, it would be all, "What's that sound? Tess? Are you fucking another whore?!" Man, just let her die, Pat! • Angelique, who probably goes by "Ann" since that works for Announcer too, became Godlike in her powers over the world being linked directly into the World Wide Web. She decides to kill the world leaders and take over. I'd probably do something like that if I were a brain as well. • You know the most worrisome thing about a Trump presidency? I once fleshed out one of our No Apologies! Press characters from the Galactic Hero Corps called Global Thermo-nuclear War Dude. I revealed that his main goal was the destruction of everything because he couldn't bear to die knowing that the world would still go on without him. I have a feeling if Trump gets some kind of health news where it's revealed he doesn't have long to live, he's taking us all out with him. • Pat's wife not only killed all of the leaders, she destroyed the Earth.

And they're off!

• Pat Pending's plan was to train the Wacky Racers until they were strong enough, and a cohesive enough unit, to take down his wife, the Brain in the Jar. He probably could have offered to change out her brain water and then "accidentally" dropped her on the floor and kicked her under the fridge. Although that probably would have been a short comic book series and it wouldn't have involved the Wacky Races. So I'm glad it was done this way. • The Announcer's jar is impervious to most weapons. But it has one weakness! It can't stand up to the Wacky Racebot! That's the robot that the Wacky Racecars turn into when Pat Pending initiates secret FuckCar Protocol 777. We all know why 69 is 69 but 777 is when a bunch of cars stick their dicks in each other to become one giant car. • The Wacky Racebot defeats the brain by putting a cancer bomb inside of it. That's one way of like ten million ways to destroy a brain, I suppose. • Afterward, all of the Racers head off to get drunk. But Pat Pending stays behind because he's not Pat Pending anymore!

I fucking hate it when this happens.

The Ranking! +1! Um. I guess that's it? I wasn't prepared for this to be over so soon. I guess I'll just have to go stick my Wacky Races DVD in and pretend they're racing through the end of the world. At the very least, this version will probably always shade my reviewing of the cartoon in a positive way. I always loved the cartoon because it's fucking silly. I mean wacky! But I also always loved the "competition" cartoons where you never knew who was going to win each week. Although when your favorite character is the guy who is never allowed to win and his dog, it made for some sad Saturday mornings. But come on! Dick Dastardly should have won them all! And the Really Rottens should have won the Laff-o-lympics every week! We all knew it was true! Anyway, I'm sad this is over although I'm always kind of happy to find out I've got one less comic to read each month! That's me! Always* looking on the bright side! *Always represents between 1 and 3 percent of all of the times.

[torixus]

With Hospitals full of COVID-19 Patients, 33-year-old Kimberly chose to give Birth at Home in New York

These intimate photos capture one New Yorker's emotional delivery amidst a pandemic

When 33-year-old Kimberly Bonsignore learned in late March that her family members would not be able to join her at NYU Hospital during her labor and delivery, she began making plans for a home birth. Pregnant with her second child, she didn’t want to leave her husband, Al, and two-year-old daughter, Sativa, out of the experience. “I wanted my daughter to be there, too, because I want her to really experience it,” says Bonsignore. “I didn’t want to come home and say, ‘here’s your sister,’ like she’s a puppy or something.” After the New York-Presbyterian and Mt. Sinai Hospital networks banned all visitors from labor and delivery rooms in an effort to prevent the spread of COVID-19, midwives across the city received a surge of phone calls. Not wanting to give birth alone, many women searched for an alternative.

3:35 P.M.

Bonsignore endures an intense contraction with the support of her doula, Angelique Clarke. Her two-year-old daughter, Sativa, ran to her dad, Al, and grandma, Louise, when her mom cried out in pain.

New York Governor Andrew Cuomo has since issued an executive order allowing one support person to be present in the delivery room as long as they are screened for COVID-19. However, the prospect of giving birth in hospitals filled with coronavirus patients has driven up the demand for home births—a practice that is relatively uncommon in the United States, but has been steadily rising in popularity in the last 16 years. According to the National Center of Biotechnology Information, a unit of the National Institutes of Health (NIH), home births accounted for more than 62,000 births, 1.61 percent of total in the U.S. in 2017. Certified nurse midwives attend about 10 percentof all births in the U.S., in the hospital or at home, though their role in patient care varies from state to state. Women seek home births with a licensed provider—which can include a midwife or doula—for a variety of reasons: They want less medical intervention, such as pain medication and labor induction; they want the freedom to control their birthing environment; they feel a midwife would be more respectful of their religious values; or they feel dissatisfied with the hospital system. (Here's why giving birth in U.S. is surprisingly deadly—especially for black mothers.)

3:56 P.M.

Doula Angelique Clarke pours boiling water into the birth pool. She had initially used a hose connected to the sink, but the Bonsignores’ hot water ran out, so she heated water in pots.

Preparing for birth At 37 weeks pregnant, Bonsignore reached out to Angelique Clarke, her doula from her first pregnancy. Unlike midwives, doulas often do not have formal medical training but offer physical, mental, and emotional support for the mother. Clarke connected her with Cara Muhlhahn, a New York City-based Certified Nurse Midwife (CNM). Under different circumstances, Muhlhahn and Bonsignore would have had at least 10 prenatal visits from the beginning of the pregnancy to discuss potential complications. Over two virtual consultations and a home visit they began to make the preparations needed for a home birth, filling out medical forms and ordering a birth kit. Staging for a home birth requires, among other things, a birthing pool that would be set up in the Bonsignores’ living room.

5:58 P.M.

Bonsignore climbs into the birthing pool with the help of Clarke, her doula, and midwife Cara Muhlhahn, right.

Midwives generally take a different approach to hospitals. Instead of taking the lead and telling a woman when to push like a doctor might, they believe in letting a woman take the initiative herself. “When we do birth at home we like to support something that’s called ‘physiologic birth,’” says Muhlhahn. “We tend to believe that in almost all cases births can proceed on their own if we support the woman, encourage her, do the best we can to provide pain relief, let her know that we are by her side, and [occasionally] give her guidance.” Around noon on April 29, Clarke texted Muhlhahn, informing her that Bonsignore’s contractions had begun. Muhlhahn gathered her equipment and drove to Bonsignore’s block to stand by until the contractions intensified.

6:12 P.M.

Al Bonsignore records a video of his wife, Kim, midwife Cara Muhlhahn, and doula Angelique Clarke (not pictured), while his daughter, Sativa, plays in the water with her toys.

Top:  

Bonsignore experiences a painful contraction. She was originally scheduled to deliver in a hospital, but changed her mind with the outbreak of the coronavirus.

Bottom: 

Sativa Bonsignore covers her ears while her mom pushes during labor. Kim’s screams upset the two-year-old, but Muhlhahn told her, “Mommy screams because it hurts, but nothing is wrong. That’s how it is when you have a baby.”

I didn’t want to come home and say, ‘here’s your sister,’ like she’s a puppy or something. AL BONSIGNORE,  “I do that because I live under the fear of someone calling me too late when things advance really quickly,” she says. “Angi was communicating with me the whole time I was in the car across the street. She was telling me how far apart the contractions were and she took the lead in terms of knowing when to bring me in, which is often a role that doulas can play.” Because she was at home, Bonsignore was able to move around freely. She took a shower while Clarke started filled the birthing pool using a hose connected to the sink. But after Bonsignore’s shower, they ran out of hot water and Clarke had to finish by heating water on the stove. “I was able to do what I wanted,” Bonsignore remembers. “I got in the shower and the heat felt so good. And then when I got out I was able to walk around when I wanted, sit down if I wanted to. Stretch a little bit. When I got tired I was like, ‘I wanna lay down.’ When I laid down, Angi was massaging me. She was hitting the pressure points… Ten minutes after I laid down my water broke.” A few minutes after Bonsignore’s water broke, at 5:27 p.m., Muhlhahn arrived at the front door, with her bags in tow and wearing a face mask.

6:18 P.M.

Clarke and Muhlhahn check Bonsignore’s progress during labor while two-year-old Sativa continues to enjoy having a pool in her living room.

“The first thing I do when I go in to a woman in labor is sit by her, greet [her] in the way that is appropriate, make her feel comfortable. I wait until the contraction is over and tell her I’m here. The first task is [to] listen to the baby’s heartbeat,” says Muhlhahn. “We listen right after the water breaks, and we like to know the color of the water breaking. Angi said it was clear, which is a sign that the baby is in [good] condition.” For the next hour, contractions came and went. Bonsignore eventually climbed into the pool of warm water to help ease the pain. When she was too uncomfortable to lay on her back, she turned around to lean over the side of the pool. Muhlhahn checked the baby’s heartbeat every 30 minutes. At 6:32 p.m., Muhlhahn determined that Kimberly was fully dilated and could begin pushing. I didn’t think it was that serious. When we spoke of it after, I cried and got really emotional. It's more traumatic now than in the moment. KIM BONSIGNORE,  A moment of uncertainty “She said, ‘Just listen to your body. Whatever you feel, just do it,’” Bonsignore recalls. “Cara kept telling me, ‘You’re made for this. You can do this.’ I didn’t think I was gonna make it. It was so painful. It was the worst pain I’ve ever experienced in my life. But it was pretty fast and I didn’t have to deal with it for so long. And her encouragement helped me. Her guiding me and telling me, ‘She’s almost there. She’s right here. You can’t give up. She’s right here.’” When Muhlhahn saw the baby’s head crowning, she used her finger to check if the umbilical cord had draped around the neck—a common occurrence that does not harm the baby while inside the uterus. “When there is a cord around the neck, which happens approximately 40 percent of the time, we don’t consider it a high-risk situation but we do try a few maneuvers to make sure that this doesn’t hold back the birth of the rest of the body,” says Muhlhahn. Managing the cord is a crucial task. “Once you cut the cord, you’ve cut off another lifeline that the baby has. It protects the baby’s brain from a lack of oxygen,” Muhlhahn explains. She considered three options: lift the cord from the baby’s shoulders and over the head; cut and clamp the cord in utero; or unwrap the cord simultaneously as the baby is delivered. Because the cord wasn’t loose enough to lift over the baby’s head, Muhlhahn decided on the last option. At 6:46 p.m., surrounded by family in her living room, Bonsignore gave one final push. But there was no crying. The baby was limp and unresponsive. Removing her face mask, Muhlhahn immediately began CPR and started chest compressions with her thumbs. The room was silent aside from her measured breaths and the Grateful Dead’s “I Need a Miracle” quietly playing in the background.

Top:   Midwife Cara Muhlhahn reaches for a bulb syringe to help clear the newborn’s airway. The baby was limp and unresponsive on delivery. “When I saw the cord and the color of that baby, I knew there was going to be a problem,” she says. Muhlhahn, who has been practicing as a midwife since 1991 and for the past 23 years doing at-home midwifery, rarely has had to resuscitate a newborn, but is ready when it's needed. Bottom:  Muhlhahn gives newborn Suzette mouth-to-mouth resuscitation to expand her lungs. Once the baby spit up mucus, Muhlhahn knew she would be okay. “I remember not wanting to give a sign of hope until I knew it was going to be hopeful,” she says.

Top:  

Muhlhahn does chest compressions on Suzette after giving her mouth-to-mouth while her parents urge their newborn on. “Come on, baby. Come on, Suzette,” Al Bonsignore said. “Please, come on, you’re there.”

Bottom: 

Baby Suzette cries out after being resuscitated. Kim Bonsignore says she didn’t realize at the time how serious the situation was. “Every day we talk about it, we look at her and she’s such a beautiful healthy girl,” she says. “It’s so crazy it could have went either way.”

6:48 P.M.

Muhlhahn hands newborn Suzette to her parents after resuscitating her. “That cry, that big cry, it was the most beautiful sound after all that,” Muhlhahn says.

  7:21 P.M.

Newborn Suzette Bonsignore looks up at her father, Al. “It’s daddy,” he told her. “You’re so perfect, baby.”

Moments later, Suzette Indica Bonsignore took her first breath and let out a cry. “Talk to her,” Muhlhahn told the parents, passing the baby to Al. “Mom and Dad are here. We need you with us. You [have a] sister you gotta meet,” Bonsignore’s husband recalls saying. At 7 p.m., minutes after the baby was born, the sound of New Yorkers clapping for first responders drifted through the window—as if the city were welcoming baby Suzette into the world, says Bonsignore. “The timing was impeccable, it couldn’t have been better!” Despite the scare, Bonsignore’s husband found the birth experience “exhilarating.” “It’s so much more organic than when you’re in a hospital,” he says.

7:33 P.M.

Muhlhahn weighs newborn Suzette in her sling scale as her mom, grandparents, and doula look on. Suzette weighed in at 8 pounds, 6 ounces, and was 20.25 inches long.

After the birth, Muhlhahn listened to the baby’s heart and lungs, gave her vitamin K shots, and weighed her in a sling scale as her mom and grandparents looked on. Suzette weighed in at 8 pounds, 6 ounces, and was 20.25 inches long. With the hard work done, Muhlhahn scheduled follow-up meetings with Bonsignore to check in on mom and baby. Kimberly Bonsignore said that she didn’t realize how serious the moment of uncertainty had been. Or how crucial experienced providers are in an emergency situation. “When we spoke of it later, I cried and got really emotional. It’s more traumatic now than in the moment,” she remembers. “Every day we talk about it. We look at her and she’s such a beautiful, healthy girl. It’s so crazy it could have went either way.”  Kindly Share this Post using the Share Tab below and follow all our Social Media Handles to Keep up with Our Daily News Update.

Click to Follow us on Facebook

Click to follow us on Instagram

Click to follow us on Twitter

Donate to Torixus to help us Grow (adsbygoogle = window.adsbygoogle || []).push({});

via Blogger https://ift.tt/3fvDFWZ