#three times she endlessly wrote a novel for him to read three times she waited to see him for so long <//3

[novadorks]

finally finished orv after two years . . . what do i do with my life now

[prettywordsyouleft]

Miss Writer

Pairing: Brian Kang x female reader

World: To Be Continued

Genre: writer au / fluff

Warnings: none

A/N: So I had no intentions of returning to the TBC world so soon, but as you can read below, I had a bit of trouble trying to write something for 2021 and this is the result of my nonsense thoughts at the time. I really am happy I wrote this as it feels like a good opening act for what’s to come this year!

Word count: 1558

“Hey! Did you hear about the writer who didn’t want to write?”

“They what?”

“She sat there for hours on end, just avoiding every idea that came to mind.”

“But why? Aren’t writers meant to write?”

“Why am I writing this?” you complained out loud, sighing heavily and leaning back in your computer chair. Staring at the basic dialogue in your word document, you groaned.

Why was it so hard to write?

You had been through this before. Where the words wouldn’t flow the right way, and your characters felt hollow.

But that was because Brian wasn’t in the story at the time.

You couldn’t solve this the way you had back then either. Once Brian had gone back into the world he had stepped out of, you finished the story without any further mishaps. In this case, you didn’t have any other fictional characters stepping out of any novel you had written to send back in. You didn’t even have a character to write about.

That was no doubt the whole problem.

“Miss Writer,” a voice called out, and you turned, smiling warmly at the man leaning against the threshold. Brian tipped his head in your direction. “How’s it going? Is your next bestseller getting ready to leap onto the pages?”

“Ha! At the rate I’m going, I might as well retire.”

“What?” Walking over to your side, Brian then leaned down to inspect your laptop’s screen. “You’ve written only four lines in two hours.”

“Four lines are better than none, though, I can’t say they’re four impressive lines,” you muttered, pouting up at the man. “I’m broken.”

“Shall I fix you?” he murmured, leaning down to kiss you. His lips were almost on yours when the doorbell rang. Brian heaved in a heavy breath. “If that’s Sungjin, I swear…”

“It’s probably Lily,” you mentioned with a knowing smile, climbing out of your chair and heading down to the front door to answer it. When you swung it open, however, you merely stared back at the woman standing there.

“Can we help you?” Brian asked from over your shoulder, right when you gasped noisily. “Y/N?”

“You’re… you’re… no way.”

Sungjin leaned around the side of the house and grinned. “Y/N! You need to stop making people so realistic that they come to life.”

“I’m confused,” Brian announced as you began to bounce with excitement, reaching out to touch the woman’s hand before you.

She grabbed it warmly and grinned at you. “I’m so amazed to finally meet you!”

“Ella,” you murmured and then glanced at Sungjin standing all too protectively at her side. “You found your Constable.”

“Ella?” Brian echoed and then lurched forward, leaning over you. “Ella from the Protector story?!”

Ella nodded and held out her hand to Brian. “You must be the first of our kind, Brian Kang, right?”

“Our kind?”

“Well, I had to explain it somehow to Ella,” Sungjin admitted with a chuckle. “It’s not every day that characters step out of documents, now is it?”

“Maybe that’s why I can’t write,” you murmured, watching the instant despair cross over your friend’s face, whilst a smug smile appeared on your partner’s. Rolling your eyes, you shunted Brian in the side before stepping aside and letting them inside. “Come, I promise this time I’m more equipped to dealing with my characters in the flesh. I won’t be fainting this time.”

“I’m starting to get worried now,” Brian confessed later in the evening as he carried your cat Binks around. “If Ella’s here too, who’s going to be next?”

“Well, considering I can’t seem to create anyone, you won’t have a problem any time soon.”

Brian pointed at you in warning. “Don’t you dare go opening Destined’s file.”

“Ooh, now there’s an idea!” you teased, grinning at Brian as you approached him. Stretching up to kiss him softly, you shook your head. “I doubt I could love anymore more than you if I tried.”

“And you always say I’m the charmer yet here you are causing my heart to go erratic with lines like that,” Brian stated with a giddy smile, his eyes disappearing and turning into little crescents.

“Well, you can’t be the one with the upper hand all the time.”

“Miss Writer.”

“Yeah?”

“I don’t think Ella is the problem this time. I think you’re just putting too much pressure on your shoulders.”

“Pressure?” you repeated with a frown and Brian placed Binks down before nodding at you. “Of course, I’m under pressure! I have to get my first chapter to Lily by next week, and I have nothing, not even a name.”

“You’re trying to write the next best thing, aren’t you?”

“That’s the whole concept of being an author, Brian. Writing something better than your last story. We’re always on the path of personal growth during this journey, Brian.”

“I know,” he agreed initially, rubbing your shoulders affectionately. You let out a small whine, not realising how tense your body was until he touched you. Brian instantly moved behind you and started working out the knots residing there. He stopped, leaning close to your ear. “But can’t you just write something for fun?”

“Fun?”

“Isn’t that the whole point of writing? To enjoy the world you create. You’ve been non-stop since I’ve known you. Before my world, you write a four part series with Jinyoung, then a three part series with me and Charli. Right after that, you completed Protector, and now you’re looking to follow that up as quickly as you can even though it’s only in the publication stages.”

Brian stepped around to face you, his face growing concerned. “Why don’t you slow down? Write something just for yourself.”

“I have. I wrote you into existence,” you reminded, and Brian slid his hands around your waist and tugged you closer. Placing your palms upon his chest, you gazed up at him lovingly. “I have to write something worth publishing.”

“Do you?”

“Huh?”

“Why not write something that the world will never see?” Brian offered and you chewed on your bottom lip in thought. “I think you’ve forgotten the joy of writing just for yourself, Miss Writer.”

The following morning, you sat at your desk deep in thought. Brian’s words had played over in your mind throughout the night and still were at the forefront of your mind now.

Did he think you had lost your personal enjoyment along the way as an author?

“Hey, that can’t be right,” you hummed, shaking your head before posing your index finger back up to your lips.

Had you?

The last time you had written something just for your own pure enjoyment was Destined. Sure, you had been excited by your ideas ever since, and laughed, cried, grown frustrated and been endlessly happy with the words you had crafted. But you were also contracted to write down those words. Since the third part of Destined, you had been signed under the publishing house you belonged to and had written consistently since. You hadn’t taken any time to write for yourself, aside from short stories here and there when you didn’t feel like working on a bigger story.

Even though you had enjoyed the journey thus far, it hadn’t been one you took alone.

“Maybe Brian’s right,” you said, blinking a couple of times before reaching into the top drawer of your desk for your external hard-drive. Glancing at the clock to see how much time you had left before Brian got home from running errands, you took in a deep breath, opening up your older fiction files.

Back here you were full of naivety and fresh ideas. The world was your oyster, as the saying went, and you had been hoarding many of them. As you scanned the title of projects you once hoped to write, you shook your head in amazement.

“There’s so many ideas here that I haven’t tried yet,” you breathed, stopping on one and clicking to expand the notes on it. “Wow, an enemies to lovers story.”

You continued to make your way through, finding an assortment of ideas. From fluff to angst, and all those in between, you had ample inspiration here to fill an entire year of stories.

“Should I indulge myself in writing these for a bit and come back to writing my next novel at a later date?” you wondered, your smile growing as your computer’s cursor hovered over an idea that piqued your interest.

“I’m back!” a voice called out and you spun around in your chair, leaping up and dashing into the arms of the man you loved. Brian chuckled. “Well, I missed you too!”

“You were right! Instead of looking for the best idea for my next story, I need to take some time off and write for me.”

“I was, huh?” he mused with satisfaction, cupping your face within his hands. “So what do you plan to write next?”

“I have so many ideas! There’s general domestic stories and a murder mystery, some periodic pieces about pilots and regency era based ideas. Of course, there’s a bunch of fluffy ideas, with a few royal au ones and even pirates! But you know, there’s one I really want to try first.”

“Which is?”

You grinned before poking his nose fondly. “You’ll just have to wait and find out what’s to come.”

_________________

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[movienotesbyzawmer]

October 31: Strangers on a Train

After suffering through more Friday the 13th movies than anyone deserves, I’m rewarding myself on the evening of October 31 with a viewing of what I've often said is my favorite Hitchcock movie. I put it that way because I don't remember a ton about it, or even how long it's been since I've seen it. It seems unlikely that it's my favorite Hitchcock movie. How could I make such a claim when Rear Window is, like, RIGHT THERE.

This came out in 1951. Hitchcock was already a big star director by then, but most of his most well-known movies were still to come. I'm not familiar with any of the actors in this movie. Okay, let's take another look!

(SPOILERS AHEAD, of course. I'm going to describe the movie as I'm watching it.)

Farley Granger is top billed. You'd think with a name like that he'd be more famous. That's probably the whole reason he's named that in the first place. Fail!

Pretty highfalutin writing credits - Raymond Chandler wrote this screenplay based on a Patricia Highsmith novel.

It starts with this "cinematic vision" that almost feels like marketing - we see legs of people getting out of cabs with luggage, heading into a station. It's all nothin-but-legs for a minute or two until two Actual Strangers on a Train strike up a conversation.

The strangers are Bruno and Guy; Guy is a famous tennis player that Bruno recognizes. I remember enough about this movie to know that we are not wrong to find Bruno irritatingly forward as he brings up Guy's personal information that he's read about in the society section of the paper. Between this and The Talented Mr. Ripley, it seems like Ms. Highsmith had a knack for making drama out of uncomfortably doting dudes.

Eight and a half minutes in and Bruno is already starting to propose a murder of Guy's wife. It seems hasty for this conversation to have gone down this road, but it's cool that we get to this movie's cool idea so quickly. Bruno proposes killing Guy's wife in exchange for Guy killing Bruno's father. They'd both be killing strangers so it would be super hard for detectives to figure it out. Guy clearly doesn't take Bruno seriously.

For 1951, it seems surprising that these characters are so casual about the breakup of a marriage because they both have new lovers and the wife is already pregnant from her new man. I think of early fifties American culture as way too stuffy to be okay with that in a mainstream movie, but that is this movie's storyline.

Guy's wife... her appearance is kind of curious. I wonder if it looked more dislikeable at the time, but she looks like a harmless librarian. But her dialogue about blackmailing Guy to stay with her makes her unambiguously villainous.

Guy and his wife are in a heated argument in the shop where she works, and he is grabbing her and shaking her, and she looks scared! A man nearby notices and interrupts them by saying, "this isn't the place for a family quarrel!" Now THAT'S the early fifties American culture I've come to know and love.

Bruno and his mother. They are having tea or something. They are clearly tight, maybe to a dysfunctional degree. What is this household? Swanky. Bruno is wearing a silk robe. I do not understand. There's this weird thing about a painting his mother made; he delights about how it looks just like Father, and then we see it and it is some kind of abstract monster. Odd. I think it means he's nuts.

That scene ends with Bruno having a short phone conversation with Guy; Guy hangs up on him but we gather that Bruno knows that Guy's wife won't let them divorce.

So now begins what has always, for me, been the most memorable sequence. Bruno clearly thinks it is his duty to murder Guy's wife, so he follows her with two flirty young dudes to a carnival at night. I like how the lights at night look in this black & white cinematography.

Bruno is not even hiding the fact that he's following her! He just tags along behind the three of them, very visibly, and sort of smirks playfully every time she notices him, and it looks like she kind of likes the attention. Things were different in 1951.

After remaining behind her and her fellas for a couple carnival attractions, he follows them onto a Tunnel of Love boat ride. They all drive little boats along a route through the water, into and out of a cave, and to a more secluded area. There is shadow imagery in the cave that ends in a fakeout. Then there is a moment where she is alone at the secluded area and he strangles her.

There's a thing about a lighter. When Guy and Bruno were chatting on the train, Bruno noticed Guy's lighter. I didn't catch how Bruno ended up with it, but they made it very clear that Bruno has it now. And the imagery of the murder includes the lighter, as well as a stylish closeup of her glasses on the ground reflecting the murder.

0:30:50 - Bruno has shown up at Guy's pad to show him the glasses and let him know the deed is done so now it's Guy's turn. Guy is shocked, but Bruno is effectively guilt-tripping him. Guy's behavior is still pretty rational. But he's still holding onto Dead Wife's glasses. That seems like a dumb move.

Guy is now at his girlfriend's place; their chemistry is steamy, and it now seems to me like the look of Dead Wife was meant to contrast with his sultry girlfriend.

The police are investigating, and the plot kind of thickens because Guy's alibi during the murder is just a drunk guy on the train. Seems like there's enough information that he should still be okay, though, right? Hm, doesn’t look like the cops are satisfied.

More importantly, Bruno is starting to be a shadowy figure dogging Guy. One must wonder what is gonna happen… Bruno did seem to have an easy time killing that woman… has he done this before? I'm actually asking; I don't remember.

0:48:00 - Ha, Bruno went so far as to send Guy a diagram of his father's house and a key!

The next scene is cool - a relatively quiet tennis match, and the whole audience is following back and forth with their heads, but one head is not moving! It's Bruno who is just staring down Guy from the other side of the court!

Anne is Guy's girlfriend, and she is not only more glamorous than Guy's dead wife, and not only is her voice ever so sexy with its smoky alto, but she's smart enough to immediately notice that something is up with this Bruno guy, as well as with Guy's behavior w/r/t Bruno.

Oh, and then there is this strange scene - so Bruno has decided he has to insinuate himself into Anne's family's circle, which is where Anne starts to notice things. But then there is Anne's sister, who has more of a librarian look, not unlike Dead Wife… and Hitch's bold direction makes it very clear that Bruno also notices the resemblance between Dead Wife and Anne's Sister! Very strange. I don't know where it's going. I can't tell what either of them are thinking, but it's made to seem very important.

Bruno has totally created a new character for himself and is frankly being very Talented Mr. Ripley at a party where Anne's family and a bunch of fancy people are being fancy. But that goes in a strange direction… Bruno started chatting with a lady about murder, and he starts to demonstrate strangulation, but Anne's sister sees him, and they both have freakout looks on their faces, then Bruno passes out plus also he has been actually strangling that lady. I’m just reporting what I’m seeing here, folks.

Aha, we're starting to get that much-needed explanation… when Bruno and Anne's Sister noticed each other, Bruno was flashing back to killing Dead Wife because of the resemblance. And Sister noticed that he seemed to be strangling her in his mind, and she's totally right.

And Anne is such a smart cookie that she noticed the whole thing and thinks, correctly, that Bruno was flashbacking to killing Dead Wife while he was pretend-strangling the lady and seeing Sister. This one's a keeper, Guy, as long as she'll keep you.

1:04:20 - Guy and Anne seem to have an idea of how to unfuck this situation, so Guy calls Bruno and says, yeah, okay, I'll do the thing, what do I do. He doesn't really intend to do the murder, does he? I don't think the movie is actually trying to get us to think that. But I must say, I'm super glad that I don't remember how this turns out.

Oh, it's coming back to me as it's unfolding. Guy sneaks in and, in darkness and shadows, approaches Bruno's Father's bed just as if he's gonna do it, but just like we're thinking we'd do, he starts to tell the father about what's going on. But then it turns out it's actually Bruno in the bed! It's tense for a bit, but Bruno lets Guy leave, but says he's going to think of a clever way to get him back for breaking their deal. A bit anti-climactic.

Anne is endlessly proactive, I must say; just like that, she is paying a call to Bruno's mother to warn him about Bruno. But Bruno's mother is clueless. And now, before Anne leaves, here's Bruno, back in that Liberace robe. He's unloading a bunch of bullshit on Anne, trying to convince her that Guy actually did it. But come on, we have seen how smart Anne is, she's not gonna fall for that, right? Bruno references the lighter; he says something about "Guy wanted me to go back for the lighter but I couldn't do it". So yeah, the lighter stuff is coming together.

Okay, now it's going to get all tennis-y because Guy has a tennis match before a very large crowd. He and Anne have an idea about dealing with the lighter, I think, but Guy has to play the match or it will be suspicious to the cops who are constantly observing him. Oh, if only he could win the match quickly! We're watching them try for that. This is a sports drama. Do you think this movie inspired Rudy?

I think they think the lighter is actually at the murder scene, right?

WHO will WIN the TENNIS MATCH?! And HOW QUICKLY?!

1:21:20 - Wait, what was that about garments in the cab? Sister had to go get the cab ready so they could amscray right after the match, and they showed some folded clothes in the back seat. A red herring? A Maguffin? A proverbial damning lighter?

Meanwhile Bruno is lurking around, and he accidentally drops the lighter into a sewer drain! And he gets some people to help get it out, but he keeps calling it his cigarette case. Not lighter, “cigarette case”. Is that part of it? Our minds reel… the lighter! The garments! The cigarette case! The glasses? The tennis match! THE TENNIS MATCH! Oh what a tangled web.

I mock, but it is suspenseful.

You guys. Bruno got the lighter back out of the sewer. And guess who won the tennis match. Why, it was our hero, Guy! But the cops who are tailing Guy will be suspicious if he hustles away from the match to go get a clue from the murder scene, so Sister does some distracting. Also, the garments were something for Guy to change into so that the cops might not recognize him later. Now I get it. Only NOW do I get it.

None of that worked, though; the cops easily figured out that Guy is going to the murder scene.

Bruno is already there, though, at the carnival, but he wants to plant the lighter after dark. He asks a carnie what time it gets dark around here. What the carnie should have said was "dude, you're from close enough to here, why do you think you need to demand this information from a carnie?" The carnie doesn't say that, but at least he is pretty rude to Bruno so it's okay.

Is Bruno planning on tipping the police to the presence of the lighter? Not exactly sure what his scheme is.

Ooh! Bruno is spotted by someone who remembered him getting off a boat after the murder! Busted!

Oh, I don't think that's how carousels work… okay so after people started pointing at Bruno, he freaked out and fired his gun… and shot the nearby carousel attendant, whose death-collapse makes the carousel go way too fast! You know, because he slumps on the lever and the carousel thinks that means GoTooFast! And Guy is on there with Bruno! They tussle! They tussle! Fast carousel!

A heroic old carnie says he can make the carousel not spin so fast… he then goes fully prone and crawls under the runaway carousel! Why in tarnation is THAT the solution! He is an old, old carnie! Maybe it is the same one who was rude to Bruno. That means we really love this brave fool.

Bruno and Guy are still rasslin' on the carousel, plus a kid got injured. It's all so terribly dangerous, and suspenseful!

Whoa, the carnie accomplished his mission of getting to the middle area to pull the carousel lever and it totally borks the fast-spinning carousel; all kinds of damage is done, people and plastic horses and wood things go flying everywhere and it is a super bad disaster. But everything is ever so close to being resolved. Guy just has to convince the cops that Bruno, who is pinned under a pile of broken carousel components, has the lighter with him. It's kind of hard but eventually they see it in his hand. It's all over! Everything is okay.

The denouement is that Guy and Anne are on a train ride feeling terribly relieved that everything is okay, and a stranger wants to chat so they leave in a funny huff.

So that was just fine, but certainly not "the best Alfred Hitchcock movie". Definitely a really good one, though! Bruno is a unique and compelling villain, and they kept the suspense going very consistently.

Using the tools of the Age of Information has uncovered some other interesting nuggets… Bruno is played by Robert Walker, who died at age 32 shortly after this came out! He had struggled with alcoholism and mental health issues, having actually been an asylum patient at one point. He had also been married to, and divorced from, no less than Jennifer Jones. Another interesting cast member is Patricia Hitchcock, Albert's daughter; she plays Sister. Much is made of Hitch's sly, maybe-vain cameos in his movies but also sometimes his daughter had actual speaking roles. She is still alive at age 92 as I type this.

One more note is that I’m pretty sure that I saw Throw Momma from the Train before I saw this, when it was in theaters even maybe, but even then I knew it was kind of a comedy sorta-version of this, obviously referencing it but also being very much its own thing. Now I find myself probably needing to see that again.

[leoswritingcorner]

mail order outlaw

i’ll spoil myself with some clucky, as a treat, for an early bday present. frontier/western au ho!

Boston, Massachusetts 1874

Lucky studies her reflection in the mirror, and glances at the poster in her hand. The crude sketch of herself was not at all flattering. Her lips were drawn in a deep scowl that made her look older than what she really was, nose a bit crooked, and a lopsided chin. Her eyes, however, seemed right. Dark with fury, with her long and wild curls messy. 

That alone was enough to make her recognizable.

She sets the poster down, and looks back into the mirror. Nothing like the poster. Kind of. Her fingers brush through the shortened curls, neatly cut to her chin and colored. The dark brown hidden under a lighter shade, that made it seem a sandy blonde. It was fortunate the artist had left out the legion of freckles that dots her face. That worked in her favor. However. Her eyes, she couldn’t change. Lucky breathes in, and blinks a few times, almost willing her green eyes to change to any other color. Emerald orbs keep staring back at her and she releases a defeated sigh. However, if she could pull this off...there’d be no reason for her eyes to ever carry an ounce of anger again.

A quick and hard knock at the door startles Lucky from her thoughts. With swift movement, she grabs a pistol from her holster and moves carefully to the door. Calm down, calm down...it’s not them, it can’t be them. She mentally tries to ease herself as she presses against the wall.

“Who is it?” She calls out gently. Her finger is pressed on the hammer of the pistol ready. Her eyes narrow as a beat of silence follows.

“Front desk, Ms. Lawton!” Comes the cheery reply of the bellboy. “You have a letter.”

A relieved breath passes Lucky’s lips and she allows her body to relax. Still, with her hand on the pistol, she unlocks and opens the door only slightly. Sure enough, the bellboy stands there with a smile and envelope held out. “Why thank you. Is...is it from,” She trails off, reaching for the envelope carefully.

“Colorado, ma’am.” The bellboy confirms. Lucky quickly plucks the envelope, her eyes wide as she reads over the familiar handwriting she has come to know.  “Will you need anything else?” The bellboy asks, tilting his head.

Lucky shakes her head. “No, I’m quite alright. Thank you.” She replies, offering a small smile before shutting the door. Tearing the envelope open her heart leaps into an excited race as a ticket slips out from the folded letter.

Ms. Siddalee Lawton,

I’m thrilled you’ve accepted my proposal. I’ll prove to you to be a hard working and loving husband. I’ve bought you a train ticket to Denver City. It leaves October 1st. From there it’s only a stagecoach ride to Fairplay where I’ll be waiting for you. We don’t have to rush a marriage, and would love the chance to court you properly. I’m eagerly waiting for your arrival.

Yours Truly, Clyde Donovan

Lucky feels her body tremble as she reads the letter over and over again. The train ticket held close to her chest like treasure. It was her ticket out. A chance to escape, her chance to start all over and live a new life. It was all in the hands of a rancher out in Colorado. Closing her eyes she whispers a quiet thank you and peers at the ticket. October 1st, tomorrow. She’d be the first one at the station. Placing her pistol away, Lucky makes sure all her things are in order. Suitcase packed with three new dresses, and other necessities she never imagined she would come to own. Gun holsters still within arms reach for the night, and now her ticket to her future husband.

She catches a glimpse of the poster still lingering on the vanity table. With one last look, she tears up her former life into pieces. Lucky Day, wanted for a grand $5,000. Dead or Alive. Member of the Grizzly Family Band. Bank Robbin’, Train Robbin’, and Murder.

*

In the distance, a church bell signals the time of twelve noon, and Lucky counts along with each ring. When she reaches six, her mouth dries and she feels her nerves begin to build in her stomach. The hem of her blue dress begins to collect dirt as she passes the ground. It had been a long train ride, and an even longer journey on the stagecoach, cramped between weary travelers. One of them was a mother with all five of her precious, crying and screaming children. Lucky groans and rubs her ears, trying to drown out the last of the children’s screeching echoes that remained. Ten minutes had flown by, but each minute had felt like an hour to her. Still, Clyde was nowhere in sight.

“Did he change his mind?” Lucky asks herself, wringing her hands together. “Did I get on the wrong stagecoach?” Her mind begins to race with 1,001 scenarios. Each worse than the one before.

“Pardon me,” Come a soft voice, accented with a French purr. “Might you be Ms. Lawton?” 

Lucky turns her head, and spots an elegant woman sitting in a fashionable buckboard. Magenta tinted hair laid over her shoulder, a wide brimmed hat atop her head. Lucky takes in the lovely stranger before nodding. “Yes,ma’am. That would be me.” She replies. She spies how the young woman wrinkles her nose.

“ ‘Ma’am’,” She shakes her head. “Non, you may call me Vivi. I am Vivienne Sykes. Fairplay’s local matchmaker,” She presents herself with a dramatic sweep of her arm. “All the way from Paris!” She adds enticingly. “You are ‘ere for Clyde, oui?”

Lucky nods again. “Yes, ma-er, Ms. Sykes.”

“Vivi.” Vivi corrects.

“Vivi.” Lucky repeats sheepishly. “Is he here, or on his way?” She asks, her eyes scanning the slow move of one or two wagons and carriages passing through.

Vivi shakes her. “Ah, non. ‘E is um, ‘ow you say…” She purses her lips in thought before her eyes brighten “Caught up in ‘is work. I was asked to pick you. Come, let me ‘elp you.” She offers, standing up.

“Oh, it’s alright, I ain’t got much.” Lucky protests, trying to hide her disappointment She had been looking forward to meeting the man she had been conversing with for the past month. Was being a rancher that busy? He did promise to be hard working, but so much as to miss out on coming for her? Loading her things into the back of the wagon, Lucky pushes the thoughts away and climbs in next to Vivi.

“Ready?” Vivi asks, smiling when Lucky nods. “Allons-y!” She calls, giving a gentle shake to the reins of her horse.

Lucky takes in the vast area of land, the pine trees that covered the area and mountains that seemed to stretch on endlessly. She had always heard stories of Colorado’s beauty, and words did it no justice. Her heart races again, feeling her freedom become more real. Vivi’s eyes trail to her. “So...why did you become a mail order bride?” She asks suddenly. Lucky blinks and turns her head to Vivi. Her mind swarms with lies and fake stories.

“I...I felt it was time I left my family. Start a life for myself.” Lucky answers. 

It wasn’t a lie, and it wasn’t the truth, either.

“Hmm,” Vivi hums thoughtfully. “A Savannah belle in Boston, runs out west to marry a stranger on the frontier,” She laughs. “Why, it sounds like a dime novel!”

Lucky laughs quietly. “I suppose so.” Yeah, if that belle was in fact an outlaw trying to escape. Dime novel story alright.

“Siddalee. Zat is a beautiful name. Do you mind if I call you that?” Vivi says, looking at her. Lucky shakes her head. 

“Not at all.”

Vivi smiles, steering her horse along. “I must come clean to you. I feel as though we are friends already. So I must speak the truth.”

Lucky pauses. “Truth?” She questions, raising a brow. The road becomes a bit bumpier, causing them both to bounce around slightly. “What do ya mean by that?”

“Those letters you received from Clyde? ‘E may not have...exactly written them. Word for word I mean,” Vivi clarifies quickly. “‘E was looking for a bride. But ‘e is not, eh, so charming with words. I wrote them, you see.” She confesses. Lucky feels her eyes widen and Vivi notices them. “Oh, do not worry, ‘e meant every word! In a way.  Also, ‘e is not exactly a rancher either.”

“Then what is he?” Lucky asks, her voice pitching, she braces her hands on the seat and she knows the sickness rising in her wasn’t from all the bumping around. “Vivi, what is going on?”

Vivi nibbles on her lower lip, as if trying to find the right words. “I may ‘ave fibbed a bit.”

Oh, good that makes two of us. Lucky thinks bitterly, pressing a hand to her head.

“Clyde’s job isn’t one that usually catches a lady’s attention.” Vivi says and slows the wagon down.

“What in the world would that job be?” Lucky narrows her eyes, and suddenly feels the blood drain from her face as they come to a stop. Out from the doors of the station, a tall young man steps out. If panic wasn’t swimming through her, Lucky would have found him incredibly handsome. She doesn’t miss his rugged looks, and his powerful build. But what catches her attention the most is the sheriff’s badge pinned to his coat.

“Clyde,” Vivi starts, raising her chin. “I would like to present to you, your bride. Siddalee Lawton.” She dramatically sweeps her arm once more. Clyde’s blue eyes catch hers and Lucky swallows. Hard.

He smiles. “Welcome to Fairplay, Ms. Lawton. I’m your groom.” He greets, holding a hand to her. 

“Sheriff Clyde.” Vivi says. “An occupational hazard, some women consider.” She adds in a whisper by Lucky’s ear. Lucky breathes in and forces a shaky smile, the blood coming back to her face as Clyde gently takes her hand. 

Not as much as a wanted outlaw.

[taryntothistaylor]

Dear Taylor, Love Taryn

Taylor,

I don't know where to begin. This could be a novel to be honest if I let it (I won’t). One huge thing I love about your concerts is no matter how huge they are, you introduce yourself “Hi I’m Taylor and welcome to the  ___ tour” and it cracks me up, because 60,000 people obviously bought tickets to see you, so maybe I should do that first. Hi! I’m Taryn! Thank you for (hopefully) reading this. I’m from Brisbane, Australia and I have been a fan of yours for 10 years now. With my love of music, I have tried to see as many bands and musicians over the years, but yours are honestly the best moments of my life. The way you interact with the crowd is so intimate, despite being a sold out stadium or arena. Every single person is screaming the lyrics in their costumes they have spent months making. No other artist or band has the presence you do, you literally light up an entire stadium. The speeches you make are incredibly intimate, as if we are just talking to you over coffee, and they are relevant to every age group that is there. I just turned 30 and I feel like you are writing about my life half the time. You have this ability to make every single person feel special and thats what makes you different from everyone else out there.

I have had a particularly bad two years. I worked incredibly hard towards what I thought was my dream career and trusted people I shouldn’t have, put people’s feelings above myself because thats the type of person I am. I was bullied endlessly because I was promoted above someone else, and due to that persons jealously I ended having to give up my career because she falsified evidence against me. People believed her and despite having lawyers involved, I lost everything. I am not proud of this but the day I found out I had lost my career, that I spent 5 years studying and 4 years working in, I felt like wanted to die. I sat in my car, completely lost, crying for 5 hours because I was scared of what I was going to do. So I listened to your music. Like I do every day and have every day for the last ten years. I lost friends because they don’t want to hear “I’m not doing so well” for the third time that year. You got me through the hardest time in my life. I literally “rose up from the dead”. I could pick out a lyric from each song and relate it to an experience that I have had, and it’s crazy cause I feel like you wrote them for me and after reading so many other fans experiences, its seems like that is such a common thing and that is incredible. When you sang Change as a surprise b stage song I lost it, that song means everything to me “it’s hard to fight when the fight ain’t fair” “but there’s something in your eyes says we can beat this” is what I cried to for days after putting on a brave face while getting grilled by officials for hours for things I didn’t do.

Now on to happier things. I couldn’t wait for Reputation to come out. It came at the perfect time, I had been dealing with this awful situation and with everything you had dealt with, to come back with this incredible album, to basically f*** everyone else and do this for us, it gave me so much confidence and strength back. I am eternally grateful. It is so empowering. You are a huge role model, especially for woman, to stand up for themselves. Your trial will go down in history. It was SO important and I don’t think you get enough credit. Lyrically Reputation is amazing. It’s my favourite album for many reasons but personally, I now know I really needed it. So did my now husband. 1989 on repeat for three years was a bit much for him, he was even asking when the new Taylor album would be out. We actually got married on the 13th (!) Of May this year, our first dance song was ‘You Are in Love’, and one of the craziest things was I wrote notes for a year and a half for my vows and I had in there “I woke up just in time” because we were best friends for a year and a half and he waited for me even though I said no when he told me he liked me. I lost it when I heard dress for the first time. So in my vows I had that in there and it was my little secret. I also added in “I remember what you wore on the first day” from the song you co wrote ‘Two is Better Than One’ because I did remember and I think thats so romantic. We are all hopeless romantics right? (Also I wrote you a song, well a rhyme, to the tune of Love story 😂, see below). I have also met incredible friends through your music, once again like no other artist out there, you bring people together from all over the world, and I’m more than grateful ❤️

It was my dream to meet you this era, I feel like this era is the one I relate to you the best, cause I am fighting to get my reputation back and rising up from the dead (for the 4th time) in my small world, while you are out there being bad-ass Taylor showing everyone you don’t take peoples shit anymore. And I couldn’t be more PROUD. But I know that I will meet you soon and TS7 is going to blow everyone’s minds. You have been my constant over the last TEN years, always there for me and I will always be there, supporting you, I STAY.

Love Taryn

P.S Pictures of my tattoo have been floating round Tumblr and I hope you have seen it but I’m going to put another picture in anyway. Enchanted, was my first, played 30 times a day song, I just played it over and over, I was obsessed. I still am. Combining it with a flower from my wedding bouquet seemed fit. Update: I now have “this love is a permanent mark” cause I think that is one of the most stunning lyrics of all time.

@taylorswift @taylornation

[jercythesiscrying]

Five Flavours | Poly first-years, T, 1.3k

NaNoWriMo Day 30: Free Day Combo Shuffle Challenge, Social Media, and Dialogue-only fic.

Summary: Yet another collection of ficlets/drabbles featuring my favourite first years.

Rules: 1. Pick a character, pairing, or fandom you like. 2. Turn on your music player and put it on random/shuffle. 3. Write a ficlet/drabble related to each song that plays. You only have the time frame of the song to finish the drabble; you start when the song starts, and stop when it’s over. No lingering afterwards! 4. Do ten of these, and then post them.

TW: Canon-typical anxiety.

Read on Ao3

A/N: Decided to go with another Shuffle Challenge because I will single-handedly resurrect this meme. Apparently, I will also fill the first-years OT5 tag loooool. Un-beta’d once again and it very much shows  /o\

Gold Rays – Vinyl Pinups

They go to the beach the first chance they all get. Summer heat beats down on everything, water glinting under the sunlight.

Hitoka brings swimming tubes for her and Tobio because neither of them can swim. Kei teases Tobio endlessly about it but helps him out nonetheless when the three of them decide to go swimming.

Shouyou and Tadashi stay on the beach to build a giant sandcastle. The craftsmanship is clearly Tadashi’s doing, but Shouyou vehemently insists that he helped with the shovel work.

At the end of the day, Shouyou posts a photo on his account:

littlegiant.10 • 3 minutes ago perfect!!!

(Image: Shouyou, Tobio, Tadashi, and Kei surrounding a large sandcastle. Hitoka sits at the centre with her legs crossed. All of them beam wide at the camera.)

55 likes

Cough Syrup – Young the Giant

Kei catches the flu because his partners are awful and spread the infection to him. He stays home from classes one day because his head cold is so bad he can’t see straight.

He lies in bed for the majority of the day, sleeping underneath his bedsheets sweaty and uncomfortable, but what other choice does he have? He can barely sit up straight, much less move around like he’d much rather be doing. Akiteru would probably drag him back to bed if he tried anyway.

He stirs up from his nap at some point, awakening to see four pairs of eyes blinking down at him. Their faces are hidden by medical masks, so their eyes are really all he sees in his fever induced haze.

“Kei-kun?” a sweet voice says. “Are you okay?”

He coughs, which seems to be answer enough for all of them.

“We brought cough syrup, Tsukki!”

“It’s on the bedside.”

“Sorry for getting you sick, I guess.”

Kei can’t distinguish the voices from each other, but he returns to sleep with the familiar, comforting sounds of his favourite people in the world.

Boy Without A Heart – Jojo

Kei is much colder than Hitoka ever realized.

Everyone warns her, that she missed the awful time when they all first began playing together and Kei was the most infuriating person they’d ever met, that by the time she came around he dialled down his angst and snark. Tadashi tries to defend him, of course, but eventually even his protests are silenced by the others.

“Yachi,” Tobio says gravely, “are you sure you want to date him too?”

“Yeah, we’re happy with Yamaguchi already,” Shouyou says.

Kei rolls his eyes, walking out the room. Hitoka takes this as her cue to follow him. She walks out the door, sprinting to catch up to Kei.

“Kei-kun!” she calls out. “Kei-kun, wait!”

He doesn’t listen, continuing to walk away. When he turns the corner without a word, Hitoka stops, slightly shocked. He’s never ignored her before.

“Told you,” Tobio says behind her, and she turns around to she see both her boyfriends catching up to her.

“He just...” Tadashi begins, struggling. “Needs time.”

Hitoka bites her lip, unable to help herself when she stares back down the path where Kei disappeared.

Love Story – Taylor Swift

Their love isn’t forbidden like in fairy tales, or romance dramas, or the cheesy light novels they all know Kei likes to read sometimes.

The five of them grappled with their feelings for a long time before they ever came to any sort of understanding, even longer until they achieved the comfortable relationship they have now. First, there were boundaries. Then, there was the fact that Kei, Shouyou and Tobio usually wanted to tear each other’s heads off if they had the chance. And, of course, Hitoka and Tadashi had their anxiety to deal with. It was a huge mess until they sorted everything out.

They couldn’t even consider the larger picture about how everyone else would feel about them, too caught up in their emotions about each other to care about what society would say. But they each knew they wanted this, were willing to put up with whatever came their way as long as they got to do it together.

The day their landlord handed them the keys to their own place—a huge apartment that could fit all five of them, their first ever home—they celebrated with a quiet night in.

Reading Letters – P.S. I Love You Soundtrack

Hitoka opens her old high school notebooks, reading letters she both wrote and received.

Bittersweet nostalgia hits her like a wave, and she smiles through her tears when she finally reaches the last page:

A photograph of all five of them.

Pretend (Reprise) – Lights

Some days, the anxiety wins.

They each handle those days differently. Shouyou and Tadashi prefer to have the others doting on them with sympathy. Tobio and Kei prefer to seclude themselves so they could sort through their feelings first, careful because they don’t want to hurt their partners in their angst. Hitoka prefers a little bit of both.

At the end of the day though, all of them want their lovers close by so they could welcome a better tomorrow together.

BG Låten [8-bit Remix] – Spelling Phailer

Shouyou naively announces having a video game competition, so Kei easily hands the other boys’ asses to them. They all knew that Kei was better than Tadashi, and infinitely better than both Tobio and Shouyou.

Hitoka was a true dark horse.

“I, um,” she squeaks, cheeks flushed red when she sees everyone’s jaws hanging, “I like to play on my phone sometimes? And I’m comfortable with consoles since I do computer stuff a lot.”

“You beat me.” Kei’s tone easily conveys his shock.

“AMAZING, YACCHAN!” Shouyou yells, jumping onto her.

The others follow him, piling on top of their girlfriend in a giant heap. She giggles, delighted to accept their congratulations.

Sour Candy – Carly Rae Jepsen ft. Josh Ramsay

Kiyoko loved Hitoka.

Hitoka was passionate and eager, anxious but headstrong. After she first recruited Hitoka, the younger girl hung onto Kiyoko’s every word like she hung the stars. Kiyoko loved watching her grow and appreciate the sport, fall in love with the team and their camaraderie.

She didn’t expect that Hitoka falls for the team in a romantic sense too.

She and Hitoka tried to make things work after Kiyoko’s graduation, but they both knew the distance was too hard for them. Their relationship ended amicably, and though it hurt Kiyoko so much more than she could have ever anticipated, she knew that Hitoka was in good hands.

She watches in the distance when the five of them pass by—hands and arms happily clasped onto one another—and smiles.

Otter Pop – Shawn Wasabi

“Here you go: popsicles! Blue for Tobio, orange for Shouyou, lemon for Hitoka, strawberry for Tsukki.”

“Thanks, Tadashi-kun!”

“F’ank yhew!”

“Thanks.”

“Mm.”

“Ah, so refreshing!”

(grin)

“Tadashi-kun, are you gonna eat yours?”

“Oh, yes!”

“What flavour did you get?”

“Melon.”

“Aw, lemme try!”

“Okay, just don’t get your slobber over it.”

“I won’t!”

“He will.”

“Shut up, Tobio!”

“Guys, can we just enjoy ourselves, please?”

(sigh)

“Apparently not without a fight.”

Best Starships Ever (Nicki Minaj vs 1D) – Remix by Mikolo Mashups

They go to the beach after graduation, inviting the entire volleyball team to celebrate the end of the year as well as wishing the third-years goodbye.

Shouyou and Tobio are in charge of games and music, Tadashi and Kei in charge of food and drinks, and Hitoka covers all planning and decorating. The first- and second-years offer to pitch in with the prep but the five of them insist on doing this for the rest of the team.

They have a wonderful time by the sea, getting sunburnt under the sky, salt and sand lingering on their skin after playing in the water. They stay until well into the night, lighting up a bonfire at Shouyou’s request.

Portable speakers blast the best pop songs of the year, and they dance around the flames with laughter and smiles on their lips.

(More notes on Ao3.)

[extravagantliar]

HMU WITH THOSE FIVE KISSES THOUGH

five times kissed // meme cache

one. // stars – youngblood hawke ( hold on, the stars are bound to change! )

It was abnormal that the both of them would be placed on a night watch together ( for he assumed they have kept apart due to the fact that trouble seemed to follow them almost endlessly — Varric getting in the way of a knife, Dorian cheating, and so on and so forth ). But, yet, by some grand design once again they had ended up together. Not that Varric would complain, the Tevinter mage was his much-preferred company when it came to the night watch. 

Cassandra was far too serious, Vivienne would leave halfway through the watch, Sera would fall asleep — and so on and so forth ( he had to complain, it was his Maker-given right ). Dorian would at least fill the hours with good conversation and a glass of Meade if they believed to be in a safe enough area. Their nights were typical gambling, cards, and then Varric would do his paperwork as Dorian read — punctuated with a couple of laughs waiting for the watch to turn at the first hint of first light, then they would rest for an hour or two before saddling up for their destination.

“Hey, Spar—- Dorian.” It’s the first time he’s spoken up in a while, their gambling done for the night, their cards and drinks set aside as they unwind – waiting for that first sign of light. Names were important, they left a mark on people who had the right to use them, to know them. They were a weapon, they could also be disarming if used correctly. Dorian meets his gaze, it’s tired – more languid than his usual motions ( of course it could have been that Varric had pulled him from his reading as well ). “Did I ever thank you, for saving me, after I saved you?”

“At least twice — I believe, and the Inquisitor expressed her thanks as well.”  Ah, yes — Poppy would have expressed thanks in one way or another. The topic drops, as tents ruffle in the distance —- it’s not first light, but it’s all the cue they need to move from their posts. Dorian remains planted on his little stoop ( collecting his bits from his winnings earlier and packing up his books ) while Varric rises, stretching out and testing the soreness in his old bones. 

The dwarf bushes by the mage, leaning down to press a kiss to his temple — a sign of thanks, of gratefulness, of so much —– before heading off towards his own camp. “In case I didn’t thank you enough.” The stars still gleam out in the distance, he still aches deep in his side, but much like the morning peaking over the horizon ( and because of Dorian ) —- he’s fine.

They’re both fine.

two. // sleeping with a friend – neon trees (  it’s a risk to even fall in love! )

So —— he messes up his friendship with Dorian. However, to be fair, he had not expected his relationship to take such a drastic shift with Poppy —– Ahvir ( it was unexpected, but not unwelcome, she was a ray of warmth that he wished to bask in and that was terrifying and humbling at the same time ). He had understood Dorian’s reaction, had not blamed him in the slightest, for Varric knew he was much older than the woman Dorian treasured as his best friend, he had expected the outburst. 

He had expected more shouting and less punching, yet he was impressed with that impressive hook — and truly couldn’t be mad that his nose was once again broken. Ahvir forces them to kiss and make up. For her sake, Varric pecks Dorian on the cheek ( she eyes them, for a couple of moments, before leaving them to their own devices — which might, in fact, doom the Inquisition ). 

“I care for her more than I can express.” 

It’s weak, and Varric knows it, but there is so much he fears in relationships, and his body churns at the thought of being this vulnerable, at the very notion of exposing a tender part of him still half healed from the last time it was wounded. He expects and accepts Dorian scoffing at such feeble attempts to placate the Tevinter Altus. “I get it —- I do. She’s important to you, and I’m not…” Not your first pick —- not anyone’s first pick ( he’s OLDER than her, he’s worn, scarred, he has more baggage he can carry —- and the weight of Kirkwall on his shoulders ). 

Love, love was so risky. So tepid and murky, but this —- she wasn’t someone to dispose of as a tryst, some salacious love affair he so oft wrote about in his novels. “Going to impede on your friendship or hurt her.” Though all of this, he’s maintained a level head, regardless of how clouded with fright it was, these were deep and devious waters he was trying to traverse. 

“Don’t hurt her.”

That’s what Varric fears the most. 

three. // radioactive – imagine dragons ( this is it —  apocalypse! )

They watch the Inquisitor shatter the jaw of the High Priest of Dumat —- the anchor blinds them, and the Breach and Corypheus are gone.

It hails fire and brimstone, after that. It reeks of sulphur and burning drakenstone. The whole area sings with Red Lyrium ( for the briefest moment he hears his brother as the adrenaline leaves him and fatigue sets in ), but a hand rests on his shoulder, and his attention is pulled to the man beside him. His thoughts are slow, sluggish from the Lyrium in the air – but he finally comes around, shaking the aforementioned dust away from him and throwing off the hazy state it caused. 

Dorian looks just as drained as he does, perhaps more so, his clothes are worse for the wear, but he had done more than enough trying to cover them after all —- but then realisation settles upon them both. Varric wastes no time, pulling Dorian close to him ( they crash into each other, and he doesn’t care about what else is going on around them — they did it ). The Altus towers over him – but it’s no matter, he can feel the kiss Dorian presses to his crown as they both exchange words of thankfulness. 

“We made it.”  Varric states on exhale, he sounds too old and too tired, he’ll hurt later. He knows he will. They survived. They laugh, Varric knowing tears are running down his face —- Dorian wipes one away.

“That we did, my friend.”

four. // enough – priscilla lopez ( when you have a problem you come home! )

They drink one last time in a bar in Orlais before they all depart the Winter Palace, taking up refuge a table. This time, like a couple of juveniles they desecrate this table. Cole and Sera watch them do it from the rafters — but Dorian shouts at them both ( booming and drunk — telling them both to piss off in a very inelegant fashion ) and they skitter off into the night. Merriment continues from there — 

Liquor had already made lips loose hours before, the both of them exchanging words on how they would miss one another, how much duller their day to day would be without the other — of course in their own way. Dorian hadn’t been waxingly poetic about it, but a couple of drinks in he had admitted the dwarf was tolerable. 

Dorian somehow had made it to his side of the table, the both of them pressed shoulder to shoulder as the slouched against the seats of their chairs. The bar had long since emptied out, the lamplight left on for the likes of them as the rest of the world tried to tune them out and get some well-deserved rest.

“You’re leaving tomorrow.” The quiet comment is almost lost to the room, but Varric can feel Dorian’s hum – he’s pushed against his side, honey whiskey still fresh on both of their breath. With how soft the man is breathing, he’s fallen asleep in the dimness of the bar, but Varric carries on. “Perhaps, one of these days you’ll come back to shitty Ferelden — and I’ll convince Ahvir to move to Kirkwall—-” Dorian’s head rolls, tucking against Varric’s shoulder and it’s enough to quiet the dwarf’s busy mind. Lips are pressed to the top of Dorian’s forehead before Varric settles. 

“You’re going to have a shitty ride tomorrow.”

He’ll miss him.

“Don’t get into trouble I can’t save you from out there.” ‘As long as we’re alive, you’re never on your own…’ the words he wants to say never come. 

five. // for good – idina menzel & kristin chenoweth ( i have been changed for good! )

Realisation hits him when Avhir breaks away from him  ( dropping his arm and the conversation they had been having with a very important diplomat from Starkhaven ), he turns his gaze to the direction in which the woman has run off to — Dorian.

It’s not surprising. Their relationship has always been something indescribable, something Varric has oft tried to put words to ( even more so now as the tenured Viscount of Kirkwall ) and he’s always turned up empty handed. They’re like the poles — somehow drifting towards one another over time. Varric excuses himself —- and the former Inquisitor ( who is already bouncing on her heels, eyes turned to the Magister, who looks as if he’s adored in more informal travelling wear ) Varric pulls the Viscount’s crown from his temples, handing it to Cavin as he makes strides to close the gap between the gushing pair and himself. 

“Maybe some day she’ll love me like that.” Dorian laughs at his comment as Avhir scrunches up her nose and blows a raspberry. It’s all in good fun, for he knows she hasn’t seen him in so long ( he was able to visit Tevinter not too long ago on business, and Dorian had graciously allowed them to be seen having lunch together ). 

They hug and Dorian kisses his cheek in kinship. For a moment nothing has changed, they aren’t any greyer, for a moment they are people again, not names or titles. For a moment they are just together, and that is good enough. 

[janiklandre-blog]

Friday, March 31st, 2017

last day of March,  nasty weather - 9:35 a.m. - preoccupied with those cataracts - "they" said they would call me today to let me know time to be on Monday on East 80th street - still under shock about price of these drops - also the drops he told me to use, such a pain, you have to squeeze and squeeze that tiny bottle - at last likely to miss the eye - no fun.

So, I treasure now my time at this here computer - came downstairs at 9:15, room here still closed, at this moment one of the nice maintenance men appeared - will I get this Asus? will I not get it and learn to use ipad at last - in the meantime I am wasting money - and prepared for the worst in co-pay - some do get millions out of medicare - thank God I am not one of them - still - all I do is pay for it and then endless copay - only my socalled primary doctor - whom I like but also don't trust - she has never charged me a penny. 

Speaking of that, I heard that French Christine is town - she went to my primary doctor, then got on an HMO that does not pay her - never understood that - she still treated her, for free and Christine wanted to sue her for not treating her right. She now lives in Paris, in the 16eme arrondissmont - fancy Paris - of course, she also owns an apartment that she rents, bad neiborhood - and at this moment she is here for two weeks. She taught me about people of value - since - I hope - she no longer wants to use my docror - I am no longer of great value - wonder if she will call me at all - if not, so be it. All the people users - they call you when they want something from you. 

All the annoyances. But also pleasures! Well, yesterday I headed for the dentist - good dentists have kept me painfree for most of my life - and I am thinking of a Dutch woman in Amherst, she was beautiful, she went to some dentist who was a friend - who did something that caused her such permanent pain - one day she killed herself. In the NYT was also an item - medicare does not pay a cent for dental car, medicaid only for fillings and extractions and perhaps some lousy dentures - millions don't go to dentists because they cannot afford it - and teeth cause great medical problems.

My very expensive dentist whom I have now seen for 20 years, began to relent on payments when he knew I no longer could afford it - and saw me with great sorrow through the deterioration of my teeth due to betablockers - meds to keep my veins open to prevent strokes - and strokes are scary - but now my teeth are gone and since last August this bridge he lovingly made - a great decoration, I look wonderful - but a year ago he still had hopes for improving them but in August he told me, there was no more hope. Then he told me I have to face dentures - he would make them - though it seems it is not his specialty. Slowly I'm getting used to this idea - but yesterday, once again, he said he was using the strongest cement but did not want to talk about the dentures - his office equipped with very expensive machinery, two lovely assistents in a neighborhood whre rents also a sky rocking - I would not be surprised if the landlord is squeezing him - and he also is not getting younger - all he could say yesterday was: wait until after Easter - and so I have no idea where this is going and may also end up with great costs for decent dentures. Just about all people I know who have them keep taking them out, eating without them - and yet my grandmother got them at 24 and I don't remember complaints, the parents of my ex-husband had them and joyfully ate their steaks they so loved - while my bridge looks great but I have not been able to chew properly since I got it.

The great German writer Thomas Mann who, just like the Russians and also Proust and others wrote novels in the most leisurely of styles, I read most of Thomas Mann - he was very teeth conscious and remarked in his writing how teeth are related to social class. My mother spent much effort to keep her teeth and my teeth in classy shape - I immediately notice somebody's missing tooth or teeth. And I am so aware of the high cost of keeping teeth in some sort of shape. Of the countless people who suffer infection - and yes, how can I forget my former husband - whose second and third wives no longer allowed him to see the excellent dentist, Ruth Bader Ginsburg, who's husband we had hosted in Geneva had recoomended when I asked her in 1962 - they would not allow him to see a dentist I was seeing and he obayed - and is was the dentist of the disastrous third wife, whose dentist extracted a tooth and did not give him anti biotics. It seems as a child he had had rheumatic fever that had effected his heart - in any event - he developed a heart infection that nearly killed him, put him on a drip in the hospital for weeks - a good reason for cutting his sons off any support because the wife claimed they did not show enough concern - and, then there was a repeat of the heart infection and a second hospital stay - may have led up to his triple bypass - all related to teeth and a bad dentist.

Obviously, I too can dwell on the topic at length - wondering when and how I will get these dentures - ate enough steaks in my life, don't care that much for them - am resigned not to bite into apples any more, to stay away from nuts, to cherish what is soft - icecream! chocolate cake - and yes, there is the mixer not much used until now - longingly I do look at many foods I no longer can eat - but this is more survivable than a heart infection, and the great pain of the beautiful Dutch woman.

It is a trip to get to my dentist - he is on the Upper West Side - I always get there early in ordeer to be on time, by now have sampled eateries on Broadway, settled on what is called a diner - a nostalgia diner - has little to do with what diners once were about. A pricey diner. Before seeing the dentist I treated myself to chocolate mousse cake, it was excellent.

Later I headed for Central Park - for years and years I walked there, yesterday I took two buses, one down Broatway to 79th Street and then one across. On the first one a man got on with greatest difficulty, moaning and  groaning - I said I sing the song What a drag it is getting old - I am not old, he angrily said, I am only 76. O.k. I said, you are the new 36 and he said, indeed I am, I have so much energy, I will do in Trump - good for you, I said. A New York exchange. I am glad theere are Americans like you - and indeed we need them - reading the NYT - it all is unbelievable. The cuts for this here my housing could be momentarily cut, good bye computer room - who knows where I'll go.

In the park I met two impassioned birders - one woman who had been on many safaris in Africa but now arthritis plagues her, the other a photographer - somewhere in the 70's - young - she sells her photograohs on 5th Avenue, brings a table and all - and then there was my friend Suzanne. A German - in her 50's - she never was married, no children, also strenuously staying young - I must, I must, I must she says - a bundle of incredible energied - and endless diseases - long living on an overstayed visitor's visa - great efforts and expense to get a green card - one of so many European I do meet - who consideer it their worst fate having to go back to their native country. I was lucky to arrive here on permanent papers and on the day I was here five years, at little cost and no effort became a U.S. citizen - it was 1956 - withiut a moment's hesitation I gave up my German citizenship. My number 456 German passpart alas burned in 2000. Now dual citizenship is possible - expemsive and tedious project  - I am glad for my American passport - though I now do say, I've managed to be a citizen of two evil empires - luckily Hitler made me stateless, so I was not a citizen then.

Suzanne, a long story - she now found her vocation as a tourist guide - loves it - works incredibly hard at it - yesterday she also had some book on Prana - she knows countless people, many Indians - some sort of Indian wisdom she is studying and wants to teach - about changing your consciousness - to her regret I did not have too much interest - but she is such life wire - I do enjoy her - and she is a good reason for going to Central Park - so serene and quiet compare to Washington Square - a park where you can enjoy the flowers provided by the park conservancy - run by rich neighbors of the park - and a long waiting list to become a volunteer. Society status.

My friend had called, said she would come for an hour at 6 p.m. - I got on bus at 4:30 was downtown at 5:30 - figures it is 3.5 miles - marathon runners do 26 miles in a little over two hours - you waait for New York buses endlessly, then this one stopped nearly a block short of the 26 street stop, said last stop - there had been three people on the bus - Uber is getting cheaper than buses - clogging the streets - the buses do run good routes, but rarely come - and then - five at a ime, getting into each other's way.

My friend came, she then went to see Hair done by some old people under Columbia U.auspices - we were joined by my house guests - she of course was particularly interested in the Lebanese man - there are many religions in Lebanon, two Catholic - amazing into how many categories we are divided - I say I only want label: Human being - trying to be as good as I can. Maronite and Caldeic Catholics. the Maronites speak Arabic, the Caldeic speak Caldeic, some ancient language - and if lucky we can communicate in English. French also an important language in Lebanon - it was a French colony.

It's 11 a.m.off to the church - there is a woman Marie, Serbian, she comes to the CW - she has a daughter Svetlana who escaper her to Europe, she is a horder and about to be evicted - she always tries to get my attention - bt she is real trouble - still I feel a bit guilty for totallu avoiding her, could I give her some good reason - well - there have been others in my life who later told me they saw me as stuck up - I guess I do give many different impressions to different people - mostly thesae days an old woman hobbling about - still, this Marie who so much wants to tell me of her great troubles bothers me - she is there at the church, fighting with people - there is nothing I can do for her, but I also don't want to listen to her - my friend likes her - and of course she is not much available and so Marie looks at me. What does one do. 11:10 - I'll miss the writing - Monday the op - then dark glasses, expensive drops, my friend who has come says he'll stay until I feel o.k. - I much appreciate that. Have not heard from "them" - perhaps a message on my land line. Adios.

[leavangeline]

2015- 2016 Short Story

 (Beauty and The Beast & Red Riding Hood story mix)

   The sun made the dirt road seem light, but the wind was challenging, egging on autumn. Gwen walked with her father’s hand intertwined with her left hand, and a basket full of baked goods in her right. She all but slightly turned her head to admire her father. Not for his appearance for he was a short pudgy man, with dark brown hair barely gone gray. All his facial features were rounded and full, his nails clipped short, his hands calloused from years of working with mechanics. Overall, his physical appearance didn’t give the hardworking man justice. He was a determined eccentric person often described as syncretic because of his obsession with innovations and inventions. His aspiration in life was to be a famous inventor, but he has had no opportunities, making his hard labor seemingly only childish.                        

Gwen and her father were walking a long distance in a large forest to get to Grandmother’s house. Gwen visited Grandmother every month, sometimes on multiple occasions. Gwen’s mother was never around and Grandmother took her place. Grandmother has always adored Gwen and spoiled her beyond capacity. Their relationship fell nothing short of love. Gwen would even walk to grandmothers when in need of a simple hairdo. Grandmother would brush her long black hair till it was knot free and pin straight reaching her middle back. All the while complimenting her endlessly on her full lips and high cheekbones, stating how beautiful she was. Every time Gwen would grow out of her size Grandma would hand sew her a new red hood to replace the previous one. Gwen’s red hood was her favorite article of clothing. It reminded her of her favorite character in a novel, a fierce woman she wanted to prosper like.                                                                                   

  Once the pair were halfway through the forest the sun started to set, making the shadows from the treetops more evident. The wind started picking up speed, sending cold shivers throughout Gwen’s body.                                                   “Let’s hurry dad” Gwen ushered. Out of the corner of Father’s eye he saw a patch of red roses and hurriedly jogged toward it, letting Gwen’s hand fall away.    “Where are you going?!”  Gwen exclaims.                                                                     “To pick a rose for grandma, so she won’t be upset that we’re late” father replied. Gwen’s face scrunched up in disapproval. “Well we’re already late. Let’s go”.                                                                                                   

 When they finally arrive at Grandmothers, its dark and Gwen’s red hood didn’t provide much warmth against the freezing weather. Gwen comfortably let herself in without knocking and her father followed her. Candles are lit illuminating the room and casting shadows on the walls. The aroma of cinnamon scented the cottage. Gwen placed the basket on Grandmas’ tiny table, while father called out for Grandma. There was no response.                            

  “Do you think she went to sleep, too bored to wait any longer?” Father questioned.                                                                                                                       “Maybe, I’ll go check” Gwen answers hoping Grandma will only be reading one of her stories again, and not asleep. Grandmas’ bedroom door squeaked as Gwen opened it. It’s too dark to see anything, but she can hear the wind howling and feel the draft from the window. “Grandma?” Gwen whispers.                               “My dear, come here! I found a letter Grandma wrote saying she went to the gardens. Do you know where that is?” father exclaimed, startling her.                            “Yeah dad, I know where the gardens are. We’ll go together.”                   Gwen turned around and walks towards her father. She glanced at his hands, then looks again, startled.                                                                                                  “Oh my god! Look at what you’ve done!”                                                  Father followed her eyes to his hand which the red rose is enclosed in. The once beautiful rose was bent and squashed. Multiple petals missing- ruined. “Oh.” Gwen pried the flower from his grip and held it gently. Trying to explain himself, he stammered over his words managing to say “Cold… balled my fists…sorry…for Grandma…really sorry.”                                                                            “It’s fine dad. Let’s go find Grandma.”                                                     The weather only worsened by the minute. Any thoughts of a few more weeks of summer disappeared. When Gwen and her father arrived at the garden, they called out for Grandma. If Grandma was there she wouldn’t have heard them. The wind stole their voices and nothing could be echoed in the dark. Several pairs of yellow eyes were lurking in the bushes. Low growls escaped the creatures’ mouths.                                                                                       “Maybe she was on her way back and we just missed her on the path our way here.” Gwen suggested.                                                                                                  “Yeah, let’s head back she’s obviously not here.” Father agreed.                  As Gwen stepped over a pumpkin two wolves jumped out and were inching her back. Her screams were also silenced by the wind. More and more wolves materialized from the undergrowth. Father’s shouts which sounded no more than a mere whisper, urged Gwen to pass him her hood. Her fear made the simple task of untying the string difficult. Her hands shook violently, her eyes already pricked with unshed tears. Gwen threw the blood red hood. Once he had the blood red hood in his possession he ran, yelling for Gwen to do the same. The wolf pack chased after him with the exception of two that chased Gwen. Her long legs pounded against the dirt and cracked twigs.  She thought of her father who had risked his life for her. She only hoped to live to thank him for it. Her speed is no match to wolves, so when she slowed down from exhaustion she barely had enough time to turn and see a six foot long grey wolf lunging at her. Its long sharp teeth bared, and it’s threating yellow eyes glowing. The second wolf was also closing in.                                                                          

 But before she could be torn to shreds an even larger creature appeared. The large creature took the wolf mid-air and threw it against a hard tree trunk. The second wolf scurried away whimpering. Gwen fell to the floor pleading for mercy, having no more energy to run. The large creature picked her up and slung her over it's shoulder despite her protests. The force knocked the rose out of her hand. As it whisked her away it’s foot crushed the rose leaving the remaining petals to rot.     The large creature was even scarier than the wolves. The beast stood at six foot three, was completely made up of muscle, and had light brown fur. Its fur coating its entire body, but the odd beast wore black pants and a dark red cape. The beast had tusks of a wild boar, the mane of a lion, the tail of a wolf, and the eyes of a human. Its eyes were unarguably the strangest part of the beast, they were light blue. The type of blue eyes that were a trap, a maze, you get lost in them and can never find your way out. You end up drowning in eyes like that.                                               

The beast carried Gwen to a clearing from the forest leading to a castle. Once they entered the castle, the beast gently dropped Gwen like a hot potato. It looked at her and opened its mouth as if to speak, but instead ran away. Gwen stood in the empty foyer her only company the strong stench of mold and the abundance of cobwebs. Before she could even fully ponder her possibilities of action, two irritated voices rang out. One stating how somebody’s wrong and she could be the one, the other voice stating how no girl would love a guy that abducted her from a forest. The two voices continuously went back and forth. “He didn’t steal her; he saved her, from a pack of wolves.”    

“Then he ran off, he ruined his chance.”  

“He didn’t ruin his chance, just think positive.”  

 “Positive?! First impressions are everything!”                   

Gwen had had enough and yelled out “Hello! You two please come help me I must get back. My father is in danger!”  The voices finally revealed themselves from the shadows. The more cheerful one of the two was neither tall nor short. He was an average height but very thin, quite lanky with a sharp nose and almost no lips. He was a dark blonde, his hair curled in the front, the rest straight and pulled back into a ponytail. The more cynical voice on the other hand was much shorter. He was top heavy, and a ginger. His short hair curled on the sides, he also had a long thin mustache.                                                 

 “Hello young maiden, I am Anwar a pleasure to meet you. And this is my companion Anson. Now, it isn’t wise to leave, for the wolves come out at night, as you may have already noticed.” The lanky one spoke.                                    “Then I will leave first thing in the morning.” Gwen said with finality.                      “Very well, Mrs. Harp will lead you to your chambers” Anson replied reluctantly.       A woman appeared with a little boy in hand. The woman was stout and had a stern motherly look on her face as she addressed the child to calm down. The child was bouncing up and down, swinging his arm back and forth and looked as though he was holding his tongue. The boy was blonde like the woman although she did have gray streaks. As they approached Gwen, she started to wonder why they were here and why a castle with so much potential was dirty.                    “Hello dearest, I am Mrs. Harp and this is my son Joshua. Nice to meet you.”        “ I’m Gwen. Mrs. Harp, do you live here? Do any of you live here?”                     “ We do live here. We live here because we are cursed to stay in this castle until-                                                                                                                         Anson cut her off “This is of nothing to be discussed with us you may ask prince Nicoli if you must know.”                                                                                                     “Yes, ask prince Nicoli. We should be on our way, yes?” Mrs. Harp concurred.  As they walked to Gwens room for the night she asked the mother and son questions. What is on the other side of the castle? No matter, just know you mustn’t go there. Why don’t you clean the palace? There is no need to, no-one ever come here. Is prince Nicoli the beast? Yes. Gwen asked how old Joshua was. He cheerfully said 7. Afterwards he talked Gwens ear off and he started to grow on her. When she arrived at her door she thanked the two and said goodnight, but not fully closing her bedroom door. Once all the candles throughout the castle were off, Gwen lit her own candle and headed down the spiral staircase. She went to the other side of the palace and saw that it was completely abandoned. She found many doors ajar with nothing worth seeing in them. Trying the last door she opened it and saw the beast- prince Nicoli- hunched over a pedestal with a glowing rose hovering upon it. Prince Nicoli looked up and growled. Unfazed Gwen said “What is that?”  Gwen focused on the beast only. As he continued to growl telling her to leave, her expression only hardened and she stood her ground. “What is the rose for?” Gwen asked again.  He bared the rest of his teeth, compelling her to leave him alone. An unhumorous staring contest ensued, a competition for authority. Both unwilling to back down. “Please, explain to me what this is all about. Please.”  The beasts’ angry demeanor wavered. He wanted to be trusted.  So he told her about how he was a selfish prince, that cared for no-one but himself. How he was putting the kingdom in danger so a witch cursed him to be as ugly on the outside as he is on the inside. Anson, Joshua, Mrs. Harp, and Anwar were his assistants and they are like his family. The witch cursed them to be bound to this castle until the curse is lifted. He told Gwen how he has until every petal falls off the rose to uplift the curse. He uplifts the curse by finding someone that will love him for what he’s now become. He needs to revive himself from the inside out, to make his soul beautiful again. “Would you like me to bring over some maidens? I’m sure one would love you” Gwen offered. Nicoli only looked away and told her to go to sleep.                                       

 In the morning she went downstairs to eat breakfast with everyone. When she arrived she saw it was only prince Nicoli and herself as she was told the others were busy. Nicoli was having a tough time eating. He tried to hold a soup spoon but it was too tiny and he could barely grasp it properly. He could barely eat, food just ended up on the table. Gwen noticed this and rose from her seat and walked to him. He didn’t even notice her, too busy trying to bring the food to his mouth. She gently placed her hand on his shoulder and he looked up at her curiously. “It’s okay to eat without the spoon. We can just slurp it together”.  When she went back to her seat she didn’t pick her spoon back up to eat. As they ate breakfast together two petals fell from the glowing rose.           

After breakfast Nicoli immediately fled to another room. Gwen followed him and saw an enormous library with such an abundance of books. She felt as though she was in heaven. She loved to read, just like her grandmother. At the thought of her grandmother her mood instantly turned sour, she had no idea where her grandmother was and she was here, being happy over her books. “Is something wrong?” Nicoli timidly asked her.                                           

 “Yes somethings wrong! My father and grandma are missing! They could be dead for goodness sake!” Gwen cried.                                                                      “What’s your favorite book?” Nicoli asked, hoping to get her mind off of her missing relatives. That one question alone got Gwen sadder. She told him about her favorite book and how her grandma sewed her red hood just because of it. Gwen told Nicoli how every year she got bigger Grandma would have a new hood sewn just for her. Gwen also described her night out in the garden with father. How they couldn’t find Grandma and father saved her life by taking her hood. She thanked Nicoli for saving her life, something she said she should’ve done earlier and is eternally grateful for. Nicoli managed to get her mind off of her relatives and purely on books sooner or later. They even had the same favorite book. He explained to her that’s why he wears his red cape. He loves the main character because she is so strong and reminds him of his mother. They talked till the sun went down, and Gwen couldn’t decide if she even regretted it.                                                                                  

 During the night Nicoli went out to the forest to search for Gwen’s father and grandmother. He searched all throughout the forest for hours nonstop. When he finally found something, it was just Gwens hood. It was six hours later in the night and the hood was destroyed. He hurried back to the castle and gave Mrs. Harp the hood for her to fix. During the day he kept on stalling Gwen from leaving and she didn’t stop him. They had animated conversations all throughout their time together. Gwen played games with Joshua, and even discussed matters with Anwar and Anson. At dusk Mrs. Harp gave Nicoli the hood and it looked as good as new. Nicoli went to the library where Gwen was sitting on the window seat reading. He held the red hood behind his back, and brought her attention to him by clearing his throat. She looked at him curiously.         

 “I have a present for you, because you have been so kind to me.” Nicoli says sheepishly.                                                                                                         Gwen stood up and eyeballed him as he takes the red hood from behind his back. When she saw the hood she bolted to him and jumped up to embrace him tightly. “Thank you, thank you, thank you.” Gwen murmurs. “Is my father ok? Did you see him”?                                                                         

 “No, I only found your hood.” Nicoli said.                                                               “Oh”. Gwen replied. “Still, thank you though”.                                                         Gwen stayed another night. Mrs. Harp prepared a delicious dinner that night, so everyone gathered to eat together in the dining hall. Long draped navy blue curtains were pulled perfectly, to let in the right amount of light to be reflected off the chandelier. The scents of a thousand foods filled everyone’s nostrils’. The only sound was the grumbling of stomachs waiting for the cue to eat. Gwen gazed at Nicoli as they waited and couldn’t see how him of all people could’ve been egotistical. When Gwen looked into Nicolis’ eyes she saw innocence. She saw a young boy with no proper guidance on how to rule a kingdom. A house being constructed improperly because of the lack of blueprints.                                The next morning Gwen understood that she needed to leave. She needed to go and see her father, and hopefully her grandmother as well. Just as Gwen was about to walk out her bedroom door, amping herself up for the sad goodbyes, she saw a hand slip an envelope under the door. She bent down to pick up the golden laced envelope. She opened it carefully, in hopes to not rip the pretty paper. Her father could use it in one of his inventions. The words enscripted in the letter described a beautiful ball with spectacular food and friendly guests, but in need of a princess. Gwen had received an invitation to a ball, her very first ball, and as the princess.                                                         

At six o’clock Gwen went down a hall she never explored before. It led her to the ballroom. It was more than the invitation had led it on to be. She had to walk down a wide light pink- peach-ish staircase. The staircase had a wide faded red carpet in the middle, as if many feet have walked upon it. Directly across from the entrance was a wall of only windows that reached the ceiling. On the left and right of the room there were wide windows on the top of the walls. Below them were marble and golden walls, with columns all around holding light blue almost grey curtains. The ceiling was a magnificent painting of children playing in clouds. The room was nothing like anything Gwen had ever seen before.                  Nicoli wore a long blue buttoned jacket with black pants and white shirt. He had filed his claws and nails, and even brushed his mane. He wanted to make an effort for Gwen, knowing this was her last night with him. He wanted to make sure she remembered him. When he looked up to see Gwen walking down the stairs he was certain he’d been beaten. She looked stunning, way more elegant than him. Gwen’s hair was so long it reached her mid-back, her black hair was impeccably straight, and her bangs made her eyes stand out. She wore a yellow dress with a corset like top and layered outward bottom. The ends of her dress were embroidered with white lace and the middle of her dress had a droop pattern around in a darker yellow color. Nicoli could only think of how lovely she looked. When she spotted his position in the large room she smiled kindly and Nicoli’s heart fluttered at the gesture. She was too pretty.    When Gwen’s foot fell on the last step Nicoli extended out his hand for her to take. She placed her tiny hand in his large hand and he escorted her to the middle of the ballroom. A piano began to play and they danced gracefully in sync. The two danced to their hearts content. When the pianos tempo slowed down they stepped closer together and barely danced. Gwen placed her head down softly on Nicolis chest and just listened to his heartbeat. Nicoli was startled at first, but then visibly relaxed and wrapped his arms around her. They let their breath go in sync, their hearts pounding from the proximity. They held each other till the end of the song.                                          

 Afterwards Nicoli led Gwen outside on the balcony. The faint sound of the piano in the background. Gwen and Nicoli sat down on the balcony side concrete. “You look amazing.” Nicoli finally says.                                                     

 “Thank you. You do as well.” Gwen replies.                                                  

  “Will you come back after you leave?” Nicoli asked the question he had been wondering all along.                                                                                                “I don’t know.” Nicolis face dropped all hope disappearing after those words.    “You don’t have to lie. If you don’t want to come back you could’ve just said that.” The beast replied coldly.                                                                               “I’m not lying Nicoli. I just don’t know right now. Why can’t you understand that?” Gwen said without looking at him.                                                            

 “Gwen, I need to know if you’ll come back.” Nicoli pleaded.                                    “Why?! Why does it matter so much to you if I come back or not? Maybe I will maybe I won’t, it doesn’t matter right now!” Gwen exclaimed rising from her seat.                                                                                                               

 “Why can’t you see why this matters to me?! I need to know if you’ll come back because I need to know that you love me! I love you, and I need you to love me back!” Nicoli rose from his seat his voice growing in volume.  Gwen froze and stared at him in shock. Nicoli stormed off hardly mumbling ‘goodnight Gwen’.       Gwen was gone before the rest of the castle could wake up. She left letters for everyone expressing her gratitude and thankfulness for their kindness. Nicoli had the shortest letter out of everyone. Gwen complimented Mrs. Harp on her cooking, Anwar on his charming personality, Anson on his organization, and Joshua on his ‘perfect childness’. Gwen walked with her red hood on, her hair on either sides of her face. Trying to take her mind off of her and Nicolis’ conversation the night before, she counted each step she took. Gwen wasn’t sure if she loved him. The thought of being in love quite honestly scared her. She missed him though. She wanted to look into his blue eyes and cuddle him and run her fingers through his fur. But was that really love? Gwen stepped on a purple bonnet and it threw her concentration off. She realized that the bonnet belonged to her grandmother and instantly became worried. To her right she saw wolf paws and followed them. The trail continued for a while so she started running, getting more and more anxious by the second. The only thought running through her head was ‘where is my grandma?’ She paused as she saw a cave and saw thirteen wolves asleep inside. There was dried blood on the rock floor and in a corner bones. Gwen had seen enough, she blindly started running back. She couldn’t think anymore. Her grandmother is dead. A wolf pack killed and ate her grandmother. Gwens eyesight was blurred by her tears. She sobbed as she ran; hoping to wake up and this all have just been a nightmare.                     When Gwen made it back home it was night. She went into her house and went to her father’s door. She heard him talking to himself “Please, god bring her back. Let her be alive. Please. Please.” And more mumbling she couldn’t make out. When she opened the door father was on his knees in a praying position. She went up to her father and hugged him. “I’m home dad. I’m home.” They cried all night. They cried because they thought the other was dead. They cried because they were not. They cried because grandma was dead. They cried because this could not be undone.                                             

The first week Gwen was home the rose lost fifteen petals. The second week Gwen was gone the rose lost nine petals. The third week Gwen was away the rose lost seven petals.                                                                                     

  All three weeks Gwen was home she didn’t stop thinking of Nicoli. She thought of how she misses him so much her heart hurts. She thought of how she wished she didn’t yell at him. Gwen couldn’t stop feeling empty without Grandma, and Nicolis absence made it worse. Even her father could tell something was awry. One morning Gwen went into the village and borrowed a horse from an old friend and rode to Nicolis’ castle. She opened the castle doors and walked in the palace. She called out, but heard no response. She looked in the ballroom, her room, the dining hall, the kitchen; everywhere. She found no-one. Gwen went to the room with the magic rose. She saw Nicoli in the corner of the room on the floor. He looked defeated. The scene made Gwens’ heart crack. “What are you doing there? Didn’t you hear me calling out for you?” Gwen asked concerned               “I heard you. I just thought you’d eventually give up and leave. I didn’t want you to see me like this.” Nicoli said carelessly.                                                        “I would never give up on you. Why are you here?” Gwen said sincerely            “I’m waiting. I’m waiting for my death.” Nicoli said lazily.                                     “What?! No you’re not going to die! What are you talking about?”                         “ The last petal Gwen. I’m going to stay like this forever, so I might as well be dead.”                                                                                                                      “ You stupid you’re not going to stay like this forever, I love you.” Gwen whispers late. The last petal falls from the rose and the stem descends from the air. The glow burns out and Nicoli is still in the corner of the room.                 

But Nicoli is no longer a beast. He is a human again. He immediately hugs Gwen his arms no longer engulfing her but surrounding her. He spins her around, a smile on both of their faces. They laugh and take a moment to really admire each other for their beauty inside and out. They put their foreheads against each other and Gwen cups his face in her hands and sweetly kisses him. When she pulls away she looks into Prince Nicoli’s eyes and he gazes into Princess Gwen’s.            

The End.