in memory of those who lost their lives

Today is Transgender Day of Remembrance. November 20 honors the memory of those whose lives were lost in acts of anti-transgender violence and suicide. There was 25 transgender people reportedly killed from hate crimes in America the past year so far specifically directed at their gender identity.

To anyone reading this who is a trans man, trans woman or a person questioning their identity: please know you are loved and accepted by many. You are valid and if you haven’t yet one day you will meet people that think you are amazing and want you here on earth. You are not a burden. ♥️


Mesha Caldwell, 41
Sean Hake, 23
Jamie Lee Wounded Arrow, 28
JoJo Striker, 23
Tiara Richmond, also known as Keke Collier, 24
Chyna Gibson, 31
Ciara McElveen, 26
Jaquarrius Holland, 18
Alphonza Watson, 38
Chay Reed, 28
Kenneth Bostick, 59
Sherrell Faulkner, 46
Kenne McFadden, 27
Kendra Marie Adams, 28
Ava Le'Ray Barrin, 17
Ebony Morgan, 28
TeeTee Dangerfield, 32
Gwynevere River Song, 26
Kiwi Herring, 30
Kashmire Nazier Redd, 28
Derricka Banner, 26
Scout Schultz, 21
Ally Steinfeld, 17
Stephanie Montez, 47
Candace Towns, 30

The Signs & Oscar Wilde Quotes

Aries: “I can resist anything except temptation.”
Taurus: “I have the simplest tastes. I am always satisfied with the best.”
Gemini: “I am so clever that sometimes I don’t understand a single word of what I am saying.”
Cancer: “Memory is the diary we all carry about with us.”
Leo: “I am one of those who are made for exceptions, not for laws.”
Virgo: “I know. In fact, I am never wrong.”
Libra: “You can never be overdressed or overeducated.”
Scorpio: “You will always be fond of me. I represent to you all the sins you never had the courage to commit.”
Sagittarius: “Live! Live the wonderful life that is in you! Let nothing be lost upon you. Be always searching for new sensations. Be afraid of nothing.”
Capricorn: “Each of us has heaven and hell in him.”
Aquarius: “I have nothing to declare except my genius.”
Pisces: “Illusion is the first of all pleasures.”

It’s been 16 years since the tragic events of September 11, 2001, but the images of that day remain clear. Two planes were flown into the World Trade Center in New York and a third into the Pentagon in Virginia. Nearly 3,000 people lost their lives. Because of the actions of 40 passengers and crew aboard the fourth plane, Flight 93, the U.S. Capitol was saved. In New York, Virginia, Pennsylvania and across the country, people will gather today to remember the depth of our loss and the strength of our resolve. By visiting these places and hearing their stories, those who were taken will never be forgotten. Photo from Flight 93 National Memorial in Pennsylvania by Tami Heilemann, Interior.

SKAM S04E10 Clip 4 - Chris

EVA: Can’t we think of anything else to give her?

NOORA: Like, giving her a card.. I don’t know, can’t we perform something? Make a..

EVA: Yes! Something like..

NOORA: Something Moroccan.

EVA: Something you’ll remember very well.

NOORA: Yes! But..

[VILDE: Hi Chris, do you have some money I can borrow? Like 1000 kr*? It’s okay with less too, I promise you’ll get it back on the 1st of July, plus the 750* I owe you from beforehand. There’s just this top on sale right now that I’ve wanted for a really long time. And I don’t want to ask mom because I’ve borrowed a lot from her lately.]

EVA: I don’t want to perform, but..

NOORA: It would be fun!

EVA: Nooo.. We can hold a speech!


EVA: You can write it, right?


EVA: And then we can..


EVA: Hi.

EMMA: Are you going to that Eid party at Sana’s?

EVA: Yes, are you going too?

EMMA: Yes! Or, uhm, Jonas asked if I wanted to come and I was a little stressed because I don’t really know anyone else who’s going, but then I thought about Kosegruppa.. Yay! And then i thought that maybe you’re going.

EVA: Yeah, we’re going. We’ll take care of you.

EMMA: Yeah, good!

EVA: Yeah, we have to take care of each other.

EMMA: See you later.

EVA: Good bye!

EMMA: Bye.

EVA: But okay, speech.


EVA: What are we going to write?

DR. SKRULLE: Come in.



CHRIS: Do you have a few minutes?

DR SKRULLE: I have two hours, seventeen minutes and fourteen seconds until I’m going on summer vacation. Welcome, Christina Berg! Sit down.

CHRIS: How do you know my name?

DR SKRULLE: I know the name of every student in this school. What can I help you with?

CHRIS: Uhmm.. I just have this friend who..

DR SKRULLE: It’s not just that. There are lots of people who don’t have friends. Lots of people who are lonely. Take the retirement homes in Oslo, for example. They’re overflowing with old people and think about that.. All of their friends are dead. No one comes to visit and they’re all by themselves. All those people have, are the memories from a lost time.

CHRIS: That’s fucking true! But like.. I haven’t thought about that before, but if you get really, really old and all your friend just.. die, then it’s not awesome to live at all.

DR SKRULLE: Not at all. Tell me about your friend.

CHRIS: Yeah.. I have a friend who I’m pretty worried about. I don’t think she has a good home life and I think her mom is pretty depressed, so I feel like I should be a better friend, but I’m not any good at that stuff and I can’t.. I can’t talk to her about it, so I was wondering if maybe you could talk to her about it.

DR SKRULLE: Hmm.. You know what I think this sounds like, Christina? I think it sounds like you’re lying. Are you?


DR SKRULLE: Because what it sounds like is “I’m not good at that stuff”, but I think you are.

CHRIS: I’m not! I’m seriously really bad at that stuff! As soon as their is just a little conflict, I just..

DR SKRULLE: Everyone thinks it’s uncomfortable with conflicts! But that doesn’t mean you should avoid them! Do you know what, Christina Berg? I think you should be very careful with these “truths” you tell to yourself about yourself. I don’t see what you’re describing right now. Do you know what I see? I see a girl who’s more than enough of a good friend. I see a girl who talks to her friend and I see a girl who LOVES conflict! A bit over the top at the end, but you know what I mean. You know what I want?

CHRIS: I know what you want.

[*118 USD, 88 USD]

Memorial Day weekend is a time when a lot of Americans remember those who have served and lost their lives during war — and not all of those individuals were U.S. citizens.

When the Iraq war started, nearly 40,000 members of the military were not U.S. citizens. Army Pfc. Diego Rincon was one of them.

In 1989, his family immigrated to the U.S. from Colombia. In 2003, he was killed by a suicide bomber in Iraq. He died for his country even though he wasn’t a citizen.

His parents, George Rincon and Yolanda Reyes still remember their son and how quickly he adapted to his home in the U.S.

“We came here when he was 5-years-old,” Reyes says. “Diego started speaking English faster than we did. He was often letting me know, ‘When I finish high school, I’m going to join the Army.’ ”

Diego did go on to join the Army and he was on his way to becoming a citizen, along with his parents.

“Before he went to Iraq, he got the green card,” George says. “But he said to me, 'Dad, don’t do the citizenship until I return. We’ll do it together.’ ”

Remembering A Soldier Who Died For His Country Before Becoming A Citizen

Photo: Von Diaz/StoryCorps

Dear Columbiners

There are certain things about this case that we should discuss more instead of making edits of Eric and Dylan with flower crowns.
Just students and a teacher.

Those people left this world in unpeaceful way. There was a girl who died in attempt to have a lunch outside the school instead of eating in the cafeteria or going to the Smoker’s pit as she sometimes used to. There was a boy who tried to run away from upcoming bloodshed but failed. Majority of the kids took their last breath in a room filled with smoke and fear, in a room, which used to be a calm place. It used to be a library for zealous students who were trying to get better grades to make their parents proud or for those who just enjoyed the company of friends gathered around the table with opened books on the top. This room has in less than 7 minutes changed into a morgue where pools of blood slowly started to soak into the carpet and remained until the day when lifeless bodies of boys and girls, who were once students full of joy and expectations, were removed.

There were hundreds of parents who left their jobs in attempt to find out that their daughters and sons are safe. Some of those parents were lucky. Some weren’t. Gathered around in groups, slowly waiting for the buses to came and to see their child’s fearful yet lucky face. Decreasing amount of yellow buses signified less hope for those who still haven’t found their child. There was a father who waited until the last bus came. He couldn’t understand what went wrong. Where is his son? There were no buses left. That was the last one. Meanwhile, body of his dead son laid on the bloodsoaked carpet in a room, which after one hour full of screams and gunshots became silent again. In a room, where no sense of life was present, where the only sound that could be heard was the alarm. Alarm indicating that it was too late to do anything. There were parents who found out about their son’s death from the picture of his lifeless body lying on the sidewalk in the newspaper. Daughters who will never be able to meet their father, who tried his best to protect students yet noone was able to help him during almost 3 hours of suffering and mentally preparing to his upcoming death. And plenty of other parents, relatives and friends who will never be able to speak to their sons, children, nephews, cousins, grandsons, granddaughters.

Dear Columbiners, not everything is about Eric and Dylan. Even though we all can feel the pain of these two young boys and can relate to them on some level, we shouldn’t forget to feel the pain of families who lost their beloved ones and to respect the memory of all the victims.

I, as a Columbiner (even though I don’t like that name), will always protect the memory of those innocent victims whose lives have been taken away by such a cruel way by two stray young boys, misunderstood in this world full of prejudices and people who push others to the edge and learn about impact of their behavior only after that big damage is done and is unable to return back to the normal.

The existence of Boyland was also broadcasted to the whole world and all of his children who were forced to forget him

The existence of every BoB employee who died was broadcast on the day of story and song. People who lost their lives while they searched for something nobody else knew existed. Tried to fix a mistake that wasn’t theirs to fix, until three of those actually responsible went after the relics.

Some of them go to Taako’s school. And at one of the few graduation ceremonies Taako actually bothers to attend, one of the students talks about how they lost their memory of a sister who died working for the BoB, and that they gravitated towards this school because it was run by someone who understood. And Taako’s hand goes to the Krebstar, which is hanging right where the umbrastaff used to be. And he feels so grateful in that moment that at least he had the luck of getting back what Lucretia took from him. So many people didn’t. So many people never would.


Solas has spent his life as an apostate, living in the wilderness well away from the civilized world and those who would shackle him for what he is. He mastered his magic without the help of tutors, spending years exploring the spirit realm of the Fade and coming to an understanding of its denizens that few others could claim. He would be happiest left alone to sleep in ancient ruins, searching for memories and knowledge that has been lost for ages, but the Breach in the sky threatens all worlds.
At a time when other mages flee into hiding, Solas has put his freedom at risk by emerging from the shadows to assist those who would combat the chaos. He will not stand idly by when his knowledge of the arcane could mean the difference between salvation and utter destruction. 


“We are the dead. Short days ago 

We lived, felt dawn, saw sunsets glow,

Loved and were loved, and now we lie

In Flanders Fields.” 

100 years ago today Canada became a nation when the four divisions of the Canadian Corps came together for the first time. 

Together, the soldiers were able capture the previously unattainable ridge of Vimy. After the four day battle, the Canadians earned respect from their allies, and four outstanding soldiers earned Victoria Crosses for their endeavours; the divisions also struck fear into the German soldiers who previously doubted the Canadians. 

But this was not without loss; 3,598 Canadians lost their lives, another 7,000 were injured. 

The memorial of Vimy Ridge includes 20 large sculptures that represent the ideals the Canadians fought for - truth, justice, hope and peace. 

The memorial also includes the inscribed names of the 11,250 Canadians who died in France who have no known grave. 

The “Canada Bereft” at the centre of the memorial gazes downwards over the graves of her valiant soldiers. 

The stature represent those who were left behind to mourn their lost.

3,598 pairs of boots were placed around the monument; one for each of the fallen.

Without these brave soldiers, Canada would not be what it is today.

We do not owe them something.
We owe them everything.

anonymous asked:

Hey, do you know any fics with POC drarry?

Hello anon!!! I feel like I’ve definitely read more POC Drarry fics than the ones I’m about to list, but I’m not sure if it’s usually stated explicitly or if I just kinda always imagine POC Harry by default? Either way, I think we definitely need more POC Drarry and if anyone else has any recs please leave a reply!! :) 

Harry Potter and the Future He Doesn’t Really Want, Thanks. by Seefin (70.5K) It was addictive, the feeling of Draco Malfoy telling him things in a soft voice early in the morning. Harry felt like he was taming a wild animal, or petting a cat that hated everybody else. This train existed outside of time, that was the only explanation Harry could come up with as to why Malfoy was actually having a civil conversation with him right now.
Unnngh, this fic is just so lovely and slow and sweet, and it really transported me! I felt like it was a movie or something??? I don’t know, just it really had #ambiance, just like literally every one of @seefin‘s fics do! I loved everything about it, from Harry’s intrusive dreams of the future, to Luna’s plant-filled apartment where he’s staying, to my brotp Draco and Pansy, to all the random meetings, to LITERALLY EVERYTHING! poc!harry 

Wild by seefin also contains poc!harry and it is fucking amazing as well! You can see my rec for it in this list of slow-burn fics :)

The Devil’s White Knight by angryspaceravenclaw (64.5K)- When Harry wakes up in an alternate timeline–a timeline where Voldemort was defeated long before the first war–he discovers everything is different. His parents, his godfather, his friends–and him. Harry must deal with the consequences of who he would have been if he had been raised by his parents, and figure out where he stands with his casual hook up, Draco Malfoy.
This fic was really interesting!! It’s one of the only “everyone lives” AU fics I’ve ever read! I generally stay away from those fics because it just seems like cheating or something, but in this one Harry retains all his memories of going through the war, so it was really nice to watch him be reunited with all the people he lost! And his relationship with Draco was really compelling as well!! poc!harry

Volunteers by Anna Fugazzi (52K)- Harry, Draco, and a volunteer position that was supposed to be quick and easy.
Soooo this fic doesn’t actually have (explicitly) POC Harry or Draco, but it does have POC DRACO’S WEE LITTLE SON AND HE’S ADORABLE!!! It’s not epilogue compliant at all, and both Harry and Draco have oc sons. The fic is mostly about Drarry volunteering to organize a Beltane festival together, their sons being friends, and them being dads. I just love a good dad fic, okay?!?! And this was the first and ONLY time I have ever seen *ANY* POC Malfoys, and I didn’t realize how amazing it would be until I happened upon it and my heart stopped and I gasped and then couldn’t stop grinning. 

The First Baptist Church in Sutherland Springs reopens as a memorial, a week after a deadly shooting

Those who went to the memorial found 25 red roses on 25 white chairs, representing each of the victims who lost their lives. A single pink rose was placed on a chair in honor of the unborn child. 

anonymous asked:

why is feldman bad? (i didn't even know it was used)

Oh! I should’ve elaborated.

It’s one of the names that are present on a AIDs memorial quilt to commemorate those who lost their lives to AIDs & HIV. Marvin Feldman was a man commemorated on it.

I understand that Falsettos is about the AIDs pandemic but I absolutely don’t believe someone’s death should be thrown about as an excuse to give someone fictional a surname. That man suffered and died and it isn’t acceptable to just decide that his name is fitting for a character.

It’s an upsetting topic but if you want to know more, this interview is with the creator of the memorial quilt and Marvin Feldman’s closest friend. If you still don’t understand what’s wrong with using his surname I want you to see how tragically Cleve Jones discusses his friend, his loss. It’s unfair, wrong, and disrespectful if you still claim that it’s okay.

Just make up your own surname for him, guys…


fuma kotaro x mc (unnamed)

a/n: i had two anons request the same prompt for kotaro, so i figured it was in high demand! so here’s number 31 from this list - “you may be an idiot… but you’re mine.” @jemchew and @demon-princess-anastasia, i’m sorry you’re both getting spammed <3

He is certain of very few things, really: he has never been bright and he has never been particularly talented, but he has come to understand that there is not a thing more precious in the world than her and the sounds of their hearts beating in time. He still makes mistakes a bit too often, and he has lost count of how many times he has seen her pretty face marred with fear and concern for him as he acts in ways she cannot understand. She cares so much for him, so terribly much — he can tell, because he feels the same for her: terribly, terribly in love.

So terribly that, at times, he cannot even think of his own safety when he comes to visit her. He can’t help that Lord Yukimura hangs at her side so often — and that his reaction is always so violent.

Obviously, however, she cares, if the pinched look on her face and the way she keeps her arms crossed is any indication.

Keep reading

You know, if the first 7-digit number The Boys punched into Lucretia’s door was going to be the exact number of people who died in The Hunger’s initial attack, there’s a very real possibility we would’ve had a memorial scene to honor those 6,969,420 lives lost

In memory of those we lost on the road to tk5:

• the eyeliner. Brandiva lived and died in just a day
• brandons sams town show mustache who disappeared under mysterious circumstances
• Bronnie (murdered by Alex Cameron)
• One More Song (allegedly)
• Brandon and Ronnies solo Twitter presence
• everyones chill
• Dave has been dead for about 2 weeks now

Beauty and the Beast (KG3 x Reader) (Part 1/?)


Summary: Once upon a time a spoiled young king meet a beautiful girl who will save him from destruction.

Warnings: None? Gaston being an idiot. KG3 isn’t really in this one but he will be in the next one.
Once upon a time in the hidden heart of Britain a young king lived in a shining castle. Although he had everything his heart desired he was selfish and unkind. He taxed his colonies to fill his castle with the most beautiful objects and the most beautiful people.

One night an old woman came to the castle, offering a single rose in return for shelter from the bitter cold. Repulsed by her haggard appearance the king turned the woman away. She warned him to not be deceived by appearances for beauty is found within. When the king dismissed her again the old woman’s ugliness melted away to reveal a beautiful enchantress.

He tried to apologize, but it was too late she had seen there was no love in his heart. As punishment she transformed him into a hideous beast. Placing a spell upon the castle and all that lived there. As days bleed into years the king and his servants were forgotten by the world. For the enchantress had erased all memory from those who loved them… and hated them.

The rose she had offered him was truly an enchanted rose. If the king could learn to love another and earn their love in return before the last petal fell the spell would be broken. If not he would be doomed to remain a beast for all time. As the years passed he fell into despair and lost all hope. For who could ever learn to love a beast…

The early morning sun had already risen when you walked out of your tiny cottage. You held a new book you’d gotten from the library a few days ago. A story about a beanstalk, and an ogre, and a-

“Go’ mornin’!” You heard from a path leading to the woods near your home. You nodded and curtsied to the man. He must not know who you were.

“Bonjour.” You said and his face became sour. Right. The British didn’t quite like the French. (An understatement, but you’d never liked to think people hated you. Barely anyone in this town knew you well enough for that.) That’s one of the reasons you felt you didn’t belong in this small rural village. You held the book closer to your chest as you continued walking.

People were just starting to come out as you entered the town limits. They all greeted each other. One or two saying hello to you. You greeted them kindly, but continuing your trek to the library. You could hear them talking about you. They had never learned the skill of whispering.

“Look at her boots, they look like a man’s.”

“You can see her underwear, the way she has her skirt tied up like that. I’d believe she was some common whore if I didn’t know she was so strange.”

“I still don’t see why Gaston likes her so much.”

“Well she is pretty.”

“Yes, but completely mad.”

You rolled your eyes and kept walking. You didn’t care what they thought of you.

“Good morning Belle.” You blushed at the nickname.Gaston had given it to you when he’d learned you were French. The whole town had followed suit. You stopped to talk to the old man who had called to you. Mr. Smith, the oldest man in town.

“Bonjour Mr. Smith. How are you today?” You asked with a kind smile. The old man meant well and you’d always found him polite.

“Oh, it’s been okay. I do believe it will rain soon. My back is giving me troubles.” He said and shrugged slightly.

“Well, lets hope it will clear up soon.” You said. He looked at your book disapproving for only a moment.

“Where are you off to?” He asked and you looked at you book.

“The library, I just finished this. It’s a wonderful story.” You said and he nodded.

“Well I’ll let you be on your way. Have a good day.” He said and limped away.

“You as well Mr. Smith.”

You could see the library from where you were standing. You increased your pace as you got closer. You opened the door to the small building the little bell singing as you walked in.

“You know that thing doesn’t ever ring for anyone else, but you.” He said and you let out a laugh.

“Well no one truly appreciates this place then.” You said and as you set the book on his desk.

“Do you gave something new?” You asked and he shook his head.

“Not since yesterday, but you’re free to take any of the others.” He said and you nodded. You looked through the stacks for a moment before pulling out the one you wanted. “This one again?”

“It’s my favorite! Far off places, daring swordfights, magic spells, a prince in disguise!” You and looked at the book adoringly. It had been the first book you read in this town. It had kept you warm on cold nights and happy when things got tough.

“Well if you like it all that much it’s yours.” The librarian said and you gasped.

“Really?” You asked excitedly.

“Yes, now be on your way. Your father will worry.” He said and smiled at you.

“Thank you so much.” You said and flipped to the first page on your way through the door. You tuned out the chatter of the townspeople as you read. You were almost back to your home when you bumped into something and dropped your book. Or more specifically someone. An arrogant, rude, and conceited someone.

“Good morning Belle.” Gaston said putting on his most charming smile. Which honestly just looked creepy to you. You took a breath and gave him a forced smile.

“Bonjour Gaston,” you said as he picked up your book. “May I have my book.” He had started shaking his head at it.

“How can you read this, there’s no pictures.” He said as he flipped through the pages. There were in fact pictures, it was in the middle of the book. It was quite beautiful you thought.

“Some people use their imaginations.” You quipped grabbing your book from him and dusting it off.

“Belle it’s not right for a woman to read. Soon they start thinking, and getting ideas.” He said and you rose a brow.

“I think those are synonyms for each other.” You said and he got the funniest face as he was confused.

“Synonyms? Anyways Belle-”

“Gaston I would love to stay and talk more, but I have to get home to my father.” You said and started to walk away.

Gaston looked around to see if anyone had seen the rejection. One man had and he scoffed,”She wants me. She’s just playing hard to get.” He said and the man nodded walking on. “She will be my wife.”

“Papa?” You asked as you entered into your home.

“Ah mon ami you’re home! Come come look at what I’ve been working on.” He said from the basement of your cottage.

“Papa?” You asked walking down the steps to the painting room your father had made. He loved to paint, you lived to invent. You both used the space equally. When you reached your father you put your head on his shoulder. The painting was of a woman, with roses all around her. You smiled at the perfect painting of your mother.

“Oh papa, it’s beautiful.” You said and he leaned his head against yours.

“You really think?” He asked.

“I know, and you’ll win first prize at the art fair at the end of this week.” You said and he smiled.

“Why thank you dear. Would you mind fetching me my white paint I’ve run out and I want to add a few more things.” He said and you nodded going over to his extensive painting collection.

“Papa, do you think I’m odd?” You asked. No matter how you refused to let the townspeople get to you, sometimes it’s all your mind could think about.

“My daughter odd? You’re absolutely mad to think that!” He said and you grabbed his paint shoving it into his hand.

“Not funny Papa.” You said and sat on a stool near him.

“I thought it was quite funny.” He mumbled and you rolled your eyes. “Now is that why you’re really upset?” He asked and you nodded.

“Yes, I just- I don’t fit in here Papa. I don’t really have any friends.” You said and he rose a brow.

“What about Gaston, he’s a handsome fellow.” Your father suggested and you scoffed.

“Yes, and rude and conceited. Oh Papa he’s not for me.” You said and looked at your hands that had fallen into your lap.

“Hmm.” Your father hummed and continued painting. He smiled when he was finished. “You are truly your mother’s daughter: Class.” He said and you smiled a little.

“Well I will let this dry. Come on let start a late breakfast don’t you say. Then you can get to your inventing.” He said and your smile grew even more. You walked with him up to the kitchen to make breakfast.

The week passed on slowly. You’d go into town and buy the things you needed. Avoid Gaston and try to not let the girls in the town make you self conscious. Then on Friday your father was set to leave for the art fair to sell his paintings.

“Is there anything you want while I’m in the city?” He asked and you thought for a moment.

“A rose, like the one mother’s holding in the painting.” You said and he nodded.

“Take care my dear. I will be back before you know it.” He said and kissed your forehead.

“Goodbye Papa. Be safe.” You said and kissed his cheek. You watched from your porch as he rode off. You turned and walked into your home going to read. Everything had been taken of that morning and you could wait to get back to your story.

An hour after your father had left a knock came at your door. You set your book down on the table in front of you. You marked your page and walked to the door. You looked into the peephole contraption you’d made and groaned at the person who was standing there.

You reluctantly opened the door. “Gaston what a… surprise.” You said as he made his way in. You watched as he walked his way to your dining table.

“Good evening Belle. I hope your day has been well.” He said and set his muddy boots on your table cloth next to your book.

‘It was good until you got here.’ You thought crossing your arms over your chest. “Forgive me if I sound a bit unpleased but why are you here?” You asked him.

“Belle, I’m here to make all your dreams come true.” He said and you walked over and grabbed your book away from him.

“And what do you know about my dreams Gaston?” You asked moving to put your book on the shelf.

“Plenty, picture this, a the tavern, a roaring fire place, my little wife massaging my feet. While the little ones play with the dogs on the floor. We’ll have six or seven.” You realized you’d turned your back to Gaston and quickly corrected that.


“No Belle, young strapping boys, like me. And do you know who that little wife will be Belle.” He asked coming closer to you.

“Let me guess-”

“You Belle.” You gasped a little and slid from under his arms. He followed after you.

“Gaston I’m flattered really I am, but I-” he’d backed you up to the door and was leaning forward eyes closed mouth puckered. His hands had trapped you in. “I just don’t deserve you.” You said and opened the front door and got out from under him as he fell into your porch. You slammed the door and saw his boots on your table. You quickly grabbed them and opened the door throwing them out and locking the door.

You took a deep breath and sighed. This was your life. Walking through a provincial town and dodging a delusional egomaniac.

You looked out the window and saw a whole wedding ceremony set up. You rolled your eyes with disgust. You couldn’t believe he would do that. No you really could believe he would do that.

You huffed and went out to the back. “Can you believe him?” You asked the chickens.
“Me? The wife of that boring brainless?!” You screamed in frustration and threw down the food.

“Madame Gaston can’t you just see it! Madame Gaston his little wife ugh! No sir! Not me! I guarantee it I want much more that this provincial life!” You said as you stomped through your backyard. This was so completely and utterly unbelievable.
Then the truly unbelievable happened.

Philippe, the horse your father owned, came running through the field behind your house and you ran to meet him. Why? Because your father wasn’t with him.

“Philippe where’s Papa! Where is he?” You asked and quickly undid the small painting coach attached to his saddle.

“Take me too him Phillippe.” You said and climbed onto the horse and you sprinted for the hills.