be like a postage stamp


Obv. I shortened the answers just to be concise, but I’ll expand on a few things that people are wondering about:

Skull pic - Mark was absolutely sincere talking about this, and this was a VERY casual fun setting (he’s quite charming and fit irl!). First he explained how the original artist was charging loads of cash to use his print, and they decided enough of that. They had Arwel make a skull, which was a print over a light box (blah blah lil pics of ACD, you’ve heard that before). When shot however, the other lights would hit it - did he say “oddly”? I forget the exact word. It would look too glaring, and like a postage stamp stuck on the wall (pantomimes that). So they changed it. Original question girl follows up “you turned it down?” And Mark replied “no, no, it was done in post” and a comment that “there’s really nothing more to it”

Budget: Mark and Sue both talked about how Sherlock was a huge hit, people think they are rolling in dosh ($) to get them made, but it’s the BBC, and it’s just not that way. Sue made a quip about how she’s the boss, but it’s not all in her hands (paraphrasing there - I have an excellent memory for dialogue, so most of this you can take as quite accurate). Arwen described drawing the “bond lair” - his words- and showing them the pics and then pantomimed jaw dropping astonishment from the team. He followed up with talking about how such a huge set was difficult to bring in on budget. In all the talks of $ there was a slight note of bitterness, or disbelief. SLIGHT note, they are British, but definitely there. I’m very sure they weren’t making it up.

Lights- I was unclear earlier on what Arwel said - he talked at length that there were 3 sets and a location every time they went down the stairs, so you’re literally seeing 2 different ceiling lights because you’re seeing two different sets. I mushed it up with the skull stuff earlier, sorry. He also spoke about how hard they try for continuity, but stuff just gets lost, and “every time you hand an actor a prop, they break it” and followed with a funny anecdote about Eccles and (forget) both IMMEDIATELY broke their first sonic screwdriver.

I’ll have more tonight for you hopefully! Glad I can share stuff with you. Do you wanna see more pics or is that boring?

So now that I’ve read the Gremlins book...
  • Gus is a lot less wise and serious than in the Epic Mickey games.
  • The named Gremlins are all named after whichever pilot they terrorised most, hence the word “Gremlin” in front of their name to differentiate
  • Gremlins are freaking sassy as all heck, especially when you try to say they don’t exist
  • Don’t call someone stupid for saying they saw a Gremlin, the gremlins will all come out, wreck some havoc, and call you stupid
  • Apparently only anyone who flies can see them, but this was only put in for plot convenience towards the end of the story
  • Apparently Gremlins like to eat used postage stamps, but too much gives them indigestions
  • There’s actually multiple types of Gremlins
  • There are females and babies, called “Fifinellas” and “Widgets” respectively
  • Out of every nest of twelve widgets, only one is a Fifinella (female), and they won’t know which one it is until they’re all grown
  • They initially mistook planes for “tin birds”
  • They have suction cups on their shoes to stay on the plane while destroying it
  • Don’t make these guys angry, seriously
ID #36530

Name: Kaitie
Age: 25 (26 in December)
Country: Australia

Hi there!
My name is Kaitlin ( Kaitie ), I’m 25 and live on the coast of Tasmania ( the little island everyone forgets exists in Australia ).
I am currently a stay-at-home mum to a wonderful little girl, and whilst my boyfriend and family are wonderful company, I have found myself in-between a rock and a hard place. So, I thought I would try to find a new friend via hunting down a pen pal.
I have been diagnosed with a few different mental illness conditions, and consider myself lucky enough to have had dealings with them for so long that I am comfortable with my demons and can quite easily showcase how they affect my every day life with a lot of humour and sarcasm. I am the butt of my own jokes and really know how to laugh at myself well.
Since becoming a mum, my social anxiety and the onset of post-natal depression have seen me becoming very comfortable in the stay-at-home role of parenting. My boyfriend still has a lot of friends and enjoys social gatherings, but the friends I enjoyed contact with have moved away or we have otherwise grown out and away from each others company, leaving me happy to be in the comfort of my own surroundings, but sometimes feeling a bit lonely and isolated. I have often found it difficult to connect to new people and forge friendships that will last, and with the lack of having any people around to enjoy a coffee date with, I thought I’d try my luck at writing letters again instead!
For lack of a better description, I am a total dork. My personal style is some kind of confused mix of the alternative appearance of a goth, a hippy, a nerd, a witch, and more often than I’d like to admit, my baggy clothes and big jackets have me being mistaken constantly for a male.
I enjoy the quieter things; Spending time close to nature, artistic expression, including but not limited to art, drawing, painting, photography, body modification, craft, upcycling, etc. I love body modification and have a decent amount of my own tattoos and piercings. I love to travel ( but haven’t seen as much as I would like ) and furthering my education, whether it be studying courses from home or raiding the local library for books on whatever topic has me curious at the time. I am a total book worm ( the amount I read as well as how many books I own is almost embarrassing ). I like to collect a lot of different things ; snow globes, postage stamps, post cards, and for the not-as-squeamish readers, I also collect oddities and curiosities from nature - some plant material, but mostly animal bones, claws, feathers, and insects ( all cruelty free and naturally sourced ).
I am in the process of creating my own art business to sell my crafts and display all the works I have hidden away. It’s a slow process but I have a lot planned for my future adventures!
In my usual style of advertising for a pen pal, I wouldn’t usually describe myself in such detail, but with past efforts leading to not having people reply for long, possibly things being lost in the mail, or just not having a real common connection with people, I thought I would write a bit more about myself so you poor souls know what you’re getting yourselves into if you choose to contact me! ( I totally apologise in advance for being weird and awkward, but I promise I am friendly, open minded, and always up to talk about anything! )
I look forward to hopefully meeting like-minded people to share my adventures with!

Preferences: I’m not really too picky! Preferably I’d like to speak to people in my own age bracket but if anyone thinks we may get along or you’d enjoy my kind of crazy, please feel free to contact me! I’m happy to write to anyone, from anywhere, but please note that postage costs can sometimes be a lot if I plan to send through smaller gifts and packages so depending on where you live, it may take a little longer to save the money to post your mail! I’d love to have someone that is happy to stay in contact regularly and won’t mind a continual conversation as well as receiving totally random items, as I do tend to pick out some neat post cards or gifts to send if I go anywhere mildly interesting! I only speak/read/write in English, though, so I am sorry if any different language or broken English means I get confused. I will do my best to understand you properly, though! :)

Kismet, Alice Hamilton x Hatter

A little fiction (my first for the fandom) following Alice and Hatter’s last moments in the Syfy Channel’s miniseries Alice (2009). Please, please, please let me know what you think.

“I’ve missed you.”

Alice smiled, answering his whisper with another kiss, her arms tightening around his neck slightly. It was like clinging to him solidified everything that had happened, and brought Wonderland back to life in raging technicolor. Every frustration and interrupted potential was poured into this moment. Hatter’s fingers gripped at her waist, her shirt bunching slightly under his hand. She felt like heat under his hands, her warm, soft body pressed against his. It wasn’t until her mother cleared her throat pointedly that Alice and Hatter… who was now under the alias of David… pulled apart.

“Alice? You know this man?” Carrol’s tone matched her expression; complete and utter astonishment, with a healthy dose of confusion and a dash of way disapproval. Still, Hatter was reluctant to let Alice go, so his hand slipped from her waist to brush against her hand, hat still held in the other. His chest warmed as she caught hold of him, his suddenly sure fingers immediately interlacing with hers at the affirmation. The sensation grew as her other hand moved to cling to his forearm, gravitating her frame towards him.

“Mom, yes… yes, I know him.” Alice said breathlessly, groping for the name her mother had called out before. “I know David.”

“And you failed to mention this?” Carrol turned her gaze on Hatter, and he swallowed, offering her a sheepish smile.

“I, uh, wasn’t certain I should. Didn’t know if she’d be happy to see me.” Alice’s fingers squeezed his. “Was a bit shocked to see her there, really.”

“Hatter… David is a friend… an old friend.” Alice offered, “We haven’t seen each other…” She met his eyes, her voice more definite. “In a while. Feels like forever.”

Keep reading

"Love Poem #137" by Sarah Kay

I will wake you up early
even though I know you like to stay through the credits.

I will leave pennies in your pockets,
postage stamps of superheros
in between the pages of your books,
sugar packets on your kitchen counter.
I will Hansel and Gretel you home.

I talk through movies.
Even ones I have never seen before.

I will love you with too many commas,
but never any asterisks.

There will be more sweat than you are used to.
More skin.More words than are necessary.

My hair in the shower drain,
my smell on your sweaters,
bobby pins all over the window sills.

I make the best sandwiches you’ve ever tasted.
You’ll be in charge of napkins.

I can’t do a pull-up.
But I’m great at excuses.

I count broken umbrellas after every thunderstorm,
and I fall asleep repeating the words thank you.

I will wake you up early
with my heavy heartbeat.
You will say, Can’t we just sleep in, and I will say,
No, trust me. You don’t want to miss a thing.

Pinned To The Dish

You are dying. Don’t panic.

In this, we are equal.

Regardless of race, religion, sex, sexual orientation, political linen, preference of music, or favorite shape of animal cracker.

We are dying.

Our differences in thought, manner and action cannot relieve us from the obligation of our death.

With a dignified or ridiculous dying will happen with or without our acceptance.

Whether by natural causes or by accident. By sickness, disease or famine. By boarding a plane or turning the wrong way up a one-way street. By ordering the chicken in a far too sketchy restaurant or by really intense orgasm, which believe me is my preference.

However it happens, it will happen.

And everything you were will be reduced to a box being ticked off from a really long to do list.

Perhaps Death is collecting us like stamps. Hoping to one day have enough postage to send in his resignation because Death must be the most mind-numbing job in the universe.

And as far as excuses go, I bet Death has heard them all.

I didn’t tell my wife that I love her. I didn’t tell my husband he was a dick. I didn’t tell my cousin to erase my hard drive. I’m not too worried about all the Justin Bieber videos but I don’t want anyone to know that I was a huge, almost stalker-like fan of Shane Koyczan. How embarrassing.

Whatever your excuse is, Death’s heard it.

And responds with a gentle questioning:

What were you waiting for?

When did your hesitation become a full stop?

I warned you this whole time! I happened all around you. I took away the ones you knew and the ones you didn’t. And the ones you didn’t, either ended up on the news or in a section of the local newspaper so I’m sure you at least knew of them. Some were so mighty that everyone knew who they were. And regardless of their fame or wealth I took them as well. Because in the end I always get the headline.

What made you think you would be different?

Your instinct will be to respond with a statement:

I’m special!

But before your lips crack open to trumpet forth your answer like a kind of supreme validation, Death will silence you with a readied response:

You are all special!

Your response to this statement will be both adolescent and familiar:

I didn’t ask to be born… man!

It is a statement so stupid that at one point in your life you believed it without reservation because you thought it to be the peak of logic and reasoning.  

But the statement “I didn’t ask to be born” when dissected, when pulled apart and examined, when pinned to the dish with its organs exposed, says only this:

You blame your life for your death.

And that’s about as useful as blaming cupcakes for being a cuter version of cake.

Think of the book you never wrote.

The hands you never held.

The movie you never made.

The chance you never took.

What are you waiting for?

You are dying.

So think of all the nevers.

The never evers.

Never had a staring contest with my dad.

Never got to be the better at I told my friends I was gonna be.

Never ever.

Never built a tree house.

Never invited someone I like up to the tree house I built.

Never got a kiss from the someone I like, after inviting them up to the tree house I built.

Never told the someone who I liked, but never kissed, after inviting them up to the tree house I built, that kissing them was my plan the whole time and we could die at any giving moment because I am a shitty tree house builder.

We are dying.

Do not let a belief in an afterlife excuse you from the responsibility of doing something beautiful with your life.

Even if it’s one failure after the next.

Fail. And fail again.

And this is gonna be hard for some of you to hear but,

Fuck Yoda!

There is try and there is value in trying.

Risk is your endorsement of hope.

Your fear of death is the realization that you haven’t even tried to press your hands into the air and leave your imprint in the horizon for others to chase and follow.

Don’t panic.

There’s still time.

But you are dying.

Don’t panic.

You are only dying.

You are not dead.


“ I FOUND THIS ON GOOGLE BEFORE and it’s pretty funny yet pretty motivating: “Be like a postage stamp. Stick to a thing until you get there.”
–via @janiestudies, qtd. by Unknown

motivation quotes 8/?

submit your quotes to me and i’ll turn them into motivational graphics!

anonymous asked:

do you have any ideas on things you can include in snail mail?? (like tea bags, stickers, etc I need more inspiration -v-')

Hello! I tend to include anything that’ll fit in a letter, but here are some specific items that always find their way into my mail. I hope this helps!

  • magazine clippings
  • bookmarks (handmade or otherwise)
  • paper shapes like flowers and leaves
  • unused and used postage stamps (foreign and domestic)
  • pens
  • notebooks
  • shipping tags
  • washi tape
  • candy
  • incense
  • twine, ribbon and string
  • small jewelry and accessories like hair bows and bracelets (often handmade)
  • photographs
  • sticky notes and page flags
  • envelopes
  • blank stationery and postcards
  • ATCs / ACEOs
  • original artwork and doodles
  • feathers
  • dried flowers
  • local pamphlets and flyers
  • zines
  • fancy paper clips
  • glitter
  • scrapbooking papers and embellishments like die cuts and paper frames
  • tea and coffee
  • stickers
This is a job for the police, not a museum studies major.

Anonymous submitted:

While working the front desk of my museum today, I greeted a perky young lady. She leaned over the desk, held out her hand and offered me what looked like a small set of postage stamps. After I took it, she announced: “I think it’s drugs.“ 

She further explained that she found them in the nearby public parking lot. Because, yeah, that makes sense. Find drugs in a public parking lot and make a beeline for the nearest museum. 

I called the local police department and they came right away. Something told me not to handle the stack even though it was in plastic, and so I had placed it on a pad of sticky notes. When the officer arrived, he immediately said, “Oh yeah, that’s heroin. Let me get my gloves. I definitely don’t want to touch THAT.” 

He put on nitrile gloves and placed the stack in an evidence bag, whereupon I ran back into my museum, tore off the top sticky note and threw it in the trash and proceeded to scrub the hell out of my hands.

For the next hour, the perky young lady, whose children were playing in the public park next door, kept popping in to give me updates on the people in the park whom she thought were the dealers. This was not a relationship I was eager to cultivate. 

Now that it’s dark outside when I leave my museum at night, I am trying not to become a character in an episode of a real crime show called “Murder at the Museum.” Sad part is, I live in a small town where you think these things don’t happen. But they do. 

After their wedding in Montreal, Elizabeth and Richard returned to Toronto where they found Richard’s dressing room full of wedding gifts from the cast of Hamlet. 

RB: “I’ve never known a girl who likes presents as much as this one. You give her a postage stamp and she does a back flip.”

The gifts included- measuring spoons, rollings pins, a feather duster, an onion chopper, mouse-traps, a scouring pad, a hard boiled egg slicer and a tiny coffee pot. They were meant as gag presents but Elizabeth was delighted with each one.

  • Radio Host: Iggy could you give us a little freestyle?
  • Iggy: aight, here we go
  • Iggy:
  • Iggy: When the winds are blowing, that's the time to smile. Learn how to laugh, learn how to love, learn how to live, that's my style. When the rent is owing, what's the use of tears? I'd rather laugh, I'd rather love, I'd rather live, in arrears. Some fellows sweat to get to be millionaires, some have a sport they're devotees of. Some like to be the champs at saving postage stamps, me, I like to live, me, I like to laugh, me, I like to love. Some like to sink and think in their easy chairs of all the things they've risen above. Some like to be profound by reading Proust and Pound. Me, I like to live, me, I like to laugh, me, I like to love. Success is swell and success is sweet, but every height has a drop. The less achievement, the less defeat. What's the point of shovin' your way to the top? Live 'n' laugh 'n' love 'n' you're never a flop. So when the walls are crumbling, don't give up the ship. Learn how to laugh, learn how to love, learn how to live, that's my tip. When I hear the rumbling, do I lose my grip? I have to laugh, I have to love, I have to live. That's my trip. Some get a boot from shooting off cablegrams or buzzing bells to summon the staff. Some climbers get their kicks from social politics me, I like to love, me, I like to... (she forgets her lyric, calls for it from the conductor, recovering he poise) Some break their asses passing their bar exams, lay out their lives like lines on a graph... One day they're diplomats– Well, bully and congrats! Me, I like to love, me, I... (Iggy suddenly goes blank. She can't remember what comes next. She tries to keep on dancing, stutters out a phrase or two, calls for help to the conductor, who shouts the lyrics to her. It's no good. Her desperation grows. Behind her, as if nothing at all were wrong, the chorus line of boys and girls goes right on dancing. Making one final effort, Iggy half-sings) Me, I like–me, I love–me. (With which she lunges forward out of the dance and shouts) I don't love me! (The chorus line goes on dancing, as if she didn't exist. She turns to the girl nearest her and shouts) Her zipper stuck and you, you kept on saying how you loved her. (To the next girl) He was lying! (And the next) I just wanted her, that's all. I only wanted her until I had her. After that– (Ranging up and down the line of Chorus Boys and Chorus Girls, hurling it at them) The job was there: I took it. I took it. I'm too clever. They don't catch me. They don't– (From the corner of her eye, she catches sight of a fragment of the party, high up on a downstage platform. Shouting at them) You can't catch me. I'm too smart. (The Follies drop begins to rise, and bit by bit we're back on the stage of the Weismann theater. Not literally, however. We're inside Iggy's mind, and through her eyes we see a kind of madness. Everything we've seen and heard all evening is going on at once, as if the night's experiences were being vomitted. Ghosts, memories and party guests–all there. They stand on platforms which are moving insanely back and forth, they mill about the stage, and all of them are doing bits and pieces of their scenes and songs. And through it all, downstage, Iggy's chorus line continues dancing. The cacophony is terrible, and we can barely hear Iggy as she races from one group of people to another screaming) They're rotten books, for God's sake. Don't you know it? ...It's a trick. It's nothing and I let her do it ...She said she'd kill herself. I didn't think she meant it... Jesus–Iggy!... (There is a sudden beat of utter silence into which she cries out) Phyllis! (She races off stage as the chaos resumes. It reaches a peak of madness and then, as the lights dim down, it starts receding. Softer, softer. Then, for a moment, the stage is dark and there is no sound. In the silence, softly, we hear Iggy say) Phyllis... (Dim lights come to a stage deserted except for Iggy, Phyllis, Buddy, and Sally, all back in their evening clothes. Sally, as if cut from stone, sits staring out at nothing. Far, far upstage, the back wall of the theater has gone and in the gray light of predawn, we see buildings across the street. In the darkness at the sides, a figure stirs. Another. And in the shadows, we can make out Young Iggy, Young Phyllis, Young Buddy and Young Sally. They stand watching)
  • Phyllis: I'm here, Iggy; I'm right here.
  • Buddy: Sally? Are you all right? (No response at all, not a flicker. Crouching beside her) Come on, kid. Hey, it's me.
  • Sally: (Voice dead, eyes straight ahead) I left the dishes in the sink, I left them there, I was in such a hurry and there is no Iggy for me, not ever, any place.
  • Buddy: There never was, and that's the truth. Come on. I'll take you home.
  • Sally: I can't stand up.
  • Buddy: I'll help you.
  • Sally: I should of died the first time.
  • Buddy: Cut that out.
  • Sally: I should have been dead all these years.
  • Buddy: Don't talk that way. You've got a lot to live for: friends, a home, some money–Go on say it after me, out loud. You say it. Friends...
  • Sally: Friends...
  • Buddy: Home...
  • Sally: Home...
  • Buddy: We're gonna go and get some rest ... And then we're gonna make plans for tomorrow.
  • Sally: For tomorrow... (She pauses, looks up at the morning light that seeps into the ruined theater. There is no hope at all.) Oh dear God, it is tomorrow. (Buddy holds her tightly in his arms)
  • Iggy: I've lost my jacket. (Phyllis picks it up) There has to be a way... I won't face one more morning feeling–(Impatiently) Despair: I'm sick to goddamn death of it.
  • Phyllis: (With a flash of white-hot anger) Amen. It's easy; life is empty, there is no hope. Hope doesn't grow on trees; we make our own and I am here to tell you it's the hardest thing we'll ever do.
  • Iggy: I've always been afraid of you. You see straight through me and I've always thought, "It isn't possible; it can't be me she loves."
  • Phyllis: (Still with the intensity of what she feels) Well, think again. Come on, we're going home.
  • Iggy: You're really something, aren't you?
  • Phyllis: Bet your ass.
  • (Buddy helps Sally to her feet. She can barely stand, and he supports her as they turn and slowly start upstage. As they turn, Iggy holds out his hand to Phyllis. She looks at him, then takes it. As the two couples move away from us toward the morning light, their young selves drift down silently, then turn. They all stand silhouetted, motionless. Then, soft and faint, as if it all were spoken years ago, we hear)
  • Young Buddy: (Singing) Hey, up there!
  • Young Iggy: Way up there!
  • Young Iggy and Young Buddy: Whaddya say, up there!
  • Young Sally: Hi...
  • Young Iggy: Girls...
  • Young Phyllis: Iggy...
  • Young Buddy: Sally...
  • Curtain.

allofyouareterrible-deactivated  asked:

but what if Ramjohn and Fawnlock had babies??? and some of them were wooly with antlers and some of them were fluffy with tiny nubby little baby goat horns and ALL of them had tiny little hooves the size of postage stamps and their tails were like tiny bunny tails, so small and soft like pompoms and they'd bleat and mewl and make So Much Noise and they'd bounce around like little lambs with their tails flicking around and Ramjohn could sit them on his shoulders and they'd pull on his horns


anonymous asked:

98 with calum please?

(#61: “I love you. I’m completely and utterly in love with you. Please don’t get married.” / #98: “I can’t watch you with someone else. It’s tearing me apart.”)

Twelve minutes past four o’clock on a Saturday afternoon, you were staring at your reflection in the mirror. Your white satin dress looked exquisite on you; the material laying across your body as perfectly as it had two weeks prior when you arrived at your last fitting. Hair tailored to perfection and not a speck of makeup out of line; you looked fit for the monarchy, like you were someone who’s face belonged on postage stamps and splashed across tabloid covers. Glinting in the sunlight of the window, cracked open due to the stuffiness of the room, sat a diamond encrusted ring on your the finger next to your pinky. It was wrapped around as snug as all the bobby pins in your hair felt, handmade just for you as per your fiancé’s requests and outrageous amounts of money he paid to have them carried out. “Forever yours” was inscribed in cursive script in the inside of the band but you never really tugged the ring off to look at it (because unadmittedly, the thought of “forever” was a little daunting and quite frankly, made you a bit queasy).

A soft knock and a gentle push of a door unlocking from it’s frame shook you out of your crippling reverie, the dark brunette of your best friend’s hair shining in the sunlight as his eyes slowly cast up your body with a look of awe brought a grin to your face.

“What d’ya think?” you asked, twirling around so the bottom of the dress fanned out a little bit but nearly toppling over as soon as you started due to the heavy weight of the material. Before you even felt yourself falling, you found yourself burrowed into Calum’s chest, his grip on your torso eliciting a giggle from you. “You can let go now,” you wheezed, the crinkles by the corners of your eyes once stood you upright again making his heart drum against it’s confines.

“S-Sorry,” the brunette muttered dazedly, his gaze still glossed over as he stared at you.

Your face crinkled in concern. “Am I wearing too much makeup? Fuck,” you whispered, already beginning to stalk towards the mirror. “I knew it was too mu–”

“Hey,” Calum interrupted, his hand just barely catching and grasping yours before tugging you back towards him. “Nothing’s wrong, Y/N. You look beautiful, okay?”

Suddenly, you though ground was incredibly interesting, the repetitive designs of the expensive carpet holding your gaze as you shyly replied, “Thank you.”

For a moment, Calum felt like he couldn’t breathe. He’d come in to your room before the wedding with one intention (to rouse you for the ceremony) and might very well walk out with another (straight out the back doors and far, far away). He couldn’t fathom how he let this happened, how he let so many moments when it was so clear that there was something between you guys just… slip away. Brushed them off. Told all his friends who warned him he better court you before you “ran off with someone else” that somehow, he knew you and him would always end up together, so why rush it?

It was standing in front of you, both in your finest get-ups (you in your wedding dress and he in his tux though he wasn’t the one you were marrying) that he realized looking back… he only had regrets.

“What’s wrong?” you asked, noticing the frown and slight quiver in your best friends bottom lip.

Before he could even think a rational thought, the proclamation of “I love you” was sitting, waiting in the open air. With a roll of his eyes at the ceiling, Calum continued. “I’m completely and utterly in love with you.” He swallowed, adam’s apple bobbing at the movement just at your eye level as you stared open-mouthed at him. “Please don’t get married.

“B-But– you–” you stuttered, desperately trying to keep your tears from falling and ruining the makeup you’d sat in a chair for an hour to get. “Cal, you–what?”

Calum shook his head, stepping away from you. Shoving his hands in his pockets, he kicked at the ground as a shallow, bitter laugh left his lips. “I’m sorry,” he apologized, sounding anything but (though his eyes screamed remorse). “I know that this is so, so unfair to you,” he shrugged. “But I can’t, okay?” His chocolate brown orbs finally raised to meet yours. “I can’t watch you with someone else. It’s tearing me apart.

He let his words sink in for a few seconds before pressing his lips into a firm line as you continued to gape at him. “I’ll see myself out then,” the brunette muttered, his head down as he turned around.

“Wait,” you beckoned, desperation evident in the single syllable.

Sadly, he looked over his shoulder, tears falling freely.

You swallowed, casting a glance at the clock on the wall before balling up the train of your dress and nodding at the love of your life, declaring “I’m coming with you.”

insp. i // insp. ii // finished requests || +masterlist

The Princess Diaries 2: The Royal Engagment Sentence Meme
  • "You have to write."
  • "I'm very proud of you."
  • "My mother surprised me by marrying my high school teacher."
  • "We're just friends now."
  • "It's the princess from America!"
  • "There was no course in Queen or How to Run a Country 101."
  • "Will I ever be ready?"
  • "I'm going to live in a beautiful palace like in a fairy tale and eventually sit on the throne and rule."
  • "Welcome home, Princess."
  • "The one downer in my fairy tale is I've never been in love."
  • "Maybe I'll meet my Prince Charming tonight."
  • "The eagle is flying."
  • "A queen is never late, everyone else is simply early."
  • "I hope they have string cheese."
  • "And you obviously don't speak English."
  • "Have you met the princess yet?"
  • "Is this an American custom?"
  • "I'll survive, Your Highness."
  • "Are you sure you don't want to exchange licenses and proof of insurance?"
  • "The swelling should help them fit better."
  • "Looks like they're trying to land a plane!"
  • "Woodland animals are a lovely thing to be compared to."
  • "I'm sorry I stepped on your foot."
  • "You can step on my foot anytime."
  • "If this were my party, we'd be kissing by now."
  • "No harm, no foul, no bruise."
  • "Please don't curtsy like that."
  • "How do you turn off the curtsies?"
  • "Can I explore a little bit?"
  • "Shut up!"
  • "We've never enforced that law!"
  • "She deserves the same right as any man!"
  • "How do they expect me to find love in thirty days?!"
  • "An arranged marriage is my only choice."
  • "I dream of love, not fondness."
  • "You don't have to be queen/king."
  • "Courage is not the absence of fear, but rather the judgement that something else is more important than fear."
  • "I want to make a difference as a ruler."
  • "I'm doing a background check on____."
  • "I would gladly take a bullet for you."
  • "I offered to have them hung by their toes in our courtyard."
  • "Have you met him?"
  • "We will present ourselves with grace and poise."
  • "They always do that."
  • "I will personally get some ice for your foot."
  • "We danced and I flirted."
  • "I feel so stupid right now."
  • "This is your very own suite."
  • "This is so cool!"
  • "I have my own mall!"
  • "I just love to look at him/her."
  • "Right on!"
  • "Does this popcorn taste like pears?"
  • "You ever take those shades off?"
  • "Shall we have some tea?"
  • "Let them bond."
  • "Every marriage in my family for the past one hundred years has been arranged."
  • "Your task is to romance her/him."
  • "I was just admiring my ring."
  • "You know, he/she is so romantic!"
  • "I'm not here."
  • "It was more than a minute."
  • "Well aren't you just...crafty."
  • "Lie dance?"
  • "The point is that I'm onto you!"
  • "He/she was in a closet with him/her?"
  • "The wedding invitations have been sent out."
  • "I would kneel if it weren't for my knee replacement."
  • "We are learning the art of the fan."
  • "Are you sassing your grandma?!"
  • "A princess never chases a chicken."
  • "I can't ride sidesaddle."
  • "It's a wooden leg."
  • "That is impressively sneaky!"
  • "I don't like you."
  • "You shouldn't hide, it only makes them gossip more."
  • "What do you want?"
  • "I don't need this right now!"
  • "You never think about anyone but yourself."
  • "Can you let me be miserable and not make me feel worse about myself?"
  • "____ doesn't have boyfriends/girlfriends, they have dates."
  • "It's a shame you're not attracted to them."
  • "I didn't hear you mention love."
  • "You're so jealous."
  • "You can't just go around kissing people, particularly not engaged people!"
  • "You want to kiss again?"
  • "What's so confusing about a kiss?"
  • "Maybe I just like kissing you."
  • "Why don't you go under water and I'll count to a million?"
  • "Why do you talk like that?"
  • "Most of them are orphans, we take care of as many as possible."
  • "Would you like to be a prince/princess today?"
  • "They're letting the children join them, how charming."
  • "It's time for mattress surfing!"
  • "Darling, when they tell your story, they'll call your heart of gold your crowing glory."
  • "You've fallen in love with her/him."
  • "But you care for them."
  • "Are you sure I didn't burn you?"
  • "We can have tasty finger sandwiches together!"
  • "Could I see you one more time before I go?"
  • "I'll find a way."
  • "Have you been thinking about us?"
  • "You were the someone I wanted to spend the rest of my life with."
  • "They're throwing pebbles!"
  • "And I won't respond to that line, it's far too cheesy."
  • "This really is more romantic in the books."
  • "Tell me a secret."
  • "No one knows what's in your heart."
  • "I love I Love Lucy reruns."
  • "That's a fact, not a secret."
  • "The secret is...I still want to."
  • "We stayed out all night."
  • "Have a nice life!"
  • "I promise you nothing happened."
  • "I'm getting married today."
  • "Now, this is what I call a closet."
  • "Being married is about being yourself, with someone else."
  • "I look like a moose."
  • "He/she kind of does look like a poodle."
  • "Come and sweep him/her off their feet."
  • "I should have known!"
  • "Doesn't matter, I'll run."
  • "How am I supposed to herd sheep with a bike?"
  • "I'm a girl who loves black and is wearing pink."
  • "The maids know everything."
  • "Is this part of the plan?"
  • "I'm going to need a minute or two."
  • "Out of my way!"
  • "I can't do this!"
  • "Don't make the same mistakes I did."
  • "You can go in that church and get married or you can walk away."
  • "I won't be getting married today."
  • "Would you force them to do what you're trying to make me do?"
  • "I refuse to be king/queen."
  • "Just think how lovely he/she will look on our postage stamp."
  • "Stare them down."
  • "I like change."
  • "Just because I didn't get my fairy tale ending, doesn't mean you shouldn't."
  • "Put me down!"
  • "I'm in love with the king/queen-to-be and I'm inquiring if he/she loves me too."
  • "Do you have a chicken for my table?"
  • "I think I can hear you without a phone."
  • "I solemnly promise so to do."

The garden is secret but our love isn’t. It’s hidden, tucked away behind the house in a postage stamp-sized yard. Kissing her is like kissing a wild rose. I can’t help but let my hands get caught in her hair; locks grab at my fingers like ivy. Every time she laughs it’s soft and buttery, like running a dandelion up the inside of your arm.