“Now listen, this is important. Before the sun sets on the third day,
you’ve got to get dear ol’ princey to fall in love with you. That is,
he’s got to kiss you. Not just any kiss the kiss of true love. If he
does kiss you before the sun sets on the third day, you’ll remain human,
permanently, but if he doesn’t, you turn back into a mermaid, and you
belong to me!”
“Now, here’s the deal. I will make you a potion that will turn you into a human for three days. Got that? Three days. Now listen, this is important. Before the sun sets on the third day, you’ve got to get dear ol’ princey to fall in love with you. That is, he’s got to kiss you. Not just any kiss the kiss of true love.
samheughan Terrific night @baftascotland so proud of the wifey @caitrionabalfe and her well deserved win! x Thanks @armani for the gorgeous suit and to @louboutinworld for the super stylish shoes
Recently I had an epiphany, which I shared with me dear ol’ pals @jemscorner and @saint-hildegard-of-bingen. If I shared it with you, too, me dear ol’ pals, I was drinking at the time and I dinna remember.
In other news, my dear and terribly annoying ol’ pal Knife Wumman 🔪 @maniacal-savage-bibliophile has been hounding me relentlessly during the past four weeks “to post.” So, I’m posting, eh? However, this post has a only wee sliver to do with her and a whole lot to do with my epiphany.
Today Knife Wumman 🔪 told a Dear Anon, woman-on-woman wrath is vicious. No shit, Sherlock.
I’m not on the Instantgramma social media platform, but I do lurk on occasion. Many of the comments on Sam’s BAFTA Scotland 2016 photo have been lovely! Many are supportive of his and Caitriona’s careers and accomplishments. Many include compliments on how great they look or how well they “go” together. Many are downright shippery.
Many bring out my latent homicidal tendencies or, at the very least, inspire warming up my slappin’-upside-the-head arm.
Some women find it necessary to comment negatively on Cait’s shape and weight. On her choice of hairstyle. On her wardrobe. On the fit of her dress. On the size of her jewellery. On the pallor of her skin. On her makeup. On how she isn’t Sam’s wumman. On how he shouldn’t call her wifey. On how shippers should shut up. On how lovely his real girlfriend is. Blah blah blah yadda yadda yadda…
Knife Wumman 🔪 would tell you my fragile sensibilities dinna react well to people’s picking on Cait and/or Sam (or people I actually know and love). I shed a lot of tears reading those IG comments.
And then it hit me.
Sam posted this photo.
He chose it.
He doesn’t see what the Negative Nervies see.
He sees love and beauty and light. He sees his Sassenach. He sees his wifey of whom he is very proud. He sees the wumman whose picture he posts most on his social media accounts.
Sam chose this photo. And that could not be more beautiful to me.
Dear Darkling Is your favorite food still anything that's sweet? ;) - Alina
My Dearest Alina,
What are these games? What is it you want to hear from me? That you are the sweetest thing to have come into my life? Because you, my Alina, are the sweetest thing to ever have come into my life. I could eat you right up, as the otkazats'ya say, you are so saintsdamned sweet. Too sweet. Bittersweet, even. Sometimes you’re just bitter. Ah, my treasured Alina, how you wound me.
Q: What do you call it when you're sick of photos taken in airports?
A: Terminal illness.
Oh, come on, you were already groaning. Those photos ruffled everyone’s feathers.
I managed to extend 2016 for a day by inserting Sumday, December 32 into the mix. I wish I could delay 2017 until certain acts get themselves together, any weak puns intended. Recently, I told me dear ol’ pal @jemscorner 2017 would be the year The Farce Is No Longer With Us.™ — Rats. 🐀🐀🐀 I spoke too soon.
So photos from airports. And a bonfire. And from a dinner party. What do they have in common? A lot of unidentifiable people.
Photo Set One from Heathrow Airport, Longford, Hounslow TW6, UK, 12/28/16 (from a personal Facebook account)
Here’s what I see:
An unidentifiable tall, slim, ginger man is walking to the right of an unidentifiable shorter, slim blonde wumman.
Sam Heughan towers above the unidentifiable wummen to his left.
Sam Heughan appears to be having a pleasant conversation with the unidentifiable wumman to his left.
Now, here’s the deal. I will make you a potion that will turn you into a human for three days. Got that? Three days. Now listen, this is important. Before the sun sets on the third day, you’ve got to get dear ol’ princey to fall in love with you. That is, he’s got to kiss you. Not just any kiss the kiss of true love.
This was Mary’s first Christmas. She was nearly two years old. Technically it was her second, but her first year they didn’t have a Christmas. Sam dressed Mary up in an elf onesie. He carried her into his and Gabriel’s room. @helloimthetrickster
The Aylesbury Estate, one of London’s biggest housing estates - which is most likely going to be demolished in order to leave space to some more soulless luxury 1-2-3 bedroom flats that no one will be able to afford. Oh dear, poor ol’ London.
“ You know, we could make one horrifying mash up.”
“ Oh -I’m listenin’ dear ol’ death.”
So I’m slowly getting around to drawing more ‘nightmare before christmas’ AU related things - and though Marluxia and Larxene in the AU deserved some limelight. Not too sure if the duo is up to any scheming to take over Halloween tow ( it’s a lil’ undecided at this point for the plot ).
For now, I kinda found this as a chance to update their designs kinda.
Photo-op for dear @ofeire and good ol’ St. Paddy’s day. As I type this I notice she is the embodiment of Ireland’s flag colors, is there a leprechaun or something who wants to ask the lass for a dance–better yet, a pint?