she was his wife

I swung by @lordmesa-art‘s booth! We talked about his shout-out in 5x22. He was working out when he started getting notifications for Lord Mesa’s Bakery. He was so confused and thought, “What? I don’t own a bakery.” Then of course he saw the episode. It was a hilarious story. I always make a point of seeing Lord Mesa at any convention we are both at. He is always a delight. Such a sweet man and, of course, wildly talented. His wife is absolutely adorable too. She was wearing a Lord Mesa Bakery t-shirt, which will be available for purchase on his website soon!

I picked up these prints to giveaway! Stay tuned! I’ll make a separate posts for drawings at a later date. 

anonymous asked:

How would James react if suddenly one day after work there was a puppy that the MC had gotten without telling him

(I hope you don’t mind, I’m gonna be using my own MC for this.)


Tired from a whole day’s worth of work, all James wanted to do was get home, eat dinner and cuddle with his wife. He was feeling so relieved when he was finally in front of the mansion’s door. He opened the door, expecting to see his wife waiting for him, as she usually did, but instead he saw no one as he stepped into the mansion. A small whimper coming from below him grabbed his attention and he was not prepared for what he saw there.

A small dog. A puppy, to be accurate, was staring at him from where is was sitting on the floor, right in front of the door. It was so tiny with its had big black eyes and golden fur, looking at him curiously and somewhat afraid. They stayed there, staring, both unsure of what to make of each other, until Aurora came running down the stairs with a frantic look on her face. Her face light up when she saw her husband, then she noticed the puppy and a relieved expression took over.

“Oh my God! There you are little one! I looked everywhere for you.”

“Love?”

“Yes, dear?”

“Why is there a dog here?”

She bit her lower lip and looked at him as she picked the puppy up and hugged it to her chest.. “Well, you see, I went to the pet shop with Naomi today to get some food for her cat. I was looking around while she spoke to the salesperson and I just saw this lone puppy and he looked so sad and so lonely and I walked up to it and put my hand on the glass and it just whimpered and looked at me with those big puppy eyes and it was so cute and I was so weak and I just bought it.” She spoke so fast that James had a hard time understanding everything she said.

“You bought a puppy… because it looked cute?” He asked after finally understanding.

“Yes.”

“Love, this is-”

“Please James, can we keep him? Look at him! He’s sooo cute and I just can’t-”

“Love!”

That shut her up but this time she was just looking at him with the exact same eyes as the puppy she was holding. He felt his resolve and logic weaken.

“Alright, fine. We can keep him.” He said, resigned.

Aurora’s eyes lit up like Christmas lights. She giggled happily and gave peck on the lips. “Thank you thank you thank youuuu!!!” She back into the mansion with the puppy in her arms.

James sighed as he adjusted his glasses. “I hope I won’t regret this.”

anonymous asked:

If Michael Jackson was apart of Hollywood elite why did he get killed off? I thought powerful people can't be killed off, they have a lot of protection and sources. So does that mean Beyonce can be killed too ?

Powerful people can get killed. Didn’t you read The Godfather? Lmao in the book one of the main characters was talking to his future wife and she was worried he’d go to prison and he told her people like him don’t go to prison they either get away with it or get murdered. Lol

8

modern disney aesthetic
↳ aladdin

I know this shit is old as fuck but I’m gonna write it anyway. So, I just logged onto tumblr and saw that Johnny Depp was trending and decided to write this to get it off my chest.

So, y'all remember the incident where Amber Heard accused Johnny Depp of domestic violence in 2016. She had a video of him slamming cabinets and throwing shit around, obviously angry as fuck, witnesses and pictures of her face after Depp hit her. They are divorced now. And let me tell you, it still baffles me how quick people are to forget. Not only that, but people still shame her, because she settled for an agreement where she received money from Depp instead of suing him. And you know why she did that? Because he fucking admitted to hitting her. So you got multiple evidence supporting her claim as well as a statement from the abuser who confirms it true. And y'all still defending his sorry ass.

What are they defending him with? Well, I’ve read multiple posts and comments online saying that she’s allegedly a “psycho” and an abuser as well. Oh and that she provoked him on purpose so she could collect his money. that doesn’t excuse shit.

You. Don’t. Hit. People.

I don’t know if the whole “she beat up her ex-girlfriend” is true or not. But if it is, than damn she just as a fucked up person as Depp it. Still doesn’t excuse his actions.
Even if she cheated, even if he found her in bed with someone else you don’t get to beat your fucking wife up. The fact that she took his money doesn’t change the fact that he raised his fist. If you’re in a relationship with someone who makes you so fucking angry that you get the urge to hit them or throw bottles across the room you either break up and/or walk the fuck away. (Unless she attacked him too and it was in self defense.)

I don’t care for your gender or sexual preference or status. When you abuse your significant other in a relationship by throwing things around and scaring them, by beating or mentally abusing them, the result is the same.

A sampling of some of the many, many universes in which Viktor Nikiforov and Yuuri Katsuki didn’t somehow manage to avoid each other for TEN+ YEARS and are already happily married (Inspired in part by the musings of @kiaronna and @pearlo on this topic from this post):

  • In 2010, Viktor is leaving an Olympic after party because it has just more or less dissolved into an orgy and that’s not Really his scene. In this universe, he decides not to go back to his room and instead finds his way to an outdoor seating area, which is not very heavily utilized given the fact that it’s February. There is only one other person out there–an athlete with his back turned, curled up onto a bench. The lettering on his jacket says Japan.
    “Mind if I join?” he asks, and the other man turns to reveal dark hair and the deepest eyes Viktor has ever seen.
    “Oh,” he squeaks. “No. Go ahead.”
    They sit, and talk, and three hours later exchange phone numbers. Instead of going to America to train, Yuuri Katsuki goes to Russia to train under Yakov Feltsman. He takes National gold in 2011 and marries Viktor in 2012.
  • Phichit accidentally posts a video of Yuuri doing a bit of Viktor’s 2013 free skate to Instagram, instead of the hamster video he meant to post. The video makes its way through the figure skating grapevine until, obviously, reaching Viktor. Viktor immediately DM’s Phichit, begging to know who the man in the video is.
    Yuuri wakes up to six missed calls, 609 Instagram notifications, 49 texts and a DM from Viktor Nikiforov.
    “I WAS ASLEEP FOR AN HOUR,” he shrieks.
    Phichit takes complete credit for their marriage in his speech at their wedding less than a year later.
  • Through the careful and judicious saving of money for several years, and because in at least one timeline the main waterline in the onsen and the transmission on the family car don’t go kaput in the same year, Yuuri’s family is able to send him to one of Yakov Feltsman’s ice skating boot camps when he is fourteen years old.
    Viktor is there, all shining hair and huge smile and new celebrity. He has just placed at the Turin Olympics and is on his way to becoming a Russian household name, and Yuuri has been in love with him for two years already.
    “Yuuri!” Viktor coos across the ice, over the heads of the fifteen other skaters in the bootcamp. “Keep your hips even! It won’t make it so hard to turn into your Axel!”
    “Yuuri! Don’t hunch your shoulders on the spread eagle!”
    “Yuuri! Your thigh should be parallel to the ice on that sitspin!”
    “He’s incredibly skilled for his age,” Lilia tells Yakov in the back of the rink one day. “And Vitya has been behaving remarkably well, since he came here.” She fixes her eyes on Yakov, deep and determined. “He’ll be old enough to make his senior debut next year. If we groom him through his last year of juniors, he could bronze in his first GPF, or better. I want him, Yasha.”
    Yakov Feltsman is not in the habit of denying his wife those few things she asks of him.
    Yuuri Katsuki returns home after that bootcamp to pack his things and collect his dog and hug his parents goodbye.
    “I’ll take good care of him, Mr. and Mrs. Katsuki,” Viktor assures from a Skype call. “He’ll be getting the best training in the world. I even have a poodle, so Vicchan won’t be lonely during the day!”
    Hiroko and Toshiya just smile knowingly.
    Yuuri Katsuki is newly fifteen when he moves to Russia and begins sharing a condo with Viktor Nikiforov. He is sixteen when he wins his first GPF silver, and eighteen when the Vancouver Olympics roll around and he stands below his best friend on the podium and accepts silver for Japan as Viktor accepts gold.
    He is nineteen when, after five years of glances and touches and shared secrets and tears and laughter, Viktor pulls him into bed.
    “About time,” is the general consensus to that.
    They have only been dating, dating-dating, for five months when Viktor asks him to marry him.
    “I know it’s quick,” Viktor says, “but I feel like–I feel like we’ve known each other all our lives, anywa, so what’s the point in waiting?”
    Yuuri, of course, feels the same way.
  • Viktor makes a split-second decision to touch up his make-up before a press conference at the Trophee de France 2011, and as he’s patting the sweat marks off his temples hears the definite sound of someone crying.
    “Um,” he announces to the otherwise silence bathroom. “Are you okay?”
    “Yeah!” comes the answer, shrill. “I’m totally fine!”
    “You don’t sound fine,” Viktor says, and ducks his head to see which stall has feet under it. In the last stall, he sees a pair of badly-abused sneakers. He straightens up and knocks on the door. “I’ll leave you alone if you want me to, but I can–if you want, I can show you a better place to cry. Than here.”
    It takes a moment, but the door opens. The man in front of him has watery eyes and puffy red cheeks and Viktor isn’t sure he has ever found someone so beautiful.
    “Okay,” he whispers, and Viktor leads him onto the roof where instead of crying, he stares out over the skyline and tells Viktor about his home town.
    Viktor never does discover why Yuuri was crying, but he does get his phone number–and he does visit his hometown with him, a year later, to tell Yuuri’s family that they’ve decided to get married.
  • Yuuri is somehow convinced by Phichit to go out with a group after Skate America in 2013–Phichit is in his element, leading people around the city with expansive gestures and the effortless social confidence Yuuri has come to know of his best friend. 
    “You’re from this city too, aren’t you?” asks someone at Yuuri’s shoulder, and Yuuri turns from Phichit’s monologue to see Viktor Nikiforov of all people. Yuuri, distantly in the back of his mind, realizes that he didn’t see Viktor before because he is wearing a hat, scarf, and enormous sunglasses.
    “Um, not from here,” Yuuri says, trying not to squeak, “but I–we both live here, Phichit and I.”
    “But you know the city,” Viktor says, “so that means you would know a place where I can get the most disgustingly greasy food imaginable and you and I can go there and my coach never needs to know?”
    “Yes,” Yuuri says immediately, because he may be timid around most people, and especially around his idol, but he has more than enough sense to realize that His Time Has Come. “I can absolutely do that.”
    Yuuri takes Viktor to American Coney Island, where they eat loose burgers and chili fries and drink diet coke, which is the only cession to their diets.
    “Oh Yuuri,” Viktor laughs at the end of the night, a speck of chili cheese still at the corner of his mouth, “I could fall in love with a man like you.”
    And he does.
  • Celestino wins a radio lottery and receives tickets to Champions on Ice in Las Vegas–he decides to take Yuuri and a rinkmate. Yuuri’s rinkmate is nice, but he doesn’t know her very well, and he’s several years younger. She also has friends in Nevada who she wants to meet up with, and Yuuri doesn’t know anybody in the state for obvious reasons. On the first day they are there, Yuuri’s rinkmate disappears with her friends and Celestino takes his wife and goes exploring on the strip. Yuuri stays in his room and plays Pokemon and Skypes his mother.
    On the second day, Yuuri goes shopping for souvenirs for Yuuko and his family, and stares far too long at the billboard of Viktor Nikiforov’s face that is advertising the ice show. That night, he debates which of the three posters he brought with him he should bring to have Viktor sign, before deciding on none–the odds that he will meet Viktor Nikiforov tonight are practically not any higher than they were when the were on opposite sides of the world, and Celestino won’t want to wait in the long autograph lines.
    “Don’t you want an autograph, Yuuri?” Celestino asks after the show, and Yuuri thinks it’s nice of him even though they both know that the polite thing to do is say no.
    “No,” Yuuri says, staring at the long line, and continues out of the building. 
    They branch off then–Celestino has dinner plans with his wife, and Yuuri’s rinkmate is meeting back up with her friends for some clubbing.
    Yuuri is walking back to the hotel when he bumps headlong into somebody’s solid chest.
    “Oh, sorry,” they say, and steady him with hands on his shoulders. Yuuri looks up and finds the same icey blue eyes frm that billboard yesterday staring back at him.
    “Oh,” Yuuri whispers, wide-eyed. “You’re–”
    “Shhh,” whispers Viktor Nikiforov, pressing a finger to his own lips. “Don’t give it away, I’m hiding. 
    “VITYA,” someone from the alley leading back towards the ice center screams.
    “Come on,” Viktor laughs, and tugs Yuuri away by the hand. 
    It’s the spring before Viktor will cut his hair, and it flies out behind him in a magnificent cascade as they run.
    They find their way into a club, where Viktor buys them drinks and laughs and laughs no matter what Yuuri is saying, and then drags him out onto the dance floor. Yuuri has not yet met Phichit Chulanont, who will drag him to pole dancing classes and teach him how to move his hips like a weapon, but he and Viktor get by in the crush of bodies, pushing against each other.
    “I think I love you,” Viktor breaths against his neck, and they’re both three sheets to the wind, but Viktor is Russian and Yuuri is a college student and their tolerance is astronomical. They aren’t even stumbling. “I know we only just met, but I think I love you.”
    “Then let’s get married,” Yuuri blurts before he can help it, and Viktor beams.
    “Yes!” he cries. “Yes, let’s do that!”
    It isn’t hard to find a place that will marry them–even though Viktor’s signature on the certificate looks more like a drawing of a tree, and even though Yuuri’s tie ends up around his forehead halfway through the ceremony.
    In the morning, Yuuri wakes up with the worst hangover of his life, fully-clothed next to Viktor Nikiforov, and says, “We can–this happens all the time, we can have it annulled.”
    Viktor stares down at the ring on his finger, tangled hair all over one shoulder. Yuuri realizes that he doesn’t even rememer where the rings came from. How much did they cost? 
    “I would rather not, if that’s okay,” Viktor murmurs, and so they don’t.
    Yuuri carries out the rest of the year in Detroit, wearing the ring around his neck on a chain and thinking about his husband, half a world away, waiting for him.
Just Business, No Pleasure

Warnings: SMUT (Ages 18+)

Summary: You and Bucky have been successfully keeping your relationship a secret for a while now. However, you’re not so sure how much longer you can take it once he’s assigned the job of seducing another woman on a mission.

Word Count: 4.6k (I’m so sorry)

MASTERLIST

Originally posted by ohhseby


“—this is the target’s wife, Lucille. She was dumb enough to marry him and he was dumb enough to think she’d be faithful. Barnes, I want you to go about seducing her. Y’know, the typical ‘40s charm: court her, woo her, whisper sweet nothings; the whole shebang.” Your blood went cold at Tony’s words, not even daring to look at Bucky across the conference room table. “Most of us will be stationed around the gala with our comms on, but some of us are gonna stay back here and monitor the situation through security camera footage.”

“Why am I the one doing the seducing? Don’t you think this—” Bucky started, pointing to his vibranium arm, “—will be a bit of a dead giveaway that I’m not just some random suitor?” he asked, his unimpressed tone clearly challenging Tony and, although you still didn’t dare to look at him, you knew his countenance matched his voice.

Keep reading

Patater Week (Feb 6) Get Together

you know how i said i wasn’t doing this

apparently i am a liar.

(all the week’s fics will go onto ao3)

They literally slam into each other at a roller rink.

It’s a You Can Play benefit thing for kids. Kent’s too busy watching to make sure he doesn’t run over one of the mini-tots that he completely misses the giant headed in his direction. And you would think, wouldn’t you, that a guy whose career involved balancing on knives on ice would take a check on skates as well as he did in an ice rink, but nope. Kent hits Alexei Mashkov head-on and sends them both into a pile on the ground.

The icing on the cake is Kent’s arm clotheslining a six-year-old on the way down.

So now he and Tater are both sitting on the side of the roller skating rink, holding matching cold packs to their faces while a small child stuffs tissues up his nose to stop the bleeding.

“I’mb gonna tell everybody at school that Kent Parsob hit by face!” the kid tells Kent happily, oblivious to his dad’s efforts to keep him from talking and thereby snorting blood everywhere.

Kent gives him a weak thumbs up. At his side, Alexei makes a noise that might actually be a giggle.

“You so cute with kids,” Alexei says.

Damn language barriers, Kent thinks. “You mean I’m good with kids. And I’m not that great. They just like me because I’m ridiculous.”

“You are very ridiculous,” Alexie agrees. “But I’m choose right word, ‘cute.’ You are cute being with kids.”

Kent thinks the head-on collision must have knocked something loose in both their heads. He twists sideways and gapes, the effect of which is probably lost due to the ice pack covering half his face. “I’m sorry. What did you just say?”

Keep reading

they call her maid maleen

for the first few trembling years of her life, she is a princess. she is the daughter to the king, born of his beloved wife and of her visage. her dark eyes have the appearance of a smoky quarts and her mother carefully twists her mass of black hair into a hundred small braids down her back. she is a beautiful, quiet child, and for a while all is well. they call her princess maleen.

then her mother dies. it seems as if the king is determined to bury his love for his daughter along with his queen. he moves her to a different wing of the castle, and refuses to see her. her tutors are let go, and the nobles’ children are no longer allowed to play with her. only the maids look after her now.

the king remarries. the new queen gives birth to a son, and maleen is forgotten completely, banished from a home she still resides in and a life she can now only watch unfold.

the maids take care of her, braid her hair and kiss the blisters on her fingers, teach her to scrub at porcelain and polish silver, to clean a fireplace and mop polished marble floors.

they call her maid maleen.

~

the king has a son by his new wife, and then a daughter. they are pale and fair-haired like their mother, with only their dark eyes to show they are the king’s children. but they inherit none of their parents’ beauty, have faces that don’t look quite right and bodies that get stuck between gangly and chubby and never settle into one or the other. princess gisella and prince jan are privately regarded as unfortunate products of a lovely union.

maid maleen spends long hours working, and has neither the time nor funds for creams to soften her skin or oils to care for her hair, has never used face powder or lip color.

maid maleen is twenty three years old, and the most beautiful woman in the kingdom.

her braids are wrapped carefully atop her head, but when she lets them loose they hang past her hips. her dark skin is made even darker thanks to long hours working in the palace garden, and her eyes have never lost that same curious light. she walks straight and strong, years of hard labor giving her muscles and definition to her body that she never would have had as a princess. boys and girls give her long, considering looks and flirtatious smiles, and nobles have to double-take when she passes them by.

no one speaks of it anymore. but maid maleen looks ever more like her beautiful late mother, has the same eyes as her father, and dressing in ill-fitting cast offs and running her ragged can’t hide the truth.

maid maleen is the king’s daughter.

she has accepted her life as a maid in the palace she was one day set to inherit, and tries to see it as a gift. she sleeps with who she likes, may marry whichever of the charming boys from the city who’s smile she likes best. in the maids who raised her she has more mothers than she has fingers, and perhaps she longs for the days when she was a small princess, when she was the apple of her parents’ eye, when the whole of their nation was to be hers to inherit.

but then the blacksmith’s daughter lets her hands linger a little too long on her wrists, and maleen knows that she won’t be sleeping alone tonight. there are some things that worth more to her than a throne she was born to. she doesn’t miss the little girl she used to be.

until.

tensions have always run high between their kingdom and the neighboring one – too many squabbles over borders, over trade agreements, over patrols, over anything and everything the kings can find a reason to be upset about, it seems like. so when prince wolfgang is sent over, the whole palace is abuzz. the prince seems determined to inherit a peaceful land, and is coming over to talk with the king to do it.

maleen does not care for princes. nor for nobles of any rank, in fact. she remembers how they turned on her, she sees the small acts of pettiness and cruelty they thoughtlessly inflict on their servants, and she wants nothing to do with it. commoners may not be as educated as nobles, may not have as many objects to call their own, but maleen finds she prefers their company to that of lords. she’s uninterested in this prince, which is perhaps why she’s the one that gets sent to his rooms. her moms can trust that she at least won’t fawn over him.

“sir wolfgang,” she murmurs, pushing open his door and giving a low curtsy, keeping her eyes trained on his mud covered boots. “is there anything you require?”

silence. she can only stay bent in a curtsey so long before she loses patience. she’s almost given up on him, is about to cut her losses and call it a night when he says, hesitant, “queen sabine?”

her mother’s name is punch to her gut, and her head snaps up at the sound of it, the rolling fire of her temper bubbling just below her skin. “i am maid maleen,” she snaps, then tacks on “your highness,” after a moment’s consideration.

his cloak is half unbuttoned as he stares at her with a slack mouth. she supposes he would not look unhandsome if he were not currently doing his best to imitate a frog. he appears to be only a handful of years older than she is, and if she were not furious she would be impressed that he remembers her mother well enough to see sabine in her.

“maleen,” he repeats, and for a moment she wonders if he will recognize her as well, but he only says, “my apologies. if you would help me with my cloak, i would be much obliged.”

she’s instantly suspicious. she’s met nice nobles before, ones that were considerate and remembered her name and thanked her when she brought them wine. but she’s never met a nice prince before – they’re always of the worst sort. “yes, your highness,” she says, and the cloak is soaked through and clinging, it’s no wonder he’s struggling with it. once she’s gotten it off she hangs it to dry, then goes back to him. she slaps away his numb, struggling fingers and undoes the rest of the buckles and loops of his overly complicated clothing. she’s gotten down him down to an undershirt and pants when his hands grab hers. she blinks and looks up. he has freckles dusting across his nose.

“this is inappropriate,” he says, but honestly she’s stripped a lot of nobles, it wasn’t weird until he took her hands and looked at her like no one’s ever looked at her before.

“yes, your highness,” she agrees, and takes a step back. she places his clothes in front of a fire, curtsies, and leaves. she can feel the weight of his gaze on her all the way back to her room.

wolfgang continues his diplomatic agenda, having long meetings with the royal family. after, maleen goes and tends to him, setting out his food and taking care of his clothes, straightening up any mess that he’s made. at first he’s quiet, and he just watches her, but he quickly discovers that maleen has opinions and thoughts and isn’t afraid to share them. soon they’re debating the finer points of trade routes and arguing the effectiveness of a sliding tax scale, and maleen comes to cherish the evenings she spends with the prince, likes the way he speaks to her and looks at her, likes the shape of his smile.

weeks in she enters his room, dinner steaming in her hands and eager to continue their conversation about state funded orphanages versus a state funded foster system. he’s pacing and tense, shoulder stiff. “wolfgang,” she sets down the food and wipes her hands on her apron, “is something wrong?”

“is it true?” he asks, and he’s not looking at her. he’s always looked at her before.

“is what true?” she flinches away from his coldness, is already preparing to retreat and hide and beg someone else to watch over him.

he turns to her, and she’s baffled by the mixture of hope and anger on his face. “are you the king’s daughter? are you princess maleen?”

she takes a step back, “i am maid maleen.”

“please,” he follows her as she steps away from him, and her back hits the wall. he stops when he’s almost close enough to touch. “my father sent me here with the goal to seal our new treaty with a marriage. he expects me to marry princess gisella. but if you are the daughter of the king – then he will allow me to marry you instead!”

“who says i want to marry you?” she retorts, but he gets on bended knee and she freezes.

he holds a hand for her own, and against every bit of logic, she gives it to him. “maleen, i’ve never felt this way about anyone. i was willing enough to enter a loveless marriage before i knew what true love is, but now i do, and i can’t go back. marry me.”

she wants to. she thinks she loves him. she hadn’t been planning to fall in love with anyone. “i am the king’s daughter,” she tells him, “but i am no princess. i haven’t been a princess in a long time.”

he brings her hand to his mouth so he can kiss each one of her knuckles, “then we’ll have to change that.”

~

wolfgang goes to the king to make his case, to return maleen to her birthright and allow her to marry him.

it goes even worse than maleen had feared.

her father is furious. he’s so angry at the audacity of this request that prince wolfgang is thrown from the kingdom. so incensed is he, that guards drag maleen from her bed in the middle of the night and throw her into a tower. the door closes shut behind them, and she bangs on it and screams but no one comes for her.

there are no windows, and only one door with a sliding metal grate in the bottom. she’s high in the tower, she thinks, from the number of steps she’d been forced to climb, but she stands on a dirt floor. the room contains only the bare minimum needed for survival, and nothing more.

once a week food is slid through the slot in the door. she has to be careful, because if she eats it too fast they will not provide more, she will just starve. days turn to weeks turn to months, and she despairs of ever being let out of this tower. months turn to years, and she gives up hope entirely of leaving this tower. she considers refusing to eat, killing herself slowly through starvation, because death is preferable to life locked in this tower.

one night there’s a scuffle, and shouting, and for the first time since she was shoved inside the door opens. there’s a guard standing there, and princess gisella tentatively steps inside. “maid ma – i mean, maleen?”

maleen stares. this is the first time she’s seen another person in years, and suddenly for all the screaming she’d done she can’t find her voice. gisella takes another cautious step forward, “maleen, please – we don’t have much time.” she holds out her hand, “come with me.”

gisella is sixteen now. although she’ll never be a great beauty, she’s grown into many of the features that she was once mocked for. “where?” she asks, but takes gisella’s hand and lets her lead them down the twisting staircase. anyplace is better than the tower.

“i’m to be married in a week’s time to prince wolfgang.” maleen feels a sharp pain go through her chest. had wolfgang forgotten her? their farce of a romance was such a quick, shallow thing. she was a fool to fall for it in the first place. “i’m not going to show up. you are.”

she stares, “what?”

“wolfgang started a war over father locking you in the tower,” she explains, “but eventually it got to a point where neither could justify it, so our father and wolfgang’s decided our union would mean peace between our countries, as intended. but i don’t want to marry prince wolfgang, and he does not want to marry me.”

“i don’t understand,” she hadn’t paid much attention to the girl when they were in the palace together, and she’s regretting that now.

they finally reach the end of the tower. it’s the first time she’s breathed fresh air in years. she tries not to get distracted by it, and instead focuses on the carriage to her left, and the pure black mare laden like a pack mule on her right. “i’m leaving,” gisella says, “i don’t want to be wolfgang’s bride because i want to be klaus’s,” the guard smiles, and he must be klaus, the princess is rejecting a prince to run away with a commoner. “there’s a map and everything you need in the saddlebags. the wedding dress is waiting for you at the castle. no one will know you’re not me until wolfgang unveils you, and by then it will be too late. he will marry you, and i will be gone.”

“why are you doing this?” she asks.

gisella shrugs, “you’re my sister, and father is an idiot. i want you to be happy, and i want wolfgang to be happy, and i want to be happy too. this way we all get what we want. our brother will be waiting for you in wolfgang’s castle. he’ll help you.”

maleen is speechless. gisella grabs her in a quick hug – the only one they’ve ever shared – and then goes to the carriage with klaus trailing behind her. “i’ll see you again, princess maleen!”

she doesn’t have time for tears. she gets on the mare, and rides for the palace of the neighboring land.

~

she makes it just in time. she sneaks into the castle the night before the wedding, ducking around servants until she find her way to jan’s door. she knocks, tentative, wondering if this was a mistake and all one elaborate trap. but the door opens and his face slackens in relief, “finally!” he pulls her inside, and sits her down. there’s lukewarm water waiting for her so she can clean herself, and jan stands with his back to her the whole time, outlining the wedding and how it will go so she knows what to expect the next day. “father isn’t here,” he assures her, “he didn’t want to leave the kingdom, so i’m here in his stead.”

“won’t you miss your sister?” maleen finishes washing and wraps herself in a soft blanket.

“when i am king, gisella will return,” he says confidently, “she will come home and bring klaus, and you will rule here with wolfgang, and all will be well. our countries shall be great allies when it is me and wolfgang on the throne.”

he’s only a year older than gisella, just seventeen, and maleen feels oddly old next to them, feels old next to these children who know what they want and take it and don’t let anything stand in their way.

“we need to get your hair rebraided,” he says, “you should look perfect tomorrow. it’s your wedding day.”

she stares, aghast. “that will take all night!”

“i’ve brought help,” he says, and sends a servant down the hall. the servant returns with a half dozen of the maids who raised her, and who crowd forward and hug her and kiss her cheeks and say how much they’ve missed her. princess or not, bride or not, to them she will always be their little maid maleen.

~

it’s clear gisella picked her wedding dress with maleen in mind. it fits her for one thing, and is clinging and heavy, and it must have looked awful on gisella, but on her it’s perfect. her dress is accompanied by white silk gloves and a thick veil so that no one can see her, so that no one will know she’s not the daughter of the king they’re expecting to be there.

wolfgang is at the end of the aisle, looking like he’s going to an execution, and it takes more self control than maleen was anticipating not to go running to him. she turns to him, and he lifts her veil. he sees her and freezes, mouth sliding open. she winks at him, because they just need to keep it together until they’re married, he just has to keep his cool for a few minutes and they’ll have won it all. wolfgang closes his mouth and says nothing about how this is clearly not the bride he was supposed to marry. they turn so none of the guests can see them, and the priest gives maleen a confused look, but with a glare from wolfgang he continues on with the ceremony as if nothing is out of place.

“you may now kiss the bride,” the priest says, after what seems like an eternity.

wolfgang grabs her about the waist, dips her, and kisses her soundly on the mouth. her veil falls off and she can hear the horrified and shocked gasps of the guests, and under that jan’s laughter. when they break apart, foreheads still pressed together, she whispers, “hello, prince wolfgang.”

he kisses her again, quick and sweet, and does nothing at all to disguise the joy in his face. “hello, princess maleen.”

and they all lived happily ever after.


read more retold fairytales here

Dishonest hypocritical pastor loses it all.

I use to be very religious. At the end of that period in my life, I became involved with a new church that was pastored by a charismatic young pastor who seemingly had everything going for him. But the fucker was greedy. Too greedy. As the saying goes: “pigs get fat, hogs get slaughtered.” Pastor Hog got slaughtered.

My wife and I were looking for a church. An old friend invited us to a new church that was energetic and full of friends. We started attending regularly and eventually became involved with the leadership of the church.

After a while, I started to become uneasy around the pastor. The way he communicated with people just rubbed me the wrong way. I slowly realized that he was a manipulator and compulsive liar. Quick with an overzealous compliment but slow to explain himself when issues arose.

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10

You acted like the bad guy in front of her, but I know you’re hurt inside. I was aiming for that.

queenconsuelabananahammock  asked:

Were Mila and Danny a thing??? I mean I had ~a feeling~ that they may have been at some point but...what's the tea 👀

They weren’t, as said by them plenty of times and the facts one can add.

I’m not much of a RPF fan, so I’m going to try and make this response as clear and informative as I can. But,

  • She was underage for most part of the show. He being 7 years older than her would had been a little bit crazy and honest to god disgusting if they were a thing. Which I don’t believe they were because
  • Both were on relationships by the time the rumor of them being a thing was spread. He has always present as a very monogamous man, liking and having serious and long-term relationships, which he had during the show and after, before marrying Bijou Philips. While Mila was also in a long-term serious relationship with actor Macaulay Culkin.
  • Another thing to add is the fact that both had refer to the other as their brother/sister, which makes sense since he seemed to have bonded with her pretty early during filming.
  • After the show ended, and their relationships too, they didn’t had a reason to hide if they had been together, but to this day they keep saying the same: they never dated, they see each other as brother/sister, it was only a rumor.

IMPORTANT, 24/06/2017: This post is constantly updated. It has gotten to long, so the rest is now under the cut. You can ask me whatever you want about it.

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4

Oliver and Felicity are definitely an “opposites attract” type of OTP. Felicity is a tech genius while Oliver is more into field strategy. However, it’s often overlooked that Oliver has a bit of a techie side himself.

We learned in 1x16 that he actually grew up helping his father work on the maintenance of his plane. It’s how Oliver fixed the radio on Lian Yu, which was one of his first true accomplishments on the island. Felicity also grew up building computers with her father. We saw her advanced skill when she fixed the malfunctioning defibrillator needed to save Oliver in 1x14.

Even though we’ve seen Oliver concede to Felicity’s superior expertise when it comes to IT, I still love that they have this in common. Maybe in an AU world where young Ollie wasn’t a spoiled playboy who blew off school, he would’ve actually applied himself and maybe done something with tech/engineering and met Felicity through a similar field whether through school or QC. It’s an interesting what-if scenario.

Plus, these two dorks have a really cute a-ha! reaction when they fix a problem!

been rereading some of the later watch books, and it just strikes me, sometimes, how real the relationship between sam and sybil is, and how much i appreciate that? 

like, they’re good for each other, but neither of them are perfect – they do things that irritate one another and that the other just does not understand or wishes they would do differently, and they talk about the things that they actually think they can discuss and come to an agreement on, but just sort of set aside the rest because, well, it’s not a big deal and it’s sort of what you sign up for when you marry a dedicated watchman/a wealthy aristocrat. 

and she does things like darn his socks, because she thinks that’s what a wife is supposed to do, and she’s terrible at it but he wears them everyday all the same because she did it for him and nobody in his life ever did anything just because they wanted to do something nice for him. 

(and also i kind of really appreciate that all the Traditionally Female things that women do in history and in fantasy stories – follow the soldiers into battle, cook for them, care for them, etc – are portrayed as strengths. like, you don’t have to carry a sword into battle in order to be strong and necessary. it’s explicitly stated that women like that, who would give birth on the back of a camel and tend to “the pieces of her husbands and sons” that came back from war, are a breed that, when called upon, turns into solid steel.

because it takes extraordinary strength to care. sybil certainly has her badass moments, from taking a sword down from the wall and charging the guards who came to arrest her, to siccing her dragons on an assassin and literally vaporizing him – but she also has her badass moments in singing a dwarf opera and the simple fact that her faith in the night watch is what gave them strength and courage when they felt “several letters of the alphabet away” from bucked-up. sybil cares, and that is what makes her strong.)

and the relationship between her and sam isn’t perfect, but it doesn’t have to be, in order to be happy and loving. i just think it’s a lot more beautiful, and realistic, to have a couple who do get irritated with each other and exasperated and who both swear that only the other one snores – and have that portrayed as happy. because the butterflies and “oh they’re just perfect for me in every way!” fades with time and leaves you with whoever the two of you simply are. and sometimes there are edges that don’t quite fit but you shouldn’t file them down, you just… find ways to make it work, because you want to.

because love is a choice, at the end of the day. and love isn’t perfect and sometimes it’s messy and sometimes you argue, but it’s still good and it doesn’t have to be perfect to be happy and worth having.

3

Laurie Dann led an unassuming childhood, growing up in an affluent northern suburb of Chicago. She was recollected as being somewhat awkward and lacking in confidence. Maybe that’s why she completely altered her face with plastic surgery at quite a young age. She attended the University of Arizona for several years but never graduated. Whilst working as a cocktail waitress at Green Acres Country Club, she met Russell Dann, the son of a wealthy family. The duo were inseparable and settled down and got married in September of 1982. They moved into a large mansion - something that had always been a dream of Lauries.

Shortly thereafter, Russell began to notice some bizarre quirks about his new wife. For example, she would keep her makeup in the microwave, would throw money into the back seat of her car, and would put clothes away while they were still soaking wet. While the couple remained together for several years, Laurie’s quirks began to worsen and worsen. Eventually, she completely stopped leaving the house and refused to cook or clean up after herself. The relationship was doomed but it reached calamitous heights in September of 1986. Police received a phone call from Russell. Somebody had stabbed him with an ice-pick whilst he slept and he was certain it was Laurie. In fact, a store clerk would come forward to say Laurie had indeed purchased an ice-pick just days previously. The ice-pick missed his heart by just an inch. Considering Russel was asleep and didn’t see his attacker, the charges against Laurie were dropped. The couple divorced shortly afterwards. As the divorce was underway, Laurie’s ex-boyfriend from five years previously started to receive threatening phone calls from Laurie in which she claimed she was pregnant with his child. The harassment finally ended when his lawyer contacted her parents.

Laurie moved from the marital home and decided she wanted to become a babysitter but this quickly failed when she was accused of stealing from her client’s homes and slashing up their sofas, rugs, and curtains. Following this failed business idea, she moved into a dorm room on the northwest campus. This too fell apart when Laurie starred to hide rotten meat inside furniture as well as hiding rubbish in other student’s rooms. In January of 1988, she moved to a dorm in Madison, Wisconsin, where she became known as “elevator lady.” Students recalled her riding up and down in the elevator all day long. Once again, she started to leave rotten meat around the dorm and would often be seen stark naked in the communal areas. A month after moving in, a dorm room was set alight. Many believed Laurie had caused the fire intentionally but with no evidence, she was never charged.

By now, Laurie’s sanity was completely unravelled and nobody thought to get her more suitable professional help. After threatening a fellow student and slashing his clothing, Laurie baked buns and injected them with arsenic. She sent these laced treats to several frat houses and homes in the area before making her way to the home of a former babysitting client, asking if she could take their kids to the local fair. She gave the two children poisoned milk. Thankfully, they threw it out after saying it tasted strange. The arsenic in the laced treats she had sent out was so diluted that it caused no damage. From here, Laurie went to a local daycare and tried to set it on fire before returning to the former clients home which she then set on fire. They were lucky enough to escape out of a smashed window. By the time the family escaped, Laurie was en route to Hubbard Woods Elementary School. Armed with two handguns, Laurie started shooting indiscriminately as soon as she entered the building. She shot and killed 8-year-old Nicholas Corwin before critically wounding another five.

Laurie ripped off the bloody shorts she was wearing and tied a plastic bag around her waist. After fleeing the school, she crashed her car into a tree and then broke into the home of Ruth and Phillip Andrews. Laurie held the terrified family hostage for six hours, claiming she had shot and killed her rapist and was now on the run from the police. Phillip grabbed the gun from Laurie as his family escaped. During the scuffle, he was shot in the chest but managed to stagger into the garden. Alone in the Andrews home, Laurie shot herself dead.