#Marilee White

[kent-farm]

—The Nine Lives of Christmas + The Nine Kittens of Christmas (left) not-so-subtly hinting at Brandon Routh’s other roles as Superman and the Atom (right)

[hockey-and-timbits]

—The Nine Kittens of Christmas

[welcometohelck]

[cyarskj1899]

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Amy Robach and T.J. Holmes: Fired from GMA3 in Wake of Explosive Love Affair!

By Author Kay D. Rhodes at Jan 13, 2023 • Category Amy Robach

Amy Robach and T.J. Holmes may be in love.

But they’re reportedly out of a job.

The journalists will NOT return to co-host the third hour of Good Morning America, according to Us Weekly sources, a few weeks after they were pulled off air amid an investigation into their personal relationship.

“Amy and T.J are out, a decision has been made,” an insider told the aforementioned tabloid on Friday about Robach and Holmes. 

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“The network is negotiating with them on their exit deals and an announcement.”

The television personalities were yanked from the air one week after the aforementioned snapshots surfaced.

The photos were taken while the reporters were seemingly on a trip together to upstate New York and they included at least one snapshot of Holmes touching his colleague’s rear end.

Both stars deleted their social media accounts in response to the scandal.

Robach’s husband, actor Andrew Shue, then took down all references to his wife from his social media account after these images went viral.

For his part, Holmes filed for divorce from wife Marilee Fiebig in December after 12 years as husband and wife.

The two share 9-year-old daughter Sabine, while the former CNN correspondent is also the father of daughter Brianna and son Jaiden from his previous marriage to Amy Ferson.

“10 years ago, Marilee Feibig married me,” Holmes wrote in a semi-cryptic 2020 Facebook post, adding back then:

Even if this firing news proves to be true, we doubt this is the last we’ve heard about Robach and Holmes in regard to GMA3, the spinoff of Good Morning America.

Sources have told TMZ that both of these lovers have hired attorneys to possibly file a lawsuit against ABC for unlawful termination.

This website reports that “the lawyers will pose this question to ABC … Has ABC ever used the morals or conduct clause to fire or discipline 2 consenting adults at equal levels when both were white?

Indeed, things may soon turn very ugly and extremely personal.

Until then, Robach and Holmes don’t seem too bothered.

They engaged in some hot and heavy PDA shortly after the calendar flipped to 2023, much to the chagrin and annoyance of Holmes’ soon-to-be-ex-wife.

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[chicagobeerpass]

Chicago Beer Pass: Twisted Hippo In Wheeling

Welcome to the Chicago Beer Pass: Your ticket to all the great beer events happening in and around Chicago.

On this episode of Chicago Beer Pass, Brad Chmielewski and Nik White are on location in Wheeling, Illinois at the newest District Brew Yards location. This location features five breweries and one of those is Twisted Hippo who also recently joined the Chicago location. The guys were able to catchup with Twisted Hippo’s owners Marilee and Karl Rutherford on the patio during the first week of the soft launch. Recording outside comes with some traffic noise, so sorry for those audio listeners. 

They all spoke a bit about the fire at the brewery earlier this year as well as future plans for Twisted Hippo beyond District Brew Yards. The official opening date for the Wheeling District Brew Yards is October 28th and the space is fantastic! Brad and Nik highly recommend making the trip out to the burbs to check it out.

Having issues listening to the audio? Try the MP3 (41.4MB) or subscribe to the podcast on iTunes!

[ablangford]

Check out this listing I just added to my Poshmark closet: Abeo BIO System Marilee White Loafers.

[conradscrime]

Betsy Aardsma

May 09, 2021

Betsy (born Elizabeth Ruth) Aardsma was the second born in a family of four children. She was born in Holland, Michigan on July 11, 1947 to parents Esther and Richard Aardsma and grew up in a religious conservative household. Esther worked as a housewife and Richard was a salesman.

When Betsy was a child she found a love for art, poetry and developed a concern for the underprivileged. She went to Holland High School and was quite a good student, graduating with honours in 1965. Betsy had a dream of becoming a physician. 

After high school, Betsy enrolled at the Hope College in the fall of 1965, to become a medical student. In the fall of 1967 Betsy enrolled at the University of Michigan to study art and English. She then began to date a medical student named David Wright, who was her first serious boyfriend. Betsy graduated from the University of Michigan with honours in the summer of 1969. 

Once Betsy had graduated from university she planned to join the Peace Corps and travel to Africa, however she decided to enrol at Pennsylvania State University (known as Penn State) when she realized her boyfriend, David, would be attending there and he told Betsy he could not guarantee he would be faithful to her if she travelled abroad. 

Betsy enrolled at Penn State in early October of 1969 and she lived in Atherton Hall, a residence on campus with her roommate Sharon Brandt, who said that Betsy spent her free time either studying or hanging with her boyfriend. 

Thanksgiving 1969 came around and Betsy was supposedly very stressed out due to the fact that she was behind on an English assignment. She spent the day with her boyfriend, David, his roommates and their girlfriends before she returned to her dorm the following day with plans of meeting some professors for advice on the assignment. 

On November 28, 1969 Betsy left her dorm with her roommate to visit the Pattee Library to get research material for her English paper. At one point her and her roommate parted ways, agreeing that they would catch up later that afternoon to watch a movie. 

At around 4 pm Betsy spoke with one of her professors, Nicholas Joukovsky, where she stated she wanted to visit the Stack Building. Shortly after that she encountered two of her friends, Linda Marsa and Robert Steinberg where she had a brief conversation before entering the library. Betsy then placed her purse, jacket and book inside a carrel before walking towards a card catalog. 

When she found the reference she was looking for, she began to walk down a flight of stairs to the Level 2 core stacks, around 4:30 pm. The last potential sightings of Betsy occurred minutes after 4:30 pm, when an assistant supervisor named Dean Brungart saw a girl wearing a red dress standing alone in an aisle. Dean also noticed two young men talking quietly to each other in a nearby aisle. 

About 10 minutes later another witness, named Richard Allen, overheard a conversation between a male and female in the general direction of where Betsy was standing as he was using the photocopier. Richard told police he couldn’t hear what the two were saying but it didn’t sound like anything alarming to him or give off the notion that it was anything other than a normal conversation. 

A few moments later Richard heard a metallic crashing noise before he saw a young man “barrel” past him. Somewhere between 4:45 and 4:55 pm Betsy Aardsma had been stabbed one time through the left breast with a knife while she was standing between rows 50 and 51 in the Stack Building of the Pattee Library. 

After she had been stabbed, Betsy slumped to the ground close to the end of the aisle, falling on her back. Two other students, Joao Uafinda and Marilee Erdley observed a man running from the direction of the stabbing, concealing his right hand, and yelling, “that girl needs help!” Marilee said the man was dressed in knaki washable slacks, was wearing a tie and a sports jacket. He had well kept brown hair, was around 6 feet tall and about 185 pounds. He may have been wearing glasses.

The man apparently led Joao and Marilee into the Core, where he pointed to Betsy. Marilee began checking for signs of a pulse and Joao noticed the man leaving the library, so he followed him upstairs and aw the man run out of the library. Joao said he tried to chase the man, but was outpaced. This man was last seen running in the direction of Recreation Hall. The identity of this man has never been found. 

Marilee was joined by other bystanders, including a librarian as they attempted first aid on Betsy. They called the campus hospital at 5:01 pm, and responders were initially told that a “girl had fainted” in the library. Two student paramedics came to the scene moments later and Betsy was placed on a gurney and taken to the Health Centre as paramedics tried to perform CPR on her.

Everyone, including the responders thought she had fainted at first, because she had urinated where she fell and she was wearing a white turtleneck sweater, with a red sleeveless dress over the sweater and there was only small amount of visible blood. The sweater was very thick so it wasn’t obvious that there had been a tear in her sweater. 

Shortly after being transported to the Health Centre, a senior medical individual noticed the blood and they cut through Betsy’s clothes to reveal the single stab wound. Betsy was pronounced dead at 5:19 pm. 

Because everyone initially thought Betsy had fainted, there was no reason to think that the library was a crime scene and the janitor had already cleaned up the urine on the floor of the aisle. Police found that about 440 students had entered the Pattee Library between 4:30 and 5 pm that day. 

Multiple factors led police to believe that Betsy knew her murderer personally as she had likely been approached by this individual and had not attempted to scream or run away. Police didn’t believe she had been stalked and she had been expected to be at Penn State that day, she was supposed to be spending the day elsewhere with her boyfriend. They also found Betsy’s diary, where not once had she indicated that she felt uncomfortable by anyone at Penn State in the 8 weeks she had gone there. 

Another theory is that Betsy possible saw a homosexual encounter or witnessed a man masturbating In the library and was killed to silence her. More than two dozen pornographic magazines were found concealed between books where Betsy had been murdered and there was traces of semen on the floor, shelves and walls. It seemed as though people were using this area to engage in sexual activities without being caught. 

Another theory is that a Penn State professor by the name of Richard Haefner was responsible for Betsy’s murder. Haefner was born in 1943 and was described as well respected but socially awkward. He had obtained a doctoral degree in Geology from Penn State and was extremely intelligent. However, Haefner was known to have bouts of explosive anger, accusations of pedophilia and molestation and was accused of stealing the university’s rock collection. 

Apparently Haefner had dated Betsy but she ended it whatever they had in October 1969 because she was becoming more serious with David. Apparently when asked, Haefner claimed he had not known about Betsy’s death until November 29, the day after it happened. However, apparently Haefner showed up at another professor’s house hours after Betsy had been murdered and said, “Have you seen the papers?” Betsy’s death had not yet been reported in the papers. This professor said Haefner’s behaviour was so strange that after he had left the professors and his wife wondered if he had had anything to do with it, though the professor never reported this to police. 

Haefner was never charged and died from a heart attack in 2002. His cousin, Chris Haefner believes that he was involved in Betsy’s murder. Chris claimed one night in 1975 he overheard Richard Haefner and his mother having a conversation where he heard them talking about “what Rick had done to that girl at Penn State.” 

Derek Sherwood, a man who runs the website “whokilledbetsy.org” also believes Richard Hafener was responsible. “He was there, he had intimate knowledge of [the crime], he was interviewed by police and he lied to them,” said Sherwood. 

“I think that the Aardsma murder may have both burdened and emboldened Rick, if he truly committed it,” said Sherwood. “Burdened in the sense that he probably always felt that he had to watch his back for police and his past, so to speak, and emboldened in the sense that once you’ve gotten away with murder, everything else is small potatoes.” 

Betsy Aardsma’s murder remains unsolved 60 years later but the Pennsylvania State Police are still actively seeking any information about the case. The above photo is that of Professor Richard Haefner and Betsy Aardsma. 

[hallmark-movie-fanatics]

NINE ADORABLE KITTENS IN SEARCH OF FUREVER HOMES REUNITE BRANDON ROUTH AND KIMBERLEY SUSTAD IN ‘THE NINE KITTENS OF CHRISTMAS,’ A NEW, ORIGINAL MOVIE PREMIERING NOVEMBER 25, ON HALLMARK CHANNEL

Part of the Network’s “Countdown to Christmas” Programming Event. 

Gregory Harrison Also Returns

STUDIO CITY, CA – November 15, 2021 – Brandon Routh (“The Flash,” Superman Returns), Kimberley Sustad (“Wedding Every Weekend,” “Travelers”) and Gregory Harrison (“General Hospital,” “Chesapeake Shores”) return in highly-anticipated sequel “The Nine Kittens of Christmas,” a new, original movie premiering Thursday, November 25 (8 p.m. ET/PT), on Hallmark Channel, as part of the network’s “Countdown to Christmas” programming event – your home for the holiday.

In this sequel to the beloved 2014 movie, “The Nine Lives of Christmas,” seven years have passed since Zachary (Routh) and Marilee’s (Sustad) feline-inspired romance. Single and now a firehouse Captain, Zachary is planning his usual Christmas ski trip away. However, when Chief Sam (Harrison) and his daughter, Gabi (Victoria Dunsmore, “Batwoman”) convince him to stay, he ends up running into Marilee. Now a successful veterinarian and co-owner of a busy clinic in Miami, Dr. Marilee White has returned home to Oregon for the first time in five years to spend the holidays with her sister Jaclyn (Stephanie Bennett, “Shadowhunters”) and family. When Zachary discovers a box with nine adorable kittens left at the fire station, Mariliee steps up to help and soon the pair team up to host a series of adopt-a-thons at the town’s Christmas events. As the two reminisce while getting into the holiday spirit, they find that their connection is undeniably still there. With career opportunities once again pulling them in different directions, will they embrace this second chance at love before the last kitten is adopted?

“The Nine Kittens of Christmas” is from Bauman Entertainment Inc. Ted Bauman and Jim Head are executive producers. David Winning directed from a script by Erinne Dobson based on the book The Nine Lives of Christmas by Sheila Roberts. 

LINK

[emospritelet]

Key to the Cell - chapter 7

[1] [2] [3] [4] [5] [6] [AO3 link]

Once she had made the decision that no matter the consequences she most certainly would not be marrying Gaston, Belle felt calmer. The approach of the wedding day was a concern, but she told herself firmly that all her research showed that the Dark One could be relied upon never to break a deal. Still, she wished she could talk to him beforehand, to make sure he was definitely going to get her away in time. She wondered what he was planning. If she was entirely honest with herself, she also found him fascinating, and wanted to talk with him some more, especially now that she had finished the book that Jefferson had given her. It had perhaps left her with more questions than answers, and she imagined only he could satisfy her curiosity. Perhaps he would be willing to talk to her again once their deal was over.

Gaston himself had dealt with their disagreement in the only way he seemed to know, which was to sulk until she couldn’t bear it any longer. He still hadn’t apologised, and sat glowering in silence, stabbing at his food and not looking at her, and so she broke the heavy, brooding atmosphere at the breakfast table by initiating conversation. Maurice gave her an encouraging smile when she asked him about his favourite topic - himself - and Belle felt herself cringe as she pretended to be interested in the hunt he had planned for the day after the ball. He grunted responses at her at first, but gradually opened up as it gave him an opportunity to boast about his skills in the field, and the wager he had made with some of his fellow knights. Peace made, Belle could return to her breakfast as he regaled Maurice with tall tales.

She excused herself as soon as it was polite to do so, returning to her room to continue reading the books on magical prisons and light magic. The Dark One’s insistence on a price being paid in return for magic made sense now that she had read more on the theory; she could see why he needed to ask a price in each case. Still, there was nothing that explained why he had only asked her name in exchange for what he had promised, and she wondered how each price was calculated. Was it based on what the Dark One wanted, or what those he dealt with could afford to give? She wasn’t sure either option made any sense in their case.

The day was over all too quickly, and Belle managed to sit through a tedious dinner and watch her father and Gaston get progressively drunker and louder. It only made her more certain of her decision. She just had to get through the next week or so, and the masquerade ball the following evening. Belle was dreading the ball, not least because she would have to pretend to be happy about the impending marriage. Still, perhaps she could spend most of the evening dancing, and avoid too much conversation.

Belle slept poorly, her dreams dark and threatening, and she wanted to stay in bed the moment the maid woke her, so she proclaimed herself to be suffering from a headache again. It had the effect not only of ensuring she could eat her breakfast in bed, but that she would be left alone for much of the day, and she spent the time reading her books. She was no closer to figuring out the Dark One’s true name, but she was at least far more knowledgeable about magical prisons and fairies’ use of light magic. It was surprising to find that much of what the Dark One had told her about his own magic held true for the fairies; perhaps he was right, and intent was meaningless so long as the balance was maintained.

By the time the sun was beginning to set, she decided she could not put off her preparations for the ball any longer. Laying her book aside with a sigh, she rang the bell for Marilee, and got out of bed to wash and dress. It took two hours for her to be made ready, for her hair to be dressed and studded with tiny jewels and her body to be powdered and perfumed and layered up with silk. The gown she had chosen to wear was a muted gold colour, intricate beading on the bodice. It left her shoulders bare, hugging her torso, her breasts pushed high. Belle wriggled her feet in her heeled slippers. At least those were fairly comfortable.

The last addition to her outfit was the mask, an elaborate jewelled piece in gold and red, hiding the upper half of her face. She had thought the idea of a masquerade to be a strange choice, but in some ways she was relieved; she would not have the chore of standing and greeting all the guests, after all. Music was floating up from below, and she took a deep breath as she stared at her reflection. I can do this. I can play a part for tonight, at least. Only ten more days and I shall be free.

Belle glanced to the side of the dresser, where the card issued to all those attending the ball lay, thick cream paper edged with gilt, Gaston’s family crest at the top and the hour that the ball would start beneath. On the back were the rules of engagement, which she knew by heart. No revealing one’s name unless someone guessed it correctly, and then only to that person. Talking and dancing with a large number of guests was expected, as were questions about their life and passions, in an attempt to guess their identity. Changing one’s voice was optional but added to the mystery of who lay behind the mask. On the stroke of midnight, masks would be removed, and the guests’ identities revealed.

A thin line had been drawn beneath the time of the ball, awaiting the false name that all guests would choose. Belle hesitated before dipping her pen in some ink and writing Taliah. She remembered the name from a favourite story she had read as a child, about a girl who decided she would never marry, and had run away from home when her father insisted on arranging a match. Taliah had disguised herself as a boy and had travelled to the city to become a scholar at the university, and then a teacher. Her adventures along the way had made for exciting reading, and eight-year-old Belle had announced that she wanted to be just like Taliah. Her father was unimpressed, and one day the book had disappeared from its spot on the shelf, never to be seen again.

Belle dusted the card with fine sand to dry the ink and took a final glance in the mirror. Ready as ever I’ll be, she thought. She made her way down the wide marble staircase, one gloved hand sliding over cool stone. The sounds of music and laughter rippled over her, and she took a deep breath as she swept along the corridor to the ballroom. It was already filled with ladies and gentlemen in bright silks and velvets, masks adorned with feathers and sparkling with jewels. Belle handed her card to one of the footmen, who announced her name loudly as she entered. The guests turned to look over the new arrival, and Belle moved swiftly to the long tables holding bowls of punch and glasses of wine and brandy.

She wanted to avoid conversation until she was more sure of the identities of some of the guests, and so she took a glass of punch and sipped at it, eyes flitting across the ballroom. She could see Gaston, easily recognisable by his size, and his bellowing laugh. He was deep in conversation with a woman who she suspected was one of Lady Tremaine’s daughters, but she wasn’t sure. Gaston leaned in to whisper something that made her squeal and slap his arm playfully, and Belle rolled her eyes. Flirting was expected at these occasions, of course, but she wasn’t in the mood for it.

Her father was nearby, talking to a man by whose voice and bearing she thought was King George. A young man stood by his side, a mask in blue and gold hiding most of his face, whom she suspected would be Prince James. His attention appeared to be on a dark-haired woman in a white dress and mask edged in silver and topped with white feathers, talking and laughing with another young woman. Belle sipped at her punch, smiling as two ladies in pink and green dresses which clashed spectacularly hurried past, arm-in-arm and giggling. The two clearly knew one another, and the blonde hair of one of them made Belle suspect Lady Ella was enjoying her first formal ball since becoming engaged to Prince Thomas. The music changed, and the guests hurried to put down their glasses in preparation to begin the dancing. Belle sighed as she glanced around for a partner. Time to do my duty.

“My Lady?”

Belle turned at the sound of a man’s voice, eyes narrowing curiously. The man who had greeted her was short, not much taller than she, and thin, with tight-fitting breeches in soft black leather beneath a gold brocade waistcoat and cream silk shirt, a close-fitting coat in blood-red velvet over the top. His hair was worn longer than was fashionable, brushing the collar of his coat, streaks of silver in amongst the brown. Something tugged at her mind, a flash of memory, and she found her curiosity grow. The man bowed, arms spreading outwards, and he gazed up at her with deep brown eyes behind his red and gold mask.

“May I have this dance?” he asked.

There was an accent there, a slight burr to his voice, and she felt that tickle of memory again. Setting down her glass of punch, she took his hand and allowed him to lead her to the floor as the music started up. His hand was warm at her waist, and he began turning her through the dance, her hand resting lightly on his shoulder. She realised that the colours of his outfit matched her own perfectly, as though it had been planned that way, though she couldn’t see how. There was a flash of colour at his wrist, a bracelet clumsily woven from coloured threads, its rough presence somewhat incongruous against the cream silk cuff of his shirt, and she wondered whether it was a clue to his identity. Belle studied his face, noting the fine lines around his mouth which, along with the silver streaks in his hair, indicated he was in his middle years. She mentally discounted a number of noblemen she knew.

“I believe we’re supposed to guess each other’s name,” she said, and he smiled.

“Oh, for my part that’s easy enough,” he said. “It’s a pleasure to meet you again, Lady Belle.”

His eyes were fixed on hers, dark and intense, and she felt her own widen as she recognised something in them. Something she remembered from a darkened room and a deal made for her freedom.

“You!” she whispered. “It’s you!”

“That is not guessing my name,” he said, with a touch of severity, the snide tone she remembered returning to his voice. “That is merely stating a fact.”

Belle giggled a little, feeling his hand tighten on hers as he turned her around.

“Well, as I haven’t been given your name, sir, you have me at a disadvantage,” she said. “You didn’t look this way when we met. Changing your entire face is against the spirit of the masquerade, you know.”

“This is merely a glamour,” he said, in a dry tone. “I suspect my true appearance would cause something of a panic.”

“Not to me,” she said. “How did you get here? I don’t recall sending an invitation to the Dark Castle.”

He gave a wry smile.

“I was called on by a desperate soul, of course,” he said.

“At Gaston’s ball?” she said, amused.  “I know I’ve been dreading the occasion, but it’s not something that requires magical assistance to escape.”

He grumbled, casting what seemed to be a critical eye over the dancers.

“Well, not something that any of your guests would care about, I suspect,” he said. “A poor peasant woman, robbed of the last few coins she had to feed her children.  Desperate indeed.”

“That’s terrible!” said Belle, upset.  “Were you able to help her?”

“Of course,” he said lightly.  “She asked for little. A roof over her head, enough food to keep her and her children alive through the winter.  All three are, as we speak, in a small cottage on the edge of town, no doubt with full bellies for the first time in months.”

“Good.”

“Along with an admonition to keep her coins out of sight in the future,” he added.  “It’s not wise to show gold in some parts of the town. Not the parts she was living in, anyway.  Little wonder she was robbed.”

Belle stopped suddenly, causing a nearby couple to side-step swiftly to avoid a collision. A dreadful thought came to her as she eyed the woven bracelet at his wrist.

“Gerta,” she said slowly.  “Her name was Gerta.”

“You know her, my Lady?”  He sounded surprised.

“I - I gave her the money,” admitted Belle.  “She was begging in the town two days ago, I - I only wanted to help!”

“And so you did,” he said soothingly, pulling her into the dance again.  “She’s well. She and her children. The boy no longer limps.”

Belle caught at her lip, emotion welling up within her.

“That - that was very kind of you.”

“Don’t say that!” he snapped. “I have a reputation to maintain.”

Belle giggled.

“Yes, I’m sure providing charity for widows and orphans will simply destroy it.”

“She asked for the Dark One’s help,” he said defensively. “I never break a deal.”

“And what did you ask in return?”

The Dark One leaned in, lips almost brushing her ear, sending a shiver through her body.

“All that they had in the world,” he hissed malevolently.

“Well, I happen to know they had nothing,” said Belle, unfazed.

He straightened up, smiled a little ruefully, and nodded to the bracelet of coloured threads at his wrist.

“Really?” said Belle, a smile tugging at the corners of her mouth. “Her daughter’s homemade bracelet?”

“As you said, they had nothing else,” he said carelessly.  “Besides, I have no need of gold.”

“Hmm.” Belle eyed him. “I think you’re not as dark as you want people to believe.”

He grinned, baring his teeth as he pulled her tighter against him.

“Maybe I’m darker.”

“If that were true, you’d have left them to starve,” she said, trying to ignore the way her heart thumped at the press of his body. “You certainly didn’t have to fix the boy’s limp. That wasn’t part of your deal.”

“If I hadn’t, he would only have been a burden on his mother,” he said, sounding affronted. “What would have been the point of me saving them if they just die more slowly? I don't have time to run around the kingdom saving waifs and strays every five minutes.”

“Hmm,” said Belle, lips pursing. “And here you told me you were evil.”

He pulled her a little closer, leaning in so that his lips brushed her ear.

“Oh, I am, dearie,” he whispered, making her shiver. “There are different kinds of darkness in this world. I could make that odious lump you’re promised to peel off his skin and dance until he dropped. I could turn the wine to poison and wipe out this entire ballroom. But oppression, exploitation and neglect: those are the weapons of your kind, not mine.”

Belle frowned, hand tightening on his shoulder a little, but after a moment she nodded reluctantly.

“I suppose in all too many cases that’s true,” she admitted. “But why would the Dark One care?”

He was silent for a moment, turning her around with a sudden whisk of his arm, making her cling on a little tighter.

“Magic is all about balance, whatever your intentions for the use of that magic might be,” he said eventually. “Give and take. If I didn’t try to keep that balance what sort of sorcerer would I be? Besides, no parent should have to choose between feeding their children or healing them.”

His eyes left hers for a moment, his gaze far away, and Belle wondered what he was thinking. She suspected that his final line, delivered in a flippant tone, represented his true feelings on the subject, but she doubted he would open up further.

“You were never a noble, were you?” she said. “You seem to have nothing but contempt for my kind.”

“Well, don’t feel too bad, I generally feel contempt for most people.”

Belle shot him a flat look.

“I wish I knew your name,” she said. “It seems wrong to simply call you ‘Dark One’.”

“That’s what I am,” he said, in a dry tone.

“You weren’t always,” she said. “I’ve read that the Dark One’s powers are passed from person to person. So you must have been an ordinary man once.”

His mouth had opened a little, his eyes widening behind the mask.

“You - read about me?” He sounded astonished, and Belle lifted one shoulder and let it drop, a tiny shrug.

“Of course. I never met a mystery I didn’t want to solve.”

He whirled her around, almost lifting her off her feet, and Belle was breathless when he pulled her close again, his warmth seeping into her.

“And what have you discovered, my Lady?” her asked, his voice a low rumble that made her belly clench.

“That the Dark One’s power is transferred by ritual,” she said excitedly. “Magic harnessed by the power of a mystical dagger.”

A muscle twitched in his cheek.

“A dark ritual?” he said quietly. “That’s one way to describe it, I suppose.”

“Am I right about the dagger?” she asked, and he eyed her soberly.

“All Dark Ones possess the dagger,” he confirmed. “Its use is - essential - in the creation of the next Dark One.”

“Where is it?”

His mouth twisted.

“I cannot say.”

Belle frowned.

“You can’t— do you mean you don’t know where it is, or that your curse won’t allow you to tell me?”

“I know where it is,” he said, but did not elaborate. Belle clicked her tongue in exasperation, anger at the Blue Fairy making her breath quicken.

“So you can’t tell me,” she said, almost to herself. “Right.”

They followed the whirling steps of the dance, easily side-stepping another couple, and Belle glanced up at him again.

“Were you a sorcerer?” she asked. “Before, I mean? The book said all Dark Ones were powerful sorcerers.”

He was silent for a moment, stepping back on one foot to whirl her around again, and Belle clung to his shoulder, breathing hard.

“The curse seeks out desperation,” he said finally. “The despair I felt was certainly powerful, but I had no magic of my own. Not magic as you would understand it, that is.”

"I don't understand."

"Magic is fulled by emotion," he said. "Rage, fury, and hate. Fear. Love. There is power in emotion. Controlling it is the tricky part."

"Does that mean anyone can learn to use it?" she asked, and he pursed his lips.

"Given time and training, perhaps," he said. "Some have a natural affinity, of course, but anyone can learn the basics of potion-making. Casting spells is more difficult."

Belle chewed her lip, thinking hard, her hand held tight in his as they swept across the floor.

“I read about fairy magic, too,” she said. “About light magic in general, and the balance that has to be maintained.”

“Yes,” he said dryly. “All magic comes with a price.”

“So who decides on that price?” she asked, and he sucked his teeth.

“How much is needed depends on the magic required,” he said. “How that price is paid is up to the wielder.”

“That’s what I thought,” she said slowly. “So in that case, is dark magic really any different from light? Is the source different, or is it merely the wielder that makes it dark or light?”

He was smiling slightly, his eyes gleaming behind the mask.

“You have an inquiring mind, my Lady,” he said. “You would have made an excellent apprentice.”

“Is that an offer?” she teased, and his smile grew.

“I have no desire to hide you away with me in the Dark Castle.”

“Couldn’t be any worse than becoming Gaston’s wife,” she said flatly. “D’you know the Blue Fairy tried to convince me that I should marry him for his own good? That saving him should be my life’s work?”

“Well, I can’t say I’m surprised,” he said. “The Chief Gnat and her swarm tend towards more traditional views. Nothing can upset the way things should be, in their eyes.”

“I’m sure they can’t all be like that.”

“Perhaps not as far as you’re concerned,” he said. “Their opinion of me is fairly - consistent.”

“I’m more than capable of forming my own opinion, thank you.”

“Oh, I should never try to contradict that.”

He turned them again, moving further away from the other dancers, and out onto the stone balcony, where he slowed to a stop. Belle held onto him for a moment, catching her breath, her fingers clutching at the soft velvet of his coat. The night was pleasantly cold after the heat and crush of the ballroom, and she turned her face up to the stars with a sigh. He released her, stepping back, and Belle turned to face him, smoothing the skirt of her dress, the flush in her cheeks not all due to the heat.

“How long can you stay?” she asked.

“I must leave soon,” he admitted. “I can already feel the magic tugging at me, wanting to pull me back in.”

Belle stepped forward, laying a hand on his arm, and he glanced down at it, as though surprised at her touch.

“I’m sorry,” she said sincerely. “It’s not right that you’re trapped. I wish I could help.”

“Thank you.”

The music from the ballroom rose to a crescendo and stopped, allowing for applause from the dancers before starting up again in another lively tune. Belle watched the Dark One stride slowly back and forth across the balcony, hands clasped behind his back and his head bowed a little, as though he was thinking. She could feel curiosity burning inside her, the need to know more about him almost unbearable.

“Why did you ask nothing from me but my name?” she asked, and his eyes flicked up to meet hers.

“Do you wish to give more?”

“Answering one question with another isn’t a real answer.”

He chuckled, glancing away from her, and there was silence.  She waited, unwilling to be the first to break it.

“I can see the future, you know,” he said at last.  “It makes for interesting viewing at times, especially when dealing with people. I can always turn it to my advantage if I so choose, while still giving them what they ask for.”

“And what did you see when I called on you?”

He turned his head to face her, dark eyes fixed on hers.

“Nothing,” he said simply.  “Nothing at all.”

“Is that unusual?”

“It’s never happened before,” he admitted.  “I was - curious.”

Belle took a step closer, until she could hear his breath and smell the scent of him in the air. Until she could almost feel the heat from him.

“What do you think it means?” she asked.

The Dark One held her gaze, and she could feel her heart thudding hard in her chest, her skin tingling with excitement. He lifted a hand, and for a moment she thought he was going to touch her, fingers dancing in the air. But then he stepped back on one foot, pressing his fingertips together.

“I don’t know,” he said. “But I’d like to find out.”

“So would I.”

Another pause, a moment when their eyes met and the air between them seemed to thicken and crackle and hum, as though something momentous would happen. Belle waited for it, almost breathless, but the Dark One dropped his gaze, reaching for her hand and bending over it. The press of his lips made a tingle run through her.

“Until we meet again, my Lady,” he said quietly, and disappeared in a plume of red smoke.

Belle started, looking around to see if anyone had noticed, but the guests were too absorbed in the dancing and each other to pay attention. She smoothed the skirt of her dress with restless hands, trying to calm herself. Gaston lurched over, brandy glass in hand and the smell of drink already floating around him.

"Belle?" he said. "It - is Belle, yes?"

She nodded wordlessly, and he took a slurp of his drink, bouncing on his toes.

"Who were you dancing with?" he asked.

"I didn't guess his name," she said, and he grunted, throwing back the rest of the brandy and setting down the glass.

"Short, skinny excuse for a man, from what I could see," he said. "Come and dance with me."

"I'm really rather hot and would prefer—”

"Come and dance with me," he ordered, and grasped her hand, tugging her towards the floor. Belle glowered at his back as he pulled her along.

Ten more days. Ten more days and I shall be free.

[lovevalley45]

well, we know marilee’s perfect for him compared to blair because she likes to talk abt which shade of white to use and cats while blair doesn’t care abt either of those things

[fashiondiamondsau]

It has begun

I’ve had a few ideas circling in my head for over a year now about a Steven Universe AU where the diamonds are (human) fashion icons of some kind (designers / models / etc). And I want to actually draw them or write about them. So I’ll post stuff here to do that.

Today I settled on the Diamond’s names, since most people aren’t named after colors. And I spent a couple hours researching name meanings and stuff so there’s no turning back now!

White Diamond - Blanche Gwendolen Diamond

Yellow Diamond - Joan Oriana Almas

Blue Diamond - Marilee Nila Almas

Pink Diamond - Perrine Cheryl Almas

Name Meanings (from some random sites, don’t @ me too hard please)

WD - Blanche = white    

Gwendolen = white, fair | loop, link of a chain, ring

Diamond = diamond, duh

YD - Joan = a different spelling of “Jaune” which means yellow in French

Oriana = Gold or sunrise

Almas = diamond (in Arabic, with Anglicized spelling)

BD - Marilee = "She is like the star of the blue sea” or "star of the sea"

Nila = dark blue (in Sanskrit)

Almas = diamond, again

PD - Perrine = fem version of Pierre or variation of Perrin, meaning “rock, stone” in French | starts with a “P”

Cheryl = darling (like cheri in French), dear one ||| also beryl is a type of gemstone so it kind of fits, and cherries are red. This name was hard to decide on.

Almas = still diamond

I hope I do more with this concept later. And I hope anyone seeing this will appreciate it.

[hockey-and-timbits]

—The Nine Lives of Christmas

[cyarskj1899]

"Built-in Black woman superpower" just for him to cheat with whitey McWhite white.

"Built-in Black woman superpower" ....like I'm shaking rn omg Man they really be thinking we as black women are impenetrable??? AND he ended up with a WW??? I mean he did say he gave her plenty of reasons to leave over 10 years nd she stayed. When somebody tells you who they are, believe them.

He was deadass. I pray that I will never have to deal with a man who asks to marry me, only to do everything in his power to get me to leave. This is embarrassing. I hope homegirl gets lot of therapy because this ain't it.

I want to be appreciated and loved. I don’t want to be tolerated. I don’t want to be given reasons to leave. Women are told to “hang in there” and this is the reward for those 10 years of grace. That’s why I give no grace and no fcks.

He loves the fact that he could torment this beautiful and classy woman for 10 years. I think he wrote this because he knew she was already heading for the door. This type lives to destroy others. Enjoy your freedom Marilee 🥰 praying for you Sis!

In a world of Tj Holmes be a Russell Wilson, the type of man that people like Ciara prayed for

[good-queenbess]

                                                             XII.

This portrait of Elizabeth I is another of her most famous ones, again filled with symbolism. It is attributed to Nicholas Hilliard c. 1585, the Queen’s court artist at the time. The portrait was possibly connected to a visit the Queen made to William Cecil, Lord Burghley, and he may have commissioned it. It is a painting done using oil on canvas.

   This portrait is rife with symbolism. Elizabeth is painted flatly, to make her look more aloof and mysterious. She wears a richly decorated gown, in her preferred colors of black and white, embellished with jewels made with real gold. This includes a pendant on her torso of three rubies, making a triangle; this is known as the Three Brothers jewel and was one of her favorites. She holds a sprig of olive in one hand to represent peace, while near her other hand there lies a sword of state, also made with gold, that represents her own power as Queen. The ermine, for which the portrait is named, lies near her left arm. The meaning of the ermine is twofold: first, the white animal was a symbol of purity during the sixteenth century; secondly, with a crown around its neck (again made with real gold) the ermine symbolizes wealth and royalty, as only those who were very wealthy could afford clothes with ermine. Today, the portrait hangs in the King James Drawing Room in Hatfield House.

Source(s): “Symbolism in Portraits of Elizabeth I.” Royal Museums Greenwich | UNESCO World Heritage Site In London, 13 Feb. 2018, www.rmg.co.uk/discover/explore/symbolism-portraits-elizabeth-i.

“The King James Drawing Room - The Ermine Portrait.” Hatfield House, www.hatfield-house.co.uk/house-park-garden/the-house/the-king-james-drawing-room/.

Woodward, G. W. O., and John Buckley. Queen Elizabeth I. Edited by Jane Drake, 2nd ed., Pitkin Publishing, 2009.

Mongello, Marilee. “Elizabeth I: The Ermine Portrait.” Portraits of Queen Elizabeth I (1533-1603), with Commentary, 2006, www.marileecody.com/eliz1-images.html.

[itunesbooks]

Bear Meets Girl - Bianca D'Arc

Bear Meets Girl Bianca D'Arc Genre: Paranormal Price: $4.99 Expected Publish Date: May 21, 2019 Publisher: Bianca D'Arc Seller: Smashwords, Inc. She’s leaving her old life behind and hitting the road, but peril follows her path... Marilee has got to be the most timid werewolf King has ever met. She’s also the most beautiful. There’s something special about her pure white coat that speaks to his inner grizzly, but also protects her in ways he never expected. On the run, and headed for Grizzly Cove, King has to help her get there safely. They pick up a precious burden along the way, that might just get both of them killed...or worse. Can these two work together - with a lot of help from those around them - to keep everyone safe and out of the hands of evil? And, can they resist the unexpected attraction that threatens to burn them both to cinders? Find out what happens when Bear Meets Girl... http://dlvr.it/R55xF8

[fletchermarple]

Marilee Burt (15) was known for being extremely active. She was part of the student council, danced ballet and tap and was involved in several sports. On February 26, 1970, she had been doing one of her many activities: she was walking home after school in her cheerleading uniform when she was abducted. It was just a two mile distance from one point to another.

It all started with a misunderstanding. Marilee, who lived in Columbine Valley, Colorado, was supposed to wait for her mother to pick her up at school, but she forgot to mention to her she would stop by at a friend’s house. She called her mother from there, but she had already left to pick her up at school. Since it was close, Marilee decided to just walk home herself.

She never made it. Instead, her body was found the next day under a bridge. She was naked and the rope that had been used to strangle her was still around her neck. She’d also been hit in the head with enough force to knock her out, and her hair had metal shavings tangled in it. She’d been raped and had fought back against her attacker. Her clothes, books and bag were never found.

To make this story even more heartbreaking, her brother Raymond (also called Ramone in some articles) might have witnessed the moment she was abducted and didn’t realize it. He was driving home in the same road Marilee was, and saw a blonde girl talking to a man who had stopped his car next to her. Raymond didn’t recognize Marilee because she had her hair up in pigtails, which was uncommon for her, and drove away. He’d later describe the man as being in his thirties, white, with dark hair and sideburns.

Marilee’s murder has never been solved. Police has DNA samples from the crime scene but so far they haven’t matched any of the people investigated. Because Marilee had strict instructions of not getting in a car with a stranger, they believe her killer was someone she knew. Their main suspect was always a gymnastic instructor who’s taught Marilee and had a record of sexually assaulting young girls and disabled women. The instructor, whose name isn’t public, admitted he had a sexual interest in Marilee, but his DNA didn’t match the one found at the scene.