#golden slippers

[lepetitdragonvert]

The Little Glass Slipper

1922

Artist : Harry Clarke (1889-1931)

[fisheito]

this is what i was cookin up while on nu:vacation [avoiding event spoilers] my dream.....my hopes....... EVERYONE PUT ON THE PRINCESS GOWN🗡

[chasingrainbowsforever]

~ Amber Aesthetic ~

[lovelyballetandmore]

Jorge Barani

[queerly-done]

Aventurine bought them matching pjs, they aren’t his normal style but…

I know I’m not the first to make this joke and the one I know who inspired this was this piece

I couldn’t stop thinking about them

[trashyvanillabean]

Some HSR guys as Disney girlies:

Argenti: Snow White (if you understand this, noice)

Blade: Belle (?? I guess? Because in the Disney version her old man is an inventor)

Dan Heng: Cinderella (?? Or Mulan)

Misha: Alice in Wonderland

Jing Yuan: Sleeping Beauty

Yanqing: Mulan (??)

[golden-girl-daisy]

Paddington Bailey tattoo acquired!

[miquelzeoli]

[pixelpapi]

las vegas - (1979)

[thelastofthebookworms]

My tag for this series is 'fairy tales'.

[s-p-r-i-n-g-t-i-m-e]

just watched Puss in Boots: The Last Wish (2022), and yes, it is pretty damn good but I do have one main gripe with the film

where the FUCK is my Humpty, grew up in the same orphanage with Puss and also raised by Mama Imelda, Alexander Dumpty reference?

YES I do know he’s dead, and YES there was a reference to him BUT IT IS WAY TOO LITTLE AND ALMOST INVISIBLE, HE DESERVES MORE!!!! PUSS’ BROTHER AND FIRST FAMILY DESERVES BETTER!!!!!!!!

[ebonyheartnet]

(I went a wee bit wild on this one lol)

Once upon a time, you sat four long months as queen regent on an empty throne.

You were not patient or calm until there was a little boy with your husband’s curls and eyes in your arms. He grabbed half your finger as you fed him, and the glacier in your chest finally warmed to tears.

Once upon a time, there was a little prince.

He was the light of your kingdom. He was the only star that shone upon the land. He was the promised morning, the apple of your eye, and maybe—just the slightest bit—you loved him a little too much. Given the circumstances though, how could you love him less? He was his father’s son, and with that came a solemn vow as queen mother:

If the gods knew what was good for them, your son would live an unusually long, happy, and peaceful life.

By the time he was delivered, every blade of grass and drop of water knew what you would do to keep your son safe. You were not immortal though, so he would have to learn how to protect himself. The wisest king was a caring one, and so the first lessons began immediately.

He grew up, and he grew kind, and you grew prouder each day. The razor sharp petals of devotion never dulled, but grief’s teeth lost some of their edge. He was a lovely child, and you hoped your beloved was watching.

When he was eight, eyes as beautiful as the earth and wide as the moon looked up at you. Tales of hunting trips had reached his ears from the young pages, and his heart was set. Your knights were kind enough to hide their smiles, but none were shocked when you folded like wet parchment. Three days, to the mountains and back, but not a moment more.

You waited on the edge of a pin. That the terrain was more generous hill than treacherous climb did little to soothe your worries, but to love is to let grow. It was well worth the wait though. The sprint into your arms and light in his eyes was always worth it. With that being said, when the rapid fire words finally sank in… Well, you had quite a few repetitive phrases in response.

Once upon a time, your little boy brought home a friend.

You remembered this child. Her father was your reflection in grief, holding his treasure at arm’s length. At her naming, you’d given a cloak. It would grow with her into adulthood, and another would take its place when she was a mother herself. The king had wept, silent, and you’d joined him. His late wife’s gift of leather armor for your son and grandchild was heavy on both minds.

Though the cloak helped, you knew her by her mother’s face. The wind-red cheeks, with midnight hair and eyes. Her nose and arms were faintly doe-dappled from the sun, but most of her was still pale as an albatross too. As you listened to her story, the tale began to braid a rope around her step mother’s neck. For a moment though, you wavered. The deeper you dove into this, the more danger you invited to your own door. The brief lapse was forgiven, but a sharp pinch at your heels reminded you of your duty when the thought persisted. First things first though—the child’s foster fathers needed to be found.

When the dwarves came running, you were relieved. The child was as loved as she should be, just the unlucky target of a grown woman’s ire. You released her into their custody on the promise that they would keep to the castle grounds, and they were happy not to argue. With that matter tended to, the lingering discomfort pushed you onward. Thankfully, the journey wasn’t far. Even the thought of delaying had made both feet throb.

Once upon a time, a child prayed for help at her mother’s grave.

The farm had not faired well, nor had the people that once lived there. You cared for them as much as they had you though, so all joy and sorrow was reserved for the hazel tree. Its trunk was still scarred from your father’s fury, but it had finally swallowed the axe heads. A wave of your hand dismissed your escort, and suddenly, you were both alone again.

“I’ve missed you,” you whispered, getting to your knees in the dirt. “I’ve been taught that queens do not kneel, but right now, I am only your daughter.”

The wind turned from crisp autumn to summer’s day, and the tears fell.

“Another jealous wife who dares calls herself mother, another innocent child, only asking someone love her. You know I’ve been an orphan since the day you had to leave, so please, help me save another, though her father still yet breaths.”

You waited for the white bird you remembered, but it flew in slowly this time. When it offered the black box in its claws, you staggered under the weight. It looked tired as it began to speak.

“From iron to ruby, for she who is worthy. In twelve blessed years, you will soon find the way. Not silver, nor gold, but one tale to be told. In twelve blessed years, and one bittersweet day.”

As its wistful voice stopped, you shuddered at the cold’s return. Though the heels were still tight, the discomfort finally stopped, and something told you this was the last grace you’d receive. It was enough though. It had to be.

Once upon a time, a prince rescued a troubled girl, and the two fell in love.

Once upon a time, a mother watched her son follow in his father’s footsteps.

Once upon a time, a dowager queen sent wedding invitations to the neighboring kingdom.

When the vile creature arrived, you had her routed to the smaller ballroom. Her poisoned gifts had already been destroyed, and the letter on your desk was simply waiting to be sealed. As she recognized your daughter-in-law, she tried to run, but the dwarves already blocked the exits.

“Have no fear,” you said, holding up the black box, “These will only fit someone who’s earned them.”

Once you set the box on a wooden table, it began to smoke. The wisps seemed to catch the other queen, forcing her to open it and put on both shoes. You all waited for a moment but, nothing more happened. She laughed, a cruel thing, and stomped towards you three. As soon as she touched the ground, sparks went up in a great cloud. She tried backing away, but more rose with each step. Her shoes glowed brighter the faster she moved, and so the dead woman danced for her life.

As you lead your children away from the sounds of tapping and screams, the crying finally started. Your son swept his wife off her feet and carried her to bed, where their doting fathers joined to offer what comfort you all could. With everyone close, she finally drifted off and you went to settle in as well. Tomorrow would demand its own reckoning, but tonight, everyone knew they were safe.

For the first time since that moment of doubt, your golden slippers slid off easily.

You know the Grimm version of Snow White makes more sense than most versions if only because in that version Snow White was like 7 years old.

[ghlmagazine]

Vintage satin boudoir slippers in pale golden-beige satin

[wickedzeevyln]

Apocalypse in Real Time

Lost in the great expanse.A tree in sight.Wait not a tree!A mushroom cloud, golden and fiery,fruits hanging on its branches,a bastion of coffee drinkers on the way to the ocean of paperwork and management requests, where surfing the tides meant getting bound to the clock.“GO FETCH ME MY SLIPPERS.”The poodle, sitting on his golden throne, didn’t take too kindly to the human darting underneath the…

[lovelyballetandmore]

António Casalinho | Bayerisches Staatsballett (Bavarian State Ballet)

[michiganwarriorcats]

Prefix: Slipper-

A golden, red, or white cat.

Description: lady's slippers are a subfamily of orchids that were named for their uniquely shaped flowers. Pink lady's slipper and yellow lady's slipper are the two most common species of slipper orchid in Michigan, though ram's-head lady's slipper, showy lady's slipper, and small white lady's slipper are present as well. The orchid's "slipper" is formed by fused petals that may be pink, red, white, or yellow depending on the species, and they produce elongated seed capsules which start off green and turn brown when desiccated. Their leaves are large and oval. These spring ephemerals thrive in moist forests, meadows, and woodlands. Some believe that lady's slippers are carnivorous, but that's a misconception. Their flowers only lure insects inside so they will pollinate the plant as they crawl out.