#lady marjorie manners

[stigmatam4rtyr]

Lady Marjorie Manners (1900) | James Jebusa Shannon

#art #fine art #aesthetic #20th century #lady marjorie manners #james jebusa shannon #portrait #women #old art #dark

[lemuseum]

#James Jebusa Shannon (1862–1923) - Lady Marjorie Manners

[life-imitates-art-far-more]

James Jebusa Shannon (1862-1923) "Lady Marjorie Manners" (1900) Oil on canvas

#paintings #art #artwork #genre painting #female portrait #james jebusa shannon #fine art #american artist #portrait of a woman #portrait of a girl #black dress #dresses #clothing #clothes #dogs #animals #side profile #aesthetic #aesthetics #1k

[rdr2gifs]

Each time Arthur has helped someone without expecting payment (that I can remember) because I’ve seen some weird takes circling around about how Arthur only cares about money/doesn’t help people (yet again)

He helped a city photographer take pictures and acted as his protector because he liked him

He helped a doctor retrieve a stolen wagon full of medicine, he wasn’t even asked to do so, he did it out of his own good will

He wanted to make an old cranky man happy and proposed finding his lost trinkets for him

He helped Deborah MacGuiness find dinosaur bones out of curiosity. He didn’t receive any financial reward for it. Just a few trinkets and he was satisfied

He risked his life for Marko Dragic’s experiments (his main motivation in this mission was again, curiosity)

He rescued a boy being held hostage by the gunsmith in Rhodes

He rescued people from being trafficked and gave them a large sum of money (he could’ve kept it for himself) for a better life

He helped Mr. White and Mr. Black gain freedom and even helped them again after they got themselves into trouble

He rescued Charles Chatenay on at least 3 different occasions

He instantly hurried to retrieve Sister Calderon’s cross even though he has never met her before

In his first encounter with Marjorie and Bertram, he helps to calm Bertram down and is understanding even though Bertram gave him trouble. He even puts the bartender in his place after he speaks about Bertram in a degrading manner

He agreed to help a man get rid of nigh folk occupying his property and after he payed him with only a rat pelt, Arthur didn’t get angry and still asked him if he’d be really fine on his own after knowing he wouldn’t be able to pay

He let a homeless man hug him and listened to what he has to say

He helped to save Jamie from becoming a cult member and stopped him from taking his life

He helped a boy look for his lost dog

He saved an injured man’s life after driving him to a doctor

He helped a woman get rid of a body after she claimed she had to kill the man in self-defence

He donated to the poor and even to build a shelter for war-veterans

He taught Charlotte how to survive on her own

He tried to save a crazed village out of his own good will

He helped a war veteran retrieve his prosthetic leg and helped him hunt

He helped a man look for his lost friend in the snowy mountains

He helped Rain’s Fall retrieve sacred items important to his people

He helped to retrieve stolen medical supplies for the Wapiti tripe

He saved Captain Monroe’s life after hearing he was in danger

He helped Beau and Penelope escape from their terrible families

He has saved many hunters from getting mauled, given many ladies a ride home, saved people from dying of poisoning, helped gather herbs, helped a lost New Yorker find his way to the town, helped save many people’s lives (lady being held hostage in her own house in Lemoyne, folk getting tortured by The Murfees or Lemoyne Raiders etc.)

Let’s not forget the fact that Arthur is a provider for over 20 people. He cannot be running around and risking his life for free for everyone he meets. He needs money. Even so, he has helped all the people above for no reward and out of his own free will. When I see someone say that Arthur is only motivated by money and never helps people otherwise, I just instantly assume they stormed through the story and didn’t pay any attention. The encounters listed above make up the majority of chance encounters/side quests and in almost all of them he is helping people. 80% of these are also pre-diagnosis.

He has a hard time accepting any compliments or gratitude for his good deeds and always downplays himself. Even in the main story he is never thinking about himself and he always puts others first.

“You did not ask for anything, you only gave”

The encounters where he does require payment pale in comparison to those in which he doesn’t, and even so they are very justified as they are often dangerous, time consuming or straight up ridiculous. It’s weird to assume Arthur only helps people for money when he doesn’t want to deliver love letters, interview dangerous people and sneak into heavily guarded properties for free.

#writing this so I don’t get brainwashed in the future by people #claiming Arthur’s indifferent to everyone and everything unless they give him money #obviously this is based on high-honor #obviously Arthur has done terrible things in his life but I feel like majority of players just straight up ignore this?? #I know I mentioned this many times already but I am forever annoyed by people saying Arthur only started helping people after getting sick #arthur morgan #text post #red dead redemption 2 #rdr2

[random-brushstrokes]

James Jebusa Shannon - Lady Marjorie Manners (1910)

#james jebusa shannon #american art #portrait #1910s

[hotvintagepoll]

by my count eleven actresses who appeared in the women are competing in this tournament: norma shearer, joan crawford, rosalind russell, paulette goddard, joan fontaine, marjorie main, ruth hussey, theresa harris, lilian bond, betty blythe, and of course, terry

Yes!

If you'd like to watch The Women for yourself, you can currently stream it on Tubi for free. I recommend this movie in a general sense, as it's a fun time if you like watching very rich, bad white women be rich and bad—think a Kardashians or Real Housewives situation but with a bunch of 1930s dames who want to chew the scenery. But I need to add the warning that this film has a very problematic relationship with the WOC in it, including hot lady contestant Theresa Harris (who plays a maid). The only Black women depicted are servants, most of them are not in speaking roles, and the few that have lines are depicted as racist caricatures (also, one is talked about in a racist manner by a few white characters in one scene). These scenes and interactions don't take up a lot of the running time, but they're still there, and I won't fault anyone for not wanting to watch it because of that.

#asks #the women #norma shearer #rosalind russell #joan crawford #paulette goddard #joan fontaine #marjorie main #ruth hussey #theresa harris #lilian bond #betty blythe #terry

[fareehaandspaniards]

Associations post

While I am doing big Laurence post, I found out that lots of paintings for me have strong vibes and references for certain characters. If I will write big text again - I swear I fall asleep, so just a post for me to have as reference in future

Anne of Cleves for Rom

Saint John drawn by Sandro Botticelli and angel drawn by Filippino Lippi for young Laurence

THIS ADORABLY LOOKING MAN - ‘Hans Tucher’ by Albrecht Durer for DAMIAN OF MENSIS GKLNSKJRGTNSKEJHFTKJEA AAAAAA *girly screaming* I LOVE THIS PAINTING FOR YEARS YOU CAN'T IMAGINE HOW MUCH

Oswolt Krel by Durer oooooooooohohhhhhh for Sir Gremia and I I II I I.... (not a reference tbh! My Gremia has different face shapes. But MOOD. THE VIBE. AAAAH)

A man with leather belt by Gustave Corbet for Ludwig

Lady Marjorie Manners (1883–1946), Later Marchioness of Anglesey by James Jebusa Shannon  as Saint Adeline! For long time I tried not to think that she is black-haired but... Lady fell in love with Bicolash in my head and I can't get rid of this headcanon now

Hans Holbein the Younger - "Sketch of unudentified woman" for Adella

I think I will add more later! :0

#painting #art #bloodborne #bloodborne headcanons #rom the vacuous spider #laurence the first vicar #mensis scholar damian #ludwig the accursed #adella the nun #saint adeline #tomb prospector gremia

[wexhappyxfew]

sweet-talking silver bullets

I in fact have never been normal about anything ever so enjoy a hodgepodge of MOTA OCs I've developed just because. You might've met Annie Bradshaw (who was Annie Chattaway) in another prompt request a few weeks back, but I wanted to do some more with her....and then I gave her a new position, changed her last name, and added an intriguing plot for some ideas, so....enjoy the introduction to some of the crew of Silver Bullets, and Annie, who is trying to navigate a crew who is suffering from a heavy loss, plus some John-squared (Egan and Brady)!

"You must be the new LT, huh?" a voice said from her left; turning sharply to her right, she noticed a woman sat at the bar, a cigarette hanging from her lip, and sad, downturned eyes staring at a piece of paper in front of her. Annie looked around briefly, slightly confused by the sudden addressing of herself, but then nodded - the woman couldn't see it evidently but it was out of habit - and stepped forward.

"Lieutenant Annie Bradshaw, just in from Fort Des Moines," Annie said, outstretching a hand forward to the woman, who glanced up from the piece of paper and then quickly shook her hand before turning and looking away again, "I'm-"

"Sorry for your loss." the woman said, glancing her way, "Yeah, we've gotten that quite a lot."

Annie went quiet and shut her eyes for a moment. She sucked in a deep breath before clearing her throat.

"You must be….?" Annie started, trying to see if this woman was who she thought she was.

"Francis Montez," she said with a nod, "Lieutenant. I was Faulkner's copilot."

"From what I heard, you landed the plane beautifully," Annie said with a firm tone, "it was brave of you to do." Montez glanced at her and pulled the cigarette from her lip.

"I didn't have a choice now, did I?" Montez muttered, before folding the paper and standing to her rather tall height and blowing smoke from her lips, "The rest of the girls are around. You'll meet 'em all soon enough." And with that, Montez was wavering away, disappearing between the folds of men in uniform and Clubmobile ladies. Annie remembered seeing the article - the day the 100th lost Captain Birdie Faulkner, the day her 2nd Lieutenant Francis Montez risked every inch of herself to get her, the plane and the crew to safety. The day she got the call to report to Thorpe Abbotts. Annie slowly leaned up against the bar and let out a breath.

"Lieutenant….uh….Bradshaw?" Annie looked up and found a shorter woman, with bright, blue eyes and beautifully curled, blonde hair stood in front of her, lips painted a deep cherry red, a careening smile on her face, "Margie Harlowe, put her there." Margie had her hand stretched out in front of her to shake, pristine uniform on point for all to see, and those bright eyes to match. Annie offered a pinprick of a smile and nodded, shaking her hand firmly before putting her hands in the pockets of the jacket over her own uniform.

"Real name's Marjorie, but…I don't know, Margie became easier to yell through comms thousands of feet in the air." she said with a growing grin, "Really a pleasure that you're here. I know Harding's been trying to get another one of you pilots in for days now. Scrambling and all."

"It's a pleasure to be here," Annie said quickly, her nerves bubbling over at the worst of times, before recognizing her manners, "Lieutenant Annie Bradshaw. Just in from Fort Des Moines, hopped one of the newer birds to get over here as quick as I could." Margie let out a barking laugh and crossed her arms, throwing her head back like it were the best joke in the world.

"Fort Des Moines, you say that funny, where you from?" Margie asked her and then held up her hands dramatically from her chest, "No, wait….let me guess. New England…..maybe Vermont." Margie seemed to understand the look in Annie's eyes and shook her head.

"Nah, gotta be midwest, you're sweet as peaches." she said, "Iowa?"

"Minnesota. Mankato." Annie offered with an attempt at a smile.

"Ah! You must've heard - Major Egan, he's a Wisconsin guy. 's a wonder that he's so chatty." Annie laughed at her words, "I assume you've met him then?"

"Out on the tarmac. Showed me the mess hall. Well….officers' club." Annie said and Margie seemed to get a kick out of that and nodded.

"Yeah, he's real sweet until you gotta start having to actually sweet-talk him." Margie said, noticing Annie's gaze again, "Don't ask." Annie smirked.

"So, you met Silver Bullets yet? She's a beaut." Margie said, with a gleam in her eyes, "Flies faster than you can bet on her with." Something passed over Annie's eyes and Margie seemed to notice it, the smile crinkling the slightest bit. Silver Bullets. The B-17 that Captain Faulkner had piloted on various missions and had died in as well.

The B-17 awaiting its newest pilot.

"Nah, not yet." Annie said, "Met Lieutenant Montez though…..said I'd find you all around here."

"Yeah, Monty, she's….she's not doing great. Well, after everything," Margie said with a half-hearted smile that looked more like a depleted frown, "she had to get the thing on the ground with Birdie's body next to her." Annie watched as Margie sighed and shut her eyes and seemed to shutter.

"We're really glad you're here," Margie said quietly, looking up at Annie, "It's been…..weird, without Birdie here. Everyone trusted Birdie, all the other pilots, Operations…..her being gone, I don't know….they don't like the thought of us going up with just anyone." The words 'just anyone' seemed to strike something deep inside of Annie as she stood there against the bar and she nodded. Just anyone, she thought to herself.

"I intend to prove our worth here," Annie said quietly, "you, me, the whole crew. Silver Bullets." Margie smiled at her and nodded.

"Really, though, we're glad you're here, ma'am." Annie did feel her nerves settle for a moment as she stood there, just hearing Margie's words directed at her with consolation and comfort all at once.

"Lieutenant 'No Name' Bradshaw," a incredibly distinct voice said from over her shoulder, Margie's eyes darting upwards and Annie slowly following her line of sight, "can't believe you actually came." Major Egan grinned.

"We were just talking about you, sir!" Margie exclaimed, jumping in with wide eyes, "Just near about summoned you like you were God."

"Don't inflate his ego," muttered a brunette coming in from Major Egan's side, "it's bursting the bubbles at this point." Annie looked to Major Egan.

"Captain Brady invited me." she offered towards him and he raised a surprised brow.

"Oh leave her alone, sir," Margie said with a scolding, but playful look, "just because you can pull all that sweet-talking with Farley here-"

"Hey." grumbled the woman - her assumption that it was Farley was evident.

"Don't go pulling it with Bradshaw alright, she could probably take you out swinging, sir." managed Margie and Major Egan chuckled.

"Dancing? Oh I'd love to." he said, with a nod, "Want to give me a spin, No Name?"

"Leave her alone," Farley said from beside Major Egan, "Kennedy Farley, gunner on Silver Bullets."

"Pleasure to meet you." Annie said with a quick smile, before noticing Major Egan was watching her again, "Is Captain Brady here, sir? I meant to go thank him."

"He's somewhere," Kennedy offered instead, "but don't mind him-" she swiftly pointed to Major Egan who was grinning as proud as he could, "-this is just Major John Egan for you." Quite the sentiment and statement about a Major in the 100th.

"Lieutenant Bradshaw," Annie turned from Major Egan, Margie and Kennedy and found Captain Brady there, removing the peak cap and tucking it under his armpit, before sticking out a hand, in what she assumed as a friendly reintroduction.

"Well, No Name, seems he came right to you," Major Egan said with a chuckle, as Annie reached forward and shook Captain Brady's hand firmly. He raised his brow and Annie felt her cheeks burn.

"I meant to thank you," she said quickly, crossing her arms, and smiling up at him, "for inviting me. I was going to look for you." Brady smiled, his eyes lingering on her for a few seconds longer than warranted, before he looked behind her.

"Not giving the 100th's newest pilot too much trouble, huh?" he asked, seemingly to mainly look at Major Egan, who, when she glanced over her shoulder, smirked proudly and gave a bow.

"Wouldn't dream of it," he offered, as Brady stepped to her side, with a smile.

"C'mon, let's get you a drink."

#HERE WE GOOOO #im actually so excited about this crew #masters of the air #mota #mota writings #masters of the air oc #annie bradshaw #francis montez #marjorie 'margie' harlowe #kennedy farley #john egan #john brady #there's some more gals we have to meet but here's a few key ones! #ENJOYYYY #hope to write more with them soon! :D

[corallapis]

James Jebusa Shannon: portraits of Violet Manners, Duchess of Rutland, and four of her children: Lady Marjorie Manners (later Paget, Marchioness of Anglesey); Lord John Manners (later 9th Duke of Rutland); Robert Manners, Lord Haddon; and Lady Diana Manners (later Cooper, Viscountess Norwich); 1895, 1900.

#james jebusa shannon #art #1895 #1900 #1890s #1900s #violet rutland #marjorie anglesey #john rutland #robert manners #diana cooper #wish there was one of letty to complete the set! #🕰️

[thethirdromana]

Sydney Atherton's Very Heterosexual Description of Paul Lessingham

I am free to confess,—I have owned it before!—that, in a sense, I admire that man,—so long as he does not presume to thrust himself into a certain position.

Have you been thinking a lot about what positions Paul might be thrusting in, Sydney?

He possesses physical qualities which please my eye—speaking as a mere biologist.

As a biologist, mm-hmm.

I like the suggestion conveyed by his every pose, his every movement,

His every pose? His every movement? You have been watching him closely.

of a tenacious hold on life,—of reserve force, of a repository of bone and gristle on which he can fall back at pleasure.

Isn't the usual expression "at leisure"? Freudian slip?

The fellow’s lithe and active; not hasty, yet agile; clean built, well hung,

No comment.

—the sort of man who might be relied upon to make a good recovery. You might beat him in a sprint,—mental or physical—though to do that you would have to be spry!—but in a staying race he would see you out.

It's important to Sydney that Paul has stamina.

I do not know that he is exactly the kind of man whom I would trust,—unless I knew that he was on the job,—which knowledge, in his case, would be uncommonly hard to attain. He is too calm; too self-contained; with the knack of looking all round him even in moments of extremest peril,—and for whatever he does he has a good excuse.

Quite a sexy flaw, isn't it? He's hot as hell but I just don't know if I can trust him - don't worry, Sydney, we've all been there.

He has the reputation, both in the House and out of it, of being a man of iron nerve,—and with some reason; yet I am not so sure. Unless I read him wrongly his is one of those individualities which, confronted by certain eventualities, collapse,—to rise, the moment of trial having passed, like Phoenix from her ashes. However it might be with his adherents, he would show no trace of his disaster.

VERY SUBTLE FORESHADOWING. But also Sydney goes very quickly from the collapse to the phoenix-like rise.

And this was the man whom Marjorie loved. Well, she could show some cause.

Even more cause? Beyond him being admirable, and good-looking, and well-hung (!), and full of stamina?

He was a man of position,—destined, probably, to rise much higher; a man of parts,

Back to his parts again.

—with capacity to make the most of them;

It's not the size of the boat etc.

not ill-looking; with agreeable manners,—when he chose; and he came within the lady’s definition of a gentleman, ‘he always did the right thing, at the right time, in the right way.’ And yet—!

And yet you think you might still be in with a chance?

Well, I take it that we are all cads, and that we most of us are prigs; for mercy’s sake do not let us all give ourselves away.

Sydney, I fear it's too late for that.

#the beetle weekly

[scribble-dribble-writes]

To save a mockingbird (4)

<<<Prev Next>>>

---

Word count: 1300

Warnings: none

I thought the sequels could do with more representation and that Rose shouldn't be the only one. I firmly believe that if General Hux allowed himself to enjoy a Jaleebi, the man would have left the First Order long ago, now that Jaleebi is canon in the Starwars universe based on Visions 2 😆

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Chapter 4

The house was quaint, his ankle itched. The tracker was strapped to his skin that even when he took a bath, he would not be free of it. While she was given a device, to monitor his location and to make sure he was within bounds. He entered, his nose scrunched up. The ceiling was quite low but it was homely and maybe that’s why he didn’t like it. It was easy to tell that she had a cherished family with how artefacts lined the wall and the space looked lived in. A stark contrast to his quarters, he didn’t even own a pair of favourite slippers or a caf mug. Detached, much like the fleet itself, all this felt new to him. A frail woman sat in a seat as she remained busy with her crochet needles.

“This isn’t much.”, Marjorie chose her words as she turned to him. She felt overprotective of this space, of Aachi. This place was not up for strangers and yet, here he was. It felt like he was evening out the scores, because she had infiltrated his space, he had now chosen to do so.

“But it is my home.”, she told him and he marveled at her as she commanded the room.

As she spoke, the old woman had spotted him and to his surprise she smiled at him. Was everyone in her family mad? He waited and observed as she hobbled into the kitchen, to soon return with a plate full of colourful sweets. What was this custom?

He hated sweets, he preferred his caf without sugar, delicacies often reminded him of his mother or gave life to dormant memories that he would have much preferred to have forgotten now. He spent his early days relating to her like the kitchen maid, never once thinking twice about the love in her eyes. Only when he got to know who she was, he was sent away to the academy, never to return, never to see her again.

“It’s been so long since we’ve had visitors.”, she held the plate to him but his eyes shot to see Majorie and in the brief time he had known her, he saw sadness flicker over her features.

“She’s never brought a man home.”, the lady continued to say with a mischievous smile and Hux wasn’t sure if he should just say something cruel, to kill whatever this was that other people could pick up on his thoughts. Instead he took a step back, unbothered, not wishing to respond.

“He’s a little skinny but that’s an easy fix.”, she continued but he watched as Marjorie enveloped her grandmother in tender care and led her away into a room, explaining that he was only someone from work. Interesting, the spy had a weakness.

He inspected the device on his foot. He took in the space around him again. A week here and he was certain to go insane. The door creaked and she was back in his line of sight.

“I don’t like this, just as much as you don’t.”, Marjorie spoke clearly.

“I apologize on behalf of my grandmother, she’s just been …”, she grew silent and the words bubbled in his mouth.

It wasn’t an issue.

But he stayed quite again, he was never chivalrous or charming and he didn't know why he wanted to show her that he did have a couple manners left within him. He thought of questions but was in a war with himself. He didn’t need to know more, about the sweets or the old lady or the tapestry on the wall or why she was sad?

What was it to him? Collecting information would prove useful later, a thought eased him. He convinced himself that this was a mission and his mouth spit out the words his mind had strung together.

“Anyone else I need to know about?”, he said it without care or concern and watched as her faced twisted slightly.

“My father hasn’t been around since I was a child.”, she answered him still.

“My mother is …”, she met his gaze and there it was, that sadness, that moment causing his heart to twitch for the first time.

“She was on Hosnian Prime.”, she said softly and he looked away. He was certain it was the lack of a breakfast but a void in his heart tore open and all he wanted was to leave, his body craving the untouchable silence of his quarters on the fleet. Her soft gaze now made his skin crawl.

“Her room is the only one that’s vacant. But there’s nothing in it either way, so you do not need to worry.”, she spoke as though she had seen through him.

As he turned to enter the room, he heard her shuffle closer and as he turned, the tip of his nose was an inch away from hers when he spotted she had caught the edge of his shirt, mindful to not touch him in the process but enough to draw his attention.

“I know you plan to escape. I can’t stop you. But if you ever, bring down harm to this house or to my grandmother,”, she paused but he felt the air turn electric.

“Let’s just say that wouldn’t be favourable for you.”, she said calmly but her eyes were a storm, one he was entranced by. Her warning held a deadly note and it only made his blood sparkle.

She let go and turned away. That it was a question which only had one answer. He had to comply to win her over just long enough for the betrayal to hurt. He was an expert at this.

“The door stays open. You show up for meal times, you will help around the house and keep your head down.”, she barked her orders as she pulled out sheets of paper.

“Each week contains tasks for you to complete and at the end of each day, you bestow us with the secrets you know or help with decrypting messages.”, she instructed him.

“You’re working with the mechanics tomorrow.”, she wasn’t sure how good he was with vehicles or anything outside of sitting in powerful places.

His hands looked soft and free of callouses that she could deduce he wasn’t one to have any experience with manual labour. He didn’t respond to her, while he stood there, while his green eyes read her gestures and expression. Arrogance, she never liked it. So instead of letting her mind dwell on his features and mannerisms, she moved on.

“Found these in the 'Lost and Found' department.”, she picked up a box that was next to her and held it out to him. It was full of clothes and objects that would prove useful to him in his stay here.

He took it but never said thank you and she wondered if he even knew the basics of human communication and etiquette.

She lead him into the room but her mind had forgotten him, although there was nothing here, she still felt the coldness and the vacancy. The bed was in the corner, the walls were bare making it devoid of any life. Turning around to see him take in the surroundings, she was certain he was going to keep it in the same state.

“Lunch is an hour’s time. You could start off by helping in the kitchen for today.”, she couldn’t stay another second here or notice the inquisitive look on his face that was washing away all the kindness she had left in herself because now she wanted to yell at him to spit it out. Was he sorry? Or could he ever feel remorse?

She didn’t have anything left to tell him, so she left.

The room was cold and empty, just like she had said. It felt like home, he thought as he took it in, inhaling deeply to catch the faint smell of Marjorie's perfume which was the only attribute he didn’t mind or rather wanted to memorise. Because when something felt like home, that was when the monsters crept to take a hold of him. The box had shirts and pants, none of which he would ever be found in. But it seemed better that the brown jumpsuit so he dropped the box onto the mattress as he took a seat next to it by the corner.

His life had decided to remind him of his past and all his wrongdoing was finally catching up to him. He let his head fall into his hands finally. The kitchen of all places was his first test.

He sat alone and in the quiet, he’ll escape tomorrow, he was sure of it. He will steal an x-wing and before anyone caught on, he will be back as the General to rain hell on this base. The rage burned deep within, there was no redemption for him.

#general hux x reader #general hux #armitage hux x reader #armitage hux #hux #hux x reader #star wars sequals #star wars sequel fic #star wars sequel trilogy #star wars fic

[baltimore-cigarettes]

Tag people you want to know better❤️

Thank you @orchidsareforever for tagging me in this ☺️😚

I just saw it, my apologies in advance!

Relationshipstatus: Taken. 2 years, almost 3 in February and going 🥰 I love you baby rosau @lucifer-te-quer

Favorite Color: Black, Red and White.

Favorite food: Lasagna and Canelones.

Song stuck in my head: Right now? none in particular, maybe Flowers by Miley but no that much, now a song that is old but has always been stuck in my mind for years and still going is I Was a Fool by Tegan and Sara, that song will haunt me forever and i am not complaing about it lol

Last thing I googled: Eileen (the new film of Thomasin Mckenzie and Anne Hathaway) the screenwriter was inspired by Rebecca of Hitchcock so that's already a win for me. Can't wait to see it.

Current time: 02:44 am

Dream trip: Scotland, the land of two my loves, Lady Diana Cooper (the one who inspired my book) and Lady Marjorie Manners, Marchioness of Anglesey❤️

Tagging: @neednottoneed @lucifer-te-quer

[life-imitates-art-far-more]

James Jebusa Shannon (1852-1923) "Lady Marjorie Manners" (1900)

#paintings #art #artwork #genre painting #female portrait #james jebusa shannon #fine art #english artist #british artist #portrait of a woman #dog #dogs #animals #clothing #clothes #black dress #dresses #pale #side profile #pretty #beautiful #aesthetic #aesthetics #early 1900s #early 20th century

[random-brushstrokes]

James Jebusa Shannon - Lady Marjorie Manners (ca. 1911)

#james jebusa shannon #american art #portrait #1910s

[steliosagapitos]

~ " -Lady Victoria Marjorie Harriet Paget Née Manners, (1883–1946), later Marchioness of Anglesey, Aged 17 - by Sir James Jebusa Shannon RA (Anglo-American artist. Shannon was born in Auburn, New York, and at the age of eight was taken by his parents to Canada. When he was sixteen, he went to England, where he studied at South Kensington, and after three years won the gold medal for figure painting. His portrait of the Hon. Horatia Stopford, one of the queen's maids of honour, attracted attention at the Royal Academy in 1881, and in 1887 his portrait of Henry Vigne in hunting costume was one of the successes of the exhibition, subsequently securing medals for the artist at Paris, Berlin, and Vienna. He soon became one of the leading portrait painters in London. He was one of the first members of the New English Art Club, a founder member of the Royal Society of Portrait Painters and in 1897 was elected an associate of the Royal Academy, and RA in 1909. His picture The Flower Girl was bought in 1901 for the national collection at Tate. Shannon was named as co-respondent in a divorce case. In 1902, he exhibited the portrait of Mrs Fred Elliott at the Royal Academy. On 30 September 1902, the husband of Mrs Fred Elliott filed divorce proceedings: petitioner Frederick John Elliott, respondent Sophia Jane Elliott and co-respondent James Jebusa Shannon. Shannon has paintings in the collection of several British institutions including Sheffield, Derby Art Gallery, Glasgow Museum and Bradford Museum. A memorial to him lies in St James's Church, Piccadilly; Born: February 3, 1862, Auburn, New York, United States - Died: April 23, 1923, London, United Kingdom). And one picture is made by modern artist - Robbie Allen" ~

[legiomiam]

Find the Word

I was tagged by @awritingcaitlin for the words find, breathe, back, wait, hand

Since I have not gotten far into my new draft of This Dark And Divine Place yall get the very first draft I did.

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Find

It was also the time that Thema would miss her home the most, her starlit skin was free of any coming storm, her sunset eyes would stay trained to the skies and watch the birds begin to return to build their nests.

“Mama?”

Her head turned as if she was having issues pulling herself from a dream, something that called her to stay in that vivid past that haunted her memories. “Yes?”

Her son stood in the middle of the room, his gear was strapped across his chest and their eyes met.

“Is the creature back?” Her voice was airy as she spoke, eyes drifting back to the clearing sky.

“We don’t know if it’s the same one or a different one but for the reports it sounds almost like a Griever, I’m taking Naveen with me so Baba can stay.” The words weren’t supposed to be said, to be spoken out loud but Brahm wasn’t one to hold back what he would say, that would just cause issues. No one wanted to talk about Krishorn Najm’s fear of leaving on a hunt one day to return to find that his wife had ascended back to the heavens where she had come from.

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Breathe

“Should I go as I am?” She held out her now empty cup, something dancing in her eyes as his fingers closed around the warm metal to steady it as he tilted the pitcher. With her hands now free Rashka overturned the covers and made to stand up.

As she shuffled around he watched the cold thick liquid run into the bowl of the cup, “first we’ll have to take you to my father he will want to talk to you. There we can discuss how we wish… to… what are you—” Brahm finally looked up and nearly swallowed his tongue, hands jerking so blood splashed on him. “Shit.”

“Swearing in front of a lady, I’m sure there are manners that you could probably use. Or is everyone here but your sister and mother barbarians?” Catching a snag in her hair as her fingers ran through it, she winced. Her head is still tender from the hit she took.

“And you should put some clothes on, has not one person offered you clothes?”

“Oh so suddenly the Fae have issues with public nudity, is it? I thought that was one thing you were so open about, clotheslessness.”

Brahm knew that he stared at her like a fish trying to breathe out of water, his face felt hot as she turned her gaze to him, their stare only interrupted every few seconds by some slow blinks from her tilted. “Or does clotheslessness actually not bother you, hmm?”

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Back

“Marjorie,” she leaned in so her mouth was pressed against the shell of the other vampyre’s ear. “As much as I don’t like it, I’m not above telling my future husband that you were supporting ideologies of the worst and most damning kind, as what you once had told me? And just who do you think Klaas would believe at that moment?” She had whispered the question as the other woman scoffed, “I may have my opinions and history but I am the Princess of the Eastern Empire, his betrothed who will give him many children, a pureblood held to the highest degree above you. And you, Marjorie, you are a low born Vampyre, and from the whisperings of staff not even fully vampyre are you? Not enough to be a parent, no Klaas wouldn’t allow you such a position even for a low born unless your family owed his. I’m guessing that a grandparent, or one generation back from that was a dear friend.

“Even then that didn’t give you a high standing, then you were attacked and disfigured. Something that most marriageable men wouldn’t want. So you have a high ranking maid hand as a title, that’ll get you a well off husband who would come to serve my husband. Maybe a tailor or even a guardsmen if permitted. Now if I, a pureblood — a pureblood who owns you essentially — told your other owner that you knew where the missing Fae was, or that I found reason that you were having an association with impure blood, especially in front of the Counsul, I don’t think your bed on the third floor away from the servants’ quarters would be the only thing you’d lose.”

Taking a step back and smiling as if she didn’t just make a threat that had run cold through her veins, not when the blonde who was breathing heavily lowered her eyes, “it would do you good to remember in this house who is in charge of whom. So for now I will let you walk around, head held high as you think that you are in charge.”

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Wait

They chased after it, slipping on the stone soaked with blood, tracking its movements into the sparse treeline. With familiar movements Brahm didn’t wait knowing that Naveen would eventually catch up with him as the trees passed in blurs, his feet would barely touch a branch as he launched into a tree and he’d be a few trees away, hazel eyes tracking the fast moving shape. Thankful that Grievers still ran warm he knew Naveen’s eyes would be able to see the Griever as the sun had yet to rise.

Why was it sticking to the treeline? Why not go farther, it seemed scared of something as it had landed close to a denser section and screamed before back tracking. Grievers needed to hide in shadowed places as the sun would treat their bodies like tinder for a bonfire. They were only a few hours from sunrise.

 It was unfocused as Brahm slammed into it, hand going for that dagger still lodged in its side, dislodging it he tumbled out of the way to reorient himself just to watch the Griever dig its own clawed hands into its head and jerk.

“What the fuck?” Naveen halted as they watched the creature repeatedly slam into the trees, quickly felling one before launching into another. It circled and then clicked and chirped, waiting. It watched the two hunters before taking a swipe and turning to continue to run.

“It’s leading us?”

“Yeah away from the village, and our horses.”

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Hand

“Would you still want to see me?” He finally asks, head tilting towards her, waiting for a response. “When we continue on with our lives?”

“I would like to think we have established enough of a connection to remain…” she paused, unsure of what to say. What were they? 

“Friends?”

“Is that what we are? Friends? Do friends regularly do what we do?” She didn’t spare him a glance, mind numb as she waits. Waits for his answer.

“Ride with me,” he swiftly pulls her from her horse, letting her settle in front of him as he ties the reins of her horse to his saddle. “What do we do, Rashka?”

Her back pressed firm to his chest as his chin drops to her shoulder, one hand holds firm as it holds her close to him. Subtle is something they are not.

“How about we wait until after the solstice to define what we are, but just know friends don’t do what we do. Lovers do.” He pressed a chaste kiss to the side of her face. “When I visit will you show me your day to day? Even if it’s just the dusty keys of a piano—“

“Or the crust of a pie?” She smiled, part of her elated to let him in on parts of her.

“Pie? Do you bake?”

“My mother and I, her pies are better than mine though.”  Rashka smiled, it was small as she thought of her mother.

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Tagging @awritingcaitlin (again), @bebewrites @runeseaks @pinespittinink @sentfromwolves @juls-writes @mr-writes @tananaphone @carrotblr

For the words: head, enemy, hold, slump, inside

#tag game #I use some of these words a looot