#Lorna Windsor

[tomoleary]

Barry Windsor-Smith - Lorna Dane / Polaris (1969) Source

[prohistamine]

M Allergies, 1.6k words

I'm back with another fic gang. This time featuring two high society exes reuniting at a fancy gala. In proper prohistamine fashion this one features allergies, a character with the fetish, and fun power dynamics.

Be warned! somewhat explicit sexual content and general unforgivable horniness

“Lovely of you to come, truly I’m so glad to see you both.” Lorna shook the minister's hand in hers, firmly and warmly. A handshake practiced a thousand times over. “Ms. Windsor arrived a few minutes ago I believe, I’m sure she’d be delighted to catch up on your party's substantial victories in the recent election.”

As he turned away Lorna selected a flute of champagne from a passing waiter's tray and took a healthy sip. She’d need it to get through the rest of the night. She turned towards the door, ready to resume her assessment of each new guest as they arrived, but when she saw the man who’d just walked through the doors her stomach dropped. His dark hair was shorter than the last time she'd seen him, falling in waves around his face. He looked smug as ever, and when he caught her eye he started walking her way. 

“Colin,” she murmured through gritted teeth, “I didn’t think you’d be caught dead here.”

Colin grinned thinly. “Ah well, you would assume I’d choose to be petty, you always thought the worst of me.” 

She scoffed. “That is a charitable way to describe two years of you repeatedly lowering my expectations.”

“Now Lorna, can’t we put the past behind us? What is it we always said, not to let pleasure interfere with our business?” 

“Stirring up unnecessary rumors will interfere with business. Don’t you think it’s a bit soon for us to be speaking in public? The dust has barely settled, people will talk.” 

“‘Oh the worst fate!” he said in mocking horror, “to be the victim of gossip! Do you think we’ll make it out alive?” 

“Oh of course, because you're so above petty politics. I’m the one who’s obsessed with gossip and you just let it roll off your back.”

“Do you think you could say that again for me? Maybe I can get it on tape.” He smiled and rubbed at his nose absentmindedly. 

“You know what? I’m glad you came. I really missed that familiar little headache you gave me. It's this sort of… gentle throbbing at the base of my skull? I’m just not the same without it.”

“I knew you missed me. I missed the exercise I got from our conversations, we should really make a habit of it.” He rubbed his nose again, with more intention, and was she imagining it, or was the motion accompanied by the faint sound of wetness? 

“Are you just here to flaunt your ability to get yourself out of bed?” Lorna asked, “ Because if so, point proven. This is kind of an important night for me.”  

“Ah well, I’m glad you recognize my presence as the achievement it is, but I do have something to-” he cut himself off with a sniff and a scrubbing at his nostrils, “something to discuss. I have to ahh- hehh-” Lorna recognized the face he was making immediately, the far away look in his eye, the crease between his eyebrows. His buildup was, as always, dramatically long before he snatched his handkerchief out of his pocket and sneezed into it twice “AaaSCHU!  AaaeSTCHU!” As always, there was no attempt to stifle his violent outburst. He looked up at her blearily, “Ah, pardon me.”

There was a faint smirk in his tone. Lorna scowled. Of course this would happen, just what she needed when she was already struggling to maintain her composure. 

“Bless you.” she managed to say, intent on keeping her voice even. She wasn’t going to give him the satisfaction of having a reaction. 

“Thank you I- oh there's- Aaah- ahh- AhGHSHUU! AESHTEW! AEGHEEW! Huhh. There were more.” 

Despite her frustration, the familiar heat was rising in Lorna’s stomach and traveling down between her legs. Composure be damned, she leaned forward and hissed into his ear. 

“Are you doing this on purpose?” 

He chuckled. “Oh that would have been brilliant. I’m not that cruel, I'm afraid, or that creative. It must be the floral decorations. I’m desperately allergic, you see.” 

Oh he was fucking loving this. 

“People will stare you know. You’re embarrassing yourself.” She was looking for any way to take back power in the conversation, and she realized she’d been sloppy the moment she spoke. 

“Embarrassing myself?” he asked smugly, “Oh you’d love that wouldn’t you.” 

“I’m leaving.” 

“C’mon now Lorna, I do have something important to discuss. How about we go out onto the balcony to talk. No worries about prying eyes, and the fresh air will be good for my nose.” 

Lorna cast a glance at the large glass doors leading out to the south balcony. They had fabric drapes in front of them, placed intentionally for anyone desiring a conversation away from the eye of the press. Regardless of the privacy they’d have once they got there, people would be sure to notice the two of them leaving together. The smart decision would be to tell him she wasn’t interested in talking, but she desperately wanted a break from the crowd, and, pathetic as it made her feel, she wasn’t sure she could pass up the chance to continue watching him sneeze. It had been months since she’d had the pleasure, and she was beginning to feel like a woman starved. 

“Fine.” 

“Marvelous.” he said, words slightly muddled with congestion. 

They made their way across the room, no doubt incurring the whispers of several guests.

Once they’d stepped outside and shut the doors behind them, Lorna turned to Colin only to see his face skewed in preparation for another sneeze. 

“Hehh- Hhh- HhhSTCHU! HaAGHSHEW- I ha- hhh hhASHEW! I haahh- hadn’t realized it was …it was-” he held the handkerchief in front of his face expectantly as he struggled through the sentence, head tilted back as he gulped in air to fuel the fit, “ATZSHUU! ASHEWW! R-realized it was so… ahh- AschUUu! so cold out here.” 

A sufficient chill had settled in the air since the sun had set, something Lorna hadn’t even considered. Colin was wearing nothing but a simple suit jacket, and he’d always been incredibly sensitive to changes in temperature. Just going outside in cold weather usually caused him a small fit, and the combination with his fall allergies was having quite the effect. He blew his nose into the folds of his handkerchief and then geared up for more. 

“heeSGHEW! EESGHEW! HESHEWW!! Hehh- haaahh- ahh- ASHEW!” He was bending at the waist now with the force of them, and reached blindly to his left in search of the balcony railing, which he leaned on for support once he found it. 

“Huhh-hhhh-hhoh god- heeehSHUUH! EESHEW! HEERGHSTEW! ESH-ESH-ESHU!!

The fit was punctuated by three violent little sneezes that tripped over each other to be released.

Since the moment he’d first sneezed, Lorna had felt like she was putty in Colin’s hand. His intimate knowledge of just what his allergies did to her gave him a maddening and tantalizing power over her. However, as he desperately wrenched forward with sneeze after sneeze, one hand shakily clasping a handkerchief to his face and the other doing its best to keep him upright, it was hard to see him as holding any kind of powerful position. For the first time that night she felt a twinge of pity for him. The feeling both frustrated her, and, of course, only served to further arouse her. 

His fit finally subsided, and he slumped against the railing, gasping for breath. 

“Sorry,” he managed, too exhausted to sound properly smug. 

“Don’t be,” she couldn’t help but reply, her voice high pitched and obvious. She was so wet that she was worried it might actually start dripping down her legs. They both stood there for a moment in silence. 

“So,” he started, still somewhat breathless, “about the election-”

“Colin-” she interrupted him, “I appreciate the effort to resume our professional relationship, but I don’t think I can listen to you talk about politics after that performance.” She knew she had admitted defeat, but in the face of his sniffling, shivering frame she found she no longer desired to one up him. What she really desired was to fuck him, to ease him open with her fingers and fill him up until he couldnt see. That or be fucked by him, bent over and  begging for it as he held her by the hips with his big hands. 

“I understand,” he said, “another time then. Perhaps then, before we go inside, I could talk to you about something expressly unprofessional.” 

“Have at it Colin,” she said, trying not to sound like she was begging for it. 

“There's something I’d like to show you. I warn you, it’s somewhat inappropriate.” 

She felt her heart flutter in her chest, “I can handle that.”

He took a step toward her and then took her wrist. He guided her hand forward, lowering it beneath his waist and then pressing it between his legs where an erection was straining against the fabric of his dress pants. She moaned audibly at the surprise. 

“Do you see what you’ve done to me?” he murmured into her ear, “this is what happens to me now, every time I sneeze. I can’t help it.”

“Colin,” her voice was strangled. 

“How am I going to explain this to future lovers? You know how I get in the spring, I’ll be hard constantly. What will I say if they notice my cock twitch every time I sneeze? Every time they sneeze?” 

Lorna’s clit was throbbing. Colin gave a liquid sniff, and she moaned again, body shuddering against his. Her hand closed slightly around his cock and he gasped sharply.

“My nose still itches terribly,” he murmured, accentuating the statement with another sniffle, “It would feel heavenly to rub it on something soft.” 

“Please,” she begged him. 

He leaned down slowly, placing a hand firmly on her hip, and dragged his nose across her shoulder, rubbing it in the nape of her neck. She trembled at the feeling of his soft nostrils, shifting as they rubbed against her, leaving her skin slightly wet. 

“Fuck, that feels nice,” he said softly. She could do nothing but whimper in response. 

She let it go on for a moment, their bodies intertwined, her hand on his cock and his nose buried against her. It took everything in her not to pull him into a kiss. Instead she stepped back, and wiped her shoulder with her hand. 

“Thank you,” she said, wrangling her voice back to her well-practiced professionalism, “for that stimulating conversation on politics.” She took a moment to compose herself, taking a long deep breath and then continuing, “I have a gala to host, and you have one to attend. I think it best we continue this conversation later, after the guests have left. Perhaps in my personal chambers. You’d have to be discreet about staying behind of course, we wouldn’t want my guests to suspect we’re doing something illicit.” 

Colin looked taken aback, and then broke into a wide grin, “Of course ma’am.” 

She turned towards the door and then, before opening it, turned back towards him. “This does not mean I forgive you, " she said sternly. 

Colin’s eyes sparkled. “Of course not.”

[lesser-known-composers]

Alfredo Casella (1883-1947) - 5 Lyriques, Op. 2: No. 5, Nuageries ·

Lorna Windsor & Raffaele Cortesi

[courseyoulovemeyoudontknowme]

Johnny English (2003, Peter Howitt)

15/02/2024

Johnny English is a 2003 film directed by Peter Howitt, the first in the saga of the same name.

Starring Rowan Atkinson with Natalie Imbruglia, Ben Miller and John Malkovich, it is an action comedy that parodies the spy story genre, in particular the James Bond film genre.

Johnny English is a British secret service agent, inept and clumsy, and for this reason relegated to office work for some time, although he continues to dream of becoming a real spy in the field.

English is tasked with thwarting a plot to steal the Crown Jewels, on display at the Tower of London; here he meets Lorna Campbell for the first time, a woman as fascinating as she is enigmatic. Meanwhile, during a blackout the regalia is stolen. English and his assistant Angus Bough, a young colleague who often proves smarter and more intelligent than his superior, despite relying on rather unusual investigation methods, discover that the jewels have been stolen by Dieter Klein and Klaus Vendetta, two German thieves low-grade; however English connects them to Pascal Sauvage, a wealthy French entrepreneur with many gray areas in his past. However, the man is very well regarded by the establishment across the Channel, so much so that Pegasus, English's superior, considers such conjectures absurd and orders him not to get involved.

Despite this, English and Bough decide to disobey and illegally enter Sayvage's London headquarters, looking for evidence that can confirm their suspicions: here the two discover that the man, a descendant of Charles Edward Stuart, aims to become the new king of England. Lorna also arrives, who turns out to be an Interpol agent, also interested in the entrepreneur's shady plans.

With English aware of their plots, Sauvage speeds things up and sends Dieter and Klaus to force Queen Elizabeth II to abdicate, also causing the entire Windsor line of succession to be swept away: so the English government has no choice but to offer the Crown right in Sauvage, last heir of the House of Stuart. They arrive at the French residence of Sauvage, where the man has invited numerous internationally renowned criminals to reveal his plans once he becomes monarch: to transform the whole of England into the largest prison in the world.

Discovered and taken prisoner, English and Lorna are saved by Bough and, once back home, rush to stop Sauvage's imminent coronation. English wreaks havoc during the ceremony, initially sparking laughter among those present in Westminster; however, when he manages to steal the crown of Saint Edward from the hands of the archbishop of Canterbury, the only one with the power to appoint a new monarch, the true nature of Sauvage emerges and he tries to kill English and threatens the archbishop himself, forcing the ceremony.

[mythvlogie-archived]

“ YOUR ROYAL HIGHNESS, ” arthur bows slightly, the act quickly followed by the prince holding out his hand. “ would you give me the honor of a dance? perhaps a chat? i do realize you have quite the long list of suitors waiting. i don’t mean to impose. ” ( @holyborn1x1​ )

[ungoliantschilde]

the Magnetic Miss Lorna Dane, by Barry Windsor-Smith.

Barry created this around the same time as he did the Medusa PinUp, but I do not believe that this was ever published as a pinup.

[selena-snape]

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[scarletwitchpanels]

links

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mantis

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[wondrousyears]

Lorna Dane (Polaris) by Barry Windsor-Smith

[sims4imperialhouseofmarasea]

Date Night!!

The Prince Royal Imperial was spotted again with his mystery girlfriend. His companion has been identified as Miss Lorna Taupo Mahi’Ai, a native Sulanian who has now been spotted with the eighteen year old Prince on a number of occasions. A close source to the Prince Royal Imperial, informed several news outlets that the two are High School sweethearts and have been joint to the hip since they were both sixteen. 

The pair were spotted entering the local watering hole, enjoying a few rounds of bowling. The pair were later joined by the Windsor Cousins, as they have recently been dubbed. Whether this was planned or by sheer coincidence, it didn't appear to bother the Prince or Miss Taupo Mahi’Ai, who shared a few ‘’handsy’’ moments in their bowling ally. 

However, tensions did rise between Miss Taupo Mahi’Ai and the Windsor Cousins, as the couple later moved from their original bowling alley, which they had previously been sharing with HIRH’s second cousins. The pair soon left hand in hand, and were seen being escorted into a nearby restaurant. 

Onlookers later reported spotting the Prince being pulled aside by his cousins, who seem to disapprove of his relationship. It is unclear if TIRM, is aware of their sons developing romance. HIRM will no doubt now be informed relatively soon. 

Being so high up in the Line of Succession, in the future, when the Prince is ready to marry, he will need to seek the approval of the reigning Monarch; His Mother.

It is, however early days yet...Eyes, both Royal and Common, will be watching this young couple very closely.

[salonduthe]

Amy Beach’s Chanson d'amour, for voice & piano (with cello obbligato), Op. 21/1

Interpreted by the Trio des Alpes with Lorna Windsor (soprano)

From the album, 20th Century Women Composers, Dynamic

[vatofrain]

On Winnie the Pooh & Paddington, Honey & Marmalade

Oh, something sweet on bread! To crave only sweet things: marmalade on toast, marmalade straight, another jar of honey. To subsist on sweet spreads and friendship alone: is this not the dream? To be a very nice bear going around the world, making the world (other people! other animals! hell, the weather!) nicer in turn.

My friend K and I have a running metaphor concerning honey. 11pm, on the backroads around a farm near the New York / Connecticut border, as “All the Birds” by Julia Weldon crooned through their beat up speakers, one hand on the wire by the headphone jack to keep the music playing (the wire bent just so)— we were talking about love. We were talking about how we had so much to give but were afraid to give it to anyone for fear that they didn’t want it— which is where the honey comes in, because, we thought, isn’t it like having an armful of honey? So much golden, syrupy sweet to give that we hold on to simply because we are afraid to make of others a sticky mess?

And our arms are not meant to hold viscosity so some of it drips, by accident, onto the grass, the road, someone’s shoe, but when we finally find somebody who says yes, love me, and I will love you too— in whatever capacity it may mean— we start to pour onto them and are afraid that they will stay shit you’re getting sticky all over me I don’t want this I don’t want this anymore. So we hold onto our honey. Though it doesn’t want to be held. You tell me to love you but I’m afraid that you won’t want it once you know what shape it holds. I don’t want to make of anyone a mess they didn’t agree to. There is so much honey in my arms.

A poem on honey and love: “Aunt Rose’s Honey Advice” by Lorna Goodison:

My aunt Rose told me that it is always good for lovers to keep honey mixed in with their food.

"Keep it around the house at all times," she said. Replace slick butter with pure honey on bread.

Feed it to your love from a deep silver spoon. Throw open the curtains draw free honey from the moon.

Use it to lend a gold glow to wan lustreless skin. Fold it into honey cakes, drizzle it into honey drinks.

Add a satin honey glaze to the matte surface of everydays. Voices sing polished with honey's burnishing.

Shall we then beloved become keepers of bees, invite an entire colony of workers, drones and a queen

to build complex multicelled wax cities near our home by the sea? Would that mean that salt

would be savoring through our honey? And you say, "What of it?" and give me a kiss

flavoured with honey and sea-salt mix. Integrated honey you say. Kiss me again is what I say

because the salt in that kiss could be the sting from old tears and we need to make up for all our honeyless years.

Honey as love, honey as effort, honey as a gift that can be both salty and sweet. When I say my love is an armful of honey, what I mean is this: I don’t quite know how to give it out slowly, how to make it just a honeyed piece of bread or a spoonful in the morning. What I mean is this: I am so concerned with its stickiness that I forget how sweet it goes down.

Winnie the Pooh is not a bear concerned with romantic love, but he is a bear concerned with love. Friendship, honey, let me shove my snout into the pot, let me lick out with my long hungry tongue every drop I can manage. Winnie the Pooh is a bear of very great appetite and a bear of very generous loving. His love is a constant loyal warmth, an endless hunger for the presence of the loved, a generosity, a deep and abiding faith. Some exhibitions:

Winnie the Pooh: It's always a sunny day, when Christopher Robin comes to play

Christopher Robin: I've cracked.

Winnie The Pooh: Oh, I don't see any cracks. A few wrinkles, maybe

Piglet: I-I think I'll just s-stay here... Y-you don't really need me anyways.

Winnie The Pooh: Oh Piglet... but we DO need you...

Piglet: Y-you do?

Winnie The Pooh: [takes Piglet's hand] We ALWAYS need you, Piglet.

Christopher Robin: I'm not the person I used to be.

Winnie The Pooh: You saved us. You're a hero.

Christopher Robin: I'm not a hero, Pooh. The fact is, I'm lost.

Winnie The Pooh: But I found you.

Pooh is not only hungry for honey; he’s generous with it. His actual physical honey may be a kind of love he keeps for his own consumption (I don’t feel very much like Pooh today / There, there, I’ll bring you tea and honey until you do), there is no denying the very greatness of his heart. His care for his friends (we ALWAYS need you, Piglet) his faith in them (you’re a hero), his devotion and love, the way his life is crafted around loving: is that not its own doling out of honey? So, then, with Pooh we learn that honey is not something to hide from the world: that while we should be mindful of human dignities like boundaries and agency, there is little to be gained in the rationing of love.

And here we come to another bear who doles out love like something only slightly thicker than water.: Paddington. While Pooh’s essential task is love, Paddington’s is kindness, that cousin of honey, both products of both effort and patience, both sweet & sweet & sweet & delicious on bread. While Pooh’s is the story of loving those we already love, Paddington’s is the story of how to offer kindness and compassion and respect and dignity to those we don’t yet know. Pooh tells us how to live and love within our inner circle; Paddington tells us to offer love wherever we go.

Some exhibitions of Marmaladeism, both by Paddington himself and his films at large:

Paddington Bear: if we're kind and polite the world will be right.'

Paddington: Thank you, Mr. McGinty. Nuckles McGinty: Don’t thank me yet. I don’t do nothing for no one for nothing. Paddington: Beg your pardon? Nuckles McGinty: You get my protection so long as you make that marmalade. Deal? Paddington: Deal.

& how through Paddington’s kindness, McGinty’s perspective changes:

Nuckles McGinty: [to Paddington] If you’re going to clear your name, you’re going to need our help.

Nuckles McGinty: “This bear is now under my protection. Anyone that touches a hair on this bear will have to answer to me, Nuckles McGinty. That’s Nuckles with a capital N.”

Henry Brown: No, of course you don't. YOU never have! As soon as you set eyes on that bear you made up your mind about him. Well Paddington's not like that. He looks for the good in all of us and somehow, he finds it! It's why he makes friends wherever he goes. And it's why Windsor Gardens is a happier place whenever he's around. He wouldn't hesitate if any of us needed help! So stand aside, Mr Curry. 'Cause we're coming through.

Aunt Lucy: Long ago, people in England sent their children by train with labels around their necks, so they could be taken care of by complete strangers in the country side where it was safe. They will not have forgotten how to treat strangers.

While both Paddington movies are completely wonderful, Paddington 2 is more effective in communicating its point: through a surprisingly nuanced look at the prison industrial complex, capitalism, and the insidious nature of evil (and how it roots from believing oneself superior to everyone else), it tells us that by offering people kindness, human dignity, compassion, and even love, we can often coax out their better selves from the protective shell of their worse ones.

These are times like any other: by which I mean, times in which we often learn the correct rhetoric, the correct stances, the correct politics, the correct opinions, and forget what all this is meant to be in service of: honey & marmalade, love & kindness. We speak out against prejudice (racism, sexism, classism, ableism, prejudice against LGBTQ people, etc.) rightly so— I don’t mean to say that we should stop activism or protest or a careful monitoring of language— but we must remember what we do this all for. Yes, structural change is crucial. What else is important? Treating the people you come across who are of these minorities we claim to support and defend well, treating them with kindness, with compassion, loving them well, as they need and want to be loved. Large-scale rhetoric is shaky and doomed if it doesn’t come from some deeper, sweeter instinct to ensure we are all fed: in food, in shelter, in education, in joy, in honey & marmalade. Let us not forget this.

I think we need to watch more kids’ movies. I think we need to reteach ourselves the fundamentals. I think it’s a goddamn shame that kids’ movies are dismissed as uncomplicated and unimportant, that wonder, hope, naivete, whimsy, charm, warmth, sweetness (those 2 secret sauces) are not granted the same gravitas as misery and grittiness, that there is somehow nothing important to say about them, that only cynicism and brutality are intelligent. One is not smarter for being miserable. One is not smarter for their pessimism. One is not smarter, is not better, is not more morally responsible or ethically aware or more worldly for refusing to place in their mouth a piece of bread spread with something sweet, for refusing to say yes, this is , in Leslie Jamison’s words (again, I know) significant, this“ single note of honey”.

[lesser-known-composers]

Alfredo Casella (1883–1947) - 5 Lyriques, Op. 2: No. 5, Nuageries ·

Lorna Windsor & Raffaele Cortesi

[bbcbreakingnews]

Prince Harry’s ex Cressida Bonas marries Harry Wentworth-Stanley in private ceremony

Prince Harry’s ex-girlfriend Cressida Bonas has married her fiancé Harry Wentworth-Stanley in a private ceremony. 

The Winchester-born actress, 31, who famously dated the Duke of Sussex, 35, for three years, exchanged vows with Mr Wentworth-Stanley, the estate agent son of the Marchioness of Milford Haven, over the weekend. 

The couple, who are thought to have cancelled their original plans due to the coronavirus pandemic, tied the knot in a countryside ceremony attended by family including the bride’s brother Jacobi Anstruther-Gough-Calthorpe, who shared a photograph of the happy couple on Instagram.

The snap shows the newlyweds ‘riding off into the sunset’ on horseback and was set to the song What A Wonderful World by Louis Armstrong. 

It comes just a week after Cressida’s close friend Princess Beatrice married property developer Edoardo Mapelli Mozzi in a surprise secret service in Windsor. 

Prince Harry’s ex-girlfriend Cressida Bonas has married her fiancé Harry Wentworth-Stanley in a private ceremony. This photo was shared by her brother Jacobi Anstruther-Gough-Calthorpe

The socialite announced her engagement to the estate agent in August last year, popping the question with a stunning ruby ring during a trip to the US

Details of Cressida and Harry’s wedding are not known but the photo shows the bride riding the horse with her white sleeveless wedding dress pulled up over her knees. The groom is dressed in a navy suit. 

Cressida has previously spoken of her desire to have a low-key wedding and it appears she was granted her wish. 

There currently are a maximum of 30 people allowed at weddings in England. It is not known how many guests were invited to the ceremony but the couple both come from large families that would quickly make up the numbers. 

Cressida is the only child of 1960s ‘It’ Girl Lady Mary-Gaye Georgiana Lorna Curzon and her third husband, Old Harrovian entrepreneur Jeffrey Bonas. 

The actress has three half-brothers from her father Jeffrey Bonas’ first marriage, George, Charles and Henry Bonas. Meanwhile her mother has four children to her first two husbands: Pandora Cooper-Key, daughter of Esmond Cooper-Key, and sculptor Georgiana Anstruther, Isabella Anstruther-Gough-Calthorpe, and Jacobi Anstruther-Gough-Calthorpe, the children of property developer John Anstruther-Gough-Calthorpe. Isabella is married to Sir Richard Branson’s son Sam. 

Harry is the second child of Nick-Wentworth-Stanley and his first wife Clare, now Marchioness of Milford Haven. His older brother James Wentworth-Stanley, took his own life in 2006 at the age of 21, and he has a younger sister, Louisa, born in 1993. 

In May Cressida hinted that their original wedding had to be postponed due to the current crisis, posting a snap as she and Harry posed in front of an ‘Auto-wed’ machine in fancy dress 

His father went onto have three more children with his second wife, Mille Brenninkmeyer, while his mother, now Marchioness of Milford Haven, inherited two stepchildren on her marriage to the Queen’s cousin, George Mountbatten.

Cressida, who appeared in this year’s ITV drama White House Farm, announced her engagement to estate agent Harry in August 2019. The couple first dated while studying at university before rekindling their romance in 2017.

In May she hinted that their original wedding had to be postponed due to the current crisis, posting a snap as she and Harry posed in front of an ‘Auto-wed’ machine in fancy dress outfits.

Sharing the photo on Instagram, Cressida wished her beau a happy birthday before commenting: ‘Well, if all else fails there’s always Auto Wed…! Happy birthday my heart. #OneDay.’

Cressida and Prince Harry broke up in 2015 after she was said to have struggled with the pressure of royal life during her romance with the Queen’s grandson. Pictured, in March 2014 

The actress has previously revealed how her ‘dream day’ was a small, non-traditional wedding not in a church – the complete opposite to her ex-boyfriend’s nuptials. Pictured: Cressida at Prince Harry’s wedding to Meghan Markle in May 2018

In January, Cressida opened up about her plans for the big day, revealing she wanted to have a ‘small’ non-traditional ceremony. 

Writing in The Spectator, she said she ‘upset’ her father by telling him she planned to get hitched under a tree, saying: ‘He looked at me as if I had completely lost the plot, then he insisted that we say our vows in a church.’ 

She said she was stunned that everyone around her seemed to have ‘very strong opinions’ about her wedding, but she disagreed with ‘nearly all of them’. 

The actress said she dreamed of having a small wedding, before realising her guest list, combined with her fiancé’s, comes to 120 people in total. 

Her desired big day is almost the exact opposite of ex-boyfriend Prince Harry’s wedding to Meghan in May 2018. 

The royal couple had a huge ceremony at Windsor Chapel, with more than 2,000 guests in attendance, including Cressida. 

Cressida and Prince Harry broke up in 2015 after she was said to have struggled with the pressure of royal life during her romance with the Queen’s grandson.   

The post Prince Harry’s ex Cressida Bonas marries Harry Wentworth-Stanley in private ceremony appeared first on BBC BREAKING NEWS.

from WordPress https://bbcbreakingnews.com/prince-harrys-ex-cressida-bonas-marries-harry-wentworth-stanley-in-private-ceremony/

[ungoliantschilde]

Hela, by Barry Windsor-Smith. 

this is from around the same time period as his Lorna Dane and Medusa PinUps. this has remained unpublished to my knowledge.

[wutbju]

Robert Wisner Martin, of Hendersonville, NC passed away on Wednesday, December 20, 2017 surrounded by his loving family at Mission St. Joseph's Hospital in Asheville, NC. Born in Brooklyn, NY in 1932, Bob began painting at an early age, eventually attending Pratt Institute for a semester after high school. He left Pratt to accept a job inking the 'Red Rider' comic book. He entered the United States Army in 1952, during the Korean War, as an illustrator for the 6th Army training aides at Fort Ord, California and at the headquarters of the Army Language School, Monterey, California. Bob was honorably discharged from the Army in 1954 with the rank of Sergeant, E-5. He then worked as an apprentice for an architectural illustration firm for six months in Los Angeles, leaving to freelance in architectural rendering, a skill he continued to practice until a few years ago. His public work, still extant, includes a fresco secco mural for the Church of Religious Science, Las Vegas. He illustrated the book The Voice Celestial by Dr. Ernest Holmes, Dodd-Mead, publisher, in 1960. Bob worked as an illustrator for Bob Jones University for 10 years (1974-1984), continuing freelance work as an architectural delineator as well. After teaching himself the art of kiltmaking as a hobby, Bob became so accomplished that he began crafting Scottish kilts commercially in 1976. This led to his desire to know all he could about the history of the kilt and tartan. He began his research in 1982, both here, in Scotland, and at the British royal residence at Windsor castle. He authored a column "The Kiltmaker"s Corner" and the book All About Your Kilt. Bob was elected a fellow of the Scottish Tartan Society in 1983, and to the Guild of Tartan Scholars in 1993, being the only non-Brit to receive these Honors. After passing his craft to three gifted apprentices, he retired from kiltmaking in 1998. He continued to work as a consulting historian of the kilt and tartan until a year ago. Bob taught Sumi-e painting and Palette Knife techniques at River's Edge Studio in Asheville, NC, where he was named Artis Ameritus. Bob is survived by his wife, Betty Carlson, and five children; Carolyn Ann, Rob MacCallum, Loran Shepherd, Lorna Keyes, and Dwayne Finley. He also leaves behind eight grandchildren, Angela Keyes, Kellie Upton, Robert Francis, Kyle James, Kathryn Louise, Sean Shepherd, Daniel Solomon, and Nina Keyes, and five great-grandchildren, Kinlee Hannah, Amber Keyes, Ashlyn Noel, Jacklyn Kaye, and Jordan Michael. He will always be remembered by those who knew and loved him as a Loving Husband and Father, Master Artist and Kiltmaker, a Renaissance Man for all Seasons, as well as compassionate and giving to all he met. A celebration of his life and the love that we all have for him for the ways in which he touched each and every one of our lives will be held in February 2018. To offer online condolences please visit www.shulerfuneralhome.com. Shuler Funeral Home is assisting the family.Published in The Times-News on Dec. 27, 2017