#at breakfast 1898

[artthatgivesmefeelings]

Laurits Andersen Ring (Danish, 1854-1933) At Breakfast, 1898

[misscromwellsmonocle]

At Breakfast (1898) by Laurits Andersen Ring

[muxshwriting]

good luck, babe

Anthony Bridgerton x reader

summary: your husband can't seem to move on from his previous fling, Siena || warnings: cheating, swearing, period typical sexism, pregnancy, arguing || word count: 1898 || masterlist

It was a marriage of convenience, you had accepted that. Viscount Anthony Bridgerton was in want of a wife and you were available, from a noble family, mild mannered, loved by his family and tolerable to Anthony himself. You hadn't tricked yourself into thinking there could be love in this marriage. You were there to be a dutiful Viscountess and give the Viscount as many children as he desired. That was your job, that was what you were made for.

There was one thing you had asked of your new husband on your wedding day: you preferred if he didn't go and see other women, but if he did, you didn't want to hear about it.

Anthony had nodded solemnly, agreeing that he wouldn't do that to you. He was a gentlemen, he cared for his wife and his future family. And he had kept your word. After returning for your honeymoon, there had been nights where your husband hadn't returned to your bed. Whether they were late nights in his study or late nights with another woman, you didn't know and you didn't want to know. He spoke nothing of these nights, greeting you with a warm smile as he sat down at the breakfast table, as if nothing was amiss.

Because nothing was. Nothing was, right?

Everything seemed to change when you were with child. Anthony had been ecstatic to learn he'd be a father and offered to do anything and everything for you. You had taken a deep breath and asked him a question. "Will you stop seeing her?"

You didn't need to say anything else for Anthony to know who you were talking about. "Y/N-"

"We're having a child Anthony. I'd like you home to actually be a family, not spending most nights of the week either in your study or at her house. I don't know who she is or if it's more than one girl but can you bring it to a stop, please?"

Anthony's eyes had softened at your explanation as he fervently promised to do better and to be yours. And he was... for a while. He cut back on late nights in his study, spending the darkness in bed with you. But slowly like the tide, he began to pull away, the late nights in his study grew more frequent. You spotted the candlelight under the door the majority of nights as you returned to your cold bedchamber.

He was simply busy, balancing books and handling affairs. In reality, he was handling a different kind of affair. It only took one offhanded comment by his brother Benedict for you to realise what had been happening.

"Do sing us an opera brother. I'm sure your songbird is teaching you a few tricks."

Present tense. she was teaching him, not taught. Your husband was fucking the opera singer. The candles had been a lie to keep you obedient and calm. You were not four months pregnant and Anthony couldn't stop himself from going back to her. It had taken all of your willpower not to slap him across the face after everything he promised you.

You held in your anger for four days, until the other Bridgerton siblings were out of the house. Then, it all snapped. You marched (as well as you could whilst pregnant) to his study, walked in without knocking and slammed the door shut behind you.

"Are you serious?"

Anthony laughed like nothing was wrong. "What do you mean?"

"You're not spending that many nights in your study." You accuse. "You're seeing her, aren't you? The opera singer?"

"Wha- What does it matter to you what I do with my time?" He said it so nonchalantly, as if it wasn't even a problem, like you were overreacting.

"You promised me!"

He rolled his eyes. "Siena's different. She-"

"She's not your wife!" You're practically screaming at him at this point, anger coursing through your veins. "I am!"

"Y/N, calm-"

"Don't you dare tell me to calm down. You promised me you were done. I'm carrying your child! It was the one thing I asked of you and you don't even have the decency to do that for me."

Anthony finally stood up. "I am a man. I do not have to obey your every request. I should not be confined."

"Confined?" You found his use of words ironic. "I have married into a family I do not know, to a man who dies not respect me. Not to mention, I am with child. If anyone is confined, it is me. And as you astutely pointed out, you are a man."

He stayed silent for a second as you continued.

"Do whatever you like Anthony. I could not possibly wish to confine you. Go and fuck Siena. In fact, fuck as many girls as you please but don't expect to come home to our bed at night. I'll have the housekeeper arrange separate bedchambers for us and when my child is born, I don't want you anywhere near me."

You turned on your heel and swiftly exited the study, refusing to give your husband another glance. Had you looked back, Anthony's face would have been a myriad of emotions. Some shock, some hurt, anger, but mainly pain.

He knew he'd been callous, taking all your affectionate for himself and giving none back. He left you in bed alone almost every night and betrayed your trust like it meant nothing to him when in truth, it meant a great deal. It was as you said, you were his wife. He was supposed to love you unconditionally, do anything for you. But it was also as you said, you were just his wife. He wasn't the husband he should have been, he wasn't treating you like his wife. He had made a terrible mistake.

Anthony thought he could end whatever was between him and Siena when you asked him too. For almost two months he cast her from his mind, avoiding the places they once frequented, the opera house, the back streets, even the club at times she would be there. But then he had unavoidable business at White's, exactly when Siena was there to entertain the Lords.

She had caught his eye from across the room and he was sucked into her orbit once more. But Anthony had also majorly fucked up. He had broken the one promise his wife had asked him to make. The one thing she had asked of him, he did not do. So he hid all the signs, stayed late in his office, complaining of account books and paperwork constantly. He would kiss you sweetly goodnight and sneak out of his own house to see his mistress.

Siena basked in his attention, his inability to stay away. She knew how to keep Anthony just where she wanted him. The two months without him were torture. No other Lord would treat her as well as Anthony, leaving her more and more money on her nightstand and holding her tightly into the night. So what about his wife, she was just his wife.

You ignored Anthony for days, eating your meals separately to him, at different times, in different places. Every time he would pass you in a hallway he would be met with a blank stare, an expressionless face and utter silence. He begged you to talk to him, to listen to him, to tell him how he could make it up to you but you said nothing. In your opinion, Anthony deserved none of your words. After all, so many of his had been lies.

"Anthony-" His mother was the one lecturing him, asking him why he wasn't with his wife. "You need to do better. This shouldn't have happened and now you need to fix it."

"But how?"

Violet stared at him. "You've broken her trust Anthony. I don't know what you can do to earn that back."

Anthony wasn't sure either but he would try anything until something stuck.

It began with flowers, elaborate bouquets at the dining table and in your room every single day. They were beautiful, filling the house with some much needed colour. Without thought, you found yourself adoring them, before remembering why they were there in the first place. After flowers came the small trinkets, your favourite desserts at dinner, some of Anthony's shirts appearing in your wardrobe because he knew they ere most comfortable for you and your bump.

All the while, Anthony is desperately trying to catch your eye, following you around the house like a moping puppy, begging you to talk to him. All the while, you refuse.

What hurt him most, however, was that you would talk to his siblings without issue, even while he was in the room. But the moment he contributed to the conversation, you returned to silence. It was agonizing, waiting for you to speak to him, knowing he had brought this upon himself, praying you would love him again.

He broke down into tears in his study one night, pushing his work onto the floor and planting his head in his hands as the tears flowed freely. You couldn't sleep, nothing was comfortable, it was too hot or too cold. A loud crash startles you. You push yourself out of bed, wrapping a robe around you tightly and making the slow and tedious journey down the stairs to investigate the noise.

As you reached the foyer, the sound of crying hit your ears. Anthony's crying, from his office. Your heart, which you had been trying so hard to rebuild and protect, broke all over again. Perhaps you had been too harsh on him? Perhaps he deserved you again? Perhaps...

You cracked the door open, Anthony didn't even notice the sound. You sipped inside the study, taking considerate steps towards him until you're stood behind him. His head turned suddenly as he realised someone was stood by him. He hurriedly wiped his eyes, holding back his sobs as he met your gaze.

"Anthony..." His name came out a whisper, the first word you'd spoken to him in days.

Your arms wrap around him, pulling him close to you, holding him tightly and never wanting to let him go. And in the safety of your arms, he completely breaks. His tears begin anew as he whispers apologies back to you. His sentences are nonsensical strings of words that don't really make sense but convey his profound apologies.

"Anthony-"

"My love, please. I'm begging for your forgiveness. I'll do anything, anything for you. Whatever you please, whatever you command. I'm yours." He pulled back from you, holding your hands within his and praying to you. You were his god now.

"Uh-"

He wouldn't let you speak until your forgave him, "I'll never go near the opera again, I swear. She's nothing compared to you. I want to be here for you, for our child. I want them to grow up surrounded by love, like I was. Please-"

You cut him off, diving forward to capture his lips in a kiss. It's salty but Anthony sinks into the kiss, finally holding you in his arms and pulling you even closer towards him. You pull back to breathe, ignoring Anthony's hurt eyes as you do. "I forgive you." You whisper. "But no late nights, alright? Just be with me."

"I'll be with you forever."

if you can't tell, I'm on a bridgerton high rn

[random-brushstrokes]

Laurits Andersen Ring - At Breakfast (1898)

[hometoursandotherstuff]

Poiple Victorian. 1898 beauty in Oshkosh, WI. 5bds, 2ba, $379,500.

Cute entrance hall and look at the new flooring. The stairs are original- look at that carved newel post.

Oh, wow, look at the carving on the fireplace. Nice sitting room w/plenty of space.

Fits quite a large sectional. Not what I would have, but they must use it as a family room.

Pretty dining room has beautiful wainscoting, a new floor and original oak door.

Oh, look at the purple sun porch. This is so pretty.

There's a breakfast room right outside the kitchen for every day dining.

Check out the fancy cabinets. Someone got silly with stencils. But, it does have a Victorina design.

I wonder if the cabinets convey.

Off the kitchen is a fancy Victorian powder room.

There's a small landing and the newel posts and railings look so nice.

Decoupaged built-in closet in the hall.

Wow, look at the bath off the hall. It's all dressed up. Even the shower has etched glass.

I guess they have no need for 5 bds. anymore. This one is completely empty. Has a little closet and a transom.

The transoms have fancy glass. It looks like it may be contact paper, though. This room is right off the primary bedroom.

The primary bedroom has doors to the other bedroom and the hall.

I think that this is the house's name, Lady Iris.

The purple fence matches her painted rock foundation.

I guess you would call this area a patio.

And there's also a very large yard. The property is 9,147 sq ft.

And, it also has a 2 car garage.

https://www.zillow.com/homedetails/222-E-Irving-Ave-Oshkosh-WI-54901/216614212_zpid/

[huariqueje]

Breakfast , sketch - Henry Ericsson , 1921.

Finnish, 1898-1933

Drawing

[thepaintedroom]

Laurits Andersen Ring (Danish, 1854–1933) • At Breakfast ( the artist's wife) • 1898 • Nationalmuseum  - Stockholm, Sweden

[armandoandrea2]

Buongiorno 🌈☕️

Laurits Andersen: Ring At Breakfast (1898)

[kitchenisking]

DAY 3

One True Dick by eeyore9990 - (Rating: Explicit, Words: 1898, sterek)

Fifth anniversary: for basic bitches that meant some shit like gifts made of wood. Stiles Stilinski was not a basic bitch. 

Which was why Derek was pacing back and forth in the middle of a circle of mountain ash, watching Stiles writhe and moan on their mountain ash-encircled bed whilst painting his well-lubed rim with yet another circle of — that's right — mountain ash.

No Place Like Home by frek, sova - (Rating: Explicit, Words: 2150, sterek)

Stiles hasn't seen Derek in three months.

finger on the trigger and all fired up by tryslora - (Rating: Explicit, Words: 6414, sterek)

Derek goes undercover to expose a drug trafficking ring running inside of a porn studio. What he finds is Stiles.

Heatwave by Jerakeen  - (Rating: Explicit, Words: 2816, sterek)

The drug is called heatwave. It supposedly emulates werewolf heats on humans. And yes, Stiles is stupid enough to take it on a dare.

Your name would be a good tattoo by SerenityShadows - (Rating: Explicit, Words: 4315, sterek)

In which Derek has communication issues, Stiles is a bit of a little shit, and there are tattoos (but not actually anyone's name.)

Legal by selecasharp - (Rating: Explicit, Words: 3206, sterek)

It's Stiles's birthday, and he's definitely up to something. Derek just isn't quite sure what.

Talk Me Down by SylvieW - (Rating: Mature, Words: 26364, sterek)

After the Hale family narrowly escapes the fire, Derek moves to New York to escape their lingering resentment. There, he meets Stiles, and feels an instant connection to him, but their relationship, and Derek’s self worth is tested by the hurdles Derek’s pack throws at them

Happy Sire's Day by KaliopeShipsIt - (Rating: G, Words: 3905, sterek)

When Stiles' little family treats him to gifts and breakfast in bed on Sire's Day, the Alpha almost manages to accidentally ruin his biggest Sire's Day surprise.

Sunday Ceremony by linksofmemories_archive  - (Rating: Explicit, Words: 25066, sterek)

To be completely honest, he had no idea when it started. It had started early, he knew that, but he didn’t know an exact day or month or year. It was almost as if one day he had woken up with this twitch in his right hand and this dryness in the back of his throat.

How to be a Badass Without Trying By Stiles Stilinski by Anxiety_Baker02 - (Rating: Mature, Words: 40027, sterek)

Five times Stiles was underestimated and one time he proved why he shouldn’t be.

~ Rule #1: Do Not Fuck With Stiles Stilinski 

Never, ever go to Beacon Hills. Do not try to attack, take over, or harm this city in any way. 

Don’t ever go near the Hale pack. Do not speak to them, do not look at them, and do not piss them off. They will come for you. 

Don’t harm any member of the pack. Stilinski will get his revenge. 

Specifically, never, under any circumstances, harm the sheriff. 

If, by some insane act, you manage to hurt Stiles Stilinski, you’d better run because Derek Hale will kill you. 

Speaking of Derek Hale, if you touch a single hair on his head, running is pointless because Stiles Stilinski will kill you before you can even blink. ~

AKA the 5+1 fic that took on a life of its own, Emissary Stiles, and Stiles proving he’s an absolute badass six times.

[hauntedbythenarrative]

Tired

Decadent Young Woman, Ramón Casas//The Unabridged Journals of Sylvia Plath//The Divine Secrets of the Ya-Ya Sisterhood , Rebecca Wells//Anne Magill//Relaxing in water, Liu Xiaodong//F. Scott Fitzgerald//From The Complete Works; The Plumbed Serpent, D.H. Lawrence//Malcolm Liepke//Girls Night, (2018), Malcm Liepke//From a letter to Felice Bauer, c. November 1912, Franz Kafka//The Diary of Anais Nin: Vol. 1, 1931-1934, Anaïs Nin//At Breakfast (1898), Laurits Andersen Ring

[charlesandmartine]

Tuesday 23rd April 2024

On our last morning on the Shamwari Game Reserve we were not permitted a lie in. Oh no, still lots to do. So we had a half hour warning at 06.30 to present ourselves for breakfast and then Raymond was to take us to the Shamwari Rehabilitation Centre to see what they do with defective animals. Unlike Born Free, the object is to fix the problem and get the animals back out into the wild where they belong, and frankly we were amazed at the time and dedication they were prepared to put into saving animals. This is an impressive new facility built as recently as 2018 for the Shamwari Game Reserve and it is an integral part of the conservation work they do on site. We saw a white rhino orphaned at birth so had been hand reared, being fed milk till 18 months old, with the plan that it'll be released when 2 years old. Being a wild animal it butts the keeper rather badly when the milk run is ready to be performed. They needed a routine to pacify the animal first before delivering the white stuff and the method devised is to blindfold him and put earmuffs on first. Rhino needed companionship, and surprisingly this is provided by Frank the sheep! They didn't get on initially but now they are inseparable.

This team is remarkable. They have Patrick the giraffe, abandoned at birth and reared also by hand. I imagined a giraffe at birth might possibly be the size of a giant stick insect. Apparently a new born giraffe is a good 2 meters tall! Patrick is doing fine. A new avenue for the centre is vultures. They have recently received some 50 or so vultures who have been injured and are now in the process of recovery. Vultures are useful in cleaning up carcasses and preventing rats and blowflies which restricts the spread of disease. A major success story was the surgery performed on a severely injured white rhino left for dead after poachers cut his horn off and basically leaving a hole in its head! Rhino are still very much sought by poachers who can get $1M for a horn in the US which buys an awful lot of corrupt officials turning blind eyes!

Other inmates are elephants, jackals and meerkats. These are long-term projects and release to the wild takes time, ensuring that the animal will be able to cope on its own.

We took a wide loop back to the lodge on the lookout for any animals we might have missed, but it was like the apocalypse had come, there were none to see! So we settled up, paid a vast amount in tips, jumped back into the VW (now exceedingly clean after the staff had valeted it) and roared off down the dusty road replacing the dust removed with a bucketload of fresh dust and out towards the main gate heading for Port Elizabeth and our replacement hotel; The Hacklewood Hill Country House, built 1898 for Mr & Mrs Mattingly. Now a five star Victorian boutique hotel somewhat favoured by Trailfinders I think. This is home for the night although we shall have to abandon it tomorrow morning in favour of a very early flight to Johannesburg and then on to Kasane in Botswana where we shall be transferred to the Chobe Game Reserve.

ps What a fantastic experience this section of our trip has been. Shamwari has been great both for service and terrific food we have been provided and also for the insight into the animals and their habitat we have been voyeurs to. To be feet away from the majesty of lions, the power and size of elephants, the height, grace and elegance of giraffes is absolutely mind blowing. To see close up the endangered, hunted, but thankfully protected rhino is quite awe inspiring. It is easy to forget that these animals are entirely wild, would easily kill you, but are in their natural environment and are living the life they deserve. After the recent rains the vegetation is so lush and green and the animals are loving it.

pps We have begun our course of anti malarial tablets essential because of the risk in Botswana. We have been warned of side effects!

ppps Superb meal tonight at the hotel. Ostrich steak, really nice and eating out here is so cheap!!

[sakurabreeze]

At Breakfast 1898 Laurits Andersen Ring

[themuseumwithoutwalls]

MWW Artwork of the Day (12/4/22) Edward Burne-Jones (British, 1833–1898) King David the Poet (1863) Stained glass, 82.6 x 49.5 cm. The Metropolitan Museum of Art, New York (Rogers Fund)

This panel of King David, with three other panels also decorated with figures of poets (Homer, Chaucer, and Dante), was made for windows in the breakfast room at Silsden, a house in Yorkshire built for textile manufacturer Charles Hastings. This was one of the first commissions given to Morris, Marshall, Faulkner & Co., the firm that William Morris, Edward Burne-Jones and others had co-founded in 1861 to revive the arts and crafts of the pre-Renaissance era (which would subsequently develop into the more successful Morris & Co in 1875). Burne-Jones designed the figures and Morris designed the daisy and forget-me-not plants for the rectangular quarries forming the background.

Burne-Jones is one of the featured artists in this MWW gallery/album: https://www.facebook.com/media/set/?set=a.1567228726715824&type=3

[wilsweb-asientour]

Tag 30. 02.08.2023

Minoh Park. Nach einem kurzen Frühstück im Hotelzimmer fuhren wir nördlich Richtung Minoh Park - ein im Jahre 1898 gegründeter Park mit 33 Meter hohem Wasserfall. Nachdem wir uns beim Umsteigen in Umeda verliefen erreichten wir gegen 11:00 Uhr den Park und liefen langsam zwischen den Schluchten Richtung Wasserfall. Die Wanderung war pillepalle, die Pause oben aufgrund der 34^C Grad draußen trotzdem willkommen.

Im Nachgang fuhren wir in ein Ramen-Restaurant (hier der Name für künftige Reisende - 唯一無二のらぁ麺専門店 イ袋ワシづかみ), wo der Eigentümer ein 1A Ramen vorbereitete und dazu Oasis und Arctic Monkeys spielte. Ein glücklicher Zufall. Daraufhin ging’s in den Shitenno-Ji Tempel, Japans ältester Tempel und vom Prinzen Shokotu Taishi im Jahr 593 errichtet. Wir stiegen die fünf Stockwerke des Pagodas hoch und fühlten uns oben wie in einer Sauna. Wir beide haben langsam genug von buddhistischen Tempeln, mit der Zeit ähneln sie sich irgendwie alle.

Anschließend ging’s nach Shinsekai, das Entertainment-Viertel Osakas. Hier war’s leider kitschig und genauso heiß wie Tempel-Hof. Wir liefen also frühzeitig nach Hause, mit 16km auf dem Tacho, und schauten kurz im Supermarkt vorbei. Webster wusch dann im Hotelzimmer seinen stinkigen Rucksack und schmierte Schnitten während Wilson Wäsche wusch und beim Friseur Visite hatte. Wir bereiten uns jetzt noch auf Nara vor und gehen heute früh ins Bett. Gute Nacht!

Day 30. August 2nd, 2023

Minoh Park. After a quick breakfast in the hotel room, we headed north towards Minoh Park - a park founded in 1898 with a 33-meter high waterfall. After getting lost while changing trains in Umeda, we reached the park around 11:00 a.m. and slowly walked through the gorges towards the waterfall. The hike was easy, but the break at the top was welcome due to the 34 degrees Celsius outside.

Afterward, we went to a ramen restaurant (here's the name for future travelers - 唯一無二のらぁ麺専門店 イ袋ワシづかみ), where the owner prepared excellent ramen and played Oasis and Arctic Monkeys. A lucky coincidence. Then we visited the Shitenno-Ji Temple, Japan's oldest temple, built by Prince Shokotu Taishi in the year 593. We climbed the five floors of the pagoda and felt like we were in a sauna at the top. We both have had enough of Buddhist temples; with time, they all start to resemble each other somehow.

After that, we went to Shinsekai, Osaka's entertainment district. Unfortunately, it was tacky and just as hot as the temple area. So we decided to head home early, having covered 16km, and made a quick stop at the supermarket. Webster then washed his smelly backpack in the hotel room and made sandwiches, while Wilson did laundry and went to the barbers. We're now getting ready for Nara and going to bed early tonight. Good night!

[hometoursandotherstuff]

What an elegant 1898 Victorian in Birmingham, Alabama. It’s got a good location b/c it’s a bed & breakfast. The asking price is $2.9M. This mansion has 12 bds, 14 baths, and 8 fireplaces.

This is main entrance hall.

And, look at the rear stairs.

I really like their decor- the swan in the fireplace and Pegasus. (Do those convey?)

Beautiful big dining room. Wish they would’ve shown the fireplace.

Pretty guest powder room.

What a pretty bedroom. 

Love the way that panel in the shower makes a small bath look so much more elegant.

Another of the many bds and baths.

This room is small, but the decor is so beautiful, it doesn’t matter.

And look at this lovely bath.

Upper floor terrace.

Those doors.

Each room just get more lovely. I like how they painted the ceiling peach.

https://www.vhlmagazine.com/post/1898-national-register-mansion-for-sale?

[memoriae-lectoris]

In fact, some people, like nineteenth-century physician F. W. Searle, might argue that the American Revolution would never have happened had it not been for the influence of pie, a dish often served as breakfast, lunch, dinner, and midnight snack in the colonies.

A learned doctor, Searle wrote about pie as though it were the stuff of Arthurian legend, crediting it with the colonies’ “indomitable perseverance, never failing strength, and don’t-know-when-you’r beaten courage” and predicting that “when the history of New England shall be written in that spirit of careful investigation and research, and with that calm and dispassionate temper, which ought to animate every historian, then it will undoubtedly be found that the indigestible pie has exerted a mighty influence in the development and utilization of the resources of our country, and that pie and progress have always gone hand in hand.”

Searle believed “that a certain amount of irritation within ‘the inwards’ of a man” made him tougher and more resilient, that American pie had a tendency to irritate a man’s inwards “just sufficiently to make him wide awake, resourceful, and aggressive” and that calling pie “indigestible” was therefore a compliment. “The brave men who made up the Boston Tea Party,” he writes, “and who defied the whole English nation rather than pay an unjust tax, were pie-biters from Boston. The bands of untrained stragglers who defeated a disciplined army at Concord, at Lexington and Bunker Hill, sprung from the Puritan stock which introduced and made famous the American pie.

The history of New England shows conclusively that the Yankee pie is a mighty stimulator of energy and that it is conducive to vigilance, aggressiveness and longevity.” This was all published as scientific fact in 1898’s Journal of Medicine and Science.