#sculptor’s daughter

[arinewman7]

The Dreaming Iolanthe

(from Henrik Hertz's play King René's Daughter)

Sculpture by Caroline Shawk Brooks

Butter Sculpture, 1876

[7amaspayrollmanager]

so last year i read a couple retellings of the iliad from the perspective of the women and they were bad so bad like if the authors just tried to capture that ancient type of lyricism that Madeline Miller was able to mimic maybe they could have saved themselves, but they were lacking in making a point. like okay womens lives were terrible then but what else? is that all we can imagine on their behalf anything beyond what we can already tell from what Greek men say about them? clearly the answer is no. but i was thinking there was this retelling of the iliad i read in middle school and it was in the perspectives of helen and cassandra and it was in my middle school library and i did some searching. did anyone read this? i might reread it

[4x01]

saw a tiktok of a mother taking her very tiny daughter to an art museum and she’s just walking around going “whoooa” “woooaah” to everything but then they got to a marble statue of a nude woman lying on her back and the girl points and goes “mommy🫵” and i just immediately welled up with tears and all the comments are just laughing about it and of course it’s funny but how are you not insanely moved by the way art connects everyone on earth from a centuries-old sculptor to a toddler in 2023

[lollobarcollomanonmollo]

women artists that you should know about!!

-Judith Leyster (Dutch, 1609-1660)

During her life her works were highly recognized, but she got forgotten after her death and rediscovered in the 19th century. In her paintings could be identified the acronym "JL", asually followed by a star, she was the first woman to be inserted in the Guild of St. Luke, the guild Haarlem's artists.

-Artemisia Gentileschi (Italian, 1593-1656)

"... Si è talmente appraticata che posso osar de dire che hoggi non ci sia pare a lei, havendo fatto opere che forse i principali maestri di questa professione non arrivano al suo sapere". This is how the father Orazio talked about his nineteen year old daughter to the Medici's court in Florence.

In 1611, Artemisia got raped, and she had to Undergo a humiliating trial, just to marry so that she could "Restore one's reputation" , according to the morality of the time. Only after a few years Artemisia managed to regain her value, in Florence, in Rome, in Naples and even in England, her oldest surviving work is "Susanna and the elders".

-Elisabeth Louise Vigèe Le Brun (French, 1755-1842)

She was a potrait artists who created herself a name during the Ancien Règime, serving as the potrait painting of the Queen of France Marie Antoinette, she painted 600 portraits and 200 landscapes in the course of her life.

-Augusta Savage (Afro-American, 1892-1962)

Augusta started making figures when she was a child, which most of them were small animals made out of red clay of her hometown, she kept model claying, and during 1919, at the Palm Beach County Fair, she won $25 prize and ribbon for most original exhibit. After completing her studies, Savage worked in Manhattan steam laundries to support her family along with herself. After a violent stalking made by Joe Gould that lasted for two decades, the stalker died in 1957 after getting lobotomized. In 2004, a public high school, Augusta Fells Savage Institute of Visual Arts, in Baltimore, opened.

-Marie Ellenrieder (German,1791-1863)

She was known for her portraits and religious paintings. During a two years long stay in Rome, she met some Nazarenes (group of early 19th century German romantic painters who wanted to revive spirituality in art),after becoming a student of Friedrich Overbeck and after being heavily influenced by a friend, she began painting religious image, getting heavily inspired by the Italian renaissance, more specifically by the artist Raphael. In 1829, she became a court painter to Grand Duchess Sophie of Baden.

-Berthe Marie Pauline Morisot (French,1841-1893)

Morisot studied at the Louvre, where she met Edouard Manet, which became her friend and professor. During 1874 she participated at her first Impressionist exhibition, and in 1892 sets up her own solo exhibition.

-Edmonia Lewis or also called "wildfire" (mixed African-American and Native American 1844-1907)

Edmonia was born in Upstate New York but she worked for most of her career in Rome, Italy. She was the first ever African American and Native American sculptor to achieve national and international fame, she began to gain prominence in the USA during the Civil Ware. She was the first black woman artist who has participated and has been recognized to any extent by the American artistic mainstream. She Also in on Molefi Kete Asante's list of 100 Greatest African Americans.

-Marie Gulliemine Benoist (French, 1768-1826)

Daughter of a civil servant, Marie was A pupil of Jaques-Louis David, whose she shared the revolutionary ideas with, painting innovative works that have caused whose revolutionary ideals he shared, painting innovative works that caused discussion. She opened a school for young girl artists, but the marriage with the banker Benoist and the political career Of the husband had slowly had effect on her artistic career, forcing her to stop painting. Her most famous work is Potrait of Madeline, which six years before slavery was abolished, so that painting became a simbol for women's emancipation and black people's rights.

-Lavinia Fontana (Italian, 1552-1614)

She is remembered for being the first woman artist to paint an altarpiece and for painting the first female nude by a woman (Minerva in the act of dressing), commissioned by Scipione Borghese.

-Elisabetta Sirani. (Italian, 1698-1665)

Her admirable artistic skills, that would vary from painting, drawing and engraving, permitted her, in 1660, to enter in the National Academy of S. Luca, making her work as s professor. After two years she replaced her father in his work of his Artistic workshop, turning it into an art schools for girls, becoming the first woman in Europe to have a girls' school of painting, like Artemisia Gentileschi, she represent female characters as strong and proud, mainly drawn from Greek and Roman stories. (ex. Timoclea Kills The Captain of Alexander the Great, 1659).

[claudinedaussyart]

THETIS

THETIS sculpture acier Claudine Daussy adagp mars 2022 SCAS 13 PO 235 Douce fille de Nérée, ton palais sous la mer, En ces temps difficiles, qu'en reste-t-il encore ? Ta carapace protège ton innocence amère, Derrière nos sortilèges, ta chevelure est d'or. Claudine Daussy adagp SCAS 13 PO 235

[neechees]

Historical Indigenous Women & Figures [6]:

Queen Nanny: the leader of the 18th century Maroon community in Jamaica, she led multiple battles in guerrilla war against the British, which included freeing slaves, and raiding plantations, and then later founding the community Nanny Town. There are multiple accounts of Queen Nanny's origins, one claiming that she was of the Akan people from Ghana and escaped slavery before starting rebellions, and others that she was a free person and moved to the Blue Mountains with a community of Taino. Regardless, Queen Nanny solidified her influence among the Indigenous People of Jamaica, and is featured on a Jamaican bank note. Karimeh Abboud: Born in Bethlehem, Palestine, Karimeh Abboud became interested in photography in 1913 after recieving a camera for her 17th birthday from her Father. Her prestige in professional photography rapidly grew and became high demand, being described as one of the "first female photographers of the Arab World", and in 1924 she described herself as "the only National Photographer". Georgia Harris: Born to a family of traditional Catawba potters, Harris took up pottery herself, and is credited with preserving traditional Catawba pottery methods due to refusing to use more tourist friendly forms in her work, despite the traditional method being much more labour intensive. Harris spent the rest of her life preserving and passing on the traditional ways of pottery, and was a recipient of a 1997 National Heritage Fellowship awarded by the National Endowment for the Arts, which is the highest honor in the folk and traditional arts in the United States. Nozugum: known as a folk hero of the Uyghur people, Nozugum was a historical figure in 19th century Kashgar, who joined an uprising and killed her captor before running away. While she was eventually killed after escaping, her story remains a treasured one amongst the Uyghur. Pampenum: a Sachem of the Wangunk people in what is now called Pennsylvania, Pampenum gained ownership of her mother's land, who had previously intended to sell it to settlers. Not sharing the same plans as her mother, Pampenum attempted to keep these lands in Native control by using the colonial court system to her advantage, including forbidding her descendants from selling the land, and naming the wife of the Mohegan sachem Mahomet I as her heir. Despite that these lands were later sold, Pampenum's efforts did not go unnoticed. Christine Quintasket: also known as "Humishima", "Mourning Dove", Quintasket was a Sylix author who is credited as being one of the first female Native American authors to write a novel featuring a female protagonist. She used her Sylix name, Humishima, as a pen name, and was inspired to become an author after reading a racist portrayal of Native Americans, & wished to refute this derogatory portrayal. Later in life, she also became active in politics, and helped her tribe to gain money that was owed them. Rita Pitka Blumenstein: an Alaskan Yup'ik woman who's healing career started at four years old, as she was trained in traditional healing by her grandmother, and then later she became the first certified traditional doctor in Alaska and worked for the Alaska Native Tribal Health Consortium. She later passed on her knowledge to her own daughters. February 17th is known as Rita Pitka Blumenstein day in Alaska, and in 2009 she was one of 50 women inducted into the inaugural class of the Alaska Women's Hall of Fame Olivia Ward Bush-Banks: a mixed race woman of African American and Montaukett heritage, Banks was a well known author who was a regular contributor to the the first magazine that covered Black American culture, and wrote a column for a New York publication. She wrote of both Native American, and Black American topics and issues, and helped sculptor Richmond Barthé and writer Langston Hughes get their starts during the Harlem Renaissance. She is also credited with preserving Montaukett language and folklore due to her writing in her early career.

part [1], [2], [3], [4], [5] Transphobes & any other bigots need not reblog and are not welcome on my posts.

[thebelugawhalefriend]

Many Loving Kisses - Yan!Royal Harem x Reader

PART TWO

CW: Yandere themes, Fem reader, Homophobia, Polyamory, FxF and MxF, Slight mentions of religion

Note: This is based on a dream I had a while back that actually opened up the idea of polyamory being healthy to me. While the dream involved an emperor from Japan and his harem, I'm very worried about writing for a culture I'm not completely learned up on. So! I've written it to fit a Medieval setting ^^

"The King has requested your daughter's hand in marriage." A messenger read from his scroll upon a white stallion, your parents looking on in shock. "His Majesty? But... Why our daughter?" Your mother starts, but her partner puts her hand on your mother's shoulder. "Do you dare ask why our gracious King would bestow upon you a dowry for your daughter? After he pardoned the unholy sanctity of your union?" It's then your other mother, "Auntie", steps in with venom in her tone. "Now you listen here, you brute... My wife didn't dare insult the king! She simply asked why he would want to take our only child away from us. Disgracing our union is unnecessary!"

To this, the messenger seethes. Withdrawing from his horse, the towering brute of a man steps closer to your mothers. "He did request that anyone unwilling to hand over the bride to be shall be taken to be executed. Would you prefer I end your lives? I'll be more than happy to-"

"Stop!" You immediately waved your arms up, trying to get in the middle of the dispute, "I'll go- please! Just don't hurt my mom and auntie...!" It was now their turn to look upon you with shock. "Baby..." Your mother lifts her hands to hold your face. "You don't have to do this. We'll do anything to keep you safe-" "Mama, it's not worth sacrificing your lives over something like a marriage. I love you both too much to see someone take your lives..."

Sundown's pink hues darken the skies as you wave your final goodbyes to your moms. To ensure you wouldn't change your mind, some of the men who had tagged along with the messenger tied you tight and carried you upon horseback. While your parents were paid a great sum for your hand, you couldn't help but worry about what the king's wife would think. How would this work? Would she be okay with the king having you as a second wife? Of course, his first wife will still be Queen... But what will you be?

Nightfall approaches as soon as the men who carried you in tow arrive at the gates. The king, in all his glory, looks upon the arriving carrivan with great disdain. The messenger leads on with pride in his chest and eyes. "My King, we've brought your bride to be as you requested!" "And you tied her like an animal to a slaughter?!" The king's sharp tone immediately deflated the messenger's ego. "I- uhm- It wasn't I who requested she be bound like that! Men, what have you done to our lady? At least treat the maiden with class!" The crew hastily undoes your ties as the messenger puffs out his chest yet again. Though, the king seems unimpressed.

"I've had quite enough trouble with the likes of you, Stephen. You treat your job as if I bestowed upon you a knight's status... One more misuse of your power and I'll have you imprisoned for the rest of your days." His golden eyes now fall upon you, gaze softening upon seeing your figure. "As for her, let her come and follow me. She's to be acquainted with my wife before any plans are set in motion."

Now, it's hard to not fall for a king so handsome. Stunning muscular features, a chiseled face as if a sculptor carved him from marble, and long curls of red hair pulled onto a loose ponytail. Freckles mark his face and skin like stars and constellations, with multitudes of scars connecting them. You start to wonder if God personally painted him to look like a galaxy... "I do apologize for how my men have treated you. It's difficult to find men as honorable as my own knights, dearest (Y/N)."

"You... Know my name, Your Highness...?"

"Why wouldn't I? You've been all my wife has been talking about for the past few weeks! It took me the longest time to come around to the idea but... One look of who she spoke of and I couldn't agree faster."

"King Fl-"

"Please, you may call me Rose." His smile is so warm, it brought your face to a rosy red. The tenderness of his words... That spark in his eye... It's hard to believe that this would be yours to even have, not to mention have his wife willing to share!

Once you both happen upon an ornate willow door, Rose gives it a gentle knock. "Darling?" A soft voice calls from inside the room. "Is that you?" "Yes, my dearest wife! I have brought someone you'd most adore to meet..." "Oh! But Rose, I'm just about indecent! Visitors can't gaze upon me right now..." The red haired man rolls his eyes with a bright smile, "Oh, alright, I suppose (Y/N) can wait a few moments longer."

With that, the door creeps open. "Please, let her come in!" You swallow a large lump in your throat, trotting in carefully. The inside of the room is spacious and rather decorated- even for a queen. Paintings of fables and animals decorate the walls, each framed with delicately carved wood. Walls themselves were murals of flowers and leaves, furniture threatening to overflow with delicate knick knacks and jewelry. What catches your eyes is the large pink bed with sheer canopies of white hanging over. On the sheets sit a tall and curvy woman. Eyes a striking purple and hair as black as a raven's plumage. What stands out most about her are her larger than life scars along her collarbone. While Rose's own were small, hers looked like she had fought a wild beast... The only thing that covers her is a purple nightgown, only going so far as to cover most of her thighs.

"You must be (Y/N)." She stands from the bed, brushing off her legs and looking at you with a bright smile. The mere sight of her vulnerability brings a deep blush back to your cheeks. "M-My Lady... I'm honored to... Uhm... Meet you!" You try to curtsey, but the queen merely laughs at your attempt and approaches your feeble form. "Please, there is no need for formality, little one! From now on, you can call me Azalea. But, any amount of nicknames will do." With that, she reaches her hands to your face and cups them along your jawline. "Look at you... You're so beautiful... So joyous and kind... I knew from the moment I saw you, I would love to have you marry my husband and I!"

It wasn't too long ago you met the queen. Only about a month, if you had to make a guess. She had been making her rounds along town in disguise despite her husband's protests. That's when she happened upon your family's stall. Adorned with colors and beads, it immediately was obvious that you were all selling jewelry. "Greetings!" You beamed from the stall, the queen's attention caught on you. "Would you... Actually, hold on a moment." The curious monarch watched on as you picked through one of the racks of necklaces. From them, you picked a particular piece- An orange and red beaded necklace with a ruby as the showpiece. "You look like someone who could use a little more red-"

"Oh no, I can't- I'm sorry, I don't have any..." While the Queen fretted this potential trick, you put your hands onto her own. "I didn't say you had to pay for the piece. I... Actually made that one myself. I would be honored to have someone as beautiful as you wear it." She was quick to catch onto your "flirting", to which she laughed and looked into you. "If I didn't have a husband, I would snatch you right up! If only men were so flattering as you are." You gave her a little look of confusion, "I didn't mean to try and take you as my own- Oh, but I would if you wanted me to-! Just uh! Uhm..." That assumption brought a great fluster to your face. "I genuinely mean it, miss. I have a great feeling about you! I don't often get them but... Mom says when you get that feeling, you just have to... Put it into action. Does that make sense?" The tall woman laughed again, "Absolutely not, but I appreciate the gift you've given me. Perhaps fortune will be as giving as you are..."

At the time, you didn't even realize just what her status was. It wasn't until this very moment of her hold on your face that you finally could recognize her.

"You were that lady I met last month, weren't you?" Azalea beams with amusement, her familiar laugh ringing in your ears, "It took you long enough to figure that out! Ah, but don't you worry about it, just proves my disguise is effective." As she keeps you in conversation, her body urges you to join her on the bed. By that, it's merely a hand pulling you to the mattress and a gentle push urging you to sit. With you next to Azalea, Rose peeks right in with curiosity.

"How are my wonderful girls?" He steps right in, Azalea sticking her tongue out and pulling you in for a protective hug. "This one shall be my own wife! You can't have her, Rose!" Her tone is playful, but for a moment, you could have sworn you saw that primal desire of possessiveness. "Oh, you wound me, darling! I paid her dowry, only for her to be snatched away?" He comes in closer, leaning into his wife with that exact same look. "I don't think so... Come here!"

The redhead pulls you and Azalea in for a tight embrace. Between his muscular chest and Azalea's soft breasts, you're sure you will suffocate under this pile of affection. Though, it isn't long until he pulls away to let you breathe. "Goodness, my apologies (Y/N)! I should be more careful with my two favorite flowers..."

Their gentleness and affection all reminds you of your moms. How they would shower you with affection and each other with love. It brings a certain ache to your heart, but... You'll see them again, right?

"King- Sorry, Rose?" "Yes, my flower?" "What will become of my moms?" Your freckled lover pauses for a moment, "Your mothers? What of them? They've been compensated for your dowry." "When will I see them again?" This time, Azalea comes in to answer. Her limbs wrap around you and pull you into her lap by the waist. "Oh, my dear, we can't have you wandering about in public! You'll be a spectacle out there! Besides, you'll already have a lady who will care for you every day..."

"But... What of my friends?"

"What of them? They'll get to watch you marry us! Besides, you'll have a man who will be your company from dawn until dusk." While Azalea holds you, Rose brings a hand to your chin and strokes it lovingly. That facade of care was quickly starting to feel like a trap you've fallen into.

"That's... Lovely and all! I really do appreciate that I'll be spending my days with you both. I just worry that... Well, you both have many duties as king and queen. Surely I could be allowed outside...?" Both of the lovers freeze. It's as if you admitted to murder! The tension of the room grows thick like butter, with Rose's gaze turning from soft to absolutely enraged. Yet, his tone is still calmed. Too calm.

"My darling little flower..." His grip on your face tightens, "The outside is far too dangerous for you to venture into. You're to stay here with us and be our company. Do you understand me?" Your eyes widen and you nod feverishly, Rose letting out a sigh and pulling back. Azalea turns you slightly so you could look into her honeyed look using those familiar amethyst eyes. "Don't let it scare you so easily, loveliest... We love you! We won't hurt you if we don't have to. We'll keep you safe here... No matter how hard it'll be!"

[flowerandblood]

Girl with a Pearl Earring

[modern! photographer • Aemond x female]

[warnings: dirty talk, domination, sexual tension, fluff]

[description: Aemond is a photographer dealing with works referring to the painting of the old masters. His sister poses in class for a girl who catches his attention. He decides that she would be a perfect model for one of his photos. Lots of sexual tension and slowly built fascination.]

Part 2 - Magdalene with the Smoking Flame

Part 3 - Ophelia

Part 4 - Lady with an Ermine

Part 5 - Rokeby Venus (End)

* English is not my first language. Please, do not repost. Enjoy! *

_____

It's been a long time since there was such a beautiful model in a painting class as Helaena Targaryen. With her fair, almost white hair, slender, fair face, snub nose, and blue eyes, she looked like an angel. She was able to create an amazing hairstyle with her combed braids.

The students and the professor decided to dress her in a blue gown, borrowed from costume designers from a nearby theater, in the style of seventeenth-century French fashion. Behind her was a large yellow background falling into the shade of warm gold. Even as herself, sitting half-profile towards them, she looked like a painting.

She had a great connection with her right away and they talked a lot. She knew that Helaena was the daughter of the dean of the university, a famous furniture maker and sculptor. Their entire family was famous for their strong commitment to the arts. She knew that Helaena's brother, Aemond, was in the fifth year of photography.

She was in her second year of painting and knew most of the people in his major - they often traded lecture halls - but he was always completely withdrawn. She had never seen him talk to anyone, he was always the first to leave the classroom.

Several girls from her year tried to flirt with him and get his attention, but their attempts ended in total failure. Still, she felt it wasn't fair that they were talking about him behind his back after being rejected. She tried not to express an opinion about him, because she didn't know him.

Even though it was known how Helaena got this temporary job, no one held any grudges about it because she bravely endured hours of posing without flinching. She decided to paint her portrait in the style of the Italian masters, starting with a monochromatic underpainting, applying the color with glazes in delicate layers. She was just starting to apply color to her face, making the character's face seem to emerge from the sketch around it.

The professor called a break and everyone got up to stretch a bit. Helaena stepped down from the platform and approached her, wanting to see how she was doing, as usual. She was delighted to see that the work was slowly moving to an advanced stage.

"What you do is amazing. You have real talent!” She said with her hand over her heart, playing with the chain. She smiled warmly at her.

They were talking for a while about ways of painting and different types of portraits when suddenly Aemond entered their room. He was looking for his sister with his eye, and when he saw her he walked towards her, greeting only the professor on the way.

"Ah, Aemond, thank you." Helaena said as he handed her apparently her own phone. "I had completely forgotten about him. Come closer, do you want to see how beautiful my new friend paints?” Helaena asked happily and she looked down in embarrassment. She guessed he didn't want to, but out of politeness he came over and stood behind them.

He literally said nothing. She glanced at him uncertainly over her shoulder and met his intense gaze which almost scared her. She blinked and opened her mouth slightly, then closed it, wondering if she should say something. She turned her head away, swallowing softly.

"Beautiful, isn't it? It makes me look like a baroque countess." Helaena said happily, looking at her brother.

Aemond only grunted, nodded, and stepped around her easel as he left the room. She looked at Helaena slightly shocked, but she seemed completely unfazed by his behavior.

"Is he always like this?" She asked quietly, wondering what had just happened. Helena laughed.

"Yes, he is very economical with words."

***

She entered the painting room first. She liked to look at her paintings from a distance before going back to work. When she looked at it with fresh eyes, she suddenly noticed all the mistakes she hadn't seen the day before.

It immediately caught her eye that she had painted one of the eyes a little too close to the nose. She immediately grabbed the brush, mixing the paints properly, wanting to fix it without even waiting for the model to show up.

She heard someone enter the room and, thinking it was Helaena, greeted loudly. Surprised after a while that no one answered her, she leaned over the easel and realized surprised, that her brother was standing in front of her.

Aemond, as usual, was dressed all in black. His black turtleneck emphasized his slender, long face and long, blond hair partly pulled back. He looked at her expectantly, as if he wanted to say something. She blinked, wondering what he might be looking for here, and suddenly it dawned on her.

“Helaena hasn't arrived yet, she'll probably be here in a few minutes. Should I tell her something?" She asked softly and smiled warmly at him. She decided that she would not be guided by the opinion of others and would form her own opinion about him.

Aemond turned his head, staring out the window, his mouth tight. He tapped his fingers on the sill as if thinking hard. After a moment he looked at her suddenly.

"Pose for me." He said indifferently, looking at her with a stony face. She sucked in a breath, completely taken aback by his proposal. She blinked, putting down her brush, looking at him curiously. She's never stood on the other side, modeling for someone.

“I take photos stylized as copies of paintings by old masters. I'd like you to pose for me as a Vermeer Girl with a Pearl Earring." He explained, apparently wanting to make it clear that he didn't mean the act or anything else that might seem inappropriate to her. She smiled widely.

"Very willingly! That sounds great. Will I also have to prepare the appropriate costume for this?" She asked, clearly excited, stepping closer to him. Aemond stared at her, surprised by her energy.

"No, that won't be necessary. I'll get you something." He said looking at her face thoughtfully. She blinked.

“I can sew well, and a lot of photography is about making the fabric look real. I can take care of it, I used to sew some historical costumes as a hobby.” She said lightly, looking at him expectantly. Aemond stared at her, clearly amazed at her commitment. He didn't seem to know what to say to her for a moment, because he hadn't expected such a pleased reaction.

“Well … if you want, of course, you can sew something. I'll bring something too. I will book a photo studio for next friday. Will you make it by then?" He asked softly, clearly appeased by the way she was acting.

"Yes, I will."

***

She was incredibly excited about his proposal. They exchanged phone numbers in case the studio was busy that day or needed to contact each other for other details about the shoot.

She had no idea why he chose her or what he saw in her, but she was very pleased that he wanted her to pose for him. She always dreamed of being someone's model, and she knew he was a talented photographer.

His pictures were really miniatures put in huge frames, almost like paintings. His photos, although colorful, had a kind of noise and blur that made the photo look old. He probably used special plates and exposure methods for this, but she wasn't very familiar with it. However, she knew that he was great at capturing the moment, chiaroscuro and color. There was something painterly about his photographs.

She spent one afternoon wandering around second-hand clothing stores where fabrics could be found cheaply. She was pleased that she had found everything she needed.

When she got home, she turned on her sewing machine, sewing a brown blouse for herself, and what she couldn't sew on the machine she sewed by hand.

She looked at herself in the mirror, looking at the effect of her work and decided that everything looked great. The fabrics she chose were soft and draped smoothly without looking artificial. She suddenly realized that she was missing the most important thing - a pearl earring. The pictures were to be taken the very next day, so she texted him quickly, scared.

[Y]: "I completely forgot that I need an earring, and I can't buy anything at this hour!"

After a few minutes, she saw that she had received a reply.

[Aemond]: "I was able to find a virtually identical pair of earrings at one of the pawnshops. I also have some fabrics if needed."

She took a quick portrait photo of her reflection and sent it to him along with the message.

[Y]: "I don't think any additional materials will be necessary."

He didn't write back to her for a long time. She got scared that he didn't like what she had created and started to worry. She jumped as her display lit up and she got a new message.

[Aemond]: "Well done."

***

She entered the studio at the time stated, looking around. Aemond was already inside, apparently adjusting the lighting. He just glanced at her and went back to working on setting the lamp.

"Close the door." He said coldly. She dutifully did as he asked and placed her backpack on one of the chairs against the wall. She took out all the materials she had prepared. She looked at him uncertainly.

"Can I change somewhere?" She asked quietly. Aemond looked at her in surprise and cleared his throat.

"Yes, you have a small storage room on the other side." He said, pointing to the opposite side of the room. "The door is open."

She nodded and quickly walked into the small room. With resignation she found that there was no mirror in it. There was no problem with putting on the shirts, but she had some issues with tying the bonnet and scarf.

Resigned, she poked her head out of the door, searching for him. He was looking through the camera at the place where she was supposed to be sitting.

"I need your help. I can't see if I tied it properly." She said pointing to the fabric on her head. Aemond motioned for her to come closer.

"Sit down. Here, like this.” He said, turning her with his hand, so that her body sat in profile to him. When he touched her with his large, cool hand, she shivered.

She watched him from below as he busied himself with tidying up her headgear. He glanced once in a while at the printed reproduction of the painting on the floor in front of him to get it right.

After a while he seemed pleased with the result. He handed her a pearl earring, and she put it on, empathizing with the person she was about to be. Aemond pulled away, took the camera in his hands and looked through the lens.

"Turn your head slightly towards me. No, not that much. Oh, that's right. Open your mouth slightly." He said matter-of-factly and suddenly she heard the sound of the camera shutter. Aemond pursed his lips.

"Don't look at me with such terrified eyes. Relax." He said and she swallowed softly, squeezed her eyes shut and tried to pull herself together.

This time she tried to keep her gaze soft. Aemond took the picture again. He pulled back and looked at her thoughtfully. His gaze was intense and he seemed to be thinking about something.

"Lick your lips." He said suddenly. She shivered at his words and looked at him in surprise, thinking she had misheard.

"What?" She asked quietly. Aemond looked at her expectantly.

"Rub your lips with your tongue. So that they shine." He recommended.

She felt her heart pounding. She blushed, ashamed and pursed her mouth, not looking at him, her tongue running slowly over her lips. She looked at him and saw that he swallowed softly.

He walked over to her and lowered the material of her shirt so that it showed more of her neck. She felt his fingers brush over her bare skin and gasped, wondering if he had done it on purpose. She looked at him and saw a shadow pass over his face.

"Yes. Look at me like that." He said, looking quickly through the lens. She lowered her eyes, embarrassed, feeling the tension in her whole body.

"Don't look away. Look at me. That's how you're supposed to look at me." He said in a tone that conveyed some kind of arousal and desire that made her shiver. She looked at him, her eyes hazy and slightly dreamy.

"Open your mouth." He ordered in a low voice, and when she did, he immediately took a series of photos of her.

"God, yes. Just like that." He said with a delight that made her even more embarrassed.

She lowered her eyelids, feeling her cheeks burn, pressing her lips together. Aemond looked at her with a mixture of admiration and something she couldn't name.

"Pose for me more often. I will pay you." He said suddenly and she looked at him surprised. She swallowed loudly.

"I… you don't have to pay me." She spluttered, looking away from him, looking down at her hands. She didn't know what was happening to her. She could feel his intense gaze on her, her heart pounding like crazy.

"Is that all?" She asked suddenly without looking at him.

Silence answered her. She heard him swallow hard.

"…yes, that's all." He spoke low, with a note of unreasonable uncertainty in his voice. She nodded and got up without looking at him, heading to the room where her things were.

She took off her costume and only now felt her hands tremble. She wondered what had just happened between them. She felt as if something inexplicable, artistic, intense and sensual had developed between them.

She left the room as soon as she was done. Aemond looked at her, obviously tense, looking at her expectantly. They looked at each other in silence.

"When can I see the result of your work?" She asked softly and saw him flinch as if he was thinking of something completely different, and her question brought him back to earth.

"On exhibition in two weeks." He said calmly, looking away. There was silence between them for a moment.

"Shall I go now?" She asked quietly, not knowing if he needed her for anything else. He looked at her in surprise and hesitated for a moment.

"Yes…yes, thank you, you can go." He said low. She nodded, said goodbye and left, closing the door behind her.

***

Aemond and she hadn't spoken to each other since the photos were taken. She saw him stare at her as they passed, but neither of them dared to speak. She wondered if he felt what she felt then too. She thought resignedly that his proposal was probably already out of date, but she had no intention of pestering him.

Helaena encouraged her to go with her to the exhibition. She had lost her will, but what Helaena said shocked her.

"Are you kidding? Your photo is at the center of his part of this exhibition. In the middle of the wall, in a beautiful frame, spotlit, the rest of his works are on the walls on the sides. This is probably his most beautiful picture!”

She blushed at her words and bowed her head. Her words made her feel that despite her fears she had to see it live.

What he saw on the other side of the lens.

That evening, she and Helaena arranged to meet outside the hall. She didn't want to go there alone, knowing that few people she knew would be there. She was grateful that she wanted to keep her company.

They went inside together, there were a lot of guests inside, talking intensely about something. The exhibition consisted of a series of works by several artist photographers, including Aemond. She noted with interest that her painting professor was also among the crowd.

At the very beginning there was a speech by the patron who funded the exhibition. He talked a bit about the assumptions of the exhibition, their artists and the works themselves. After it was over, as people rushed to fetch glasses of wine dispersing to explore, she saw with a lump in her throat what Helaena was talking about.

On the other side of the room hung her portrait. She had to get very close to it becasue photography was small in size, about the size of a notebook page.

The photo was slightly hazy, but sharp at the same time as if you could feel the air that was filling the studio at the time. She was delighted to see that indeed, the colors of her outfit perfectly reflected the saturation of those in the original painting.

She felt both awe and shame as she looked at her face. Her glossy lips were gently parted as if she was exhaling softly. Her gaze was warm, hazy, full of some unspoken, intense feeling.

She gave the impression that she wanted to say something to the viewer, as if she was already opening her mouth to say the words. She thought it was indeed a great photo and barely recognized herself in it.

She swallowed hard as she saw that indeed, her gold-framed picture was the only one on the main wall, the rest of his work was more closely spaced on the side walls. He clearly made this work the focus of his exhibition.

She looked curiously at his other works, and saw that they too alluded to the works of the old masters. She flinched as she heard a low voice behind her.

"What do you think?" Aemond asked, standing literally inches from her. He was so close she could feel his hot breath. She looked at him over her shoulder, confused.

"It's beautiful." She said softly. Aemond looked down at her, his gaze dark. He took a sip of wine from his glass, looking at her searchingly.

“I agreed with my professor on the subject of my diploma thesis. I want you to pose for me for female portraits like this one." He spoke calmly and matter-of-factly. She opened her mouth in surprise and blinked rapidly.

"I… I'd be very happy if I could help you." She said softly and smiled warmly, trying to control her facial expressions and her trembling heart.

Aemond looked at her intently. He pursed his lips, apparently debating whether or not to say what he was thinking.

"Be my muse."

_____

I decided that I wanted to write something that would be a one-shot and I came up with this idea. I really like what came out of it and I'm curious about your opinion. Let me know if you'd like it to be a mini series with other paintings in the background. If you want to be tagged, leave a comment below. ♥

@zenka69 @melsunshine @opheliaas-stuff

[uwmspeccoll]

Wood Engraving Wednesday

SARAH VAN NIEKERK

English artist Sarah Van Niekerk (1934 - 2018) was an award-winning Illustrator and wood engraver, a member of the Society of Wood Engravers (SWE), and the Society's chair, 1995-1998. This print, Rams, was printed from the original block in 2020 Vision: Nineteen Wood Engravers, One Collector, and the Artists Who Inspired Them, printed in 2020 by Patrick Randle’s Nomad Letterpress at the Whittington Press in Cheltenham, Gloucestershire, in an edition of 340 copies for the 100th anniversary of the Society of Wood Engravers. Unfortunately, Van Niekerk died during the planning of the book and her daughter Jess wrote the text for mother's entry and helped select the block to be printed.

Sarah Van Niekerk attended the Central School of Arts and Crafts (1951-1954) where she studied with wood engraver and sculptor Gertrude Hermes who greatly influenced her work. She continued her education at the Slade School (1955-1956) and much later taught wood engraving at the Royal Academy of Art (1976-1986) and the City and Guilds Art School (1979-1998), and for many years was a tutor at West Dean College. Besides being a member of SWE, she was also a Fellow of the Royal Society of Painter-Printmakers and a Royal West of England Academician.

View another post with work by Sarah Van Niekerk.

View a post with work by Van Niekerk's mentor Gertrude Hermes.

View other posts from 2020 Vision.

View more posts with women wood engravers.

View more posts with wood engravings!

[thelordofgifs]

Obscure Tolkien Blorbo: The Final!

Nerdanel vs One (1) Rivendell elf who sings tra-la-la-lally

Nerdanel:

Nerdanel, called The Wise, was the wife of Fëanor, and known as a great sculptor. She refused to follow her family to Middle-earth in the revolt of the Noldor.

Best known as the woman who looked at the hot mess that is Fëanor, went “is anyone going to marry that?” and did not wait for an answer, Nerdanel is also so much more than just the beloved wife of Fëanor. Most notably, she is a sculptor (apparently a male-dominated field in Noldorin society) - her statues are so life-like that the friends of the depicted would go up and talk to them! She is also wise enough to land the epithet Istarnië, which means Wise One, and she is the only person Fëanor ever listened to, which borders miracle territory. Although when she married the pretty young crown prince of the Noldor, people said she was not good-looking enough for him, Fëanor begged to differ, as they had seven kids together, which is the largest amount of kids any Elven couple ever had. There must have been a lot of passion there (or maybe they just really wanted a daughter?). Although Nerdanel always seemed to have wise counsel for her husband, apparently she did not put up with his, as she was close friends with Indis, his stepmother he did not like. Unfortunately, their marital bliss did not last; when Fëanor pulled a sword on his half-brother Fingolfin (Indis's son) and was exiled, she did not come with him and instead stayed with Indis. This is often seen as her inventing divorce, although a more boring reading could simply suggest she disagreed and did not fancy accompanying him (LaCE does say Elven couples could keep separate households for extended periods of time). She also did not think about coming to Beleriand with him after he swore his terrible oath, although she did beg for him to leave her at least one of her kinslaying spawn sweet adorable baby boys (preferably the one she very ominously tried her hardest to name The Fated as a baby). I suppose the resulting, kind of permanent, separation, could definitely count as divorce.

she is a sculptor and an artisan so skilled that Feanor’s love for her competed with his own love of craft and creation. She raised seven sons and pleaded for their fates with Feanor because of how much she loved them and even though she loved him too, she stuck to her own beliefs and refused to leave Valinor….she’s so girlboss and she said you can go be a tragic archetype but our children don’t deserve that and also I will stay right here. We love a woman who refuses to give up her joys and her home even for a man she loves and ESPECIALLY since it was Feanor….the strength of her will is insane. I love her.

One (1) Rivendell elf who sings tra-la-la-lally:

One of the Elves of Rivendell who sing tra-la-la-lally in The Hobbit.

This one specific elf sings tra la la lally with the rest but he is slightly off key and the other elves bully him for it

they’re SILLY!!! We need NEED more silly elves!! Like who are these weirdos just hanging out in the trees of Rivendell? Did they know the dwarves were coming and gather their friends to specifically climb those trees to sing nonsense at them? Do they just normally sit there and sing about every little thing they see? Is this a traditional Rivendell thing or are those elves just really strange? I’m obsessed with them they’re everything to me. Elves are oft portrayed as being Too Serious in this fandom and silly elves need rights too! Silly elf rights!!!!

Final masterpost

[pazzesco]

"The Terminal" by Alfred Stieglitz - 1892

"Winter, Fifth Avenue" by Alfred Stieglitz - 1892

"The Steerage" by Alfred Stieglitz - 1907

Alfred Stieglitz, (born January 1, 1864 - died July 13, 1946), art dealer, publisher, advocate for the Modernist movement in the arts, and, arguably, the most important photographer of his time.

Early in 1902 Stieglitz announced the existence of a new organization called the Photo-Secession, designed to break away from stodgy and conventional ideas. Photo-Secession was dedicated to promoting photography as an art form.

Autochrome self-portrait, c. 1907

The Above photo is NOT colorized, Stieglitz was a pioneer in the use of the autochrome process, invented in France by Auguste and Louis Lumière. It was the first practicable method of color photography.

This photo of his daughter is believed to be one of the first color photographs - "Kitty Stieglitz in a Field with Blue Flowers," - 1907

Alfred and Kitty Stieglitz, 1907

This Autochrome was made in the Bavarian resort town of Tutzing, Austria, in the summer of 1907, by either Stieglitz or his young protégé Edward Steichen, or possibly both. Stieglitz was experimenting with the newly invented Autochrome, the first viable and commercially manufactured color process.

Late in 1905, with the encouragement of Steichen, Stieglitz opened the Little Galleries of the Photo-Secession, a name soon shortened to 291, the gallery’s address on lower Fifth Avenue in New York City. During the gallery’s first four years it most often functioned as an exhibition space for the Photo-Secession photographers. By the 1909 season, however, the gallery began to promote progressive art in a variety of media, and the work of painters, sculptors. These exhibitions included the first shows in the United States of the work of Henri Matisse, Henri de Toulouse-Lautrec, Paul Cézanne, and Pablo Picasso. It's also the place where he met his future wife Georgia O'keeffe.

Georgia O'Keeffe, "Hands" by Alfred Stieglitz - 1918

Stieglitz & Georgia O'keeffe, 1919

His serial portrait of O’Keeffe, made over a period of 20 years, contains more than 300 individual pictures and remains unique and compelling in its ability to capture many facets of a single subject.

My Faraway One: Selected Letters of Georgia O'Keeffe and Alfred Stieglitz: Volume One, 1915-1933

Between 1915, when they first began to write to each other, and 1946, when Stieglitz died, O'Keeffe and Stieglitz exchanged over 5,000 letters (more than 25,000 pages) that describe their daily lives in profoundly rich detail.

How much we have in common. — Traits. — Both turn everything we touch into something really living — & amusing — for ourselves. — Both can laugh — really laugh — even at our heartaches… 300 years you want to live!! — I wish I could give you that as a gift —

Letter from Stieglitz to O’Keeffe, November 9th, 1916

[bestfriend491]

May I please request something about Ramonda and reader, reader is in love with her, but hasn't told her because of propriety. One day, she accidentally makes it obvious.

Propriety

Queen Ramonda x Female Sculptor! Reader

Summary: You have a huge crush on Ramonda, but your avoidant personality and nerves stop you from confessing. An accidental confession changes things.

Word Count: 4.5k

Getting together, soft

Warnings: None

Vibration was the word of the day. The thing that consumed the room and took hold of every molecule that was in the air. It powered from the speakers that surrounded every corner of the room where the doors opened to the palace garden, all the way through to deep inside the intricate vines that built the structure that held the garden together.

The sound waves that made these vibrations matched the rhythm of the crowd of bodies that filled the platform where people were meant to mingle with each other. The bodies were young. Full of energy. Basically everything that made Ramonda question why she was still there.

What had once been a birthday party for the royal figure, quickly turned into the social event of the year for what felt like every person in Wakanda between the ages of 21 and 35. As soon as the sun went down and the important ceremonies and traditions had been done, the place became filled with "family friends" and "friends of friends." Just a bunch of people that Ramonda wasn't remotely related to in any way. People who were just there for free food and a good night.

Granted, this was only the situation that infected the dance floor. The surrounding tables and chairs that held more familiar and important figures were the complete opposite. It was filled with less intense interactions. A stream of unofficial meetings and very intentional networking.

Both scenarios weren't anything Ramonda was interested in participating in. Her slight scowl towards the music getting louder would reveal that to anyone who cared to notice.

Standing in a corner nursing a glass of water, her eyes went along the entire room thoroughly looking for anyone who would try to look for her if she left early to hide away and rest after the long day.

Firstly, the Dora. She had relieved them all of their duties for the day, but they always had a tendency to be looking out for her, even when directed not to.

She counted as many heads as she could, and after seeing what felt like an appropriate amount of Dora either quietly socialising at the tables or dancing in the middle, she felt sure enough, writing them off as occupied.

Her next thought, after the Dora Milaje, was Shuri. She'd been able to convince Shuri to spend the day away from her lab, and although quite begrudgingly, she had agreed.

Ramonda took the small action as a great accomplishment. Seeing how painful Shuri made socialising look sometimes.

The beginning of the day was filled with whispered complaints about almost every small thing. From the beginning of the day she was talking her mother's ear off.

Ramonda wasn't sure when she lost the girl in the crowd, but she was grateful when it happened. Never had she been so grateful to be whisked away into pointless conversation.

Hours later, however, she couldn't remember having found her daughter again. She assumed that Shuri would have snuck out as soon as no one was watching, but surprisingly, as scanned the crowd, she saw her daughter right in the centre of the madness.

She didn't look like she was trapped there either. She was genuinely enjoying herself while dancing with some friends. Ramonda recognized them from the few times that Shuri had ever decided to take a break and enjoy people's company away from work.

Ramonda smiled, feeling good knowing that at least one of them was enjoying themselves. At the same time, she made her way out of the room towards the front exit of the palace, figuring that going into the garden would only bring another kind of crowd that wanted to talk to her, or take more of her energy away.

Reaching the other side of the palace, Ramonda inhaled like she'd been suffocating for the entire day: which was technically true.

The air felt colder, and her clothes were suddenly loose-fitting. She finally felt able to acknowledge what the day really was. Instead of having to pretend to be overjoyed at the overdramatics of it all.

She laughed at her own overdramatic reaction, realising how she might have looked to anyone who passed by. She wasn't being held hostage after all.

Looking around she saw the dark sky being lit up by the stars. A refreshing view.

She wasn't tired anymore. Her previous wish to be left alone in her bedroom to recharge became but a past thought that meant what it said only at the brief moment when everything felt so overwhelming.

Now, she had to be out doing something. If she didn't find something to occupy herself for the hours that introduced the new day, she'd be restless when she tried to sleep.

She had an idea of where she wanted to be, but she wasn't sure if disturbing that person while they were possibly busy was a good idea.

Her mind weighed the pros and cons regarding making an impromptu visit so late at night.

"My Queen."

Ramonda's entire body tensed up and she jolted at the sudden words being spoken to her.

A figure appeared in her scope of vision, revealing herself to be Ayo.

Ramonda, breathed out. calming herself down to address her.

"Ayo. You startled me." She grinned at the Dora, and she let herself release some of her tension, but she couldn't return to the amazing state that she'd been in only seconds before.

"I'm sorry, my queen. I saw you leaving and wanted to make sure that you were safe."

Ramonda raised an eyebrow in a knowing way, "Not enjoying the party?"

"No, my queen! I am!" Ayo said nervously, clearly not sensing the queen's sarcasm.

"I wouldn't blame you if you weren't. There's a reason I left."

Ayo seemed to ease then, her shoulders lowering and her posture relaxing. She even let out a breath, breathing in the cold air that was once only Ramonda's.

Looking at her, Ramonda could tell that Ayo needed the break just as much as her, so she couldn't be upset.

"I'm not great with things like this," Ayo let out after a long line of silence, "parties are more of Aneka's thing."

"Mm, and you just couldn't say no because of how happy she looks?"

The warrior nodded, a question plastered on her face.

Ramonda smiled, "I used to force myself to do the same thing with T’Chaka. Oh, the events I went to." she laughed at the memory of the many nights that resembled this one. Ones where the palace became her enemy; her home infiltrated by disruptive people.

Though she usually saw these memories in a positive light, the day's events had drained her, and the thought of them brought a bitter taste in her mouth. There were definitely some nights where she put her needs aside to fulfil the needs of the nation. As queen, she was exhausted. Those memories only tired her more.

She rather chose to think of memories where she had zero obligations to be anything but who she was naturally. Times when she was completely relaxed the entire time.

Only one person was ever there in these memories, and they only ever did one thing. Ramonda pictured staring at them as they worked, the conversation flowing almost telepathically.

The desire to be doing exactly that brought Ramonda back to reality. She looked at Ayo, who had gone into her own world.

"If you need a break, go take one at home. Aneka's a good woman. She'll understand."

Ayo stood still for a moment, her mouth wanting to protest but her head knowing who was right.

"Do you need a break, my queen?" She asked.

Ramonda shook her head, "Not right now. I have something I want to do first."

"Are you going to see someone?"

"You could say that." Ramonda gestured for Ayo to walk out with her. Though hesitantly looking back inside where Aneka must have been, she followed the queen.

The two walked together for a few roads, before Ayo departed to the train that would take her home.

"Enjoy your night, Queen Ramonda." She smiled at her, before heading on her way.

Ramonda stood in one place long after Ayo left, not sure where to go. She'd decided that she was definitely going to visit the person that was constantly in her head, but where to find her was a bit more tricky.

She wasn't like regular people on the weekend, who were either at home relaxing or outside unwinding with others. Ramonda knew that she was probably working on one of her creations. She sculpted. Every day and every night. She created.

Create was the only way to describe what she did. She didn't just make. The sculptures that came from her hands could only be described as creations. They were their own beings. Creatures set in stone.

The amount of effort that she put into bringing life into the frozen statues always amazed the queen.

The woman was so passionate about what she did. She never stopped working. Allegedly not even when she was in her own home, where there was no obligation to create.

Rumours said that her house was filled with her more personal works. Ones that Ramonda could only imagine were far more precious to the woman.

That's all that was known about the home, by Ramonda or anyone else. It was all that the woman had ever told her. The queen had never actually been inside. No-one had.

The house, which sat not too far from the palace, had a gorgeous exterior. It was open for all to see. Surrounded with minimalistic yet detailed statues that decorated the more boring parts of the build. It was medium in size, and the lights that glazed the statues in a golden colour during the night were often on.

Ramonda admired it whenever she came to pass it, but never dared to try and go in.

Everybody knew how sacred the inside of the house was to the woman. It was the one place where her talent wasn't on full display for everyone to see.

Ramonda had come to realise that although the woman was extremely welcoming, she also had moments where she needed to escape. Unlike the palace, her home brought her that protection.

Knowing this, She was hesitant to go there and possibly intrude on the one place the woman had to herself.

However, there was one place where the woman welcomed anyone to join her. It was a lot less glamorous, a simple studio that the woman had built not too far away from her home. That was where her professional work happened.

Ramonda had been there many times over the years, and she had spent a significant amount of time there in the past months, when her thoughts had started to run wild and her feelings grew confused.

This studio was the one place where Ramonda felt at ease, though she wasn't sure whether it was the actual building or the person who inhabited it.

Ramonda made her way to that studio, not knowing if she'd even be met with anybody there, but still going. The woman often worked late into the night, but the new day had already entered then, and the idea of her still being up working was starting to feel like more of a hope than a belief.

It was a short journey. Ramonda made it to the woman's house (which laid in darkness) but continued right, walking a bit quickly as the shed appeared in her view.

Her low hopes began to revive themselves when she saw that the studio lights were on.

Her pace quickened, the pressure from the day already leaving her mind.

She reached the front door and gathered herself together at the step, wanting to seem more composed.

The thudding noise that went through the door told her that she'd knocked.

"Who is it?!" The woman's voice echoed from inside. Ramonda's entire body became warm hearing the voice.

"I-It's Ramonda." She struggled to get out. She was suddenly completely out of breath. She heard some shuffling going around, and a faint 'oh' sound coming from inside.

"Come in, come in. My hands are a bit occupied."

She listened, letting herself in as she curiously went to find where she was. It wasn't very hard to spot her as she worked. She stood on a dangerously long ladder, working in the middle of dozens of other sculptures. One slip would definitely cause some damage, but she stood very firmly on the ladder, knowing how to stay safe on it.

Her hands were definitely occupied as she held a large sculpted head that she was trying to attach to the body that matched it.

Ramonda was stunned,completely speechless at the sight. She stood staring at the woman, smiling naturally for the first time since she'd last seen her days before.

"Like what you see?" You asked rhetorically.

You worked on your sculpture for the first 10 minutes after Ramonda's arrival, needing to get this one done before you went down to talk to her properly.

She'd failed to answer your question, much as you'd expected her to. You hadn't looked at her, but you could feel her eyes fixed on you. Or maybe it was on your work. You couldn't be sure, since she tended to do both whenever you were both alone there.

You heard her come closer to you, barely a mere away when she stopped, and though you wanted to say something about it, you chose otherwise.

Once finished, you stepped down from the ladder. You nearly bumped into the queen, your shoulders grazing as you went down the last step towards the left of where she stood.

Stepping back, you admired your work as you stared at the finished product.

"How long have you been working on that? " Ramonda asked you as she stood next to you still staring up in awe.

"A few weeks. It gets picked up in a few days so I decided to get it done early."

"It's amazing." She choked out, touching your arm to show you how sincere she was being. You smiled at her emotional reaction.

You were terrible at taking credit for anything that you did well, so you shrugged it off going for the more analytical approach.

"I can still see the connection line by the neck. I'm gonna have to go over it tomorrow."

The queen immediately looked at you with an unamused expression, "Can you take credit for your hard work at least once in a while. It's perfect."

Your face felt flooded with heat as blood rushed up, and imaginary sweat fell from your forehead as you thanked the queen for her compliments.

"How was the party?" You asked, having missed it due partly to work but also because you weren't a party person. You wanted to be there to celebrate another year of your queen's life but parties were overwhelmingly long and you never lasted more than a few hours.

"It was better than I've had in a while," she looked for a chair to sit down in before continuing, "but stuff like that never lasts long." You found another chair, sitting across from her but still fairly close.

"I got your gift though." She smiled at the memory of the little sculpture that she had been gifted earlier in the day, when you'd dropped it off without saying a word to her.

"I love it." She said.

You couldn't hold back a smile then, your desire to give Ramonda enough gifts to make her constantly be happy.

You could admit to your feelings for Ramonda in a heartbeat if you were ever asked by someone, but nobody ever did and you struggled to ever confess anything to her by yourself. You preferred to keep your distance when it came to that.

Grand gestures weren't really your thing, and with how important Ramonda was to the kingdom, you were scared to cross a boundary with her that could never be reversed.

Then came the inevitable thought of if she didn't like you in the same ways that you did her.

It would be far too humiliating for you to face her if that were the case. It just wasn't the right time, and you weren't sure if it ever would be.

"Are you still going to work on other things right now? Maybe you could teach me something before I go?" She asked.

"I was actually going to go back to my house, now."

You saw Ramonda hesitate to say what she clearly wanted to ask. Your eyes lit up with an idea, the one thing you could do to bring Ramonda ease.

"Would you like to join me?"

She gasped, "Nobody ever joins you in there." She said, shocked that you'd even offered. She was genuinely concerned about it.

"This can be the one exception. It was just your birthday a few hours ago. Just promise not to reveal any of my secrets. "

You laughed, and the two of you looked at each other, and for a moment something took over you. You nearly broke and told it all, telling her about your crush on her.

Fortunately, or rather unfortunately, your head came back to you and you covered up for yourself. "Or I could take you back to the palace."

"No!" Ramosa stood up and said, "Sorry, it's just I really don't want to go back there for a while."

You hummed in understanding, standing up and holding out your hand for her to take.

"Then let's go."

She took your hand, and once again one of those moments happened, but this time it didn't fade until you got to the front door of your house.

There you let go of each other. You unlocked the door and walked inside, holding it open for her to follow you.

"Welcome!" You declared dramatically, placing your arms out like you were absorbing it all in.

She looked around, not saying a word as she looked around.

"It's…" She started

"An exact replica of my studio?" You offered, knowing that the place was nearly identical to the place you'd just been in, only bigger.

"It's an exact replica of your studio." Ramonda laughed as she realised how right you were.

The aesthetic was exactly the same, and much of the unused space was filled with sculptures, just like the ones that surrounded your ladder.

It was exactly what anyone would expect from you. Almost too close to what people would expect.

Ramonda approached the sculptures when she found them, picking up a few small ones that were laid across the table to see them more closely.

"Why do you keep these hidden away?"

"All of the sculptures that I make here are about me and the things that I love. I don't want people to see them. They're too special."

You went into the direction of the kitchen, deciding to make yourself something warm to drink.

You went on about some of your favourite sculptures of yours. Telling the queen about your working process and some of your inspiration.

After sometime, she stopped saying anything, concerning you enough to go back to where she was.

You found her holding another sculpture. One that was all too familiar.

"You said all of the sculptures that you make here are about things you love?" She nearly accused you, her expression asking far deeper questions.

You got closer and saw that the sculpture she was holding was of her.

You remember the day that you knew.

It was the very first time that the two of you met.

You had been recommended to the royal family by a friend and you went to the palace to work on a special statue for them.

You were extremely nervous that day. Your equipment felt heavier than usual as you carried it to your destination and you hadn't yet moved to your current home so you had to go a much longer trip to get there.

You started in the morning, working quietly alone in a room that was allocated to you. It was when you had made the basic structure when the most therapeutic voice rang through your ears.

You'd heard it on-screen and far away before, but hearing it close to you was a completely different experience.

You pretended not to be so interested in the person who spoke outside, continuing with your work until it was finished and ready to dry at the end of your day.

You went to wash your hands before saying your goodbyes to everyone, and when you came back a woman stood in front of your work.

You could only see the back of her, and she wore a casual strapless dress. The perfect mix of simple and elegant. Her hair was down, and her locs laid down across her shoulders.

You stood looking at her, scared to say anything.

You spotted a tattoo on her left side of her back, by her shoulder. You could read it; the words saying, 'love me for who I am.'

You were fond of it.

"How long have you had that tattoo?" You asked, prompting the woman to turn around, revealing herself to be the queen.

You immediately wanted to retract your previous statement, completely mortified that that was what you'd chosen to say to her out of all things.

"I'm sorry. I saw it and thought it looked nice."

She smiled at you and told you that she'd had it for a long time. Your conversation was fairly good considering its starting point.

She admired your work, praising you for the detail.

You were too busy to accept her dinner invitation that night, but you would have declined either way.

Her presence made you feel things that you hadn't in a while, and considering her marital status at that time, you weren't comfortable digging yourself any further into a love hole.

Ramonda was confused as to why you left so soon, but her overall opinion on you was that she liked you.

You left in a hurry, barely greeting her and her husband as you let. But you knew from that day that you were in love.

Ramonda also remembered the moment she knew.

It was a lot longer after you knew, many years having passed since your first meeting. The two of you had grown quite close and Ramonda considered you to be one of her closest friends.

She hadn't felt anything significant towards you in your years knowing each other, every standstill moment you had being chalked up to normal silences.

She found herself only thinking about the possibility of herself liking you after a situation with Shuri.

She had been pestering Ramonda into trying to find love again, saying that it had been long enough. Although Ramonda could admit that she missed the physical touch and overall feeling of being in love, she didn't feel like she was ready to start dating yet. She wasn't even sure if she was capable of falling in love again.

Over and over again she dismissed Shuri's suggestions.

"Shuri, forget it. I'm not going to fall for someone again so easily." She told her that day, before Dismissing her to go and get ready.

You arrived not too long after, in a quinjet.

With you was a finished sculpture of a Dora Milaje that you'd been paid to make for the entrance of the training grounds.

All of the Dora Milaje came to watch you reveal the final result, so you were occupied for most of the day.

When dinner came along, you made a remark about how beautiful Ramonda was, and the queen couldn't help but smile widely, unable to stop.

Shuri was quick to notice this, and as soon as they were finished she went to her mother and called her out on it, "You like Y/n?" She asked.

"What? No!" Ramonda whispered.

"You do! " Shuri gasped, more happy that she was right than shocked.

She teased her mother silently for the rest of the night, and by the time Ramonda went to bed, she was utterly exhausted from it all.

When she laid her head on her pillow and tried to flush the thoughts about you out, they only seemed to increase.

That night, she dreamt about you, and she knew that she was in love.

You stared at the sculpture that had yet to leave Ramonda's hands. A face sculpture that imagined what used to be her long white locs in a flower-like style above her head.

It was, in its entirety, just her head and shoulders. It was filled with intense, almost overwhelming detail. Every crinkle in her skin, ever crease by her eyes, even the rare blemishes made an appearance there.

You'd decided to paint it too, so the colours only magnified how much detail there was.

She looked at the back of the sculpture, seeing how you had even gotten her tattoo there. Clearly it read 'love me for who I am.'

Ramonda was surprised that you knew what it said, since it was usually covered.

She was going to repeat herself if you didn't respond quickly. She'd asked you her question many minutes ago.

You had very foolishly revealed yourself with the stupid slick comment that you just had to have made moments before she found that one sculpture.

There really was no coming back from the obvious.

"Ramonda. I…" you were quickly left speechless again.

"Y/n. Do you love me?"

"Excuse me?" Once more you stuttered your way through the question, not a single coherent sentence coming out of you. Denial turned into a wave of shame, followed by pride, fear and an approaching headache.

"Do you love me, Y/n?" She repeated.

"I," were ready to deny it, to spare your heart of the potential ache it was about experience. Alibis for how you could lie your way out of the situation played in your head, but there truly wasn't an escape from it. "I do."

Ramonda put the piece down, afraid of dropping it. You looked anywhere but her, regretting allowing her into your safe haven. You felt like you'd betrayed yourself, breaking your one rule about your home.

"I think I love you too."

Her words threw you into a complete loop, stopping your thoughts dead in their tracks.

"What?"

"I love you."

"Huh?"

She came closer to you, stopping 2 steps away. " I love being around you and when I am not around you I'm thinking of you. It's different from anything I've ever experienced but I know it's love."

Now, you walked to her, your eyes fixed on each other.

"Are you sure?" You asked.

The room started to mould itself into its own statue.

"Yes, I'm sure. Are you sure?" She responded.

Your hands intertwined, and finally the room stopped spinning, its structure fully morphed into a blooming heart.

"I'm sure"

Hours later, as you laid out staring at the stars she asked, "Why didn't you tell me?"

"It was the nerves." You said, getting a grin and chuckle in return.

Author's Note: I genuinely hope you enjoyed this one. First Ramonda work since " I'd do it all over again" so I was a bit nervous. 😅 okoye fics are definitely coming soon but the aneka x ayo and nakia x reader girls should sit tight. Everyone is going to be served soon.

[ancientrome]

Marble statue of Eirene (the personification of peace). Roman copy of Greek original by Kephisodotos. ca. 14–68 CE x

Copy of a Greek bronze statue of 375/374–360/359 B.C. by Kephisodotos

Eirene, the daughter of Zeus and Themis, was one of the three Horai (Seasons), maidens closely associated with the fertility of the earth and the nurturing of children. The original bronze was erected in the Agora (marketplace) of Athens between 375/374 and 360/359 B.C. Rarely can an ancient monument be dated so exactly. We know from literary sources that the cult of Eirene was introduced to Athens in 375/374, and six recently found Panathenaic amphorae dated to 360/359 show an image of the statue. The Greek traveler Pausanius saw the work in the Agora in the second century A.D. and reported that it was by the sculptor Kephisodotos. Eirene was represented as a beautiful young woman wearing a peplos and himation (cloak), holding a scepter in her right hand, and carrying the young child Ploutos (the personification of wealth) and a cornucopia on her left arm. The figure brings to mind images of Demeter, the major goddess of agricultural plenty and the mother of Ploutos.

[lnkedmyheart]

On Mori and Elise.

I dont think Mori's line about the only women for him being under 14 was a comment on him being into kids. I think its more linked directly to Elise being his only actual interest. Mori, much like Dazai is fascinated by people and latches onto them. A bit differently than Dazai but he does. Elise's personality was non existent before Yosano and we have no evidence of Mori ever acting like a sexual predator with the latter, all we know is he was extremely psychologically manipulative towards her and that she was fiesty. But we dont really see a lot of Elise between Yosano leaving and Dazai joining. And Dazai was bratty and made demands and threw tantrums in the 15 and sb ln and manga adaptation of 15 much like Elise does. And like, I genuinely feel like Elise takes the shape and personality of whatever Mori needs or desires. In Beast, he was a lonely guy and his relationship with Yosano and Dazai were extremely different from canon and Elise took the form of the grown up woman/nurse. His helper and potentially a romantic partner.

In canon however, I feel like Elise is closer to a daughter because at no point does Mori act like a creepy lover with her and always as a doting dad. Its VERY easy to subtly portray a predatory adult-child dynamic and Mori-Elise is NOT that. Elise's personality is the combination of the 2 children he took care of, Yosano's stubbornness and fiery personality and Dazai's brattiness and tendency to throw childish tantrums. Mori latched onto the dominant traits of the kids he admired (yes he manipulated them but he admires them both) and put them in the ability that manifests into whatever he needs. And that is a little girl he dotes on like a dorky dad.

And no this isnt grooming. Or in any way similar to the twilight thing where she can be anything to him. She isnt a real person, she is a blank slate. Its like the myths where a childless mother builds a child out of clay or a sculptor makes a wife out marble.

[deceptigoons-attack]

A WHITE MARBLE BUST OF MARÉCHAL SOULT (1769-1851) by Jean-Antoine Houdon (Versailles 1741-1828 Paris), 1813)

'There are only two known marble busts of Maréchal Soult by the great French sculptor Jean-Antoine Houdon. The first was created for the salle des Maréchaux in the Palais des Tuileries and was displayed among other portrait busts of France's leading marshals, generals and navy men. However the bust disappeared in 1871 following the great fire at the Tuileries. The second bust was given to Soult's family, and is mostly likely the present sculpture. This second bust is recorded to be dated 1812, while our bust is dated 1813. However, the pen inscription to the reverse indicates that the bust descended from the family of Count Pierre de Mornay Soult de Dalmatie, Marquis de Mornay Montchevreuil (1837-1905), who was the grandson of Maréchal Soult via Soult's daughter, Joséphine Louise Hortense Soult de Dalmatie (1804-1862).'

(Source)

[loiladadiani]

Grand Duchess Xenia Alexandrovna and Grand Duke Alexander Mikhailovich

Xenia was pregnant and they looked happy here. They had been in love since their teens. They had seven children. In the middle of her pregnancy with the seventh he chose to tell her he had a mistress.

He constantly asked her for a divorce to marry this or that woman.There was a wealthy American. There was the wife of a sculptor who was carving his bust. He wanted to run away to Australia with most of them. There was a young nurse, who already married and years after the relationship, nursed him as he was dying. By the time he was a fifty-something, Sandro was in love with and wanted to marry someone younger than his daughter. Irina begged her mother not to give him a divorce so that he would not embarrass himself.

What was Xenía going to do? She took lovers herself (I have only read of two.) Irina hated the first one, Fane. She suffered through her parents’ marital woes.

Close to the end of his life, he wanted to go back to Xenia (there is a letter from him to her stating so- he says the opposite in his book, of course.) She was too tired and said no.

Xenia and Sandro are buried together in the South of France.