#eduardian era

[gummi-stims]

Hello hello! I've been looking at your blog a bit but have been a little too shy to request anything until now.

I was wondering if you could do some kind of eduardian/european progressive era/1910s inspired stim board with calm, warm lighting

Also anything with pearls, lace, canes, etc is awesome :Dc

Ty for your time and everything you do!

Aww, I'm glad you did get the courage to ask! These really specific ones can be so much fun to work with, I hope this turned out how you were hoping c:

☕-🦪-☕

😌- 🕯 -😌

☕-🦪-☕

[yeehawbvby]

For the ask: 7, 12, 94, 98

7. Earbuds or headphones?

Headphones for comfort, earbuds when I wanna noise-cancel (VERY handy for sensory overload in public lol)

12. Name of your favorite playlist?

I don’t have one tbh ^^” I only have a playlist made for when I’m working out, which is just called “gym.”

I’ve been listening to a short lofi album on repeat recently while writing though, if that counts?? It’s called Haunted Castle and it’s by Dosi!!

94. Favorite season?

Either fall or winter!! I can’t stand hot weather or when it’s sunny out ｡ﾟ(ﾟ´ω`ﾟ)ﾟ｡

98. Favorite historical era?

Ooooo this one is hard because I’ve never been big on history really lol. I guess the Victorian/Eduardian era aesthetics are really fun, if that counts for anything

[why-cant-i-have-a-good-username]

TIL that the awfulness, danger and discomfort of corsets was mostly invented by patriarchy threatened by the suffragette movement.

[hoboal87]

Don’t Speak

Title: Don’t Speak.

Pairing: au!dark!Dean x virgin!Reader x au!dark!Sam, Dean x Sam 

Word Count: 2.8k

Summary: Y/N wakes up in an unfamiliar room with a stranger, little does she know that he has plans for her.

Warnings: *Rape/Non-Con, dark!Dean, dark!Sam, virgin!reader, angst (i think this goes with out saying), Wincest, forced orgasms, non-con bondage, eduardian era (but the boys are still american), implied arranged marriages, implied breeding kink, implied age gap, humiliation (not the fun kind), minor knife play

A/N 1: This is my entry for @cockslut-padalecki‘s #NotMyNinth Challenge. My prompt is “Masquerade” and “Don’t Speak”

A/N 2: I’ve never written non-con, or a dark!fic before, but this was the first thing that came into mind. This fic is for 18+ only! 

*TW: Rape/Non-Con - Please, I beg you, do not read if this is something that will trigger and/or offend you. 

No Beta all mistakes are mine. (I have tense issues, I know)

Spring, 1905

There’s a haze surrounding your vision as you come to, unsure of where you are or how you got there. Your head throbs, you must’ve had too much champagne, though you don’t remember having more than a second glass. Your mother and father will be furious, you’re a young lady eligible for marriage, and the night was meant for you to find a suitable prospect.

As your vision clears you try to become more aware of your surroundings. A chill runs through your body, and you realize that you’ve been stripped down to nothing more than your undergarments, and silk sheets lie underneath you. You try to sit up, and with a cursory glance, you can see attached to posts of the bed, are long leather straps, which, to your horror, are connected to your wrists.

You struggle, using the little give that the straps have to offer to try and get yourself free. You start to panic, breathing heavier as you flail your arms and legs in an attempt to free yourself from the unwanted bonds. A low chuckling comes from somewhere else in the room, wherever you are, it’s clear to you now that you’re not alone. Your heart races faster as you tug at the straps again, hoping in vain, something will give and you can leave this place.

You twist your arms as far as you can stopping as soon as the pain becomes too much to bear. You grunt and groan, maybe if you make enough noise, someone will find you and get you back to your parents, and you can leave with some of your virtue intact. In the midst of everything, you can hear a second, distinct voice. There’s something vaguely familiar about the two voices, but you can’t place either of them, you’d been introduced to well over fifty men since you presented in court just six months ago.

“Please,” you whimper, “I don’t know who you are. Please let me go.”

The two muffled voices stop for a moment, and the shuffling of feet make their way towards you. The mask that you begged your father for still rests on your face, you curse yourself for demanding such an opulent thing, these men must think your family is well off, and that they can ransom your parents. The truth is, your family is relying on you to make a good match to a wealthy family, so that their debts may be paid off.

A large, calloused hand grazes your calf, while another, even larger hand mimics the actions, caressing your legs all the way up to what little underclothes you still have on. You jerk against their touches, unable to do anything else. The man to the left brandishes a blade, and your breath hitches in horror at the realization that he’s most likely going to kill you. Your father had recently told you of multiple unsolved murders in London, all young women, their insides mutilated. If these are the same men, you have no chance of escaping, all you can do is hope that if that is their plan, they'll have mercy and give you a quick death.

Tears flood your eyes as the man with the knife drags the sharp edge against your wrist. Momentary relief fills you, as you naively believe that he will free you of your bonds, he tuts at you, before moving the blade up your arm. It scrapes your skin, not enough to draw blood, but enough to make your heart thump faster in your chest. It becomes painfully obvious that whatever the two men have in store for you, they don’t plan on giving you any sense of relief. Dread fills you, and you look up at the man, hoping that maybe if he sees the trepidation in your eyes he’ll show you some kind of compassion. A plain mask obscures most of his face, and all you can make out are fiercely green eyes.

“Please,” you choke out, “I just want to get back to my parents.”

Green-eyes smirks, and leans down to grab you by the chin, forcing you to look at him as he brings the blade only inches away from your face. The second man’s hand hovers over your still covered pussy, and he grunts at green-eyes, who hands over the blade. The second man is impossibly tall, with long chestnut locks framing his covered face. A wift of cool air breezes against your now exposed pussy, and he runs the blade against your stomach, before handing it back to the man on your left. He brings the blade close to your face, but you can’t see where it is thanks to the mask still resting against you. You close your eyes as you hear a rip, and when you open them, you find that your mask is gone, and both men have discarded theirs as well. Americans, you remember meeting them only a few weeks ago. The Queen had, for some reason, allowed them to come to court, which before was unheard of, but no one dared to question Her Royal Highness.

Winchester. That was their name. The other ladies of the court were fawning all the brothers, they could have anyone they wanted, so why were you tied up like some animal?

“Sirs, please,” you sob, unable to hold your tears back any longer. “ I won’t say anything to anyone. My family– we have no money. There is nothing I can give you.”

“Oh, sweetheart,” Dean slides the knife against your cheek. “We don’t want any money, your Queen has already paid us handsomely for our services.”

Your stomach drops as you realize what they want, and they’re going to take it whether you want them to or not. You flail against your bonds, trying and failing over and over again to free yourself. You only stop moving when Dean brings the blade against your cheek, pressing firmly enough that you can feel a trickle of blood roll down amongst your tears.

“I’d hate to scar up this pretty face,” Dean tsks, “but don’t think I won’t. You don’t need a perfect complexion for what we have in store for you, does she Sammy?”

Sam grunts in agreement, and you cry out for your mother and father.

“Hush, hush, darling,” Dean tuts, covering your mouth with his giant hand. There seems to be a sincerity in his voice, but it is gone before you can even process his words. “I know what you’re thinkin’,” Your eyes widen as you turn to face Sam, he’s already half-naked, and there’s a noticeable bulge in his trousers. “And sweetheart, you can’t imagine.”

“Please, don’t!”

“Maybe, if you’re a good girl, I’ll let Sammy warm you up before he sticks his cock in you,” Dean says as Sam palms himself, and you turn your attention back to the older brother. Dean fiddles with the knife, as if he feels the need to remind you that you are completely at his and Sam’s mercy.

“What’s going to be, Y/N?” Dean asks as he removes his shirt, and the bed dips as Sam climbs in the forced space between your legs. “Sammy has no problem going in there dry, do ya Sammy?”

“Wanna taste her,” Sam grumbles, but doesn’t move from his spot between your legs. It’s the first time you’ve ever heard him speak, and it sends chills down your spine.

Sam’s eyes are filled with hunger as he stares down at your virgin pussy. He licks his lips, and slowly strokes his now-free cock.

“Have you ever let someone taste you, Y/N?” Dean rids himself of the rest of his clothes, and you gasp at the size of his cock. You’d never seen one this close before, you had, in fact, never seen one at all, outside of a textbook drawing.

Dean sets the blade down, and nuzzles against your neck, sucking marks onto you, before moving up and placing almost sweet kisses against your mouth and jaw. Warmth pools in your belly against your will, and you hate your body for betraying you, becoming more aroused as Sam and Dean continue touching you.

“She’s gushing, De,” Sam chortles and heat fills your cheeks. You don’t want this, you don’t want to lose your virginity to anyone other than your future husband. “Lemme taste her,” Sam runs a finger through your folds, slightly brushing over your clit.

“Is that what you want, baby?” Dean's mouth leaves your neck, and for a moment you think he’s talking to you, but then, he turns around to face his brother and presses his lips against Sam’s. Dean’s hand runs over Sam’s taught body, replacing Sam’s hand with his own around his cock. You’re shocked at the sight before you, you’d never seen two men kiss, let alone touch each other the way the brothers were. Sam moans against Dean’s lips, and Dean tugs him back by his long locks, if it wasn’t clear before, it was now obvious that Dean was the one in charge. You squirm as the brothers continue kissing over your naked body, tongues dancing together, and heat fills you from toes to fingers. Dean pulls away from his brother, and you’re sure you can hear a whimper leave Sam’s mouth.

“Are you upset that we’re not including you, Princess?” He snickers, eyes landing on your pussy, and you can feel the wetness pooling.

“Please, let me go,” you beg again. “I give you my word, sirs, I will speak of this to no one.”

“That’s not how this is gonna work, sweetheart. Our father is already telling your father that we’d like you to come with us. See, Sammy and me, we’re gonna need someone to help carry on the Winchester name, and it looks like you’re the perfect girl to do it.” Dean picks up the blade once again, “don’t you understand? You’re ours.”

Were your parents really just going to sell you off to the Winchesters without even informing you first? And Dean was making one point painfully clear; it didn’t matter who you married, you would now be the property of the Winchester family, and they can and will use you however you want.

Dean grips your jaw again, making you face him, as he climbs over you, his legs on either side of your chest, his thick cock jutting out from his body. He twirls the knife in his hands before slicing through your corset. You can’t see past him as he rips the bodice off of you, and his eyes stare down at your breasts. Dean massages them gently for a moment, and you feel the swipe of what has to be

Sam’s tongue against your pussy lips.

Sam fucks you with his tongue relentlessly, and you hate that you're getting pleasure from something you don’t want. An involuntary moan leaves your lips, and you can feel Sam hum in amusement as you can’t control your body. Dean plays with your tits, and leaves love bites all over them, before climbing even further up your body and taps the spongy tip of his cock against your lips.

You can see Dean’s patience growing thin as you refuse to open your mouth, and he turns his head to Sam, and you close your eyes, trying desperately to fight off what you can only assume is an orgasm. Suddenly, a finger is teasing your weeping hole, gathering your slick and then entering you. Sam’s mouth returns to your clit as he adds another finger, and you can no longer keep your mouth shut, forming a perfect ‘o’ as the coil inside you finally snaps.

Dean slides his cock into your mouth without hesitation, and begins fucking you with as much enthusaism as Sam. Neither brother stops, Sam, working you through your first orgasm, and to your shame and horror, another one following closely behind.

“She’s so tight, De,” you hear Sam over the sound of Dean fucking your mouth. “Definitely a virgin.”

Dean pulls away from you, and the brothers in well-coordinated dance switch

places, Sam moves to the side of the bed, slipping his cock into your mouth as Dean takes his place between your legs.

“Oh, Sammy, she’s dripping,” Dean says with a sly grin. “Did Sammy eat this cunt good?” Dean asks as he notches his tip at your entrance. It burns as he pushes into you, the only thing keeping you from screaming is Sam’s cock in your mouth.

Tears slide down your face as the brothers abuse your mouth and your pussy, unable to do anything but wait until they’re done with you.

“Dean asked you a question, Y/N.” Sam pulls himself out of your mouth, his cock covered in your saliva. He gathers you by the hair, yanking your head back, and you yelp out in pain. “Tell him how much you loved getting your cunt eaten. Tell him you want him to cum in your pussy.”

You repeat Sam’s words, and Dean’s pace quickens before his hips begin to stutter. With a final, deliberate thrust, Dean’s body stiffens, and you feel his cock twitch inside you as he coats your walls with his seed. As soon as he pulls out, Sam is back in his spot, entering you in a swift move. Dean watches from the side as you squirm under Sam, Dean may be thicker, but Sam is longer, and slam of hips make his cock hit your cervix.

At some point one of the brothers undid the bindings around your ankles, and you don’t realize it until Sam is throwing them around his shoulders, allowing him to hit new angles inside of you. He’s tightening the coil once again, and as his cock hits that sweet spot inside of you, his thumb swipes at your clit, and no matter how hard you try to fight it, and even more intense orgasm rips through you.

“Look at the mess she made, De,” Sam laughs as he briefly slows down. “Bet we could both get in here if we wanted.” Dean moves back towards you and Sam, chuckling as he looks down to see the now ruined sheets underneath you.

“Creamed up his cock so good, Y/N.”

Dean leans in, and once again presses his lips against Sam’s. Sam doesn’t slow, and the sound of his hips slapping against yours fills the room. Tears stream down your cheeks as Sam chases after his own release. But neither brother is focused on you anymore, and Sam wraps his hand around Dean’s half-hard cock, jerking it in time with every thrust he makes into you.

“I’m gonna cum,” Sam whispers as Dean pulls away.

“Me too, baby. Cum in that tight little pussy, then I’ll let you finish me off. Do it, Sammy,” he orders, “breed her.”

Sam picks up his pace once again, and with half a dozen more thrusts you can once again feel your walls being coated with Winchester seed. Sam’s mouth is on Dean’s cock, bobbing up and down until Dean stills, and when he pulls away, the brother’s share another passionate kiss.

“I see you boys started without me,” another voice enters the room. The brothers shoot each other a look before moving off the bed and stand on either side. The man comes into view; you don’t recognize him, he’s older, your father’s age at least.

“Sorry, Sir.”

The man notices the mess between your legs, and shakes his head at the brothers. A sly grin forms on his face, and he licks his lips, there's hunger, a lust, even more so than Sam or Dean, as he takes in your naked form.

You wish you could disappear, the brothers have already used you in more ways than you could imagine and now there is someone else. You want to cry, you wish you could, but all that comes out is a whimper, begging for them to let you go.

The older man lets out a breathy, low, chuckle as you squirm, his long digits leaving feather light touches as it travels back towards your abused hole. A groan leaves you as he tentatively pushes a finger in, and then another and pumps them a few times, before bringing them to your lips. He's coated in the remnants of Sam and Dean's cum, and orders you to open your mouth.

You're too scared to do anything but obey, letting the thick fingers that were just in your pussy sit on your tongue and he orders you to suck.

“Looks like my boys took good care of you, darlin’,” The man removes his shirt and trousers before climbing on to the bed, his body on top of yours. “Got that cunt of yours ready for Daddy?” You don’t respond, but Sam or Dean, you're not sure who, murmurs something. “Good, ‘cause you think my boys are big? Darlin' you ain’t seen nothin’ yet.”

Part 2

Let me know what you think via ask or reblog!

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[divorcedcastiel]

a very near and dear to my heart super special interest is regency -> victorian -> eduardian era womens fashion

[circusoftrash]

Prompt from @ultraviolet-ink : Susato!

Okay, so your watching the quarterfinals of The Great British Bakeshow. The contestants finally get the technical challenge and it’s like, some sort of really obscure, late Eduardian era teacake from Sweden. And everyone is like “what the actual hell, I have never SEEN this thing before I don’t even KNOW what it looks like”. And then the camera pans to the tent where Paul and Mary/Prue are drinking salty tears over this edible, tri-color, double stuffed pillow with a perfect, golden crust finish. And Paul is like “I am eating literal heaven, and not a single one of these wank offs are going to pull it off”. Imagine hugging that. That is the hug you are in for with this girl.

I have not played The Great Ace Attorney yet, because I’m looking for work and my house is currently on fire. But I can’t help but look at this and go JESUS. This is going to be a hug so good, it’s going to make me feel awkward and undeserving. I can almost smell the top-shelf detergent from hugging this lady. Not the the store brand shit, we’re talking real goddamn flowers or the Swiss Alps or whatever.

Alas, all is not well in paradise. Every woman in Ace Attorney has some quirk. Maya it was burgers, Trucy it was petty street crime, Emma it was underemployment. I’m getting...cats. Yes. Definitely a cat vibe from this one. She’s got at least two in her sleeves, look at that. You hug this woman and you will come back with a downy layer of cat sheddings.

But you know what? I call that a feature, not a bug. Does the human cinnabon want to give you a hug? You say “YES MA’AM” and try not to make her regret her act of mercy. Also, give her cats a treat. Anyway, stay tuned for 5-10 years from now when I play GAA and learn she’s actually the one who killed Liam in Season Eight.

FINAL HUGGABLE SCORE: 9/10

[mariasvetlana]

Post modern fashion inspired by the era's of eduardian to 1950 with modern style

[dredreadsdrawing]

oh boi, i drew this a while ago with the plan to call her Wail, but then I also forgot about it and started calling her Afiliciel and now I cant decide :,o

She’s the demon baab from the Tearduct Pact storyline I got cooking lol. Notes in text cuz I know my handwriting is chickenscratch:

- Biped/Quadruped. Bones crunch when she changes (a disgustingly brutal sound huehuehue)

- Angel Wings. Confuses everyone. (As she levels up and sticks to her human, her wings become like this due to her evilness still having a level of purity behind their intentions. Think of it like Fable’s morality chart. Theres Good/Evil and Pure/Corrupt. This gal is Pure of heart, but Evil.)

- Raspy forked tongue. (Like a mix of a cat’s and lizard’s.)

- Has an Ultra Secret human form. Not very good. (Lololol most demons go for either inconspicious/normie human looks, or stunningly beautiful bodies depending on their needs. They can change their skins like Eduardian Era ladies changed dresses once they hit a level high enough. This gal though? Chose one and never felt the need to make another one. Too much work~! And the one they made? One petite and fuzzy gal with a face that attracts attention for the wrong reasons.)

i love her lol

[homeless-hiraeth]

Cassie: Writes about a gay boy who discovers who he is and makes mistakes and struggles with the things that teached him ALL HIS LIFE. - Writes an idonisian warlock who's bisexual, tell that in fact he has loved men and women and he is comfortable using sparkle clothes and all colors. (Alec and Magnus) - writes a lesbian couple who are married and are the sweetest couple ever, an interracial couple (Aline and Helen) - Writes an autistic boy, who's also gay/bi - Writes a transgender girl, who's black (WHO'S AN AWESOME LEADER) - Writes all the struggle of a now confident lesbian girl in a relationship with an Indian girl IN TH FUCKING EDUARDIAN ERA. - WRITES CRISTINA FUCKING ROSALES A STRONG, KIND, BEAUTIFUL LATIN WOMAN.

Some Shadowhunters Show - Stans and anti - CC: sHe iS rAcIst and HoMOphObIC.

Really, dude?

[marie-sebastian]

SOLD 'The Zoo' Original tipped in plate by William Timlin for his Ultra Rare ’The Ship that Sailed to Mars’ London, 1923. The plate is tipped onto a leaf of lovely pale green paper and accompanied by a tipped in chapter (not typeset) on the same laid paper. This work is one of the Holy Grails of children’s books; and the swan song of the Eduardian gift book era. 175 USD Facsimile of title page included. For more information and scans contact me at info@mariesebastian.com #art #illustration #interiordecorating #interiordesign #decorating #design #antiqueprints #antique #vintageprints #vintage #engraving #oldbook #oldprints #printmaking #prints #goldenageillustration #goldenage #monsters #mars #space #outerspace #cosmos #spacetravel https://www.instagram.com/p/BQNwepilv2-/?utm_source=ig_tumblr_share&igshid=wcg0re1ivtkh

[fashionsummedup]

Queen Alexandra Carolina Maria Carlota Luísa Júlia was born in Copenhagen on December 1, 1844 and died at Sandringham on November 20, 1925. She was the wife of King Edward VII and queen consort of the United Kingdom of Great Britain and Ireland from 1901 to 1910 .

When she married Prince Edward VII in 1863, she became Princess of Wales and thus began to become a fashion icon. Her wedding dress was made by fashion designer Charles Worth.

She was known to like to adorn herself excessively and was never seen without jewelry, despite wearing fake jewelry when it suited her.

Among the trends she launched, the most copied were: The pearl choker, which she used to hide a scar on her neck; excess jewelry; and the change in her dresses to adapt her limp, left by the time she contracted rheumatic fever. With the modifications to the dresses came the introduction of the Edwardian petticoat, modifying the female silhouette. The limp was also copied by the women of the time, who also started to walk on a crutch to become more like Alexandra.

An interesting curiosity is an event in which King Eduard, who, after being crowned, became extremely formal in the way he dressed, scolded his wife who thought her honorific band was better inside out, making her change before going out in public.

This slideshow requires JavaScript.

Here we can see an example of before and after the Alexandra petticoat, first, on the left side, we see a dress from the Victorian era (the queen in force before King Edward and his wife) and then a dress from the Edwardian era, in which it was used the Alexandra petticoat.

Victorian era.

Eduardian era.

  Bibliography: Allan, Georgina O’Hara; Enciclopédia da Moda: De 1840 À Década de 90: Companhia das Letras, 2010.

https://amodaresumida.wordpress.com/2016/10/10/alexandra-rainha/

https://pt.wikipedia.org/wiki/Alexandra_da_Dinamarca#Legado

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Alexandra_of_Denmark#Legacy

http://orderofsplendor.blogspot.com.br/2012/03/flashback-friday-splendor-of-queen.html

http://theenchantedmanor.com/tag/queen-alexandra-the-fashion-icon/

Alexandra, Queen Queen Alexandra Carolina Maria Carlota Luísa Júlia was born in Copenhagen on December 1, 1844 and died at Sandringham on November 20, 1925.

[marymosley]

Painted Ladies: A Few Photographs of Victorian Style Homes

By Darren Smith, Weekend Contributor

A Painted Lady describes a coloring schema of Victorian and Eduardian style houses common of the era between the middle 19th century to the 1910s yet repainted starting in the 1960s to accentuate the architecture through the use of many differing colors, often to a great level of precision (Some attaining not quite a Jan Van Eyck granularity but certainly above that of McMansions blighting many neighborhoods.

Here are a few for your enjoyment. Click each to enlarge.

I must apologize for not having the presence of mind to check the camera prior to the shoot, and suffering the resultant exospheric level ISO setting. It was dissappointing in that I intended to make many closeups to study the nooks and architecture of these various houses, but the grain and noise levels were too great and I otherwise chose not to channel my inner Georges Seurat. A subsequent visit to what could have been a colorful adjunct, a visit to tulip farms, crashed actually worse. Perhaps next year I’ll partake in the tulip mania.

Being not a man of the Nineteenth Century, I cannot extrapolate on whether during the time of construction these homes were viewed as overly ostentatious or were crafted for a consumer who wanted a little more than a bungalow but not a mansion. Yet they were drafted it surely seems by someone having a hand for creation and an eye for elegance. The homes stand in my view in bitter contrast to the devolution of style with McMansions sold to the pretentious who lack artistry, vision, and restraint.

  One ritual I practiced during my college years was to drive home a different way every few times to visit a different neighborhood of the city I resided within. More often than not I found myself immersed in the same types of architecture, the Edwardian and Victorian homes. I remember promising myself that at some point in the future, I would have one of these. But life and I did not agree on the same furnishings.  I do find it in many respects more agreeable to have a home equipped with century-old technology only, but I’ll splurge for modernity a little and forego shoveling coal into the furnace each day.

  D’oh, a deer, a female dear.

  The above photograph–it is not apparent–but it seems a whale serves as a Weather Vane. I never fully considered a cetacean circularizing the wind direction. I thought that the domain of the rooster. But I suppose as long as one is simply announcing the current wind direction, any animal will suffice. (and they surely won’t fall victim to public shaming for incorrect prediction as does Punxsutawney Phil via his nemesis, the Lorenz Attractor.)

On a side note, this particular location seems to have suffered a rout. My prior visit here found it quite cold yet fully stocked with visitors and shops welcoming their dollars. Now with some exceptions all are closed. Most have signs stating a virus caused the closure. That’s some virus, able it seems to manipulate the macroscopic world into causing shops to close, transforming itself into a business wrecking hegemon that persuaded merchants to close or be thrown in jail. Amazing what a strand of RNA can do! I thought all along these closures were caused by an organism called a Politician, who’s epicenter lies at the state capitol. But what do I know? I just write blog articles on weekends.

I suppose if people must be required to stay in a home it might as well have some flair to it.

Photos (c) 2020, By Darren Smith

The views expressed in this posting are the author’s alone and not those of the blog, the host, or other weekend bloggers. As an open forum, weekend bloggers post independently without pre-approval or review. Content and any displays or art are solely their decision and responsibility.

Painted Ladies: A Few Photographs of Victorian Style Homes published first on https://immigrationlawyerto.tumblr.com/

[marie-sebastian]

Detail of the tipped in frontis piece by William Timlin for his Ultra Rare ’ The Ship that Sailed to Mars ’ London, 1923. The plate is tipped onto a leaf of lovely pale green laid paper. This work is one of the Holy Grails of children’s books; and the swan song of the Eduardian gift book era. 150 USD Facsimile of title page included. For more information and scans contact me at info@mariesebastian.com #art #illustration #interiordecorating #interiordesign #decorating #design #antiqueprints #antique #vintageprints #vintage #engraving #oldbook #oldprints #printmaking #prints #goldenageillustration #goldenage #ship #navigation #mars #space #outerspace #cosmos #spacetravel #spacecraft https://www.instagram.com/p/BOiDDLlhTrE/?utm_source=ig_tumblr_share&igshid=elnpidywb3qs