#painter daughter

[bottegapowerpoint]

Henri Cros, Jeune Fille Rousse, Sa Fille Marie

[heartorbit]

a new world together

[escapismsworld]

The King's Daughter

1902

Eduard Veith (Austrian, 1858-1925).

[thefugitivesaint]

Hermann Hendrich (1854-1931), 'The Rhine Daughters', ''The Etude'', Vol. 47, #12, Dec. 1929 Source

[arinewman7]

The Daughters of Lot 1

Carlo Carrà

oil on canvas, 1919

[mythologypaintings]

Oedipus and Antigone

Artist: Christoffer Wilhelm Eckersberg (Danish, 1783–1853)

Genre: Mythological Art

Date: 1812

Media: Oil on Canvas

Collection: The National Museum in Stockholm

Description

In this painting of Oedipus and Antigone from 1812, Eckersberg presents a doting and concerned Antigone and an elderly Oedipus who is visibly very frail. Oedipus nonetheless shoulders the burden of carrying some heavy clothing on his back, while Antigone walks more freely, albeit while expending energy tending to her father. I love the bright colours in this scene, but also the way Eckersberg manages to capture the melancholy of both characters and the tenderness between them. On they go, in sadness, across the bridge.

In Greek mythology Antigone is a Theban princess and a character in several ancient Greek tragedies. She is the daughter of Oedipus, king of Thebes; her mother is either Jocasta or, in another variation of the myth, Euryganeia. She is a sister of Polynices, Eteocles, and Ismene. The meaning of the name is, as in the case of the masculine equivalent Antigonus, "in place of one's parents" or "worthy of one's parents".

[namedvesta]

— Michel Dumas, Fra Giovanni Angelico da Fiesole (𝟣𝟪𝟦𝟦)

[abwwia]

Betty A Dodson, Mother & Daughter | Art reproduction photography by Photovertex (com) with a note: In the early 60's I was focused on painting the nuclear family in an effort to understand why it continued to prevail because it is so impossible.

source: https://www.dodsonandross.com/fineart/mother-daughter

[romance-rambles]

godheim ayn | in which he sticks to the letter, not the spirit

Years after New Godheim is established, your daughter attempts to help you solve a mystery you hadn't thought too hard about before her. Ayn gets ambushed, Roxana gets chocolate, and you get no answers.

0.8k, domestic fluff, children of characters, post-ayn route, reader is mc, series: an eventful first meeting

AYN HAS JUST WALKED IN the front door when he's met with an ambush. Instinctively, he reaches out his free hand, steadying the small bundle of joy holding his legs hostage.

She looks up at him, and he sees eyes the color of his own shining determinedly back at him. As his hand lowers from the back of her head to her shoulder, her small hands tighten their grip on his legs, leaving a pattern of creases to crawl down the length of his pants.

"I'm home," he says, crouching down to her level. It takes all his willpower to not smile or look when he hears you laugh softly from somewhere in the back. "Isn't there something you should say to me?"

Letting go of him, Roxanna blinks owlishly. Then, as she cups her chin thoughtfully, some realization dawns on her—though Ayn doubts it's the correct one.

"Papa," she says urgently. "Did you get my chocolate?"

He snorts, offering her his latest purchases to peruse through. "Why don't you take a look?"

Easily swayed by the promise of more sweets, she buries her head into the basket and begins sorting through. Ayn watches over her fondly, until a slight movement from behind one of the sofas catches his eye. Soon, you poke your head out properly, a wry grin on your face—as if to commiserate over her blatant disregard for everything when chocolate is involved.

He raises an eyebrow at you. You hang your head in response, a fake tearful expression on your face. Ever the dutiful husband, Ayn sighs.

"Are you sure there's nothing else you want to ask me?"

There's chocolate on her hands now. A smear on her lips, and another on her cheek. She glances over to where you're hiding, then at him, her lips forming an 'O'. Taking off his glove, he gently wipes away the mess and gets awarded for his helpfulness by the sight of her stomping her feet angrily.

"That was my chocolate!" Roxanna pouts, crossing her arms. "I'm taking yours!"

Nothing good comes of spoiling a kid rotten. But a little bit, he thinks, is deserved. Scooping both his daughter and his recent goodies up, he presses a kiss to her forehead. She huffs, resting her head against his chest when she hears him chuckle.

"That's okay. I'll just take them from Mama," he says, keenly aware of his wife's furious glare as he walks past the living room—into the kitchen, where he sets her down on the countertop. "Are you sure there's nothing else?"

"Hmm?" Her eyebrows furrow in confusion, at first. Then, bobbing her head confidently, she asks, "Papa, how'd you meet Mama?"

By now, you've migrated to a different hiding spot. The still tearful look on your face tells him that this isn't the question you coached her on. Ayn bites back a smirk.

"So, that's what you wanted to ask?" he asks, his smile widening when he spies you shaking your head—hoping that your silent gesturing for her to cease her attempts get across. "I thought I already told you that story."

"No, you told me how you got married!" she says. "How'd you meet?"

"We were at a ball," Ayn recounts, closing his eyes. His smile fades a bit at the memories directly following that encounter, only for it to flare back to life when he remembers the way you panicked over maple syrup. "Your mother…she was engaged to someone else back then. So we were celebrating for her."

Roxanna frowns. "What happened to him then?"

Opening his eyes, he raises an eyebrow at her. "I thought you wanted to know about us?"

"Continue…" she grumbles.

"There was only one slice left of my favorite cake," he continues, recalling the smile on your painted lips as you offered it to him. "Your mom gave it to me when she realized I wanted it."

Years have passed since that day, and they have taken bits of his memory with them. Most of the nobles who attended alongside him are a sea of faceless men and women, depicted in indistinct shapes and clashing colors. Even Lars has become a distant memory—but you alone remain preserved under the bright lights, as beautiful then as you are now.

"Really? That's it?" As though she'd been hoping for something more romantic, she scrunches up her nose. "I'd never do that."

He smiles softly, well aware his daughter won't understand his hidden meaning. "And I hope you never have to."

"Okay," Roxanna says, tilting her head. She's grabbed another chocolate, and this time, her mouth is full when she asks her next question. "Oh! Then, when did you know you liked her?"

"You shouldn't eat with your mouth full," he chides.

His softened gaze naturally wanders over to you—at the same time that you happen to be celebrating your good fortune. It seems this is the question you wanted her to ask. Ayn disguises his laugh as a cough, and a lovely shade of red blooms across your cheeks.

As he ruffles his daughter's dark hair—to which she protests loudly, and is mollified only when he fixes the muted red of her bangs back into place—he flashes a mischievous grin at his wife.

"Hmm, well, I wonder…maybe I'll remember if I talk to your mother."

[sacredson]

Son letting his dad rape his mouth after a long day. Sitting on his knees for him, boxers around his thighs as he needily jerks off and lets his throat constrict around his dad’s cock. Getting gripped by the hair as he pulls out just so he can cum all over his boy’s face and watch it drip. <3

[baileysturnz]

://𝚒𝚗𝚝𝚛𝚘𝚍𝚞𝚌𝚒𝚗𝚐.....

𝕕𝕒𝕕!𝕔𝕙𝕣𝕚𝕤ꨄ

𓂸ఌ 𝚍𝚊𝚍!𝚌𝚑𝚛𝚒𝚜 𝚠𝚑𝚘..𝖺𝗅𝗐𝖺𝗒𝗌 𝗌𝖾𝗍𝗌 𝗎𝗉 𝗌𝗁𝗈𝗐𝖾𝗋𝗌 𝖿𝗈𝗋 𝗒/𝗇 𝖺𝖿𝗍𝖾𝗋 𝖺 𝗅𝗈𝗇𝗀 𝖽𝖺𝗒

𓂸ఌ 𝚍𝚊𝚍!𝚌𝚑𝚛𝚒𝚜 𝚠𝚑𝚘..𝗀𝖺𝗏𝖾 𝗌𝖺𝖽𝗂𝖾- 𝖼𝗁𝗋𝗂𝗌 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝗒/𝗇𝗌 𝗀𝗂𝗋𝗅- 𝗁𝖾𝗋 𝖿𝗂𝗋𝗌𝗍 𝖼𝖺𝗇𝖽𝗒

𓂸ఌ 𝚍𝚊𝚍!𝚌𝚑𝚛𝚒𝚜 𝚠𝚑𝚘..𝗉𝗅𝖺𝗒𝗌 𝗍𝖾𝖺𝖼𝗎𝗉 𝗉𝖺𝗋𝗍𝗒 𝗐𝗂𝗍𝗁 𝗌𝖺𝖽𝗂𝖾

𓂸ఌ 𝚍𝚊𝚍!𝚌𝚑𝚛𝚒𝚜 𝚠𝚑𝚘.. 𝗂𝗌 𝖺𝗌 𝗀𝗈𝗈𝖿𝗒 𝖺𝗌 𝗌𝖺𝖽𝗂𝖾

𓂸ఌ 𝚍𝚊𝚍!𝚌𝚑𝚛𝚒𝚜 𝚠𝚑𝚘.. 𝗐𝗁𝖾𝗇 𝗒/𝗇 𝗐𝖺𝗌 𝗉𝗋𝖾𝗀𝗇𝖺𝗇𝗍 𝗁𝖾 𝗐𝗈𝗎𝗅𝖽 𝗍𝖺𝗅𝗄 𝗍𝗈 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝖻𝖺𝖻𝗒 𝗂𝗇 𝗁𝖾𝗋 𝖻𝖾𝗅𝗅𝗒

𓂸ఌ 𝚍𝚊𝚍!𝚌𝚑𝚛𝚒𝚜 𝚠𝚑𝚘.. 𝗅𝗈𝗏𝖾𝗌 𝗁𝖺𝗇𝗀𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗎𝗉 𝗉𝖺𝗂𝗇𝗍𝗂𝗇𝗀𝗌 𝗒/𝗇 𝗆𝖺𝖽𝖾 𝖺𝗋𝗈𝗎𝗇𝖽 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗁𝗈𝗎𝗌𝖾

𓂸ఌ 𝚍𝚊𝚍!𝚌𝚑𝚛𝚒𝚜 𝚠𝚑𝚘..𝗂𝗌 𝗉𝗋𝗈𝗍𝖾𝖼𝗍𝗂𝗏𝖾 𝗈𝖿 𝗌𝖺𝖽𝗂𝖾 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝗒/𝗇

𓂸ఌ 𝚍𝚊𝚍!𝚌𝚑𝚛𝚒𝚜 𝚠𝚑𝚘.. 𝗁𝖺𝗍𝖾𝗌 𝗍𝖺𝗄𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗌𝖺𝖽𝗂𝖾 𝗍𝗈 𝗄𝗂𝗇𝖽𝖾𝗋𝗀𝖺𝗋𝖽𝖾 𝖻𝖾𝖼𝖺𝗎𝗌𝖾 𝗌𝗁𝖾𝗌 𝗇𝗈𝗐 𝖺𝗅𝗅 𝗀𝗋𝗈𝗐𝗇 𝗎𝗉

𓂸ఌ 𝚍𝚊𝚍!𝚌𝚑𝚛𝚒𝚜 𝚠𝚑𝚘..𝖼𝗈𝗆𝖿𝗈𝗋𝗍𝗌 𝗒/𝗇 𝗐𝗂𝗍𝗁 𝗄𝗂𝗌𝗌𝖾𝗌 𝖺𝗆𝖽 𝖾𝗏𝖾𝗇𝗍𝗎𝖺𝗅𝗅𝗒 𝖾𝗇𝖽 𝗎𝗉 𝗂𝗇 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝖻𝖺𝗍𝗁𝗍𝗎𝖻 𝗐𝗁𝖾𝗇 𝗌𝖺𝖽𝗂𝖾 𝗀𝗈𝖾𝗌 𝗍𝗈 𝗌𝖼𝗁𝗈𝗈𝗅

𓂸ఌ 𝚍𝚊𝚍!𝚌𝚑𝚛𝚒𝚜 𝚠𝚑𝚘..𝗅𝗈𝗏𝖾𝗌 𝗁𝗂𝗌 𝗀𝗂𝗋𝗅𝗌

𓂸ఌ𝚍𝚊𝚍!𝚌𝚑𝚛𝚒𝚜 𝚠𝚑𝚘.. 𝗂𝗌 𝗐𝗂𝗍𝗁..

𝕡𝕒𝕚𝕟𝕥𝕖𝕣𝕞𝕠𝕞!𝕣𝕖𝕒𝕕𝕖𝕣❦

𑁍ꨄ✞

𝖨 𝗅𝗈𝗏𝖾 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝗊𝗎𝖾𝖾𝗇𝗌

𝘣𝘢𝘪𝘭𝘦𝘺♡シ

𝖨𝖿 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝗅𝗂𝗄𝖾 𝗍𝗁𝗂𝗌 𝗆𝖺𝗄𝖾 𝗌𝗎𝗋𝖾 𝗍𝗈 𝖼𝗁𝖾𝖼𝗄 𝗈𝗎𝗍 𝗆𝗒 𝙢𝙖𝙨𝙩𝙚𝙧𝙡𝙞𝙨𝙩 𝖺𝗌 𝗐𝖾𝗅𝗅 𝖺𝗌 𝗆𝗒 𝚛𝚎𝚌𝚎𝚗𝚝 𝚋𝚕𝚞𝚛𝚋 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝚙𝚊𝚛𝚝 𝚘𝚏 𝚖𝚢 𝚜𝚎𝚛𝚒𝚎𝚜

𝕞𝕒𝕥𝕥 𝕧𝕖𝕣𝕤𝕚𝕠𝕟

𝕕𝕚𝕧𝕚𝕕𝕖𝕣𝕤 𝕓𝕪: @bernardsbendystraws 𝕥𝕪𝕤𝕞!

a/n: had to feed my chris girls. i hope yall liked it! ty soo much for a lot of new followers i deeply appreciate it.

[portrait-paintings]

George B. Roberts and His Daughter Alice

Artist: Walter Stuempfig (American, 1914-1970)

Date: 1949-1953

Medium: Oil on canvas

Collection: Pennsylvania Academy of Fine Arts, Philadelphia, Pennsylvania, United States

[xpuigc-bloc]

eldest daughter

1904

[mythologypaintings]

Odysseus Recognises Achilles Amongst the Daughters of Lycomedes

Artist: Louis Gauffier (French, 1762–1801)

Date: 1801

Medium: OIl on Canvas

Collection: Nationalmuseum, Stockholm, Sweden

Description

The subject is taken from Ovid's Metamorphoses. Knowing her son was destined to die if he went to fight in the Trojan war, Thethis, a sea nymph, disguised Achilles as a woman and entrusted him to King Lycomedes, in whose palace on the isle of Scyros he lived among the king's daughters. Odysseus and other Greek chieftains were sent to fetch Achilles. They cunningly laid a heap of gifts before the girls - jewellery, clothes and other finery, but among them a sword, spear and shield. When a trumpet was sounded, Achilles instinctively snatched up the weapons and thus betrayed his identity.

[sk1bidi-n1k0-e4ts-people]

little artist Dad!Tony stark x daughter!reader

Summary: you love art and your dad has always supported that, but the media has other things to say.

Warnings: anxiety attack, the media being jerks,

+•°+*°•++•°+*°•++•°+*°•++•°+*°•+

*reader is around 15 here*

You were painting a random landscape, when your dad walked into the art studio he had made for you, a few months back he turned an empty room into a art studio for you to paint in, it had a window next to the easel in the corner. Lots of your art work had been Hung on the walls, a few small desks that had paint tubes, watercolor, brushes, and colored pencils on them, you also liked to just sketch while sitting at the desks.

"Hey pumpkin, wacha making?" Your dad asked walking over to you and the half done painting,

"It looked nice out today so i decided to paint it" you said referring to the sunrise shining through a tree in the window, your father hummed a response, patting you on the back he asked what you wanted to eat for breakfast that morning,

"What do you want to eat?"

"Burger king" you said smiling looking up at your father,

"Baby its 6 am i doubt burger king is even open" your dad said following you as you walked down to hall to the bathroom to wash the excess paint off of your hands.

"How bout, pancakes" your dad asked you leaning on the doorway with his arms crossed over his chest

"Yeah pancakes sound good" you said drying your hands off, your father nodded his head in direction of the elevator.

+•°+*°•+

you had just finished lunch (burger king) when you got a text from peter,

'Hey i thought you might wanna see this before it gets big or sm' it had a web link, you opened it and felt that familiar feeling, that was like disappointment, anger, and sadness all in one, and it read,

'Y/N MARIA STARK: THE UNACCOMLISHED STARK,' you read the title over and over again, tears welled up in your eyes, it had always been like this, constant hate, some even said you weren't even his daughter, that one hurt the most,

It was confusing too, you looked exactly like tony, though you had your mothers eye color (grey or blue) and her lips, every little detail about you was mainly tony, especially when it came to your personality, you were just as cocky as him, just as sassy, and plus just about the whole team made the joke that you were a female version of him, (which you were) but the media didn't care.

As the tears threatened to spill you started walking to your room, not wanting to brake down in the middle of the tower. You shut the door and fell into your bed, hugging a pillow as tight as you possibly could, as you felt the first tear fall down your cheek, you broke.

Sobbing into your pillow, trying to stay quiet so that no one would hear, Friday had to be the little taddle tail she is, and told the one person you didn't want coming in right now.

Dad. You were trying to stay quiet so he wouldn't hear because last time you saw him he was in a good mood, you didn't want to ruin that.

+•°+*°•+

"Boss, Y/N is in her room in need of your assistance" Friday spoke up getting tonys attention,

"What for?" Tony asked looking up from his damaged suit he was repairing

"She is having a anxiety attack, though im not sure what for" as Friday said the last word of her sentence, tony was already bolting to the elevator, heading straight to your room.

"How bad is it?"

"Not as bad as last time" last time you had an anxiety attack was months ago, you rarely had them you never let any of the articles get to you, but this time it was just to much.

As tony went to open your door he found it locked,

"Friday" tony said this one word and the door was unlocked in a second, you also heard him say this, which scared you causing you to jump, as tony opened the door he ran over to you, immediately cradling you in his arms, rocking you back and forth, whispering words of comfort.

When you eventually calmed down, you looked up at your father, sniffing you spoke up

"Hey dad" you said your voice cracking halfway through 'dad'

"Hey sweetheart, you good now?" Tony asked raking his fingers through your hair, you nodded in response, resting your head back on his chest softly,

"What got you all rattled up anyways?" He asked looking down at you, you told him the whole story, stopping to sniffle or cough from time to time, a few minutes of tony comforting you later, he spoke up.

"Hey what do you say i let you draw me, would that cheer you up?" You snapped your head up nodding violently, tony didn't like being drawn, so this was special to you, you both hopped up, while walking to your studio tony held your hand the whole way there, forgetting to let go as you let go of him (or tried to) to grab a stool for him, and flipped your easel around, your back facing the wall,

As you began to paint him you got an idea. To draw a giant mustache on him >:)))))))

Kind of Like this

When you eventually finished a few minutes later (15 - 20) you flipped your easel around to reveal your masterpiece 😈

Tony chuckled before gripping onto the back of your neck, pulling you closer to him he gently pecked your forehead, before you wrapped him in a tight hug.

EDIT: attachment

[arinewman7]

Night and Her Daughter Sleep

Mary L. Macomber

1902