#rosemary ellis

[vintagepromotions]

'It's better to Shop early - Early in the month'

London Passenger Transport Board poster (1935). Artwork and design by Clifford and Rosemary Ellis.

[now-winter-comes-slowly]

In 1935 Clifford and Rosemary Ellis, a married artistic team, produced these posters encouraging people to use the London Underground for their Christmas shopping trips - and to avoid the most crowded times. Find more wintry London Underground posters at @now-winter-comes-slowly...

[mydarlingdearestdead]

Allie 'Don't wanna drive another mile without knowing your breathing.' James

Remus 'Won't you stay, Won't you stay with me?' Kenning

Karma 'You're the greatest thing we lost.' Ellis

Maria 'We ain't angry at you love.' Kenning-White

Ivory 'We'll be waiting for you, love.' Miller

Rosemary 'All lights turned off can be turned off.' Ellis

[snarttt]

doomed father daughter my babies

[fl0atingmoon1e]

Do you guys think the reason why we liked doomed dad and kid (sometimes they're not even the kids dad) trope is because we have daddy issues

[rosemaryreaper]

A collection of brief contextless snippets of Ros being…well, Ros.

Featuring Nick, Ellie, Nora, Haylen, and others.

* * * *

1.

Climbing down took less than half the time it took to climb up. Near the bottom, she simply dropped the last ten feet, boots hitting the wood roof with a solid thud. Abernathy stood waiting for her with a grin. Connie had already left.

He clapped her on the back. “Quick work. Where’d you learn to climb like that?”

“Through an unexpected blessing following the most traumatically horrific experience of her life” would have been the correct answer, but Ros wasn’t about to go into detail about that. So, she simply said, “A stripper taught me.”

Abernathy raised his eyebrows. “Huh. Well, you’ll have to thank that stripper for me.”

Ros was fairly certain she was dead, but she mentally passed on the message anyway.

* * * *

2.

“You’ve put me in your debt,” Ros said, as Connie secured the straps on the impressively full pack.

“Oh, quit your whining already,” Connie said. “I couldn’t care less if you never show your face around here again. Don’t have the caps to hire a merc.”

Ros eyed her warily, unsure if this was genuine evidence of a sense of humor and not a straight up threat. Connie didn’t clarify, which didn’t help matters at all.

* * * *

3.

They could see well enough to point a gun at her, at least. She allowed herself to assume that the white diamond over their heart meant that they were, in fact, a guard and not a member of a gang, because if she had to fight the last hundred feet to the city, she would lay down in the street and let them shoot her.

Tiredly, she told the strangely-armored person, “Not a mutant.”

To her surprise, they lowered their rifle without hesitation. “Always good to hear,” they said cheerfully.

* * * *

4.

“Noted.” He set the clipboard down, giving her a tired smile. “Your weapons are your business, but discharge them and Security will do the same. Chems are legal, but public use isn’t. Any disorderly conduct will earn you a night in lockup if no one shoots you for it first. If you need a place to stay, look for the Dugout Inn on First Street. Yefim Bobrov can set you up with a room. Any questions?”

“Yeah, uh,”—her grip tightened on the edge of the counter—“is there a doctor here, by any chance?”

Danny’s shoulders tensed. “There is,” he said warily. “If you’re sick, there is a quarantine procedure—”

“Not sick. Shot.”

Jamie said, “What?”

She removed the fedora from her stomach, uncovering the blood-stained holes in her new shirt.

Danny was on his feet, eyes wide. “Why didn’t you say anything?” He looked at Jamie. “Why didn’t you say anything?”

“Hell, I didn’t know,” Jamie said.

“I took two Stimpaks,” Ros said. “I’m not about to die.” She paused to double check her Pip-Boy. Three new warnings had popped up since she’d last looked. She dismissed them. “Yeah, no, not right this very second.”

“Are you sure that’s not shock?” Jamie asked. “Are you in shock?”

“I don’t actually know,” Ros said truthfully.

“Jamie,” Danny said.

“Yeah. Yeah, I’ll show them to the doc.” Jamie looked at Ros in concerned disbelief. “Can you walk?”

“I walked here, didn’t I?” Ros said, which wasn’t actually an answer.

“You did. Good Lord. Just…just follow me.”

* * * *

5.

Abruptly, Ellie let herself fall over into Ros’s arms, her head tucked beneath Ros’s chin. Ros held her awkwardly, startled by this more than the tears, at least for a second. It had to be more comfortable than being doubled over her knees.

“Okay, this is fine,” Ros said, because it was.

“Sorry, honey,” Ellie said into her shirt. “I kinda ruined your morning, huh?”

Ros said, “I want you to feel better,” because she did. She did, she did.

“Ugh, you and me both.”

* * * *

6.

“We’re open. You don’t—” Nick broke off. His fingers scratched against the door, metal against wood. A godawful sound, really.

“Sorry to bother you, Mr. Valentine,” Danny said, “but I assume this belongs to you?”

Ros attempted a grin. She presumed it looked deranged, her hands being cuffed behind her back and all.

Nick gave her a flat stare. “Tell me why I should say yes.”

“Uh, I didn’t kill anyone?” she offered.

* * * *

7.

“Ros.” Nora tilted her chin up, rag raised in her other hand. “You have blood on your face.”

Ros grimaced as the General aggressively scrubbed her cheek. “It’s not mine.”

* * * *

8.

“Hi,” Ros said with a tired smile. “This mattress is disgusting.”

“Obviously. It’s two hundred years old.” Haylen set the first aid kit on the chair. “Do you always talk this much?”

“Not to people. I talk to walls. And my horse. Normally they don’t talk back, though, so this is a first.”

“Right…you weren’t kidding about taking a hit to the head.”

[artved]

— Snail XII and Snail XV by Rosemary Ellis, c. 1950 (x, x)

[lirri-eats-eyes]

okay i want to talk about this more bc it was important to me. i know skyborn's ending felt rushed to me specifically, but after rereading it, it isn't necessarily unrealistic. ellie is a serial optimist and she's known for being stubborn, so with things looking up for her, it makes sense that she would want to embrace this ideal new setting and not think too much about the past, with nox still being her foil (he's more reluctant to fit a role in society, even in this Totally New and Better Perfect one)

i recognize the fact that the new thelantis might need a force to protect corion/other royalty since tensions are still probably running high with the rapid transition of power, and maybe they need a force to help with rescuing and construction, but it leaves a bad taste in my mouth that there's still effectively an organized police force after there were two whole books instructing us that That's A Bad Idea, Actually. It honestly feels like they're continuing the tradition because they don't know how to rule in any other way, and again, that makes realistic sense. But there's probably more change and instability to come even after the ending which is painted ideally in Ellie's final POV.

I think this specific conflict is bound to happen because both Ellie and Mother Rosemarie are changing rapidly near the end. Ellie was already orphaned at a young age, but she was also tasked with literally Saving The World at what, age 12-13? There's that weird combination of "you weren't chosen because you were special, don't let it get to your head" and "you were right about a lot of things actually, and no one listened to you even though they should have." She's been forced into this role of a leader and a fighter against the entire world, and it takes an extremely visible toll on her mental health by the third book. She longs for any adult to just listen to her and take on her burden instead. At the same time…she can't be comfortable in a child's role anymore. She understands her own power and won't hesitate to enforce it, something most kids aren't allowed to do. She'll be stuck in this weird in between where she wants nothing more than to be cared for, but she doesn't want to be coddled.

Additionally, she's seen a lot more things than most of the adults in the sparrow village have never dreamed of, so it's hard to see where her travelled experience ends and where their lived experience begins. She's going to be frustrated at the lack of knowledge Mother Rosemarie has, but she's also not going to listen to the valid advice Rosemarie can give her.

Mother Rosemarie, on the other hand...ok this part is more speculation but I see her as someone who was an extreme realist when it came to the tangible power her people had as second-class citizens; she reasons to herself that no, she doesn't actually think sparrows are weak, but as things are, there's no way one could become a goldwing, and that's unfair, but there's nothing she can do about it. and maybe that turns into "well, maybe what they're saying about the biological difference is true" and "we just don't have the right temperment; it's not in our culture." Maybe part of her feels protective about ellie because of a possible similarity -- maybe she sees ellie as a younger her whose dreams are inevitably crushed.

By phoenix rising though, she breaks through that line of thinking and recognizes the true power of the sparrow clan, and is completely on board with ellie's plan. There is this new appreciation for her culture that she's never been allowed to tap into, and it must be so cathartic. To finally be proud to call oneself a sparrow, to believe in the dreams she repressed early on. Perhaps a bit too invested in this idea, and that's where this conflict begins

There's also a bit of old dialogue that we have to consider. Ellie feels betrayed by mother rosemarie as only a kid can. you can only hear "it's for your own good" so many times before you never trust other people to be invested in your wellbeing again. Mother Rosemarie feels like Ellie is naiive and doesn't acknowledge her status as a sparrow and consequent status in society, maybe even feels like Ellie, who wants to be a Goldwing, is ashamed of her species and the barrier it creates for her. This is never addressed by the end, and all I know is that if there's a problem as big as that, it's rarely ever going to be taken to someone's grave.

so, there's the crux of the issue. Ellie doesn't respect Mother Rosemarie's real experience and power because she's been forced into a role where children have to hold the power or else they all die, and she doesn't trust an adult to properly wield that power anymore. She takes something like "I'm concerned that so much pressure is being put on you, how about you take a step back before you burn out?" as "I'm holding my authority over your head because I feel like it." Mother Rosemarie is riding the high of her newfound empowerment as a sparrow, failing to notice that Ellie has baggage when it comes to pride in one's species*, and inaccurately reading any baggage as straight-up shame. This is compounded by the fact that neither of them are listening to eachother, Ellie because her conclusions have been validated many times and she's still learning how to properly interact with people who disagree with her, and Mother Rosemarie because she's misinterpreting Ellie's words as rhetoric that has kept her down for most of her life and has only recently been disproved. They both feel like the other is very far behind.

*this is also a headcannon. Throughout the story Ellie remains connected to certain parts of her culture like sunflower oil for her wings, or even arguably her way of problem solving or her morals, but culture isn't just substances and traits. It's also the people; and the people haven't been perfect to Ellie. No doubt she feels connected to the community that raised her, but it was also the community who kept her down for so long, and it was a crow, a falcon, and a mockingbird-crane clanner who finally uplifted her.

[badmovieihave]

Bad movie I have Madame Web 2024

[moonrocketrabbit]

Fungus girls and their cool kid secret fungus handshake~

[tomoleary]

Clifford & Rosemary Ellis (1930s)

[delicatebluebirdruins]

still haven't played village so might just rewatch someone play it

[ccrv-7]

loooooove when a horror setting has a fucked up little tomboy with FAR too much weight placed on her shoulders by people who absolutely should not be placing weights on shoulders

[thefollyflaneuse]

Chanter's Folly, Appledore, Devon

Overlooking the River Torridge in the harbour town of Appledore there once stood a tall, square tower. The story is told that it was built by a wealthy shipowner so that he could keep an eye on his fleet, but that the dimensions were miscalculated and it wasn’t tall enough to command the expected panorama. Thus it became ‘Chanter’s Folly’. Continue reading Chanter’s Folly, Appledore, Devon

[drawing-way-outside-the-lines]

tag the oc that is sunshine personified

[rosemaryreaper]

Introducing the Valentine Detective Agency

I’ve been posting these snippets way out of order, but here’s Ros and Nick’s second meeting—or their first meeting where neither is pointing a gun at the other. Ellie is the only one happy about this. (I wrote this scene before the “demure” meme happened, I swear.)

* * * *

Nick couldn’t pin down what was radiating from Ros until she was sitting still in the chair across from him—or not sitting still. He had chalked it up to leftover adrenaline the other night, with the addition of having been riled up by Piper’s torment, but even now she radiated the energy of a bomb about to detonate.

Her hand repeatedly brushed her hip, her fingers grazing the edge of her holster as if to check it was there. Her other hand curled in her lap, bunching up the hem of her shirt. She shifted her weight every few seconds, crossed and uncrossed her ankles, put her feet flat on the floor (as best as they reached the floor), straightened, slouched, and so on. As soon as she stopped thinking about what she was doing, her body automatically put itself in a new uncomfortable position. Holding herself in the chair appeared to take a physical effort. That she didn’t want to be in this room was an understatement.

Nick was a little surprised she was here too. Apparently, the General had to postpone their meeting and had sent Ros his way instead, which wasn’t the surprising part. The surprising part was that she had shown up.

Ros seemed just as surprised at herself. She said awkwardly, “Maybe this is a bad idea.”

“What is?” Nick asked, as if he couldn’t guess. She’d shown more respect toward him than when they’d first met, but it was begrudging.

“Well, what do you do, exactly?”

“What any P.I. does: I find runaways. Runaway jewelry, runaway spouses, any missing person or thing—or both.” He turned it around on her. “What do you do?”

She shrugged. “Whatever brings in the caps. Caravan guard, farmhand, mechanic, etcetera, etcetera…”

“Scientist?” When she frowned at him, he said, “You’re writing a science piece for the paper. It takes a certain kind of”—weirdo, egghead—“person to want to do that. Willingly, no less.”

“I’m not a scientist, not really. My mom was. It’s more of a hobby. It’s complicated.”

“Is that who gave you the Pip-Boy?”

She tucked the Pip-Boy against her ribs, covering it with her hand. “I don’t want to talk about this.”

Ellie picked her moment to return from the other room. “Can I get you anything to drink?” she asked Ros sweetly. “We have water, coffee, and tea—warm, terrible, and bitter, in that order, but they’ll get you through the day.”

Ros’s eyes widened. “Uh, no, thank you. I’m good,” she said, her cheeks tinged pink.

There were multiple reasons Ellie was the face of the agency. Nick was less fond of this one, but it worked.

“Sure thing, honey,” Ellie said. “Let me know if you change your mind.”

Ros forced her gaze away, which was made less effective when Ellie perched on the edge of the desk next to Nick, demurely rearranging the folds of her pink skirt. He had once watched her chase out an ungracious client with a broom. There was nothing demure about her.

“I’ve never had the mind for science,” Nick said, relinquishing the topic. “I’ve always been more of a history man myself.”

Ros frowned again. “Aren’t detectives supposed to be analytical? And do forensics and stuff?”

“I never said I was a good detective.”

Ellie turned away to politely cough into her arm. Nick resisted the urge to look at her.

Ros relaxed a fraction, amused. “How do you become a detective? Do you just wake up one day and decide you want to solve mysteries?”

“These days, you’re not far off, kid.” Right on the money, in his case. “But that doesn’t make it for the faint of heart.”

“More often than not, it’s a two person job,” Ellie added. “That doesn’t stop Nick from getting out there though.”

Ah. So that was the plan, was it? He sensed her trying to catch his eye. He still didn’t look at her.

“Lot of angry spouses?” Ros asked.

Nick chuckled. “You don’t know the half of it. You’ve never experienced the fury of a jilted lover until you’ve dangled from an old construction crane by your ankles.”

“And that’s supposed to be a selling point?”

“There’s more to the job than that,” Ellie said quickly. “And when someone doesn’t go chasing after a mobster’s husband on their own, that doesn’t happen.” She paused, then amended, “As often.”

Yeah, yeah, Nick got the point. “Nora sent you here for work?” he asked, ignoring his secretary.

“I guess?” Ros said.

“I don’t have any active cases that require a partner at the moment, but I can let you know when I do. There’s just one requirement.” He paused for effect. “This job, first and foremost, is about helping people who need it. All else comes second, caps included. Based on what I saw yesterday, I suspect you wouldn’t mind the work, but those are the terms regardless.”

Ros ran a hand through her hair. “Yeah, I can work with that.”

“Good.” Nick stood up and extended his right hand—his metal hand—across the desk. Ros hesitantly shook it. “Then you’ll hear from me later.”

[Ros leaves; Nick finally addresses Ellie]

“Don’t get too excited,” Nick told her. “This is just to keep an eye on them. They’re not staying.”

“They saved your life.”

“That’s the only reason I’m doing this. Even then I don’t trust her to watch my back.”

“Call it a trial run.”

“You can call it that if you want. It’s temporary.”

“Sure thing, boss,” she said, a title she never used unironically.