habsbcrg

[habsbcrg]

astrid-henriksson·:

Astrid sat by the window of the library that by now she had become quite familiar with, it wasn’t the biggest but it was nice and it was close to her room so it was good enough, the view was also rather nice, which helped she supposed. She had been trying to paint to pass sometime but the page of her book remained black, Honestly she was growing a little restless, she knew why they had to be here but she miss Sweden and well how could she rule a country when she wasn’t even there at all. She sighed and closed the book, grabbed her things and was about to get out of the room when she almost ran into the person that was going in “I’m sorry I wasn’t paying attention.”

How - and why - this kept happening to her, Maria did not know. But if she ever found out who or what cosmic entity was behind the recent glut of run-ins she was experiencing, she would tear it limb from limb out of pure frustration. In the scant months spent in France, Maria could count on two hands the number of people she had almost physically run into, with the number of physical contacts not far behind. Thankfully this time, as she entered the library in which she had previously embarrassed herself, the other person halted before they actually collided.

”Oh-I-” Maria physically bit her tongue as frustration welled up in her, the woman before her’s apology almost lost in the pound of blood in her ears. Her recent embarrassment in this very room was still fresh, not to mention the strange lesson learned in her last, similar encounter. Hold your tongue! Speak properly, and do not be unfairly cruel! Maria closed her eyes, breathing deeply through her nose as her tongue ached between her teeth.

”It’s… alright…” she grit out through a forced smile, the muscles in her jaw tense. Maria blinked her eyes open again, finally properly looking at who had almost run into her. Another Queen. Some relief muddled its way through Maria’s body. At least she had not managed to insult a second Monarch within the walls of this Library. Surely one had been enough. “Your Majesty, it is fine,” Maria said again, a little more composed.

#thr: astrid 1 #ch: astrid #gewinde

[habsbcrg]

hixtoryofmxn·:

—

The Sehzade’s eyes widened at the force with which the woman flew, gritting his teeth as his expression melded swiftly into one of near-physical pain as he viewed the damage he’d managed to do. Guilt overcame him immediately. Yusef Osman was many a thing, though cruel was not one of them, and most certainly not intentionally. Stepping forward, he extended a hand, a gesture meant to attempt to assist. Though, hearing the venom behind his unintended victim’s words, Yusef stepped back. Shrinking a bit, he nodded. 

“You are correct, absolutely. I most certainly did not intend for such a thing to occur.” Her final words came and the Sehzade lifted his eyebrows, lips tightening to form the thinnest line he could muster. Naturally, Yusef would not allow himself to slip into a tone which even nearly matched that of Maria, though that most certainly did not equate to a complete lack of backbone on his part. “Madame,” He began, stepping forward once again. “I have issued my sincerest apology, what more can I do? If there is a suggestion you wish to make, I am certainly more than open to hearing such.” Cocking his head, he blinked slowly a few times during his pause. “I merely thought it polite to ask if I had unintentionally injured you, though perhaps it would have been better had I simply left you.”

Most of the time, men shrunk back from Maria. They might laugh at her, a reaction often born of disbelief, sometimes of cruelty. They might apologise further, trying to undo the insult they had not meant to make. They sometimes ignored her and walked away (this, in general opinion, was the smartest choice to make). Very few pushed back, and even less held firm.

Maria blinked, dumbfounded for a second as this man clearly stood his ground, stated his intentions, and left her entirely on the back foot. She drew herself up to her full height, and pressed down her skirts where they had been rumpled. “Right,” she said, voice still clipped and terse, “Well.” There was a pause as she floundered in the face of polite, but firm reproach. What more could he do? “Thank you.” She finally said, a little bit confused as to how she had got to the point of thanking him. Her brow remained creased, and she looked the man up and down swiftly, as if searching for something that explained his ability to disarm her so completely. Her brain still whirled and scattered, trying to find a way in which he had wronged her beyond accident, in which he had insulted her, but it came up blank. There was no undoing the accident, and beyond shrilly shrieking that he should watch where he was going - which he had already admitted to and apologised for - there remained no course for her to take but accepting his apology.

#thr: yusef 1 #ch: yusef #gewinde #{{MAKE HER APOLOGISE NEXT SJKLDHKJDSH}}

[habsbcrg]

expctance·:

emil learned very early on that he needed to seem perfect. he very nearly succeeded at that, if it weren’t for the fact that he knew it would seem fake if he presented himself as flawless. he already had a leg up with some of the people, they knew him well. the summit was the place that would essentially make or break his claim– should he leave without the favor of the other royals and/or his family, he would not see himself on the throne. it was the perfect place to get ahead.

he already had a plan for the other royals, made the effort to know everyone in the french palace and austria’s relationships with current and potential alliances, and knew how he would sweeten the deals. some would think he was way over his head, that some of these promises were ill placed, but that was why he needed to get at least one of his siblings on his side (though he’d prefer all of them). at this rate, maria was his best bet.

“i’d say we still are kind of strangers, no?” he tilted his head, offering his arm for her to take as they walked. “even after five years, i still can’t seem to get the full idea of you. i’d like to change that.” he offered casually, and it was actually the truth. he didn’t not care for his younger siblings, he knew they did not want anything to do with him because of what he was doing, but that did not stop him from trying to at least connect with them. he wasn’t the monster their father was.

Taking her brother’s offered arm, Maria walked at his side, though for the difference of their height she found herself almost taking two steps for each of his. She glanced up at him from the corner of her eye as he confessed - or claimed - to wish to get to know her better. Very few did, especially after they found out her reputation as a bit of a viper.

She hummed, as if rolling the idea around on her tongue. “What would you like to know, then? What it was like to grow up with our father around? I can barely answer that one myself. Or would you rather know why I am happily taking your arm despite the fact that you seek to depose my full-blooded brother from the throne that, by all rights, should be his?”

You see, the truth was that before God and the Church Emil’s claim was forfeit by the fact he was born of a sinful meeting. If Maria had been a woman who spent more time in Church, and whose prayers were less often filled with curses at the God she felt had cursed her with womanhood and rage, she would most likely refuse to be seen in Emil’s presence. But Maria was not that woman. All her life she had chafed at the idea of the throne being promised to Maximilian from birth, and though that had been borne of jealousy, that did not undermine its change at Maximilian’s behaviour during the plague. Emil’s claim might not be right in the eyes of God or His Pope, but it was more right to her than the claim of a man who would put his life and throne at risk for a village of peasants.

#thr: emil 1 #ch: verlorener bruder #gewinde

[habsbcrg]

ofdevotiions·:

.

a pale finger idlily twirls a strand of red hair. her lips form a smile around the rim of the cup. “here here,” she cheers, before taking a hearty sip from her glass. her face contorts just a bit as the liquid moves down her throat. she’s always been quite the open book; her face could never hide what she was feeling. it was both a strength and weakness of davina’s. you always knew what she was thinking, and well, you always knew what she was thinking. 

she leans back, eyes glancing up at the ceiling for a moment. “aye, i dinna know what to do. he’s a right sod.” davina shook her head. “my father arranged it before he passed, god rest his soul. i find it only right to follow through with it. me- a campbell? can you imagine it?” she huffs in a very unladylike fashion and shifts in her seat. “you can very well try. he’s quite stubborn, that one.” 

Maria echoed Davina’s huff with one of her own, pursing her lips at the rim of her drink. “I’m sure both you and I are more stubborn than he,” she drawled, sipping from her goblet with some mirth in her eyes. It was no secret that the two of them were often considered ‘difficult women’. It was not usually a badge Maria wore with honour, but company in the matter quickly turned her attitude around.

”Is the ale good?” Maria asked, nudging the bottom of Davina’s foot with her own unslippered toe, partially to change the subject away from Davina’s sod of a betrothed - she would find a way to make him squirm, she was sure - and partially to bolster her lack of confidence as a host. Hosting Davina was easy - the two of them would slouch, drink, laugh. Davina would belch. Maria would curse. But it was still nice to at least make a nod towards the lessons her tutors gave her in her youth: Provide for your guests, let them take your best bed, and assure their every comfort.

#thr: davina 1 #ch: davina #gewinde

[habsbcrg]

The feminine urge to argue w a man for fun

[habsbcrg]

hixtoryofmxn·:

for: closed ( @habsbcrg·) location: palace hallway

Since the announcement of the French Crown Prince’s betrothal to the Italian Queen came, followed subsequently by lavish festivities, the energy surrounding the French palace, flowing through its halls, had seemed heavier. Thicker. The events that had occurred during the summit up to this point had already seemingly demolished any hope or sense of change that might have once existed, even from those displeased about the meeting’s occurrence. People were tired. Frightened. Worried. Angered. And, despite his consistent voicing of his thought that remaining in France was the best course of action, there was no denying that these days, even Yusef Osman had seemingly lost a bit of his resolve. Head bowed, he made his way through the halls of the palace, lost in thought as he continued to turn the events over in his mind. Though thus far, nothing seemed to have affected him or his family directly, the sense that this wasn’t over, that something more was brewing, just on the horizon. The Sehzade was so lost in thought, in fact, that he failed to see the blonde stopped towards the edge of the walkway, whom he managed to near-plow directly into. Lifting his head quickly, the Prince began his apologies immediately. “I beg your forgiveness Your Highness, I most certainly should have been paying much closer attention to my path.” His eyes ran over her as though he might be able to see some damage that may have been done. “Are you alright? Have I injured you?”

It was hard to hide one’s height. One could hide one’s figure, one’s face, one’s hair, and even one’s sex. But if you were tall, you were tall, and if you were short, you were short. Tall shoes only got you so far.

Maria-Magdalena was short. Or, she was shorter than most women her age. It had never really been an issue in the past, except for one time when a seamstress struggled to fit a certain amount of patterning upon her bodice. But in the event of being walked into it seemed to have an effect. Where most might only stumble at being walked into, Maria all but flew. She tripped on her own ankle, stumbled several steps, and only righted herself when her side collided with the solid wall.

”Gott, schau wohin du gehst!” Maria yelped. With one hand on the wall to steady her she spun around, ready to unleash a torrent of fury on her assailant- and found him already apologising. Her jaw snapped shut for a moment, the click audible as her teeth collided. Then, almost as soon as he had said it, she opened again.

”Yes, you should have paid attention,” she hissed, and bristled at his obvious - and most likely kindhearted - concern. Her shoulder felt bruised, her hip knocked, and she had kicked the back of her own leg whilst stumbling and bitten the tip of her tongue, but other than that the only thing out of place were a few locks of hair. “I am fine,” she bit. “Do not think so highly of your strength.

#thr: yusef 1 #ch: yusef #gewinde #{{translation: god，look where you are going}} #{{ooc: poor yusef - he's run into one of the worst people to bump against}}

[habsbcrg]

ofdevotiions·:

.

davina was always large. she had a large personality, a large voice, and strongly actions spoke louder than words. she believed in diving head first and then asking questions later. maria was a kindred spirit, though they were born in different lands. she missed her dearly. davina was tired of the tight-lipped, polite smiles women gave. she wondered what would happen if she sneered or chortled at the next big event. it thrilled her, though she knew she would not cause any more embarrassment to her family. her brother had done enough. 

“when the two are available why should you restrain yourself? wine has always paired well with ale…at least, they do until the next morning.” she grinned and walked into the young woman’s chambers. for so long, she had been stuck with only her brother for company. while she loved her brother, farlan had a way of making davina’s head pound after awhile. 

davina poured herself a healthy serving of ale and sat down with a large sigh. “my dear, you must know that my betrothed-” she said the word with such distain in her voice. “has joined our company in france. campell the younger. archibald.” 

...

Maria chuckled into her glass. Davina was not the friend her parents would have chosen for her, but she was the one she had made. “I’ll drink to that,” she said, raising her glass for a moment before placing it to her lips and draining it in an eye-watering gulp. In the morning, as Davina suggested, Maria knew she would regret their revelry. She reckoned she would doubt it now far more than she had when they were younger. But the desire to lose herself in the past, and lose herself in the bottle, was stronger than her fear of regret.

Filling her glass once more from the bottle, Maria made a sound of acknowledgement as Davina began to speak, which was then followed by a sound of sympathetic frustration. “No, truly?” she asked, poised with the bottle still hovering over her glass. She shuffled to put it down safely, eyes not leaving her friend. “Is it so serious? Do you feel they will push you into it so soon?” As soon as her hands were free, Maria shifted to the edge of the settee, placing a hand upon Davina's knee in a display of support. "Should I frighten him off?"

#thr: davina 1 #ch: davina #gewinde

[habsbcrg]

expctance·:

CLOSED STARTER FOR @habsbcrg· after the mini event

if there was one thing emil knew to be true, it was how important it is to find common ground when your half brother shows up and attempts to prove his legitimate claim to the throne, throwing your world for a loop. he did not wish to make his half siblings’ lives anymore complicated, in fact he welcomed them at his side with open arms so long as they did not challenge his authority. one person that he felt confident in was his little sister– a fireball of a woman, a powerful ally, and someone he needed at his side in order to further legitimize his claim.

ever since he exposed their father for the man he was and revealed emil’s own true identity, he made sure to make clear to his siblings that he did not want to fight. even if they did not want to admit he was the rightful heir, they had to see the qualities that made emil a favorable king. while that would prove to be harder with maxie, he had no doubt he could win maria over.

emil walked through the french palace with ease, as if he belonged there just like everyone else, because he did belong there. he never declined to be anyone than who he truly was, for if he was to be a bastard son of the king, then he would simply rise to become just a bastard king. anything it took, he would do. which included buttering up anyone he needed to.

“good morning, your highness,” emil bowed his head to his sister as a sign of respect– the others needed to see how he cooperated. he couldn’t help but scour out the room, seeing who was around, and more importantly, who was most important. “you seem to be fairing well after a night full of celebrations.”

...

When Emil had exploded into the lives of Maria-Magdalena and her family, she had been shocked. Well, no, that was not quite right. She was not shocked to learn that her father had got himself wet in more than his mother’s hole. Nor was she shocked to learn that such wettings had resulted in bastard children. What had surprised her, though, was the efficiency with which Emil’s appearance had sliced her family and country apart.

Her father’s death could at least in part be blamed on the stress of his eldest son’s appearance (and, of course, on his not-so-eldest-son’s near death. Maxie’s heroism had been a point of contention in the Habsburg residence during the plague years.) The whisperings of a Civil War were of course partially Emil’s fault, too, for who else would challenge Maximilian’s claim? Wrangling an invitation to the summit only helped to split opinion on the right to the throne. And then there was- well- her. Maria had always been the black sheep of the family, watching her siblings bond with the same frustration and jealousy she had felt for a lifetime, but when Emil arrived… well, she saw plenty of opportunity in him. Opportunity galore. Opportunity for siblingship, yes, but more than that, too.

But treason was not a decision lightly made. Not even treason against an older brother she had so long been jealous of, so long resented for his brilliance, so often argued with. For if Maria-Magdalena threw in with Emil and Emil failed then Maria would either die a traitor, or worse; Maximilian would forgive her for it.

She did not want to be a throwaway note in the book of history. Just as she did not want to be another woman categorised only as wife or mother. The future would not pity her. Not if Maria had her way.

But still, Emil had opportunity within him, and if he could prove it worth the risk then Maria would make the heavy decision of treachery, and she would live or die by it. That was, if her hangover did not kill her first.

“Dear brother,” she answered in reply, dipping into a far more sturdy curtsy than any she managed the night before. “Would you continue to greet me as a stranger, even seeing me as much a mess as this?” She raised a pale eyebrow. Perhaps on other days she would not do away with the trappings of etiquette, but Maria believed she had lost any ability to speak politely along with the breakfast she had tried to force down earlier that morning.

#thr: emil 1 #ch: verlorener bruder #gewine #{{if she looks like she is in a bed in that icon no she doesn't}} #{{lets get MESSY}}

[habsbcrg]

godlycrowns·:

                Sense of loyalty was something that ran deeper than any other emotion in franciska body, it was one of the first things her mother had engraved into her memory. no matter who, no matter how, no matter what her family should always have her loyalty above even her own logic or common sense, family was the only people they could count in. maria-magdalena was family, her niece. 

“you have nothing to apologize for, my dear. this isn’t a choice, nor your fault.” no, it was something that just like her sense of loyalty did also ran in their blood, stronger on a few, unfortunately for the young austrian princess she was one of them.

franciska turned to see her lady come back with a different goblet, one swift move of her head gestured toward the blonde woman as the other offered the goblet to the princess. “time does not matter, nor distance, we are family. now drink.” she suggested, although it was more of a demand. “as you said, perhaps we have never been close, the age and our stations, but if you ever take anything from me sweet maria, wine is not your friend. not when you seem to have the curse of the austrian crown running so deep into your veins. it might seem like a temporary relieve at a times, but it is also an enhancer.” 

...

It was a kind sentiment, but one that Maria ultimately took issue with. It must be a choice, it must be her fault. Maximilian was their father’s son, and to her knowledge he had only snapped under the weight of this rage once. Leopold was much the same, though Maria had never seen him raise his voice in anything other than cheer. And as for her sister, is certainly seemed like she didn’t struggle in the same way Maria did, either.

She washed such thoughts away with the water presented to her. It was cool and bland, and all at once Maria felt an intense thirst come over her. Water beaded on her top lip as she drank deeply, and when she finally broke her lips from the goblet she felt much improved. Gently wiping the water from her lips with her kerchief, Maria looked at her aunt with a sheepish guilt.

”If ever there was a doubt to our shared heritage, it would surely be banished when one hears you so quickly find the root of my troubles,” she said, and dragged her eyes from Franciska’s face to the horizon, shrouded in darkness. She knew that wine was not the answer. She knew it often only loosened her tongue and self-control. She knew that she never really felt happier with a drink in hand. But still, on days such as this where the situation built and built, old habits died hard.

”Thank you,” Maria said again. She might be a firecracker and bad at keeping her tongue in check, but she still knew when to be grateful. “Perhaps it is good that we were never close as children. I am not so sure you would be so kind to me now had you experienced me in my youth.”

#thr: Franciska 1 #ch: Oh Aunty Oh Aunty #gewinde

[habsbcrg]

Belvedere - Vienna - Austria (by Terence Faircloth) 

#ästhetik

[habsbcrg]

expctance·:

it took a mighty amount of strength that archie didn’t even know he had not to throw himself into a strong current in the nearest rapids. it took even more strength not to roll his eyes and fall asleep standing up when attempting to talk to.. anyone in the room. looking to davina for help was pointless, as she most likely couldn’t care less if he did try to jump in a river nearby. if he had to endure one more conversation about the politics of the alliance that had been formed between france and italy, he’d scream. he just didn’t care.

archie longed for the days back home when he could do whatever he wanted and not worry so much about appearances and having proper etiquette. he was usually one to do and say as he felt, but since arriving in france he felt like he had binds around his wrists and a gag in his mouth, constricted. if this was how all royals lived, he was glad he wasn’t one.

and suddenly the night picked up– he loosely recognized the woman that stood before him. he could remember seeing her with davina a handful of times, and from what he could see, she was just as blunt as his betrothed. archie simply looked at maria for a moment blankly, from her hand to her face. when he saw she was dead serious, he simply obliged.

“yes, your highness,” he tried his hardest not to sound sharp or sarcastic. “though, do forgive me, as i’m not sure i know your name?” it was a bit of a lie, he knew of her, he just wanted to play games.

Oh, Maria could tell this one had some guts. Not enough to challenge her openly, but enough to stall on kissing her hand, and enough to try and undermine her. Her smile became sharp, and her chest heaved in her stays for a second as she took a deep, full breath. She took her insult, rolled it around on her tongue into something softer, prettier, and then spoke.

”Do not worry, I doubt you could pronounce it,” she said with a tilt of her head and a narrowing of her eyes. “I hear you Scotsmen aren’t very good with your tongues.”Twisting the stem of her wine glass, Maria cocked an eyebrow and licked her lips, doing her best to make the innuendo land.

"Speaking of which," she continued, and stepped closer to Archie, right into his personal space. "If I hear you ever use your tongue to displease Her Highness Davina... I will remove it myself.

#thr: archie 1 #ch: archie #gewinde

[habsbcrg]

godlycrowns·:

               In a matter of seconds the seemly peaceful room became so chaotic without making a single noise, it was unknown to them but quite familiar to franciska. it was like a ghost of the pass in which her brother josef was the protagonist. they had always been total opposites from the day she had been born. franciska had been everything her brother wasn’t, and vice versa. were josef ran hot with fits, she was cool and collected and that perhaps had been theor greatest difference and adding the age gap franciska had never had a true relationship with the former king of austria, but she had known him, of him. 

maria magdalena was his daughter without a doubt, she too had heard the king had passed his hot headed personality to the sweet princess, but this she had never came to witness, although the stories were far and many. franciska couldn’t help but wonder if they had been closer growing up if she would’ve been able to help her more, more than anyone ever had to begin with. “princess maria…” franciska began with honey in her words as she reached to the goblet. out of her reach and handed it to her lady in waiting. 

“perhaps wine is not the answer, water instead might help you soothe your stomach.” she said as she looked over her shoulder once more, it had been an order for someone else to fetch the water rather than a suggestion for the princess. “and some air, the view from the valcony is uncanny, have you taken a look yet?” she wrapped one arm around her back, resting her hand on her shoulder, and taking her hand on her free one. “come i’ll show you.” while the valcony was not far enough from the wondering eyes, franciska hoped it would help her soothe. 

...

The wine- gone. Maria’s fingers flexed as the glass left her grip. She sweated at her brow, swallowed thickly, and fumbled her hand over her aunt’s own as she was steered towards open doors like one would a skittish horse. What a mess, what an absolute mess she had made - of herself, of her family. Maria closed her eyes tight and let herself be led, guided out and into chill night air.

The breeze on her sweat-damp skin was soothing in a way no other thing could be, chasing away the clamour of the moment and leaving in its wake a strange mixture of relief and bone-deep embarrassment. She blinked her eyes open once more.

“Meine entschuldigung, meine tiefste entschuldigung,” she gasped, and took her hand from Franciska’s to wipe at her hairline. “I feel we have barely spoken despite being blood, and yet I have pushed you into this position,” Maria continued, and cursed herself silently, and cruelly. With clear unease, she looked at Franciska from the corner of her eye as she fished for a kerchief to dab at her brow and the back of her neck. “Thank you.”

#{{translation: my apologies，my deepest apologies}} #thr: Franciska 1 #ch: Oh Aunty Oh Aunty #gewinde

[habsbcrg]

hixtoryofmxn·:

In truth, Lucien’s engagement to Valentina, as well as their subsequent wedding, had come in quite the whirlwind. Under any other circumstance, Genevieve would have planned, prepared, and taken great care to ensure each and every small detail was as perfect as possible. Though, even she’d felt taken off-guard and swept up in the haste of it all. If she thought about it for too long, she could feel her head beginning to spin. Perhaps that was why she avoided thinking about it altogether. 

Certainly, she upheld and maintained her duties, as she always did, no matter the circumstance. But as of late, life itself had seemed to be one unexpected event after another, and to say the Queen was having trouble keeping up was an understatement. Still, her poise and grace in public remained. No one would ever know how upset she was by the whole matter. She’d never dare tell how confused and frightened she was, nor how angry she’d become after being repetitively targeted. 

Still she surrounded herself with good company, smiled, laughed, talked, and welcomed Valentina into the French family with what appeared to be open arms, giving none of the partygoers any reason to believe anything other than genuine love and acceptance existed. Genevieve figured she’d get through things now, and make sense of them all later. She smiled as she saw Maria approaching, their last encounter springing to mind as her eyes twinkled. 

“Bonsoir, chère demoiselle.” The Queen courtsied quickly, parrotting the greeting. Her eyes followed the other woman’s figure as it dawned upon her that she’d been drinking. Biting the inside of her cheek, Gen did her best to remain composed. “It is no trouble, truly, though your congratulations are recognized and appreciated. I am certainly grateful for your attendance this evening. It seems as though you have had a splendid time, have you not?”

...

Everything seemed to ease around Genevieve. The sickness in Maria-Madga’s stomach settled a bit, and the hubbub of voices and instruments fell away. The floor stopped its constant movement, and the frustrating itch under Maria’s stays was temporarily relieved. With tunnel-vision, Maria focused first almost completely on Genevieve’s necklace - how elegant it seemed, how pretty, how it sparkled in the candle-lights - before she tried her best to take in her host’s whole face. Oh, her mouth was moving- she was speaking, and Maria could barely parse the words.

”Oh, yes!” she said, too loud, and then corrected her volume. “A wonderful time,” she lied. She remembered her aunt’s face, her brother’s mouth moving, thought of the red-rim around Valentina’s eyes that she had tried so hard to cover up. Maria’s stomach lurched again, and she made an aborted motion to place her hand to her mouth, playing instead with a lock of hair at her neck. “I certainly look forward to the wedding, should it happen whilst the summit is still in…” the word, what was the word? “zugegen.”

#{{translation: in attendance}} #ch: genevieve #thr: genevieve 2 #gewinde #alcohol abuse tw #emetophobia tw

[habsbcrg]

Burg (Castle) Kreuzestein Austria

© M A J U L O   S I C K O

#ästhetik

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hands in various paintings by artemisia gentileschi

#ästhetik

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Lady Lucy Percy, 1637, Anthony van Dyck

#ästhetik

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Saint Michael’s Church is one of the oldest churches in Vienna, Austria.

| Photographer: Retlaw Snellac

#ästhetik