Aesthetic Dress
Liberty & Co., 1890s
Kerry Taylor Auctions
Orange means healing.
Central Florida Emergency Trans Care Fund
Equality Florida
ACLU Florida
Tampa Bay Abortion Fund
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Clock
A pewter and enamel mantel timepiece designed by Archibald Knox, Liberty & Co., circa 1905
4½-inch enamel dial decorated with berries, the French movement with lever platform escapement, the rectangular case cast with stylised leaves, the base stamped English Pewter Made by Liberty & Co., 0609, Rd.468016
21cm., 8¼in.
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Arts & Crafts Style Compote Dish. Designed by Archibald Knox (not Charles Robert Ashbee as stated by the museum photo source) for Liberty & Co. and manufactured ca. 1901–1905. Materials are glass produced by James Powell & Sons of Whitefriars and polished ‘Tudric’ pewter. Photo credits: Herbert F. Johnson Museum of Art, Cornell University, object number 99.078.112 & Titus Omega antique dealers.
(Source: emuseum.cornell.edu & titusomega.com)
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Necklace (1899) designed by Archibald Knox (1864-1933) for Liberty & Co's Cymric range of jewellery.
Gold with turquoise and blister pearls.
Museum of New Zealand
Te Papa Tongarewa. CC BY-NC-ND 4.0
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Bleeding Heart
Kurt Hansen/OC
Wanna hear a bad joke? A corpo walks into Dogtown and falls for the warlord—
Yea, it doesn’t end well.
Victoria feels a pang of…something when she looks over the hospital bed. Deeply unpleasant in its familiarity, even if she refuses to name it directly. It catches her by the throat and squeezes, the chrome column doing nothing to abate the pressure.
The mighty Kurt Hansen brought low, lingering on death’s door at the hands of the desperate and too stubborn to step through of his own accord.
She had learned from the coup, from the soft warmth of Yorinobu’s guts in her hands and the taste of iron still caught between her teeth. There were no gods amongst men, none of meat. Kurt was flesh, bone, and wire. Human, like the lowest scum of Night City’s gutters. Killable.
Tantalising so at times. She had stayed her own hand too often to count; restrained at first by calculation and timing and Michiko’s insistence that things are kept civil between them and the best bulwark they had against the NUSA. And then, though she was loath to speak it aloud, by the wretched thing in her chest that felt lighter at the sight of him. It tightens now, caught in the same grip that holds her throat. There’s no relief to be found in the steady beep of the monitors or the slow rise and fall of his chest. None.
“I should kill you,” She says as she steps closer, slow in her meander to his bedside, “it’d be a kindness, honestly.”
He should bark a laugh and make some smart ass comment about mistaking ruthlessness for kindness, and she’d roll her eyes, waving him away in a dismissive motion. They’re the same, just different words for mercy.
Ruthlessness is mercy for herself, kindness for others. The latter is a dwindling supply in Night City, and she’s low in stock.
But he doesn’t laugh and she doesn’t reply, instead the chair creaks as she sits and reaches for his hand, her fingers threading through his. He must be low in it too, otherwise he’d have the decency to die already. It’d make things so much easier; he flatlines, a vacuum is left, and Arasaka can push a malleable substitute into the space he stood. Easy. Downright textbook.
How it used to be done; when the Arasaka at the head wasn’t known for a gentle heart and when her own didn’t twist traitorously at the mere thought. Michiko’s lips had pulled downward when she called to update, her fine brow scrunched.
“I’m sorry,” she said, as if it was some plan of her own design that went haywire. “Will he recover?”
“If we allow it.”
“Good.” and then that smile, that gentle all-too-knowing smile. She considers Michiko her little dove, but she could be quite the snake when she wanted to. It was yet to be known if she was venomous. “Keep yourselves safe, Victoria.”
Something’s been moved across the board, a piece into position. Her maybe, for the roiling need to bare her teeth is prickling uncomfortably, itching at her gums with no one to threaten.
She sighs deeply as she leans into the chair, squeezing his fingers between hers as she lifts his hand and clasps it between her own. It’s scuffed, the dull black etched grey, dented too. His fingers a tad stiff. That will need to be seen to – later, when she’s settled. Sated with the scent of fried circuitry and the death rattle of whoever she deems appropriate.
She imagines hopes the FIA aren’t done in Dogtown. Clean-up is likely in full swing; a loitering agent or two, disposable. Or maybe it’ll be a stray; a mutt of his own pack smelling opportunity with how thick it is in the air. Its usual sweetness tinged by something rotten for her.
Later. That’ll come later.
For now, she settles as best she can on the stiff-backed chair and presses a kiss to his knuckles. “You’re lucky I’m a little bit fond of you, Hansen.”
An understatement, but he’s not awake to call her on it. She’ll take advantages of his state where she can.
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Aesthetic Dress
Liberty & Co., 1894
The Victoria & Albert Museum
Green means nature.
Central Florida Emergency Trans Care Fund
Equality Florida
ACLU Florida
Tampa Bay Abortion Fund
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#OTD in 1868 – Birth of Irish patriot and revolutionary, Countess Constance Markievicz, née Gore-Booth in London.
Countess Markievicz, born Constance Georgine Gore Booth, politician, revolutionary, tireless worker with the poor and dispossessed, was a remarkable woman. Born into great wealth and privilege, she lived at Lissadell House in Co Sligo. She is most famous for her leadership role in the 1916 Easter Rising and the subsequent revolutionary struggle for freedom in Ireland.
Born in 1868, Constance was…
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