london envy


Envious peace

Not quite sure what to write for this one but I sure love it and I hope you do too.

Products used:

  • Avon true colour ridge filling base coat
  • ‘Your majesty’ by Rimmel London
  • ‘Green with envy’ by Rimmel London
  • ‘Blackout’ by Rimmel London
  • ‘White hot love’ by Rimmel London
  • Plumpy hi shine top coat by Barry M cosmetics

atratum  asked:

as always: miranda

Headcanon A: what I think realistically

Thomas had a thousand causes, and he believed in all of them passionately. He would restore Nassau, create a productive and prosperous colony out of chaos and violence, and he would do it without bloodshed, and without slave labor, and when Nassau was a pearl in the English crown and Thomas its governor he would use it as a bargaining chip for the brawl he was dying to have in Parliament and force the abolition of the slave trade in the Empire. He argued for humane treatment of the mad, for a thorough overhaul of the English workhouse, for war with the Spanish and a complete undoing of modern sodomy laws. 

Miranda organized his salons. She ordered the food, made certain there were adequate supplies of fine coffee and finer wine, comfortable seating for the men and women that Thomas needed to impress. She attended dinners at the houses of acquaintances she despised, in order that she might smile at the right man at the right moment, whisper something in his ear over piquet, and a week later that man would find himself agreeing to vote with Thomas, without ever meaning to. She acted as Thomas’s secretary, on occasion, when the clerk she hired for him had been sent home to eat and rest but Thomas was still on fire at three in the morning. She ordered him tea, raised her eyebrows at him until he drank it, and then helped him talk through his plan while copying out the letters he needed sent by special messenger as soon as the clock struck seven. 

“You are wonderfully loyal,” Lady Douglas told her after one of Thomas’s best and most persuasive evening salons, sipping the amber tokay Miranda had selected the day before. “We all know, Mrs. Hamilton, there must be no better helpmeet than yourself. But can you truly believe in your husband’s ideas?”  
Miranda was startled into a laugh. “But they are our ideas,” she said.  

Headcanon B: what I think is fucking hilarious

It took her six months to become a competent medic. Three years before she learned to bake bread without burning it. 

“You’ll master it,” James told her, choking down the blackened bread she flung onto the table with an unconvincing smile. “It just takes time.” 

James knew how to cook when she met him. How to pluck a chicken, how to season pork, how to expertly gut a fish and slice its white flesh off the bone. He was a favorite of the cook’s as a cabin boy on the Reliant, and apparently never forgot his lessons. He tried teaching her between voyages, but all her attempts came out hopeless, over-salted and under-cooked and singed at the edges. And then he’d leave again, so she never had time to properly learn.

“My table was once the envy of London, you know,” Miranda said in a dark way, as James faithfully dug into a meat pie she wouldn’t serve a dog. “I tripled my cook’s salary after stealing her from Lady Dalrymple.” 

“This isn’t half bad,” James insisted, taking a valiant swallow. He blanched a little in the aftermath, and she sighed, passed him the bottle of cheap grog he’d brought with him off the ship. 

“You’re very loyal,” she said with tired fondness, watching him gulp at the bottle. “For a black-hearted villain.” 

He put the bottle down at last. “But your black-hearted villain,” he said, and scrubbed at his mouth. 

Headcanon C: what is heart-crushing and awful but fun to inflict on friends

She once dreamed of finding Thomas in a field. 

It wasn’t prophecy. She worked hard on her land that summer, laboring until she was light on her feet, grimly determined that this miserable place would yield up something she could goddamn well use

It wasn’t at all surprising that the weeds and the hoe and the horrible heat and the relentless ache in her spine followed her into sleep. In the dream, she was working at a fresh-turned row of good black dirt, wheat growing tall around her, rustling in the wind, and her hoe struck at something in the dirt that echoed strangely in her hands. She dropped the hoe, and saw that there was a great pile of earth mounded in her way, almost like a new grave. She dropped to her knees and shoveled the earth with her hands. In this way she recovered Thomas, pink and alive, the dirt falling away from his well-loved face. He smiled at her, sat up from his grave, and wrapped her sun-burned aching self in his arms. 

“I was waiting for you,” he murmured into her hair, familiar and kind and again the person she loved most in the world.  “Waiting so long.” 

“I’m sorry,” she said, her throat hurting with sincerity. 

“Don’t be,” he said, and smiled Thomas’s smile. “You found me.” 

She woke up next to James, his body unbearably hot beside hers in the summer night around them, and jerked out of bed. She spent the rest of the night on the porch, looking out at her dark garden. 

Headcanon D: what would never work with canon but the canon is shit so I believe it anyway

“You will not promise him anything, James,” she says, her voice trembling, “until you can explain to me how you acquired that clock.”

“Mrs. Hamilton,” Peter says, and there is something in his voice that gives her pause, makes her heart pulse hard in her neck and wrists. “May I speak with you alone, for a moment.” 

James doesn’t want to let her go, but she persuades him. Promises she’ll be perfectly safe. 

In his study, Peter cuts off her accusation by handing her a letter. It’s in Thomas’s hand. 

“Look at the date,” Peter says. 

She looks at the date. She looks up at Peter in blank horror. 

“James has to pay for his sins,” Peter says softly. “But when he has–Miranda. I could bring him home to you.” 

“You’re lying,” she says, her voice thick with betrayal. All these years, she thought he was dead–that he had died alone, somewhere cold and dark. “This is a trick, your only hope I’ll forgive your treachery.” 

“Read the letter,” Peter says, drawing back to the door of the study. “Then decide.” 

It’s from Thomas. It’s Thomas’s signature, Thomas’s words, Thomas’s sentences that she thought she’d never see again. She clutches the letter like it’s a fucking lifeline, like it’s Thomas’s hand in hers at last, and tries to decide which husband to be faithful to. 


{ Sherlock Pre-Generation Au, as part of   T h e     W     H y p o t h e s i s }
Siger Holmes : “…(born  1829) was the  Marquess of  Windermere and father of the infamous detective Sherlock Holmes. Educated in philosophy and law at Oxford University, Siger was  considered one of  the most important men in British government of his time. His friends and foes alike described him as a charismatic but shrewd and cunning politician. During the Crimean War, Siger played his part as strategist and diplomat. He  died  in  1865  from encephalitis, at the age of 36.”    

Violet de Vignolles : “Violet M.L. Holmes, née De Vignolles, was the Marchioness of Windermere. Born in 1834 as the daughter of  a poor French violin maker, she grew to be a prodigious mathematician and was offered a full scholarship to attend l’université  de  Paris. After her marriage into the British elite class, she became a great  influence within Queen Victoria’s inner circle and  gained the respect and friendship of prominent women including the prestigious Double Duchess of Cavendish and Florence Nightingale.”
Rudolph Chatham : “Rudolph “ Rudy ” Chatham, the second son of the Earl of Walford, was famously known for his reputation of being England's most eligible bachelor and most accomplished flirt. Equally well-known was his  friendship with Siger and Violet  Holmes, as he would frequently visit Eastbourne and Musgrave, the Holmes‘s country estates. After his retirement from the public view, Rudolph was fondly remembered as “Uncle Rudy’ by the Holmes children.

Edward & Elizabeth Smallwood : “…was the envy of London when they were wed in the summer of 1855. Both of prominent English families, their initial happy union could not have  predicted the string of lovers that “Eddie” would go on to have or his eventual political disgrace that led to his subsequent suicide in 1888. Though once close friends, the Holmes-Smallwood relationship suffered as a result of this scandal.”

Nicole Richie making purple hair look incredibly cool and effortless.

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deaflock  asked:

If you could be a character in BBC Sherlock, who would you be and why? or would you create your own character(new) or go as yourself?

Mrs Hudson.

And only she can do this without being creepy. It’s motherly love, you know.