blog shut down

Mary has been consolidated onto the thexunextraorindary multi-muse blog

[mary-stuart-odonnell-blog]

SHUTTING DOWN THIS BLOG (but not leaving tumblr)

PSA for the small number of you who follow this blog. 

I’ve made the decision to permanently shut down this blog. There are a number of factors that have brought me to this decision, but the main two are: 

When I first made this blog, I was in a place in life where I didn’t know what I was doing or where I was going. I was depressed and tumblr rp was a place where I could stretch my creative muscles without worrying about long term goals for the content. I had a lot of time on my hands too, making it possible to manage 7+ separate rp blogs semi-actively.  If my severe drop in activity here (and, for those who follow my other blogs, over there too) wasn’t a clue already, I’m in a much better place in life now, my mental health has significantly improved, and with everything else going on in my life right now, I simply don’t have the time anymore. Mary is one of my lowest activity muses, so she was on the chopping block early on.

So why go so far as to permanently shut down and make the content inaccessible? Mary Stuart O’Donnnell is a real historical figure about whom there is very little information. I used to be amused by how my blog and pinterest boards were front page when you Google Searched her, but it’s been a few years, and the content I post on this blog has been actively affecting some of the external articles and about her. The historian in me doesn’t want to contribute to a spread of misinformation. Examples of how my writing about Mary in a historical FICTION sense has affected external sources (Wikipedia, Revolvy, & Wikiwand) in which information about her early childhood, certain details about her relationship with O’Gallagher, and the name of her maid as being Anne Baynham, all which are facts I entirely fabricated from what few facts existed. Because this is historical fiction.  I will be actively trying to undo the damage and will be continuing my personal research project into her life, with the intention of eventually writing a novel or series of novellas chronically a dramatized account of her life. But this blog, which was helpful in getting me started, is going away. 

HOWEVER Mary isn’t going away from tumblr entirely! 

I’ve created a new subsection on my low-activity multi-muse blog @thexunextraordinary for historical muses and will be getting that set up over the next few days. Any on-going threads on this blog will be transferred over there.

 This serves the dual purpose of consolidating blogs for my own sanity and keeping my blog from showing up so quickly on academic Google Searches. 

So I’ll be over there. You can also find me at the following blogs: @the-self-proclaimed-prince, @lucytrevana, @finnigankale, and @ladygodfrey

[mary-stuart-odonnell-blog]

ericbrandonrp‌:

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His lower jaw moved forward at her words, and although Eric had an answer for her, he didn’t say anything at first. In fact, no, he didn’t know any five-year olds whatsoever, except for Mary’s son. The other one was too young to throw a tantrum because Eric wasn’t his father; the poor kid probably didn’t even know about the concept of parents and the like. Hell, the boy cried because the tv was turned off.

“Oi, tha’s no’ fair!” Eric protested. Yes, he was a thief. But that didn’t mean he was teaching her children how to subtly steal things without anyone noticing. It didn’t even mean that he was going to show them that in the future - if there was a future for them. “It’s me job, I’m no’ doin’ it for fun. And I’d never even think ‘bout teachin’ ‘em tha’.” Not yet anyway. In a few years time, however…

“Look, I really luv watchin’ over the boys, and I don’t wanna sound ungrateful or anything, and I really don’t wanna be pushed outta yer loife - or their loives. Bu’…ja, I guess maybe if ye talk t’em - at least John - that may be helpful.” He could only hope it wasn’t going to backfire and in the end he was the bad guy again.

In a few years time? She gave him a light flick on the forehead at that. “Don’t you dare.” 

The humor faded as he went on, returning to the serious note of their conversation. By the way he was talking, he was serious about this. And Mary found she wasn’t sure how she felt about that just yet. It wasn’t that she entered into the relationship thinking short term. Who likes a break-up? But... he didn’t just not mind her kids, he actually actively wanted to be a part of their lives.

Part of her wanted to probe at that more. The rest was worried she’d scare him off. And, if she was honest, she was scared that if they went there, she would either end up committing to something she wasn’t ready for just yet or else let on about her own uncertainty about their future. 

So she focused on the present. In this moment, right now. There was no burden of the past or worry of the future. 

She kissed him. It was the reassurance of the affection and gratitude she felt towards him and the unspoken confirmation of the words that followed.

“I want you in our lives, Eric. I’m not pushing you away.”

[mary-stuart-odonnell-blog]

ericbrandonrp‌:

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A soft groan escaped him as she sat down on him, hands almost instantly moving to rest on Mary’s hip bones. With his head cocked back and lying on the headrest of the sofa, he looked up at her. Her attempt on cheering him up was appreciated, but he couldn’t really make himself put a smile on his features.

“I don’t wanna be what his da’ was. I don’t wanna replace him, and I don’t want him to think that I’m there to replace his da’. But he does think it. He isn’t shoutin’ and throwin’ tantrums at anyone else, just me. And when ye’re enterin’ the room, he’s the sweetest angel. It’s clear that he hates me.”

“You ever met a five-year-old who’s not a manipulative two-faced little shite of a human, have you Eric? Even the sweet ones are just playing it up for the ‘oh you’re a little angle have a biscuit.’” 

Of course, she wasn’t about to force her kid to spend time with someone who wasn’t family, especially if John felt that strongly about it. He was too young to understand that his dad wasn’t coming back, too young to understand that Eric wasn’t meant to replace him, and she knew enough about kids to know that his underdeveloped brain would just translate her making them spend time together as being her not caring for him. Moreover she didn’t want to lay that kind of groundwork - forcing him to spend time around adults he wasn’t comfortable with. Eric was safe, but there were a great many people out there who weren’t so. 

“How ‘bout this,” she said, absently thumbing through his hair. “I’ll have a chat with him about the shouting and throwing things, and if I need someone to keep an eye on the boys for a pinch, I’ll take you back off the call rotary. His aunts and uncles and all them can deal with his toy-throwing or name-calling until we get it sorted.”

“Besides, leave him alone with you for long enough and he’ll be stealing more than hearts come Secondary.” It was said mostly in jest. She didn’t mind Eric’s profession, but she wouldn’t wish it on her boys.

[mary-stuart-odonnell-blog]

ericbrandonrp‌:

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Because everything was his fault. Hell, you could have told him that he was to be blamed for the deah of JFK and he would have believed it; despite being born twenty years later. It was his father’s doing, blaming him for everything - and most of all for ruining his life. But he didn’t say anything. Instead Eric closed his eyes when he felt Mary’s fingers comb through his hair, felt her lips so gently placing a kiss on his skin.

“He’d’ve also told ‘em they’re not his da’ and that he hates ‘em?” he asked her quietly. “It’s just drainin’ me off energy, y’know? I never know how to react, what to say, what to do. And I feel loike…if he keeps hatin’ me, that,” he opened his eyes again looking straight into Mary’s, “ye’re gonna start doin’ the same.”

What he hadn’t said she could see in those aching blue eyes that looked up at her. He carried around so much guilt all the time; the weight of it was palpable. And here he was saying he was afraid she’d leave him in the dust if her son didn’t stop being an arsehole. She’d be lying if she said she wasn’t afraid of the reverse. That one day he’d decide it was just too much, dealing with both her and her kids and all the baggage that came from a late husband. 

"Look,” she said, flopping on top of him and crossing her arms on his chest. “If you hurt my kids, I’ll straight up murder you."

“But I’m not going to fault you for my son’s misbehaving, you hear? I’m not raising some spoiled brat who’ll be crying ‘Mammy! Mammy!’ every time he can’t get his way. An’ I don’t expect you to be all his dad would’ve been for him either. He’s his granddads, his uncles, and all sorts of good men to help raised him up to be a good man. You’re just different ‘cause your MY good man.”

[mary-stuart-odonnell-blog]

ericbrandonrp‌:

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The thief tilted his head to the side, studying Mary’s face with a deep frown on his own. Well, at least it was good to know that it was definitely in the family; maybe he should tell her that his own wasn’t any different in that department…

“Wha’ d’ye mean with a big reaction? I didn’t yell at him, if that’s wha’ ye mean. Didn’t slap him or anything. I just picked the toys up and put ‘em back where they belong.” Was that wrong? He wasn’t exactly a picture perfect father, had often been away when he had still been married. He knew nothing about five-year olds, and only a tiny bit about children younger than that.

“And then he shouted at me for doin’ that, ‘cause I touched his toys,” he finished. “He can get really loud, in case ye haven’t noticed. Give it a ten.”

Loud was definitely a word one could use to describe her older son. John was loud and opinionated just like his granddad. 

“Yeah. Future Broadway star, that one.” That was said with a hint of amusement. She reached over to card through his hair. “You did the right thing there, as best you could. And we’re working on the whole anger expression issues and all that. You could’ve been anyone and he’d’ve done the same.”

Her hand brushed back his hair and she leaned down to kiss his forehead. “You’re always blamin’ yourself your everything, Eric. Why’re you always doing that? You’re a right good fella, a’ight?”

[mary-stuart-odonnell-blog]

ericbrandonrp‌:

-

It wasn’t easy for Mary, he understood that very well - but it also wasn’t easy for him. Being in a family where the father, the man of the house, had died, with two kids wanting nothing more than that man in their life - and here Eric was now, a complete stranger, though having spent so much time with them already. Knowing that he might not ever have children of his own, it hurt twice as much to not be accepted, and he knew that mothers put their kids before anything else. So if that didn’t change, if her sons didn’t change their minds eventually, it was on Eric to leave.

“Ye shoulda seen him a couple days ‘go…I wanted to cut his food for him, and he screamed at me - then he threw his toys at me.” He sighed, glancing over at Mary. “I don’t know what to do anymore. Wha’s ‘givin’ him toime’ mean? Not talk to him? Ignore him?”

“He’s throwing shite at you?” Out of everything that was the part that stuck out. She’d had enough anger issues growing up even with both parents in the picture. And so had her dad. And her grandma. They had an unfortunate family history of bring hot-headed. The kinds of kids who came home sporting black eyes and smug smiles.

When he was a toddler, she’d thought him just temperamental as some kids were. But he was FIVE now and that just wasn’t an okay way for him to deal with frustration.  

“You’re not giving him some big reaction are you? It’s what he’s fishing for. We O'Donnell's are like that.”

[mary-stuart-odonnell-blog]

ericbrandonrp‌:

open ||

“Yer kids hate me.” The thief slumped down on the sofa, a deep sigh escaping his lips, his hands moving up to rub over his face. God, he was tired of this. Needed a cigarette, even though he had quit smoking years ago. Eric cocked his head back and stared up at the ceiling. “Not even that stupid ‘I’m not tryin’ to replace yer dad’ speech helps. They hate me, and that’s a fact.”

Mary rolled her eyes. He was being so dramatic about it all. “Turlough’s two. He can’t even figure out whether or not he likes peas or pumpkin on the daily.”

She plopped down on the sofa next to him, her hand ruffling through his hair. 

“And John’ll warm up to you. You just have to give him time.” 

It had been two years since her husband passed away. Left alone and grief-stricken with a newborn and a three-year-old, taking the time to mourn had been a luxury scarcely afforded, even with her parents’ and in-law’s help with the kids. But two years had passed, and though the ache never fully healed, she finally felt ready to step back into the dating scene. But it was all so different with a family in the mix. She was grateful to have found someone who didn’t mind, and actually liked her kids. Her kids however? THEY weren’t so keen on the idea of HIM. 

[mary-stuart-odonnell-blog]

// Hey guys, sorry I haven’t been very active over here this past month. I haven’t had a lot of Mary muse lately and so far there’s no sign of it coming back any time soon, so I’m officially going on a hiatus from this blog. 

For now you can find me at the following blogs: @the-self-proclaimed-prince, @thehousebrady,  @lucytrevana, @finnigankale, and @ladygodfrey

Love you all  ♥ And Mary will definitely be back in the future. I’m sure of it ^.^

[flyse]

Interior of Antwerp Cathedral at Night, Pieter Neefs the Elder (Flemish, ca. 1578–1656 to 1671), 1638

Oil on panel

[elusivefop]

“ we seek him here, we seek him there, those frenchies seek him everywhere! is he in heaven? or is he in hell? that demmed elusive pimpernel! ”   ind. & prv. sir percy blakeney of ‘the scarlet pimpernel.’ established 2019. written by skye. ©

[mary-stuart-odonnell-blog]

ericbrandonrp‌:

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“Don’t worry, I’m a good kisser,” Eric reassured her quietly, a small mischievous smirk curving up his lips before he eventually leaned forward and closed the gap between them to pull her lips into a kiss. It might have seemed like a romantic moment to people watching them; to Eric it was simply an act that he could enjoy a little at the same time. The man behind him, however, was still watching them. Not once did he move his gaze away from the two, not even when he reached for his bottle and took a sip of his drink.

When Eric pulled away again, the smile had grown wider, and his gaze found Mary’s. “Wasn’t that bad, was it? Is he still watching?”

What might have been a sparks flying kickoff to romantic entanglement were she, say fifteen, was anticlimactically exactly what they said it would be: an act. She’d been around the block a few times and wasn’t easily enchanted. 

She let herself lean into it, eyes lingering shut for a beat after he pulled away as if lost in the ‘moment’ between them. All things considered, he was a pretty decent kisser. She’d had worse. Especially when it came to boys. 

The only problem: the man their little act was for... was still watching. Didn’t even flinch. Not a hint of embarrassment or shame or anything. He just. Kept. Watching. 

Mary’s eyes flicked over to his and she gave him a look that just said: What’s your problem? As she might anyone who was creeping on her and a date. And then, in a pointed way of showing him that she was just going to ignore him, she got up and slid into Eric’s side of the booth. An arm slipped around his shoulders and she came close, as if about to kiss him again. 

"Yeah,” she finally said. “We’re fucked.” Her fingers carded through his already messy hair affectionately. With their faces so close and their backs mostly turned to him, their spy, stalker, or whatever he was couldn’t even read their lips anymore if he tried. Still, she kept a smile, just in case he caught a glimpse. 

“So did he follow you or did Andre rat us both out?” Andre was the contact middleman. He was the only one who knew she was planning to meet with Eric.

[mary-stuart-odonnell-blog]

supermuses‌:

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Gudrid did not know whether to be surprised or angered at the woman’s words. Her assumption about a heathen committing this act was correct afterall but she still felt the rush of anger at her people being labelled heathens. Rather a heathen than a Christian, she thought bitterly.

“Why would a heathen commit such a horrific act on a prominent holy figure? Surely that would bring much unwanted attention to their blasphemous ways.” Gudrid speculated, hoping she could put a stop to the woman’s theory. It would bring too much unwanted attention to the vampire if anybody were to take it seriously.

“You should not say such things.” Gudrid told the woman, looking around to see if anybody had heard them, “If the wrong people heard you, they might suspect you to be the heathen.”

Whatever the truth may be about the bishop’s death, this woman was wise in closing the topic before anyone overheard and got the wrong idea about their religious and political standing. There was enough turmoil surrounding her family as things were. She had refused to be a pawn in their political games, and now the consequences were beginning to catch up with her and the whole O’Donnell clan. 

She gave the dark-haired, pale woman curious look. 

“Where do you hail from?” she asked. “You speak Italiano well, but the accent is one with which I am unfamiliar.” It was almost a mix of several, as if she had spent much of her life without digging deep roots into any one region.

[mary-stuart-odonnell-blog]

matriarcarivera‌:

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“Coco es mi hija,” Imelda answered, “My only daughter. My only child” She reiterated. There had been a time when she had thought, quizás, one day, Coco would have a little hermano o hermana, but…no Héctor had stolen that from his niñita too. The mere thought, the unexpected memoria slipping throughout without Imelda’s permission, caused her to tense, her fingers flexing, almost make fists. She took a breath and tried to relax herself.

“She is in her twenties ahora,” She added, in case the otra mujer thought it was a little girl who was being bothered by noises and mishaps. “But we are a very close familia and we all live and work together” Imelda’s own hermanos shared the hacienda with them, a home that would eventually be forced to grow in size to accommodate a growing familia when Coco had children of her own. 

Imelda would keep her familia together at any cost. 

“But she is at the mercado now…she is not here to answer any of your preguntas” Imelda shook her head with a frown and added, “Lo siento, but I still do not understand what this is all about. What you are hoping for…”

Mary’s expression softened when Senora Imelda explained about her hija y familia. There was a tinge of something that flickered across the matriarch’s eyes - Mourning? No, anger. It was gone as quickly as it came, but it didn’t escape her notice. She made a note to prod later. Perhaps related to someone who had hurt her daughter in some way? Or maybe the absent father? 

“Large threats and societal disturbances often start as tremors in the night. If it is only los ratones o alborotadores. then there is no need to worry. But we would rather be certain than dismiss the issue without investigation.” 

“Might I be able to interview the other miembros de tu familia? When they have time, of course.” She was fully ready to monetarily compensate them for their time if necessary. 

[mary-stuart-odonnell-blog]

// I’m sorry guys I’ve been hella distracted with my new sci fi blogs. Will do replies over here this week, I promise! 

[finnigankale]

THE GODFREYS ( @ladygodfrey ) an interplanetary family-run business empire LUCY TREVANA ( @lucytrevana )  a Callistan noblewoman on the run from assassins FINNIGAN KALE ( @finnigankale ) a scrappy space pirate searching for purpose in life

Non-selective - Safe for Work - OC and fandom friendly

♥ Come by and say hi~

[mary-stuart-odonnell-blog]

// Okay, I think I’m all caught up on replies. Please let me know if I owe you a reply or starter! :)

[mary-stuart-odonnell-blog]

supermuses‌:

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“That surely cannot be true! I refuse to believe that a holy man would act in such a way that would betray the Lord.” Gudrid let out a shocked gasp and shook her head, hoping that it seemed somewhat believable. She could never understand the conflict between the two branches of the same religion, they should be thankful that others worship their God.

“What if-?” Gudrid started before purposely lowering her voice, “What if this murder was the work of Protestants? I would not put it past them to do such a barbaric attack to cast doubt on the Holy Catholic Church.”

Mary viewed that theory with a measure of skepticism. 

“The Protestants may have heretical beliefs about the nature of Christ and His Holy Church, but I cannot see any of their sects committing such an unnatural crime. If it were the act of man, rather than the divine, then it surely would be one who has no knowledge of the Lord. Either one who willfully rejects Him or one who worships the gods of heathens.” 

The next was said quietly, as if for fear of anyone nearby overhearing. “And what a sorry state this war has brought us to, that heathens are left to bring about the justice of God, on account of his own Holy Church’s negligence.”