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stardust-swan · 1 year

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My Marie Antoinette Inspired Wishlist 🍰🏛🧴

Beauty, Fashion and Bath Time

🍰 Anthropologie Retrofete Rosewood Choker

🍰 Anthropologie Chan Luu Crystal and Pearl Masquerade Choker

🍰 Evelyn and Crabtree Verbana and Lavender Hand Cream

🍰 Gisou Honey Infused Hair Oil

🍰 French Girl Rose Sea Soak

🍰 French Girl Rose Sea Polish

🍰 Fresh Rose Toner

🍰 Herbivore Botanical Pink Clay Soap

🍰 Hot Chocolate Femme Revolution Mid Heels

🍰 Hot Chocolate Marie Antoinette High Heels

🍰 Jurlique Rose Hand Cream

🍰 Jurlique Rosewater Balancing Mist

🍰 Ladurée Rose Petal Blush

🍰 L'Occitane Almond Delicious Hands

🍰 L'Occitane Almond Shower Oil

🍰 L'Occitane Shea Butter Delightful Rose Hand Cream

🍰 L'Occitane Shea Lavender Extra Gentle Soap

Mon Guerlain Eau De Parfum

🍰 Ouai Rose Hair and Body Oil

🍰 Panier Des Sens Rejuvenating Rose Soap

🍰 Pre De Provence Lavender Soap

🍰 Pre De Provence Honey Almond Soap

🍰 Rococo Pink Mule Heels

🍰 YSL Mon Paris Eau De Parfum

Food

🍰 Debauve and Gallais Thé Marie Antoinette

🍰 Billecart-Salmon Champagne Brut Rosé

🍰 Charbonnel et Walker Pink Marc De Champagne Truffles

🍰 Debauve and Gallais Marie Antoinette Chocolate Coins

🍰 Ghirardelli White Chocolate Crème Brûlée Duet Hearts

🍰 Godiva Chocolate Truffles

🍰 Jean-Paul Hévin Classical Chocolate Box

🍰 Ladurée Chocolate Squares

🍰 Ladurée Macarons

🍰 Ladurée Marie Antoinette Cake

🍰 Ladurée Marie Antoinette Tea

🍰 Ladurée Marie Antoinette Tea Delight Jam

🍰 Ladurée Pink Sugared Almonds

🍰 La Maison du Chocolat Dauphine Hatbox

🍰 Le Sirop De Monin: French Vanilla, Glasco Lemon, Lavender, Rose, Violet

🍰 Moët et Chandon Rosé Imperial Champagne

🍰 Nina's Paris Thé De Marie Antoinette

🍰 Pierre Marcolini Three-Drawer Chocolate Gift Box

Entertainment

🍰 The Affair of the Necklace (2001)

🍰 Eighteenth-Century French Fashion Plates in Full Color: 64 Engravings from the "Galerie des Modes," 1778-1787

🍰 Farewell, My Queen (2012)

🍰 Fashion Victims: Dress at the Court of Louis XVI and Marie Antoinette

🍰 The History and Haunting of the Palace of Versailles

🍰 Ladurée Macarons: The Recipes

🍰 Laduree: The Savory Recipes

🍰 Ladurée Sucré: The Sweet Recipes

🍰 Ladurée Tea Time: The Art of Taking Tea

🍰 Queen of Fashion: What Marie Antoinette Wore to the Revolution

🍰 Marie Antoinette: A Film by David Grubin

🍰 Marie Antoinette (1938)

🍰 Marie Antoinette (2006) on DVD

🍰 Marie Antoinette (2006) Film Book

🍰 Marie Antoinette (2006) Soundtrack Vinyl

🍰 Marie Antoinette - Hélène Delalex

🍰 Marie Antoinette: The Journey

🍰 Marie Antoinette: The Making of a French Queen

🍰 Memoirs of the Court of Marie Antoinette

🍰 Trianon and the Queen's Hamlet at Versailles: A Private Royal Retreat

🍰 Versailles: A Biography of a Palace

🍰 Versailles DVD Box Set

🍰 Versailles: The Great and Hidden Splendours of the Sun King's Palace

Home

🍰 Diptyque Orange Blossom Candle

🍰 Diptyque Orange Blossom Room Spray

🍰 Diptyque Roses Candle

🍰 Diptyque Roses Room Spray

🍰 Fragonard "The Swing" Print

🍰 French Tufted Bench Mauve Pink

🍰 Ladurée Cups and Saucers by Gien

🍰 Ladurée Teapot by Gien

🍰 Marie Antoinette Figure

🍰 "Marie Antoinette With a Rose" Print

🍰 Royal Albert Polka Rose Cake Stand Two-Tier

🍰 Royal Albert Rose Confetti Tea Cup and Saucer Set

🍰 Royal Albert 100 Years Three-Tier (Bouquet, Blush & Golden Rose) Cake Stand, 13.8"

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raedear · 1 year

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"Joe played well last night," Andy remarks. "Wouldn't you agree?"

'Joe played well last night,' Andy remarks. 'Wouldn't you agree?'

'I wouldn't know,' Nicky replies, not looking up from where he's fussing with the piano stool. Someone's changed the height, and now he feels awkwardly tall in front of the keys.

'How can you not know? You know how Stravinsky sounds played well.'

'Because I didn't watch.' The piano stool drops three inches with startling suddenness, and Nicky fumbles to catch himself, accidentally slamming the tips on his fingers against the keys in an atonal cluster that echoes through the rehearsal room.

'What's your problem with him?' demands Andy, never one for gentle words when a direct question will do.

'What?'

'Don't play dumb with me,' Andy snaps, shoving Nicky roughly off the piano stool. He stumbles away, glaring at her half-heartedly. She doesn't even give him the dignity of glaring back, just sets about fixing the mess he's made of his stool. 'You know exactly what I'm talking about.'

He does, but he can't say he's proud of it.

It feels like everywhere he turns now, he sees Joe. Worse than it had been before he stumbled across Joe outside of the stage door. Joe skulks around the hallways of the royal albert hall, somehow always exactly where Nicky wants to be.

He wants tea (a craving he never had before he lived in England, and it felt like he couldn't pause without someone offering him a cup) and Joe's in the staff kitchen, eating cheap instant noodles and laughing with the cleaners.

He wants a cigarette break, and Joe's outside, talking to someone on his phone in a language Nicky doesn't speak and looking sad as he does it.

He wants to talk to Andy, and Joe's perched on her dressing room table, swinging his feet like a child and looking at Nicky with eyes that haven't changed in fifteen years.

And everywhere Nicky sees Joe, Nicky avoids. He turns away without his tea. He slips out the public entrance to smoke, even though it annoys the security guards. He mutters vague promises about speaking to Andy later, and waits till she finds him first.

He hasn't been remotely discreet. He's been polite, at least, when he has to be. But he can't quite seem to reach for the friendly that Joe hoped for. Nicky's barely managing professional.

'It's... nothing you need to be concerned about,' Nicky manages, barely. Andy snorts, closing the cover over the piano keys with a click that usually soothes something in Nicky, but now rattles up his spine like a weapon cocked.

'Cut the bullshit, Nicolò. What's going on?'

Nicky's never been one to reach for his phone unless he truly has to, he doesn't like to have hot drinks around his piano when he's practicing, and Andy is still sitting in front of his sheet music and pen. He has nothing to fidget with, and nothing to hide behind to spare him from Andy's razor sharp glare.

With a sigh, Nicky sits on the floor, slumping back to rest his head against the padded wall.

'I'm surprised he hasn't told you,' Nicky says, aware his tone is bitter, but helpless to be otherwise. 'It must make for a hilarious anecdote.'

Andy waits him out. It doesn't take long. Nicky scrubs his hands over his face, and clutches at his hair after.

'That's not fair,' he says, more to his knees than Andy. 'I didn't mean that.' He drops his hands. They feel so heavy, all of a sudden. 'I...we have a history. A rather humiliating one for me. I hadn't seen him in so long that I'd almost started to forget. It's...hard, to see him now.'

Andy is the strongest, most frightening person Nicky has ever met. At the same time, she's also one of the warmest, most caring people he could ever hope to know. He sees that now, in the softening of her eyes and the twist at the corner of her mouth.

'Hard like you can't work with him?' For all Andy shamelessly put together he and Joe's upcoming summer sessions, Nicky knows her well enough to trust that if he asks and truly means it, she'll undo everything she's done.

'No,' says Nicky, quietly. He means it, but his voice is weak. 'No, I can work with him. I'll toughen up eventually.

'What did he do to you?' Andy asks, leaning forward on the piano stool to peer at him.

Nicky shrugs, smiles as best he can, tries to ignore all the other answers that present themselves as he replies:

'Broke my heart, once upon a time.'

Part one

Part two

Part three

Part four

#ask me anything my dudes #i need to come up with a name for this verse #send me your favourite pieces for piano/violin and piano+violin maybe?#or more first lines #that would be helpful too

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venusmoon · 8 months

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hii, thank you darling @chantilliy for tagging me 🫶🏻

the first celebrity + outfit + quote + aesthetic pic that show up on your pinterest are your vibe

okay so.

1) this photo of marilyn monroe is really lovely and it definitely fits my vibe <3

2) i'd wear this outfit :-) i love plaid skirts. also how fun, i recently read emma!

3) okay i had to scroll down a lot to find this pic because i don't use pinterest for quotes. eventually i found these lyrics from "a case of you" by joni mitchell– i love this song <3

4) this was the first pic that showed up in my pinterest and!!!! i KNOW that tea cup!!!! it's a wedgwood fine china, from the royal albert set: 100 years of royal albert. there's 5 tea cups, each one inspired from a decade from 1900 to 1940 (then there's another set, the 1950-1990 one). this is the first one of the set... the beautiful regency blue <3 the gold! the pattern!! so elegant, definitely my favorite.

i am tagging @iidsch @winedark @kommunarde @bittersweetish @femmerald @mothprincess @heavenlyyshecomes @takethemonet-andletsgogh @intuitioned @sailermoon @marusyenka and anyone else who wants to do this <3 no pressure!

#i am at home sick and doing this gave me a brilliant idea: listening to my favorite joni mitchell's albums #she will cure my fever #diary

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homomenhommes · 1 month

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Royal Albert Old Country Roses Basket of Eggs. (Not mine) since so many of you love the Old Country Roses pattern I thought you might enjoy this. I didn't know they made such a big variety of things other than dish and tea sets!

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timmymyluv · 2 years

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act five.

of the let others wage war-you, happy child, marry.

future tsar/tsesarevich!timothee chalamet x princess!reader x romanov prince!louis partridge

series masterlist

act i

act ii

act iii

act iv

main masterlist

Summary: In foreign land, you travel with your family to England to celebrate your sister Alexandra's marriage to the Prince of Wales. Facing the daunting reality of growing up, and losing your family spread across the continent as your royal profile rises, you learn power comes at a price.

Notes: and finally I'm writing again! I hit a little writing rut and was afraid this would be a filler chapter but every chapter is important and drives the story forward. I hope you enjoy it and please comment & send lots of love and feedback. Thanks!

“—it seemed as if she could dream her life away in such luxury of pensiveness, in which she made her present all in all, from not daring to think of the past, or wishing to contemplate the future.”

― Elizabeth Gaskell, North & South

Crowds cheered as they assembled in droves by the dock, a cloudy, gloomy early September day as your family embarked on the royal yacht the English sent on their behalf called the Victoria and Albert. Hearing your national anthem sung so proudly, you watched Alexandra tear up, moved by the patriotism of her people, and the anguish and grief of leaving her home country for her marriage.

As the boat left the coast, you all waved to your people before you began your hour long journey across the Baltic Sea, then crossing into the English Channel to make your way to your sister’s new motherland.

Feeling her frail, boney hands in yours, you clutch her tight towards yourself, an affirming, comforting squeeze to appease her nerves to the best of her ability. A gentle smile towards her, and she cannot help but mirror your expression, at ease knowing you were there for her.

Falling asleep in her arms, the flickering moonlight peaking through the blinds until you had arrived at Kent in broad daylight. The sun had risen, much earlier than it usually did in Copenhagen or even as far as Aarhus, and the crowds that gathered easily outnumbered the Danes back home. No wonder they said the sun never set in the British Empire, for in every corner of the Earth, touched their influence.

The weeks leading up to the toned down matrimonial service in St. George’s Chapel, cramped and paltry rather than the palatial Westminster Abbey out of the queen’s desire to remain in mourning for her late husband the Prince, and keep it an intimate, brief affair with only a minimal guest list and the most important individuals present only.

Whenever you were not busy socializing with the guests as part of the bride’s side of the family, ceremonial teas, brunches, dinners, fundraisers, rehearsals, dress fittings, you would drown yourself in your ink and parchment.

While your fiance explored Italy, Greece, before making his way to France to join his mother, you wrote to him daily, reaffirming the love you had for him even from a distance, worryingly asking if he still felt the same even after time apart, which he was glad to silence and quiet with his sweet, honeyed promises.

"You tell me that I hold the happiness of a certain person in my hands", she wrote to Timothee. "If that is true, then his happiness is assured forever… this person loves me tenderly, and I love him in return, and that will be my happiness… you can be certain that I love you more than I ever can say"

Setting aside your quilt and roll of parchment by your bedside, you tuck into bed, feeling your warm sheets against your feet and blow the candle before you fall into the sweet embrace of slumber and nightly rest.

…

Blurry visions that you struggle to make sight off plague your peripheral vision. Arrived in haste with tired feet, you are drawn into a crowded, drawy bedroom in an unknown location, surrounded by pitiful murmurings, and ravaged sobbing.

The hastily yet pompously dressed congregations parts for you to make through, the dim light shining down of what appears to be your dear Timothee in his bed, heavily weakened in his pale complexion, teary eyes, and swollen phalanges, looking dreamlike and angelic in his off-white cream blouse stained with sweat and droplets of blood from his throat and nose.

Beside him stood his mother, looking frailer than ever, barely hanging on in her angular, emaciated form, tight fingers gripping on her son so taut as if he was to fade away right in front of her.

Across from Timothee on the bed that stood in the centre of the bedroom was his younger brother, the Grand Duke Alexander, tall and muscular as he crouched down and wept into his brother’s shoulder with no restraint.

Hearing you approach with hesitant footsteps, both mother and son look up at you with mirroring images of dismal grief and wracked desperation. In his blissful serenity, intoxicated by the morphine and painkillers prescribed hopelessly by his throng of doctors that gathered from all over Europe, Timothee manages a faint, yet reassured beam.

“How beautiful is she my Dagmar, right Mother?” He croaks, and as if on cue, his mother bursts into screeched wailing into her son’s arms.

Feeling your own tears brim, you shake your head profusely, in denial that he was slipping from your grasp, that life was to leave him.

“We have done all that we could, Your Royal Highness. We had mistaken his symptoms of fatigue, back pain and sensitivity to light for rheumatism but it was not so. He is suffering with cerebro-spinal meningitis, and we had taken too long to discover it that it has spread up to His Imperial Highness’ brain and spine. We are truly sorry, Your Royal Highness.” The jittery, trembling voice of the grey-haired, eccentrically mustached doctor only felt like daggers that went through your heart.

Taking your hand into his, as unsteady and frigid as it was to your sweltering own in the height of the summer heat, Timothee gathers all of his strength to join your palms into his brother Alexander’s much larger hands, settling it adamantly against his chest, skeletal and bony from the weight he had lost in rapid succession.

“Pug, Sasha- when I am to pass, you must fulfill not only my responsibility to Russia, as Tsar- but to my Dagmar. You must take her hand when I am no longer on this Earth. You must-promise me.” He whispers before he is interrupted by a gruesome cough, his phlegm laced with nasty infected mucous and porous blood.

Sasha defiantly refuses incipiently, begging implorably and insisting that his episode of illness will pass, that he will live to walk down the aisle to make you his wife, and rule Imperial Russia as Tsar, but his hope dimmed by the second.

As Timothee makes his last breath, a single tear flows down his cheeks, and you are overwhelmed with grief that weighs on your chest and entire being. Embracing him so securely your knuckles turned white and your chest pressed firmly against him as you vociferously wail above the similar sounds of the flock that huddled around you.

His mother Maria Alexandrovna and the silhouette of who appears to be his father the Tsar Alexander II, whom you have barely met and only recognized from portraits and sparse carte-de-visites, clamber to clumsily pull you off from his lifeless form, overcome with their own grief.

The seconds become hours, then days, to weeks and months that fade into one that time becomes incomprehensible. Falling in and out of sleep as you are in a daze that cannot be broken, rotting and melting into your bedsheets, refusing to wear anything but black, clothes fitting too loosely as you become so slim, so frail in your mourning that everyone in the royal circle worried about you. If only you could wake up from such bereavement, such melancholy-

You abruptly sit up from your bed, drenched in sweat and salty tears that trickled down into your collarbones and chest. Your laced chemise clung to your skin as you had dramatically pushed away your jacquard duvet in your restless dream.

Hearing your heartbeat thump so loudly against your ribcage that you can hear it vibrate against your eardrums, you wipe away the tears and perspiration that smothered you in such a dreadful, compelling dream that was all of your fears coming to the surface.

Calming and soothing yourself as you wrapped your arms around your knees, reminding yourself that it was only a dream, only your subconscious that has been overwhelmed and exhausted from the events that had been preoccupying you in a foreign country that gave you an insight on the future that could await you.

Striding away covertly into the quiet, yet well furnished kitchen in the cottage your family was to remain in before your return to Copenhagen, Dagmar reaches shakily for a glass bottle of water and pours into a small glass for herself.

Gulping, pouring the cool water down your parched throat gives you slight but much needed relief from your state of desperation and skittishness. Pondering in the darkness with nothing but a miniature lighted candle in hand, you bite away trivial tears before you pour another glass for yourself.

You do your best to return back to slumber in your mattress, but it is never to the same depth and comfort as before your dream. You fear you will never sleep the same again, if your dreams could become so severe, so ghastly that it will spill into your waking life.

…

Queen Victoria requests for your presence after an early supper and horseback riding race down the track in Balmoral Castle.

You winced as you falteringly trodded towards her office accompanied by a trusted Scottish companion of hers who had been personally sent for your company and speak with her alone.

Ruffling your unruly curls that had been flying freely as you rid your stallion and beat the Queen’s second son Prince Alfred, the Duke of Edinburgh closely, before being scolded by one of the senior officials present for your lack of protocol due to your dearth of a riding hat that proper ladies, and more especially, royal princesses were supposed to adorn.

“Her Royal Highness Princess Dagmar of Denmark, Your Majesty.” The royal herald announces your arrival as you stand rigidly by the gold engraved cream door, fiddling with the smooth cloth of your hoop skirt anxiously.

“Let her in, and shut the door. I would like to speak to her alone.” As her quiet yet profoundly dignified voice echoes in the room, her thrush of servants and maids leave the room promptly, before the door is shut emphatically behind you.

“Come my dear, you stand there as if I would bite you.” Queen Victoria jests, as you stare at her with round, frightened eyes before you curtsey hastily and make your way across her oak desk.

“Your Majesty, it is an honour to be in your presence and to be requested for a private audience with our dear Queen. to what do I owe the pleasure?” Looking up from your feet, you glance politely before you speak in a rehearsed tone, your hands folded closely in front of you.

A glimmer passes by the elderly Queen’s ostensibly expressionless round, plump face, her silver and grey hair sticking through her signature onyx hued velvet fascinator pinned to the top of her head. You gulp nervously as if you were scolded as a child once more.

“It has come to my attention that my second son, Alfred, has claimed you as an object of his fancy. He finds you very pleasing, pretty and fascinating enough that he would very much desire to request for your hand in marriage. I am not opposed to such a match, as much as I do not fondly look forward to another Danish match in our family. However, it would work fabulously well in which you could live in a household close to your sister.” She challenges you almost pointedly, and you balance in your head how to manage not to offend such a demanding, prideful yet protective matron figure.

“I am warmly grateful that Her Majesty believes me to be as equally worthy a marriage prospect into the House of Saxe-Coburg-Gotha as my dear sister Alexandra, but I regret to inform you that I am already bethrothed to the Tsesarevich Timothee of Russia, Your Majesty.” You reply as a matter-of-factly.

Staring at you with a knowing smirk, as if you had passed the test she had set up so dramatically for you to possibly falter, but impressed with your wit in the abridged bantering she had with you.

“I am aware of those events, and I am sure Alred is no fool to be unaware either, but you must answer me honestly. If the Tsesarevich had not asked for your hand in marriage, would you have considered his?”

You pause, deep in thought as you weighed your probabilities. Alfred was not anything close to a looker, sharing the same hooded, heavy blue Saxe-Coburg saucers that looked almost forlorn, permanently sleepy. He had been kind and slightly teasing in the faint encounter you had with him in the tracks, but not enough to judge his character accurately.

“I would always take the time in getting to know and familiarize myself with his character before I would accept any proposals of matrimony, Your Majesty. I will speak genuinely in that I do not believe in a love in first sight, especially for a minor Princess of my standing, where marriage can make or break my future. His Royal Highness is a great man who will do many great things, but I believe that I am not fated to be his lifelong companion and he will meet his match in due time. I adore and cherish my sister entirely, fully, more than myself but I do not wish to live under her shadow either, your Majesty.”

“You prideful, insolent girl! I had always known you were more intelligent, more spirited than your sister, but never to this degree.” You gulped nervously as her voice raised in pitch, leaving you aghast how such a petite woman could control the room with so little on her part.

“I admire your strength, little Dagmar. You will need that vitality, that backbone if you are to survive in the chaos that is Imperial Russia and all that is Saint Petersburg. You remind me of myself in my youth, that drive, that determination to break out of the family that had coddled and sheltered you. I pity, no- I fear the man who is to marry you, dear. You are a woman that cannot be tamed, cannot be controlled.” Queen Victoria smiles beratingly with a slight chuckle at you, shaking her head and you cannot help but mirror her grin.

…

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chelseahotel2004 · 8 months

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CLEO do u have a fave china pattern...

CAMERON what a delightfully fascinating question... working in a high tea place will absolutely turn you into a china snob. my preferance is honestly less based on patterns and more on the actual quality of the sets and the shape of the cup! most of the good stuff i find is english made like royal albert and royal stafford, though i've also found some beautiful and good quality hungarian china. in my experience the common types of patterns you will find from most frequent to least are floral (either featuring one flower or a pattern), decorative lines, holiday/month (typically will have birth flowers and the month written), fruit, novelty location (like a castle or city, but fancy), and blue willow. floral really are beautiful but after so many a nice fruit cup or location cup is a breath of fresh air. my favourite flowers are pansies so i have looked literally everywhere for a high quality pansy set with a decent looking design and i cant find one anywhere!!!! sorry i have so many thoughts on china... whenever customers are being mean to me or my coworkers i give them the ugly pieces hee hee. anyways here are some pictures of ones i like! i tend to like a colour on the outside + saucer with a floral patterns as opposed to just a white cup featuring a single flower (you can see this is the thistle cup i stole from work)

#sorry for the awful quality photos i pulled these from the royal albert archive website lol #ILY CAMERON THIS WAS SUCH A GOOD QUESTION I COULD GO ON FOREVER.#you've got mail!#🍎

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loquaciousquark · 2 years

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Over the course of her life, my grandmother collected dozens of sets of delicate teacups and saucers. She had them up on some lovely wooden shelving in her formal dining room. They were some of the most beautiful things I’d ever seen, even though I don’t think any of them were particularly expensive. I was allowed to drink from them once when I was about twelve, a treasured memory, and when she passed away in 2010 they were one of the only two items I asked for.

They ended up going to my uncle (her son), but for a number of reasons he ended up passing them to me anyway a few years later. They’ve been hanging on my wall since then.

This afternoon, it finally occurred to me that I drink enough tea now to actually use them. Here’s the first in what I hope will be a series: American Beauty, from the Royal Albert china line.

#quark's teacup tag

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allthebooksandcrannies · 2 years

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In episode three of The Good Place, Tahani serves Eleanor tea from what appears to be a full Royal Albert Old Country Roses bone china tea set. Whether or not this was intended by the props department, the use of this specific pattern foreshadows Tahani's backstory and symbolizes her relationship with Eleanor and the other members of the neighborhood at that point in time. In this essay I will—

#the good place #eleanor shellstrop #tahani al jamil #the good place tahani #the good place meta #i actually have an essay if anyone wants it #I'm trying really hard not to start info dumping at everyone i know right now

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fluorescentpipedream · 1 year

Photo

Ian Adelaide Mason Pearce - This beauty is actually Langston’s older sibling (only by 2 years) and is the first to be ousted out for their…uniqueness. Lord Albert Pearce has had three sons, none of which he’s been able to deal with much to the dismay and annoyance of many of those around them. Adelaide or Adela, uses Mason as their last name after they were forced to drop Pearce when their father cut them off and stripped them of any title related to the family. Apparently the name Adelaide is actually their great grandmother’s name from their mother side, “She was as elegant as Audrey Hepburn and deserves to be honored”

They are 36, and actually live in the same small village Deacon does, around the corner from his home. Apparently they had come for tea when he had been getting settled, fell in love with the area and had a home built as well, on the other side of the village though, oddly closer to the parish. Guy Buchanan had a tongue in cheek sign made for the yard that says Here There be Faeries Adela introduces themselves to Ali by baking a lavender lemon loaf and comes to visit the first time Deacon brings her (before the yacht incident

Gender fluid, they express their gender as whatever they please, whenever they please. They are bisexual, and prefer women though they have been with both, including Niall a few years ago. Very friendly and genuinely sweet, Adela works primarily as a professional photographer for the royal family, as well as working with Charlotte Moore in Black Moon Cosmetics, I think they do the photos for it though I’m not entirely sure.

Joseph Skinner - While I know Skinner is not his real last name (at least I don’t think so) he takes on the moniker when he joins the Suicide Kings as the lead guitarist, taking over when Wolf steps back into being the lead singer and I’m not entirely sure what happens to Scott. I think he stays in the band as a secondary guitar player but I’m not sure.

Arthur Noble - Formerly a professor at Brown university he takes a significant pay decrease when he becomes Vice Principal of O Fallon East in Illinois. He does this after seeing how hollow the college age kids are and wants to find a way to help them actually succeed in their future rather than just be another cog in the wheel. Arthur has studied Sociology, Psychology and English Literature, the last was his specialty at Brown. He is kind and genuinely cares about the kids he’s taking care of, similar to Casper he wants to see people succeed and actually have some kind of passion going forward in their lives. He’s recently divorced but still wears his wedding ring, so I don’t think he’s quite ready to let that go.

Casper Barnes - eldest brother to Elias (who uses their mothers last name, Sharpe, rather than their father’s name) and Cornelius. Casper has a very big heart and seeks to make schools safe for the kids under his care, he feels responsible for each and every one of them and considers what happened with the former vice principal a personal slight in his judgement. He has set O Fallon up to be a test school for new education practices and tries to make sure everyone is getting the best they can possibly get. After his middle brother’s passing he took over as guardian for Lilly though she does better on her own, so he’s there if she needs him for anything but doesn’t force her to live with him.

Christopher Reigns - Christopher has been around for a while, a former sex addict turned psychiatrist and therapist for the same issues, he currently lives and works in New York City close to the rest of his degenerate family. After the drama with his younger brother Ethan, Christopher takes over taking care of Ethan’s son Tanner and picks up where he left off with Hannah Lee as well. He seems to be one of the few Reigns that has their head on correctly, he went through his trauma and addictions and managed to come out on top of them.

Eirondyr Thalasane - one of the elves of the Woodland Realm of Murkwood (formerly Brightwood) and also one of Valenduil’s closer friends. He is actually older than Val, formerly being one of those closer to Legolas’ age. When Legolas chose to take his human wife with him to the undying realm, leaving their half-blood son behind in the care of his grandfather, Eirondyr (sometimes called Raine due to one of his spells) promised to keep an eye on him. While older, he acts as though he is still young and doesn’t work so much as a mentor as he does just a comrade. Eirondyr is an arcanist, practicing arcane magic and a magister of glamour, he will occasionally make his ears disappear so he can travel amongst the world of men. He’s also been known to change the size of certain items, more often than not as a prank. He chooses, when Thranduil makes the proclamation that someone should pick up the quest to help Sara and her group, to go with them and Val, to help them traverse the destruction that is Middle Earth. He has connections to the Hobbits and the world of men as well, in Bard and a mysterious boatsman called The Blackwald (Halfdan)

Gage Robards - Gage’s real name is Gabriel Toussaint, he is the “lost” brother of the Toussaint sisters and has, for the last 10 years or so, been somewhat trapped inside his own mind. I don’t remember exactly what happened to Gage, he was put into a mental hospital by a member of their family and locked away there for something he saw and while there he had electro-shock therapy performed, which caused him to lose his ability to speak. Over the years, he came into the care of Sylvia Summers and is currently living in NYC with her. He has also learned sign language and does some speech therapy but he chooses most times not to speak because his vocal cords have been damaged as well. Gage has some memories of his sisters, and does still want to get back in touch with them. (he was sitting in my head the other day feeding the birds from a loaf of bread in Central Park)

This creature doesn’t have a name yet, or at least hasn’t given me one yet but he is where the “super soldier serum” behind Project Wildfire comes from. He is actually a Hunter that was captured by the CIA by a former member of the early Section who shared with them what is going on behind the scenes, and told them that taking control of the darkness would mean better survival in the future. The Hunter’s blood has been used to alter and create the soldiers and failed experiments including Drayton and the rest of the hitmen as well as the pyromancer Badger and a handful of others. When Drayton calls on Kristy for her final job with them, they apparently find the ragged creature in a room, spitting all manner of obscenities at them. It’s against Kristy’s warning that they let him go, something that will come back to haunt later, as he makes a bee-line for Cirian wanting to punish humans for what they’ve done to him.

Adrian Wilde - Professor at Harvard when he meets Crystal Townsend and against his better judgment strikes up an affair with her, he can’t really explain how it happens but he falls for her hard. When she expresses to him her fear in falling in love with him, he cradles her in his arms, combing his fingers through her hair and tells her to fall, he’ll always be there to catch her. Adrian originally wanted to be an author but never managed to make his stories translate into full blown books, instead he teaches creative writing, jokingly saying ‘those who can’t, teach’ but the reality is he is still writing and working on finishing his first book as his and Crystal’s relationship continues. While slightly concerned for the safety of his job while she’s a student, when she turns fully into her music he feels safer being more open about their relationship.

Aryn Hobb - Aryn is an alien, first and foremost, having been on Earth since the late 90s, or somewhere there abouts, they were recruited into the very earliest form of Section and worked as a scientist for them after being brought in from NASA where they had originally worked as an astrophysicist. Aryn is a sebacean like Maxwell later on and actually is able to help with his assimilation into human culture a bit better (though it helps that Maxwell has actually been on Earth once before, even if it was back in the 1880s) Working for Section has helped Aryn blend in a bit more with the human race, feeling absolutely no desire to return to their people, as they were deemed less than by a tribunal of Commandants. Exile is one of the worst things for their people, as it separates them from their own, and being alone is unhealthy for them. Aryn stole a ship, rather than be cast out from their people and used wormhole technology to warp to this version of Earth C-139 (our earth, it’s apparently not one of the more popular Earths to travel to as it’s technologically inferior to most of the others in the alter-verse) Assuming correctly that they could hide there and because humans and Sebaceans are so closely related to one another, with only internal differences (and lifespan, they can typically live for about 700 years) most people wouldn’t pick up on without getting too intimate.

When Aryn comes to work for the original Section they are figured out by the medical tech Avery and they come clean out of concern of being used and abused by these humans. Instead they find friends there and take a special interest in both Avery and later Justice. Aryn uses their knowledge of weaponry to create a brand new arsenal of weapons and “toys” used by Justice and the rest of the teams. In particular the holo-training lab and more recently some very interesting explosives. Outside of Section, Aryn has a very normal life, they have an apartment with a cat given to them by Justice’s friend Adriana, and spend their downtime with a small handful of friends. Generally they identify as non-binary, as it’s easier to explain their appearance, though their voice is incredibly deep.

@musesnotebook

#Mason Alexander Park #Richard Armitage #tom sturridge #ferdinand kingsley #Robert Aramayo #Keanu Reeves #aurelio voltaire

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