#Arabella collection jewelry

[thejewelryhut]

Elevate Yourself with TheJewelryHut Fancy Designer Antique Retro Vintage-Inspired Halo Style Blue and white Color Crystalline in Silver Ring

Bright and Alluring, yet evocative of a mystery! Quality, Artisanship. And Elegance…. Unique Jewel as Rare as The Woman Who wears it, Capture her Eyes, her Soul, and her Heart, with TheJewelyHut Fancy Designer Antique Retro Vintage-Inspired Victorian Double Halo Style Platinum Plated 925 Sterling Silver Anniversary Ring Featuring One Asscher Shape Blue Sapphire  Color Crystalline, 2 CTTW,  Surrounded by several Multi Shape White Diamond Color Crystalline. Luxury Jewel that captures her Style and shows off her attitude.  A truly timeless Jewel and can easily be dressed up or worn for a put-together everyday look. Available Ring Size, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9

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[starlightcleric]

Baroness Bella

I've posted about my newest Kingmaker child on Discord, but I don't think I've talked about her on tumblr yet! And she's made it to Act 2 and I'm still having fun with her, so I'm hopefully optimistic that she'll stick! She's romancing Regongar and Octavia :) (picrew)

Arabella Amanuela Arquitio Bella Dorso | Baroness of the Stolen Lands

Race | Tiefling (Hellspawn) Class | Cleric (Ecclesitheurge) of Norgorber Alignment | Chaotic Evil Pronouns | She/Her Professions | Baker, Criminal, Baroness Skills | Lore (Religion), Perception, Persuasion; Blackmail, poisoning, manipulation

Appearance | A petite, pink skinned tiefling woman with goat-like horns and lavender eyes. She wears her shoulder-length black hair loosely swept back from her face, often adorned with flowers. Bella favors dark, but fashionable clothes, not only in black but also dark blue and purple. When she makes the effort to impress, she puts on striking red eyeshadow and lipstick and large ruby jewelry.

Personality | Bella is charismatic and charming, as well as petty, cruel, and selfish. If she considers you to be 'hers,' she will move hell to keep you happy and safe, not caring who she steps on along the way. She collects secrets for her own purposes, maintaining direct control over her government's spy network. However, she's not one to get her hands dirty with violence herself, preferring to use poisons or intermediaries for murder.

History | A late tiefling manifestation in a house of wealthy merchants in Vyre, she was given away as a child to avoid bringing scandal to the Arquitio house. Bella was raised by the Dorsos, a couple who ran a bakery and a fencing ring. When she was a teenager she started an affair with Alenzio Arquitio. Her (foster) parents then sat her down and explained the circumstances of her birth. In retaliation, she poisoned her birth parents and blackmailed Alenzio, her brother, into giving her enough money to leave Cheliax. She has come East to the River Kingdoms looking to start over, with original plans to continue her parents' work running a bakery with some thievery on the side. Instead, she has instead found herself at the forefront of politics.

[foldercompilation]

Candy-Coated Crowns: Stella Isobel B. Schiaparelli from Schiaparelli Jewelers, photographed by Arabella Sørensen. January/2024.

Meet Stella Biancheri – immersed in the world of modeling, she started her journey through countless shoots for the jewelry collections she currently directs. Intrigued by the industry, she initially delved into shoots for Van Cleef and gradually expanded to collaborations with smaller brands. Today, her portfolio boasts projects with major names like Celine and Miu Miu. Oh, and did we mention she's working on a lingerie line with Kat The Label? Dive into the allure of Stella's evolving fashion odyssey.

No matter how busy and bustling life may be, Stella carved out a space in her schedule to chat with us, providing insights into her journey, answering a few questions, and outlining her plans for 2024. Interviewed by Arabella Sørensen, Stella unveiled intriguing and delightful aspects of her personality and personal life.

A: Hello, Stella! Welcome to our interview. Firstly, I'd like to know, what were your first steps in the fashion world?

S: Hello Arabella, thank you for having me here. And thanks to every reader for dedicating a bit of their time and interest! I've always been immersed in this world, learning from my mother, Christelle, an art enthusiast, especially in fashion. Her unique expression of personality through clothing inspired my calling. At just 13, I developed a desire to be a fashion designer. I created my own designs, bringing them to life with the help of my mother. I remember opening a small online store to sell them upon requests from some schoolmates. It wasn't a long-lasting or widely renowned venture, more of an experimental hobby. Later on, I decided not to pursue that path and opted for modeling, but it was certainly a defining moment for me.

A: How would you describe your personal style?

S: I've always seen myself as an extremely versatile person, maybe? and somewhat eclectic in terms of my personal style. I would say everything varies according to my mood and the nature of the occasion! But overall, I can describe it as classic and fun.

A: What inspires you when creating or choosing clothes and accessories?

S: My main inspirations for creating collections, whether they are clothing or jewelry design, are quite relative. I draw ideas from very simple things sometimes, like an interesting dialogue, a specific person who sparks my creativity, or even distinct cultures that I regularly study. I really have many sources! As for choosing clothes and accessories, I would say my inspiration comes from practicality, to be quite honest.

A: How do you see fashion trends evolving in the coming years?

S: Well, it's challenging to predict future trends. Fashion is a means of communication among people; each person has their style and expresses themselves through it. We learn from each other, and that's how trends are created—it's a celebration of authenticity. I eagerly anticipate diversity in campaigns and runways, hoping it continues to grow, along with sustainability. This includes environmental responsibility projects and social critiques through fashion shows, models, and collections.

A: What was the most memorable experience in your career related to fashion events?

S: Without a doubt, winning the 'Grand Prix de l’Exposition Universelle de Paris 2023' with Schiaparelli under my creative and executive direction. It was a source of immense pride, and I am extremely grateful for that moment.

A: Do you have any exciting collaborations or future projects you'd like to share?

S: Oh! Oui, ma chérie! I've been working on incredibly interesting projects for this year—new collections, new collaborations with major brands... who knows, maybe a Stella Biancheri line is on the horizon?

A: How have you faced challenges throughout your career?

S: Challenges throughout any career are truly unavoidable; we all need to go through tough situations before achieving success. To gain experience better than anyone, absolutely nothing comes without hard work, no matter how influential one may be. But despite everything, I've always had the best people by my side, which undoubtedly makes things easier.

A: Well, that wraps up our interview. Thank you for trusting my work and choosing to collaborate with me. It's been a pleasure and will always be an honor! Hope to see you more often! Until next time.

S: I thank you for this great opportunity to be part of your wonderful work, Arabella! It was truly an honor to work alongside you in this interview. I hope everyone enjoyed getting to know a little more about me, and see you soon!

Production credits:

Photography by Arabella Sørensen.

Stylist by Angel Velluto.

Set design by Hyun Jung.

Hair by Ross Kwan.

Model Stella Isobel Biancheri.

[ofwizardsandmen]

Unplanned

Gossip Witch AU (HP AU)

Characters: Tara Lee (OC),  Mark Yang (changed his last name for plot purposes)

Word count: 2,1k

Genre: fluff, a lot of fluff 

“Mark was eleven the day he decided he wanted Tara Lee to become his wife. It was one of those summer days when the two of them laid sprawled on the grass in the backyard of the Fawley Manor. They had spent the morning talking about Hogwarts and how Tara would write him letters every day and probably send him some of her favorite treats from Honeydukes if she ever got to follow Tyler to the weekend trips to Hogsmeade.”

—

Mark has known Tara for over two decades. Through the years he’s seen the good, the bad —not like there was much to see, except for the very few times Tara has allowed her free-spirited soul to cloud her judgment,— and basically everything in between. 

And yet, Mark can’t think of a time his girlfriend looked as angry, frustrated, and seemingly disgusted —all at once— as she does today.

All Tara says when she storms into Mark’s one piece apartment, looking beyond stressed, is that her brother has outdone himself this time. Whatever that means, that’s to say something considering Tyler Lee is one of the most stressful people Mark knows, if not the most stressful. However, over time Mark has learned not to even pretend to be surprised by any Tyler-related news simply because Tara’s brother seems to possess the staggering skill of outdoing himself every other day.

Judging by Tara’s expression, today is one of those days.

“There is no way I am going back there, Mark,” Tara announces gravely, shaking her head vehemently as her boyfriend wraps an arm around her supportively “I am never going back to that place. I’m moving out!” That last part she blurts it out of the blue, eyes ignited with a mixture of resolve and something Mark can only describe as murderous rage. it takes him a few seconds to process Tara’s words and realize she’s talking about the home she shares with her brother. 

“T, I get it, Tyler can be a real pain,” This Mark says it sincerely, his mind purposely trying to block the mental images that suddenly assault his memory ”But, think carefully, you can’t just move out. Where are you planning to go?” He asks, genuinely concerned about the possible options Tara might be contemplating… the Fawley Manor or Enzo’s apartment, for example. Or even worse, Arabella Black’s home.

“I don’t know and I don’t care. I can go stay with-“ Tara makes a pause as if trying to organize her thoughts “Enzo” she finally says, confirming Mark’s fears and causing him to bite the inside of his cheek. “Or Adela” she starts counting with her fingers “Leah, Adam, Florence…” Mark only closes his eyes, anticipating Tara to drop the name he dreads the most. “Ara. I’ll call her and ask if I can spend-”

“Babe” Mark steps in front of his girlfriend so they can look at each other face to face, his hands moving to her sides gently “why don’t you talk it out with Tyler first? Whatever happened between you two, and as much as it pains me to say this, but he might have some reason. Not to mention that he adores you and he’d-“

“He’s dating Daniel” Tara blurts, interrupting Mark’s increasingly heartfelt speech and causing him to frown at her, his upper lip slightly going up and creasing the tip of his nose. A look that Tara would’ve considered adorable, had not been for the images occupying her mind at the moment.

“Wait-“ Mark raises a hand, asking Tara not to add a word, his expression as childish as his increasingly mature features allow him to appear now that his 24th birthday is fast approaching “he is- what?”

“Dating, fucking, whatever it is, it’s disgusting, they were-“

“It’s ok, I don’t need the mental image” Mark interrupts, barely being able to conceal the panic in his voice.

“In the living room, Mark” Tara goes on anyhow, causing her boyfriend to wince and scrunch up his nose. “It’s gonna be like this every single day from now on. I can’t put up with that” She claims, allowing her legs to give up and flopping onto Mark’s pastel-colored couch. “Do you agree I have no other option than moving out?” She asks, eyes pleading as she looks up and finds Mark staring down at her with a misplaced expression.

Mark, the ever logical and overthinking soul he is, only presses his lips together and nods slowly before sitting down on the edge of the couch.

“I guess you have no other option,” he says, but it’s still painfully obvious how much he disagrees with her decision. However, Mark is never one to question Tara. He never has questioned Tara even though her decisions made no sense whatsoever or involved the two of them. Mark just doesn’t know how to. He had remained silent even that one time Tara chose to break up with him. “Unless-“

Tara’s eyebrows go up questioningly.

“Unless?”

“Maybe you can use one of those charms you use to soundproof my studio,” Mark suggests hopefully, the slightest bit of blush spreading on his cheeks.

“Mark, no amount of charms will be enough with those two” Tara says and he grimaces at that. “You are being really weird about this” his girlfriend adds, eyeing him as if he'd eventually start to show symptoms of a disease. “You’re ok?”

“Then move in with me” Mark blurts so out of the blue that his own words sound foreign when they come out of his mouth. It would be funny if Tara wasn’t staring at him, looking profusely confused.

“Mark, I can’t invade your personal space.” She reasons logically “I mean, don’t take this the wrong way, but this apartment is not exactly fit for the two of us,” her eyes dart to the suitcases blocking the corridor and Mark’s guitar and the notebooks where he writes his music down, scattered all over the coffee table and the rug.

“Then let’s find a house,” Mark offers quite simply, not really knowing where the sudden eagerness is coming from.

Moving in together has always seemed the natural next step in their relationship. There’s no denying he’s thought about it a lot. Enough times for him to brainwash himself into believing he knows exactly how waking up next to Tara every morning would feel like and fantasize about getting to a cozy home where she waits for him every night and smothers him with kisses. However, the way Tara looks at him makes his conviction falter and his chest deflate.  

“Mark, I do appreciate the offer, but I don’t think you’re thinking things through,” Tara says her boyfriend’s name carefully and pronounces every word after slowly, almost as though she’s scared of offending him. “Moving in together is a very-“ She hesitates “It’s a huge step, I don’t think you’re aware of it just now”

“I am,” Mark says, finally gathering all the confidence he’s lacked to contradict Tara during those eleven years of relationship.

—

Mark was eleven the day he decided he wanted Tara Lee to become his wife. It was one of those summer days when the two of them laid sprawled on the grass in the backyard of the Fawley Manor. They had spent the morning talking about Hogwarts and how Tara would write him letters every day and probably send him some of her favorite treats from Honeydukes if she ever got to follow Tyler to the weekend trips to Hogsmeade.

“Why can’t you just keep attending school… hmmm… here?” He had asked. At age eleven and with his reduced knowledge of the magical world, Mark’s was a genuine question. Tara had looked at him as though he had asked why the sky was blue or if Earth was really round. The kind of question whose answer is evident, but requires a lot of complex words and scientific knowledge to explain.

“Because that’s how it works” Tara had settled for an answer that was as useless as it was genuine. “It’s just something I have to do” She had moved to a sitting position and looked down at Mark, her expression warm and confident “If I want to go to Oxford with you, I ought to go to Hogwarts first. I’ll be back before you notice” she had added, smiling so brightly and reassuringly that for a moment, the sun seemed to be paling in comparison. Even as a kid, that was Tara’s charm, her confidence and the way she always seemed to know how to offer consolation and calm Mark’s fears.

Back then, Mark dreamed about becoming an author of the likes of C.S. Lewis or Arthur Conan Doyle and he wouldn’t go a day without carefully planning every step that would take him to Cambridge or Oxford and would allow him to receive a Nobel by the time he turned 50.

“And then, I will write you a book about it” There was a moment’s worth of hesitation “For you, Markie”

Mark was just a kid, but even back then, he knew Tara really meant that.

—

“In fact…” Mark shallows and then clears his throat a bit too loudly for his cheeks not to tint again. He forces himself to push the childhood memories away and focus on the matter at hand “In fact, that’s something I’ve always thought, something I’ve been thinking about a lot lately” he confesses. “I know how unexpected all of this is and you might think I’m just rushing things because I don’t want you to move in with Ara and have that odious brother of her lurking around, but” Mark speaks so fast that Tara can barely follow along. “Wait, there’s something-” Mark suddenly shoots up and scurries to the other side of his apartment, opening drawers randomly until he seems to find what he’s looking for. He strides back to Tara without even minding the mess he’s left behind him as he shoves something that looks suspiciously like a jewelry box in his pockets.

“Mark, are you ok?” Tara glances at him, awkwardly standing a few steps away from her, and concern crosses her features “I had no idea you still felt that way about Darius, but if that’s a problem, I can always find a place for myself, you know, on my own” she ventures, her lower lip caught firmly between her teeth.

“No, no, no. It’s not about that” Mark shakes his head almost frantically before wiping his hands on the fabric of his jeans. If Tara didn’t know any better, she’d say he seems nervous. But then Mark seems to collect himself, takes a deep breath, and goes down on his knee.

“Mark, I don’t know what you’re doing” There’s panic in Tara’s voice when she attempts to stand up, but Mark’s hands are quick to grab her sides and hold her in place  “I don’t think you’re-“

“Shhhh, let me talk, please,” He asks, speaking over her, his voice deep and serious. “Listen T, it is evident by now, but you’re the love of my life.” Mark stops for a few seconds, feeling as though he’s not making a very good job at conveying what he wants to say. Tara has the good sense to remain silent because she expects there to be more. But the silence stretches, making the look of anticipation on her face to grow deeper. “You’re my best friend and I know it sounds silly, but I’ve always known I want to spend a lifetime with you, it’s always been you and I simply can’t imagine loving anyone the way I love you.” Tara’s face flushes at that, “I know we’re still young, and you might feel it’s too early, but we’ve been together for so long, there’s literally no other step in between. I want to protect you and love you and wake up next to you every morning. I want us to be a family.” Mark gulps quietly as he fishes in the pocket of his jeans, pulling a red leather box “So, Tara Lee, would you do me the honor of becoming my wife?”

Tara doesn’t reply immediately, she stares at the sparkling diamond inside the box with her eyes wide open and her thoughts all jumbled up inside her brain. She can’t quite grasp the situation yet, because it all happened so unexpectedly that it almost feels like her frenzied imagination is pulling a cruel prank on her. She blinks twice to make sure she’s not dreaming and then nods slowly, but Mark has already started to speak again, taking her silence for hesitation.

“I mean, it doesn’t have to be immediate, we’ll need a house and you know Jane, so maybe it can be next year or the year after, I just want us to-“ he rambles.

“Yes, Mark. I will marry you” Tara says laughing as her hand slides under his chin. He seems positively confused for a second or two, until then Tara goes on “It doesn’t matter if it’s tomorrow or next year or the year after, I will still want to marry you, Mark Yang, because you’re the love of my life too.”

Mark looks like he can’t quite believe his ears, but as a wide smile starts to spread across his lips, matching Tara’s elated smile, he allows his insecurities to resurface in the form of a silly question “Wait, can you repeat that?”

Tara rolls eyes and fights the urge to chose a sarcastic reply. Instead, when she closes the gap between them and leans to press their lips together, she whispers “yes” against Mark’s lips.

Mark has known Tara for over two decades. And yet, he can’t think of a time she looked as beautiful and happy as she does right now.

...

[ask-the-ineffable-being]

Merry Christmas!

Beneath the Christmas tree of everyone's homes, there are gifts that they don't remember wrapping nor receiving.

@ask-the-bringer-of-storms Got a snowglobe with an actual spinning galaxy in it. The arms of the spiral nearly reaching the glass of the globe. The corona of the galaxy makes it glow by itself. There's an indentation on the base of the snowglobe, a key within it, but it's blocked by a small barrier. There's a note, "It's yours, but you'll only get to travel to it when you're eighteen. To ease Beelzebub's fears. Merry Christmas Adam!"

@ask-warlock-dowling Received a small intricate wooden box, complete with designs of angels, humans, and snakes. There's a note, "This box comes with instructions on the back on how to activate it, it can turn into any kind and brand of piano you may wish. Merry Christmas Warlock!"

@ask-the-rose Recieved several dozen books, most of them seem to be from heavens archives. A note says, "Merry Christmas Rose!"

@ask-mammon-infernal-sib Her clothes and jewelry collection got many new and expensive additions. A note says "merry xmas!"

@ask-leviathan-infernal-sib Got a leather jacket that has an embroidered snapping alligator on it, has the words, 'see you later alligator!', Leviathan's pet alligator Gary(?) also got a matching jacket. It's not leather though, it's waterproof so he may wear it in water. There's a note, "merry xmas!"

@ask-belphegor-infernal-sib Recieved many new soft looking clothes, and blankets. Most of them have designs of sloths. There's a note, "merry xmas!"

@ask-asmodeus-infernal-sib Like Mammon, he got many new pieces of clothing. Though he moreso recieved jewelry, from brands and artisans from modern days and ancient past. There's a note, it say "merry xmas!"

@ask-the-lord-of-the-files Dagon received a new computer, it says on the box it was made in the year 2035? Interesting. Also all of her dogs got a new chewtoy each. There's a note, it says "merry xmas!"

@ask-pepper-galadriel-moonchild Recieved a wooden box with several notes on top of it. "I have signed you up for sword lessons! You don't have to go to them if you don't want to, it is your decision. If you were to attend though, you'll find that inside the box is a necessary tool that you will most definitely need for classes, Merry Christmas!"

An angelic blade, similar (but not the same) to the blade of aziraphale's.

@mephistopheles-bro-of-beelz Received his library keys and papers back. Also recieving several toys and supplies for Arabella. There's a note, "Merry Christmas!"

@askcrowley-g-o Behind from their cottage, a large and intricate greenhouse appears. There's a note on the doors, "Merry xmas!"

((There are two aziraphale blog and I have no idea which one to tag)) Aziraphale recieved many more rare and ancient books, some from heavens archives. There's a note that says, "Merry Christmas!"

@ask-gerald-the-fly and his siblings each got ugly fly sized Christmas sweaters. There's a note, "Merrry Xmas!"

@askarchangelgabriel A painting of him with Beelzebub. They seem to be laughing with eachother. There's a note on the frame, "Merry Christmas!"

@ask-the-demon-uriel Recieved a couple dozen books on art history. Also a painting easel. There's a note on the easel that says, "merry xmas!"

((Sorry if I forgot any blogs!))

With @askbeelzebub the lord decides to give their present in person later today.

...

...

The lord walks into Jegudiels quarters in the palace of heaven. There's a fine layer of dust over everything. His bed, his chair, his drawing board is gone? Oh no, his plants have wilted. Almost everything is untouched.

She sets down a wrapped red and green gift on his nightstand. Then leaves the room.

[memoirsverse]

Dresden Files/The Authors of Paradise: Dark Days

This is a crossover fan novel featuring my own characters and world of The Authors of Paradise, blended with those of Jim Butcher’s The Dresden Files. This derivative crossover work is being written for the sheer fun of it, with no financial gain. Jim Butcher owns Harry Dresden, The Dresden Files, and all associated characters. I own Evelyn Alvar, Arabella Thorne, Thornebridge Manor, The Authors of Paradise, and all associated characters. I’ve taken the two worlds, mashed them together, and whipped up this meandering thingamabob. Mmm, tasty. 

This novel is rated M for Mature, because it’ll get bloody. This chapter isn’t bloody, though; just dreadful.

i. Evelyn

I emerged in a room that shifted and warped, always in motion, always changing, and turned my attention to the figure standing at the far end. A softly glowing, color-changing mist curled around my ankles as I walked past impossible staircases and other Mobius-like structures, approaching the figure. It stood dispassionate, sexless, an endless void that glimmered with distant stars. Its name was Thornebridge, and this was the form it took in this place.

If I looked too deeply into that void, I would be drawn in, tumbling helplessly for eons as every potentiality, every reality, every actuality, every universe seared itself indelibly onto my conscious mind. I would know the truth about myself if I did that. I didn’t want to know. I most certainly did not want to know. I was confident it would drive me mad.

My bare feet settled into place, concealed by the mist, as I stopped directly in front of Thornebridge. I was wearing the filmy white thing that I always wore when I Traveled, and hair the color of moonlight tumbled over my marble-toned shoulders. I’d seen my reflection before in this form. I looked like a marble statue with intensely purple-jewel eyes, inhuman and profoundly alien. I had grown accustomed to it, but I still didn’t understand the why of it.

“You have something to tell me?” I ventured finally. I would never be entirely comfortable talking with Thornebridge-- if talking was the right word. The entity had its own language, one that didn’t often translate well into English, or any other language with actual words.

The response was instantaneous. From out of the mist, a great tower pushed its way out of the hidden ground, rumbling like thunder as it grew to a great height. Dust and debris rained down from it as it stretched higher and higher like some kind of monolithic tree, until its top vanished into the star-studded, nebula-swirled darkness above. A pair of winged figures circled the tower, armed with swords, their wings beating the air into a whirlwind as they flew around and around and around it.

A low, animalistic growl surged behind me, and I turned to see a man dressed in robes and expensive finery, crowned by four inverted pentacles that spun around his head. The man looked like a photograph in negative exposure, black and white, light where he should be dark and dark where he should be light. He ran at the tower and leaped on it, clawing at its base, digging to its foundations, tearing off huge chunks of stone and dropping them into a large canvas bag he carried slung over one shoulder. The two angels didn’t seem to see him, continuing their high-altitude patrol.

I sighed. The overall message was obvious, but the details were still obscured. “Who’s attacking you?” I asked.

The robed man vanished from his place by the tower and appeared before me so suddenly that I took a couple of steps backwards. I took a breath to steady myself and turned my eyes to Thornebridge. “But who is he?”

The human-shaped starry void said nothing. Of course. It stood still, its head turned towards me.

I could look into its void and See...

Shaking my head, I motioned with my hand to the diorama. “If you want our help, you’re going to have to be a bit more clear than that. Okay?”

Thornebridge just watched me. This was apparently the entirety of the message; I wasn’t going to get any more unless I Looked.

I ran my hands through my hair and sighed again. “All right, fine. I’ll see what I can dig up.”

Thornebridge nodded, and the scene vanished, replaced once again with the Escher-like environment. Closing my eyes, I let myself phase through the layers of reality, back to whatever dimension my Traveling form was held in. I felt the threads of silken energy close around me like a cocoon, and my conscious awareness faded to gentle black before becoming aware of the weight and solid mass of my everyday form.

I lay there for a minute, eyes closed, letting my consciousness re-align with physical reality. Slowly, my senses re-connected and began to filter information back to me: the lingering scent of incense, the soothing flow of the meditative music that I had set to play in a loop, the spongy feel of the mat between my body and the hardwood floor, the slight chill in the room that raised gooseflesh over my arms. It was September, and morning, and my stomach informed me that I had not yet eaten breakfast.

Opening my eyes, I stretched, then rose to my feet. The room my housemate Arabella and I had designated for communication sessions with Thornebridge was sparsely decorated with a couple of small tables, a bowl for incense, a scattering of candles, a few carefully placed crystals, some calming prints framed on the walls, a small rock garden, and an iPod set up with a meditation playlist. It was simple and zen, intended to cultivate the kind of relaxation needed to put one’s self into a deep trance.

I turned off the iPod, blew out the candles and the incense, and left the room in the heart of the house, winding my way through corridors that never seemed to follow the same path. I had gotten lost on multiple occasions while trying to find my way through the less stable portions of the house, until I had learned to open my senses enough to navigate my way to the space Arabella and I lived day-to-day. 

I saw the door, and my senses told me it was the one that led to the mundane part of the house. It was always a different door, sometimes massive and intricately carved, sometimes simple and rustic. Today, it was narrow, arterial red, and half my height, sporting an ornate silver knob. I turned the knob, opened the door, and stepped out of the dizzying instability of Thornebridge Manor and into the dimensionally stable, comforting warmth of the house’s living space. 

The difference in energy always takes a moment or two to adjust to. It’s a little bit like waking up from a dream, as reality re-establishes itself around you, solid and fixed. After taking a few slow breaths and doing a little grounding exercise by placing my palm flat against a wall and feeling its solidity, I moved on, making my way to the kitchen. 

_________________________________________

The coffee tasted hot and sweet as I sipped it from my favorite old coffee mug, which depicted a calico cat similar in appearance to my own Nimue, batting playfully at a Victorian-style fairy. The house was strangely quiet and felt vast and empty; Arabella had left town to attend some sort of bookseller’s conference. Slowly, I ate a breakfast of eggs, biscuits, and fruit, as I held my battered, leatherbound notebook in my left hand and read over the notes I had written on this morning’s communication with Thornebridge. A well-worn deck of tarot cards, its colors faded and its edges tattered, rested beside the notebook.

I took a bite of scrambled eggs, set my fork down, and flipped through the cards, withdrawing the Tower, the Emperor, Temperance, and the Four of Pentacles, laying them out on the table beside my plate. Chewing thoughtfully, I studied the cards, static images embodying the living diorama I had seen in the communication room, but I came no closer to achieving clarity. The only thing I knew for certain was that someone was attacking Thornebridge, someone Arabella and I-- the Guardians of Thornebridge Manor-- had not yet seen or encountered.

That... was not good. There was an endless list of reasons why that was not good. But I still had precious little to go on. It would be nice, I thought, if the damn house would learn to speak English.

An alarm sounded on my phone, alerting me that it was time to get ready for work, so I put my plate in the dishwasher, returned to my bedroom to dress, made sure my cat and Arabella’s dog Ghost had plenty of fresh water, checked on Virgil the ferret in his little house, and hurried out the door to drive to the shop. There wasn’t a lot I could do until I had more information, and I certainly wasn’t going to figure out the puzzle sitting here all day.

_________________________________________

I own a little shop called Boreas Curios, Antiques, and Odditites. It’s a quaint little place, sharing a storefront with a pizza parlor and a jewelry store, and is situated directly across the street from Arabella’s place of business, an antique bookstore that she inherited from its former owner when he retired. It was something akin to kismet that the two of us spent years working in these places, across the street from one another, before we met for the first time through completely unrelated events. And it wasn’t for a lack of browsing each others’ shops either-- I love books, and Arabella is a bona fide pack rat and loves to collect all sorts of strange and wonderful things. And vice versa. We just always managed to visit when neither of us was in our respective shop.

The shop was slow throughout the morning, giving me time to sort through inventory and clean a little bit as I tried to shake the lingering feeling that something wasn’t quite right. I chalked it up to the vagaries of my communication session with Thornebridge and carried on. A few minutes to eleven, Violet breezed in through the front door, smiling brightly at me with her black-lipsticked lips as we greeted each other. Her hair was short and spiky, black tipped with blue, and she wore black-and-white striped stockings on her arms and legs, a green corset, a knee-length black tulle skirt, and a pair of worn old army boots. She waved at me with a black-fingernailed hand and disappeared into the back of the shop, re-emerging a short time later wearing a blue apron that absolutely clashed with her getup.

I didn’t mind her eccentric way of dressing; in fact, I felt it fit the atmosphere of the shop perfectly. She cashed in to her register, and then set about helping me sort through a box of mini-Furbies that had been programmed to say diabolical things. The store rang out with sinister phrases such as, “I am Lord Beelzebub, hear me rooooar!” and “Sacrifice your virgins on the altar of the Goat King!” for several minutes as we inserted batteries, cataloged everything in the system, and put the Furbies in a wire bin near the register. The Diabolical Furby Collection was Violet’s idea, and I thought it fit nicely in with the theme of Strange and Bizarre I had cultivated in the shop. After all, I kept a constant supply of haunted dolls on a shelf situated on the back wall. People loved creepy things. They always sold well.

Right around 1:45, just as the lunch rush had mostly dissipated, the sky went dark, not gradually, but in a quick fade, as if somebody had used a dimmer switch to turn off the sun, cloaking the world in night. 

Violet, looking up from where she was ringing up one of the last customers in the store, frowned. “Um. Evelyn?” She paused, then added, “Did somebody forget to pay the sunlight bill?” The joke fell flat as her voice trembled a bit. 

I was busy staring through the glass door, blinking in confusion. The slight uneasiness I had felt earlier amplified itself, evolving into the kind of dread that speeds up the heart rate and sends butterflies swarming through the stomach. Violet clearly felt the same, but it was probably just from the inexplicable celestial event. Right? 

“What in the blazes...” I murmured. Casting a glance at Violet and her equally confused and anxious customer, I strode across the shop and out the door, peering up at the sky, searching for the sun. Violet joined me a minute or two later, after shooing the customers out and locking the door.

“Is... is it an eclipse?” she asked, doubt slowing her words. I shook my head, but pulled my phone from my apron and began pulling up an online almanac to be sure.

“Probably not,” I said. “Wouldn’t have gone dark that quickly.” I scanned the almanac long enough to determine that there had been no eclipses predicted for the day, and then my phone went dark.

So did the rest of the block. All around us, the lights illuminating the buildings flickered out, plunging the world into heavy darkness. Even the cars on the street died, rolling to a stop. I heard the metallic clatter of a car wreck somewhere in the near distance, and somebody screamed.

The creeping dread flared into visceral, heart-pounding terror, and for a moment, I was lost in it. I wanted to fall to my knees, pull at my hair, and moan with it. I wanted to dig into the ground and hide from the darkness, to curl into myself, to lose myself to the fear, to be consumed by it. It coiled around me, a primal, atavistic horror that threatened to strangle the life from me. I was barely aware of Violet next to me, frozen and trembling with the same terror.

A long moment passed, and the dread eased of its own accord. It still lingered, pulsing softly on a psychic wavelength, but it no longer threatened to drive us mad. I found I had indeed fallen to the ground, and slowly got to my hands and knees, reaching out to help Violet to her feet. The girl was still shaking, her blue eyes wide in the gloom, but she let me stand her up and steady her.

“What was that?” she cried, but then seemed to realize how near to panic she was edging, and took a deep breath, squaring her shoulders. She leveled her gaze on me and said, “I’m going to guess you’ll be leaving the shop to me for a bit.”

I hadn’t ever told Violet about my other job, the one where I worked for the sentient spirit of a dimensionally transcendent and unstable house, but the girl wasn’t stupid. She’d picked up on the fact that I had a tendency to deal with the out-of-the-ordinary things that seemed so often to happen around me. I sighed and ran my hand through my short, wavy hair, a deep chestnut with hints of red and a stark contrast to the flowing silver locks of my Traveling form. 

I turned on my heels and strode around to my car, a 90s-era silver Accord parked in the employee-designated spaces in the parking lot. Violet followed. Unlocking the trunk with the key set I had in my jeans pocket, I removed the emergency bag I kept packed and ready. “Close the shop,” I told her, then frowned. I had been about to tell her to pack up and go home, but she lived several miles away and it seemed as if the cars had all died too. “Stay indoors, keep the doors locked, and watch for looters.”

“That baseball bat still under the counter?” she asked.

“Yep,” I said, and paused. If that feeling of dread had been city-wide, it meant we’d be dealing with mass panic, and panicked people can be violent. “But don’t try to be heroic, okay? If anybody gets violent, just get on out of there. Find somewhere safe. There will probably be some sort of organizational effort to keep things under control, maybe a place for people to gather for shelter, a church or something. Try to find it if you can’t stay in the shop.”

“Gotcha.”

From the bag I removed a pair of silver rods, slender, about the length of my forearm, and etched with runes, then slung the bag over my shoulder. 

Then, taking a deep breath, I stepped into the darkness.

[peace-coast-island]

Diary of a Junebug

On the hunt for seashells!

Our road trip adventure continues in Wizpire as we join in on the hunt for shells at Seashell Shores! 

Luckily I was able to catch Jamie yesterday as she’s been busy these past few days preparing for the event. Since Arabella and Digby have never been to Wizpire, Jamie and I spent the evening giving them a tour of the village. After that we got to enjoy the fireworks and a concert by KK Slider. 

As we spent the day hunting for unique seashells, I really got to know Arabella more. Although she and Digby are close to Isabelle, I don’t really get to see them often - especially Arabella. It wasn’t until a few months ago when we were working on Isabelle’s gift when we finally met in person and since then we’ve been keeping in touch. 

So the story is that years ago when Arabella was little, she was taken in by Isabelle. There’s not much she remembers about her past before Isabelle but it doesn’t really matter to her as she considers Isabelle and Digby her family. She admits that part of her wants to know something about that gap in her life but at the same time it won’t change anything so it’s kind of nagging but also insignificant in the grand scale of things. 

I can see why a part of her would be a little curious though. I’d probably feel the same way if I were in her shoes too. 

Anyway, Arabella’s like Isabelle’s sister and right paw woman. I wouldn’t say she’s like an assistant since Isabelle sees her as an equal although she is like one. I’d say partner in crime would be more accurate. Aside from getting the finer details done behind the scenes, Arabella also has a role in the action at the front and center, even if we don’t always see her.   

That’s because she’s always jumping from place to place while Isabelle often hangs around for a bit to oversee everything before moving on to the next step. Arabella’s basically the “go, go, go!” kind of person - something that a lot of people admire about her, me included. 

When she’s not doing management stuff, Arabella likes to try out various crafting mediums. From jewelry making to painting to cooking to sewing to sculptures - she’s always trying something out! She was the one I turned to when I wanted to make a seashell crown for Isabelle Appreciation Day and she walked me through the whole process of making one. 

Arabella also enjoys watching online classes - which is where she learned a lot of her crafty skills. Her latest interest is seashell art since we’re hunting for them. There’s a long list of crafts Arabella wants to try out like a seashell watercolor notebook, beach themed furniture, patio decor - the possibilities are endless! 

Right now she and Isabelle are making the most out of their vacation as they’re gonna be super busy in the next few months. In the meantime, Arabella’s on a furniture making kick - which is why she’s collecting a lot of seashells. She always wanted to become an instructor and teach courses on how to make furniture so she’s been working towards that dream. 

I would definitely pay a couple hundred thousand bells for a furniture building course taught by Arabella! Knowing her, not only it’ll be worth every bell, but it’ll be a great learning experience!   

The world needs more teachers like her - those who don’t just tell you what to do, but also give you the tools you need to succeed so you feel like you’re prepared for anything.

[authorsofparadiseroleplay]

Dark Days, Chapter One

This is a crossover fan novel featuring my own characters and world of The Authors of Paradise, blended with those of Jim Butcher’s The Dresden Files. This derivative crossover work is being written for the sheer fun of it, with no financial gain. Jim Butcher owns Harry Dresden, The Dresden Files, and all associated characters. I own Evelyn Alvar, Arabella Thorne, Thornebridge Manor, The Authors of Paradise, and all associated characters. I’ve taken the two worlds, mashed them together, and whipped up this meandering thingamabob. Mmm, tasty.

This novel is rated M for Mature, because it’ll get bloody. This chapter isn’t bloody, though; just dreadful.

i. Evelyn

I emerged in a room that shifted and warped, always in motion, always changing, and turned my attention to the figure standing at the far end. A softly glowing, color-changing mist curled around my ankles as I walked past impossible staircases and other Mobius-like structures, approaching the figure. It stood dispassionate, sexless, an endless void that glimmered with distant stars. Its name was Thornebridge, and this was the form it took in this place.

If I looked too deeply into that void, I would be drawn in, tumbling helplessly for eons as every potentiality, every reality, every actuality, every universe seared itself indelibly onto my conscious mind. I would know the truth about myself if I did that. I didn’t want to know. I most certainly did not want to know. I was confident it would drive me mad.

My bare feet settled into place, concealed by the mist, as I stopped directly in front of Thornebridge. I was wearing the filmy white thing that I always wore when I Traveled, and hair the color of moonlight tumbled over my marble-toned shoulders. I’d seen my reflection before in this form. I looked like a marble statue with intensely purple-jewel eyes, inhuman and profoundly alien. I had grown accustomed to it, but I still didn’t understand the why of it.

“You have something to tell me?” I ventured finally. I would never be entirely comfortable talking with Thornebridge-- if talking was the right word. The entity had its own language, one that didn’t often translate well into English, or any other language with actual words.

The response was instantaneous. From out of the mist, a great tower pushed its way out of the hidden ground, rumbling like thunder as it grew to a great height. Dust and debris rained down from it as it stretched higher and higher like some kind of monolithic tree, until its top vanished into the star-studded, nebula-swirled darkness above. A pair of winged figures circled the tower, armed with swords, their wings beating the air into a whirlwind as they flew around and around and around it.

A low, animalistic growl surged behind me, and I turned to see a man dressed in robes and expensive finery, crowned by four inverted pentacles that spun around his head. The man looked like a photograph in negative exposure, black and white, light where he should be dark and dark where he should be light. He ran at the tower and leaped on it, clawing at its base, digging to its foundations, tearing off huge chunks of stone and dropping them into a large canvas bag he carried slung over one shoulder. The two angels didn’t seem to see him, continuing their high-altitude patrol.

I sighed. The overall message was obvious, but the details were still obscured. “Who’s attacking you?” I asked.

The robed man vanished from his place by the tower and appeared before me so suddenly that I took a couple of steps backwards. I took a breath to steady myself and turned my eyes to Thornebridge. “But who is he?”

The human-shaped starry void said nothing. Of course. It stood still, its head turned towards me.

I could look into its void and See...

Shaking my head, I motioned with my hand to the diorama. “If you want our help, you’re going to have to be a bit more clear than that. Okay?”

Thornebridge just watched me. This was apparently the entirety of the message; I wasn’t going to get any more unless I Looked.

I ran my hands through my hair and sighed again. “All right, fine. I’ll see what I can dig up.”

Thornebridge nodded, and the scene vanished, replaced once again with the Escher-like environment. Closing my eyes, I let myself phase through the layers of reality, back to whatever dimension my Traveling form was held in. I felt the threads of silken energy close around me like a cocoon, and my conscious awareness faded to gentle black before becoming aware of the weight and solid mass of my everyday form.

I lay there for a minute, eyes closed, letting my consciousness re-align with physical reality. Slowly, my senses re-connected and began to filter information back to me: the lingering scent of incense, the soothing flow of the meditative music that I had set to play in a loop, the spongy feel of the mat between my body and the hardwood floor, the slight chill in the room that raised gooseflesh over my arms. It was September, and morning, and my stomach informed me that I had not yet eaten breakfast.

Opening my eyes, I stretched, then rose to my feet. The room my housemate Arabella and I had designated for communication sessions with Thornebridge was sparsely decorated with a couple of small tables, a bowl for incense, a scattering of candles, a few carefully placed crystals, some calming prints framed on the walls, a small rock garden, and an iPod set up with a meditation playlist. It was simple and zen, intended to cultivate the kind of relaxation needed to put one’s self into a deep trance.

I turned off the iPod, blew out the candles and the incense, and left the room in the heart of the house, winding my way through corridors that never seemed to follow the same path. I had gotten lost on multiple occasions while trying to find my way through the less stable portions of the house, until I had learned to open my senses enough to navigate my way to the space Arabella and I lived day-to-day.

I saw the door, and my senses told me it was the one that led to the mundane part of the house. It was always a different door, sometimes massive and intricately carved, sometimes simple and rustic. Today, it was narrow, arterial red, and half my height, sporting an ornate silver knob. I turned the knob, opened the door, and stepped out of the dizzying instability of Thornebridge Manor and into the dimensionally stable, comforting warmth of the house’s living space.

The difference in energy always takes a moment or two to adjust to. It’s a little bit like waking up from a dream, as reality re-establishes itself around you, solid and fixed. After taking a few slow breaths and doing a little grounding exercise by placing my palm flat against a wall and feeling its solidity, I moved on, making my way to the kitchen.

The coffee tasted hot and sweet as I sipped it from my favorite old coffee mug, which depicted a calico cat similar in appearance to my own Nimue, batting playfully at a Victorian-style fairy. The house was strangely quiet and felt vast and empty; Arabella had left town to attend some sort of bookseller’s conference. Slowly, I ate a breakfast of eggs, biscuits, and fruit, as I held my battered, leatherbound notebook in my left hand and read over the notes I had written on this morning’s communication with Thornebridge. A well-worn deck of tarot cards, its colors faded and its edges tattered, rested beside the notebook.

I took a bite of scrambled eggs, set my fork down, and flipped through the cards, withdrawing the Tower, the Emperor, Temperance, and the Four of Pentacles, laying them out on the table beside my plate. Chewing thoughtfully, I studied the cards, static images embodying the living diorama I had seen in the communication room, but I came no closer to achieving clarity. The only thing I knew for certain was that someone was attacking Thornebridge, someone Arabella and I-- the Guardians of Thornebridge Manor-- had not yet seen or encountered.

That... was not good. There was an endless list of reasons why that was not good. But I still had precious little to go on. It would be nice, I thought, if the damn house would learn to speak English.

An alarm sounded on my phone, alerting me that it was time to get ready for work, so I put my plate in the dishwasher, returned to my bedroom to dress, made sure my cat and Arabella’s dog Ghost had plenty of fresh water, checked on Virgil the ferret in his little house, and hurried out the door to drive to the shop. There wasn’t a lot I could do until I had more information, and I certainly wasn’t going to figure out the puzzle sitting here all day.

I own a little shop called Boreas Curios, Antiques, and Odditites. It’s a quaint little place, sharing a storefront with a pizza parlor and a jewelry store, and is situated directly across the street from Arabella’s place of business, an antique bookstore that she inherited from its former owner when he retired. It was something akin to kismet that the two of us spent years working in these places, across the street from one another, before we met for the first time through completely unrelated events. And it wasn’t for a lack of browsing each others’ shops either-- I love books, and Arabella is a bona fide pack rat and loves to collect all sorts of strange and wonderful things. And vice versa. We just always managed to visit when neither of us was in our respective shop.

The shop was slow throughout the morning, giving me time to sort through inventory and clean a little bit as I tried to shake the lingering feeling that something wasn’t quite right. I chalked it up to the vagaries of my communication session with Thornebridge and carried on. A few minutes to eleven, Violet breezed in through the front door, smiling brightly at me with her black-lipsticked lips as we greeted each other. Her hair was short and spiky, black tipped with blue, and she wore black-and-white striped stockings on her arms and legs, a green corset, a knee-length black tulle skirt, and a pair of worn old army boots. She waved at me with a black-fingernailed hand and disappeared into the back of the shop, re-emerging a short time later wearing a blue apron that absolutely clashed with her getup.

I didn’t mind her eccentric way of dressing; in fact, I felt it fit the atmosphere of the shop perfectly. She cashed in to her register, and then set about helping me sort through a box of mini-Furbies that had been programmed to say diabolical things. The store rang out with sinister phrases such as, “I am Lord Beelzebub, hear me rooooar!” and “Sacrifice your virgins on the altar of the Goat King!” for several minutes as we inserted batteries, cataloged everything in the system, and put the Furbies in a wire bin near the register. The Diabolical Furby Collection was Violet’s idea, and I thought it fit nicely in with the theme of Strange and Bizarre I had cultivated in the shop. After all, I kept a constant supply of haunted dolls on a shelf situated on the back wall. People loved creepy things. They always sold well.

Right around 1:45, just as the lunch rush had mostly dissipated, the sky went dark, not gradually, but in a quick fade, as if somebody had used a dimmer switch to turn off the sun, cloaking the world in night.

Violet, looking up from where she was ringing up one of the last customers in the store, frowned. “Um. Evelyn?” She paused, then added, “Did somebody forget to pay the sunlight bill?” The joke fell flat as her voice trembled a bit.

I was busy staring through the glass door, blinking in confusion. The slight uneasiness I had felt earlier amplified itself, evolving into the kind of dread that speeds up the heart rate and sends butterflies swarming through the stomach. Violet clearly felt the same, but it was probably just from the inexplicable celestial event. Right?

“What in the blazes...” I murmured. Casting a glance at Violet and her equally confused and anxious customer, I strode across the shop and out the door, peering up at the sky, searching for the sun. Violet joined me a minute or two later, after shooing the customers out and locking the door.

“Is... is it an eclipse?” she asked, doubt slowing her words. I shook my head, but pulled my phone from my apron and began pulling up an online almanac to be sure.

“Probably not,” I said. “Wouldn’t have gone dark that quickly.” I scanned the almanac long enough to determine that there had been no eclipses predicted for the day, and then my phone went dark.

So did the rest of the block. All around us, the lights illuminating the buildings flickered out, plunging the world into heavy darkness. Even the cars on the street died, rolling to a stop. I heard the metallic clatter of a car wreck somewhere in the near distance, and somebody screamed.

The creeping dread flared into visceral, heart-pounding terror, and for a moment, I was lost in it. I wanted to fall to my knees, pull at my hair, and moan with it. I wanted to dig into the ground and hide from the darkness, to curl into myself, to lose myself to the fear, to be consumed by it. It coiled around me, a primal, atavistic horror that threatened to strangle the life from me. I was barely aware of Violet next to me, frozen and trembling with the same terror.

A long moment passed, and the dread eased of its own accord. It still lingered, pulsing softly on a psychic wavelength, but it no longer threatened to drive us mad. I found I had indeed fallen to the ground, and slowly got to my hands and knees, reaching out to help Violet to her feet. The girl was still shaking, her blue eyes wide in the gloom, but she let me stand her up and steady her.

“What was that?” she cried, but then seemed to realize how near to panic she was edging, and took a deep breath, squaring her shoulders. She leveled her gaze on me and said, “I’m going to guess you’ll be leaving the shop to me for a bit.”

I hadn’t ever told Violet about my other job, the one where I worked for the sentient spirit of a dimensionally transcendent and unstable house, but the girl wasn’t stupid. She’d picked up on the fact that I had a tendency to deal with the out-of-the-ordinary things that seemed so often to happen around me. I sighed and ran my hand through my short, wavy hair, a deep chestnut with hints of red and a stark contrast to the flowing silver locks of my Traveling form.

I turned on my heels and strode around to my car, a 90s-era silver Accord parked in the employee-designated spaces in the parking lot. Violet followed. Unlocking the trunk with the key set I had in my jeans pocket, I removed the emergency bag I kept packed and ready. “Close the shop,” I told her, then frowned. I had been about to tell her to pack up and go home, but she lived several miles away and it seemed as if the cars had all died too. “Stay indoors, keep the doors locked, and watch for looters.”

“That baseball bat still under the counter?” she asked.

“Yep,” I said, and paused. If that feeling of dread had been city-wide, it meant we’d be dealing with mass panic, and panicked people can be violent. “But don’t try to be heroic, okay? If anybody gets violent, just get on out of there. Find somewhere safe. There will probably be some sort of organizational effort to keep things under control, maybe a place for people to gather for shelter, a church or something. Try to find it if you can’t stay in the shop.”

“Gotcha.”

From the bag I removed a pair of silver rods, slender, about the length of my forearm, and etched with runes, then slung the bag over my shoulder.

Then, taking a deep breath, I stepped into the darkness.

[thejewelryhut]

For Her Unique Occasion. Modernistic Vibes. A Necklace that Shows Her Personality. TheJewelryHut Vintage Inspired Style Blue and White Crystalline Silver Necklace

Designs Borrowed from past that Appeal to Sophisticated Modern Woman. Steal her Heart with TheJewelryHut Vintage Inspired Solesta Style Platinum Plated 925 Sterling Silver 16 inches (16-20 inches adjustable) Necklace Featuring One Square Shape Aquamarine Blue Color Lab Created Crystalline, 1 CTTW, and Surrounded by Several White Diamond Color Lab Created Crystalline, 0.5 CTTW. Gems Total weight 1.5 CTTW.

The Luxury of Sterling Silver that Captures her Style and Shows her attitude. Submerge Her in the Sparkle of this Elegant Necklace.

Trust Confidence and Integrity.  Shop TheJewelryHut. Visit the Anna Zuckerman Jewelry Gallery, Buy now and Sparkle all day:  https://www.thejewelryhut.com/?page=search&itemvid=39014B3A-CC1F-3898-2AEABD2792C9B069

[jeweltic]

Winston's father Jacob started a #small_jewelry business after he and his mother immigrated to the United States from Ukraine. While growing up, he worked in his father's shop. When he was twelve years old, he recognized a two-carat emerald in a pawn shop, bought it for 25 cents, and sold it two days later for $800. Winston started his business in 1920 and opened his first store in New York City in 1932. Winston's jewelry empire began in 1926, with his acquisition of Arabella Huntington's jewelry collection, for $1.2 million. The wife of railroad magnate Henry E. Huntington, Arabella amassed one of the world's most prestigious collections of jewelry, largely from Parisian jewelers such as Cartier. When Winston bought the collection after her death, the designs of the jewelry in the collection were quite old fashioned. Winston redesigned the jewelry into more contemporary styles and showcased his unique skill at jewelry crafting. When he died, Winston left the company to his two sons, Ronald and Bruce, who then entered into a decade-long battle over the control of the company. In 2000, Ronald along with new business partner, Fenway Partners, bought Bruce out from the company for $54.1 million. #jewellery #jewels #harrywinston #harrywinstonjewelry #espritjoaillerie #patrimoinejoaillerie #diamonds #diamantes #joyeria #gemstoneslovers #emerald #esmeralda #hautejoaillerie #influencer #gemstones #newyork #newyorkcollection credit copyright: @harrywinston (at Australia) https://www.instagram.com/p/CB0fDplHwQH/?igshid=mhesegs8jjip

[hounganmatt]

Today! Today!! A special collaboration with Potence Collective, a *gorgeous* art, crystal, and jewelry shop on the corner of Magazine and Arabella... Readings with The Fortune Queen Krysten Barnes, and stunning #tarot inspired pottery by @zoe.c.swartz! Enjoy 15 min Tarot readings and gorgeous Tarot art! #tarot #tarotreadersofinstagram #localart #pottery #localbusiness #collaboration #celebration #magazinestreet #showmeyournola #nolastyle #nola #neworleans #crescentcity #sip #gorgeousness (at Potence Collective)

[bluesakurapinkrose]

#9: The Pirate Baroness Arabella by ladymienshao featuring leather purses ❤ liked on Polyvore

Oxford black high heel boots / Alexander McQueen leather purse / Queensbee red jewelry, $1,510 / Allurez white gold engagement ring / Diamond jewelry / RockStar Wigs Farrah Collection

[herbouquetsweets-blog]

Arabella from Hogwarts! by slytherin-girl-hogwarts featuring a mineral make up ❤ liked on Polyvore

Knit crop top / LE3NO summer jacket / Supra super skinny jeans / Journee Collection vintage boots / David Yurman rose gold bangle / Diamond band ring / Miu Miu earring jewelry, $360 / Witchery round lens sunglasses, $63 / Mineral make up / Beauty product

[repwincoml4a0a5]

Ivanka Trump Cleared Hurdle For Chinese Trademarks Same Day She Dined With Xi Jinping

SHANGHAI (AP) — On April 6, Ivanka Trump’s company won provisional approval from the Chinese government for three new trademarks, giving it monopoly rights to sell Ivanka brand jewelry, bags and spa services in the world’s second-largest economy. That night, the first daughter and her husband, Jared Kushner, sat next to the president of China and his wife for a steak and Dover sole dinner at Mar-a-Lago.

The scenario underscores how difficult it is for Trump, who has tried to distance herself from the brand that bears her name, to separate business from politics in her new position at the White House.

As the first daughter crafts a political career from her West Wing office, her brand is flourishing, despite boycotts and several stores limiting her merchandise. U.S. imports, almost all of them from China, shot up an estimated 166 percent last year, while sales hit record levels in 2017. The brand, which Trump still owns, says distribution is growing. It has launched new activewear and affordable jewelry lines and is working to expand its global intellectual property footprint. In addition to winning the approvals from China, Ivanka Trump Marks LLC applied for at least nine new trademarks in the Philippines, Puerto Rico, Canada and the U.S. after the election.

The commercial currents of the Trump White House are unprecedented in modern American politics, ethics lawyers say. They have created an unfamiliar landscape riven with ethical pitfalls, and forced consumers and retailers to wrestle with the unlikely passions now inspired by Ivanka Trump’s mid-market collection of ruffled blouses, shifts and wedges.

Using the prestige of government service to build a brand is not illegal. But criminal conflict of interest law prohibits federal officials, like Trump and her husband, from participating in government matters that could impact their own financial interest or that of their spouse. Some argue that the more her business broadens its scope, the more it threatens to encroach on the ability of two trusted advisers to deliver credible counsel to the president on core issues like trade, intellectual property, and the value of the Chinese currency.

“Put the business on hold and stop trying to get trademarks while you’re in government,” advised Richard Painter, who served as chief White House ethics lawyer under George W. Bush.

To address ethical concerns, Trump has shifted the brand’s assets to a family-run trust valued at more than $50 million and pledged to recuse herself from issues that present conflicts.

“Ivanka will not weigh in on business strategy, marketing issues, or the commercial terms of agreements,” her attorney, Jamie Gorelick, said in a statement. “She has retained authority to direct the trustees to terminate agreements that she determines create a conflict of interest or the appearance of one.”

In a recent interview with CBS News, Trump argued that her business would be doing even better if she hadn’t moved to Washington and placed restrictions on her team to ensure that “any growth is done with extreme caution.”

China, however, remains a nagging concern. “Ivanka has so many China ties and conflicts, yet she and Jared appear deeply involved in China contacts and policy. I would never have allowed it,” said Norman Eisen, who served as chief White House ethics lawyer under Barack Obama. “For their own sake, and the country’s, Ivanka and Jared should consider stepping away from China matters.”

Instead, the first daughter and her husband have emerged as prominent interlocutors with China, where they have both had significant business ties. Last year, Kushner pursued hundreds of millions of dollars in real estate investments from Anbang Insurance Group, a financial conglomerate with close ties to the Chinese state. After media reports about the deal, talks were called off.

Publicly, Ivanka has taken a gracious, charming approach toward Beijing. During the Mar-a-Lago meetings, her daughter, 5-year-old Arabella stood in a gilded room and sang a traditional Chinese song, in Mandarin, for China’s president, Xi Jinping. The video, which was lavishly praised by Chinese state media, played over 2.2 million times on China’s popular news portal qq.com.

The week of the summit, 3.4 tons of Ivanka Trump handbags, wallets and blouses arrived in the U.S. from Hong Kong and Shanghai. U.S. imports of her merchandise grew an estimated 40 percent in the first quarter of this year, according to Panjiva Inc., which maintains and analyzes global shipping records.

Painter, the former Bush administration lawyer, recommended full recusal from issues related to trade with China. That is likely to be difficult because trade is so deeply embedded in the US-China relationship and has been linked with other matters, like North Korea.

“The danger is that with any discussion with the Chinese, one party or the other may try to bring up trade,” he said. “That’s a slippery slope that may require her or Jared to step out of the room.”

Gorelick, Ivanka Trump’s attorney, said that Ivanka and her husband would steer clear of specific areas that could impact her business, or be seen as conflicts of interest, but are under no legal obligation to step back from huge swaths of policy, like trade with China.

Under the rules, Trump would recuse herself from conversations about duties on clothing imported from China, Gorelick said, but not broad foreign policy.

“In between, you have to assess it case-by-case,” she said.

Trademarks can be signs of corporate ambition, though many countries — such as China, where trademark squatting is rampant — also allow for defensive filings to prevent copycats from using a brand.

Trademarks pose ethical, and possibly legal, implications for government employees because they are granted by foreign states and confer the monopoly right to sell branded product in a particular country — an entitlement that can be enormously valuable. Intellectual property lawyers say trademarks are also a crucial prerequisite for cutting licensing deals, which form the basis of both Ivanka and Donald Trump’s global business strategy.

Today, Ivanka Trump Marks LLC has 16 registered trademarks in China and 32 pending applications, along with a total of four marks granted preliminary approval since the inauguration, according to China’s Trademark Office. Altogether, they cover a wide range of goods and services, including cosmetics, jewelry, leather handbags, luggage, clothes, shoes, retail, spa and beauty services. There is no sign the recent approvals were particularly swift. China’s Trademark Office did not respond to a request for comment.

Globally, the company has more than 180 pending and registered trademarks in countries including Canada, India, Japan, Israel, Mexico, Turkey, Saudi Arabia, as well as the U.S. and Europe, public records show. In December, the company applied for five trademarks, covering handbags and wallets in Puerto Rico, and lingerie and other clothes in the U.S. After the inauguration, the company filed four more applications, for branded clothing and shoes in the Philippines, and perfume and other items in Canada.

Trump did not sign off on the new trademark applications, her brand said in a statement, adding that they are “not necessarily an indication that the brand is planning to launch a category or a store in a specific territory.”

Whatever the future plans, right now sales are growing — helped, some argue, by the glow of Ivanka Trump’s political rise.

The G-III Apparel Group Ltd., which makes Ivanka Trump clothes, said net sales for the collection increased by $17.9 million during the year that ended Jan. 31.

The brand itself claims revenues rose 21 percent last year, with early February seeing some of the “best performance ever,” according to a statement by Abigail Klem, president of the Ivanka Trump brand. Because it is privately held, the brand does not have to declare its earnings or where revenues come from. The actual corporate structure of Trump’s retail business remains opaque. Kushner’s financial disclosure form lists two dozen corporate entities that appear directly related to his wife’s brand. Trump herself has yet to file a disclosure.

Data from Lyst, a massive fashion e-commerce platform, indicates some of this growth coincided with specific political events.

The number of Ivanka Trump items sold through Lyst was 46 percent higher the month her father was elected president than in November 2015. Sales spiked 771 percent in February over the same month last year, after White House counselor Kellyanne Conway exhorted Fox viewers to “Go buy Ivanka’s stuff.” Conway was later reprimanded. The bounce appears somewhat sustained. March sales on Lyst were up 262 percent over the same period last year.

“You can’t separate Ivanka from her role in life and from her business,” said Allen Adamson, founder of BrandSimpleConsulting. “Her celebrity status is now not only being fueled by her wealth and her family connection, but by her huge role in the White House. All that buzz is hardwired to her products.” That, he added, is a competitive advantage other brands just can’t match — though it does come with risk.

Things could easily cut the other way for the first daughter. Ashley King, 28 of Calabasas, California, bought Ivanka Trump black flats and a cardigan several years ago. But King, who voted for Hillary Clinton, said she believes Trump’s role in the White House represents a conflict of interest.

“This is bothering me more and more,” she said. As for the Ivanka Trump items in her closet, she said, “I will be donating them.”

___

Online:

Daily change in Ivanka Trump’s orders on Lyst – http://ift.tt/2ptK1zd

Monthly change in Ivanka Trump’s orders on Lsyt – http://ift.tt/2oHgZJl

The Ivanka Trump Collection Quarterly US Imports – http://ift.tt/2pu1uYi

__

Associated Press reporter Catherine Lucey in Washington, researcher Fu Ting in Shanghai, and reporters Danica Coto in San Juan, Puerto Rico, Teresa Cerojano in Manila and Elaine Kurtenbach in Tokyo contributed to this report.

Follow Kinetz on Twitter at twitter.com/ekinetz

Copyright 2017 The Associated Press. All rights reserved. This material may not be published, broadcast, rewritten or redistributed.

from DIYS http://ift.tt/2oRk37J

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Ivanka Trump Cleared Hurdle For Chinese Trademarks Same Day She Dined With Xi Jinping

SHANGHAI (AP) — On April 6, Ivanka Trump’s company won provisional approval from the Chinese government for three new trademarks, giving it monopoly rights to sell Ivanka brand jewelry, bags and spa services in the world’s second-largest economy. That night, the first daughter and her husband, Jared Kushner, sat next to the president of China and his wife for a steak and Dover sole dinner at Mar-a-Lago.

The scenario underscores how difficult it is for Trump, who has tried to distance herself from the brand that bears her name, to separate business from politics in her new position at the White House.

As the first daughter crafts a political career from her West Wing office, her brand is flourishing, despite boycotts and several stores limiting her merchandise. U.S. imports, almost all of them from China, shot up an estimated 166 percent last year, while sales hit record levels in 2017. The brand, which Trump still owns, says distribution is growing. It has launched new activewear and affordable jewelry lines and is working to expand its global intellectual property footprint. In addition to winning the approvals from China, Ivanka Trump Marks LLC applied for at least nine new trademarks in the Philippines, Puerto Rico, Canada and the U.S. after the election.

The commercial currents of the Trump White House are unprecedented in modern American politics, ethics lawyers say. They have created an unfamiliar landscape riven with ethical pitfalls, and forced consumers and retailers to wrestle with the unlikely passions now inspired by Ivanka Trump’s mid-market collection of ruffled blouses, shifts and wedges.

Using the prestige of government service to build a brand is not illegal. But criminal conflict of interest law prohibits federal officials, like Trump and her husband, from participating in government matters that could impact their own financial interest or that of their spouse. Some argue that the more her business broadens its scope, the more it threatens to encroach on the ability of two trusted advisers to deliver credible counsel to the president on core issues like trade, intellectual property, and the value of the Chinese currency.

“Put the business on hold and stop trying to get trademarks while you’re in government,” advised Richard Painter, who served as chief White House ethics lawyer under George W. Bush.

To address ethical concerns, Trump has shifted the brand’s assets to a family-run trust valued at more than $50 million and pledged to recuse herself from issues that present conflicts.

“Ivanka will not weigh in on business strategy, marketing issues, or the commercial terms of agreements,” her attorney, Jamie Gorelick, said in a statement. “She has retained authority to direct the trustees to terminate agreements that she determines create a conflict of interest or the appearance of one.”

In a recent interview with CBS News, Trump argued that her business would be doing even better if she hadn’t moved to Washington and placed restrictions on her team to ensure that “any growth is done with extreme caution.”

China, however, remains a nagging concern. “Ivanka has so many China ties and conflicts, yet she and Jared appear deeply involved in China contacts and policy. I would never have allowed it,” said Norman Eisen, who served as chief White House ethics lawyer under Barack Obama. “For their own sake, and the country’s, Ivanka and Jared should consider stepping away from China matters.”

Instead, the first daughter and her husband have emerged as prominent interlocutors with China, where they have both had significant business ties. Last year, Kushner pursued hundreds of millions of dollars in real estate investments from Anbang Insurance Group, a financial conglomerate with close ties to the Chinese state. After media reports about the deal, talks were called off.

Publicly, Ivanka has taken a gracious, charming approach toward Beijing. During the Mar-a-Lago meetings, her daughter, 5-year-old Arabella stood in a gilded room and sang a traditional Chinese song, in Mandarin, for China’s president, Xi Jinping. The video, which was lavishly praised by Chinese state media, played over 2.2 million times on China’s popular news portal qq.com.

The week of the summit, 3.4 tons of Ivanka Trump handbags, wallets and blouses arrived in the U.S. from Hong Kong and Shanghai. U.S. imports of her merchandise grew an estimated 40 percent in the first quarter of this year, according to Panjiva Inc., which maintains and analyzes global shipping records.

Painter, the former Bush administration lawyer, recommended full recusal from issues related to trade with China. That is likely to be difficult because trade is so deeply embedded in the US-China relationship and has been linked with other matters, like North Korea.

“The danger is that with any discussion with the Chinese, one party or the other may try to bring up trade,” he said. “That’s a slippery slope that may require her or Jared to step out of the room.”

Gorelick, Ivanka Trump’s attorney, said that Ivanka and her husband would steer clear of specific areas that could impact her business, or be seen as conflicts of interest, but are under no legal obligation to step back from huge swaths of policy, like trade with China.

Under the rules, Trump would recuse herself from conversations about duties on clothing imported from China, Gorelick said, but not broad foreign policy.

“In between, you have to assess it case-by-case,” she said.

Trademarks can be signs of corporate ambition, though many countries — such as China, where trademark squatting is rampant — also allow for defensive filings to prevent copycats from using a brand.

Trademarks pose ethical, and possibly legal, implications for government employees because they are granted by foreign states and confer the monopoly right to sell branded product in a particular country — an entitlement that can be enormously valuable. Intellectual property lawyers say trademarks are also a crucial prerequisite for cutting licensing deals, which form the basis of both Ivanka and Donald Trump’s global business strategy.

Today, Ivanka Trump Marks LLC has 16 registered trademarks in China and 32 pending applications, along with a total of four marks granted preliminary approval since the inauguration, according to China’s Trademark Office. Altogether, they cover a wide range of goods and services, including cosmetics, jewelry, leather handbags, luggage, clothes, shoes, retail, spa and beauty services. There is no sign the recent approvals were particularly swift. China’s Trademark Office did not respond to a request for comment.

Globally, the company has more than 180 pending and registered trademarks in countries including Canada, India, Japan, Israel, Mexico, Turkey, Saudi Arabia, as well as the U.S. and Europe, public records show. In December, the company applied for five trademarks, covering handbags and wallets in Puerto Rico, and lingerie and other clothes in the U.S. After the inauguration, the company filed four more applications, for branded clothing and shoes in the Philippines, and perfume and other items in Canada.

Trump did not sign off on the new trademark applications, her brand said in a statement, adding that they are “not necessarily an indication that the brand is planning to launch a category or a store in a specific territory.”

Whatever the future plans, right now sales are growing — helped, some argue, by the glow of Ivanka Trump’s political rise.

The G-III Apparel Group Ltd., which makes Ivanka Trump clothes, said net sales for the collection increased by $17.9 million during the year that ended Jan. 31.

The brand itself claims revenues rose 21 percent last year, with early February seeing some of the “best performance ever,” according to a statement by Abigail Klem, president of the Ivanka Trump brand. Because it is privately held, the brand does not have to declare its earnings or where revenues come from. The actual corporate structure of Trump’s retail business remains opaque. Kushner’s financial disclosure form lists two dozen corporate entities that appear directly related to his wife’s brand. Trump herself has yet to file a disclosure.

Data from Lyst, a massive fashion e-commerce platform, indicates some of this growth coincided with specific political events.

The number of Ivanka Trump items sold through Lyst was 46 percent higher the month her father was elected president than in November 2015. Sales spiked 771 percent in February over the same month last year, after White House counselor Kellyanne Conway exhorted Fox viewers to “Go buy Ivanka’s stuff.” Conway was later reprimanded. The bounce appears somewhat sustained. March sales on Lyst were up 262 percent over the same period last year.

“You can’t separate Ivanka from her role in life and from her business,” said Allen Adamson, founder of BrandSimpleConsulting. “Her celebrity status is now not only being fueled by her wealth and her family connection, but by her huge role in the White House. All that buzz is hardwired to her products.” That, he added, is a competitive advantage other brands just can’t match — though it does come with risk.

Things could easily cut the other way for the first daughter. Ashley King, 28 of Calabasas, California, bought Ivanka Trump black flats and a cardigan several years ago. But King, who voted for Hillary Clinton, said she believes Trump’s role in the White House represents a conflict of interest.

“This is bothering me more and more,” she said. As for the Ivanka Trump items in her closet, she said, “I will be donating them.”

___

Online:

Daily change in Ivanka Trump’s orders on Lyst – http://ift.tt/2ptK1zd

Monthly change in Ivanka Trump’s orders on Lsyt – http://ift.tt/2oHgZJl

The Ivanka Trump Collection Quarterly US Imports – http://ift.tt/2pu1uYi

__

Associated Press reporter Catherine Lucey in Washington, researcher Fu Ting in Shanghai, and reporters Danica Coto in San Juan, Puerto Rico, Teresa Cerojano in Manila and Elaine Kurtenbach in Tokyo contributed to this report.

Follow Kinetz on Twitter at twitter.com/ekinetz

Copyright 2017 The Associated Press. All rights reserved. This material may not be published, broadcast, rewritten or redistributed.

from DIYS http://ift.tt/2oRk37J