#pierrepont

[phenomenalgems]

🌌 #8 of our top 10 Favorite Finds of 2024: Solar Eclipse viewing and digging black tourmaline clusters at Powers Farm, Pierrepont, NY!

Digging this classic American locality was so cool, but getting to collect during a 🌚 total solar eclipse 🌚 ?? Totally singular experience, and by far the #1 astronomical event of our year. Powers Farm was the most peaceful place ever to watch the eclipse. The tourmaline here is dravite-uvite, not normally black—this locality also yields unique black phlogopite mica, tremolite, diopside, quartz, and much more. What a cool way to kick off our rockhounding year!

🌌 #topfindsof2024 #rockhounding #rocks #blacktourmaline #solareclipse #totaleclipseofthesun #powersfarm #pierrepont #mineralsofnewyork #blackminerals #findyourowncrystals #americanminerals #phenomenalgems

[thepaintedroom]

Marie-Louise Roosevelt Pierrepont (British, 1889–1984) • Door to the Conservatory, Cliffe Castle • Cliff Castle Museum, West Yorkshire, U.K.

[shealwaysreads]

Daisy Sims Hilditch’s website

Christine Atkins’ website

Stephen Darbishire’s website

our home should have colours and flowers. daisy sims hilditch / christine atkins / stephen darbishire / marie-louise roosevelt pierrepont

[artisthomes]

Holme Pierrepont Hall, birthplace of Lady Mary Wortley Montagu, located near Nottingham, England

[hitchell-mope]

Insanely funny movie. I would definitely watch it again.

[findamericanrentals]

Discover the Charms of France: Saint Nicolas de Pierrepont and Domaine de Kerlann with Find American Rentals

Find no booking fees Domaine de Kerlann or Saint Nicolas de Pierrepont vacation house or cottage rentals in France direct by the owner via user-friendly website Find American Rentals with all the amenities.

Are you daydreaming about a blissful getaway to the picturesque countryside of France? Look no further than Saint Nicolas de Pierrepont and Domaine de Kerlann for an unforgettable vacation experience. With no booking fees on vacation rentals via Find American Rentals, you can easily plan the perfect escape without breaking the bank. Saint Nicolas de Pierrepont and Domaine de Kerlann offer a…

[metmuseum]

Ball gown. ca. 1864. Credit line: Gift of Mary Pierrepont Beckwith, 1969 https://www.metmuseum.org/art/collection/search/82642

[d-criss-news]

Darren Criss Is Betting Big on Maybe Happy Ending, the Musical You're About to Fall in Love With

Darren Criss on the Timelessness of MAYBE HAPPY ENDING

Darren Criss has danced up the corporate ladder as J. Pierrepont Finch, stripped down to his skivvies as a queer East German rock star and tackled the “profane poetry” of David Mamet. And still, he says, there’s one thing he hasn’t done: “I haven’t taken any risks on Broadway.”

That ends this season with Maybe Happy Ending, a new musical on a mission to draw audiences to the Belasco Theatre without the benefit of a recognizable title, popular source material or songs that have already spent time on the Billboard Hot 100. “It's a really, really hard market right now to be making art,” Criss says to Broadway.com Editor-in-Chief Paul Wontorek, chatting at So & So's Neighborhood Piano Bar. And commercial Broadway theater? It’s “tedious, expensive and a gamble.” So naturally, Criss is going double or nothing as both star and producer of Broadway’s next thrilling crap shoot.

Maybe Happy Ending takes the trappings of a classic love story and inserts futuristic robots with outdated software. Criss plays Oliver opposite Helen J Shen’s Claire—a pair of Helper-Bots who, on a quest to contact their former owner, evoke a kind of Millennial-Gen Z mismatch. But rather than getting swept away by love, the two retired machines take the concept itself and try to break it down to its zeros and ones. As Criss explains, “[It’s] two computers trying to computationally synthesize and process what love is and why human beings do this.”

The musical was a hit when it debuted in Seoul, South Korea nearly a decade ago, and now, writers Will Aronson and Hue Park have a crafted an English-language version that Criss thinks has the potential to ascend to the proverbial Heaviside Layer of musical theater. “This is the seminal version that I hope can last in perpetuity for the ages,” he says, adding confidently, “I do feel like this is a timeless piece.”

Original musicals have the most challenging road on Broadway. But when you look to grassroots successes like Urinetown, or Dear Evan Hansen, or even The Prom—which ran in New York for less than a year but inspired a starry film and a slate of regional and international productions—you see how quickly an unknown quantity can become canon. “People are always like, ‘There’s no one creating original things,’” Criss says. “They are. It’s just really, really hard to produce them because you really have to believe in something hard enough to be OK with the risk.”

The fact that Maybe Happy Ending has earned that belief from some of the theater’s heaviest hitters is telling. Director Michael Arden, hot off a 2023 Tony Award for his revival of Parade, chose the piece as his next musical. And producers Jeffrey Richards and Hunter Arnold, with nearly 20 Tony Awards between them, have given Arden free rein to make a capital “B” Broadway meal of it.

The show’s cast is deceptively modest (Marcus Choi and Dez Duron complete the four-hander), but there’s nothing minimalist about Arden’s vision for Maybe Happy Ending or the high-tech space he’s worked out with set designer Dane Laffrey. In short, “They don’t f**k around,” says Criss. “This show is very technologically advanced. I think it's kind of the ace in the hole that people aren't expecting.” He tosses out comparisons to Miss Saigon’s descending helicopter and The Phantom of the Opera’s haunted chandelier—emblems of the bygone ‘80s megamusical. In an era of subtlety and economy (think recent Tony winners Kimberly Akimbo or The Band’s Visit), this, Criss promises, is “a big-a** mother**king spectacle.”

It's another bold, all-in move from the Maybe Happy Ending team, but Criss is determined to hedge no bets this time around. He looks back at his Broadway resume: How to Succeed in Business Without Really Trying (“Glee was white-hot and I was going in for three weeks after Daniel Radcliffe”); Hedwig and the Angry Inch (“People love that show. With or without me, it would be just fine”); American Buffalo (“A beloved and respected American play”).

“They're all classics to some degree,” he concludes. “This is not that.” Of course, understanding what Maybe Happy Ending is not is less of an issue than getting audiences to understand what it is. Right now, Criss says, there are rumblings around town that it’s “the cute little robot show.” The thought puts a mischievous grin on his face: “You have no idea.”

[tiarascrowns]

Ruby & Diamond Tiara

Ruby and diamond tiara, mid-19th century

"Description

silver, gold, rubies, diamonds, metal

Set with foil backed rubies and circular-cut and rose diamonds, length approximately 370mm, may be worn as a necklace with a detachable chain, additional brooch fittings, inner circumference of tiara approximately 180mm, fitted case.

Provenance

From the descendants of Earl Manvers and Viscount Chetwynd. The tiara was given by Lady Annora Charlotte Pierrepont of Thoresby Park, daughter of Charles Pierrepont 2nd Earl Manvers and her husband Charles Watkin Williams-Wynn, an ancient family of aristocratic Welsh politicians and owners of much of the border region of Wales, to their daughter Mary Williams-Wynn on the occasion of her marriage to Henry Goulburn Chetwynd Stapylton JP in 1886. The tiara was left by Mary Chetwynd Stapylton, nee Williams-Wynn, to her daughter Annora Esther Osmaston, nee Chetwynd Stapylton. Thence by decent."

- Sotheby's

[mea-gloria-fides]

Arms of The Most Noble Evelyn Pierrepont, 1st Duke of Kingston-upon-Hull.

[labuenosairesfrancaise]

The Hall Bradford-on-avon

Hi guys!!

I'm sharing The Hall Bradford-on-avon. This is the 12th building for my English Collection.

History of the house: The Hall was built around 1610 for John Hall, a wealthy mill owner, and is at the east end of the town. The Hall family of Bradford can be traced back to at least the 13th century, under the name of "De Aulâ" or "De la Sale" (salle being french for hall). John Hall's grandson, also named John Hall, had no legitimate children and left his estate to his great-niece Rachel Baynton. She later married William Pierrepont, who became Duke of Kingston-upon-Hull, giving the house its alternate names. After the second Duke died without issue, the house was sold to Thomas Divett, in 1802, who established a woollen mill, and sublet the house, which fell into disrepair. In 1848, the house was sold to Stephen Moulton, who undertook major restorations. During the restoration, many old documents were discovered, which were catalogued by Canon J.E.Jackson.

For more info: https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/The_Hall,_Bradford-on-Avon

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This house fits a 50x40 lot (I think if you lose the gaden and terrace it can fit a 40x30 too)

It is not furnished, just the carcase for the house, so you can create the interiors to your taste!

Hope you like it.

You will need the usual CC I use:

all Felixandre cc

all The Jim,

SYB

Anachrosims

Regal Sims

King Falcon railing

The Golden Sanctuary

Cliffou

Dndr recolors

Harrie cc

Tuds

Lili's palace cc

Please enjoy, comment if you like it and share pictures with me if you use my creations!

DOWNLOAD free in my Patreon page. If you like it, please leave a comment

[wandering-cemeteries]

The very neo-Gothic tomb of Hezekiah Pierrepont, a landowner, merchant and land developer.

Green-Wood Cemetery, Brooklyn

2016

Explore:

[porcelainapparition]

The Hurst Pierrepont Estate

Garrison, New York

built in 1868

[manyfandomocs]

(Belated) birthday plot bunny 2/2 – Gregg Sulkin in Schmigadoon & Schmicago (one oc who is in both or variations for each season)

You get variations cause I don't have any Schmigadoon ocs that do that so!!!

Ellis Dixon (Betsy McDonough ship)

Ellis has always known that he's in love with one Betsy McDonough, hell the whole town has known it, but it's always been the agreement with her father of him proving that he can support her that's stopped anything from happening. He wants to be someone that deserves her, but right now he is just a farmhand watching plenty of others wanting the same beautiful girl he does. And then two people come to town, newcomers to Schmigadoon, including a fancy doctor that Betsy seems very taken with. Suddenly Ellis has to worry about more than just her father's disapproval.

(main inspo is Will Parker from Oklahoma!)

and then

Patrick Broderick (Jenny Banks and maybe also Topher ship)

When they were young, Jenny and Patrick wanted to be stars. Jenny more than Patrick, granted, but it was still a dream they shared. Patrick had a start at least, he had a job bussing tables at the Kratt Klub and was able to dance on very very slow nights, so he tried his best to win the favor of Kratt enough to get Jenny a job too. And it worked. Jenny was the growing favorite and seemingly starting to leave Patrick behind, and he couldn't handle watching so, he quit the club. He took a chance to work in law instead, getting a job with Bobby and moving up enough to practice his own occasionally, which means when the arrest of showgirl Elsie Vale throws him back into the spotlight of Jenny Banks, he wonders if he's ever given up on any of his old dreams after all

(main inspos are J. Pierrepont Finch from How to Succeed in Business Without Really Trying and Eddie Ryan from Funny Girl)

Send me a fandom / love interest / faceclaim (one or all of those) and I’ll make a plot bunny

[flcnnerys]

*/ You built up a world of magic.

Chase was a notoriously horrible liar; but he was excellent at playing pretend.

It was easy, like second nature almost, for a kid who grew up with an overly creative streak to just start inventing things in his head. Some online gurus called it "manifesting", Chase called it bullshitting around. But when imagination started getting preferable to what was out there in the real world... well, it was the equivalent to a pot of water boiling over, no?

The pendulum always swung back.

With siblings older than him to the point that when he was ready to play make believe with his toys, to build a cardboard rocketship to fly around the house in, to tell scary stories by flashlight under the covers while Mom and Dad went to bed... he was alone. The girls were older, they wanted to get sleep before exams, or go out to the mall with their friends. It would have been lonely for most, but it wasn't something he realized at the time. The Star Wars reenactments-by-figurines had to continue, the shows must have gone one.

Maybe that's why he got into theater when he was older - he could play make believe, again, with other people. It always frustrated his parents, his mother specifically, the older that he got, when he still had those fantastical tendencies. Her parents weren't from this country, and when they arrived, they had to work their tails off to make ends meet. That logical thinking of practicality was ingrained in her, and she passed on that kind of working ethic at least to her daughters. Chase, too, in his own way, but it wasn't in a tangible way. The fridge was notably empty of A+ report cards from him, or trophies on the mantle for being a prized member of any sports team, a medal from a science fair. It always made it difficult for the two to relate to each other, and butting heads was common.

But it was easy then to just... pretend. Rethink over the fights they had where it ended with compassion, instead of disregard. He was his mother's son, though, and that spiteful sense of I'm right, and you're wrong, was too strong for either of them to overcome.

When he moved back home after school, the disappointment was palpable in the air. Of course it was - he did lie to them about what he was doing the whole time. And he wasn't completely stupid; college was expensive, and unless someone else was footing the bill, Chase had no interest both in wasting his time and money on something he didn't want to do in the first place. His dad was a bit more sympathetic, a quiet nudge in the directions of auditioning and getting his son away from the grungy music scene, the one that had led him to pierce his face and dye his hair green. With his mother, they were merely quiet observers of each other, a relationship one could expect with an animal at the zoo.

So it surprised him thoroughly when, a few weeks before all his good news hit at once, his mother asked if he would accompany her to a local diner for breakfast. It was this crepe place that went real fancy with it, and served humongous teacups of hot chocolate (to which Chase had two, extra whipped cream thank-you-very-much). Looking back, it was really the first time she tried to understand what it was that he enjoyed so much, why he liked theater, and the music, and all of it. Apparently she had heard him rehearsing in his room one night, when he thought he was alone in the house. Knowing that this conversation was on a thin tightrope to spiraling into the kinds of arguments they'd had about this subject in the past, Chase nevertheless gave her a chance, and explained. It was fun to lose sight of yourself and pretend for a little while - you could make up for the fact that you didn't have a lot of long term friends, or worthwhile partners. Or that you didn't always do the thing that your parents wanted you to be, that you couldn't live up the repeated greatness of your sisters. That you could be Seymour Krelborn, or Happy Loman, or Pierrepont Finch and deal with their own inadequacies for awhile - or, for that matter, to be a reflection of others', when singing on stage. It was addicting.

It felt like a breakthrough for this dynamic, one that Chase could not remember an equivalent to in recent memory. Of course, he left out the recreational substance use and made a point to never show her the tattoos he had collected over the years, neglected to tell her how many more he wanted - the piercings sent her through the roof enough the first time around. It ended with her carefully informing him that she still wanted him to be practical, that a backup plan didn't mean it was what he had to stick with - he just needed that reassurance that he could fall back on something else.

And Chase took that as an insult, as he always did. Didn't she see how talented he was? The band recorded an album! Of course, it wasn't her kind of music so why would she ever listen, past being his parent, and maybe it was just in the bassist's soundproofed basement, but still! People were listening to it on their pages! It was progress, why couldn't she see that? Disappointed and refusing to hear further about how she was just trying to look out for him, he went home, burying his head into everything else he was doing.

When the time for good news came, he didn't even tell her what was weighing on him. Nobody really knew. Two incredible prospects and his parents would have to think he disappeared to run away from it all - an insult to memory. He thought about that a lot, imagining how different things could have been. When he played his guitar here, singing the songs he knew even if no one was listening out of fear he would forget them all, his mind drifted. The leaves on the ground could be faceless people shouting for his name. The wind in the trees were the roaring applause. The sunlight too bright above was a spotlight.

This sucked.

He tried to remain as unaffected by this place as possible, but he wasn't sleeping very well. He was always a light sleeper, so hearing voices outside never helped. Even when he claimed the empty attic as a room, moving to higher altitude still didn't shut them up. Normally, he'd shout back obscenities, but he lived with other people and something told him whatever he had to say wouldn't do much. His reality was too persistent to do much escaping from it, like black smoke weaving its way through his body and reminding him not to drift too fair into his imagination, lest he be disappointed when he returned.

His dreams, typically vivid and full of outlandish premises, were filled with that black smoke. He opened his eyes to darkness, and the pins and needles feeling up and down his arms. It was cold, it was scary, and he couldn't move his hands away - looking up, they were chained up with thick handcuffs around a pole, or beam or something of the sort. Chase had done a lot of exploring of Arcadia since he'd been here, but he couldn't ever remember seeing anything like this.

Was this a payback punishment of sorts from when he threw that rock threw the police station window? It was boarded up now and he didn't even throw it with that specific direction, that's just where it ended. Or maybe it was from mowing down that guard on his skateboard when he lost control, and crude hand gestures he made in their direction when they tried to correctly give him shit for it. But, if that was all the case, why would his mother be beside him? He couldn't see her, but he could feel her presence, knowing it was her in a way only a child would know to their parent. Her perpetually even tone that always used to irritate him was soothing this time, reciting a poem. It startled him so much that it woke him up - Michelle Flannery was not a woman of literary value, he had never seen her read anything fiction in her life.

He brushed it off, including the feeling of how those pins and needles feelings wouldn't leave his arms, not for the whole day, and returned as he drifted back to sleep. Chase found himself in the room again, this time, in pain. His fingertips burned, and when he flexed them above his head, he felt it even more. In front of him was his mom, filing her nails like she usually did when she was attempting to be patient, her punctuality always thwarted by the perpetual lateness the Flannery children inherited from their father.

"I grow until the day I die. You've seen me once, if you don't see me now, you won't survive."

Yeah, yeah, you need your mother to get by in life, she used to say that sort of thing anytime anything good happened to any of them, as if she was taking credit for any success by virtue of being the one to give them birth. Chase and his sisters used to exchange sighs and eyerolls at it, and now was no different. "Is this you doing your mom-guilting thing again?" This was just a very... lyrical way of phrasing it, out of place for her. The faint smile she wore on her face, the look of love he didn't think he was often on the other side of across from him, was just as unnerving. He never thought he was very well deserving of that sort of thing. Briefly, he had the wherewithal to remember their last conversation, the one at that crepe place. That he would need a backup plan, that he couldn't rely on fantasy for the rest of his life to get by.

That irritation spurned him from sleep, and the burning sensation in his fingers returned tenfold. On each of his ten digits, there was a clean slice perpendicular to his nails, starting on the fleshy pad of fingertip and running all the way until they were stopped by his nails, interrupting the hardened skin from guitar strings. How was he supposed to play? That was his escape, that was his sole entertainment here-

Oh.

Then, as if waiting for his realization, his guitar - that had been carefully leaned against the corner of the room, fell forward, a loud and off key bang on the wood floors. Chase rushed over to examine, and though it was fine, testing his fingers against the strings led to a hurt he couldn't ignore. His tried and true method of staying sane here, gone until his body healed itself. He brushed frustrated tears from his eyes at the thought, catching himself in the mirror, catching his mother in the mirror. Behind him, a gentle hand on his shoulder mirroring the touch he felt over his t-shirt.

He knew she wasn't there, not really, and it gave him a sinking feeling of longing when it settled into realization that he was alone again. But he could imagine it so, a comfort every time he looked in any reflection, to pretend that maybe that touch he felt was real. He could imagine she was only trying to help, do what she always said she was trying to do, to set him on the straight and narrow, with a backup plan, just in case. To help.

Maybe fantasy was the backup plan. Or maybe, this was just the pendulum swinging him back to reality.

[hitchell-mope]

Good for them.