#philippe of orleans gif

[paintade]

[abonent-nedostupen-navsegda]

My favourite couples 🔥🙌

gallavich•monchevy•louistat

[dutchmancallypso]

♥ my comfort bisexuals ♥

[lonelyqueenofhearts]

𝓜𝓪𝓻𝓲𝓮 𝓛𝓸𝓾𝓲𝓼𝓮 𝓭'𝓞𝓻𝓵𝓮𝓪𝓷𝓼

~Daughter of Philippe I of Orleans and Henrietta of England

~Niece to Louis XIV of France

~First wife of Charles II of Spain

[pureanonofficial]

LES MIS LETTERS IN ADAPTATION - Louis Philippe, LM 4.1.3 (Les Miserables 1972)

The son of a father to whom history will accord certain attenuating circumstances, but also as worthy of esteem as that father had been of blame; possessing all private virtues and many public virtues; careful of his health, of his fortune, of his person, of his affairs, knowing the value of a minute and not always the value of a year; sober, serene, peaceable, patient; a good man and a good prince; sleeping with his wife, and having in his palace lackeys charged with the duty of showing the conjugal bed to the bourgeois, an ostentation of the regular sleeping-apartment which had become useful after the former illegitimate displays of the elder branch; knowing all the languages of Europe, and, what is more rare, all the languages of all interests, and speaking them; an admirable representative of the “middle class,” but outstripping it, and in every way greater than it; possessing excellent sense, while appreciating the blood from which he had sprung, counting most of all on his intrinsic worth, and, on the question of his race, very particular, declaring himself Orleans and not Bourbon; thoroughly the first Prince of the Blood Royal while he was still only a Serene Highness, but a frank bourgeois from the day he became king; diffuse in public, concise in private; reputed, but not proved to be a miser; at bottom, one of those economists who are readily prodigal at their own fancy or duty; lettered, but not very sensitive to letters; a gentleman, but not a chevalier; simple, calm, and strong; adored by his family and his household; a fascinating talker, an undeceived statesman, inwardly cold, dominated by immediate interest, always governing at the shortest range, incapable of rancor and of gratitude, making use without mercy of superiority on mediocrity, clever in getting parliamentary majorities to put in the wrong those mysterious unanimities which mutter dully under thrones; unreserved, sometimes imprudent in his lack of reserve, but with marvellous address in that imprudence; fertile in expedients, in countenances, in masks; making France fear Europe and Europe France!

Incontestably fond of his country, but preferring his family; assuming more domination than authority and more authority than dignity, a disposition which has this unfortunate property, that as it turns everything to success, it admits of ruse and does not absolutely repudiate baseness, but which has this valuable side, that it preserves politics from violent shocks, the state from fractures, and society from catastrophes; minute, correct, vigilant, attentive, sagacious, indefatigable; contradicting himself at times and giving himself the lie; bold against Austria at Ancona, obstinate against England in Spain, bombarding Antwerp, and paying off Pritchard; singing the Marseillaise with conviction, inaccessible to despondency, to lassitude, to the taste for the beautiful and the ideal, to daring generosity, to Utopia, to chimæras, to wrath, to vanity, to fear; possessing all the forms of personal intrepidity; a general at Valmy; a soldier at Jemappes; attacked eight times by regicides and always smiling. Brave as a grenadier, courageous as a thinker; uneasy only in the face of the chances of a European shaking up, and unfitted for great political adventures; always ready to risk his life, never his work; disguising his will in influence, in order that he might be obeyed as an intelligence rather than as a king; endowed with observation and not with divination; not very attentive to minds, but knowing men, that is to say requiring to see in order to judge; prompt and penetrating good sense, practical wisdom, easy speech, prodigious memory; drawing incessantly on this memory, his only point of resemblance with Cæsar, Alexander, and Napoleon; knowing deeds, facts, details, dates, proper names, ignorant of tendencies, passions, the diverse geniuses of the crowd, the interior aspirations, the hidden and obscure uprisings of souls, in a word, all that can be designated as the invisible currents of consciences; accepted by the surface, but little in accord with France lower down; extricating himself by dint of tact; governing too much and not enough; his own first minister; excellent at creating out of the pettiness of realities an obstacle to the immensity of ideas; mingling a genuine creative faculty of civilization, of order and organization, an indescribable spirit of proceedings and chicanery, the founder and lawyer of a dynasty; having something of Charlemagne and something of an attorney; in short, a lofty and original figure, a prince who understood how to create authority in spite of the uneasiness of France, and power in spite of the jealousy of Europe.

[minim236]

Lady in Red

1931, London

Marcus found himself often idle. He wondered if it was a familial trait - His aunt Anastasia bore easily, which could turn into a productive project or something destructive. His uncle Godfrey, according to Philippe, had been the same, his sharp intellect causing him to bore easily.

He supposed that was why he was in the East End. The area was not unfamiliar to him - he treated patients across London - from rich women in Mayfair and Belgravia, bored and needing medication to numb the mind to children in Whitechapel. But he rarely socialised.

He turned a corner, seeing the dim light of a club under a bridge. He nodded to the bouncer, handing him a few notes before he let him in.

The atmosphere was far brighter and warmer than the cold, foggy city of London. People were drinking at tables, chatting happily. Dancers on the floor as a jazz band was in full swing.

Marcus smiled, having missed New Orleans. But the singer caught his eyes.

Good authors too who once knew better words Now only use four-letter words Writing prose. Anything goes.

She was swaying to the rhythm as she sang, a smile on her face. But it wasn't flirtatious; but joy at making everyone happy.

That red dress. Long and tight fitting, yet only showing the slightest bit of cleavage. Her curls were tied back in a sleek bun. She was beautiful.

...

Phoebe prided herself on being able to avoid men who flirted with her when she snuck out. So many curious eyes were always on her. But the owner, Janet Gowdie, didn't require any other services but her voice and look beautiful.

She sat at her usual table, sipping her cocktail of honey, lemon and gin.

"You have a beautiful voice," She heard someone say to her, standing behind her.

"Thank you." She replied politely. But he sat down. She turned to him.

He was beautiful. She would not describe a man as such, but he was. Even in the low light of the club, she can she the slight shine in his brown eyes and how they shamelessly stare into her own. He is dressed well. The suit is expensive, but his shoes are worn in. A professional, perhaps.

"You are far too posh for this place. What are you doing here?" the polite smile on her face falls.

"You do not know me."

"I know when someone is out of place." The stranger replied, a slight smirk on his face. She notices his drink. Red wine. Unusual.

He stood and walked away. No proposition.

...

He makes his first proposition when he comes to see her for the third time. He sits at her table, in her seat, with her drink order for her after her second performance.

She would call it a proposition because of how he looks at her. As if she was both something precious and something to devour. She cannot place it.

But Phoebe was raised to slap any man who did so but found herself unable to when he kissed her hand.

"Marcus Whitmore." He introduced himself.

"Phoebe."

"No last name?"

"That is how one gets attached." She pointed out, and he leaned forward.

"What if I wish to get attached?" He challenged. Her tongue darts out between her lips to wet them.

She doesn't regret kissing him that night when she was going home. She regrets wanting to do so much more than that.

...

During the day, Phoebe was good - she attended luncheons and garden parties she cared little about. Jazz was played on a gramophone.

Her sister Stella enjoyed it all. She was a natural social butterfly, like their mother, who was a good diplomat's wife. Phoebe preferred the company of her books.

"You look so dashing!" Phoebe forced a smile as her sister grinned happily at the peach dress she was put in. Stella gave her the matching white gloves.

"Now, try to be social." Stella asked, "You are so pretty and smart and should show that. No hiding in corners."

"I cannot even growl at the Princess of Kent? How unfortunate!" Pheobe smirked. Her sister attempted to glare but laughed with her.

Phoebe found the same old politicians, diplomats, government sycophants and aristocrats boring. She wished to sleep because at least her mind would come up with something far more interesting than a cricket story.

"Phoebe!" Her sister's excitable voice broke her daydream, and she saw her sister walking with a smug, well-dressed man. Oh, dear God.

"This is my little sister I was telling you about. Phoebe, this is Mr William Brooks. He is a barrister." She introduced, excited.

"I did not know we were going to court soon, sis?" Phoebe replied pointedly, a smile on her face.

"Your sister has been singing your praises ever since her dear fiancé introduced us. I should like to take a walk with you," He asked.

"Oh, well I..." She purposefully sped up her breath, and soon, she could feel herself growing faint. When her sister screamed, she knew she had gotten out of at least two more parties.

...

She preferred to sit in bed, even as her mother fussed. They called a doctor and she would feel bad for the man who asked to come.

"These fainting spells. My darling," Her mother gently stroked her forehead.

"I am fine, mother. I just did not have a lot of breakfast." She tried to assure her. There was a knock at the door, and her father poked his head in, his eyes kind and concerned.

"Bee, the doctor is here. Can he come in?" He asked. Phoebe nodded, sitting up.

"I am well, doctor, just a bit tired." Phoebe insisted before the man even came into the room. Her face fell, seeing Marcus Whitmore carrying a dark leather bag.

"Dr Clairmont," He introduced formally as if they had never met.

"We'll leave you to do your examination," Her mother said, kissing her on the forehead before leaving.

"You are a doctor?" Phoebe asked.

"Yes," Marcus confirmed, setting down his bag. He looked far more put together than he usually was.

"Here." He gave her his identification, "I have not stalked you. In fact, you have interrupted an actual clinic I was to hold for children."

"My apologies. But I am well. I made myself faint." She told him.

He merely looked at her, "Is this the first time?"

"No," She shifted under his judgemental gaze.

"Have you not questioned why it becomes easier each time?" He challenged.

He knew she was posh. A young woman likely raised in Mayfair or Belgravia who wanted to not be a debutante or a little wife. So she finds a way to rebel with a natural talent that was not bought for her.

"Perhaps you would be better getting some sleep, Miss Taylor. You are likely anaemic." He told her.

"Everything is real there." She told him, "All of this..." She indicated to her room, "...Is a facade. A beautiful facade, but it is not the real world.

Marcus nodded in agreement, "No. But is chasing reality truly worth your health and energy?"

"Is all of this?" She retorted, "My parents would not let me sing. They would want me to be a good wife. You are a man, so you may not know what it is to need to escape."

Her eyes were drawn to his signet ring on his left hand and he looked at it, "We all have our pretty cages, Miss Taylor. I cannot fault you for wanting to escape."

He silently drew blood and checked her temperature. He checked her heart and smirked as he heard it speed up slightly.

"I would recommend Miss Taylor stay in bed for the next few days. Uninterrupted," He said authoritatively to her parents, "Just until we receive her blood test results. But she should be well. I will see you soon."

"Thank you," Her father shook his hand, and she gave him a small smile. She would be very happy to see him tomorrow night,

[scotianostra]

On October 23rd 1295 the “Auld Alliance” treaty was signed between John Balliol, King of Scots, and Philippe IV of France.

The treaty stipulated that if either Scotland or France was attacked by England, the other country would invade English territory. However, this wasn’t quite as even-handed and mutually helpful as it seemed. For one, because the English had lands in France, all the French were required to do was continue their struggle against the English on their soil.

The cost of any outright war between Scotland and England, meanwhile, had to be borne entirely by the Scots.

But for a tiny nation like Scotland, alliance with mighty France was of great symbolic importance – even if it didn’t stop the English frequently invading Scotland during the centuries the Auld Alliance ran.

If you read my posts you will have seen the mention of battles fought, not only in England, but on French soil, where Scots fought and died, we were regarded as elite soldiers.

Shakespeare’s ‘Henry V’ rightly portrays the Battle of Agincourt in 1415 as one of England’s greatest military victories. For the French it was a disaster that led to the near collapse of their kingdom. In their darkest hour the Dauphin turned to the Scots, England’s enemy, for salvation.

Between 1419 and 1424, 15,000 Scots left from the River Clyde to fight in France. In 1421 at the Battle of Bauge the Scots dealt a crushing defeat to the English and slew the Duke of Clarence.

Honours and rewards were heaped upon the Scots army by the French. The Earl of Douglas was given the royal Dukedom of Touraine and the Scots army lived well off the land, much to the chagrin of the French peasantry.

Their victory was short lived however; at Vernuil in 1424 a Scots army of 4,000 men was annihilated. As mercenaries they could have expected no mercy and those who were captured were dispatched on the spot. Despite their defeat, the Scots had brought France valuable breathing space and effectively saved the country from English domination.

Many Scots continued to serve in France. They aided Joan of Arc in her famous relief of Orleans and many went on to form the Garde Écossais, the fiercely loyal bodyguard of the French Kings, where they were at the very heart of French politics.

Many Scots mercenaries settled in France although they continued to think of themselves as Scots. One such man was Beraud Stuart of Aubigny: a third-generation Scot immigrant, Captain of the Garde Écossais from 1493-1508, and hero of France’s Italian wars. To this day both he and other Scots heroes of the Auld Alliance are celebrated in Beraud’s home town of Aubigny-sur-Neve in an annual pageant.

The Auld Alliance wasn’t simply a military alliance; it was based on a long-established friendship founded on the Scots love of French wine.

The signing of the Auld Alliance in 1295 might have given the Scots French support against England, but it also gave the Scottish merchants the privilege of selecting the first choice of Bordeaux’s finest wines - a privilege which was eagerly protected for hundreds of years, much to the annoyance of English wine drinkers who received an inferior product.

French wine was landed on Wine Quay of Leith and rolled up the streets to the merchants’ cellars behind the water front. The wine landed was mostly for the elite of Scottish society, with most commoners drinking whisky or beer, but it seems to have been popular with everyone for Hogmanay celebrations.

Trade, especially of wine, has a tendency to fly in the face of political changes and alliances. After the Reformation, the Auld Alliance was no longer feasible between Protestant Scotland and Catholic France, but the trade in Claret continued. People simply kept drinking it.

An example of this process can be seen in the post-Reformation destiny of St Anthony’s fund: a charitable fund raised on the back of the wine trade. The fund was simply converted to Protestantism by King James VI and passed onto the Old Leith Parish Church.

As late as the 1670s, Scots merchants were still going to Bordeaux to get their first choice of wine. Even after the Union of Parliaments with England in 1707, Scots continued to smuggle Claret into Scotland to avoid taxes. Scots of all persuasions, Jacobite or Hanoverian, continued to drink Claret in preference to patriotic Port - especially when toasting the exiled Stuart kings as 'the King over the water’.

[icekitten]

Pt. II

Pt. I

[allsoulstriogymusings]

ADOW Episode 303: Matthew Apologizes to Ransome and a Scion is Created

It was very difficult to hear Matthew recite the names and stories of Marcus’s offspring that he had killed in New Orleans two centuries ago. But clearly, rarely a day goes by when Matthew doesn’t see their faces. 

An added dimension in the show that wasn’t in the books is that two hundred years ago most of the vampires in Marcus’s family appear to have been Black or mixed race (based on the survivors seen in the show).

Complicating the picture further is the fact that Marcus apparently started his family before the Civil War, when Louisiana was a slave state. 

In the books, Ransome is a gambler but his backstory would have been very different if he had been a slave. Perhaps he was a freed slave or had never been a slave but even so, his life would have been hard being a free Black man living in a slave state.

Furthermore, Marcus’s offspring didn’t know back then that Philippe had ordered Matthew to kill them because of the blood rage. Consequently, it might have seemed to them at the time that the very white, very French Matthew de Clarmont had attempted to murder many of them for racial reasons.*

No wonder Ransome was so angry (besides the fact that he lost so many in his family including his mate and great love Jacqueline Lascelle).

Anyway, this change from the books to the show raises many questions. 

___________

*However, at least one of the vampires that Matthew killed (Suzette Boudrot, who had “beautiful blonde hair”) may have been white. Most likely this would have raised questions for the survivors about how much racism contributed to the murders.

Thanks to Forever Dreaming for transcripts of episode 303.

[pleasereadmeok]

Matthew scene by scene in  season 3

Episode 3 Scene 8 - Proud of you

If you haven’t read these before don’t expect any other character arcs - forget it.  Matthew all the way here. AND this is distinctly ‘shallow end’ stuff that is not to be taken too seriously.

SPOILERS if you haven’t seen episode 3!  Book spoilers in here as well.

Matthew is driven away from Ransome’s club.   Helpfully he opens the tinted window so we can actually see him.  Result.  

He calls Diana. 

The smile is instant as he hears her voice.  

Diana asks after Jack ....”and you?”

Matthew sidesteps that question.  He’s just had a gruelling few hours reliving his past mistakes and remembering the family members he has killed. He’s not going there. Instead Matthew wants an update on what she has been doing and ... last of all...  

“How are the babies?”   Priorities, Matthew?!  

“When are you coming home?”

Hmm - goode question. 

“Soon.  Know that I love you with all my heart.”

But Matthew has to go.  Why?  OK he’s arrived ‘home’ but he could sit in the car and talk and listen for hours if he wanted to?  How about a bit of FaceTime?  

[Book spoilers - In the book Matthew and Diana had no calls during their months of separation - only a few picture texts.  Why?  Apparently it was so damn painful for a vamp to be away from his mate so that meant any contact was a no no.  

So I’m glad they changed that coz for me it made no damn sense. Especially when you know that Philippe and Ysabeau spent years apart on and off in their long relationship.   The inconsistency was obvious.   I’m glad they were in contact - coz OF COURSE they would be.]

Matthew tells Marcus and Jack that his mission was accomplished but there’s still work to do to gain the New Orleans family trust. 

But then ... Oh wait....  Matthew FINALLY apologises to Marcus for killing his babeez and grand babeez.  

“Marcus...  I deeply regret what I did here.  I’m sorry.” 

Marcus is brief but dignified in reply “Thank you”.   There is a slight smile from Matthew as he touches his son’s shoulder in affection and thanks for his forgiveness.  

It’s quite a moment.  A weight between them has been lifted so maybe there will be less angsty ‘Christ Marcus! /Christ Dad!’ moments from now on? 

Next up: Think of our future.

📷 ADOW S3:03 unedited screenshots

[matthewgiggles]

📷 S3:02 So how was your week? - Mathew Clairmont 🎢 episode (part 2)

CHRIST! Of all the things I didn’t wanna do… now I have to kneel down in my own home and pledge my loyalty to my F🤬 of a brother just to keep everyone safe. Time for a visit to Father H for some explanations, yet another F🤬. Spineless bastard , giving Jack blood rage and letting Ben (NoT my SON) involve himself into Jack’s life. Father H is dead to me now!

Diana and co would you please stop being so judgy?! As if I’m looking forward to follow Baldwin’s orders and kill Jack because of the blood rage. 😬 Join the revolution they say, leave Baldwin’s club they say and form our own…as if it’s that easy! On my way to find Jack and …wait what? Philippe said to tell me that it’s 💯 OK to F🤬 over Baldwin if I need to! “Things Change… “ Indeed they do - Vive la révolution! 🇫🇷

Back in my mate’s good books…my reward is a scalp massage and some 🥰 before leaving to New Orleans FQ to find all the other de Cleremont’ s Marcus and I sired, who hate Baldwin too and form our own new Scion / Family members Club.But not before seeing CHRIS… Miriam and Chris selected the best humans to help finding a cure and I am giving a presentation worthy of BEST TEACHER of the YEAR. Life is going on the up! This🎢 isn’t so bad! I kinda like it…

At the airport *RING* *RING* What kind of hell is this?! 🚨 🚨 🚨 Wonderful, NoT my SON Ben has clearly watched Sherlock (hi other Ben 😉) and is giving me all the Moriarty vibes with his phone orders and laptop games. So not only do I need to have a long goode talk with Jack about … well EVERYTHING 🥺. Ben also wants a group date and somehow doubt it will involve fun chats, 🍷 and 🥂 of giggles.

So here I am about to leave for New Orleans FQ and you know what? I take it all back! Universal’s 🎢 are fun and all but I’m ready to get back on Disney’s It’s a Small World instead. At least you know what to expect…

So how was my week? Answer: 🙄😲🤬🤩😒😑😱🤯🤬🤗🥰🤓🎓😁😞😳😨😱🥺🤬🤬🤬

[paintade]

[adarafaelbarba]

Unexpected Visitor

Fandom: A Discovery of Witches / All Souls Trilogy

Characters (mentioned): Philippe de Clermont

Characters (in it): Patience Chauncey, Domenico Michele, Ransome Fayrweather, Geraldine.

Warnings: tw mentions of murder.

«How dare you show your face here? Did Monsieur de Clermont send you?» Patience glared at Domenico as he stood in the entrance to the Domino club, which her nephew, Ransome Fayrweather owned and ran.

«Always a pleasure seeing you Ms. Chauncey», Domenico sounded sincere, if she didn’t know any better. But she knew he was a slimy little fucker, and to not trust him, she had gathered that long ago upon her few meetings with him. «I’m not here for them though, I’m here on Congregation business. You wouldn’t happen to know anything about a string of murders would you?»

Had she been human, Patience would have shuddered at his tone, perhaps even been frightened, but she was custom to it now, it didn’t get to her. «My dear, this is New Orleans, the witches are mad, the vampires are hungry and the poor daemons and humans are clueless because they’re mostly high off their asses or too drunk to remember.» A smirk played on her red tinted lips.

«So you want me to believe you and your minions had nothing to do with this recent string of murders?» He was getting annoyed now, which made her even more excited. One of Patience’s favorite things was to wind Domenico up, see how long it took before he snapped.

«We didn’t do anything. Now, if you have nothing else to do here, you can leave. We may not have been responsible for those killings, but if you poke us long enough, we will have some fun with you.» She knew better than to act out on her treats, especially against a Congregation member. But it was always so much fun to watch Domenico take a step back when she spoke out.

He glared at her, «We’re watching you Ms. Chauncey, one move out of line and we’ll end you and your family.» He wasn’t kidding, she knew that. She might have a big following in New Orleans, with witches, vampires and daemons, but the Congregation was someone to respect, even if you didn’t agree with them. They had a bigger army, or so the legends told.

«Stay out of our way, and we’ll stay out of yours, Michele.» Patience kept her eyes on him, until he left, feeling her body relax.

…

Geraldine noticed the tension as soon as she came into the room where her aunt was. «You okay?» she asked, nose flaring. «What did Domenico want this time?»

«Get your brother, we need to talk.» Was all she told her niece. Geraldine nodded once before leaving again.

It didn’t take long before she returned with Ransome close behind. «Domenico was here. What did he want auntie?!» The tall vampire was furious about the Venetian had been here without an invite. The Congregation knew New Orleans was the hot spot for creature related chaos, they also knew that meddling with them would only create more chaos, so normally they were left alone to their own device, and self destruct.

«The recent killings in our city. Words have gotten to Venice, the Congregation knows. So if either of you know something, you need to tell me, for your own safety. I will not have Matthew de Clermont and Juliette Durant at our doorstep, because this time it will mean the end to us all.» Patience looked to her niece and nephew. «You know something. Don’t you?»

Geraldine nodded, once, eyes still on the ground. «I don’t know who he is, but he’s strong, dangerous. He attacked Harriet. God, it was bloody», she explained, feeling pain for her friend. «And there are whispers about him in the French Quarter. They say he might be of de Clermont lineage, but we don’t know for sure.»

Patience froze at that. If any de Clermont was in New Orleans, they would have to answer to her, and no such thing had been settle yet. «Find out who he is and bring him to me. I won’t have Philippe de Clermont coming here to answer for this, he knows the treaty he has with my family. No de Clermont is to set foot in New Orleans without our permission—without my permission», she growled, and they both froze.

«Yes, auntie, we’ll see too it that he’s brought to you», Ransome said, bowing his head. Then they both left the room.

She didn’t want to think the worst, surely they would know their own father, but the idea that Marcus would return to see his last living children—she couldn’t risk being found out. Not to mention she didn’t want to think he was capable of the killings that had been going on in New Orleans. She’d seen photographs, the way these people had been mutilated, it was unspeakable.

Patience sat down at her desk and began to write, she needed Philippe to account for all his remaining children and their children alike. If this was a de Clermont, she wanted them out of the city as soon as possible.

[mametupa]

Marcus Whitmore

His full name is Marcus Raphael Galen Thomas Chauncey de Clermont. The origin of the name Marcus has ancient Roman roots, possibly connected to the Roman god of war, Mars. His date of birth is August 9, 1757, making his astrological birth sign as Leo. His date of rebirth is October 16, 1781, so the astrological rebirth sign is Libra. Marcus is nearly six feet tall, with blond hair, blue eyes, and a wide grin. He is the quintessential American boy and dresses in clothes that fit with whatever fashion sense is governing youth culture in a given moment. He is broad-shouldered, long-limbed, and handsome, with a boyish charm.

Marcus Whitmore is a vampire of the Enlightenment. Unlike his father, Matthew Clairmont, or Gerbert d'Aurillac, he believes in honesty, freedom, and equality—even for humans! This puts him somewhat out of step with the vampire elite, of which he is a member. In that context he is a rule breaker, a radical, and a troublemaker.

Marcus is a member of the Knights of Lazarus and the Conventicle. his birth family is from Hadley, Massachusetts; he is the blood son of Matthew de Clermont and part of the de Clermont clan. 

Spoilers from the books ahead, so be warned:)

His own vampire children in New Orleans were culled on Philippe de Clermont's orders, but some of his children (including his son Ransome Fayrweather) remain. He has always been fond of women and has now found his mate, Phoebe Taylor.

Marcus came from humble beginnings in a frontier town in western Massachusetts. He was serving as a lowly surgeon's assistant in the Continental Army when he caught a fever. It would have been fatal, but Matthew offered the dying man the possibility of survival as a vampire. The year was 1781, and Marcus thought he was dreaming when this French soldier attached to the Marquis de Lafayette told him he could go to medical school—something he had never imagined might be possible given his family circumstances.

Though Marcus received the medical-school education he was promised, life as Matthew's son was not always easy. The hierarchy among the de Clermonts was far more rigid than anything he'd experienced in puritanical Massachusetts, and the family rules were strictly enforced by both Philippe de Clermont, the clan sire, and Marcus's own vampire father.

Marcus enjoys the popular music of whatever period he is living in. He also enjoys theater, dancing, and the intensely social world of human society, which stands in such stark contrast to clannish vampire culture. When not listening to music or drinking with friends, he also plays games of chance. Marcus’s generosity and belief in the best of other people has landed him in trouble numerous times. He does not always choose his associates, or the humans he decides to make vampires, with an eye to how well they will fit into the de Clermont family. A few decades after he was reborn a vampire, Marcus nearly brought the vampires of New Orleans to ruin with his antics—and this was a city known for antics. He was also unaware of the blood rage he passed on in making his children.

Despite these disasters, Marcus is still a socializer, a rare creator of community in a vampire culture that becomes more isolated and lonely with every passing decade. In this, Marcus reminds many of his grandsire, Philippe de Clermont. By the time Diana met him, Marcus had found meaning in his life as a healer and a scientist. He is gifted in the care and treatment of patients, has been trained by the finest surgeons of the past three centuries, and has worked alongside Matthew in peace and war, on battlefields and in laboratories, as they try to solve the great puzzles of biology and

chemistry. Though not as single-minded as Matthew, Marcus is a fine, sensitive doctor and a dedicated researcher. When Matthew made him head of the Knights of Lazarus, Marcus took on the responsibility of his new role with strength and maturity, despite the difficult circumstances.

The World of All Souls, the Complete guide to A Discovery of Witches, Shadow of Night and the Book of Life,

Deborah Harkness

[allitaofcuba]

| ANA DE ARMAS, SHE/HER, FEMALE | Allow me to introduce Allita Hernández, the twenty-six year old princess from Cuba. One of the cooks told me that she is romantic + stubborn but the servants say otherwise. Did you know that she is promised to marry Philippe De Orleans? How intriguing! 

allita is the bright, romantic and compassionate woman. she’s the second oldest of her siblings. when she was twenty-five, her father king alberto hernandez was murdered by a lunatic who no longer wanted him on the throne. he was poisoned during her birthday banquet and it destroyed her. she has been broken ever since, as well as her siblings and mother.

her brother was not ready to be king, but allita stood by his side and helped him as she prepared to take the thrown. she knew he would make a great king for cuba just like her father. the pressure for marriage has been on allita since the day he was crowned.

allita new she had to marry soon and for the good of her kingdom. but she was terrified of the thought of marrying a total stranger. she wanted to marry for love. though she knows that’s not something most royals find.

[automaticdreamlandkid]

Philippe d’ Orleans: soo pretty.