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lamaisongaga · 9 months

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FASHION CREDITS: JAZZ & PIANO SHOW 3.0

Lady Gaga finally returned to Vegas to continue the final 12 jazz & piano residency shows, and brought out an entire new setlist and costumes! Make sure to check out the other looks here and here.

The fashion was put together by Tom Eerebout and Sandra Amador with assistance by Kayla Manjarrez and Gianni Catalina.

The show also came with a handful of new visuals, including this one of LG enjoying a round of poker while wearing a dress Marilyn Monroe herself would approve.

The red sequined plunging stunner with halterneck, column skirt and flower belt detail is from Rodarte's Fall/Winter 2020 collection ($1,827).

In the same visual, she wears this absolutely divine plush black velvet column dress with deep nude illusion mesh panel and rows of pearl necklaces from Russian designer Kamilla Purshie’s Spring/Summer 2024 collection.

Let's get to the show! A label I've been eyeing for some time ever since being loved by the likes of Taylor Swift and Kelly Rowland is Taipei-based Nicole + Felicia who whipped out this fun beaded fringe mini dress for their Bridal Fall/Winter 2020 collection that any showgirl would love.

She topped it off with a new Arturo Rios Faux Grass white feather showgirl headpiece

Dita von Teese, if you please!

The Always Love You crystal-embellished silver hoop dangle earrings ($396) are made by Laruicci...

Shop:

Laruicci “Always Love You” Earrings ($396.00)

…while the Jimmy Choo metallic silver Anouk stiletto pumps provided the finishing touches.

Lady Gaga then devoured in this custom Prabal Gurung rose gold sunburst pleated silk lamé gown with hand-embroidered crystals and ostrich feather-trimmed cape.

Both her Hyperbola rhodium-plated hoop earrings with crystals in different cuts ($600)...

...and matching Hyperbola open cuff are created by Swarovski.

Shop:

Swarovski "Hyperbola" Earrings ($600.00)

The look was perfectly accentuated with these Christian Louboutin So Kate pumps coated in pink satin!

This was one of the, if not THE look most of you have been flooding my message inbox about.

LG stunned the Vegas crowd (and us) wearing a custom couture Rose Blossom metallic plissé gown by recently-gone-viral designer Robert Wun, whose been part of her wardrobe since 2013!

The silver-tone mixed crystal flower linear drop earrings are by I.N.C. International Concepts exclusively sold at Macy's.

The perfect shoe to complete the red looks of the show are by Christian Louboutin, who created the super fun Hot Chick Psychic metallic red leather slingback pumps ($852).

Shop:

Christian Louboutin "Hot Chick Psychic" Pumps ($852.00)

Another fun Robert Wun moment was this full look based on his Spring/Summer 2023 Haute Couture collection which went viral!

Signature peplum corset top in a bonded white satin, enhanced with silk taffeta ruching detail on the bust and lace-up back with matching large stole. Paired with a low-waist technical wool skirt with asymmetrical slit pleating details in anthracite.

Styled with a black & white 3D-printed headpiece with stripped coque feathers and long black gloves.

Hot, hotter, GAGA! Our girl twirled around the stage rocking a custom Garo Sparo fiery red showgirl beaded fringe bodysuit dress with hand-stoned crystal pattern and asymmetrical hem, inspired by old Bob Mackie pieces!

If you look closer, you can see that inbetween her fingers shines the Swarovski Hyperbola cocktail ring ($400).

Shop:

Swarovski "Hyperbola" Ring ($400.00)

Hell-o! Gaga brought out the best of Vegas' spirit appropriately decked out in the master of sexy dresswear: Zuhair Murad. And yes, this is the first time!

LG selected a sparkly fringe number fully embroidered in gold sequins and crystals of various sizes from the Lebanese designer's Fall/Winter 2022 Haute Couture collection, inspired by mystical arts, from Tarot and astrology to horoscopes and palmistry, to dispel the concerns of an unsettled age through the allure of their symbols.

She wore this augmented plummet shawl on stage, which was custom-made for her by Christian Cowan!

"Each ostrich feather plume was individually hand dyed to the warm tone of her exact Haus Labs shade of foundation, and curled to achieve a more dimensional effect before being embroidered individually by hand to a crinoline base also custom dyed to be her exact warm tone- all done in-house by our New York Atelier"

One of Gaga's most stunning Vegas-worn headpieces to date is another one-off-one bespoke Arturo Rios! This time: gold lamé leather orchid bouquet with large crystals peeking out between the leaves and buds.

She finished off with her previously-worn Jimmy Choo Anouk metallic gold pointed-toe pumps!

The finale look of the show sees Gaga wearing a bespoke Topo Studio NY plush black silk velvet gown with attached tails to the wrists, embroidered with over 400 cosmic crystals.

The fun feather headpiece with crystallized cap was custom-made for her by Binata Millinery.

For this look she wore Jimmy Choo's Romy black patent leather pointed-toe pumps.

#Kamilla Purshie #Prabal Gurung #Nicole and Felicia #Topo Studio NY #Garo Sparo #Robert Wun #Rodarte #Arturo Rios #Binata Millinery #Swarovski #Laruicci #INC International Concepts #Christian Louboutin #Jimmy Choo #Zuhair Murad #Christian Cowan

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beerecordings · 1 year

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I kinda wanna see more Graceling AU or Bastard Cat AU 👀

oh my gosh someone cares about the graceling au!! I have snippets written of Anti's backstory but never bothered to post them.. and the main story of course is JJ finding Marvin being held prisoner in the keep near to their own. let me see what I can do my dude!

also here, have a snippet from the bastard cats au I never posted!! fair warning it's a little sad, but it is also full of kitties.

Bastard Cats AU: my fluffiest au. Chase has five cats named Anti, Marvin, Jackie, JJ, and Dr. Henrik von Schneeplestein, Ph.D, MD. (One - Chase is having a bad night when he finds a very sick kitten in the gutter.)

Hakim's hands rest on his hip, his lip sticking out slightly and his eyebrows furrowed like two brown cat tails turned away from each other. He pauses as though to speak, but only ends up readjusting and shoving his hands cautiously in his pockets instead. He's looking around the apartment like it was flooded and then shot up and then taken over by the raccoons from the backyard, lounging on the couch with cheese whiz and ham sandwiches.

“Dude,” sighs Chase, feeling the air from his mouth make the end of his overgrown fringe flutter. “Just... it's fine, okay?”

Hakim blinks and, apparently reminded of where he is (or at least who's watching him), he fixes a slightly patronizing veneer of loving warmth back over his face.

“Right,” he says cheerfully. “All good! But uh... some of these are foster cats, right, C?”

“Yes,” answers Chase, a little more sharply than he intended. He crashes onto the couch, rubbing at his face, and instantly Jackie, Marvin, and two of the foster kittens are all stepping into his lap or clawing their way up his pant leg. Jackie sits down on Marvin and Marvin yowls in pure rage.

“Drama queen,” Chase scolds him, nevertheless scratching at his head. “You're fine.”

Hakim steps over and rubs his knuckles against Jackie's head. “Hey, pal. He's getting old now, isn't he?”

“No, Jack got him for me as a kitten,” replies Chase distantly. “He's just fat.”

Jackie sniffs at Hakim's fingers and licks his thumb.

“And the foster kittens?”

Chase points around the room. “There's mama, Texas.”

“Texas?”

“And the kittens are Houston, Austin, San Antonio, and Dallas.”

Hakim snorts. “Okay, fine. And the little grey one?”

Chase chews on his tongue for a second, trying to pick his words carefully.

“It's smaller than the other ones,” Hakim insists, and those hands come back out to rest on his hips again. Suddenly Chase feels like his foster mom has walked into the house to scold him for getting in a fight or leaving his skateboard in the rain.

“That,” says Chase carefully. “Is Jameson.”

Jameson waddles towards him on his kitten paws, letting out those faint, mangled mewls he does that make the other cats look at him like he just announced he was actually a corgi. Chase grins despite himself, letting his hand down for Jameson to smell. His kitten bites his finger gently and Chase can feel his tiny teeth coming in.

“Chase,” says Hakim.

“Look, man,” snaps Chase. “They're just cats, okay? I have the room for them, I have the money – ”

“Fuck, dude, ever since Jack got hit you have a new one every time I stop by!”

“Well, I didn't try to adopt him, okay? He came to me!”

“Came to you.”

“I found him dying and saved him! He's not right, Hakim. Do you know how hard it is to find good homes for disabled cats? He could be put down!”

“I'm so done. I'm so – ”

Hakim cuts himself off, throwing his hands in the air and turning away. Chase scowls after him, not sure why his eyes are suddenly burning. He picks Jameson up and kisses the side of him, stroking his whole body with one hand.

“Next thing you'll be telling me you're keeping all five of these foster cats too.”

“I have all the cats I need and I know that. I'm not fucking crazy.”

“I didn't say you were! I just – C, does it make sense that I'm worried about you?”

“It's not your job to worry about me,” Chase snarls back.

“Well, whose is it?” shouts Hakim. “Huh? I've talked to the others, okay, you never even text anybody, you haven't seen the kids, you shut yourself away in here with the cats and visit Jack three times a fucking week – ”

“Don't you think I would have seen the kids if I could?” Chase demands, and his voice snaps in half like shards of a peppermint between his teeth.

The cats are watching all this like a really good rendition of Hamlet. Jackie's eyes are huge. In the hallway, both Anti and Henrik slink out of the bedroom, looking at him as if to ask: “What's going on that's so worth waking us up for?”

Hakim sits down heavily beside Chase, pushing San Antonio gently out of the way.

“Everybody cares about you, dude,” he says. “Everybody wants to help, everybody wants – ”

“Fuck's sake, can we please for the love of God not have another speech like this?” Chase bites.

Hakim goes quiet again. Chase wishes he felt bad about it, but he doesn't. He's cold even with all the cats curled up close at night. He's cold now with a blanket wrapped around him.

“I brought you some food,” says Hakim roughly.

Chase looks up to see his friend returning to the doorway and picking up a paper bag, coming back to him to show off tupperware full of leftovers and snacks in ziploc bags. “Sarah cooked a ham for Thanksgiving and said since you're American too, I should bring you some. There's some pie and, like, this sweet potato shit with brown sugar. I invited you over, but you never texted me back.”

“Sorry,” whispers Chase, staring down at the bag.

A warm, heavy arm wraps around his shoulders and pulls him closer to Hakim's chest.

“What's wrong, C?” he asks, squeezing Chase against him.

“I don't know, man,” Chase answers, and he wishes his voice didn't shake. “I don't know. I wish Jack would...”

He trails off. They both know.

“Jack couldn't fix all this though, mate. You know that.”

“I know that. But he would make things better.”

“Yeah. He would.” Hakim squeezes him once more and releases. “In the meantime, the rest of us will do our best, okay?”

Chase smiles weakly at him.

He's just everybody's burden to carry.

Except the cats. To the cats, he's food and shelter and warmth and scratches and safety. He loves when there are storms rattling the windows and they all come mewling and calling for him and he can say: “You don't have to worry, goofs, cause I brought you inside, and now you don't ever have to worry about the rain or the cold again.”

“Come over on Saturday for game night,” says Hakim. “Guys will all be there.”

“I'll try.”

“I'm going to come pick you up, how about that? Six. We'll have dinner.”

“Sure... sure, yeah.”

Hakim gets up from the couch. “I'll leave you alone, alright? Well... not alone.”

Chase grins for real at that, chuckling. Marvin rumbles against his thigh. “Never alone, man.”

“Course not. How many is it now, then?”

Chase swallows. “Um... Jameson is number five.”

Hakim's attempt at non-judgement breaks again, just for a moment.

“Fuck, Chase.”

“Yeah... well. Yeah.”

“But yeah, they got everything they need, I guess. Cute, too.”

“Cute as fuck.”

“Okay. Hey, uh. I love you, man.”

Chase grins at his discomfort, watching him shuffle towards the door.

“Pro homo, dude.”

Hakim snorts. “Yeah, dumbass. Pro homo.”

“I love you too, Hakim.”

“Kay. Yeah, you too. Bye. If you need me...”

“I know where you are.”

“Yeah.”

He's gone, disappearing out the door with an uncertain smile.

Chase slumps back on the couch, closing his eyes.

Someone baps at his nose, clicking curiously.

Chase smiles at Jackie, sinking his fingers into his hot red fur.

“Yeah, you're right, big man,” says Chase, scooping him up and disengaging everybody else scattered across his lap. “We got things to do, huh? Medicine, entertaining the kittens, looking for forever homes, making sure Anti hasn't torn the laundry into shreds again... we got lots to do. And we got everything right here, don't we? Yeah. We don't ever gotta worry about the rain or the cold again.”

Anti sits on the floor of the kitchen, purring loudly, his eyes squinted in the sort of way that can only be described as smug whether you're a cat or a human.

“Anti! Where is he?”

He can hear Jameson's little broken mewls coming from somewhere, he just doesn't know where.

“I've seen you trying to pick him up by the scruff and shove him through the window. If you touched him, Anti, I will stick you in the laundry room so fast!”

Anti flops against the floor with great self-satisfaction, rumbling.

The cats have gotten into a lot of places and Chase knows the usual hiding spots (and the getting-stuck spots), but he's checked everywhere he can think of and he still doesn't see the kitten. Maybe it's louder over here? He pauses in the silence and listens.

There's a faint rustling noise from the cabinets of the island counter. But he checked inside the cupboards and behind the roll-out trash can.

Wait a second.

Chase yanks out the trash can and looks inside, shoving aside an empty bag of Doritos and a carton of spoiled milk.

“Meh,” rasps Jameson.

“Anti!”

The sound of Chase shouting and Anti's nails scraping against the kitchen as he sprints away at top speed almost blocks out the noise of Chase's phone buzzing on the counter. He's washing nacho cheese and garbage off a bewildered Jameson when he realizes it's going off.

In the midst of the chaos, he answers it without thinking.

“Hi,” she says.

He almost drops the phone. “Ah, yeah, hi,” he answers. Yep, completely intentional, answering this. Totally ready to talk. Jameson sneezes against his other hand. Yuck. But cute too.

“I was just... checking in.”

“Yeah, well, the ball's in your court, Stace, isn't it? So not a lot of point to checking in unless you got something new to say.”

She sighs through her nose. He hates that noise. It always meant trouble, even when they were together.

“Have you been drug testing?”

He scowls, shoving the phone between his head and his shoulder as he places Jameson under the warm water flowing from the tap.

“No.”

She's quiet for a second. “Going to therapy?”

“No,” he replies, nastier.

“Okay, well, that's checking in,” she says bitterly.

“You can check my drug tests anytime on the website,” he returns.

“Wondered if you'd try to lie to me.”

He hangs the phone up bitterly and, in doing so, accidentally drops it on the floor. A hissing, irritated breath escapes from between his teeth.

About two seconds later, Anti is sprinting into the room to steal it, his teeth gripping the plastic phone cover, and he leaps away again, yowling with delight as he disappears into his closet in the back of the house and adds his new toy to the pile of stolen things.

“Yeah, keep it!” yells Chase. “Little punk.”

Marvin wafts up to his legs in an angelic counterimage of his brother, letting his fluffy tail stroke against Chase's thighs, blinking huge blue eyes up at him.

“I don't have food, Marv,” grumbles Chase, showing him the kitten. “It's just Jameson.”

Marvin scrunches up his nose in disgust and wafts away again.

Chase rubs at his head. “I'm a fucking waste of a human being, aren't I?”

Nobody's there to answer him aloud. But Jameson shifts forward in his palm and begins gently licking at his wrist with a tiny, rasping tongue.

“He's just... not quite right, you know?”

Dr. Henrik – the human one – examines Jameson's milk-fat belly and batting paws, turning him about in his hands. “Looks like you're taking good care of him.”

“Yeah, course. He's a sweetie. Like Jackie when I first adopted him, just wants to be with me all the time. But look, that – ”

Jameson opens his mouth as if to mewl, but all he really does is rasp and click his teeth at the vet.

“And he doesn't walk quite right.”

Dr. Henrik sets Jameson down. The kitten toddles towards Chase, dragging his back legs a little.

“Well, his x-rays are normal. When he gets a little older, we can do some genetic testing and that sort of thing, if you'd like. He might have some muscle problems or something. But maybe he's just... a little unusual.”

Chase regards Jameson unhappily, petting his tiny back.

“He won't get very big,” adds the vet.

“No?”

“No. I think he's a small breed. Maybe even a munchkin. Maybe that is why he walks like this.”

Chase chuckles. “Really?”

“Yeah. Cute.”

“The others will pick on him...”

“Psh. He is strong enough to survive a chilly night in the gutter, he is strong enough to put up with the rest of the little brats.”

Chase laughs, picking his kitten up and placing him in his lap. “Yeah. My tough guy.”

Dr. Henrik smiles at him, brown eyes warm. It's that same warmth that made Chase trust in him when he first met him with that sick, injured white cat who became his Henrik. It's never faded.

“Chase,” he says, taking off his reading glasses and sitting down. “There are adopters who might want him, you know. You could send him with the foster kittens you have now. Someone would love him.”

Chase looks up in surprise, already shaking his head before Dr. Henrik is done talking. “This is my cat, doc! My Jameson! And look how attached he is.”

Jameson is kneading holes in Chase's sleeve, purring sleepily against his stomach.

“It's just.” Henrik pauses, thinks, restarts. “It's just that I don't want you to feel as though you must keep him simply because you are the only one who can care for him. There are others who would care for him just as well as you do.”

“I was the only one who could save him,” Chase challenges. “And what if he turns out to be a special needs cat, you know? Who's going to love him then?”

“Chase, people take care of all kinds of cats. You are not the only one with a soft spot for a kitten who's a little out of the ordinary. You get very attached, Chase. And that's wonderful, and very sweet! But... don't take on too much.”

“We're fine,” murmurs Chase, scratching Jamie's ears. “I won't get anymore. I just want him. And there's only really four, because Anti is Jack's. So when he wakes up, he'll want him back, and there will only be four.”

Dr. Henrik just looks at him, pushing his glasses up on his nose. He turns back to his clipboard a moment later.

Something burns in the back of Chase's throat.

“How long has your friend been asleep for?” asks the vet, not looking at him.

Chase swallows and clenches his hands together, then lets them go again. He closes his eyes.

“Chase?”

“When he wakes up, he'll want Anti back,” he says. “So... it's just four cats.”

Dr. Henrik nods at him. JJ meanders into his hoodie pocket and Chase puts his hands around his little hot-water-bottle body, and keeps him safe right there, right there, right there.

“Take care of yourself, Chase,” says Dr. Henrik.

“Yeah,” croaks Chase. “Yeah, I'm trying.”

“Sometimes it's easier to take care of someone else than yourself,” Henrik tells him.

Chase nods tersely and leaves the room, picking up JJ's carrier. “Thanks for everything. We're fine. I'll come back for a follow up.”

At home, he slides to the ground, almost overwhelmed for a moment, but he isn't alone. All his cats – and Jack's – run up to him, asking for something or another, rubbing up against his body. Chase grabs Anti, ignoring an indignant yowl, and pulls him to his stomach, leaning over him to kiss his grimy head. Anti grumbles and bites at his fingers.

“Yeah, there's my trouble-maker,” Chase mumbles, petting his back. “But you don't have to worry, little man, because once Jack wakes up...”

Once Jack wakes up. Once Jack wakes up. Chase's phone is buzzing. He doesn't answer it. Anti licks the places on his fingers where blood is welling up.

#bastard cats au

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aurorxaeternitatis · 10 months

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The sun hung low in the sky, casting a warm golden hue across the sprawling landscape of Alhazaria. Domínico stood atop the parapets of the Royal Alcazar of Zahran, his keen gaze sweeping over the kingdom he ruled. From this vantage point, he could see the diversity of his realm unfold before him — the rugged coastline stretching out along the Sapphire Sea, the rolling hills adorned with vineyards and olive groves, the majestic mountains towering in the distance, and the vast desert to the south with its shimmering sand dunes. It was a kingdom at the crossroads of two worlds, a place where the beauty of the sea met the allure of exotic landscapes.

As he looked out, Domínico's mind drifted back through the pages of history, tracing the footsteps of those who had come before him. Alhazaria was not just a kingdom; it was a living tapestry woven with the threads of generations past. The legacy of his ancestors, their triumphs and struggles, was etched into every stone and grain of sand that made up this land. He recalled the stories of King Rashid and Queen Amira, rulers who had guided Alhazaria through turbulent times, and he felt a weight of responsibility that came with his position as the current monarch.

The city below hummed with activity — the markets bustling, the distant cries of vendors, the murmurs of the people. It was a symphony of order, orchestrated by his meticulous rule. Domínico knew his subjects looked to him and relied on his intellect and stratagem to navigate the complexities of their world. He was a descendant of their gods, after all.

Yet, as the sun's glow deepened, his thoughts turned to the shifting currents beyond Alhazaria's borders. The impending union of Nunally Ambly des Ayvelles and Leopold von Furchtlos was more than a marriage alliance; it was a doorway, an opportunity—a chance for war and expansion. The tension of religious disparities, the discord of ambitions — Domínico dissected these elements with the precision of a strategist, his mind a whirlwind of calculations.

The clash of faiths, he pondered. The implications of an alliance forged on differences. He considered potential catalysts — a skirmish on the fringes of Ambly des Ayvelles' domain involving displaced polytheists seeking shelter. It was a thread he could pull, a seam he could unravel. A spark to ignite the flames of a calculated war, a war he desired for his own gain.

His fingers traced the carvings on the parapet as he imagined various scenarios. The board was set, the pieces poised, and he played with them in his mind. The reasons for war — he could conjure them as easily as he breathed. The consequences, the strategies, the victory — all painted with the strokes of his ambition.

As the sun sank lower, Domínico's thoughts turned to Ángel, his younger brother. The brother he saw potential in, an uncut gem that could be honed and shaped to serve the kingdom's ambitions. In which way he was yet to decide, but just like with anyone in the kingdom, Domínico would find a purpose for him.

" Your Grace, " Thoughts were brought to a halt and he was greeted by a familiar face — his loyal friend and confidant, Luciano. Luciano bowed slightly before meeting Dominico's gaze. " You seem preoccupied. "

" Luciano, " Domínico greeted with a nod, his eyes fixated on the kingdom sprawled below, a land ripe with potential. " You've seen the shifts in the alliances, the brewing tensions at our borders. The marriage between prince Leopold and princess Nunally — it's an opening. "

Luciano's brow furrowed as he studied Domínico's expression. " An opening for what, Your Grace? "

Domínico's lips curved into a shrewd smile, a glint of determination in his eyes. " For expansion, my friend. Our realm has stood strong for generations, our history is etched with resilience. But the time has come to seize the moment, to grow beyond our current borders. "

Luciano's gaze held a mix of understanding and concern. " Are we prepared for the consequences, Your Grace? War, bloodshed — those are not easy paths to tread. "

Domínico's eyes remained unwavering, his voice resolute. " Every great ruler in history has faced such choices. The world bows to power, my friend. Our military is strong, our alliances won't fail us — I've made sure of that, and our people are loyal. "

Luciano nodded slowly, his gaze distant as if contemplating the implications. " Even if they're loyal, will they stand with you in war after so many years of peace? I can imagine some being against it, and internal conflict will make us vulnerable — if it comes to it. "

Domínico's expression softened, his tone carrying a hint of empathy. " Change is never easy, Luciano. But our realm's progress, its advancement—that will be our legacy. We will lay the foundations for a future that resonates through the ages. That is something the people will fight for, and they will if I'm the one doing the talking. "

Luciano's lips quirked into a thoughtful smile. " You've always had a gift for turning adversity into advantage. "

Domínico chuckled, a mixture of pride and amusement in his eyes. " It's what makes a ruler. We must adapt, evolve, and master the art of the unexpected. "

" And what do you propose, Your Grace? " Luciano inquired, his curiosity piqued.

Domínico's gaze grew intense, his fingers tapping rhythmically on the parapets. " We must explore every avenue, seek out weaknesses in our potential foes, and build a case for our actions. Political moves, diplomatic gambits, calculated alliances—all leading to a unified front. "

Luciano nodded, a renewed determination gleaming in his eyes. " It shall be done as you wish. I'll send the word to those that need to hear it. You have my unwavering support, as always. "

Domínico's smile seemed genuine, but even with their bond of trust and shared purpose, Luciano had always been someone Domínico used. " I'd be grievously wounded if I didn't, " he quipped.

As night descended upon the kingdom, Domínico retreated into the depths of the palace, his mind a tempest of thoughts and plans. The future awaited, a tapestry waiting to be woven — one where faith, alliance, and ambition would converge in ways neither he nor the realm could predict. However, that didn't mean he couldn't control all of it. / @lured-into-wonderland

#永 the first word on the first page ( starter )#luredintowonderland #lured-into-wonderland #永 you can't stop sunlight with a single shadow ( domínico / interaction )#永 madness and greatness can both share a face ( domínico / king of alhazaria v. )#永 lover; hunter; friend and enemy; your mind is my home ( domínico / nunally )#I made them a tag; hope that's okay!#I am so so so excited for this thread #absolutely loved plotting this in so much detail with you

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louiloeve · 1 year

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Second chapter of Coming Home, my witcher-fic on Olgierd Von Everec returning to his estate after reclaiming his heart (and soul), and experiencing anew what he left behind in his wake.

@witcherficwriters @noetikat @poetikat @gustfields @andordean [...]

Nearly as large as life, the painting was an impeccably kept and newly dusted self-portrait. The frame was beautifully carved ash wood that had been gilded with a burnished gold, and it shone prettily in the light from the candle he had left on the table in his haste. The subject was a person, but the picture was made in dark colours, and it was hard to tell the shapes apart in the gloom. Olgierd grabbed at the frame, wondering for a moment if he could bring it with him into the light, but besides it being stuck firmly to the wall, it also spurred something in him. That something had stirred his sense of self-preservation and lifted the hairs on the back of his neck, as well as leaving a tingling feeling in the hand that had touched the frame, not entirely unlike what he felt after calling forth goetia.

Olgierd’s reservations towards the book were forgotten as he went back to pick up the lit candle and bring it over to the portrait. As he came closer, the picture became clear to him and he recoiled from it. It was a beautiful self-portrait with a horrifying expression in terms of the physical representation and choice of colour. Olgierd had no doubt that this was made by Iris, and that the woman on the canvas was herself, but her eyes were deep dark pits of hollow black and half her face seemed to have been burnt straight off the canvas, if the irregular black blotches and its fringes of melted paint was anything to go by. When he briefly touched the canvas, his fingers came away sooty and tingling.

At first glance, the image of Iris had taken up all his attention, but as he looked the canvas over once more, he noticed the dark shapes in the background; shadowy figures peeking at him from below their black-as-pitch cowls. He could barely make out their eyes and yet he felt their gazes on him. [...] Read it all on AO3, and leave me kudos!! :D :D :D

#olgierd von everec #iris von everec #witcher 3 #DLC #hearts of stone dlc #ao3 #ao3fic #angst #lots of it

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xasha777 · 1 month

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In a world teeming with neon lights and digital echoes, Ava was an enigma—a blend of flesh and technology, wandering the alleyways of Neo-Tokyo. Her hair, a cascade of pink and purple, matched the cyberpunk aesthetic of the streets, where the hum of electric life never ceased. On her arm, a tattoo of an obscure symbol: the closed system of Ludwig von Bertalanffy's General Systems Theory, a nod to her own complex existence.

Ava was not just a resident of this digital dystopia; she was its progeny. A cyberneticist with an intellect as augmented as her body, she explored the fringe theories of Bertalanffy, applying them to her own cybernetic enhancements. The systems theory that once sought to understand life was now the blueprint of her very being, every circuit and sinew a part of a greater whole.

But something was amiss. The city’s AI, once a guardian, began to falter. Systems failed, and chaos loomed over Neo-Tokyo. Ava knew the AI's intricate design, the interdependent systems mirroring the organic patterns Bertalanffy had once scribbled on dusty chalkboards. If she could trace the error, she could restore balance.

As the sun dipped below the digital horizon, casting long shadows across the city, Ava donned her reflective shades and set to work. Her fingers danced over holographic interfaces, tracing lines of code back to their source. Beneath the streets, in the heart of the city, she found the AI's core, pulsating erratically.

It was a virus, one that saw the AI's interconnectedness not as strength, but as a vulnerability. Ava sympathized with it—after all, wasn't she also a system, susceptible to the same faults? Yet, where there was weakness, there was also resilience. Using Bertalanffy's principles, she began reprogramming the AI, integrating safeguards that embraced the chaos rather than fought it.

Hours turned into days, and the city held its breath. Finally, with a surge of electricity that lit every screen and filled every circuit, Neo-Tokyo was reborn. The AI, now more adaptive, more alive, whispered through the city’s veins, a silent thank you to its savior.

Ava stepped out into the alley, the buzz of neon signs welcoming her back. In her eyes, reflected the newfound harmony of the city—a system restored, a future uncertain but hopeful. She had proven Bertalanffy right: life, even one as synthetic as hers, was not about the parts but the connections between them. And within those connections lay the infinite possibilities of existence.

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hectab · 3 months

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youtube

Ryuzoku - Finger Von Frings Promo (Japanese Release)

#dragon raja #finger von frings #Youtube

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m0r0n-m4gn37 · 9 months

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A few old Raja doodles

#dragon raja #caesar gattuso #finger von frings #I don't know what was supposed to be on his choker.#I think the manhua designs are neat

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nsk96 · 6 months

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Spicy Water

A Dragon Raja fan fiction by N.S.K.

Episode 130: A Wedding pt.1

[Everyone is at the church]

Wedding Planner Enxi: [talking into a headset] where are the roses! I need the roses in here stat!

[Nadi, NoNo, Erii, Renata and Mai are in the dressing room. Nadi isn't in her wedding dress yet]

NoNo: I can't believe my sidekick is getting married. I'm so happy to be your maid of honor

Erii: [holds up notebook] congratulations, big sister

Mai: [sniffle] it feels like you were a little baby just a year ago

Renata: it was just a year ago

Nadi: [giggles] and found out I’m actually more than 20 years older than most of the people on my team. I'm still so nervous though

Renata: [hugs Nadi] you will be fine. Whatever happens, I will always be there for you

Mai: me too

Erii: [holds up notebook] and me

Nadi: [happy tears] thank you

[In the men's changing room, Chime is wearing his black and gold wedding outfit (which is his original outfit dyed to go with Nadi's outfit)]

Bondarev: Chime, I want you to know that I'm very proud of you. I wish you a happy married life. I know I don't deserve to see--

Chime: you're the closest thing I have to a father figure. You've made horrible decisions in the past but...a stubborn girl once told me that what matters is who you are today and from now on. You came a long way...Dad

[Chime hugs Bondarev]

Bondarev: [sniffle] and I want to spend the rest of my life being the father you never had...and being a good grandfather as well

Chime: uh...I don't think Nadi and I are ready for that second part yet

Bondarev: nonsense. You two can start right after the wedding. I want 7 grandchildren. No pressure

Chime: stop, you're embarrassing me

Bondarev: that's what parents are for

Finger: oh man, soon he'll be making dad jokes. I am not looking forward to that

Bondarev: Hi, "not looking forward", I'm Dad

Finger: and so it has begun

<- Previous Next ->

#dragon raja #spicy water #dragon raja fan fiction #nsk #spicy water comic #dragonraja #su enxi #dragon raja enxi #chen motong #erii uesugi #mai sakatoku #dragon raja renata #nadi agnimitra #dragon raja bondarev #chime gen #ruri kazama #finger von frings #dragon raja nono #dragon raja mai sakatoku

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momowoah · 2 years

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</3

#finger dragon raja #dragon raja donghua #dragon raja #finger von frings #norma rohens

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birdsofparadise747 · 2 months

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Guy de MAUPASSANT -- Mademoiselle Fifi

Major Graf Von Farlsberg, the Prussian commandant, was reading his newspaper as he lay back in a great easy-chair, with his booted feet on the beautiful marble mantelpiece where his spurs had made two holes, which had grown deeper every day during the three months that he had been in the chateau of Uville.

A cup of coffee was smoking on a small inlaid table, which was stained with liqueur, burned by cigars, notched by the penknife of the victorious officer, who occasionally would stop while sharpening a pencil, to jot down figures, or to make a drawing on it, just as it took his fancy.

When he had read his letters and the German newspapers, which his orderly had brought him, he got up, and after throwing three or four enormous pieces of green wood on the fire, for these gentlemen were gradually cutting down the park in order to keep themselves warm, he went to the window. The rain was descending in torrents, a regular Normandy rain, which looked as if it were being poured out by some furious person, a slanting rain, opaque as a curtain, which formed a kind of wall with diagonal stripes, and which deluged everything, a rain such as one frequently experiences in the neighborhood of Rouen, which is the watering-pot of France.

For a long time the officer looked at the sodden turf and at the swollen Andelle beyond it, which was overflowing its banks; he was drumming a waltz with his fingers on the window-panes, when a noise made him turn round. It was his second in command, Captain Baron van Kelweinstein.

The major was a giant, with broad shoulders and a long, fan-like beard, which hung down like a curtain to his chest. His whole solemn person suggested the idea of a military peacock, a peacock who was carrying his tail spread out on his breast. He had cold, gentle blue eyes, and a scar from a swordcut, which he had received in the war with Austria; he was said to be an honorable man, as well as a brave officer.

The captain, a short, red-faced man, was tightly belted in at the waist, his red hair was cropped quite close to his head, and in certain lights he almost looked as if he had been rubbed over with phosphorus. He had lost two front teeth one night, though he could not quite remember how, and this sometimes made him speak unintelligibly, and he had a bald patch on top of his head surrounded by a fringe of curly, bright golden hair, which made him look like a monk.

The commandant shook hands with him and drank his cup of coffee (the sixth that morning), while he listened to his subordinate's report of what had occurred; and then they both went to the window and declared that it was a very unpleasant outlook. The major, who was a quiet man, with a wife at home, could accommodate himself to everything; but the captain, who led a fast life, who was in the habit of frequenting low resorts, and enjoying women's society, was angry at having to be shut up for three months in that wretched hole.

There was a knock at the door, and when the commandant said, "Come in," one of the orderlies appeared, and by his mere presence announced that breakfast was ready. In the dining-room they met three other officers of lower rank--a lieutenant, Otto von Grossling, and two sub-lieutenants, Fritz Scheuneberg and Baron von Eyrick, a very short, fair-haired man, who was proud and brutal toward men, harsh toward prisoners and as explosive as gunpowder.

Since he had been in France his comrades had called him nothing but Mademoiselle Fifi. They had given him that nickname on account of his dandified style and small waist, which looked as if he wore corsets; of his pale face, on which his budding mustache scarcely showed, and on account of the habit he had acquired of employing the French expression, 'Fi, fi donc', which he pronounced with a slight whistle when he wished to express his sovereign contempt for persons or things.

The dining-room of the chateau was a magnificent long room, whose fine old mirrors, that were cracked by pistol bullets, and whose Flemish tapestry, which was cut to ribbons, and hanging in rags in places from sword-cuts, told too well what Mademoiselle Fifi's occupation was during his spare time.

There were three family portraits on the walls a steel-clad knight, a cardinal and a judge, who were all smoking long porcelain pipes, which had been inserted into holes in the canvas, while a lady in a long, pointed waist proudly exhibited a pair of enormous mustaches, drawn with charcoal. The officers ate their breakfast almost in silence in that mutilated room, which looked dull in the rain and melancholy in its dilapidated condition, although its old oak floor had become as solid as the stone floor of an inn.

When they had finished eating and were smoking and drinking, they began, as usual, to berate the dull life they were leading. The bottles of brandy and of liqueur passed from hand to hand, and all sat back in their chairs and took repeated sips from their glasses, scarcely removing from their mouths the long, curved stems, which terminated in china bowls, painted in a manner to delight a Hottentot.

As soon as their glasses were empty they filled them again, with a gesture of resigned weariness, but Mademoiselle Fifi emptied his every minute, and a soldier immediately gave him another. They were enveloped in a cloud of strong tobacco smoke, and seemed to be sunk in a state of drowsy, stupid intoxication, that condition of stupid intoxication of men who have nothing to do, when suddenly the baron sat up and said: "Heavens! This cannot go on; we must think of something to do." And on hearing this, Lieutenant Otto and Sub-lieutenant Fritz, who preeminently possessed the serious, heavy German countenance, said: "What, captain?"

He thought for a few moments and then replied: "What? Why, we must get up some entertainment, if the commandant will allow us." "What sort of an entertainment, captain?" the major asked, taking his pipe out of his mouth. "I will arrange all that, commandant," the baron said. "I will send Le Devoir to Rouen, and he will bring back some ladies. I know where they can be found, We will have supper here, as all the materials are at hand and; at least, we shall have a jolly evening."

Graf von Farlsberg shrugged his shoulders with a smile: "You must surely be mad, my friend."

But all the other officers had risen and surrounded their chief, saying: "Let the captain have his way, commandant; it is terribly dull here." And the major ended by yielding. "Very well," he replied, and the baron immediately sent for Le Devoir. He was an old non-commissioned officer, who had never been seen to smile, but who carried out all the orders of his superiors to the letter, no matter what they might be. He stood there, with an impassive face, while he received the baron's instructions, and then went out, and five minutes later a large military wagon, covered with tarpaulin, galloped off as fast as four horses could draw it in the pouring rain. The officers all seemed to awaken from their lethargy, their looks brightened,, and they began to talk.

Although it was raining as hard as ever, the major declared that it was not so dark, and Lieutenant von Grossling said with conviction that the sky was clearing up, while Mademoiselle Fifi did not seem to be able to keep still. He got up and sat down again, and his bright eyes seemed to be looking for something to destroy. Suddenly, looking at the lady with the mustaches, the young fellow pulled out his revolver and said: "You shall not see it." And without leaving his seat he aimed, and with two successive bullets cut out both the eyes of the portrait.

"Let us make a mine!" he then exclaimed, and the conversation was suddenly interrupted, as if they had found some fresh and powerful subject of interest. The mine was his invention, his method of destruction, and his favorite amusement.

When he left the chateau, the lawful owner, Comte Fernand d'Amoys d'Uville, had not had time to carry away or to hide anything except the plate, which had been stowed away in a hole made in one of the walls. As he was very rich and had good taste, the large drawing-room, which opened into the dining-room, looked like a gallery in a museum, before his precipitate flight.

Expensive oil paintings, water colors and drawings hung against the walls, while on the tables, on the hanging shelves and in elegant glass cupboards there were a thousand ornaments: small vases, statuettes, groups of Dresden china and grotesque Chinese figures, old ivory and Venetian glass, which filled the large room with their costly and fantastic array.

Scarcely anything was left now; not that the things had been stolen, for the major would not have allowed that, but Mademoiselle Fifi would every now and then have a mine, and on those occasions all the officers thoroughly enjoyed themselves for five minutes. The little marquis went into the drawing-room to get what he wanted, and he brought back a small, delicate china teapot, which he filled with gunpowder, and carefully introduced a piece of punk through the spout. This he lighted and took his infernal machine into the next room, but he came back immediately and shut the door. The Germans all stood expectant, their faces full of childish, smiling curiosity, and as soon as the explosion had shaken the chateau, they all rushed in at once.

Mademoiselle Fifi, who got in first, clapped his hands in delight at the sight of a terra-cotta Venus, whose head had been blown off, and each picked up pieces of porcelain and wondered at the strange shape of the fragments, while the major was looking with a paternal eye at the large drawing-room, which had been wrecked after the fashion of a Nero, and was strewn with the fragments of works of art. He went out first and said with a smile: "That was a great success this time."

But there was such a cloud of smoke in the dining-room, mingled with the tobacco smoke, that they could not breathe, so the commandant opened the window, and all the officers, who had returned for a last glass of cognac, went up to it.

The moist air blew into the room, bringing with it a sort of powdery spray, which sprinkled their beards. They looked at the tall trees which were dripping with rain, at the broad valley which was covered with mist, and at the church spire in the distance, which rose up like a gray point in the beating rain.

The bells had not rung since their arrival. That was the only resistance which the invaders had met with in the neighborhood. The parish priest had not refused to take in and to feed the Prussian soldiers; he had several times even drunk a bottle of beer or claret with the hostile commandant, who often employed him as a benevolent intermediary; but it was no use to ask him for a single stroke of the bells; he would sooner have allowed himself to be shot. That was his way of protesting against the invasion, a peaceful and silent protest, the only one, he said, which was suitable to a priest, who was a man of mildness, and not of blood; and every one, for twenty-five miles round, praised Abbe Chantavoine's firmness and heroism in venturing to proclaim the public mourning by the obstinate silence of his church bells.

The whole village, enthusiastic at his resistance, was ready to back up their pastor and to risk anything, for they looked upon that silent protest as the safeguard of the national honor. It seemed to the peasants that thus they deserved better of their country than Belfort and Strassburg, that they had set an equally valuable example, and that the name of their little village would become immortalized by that; but, with that exception, they refused their Prussian conquerors nothing.

The commandant and his officers laughed among themselves at this inoffensive courage, and as the people in the whole country round showed themselves obliging and compliant toward them, they willingly tolerated their silent patriotism. Little Baron Wilhelm alone would have liked to have forced them to ring the bells. He was very angry at his superior's politic compliance with the priest's scruples, and every day begged the commandant to allow him to sound "ding-dong, ding-dong," just once, only just once, just by way of a joke. And he asked it in the coaxing, tender voice of some loved woman who is bent on obtaining her wish, but the commandant would not yield, and to console himself, Mademoiselle Fifi made a mine in the Chateau d'Uville.

The five men stood there together for five minutes, breathing in the moist air, and at last Lieutenant Fritz said with a laugh: "The ladies will certainly not have fine weather for their drive. Then they separated, each to his duty, while the captain had plenty to do in arranging for the dinner.

When they met again toward evening they began to laugh at seeing each other as spick and span and smart as on the day of a grand review. The commandant's hair did not look so gray as it was in the morning, and the captain had shaved, leaving only his mustache, which made him look as if he had a streak of fire under his nose.

In spite of the rain, they left the window open, and one of them went to listen from time to time; and at a quarter past six the baron said he heard a rumbling in the distance. They all rushed down, and presently the wagon drove up at a gallop with its four horses steaming and blowing, and splashed with mud to their girths. Five women dismounted, five handsome girls whom a comrade of the captain, to whom Le Devoir had presented his card, had selected with care.

They had not required much pressing, as they had got to know the Prussians in the three months during which they had had to do with them, and so they resigned themselves to the men as they did to the state of affairs.

They went at once into the dining-room, which looked still more dismal in its dilapidated condition when it was lighted up; while the table covered with choice dishes, the beautiful china and glass, and the plate, which had been found in the hole in the wall where its owner had hidden it, gave it the appearance of a bandits' inn, where they were supping after committing a robbery in the place. The captain was radiant, and put his arm round the women as if he were familiar with them; and when the three young men wanted to appropriate one each, he opposed them authoritatively, reserving to himself the right to apportion them justly, according to their several ranks, so as not to offend the higher powers. Therefore, to avoid all discussion, jarring, and suspicion of partiality, he placed them all in a row according to height, and addressing the tallest, he said in a voice of command:

"What is your name?" "Pamela," she replied, raising her voice. And then he said: "Number One, called Pamela, is adjudged to the commandant." Then, having kissed Blondina, the second, as a sign of proprietorship, he proffered stout Amanda to Lieutenant Otto; Eva, "the Tomato," to Sub- lieutenant Fritz, and Rachel, the shortest of them all, a very young, dark girl, with eyes as black as ink, a Jewess, whose snub nose proved the rule which allots hooked noses to all her race, to the youngest officer, frail Count Wilhelm d'Eyrick.

They were all pretty and plump, without any distinctive features, and all had a similarity of complexion and figure.

The three young men wished to carry off their prizes immediately, under the pretext that they might wish to freshen their toilets; but the captain wisely opposed this, for he said they were quite fit to sit down to dinner, and his experience in such matters carried the day. There were only many kisses, expectant kisses.

Suddenly Rachel choked, and began to cough until the tears came into her eyes, while smoke came through her nostrils. Under pretence of kissing her, the count had blown a whiff of tobacco into her mouth. She did not fly into a rage and did not say a word, but she looked at her tormentor with latent hatred in her dark eyes.

They sat down to dinner. The commandant seemed delighted; he made Pamela sit on his right, and Blondina on his left, and said, as he unfolded his table napkin: "That was a delightful idea of yours, captain."

Lieutenants Otto and Fritz, who were as polite as if they had been with fashionable ladies, rather intimidated their guests, but Baron von Kelweinstein beamed, made obscene remarks and seemed on fire with his crown of red hair. He paid the women compliments in French of the Rhine, and sputtered out gallant remarks, only fit for a low pothouse, from between his two broken teeth.

They did not understand him, however, and their intelligence did not seem to be awakened until he uttered foul words and broad expressions, which were mangled by his accent. Then they all began to laugh at once like crazy women and fell against each other, repeating the words, which the baron then began to say all wrong, in order that he might have the pleasure of hearing them say dirty things. They gave him as much of that stuff as he wanted, for they were drunk after the first bottle of wine, and resuming their usual habits and manners, they kissed the officers to right and left of them, pinched their arms, uttered wild cries, drank out of every glass and sang French couplets and bits of German songs which they had picked up in their daily intercourse with the enemy.

Soon the men themselves became very unrestrained, shouted and broke the plates and dishes, while the soldiers behind them waited on them stolidly. The commandant was the only one who kept any restraint upon himself.

Mademoiselle Fifi had taken Rachel on his knee, and, getting excited, at one moment he kissed the little black curls on her neck and at another he pinched her furiously and made her scream, for he was seized by a species of ferocity, and tormented by his desire to hurt her. He often held her close to him and pressed a long kiss on the Jewess' rosy mouth until she lost her breath, and at last he bit her until a stream of blood ran down her chin and on to her bodice.

For the second time she looked him full in the face, and as she bathed the wound, she said: "You will have to pay for, that!" But he merely laughed a hard laugh and said: "I will pay."

At dessert champagne was served, and the commandant rose, and in the same voice in which he would have drunk to the health of the Empress Augusta, he drank: "To our ladies!" And a series of toasts began, toasts worthy of the lowest soldiers and of drunkards, mingled with obscene jokes, which were made still more brutal by their ignorance of the language. They got up, one after the other, trying to say something witty, forcing themselves to be funny, and the women, who were so drunk that they almost fell off their chairs, with vacant looks and clammy tongues applauded madly each time.

The captain, who no doubt wished to impart an appearance of gallantry to the orgy, raised his glass again and said: "To our victories over hearts and, thereupon Lieutenant Otto, who was a species of bear from the Black Forest, jumped up, inflamed and saturated with drink, and suddenly seized by an access of alcoholic patriotism, he cried: "To our victories over France!"

Drunk as they were, the women were silent, but Rachel turned round, trembling, and said: "See here, I know some Frenchmen in whose presence you would not dare say that." But the little count, still holding her on his knee, began to laugh, for the wine had made him very merry, and said: "Ha! ha! ha! I have never met any of them myself. As soon as we show ourselves, they run away!" The girl, who was in a terrible rage, shouted into his face: "You are lying, you dirty scoundrel!"

For a moment he looked at her steadily with his bright eyes upon her, as he had looked at the portrait before he destroyed it with bullets from his revolver, and then he began to laugh: "Ah! yes, talk about them, my dear! Should we be here now if they were brave?" And, getting excited, he exclaimed: "We are the masters! France belongs to us!" She made one spring from his knee and threw herself into her chair, while he arose, held out his glass over the table and repeated: "France and the French, the woods, the fields and the houses of France belong to us!"

The others, who were quite drunk, and who were suddenly seized by military enthusiasm, the enthusiasm of brutes, seized their glasses, and shouting, "Long live Prussia!" they emptied them at a draught.

The girls did not protest, for they were reduced to silence and were afraid. Even Rachel did not say a word, as she had no reply to make. Then the little marquis put his champagne glass, which had just been refilled, on the head of the Jewess and exclaimed: "All the women in France belong to us also!"

At that she got up so quickly that the glass upset, spilling the amber- colored wine on her black hair as if to baptize her, and broke into a hundred fragments, as it fell to the floor. Her lips trembling, she defied the looks of the officer, who was still laughing, and stammered out in a voice choked with rage:

"That--that--that--is not true--for you shall not have the women of France!"

He sat down again so as to laugh at his ease; and, trying to speak with the Parisian accent, he said: "She is good, very good! Then why did you come here, my dear?" She was thunderstruck and made no reply for a moment, for in her agitation she did not understand him at first, but as soon as she grasped his meaning she said to him indignantly and vehemently: "I! I! I am not a woman, I am only a strumpet, and that is all that Prussians want."

Almost before she had finished he slapped her full in the face; but as he was raising his hand again, as if to strike her, she seized a small dessert knife with a silver blade from the table and, almost mad with rage, stabbed him right in the hollow of his neck. Something that he was going to say was cut short in his throat, and he sat there with his mouth half open and a terrible look in his eyes.

All the officers shouted in horror and leaped up tumultuously; but, throwing her chair between the legs of Lieutenant Otto, who fell down at full length, she ran to the window, opened it before they could seize her and jumped out into the night and the pouring rain.

In two minutes Mademoiselle Fifi was dead, and Fritz and Otto drew their swords and wanted to kill the women, who threw themselves at their feet and clung to their knees. With some difficulty the major stopped the slaughter and had the four terrified girls locked up in a room under the care of two soldiers, and then he organized the pursuit of the fugitive as carefully as if he were about to engage in a skirmish, feeling quite sure that she would be caught.

The table, which had been cleared immediately, now served as a bed on which to lay out the lieutenant, and the four officers stood at the windows, rigid and sobered with the stern faces of soldiers on duty, and tried to pierce through the darkness of the night amid the steady torrent of rain. Suddenly a shot was heard and then another, a long way off; and for four hours they heard from time to time near or distant reports and rallying cries, strange words of challenge, uttered in guttural voices.

In the morning they all returned. Two soldiers had been killed and three others wounded by their comrades in the ardor of that chase and in the confusion of that nocturnal pursuit, but they had not caught Rachel.

Then the inhabitants of the district were terrorized, the houses were turned topsy-turvy, the country was scoured and beaten up, over and over again, but the Jewess did not seem to have left a single trace of her passage behind her.

When the general was told of it he gave orders to hush up the affair, so as not to set a bad example to the army, but he severely censured the commandant, who in turn punished his inferiors. The general had said: "One does not go to war in order to amuse one's self and to caress prostitutes." Graf von Farlsberg, in his exasperation, made up his mind to have his revenge on the district, but as he required a pretext for showing severity, he sent for the priest and ordered him to have the bell tolled at the funeral of Baron von Eyrick.

Contrary to all expectation, the priest showed himself humble and most respectful, and when Mademoiselle Fifi's body left the Chateau d'Uville on its way to the cemetery, carried by soldiers, preceded, surrounded and followed by soldiers who marched with loaded rifles, for the first time the bell sounded its funeral knell in a lively manner, as if a friendly hand were caressing it. At night it rang again, and the next day, and every day; it rang as much as any one could desire. Sometimes even it would start at night and sound gently through the darkness, seized with a strange joy, awakened one could not tell why. All the peasants in the neighborhood declared that it was bewitched, and nobody except the priest and the sacristan would now go near the church tower. And they went because a poor girl was living there in grief and solitude and provided for secretly by those two men.

She remained there until the German troops departed, and then one evening the priest borrowed the baker's cart and himself drove his prisoner to Rouen. When they got there he embraced her, and she quickly went back on foot to the establishment from which she had come, where the proprietress, who thought that she was dead, was very glad to see her.

A short time afterward a patriot who had no prejudices, and who liked her because of her bold deed, and who afterward loved her for herself, married her and made her a lady quite as good as many others.Mademoiselle Fifi

was featured as The Short Story of the Day on Fri, Feb 13, 2015

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thesimsroyalheirs · 8 months

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Welcome to the Ton! #2: The Countries

Sul Sul! Which country is on the brink of a civil war? Which monarch has come under scrutiny for their spending? Is it true that a princess cancelled her arranged marriage? We're looking at the 7 countries the current monarchs reside over, and delving ever so slightly into the tea.

Willow Creek

Current Monarch: HRH Queen Catherine Lawson Heir apparent: Crown Prince Benjamin Lawson Religious beliefs: Secular Closest relationship: Henford-On-Bagley Best known for: It's prestigous universities, and having the world's largest economy.

Willow Creek is a large country with a hard working people. This is said to be the biggest reason they have been so successful in maintaining their production and economic value. It is also home to several of the best colleges worldwide, cementing it's place as a leader in innovation across many industries.

Brindleton Bay

Current Monarch: HRH King Jai Panikkar Heir apparent: HRH Crown Princess Aishwarya Panikkar Religious beliefs: Cult of the Cow Plant Closest relationship: Oasis Springs Best known for: It's widespread support of animal rights and it's controversial acceptance of arranged marriages.

Brindleton Bay is for the most part, a rather humble and diplomatic country. That could be due to the fact it is the are the only country where the peaceful Cult of the Cow Plant is the largest religous organisation. King Jai has continued on his families legacy with religous tolerance and a quiet comfortableness, given the stability of it's economy.

Henford-On-Bagley

Current Monarch: HRH Isla O'Halloran Heir apparent: HRH Crown Prince Cian O'Hallaran Religious beliefs: Secular Closest relationship: Willow Creek Best known for: Being the home of the Grand Volpe Hotel - The meeting place of the High Table, and having the best agricultral industry worldwide.

Along with Mt. Komorebi & Willow Creek, Henford-On-Bagley is one of the three oldest countries. It's rich and fertile land gave way to a bustling village. That village grew to the country we know today, run by the very same sims that founded it: The O'Hallorans. It's lesser known (but equally as impressive) feat is the countries Healthcare system. The first of it's kind, it was then adopted by many others. Queen Isla has reigned for many years, but now everyone wants to know where her half brother, Teenager Prince Giovanni will fit into the political sphere...

Mt. Komorebi

Current Monarch: HH Empress Mayumi Ikeda-Tanaka Heir apparent: HRH Crown Prince Jun Tanaka Religious beliefs: Secular, however there is a known fringe group of Worship of the Watchers that reside here. Closest relationship: Windenberg Best known for: Being the home of the first ever Sim-lympics, and being the fashion & art capital of the world.

Is Mt. Komorebi steeped in tradition and older values? Yes. But is Mt. Komorebi also a modern leader in fashion and style, influencing most other countries? Mt. Komorebi is a country that boasts a finger in many financial pies, to the betterment of it's citizens. This was well fostered by the current Empress Mayumi, who came to power after the death of her husband Emperor Hideo. The world was expecting their son, Prince Jun, to come to power when he came of age, but that was years ago now...

Sulani

Current Monarch: HRH King Maleko Aperahama Heir apparent: HRH Crown Princess Ke'ala Aperahama Religious beliefs: Island Elementals Closest relationship: Brindleton Bay Best known for: Being the permier destination for holdaying sims.

Sulani has changed since the Civil War, between the Merfolk & Sims. Taking back their land, they have taken many measures to safeguard their piece of paradise... and their secrets. The Elemental spirits that the locals serve have warned them of the Volano Activity in Mua Pel'am, yet nothing seems to have been done about it... The question is why not?

Windenburg (Inclusive of Forgotten Hollow)

Current Monarch: HRH King Johannes Von Meyer Heir apparent: HRH Crown Prince Christian Von Meyer Religious beliefs: Worship of the Watcher Closest relationship: Mt Komorebi Best known for: The cities breathtaking architecture, and the battle of The Crumbling Isles.

When the Von Meyers took over the Country, It was a time of great advancement for the country. This was in so small part due to it's welcoming of the Occult Sims, and in particular, the Vampires. That peace is under threat as the new King and Queen Consort are devout Worshippers of the Watcher - who are staunchly anti occult. So how does the King handle it, when he realises that his young twin brother & sister are members of the Vampire community?

Oasis Springs

Current Monarch: HRH King Emilio Menéndez Heir apparent: HRH Crown Prince Sebastián Menéndez Religious beliefs: Congregation of Non Believers Closest relationship: Sulani Best known for: It's love of horse racing, and the luxurious lifestyle afforded to many of it's sims. Oasis Springs is a comparitively young country, though it well and truly made it's mark. The desert laid way for a specific kind of sim: a sim that can afford to keep themselves out of the harsh weather. This is no different for King Emilio, who has come under international scrutiny for his spending in midst of an economic downturn for Oasis Springs. Recently, it was confirmed he had purchased one of the countries most expensive vineyards for his son and daughter in law. Can he truly afford this?

Continuing the introductions, In Welcome to the Ton! #3, I am excited to formally introduce you to the two most powerful institutes: High Table & The Occult Council.

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