#comtes reis

[negreabsolut]

Els comtes reis catalans del llinatge dels Beŀlònides.

[alby-rei]

Comte's Ghost Mansion (IkeVamp; Luigi's Mansion AU) Part 1

a/n: Heavily (more like, entirely) inspired by @scummy-writes's playthrough of Luigi's Mansion. 'Twas a lot of fun merging the wackiness of that game with the IkeVamp universe! Multiple parts have already been written, to varying degrees of polish, so I'll be posting them on a schedule (Tentatively, one part per week). Without further ado, Enjoyyy ✨

Tags: Humor, Crack treated seriously, Luigi's Mansion AU, Spooky scary spectral vampires, Ghostbuster MC Word Count: 1000 words Characters: You, Sebastian, Comte (mentioned) Next: Part 2

~*~

You woke up in a dark endless abyss with a headache.

"Where...am I?"

You were not sure how long you were out for, but it must have been a long time.

Last you remembered, you were walking around the Louvre museum in the daytime. A handsome man in a three-piece tailored suit had graciously retrieved your earring from the ground, only to drop and forgot his own handkerchief.

You, wanting nothing more than to return the favor, sought to return it to him. Your quest led you to a secluded section of the museum, barren of any foot traffic, and past a set of large double doors that appeared, at the time, as part of the museum experience.

In hindsight, the dwindling number of visitors around you should have alerted you to think otherwise.

Lightning flashed and the hallway blinked in view, like a snapshot captured with a camera shutter. Thunder cracked once, twice, forcing you out of memory lane and back into the present.

In the split-second that you saw the hallway, a line of tall arched windows stood to your left and closed wooden doors to your right. A high-backed chair was stationed between each door, and a framed picture hung above it. A wall blocked the path at one end and extended into darkness in the other. So, not an endless abyss. But it was not the Louvre museum, either.

Slowly, hesitantly, you took a step forward, and another, and then another, keeping your eyes peeled for any signs of an exit. A door creaked nearby.

You scrambled to hide behind the nearest curtains, but you were caught by two firm hands. Your heart lurched in your throat. You turned around to face your assailant, and a second round of lightning gave you a chance to get a good look. It was a young man with grayish hair swept to one side, his eyes narrow and inquisitive.

"Who are you, and how did you get in here?" He asked, though he did not wait for a response. "Doesn't matter, let's get you out before the others notice."

You followed him through the maze of hallways, each turn taking you down an identical path. It was a wonder that your guide could tell heads from tails in the darkness.

"Watch your step," he called out as the two of you descended a set of grand stairs.

Just when you thought you reached the bottom, you were met with more stairs. Blood pumped in your ears as you focused on getting out of here, one step at a time. You sighed in relief when the first sliver of light peeked through the grand double doors at the opposite end of what, you assumed, was the foyer.

Once outside, you gawked at the building you just escaped. It was a three-story mansion. Grapevines crept around and across the walls and into some open windows. Dark clouds loomed over the estate, but the rain died down into a drizzle.  

"Don't fall behind, now!" Your guide called out from the garden up ahead. Rather than continue straight ahead and out the gate, he took a turn going behind the mansion. You stared at the open gate, contemplating your chance of survival. Feeling unsafe venturing out into the unknown, you kept up pace with him along a narrow cobblestone path.

He stopped abruptly, causing you to bump into his back, and asked, "Where did you say you were from?"

You huffed and said, "If you would've let me speak the first time..." You explained your situation to him, and he furrowed his brows. You then barraged him with your own set of questions. Rather than answer any of them, he turned on his heel and talked on the way.

He introduced himself as Sebastian. He woke up in a similar way to what you had described a few years prior.

“I’m sorry, did you say years?” You gaped. What hope did you have of returning home if he had not done so yet?

He continued. "I came face to face with the head of this mansion, a French nobleman who goes by the title, Le Comte de Saint-Germain. He gave me an offer I could not refuse, and so I serve the mansion as its butler."

He stopped in front of a quaint wooden garden shack.

Facing you, he wore a wry smile as he said, "I would like to consider myself lucky, as I haven't seen another human in quite some time. But you, I'm afraid, are out of luck to end up here."

Your eyes shifted. "What do you mean by that?"

"Wait here."

He ducked inside and came out with a backpack that looked an awful lot like a vacuum cleaner. The vacuum tube in his hands only further confirmed your suspicions.

He reminded you of a ghostbuster.

"Unfortunately, I don't know how to get you home. But what I can offer is a means to defend yourself for the night.

"Defend myself?" You echoed. "Against what?"

That was how you ended up back inside the mansion, carrying Sebastian's 'Poltergust 1899' (as he proudly called it) on your back, alongside an oil lamp in hand and an item pouch around your shoulder.

What’s the pouch for? You may be wondering.

After much debate with the butler, you agreed to retrieve "items of interest" for him if he promised to investigate a means of getting you back home. His final remark was to avoid disturbing the mansion's esteemed residents and, contrarily, to report back any interesting behavior you encounter, seemingly of said residents.

The main entrance door creaked open. The mansion's foyer was bedecked with a carpeted floor that stretched up its wide central staircase. White Ionic columns lined the sides. At the top of the stairs, bright moonlight shone through, enveloping the room in a bluish hue.

The door slamming shut behind you pulled your flighty spirit back into its boney prison. Several voices murmured behind the walls.

You caught some of their words, or so you believed.

"A guest?"

"They returned!"

"Oh dear."

"How delightful."

"Go away."

You wished you didn't.

Back to Masterlist

[eva248]

Lecturas de enero. Tercera semana

Maigret tiene miedo / Georges Simenon. Editorial Anagrama & Acantilado, 2022 Tras asistir a un congreso de la policía en Burdeos, Maigret decide visitar a un antiguo compañero de estudios en la pequeña ciudad de Fontenay-le-Comte. Durante el trayecto en tren, un pasajero se le acerca y le pregunta si su presencia allí tiene alguna relación con los brutales asesinatos que han sacudido a la…

[violettduchess]

Helloooos Violett!! Omg Congrats on hitting 500+!! 🤩🤩🤩 I hope you'll continue to enjoy writing in every form, whether it's stories or thoughts or headcanons or any other 🤗🤗🤗 I'm late to requests aaaaa but I saw that you're taking mini requests for unclaimed flowers 👀✨ If it's not already claimed, may I kindly request Yellow Pansy + Leonardo? (No pressure tho, you can always keep it in your back pocket) 🥰🥰 Have a lovely day~!!

Yellow Pansy: Thinking of You

A/N: the first of the smaller fics, this is pure fluff for @alby-rei

Leonardo x reader

Word Count: 554

Leonardo paces his room….as much as pacing is possible in that cluttered space with its papers and books scattered across the carpet like autumn leaves on a forest floor. Lumiere watches wearily from his spot curled up on top of a leather-bound atlas, king of the world indeed. His yellow eyes follow the back-and-forth, back-and-forth of Leonardo's steps until he yawns, bored, and lays his chin on his soft black paws. Sleep is so much more interesting than this.

Leonardo pauses, his eyes jumping to the mechanical clock on his desk, a birthday gift from Comte. Custom-made of polished cherry wood and shiny brass and black hands that seem to slow with every tick. A heavy sigh escapes him as he flops down into his desk chair, his long fingers drumming against the wood. Impulsively he reaches for one of the many notebooks thrown haphazardly across the desk. His fingers skim over the rest of the objects until he finds a pencil. Satisfied, he flips open the notebook to the first blank page and begins to write:

Cara mia,

Time slows when you are not here. Every passing minute echoes within the empty chambers of my heart, a heart that is only full when I am with you.

The world loses all color when you're away. Everything presents in shades of gray because the person who reveals the color and light of the world is not by my side.

I ache for you, cara mia. The very marrow of my bones, the blood coursing through my veins, all burn for you. Your touch is the pinnacle of divinity.

Without you–

The bedroom door opens and you walk in, pushing back the damp strands of your hair that escaped their braided prison.

"With the sun shining that bright–"

Your words are cut off as Leonardo springs from the desk chair like a lion after a gazelle, the notebook and its unfinished, passionate letter abandoned to the anarchy of his desk. The world spins as he wraps his arms around you, embracing you as he falls back onto the bed, holding you tightly against him even as his name escapes you on a breathless wave of laughter. 

He cups the back of your head with his gentle hands and bends down, pressing his lips to yours, the feel of him warm and sweet. He kisses you over and over, turning his face this way and that to cover every angle, not wanting to leave even the smallest corner of your mouth unkissed. 

"Ever since you left, I’ve thought of nothing but you." He buries his face into the sensitive curve of your neck, his arms tightening around you.

You're full of bright laughter even as you close your eyes.

"Leonardo, I hung the laundry! I was gone fifteen minutes!" Your words turn into a cascade of bubbles, his mouth leaving an effervescent trail of impetuous kisses across your jawline.

"Far too long," he murmurs, his strong hands clasping your waist, adjusting you so you’re now firmly underneath him. 

"You're crazy," you sigh affectionately as his hands begin touching you with intention, nimble fingers foraging for buttons and laces on your clothing.

He laughs, the sound low and husky, a slow flame growing with every passing second.

"About you, cara mia. Only about you."

☀

Tagging: @aquagirl1978 @atelieredux @alixennial @alexxavicry @queengiuliettafirstlady @rhodolitesrose @somekidnamedkai @ikemen-prince-writers-posts @bellerose-arcana @thewitchofbooks @ikehoe @redheadkittys @dear-mrs-otome @themysticalbeing @firestar-otomeobsessed @curious-skybunny

[ortegadorra]

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀oh,  hazel  eyes. . .

já  mirou  olhos  da  cor  de  oliva ?  já  foi  arrastado  por  olhos  da  cor  da  terra  após  chuva ?  já  nadou  em  olhos  da  cor  de  avelã ? 

gong-pujol.  não  sendo  ainda  os,  literalmente,  únicos  nobres  de  andorra  -  emanuel  ainda  tem  sua  mãe  -,  são  certamente  os  três  mais  bem  conhecidos  e  falados.  são  perfeitos.  são  carismáticos.  são  tão  bondosos.  e  ah,  aqueles  olhos!  certamente,  o  maior  tesouro  de  um  gong-pujol:  os  olhos  que  mudam  de  cor. 

verdes  e  azuis?  overrated.  enxergue  ouro  quando  um  gong-pujol  olhá-lo  da  varanda,  sob  a  luz  do  sol  da  manhã.  enxergue  o  verde  escuro  como  musgo  ou  oliva  quando  um  gong-pujol  olhá-lo  sob  a  luz  artificial  que  ilumina  a  sala  durante  a  tarde.  enxergue  a  terra  fofa  e  úmida,  quando  um  gong-pujol  olhá-lo  sob  a  luz  da  lua.  

quais  eram  as  chances  de  pai  e  mãe  -  de  etnias  tão  diferentes  -  não  só terem  os  mesmo  olhos  que  contam  tantas  histórias,  mas  passarem  para  sua  prole  o  poder  de  continua-las? 

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀. . . that’s  when  you'll  know:  that  one  is  a  gong-pujol.

comte / conde  emanuel  gong-pujol;  hoje  com  seus  cinquenta  e  seis  anos  de  idade,  vive  e  curte  um  casamento  de  quase  trinta.  se  já  traiu  no  meio  disso,  fez  muito  bem,  pois  nem  mesmo  esse  narrador  ouviu  falar.  e  me  atrevo  a  dizer:  ele  quem  se  apaixonou  depois,  mas  se  apaixonou  pesado!  meteu-se  a  aprender  coreano  só  por  causa  de  evelyn  -  hoje,  entende  tudo  da  língua,  embora  ainda  tem  sotaque  pesado  demais  para  ser  facilmente  compreendido!  não  é  como  se  importasse  para  o  público,  contudo,  que  idioma  ele  fala  ou  deixa  de  falar:  emanuel  tem  o  dom  de  se  comunicar  sem  usar  a  voz;  são  os  olhares,  os  gestos,  os  sorrisos.  “ seria  um  rei  perfeito ”  frase  que  nunca  saiu  da  opinião  do  povo  de  andorra.   [  fc:  mads  mikkelsen  ]

comtessa  /  condessa  evelyn “ siyeon ” gong-pujol;  hoje  com  seus  cinquenta  e   quatro  anos  de  idade,  não  se  arrepende  de  ter  deixado  sua  família  nobre  na  coréia  do  sul.  não  foi  la  muito  bem  vista,  não. . .  deveria  estar  casada  com  um  coreano  -  a  relação  dela  com  a  família  não  é  das  mais  genuínas,  pois  o  lado  de  lá  adora  meter  um  sorrisinho  de  arrependido,  entretanto,  devem  bem  meter  a  língua  por  trás!  ela  conheceu  emanuel  em  um  intercâmbio  e  se  apaixonou  primeiro.  achou  um  mico  o  querido  tentando  falar  coreano,  mas  reconheceu  os  esforços.  completamente  diferente  do  que  esperavam  das  mulheres  coreanas  (e  nobres) da  sua  época,  evelyn  tem  até  doutorado!  relações  internacionais  e  direito  são  sua  área,  e  embora  não  exerça,  não  para  de  se  atualizar.  assim  como  emanuel,  carrega  graciosidade  e  carisma  de  milhões!  aliás, aproveita  que  ela  está  em  uma  tour  sobre  o  livro  dela:  dizem  que  é  inspirador  a  oratória  da  mulher.  [  fc:  lee  young  ae  ]

their  prince /  ortega  gong-pujol;  o  maior  filho  de  mamãe  e  papai!  aí  tu  pensa:  deve  ser  um  nojo  quando  com  os  pais,  então.  não!  ele  é  nojo  só  com  vocês,  da  academia,  mesmo.  com  os  pais?  nossa,  você,  filho  de  família  disfuncional  teria  inveja  da  cumplicidade  e  união  dos  três!  não  são  a  perfeição,  mas  chegam  perto  do  que  uma  família  deveria  ser. . .  os  pais,  coitados,  são  não  fazem  ideia  do  que  o  filho  seria  capaz  de  fazer  afim  de,  no  futuro,  proporcionar  a  melhor  vida  para  eles;  a  vida  que  eles  sempre  mereceram.  [  fc:  seo  kang  joon  ]

[ana-thedaydreamer]

I posted 263 times in 2022

That's 145 more posts than 2021!

160 posts created (61%)

103 posts reblogged (39%)

Blogs I reblogged the most:

@ana-thedaydreamer

@alby-rei

@namine-somebodies-nobody

@batteryrose

@i-am-totally-a-weirdo

I tagged 231 of my posts in 2022

Only 12% of my posts had no tags

#otome game - 148 posts

#cybird ikemen - 142 posts

#cybird - 140 posts

#ikevamp - 139 posts

#ikemen vampire - 132 posts

#fanart - 121 posts

#ikemen leonardo - 59 posts

#leonardodavinci - 40 posts

#ikevamp leonardo - 27 posts

#ikepri - 26 posts

Longest Tag: 81 characters

#your route should have been released since the beginning so i can love you sooner

My Top Posts in 2022:

#5

Napoleon and pancakes 🥞🤌

Original pose is on my IG @anadreamart

322 notes - Posted July 30, 2022

#4

“Nightmare”

Imagine you are having a nightmare and your comfort character hugs you to sleep 😴

349 notes - Posted January 27, 2022

#3

When he was on the way back to the mansion after party and saw her alone in the shop and was making a new suit for him as a birthday gift 💝

Say, Comte in a new suit and has a new hairstyle different from his usual self? 🫶🫶🫶

412 notes - Posted October 26, 2022

#2

OUR MCs ARE HERE 😍

Stay tuned in Cybird official Twitter

570 notes - Posted May 15, 2022

My #1 post of 2022

Tsuda-san and Leonardo 🥰❤

See the full post

597 notes - Posted October 3, 2022

Get your Tumblr 2022 Year in Review →

[spoopy-fish-writes]

Comtesse is my gay kryptonite, could you do a first kiss?

—First kiss with Fem Comte

Suitor(s): Fem Comte

TW: Just my gay screaming in the background

Notes: Gender neutral MC || SAME ACTUALLY AIDHAIDBAD PLEASE I WAS LOSING MY MIND WHEN I GOT THIS REQUEST || Yes I was explicitly saving this to post it on the first day of pride month. I'm just hoping I scheduled this right gejsvdjsvd

The first kiss with her is purposeful. She doesn't want to overwhelm you with feelings that are already overwhelming her herself so it's sweet and natural

A hand intertwined with her in a way that feels strangely intimate and informal with someone who you would never expect to be so relaxed

Not in the way that she usually portrays, elegant and put together, but genuinely relaxed, the smile on her face unrestrained by formalities, all of the joy that she had been displaying at a measured rate throughout the ball that she had invited you to, glowing warmly on her face

Her eyes never leave your face as she smiles, taking in your expression and appreciating how nice you look in the clothes that she had gone with you to pick out for the event

She can't see you as anything less than ethereal in that moment

It's as the two of you slow down as you near the mansion entrance after leaving the carriage that she raises your hand that she has in hers to her lips and presses a kiss to the back of it, a thanks for joining her as her partner for the night and other balls prior following

She asks, straightforward though not pressuring if she can kiss you and doesn't move closer towards you until she gets your permission

Her hand comes up to cradle your face and the other stays intertwined with yours as it goes to rest on your waist, securing you gently against her but not in any way that pulls you closer to her or stops you from pulling away as he slips press, ever so gently, on yours

Her hold is fairly loose though secure to let you pull away or come closer to deepen the kiss or contact as you please though you really can't think to do either as you reciprocate her actions

She pulls away for a moment to whisper your name as if she has something more to say, gold eyes opening for a moment to watch for your reaction before she kisses you again, soft and loving because a part of her just needed to let you know, as if you didn't already, that you were the only thing on her mind

She smiles at you when she pulls away and it takes on a little smirking edge when she notices that some of her rouge has rubbed off onto your lips before she presses a final kiss to the back of your hand, "Je t'aime" whispered against your skin

Tags: @a-chaotic-dumbass @otome-scribbles @laito---sakamaki @kaeyas-beloved @shad0cat @alby-rei @rurifangirl @daisiesandshakes @lucyw260 @simplycuriouscourage @namine-somebodies-nobody @shameshomalo @ikesenfangirl @your-local-ikemen-simp @wtf-0w0 @notapinklasagna @chaosangel767 @grumpybunny14 @fangirlinindia @obeyme4life @entidy13 @skatercashew @cilokgoang @roses-of-rosalie @character-design-who @ikesimp100 @kisara-16 @aceuuuuu @alureasoley

If you want to be added or removed from my tag list, dm me, send me an ask off anon or fill out this form

Do not repost or claim. Only reblog 💜

[jackhkeynes]

The Late 12th Century

excerpt in translation from scitation questions for the Borrhatic School of History at Combert's 1977 course 1167-1225 N: The Collapse of the Second Tetrarchy and the Final Decades of the Roman Totality.

1. Ne cal comtað, regnað sou Comt Jerron, se prodoy l'Urgenç noncupað d'an 1170, y donjon devastant absoluð e menant vars y secession de Borgogn (e tandem y dissolution) dell'Empir Constant? [Dijon] 1. In which county, ruled by Count Jerròn, did the 1170 "Emergency" take place, utterly destroying the keep and leading to the secession of Burgundy from (and eventually the dissolution of) the Constant Empire? [Dijon]

2. Cal gendr de parenteç aye Rey Adalmar a Bavarn con sy hereter Empres Catharin a Germany, y regnour final an Germany unið pre may a cinq cent annað? [Proyam] 2. What relation was King Adalmar of Bavarn to his successor Empress Cathrine of Germany, the last ruler of a united Germany for over five hundred years? [Great-uncle]

3. Hambourg sta y preu citað teudesc a se declarar cos solemn com insouject ag regn dell'Emperour, d'an 1207 N. Pu cal citað, un sodal ny Collijon (y Stadbond) smargent pres possent equal com Hambourg meðes, quottau jout for l'un annað aposc? [Dorstad] 3. Hamburg was the first German city to formally declare as not subject to the rule of the Emperor, in 1207 N. But which city, almost as powerful a member of the nascent Collision (the Stadbund) as Hamburg herself, followed suit just one year later? [Dorstad]

[marianaech]

El conde de montecristo ~Reseña

Pequeño resumen

El conde de montecristo (Le comte de Monte-Cristo) es uno de los libros mas importantes de Alexandre Dumas, junto con su trilogía de d'Artagnan (Los tres mosqueteros, Veinte años después y El Vizconde de Bragelonne).

El libro se centra inicialmente en un joven marinero llamado Edmund Dantés alrededor del año 1815. Debido a la repentina muerte del capitán del Faraón (La embarcación en la que este trabajaba), el dueño de la nave notando sus habilidades de liderazgo y de los amplios conocimientos que poseía de navegación a pesar de su corta edad de 19 años, decide convertirlo en el nuevo capitán, para el pesar de Danglars, otro marinero del Faraón que aspiraba igualmente al puesto de capitán y creía merecerlo aun mas que el joven Dantés.

Al llegar a Marsella y con la promesa de convertirse en capitán, Edmund corre a presentarse a su amada Mercedes, la mujer que amaba y con la que aspiraba casarse (después de visitar a su padre) y debido a su nuevo ascenso, deciden casarse al día siguiente, para el horror de Fernand, un hombre que está locamente enamorado de Mercedes igual que Edmund pero que esta solo lo ve con los ojos de un hermano.

Estos dos enemigos de la fortuna de Dantés se terminan aliando para acusarlo de un crimen falso contra la corona que lo lleva a manos del sustituto del procurador de rey (Villefort) justo antes de efectuarse su matrimonio con Mercedes.

En pocas palabras Villefort hace aprisionar a Edmund para beneficio propio, ya que poseía información que podía perjudicarle.

Edmund Dantés es finalmente aprisionado en el castillo de If, donde queda recluido 14 años. Durante su estancia en la prisión, forma lazos con un abate, Faria (presuntamente loco por ofrecer cantidades exorbitantes de dinero a los carceleros para su liberación); Este anciano le enseña variedad de cosas a Edmund, desde gran cantidad de idiomas como matemáticas y aritmética; básicamente este hombre cumplió un rol de padre para el muchacho durante su estancia en prisión.

Estos dos personajes formaron unos lazos profundos, por lo cual Faria decide hablarle a el muchacho sobre su tesoro por si el no lograba salir con vida, ya que estaba enfermo. Un día el abate sufre un tercer ataque mortal de catalepsia (enfermedad que padecía) y pierde la vida, así que Dantés toma la decisión de hacerse pasar por el cadáver para lograr escapar.

En resumen, al escapar de la cárcel y descubrir que su padre había muerto... de hambre, van en busca del tesoro de la isla de Monte-Cristo, en la ubicación que el abate Faria le había informado, y con el corazón lleno de veneno, Edmond decide llevar a cabo una venganza sobre estas tres personas que le arruinaron la vida.

*Se alargó el resumen un poco mas de lo que me hubiera gustado xd*

Opinión

Dividiré esta reseña en tres partes para organizar mejor mis ideas acerca del libro.

En general

Es imposible negar que es un libro escrito de una forma que invita a leer (a pesar de sus intimidantes 1160 páginas), escrito de manera entendible y siempre con unos personajes e intrigas de las que no se quiere dejar de saber. La historia pocas veces se vuelve sosa y siempre te quedas con ganas de más. Es indudablemente un libro deliciosamente escrito que a pesar de mi supremo odio por el final, definitivamente se ha sumado a mi lista de libros favoritos.

2. Los personajes

Primero y del personaje que obviamente mas da para hablar es el conde, Edmond.

Me parece maravilloso la transformación que tiene el personaje durante el libro, pasando de ser un joven apasionado, alegre e inocente a volverse un hombre rencoroso, arrogante y vanidoso.

Se me hace muy interesante la influencia que poseía el conde sobre los jóvenes durante la historia, logrando que lo admirasen como si de un dios celestial se tratara o le temieran como si fuera un vampiro, pero incluso sobre el espectador es un personaje con gran poder, haciéndose ver como una persona que todo lo sabe y que todo lo puede, además no negaré que fue un personaje que con su forma de ser, se me hizo inevitablemente atractivo.

La construcción de personajes de la historia me parece muy interesante, sobre todo porque a pesar de haber una gran cantidad de ellos, no olvidas en ningún momento quienes son ni cual es su rol en la historia, pero si de un personaje en particular pudiera hablar, seria definitivamente Albert.

Albert de Morcef o Albert Mondego es el hijo de Fernando y Mercedes, el cual es un joven con una personalidad bastante peculiar pero en el buen sentido, en mi opinión.

La venganza básicamente la comienza el conde tratando de formar lazos con Albert para poder acercarse mas a su familia y llevar a cabo la venganza que este tanto anhela; sin embargo el muchacho sin conocer esta doble intención y siendo aun un inocente muchacho de 21 años, siente un gran estima por Monte-Cristo, contándole sus problemas y pidiéndole opiniones sobre diversas circunstancias.

Es un personaje que a pesar de mostrar gran valentía y lealtad, también se puede ver como un dulce niño, con el dulce cariño que vemos durante la obra que este le profesa a su madre o como intenta bajo cualquier circunstancia defender el honor de su padre, haciendo un personaje entretenido y que no aburre mientras está siendo abordado en la obra.

Un hermoso fanart que encontré de Franz y Albert

3. La venganza

Como había dicho anteriormente, me parece asombroso durante la obra como es que el conde parece saberlo todo sobre todos mientras nadie sabe si quiera cual es su nombre de pila.

El comienzo de la venganza comienza suave con Caderrouse, siendo el menos culpable de los implicados al haber sido su único crimen el nunca hacer nada (dejando que el padre de Edmund se muriera de hambre a pesar de ser el vecino, y saber acerca del complot acerca de Dantés pero nunca declarar en contra), que al final fue una venganza que el mismo se provocó, ya que el conde había decidido inicialmente perdonarle.

Fue en mi parecer bastante satisfactorio, porque a pesar de tener un rol menor en dicha catástrofe, se mostro como un hombre envidioso, poco interés por el bienestar de nadie que no fuera el mismo y corrupción de su propio corazón, al tratar de utilizar incluso al único amigo que le quedaba en el mundo.

Sin embargo la cosa comienza a escalar con los Morcef

Esta venganza comienza volviendo público como el señor de aquella familia había conseguido todas sus riquezas de formas tan innobles y perversas, que acabó con su nombre de manera pública.

No voy a negar que me parecía doloroso que decidiera que el siguiente paso para dicha venganza fuera matar a su hijo, ya que el muchacho incluso le profesaba un tierno cariño al conde que a el parecía no importarle, sim embargo el conde se tomaba a si mismo como un enviado por Dios para llevar a cabo su venganza, y se guiaba con las palabras: "Las faltas de los padres caerán sobre sus hijos, hasta la tercera y cuarta generación". Sin embargo una noche antes del enfrentamiento entre Albert y Edmond, Mercedes confiesa siempre haberle reconocido y le ruega por la hija de su hijo, por lo que este sede.

Esta es una de mis partes favoritas del libro, porque el reencuentro de Mercedes y Edmond es bastante emotiva y amo ver como la fuertes coraza del conde se rompe antes los gritos de la que fue su amor y su consuelo durante muchos años.

Aunque este suceso no arruino en mi parecer para nada la venganza hacia Fernand, sino al contrario que la hizo mas jugosa en mi punto de vista, ya que este viendo que su hijo y el conde no se batieron, decide visitar al conde y batirse con el él mismo; pero al encontrarse con el conde no se encuentra sino con la realidad, descubrir como todos sus pesares son justamente merecidos por el primer crimen que cometió en su vida, y al descubrir que su esposa e hijo le abandonaron por la vergüenza de llevar su apellido, decide este mismo "volarse la tapa de los sesos".

La siguiente victima de su venganza (Villefort) le hace cambiar de corazón al pensar que lleva su venganza demasiado lejos, y, en mi parecer, cobrando la vida de personas que nada tenían que ver con el crimen que Villefort había cometido.

Primero con un hijo ilegitimo que el había creído inicialmente muerto y luego con una lista de asesinatos en su propia casa. La venganza se comienza a llevar realmente a cabo cuando publicamente se descubre que un niño que este tuvo, fuera del matrimonio, dio como resultado a un muchacho que acababa de cometer asesinato, que era estafador y que había ya estado anteriormente en la carcel.

Luego, dentro de su propia casa comienzan a morir misteriosamente personas a manos de un veneno, del que no conocía el origen: comienzan muriendo los suegros de su primer matrimonio, y luego que un intento fallido de morir su padre, muere un criado, lo cual siembra el pánico en aquel hogar, pero las cosas se salen de control al sucumbir la cuarta victima, Valentina, la hija de su primer matrimonio, y a partir de esto, Villefort conoce perfectamente al asesino: su esposa, la cual intentaba conseguir la abundante herencia que originalmente Valentina heredaría de sus abuelos maternos y su abuelo paterno. La decisión que toma el procurador del rey en este momento es obligarla a beberse su propio veneno, sim embargo no contaba con que esta partiría junto con la vida de su único hijo, Edward. Cuando luego de estos desgarradores sucesos, el conde se le presenta para confesarle la verdad y su venganza, este hombre pierde la cabeza.

En mi parecer es evidente mente una muerte que fue demasiado lejos porque, Valentina no estaba realmente muerta y podría haber evitado los horribles sucesos posteriores dando a conocer esta información, además de que Edmond estaba lo suficientemente cegado por su sed de venganza como para entender que estaba implicando gente inocente como a la propia Valentina, que solo salvó porque era el amor de su amigo Maximilian Morrel y la vida de Edward que poco debía entender si quiera de lo que sucedía a su alrededor al contar con tan solo 13 años.

Después del cambio de corazón que le generó la anterior venganza, con Danglars, su principal enemigo, ya que fue el principal culpable de todo su sufrimiento, nada mas intentó hacerle sufrir como lo debió haber hecho su propio padre al morir de hambre, ya que nada parecía quebrarlo realmente, por lo que no se sentía como una venganza suficiente, pero saliendo de la satisfacción de ver a los victimarios pagar, también está el mensaje que el libro intenta dejar al lector, y es aprender a perdonar. Edmond estaba tan sediento de venganza que no dimensionaba el daño que le estaba haciendo a otras personas como mas adelante veremos con Mercedes y Albert, Morrel o todas las victimas del veneno de la señora Villefort.

Que después de todo el daño que le hizo al procurador del rey, fue el quien sentía que debía buscar el perdón y no imponerlo; que no era un enviado por Dios, ni la misma providencia, como lo asegura durante todo el libro.

Sin embrago quitando lo moralista, yo si odiaba profundamente a Danglars, su propia familia le odiaba, hasta sus propios amigos le odiaban, pero aun así fue el personaje que menos sufrió el rencor del gran conde de Monte-Cristo.

Deléitense con una imagen de Henry Cavill interpretando a Albert Mondego en la película wfjenhfiulfbhrdbf

4. El final

Hasta ahí el libro me parece simplemente magnifico, porque incluso las cosas que no disfruté las entendí y lo hicieron totalmente hermoso, pero el final es lo que menos me gustó del libro la verdad y que no logro excusar. Que incluso hago esta reseña ahora para poder dejar de darle vueltas a ese maldito final.

4.1 El final de Mercedes y Albert

Después de huir de Fernand, Mercedes donó toda la plata heredada de este hombre, quedando así estos dos en un estado limitado de dinero que obliga a Albert a prestar servicio y poder conseguir dinero para su madre y el. Por otro lado, su madre no se le volvió a ver sonreír, o por lo menos no con verdadera alegría, sufría por la muerte de Fernand y se culpaba por todos los sufrimientos de Dantés, por lo que probablemente el resto de su vida se la pasó pagando moralmente por crímenes en los que no tuvo responsabilidad.

Esto me enfurece mucho porque mientras unos no pagaron lo que debieron pagar, otros pagaron algo que no les pertenecía, pero al final ese fue el resultado de la ciega y arrogante venganza que Edmond decidió llevar a cabo, lo entiendo perfectamente. Sin embargo, soy de la opinión que la única forma de (de alguna forma decirlo) el pagar por el daño que hizo con su venganza es quedándose con Mercedes y darle a ella y a su hijo todo lo que les hiciera falta para volver a tener una buena vida; por otro lado si esto no sucedía, opino que la mejor decisión que podía tomar el conde era acabar con su vida:

Primero que todo porque al entrar a la cárcel, Edmond se convirtió en otra persona, ya no tenía aspiraciones como otras personas, no deseaba formar una familia, ni conseguir cierto empleo, …, lo unico que hacía al conde levantarse cada mañana era ver realizada su venganza, y después de eso, su personaje no tendría razón de ser, incluso si siguiera con vida, sería una vida llena de remordimientos y pesares y yo creo que el tuvo suficiente con aquellos 14 años como para vivir muchos mas de esos. Segundo, durante todo el libro vemos como Monte-Cristo se estremecía o palidecía cada que se encontraba con Mercedes; como durante su encuentro de confesión decía que le era grato aun pronunciar ese nombre, pero aun así no se quedó con ella, lo cual me pareció un poco fuera de lugar y me pareció un final injusto para aquella familia.

4.2 Morrel y Valentina

En si me parece precioso que ambos se reencontraran y se pudieran amar, pero me pareció una tensión innecesariamente alargada el mantener en misterio incluso para su propia familia que la joven se mantenía con vida, ya que todos ya sabíamos que no correría ningún tipo de peligro si se sabía. Además Valentina no se enteró de la demencia de su padre sino por una carta de Monte-Cristo, y según parece, esta sabía que todo el sufrimiento fue obra de el conte, y sin embargo, dice deberle mucho a dicho hombre, lo cual me parece totalmente sin sentido, se siente poco natural, a pesar de la naturalidad que habíamos visto durante todo el libro en la forma de ser y hacer de cada personajes. El final se siente de alguna forma contrastante.

4.3 Haydée y Edmond

Haydée fue una esclava griega que Edmond consiguió realmente como una pieza en su rompecabezas de venganza, ya que la chica era hija de una victima de la traición y deshonor de Fernand.

El conde la adopta cuando no tenía nada mas 13 años y la cría como si fuera su propia hija, mantengamos estas palabras en mente.

Haydée estaba notablemente enamorada de Monte-Cristo, hecho bastante obvio si tenemos en cuenta que debió ser la primera persona que le trataba como un ser humano desde que sus padres murieron y la vendieron como esclava, ósea, A LOS 5 AÑOS.

Durante todo el libro nos dejan muy claro como Edmond la ve únicamente como su hija, la quiere como una hija y la trata como una hija.

A pesar de esto, llegado el final de la historia, y Edmond habiendo decidido cesar con su vida, nota cuanto lo ama Haydée y decide vivir su vida con ella, ya que decía amarle como hija, hermana y esposa.

Con el hecho de que dijeran que siguió viviendo por no dejar sola a Haydée creo que hubiera sido suficiente, pero pensar que de la nada poder decir que la ama de esa forma, a pesar de la corta edad de la joven, me parece simplemente repugnante y decepcionante...

Sin embargo siempre es importante recordar el contexto de una historia, y este libro fue escrito hace mas de 100 años, en una época con una mentalidad totalmente distinta a la actual, lo cual puede explicar este tipo de situaciones, aunque igual no dejaré de desear en mi mente un final distinto para el libro.

Quizás algún día decida intentar escribir por mi misma el final que creo merecía el libro, aunque igual no lograría hacerle honor a la hermosa forma de escribir de Alexandre Dumas.

A pesar de esto, no quiero desalentar a las personas que no se lo han leído a no leerlo, porque a la final estoy hablando de apenas 60 páginas de un libro con 1160 páginas, así que se que es un innegable disfrute y lo doy por totalmente recomendado.

En fin ¿Tu que final le habrías dado al libro?

[readerinsertfanfiction]

Partners

HAPPY BIRTHDAY ALBYYYY (@alby-rei )!!! Most feral in the lanes, calmest in the chats. Make it a wonderful day for yourself, get yourself all of the yummy cakes and husbandos and many many kills.

Fandom: Ikemen Vampire & Arcana

Prompt: Is it still fanfiction when it is set in my own world?

Warnings: steampunk.

Word count: 2K

“All ready?” It were the brilliant blue eyes peeking from the wilderness of blonde and white fur that caught Alby’s attention first, an apprehensive look on the features of the old teacher who looked rather regretful as he watched the suitcase next to her, a letter in hand that he was reluctant to part with.

Professor Heimerdinger wasn’t a man of fond tendencies, having a hard time expressing himself in the right way, or any way other than his enthusiasm for intellectualism and inspiring the younger generation to continue the pursuit of academia and research. It was a satisfying life for the yordle, to guide his apprentices with what he loved most; science. Yet, that love wasn’t enough, often, as Heimerdinger was, though old, also mortal and at some point limited in what he could teach and advise in. Such was the case now, when he had to depart from a beloved student.

“Almost!” Alby exclaimed, her voice pitching up before dashing over to the yordle, quick to fall on her knees before scooping the yordle into a hug, her nose burying away one last time in the vast curls and fluffy hair that had made Heimerdinger look so much bigger than he actually was. The truth was, she was ready, Alby had been prepared for departure ever since Heimerdinger had suggested that he could write a recommendation to help further her research. The research she had been working on so tirelessly and that had met its ceiling here within Zaun, where Heimerdinger, though wise and knowing, saw that his friend could help better.

“I will miss you,” the female murmured affectionately into Heimerdinger’s fur, and the yordle allowed it to happen, relaxing into the hug as he gently reached for her back to pat it.

“And I you, little miss.”

“Who?” A man with golden eyes asked her when Alby knocked on the door. Getting to Golden City was an easy time. The trek through the mountains surprisingly was the least arduous part. To figure out which one of the three layers Leonardo, old friend of professor Heimerdinger, and also Alby’s new mentor-to-be, was another matter. She had eliminated ‘The Underground’, the lowest layer, quickly enough, figuring that such a renowned scientist wouldn’t spend his time there. But the rumours and the stories of the locale were confusing and conflicting, and when there was none to pick her up at the Central Plaza, like her invitation had instructed, Alby was left hopelessly lost in the great city that wasn’t even actually gold.

“Professor Heimerdinger wrote to you about her, you agreed on taking her in?” Comte, a friend of Leonardo and the one who had eventually picked up Alby, pitched in, “don’t tell me you forgot,” the man continued with little judgement and mostly exasperation.

The great scientist Da Vinci, or so you had been led to believe from professor Heimerdinger, was nothing like you had expected him to be. Far younger, far messier and so much less impressive as well. In a way, the man was the opposite of Heimerdinger; tall, dark, golden eyed and disorganised to the boot.

“Tuesday, right?” the man named Leonardo sighed, a whole puff of smoke coming along with it that made Alby wonder if a smoking habit wasn’t a safety hazard by itself.

Comte ignored that, however, fingers pinching the bridge of his nose before turning back to Alby with an apologetic look. “My deepest apologies here, for both him and on my own behalf. I have your room ready, my butler will show you.”

With those instructions left Alby was once more dumped on yet another stranger, while the door to Leonardo’s room shut close with a click followed by a disappointed; “it is tuesday,” answered with a groan that sounded like an ‘oh’, though any regret or apology seemed to be missing from that ‘oh’ as she could swear there could be a snicker heard through it.

“It is an honour to be able to work with master Leonardo,” Sebastian, the butler, told her not much later, an amicable smile on his face as he led Alby through the mansion settled in the upper layer of Golden City. The female could only smile at that, too anxious to really speak up yet, but also too confused to know how to respond yet as she was on the verge of disappointment and a mental breakdown at the disastrous first meeting.

It didn’t get better from there. Not at all.

“What do you mean, this is your lab?” Alby loudly challenged the man, her voice pitching up again, but not in joy and rather much in horror as she stepped into the smoke-infested room that Leonardo also doubled as his lab and tripled as his personal library and, so she was convinced, quadrupled as his personal trash bin.

“Why do you sound disappointed?” Leonardo gruffs, amusement lacing through his voice in the way that he understood very well why Alby was exasperated, but wanted her to spell it out, “I can’t work in organised places, don’t bother cleaning up,” he continues to tell Alby, a hand reaching out to pat her on the head before settling himself down somewhere between the mess and starting to work.

At this point Alby isn’t sure how to counter anymore, wondering if there doesn’t happen to be two Leonardo Da Vince’s in Golden City instead, with her ending up with the wrong man.

“Aren’t you going to work?” Leonardo’s voice snaps her out of it, golden eyes, wizened and ancient meeting hers again with a tender smile, “Cecil told me you had an interesting project ongoing,” he tells her, and for a moment Alby is struck with how different both Leonardo and Heimerdinger are, yet so alike in the inherent wisdom they carried within.

And so she starts to talk, laying out the foundations of her research, what her findings have been so far and the frustrating setbacks that even Heimerdinger couldn’t help her with and how it resulted in her ending up here, with Leonardo, in Golden City, far away from Zaun.

“Cara, your answer is easy,” Leonardo tells her afterwards, a bright smile as he rises up from his spot, towering over Alby once more with shining golden eyes that are brimming with untold ideas.

It is the start of a deep-dive down the city, with Alby barely keeping up with the man named Leonardo who seemed so full of lethargy back at his friend’s home where he lived, but so energetic once he travelled down. The Land, The Underground, the alleys, everything; fulfilling little favours, doing smaller side-jobs, helping out those in need, but ultimately bringing her to every part and side there is to see and experience in Golden City.

“Keep close, cara,” Leonardo calls over his shoulder, a teasing tilt on the corner of his lips while he continues waving himself through the crowd, a struggling Alby stumbling after him with flushed cheeks and fatigue clear on her face. The city dizzied her, the amount of alleys they had entered and exited and the three layers of Golden City mixing up within her memory as one big jumbled mess while Alby was trying to recall if they were heading back to The Sky yet, or if they were off to see yet another client of Leonardo.

Above all, Alby wasn’t quite sure how walking through Golden City helped her research at all, though she had long since stopped questioning Leonardo in any sort of manner, knowing that no answer was to come from it other than ‘wait and see’.

“Finally!” The female breathes to herself, allowing herself to fall into a seat when they stop at a lunchroom, a jug of water immediately put on the table as Leonardo passes an order with the waitress who nods mechanically.

“What do you think?” Leonardo is quick to ask before Alby has regained her breath properly, as she struggles to speak for a bit, her chest still heaving when she tries to gather together the observations of today.

“A lot,” she states first, before falling quiet, not satisfied with her own answer, “so, what I noticed,” Alby continues, restarting herself with a thoughtful look in her eyes as she she restates herself, the patience of Leonardo encouraging her to continue, “there seems to be a wide economic difference between The Sky and the Underground, right?”

It was the politest way she could put it in as Leonardo chuckles, his head nodding in approval, “yes,” he answers before a hand goes through his hair with a pensive expression, a regret forming.

“You noticed how hot The Underground is, right?” the man states slowly, and Alby eagerly nods, finding ‘hot’ to be still an understatement, “the citizens here also call it the Oven,” Leonardo continues as if confirming this thought that the female never stated, “it is where all of the heating and energy is generated to keep the city running, and The Sky afloat.”

It makes sense to Alby, she could see how that works, not having seen the full depth of The Underground yet, but felt the heat and the loud clattering noise that came bellowing from below, like there was a giant red monster beneath it all intent to burn everyone to crisp. She could also see how no one wanted to live there, or even near it, and why everyone that did live there stuck to the upper layer of The Underground.

“Economic differences is putting it lightly, cara,” Leonardo interrupts her thoughts and Alby is pulled out of her memories back as she intently listens, “another name for The Underground is The Sewers. People aren’t supposed to live there,” the man fills in lamentably, and an understanding settles within the female as she thinks back of the houses there and the people and the help Leonardo provided for free.

“Then what about the slums?” Alby questions, remembering those areas on The Land as well, and Leonardo chuckles bitterly;

“Just a step away from The Underground, get that?” he jests, but she can tell it wasn’t a joke entirely. Those people were truly only one ground away from a place that resembled actual hell in a way.

“Then why not help them?” The next question came as their lunch arrived, another throaty chuckle escaping Leonardo with a deep and fatigued sigh, though it was in no way aimed at Alby when he lit up his cigarillo.

“Trying to, will you help, cara?” His question rings, and slowly Alby starts to understand why Heimerdinger has sent her over to Leonardo’s side. It wasn’t just to learn.

“You think my plan can help them?” Alby carefully questions, avoiding the answer Leonardo’s question for now as the man chuckles, golden eyes affectionately meeting hers as smoke covers up the rest of his mien.

“I’m sure, cara,” he tells her, which is all of the confidence she needs.

“Leo!” a voice scolds through the air one early morning in The Sky. The air is fresh and crisp still, the mansion of Comte still quiet as it is interrupted by the quick step of a familiar figure, “Leo!” Alby repeats again, kicking open the door of his room with a foot before stepping in loaded off with all sorts of scrolls and other little trinkets she has managed to gather around.

The response she gets is dazed, a sleepy “cara,” escaping the man who wakes up in the middle of his mess when he sees a dangerous pile of more waltzing in and his door in shambles, “you will have to fix that,” he grumpily adds, but the affection for the other is obvious as Alby peeks from behind her full arms with an unimpressed expression.

“You can’t tell anyway from the rest of your room,” she deadpans him, earning a scoff from Leonardo who is already trying to make room on the floor for her, for his table has long since been conquered already and the rest of his room never seems to get any cleaner.

“Anyway!” Alby vigorously starts, finally relieving her arms as she skips across all of the items gathered along with her notes, rolling open one of the many scrolls she has found, “I was snooping around in the library and I have an idea.”

It was the start of yet another collaboration between the two lifelong partners.

[negreabsolut]

Borrell II, comte de Barcelona, per Joan Francesc Oliveras Pallerols. Borrell II (927-933) fou comte de Barcelona, Girona, i Osona (947-992 o 993), i també comte d'Urgell (948-992 o 993). Fou el segon Borrell de Barcelona perquè el seu oncle, Guifre II de Barcelona, també tenia per nom Borrell. El seu testament és datat el 24 de setembre de 993. El seu govern és conegut perquè el comte es negà a renovar el pacte de vassallatge amb el rei de França, que aleshores era Hug Capet, el qual havia menystingut el govern dels comtats de la Gòtia. Malgrat que amb aquest acte de Borrell II es considera que comença l'independència de Catalunya, el fet és que els comtats catalans ja es governaven sobiranament un segle abans, quan el poder del Regne dels francs es veié debilitat per problemes interns.

[alby-rei]

Comte's Ghost Mansion (IkeVamp; Luigi's Mansion AU) Part 2

a/n: Decided to get this one out soon since Part 1 was more of a prologue. Happy reading! ✨

Tags: Humor, Crack treated seriously, Luigi's Mansion AU, Spooky scary spectral vampires, Ghostbuster MC WordCount: ~1200 words Characters: You, Ghost!Mozart, Comte (mentioned) Previous: Part 1 Next: Part 3

~*~

You lifted the oil lamp given to you by Sebastian to fight off the cold gloom of the mansion, shielding you with a warm, orange barrier. Your eyes adjusted to the darkness eventually. Trotting up the stairs, you opted to explore the east wing first.

A long hallway stretched before you, similar to the one you woke up in, if not the same one. Framed pictures hung against the wall that you passed by. Most of them were generic landscape paintings. You stopped at one that had a name engraved under it.

'Le Comte de Saint-Germain.'

It was terribly dusty. Curious, you removed the dust with the vacuum.

The force of its suction was much stronger than you expected. It latched onto the painting so hard you feared it would crumble and tear.

You, being an amateur at this, could not escape the dust storm that ensued from prying the vacuum off, sending you into a sneezing fit. You stumbled, crashing into something with your elbow. The crash of something fragile froze you in place. It sounded like porcelain.

Little embers illuminated the crime scene. You vacuumed the floor as well as you could, but the larger pieces remained as incriminating evidence. You pushed them under a chair, your sole witness, and hurried along. 

“What Sebastian doesn’t know won’t hurt me,” you convinced yourself.

You peeked behind you, discerning if it was hidden enough from a distance. The darkness helped. For now. 

Turning the corner, you slowed down to catch your breath. Oddly enough, lively piano music could be heard at the end of this new hallway. It was a catchy melody, one that had you walking in step with the tempo. It was hypnotizing in the way it made you forget what happened earlier. You followed the sound to its source, opening every door on the way. They were all locked.

“Aha!” Right outside where the music was loudest, the click of the doorknob meant you could go through.

You were met with a lone fortepiano in the middle of a pristine white room. Along one wall were instrument cases, probably for violins or violas. You struggled to tell them apart. From an arched window, moonlight peeked between the clouds, reflecting off the white keys in a heavenly glow. Little wispy particles danced in the air as the piano keys played themselves.

You stepped closer, mesmerized by the music, cheerful and uplifting. Familiar, the kind of merry tune that gathers dancing folk at a festival. The day before you visited the Louvre museum, you attended an orchestra concert celebrating Mozart’s 268th birthday. That must be where you heard it.

The piano played its last chord, drawing out its sound until it faded naturally. Scribbles appeared on sheet music paper leaning against the piano's rack, transcribed by a floating ink-stained quill. You blinked and tilted your head around the empty seat. Out of curiosity, you pressed some of the keys.

SLAM!

You jumped back and recoiled your hand, for a couple of reasons. One, the piano was out to get you for using it without permission. Two, there was now a fuming phantom-like figure sitting at the piano. His entire form was wrapped in an ethereal light, and you could see through him at certain angles. 

“You dare interrupt my creative process?” His voice echoed in the room. “Have you no respect for a musician’s craft?!” 

A gentleman, around the same height as Sebastian, stood up (he had no legs, you noted, so perhaps “floated up” may be more apt) and fixed a glare upon you. His white hair reached past his ears with a fringe swept in an arc, partially obscuring his striking lilac eyes. But it could not conceal the ire behind them. His figure towered over you as he drew near. If he was not about to kill you, you may have called him handsome.

“Hey, let’s talk about this,” you stalled as you fumbled to get your vacuum back on. “What you played was beautiful, I just didn’t notice that you were there.”

You could say he lacked stage presence, but you kept that to yourself.

He narrowed his eyes, keeping his distance from you. “That machine… Hmph, I won’t let you capture me that easily.” The instrument cases unzipped themselves, releasing floating violins from their sleep. They hovered beside the paranormal performer, who blocked your path to the exit. The violin strings acted as a crossbow for violin bows that materialized from thin air. They followed your every move.

You ducked just in time, and a violin bow zipped past you and shattered against the wall into a thousand sparks.

This ghost was not messing around!

At last, the vacuum whirred to life. It vibrated incessantly against your back, like a massage chair. Dodging with the machine proved difficult. You used the piano in the center as a shield, but you knew you had to confront the phantom eventually.

Your aim was shaky, but you managed to redirect the violins away from you. They took time to aim each shot. Once you figured out the rhythm of the attacks, you leveraged the downtime between each one to target the paranormal performer.

The tube latched onto his cravat, bending his figure like a boomerang. He flailed and stretched his arms beyond human proportions in search of an anchor. Struggling against his resistance, you cranked up the strength with an unsteady hand.

Stumbling around the room, you strained to keep the tube locked on its target. Try as he might to wiggle his way out, the paranormal performer proved no match against the Poltergust’s power. His shrieks filled the room, oddly melodic like he was singing his last goodbye to the world. Once he was fully captured, only the blare of the vacuum remained.

You breathed heavily, whirling around expecting more ghosts to pop up. Your whole body shook. You blamed the machine’s vibrations against your back. Seeing no further threats, you switched it off. The shaking didn’t stop.  

“So,” you said. “Sebastian really was a ghostbuster, then.” And now, so were you.

You picked up the ink-tipped quill that the paranormal performer held. Beside it was a key. You twirled both items between your fingers. Normal to the touch, nothing magical about them.

“Was that one of the ‘esteemed guests’ I was supposed to avoid disturbing?” You scoffed. “Maybe he shouldn’t have disturbed me first!”

Feeling justified in your self-defense, you grabbed the sheet music and the quill and threw them into your item pouch. They seemed ‘of interest’ enough by your standards to return to the butler. At the very least, you had more questions for him. You kept the key in hand, maybe it would unlock one of the doors you passed by.

Stepping out of the room, you walked with a spring in your step. You just faced a ghost! And lived to tell the tale! Now knowing what you were up against, you kept your eyes peeled for any more irregular movements.

After reaching a dead end, you walked back by the broken porcelain in the first hallway. The painting of ‘Le Comte de Saint-Germain’ was still intact. You sighed in relief, and you could actually observe the painting properly.

The subject of the portrait gazed at you with mysterious amber eyes. There was wisdom behind his gaze, like that of a timeworn tome, and a touch of melancholy. His smile was warm and inviting but didn’t quite reach those eyes. Illuminated by the lamp, recognition washed over you. You’ve seen that same sweeping blond hair and tailored suit before.

It was the same man who you met at the Louvre!

~*~

Back to Masterlist

[castellsipalaus]

Läckö slott

El castell de Läckö (Läckö slott, en suec) és una mansió barroca coneguda per haver estat a partir de 1615 la residència del mariscal Jacob Pontusson De la Gardie, descendent del diplomátic francès Pontus De la Gardie, que va estar al servei de Dinamarca i Suècia al segle XVI.

La construcció del castell, a la vora del llac Vänern, es va iniciar el 1298, quan el bisbe de Skara Brynolf Algotsson hi va posar les bases d'un castell fortificat, tot i que llavors segurament no era més que un promontori envoltat d’edificis més aviat senzills. La seva importància va raure en el fet que estava situat estratègicament al mig de la seva diòcesi.

Quan la reforma luterana va arribar a Suècia, el castell va ser confiscat a l'Església i el 1527 es va convertir en una possessió de la Corona, sota el regnat d’en Gustav I Eriksson, artífex de la independència de Suècia el 1523. Més tard seria conegut com Gustav Vasa, incorporant el cognom familiar, en referència al seu escut d’armes. 

El fill de Jacob Pontusson, Magnus Gabriel, només tenia 30 anys quan es va fer càrrec del títol i les propietats del seu pare, cap a mitjans del segle XVII. Va començar una extensa ampliació del castell de Läckö, i l’edifici actual és essencialment fruït de la seva reforma.

Al llarg de la seva vida, Magnus Gabriel Pontusson De la Gardie es convertí en el governador del regne, acumulant els més alts càrrecs civils i militars, i dirigí Suècia cap a una política belicista que empobrí el país.

Al segle XVIII, el castell de Läckö va acabar revertint de nou a la Corona i va ser concedit al comte Carl Gustaf Tessin el 1752, diplomàtic i ambaixador, a més a més de protector del científic Carl von Linné.

El 1810, la Corona va tornar a adjudicar el castell, aquesta vegada al general Carl Johan Adlercreutz, protagonista de diverses campanyes bèliques davant Rússia des de finals del segle XVIII i líder d’un cop d’estat en el que va intentar coronar-se rei. No obstant, un altre candidat va cenyir-se la corona sota el nom de Karl XIII el 1809. Läckö potser va ser el premi de consolació.

Actualment, Läckö slott pertany al patrimoni nacional suec i el pati del castell acull representacions operístiques durant l’estiu.

[blogsports10]

O Dia da Bandeira é uma data comemorativa em que se homenageia a bandeira de um país. No caso do Brasil, o Dia da Bandeira é celebrado em 19 de novembro. Essa data foi escolhida em referência à instituição da bandeira nacional em 1889.

A bandeira brasileira foi criada pelo positivista Raimundo Teixeira Mendes, pelo astrônomo Manuel Pereira Reis e pelo pintor Décio Vilares. Ela foi apresentada pela primeira vez em 19 de novembro de 1889, quatro dias após a Proclamação da República, e oficialmente adotada em 19 de novembro de 1889. O desenho atual da bandeira foi modificado ao longo dos anos, mas a essência e os símbolos principais permanecem os mesmos.

No Dia da Bandeira, é comum realizar cerimônias cívicas, hastear a bandeira em diversos locais públicos e promover atividades que ressaltem o respeito e a importância desse símbolo nacional.

A bandeira brasileira é um dos símbolos nacionais do Brasil e possui diversos elementos que carregam significados históricos, culturais e representativos. Abaixo estão os principais elementos da bandeira brasileira e seus significados:

Cores:

Verde: Representa as matas e florestas do país.

Amarelo: Simboliza as riquezas minerais do Brasil.

Brasão da República:

O brasão está localizado no centro da bandeira e representa as armas do Brasil. Ele contém:

Um losango azul, que simboliza o céu estrelado do Rio de Janeiro na manhã da proclamação da República, em 15 de novembro de 1889.

Uma esfera celeste azul, com uma faixa branca representando a eclíptica e as constelações do Zodíaco.

Uma faixa branca com a inscrição "Ordem e Progresso", lema positivista de Auguste Comte.

Estrelas:

Na parte azul da esfera, há 27 estrelas brancas que representam os 26 estados brasileiros e o Distrito Federal. As estrelas estão dispostas de forma a reproduzir a posição das estrelas no céu do Rio de Janeiro na manhã de 15 de novembro de 1889.

Faixa Ondulada:

Representa o rio Amazonas. É azul, com uma faixa branca no meio, simbolizando o equador.

Fundo Branco:

Simboliza a paz.

A bandeira brasileira foi adotada oficialmente em 19 de novembro de 1889, apenas alguns dias após a Proclamação da República. O seu desenho foi modificado ao longo do tempo, mas os elementos fundamentais permanecem, refletindo aspectos importantes da geografia, da história e da filosofia do país.

[ai-artificial-intelligence-ia]

AI CREATED STAR WARS 20 CHARACTERS TRANSFORMED INTO MMA FIGHTERS SOURCE: @hitek.fr AI: @Midjourney ARTIST: @vaddymusic Star Wars is one of the greatest sagas and has left its mark on generations of fans thanks to its endearing characters and spectacular action scenes. But what would happen if these characters traded in their lightsabers, blasters and ships for fighting gloves and an MMA cage, user vaddymusic wondered. CHARACTERS READY TO FIGHT With his Reddit account, vaddymusic shared several images of Star Wars characters transformed into MMA fighters on the /Midjourney subreddit. There we find Princess Leia, Padmé, Kylo Ren, Chewbacca and Darth Maul, each with an outfit, posture and expression that represent them. Princess Leia, for example, wears a white outfit and gloves. As for Padmé, she wears a red outfit and she lifts her bras to show her guard. For Kylo Ren, he appears shirtless, with black combat gloves. He has a dark expression and we feel him animated by the dark side of the Force. Regarding Chewbacca, Han Solo's faithful companion, he doesn't need a lot of clothes to fight. He simply wears brown combat gloves that match his fur. Another has been converted into a fighter, this is Darth Maul ready to fight with his bare hands, without his double lightsaber. 1/ YODA 2/ PALPATINE 3/ COMTE DOOKU 4/ REY 5/ OBI-WAN KENOBI 6/ DARK MAUL 7/ BOBA FETT 8/ QUI-GON JINN 9/ C-3PO 10/ POE DAMERON 11/ PRINCESSE LEIA 12/ PADMÉ AMIDALA 13/ MACE WINDU 14/ KYLO REN 15/ CHEWBACCA 16/ ANAKIN SKYWALKER 17/ HAN SOLO 18/ DARK VADOR 19/ LUKE SKYWALKER 20/ JABBA LE HUTT #starwars #mma #fighter #ai #4k #movie

[mondarxunivers]

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