ydegirl

House Ashford de Lewes presents… THE HORSE RACE at the CHÂTEAU DE CORS-MIDDEN A painting of an Aaunic horse racer. [Artist Unknown] During the second month of Summer, THE BARONIAL HOUSE OF ASHFORD DE LEWES is pleased to host a horse race at the Château de Cors-Midden in a show of good faith to every Aaunite and Aaunic ally. Participants in the horse race should dress accordingly, specifically with a helmet. The race will originate at the entrance of Whitespire, the royal capital, go past the Cathedral, and end at the Château de Cors-Midden. There will be three races, consisting of no more than five minutes. Whoever wins first place (two out of three races) shall be given a hefty sum of 50 mina, with the runner-ups receiving twenty-five for second place and ten for third place. After the races conclude, guests are encouraged to dine with the Lewes household in their dining hall, with a feast consisting of Illatian and Savoyard meals and wines. Horses will not be provided. If you wish to race, please fill out the following form RP Name: Age: [Minecraft Name]: TIMETABLE The Race Riders will race from the gates of Whitespire to the gates of Château de Cors-Midden. This shall be repeated for a total of three laps, with each lap taking no more than five minutes. Thus, the race shall be no more than fifteen minutes. The Feast Riders and guests will be treated to a three-course meal, starting with appetizers and wine, and ending with dessert. Riders are encouraged to have a look around the Château after they have finished their meals. SPECIAL INVITATIONS His Royal Highness, Edmund II, King of the United Kingdom of Aaun And the Royal Household of Alstion His Highness, Ferdinand Barclay, Prince of Minitz And the Princely Household of Barclay His Highness, Heinrich Alstreim, Prince of Merryweather And the Princely Household of Alstreim His Highness, Octavian Tiber, Prince of Beaufort And the Princely Household of Tiber His Grace, Andrezj Ivanovich, Duke of Stran And the Ducal Household of Ivanovich His Lordship, Olivier de Rosius, Margrave of Haute-Epine And the Margravial Household of de Rosius His Lordship, Siegmund von Reuss, Margrave of Velen And the Margravial Household of von Reuss His Lordship, Richard Stassion, Margrave of Stassion And the Margravial Household of Stassion His Lordship, Leopold Haverlock, Count of Talantine And the Comital Household of Haverlock Her Ladyship, Claude d’Abre, Countess of L’Abre D’or And the Comital Household of d’Abre His Lordship, Kasimir Sarkozic, Count of Pompourelia And the Comital Household of Sarkozic His Lordship, Emilio Varoche, Count of Varoche And the Comital Household of Varoche His Lordship, Waclaw Jazloviecki, Count of Warsaw And the Comital Household of Jazloviecki His Lordship, Rickard Valognes, Baron of Valognes And the Baronial Household of Valognes His Lordship, Helwig von Bardenwig, Baron of Arentania And the Baronial Household of von Bardenwig OTHER INVITATIONS The Most Honourable, Edmond Ashford de Rouen, Marquis of Drusco And the Marquisate Household of Ashford de Rouen Ser Morgan of Angren And the denizens of Lemon Hill Leutwin Barclay And his pedigree Signed HIS EXCELLENCY, Fernand Auguste Renault Ashford de Lewes, Patriarch of the House of Ashford de Lewes, Chancellor of the United Kingdom of Aaun, Baron of Virdain HER LADYSHIP, Amelia Paulina Ashford de Lewes, Baroness of Virdain, Directress of the Plane OOC November 26th, 2023, 3 pm EST at the Gates of Aaun

LA MUCCA by A.P. Varoche | Published in 1951 The story, all names, characters, and incidents portrayed in this production are fictitious. No identification with actual persons (living or deceased), places, buildings, and products is intended or should be inferred. The drawing room was cold, dark, and dank. The castle-like windows spanned from floor to ceiling and did little to light the room. Perhaps, it’d be better if we lived somewhere tropical, the Duchess Woodeward thought. It was raining that night, the sky was an oppressive gray with clouds decorating it like a painting. Cows strolled about in the fields, unbeknownst of their eventual fate. They chewed on dewy, light green grass, letting out a groan every once in a while. The Duchess Woodeward watched lazily as the farmhand, Gabriel, sat under a tree. Soon, the Duke Woodeward returned home. He groaned, much like a cow, taking off his wool coat and hat. He passed them off to a wary servant, wobbling past his wife into his bedroom. It had been twenty-five years since the couple had last shared a bed. “Are you not having dinner? I had our chef cook filet mignon tonight.” “No, I had enough to eat in the city.” “Suit yourself.” Said the Duchess, an annoyed huff escaping from her nostrils. She went back to watching Gabriel, the farmhand. He wore brown pants and a white shirt, complete with a few dirt stains here and there. His hair was a charming red that often hung over his eyes and he had light stubble and a soft, round face. As he was hiking up to the manor, the Duchess strolled onto her balcony – a rare occasion for her in rain. “Gabriel! Should you like to eat with us?” “Oh, yes, of course!” Gabriel ran up the steps, two steps at a time. He was dripping with water and sweat. “Why don’t you take a bath, first. I’ll have Jane draw up a bath for you.” The Duchess suggested, motioning over to a short, brown-haired servant with a wild mane to start preparing for a bath. Gabriel nodded, somewhat embarrassed. “Thank you, your grace.” “Of course, of course.” The Duchess waved a hand, as if it were nothing. Soon after that, Gabriel hobbled up the stairs into the Duchess’ bathroom. The Duchess placed herself back by the hearth, reading the Holy Scrolls for a while. This was her routine, bathe, eat dinner (usually with her husband, the Duke), and then read. Albeit, when she invited Gabriel into the house, her routine had been interrupted. She could live with that. After about thirty minutes, Gabriel came down in a new, white linen shirt and clean brown pants. “You look quite ravishing, Gabriel.” “Thank you, your grace.” He grinned, his face ripe as a tomato. He and the Duchess sat on opposite sides of the table as servants finally brought out the feast. Gabriel’s face widened as he saw all the food being brought out. Wines from Illatia, pigs feet with gravy, salads, Auvergne truffles, and of course, the filet mignon. Gabriel took one of everything, whereas the Duchess took only a few select items. “Gabriel, I must tell you something,” “Yes, madame?” “My husband and I haven’t slept in the same bed for twenty-five years now. Our daughters have left for their own marriages, and our son spends his days philandering in the city.” “Oh. That’s unfortunate, your grace.” “I know!” This had grown to be the new routine. The Duke would come home, take off his wool coat and hat, saunter up to his room, and the Duchess would invite Gabriel to come in and dine with her. First, he’d bathe himself, dress into new clothes, and then eat with the Duchess. The two had grown fond of each other, Gabriel could eat good food and the Duchess could talk to someone other than her servants. One night, Gabriel even disagreed with her! “Gabriel, do you believe in God?” “No.” “How can you not believe in God? In salvation?” “Well, I suppose I don’t believe in salvation anymore. I think the church is rather, well, corrupted.” He said, shoving food into his mouth with a fine, silver fork. The Duchess had forgotten the last time she had felt so thrilled was. She was tired of her servants always agreeing with her. Perhaps, a part of her admired Gabriel. That night after dinner was finished, she suggested Gabriel sleep in her daughter’s old room. He hesitantly agreed, stumbling up to her room. The Duchess followed Gabriel up the steps to her own room, a moderately decorated room with a fine, striped blue wallpaper. She disrobed herself with the help of a servant, changing into her nighttime chemise. “Thank you, Jane.” She murmured to the servant, dismissing her. She climbed into her wooden bed, completed with a canopy. The golden morning light shone through her window. The Duchess yawned. She felt heavier– and hairier– than before. She groaned, and, oddly enough it came out as a moo. The Duchess tried to look down at her stomach, but her head wouldn’t allow it. She noticed the bed was broken, caved in on itself. Out of the corner of her eye she saw her chemise, ripped in half, with one half laying on the oak wood floors. She moo'd in agony. That was her favorite chemise. The Duchess kept mooing until her husband came into her bedroom. He stopped at the door. “Mary! Mary!” He called out. “There’s a cow in your bedroom! Mary!” Mary let out an annoyed moo. “Mary? Is that you?” Mary moo’d in confirmation. "Oh my god. Oh my god!” Mary groaned. She wondered why God would punish her by turning her into a cow. Usually, going to hell was enough punishment for one woman on the verge of committing adultery! Her mind wandered to her husband and son, why hadn’t they been punished for their philandering? The Duke had an affair with Jane, after all– and it wasn’t even an exciting affair. A boring marriage is one thing, but a boring affair just doesn’t make sense! And, in her defense, she hadn’t even committed adultery (yet)! “I’ll go fetch Gabriel! We’ll figure this out, Mary.” Mary rolled out of the bed, landing on her udder. She groaned in pain, forcing herself up. She prayed and hoped that the Duke would come back soon with Gabriel, as she knew the wooden floor beneath her couldn’t hold all sixteen hundred pounds of her new body. An eternity of an hour later, the Duke and Gabriel burst into the room. The door flung open, almost off its hinges. “Oh! Your grace!” Gabriel cried out. Mary moo’d once more, a huff escaping her new, wet and pink nose. “What do we do?” The Duke asked. “We get her to the farm, of course.” Mary moo’d in protest, stomping one of her hooves on the wooden floor. The floor was now dented. “Well, you cannot stay here!” Gabriel retorted. Mary huffed. In all forty-four years of her life, the Duchess had never felt so humiliated. She tried to contort her face to show how annoyed she was, how embarrassed, but it was no use. Cow’s couldn’t show that much emotion beyond mooing. The Duke dismissed all the servants for the day, saying his poor Mary had died in her sleep. What a stupid excuse, thought the Duchess. The Duke and Gabriel brought Mary to the stairway. Mary moo’d in protest once more, she felt an overwhelming sense of not wanting to go down the stairs. It was odd because Mary had gone down the stairs several times. “Mary, you’ll have to go down the stairs sooner or later.” The Duke hadn’t called her Mary in the past ten years of their marriage. She resented him for it, and only now the Duke was calling her Mary. Everything was humiliating. Mary Moo’d, kicked her hooves. She tried turning herself around, but Gabriel pushed her buttocks so that one hoof would be on the first step going down. “Go in front of her, your grace. Coax her down.” “Do I have to?” God, you’re such a coward, Edward, Mary thought. "Yes! You have to!” It took them almost two hours to get Mary down the first few steps. And then another two hours to get her down the last half of the stairs. By now, it was mid-afternoon and she was still inside the house. Mary wondered what her mother would think. She came from a low-ranking Baronial family and she had managed to worm her way into a Duke's liking, all to be turned into a cow by God. What a loving God. The Duke and Gabriel dragged Mary out of the house and into the cow pen. Once again, Mary groaned in protest. “But how will we know we won’t eat her?” The Duke questioned Gabriel. “I’ll tag her.” For the first few hours of her new life, Mary quite enjoyed mooing with the other cows. One of the cows had just had a daughter, whom Mary named Martha. She chewed the dewy, green morning grass and stood in the sun. Life now was as riveting as it was before, but, for some reason, was more enjoyable. Mary did not need to follow the social norms of high society anymore. No more boring balls and terrible tourneys, no more coronations of kings and pontiffs, no more attending church every weekend, and most importantly, she didn’t have to endure her husband's philandering anymore. “OK, which one of you is Mary…” Gabriel murmured, armed with a bell in one hand. Mary moo’d and huffed, but so did the other cows. No, you cows! I’m Mary! Her pleas did not stop the other cows from mooing. “Oh dear,” Gabriel murmured, hanging the bell around Martha’s mother's neck. No! You idiot! That’s Anne! Mary moo’d again, hoping Gabriel would hear her pleas. But, alas, he did not care for her mooing any longer. Gabriel exited the pen, wiping the sweat off of his forehead. Mary stood there, the sun beating on her back, in silence.

@Markisstreamingwins tudor lothario and @AndrewTechwins charlotte

Anna Magdalena, Clementine's dearest spinster sister, who was also probably a witch or alchemist or fortune-teller by now, sent a cow to Clementine. For good luck.

blah blah blah I WANT money!!! here r some skins. auction rules ― no skin can be resold without my permission ― do NOT frankenskin my skins i will hunt you down ― do not claim as your own ― these can be bought for another person, just let me know who!! bidding format [you must follow this or your bid WILL BE DISQUALIFIED] ― minecraft username: ― discord: ― are you buying this for another person? if so, list their username: ― what entices you about this skin?: ― which skin are you buying?: (pls say the name or i will cry) BIDDING ENDS FRIDAY AT 4:00 PM EST here are the skins ^_^ 1. TUDOR LOTHARIO [STEVE] $8 / 150 Mina 2. ITALIAN DIVA [STEVE] $8 / 150 Mina 3. beyonce :) [ALEX] $8 / 150 Mina 4. charlotte [ALEX] $8 / 150 Mina !!!!!! SPECIAL OFFER(s) !!!!!!! i still need money after this so any skin on my PMC that is more than 1 (one) month (30 days) old can be bought for the low price of $6! please dm me on discord (hag.irl) for more information :) i am also doing 3 USD skin commissions, for more information please go to https://ydegirlcommissions.carrd.co/

"Aaunish isn't a word!" Cried the Baroness of Virdain (and also niche Aaun microcelebrity and playwright), Amelia.

News of Adela's escape quickly traveled to the floodplains. The wind blew a gentle song into the Baroness of Virdain's ears as she stared out her bedroom window. Amelia would never publicly admit her sympathies for the Queen-Mother of Aaun, but how could she not have sympathies? Adela had shown herself to be a kind woman. . . As the night slowly came to a halt, and it seemed everything but the water had gone to sleep, the Baroness lit a candle, placing it at the side of her bed. The moon shone through the Chateau de Cors-Midden, illuminating the white manor. "Travel Safely, Adela."

Anna Magdalena, sister to the lawful heir of Salia, packed her bags. She was uninterested in being friendly with an uncle she'd never met.

THE WHITESPIRE REVIEW A Literary & Art Magazine EDITED BY A.P. VAROCHE In an attempt to promote the arts within the Aaunic territories, Amelia Paulina, Baroness of Virdain, is pleased to announce the first issue of THE WHITESPIRE REVIEW. The Magazine will accept submissions in prose, poetry, and art for its inaugural issue. PROSE A maximum of 3 pages, no word limit. A minimum of one page, no word limit. Can be non-fiction (informative, recounting a historical event, etc. etc.), creative nonfiction (essay, memoir, biography), or fiction. Pieces should be titled as follows: TITLE by AUTHOR in GENRE POETRY A maximum of one page, no word limit. A minimum of one page, no word limit. Any style of poetry is accepted, so long as it follows the rules. Poetry can deal with personal issues, religion and faith, spirituality, identity, history, etc. The sky's the limit. ART No minimum/maximum size for canvas. Any style or genre of art is acceptable, as long as it follows the rules. We encourage you to experiment. We expect each applicant to follow a strict set of rules. Should the applicant not follow this set of rules, their peace will be automatically denied. The rules are as follows: No pieces inciting or promoting violence, hatred, racism, or any other form of bigotry will not be accepted. Pieces with extreme vulgarity (i.e. swearing, slurs, etc.) will not be accepted. Pieces attacking a specific person, or group of people will not be accepted. Pieces critiquing society are fine. Pieces plagiarised will not be accepted. If you are inspired by a poet, writer, or artist, please put "After [Artist]". Please fill out the form if you are interested. [Submissions are open from now, 9/27/23 until 10/27/23] SUBSCRIPTIONS [Respond with your character signing up for subscriptions if you are interested!] SIGNED, HER LADYSHIP, Amelia Paulina Ashford de Lewes, Baroness of Virdain, Directress of the Plane

Amelia shoved the missive in front of her eldest son's face. "Maybe that training will do you good, si?"

Sister Amadeya rose from her bench, closing her book of Hymns. "Oh, Marlene is getting wed?" The baseborn nun questioned, reminiscing on the moments her sister introduced the young babe to her. "I must attend. I've not seen her in a good few years..." She went off into the Abbey, beginning to wash her holy garments.

A lazy paddle boat floated across a river in the floodplains. "RAGH!" the de Lewes matriarch toppled over into the river, thus wetting her linen chemise-- and her book. It'd been a long day of watching contracted workers build their Chateau, and frankly, Amelia had enough of it. She crept out of the water, dragging her paddle boat along to the grassy shore. And so did Amelia march up to the newly finished Chateau de Cros-Midden, ready to cuss out Fernand for ruining her afternoon woman time...

hello. i am a greedy little hog and i quite frankly, enjoy having both mina and dollar dollar bills. that's why i'll be opening my skin commissions (which have been open for a while now)! because i need more mina and more dolla dolla's. should you so desire to commission me for your skinning needs, lets hear what my friends have to say! "gets things done quick" - dasdi, probably "really good skinner" - someone else "has been skinning since 2018! damn, she has no life!" - a third person My prices are very flexible as well! 10-25 Mina for a head, 50-100 mina for an outfit, and 100+ mina for a full skin. in usd it's $2-$3 for a head, $3-$6 for an outfit, and $7-$8 for a full outfit, with an added +$5 for same-day delivery/deadline. if you're sitting there saying "wow that's a lot of money for one (1) skin", don't worry! i get it, i'm open to negotiations. my discord is realcoolgirl17 if you're interested :) if you're not encouraged by this and you need to see examples of my work; go to my PMC or my Carrd! Alternatively, if you're lazy I'll put a few examples here. amelia this guy! pearl!

Anna of Arkent simply left the missive on the desk of her eldest brother, John Auguste. @valecu

TARA OF PARADISUS Written by: AMELIA P. VAROCHE Written between 1940-1942 Published: 1943 DEDICATIONS This play is dedicated to King Edmund II of Aaun, and his mother, HRH, Adela of High Peak. May God bless the boy-kings reign. CAST St. Tara of Paradisus - A pious and faithful woman, donned in a wimple and brown robes. Roughly about 18-25, St. Tara has tanned skin and brown eyes. The protagonist of the play, she is a saint and answers the prayers of two women in peril. St. Joren of Paradisus - A pious man, wearing a golden crown, a simple red cape, and a blue silk robe. Trapped in his brother’s keep alongside his wife, St. Tara. He has pale skin, brown hair, and brown eyes. Exalted Owyn - The King of Idunia, Owyn wears a golden circlet. He, much like his uncle, has pale skin and brown eyes. He frees the two from captivity. Goditha - A girl, of about 18-25 years, who has been taken by a malicious man against her will. She prays for four nights when, on the fourth night, St. Tara greets her in her dreams. Upon her waking, she finds the door unlocked– allowing her to escape and flee. Maud - A mother, of about 25-40 years, whose husband had been taken by unknown forces– leaving her to raise three young children all alone. After one particularly hard night, the Mother prays to St. Tara– who then appears in her dreams. In the dream, she is led to a house by a peony flower where her husband is being held captive. In her waking hours, she locates the house and frees her husband, reuniting the family. Edward - Maud’s husband. Can be played by Exalted Own, St. Joren, or an extra. ACT I | THE CAPTIVES Curtains rise to St. TARA and St. JOREN deep in prayer. ACT II | THE DEATH Curtains rise to St. Tara, lying on her deathbed as she recounts her life. ACT III | GOOD GODITHA Curtains rise to a young girl, no more than eighteen, in a locked room. She’s kneeled over a chair, a silver rosary hanging around her neck. ACT IV | MAUD, THE MOTHER Curtains rise to Maud, a mother of three, praying to St. Tara of Paradisus over her hay bed.

will i be paid

The Clementine Court 1939 AAUN‘S PLAYWRIGHTS COMPETITION Published by the Office of Entertainment In the year of our Lord, 1939 In an effort to inspire future playwrights within the royal capital of Whitespire, the Directress of the Plane finds it apt to hold a playwriting contest. The winner of this contest will study under semi-renowned Aaunic playwright Amelia, Baroness of Lewes, who will teach him/her the act of writing, plot structure, and composition of language. The Directress asks that plays be submitted within the timeframe of 1939 to 1941 (8/24/23-9/13/23), any plays not submitted between this timeframe will not be considered. Finally, the winner shall receive a grant of 200 mina* to put said play on. Play Requirements There are few, yet stern requirements for plays to be eligible to win. They are listed as follows: ♢ Your play must include symbolism, whether it be through food, nature, attire, or another unlisted way. Some common examples are vampyres representing lust, death, or fear, witches representing unjust treatment or persecution, a dove representing peace or serenity, or water representing rebirth and renewal. Feel free to pick from any of these symbols, but it is heavily encouraged to come up with your own. ♢ Your play must follow the conventional playwright format. See The Collected Works of Bianca Le Fleur for the standard format, or utilize this template. ♢ Your play must be no less than three pages, and no more than eight. ♢ Your play must feature between two to four characters. ♢ Your play must include a middle, beginning, and ending - however it does not have to follow the traditional storytelling format of exposition, rising action, complication, climax, reversal, falling action and ending. ♢ Your play must have at least two different settings. ♢Your play can be of any genre. ♢Your play must be original and written by you. Any plagiarized material will be disqualified. However, inspiration from other plays is acceptable as long as it is credited. For example, if your play is inspired by One of Bianca Le Fleur’s plays, you should credit her by putting After Bianca Le Fleur; written by XYZ. In accordance with the upcoming coronation of King Edmund II, the Directress of the Plane strongly encourages writers to write within the theme of KINGS to honor the boy-monarch. Should you have any questions, please write a letter to Amelia de Lewes, Directress of the Plane. *Amount of mina is Subject to increase Her Ladyship, Amelia Paulina Ashford de Lewes, The Directress of the Plane, Baroness-Consort of Virdain

Amelia loves a good little fashion from time-to-time.