#Robert Burns Celebration

[abcphotoblog]

A new photograph of King Charles III wearing a tartan kilt at Balmoral Castle has been released to mark Burns Night.

[elisabeth515]

Never have I ever wanted to slut shame a man so bad ever since Albert Camus

But like seriously, go watch the movie. It’s very good and demonstrates a man who is holding himself accountable and regretting the fact that he will be burning in hell in the afterlife. Cillian Murphy’s acting is superb and I was totally watching the movie because of him.

Of course, this movie is from Oppenheimer’s perspective, so you won’t see much on the people who were affected. I wished there’s more to highlight on it to show how much he was damned for the rest of his life, but I don’t think Christopher Nolan is the best director in on this subject. One thing got to be noted is that the movie itself does not glorify nuclear weapons and it highlights a lot on Oppenheimer’s own guilt on being the chief architect of this weapon of mass destruction.

Oh yes, by the way, this dude’s a white cishet male left-leaning intellectual who smokes too much so he deserves to be slut-shamed.

[ukdamo]

Adddress to Edinburgh

Robert Burns

Edina! Scotia's darling seat! All hail thy palaces and tow'rs, Where once, beneath a Monarch's feet, Sat Legislation's sov'reign pow'rs: From marking wildly scatt'red flow'rs, As on the banks of Ayr I stray'd, And singing, lone, the lingering hours, I shelter in they honour'd shade.

Here Wealth still swells the golden tide, As busy Trade his labours plies; There Architecture's noble pride Bids elegance and splendour rise: Here Justice, from her native skies, High wields her balance and her rod; There Learning, with his eagle eyes, Seeks Science in her coy abode.

Thy sons, Edina, social, kind, With open arms the stranger hail; Their views enlarg'd, their liberal mind, Above the narrow, rural vale: Attentive still to Sorrow's wail, Or modest Merit's silent claim; And never may their sources fail! And never Envy blot their name!

Thy daughters bright thy walks adorn, Gay as the gilded summer sky, Sweet as the dewy, milk-white thorn, Dear as the raptur'd thrill of joy! Fair Burnet strikes th' adoring eye, Heaven's beauties on my fancy shine; I see the Sire of Love on high, And own His work indeed divine!

There, watching high the least alarms, Thy rough, rude fortress gleams afar; Like some bold veteran, grey in arms, And mark'd with many a seamy scar: The pond'rous wall and massy bar, Grim-rising o'er the rugged rock, Have oft withstood assailing war, And oft repell'd th' invader's shock.

With awe-struck thought, and pitying tears, I view that noble, stately Dome, Where Scotia's kings of other years, Fam'd heroes! had their royal home: Alas, how chang'd the times to come! Their royal name low in the dust! Their hapless race wild-wand'ring roam! Tho' rigid Law cries out 'twas just!

Wild beats my heart to trace your steps, Whose ancestors, in days of yore, Thro' hostile ranks and ruin'd gaps Old Scotia's bloody lion bore: Ev'n I who sing in rustic lore, Haply my sires have left their shed, And fac'd grim Danger's loudest roar, Bold-following where your fathers led!

Edina! Scotia's darling seat! All hail thy palaces and tow'rs; Where once, beneath a Monarch's feet, Sat Legislation's sovereign pow'rs: From marking wildly-scatt'red flow'rs, As on the banks of Ayr I stray'd, And singing, lone, the ling'ring hours, I shelter in thy honour'd shade.

[icanseethefuture333]

How does the planets you have in your first house in astrology affect your physical appearance?

How planets in the 1st house affect your physical appearance 🖤

Sun in the 1st house:

Overall feline features. There are two types. Some resemble a kitten, while others resemble a lion. Face shape tends to be oval, diamond, or heart. Their face is long in length and they have a tall nose with a triangular nose tip. Eyes can be upturned and curious, or narrow with a soft gaze. Their skin tone is very vibrant and they tan or get sun burned easily in comparison to others. As they age, they tend to get smile lines or aged wrinkly skin, sun spots are noticeable as well. Body type usually has a singular prominent feature, something about it just stands out, whether that is their height, curves, or physique. They can either have a pear shaped body or be short and stocky in stature. They often have long arms and thick legs. Hair tends to be shiny and voluminous as well.

Celebrities: Doja Cat, Taylor Swift, Demi Lovato, Azealia Banks, Brenda Song, Markliplier, Robert Pattinson, Donald Glover, Joshua Bassett, & 21 Savage

Moon in the 1st house:

Soft, full, rounded facial features. Round face shape. Cheekbones tend to be rounded in shape or something about the cheeks looks “fleshy”. Eyes are big and round or beady looking. The flesh of their nose is thick and you are less likely to see the bone. Round lips, almost as if they’re puckering them. They often have pitch black hair or look best with darker hair colors for it contrasts with their luminescent eyes and glowing skin. Side profile resembles a crescent moon 🌙 . They tend to get “pudgy” in the face as they gain weight. Body type is usually very curvy and luscious, leaning towards an hourglass figure with large breasts and softer bellies. The men are likely to gain muscle in their pectorals and have a rounded frame. They are more likely to gain weight due to emotional eating.

Celebrities: Jihyo, Kali Uchis, Cardi B, Aishwarya Rai, SZA, Baekhyun, Ashton Irwin, Cameron Dallas, Jussie Smollet, & Doyoung

Mars in the 1st House:

Big heads!!! Their heads may be bigger in proportion to their bodies, especially if it’s aspected by Jupiter (Christina Ricci has both Jupiter and Mars in the 1st house and she looks like a real life Blythe doll). Rectangular or square face shape, their jawline tends to be square and angular. Prominent cheekbones with full cheeks. Almond shaped eyes, thin noses, and wide mouths. Martian body types tend to be average in weight or very athletic and strong in muscle. The women have a rectangle body shape while the men are buff and have wide shoulders (apple shaped). Likely to have a scar or bruise on their body from an incident (sports injury or car accident). They often have a “healthy” look. Most of these people have “baby skin”! Their skin is so clear and majority of the time is free from imperfections. Martians have a youthful factor to their beauty due to Aries being the youngest zodiac sign, so as they age, they look very young or have this “forever young” quality about them.

Celebrities: Megan Fox, Erykah Badu, Anne Hathaway, Miranda Cosgrove, Raven Symone, Jackson Wang, Andy Samberg, John Legend, Niall Horan, & Kai Cenat

Venus in the 1st house:

Very luscious facial features! Their face is more alluring in comparison to other planets in the 1st house, similar to lunar people, they both have full features. The difference is that Venusians’ features are more balanced and harmonious. They could fit the “beauty standard” so to speak or their beauty sets trends. Sultry eyes, can have a shimmer to them or they tend to sparkle when it comes to discussing or seeing the things they love. Sloped nose bridge. Plump lips. The men have full beards or a signature mustache, blessed with a nice jawline. Their facial structure has a mix of feminine and masculine elements (sharp and rounded). Oval face shape. When they are young, their body is thin and rectangular, but as they get older, their curves start to spread out, especially when they have children. Small waists with a prominent bust and wide hips. Big butts! Venusian men tend to be smaller in frame but taller than Martian men. Their bodies look balanced and they are often average in height and their shoulders might be more narrow as well. A Venusian man will look more delicate and charming, while a Martian man will look cheeky and mischievous.

Celebrities: Angelina Jolie, Beyoncé, Meagan Good, Olivia Rodrigo, Keke Palmer, Zayn, Ben Affleck, Frank Ocean, Charles Leclerc, & Odell Beckham Jr.

Mercury in the 1st house

Fairies!!! They are so miniature and cute! Mercurians have a “gamine” or “ethereal” essence their beauty. Petite with an otherworldly and boyish charm. Asymmetrical or androgynous features. The men are often spotted with long luscious locks and the women with short hair (especially pixie cuts). If worn long, their hair is thin and sleek. If tall, their necks are long like a swan’s, resembling an alien’s body, they tend to be very lanky. Short torso and long legs. Eyes are very curious and “awake”, one eye might be bigger than the other. Lighter eye color. Tiny mouthes with bigger teeth. Very attractive smiles. They can have freckles or moles. Mercurian women’s curves are slightly noticeable and their shoulders tend to be sharp or angular. Mercurian men are very tall with prominent Adam’s apples.

Celebrities: Selena Gomez, Gigi Hadid, Zooey Deschanel, Anya Taylor Joy, Simone Biles, Christian Ronaldo, Hozier, Mark Tuan, Bryson Tiller, & Alexander Wang

Saturn in the 1st house:

The ones who look like they’ve seen some shit. Saturnians have a darker and intense look to their eyes. If they are healed, their eyes can be very magnetic and draw you in, if they are in a place of turmoil, their eyes reflect the pain they feel inside. Often spotted with heavy eyeliner or a dark Smokey eye. Triangle or oblong face shapes. Eyes can be narrow and slanted eyes, with small pupils, or large downturned eyes. Visible aging is often due to addictions, physical stress, and trauma. Tall stature with a petite bone structure. They can gain “healthy weight” meaning they look less sharp and softer once fat is accumulated. Apple or inverted triangle body shape, physique can look “wider” as well. Muscles are prominent in triceps and thighs. Average to tall in height.

Celebrities: Britney Spears, Lana Del Rey, Tracee Ellis Ross, Cher, Zoe Saldana, Adam Levine, Kevin Hart, Usher, Pedro Pascal, & Travis Barker

Jupiter in the 1st house:

The wild child. Tousled hair, hooded eyes, wide noses, and big smiles. Everything about their features and facial structure is prominent. Bigger foreheads as well. They stand out in the crowd with their effortless style. Often muscular, wide in bone structure, and/or tall. If short, they wear platform heels and chunky boots. Jupiterian women have a big butt, thick legs, wide hips, and their waist leans towards square-ish. Bust grows bigger with age or after pregnancy. While the men also have a squared waist and have big hands and big feet. Something about their presence is daring and strong, they are more adventurous in terms of style and pull off the best risks in fashion. They are also statuesque, if it’s not their height or muscles, their aura dominates the room.

Celebrities: Rihanna, Jennie, Millie Bobby Brown, Willow, Hailey Baldwin, Harry Styles, Big Sean, Cole Sprouse, Dylan Sprouse, & Jaebum

Uranus in the 1st house:

Girl/boy next door type of beauty. Something about their appearance feels natural and familiar. To some, they are viewed as just average or they could have needed to grow into their looks (they experience a glow up as they progress into puberty). Could have experienced bullying on the internet or faced a lot of criticism from their peers for their unique looks or personal style. May have been “forced” to become “conventionally attractive”. Close set eyes, droopy noses, and thin lips. Prominent aegyo-sal or fatty eye bags. These natives are likely to get plastic surgery at some point in their lives because they are constantly judged for their insecurities (poor babies :(!). If they learn to embrace their flaws, Uranians can have so much potential with their unique appearance and can stand out in a crowd that’s pressured to fit into the beauty standard. Experimental in style and may suit “futuristic” makeup. Body tends to fluctuate in weight or their shape seems to change overtime (naturally or cosmetically). Likely to have tattoos, birth marks, or scars visible on their body.

Celebrities: Ariana Grande, FKA Twigs, Kylie Jenner, Rosalia, Soyeon, Jungkook, Chris Evans, Kid Cudi, Jimin, & Tom Brady

Neptune in the 1st house:

The dreamy ones. Something about their appearance people obsess over and fantasize about. Can be over romanticized by people who are romantically interested in them and unfortunately, this diminishes the beauty that they possess inside. Shapeshifters - Neptunians can change their appearance however they desire. Identity complex issues. They wear a mask to hide their insecurities and can often create an alter ego to be deemed as more confident. Alluring eyes, button noses, and heart shaped lips. Heart or diamond face shape. Wide cheekbones and narrow jawline. Eyebrows tend to be thick or bushy unless groomed, similar with men’s facial hair, it can sprout quickly like a weed. Their undereyes or cheeks may have lines or they have noticeable smile lines. Body type leans toward curvy and average in height. Hourglass or they are more likely to wear corsets to cinch their waists. Men are balanced in proportions.

Celebrities: Adriana Lima, Kim Kardashian, Kelly Rowland, Emma Chamberlain, Mila Kunis, Sebastian Stan, Denzel Washington, Norman Reedus, Dave Franco, & Taecyeon

Pluto in the 1st house:

Melancholic beauty. Arched eyebrows, sanpaku eyes, dorsal hump or hooked noses, & puckered lips (looks like they’re getting ready to kiss?). Hair is usually thin and long, with a slight bend or curl. V line face shape. Some can look similar to a bird, a crow more specifically. Swarthy skin complexions. Either very pale or darker skinned. Cool undertones. Their hair and skin lack contrasts, very muted and muddled together. Their eyes are their most prominent feature. Inverted triangle body, wider shoulders or fuller busts. Hip dips are visible as well (yes I know everyone can have them but these people flaunt their natural body very proudly!). Thicker in weight or they feel confident as they grow into their “grown woman/man” body. Men tend to give a “smoulder” look or have flirty expressions.

Celebrities: Lily Rose Depp, Nicole Sherzinger, Melanie Martinez, Sydney Sweeney, Mitski, Justin Bieber, Keanu Reeves, Kendrick Lamar, Jaden Smith, & Idris Elba

[novaursa]

Robert Baratheon x Targaryen!reader.

Aerys goes on his "everyone must burn" rant and his daughter tries unsuccessfully to talk him down. Finally, Jaime snaps and kills Aerys while ordering his father's men to hold the Princess back. She's not guilty, so he doesn't want her dead.

Robert claims the throne and dismisses Tywin's attempt to marry him to Cersei. Instead, Robert declares he'll "legitimatizes" his rule by marrying Rhaegar's sister, who is being held as a political prisoner. He's planning on using the smallfolks' love of her to soften the blow of taking the throne; if he kills her, there might be a riot he can't afford.

In the weeks Robert had spent settling into his new role as interim King, she's been depressed and inconsolable, especially after hearing of her mother's death. Not to mention just about everyone she loves has either betrayed her, died, or is out of her reach; Jaime, Rhaegar, Lyanna, Aerys, Rhaella, Arthur, Barristan, Viserys, Dany.

She's no longer speaking, hardly eating, and alternates between crying her eyes raw or staring numbly at nothing. She's barely sleeping. There is talk she'll starve herself. Hearing about Robert's plans doesn't do her fracturing psyche any favors, but it doesn't matter.

She sees memories of their relationship; meeting for the first time after he sees Lyanna and Rhaegar together; how cold he is to her. Running into her coming out of the library with an embarrsing book, which amuses him. Later finding her sketching him- teasing her instead of being embarrassed, finally seeing her instead of her twin. Still doesn't love her, though.

For all her lashing out at him, she still winds up at the alter.

3 three time skip and Targ Princess has given birth to her first child. It's the first hint of happiness she's shown in years and when Robert is let into the room, he's dumbfounded by how attractive her maternal side is to him.

The story ends with him trying to get closer, maybe under the guise of seeing the child and hoping she won't pull away when he finally touches her. Left open ended.

Thank you! Sorry for the original ask. I scrolled down it after you posted yoir response and went "Holy shit, that's a wall of words!"

I hope I shortened it enough. If not, I'll try again or you can cut anything you don't think adds to the story. Again, so sorry. And thank you if you choose to take on my request.

The Crown That Bled

Requests are closed

- Summary: He married you to keep the realm in line. You married him because you had no choice. And happiness is an elusive thing.

- Pairing: targ!reader/Robert Baratheon

- Rating: Explicit 18+ (just to be safe)

- Tag(s): @sachaa-ff @oxymakestheworldgoround @idenyimimdenial

- A/N: So, this was still a little too overwhelming for a short story and I've struggled with what to keep and what to discard. This is what I've managed to write with the information provided. I hope this is something you had in mind.

The Sept of Baelor smelled of incense and wilting roses. Smoke curled from brass censers, spiraling toward the high-arched dome where sunlight bled through colored glass, staining the floor in hues of crimson and gold. The bells tolled dully in the distance, sounding more like a funeral dirge than a wedding celebration. The gathered nobles whispered in hushed tones, draped in velvets and silks, eyes darting toward the altar and the lone figure standing beside it—the King, newly crowned and wide-shouldered in his fur-lined cloak of black and gold, Robert Baratheon.

You were not there yet.

You sat in the chambers they'd locked you in, a gilded cage fit for a princess—cold and quiet, except for the caw of a raven outside the window and the steady creak of footsteps as guards paced the hall. Your reflection in the mirror looked like a ghost: hollowed eyes rimmed in red, skin pale and drawn from weeks of mourning and madness. Your silver-gold hair hung in limp strands, unbrushed. You barely remembered the last time you bathed or ate. The food they left was always taken away, untouched or barely picked at. The maids stopped trying to coax you. You no longer spoke to them, or anyone.

They had told you of your mother’s death three nights past, and the sound you made then had not been human. You’d torn the hem of your dress, your nails bloodied your own arms, your sobs had echoed like a broken harp string long after you collapsed onto the stone floor. Rhaella—your mother, the last steady thing in a world of fire and betrayal—was dead, her frail heart giving out after the news of her husband's fate and her son's. You had not wept since then. Not truly. You had simply… leaked tears, as though your soul had cracked and the sorrow slipped through the fissures, silent and endless.

When you first heard Robert intended to marry you, you had laughed. It was a horrible sound, brittle and dry. Then you screamed. Screamed so long your voice disappeared. You spat on the servant who brought the message, shattered a goblet against the wall, and threatened to throw yourself from the tower window. But none of it mattered. You were the last piece left on the board—the only one of value. And Robert, ever the brute, ever the warrior, had turned conqueror and king. He didn’t want Cersei Lannister, despite Tywin’s persistence. He wanted you. Not for love. Not even for desire, though there had once been something hungry in the way he looked at you during court gatherings, long before the war. No, he wanted you to silence the blood in the streets, to win the hearts of those who still whispered your name as they lit candles for the dead dragon prince. Rhaegar's sister. A daughter of the old line. If he couldn’t kill the dragon, he would cage it. Wed it. Breed it.

A knock came at the door. You did not answer.

It creaked open anyway. You didn’t turn.

“Y/N,” a voice said, rough and low and too alive. “It’s time.”

You didn’t move.

He stepped closer, boots scraping the stone. “The realm needs this.”

The realm. You hated that word. The realm had taken everything from you.

Still, you rose. Slowly. Mechanically. The maids came, silent as ghosts, dressing you in the gown that had been ordered. White. As if your innocence could still be claimed. They wove braids into your hair, pinned a small crown of rubies and pearls. One offered you a veil. You shook your head.

And so you walked to the Sept without it, your face bare for the world to see—shattered, exhausted, and empty.

Robert turned when he saw you, and for a moment, something flickered in his blue eyes. Not victory. Not lust. Something quieter. Sadder. He didn’t smile.

You stood beside him, your hand limp in his. His palm was calloused, warm, too large around yours.

The Septon's voice droned on, reading the vows of House and Faith. You barely heard it. Words floated past like wind in a dead garden.

“Do you, Robert of House Baratheon, take Y/N of House Targaryen—”

“I do,” he said before the Septon even finished, the words rasped from his throat like they pained him.

You said nothing. The Septon looked at you, hesitated, then gently prompted: “Princess?”

Your lips parted. The words did not come.

Robert’s hand tightened.

You closed your eyes. You saw Rhaegar on the Trident, dying with Lyanna’s name on his lips. You saw Jaime's haunted face as he watched your father burn the city down in his mind. You saw your mother’s hands, trembling as she held baby Viserys. You saw Dany’s face, too young to understand any of it. All of it gone.

“I do,” you whispered.

The bells rang again.

The crowd clapped politely.

And the man who had helped kill your family leaned forward and kissed your cheek, soft and solemn, as if it made anything better. You did not flinch. You did not cry. You did not breathe.

You were a queen now. But there was no joy in it.

Only ash.

The birthing chamber was quiet now, save for the faint pop and hiss of the brazier in the corner and the distant echo of revelers in the Red Keep, drinking to the health of the new heir. It had been a hard labor, a long one—two days and a night of pain so deep it had splintered your mind, left you delirious with heat and blood and the haunting memories of every Targaryen woman who had died doing this same sacred, monstrous thing. You had not screamed, even when the pain was worst. You had whimpered, sobbed, clenched your teeth until your jaw ached, but never screamed. That part of you had been burned out long ago.

But now, as the sun bled pale gold through the sheer curtains of the tower windows, you lay propped on linen pillows, your hair damp with sweat, skin aglow with the exhaustion of survival. And for the first time in what felt like a lifetime, your arms were full. A child. Your child. A small, warm bundle swaddled in Targaryen red silk, already calm, already curious. He blinked up at you with wide, unfocused eyes—eyes that were not violet like yours, but a deep, rich blue that reminded you too cruelly of the man who sired him.

Still, you did not hate him for it. You did not hate him for anything. You loved him. Already. Utterly.

You traced his downy cheek with a trembling finger, and for a moment, a smile—small, stunned, wondrous—broke across your face like sunlight through a storm. The midwives had seen it. The maester had noticed. They exchanged glances, hushed and wide-eyed. It was the first expression of happiness they’d ever seen on your face since the sack of King’s Landing. The stillness in you had cracked.

“My lady,” one of them said, gently, reverently. “The King is waiting.”

You didn’t answer right away. You only looked down again, studying your son's tiny fists, his slow, sleepy blink. “Let him in,” you said at last, softly.

The door creaked open moments later, and Robert entered.

He was cleaner than usual, though his hair was still a bit unkempt, and the heavy cloak of royal blue slung over his broad shoulders gave him a warlike silhouette. He looked older, wearier than the man who had crushed Rhaegar’s chest with a hammer, older than the roaring brute who had seized your hand and crown in one swift move. But his blue eyes sharpened the moment he saw you—really saw you, sitting there in the sunlight, your hair loose around your shoulders, the silver tangled and darkened with sweat, your gown undone at the breast as you nursed your newborn son.

The sight stopped him cold.

He didn’t speak for a long moment. He simply stared, his mouth parted slightly, his gaze flickering over you not with the drunken lust he usually turned on brothel girls or serving wenches, but with something far more quiet and dangerous. Hunger, yes, but layered over awe. You were radiant, even with the fatigue etched into your face, even with the bruising along your throat where the maids had steadied you in the worst of the pain. There was softness in you now that hadn’t been seen since before the war, before madness and fire took your family from you. A part of you had returned, and it shook him.

You didn’t look up right away. You focused on the baby, adjusting the swaddling gently. “He’s healthy,” you said at last. “Strong. They say he didn’t even cry until he was cleaned.”

Robert cleared his throat. “He’s mine, then,” he said, trying for jest, but the words came out too raw.

You looked at him. There was no bite in your eyes today. Just tiredness. And something else—something soft and distant, like the echo of a dream.

“I named him Baelor,” you murmured. “After the Blessed.”

He blinked, clearly surprised. “Not… not a more fierce dragon name?”

“No.” You kissed the baby's forehead. “He was born in fire, but he deserves peace.”

Robert stepped closer, more slowly than usual, as if he feared startling you. He was so large that his shadow cast over the bed, over you and the boy. “May I…?” he asked, and his voice faltered. “May I hold him?”

You hesitated. You didn’t recoil, but your arms tightened instinctively around the bundle in your arms.

“I won’t hurt him,” he said, quieter this time. “Or you.”

You nodded, slowly, and shifted the child just enough for him to slip his arms underneath. He moved with surprising gentleness, lowering himself to the edge of the bed, cradling his son as if he were holding a cup made of glass. Baelor blinked once at him, then yawned.

“Seven hells,” Robert whispered, a chuckle caught somewhere in his throat. “He’s real.”

You watched him closely, head tilted, your hands still hovering near the baby’s blanket. You didn’t lean away. You didn’t tell him to go.

He glanced at you sideways, unsure, and something flickered again in his expression. Not just pride. Not just male satisfaction. But need.

“You smiled when you looked at him,” he said.

“I did,” you whispered.

He was silent for a beat longer, then dared to reach out. Not for the baby, but for your hand. Just two fingers grazing the edge of yours. Barely touching.

You didn’t pull away.

Not yet.

[hed184]

Never let team Black stans and Targ fanboys gaslight you to believe that house Hightower is an enemy of house Targaryen:

1) Before the conquest, Aegon and Visenya visited the Oldtown and spent time at the Citadel.

2) The Hightowers did not march to the Field of Fire, and surrendered without a fight.

3) Aegon's reign officially began in Oldtown after he was anointed and crowned by the High Septon (who was a Hightower) in the Starry Sept, and was celebrated by the people of the city as he rode over the city on Balerion.

4) House Hightower was one of the few houses that helped the Targaryens in the First Dornish War.

5) Aegon agreed to betroth his son Maegor to Ceryse Hightower when Ceryse's uncle suggested that Maegor should be wed to his niece, and look what F&B has to say about Maegor and Ceryse: "Maegor boasted to having consummated the marriage a dozen times the night of the wedding, and those who had seen the bedding agreed that Maegor was a lusty husband."

6) Maegor recognized Ceryse as the official Queen of Westeros, even though he had two more wives, and gave all of her lands and titles back to her.

7) When Rhaena Targaryen fled from Maegor, he sent a rider to Oldtown commanding Lord Hightower to behead Rhaella (who was training to become a Septa) as punishment for her mother's betrayal. Lord Hightower refused, and imprisoned the messenger instead.

8) Alicent fetched old Jaehaerys' meals, helped him wash and dress, and read to him. On her deathbed, she said: "I want to see my sons again, and Helaena, my sweet girl. Oh... and King Jaehaerys. I will read to him, as i did when i was little. He used to say i had a lovely voice." She didn't mention her father or her brothers, but she mentioned Jaehaerys. That shows how much she loved him.

9) Rhaena Targaryen (Daemon's daughter) married Garmund Hightower, and had six daughters by him. As one of the few remaining heirs to the iron throne and the sister of the King, she had no reason to marry a third son and have not one, not two, but six daughters by him if she didn't love him.

10) They remained loyal to the Targaryens during the Robert's Rebellion.

11) Unlike Jaime Lannister and Barristan Selmy, Gerold Hightower remained loyal to Rhaegar till his last breath. He refused several opportunities to leave unharmed, and eventually died while defending Rhaegar's son.

12) Daenaerys thinks house Hightower is among the houses that will help her take back the iron throne. She assumes correctly because the Hightowers believe in a prophecy that says Oldtown would burn and its monuments would be cast down if they opposed the "Blood of the Dragon." That's why they gave full support to neither side during the First Blackfyre Rebellion, keeping a foot in both Targaryen and Blackfyre camps.

[venussaidso]

Actually the difference between Rahuvian men and Ketuvian men in first impressions is interesting because, imo ofc, Rahu makes them come off a lot more harsh or rougher by speech or mannerisms, which can be Rahu's illusory effect. The whole, “tough on the outside, sensitive on the inside” trope.

Swati Moon native Ryan Reynolds is an example of this, often portrayed as wittingly combative to mask his fragility and delicate ego.

In the movie 10 Things I Hate About You, Ardra Moon Heath Ledger plays a ruggish teenager who is known to be scary or unapproachable, who proves to be actually vulnerable or "sweet" (however you like to describe him).

Mark Wahlberg, who has Swati Moon, is often typecasted as characters that are verbally combative or outwardly harsh, while internally longing for authentic expression of his feelings (such as in the movie Daddy's Home which he stars in).

While Ketu makes natives, from what I've noticed, come off as shy or standoffish, and they're often perceived as gentle or “deep” (sometimes). There's an illusory effect to Ketu men that I've picked up on, and I say illusory because this is entirely based on the reactions of people, where they're regarded as fragile and weak in some way. People, in the comments, will say how “humble”, “frail”, “delicate” and “beautiful” some of these natives are. And notice how these Ketu public figures are often ranked high in their work, considered to be serious, gritty or passionate artists despite their withdrawn, passive or seemingly sensitive nature.

Celebrity examples: Michael Jackson, who had Magha Sun. Cillian Murphy, who has potential Ashwini Moon. Daniel Day Lewis, who also has Ashwini Moon. And J Robert Oppenheimer, who had Ashwini Sun. Even Mula Sun Timothee Chalamet had commentators perceiving him this way.

In their passions, they can get scarily fixated and fiery, which often contrasts with their passive nature outside as they are always, more actively, within their own world — “self-absorbed” — where these allegations of being deep and introspective come from. I already talked about this inward nature in this post, in a more negative light, through the Narcissus archetype, concerning Ketuvians in general.

This makes a lot of sense as Ketu makes one inward, internal — this indicating how the fire element in these nakshatras function. The 12th house is where Ketu feels more comfortable, which makes sense with themes of introversion, dissociation and otherworldliness.

I think Tom Hiddleston is also known for being “deep”, introspective, and gentle, with a burning passion inside, only for him to be a possible Ashwini Moon native. Young Daniel Day Lewis (especially in the provided second clip) has always reminded me of Tom Hiddleston, especially in his speech patterns. They both come off quite book-ish and sensitive (like the Belle–archetype, in Mula nakshatra). And Daniel, also much like Michael Jackson, is very soft-spoken. Very interesting.

[classicfilmblr]

DOUGLAS FAIRBANKS in THE BLACK PIRATE — 1926, dir. Albert Parker The most celebrated sequence of the film, and perhaps of Fairbanks's entire career, is the moment in which the Black Pirate, when capturing a galleon single-handedly, slashes a line with his knife, catches the end of the mizzen, and swings upward with the wayward sail to the main topsail. He then plunges his knife in to the canvas of the topsail and slides down the sail, supported by the hilt of his knife as it severs the canvas in half. He rends the mainsail in the same manner. The feat is so spectacular that Fairbanks repeats it once more with the fore topsail, rendering the ship powerless. The Black Pirate swings through the lines to the forecastle, swivels about a pair of cannons he has commandeered, and holds the crew as helpless as the galleon itself.

The sliding down the sails is a grand stunt, building on Robin Hood's celebrated descent down the enormous drapery in Robin Hood [1922]. The 43-year-old showman is in top physical form, and the appearance of effortlessness, the breathtaking arcs of movements, and the sheer joy with which he accomplishes the impossible are ample demonstrations of Fairbanks's kinetic genius.

The sequence was achieved with separate sail sets engineered by Robert Fairbanks on the back lot, apart from various ship settings, and erected on an angle away from the cameras (which were also on an angle). The sails, according to Douglas Fairbanks, Jr., were "pre-sliced and then stitched up invisibly. . . .The knife was rigged with piano wire, pulley, and counterweight. . . .He would thrust his knife into the sail and there would be a quick cut. The next cut would be of him holding the special knife connected to the hidden pulley and counterweight."

Airplane propellers behind the canvas provided the billowing effect for the sails. As with all of his stunts, Fairbanks wore a wire harness, and his arms and legs were taped to prevent friction burns. Although no one doubted at the time that he performed the stunt, William K. Everson later maintained that Fairbanks did not do so himself. But the accounts of Albert Parker, Douglas Fairbanks, Jr., and Chuck Lewis and the surviving outtakes from the scene itself dispel any claim that Fairbanks did not perform his most famous feat. Fairbanks's bravura stunt was subsequently pirated by a stunt double for Errol Flynn in Against All Flags (1952) and by Orlando Bloom in Pirates of the Caribbean 2: Dead Man’s Chest (2006).

One of the immediate effects of the famous sequence was all the injuries sustained by impressionable children imitating their screen idol. Edward Wagenknecht wrote, "One shudders to think how many broken arms and legs he must have been responsible for among the children of America during the years of his vogue." Robert Parrish, a future director and film editor, was one such child. He recalled having seen The Black Pirate in his hometown of Columbus, Georgia, and immediately wanting to emulate the spectacular Fairbanks stunt:

"As a seven-year-old, I had seen Douglas Fairbanks in The Black Pirate plunge a knife into the sail and riding the knife down to the deck. I tried the knife stunt myself that afternoon with a borrowed linen bed sheet. Some friends and I attached it to the limb of an oak tree about ten feet off the ground. I climbed the tree with a butcher's knife in my mouth trying to smile like Fairbanks—I soon tasted blood in my mouth—and pointed the knife at the sheet and jumped. The sheet crashed down upon me like a deflated parachute and the knife flew out of my hand. I landed on the ground with a broken arm, the wind knocked out of me, and blood running from my Fairbanks grin."

[endless-ineffabilities]

ewan robert mitchell having his way with you in his holy place (18+)

masterlist

The movie drones on, but you can’t focus. Not with Ewan’s hand inching higher up your thigh, his touch electric underneath your skirt. The faint rustle of movement is hidden beneath the booming soundtrack, but your heart pounds in your ears as his fingers trace the edge of your panties.

You have your coat draped over your lap, pretending it’s for warmth, but you miscreants know better. His fingers dip below the already-wet fabric, and your breath hitches. Your thighs clamp together instinctively, but his quiet chuckle from the side sends a fresh wave of heat through you.

“Relax, baby,” he whispers. The bastard's very clearly enjoying this. “No one’s paying attention.”

You aren’t so sure. The thrill of being caught coils low in your stomach as his fingers soak in your slickness. It carries an even heavier implication given your boyfriend's celebrity status, but he doesn't seem to give a shit.

All he can focus on is that his girl's practically dripping, her walls clenching around his digits. You steal a glance to find him biting down hard on his lip, and you know that he's doubtlessly rock hard beneath those navy sweatpants.

“Careful,” he murmurs as he leans over, teasing, his breath hot against your neck, “or you might leave a stain on the seat.”

Your cheeks burn, but there’s no stopping him now. His fingers work in slow, torturous circles, coaxing every ounce of restraint from you. You grip the armrest with one hand, the other fisting your coat as you fight to keep quiet. Like him, you sink your teeth onto your lip, desperate to stifle the moan building in your throat.

Ewan’s free hand reaches across and squeezes your thigh as his fingers plunge deeper, curling just right. You’re trembling, barely holding it together, when he pulls his hand away suddenly. Your protest dies in your throat as he lifts his fingers to his lips, sucking them clean with deliberate slowness, his dark eyes locked on yours.

“You taste so fucking sweet, baby,” he purrs, practically taunting you, then offers his hand, the glow of saliva on his fingers catching the faint light.

The moment the bathroom door locks behind you, he’s on you. His lips crash against yours as his hands tug at your skirt. The material hitches at your hips, and he hoists you onto the counter, his body pressed firmly between your legs.

“You’ve been driving me insane. It’s your fault I can't focus on the film,” he growls. If he didn't look like he wanted to eat you alive, you'd probably buy into his annoyance. But his eyes are fully shot through with lust, and his movements are frantic as he takes his cock out and lines himself up.

The first thrust steals your breath, and he doesn’t give you a moment to recover. You’re grateful to be on the pill. Ewan even more so, because the feel of his unprotected cock sheated inside the walls of your warm, fleshy core is something straight out of a miracle. His pace is bruising, nearly devoid of all gentleness, each movement sending shocks of pleasure through you. The cool tile of the counter against your arse is a sharp contrast to the heat between your bodies, your nails digging into his shoulders as he pushes you higher, closer to the edge.

“Ewan,” you gasp, his name breaking like a prayer from your lips, louder than the squelchy noises of skin slapping against skin, of juices squirting from your cunt onto his pelvis. “Oh, baby, fuck yeah—”

“Say it louder,” he demands, his hand slipping to your jaw, tilting your face roughly to meet his gaze. “Go on, baby, scream my name. Let them hear.” You comply. It’s the best you can do. He is giving you the best movie theatre sex of your life after all. And he's not normally like this. In fact, he's notorious for being the complete opposite. Shy, intense Ewan. Introverted, brooding artist Ewan. Except when he's with his baby—then he completely lets himself loose.

He keeps bottoming out until you’re unraveling around him, your moans echoing off the mirrored walls.

When you finally come back down, he’s smirking, brushing a strand of hair from your face. “You’re gonna think about this every time we go to the movies now, aren’t ya?” he says smugly.

And he’s damn fuckin right.

[pubbamoon]

03. KRITTIKA NAKSHATRA (26°40' ARIES - 10°00' TAURUS)

Krittika is the third nakshatra in Vedic astrology. It starts at the late degrees of Aries sign, while it continues and ends in Taurus sign. This nakshatra is ruled by the Sun, the planet which represents the father, authority, norms, light and illumination. The combination of the Sun and Mars (Aries' side) shows boldness and initiation, while the combination of the Sun and Venus (Taurus' side) shows more nurturing and stable side of this nakshatra. If you have Sun, Moon, Ascendant, chart ruler or Atmakaraka in this nakshatra, then we can say that you have prominent Krittika nakshatra in your chart.

The meaning of Krittika is the one who cuts. The symbols of this nakshatra are sharp objects, such as knife and axe. So, Krittika relates to cutting through illusions, seeing things as they really are and criticizing. People with prominent Krittika nakshatra in their chart might be direct, sharp, bold, courageous and ready to criticize, whether themself or someone/something else. These people can be very judgmental by nature.

Krittika nakshatra is the Star of Fire and the deity of this nakshatra is Agni, the Hindu god of fire. By saying that, Krittika nakshatra is associated with purification, cooking and intense drinks, such as alcohol and coffee. Prominent Krittika natives may be coffee lovers or work as the cook, commentator, entrepreneur, owner of a coffee shop etc. Also, there's an exaltation point of the planet Moon in this nakshatra, specifically at 3° of Taurus. In order for the planet Moon to function optimally, it needs warmth, purification and stability, which Krittika nakshatra is all about.

The power of Krittika nakshatra is to burn, associating with the explosiveness, forcefulness, independence and will power. Prominent Krittika natives might be independent, bright and masculine, since Krittika nakshatra relates to Yang, which is the masculine energy. In order to see things as they really are, represented by the planet Sun, the ruler of this nakshatra, it's crucial to burn away or to separate negative things which bring confusion and illusions. The yoni/animal of this nakshatra is a female goat/sheep, representing spiritual purity and sacrifice. With the female goat as the Krittika's yoni and with the exaltation point of the Moon in this nakshatra, there's also a sense of nourishment in this fiery nakshatra.

Padas of Krittika nakshatra:

Pada 1 (26°40' Aries - 0°00 Taurus) - Sagittarius

Pada 2 (0°00' Taurus - 3°20' Taurus) - Capricorn

Pada 3 (3°20' Taurus - 6°40' Taurus) - Aquarius

Pada 4 (6°40' Taurus - 10°00' Taurus) - Pisces

For example, if you have Ascendant in the 1st pada of Krittika nakshatra in your birth chart (D1), you have Ascendant in Sagittarius in your Navamsa (D9) chart. If you have Mercury in the 2nd pada of Krittika nakshatra in you D1 chart, then you have Mercury in Capricorn in your D9 chart. If you have Jupiter in the 3rd pada of Krittika nakshatra in your D1 chart, then you have Jupiter in Aquarius in your D9 chart. Finally, if you have Saturn in the 4th pada of Krittika nakshatra in your D1 chart, you have Saturn in Pisces in your D9 chart.

Celebrities with a prominent Krittika nakshatra in their chart:

Megan Fox - Krittika Sun in Taurus

Emma Chamberlain - Krittika Sun in Taurus

Jojo Siwa - Krittika Sun in Taurus

Miley Cyrus - Krittika Ascendant in Taurus

Bob Dylan - Krittika Moon in Aries

Bill Clinton - Krittika Moon in Aries

Frida Kahlo - Krittika Moon in Taurus

Mick Jagger - Krittika Moon in Taurus

David Beckham - Krittika Ascendant in Taurus

Jaret Leto - Krittika Ascendant in Taurus

Halle Berry - Krittika Ascendant in Aries

Taylor Lautner - Krittika Ascendant in Taurus

Kate Moss - Krittika Ascendant in Aries

Robert Pattinson - Krittika Sun in Aries

Mark Zuckerberg - Krittika Sun in Taurus

Cate Blanchett - Krittika Sun in Aries

Best regards,

Paky McGee

[f1ghtsoftly]

All The Women’s News You Missed This Week

2/3/25-2/10/25

The world braces for the end of USAID funding, which will have particularly devastating consequences for women and LGBT people. Gov. Hochul, of New York, moves to protect doctors who prescribe abortion pills out of state. Rugby director fired in Fiji over homophobic comments about female players. Trump bans transgender women from female sports, NCAA changes policy in response. A Saudi graduate student is released after being jailed for tweets supporting Women’s Rights. In a horrific incident of male violence, prisoners in the Congo broke free from jail to commit mass atrocities against their female inmates.  

Want this in your inbox instead? Subscribe here

Action Steps: 

PETITION: Decriminalise Abortion  (UK) 

CONTACT: Congressman Robert B. Aderholt (AL-04) introduced the Protect Funding for Women’s Health Care Act in the House of Representatives Wednesday.  

You can contact Robert here and share your thoughts, especially if you live in Alabama’s 4th District (northwest AL.) 

BOYCOTT:  We cannot cheer on Afghanistan’s cricket team when Afghan women are being silenced (UK) 

Reproductive Rights: 

WATCH: New York Gov. Hochul signs bill shielding doctors who prescribe abortion pills 

Rape crisis centers see funding delays amid Trump administration spending upheaval

Trump Reinforces the Hyde Amendment, Making Reproductive Rights More Precarious  

Lawmakers debate new constitutional amendment banning abortion in Missouri 

Women’s Rights: 

How USAID freeze could be the most catastrophic for women and girls 

Christian Nationalist Wesley Todd Doesn't Want Pregnant Women Serving In Office : "That's Stupid"

Taliban raids and suspends Afghanistan’s only nationwide women’s radio station

 Cuny graduate school rolls back pregnant students’ protections after Trump letter

NASA Ordered to Remove Anything About ‘Women in Leadership’ From Its Websites: Report

LGBTQ: 

Impact of Executive Order Pausing U.S. Foreign Aid on LGBTQI+ People

Trump signs order banning transgender women from female sports

NCAA changes transgender athletes policy after Trump ban

Uganda’s LGBTQ community faces anxiety and uncertainty after U.S. aid freeze

Fiji rugby director fired for women's team 'gay problem' remarks

Rejected elsewhere, these LGBTQ Jews find love and acceptance in the Connecticut woods

The transgender care fight targets more adults as Georgia and other states weigh laws

Argentina’s president bans gender-affirming care for people under age 18

Women in the News: 

WATCH: Protesters torch ex-Bangladesh PM's home 

Doctor accused of criticizing Russia’s war in Ukraine is convicted and given over 5 years in prison

I will not stop working, Anna Wintour tells King

 Rebuilding my home in Gaza as Trump wants me to leave

Seven women among Seanad Éireann nominees

Search of house for missing woman ends

Philippines feud escalates as lawmakers vote to impeach vice-president 

Male Violence: 

More than 100 women raped and burned alive in DR Congo jailbreak, UN says

Woman's deepfake betrayal by close friend: 'Every moment turned into porn'

Black women face high domestic violence rates, but stigma keeps many silent, support groups say

In Bangladesh, Islamists Are Stepping up Actions Against Women

New allegations Diddy sexually assaulted minor in nightclub

When is Sean 'Diddy' Combs' trial and what is he charged with?

Sexual violence against children in Haiti rises by 1,000%, UN says

Man furious over dating app rejection breaks into Pennsylvania home steals woman’s pug and kills it in a rage 

Anglican Church in South Africa admits failures in handling of sexual abuse claims

Celebrity butt-lift injector who left women with sepsis exposed by BBC 

Mumsnet targeted with child sexual abuse images

'His hands were everywhere' - women accuse surviving Fayed brother of sexual assault 

Play-fight claim dad jailed for murdering daughter

Five sentenced to death in Nigeria over 'witchcraft' murder

Neil Gaiman's ex-wife denies trafficking allegations

Women Getting Justice??

MoJ apologises for prisoner early release letter

Senator opens inquiry into US Center for SafeSport’s hiring of investigator charged with sex crimes

Southport families 'try to find light in the dark'

Blake Lively and Justin Baldoni lawyers spar during first court hearing 

S Africa church apologises over exposing children to risk from abuser

Historic book of town's witch trials to be displayed 

Arts and Culture: 

Why was Taylor Swift booed at the Super Bowl?

Memoir by former prime minister of Finland, Sanna Marin, to come out in November

Serena Williams crip walks at surprise Super Bowl appearance 

Movie Review: ‘Kinda Pregnant’ is kinda good

Christie Brinkley has a memoir out in April. Yes, it’s called ‘Uptown Girl’

‘Wicked’ star Cynthia Erivo is feted as Harvard’s Hasty Pudding Woman of the Year

Anora star Mikey Madison: Oscar talk is 'overwhelming and amazing'

Apple Cider Vinegar: How Instagram wellness guru Belle Gibson faked cancer – and caused a scandal

'She thought of herself as the Queen of America': Why Mary Todd Lincoln became the US's most vilified First Lady

EMMY to represent Ireland at Eurovision

Women Fighting Back: 

Who is Luisa González? The leftist politician who is again vying for Ecuador’s presidency

 ‘Woman, life, freedom’: the Syrian feminists who forged a new world in a land of war

Don’t Want To “Bury My Child”: Mass Support For Mom Who Burst Into School To Threaten Bully

Meta veteran who spent 15 years at the firm is suing it over a ‘toxic pattern’ of silencing women: ‘I can show what happens when we want more masculine workplaces.’

Saudi authorities free doctoral student initially sentenced to 34 years for tweets, activists say

A mother pleads for Britain’s help in freeing son from Egyptian prison, one day of hunger at a time

Feminist Wins: 

South Africa mourns pioneering female nuclear scientist

Time limit for child sex abuse claims to be removed (UK) 

Feel Good Stories: 

WATCH: Stranded astronaut calls extended stay 'opportunity' to share space life 

'Music is the secret to reaching 105' 

Opinion: 

Why Even a Few Women At The Top Feels Like ‘Too Many'

Sorry, Lily Collins, but when people outsource childbirth, their motives really count

Why I Stopped Using They/Them Pronouns After 13 Years

As always, this is global and domestic news from a US perspective covering feminist issues and women in the news more generally. As of right now, I do not cover Women’s Sports. Published each Monday.

[8thhousekat]

🩷Aries Venus🩷

know what they want in love 100%

They won’t settle for less than they deserve

In younger years they might have gone through a bunch of toxic relationships due to their restless nature in love.

They aren’t as impulsive as they seem

They could be very interested in makeup or just beauty in general and they make that their own fr

The men tend to be either really sweet or aggressive

Teasing and play fighting = their love language (jk in all seriousness we like acts of service or quality time)

They can be really obsessive but won’t let on about it

They can get frustrated with their loved ones easily

Aries Venus people have very intense stares and eyes (especially if they have any Pluto/mars aspects)

They try to do everything on their own😭

A lot of Aries Venuses form crushes very easily but it’s hard for them to fall in genuine love

Once an Aries Venus falls in love they fall really deeply and they are loyal once they settle down

They either have a pastel aesthetic or it’s just nothing but darker clothes 😭

Very passionate people ❤️

When they are angry it feels like their skin is burning 😭 or like blood boiling ( personal experience not good 0/10)

THEY HATE INCONSISTENCY

Some can come off stoic and then some can come off loud 😭😭

Celebrities with Venus in Aries ❤️

Tyler the creator

Audrey Hepburn

Marilyn Monroe

Lady Gaga

Elisabeth Taylor

Robert Downey jr

Jane Mansfield

Lily Allen

Bob Marley

Rihanna

Melanie Martinez

$crim (I did his natal still don’t know so possibly)

Thank you for reading 🩷❤️ next Venus sign will be Taurus ♉️

[scotianostra]

Robert Burns was born on January 25th 1759 at Alloway,Ayrshire.

Let's start the day off with the biggie!

Scotland's national poet is renowned around the world, other than Queen Victoria and religious figures there are more statues around the world to oor Rabbie than anyone else.

With people celebrating today at Burns Suppers today's post will look back at this celebration, it's history and traditions.

Remember every Burns Supper is individual and may not follow the same order or include them all.

This first supper was organised on July 21st 1801, the fifth anniversary of his passing, by the Reverend Hamilton Paul for a gathering of nine ‘honest men of Ayr’. For some years there was a question over whether a woman had been in attendance, as one of those noted had the Christian name Primrose, an uncommon name for a man. The venue was his cottage in Alloway.

The first "formal" Burns supper away from home I recall was on a weekend school trip to Innerwick in 1979, at Innerwick,it was the first timeI was called a chauvinist, and probably not the last!

It introduced all the key ingredients of the Burns Suppers we see today, namely good food, plenty of drink and friends who toasted the Immortal Memory of Robert Burns as well as reciting some of his works.

Guests at this first supper were served sheep’s head; this rarely features on modern menus! While it used to be the case that a Burns Supper was a male-only affair, this is definitely not still true.

Large Burns Suppers may have a top table for the Chairman, speakers and their partners, any special guests and the organising committee (if there is one), but you can also run a smaller and less formal affair.

The menu or Bill o’ Fare will detail what the party will be eating and usually includes a list of the speeches, speakers and entertainers. You may also find the words to ‘Auld Lang Syne’, which will be sung at the end of the evening before guests depart.

Most suppers start with a grace, most commonly ‘The Selkirk Grace’ attributed to Burns.

Some hae meat and canna eat,

And some wad eat that want it,

But we hae meat and we can eat,

Sae let the Lord be Thankit!

As a celebration night, dress can be quite formal. There’s no rule obliging a kilt to be worn but this has become common evening dress for many Scots. A dinner suit or trews (tartan dress trousers) are equally acceptable.

It should be noted that it’s very unlikely that Burns himself would have worn a kilt. He was a Lowlander and the kilt is traditionally Highland dress. It was also illegal to wear a kilt between 1747–82, in the aftermath of the Jacobite Risings.

At a more traditional Burns Night, ladies might wear a black or white dress with a hint of tartan, perhaps a tartan sash pinned to the right shoulder (only a Clan Chief’s wife should wear her sash pinned to the left).

Many suppers are ‘come as you are’. If you’re the organiser, just let your guests know how formal you intend the evening to be.

The first course is traditionally soup, either Scotch broth, cock-a-leekie or Cullen skink – all good Scottish recipes using fine Scottish ingredients.

Haggis is then served either as the main course or an intermediate course, depending on how posh your do is!

The haggis is accompanied by champit tatties (mashed potato) and neeps (mashed turnip).Sometimes carrot is mixed with the neeps, although this is not traditional. Many suppers now include a whisky sauce to accompany the haggis.

If it's a big "do" yer at the Haggis will of course be delivered on a silver platter by a procession comprising the chef, the piper and the person who will address the Haggis. A whisky-bearer should also arrive to ensure the toasts are well lubricated during "The Address to the Haggis "

There is no set tune for the piper to play, I have heard of many over the years, even the Star Wars theme during a supper with the films theme! A particular favourite of mine is A Man's A Man for A' That.

Address to a Haggis.

Fair fa’ your honest, sonsie face,

Great Chieftain o’ the Puddin-race!

Aboon them a’ ye tak your place,

Painch, tripe, or thairm:

Weel are ye wordy of a grace

As lang ‘s my arm.

The groaning trencher there ye fill,

Your hurdies like a distant hill,

Your pin wad help to mend a mill

In time o’ need,

While thro’ your pores the dews distil

Like amber bead.

His knife see Rustic-labour dight,

An’ cut ye up wi’ ready slight,

Trenching your gushing entrails bright,

Like onie ditch;

And then, O what a glorious sight,

Warm-reekin, rich!

Then, horn for horn, they stretch an’ strive:

Deil tak the hindmost, on they drive,

Till a’ their weel-swall’d kytes belyve

Are bent like drums;

Then auld Guidman, maist like to rive,

Bethankit hums.

Is there that owre his French ragout,

Or olio that wad staw a sow,

Or fricassee wad mak her spew

Wi’ perfect sconner,

Looks down wi’ sneering, scornfu’ view

On sic a dinner?

Poor devil! see him owre his trash,

As feckless as a wither’d rash,

His spindle shank a guid whip-lash,

His nieve a nit;

Thro’ bluidy flood or field to dash,

O how unfit!

But mark the Rustic, haggis-fed,

The trembling earth resounds his tread,

Clap in his walie nieve a blade,

He’ll make it whissle;

An’ legs, an’ arms, an’ heads will sned,

Like taps o’ thrissle.

Ye Pow’rs wha mak mankind your care,

And dish them out their bill o’ fare,

Auld Scotland wants nae skinking ware

That jaups in luggies;

But, if ye wish her gratefu’ prayer,

Gie her a Haggis!

Once the Address is complete, the Addresser gives a glass of whisky to the chef and the piper, and invites the whole company to ‘toast the haggis’.

The chef will then recover the haggis and leave the room to plate this part of the meal. Sometimes the haggis is passed around the table for guests to help themselves, adding tatties and neeps from large bowls placed on the table.

After the meal, the speeches and entertainment begin in earnest, starting with a toast to the monarch, known as The Loyal Toast.

This is followed by the main toast of the night, to The Immortal Memory of Robert Burns.

The Immortal Memory should be a heartfelt toast to the genius, life and works of our National Bard. At more formal dinners this speech focuses on a theme of Burns’s works, ending with a formal toast where all guests are invited to raise their glass.

The next speech will be The Toast to the Lassies, a reflection of Burns’s ‘appreciation’ of women. Traditionally, this takes the form of a witty reflection on the relationships between men and women, ending with the men rising to toast ‘the Lassies’.

This is followed by the Reply to the Toast to the Lassies. This should also be witty and seek to correct the previous speaker’s assumptions about women. The speech often ends with rousing applause from the women present, who then rise and raise their glasses to the men, toasting ‘the Laddies’.

At larger or more formal Burns Suppers, there may be further speeches that reflect on the guests and absent friends, Scotland and a formal vote of thanks.

The speeches are followed by entertainment – often including recitations and music. The night should end with a rousing rendition of ‘Auld Lang Syne’ and three cheers, marking the end of a successful Burns Night.

Among the pics are stamps from around the world, perhaps the most interesting are from Russia, (the two together) from 1956 and Romania, from 1959. The pic with the couple is Sharleen Spiteri and Ewan Mcgregor attending a Burns Night.

[novaursa]

https://youtu.be/qillYsPzEs0?si=zWRzrkWUSQ-jRaTA

Can you do this just with the Targaryens and Lannister? Sister!reader Targaryen vs Cersie Lannister 🫣🙏🏼

Fire and Gold

- Summary: Rhaegar chooses you over her. And Ceresi never forgives you for it.

- Pairing: sister!reader/Rhaegar Targaryen

- Note: In this AU Robert's Rebellion never happened. Rhaegar marries the reader, Ceresi still marries Robert after Lyanna dies in childbirth along with their child.

- Rating: Mature 16+

- Next part: 2

- Tag(s): @sachaa-ff @alyssa-dayne @oxymakestheworldgoround

- A/N: I hope this was what you had in mind, dear anon. The story is fresh from the oven.

You and Rhaegar have always known how to draw a crowd. The smallfolk line the roads, banners flapping in the breeze as cheers follow your every step. Rhaegar’s hand rests at the small of your back, his touch familiar and comforting. The two of you move through the throng with practiced grace, your smiles reflecting the adoration in the eyes of those gathered. The royal tour has been a triumphant journey so far, a celebration of unity and strength. Yet, beneath the surface, tensions simmer, particularly when it comes to the Lannisters.

It’s no surprise that Cersei Lannister would try to disrupt your journey. Tywin’s golden daughter has never hidden her disdain for you. You, the sister who Rhaegar chose over her, who embodies all that she desired but could never possess. Her presence is almost expected as you approach the encampment set up for the royal party. When you step inside the tent, the air is thick with unspoken tension. Rhaegar’s jaw tightens beside you, and you can feel the shift in the atmosphere like a gathering storm.

Inside, Robert Baratheon looms, his massive form imposing even in stillness. Cersei stands at his side, her face twisted in fury, her eyes burning with a hatred you’ve known since you were both young girls at court. The very air seems to crackle between you. But your attention is drawn to your children and theirs, lined up in a tense, volatile standoff. Your eldest son, Aelor, stands tall, his eyes a mirror of Rhaegar’s determination. Blood stains the edge of his blade, and a long, angry gash mars Joffrey’s cheek. The boy’s face is contorted with pain and rage, his hand pressed against the wound.

“What in the name of the gods happened here?” Rhaegar’s voice is a sharp, commanding presence in the room. The knights and guards around you tense, sensing the gravity of the situation.

Robert spits, his voice dripping with contempt. “Your damn spawn attacked my son. Maimed him, Targaryen. That’s what happened.”

Aelor’s voice rings out, clear and unwavering. “He insulted us first. He insulted me, my brothers and sisters. He insulted you, Father, and you, Mother. When he drew his blade, I defended us.”

Joffrey, clutching his wounded cheek, shrieks in a high, grating voice. “Lies! He called me a Lannister bastard, and then he—”

You narrow your eyes, your gaze locking onto Cersei. It is an open secret in the court that her children bear none of the Baratheon traits, their golden hair and green eyes a reflection of the Lannister line. You’ve never spoken of it openly, but now, the accusation lingers in the air, unspoken but heavy. Cersei’s lips press into a thin line, her fury palpable.

“How dare you,” she hisses, her voice trembling with barely contained rage. “Your vile little whelps—”

“Enough.” Rhaegar’s voice cuts through the tumult like a blade. “They are children, Cersei. This matter is settled.”

“Settled?” Cersei’s face flushes crimson. She turns to Robert, desperation sharpening her tone. “You will let this stand, my lord? He has harmed our son!”

Robert’s eyes flicker between Rhaegar, your children, and his wife. His face is flushed, whether from drink or anger, you cannot tell. For a moment, the entire tent holds its breath, waiting for the King’s decree.

But Rhaegar steps forward, his presence filling the space. “This is over. Children quarrel. It will not be escalated further.”

Cersei’s expression is a mask of fury, her body taut with indignation. Her eyes meet yours across the tent, and for a heartbeat, it’s as if the world narrows to just the two of you. There, in her gaze, you see the depth of her resentment, the wound to her pride that will never heal. You hold her stare, your silence as cutting as any word you could utter.

Cersei’s movements that soon follow are a blur, her hand snatching the dagger from Robert’s belt with a ferocity that sends a jolt of shock through the tent. She lunges at you, the blade aimed with a deadly precision that could only be born from hate. Instinct takes over, and you reach out, catching the weapon with your bare hand before it can pierce your heart.

The sharp steel bites deep into your palm, the pain immediate and excruciating. Blood wells up, spilling over your fingers and dripping onto the ground. Gasps echo through the tent, but no one dares to intervene. Robert’s roar reverberates around you, filled with anger and disbelief. “Cersei, what are you doing?!”

Your children’s cries pierce the air, frantic and terrified. Their small voices, shrill with fear, tear at your heart. The sight of their mother locked in a deadly struggle, blood pouring from your hand, is too much for them to bear. But you can’t look away from Cersei, can’t afford a single moment of distraction.

Her face is contorted with fury, a rage so intense it seems to consume her. “You ruined everything!” she screams, her voice raw. “You were supposed to be nothing more than a bargaining chip, another mad Targaryen girl! But instead, you took him—took the life that should have been mine! And now I’m shackled to this brute, trapped in a prison of my own making because of you!”

“You chose this,” you retort, your voice low, steady, despite the pain searing through your arm. “You and your father wanted too much. You thought you could seize the crown, twist the realm to your liking. But it was never yours to take.”

Her eyes flash, and with a snarl, she presses down, driving the blade further into your grip. The pain is blinding, but you refuse to let go, even as the dagger slices across your forearm in a brutal arc. You cry out, the sound sharp and involuntary, as the blade carves a deep, angry line from wrist to elbow. Warm blood streams down your arm, pooling at your feet.

The lords and ladies around you recoil, horrified, but none move to intervene. Fear holds them frozen in place, their eyes wide, their faces pale. The tent, filled with the sound of your children’s desperate sobs, seems to close in around you.

“Look at you,” Cersei hisses, her voice dripping with venom. “Bleeding for a throne you think you’re owed, just like your father. You’re no different from him. Mad, arrogant, and dangerous.”

“And you,” you bite back, your voice shaking with pain and fury, “are nothing but a bitter, power-hungry fool. You think you can cut me down? You think you can break me? I am not my father, and I will not be cowed by you.”

With a furious cry, she shoves the blade again, but you twist, forcing the weapon away. The dagger slips from her grasp, falling to the ground with a dull thud. You stumble back, clutching your bleeding arm, your breaths coming in ragged gasps. Pain throbs through every nerve, but you stand your ground, refusing to show weakness.

Rhaegar is at your side in an instant, his face ashen with worry. “Y/N,” he murmurs, his voice tight with concern, his hands gentle as he examines your injured arm. “Gods, what has she done to you?”

Robert steps forward, his face a mask of barely restrained fury. “Have you lost your senses, woman?” he growls, rounding on Cersei. “You draw a blade on the Princess of the Realm, on your king’s daughter? Are you so eager to invite Aerys’ wrath upon us all?”

Cersei glares back at him, her chest heaving, her hands shaking. “I don’t care!” she cries, her voice breaking. “All my life, I’ve been promised things that were taken away. I was promised Rhaegar, promised a crown, and now I’m nothing! Stuck here, with you, and this—this farce of a marriage. I’m trapped, and it’s all her fault!”

“Enough.” Robert’s voice is like a hammer striking stone, his eyes blazing with anger. “You’ve gone too far. This is beyond foolish, beyond dangerous. You think Aerys will turn a blind eye when he hears of this? His daughter bleeding at your hands?”

The name of your father seems to cut through her fury, a flicker of fear passing over her face. The threat is real—everyone knows the Mad King’s unpredictable wrath, his unquenchable thirst for vengeance. And you, his beloved daughter, lying wounded at her feet? The consequences could be catastrophic.

Rhaegar’s arms wrap around you, his touch gentle as he guides you away from the scene. “We need to get you to the maester,” he says softly, his voice tight with worry.

You nod, the pain throbbing with each heartbeat, but you keep your gaze on Cersei, refusing to look away. “Remember this, Cersei,” you say, your voice steady despite the agony. “You brought this on yourself. You chose your path, just as I chose mine. And you’ll find that you’ve made an enemy you can’t afford to have.”

With that, Rhaegar leads you out of the tent, your children trailing behind, their faces pale and tear-streaked. The lords and ladies part before you, their whispers already spreading like wildfire through the camp.

This skirmish is over, but the repercussions are only beginning.

[elysianightsss]

Johnny ‘soap’ MacTavish x reader burns night celebration nsfw drabble

-

Bright laughter sounds throughout the room much louder than the fireworks outside, full glasses clinking together in celebration. You can’t wipe the smile off your face as Johnny yells ‘cheers’ louder than anyone else before going on to give a toast.

“Ma Bonnie’s first burns night! Thank ya ta all for makin it ta best-“ his voice fades into the background of your mind but, still your smile doesn’t fade. This had been the best night of your life, minus the day you met Johnny. It was a little crazy and though Johnny was worried that you wouldn’t cope with the loudness and the disorganisation of the night, he watched you get happier and more excited every hour.

The table in front of you was messy. Haggis which you didn’t particularly enjoy, tatties and nips as Johnny called them with a cheeky grin though you know them as potatoes and turnips. A hearty sweed stew that smelt so divine your mouth watered when the lid was removed. All the pots and plates were empty now, the only thing full was everyone’s bellies.

The evening progressed with some of Robert Burns' poems and songs being recited as well as tributes being made to the great Bard and even a game invented by the MacTavish’s in which if someone says a line from a poem and points to someone in the room, that person will have to say the next line of the poem correctly or they take a shot. You got very tipsy.

After dinner there was dancing as, not unattractively, Johnny played the bagpipes. His nieces and nephews dancing around to the melody with giggles, it brought a true sense of family to you. A type of sereneness you hadn’t felt before. Something you continued to feel even as you hugged the family goodbye.

On the drive home Johnny mentions about taking you to one of the many festivals in the heart of Glasgow next year. He doesn’t stop talking about how good the night was, how happy he was you enjoyed it. How much he loved watching you and his family bonding. Even as he opened the car door for you and unlocked the front door of your little house he didn’t stop talking.

No, no it wasn’t until you started to take off your boots and coat, then he shut up. Watching you with a twinkle in his baby blue eyes as you unwrapped the scarf from around your neck and placed it on the coat hook by the front door. “Tea?” You asked floating past him, not even glancing up at the excitable mohawked puppy who pouted when you didn’t meet his gaze.

You busy yourself in the kitchen filling the kettle with water and flicking it on to boil. A little sway in your step as you go to grab the milk from the fridge, “Bonnie?” You hum in reply, hand on the fridge ready to open it as you glance over at your boyfriend. Your eyes widen.

Johnny is stood in the kitchen stark naked, cock hard and hanging heavy, expectantly. Calling to you. Johnny smirks when you smack your lips together, mouth suddenly dry. You feel yourself drifting towards him and then you’re in his arms letting him pull the clothes from your body.

Your nipples pebble instantly, it’s only then you notice he’s opened all the lounge windows. The smell of smoke in the air, it overwhelms the other scents around you. Your cinnamon diffuser is gone, Johnny’s spiced musk that lingers around the house is now dominated by the bonfire smell.

Johnny inhales strong, a big breath. Exhaling slowly, satisfied, low and sensual. Goosebumps rise on your skin and you shiver pushing closer to him for the warmth he provides. You swear he must of been a bear in another life, he runs hot all through the year, a curse in the summer but a true blessing in the winter.

He pulls you into him, arms wrapping around your waist, “So beautiful.” He smiles genuinely as he delivers the compliment that makes you melt under his gaze. A strand of hair has come unstuck from his gelled mohawk, it blows in the freezing breeze Johnny has let trespass into the warmth of your home.

“Back at ya big guy.” You mutter, it’s brazen and breathless, making your boyfriend tickle your sides with his rough hands. No matter how gentle he is you still feel the callouses of hard work.

Johnny’s breath hitches a little in a way that makes your chest puff with pride when you grip his cock. Stroking it a little, you watch the changes on his face. Blue eyes disappearing from view as they flutter close, thick brows furrowing, the wrinkles at the side of his eyes crease and he lets out a grunt. It’s followed by a sharp moan, “Fuck honey, just like tha’.”

You feel powerful when he’s like this, at your mercy, head thrown back moaning in pleasure. This strong man, his thick neck, muscular arms and big thighs, broad shoulders, sturdy stance. All of him screams large, bellows attractive to you and you feel obliged to tell him as such.

“You’re so fucking hot.” He chuckles heartily, looking down at you like you hung the bloody moon. He’s addictive in a way you’ve never felt before.

“Yeah lass?” He tilts his head at you amused.

“Yeah.” You nod. Johnny has you up against the wall in no time, spitting on his hand and rubbing it against your cunt. Slipping his fingers in with a small pinch at the quickness. It’s only a few pumps and he’s replacing his fingers with his cock.

“Sorry Bon but I need ya now.” He breathes with promises to make you cum on his tongue later. The first thrust is euphoric, breath knocking out of your lungs when he pulls out and fucks back into you hard. Deep.

Your thighs burn from how wide they’re spread to accommodate him in between them, his balls slapping against your ass, “So messy Bonnie.” He chokes out, hot breath against your ear. He’s right, you’re so wet it’s all you can hear, the squelch of your pussy with each thrust.

Johnny doesn’t tease you tonight, he’s been waiting for this since you said no just before you’d left for the evening. Seeing you freshly out the shower he couldn’t help himself with how pretty your skin looked all wet. But you brushed him off with a maybe later as you started your makeup.

Now he had you with nowhere to go but the bed, he was gonna fuck you for as long as he wanted. You clench around him moaning into the cold air when he grunts in that sexy, thick Scottish accent of his, “Happy burns night lass.”

[lord-armitage]

How ASOIAF characters spend Christmas

The Stark Family: Disgustingly happy together. Matching Christmas themed pyjamas and jumpers. Catelyn has everything perfectly organised, the tree is perfection, all of the presents are wrapped beautifully beneath it. The only downside is that Arya will break something which whatever Ned gifted her without consulting Cat (a paintball gun, Ned, really?), Rickon will have a tantrum when he's stopped from eating all of the gingerbread, and Sansa will be a bit of a brat if she doesn't get the exact Taylor Swift merch she explicitly asked for. But they all settle down in time to eat Cat's lavish Christmas dinner and then fall asleep on the sofas together.

Dany: Spends Christmas volunteering at a homeless shelter. Yeah, it's fine, she does it every year since she doesn't have a family and no it's not awkward when it comes up in conversation at all and you don't know what to say when she keeps making pointed remarks over how "grateful" everyone should be this time of year.

The Lannister-Baratheon's: Soap opera chaos every damn year. Robert gets everyone wildly inappropriate gifts and Cersei refuses to speak to him for the rest of the day when she opens, in front of the entire family, the lingerie he gifted her. Lancel tries to make everyone accept the Lord and Saviour Jesus Christ at the dinner table and Tyrion's "girlfriend" is revealed to be an escort. Jamie ditches them all without saying a word. Several people get slapped, there are screaming matches, and Tywin expresses his disappointment in all of them. To crown things off, Renly will be overheard by everyone having an extremely sexual video call to Loras.

Lysa Tully and Sweetrobin: A very weird affair. Lysa buys Robin literally dozens of gifts and has her guests and staff watch and applaud every time he opens one. There is Christmas dinner but Robin won't eat any of the vegetables so half the table is just chicken nuggets. They are pointedly not invited to anyone else's Christmas after several "incidents."

The Wall: Standard military Christmas with their own traditions. No-one remembers how it started, but at midnight everyone has to piss off the side of the wall. And while it started as a joke, Sam reads everyone a Christmas story the night before. If Jon isn't on duty then he'll spend the day at Ygritte's. Free Folk don't celebrate Christmas, but she makes an effort for Jon by ordering a bucket of chicken. And her gift to him is pegging.

Stannis + Co: Stannis hates the entire affair and spends Christmas locked in his study with a glass of scotch. Davos goes all out in a very cheap-and-cheerful manner to ensure that the kids get the Christmas he never had as a child, dressing up as Santa and everything. But he's up against Selyse who believes that because Christmas trees are pagan they're demonic and should be burned. Melisandre does enjoy having the Christmas pudding flamed though.

The Greyjoys: The Iron Islands do not celebrate Christmas as it's a greenland holiday, and Aeron will be leading harassment campaigns against any Iron Islander who puts Christmas lights up in their windows. It is an good reason to go onto the main land and commit a bunch of burglaries though. Asha uses it as excuse to have both Tris and Qarl "gift" her oral. Theon tried to get his family to do it once but everyone just made fun of him for it, but he isn't welcomed back at the Starks for Christmas anymore after that one time he went out drinking on Christmas Eve and threw up on the tree. Instead he now spends the holiday with...

The Boltons: A very subdued and tasteful affair on the surface. Roose gifts Walda some expensive jewellery and a mink coat. Walda gifts Roose that one thing she only does in bed on special occasions. Roose reluctantly invites Ramsay over for dinner (pheasant) and even more reluctantly invites Ramsay's new "boyfriend" who spends the meal shaking like a chihuahua. The atmosphere could be cut with a knife. Roose will bring up Domeric just to spite Ramsay. Everyone sat round the table knows that each party will be having some absolute freaknasty sex in a few hours time, which both Boltons make open illusions too. At least Walda can make sure Theon has a proper meal for once.