#ou: the council

[ordinorultor-if]

Some Physical Descriptions

Figured I should provide some physical descriptions of the characters. Just like with the Tarot post though I'll be splitting it up between the ROs and MC's family.

Alessia

Your paternal grandmother, Ranulf's mother, and his predecessor. While you never met her, you learned a good deal about her. She was the Royal Marshal of King Hugh, and, before the consumption sapped away her strength, had the build to match. She was of very tall height, with short platinum blonde hair, heterochromatic (amber and red) eyes, and a light skin tone. The portrait of her which hangs in Castle Guyenne's grand hall shows her bedecked in beautiful bronze-colored armor and wielding a large greatsword.

Ranulf

Despite being dead for a decade and a half now, you still remember your father well. He was of average height, with short black hair, hazel eyes, and a tan skin tone. The portrait of him which hangs in Castle Guyenne's grand hall depicts him in his favorite outfit, a fine suit colored dark blue, and wielding a fine silver dagger. My current thought is that he (and by extension MC and the Council) might have been mixed-race, with his father coming from northern Yafran, but I'm not sure about that.

Ranulf's wife

Despite being dead for a decade and a half now, you still remember your mother well. While she was fond of dresses (especially ones colored blue and/or green), she was fond of practical dresses, and you know that many of her outfits were tailored so that they could easily be fought in. She was of tall height, with long brown hair. Her eye color and skin tone change depending on where she was from - if she was from a colder climate, she had a pale skin tone and blue eyes, while if she was from Hiberia or Siciny she had a light skin tone and green eyes.

Bertrand/Bertrada

Bertie gets their tall height, muscular build, and tan skin from Ranulf's side of the family, but get their long dark brown hair (including a beard if male) and their eye color from your mother's side. As your marshal, they are usually found wearing simple clothes with leather armor atop, with a preference for browns and reds. For a soldier, they have relatively few scars and blemishes, with the most significant being a large burn mark on their left shoulder.

Albus/Albane and Melanthe/Melanie

The twins are identical, however there are two main ways to tell them apart: Alb wears lighter clothes and Mel wears darker clothes, and Mel has horrible eye-bags. Alb and Mel actually heavily take after Alessia, sharing her almost-white platinum blonde hair, heterochromatic eyes, and light skin tone. Unfortunately for them, the twins inherited your grandfather's short height.

Évariste/Enora

E takes mostly after your mother's side of the family - they inherited your maternal grandfather's auburn hair, light skin tone, and your mother's overall build. However, they inherited your father's average height, and they inherited their amber eyes from Alessia. They often wear white and brown robe-like clothes.

Phillippe/Perrine

P'Enfant basically just grabbed a bunch of traits from the gene-pool and ran with them. Short blonde hair (albeit darker than Alessia's platinum-color), tall height from mom, hazel eyes from Ranulf, and light skin tone from maternal grandpa. They favor fine clothes, similar to what your father wore, but with a preference for the color green.

[astral-from-afar]

Good nno-ers when is yoite’s birthday exactly?

[missswritesalot]

Can I request something with Robb stark x shy reader. She is very quiet and a good wife too rob, but she loves seeing him be a true king to his people so when someone comes along and tries to knock him down a few pegs she speaks up and reminds said person of who they are speaking to leaving Robb speechless and a little turned on. You can end it there or add in a little smut if you want. Thank youuu

A/N requests open! Hope you enjoy, anon! There is just a sprinkle of nsfw at the end, but I tagged it with smut just to be safe ;) i think i used the word shy like a million times. Reblog/Comment if you want more!

You and your husband, Robb, were touring the North and providing supplies to the smallfolk to support them through the Winter. There were many grievances to address and you held court at all the small towns.

You hated the attention, and it was a small mercy that you rarely had to speak. Even when Robb needed your counsel, he asked for it in private so you weren’t embarrassed. The eyes of the people on you were enough to mortify you, yet you bore your discomfort silently and stood by his side.

At one such hearing, Robb ordered the Lords of the lesser Northern houses to visit. You were seated next to him on your throne, Greywind sleeping on the raised floor at your feet.

“The old ways have served the North fruitfully for years. Listen carefully, one war does not make a boy a man and you are yet to know the ways of the world.” Lord Karstark said, wagging a wrinkled finger at Robb.

It was the third time he had questioned your husband in front of his Council. You were furious.

All Robb had suggested was reducing the great burden of supporting lesser houses with tithes from the peasants. Many smallfolks families were missing men and weapons due to the war, and winter was coming. It would be his first Winter as King of the North and he wanted all his subjects to survive, not just the noblemen.

You thought it was admirable. You also knew how hard he worked, spending almost all nights this week pouring over papers and accounts.

“Don’t forget yourself, I am the King,” Robb chided him. Greywind woke up and went to him, a silent threat.

“No man that calls himself King is a true-“ Lord Karstark began in his crotchety old voice. Anger coursed through your veins. How dare this senile old man try to insult your husband.

You cleared your throat. The hall fell silent. Robb frowned and turned to look at you. His wife was a woman of few words but they were all worth hearing.

“My King husband would have no need of repeating his station if you would remember it, my Lord. And if you cannot, then perhaps in the evening of one’s life we must accept our limitations and resign to things we are capable of.” You said calmly, yet sharply. Robb’s jaw dropped in awe.

It took Karstark’s slow mind a moment longer to process.

“Control your tongue, woman,” he said said, eyes wild, pointing to you.

“Disrespect the Queen and you will feel my blade,” Robb yelled, stepping down from the throne and pulling out Ice, just as the direwolf by his side leapt into action.

Karstark did not know when to keep hush. He retorted back sarcastically, and the altercation ended with him being dragged to the dungeons for his impunity. The other lords were also greatly displeased with him, for now they had no chance of changing the King’s mind about restoring their allowances.

You were glad to see the end of the day, and walked into the chambers of your current abode with Robb trailing behind you.

“Lord Karstark demands hot oil for his feet, did you hear it, darling?” Robb said, crushing the piece of correspondence he read. “To send his demands with servants even when imprisoned. The gall of him.” He chuckled.

“I’ve had it up to here with that old bastard,” you said angrily. You let your hair down and started running your fingers through it roughly. The more you thought of it, the more your anger flared.

“How dare he set foot in your court, dine and dwell in our hospitality, and feel entitled to disrespect you like that? I will not stand for it, Robb.” You said, tugging at the lacing and stepping out of your gray court dress.

“Age does not guarantee wisdom, darling. Experience does. And the old fool has none.” Robb said, walking up to you and resting his hands on your shoulders. He pushed your hair to the side and kissed up your neck from your shoulders to your ear.

You tilted your head to give him more access. After a while he turned you around and kissed your mouth. You savored his languid kisses. His hands slowly pushed your chemise over your shoulders till it hung just above your breasts.

You pulled away, and leaned back, his strong arms holding you up.

“I’m sorry for speaking out of turn, love” you said shyly. You were bold in your anger but the shyness was starting to creep in now. “I love you, and I cannot bear to see you insulted after you pour your soul into this Kingdom.”

“Don’t be sorry, you were fantastic,” Robb said, apparently unable to keep his lips off of you. You gasped as he nipped at the bottom of your throat. “I would like to see the wolf in my little wife more often.”

You giggled at his words, and he walked you backwards till your calves hit the bed. Your chemise dropped to your hips and his hands made quick work of finding your breasts.

Your hands came up to cover yourself.

“Robb, the candles,” you said, eyes wide. His own blue ones lit up with mirth.

“I know now that you are not shy, let me see what is mine, darling.” He whispered, pushing your chemise to the floor. You stepped out of it, naked as the day you were born. Your skin felt hot under his hungry gaze.

“Lie back, Y/N,” he said, licking his lips and pushing you down on the bed. “I wish to show you some of my appreciation.” He knelt before you with a wink.

Robbs hands found your knees and he spread them apart. Your hands twisted into his auburn hair in surprise.

And there was nothing shy about the sounds you made that night.

[cjrae]

Tragedy of the Jade Nightingale. Or: My thoughts on Vol. 11 of the Apothecary Diaries.

Given that this volume just came out in English a few days ago, spoilers under the cut!

I usually think of the Apothecary Diaries volumes as pairs - usually two volumes make up an arc. If so, Volume 11 will be the first half of the arc with 12, but it also functions beautifully as a tragedy in it's own right.

** I will be only discussing information appearing officially through Vol. 11. Yes, I have read the fan translations of the web novels, but given that details can change, until it appears in official English translation, I won't yet be including it here.

The Hero

Gyoku-ou. Talk about someone who thinks he's smarter than he actually is. We knew this guy was a threat all the way back in Vol. 8, with how Gyokuyou reacted to her brother's letter and his veiled insult of sending a younger version of herself to catch either her husband's attention or the Imperial Brother's. Now we get to see him in action and he's scary - right up until he's not.

This man is charismatic as anything - he understands what makes people tick on both an individual level as well as a social level. His ability to wield a mob effectively makes him extremely dangerous, but I'm oddly put in mind of Lakan's initial impression of Fengxian. "This woman is strong, but she only knows how to fight in her own, small world."

The world Gyoku-ou inhabits is a very small, petty one. You can see it in his conspiracy theory about Jinshi's birth.

Jinshi is one of two people Gyoku-ou fails to read. When he brings Lakan and Jinshi to his puppet council to gauge support for attacking Shaoh, he thinks he's got a young malcontent in his hands, someone who wants power and is prone to the flashes of temper and insult that often drive young men. Someone who is easily manipulated. Instead, Jinshi mops the floor with him in that meeting, cutting Lakan's support out from under Gyoku-ou and making it clear that his priority is peace above war.

This doesn't take away from Gyoku-ou's political genius - this meeting teaches him that Jinshi has to be maneuvered around, rather than maneuvered directly. If the Imperial Brother doesn't want to play his part, then too bad. Gyoku-ou will see to it that Jinshi is hedged in all directions except where he wants him to go - which is to war. And even then, he's got a fight on his hands as Jinshi fully takes advantage of Empress Gyokuyou's information to undercut Gyoku-ou's support within his own family.

It's a mark of Jinshi's political skill that Gyoku-ou's move in that family council is to flirt with treason. If he can't maneuver the Imperial family through Jinshi, then he shifts tactics to turn Jinshi (and the rest of the Imperial Family) into the villain of his piece - a prince born and raised into utter depravity.

Let's just sit with what Gyoku-ou suggests to the rest of his siblings (minus the Empress) in that meeting. He implies that the Emperor impregnated his own mother in order to produce an heir. A son that he loves so dearly (and unnaturally) that he would willingly look the other way while Jinshi murders his other children in order to make sure that his brother-son-lover succeeds the throne.

This is a brilliant examination of how the bare facts of the situation can be construed by people with very different motivations to fit whatever worldview is most convenient for them. I'm a fan of the palace politics in this series because they feel very real.

Gyoku-ou doesn't lie once. But boy does he create a narrative that suits his purposes and dares anyone (namely Rikuson) to tell Jinshi. He is escalating the situation and he's doing it fast, while also challenging the legitimacy of the Imperial Family. A fact which, if it does get back to Jinshi (or the Emperor), could get the entire new You Clan wiped out just as fast as the Yi Clan was. This scene functions as a microcosm of Gyoku-ou's two fundamental character flaws; his short term thinking and his utter self-absorption.

Becoming The Wind

Since Rikuson was introduced in Vol. 5, he's been a mirror for Jinshi. He's a "pretty boy," calm under pressure, fundamentally kind and decent to other people while also being extremely competent at his job. Unlike Jinshi, he's also a bit older and more mature. He also clearly admires Maomao and sees the qualities that make her exceptional, despite her various masks.

As it turns out, Rikuson mirrors Jinshi in another important sense too - he also has a secret identity. The Yi Clan were the de facto royalty of the Western Capital and Rikuson is one of the direct survivors of the clan. He was never in the line of succession given the Yi Clan's matrilineal structure. But they were quick enough to save some of the children, namely Rikuson and Empress Gyokuyou's three ladies in waiting, Haku'u, Koku'u and Seki'u.

Rikuson, who was Gyoku-ou's excuse to trick His Former Majesty into giving him the authorization to destroy the Yi Clan. Rather than truly being an bastard Imperial prince, he's a young pawn in Gyoku-ou's hands to whip up an armed mob to hunt Rikuson down - and his mother and sister give their lives to ensure his survival - not for vengeance, but so that the Yi Clan's mission of protecting the west will live on even if the named clan itself dies. So, like Jinshi, he is dedicated to the welfare of the people above all else.

The trouble with relying on an unruly mob is that it's sloppy. Gyoku-ou left multiple survivors and they have absolutely no love for him. He's left weapons at his back.

Rikuson is the other person Gyoku-ou utterly fails to read. He spends well over a year back in his homeland, working for Gyoku-ou as an aide ostensibly from the central region, patiently waiting for an opening - even as Gyoku-ou, who knows that Rikuson has to be assigned to the west with some kind of ulterior motive, is so blind that he thinks he must be a secret member of the La Clan, rather than the Yi boy he tried to kill seventeen years earlier.

Rikuson represents the culmination Gyoku-ou's short term thinking in that he doesn't bother to think about the threat of any surviving Yi clan might pose to him.

He will not insult his mother's memory, or his sister's. But if his mission of protecting the west coincides with vengeance for his family? Sure enough, Gyoku-ou's insistence on going to war (and dragging the Imperial family's legitimacy into his motivations) gives Rikuson his opening; especially because he isn't a vigilante.

He is acting under orders.

The New You

Rikuson's point about Gyoku-ou's life being a tragedy hits home when you consider Gyokuyou's thoughts of how she knows her father loves her - but would also abandon her in a heartbeat if she is no longer valuable to him. Unlike her older brother, she has a very clear-eyed view of how their father operates and focuses on making sure that her value never drops in his eyes.

Gyoku-ou's value to Gyoku'en plummeted the day he destroyed the Yi Clan - Gyoku'en's family. He was given a second chance to show that he could still perform the single function of the men of the Yi Clan - to protect the west. When he endangered it instead, Gyoku'en sent the weapon he'd spent seventeen years preparing (Rikuson) with an execution order.

By first destroying the Yi Clan and then following it up with a proposed invasion of Shaoh, Gyoku-ou proved to Gyoku'en that he was no son of his. Given how desperate he was to be his father's son, this whole book is a tragedy in the classic sense. The Jade Nightingale was so desperate to reinvent himself as a Jade Eagle that he destroyed himself in pursuit of the one thing he never lost - his father's love. But, to be his father's heir, what he needed was Gyoku'en's trust and respect, not his love.

And he killed that seventeen years ago along with the Yi Clan.

Ironically, the foreign born girl that he despised and attempted to undermine at every opportunity, emerges as their father's true heir and mother of the nation, with the rest of the surviving Yi clan as part of her loyal retinue.

In her triumph, the Yi Clan is reborn as the You Clan as Gyoku'en, a Yi man, is given a clan name on the strength of Gyokuyou's role as Empress. So much of their history has been lost, down to the matrilineal succession and family records, but their mission lives on through the Yi men who will continue to protect the west, no matter the personal cost to themselves. There is no room for self-absorption here, therefore Gyoku-ou has no place in their new clan.

Also, a parallel to pay attention to is how the destruction of the Yi Clan and the Shi Clan are mirroring each other with the children being saved. The Yi Clan is reborn with a new name, which leads one to wonder what the consequences of saving those Shi children will be long term.

A Dagger In The Dark

Gyoku-ou sucks up a lot of air in Vol. 11 because he is driving the action - Jinshi, Maomao and their party are all stuck reacting to him, except for one character; Chue.

We see Chue attach herself to Maomao starting with the ship and it's not difficult to guess that just as Lihaku is serving as a discreet bodyguard for Maomao on Jinshi's orders, Chue is also there as protection. Chue doesn't try to conceal that she is clearly trained in espionage either.

Rikuson's proposal to Maomao is not a serious bid for her hand, but nor is it a joke - it's a message to Chue that Jinshi needs to tighten security around Maomao. As he puts it, he knows the "hyper protective" elements around her will close ranks. Because he's foreseen a strategy that may not have yet occurred to Gyoku-ou (who tends not to pay attention to the bit parts of the play), but if it does would almost certainly push the country into war.

Maomao is the lever that could move both Lakan and Jinshi.

All he has to do is kill her and make it look like a foreign attack. Lakan's instinctive ability to read a situation and Jinshi's formidable investigative skills would likely be dulled in the face of their rage and grief. Especially since they are technically Gyoku-ou's guests and don't have freedom of movement to push the issue.

Rikuson seizes his opportunity before Gyoku-ou can continue to escalate, but he realizes quickly that Chue arranged the stage and was there as both spy and backup assassin. (I think it's safe to say that Gyoku-ou's conspiracy theory AND that Yi family ledger will be reported, given that we know there were ladies-in-waiting at the meeting and that's how Chue was disguised - and she didn't actually promise to dispose of it).

Gyoku-ou doesn't bother to think that while the Emperor may be far away and the Imperial Brother is a manageable threat, that the people surrounding Jinshi may not be bound by his strictures. Hence, Chue was on standby. No matter what, Gyoku-ou was never going to make it to that ritual. He was never smart enough to realize that his crossing the line would be never be forgiven.

While Jinshi would order an execution if necessary (and has in the past), he would never order an assassination. Therefore, it's evident that Chue reports to someone else. Who that someone is, we don't know, but there's only one person further up the Imperial tree than Jinshi, so it would be reasonable for Rikuson to assume that the Emperor has placed additional protection around not just Jinshi, but Maomao.

Exclusive: Baby Swap!

Jinshi's birth is not a secret to the audience and while Maomao doesn't have confirmation, she's pretty certain of her suspicion. This volume made it patently obvious that there are others out there who are perfectly capable of putting the pieces together, even if the details are twisted.

Let's return to Gyoku-ou's conspiracy theory.

He's put together all the correct pieces. The Emperor's attitude toward Jinshi makes no sense in a traditional palace setting - a much younger, handsome, charismatic and competent brother? That's a threat to the Emperor and his direct line. But Jinshi is never treated that way - instead he's indulged on many fronts.

He's allowed to duck most of his official duties as Ka Zuigetsu (except for a few he can't, where he appears masked).

He's allowed to pretend to be a eunuch for six years and run the Rear Palace.

When he finally reveals himself to the court to put down the Shi Rebellion, he's described as "hale" and "just as proficient in the military arts as the administrative." (More proof that Jinshi is NOT the best judge of his own abilities). He emerges fully formed into court politics - a perfectly trained Crown Prince - only to have a newborn given the title instead.

Gyoku-ou deliberately put the worst possible spin on these facts. I suspect the rest of the You siblings are going to keep their mouths shut about Gyoku-ou's ugly theory, but if he could think of it, if Maomao could think of it with just seeing Jinshi standing next to Lady Ah-Duo, then so can others.

Maomao can be mad about Jinshi branding himself all she wants, but it's currently looking like an absolutely BRILLIANT move on Jinshi's part. Whatever doubts Gyoku-ou managed to plant about Jinshi and the Emperor's motives with the rest of the You clan siblings, Empress Gyokuyou is not likely to entertain it.

Also, it got the Emperor to essentially "banish" Jinshi to the edges of the Empire shortly after his new Crown Prince was born, which makes it look to other members of the court like the Emperor is taking steps to rein in his younger brother and balances the factions that have to be forming back in the capital.

This is not a secret that can be kept forever. No matter how careful Ah-Duo and Anshi were, the information is starting to leak out around the edges, as we see that the Empress' ladies in waiting that were dismissed clearly had eyes and ears - and in at least one case, a loose tongue.

The next arc is being seeded and Jinshi is inching closer and closer to that throne. He ran the Rear Palace for years (essentially managing the nation in microcosm) and as of the end of Vol. 11, he's now stepping up to govern a province and gain actual ruling experience while also having suppressed a war.

I've said before that Jinshi ascending the throne is the bad ending - if there is a single person who is more trapped by the palace than the prince, it's the emperor. We'll see what happens!

[madeinnaboo]

His master | Anakin Skywalker

this is very short. I apologize🥹 

also I am planning on writing part two for Training, I just have to figure out what it should be about since I didn't expect anyone to like it enough to ask for a part two (I love you!!!!)

lastly, I sadly can't answer comments under my posts, this is my secondary blog, and I use my primary one for personal use:( I do read everything tho!

summary: you're Anakins master and you help him with a certain situation words: 1.2k

requests are open:)

warnings: m! receiving, sub! Anakin, nothing too crazy:)

,,You're lost in your thoughts, padawan" You say after noticing Anakin staring at his feet for a long time. He quickly looked up at you, with red spreading across his cheeks.

,,I am sorry, master" He apologized, and you smiled at him. You came back from a hard mission, and it was clear that both of you needed some rest. After finally arriving back at base on Kashyyyk, Anakin followed you everywhere you went like a lost puppy. Finally, right before you entered your tent, you turned around to face him. He got surprised and almost apologized for walking into your tent. A smirk grew across your face. 

,,Its late Anakin. Go to sleep, you need to rest" You said and you noticed how his face became more dim. Did he really expect to be with you in your tent?

,,Yes master" He said, but didn't walk away; instead, he just stood there, staring at you. With a deep breath, you took a step closer to him, making sure no one was around.

,,You did great today" You said as you gently caressed his cheeks. As soon as he felt your warm touch, his eyes closed in pleasure. You carefully studied his face before he finally opened his eyes. You smiled at him after he thanked you, and you turned around, entering your tent. You felt his presence in front of your tent for a while before he finally left. Quickly, you pushed all thoughts about him from your head, knowing how wrong they were. The tension between you and Anakin has been growing every day, and soon you realized he cared about you more than he should. You tried to force yourself to be just a master to him and nothing more, but there was just something about him. About the way he looked up at you every time you stood close to him, the way his breath caught in his throat when you touched him while helping him with his lightsaber. Anakin has always been very cocky and sarcastic toward everyone but you. To him, you were so much more. Someone he would do anything for, even though he knew you didn't feel the same about him. Which was a lie. A shameful lie.

It was after midnight, and you finally went to bed. You knew you needed to rest because you had to go back to Coruscant in the morning. After a while, you closed your eyes, getting ready for the much-needed sleep; however, there was something making you unable to fall asleep. Deep down, you felt that Anakin wasn't sleeping. You rolled your eyes and got out of bed. You walked out of your tent and headed to his. He was probably still awake, working on some scrap, completely forgetting about time. Normally, you'd let him do whatever he wanted with his free time, but you needed him to focus on hiding his feelings tomorrow since you had a meeting with the Jedi Council. After finally reaching his tent, you didn't wait for anything and just simply walked in, pushing the heavy material from your face. Your eyes took a second to adjust to the darkness, but when they did, you just stood there. In front of you was Anakin in his bed, panting heavily as he stroked his cock. His head was buried deep in his pillows, so he didn't hear you coming. You just stared at him as he pleasured himself, unable to move.

,,Anakin?" You finally spoke, and he almost jumped. Your eyes met, and his face instantly turned white. You expected him to quickly cover himself, while he would apologize multiple times, but instead he whined. His hand was still stroking his cock as he was watching you now. 

,,Master please" He whined out, and your heart almost dropped to your stomach. You were caught so off guard, you genuinely couldn't think of what you should do. Another moan from him brought you back to reality.

,,Please master, it hurts" He almost whispered, and you felt your body moving closer to him. When you were standing directly next to him, his free hand reached for yours, tightly squeezing it afterward. Your eyes traveled from his face to his naked chest, his strong abs and then his cock. He softly whined as he saw you staring at it. You were fighting an inner battle. You desperately wanted to touch him, but you also knew that you'd be crossing a line you could never cross back. After some time, you made up your mind and got on your knees in front of his bed. With no hesitation, he sat up, placing his legs next to you, basically caging you. You put your hands on his thighs, and his hands went to your hair. 

,,Anakin, this has to stay between us" You told him, and he impatiently nodded, pushing your head closer to his crotch. You took a deep breath before grabbing his thick cock. He was so incredibly sensitive that even the smallest touch from you made him almost cum. You licked his pulsing tip while looking at him through your lashes. A loud moan escaped his pretty lips, and you wrapped your lips around him. After some time of just teasing his tip, you finally licked his whole shaft before fully sucking him off. His cock was thick and long, making you unable to fit him whole, so you helped yourself with your hands. His head was thrown back while his mouth was open. This is more than he ever dreamed of. You were purposely sucking him off at a very slow pace. Soon, you felt his hips buckle into your throat in a desperate move to make you go faster. You dug your fingers into his thighs, making him know he didn't have that sort of power over you. However, since he was so good for you, moaning so nicely, you sped up your pace, focusing his tip every time you went up. 

,,M-Master" He fought hard to say even a single word, and you knew why. His breathing was heavy, and his cock started to twitch inside your mouth. Shortly after that, his hands squeezed your hair more tightly before his warm cum painted the inside of your throat. Anakin bit his lower lip painfully to stop himself from moaning too loud. When you knew he had given you all he had, you cleaned his tip with your tongue before swallowing his cum. He was looking down at you with so much love in his eyes. After a while, you stood up and his hands caught yours. Neither of you knew what to say.

,,Thank you, master" He said while looking up at you now. You nodded with a soft smile before running your fingers through his hair.

,,Go to sleep Anakin" You said before you felt sadness consume his body. You had to go before something more would happen. With quick steps, you left his tent and went back to yours, checking if anyone was out. You sat down on your bed with a loud thud before putting your face in your hands. This was so wrong. Your mind was quickly filled with images of his face as he came into your mouth. With a deep breath, you fell into your bed and forced yourself to fall asleep.

[yuurivoice]

Good morning Sir, I hope ou are having a nice DAY!

There was a time where I was asked for permission to use (or something like that) one scene that I drew, I don't know which one tho, the thing is... WHICH ONE? WAS IT THE ONE WITH FINNEAS AT THE COUNCIL? I just wanna knowr, that's it uvu.

Im completely normal about Evalas and haven't been spending the last week doing nothing but think about it, can't wait to explode when it comes out!!!!!!!!!!!!!

I believe it was the two pieces you did for the Zine! Which now I think I can safely say, you had me freaked out behind the scenes because up to that point there were only so many crumbs to follow but you captured a vibe that hadn't even been given breath yet! Which reminds me that I need to actually do what I was gonna do with those (turn them into big ass sound panel art pieces lol).

But! Your council scene piece was also one that made me go "???? is BB reading my notes?" because with minimal info on architecture and culture in Evalas you depicted pretty much what was in my head! 😂

And I'm glad it has taken root in your head as much as it has mine. I know I'm down bad when I'm writing what is essentially fanfic of my own stuff. I only write prose when I'm madly in love with characters and stories and I'm almost doing it involuntarily at this point. So that's exciting!

[empiredesimparte]

⚜ Le Cabinet Noir | N°26 | Francesim, Palais des Tuileries, Paris, 9 Fructidor An 230

In a historic televised address, Emperor Napoleon V, unexpectedly, decides to temporarily hand over power to his beloved wife, Empress Charlotte, thereby instituting a Regency. This unexpected announcement surprised the French public, who had anticipated hearing about the first political actions of his reign. To reassure the nation, Napoleon explains that the Empress will be supported by a trusted council, led by Imperial Prince Henri, who will ensure the continuity and greatness of Francesim.

Beginning ▬ Previous ▬ Next

⚜ Traduction française

Dans une annonce télévisée historique, l’Empereur Napoléon V, contre toute attente, décide de céder temporairement le pouvoir à son épouse bien-aimée, l’Impératrice Charlotte, marquant ainsi la mise en place d’une Régence. Cette déclaration inattendue a surpris le peuple français, qui attendait plutôt les premières mesures politiques de son règne. Pour rassurer la nation, Napoléon indique que l'Impératrice sera épaulée par un conseil de confiance, présidé par le prince impérial Henri, qui veillera à la continuité et à la grandeur de la Francesim.

(Napoléon) Français, françaises,

(Napoléon) C’est avec un profond sentiment de responsabilité et de dévouement envers notre grande nation que je m’adresse à vous aujourd’hui.

(Napoléon) Je veux servir la Francesim avec discernement. Pour cela j’ai, comme les Empereurs avant moi, bien des conquêtes à faire.

(Napoléon) Afin de répondre à toutes les exigences qu’implique mon rôle, j’ai pris la décision de parfaire ma formation militaire à l’Ecole Navale.

(Napoléon) J’ai la ferme conviction qu’elle sera bénéfique à tout l’Empire et renforcera notre position sur la scène internationale.

(Napoléon) Durant cette période, je crois satisfaire l’opinion publique, en même temps que j’obéis à mes sentiments pour l’Impératrice, en la désignant comme Régente.

(Napoléon) L’Impératrice sera assistée par un Conseil composé d’hommes ayant ma confiance, le prince impérial Henri à sa tête. Ensemble, ils travailleront pour la grandeur de la Francesim

(Napoléon) Montrons qu’une nation où règne la confiance résiste aux emportements, et que, maîtresse d’elle-même, elle n’obéit qu’à l’honneur ou à la raison

[ekman]

Environ 18 heures après la diffusion de l’interview de Vladimir Poutine par Tucker Carlson, Twitter annonçait autour de 125 millions de vues. Je ne sais pas si ce missile-là est supersonique, ou s’il s’est déguisé en torpille au plasma, mais autant vous dire que c’est un brin la panique dans l’Occident collectif – pour ne pas dire “collecteur”. On m’a montré les réactions sur LCI (ou était-ce BFM ?) de chroniqueurs confus, d’experts délirants et de traine-sabres hystériques n’hésitant pas à se noyer dans leur logique de loser intégral : Poutine ment, alors mentons plus que lui encore. Fascinant ! Plus loin, c’est le chargé de communication du “National Security Council” des États-Unis, l’amiral John Kirby, qui ne parvient pas à dissimuler son agacement et son désarroi face au tsunami d’audience réalisé par cette longue séquence. “Les Américains savent qui est Poutine et ce qu’il a fait.” Oui, bien sûr John. Ils savent aussi que quelques heures plus tôt, Joe “Alzy” Biden affirmait que tout allait bien dedans sa boule d’escalier – deux jours après s’être entretenu avec Mitterrand. Les États-Unis fabriquent des mensonges comme ils impriment des dollars. C’est à dire sans vouloir comprendre qu’ils sont dans une fuite en avant qui un jour va cesser, Brics obligent. L’empire de la freedomerie s’écroule à son tour, emporté par cette méchante fièvre apparue un soir de novembre 1989. La liberté tue l’espérance et seuls ceux qui doivent lutter pour elle ont l’énergie pour se tenir debout. Je sais, c’est un poil sisyphien, mais c’est ce que j’ai observé tout au long des cinquante dernières années. Les combattants marxistes d’hier sont devenus des entrepreneurs libéraux et les porteurs de sacs de riz face caméra sont devenus des porteurs de parts anonymes. Mozambique et Amazon réunis dans la même équation fatale. Vladimir sourit. Il s’amuse à dérouler sa démonstration sans appel. Il aime bien Carlson, ça se voit, même s’il le rattache fatalement à cette nation de clowns psychopathes que sont devenus les États-Unis. Enfin “Unis”... pour quelques temps encore.

J.-M. M.

[australianwomensnews]

Teenage girls know a lot more about democracy and what makes it tick than teenage boys, but when it comes to political ambition the boys win hands down.

A global study of 82,000 teenagers from 22 countries showed that almost without exception girls had a greater engagement with and understanding of government, equality, public trust, voting and representation, than their male peers.

But boys were more likely to say they were interested in becoming a politician

“Australian girls are outperforming boys on knowledge, attitudes and values that support a greater competency when it comes to participation in civic life,” said Rachel Parker, from the Australian Council of Educational Research, who worked on the study.

“One of the few areas where boys outperform girls in the study is the intention to be politically active.”

The report, Education for Citizenship in Times of Global Challenge, found that girls were far more knowledgeable about how parliament works, globalisation, independence of statutory authorities and voting and representation.

Girls were also far more likely than boys to support gender equality and equal rights for migrants and cultural groups to access education, employment and political participation.

They were more engaged with big issues such as environmental protection and more likely to participate in civic activities.

However, girls were less likely to report expecting to join a political party or a trade union or stand as a candidate in an election.

The study did not dig into the reasons why, but previous research identified parental influence and societal expectations as feeding gender norms relating to political ambition, as well as widely held perceptions that politics is a man’s world.

Indeed, 40 per cent of boys thought men are better suited to being political leaders than women, while 25 per cent agreed with the statement that women should stay out of politics.

Ella Curran, 18, harboured an ambition to become a politician when she was in Year 9, but a school excursion to Canberra cured her of that notion.

“I started to think more realistically about the sort of lifestyle I wanted for myself. And we did a legal studies excursion to Parliament House and watched question time,” she told AFR Weekend.

“I felt it was so aggressive and personal in the insults that were being thrown about that I just thought it was not the sort of workplace I could feel comfortable in,” said Ms Curran, a first-year arts and philosophy student at the University of Sydney.

“I’m just not prepared to face that kind of abuse or have my appearance or relationship status mocked in public rather than focus on what I am actually doing.”

Ms Curran’s two great passions are climate change and gender equality.

“I’m concerned about climate change, particularly Australia’s response to that because we are one of the worst countries in the world for our emissions,” she said.

Lulu Hamilton, 16, who counts women’s rights and climate change as her two greatest passions, also harboured a fleeting ambition to become a politician when she was younger but abandoned it without any fanfare.

“I thought it was the best platform to make change because if I could have power, I could make my goals become a reality,” Ms Hamilton said.

Having spent the first 12 years of her life in China, seeing democracy in action, including the free exchange of information and ideas, was a head-spinning affair.

“It was such a jarring difference. I never would have spoken to my friends in China about climate change, gender or politics. Even our textbooks had stuff whited out because the Chinese government didn’t want us to read about Tibet and Taiwan. We had very limited access to media.”

As for a future in politics? That’s out of the question.

“I feel the negatives outweigh the positives.”

[ordinorultor-if]

As the ruler of Akize, you have several advisors. Unfortunately for you, few were as qualified as your younger siblings.

Bertrand/Bertrada - The Marshal

The eldest of your siblings and only one year younger. They were trained by your mother (and your ‘Uncle’ Phillippe, after her death) on how to be a tactician and strategist. Even though they’ve always been somewhat jealous of you, they faithfully serve as your Marshal.

Albus/Albane - The Chancellor

The elder of the two twins, they are one of the ‘middle children’ of your parents and are about three years younger than you. They were trained on how to be a diplomat by your paternal uncle, Louis, and serve as your chancellor. They can be much more underhanded than most people expect.

Melanthe/Melanie - The Spymaster

The younger of the two twins, they are one of the ‘middle children’ of your parents and are about three years younger than you. They were trained in espionage by their father (and by Count Francois of Tolosa, after your father’s death), and serve as your spymaster. They are prone to overworking themselves, the result of a pseudo-inferiority complex combined with middle child syndrome.

Évariste/Enora - The Scholar

The second-youngest of your siblings, they are about four years younger than you. They were taught matters of scholarship by Bishop Rosalie, and advise you on scientific and historical matters. Despite seemingly having their head in the clouds a lot, they are perhaps the most emotionally intelligent of your siblings.

Phillippe/Perrine - The Steward

The youngest of your siblings, they are about six years younger than you. They were taught economics by Lady Eléonore, and advise you on economic matters. Though they are sweet and bubbly, they have always held a temper.

Your siblings' genders vary based on yours.

[whovianofmidgard]

Summary:

Now that everyone has arrived to Beleriand Filgolfin's Host needs to catch up to the Fëanorians. That means being filled in on the events that had transpired while they were sailing, settlements that were built, early alliences that were made, and the battles already fought without them. Also traversing all the way to Mithrim to meet with the Fëanorians. But Maglor and Fingon's relationship status is not the only thing that has changed in all that time. What sort of changes will Maglor find within his own family when he sees them again?

Part of the Losgar Unburnt verse, the series is called Maedhros Changes the First Age

For @silmsmutweek  Day 6, Prompt: Politics, warfare and sex, Object of the Day: crown

Snippet:

As the swan-ship fleet made ready for mooring on the shores of Losgar, Makalaurë noted how things had changed in his absence. What had been the long sprawling encampment of the entire Fëanárian Host when he left, had since shrunk to less than tenth of its size and was fashioned into a small, defensible outpost.

Elves from around the outpost came and aided in speeding up the docking process. Meanwhile others milled about the tents that still stood around, and some went about their duties further inland from the beach where a few wooden cabins and one larger log house with a stone base had been built. There were also two guard towers in sight, and what looked to be an unfinished wall, work visibly still in progress, raised around the surrounding area.

“I suppose we won’t be meeting with the High King here,” Findekáno sidled up beside Makalaurë, as he sized up the tiny outpost from their perch on the prow.

“So it would seem,” the minstrel answered, his eyes scanning the faces of elves. None of them were of his family.

“They must have long moved inland,” he mused.

A hand slipped into the Fëanorion’s, and he tore his gaze away from his search to glance at Findekáno. His cousin’s face shone with kindness and hope, and it was hard not to feel unworthy being under such regard.

“Then we will follow and catch up to them,” Findekáno easily said.

Makalaurë couldn’t help but return that statement with a smile. Being able to smile still caught him off guard, he hadn’t done so ever since the Trees’ light went out, and it was all thanks to Maitimo’s beloved. His beloved too now, if they hadn’t terribly misunderstood his brother’s hints.

His eyes slipped back to the outpost before them, and said, “We’ll have to tell whoever’s in charge of this place that your father’s Host won’t all fit within their walls.”

“Work...” Findekáno huffed.

Makalaurë unsuccessfully suppressed a snort of laughter at his dejected face, knowing his recently acquired lover would rather run off to explore their new surroundings than sit by Nolofinwë’s side with the elf who commanded this outpost and discuss logistics for hours. Having watched Findekáno hoist sails and row along with their crew ‘till his arms were numb for weeks on end made it all the more comical that having done all that he considered being forced to sit still in a council meeting the harder job.

To cheer him up Makalaurë pressed a chaste kiss to his cheek, then pulled Findekáno by the hand to finally disembark.

Read the rest on Ao3

[loggiepj]

FORBIDDEN

Part 4 | Part 5

Part 6

Wanda didn't get a chance to visit Y/n. Not when Layla was always there whenever she managed to reach a few feet away outside Pepper's tent. 

Pietro wondered why he suddenly lost sight of Wanda when they went together to visit the human. He should have expected it — that his sister was not yet ready to befriend someone like Y/n. 

Wanda tried though, but every time she had the courage, the other promiscuous witch was already there talking sweetly to Y/n. And Layla wasn't even doing it alone, she was always with her followers behind her. Wanda couldn't even help but retch at the annoying sight of what seemed to be dried flowers in Layla's hands. 

Rumors then began to circulate like wildfire that Y/n and Layla were linked romantically, much to Wanda's dislike. She did try to control the upset she could feel inside her gut. But the more she could hear Layla's cheerful voice as she began narrating the things she and Y/n had talked about, the upset only turned into fury. 

So Wanda had to stay away for a while. 

The witch spent most of her time in her tent alone, either sleeping or staring at the entrance bidding for something she didn't know. When she had managed not to think about a certain human who had filled most of her thoughts, Wanda's mind was suddenly consumed with what happened the other day when she had almost lost control if it wasn't for her brother. 

It wasn't the first time. 

Wanda was seven years old when she first discovered her powers unlike any other witch her age. 

The town she grew up in called someone with the same abilities as hers the Scarlet Witch. 

She used to hear stories about what the Scarlet Witch could do and how powerful they could get. The Scarlet Witch is the most powerful witch, stronger than any Supreme Witches or even the eldest amongst the Witches' council leaders, who could literally wipe all the population of the world off to extinction in just one flick of their wrist. 

When Wanda accidentally burned the huge fields of wheat they had behind their house when she was just a kid, their parents were suddenly filled with fear — both for their own child's safety and for others. She could still remember how their father hid her in the basement for days until the news of unexplained explosion in the farm had dissipated. 

Wanda had no idea though. She was still upset because she was left alone in the farm while Pietro got to go with their father to the wet market. It was only supposed to be a silly tantrum. And that was what terrified her parents the most since the explosion in the farm was only caused by a child's tantrum. A little child's tantrum. 

Ever since then, the need to teach Wanda and Pietro about certain spells increased tenfold. Pietro complained all the time while Wanda's interest only piqued more. She even went to sneak into their basement at the age of eleven, just to read some of their father's forbidden books, where she had also come across black magic and how to harness them. 

Wanda learned how to call her powers on her own one day. Small red mists began swirling around her fingertips, her eyes fascinated at the sight until she sent the apple tree across their yard burning. Pietro quickly made up an excuse that it was struck by lightning but in truth, he saw everything and what his sister had done. 

The young female witch didn't try to do it again in fear of what trouble she could further do. 

The second and last time it happened was the time their village was attacked by Deviants. It was midnight when the slaughter began. 

The twins just turned thirteen. 

Pietro woke Wanda up in the middle of the night, drowsy and coughing from all the smoke coming on each side of their house. And then she could hear their parents screaming downstairs. 

Pietro was adamant to protect his sister no matter the cost, so he pulled her out of the window, threw themselves down the roof to head towards the dark woods beyond. 

Another scream was all it took for Wanda to get out from her brother's grasp and run to their parents' aid. That was when she saw her mother's head being cut off before her. 

It was all darkness after that. 

The next morning, Wanda woke up with tattered singed clothes and the empty burnt rubbles before her. 

Wanda knew she had lost control then, just like what happened in the farm. Only this time, she had destroyed their entire town. 

She found Pietro safely in the woods later on as she tried to escape, unconscious but alive. She was thankful she didn't hurt him. 

From then on, Wanda grew wary of her own powers. 

When Wanda and Pietro were sent under their relatives' care, she never stopped trying to master her powers, to use it only when necessary. There were even times when she could use it to levitate items in the house just to help her with household chores. But it was only executed when her brother or other people weren't around for she had no idea when it would get out of control.

Through time, the twins learned that it might be due to Wanda's emotions. 

 

"I HEARD from someone you were my number one admirer." 

Wanda jumped from surprise on her bed,  bringing her to the present, not expecting to see Y/n grinning from ear to ear by the entrance of her own tent. 

"Sorry," Y/n quickly apologized, blushing as she immediately looked down at her own boots when she noticed the witch was barely wearing any clothing, long expanse of porcelain skin exposed in full display. "I didn't mean to scare you." 

"It's okay, I was just surprised, that's all," Wanda replied in a rush, standing up from her bed as she moved slowly towards the human. "How are you feeling?" 

Y/n shrugged her shoulders, chuckling with eyes still avoiding Wanda. "Felt like I slept for ages." 

Wanda hummed, stopping at an arm's length distance, not wanting to walk into Y/n's space. "Pretty sure your ego's inflated now that you're practically the camp's hero." 

Y/n then raised her eyebrow at Wanda, focusing on her face instead. "I'm not a hero. Pietro and others were there too." 

"That's not what your girlfriend is telling the camp." 

"Girlfriend? I don't have a girlfriend." 

Wanda only scoffed. "The flowers on your bedside table told me otherwise." 

A smirk finally grew on Y/n's face. "Oh, so you really did visit me. I was starting to think Pepper was only trying to lift my spirits up." 

The witch's cheeks only turned red as she turned her back at the human, even when all she wanted to do was wipe that beautiful smirk off Y/n's face. "Don't flatter yourself. It doesn't suit you." 

Y/n softly chuckled. "Well, regardless, I'd like to thank you for being there—" 

Wanda abruptly turned around to face Y/n. "Why are you still nice to me when I'm nothing but ill-mannered to you?" 

Y/n swallowed a nervous lump before she replied, "You're not necessarily ill-mannered—" 

"Stop alleviating things—" 

"I'm not, it's just—" Y/n suddenly ended the conversation as she tightly gripped her side. Her face was contorted in pain as she let out a groan. 

Wanda's stature immediately became worried before reaching out to the human, hands touching Y/n as if the latter was so delicate and could easily break. 

"Does it hurt? It shouldn't hurt that much, Pepper said that. . . ." Wanda's voice trailed off when she noticed the wide grin on Y/n's face, which slowly burst into laughter. 

The witch slapped Y/n's arms repeatedly as she exclaimed. "You ass! How could you make a joke out of something so serious?!" 

Y/n tried to get away from the witch's wrath until they were both outside the tent. 

"I'm sorry," Y/n apologized, still laughing. "But you should have seen your face." 

Wanda stopped her attack when she noticed some of the campers staring their way. 

Y/n only went on, "But see, you still care. That's why I like you. Underneath this strong facade you got going on outside, there's a soft kindhearted woman who I want to be acquainted with." 

Wanda let out a sigh before she licked her lips, hoping Y/n wouldn't notice how her heart beat never stopped racing. She crossed her arms over her chest, suddenly realizing anyone could see her nipples poking through her cloth. Y/n, on the other hand, might have spent a little bit too long gawking at her, until she averted her focus to the plants beside Wanda's tent instead. 

"I . . . I want to apologize for the way I had been treating you in the past," Wanda muttered, making Y/n look back her way. "I let my fear and doubts consume me before trying to get to know you and the others." 

"It's—" 

"I'm not yet done," Wanda cut her off, sending Y/n her signature glare. 

Y/n zipped her lips as she grew silent, smiling. 

"What I said those nights," the witch went on, "I never meant them. It's just so hard to trust someone when I've grown to hate them my entire life." 

Y/n nodded in understanding. She could see from the witch's eyes how sincere she was. "It's okay. I completely understand where you're coming from. I don't judge a book by its cover. Plus, you're awfully nice, Wanda, whether you know it or not. Pepper said you helped her bandage my wound when she's busy, and a lot of the injured ones too, so thank you—" 

"Don't make a big deal out of it," Wanda muttered before a small smile appeared on her face. 

It only made Y/n's grin wider. "See? You should smile more often." 

She playfully threw her fists at Y/n once again, the latter trying to make a run away from the former. 

"Oi, Y/n!" Pietro's voice disrupted the moment. "I didn't know you were released from Pepper's care." 

And when Y/n went running towards Pietro, Wanda couldn't help the way she stared at the former's back, wanting to wrap her arms around her just like what Pietro was doing. Only unbelievably longer than appropriate. And maybe a kiss or two, perhaps. 

Wanda quickly shook her head, dismissing such impure thoughts. She decided to go back into her tent. 

 

Y/N TRIED to give the witch some space, burying the intense feelings she felt towards her. Ever since waking up, she knew she should think about how she had managed to survive when she swore she died for a minute. But when Pepper mentioned how Wanda took care of her while she was unconscious, it was always what the human could think about. 

Layla's presence should have distracted Y/n, but it would be wrong to lead the other witch on. 

That was what the human had been doing for days as she recovered — avoid Layla and her cronies.

And just when she thought everything was going to be okay, something unpleasant caught her eye. 

The same male witch who got the Avengers into trouble a week ago named Vision, seemed to be sitting way too close to Wanda during dinner at the pavilion. 

Are they lovers? 

Y/n shouldn't be jealous. She had no right to be. But the way Vision and Wanda were acting towards each other seemed like they were a married couple who had been together for too long. 

"They're adorable, aren't they?" Layla commented, taking a seat beside the human. 

Y/n could only nod awkwardly, trying not to look embarrassed from getting caught staring at Wanda. 

"As far as I can remember, they were arranged to marry one day," Layla added, instantly making Y/n crestfallen. "They just got separated due to the recent attacks." 

Layla wasn't lying though. She really thought the rumors of Vision proposing to Wanda for marriage were true. It was the talk of the town months ago. Layla knew it would make the human heartbroken for she could see the way the latter was staring at Wanda. But better now than later. Layla didn't want Y/n to get more hurt, to see and expect something that wasn't there. 

Y/n tried to appear nonchalant and unaffected by the new information. She even did convince Layla that Vision and Wanda look good together since the other witch was now changing the topic. 

But Y/n couldn't get her mind off Wanda. Unaware that on the other corner of the pavilion, Wanda almost murdered the innocent mashed potato on her plate with her fork at the unforgivable sight of Y/n and Layla together while unwillingly listening to Vision's boring tales.

Taglist :

@bibliophilicbi @swiftie1-0-1 @whitewidowsbite @aliherreraaa @smromanoff

Author's note:

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[downstarr]

The King and The Hobbit

I've ventured into a new fandom with a short piece that imagined Thorin survived The Battle of the Five Armies.

The King and the Hobbit (3928 words) by downstar Chapters: 1/1 Fandom: The Hobbit (Jackson Movies) Rating: Mature Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Bilbo Baggins/Thorin Oakenshield Characters: Thorin Oakenshield, Bilbo Baggins Additional Tags: Fix-It, Post-Canon Fix-It, Post-Canon, Thorin Oakenshield Lives, First Time, POV Bilbo Baggins, Dwarves in the Shire, The Shire (Tolkien), Bag End (Tolkien), Love Confessions, Declarations Of Love, Friends to Lovers, Post-Hobbit, Dwarf/Hobbit Relationship(s), Non-Graphic Smut, Bottom Bilbo Baggins, Top Thorin Oakenshield, My First Work in This Fandom, bagginshield Summary: Several months after The Battle of the Five Armies, the dwarves travel to the Shire to celebrate Bilbo's birthday. One dwarf in particular arrives ahead of his company to reconnect with Bilbo. --- I recently did a marathon rewatch of LoTR and The Hobbit movies. I hadn't realized on first viewing how close to being canonical Thorin and Bilbo's love came. Thought I'd try my hand at this fandom and do a little Thorin lives piece. It was great fun to try out a new world and new voices. With apologies if I made any canon errors! I am a pretty casual Tolkien fan.

EXCERPT:

It was two days before the 53rd birthday of Bilbo Baggins, and the dwarves of Erebor were on their way. 

As much as the Hobbits of the Shire did not approve of Bilbo’s wandering ways, his contributions during The Battle of the Five Armies and the retaking of Erebor from the dragon Smaug were already passing into the realm of legend. So, plans had been underway for weeks to celebrate his birthday with a lavish party.  

Reservations about his improper adventuring aside, what hobbit doesn’t love an excuse to throw a feast? 

Bilbo accepted the honour reluctantly, and only on the condition that the dwarves with whom he’d shared the quest would be invited. That nearly derailed the whole thing then and there, but after a bit of squabbling and peacemaking, the council agreed to the conditions. 

Bilbo had spent the last week bustling around Bag End, preparing for his visitors whose presence he felt was far more significant than his own turning of the year. It was no trivial matter to travel from Erebor to the Shire, even though the journey could be made in relative peace and safety - unlike their original quest. So he was aware of what a great honour it was for his friends to make the journey.

At the best of times, Bilbo could be full of nervous energy. It had been hard enough to keep up his facade as an ordinary, respectable Hobbit when he hadn’t gone off on an adventure. But now that the residents of the Shire knew that his respectability had been a facade, they looked at him even more askance. That, in turn, had made him even more self-aware, especially as it felt like the entire Shire was attending his birthday party. There was admiration and awe in the way the Shirefolk looked at him, as well. Just because a Hobbit didn’t want to go off fighting dragons themselves didn’t mean they didn’t admire his courage. 

Admiration felt almost more awkward than disapproval to Bilbo. But he’d slowly been learning to lean into the attention. Still, he felt very relieved and excited that his dwarven friends would be attending as well. And one friend in particular. 

Bilbo was just finishing stowing away the most valuable pieces of silver and sentimental knickknacks when there was a knock on his door.

As Hobbits tended to be very well-mannered about not dropping by unannounced so late, Bilbo convinced himself he’d imagined the knock and went right back to his tidying up.

The knock came again, this time harder and unmistakable. 

Bilbo crept cautiously from the kitchen toward the entryway, peering around the corner and doing a little halt-step. The movement of a shadow outside the window convinced him there was indeed someone out there. He twitched his nose, flickered his fingers, then cautiously stepped forward to pull open the door.

The figure was broad-shouldered and heavily cloaked, and no hobbit. 

A moment of fear spiked down Bilbo’s spine. His adventure had shown him the wide word, but it had also made him much more aware of the mortal danger that most hobbits had the good fortune to never see. He started to reach for Sting, which hung just behind an old coat he kept by the door. 

“You look upon me as an enemy, Bilbo Baggins. Surely these few months haven’t changed things between us so much.” 

Bilbo immediately stopped reaching for his sword. The spike of fear turned to joy. “Thorin?!” 

The bulky figure passed into the light of Bilbo’s entryway, revealing the most welcome face of the King Under the Mountain. Thorin smiled, the corners of his eyes wrinkling. “You sound surprised. Did you not invite us? Shall I go?” He motioned behind him.

Bilbo stood there staring at Thorin. They hadn’t seen each other in many, many months. When he’d left Erebor, Thorin was still under the care of Tauriel, whose Elven healing had saved him a mere breath from death’s door. Even then, his recovery had been long and slow, and Bilbo wasn’t certain that the King of Erebor would have the strength to make the journey to the Shire.

But now, here he was, standing right in front of him. Bilbo stared at him, and as he did, familiar, confusing feelings bubbled to the surface. He was somehow more handsome and noble than even his memory. He looked hale and healthy, though one hand held a silver-topped cane.

“Well?” asked Thorin with a roll of amused thunder in his tone. “Can I come in? I won’t do you the dishonour of pushing my way in uninvited as my kin and I once did.”  

“Oh yes! Yes of course. You are most welcome. Most welcome, indeed. Come, come,” Bilbo reached out to catch Thorin’s arm and pull him inside. He looked past him and stepped out onto the porch. He’d expected a gaggle of dwarves to be in Thorin’s company, but the lane was quiet save for the singing of cicadas.  “You’re alone?” 

“I left my company behind in Bree, where they will stay for the night. They will make their way here tomorrow. But I wanted to come ahead, to see you before the madness of the celebration to come.” 

Bilbo closed the rounded door and found himself staring at Thorin again. He wore a travelling cloak, but as the weather was still mild, it was not rimmed in fur. Even without that added bulk, the broad set of his shoulders was apparent. 

Bilbo reached for the cloak, and Thorin shrugged it off into his hands. He staggered under the weight of it. “Please, come in. Have a seat. I’ll make us some tea. Are you hungry?” He bustled off and gently set the heavy cloak on an armchair, then made his way back to the kitchen. He rocked on his feet, his whole body humming with unexpected excitement and a touch of nerves. 

Thorin rested his cane against the wall. He stood a bit askance and it was clear he was favouring the side where the orc blade had cut him clean through and nearly taken his life. “I wish nothing of you but your company, Bilbo. But…” he grinned softly, “...a cup of tea would not go amiss.”

“Right! I’ll get right on that. I’ve got some lovely cakes as well. The food is quite horrible in Bree. You’re probably dying for a bit of proper food after so long on the road. I’ll…”

Bilbo’s bustling was stopped in its tracks when Thorin caught his arm.

Continue reading on Ao3

[writingsofwesteros]

Orgasm denial !

Imagine Otto and Elia squeezing in a quickie before a council meeting.. but he doesn't let her cum.. He leaves her teetering on the edge and pulls away to readjust their clothes... ignoring her look... he keeps her like that all throughout the meeting too...

WHY IS HE SO MEAN !

Poor Elia is scowling at him...in a subtle manner thank you.

Ou she will punish him for this

[eretzyisrael]

By BEATRICE SAYERS

An event in London last week to mark the exodus and expulsion of Jews from Arab countries became an opportunity to counter the current far-left narrative that paints Israel as a country of white settlers.

Organiser Lyn Julius, who runs Harif, the association of Jews from the Middle East and North Africa, told the audience at JW3 that 50 percent of Jews in Israel have roots in Arab and Muslim countries. They had not left those countries willingly, she added, and many left as a result of massacres.

“Families butchered like sheep, bodies buried in the debris of homes in which pogromists had locked the families before setting them on fire. Jewish girls raped, their breasts cut off. No, I am not describing 7 October 2023,” Julius said. “We have been here before. It’s an anti-Jewish atrocity which occurred in Constantine, Algeria, in 1934. But I could have cited any number of similarly barbaric atrocities: in Fez, Morocco, in 1912, in Tripoli, Libya, in 1945, in Iraq in 1941 the Farhud, which claimed the lives of at least 179 Jews.”

She pointed out that Israel was “the solution to pre-existing antisemitism” that had led to pogroms across the region. “In a generation and a half almost all the ancient, pre-Islamic Jewish communities of the Middle East and North Africa have been ethnically cleansed. Hamas simply wants to finish the job. From almost a million Jews in 1948, only about 4,000 remain, and that number dwindles year by year.”

Julius herself is the child of parents who came to Britain from the Iraqi capital Baghdad in 1950. A film shown at the event presented testimony from Jews who had been forced out of their native counties in the Middle East and North Africa.

Jocelyne Shrago is one of the four people interviewed in the film, commissioned from Daisy Abboudi, deputy director of the oral history archive Sephardi Voices UK.

Shrago, who was born in Algeria, told how during the Constantine pogrom her parents and sister went over the wall to the Arab family who lived next door, who saved them. She recalls the bombing campaign during the Algerian war of independence in the 1950s, when she covered her baby niece with her body to protect her. “People had to leave in ‘62 because on the walls there was graffiti that said ‘La valise ou le cercueil’, ‘the suitcase or the coffin’.” Some went to Israel. Her family on both sides went to France, where she lived until 1968, when she moved to the UK.

Other speakers at the event last Thursday, the ninth that Harif has organised, included Baroness (Ruth) Deech, Joseph Dweck, senior rabbi of the S&P Sephardi Community, Marie van der Zyl, president of the Board of Deputies, Claudia Mendoza, chief executive of the Jewish Leadership Council, and the Israeli ambassador Tzipi Hotovely. The ambassador said Mizrachi Jews were not just 50 percent of Israel’s population but had shaped her history. “Israel today is a very healthy mix between west and east.”

Mendoza spoke movingly about her mother’s family, who are from Aden. They were forced to flee and her grandfather was murdered. “The clarity with which my family speak when they talk about threats to your life because you’re a Jew resonate more than ever today. They have seen it before and they do not have the luxury of denalism.”

But she also had a powerful and uplifting message to the Jewish community, and warned it not catastrophise or retreat into itself.

“The polling that we’ve done at the JLC [Jewish Leadership Council] after the October 7 attack shows that while there may be a small number of extremists in the UK who support Hamas, and they must be called out, the vast majority of British people recognise them for the murderous terrorists that they are and they reject those that wish to target jews here in the UK.

“If we fight as if we are surrounded exclusively by enemies, we risk by that very attitude making enemies we didn’t previously have, and losing friends whose sympathies we fail to notice. We have so many friends, I promise you that.”