#Miaule

[thelordofgifs]

Obscure Tolkien Blorbo: Round 2

Miaulë vs The chief dancing bear of Númenor

Miaulë:

Tevildo’s cook in an early version of the legendarium.

All evil cats are blorbos. This one has the best name!

The chief dancing bear of Númenor:

Númenorean bear who dances. Enough said

Round 2 masterpost

[aipilosse]

Look at this incredible art an amazing anon drew for What Brings Us together!!! 

[middle-earth-mythopoeia]

12, 19, 22, 23

Thanks for the ask! :) Someone else asked me 12, 19 and 22 as well, so this is for both of you.

The unpopular character that you actually like and why more people should like them:

Emeldir! It’s not that she’s unpopular, exactly. She’s just a female character in the Silmarillion, and she doesn’t appear very often at that, so all of this gets her thoroughly ignored. But I think she’s fascinating and I wish more people talked about her. (Goodness knows fans devote plenty of time and attention to male characters more obscure than she is.) I wrote a longer post about her here. There needs to be more about Emeldir!

Speaking of obscure characters—not unpopular per se, just obscure—I feel like people should pay WAY more attention to Miaulë. We need to talk about Miaulë. I love him. I’m obsessed with him. I will not rest until the whole world loves him as much as I do. I have a similar soft spot for Tevildo, and I’ve even tried justifying his inclusion in the later mythology. Which goes double for Miaulë. All hail Miaulë!

You’re mad/ashamed/horrified you actually kind of like...

I don’t really feel shame—I just enjoy things! But horrified? That’s different! Once I stayed up until literally 4am deciphering a manuscript from the LOTR movies written in the mode of Beleriand (but in English, it’s not like I actually know Elvish). Keep in mind that I didn’t read the mode of Beleriand at the time—I’m way more comfortable with the Sindarin mode and I’m alright with the Quenya mode—and I was like, “Oh, this page is in the mode of Beleriand! Well, that won’t stop me!” And I chose the middle of the night to do this?! Anyway, AFTER all that, I found a link to the transcription. But it was a fun challenge.

AND THEN I decided to read this other manuscript in the mode of Beleriand, Thorin’s letter to Bilbo (this one was written by Tolkien himself). It was even harder, because not only is it in tengwar, not only is it in the mode of Beleriand, the handwriting is also very difficult in parts AND the spelling is weird. I had so much fun. And then I was like, “What the fuck is wrong with me?” (Note: I didn’t read it with a copy of the letter in English to refer to. Oh, no. That would have been too sane.)

This was in 2020. I’ve only gotten worse since then.

Another time someone asked me, “There seem to be a lot of twins in Tolkien’s books—are there more twins in Middle-earth than in the modern world?” And then I, myself a twin, determined to answer this question definitively, made an Excel spreadsheet of all named Tolkien characters and what percentage of them are twins, and I found that the number of twins in Tolkien is about the same as we have now, or lower, depending on which characters you count. But it’s not higher! So now we know.

Another time I saw a post saying, “But are we SURE that all of Tolkien’s male Elves had long hair?” So I opened my PDF of LOTR and did a word search for “hair” and looked at all the examples. And then I opened my PDF of the entirety of HOME and did another word search for “hair” (there were over 400 mentions) and also “locks” and other synonyms, and then I looked at EVERY SINGLE ITERATION in order to prove, beyond a shadow of a doubt, that Tolkien’s male Elves have long hair. Because I’m insane, but I’m also right.

Another time I spent literally hours trying to calculate how long it would have taken Fingon to reach Angband on foot when he set out to rescue Maedhros, depending on how far he travelled each day, etc. We’re talking actual math here. Measuring distances on the map of Beleriand. Entering different variables. I was very dedicated.

Am I normal? No. Do I feel shame? Also no. Do I sometimes horrify myself nonetheless? Yes I do.

Your favorite part of canon that everyone else ignores:

I love this question. It’s hard to answer because I have so many favorite parts of canon that most people ignore. (Like the entirety of the Lays of Beleriand.) Admittedly, whether this is part of canon is debatable because it’s from the Book of Lost Tales, but I absolutely love this part. For context, Ælfwine and his companions had been looking for Valinor for years and had almost given up hope of ever finding it, and then this happens:

Then none spoke for wonder and amaze, seeing deep in the gloaming of the West a blue shadow, and in the blue shadow many glittering lights, and ever more and more of them came twinkling out, until ten thousand points of flickering radiance were splintered far away as if a dust of the jewels self-luminous that Fëanor made were scattered on the lap of the Ocean… Then came there music very gently over the waters and it was laden with unimagined longing, that Ælfwine and his comrades leant upon their oars and wept softly each for his heart’s half-remembered hurts, and memory of fair things long lost, and each for the thirst that is in every child of Men for the flawless loveliness they seek and do not find. 

It is IMPOSSIBLE for me to read this without getting chills, or without it bringing tears to my eyes. The blue shadows? The lights? The music? The flawless loveliness they seek and do not find? Tolkien captures such a bittersweet feeling in this passage that it’s actually excruciating, because we can’t go there. What happens next is that Ælfwine leaps from the ship and goes to Valinor, and his comrades never see him again. The reader, like Ælfwine‘s companions, is left behind—allowed to see the Undying Lands for just a moment, but never able to go there. The feeling I get from this is very similar to the feeling I get at the end of LOTR, when we catch a glimpse of Valinor through Frodo’s eyes—but that’s it. And even though it makes me sad, I love it so much and I wouldn’t wish that it be written any other way.

A ship you’ve unwillingly come around to:

Alcarondas. I don’t like the fact that Ar-Pharazôn tried to make war on Valinor, obviously, but the ship itself was pretty cool. (Sorry for answering this in such a chaotic way, but I couldn’t resist!)

[desviesennoiretblanc]

Hier est déjà du passé

Il y a eu ce gros chat qui, un jour de décembre 2023, m'a suivie d'un bout à l'autre de la rue jusque chez moi. Depuis, lorsque j'approche de son domicile, il miaule et vient à ma rencontre. Nous échangeons un bonjour et quelques caresses (à sens unique, cela dit). Un nouvel ami ?

Il y a eu des émotions d'ordre culturel, au cours de la même semaine, celle du 19 au 25 février 2024. Émotions cinématographiques d'abord, avec le film Sans jamais nous connaître d'Andrew Haigh, belle histoire d'amour et de fantômes sur fond de Pet Shop Boys ou de Frankie Goes To Hollywood. Émotions théâtrales ensuite, avec la pièce Il n'y a pas de Ajar, où planait un autre fantôme, celui d'Émile Ajar, double de Romain Gary, à travers la voix de son fils, Abraham, imaginé par Delphine Horvilleur pour nous questionner sur notre/nos identité(s) ; un spectacle hilarant, émouvant, talentueusement mis en scène et interprété par Johanna Nizard.

Il y a eu des pensées. Je sais que j'ai pensé à lui. Je crois que j'ai pensé à lui chaque jour sans en avoir conscience. Penser à lui, c'est un peu comme respirer, je le fais sans m'en rendre compte. Est-ce que si j'arrête de penser à lui, j'arrête de vivre ?

Il y a eu des oiseaux. Ces mouettes qui faisaient un boucan d'enfer (qui poussaient des cris d'orfraie ?) alors que je tentais de me concentrer sur ma lecture sur le quai de la gare d'Amiens. Et ces pies occupées à déheuter (verbe picard) la terre des jardins, captivantes à observer.

[facts-i-just-made-up]

Meow, myaa. Nya? (Hello, I'm a cat. Who made the internet?)

Oh cool, I can explain this one in cat.

Mrrr, mrrrp eow. Mow, mow, me-oop. Rrrrrthp, mum, meow maa. Mrow, Merow- Mew miaul-mo. Prr.

[iranondeaira]

Et encore on va vers l’été …

Blague à part, bon vent et belle mer à tous, « longue vie et prospérité 🖖 » comme dirait l’autre et que que la force soit avec vous …

🎶 nous vivons une époque épique mais nous n’avons plus rien d’épique 🎶 disait l’autre , « tout ce que nous avons à décider, c’est ce que nous devons faire du temps qui nous est imparti » lancerai un vieil errant gris … l’horizon s’assombrit lance un vieux marin sur le môle, une tempête arrive … il va falloir la chevaucher lâche laconique un vieux guerrier aux yeux bleus ou apprendre à surfer balancerai un sale môme … « à nouvel an, nouvel élan » lui répondrait une optimiste … « Et comme ton bonheur dépend tout de tes voeux, songes-y bien avant que de les faire. » raconte un conteur … si au moins on pouvait "Apprendre d’hier, vivre pour aujourd’hui, espérer pour demain." pose au tableau un vieil homme qui tire la langue … "Je vous apporte mes vœux. - Merci, je tâcherai d'en faire quelque chose." glousse un renard …

"Un optimiste reste jusqu'à minuit pour voir le Nouvel An. Un pessimiste reste pour s'assurer que l'ancienne année disparaît."

"Que cette année vous soit heureuse ; que la paix, le repos et la santé vous tiennent lieu de fortune " dit Madame

"Je vous souhaite tout ce que vous souhaitiez qu'on vous souhaite ... mais en mieux ! "

Miaule un chat

"Venir ensemble est un commencement; rester ensemble est un progrès; travailler ensemble est un succès." Jette un constructeur de voiture ( 😅 si vous saviez Sir le bordel aujourd’hui )

"Les problèmes du monde ne peuvent être résolus par des sceptiques ou des cyniques dont les horizons se limitent aux réalités évidentes. Nous avons besoin d’hommes capables d’imaginer ce qui n’a jamais existé."

- un président mort dans sa voiture

"Je vous souhaite des rêves à n'en plus finir et l'envie furieuse d'en réaliser quelques uns."

- grand Jacques

"Pour comprendre l’esprit et le cœur de quelqu’un, ne vous demandez pas ce qu’il a accompli, mais ce à quoi il aspire."

- un vieux sage enturbanné ( quelle ironie 😅)

"Lorsqu’un seul homme rêve, ce n’est qu’un rêve. Mais si beaucoup d’hommes rêvent ensemble, c’est le début d’une nouvelle réalité." ( c’est sans doute un peu de ce qui explique du cela d’aujourd’hui )

Le monde progresse grâce aux choses impossibles qui ont été réalisées." ( y a de ces progrès 🙃 aujourd’hui 😅 )

"A l'an que ven ! Se sian pas mai, que siguen pas men. A l'an qui vient ! Si nous ne sommes pas plus, que nous ne soyons pas moins."

- de Provence

"Il vaut mieux suivre le bon chemin en boitant que le mauvais d’un pas ferme." Disait un Saint

“Tous les hommes font la même erreur, de s'imaginer que bonheur veut dire que tous les voeux se réalisent.” - un homme de Russie

“Un jour, on aura besoin d'un visa pour passer du 31 décembre au 1er janvier.” … ils ont essayé … ils ont déjà inventé le désespoir à vendre …

“Si les Dieux voulaient exaucer les voeux des mortels, il y a longtemps que la terre serait déserte, car les hommes demandent beaucoup de choses nuisibles au genre humain.”

“Le meilleur moyen de rester en bonne santé, c’est de manger ce que vous ne voulez pas manger, de boire ce que vous ne voulez pas boire, et de faire des choses que vous n’aimez pas faire.” - Marc T

En cette nouvelle année, on ne demande pas grand-chose : du travail et de la santé.

- Albert

[rayondelun3]

Enfermée dans ma chambre depuis mardi. Mon chat gratte à la porte. Elle me regarde hésitante. Miaule. Elle miaule encore. Et encore. Ça y est elle se cache sous le lit. Elle miaule encore. Elle veut mon attention. Je lui ai fait signe qu'elle pouvait monter sur mon lit. Elle a sauté sur les couvertures. Elle ronronne et se rapproche hésitante. Je n'ai quasiment pas parlé depuis des jours. On a demandé à me voir deux fois. J'ai réussi à dire non. Personne n'a insisté. Tout le monde sait que quelque chose ne tourne pas rond. Je voudrais écrire mais sans succès alors je me force. Je me force à me lever, à faire quelques pas, à manger, à me laver. La voilà allongée à côté de moi. Mon père a une tumeur. Normalement ça sera opérable, sans risques et il devrait aller beaucoup mieux. Mes parents ont vieilli ; ils n'ont fait qu'être malades, travailler à épuisement. Je vieillis très lentement. Elle me regarde. Elle a vieilli aussi. Elle aussi est malade. Elle se relève. Tout le monde est malade dans cette famille cassée. Ça y est, la voilà repartie. Je suis à nouveau seule. Je suis devenue si silencieuse. Toujours ce cri sourd au fond de moi, cette colère muette et les larmes qui coulent. Je vais mieux. Les professionnels l'ont dit. J'ai fait des progrès, je suis une survivante, une battante et bien plus encore. 1 heure 40. Le bruit familier d'un mécanisme qui saute, qui fonctionne ; les heures creuses. Si je prends bien mes médicaments, ça ne se passe pas trop mal, même plutôt bien des fois. La dépression est une étrange maladie. Un jour je ne serais plus cette enfant maudit.

[thelordofgifs]

Obscure Tolkien Blorbo: Round 1

Ulbandi vs Miaulë

Ulbandi:

An ogress from the early drafts of the legendarium, also known as Fluithuin.

screw this. she's a cannibal. she's melkor's wife. she's a girboss. what else can i say but We Were Robbed

Miaulë:

Tevildo’s cook in an early version of the legendarium.

All evil cats are blorbos. This one has the best name!

Round 1 masterpost

[des-paroles]

Les voisins sont partis en vacances, laissant leur chat, avec de quoi boire et manger, dans leur jardin, vagabondant librement. Il miaule, il pleure, il appelle. Pendant 15 jours, nous l'accueillons. Les voisins sont rentrés hier. Ça nous manque, quand le chat n'est pas là.

[plaidetchocolatchaud]

cc tu peux expliquer le rôle de boop s il te plaît je te remercie

Actives le petite machin en forme de tamagochi quand tu ouvre l'appli. Maintenant, à côté de l'url des gens qui l'ont activé aussi, tu as marqué boop en violet. Tu cliques dessus, ça envoie une notif à la personne et tu gagnes des points.

Si tu vas sur la version pc, tu peux cliquer sur le petit chat, qui miaule et qui t'envoie une notif. Et à chaque boop, tu as des papattes qui apparaissent

Plus tu gagnes de points, plus tu obtiens de badges (un pour le premier boop, un vers les 500 et un vers les 1000. Ce qui est rigolo c'est de spammer les gens, renvoyer les boop, et d'en envoyer à d'autres que tu ne connais pas

Est-ce super utile ? Non, mais c'est rigolo :)

[jojobegood1]

Meilleures VIDÉOS de CHAT QUI MIAULENT🐱🐾 Chat qui MIAULE en colère, heur...

🤗🐈‍⬛😊☺️ BELLE FIN DE DIMANCHE

[phinae-simblr]

Berlioz est un chat musicien, à la grande joie de Sicily. Il "chantonne" quand elle joue du piano, c'est amusant à voir (en fait il miaule fort, au début je croyais qu'il n'aimait pas la musique).

[cellobis]

Dedans le feu, dehors la glace

Vu du dedans

fenêtr' carrée

de la cuisine

quatr' carreaux noirs

des tas d'points blancs

bien scintillants

il neige il neige

Vu du dehors

quatr' carreaux clairs

plein de lumière

des gens qui rient

des gens qui boivent

le chat qui miaule

le chien qui dort

faut vous chauffer

quand vient l'hiver

tout froid dehors

Je n'ai pas d'piaule

frappe au carreau

j'ai froid j'ai faim

mon frère est mort

putain de sort

tombé du train

tombé dans l'eau

rien sur la peau.

Les migrants c’est

comme les oiseaux

Ils traversent

la mer le vent

l’air et le sable

ils vivent dehors

affrontent le gel

les piqûres de l’hiver.

Faisons la révolution

notre nouvelle France

elle aime pas ça

ou les migrants

ou les oiseaux

ou les abeilles

bref, somme toute

toutes les belles

simples merveilles

Cell

[greypetrel]

Hello! 🌸✨ Aisling + n.8 hugging while walking?

Oh, hello, long time no see! 🌻💜

Hope you didn't think I had forgotten! :P

Here we go, this prompt served me this on a silver plate. It's Dark Lady AU, making Tevildo canon because yes. The Siamese cat is a she and I inserted my late one. She had a malformation on her vocal chords and... The vet told us she was aphonic, but she didn't know and meowed anyway. But it was either YELLING HORRIBLY, possibly in the deep of night, or screeching and squeaking like an old door. And she had a resting bitch face. Thought she could make an appearance, since she was mostly shy and invisible with strangers BUT with people who told they didn't like/hate cats.

This Miaule is the 17th in a long list of Miaules that preceeded him as the Dark Lady's personal companion.

Tis the prompt list.

Seven lives.

8. hugging while walking

“I’m not…” He cleared his throat, looking straight into the one remaining golden eye of the old, scruffed tabby that was held up in front of his face. “Ah, I’m more of a dog person.”

The cat, at that, got lowered back down and cradled in front of the bust of the Dark Lady. Who looked a little disappointed. With the tabby safely cradled on her prosthetic and settling itself against her shoulder, she started to scratch the animal behind his neck with her hand, absentmindedly, as she replied.

“Ah. I see.” The enthusiasm of when she brought him in a drawing room gone from her voice. “It may be… A little problem, if you don’t like them.”

The rooms he was brought to see, the corridors and even the throne room, were indeed inhabited by cats of all shapes and colours. Fluffy one that looked like clouds curled on sittings, not even waking up when you entered the room. Tabbies staring at you from corners with the keen eyes of predators. Siameses trotting right at you to greet you with a very eloquent meow. Red cats that headbutted your ankles and purred without a real reason to. Tuxedos up top furnitures perking up with whiskers starkingly white against the glossy black of their fur. Big cats, small cats, kittens, some with one eye, others with ears nibbed in fights, young ones and old ones, awake and asleep, all visibly very well fed and cherished. Wherever you turned, there was a cat. If not more.

Cullen didn’t notice the first time he was brought to Barad-Dur, but at that time, his mind was totally elsewhere. And seeing the Lady of the tower mildly pouting didn’t feel so much like a pang of regret.

“I- I don’t hate them!” He was quick to specify. Which was true. “I just… Like dogs more. Don’t really have much to share with cats. They’re useful, but… I prefer dogs.”

“You’re not saying this to please me, are you, Captain?” She inquires, squinting at him, a corner of her lips cracking up as she mocked him with his old title. “You can tell that you hate cats.”

“I do not. They won’t be a problem, my Lady.” He assured her, straightening his back and nodding, convinced.

He could survive some cats. What he asked of her, after all, was no little feat: the least he could do was to accept whatever… Flock of pets she decided to fill her tower with. And really, he wasn’t scared of cats He just never liked them much: useful, sure, but they were unfriendly, cold and aloof. Dogs were just better, he thought. Dogs at least were happy to see you.

She observed him for some moments more, looking for who knew what as the cat she held in her arms started to purr and rub his head on her neck and jaw. She sighed, after a while, and nodded, walking out of the drawing room and back into a corridor. He followed her, one step behind and on her right – on the opposite side of the cat.

They were alone, and the situation was a little awkward. The war ended, she somehow survived against all previsions, and got back to Mordor with a treaty signed by King Aragorn himself, establishing borders and an alliance. He got back to Minas Tirith and brought Cupcake along (the Warg was, indeed, a great companion, loyal and keenly intelligent), and thought about things. Each of them had their own problems and issues to solve privately, and they had said goodbye, not mentioning much of anything. That one night before they reached Isengard, the words she almost told him when she thought she was dying.

He eventually had come to his decision, and turned his steps East.

Oh, she had been perfectly polite when he had showed up at her door. Some orcs at the Black Gate had showed him to her Tower and to the queue for court. She had been surprised to see him, and she had smiled. She had stopped smiling when he asked her for some privacy, was left alone with just her and the Witch-King (“He’s my right hand. What I know, he knows. You can trust him as you’d trust me. Speak.”) and told her he needed help in quitting with the potions the guards drank. She listened to him explaining symptoms and what would happen, looked intently at the sample he brought her and left him to Dorian, then nodded and granted him a safe harbour and assistance. And showed him around.

Because apparently, when he thought she would have given him a hut or some external settlement he could have some privacy, she really meant to keep him in a guest room in her tower, where she or her healers could tend to him better. “I wouldn’t leave you on your own, not unless you so wished”. She told him. “But I’d advise you against it. It’s powerful magic to impose magic on someone else, I would rather have you here to know you’re fine and help you, if we can, than knowing you’re close, but on your own.”. It had been so different than what he had been used to, what he expected after a lifetime of being told to tend to himself, that he had not the heart to tell her no. Even if the idea of showing himself as sick made him way, way more ill at ease than the cats.

But, he had said yes she had showed him around – it was, indeed, a nice and cozy place. Some works were still being done here and there, but it had the aspect of being loved and cared for. All the doors had a tiny door that couldn’t fit a human, but whence he saw slipping out some cats. All the orcs they met greeted them politely, smiling. The rooms were cozy, designed with taste and to be first of all comfortable and functional, but not without grace and beauty. They had talked on the way, of comfortably neutral topics, and it had been almost as when they first knew each other.

But the cats- he had to ask.

“Why the cats?”

“Mh? Oh, you don’t know?” Aisling asked, some spark of joy shining into her eyes. She giggled. “I still thought they told the tale to children. Well, for a little time I was known as Tevildi, the Princess of Cats. I took the form of a cat, for a while, but I didn’t really like the collar.”

“I never heard of it.”

“Thanks Iluvatar! It’s not very flattering, and it just says that cats are evil.” She moved the cat on her shoulder so she could face him, and kept speaking in a higher pitch than before. “And you’re really not evil, right Miaule the 17th? You’re a fluffy little baby!”

She kissed his nose loudly, and the cat -an old beast that visibly saw too many scuffles and as many winters, was mangy from old age and had a very grumpy expression on his face- mrowed aloud. Cullen wasn’t sure he was really happy about it, but the Maia ignored it, letting him perch on her shoulder again, tail snapping nervously down her arm but not trying to jump away, and keeping walking hugging the feline.

“And you had a collar?”

“Yes, a golden one. It looked good against black fur, you see. But it had a most annoying bell that tinkled whenever I moved… And let me tell you, with a cat’s hearing it was the most annoying thing ever.”

“I…” He still wasn’t used to how casually she talked about a long gone past when she had not been treated that right. He still didn’t know how to talk about it without causing her pain. “… I can’t imagine you collared. Bell or no.”

It was, apparently, the right thing to say. Or not a terribly wrong one. She turned her head towards him and smiled that sad smile she had when she was grateful.

“Thank you. Me neither. I discarded that form soon. It’s nice to curl and sleep whenever, but I much prefer having opposable thumbs.”

“I pictured you as a dog person too, after the Wargs.” He confessed, smiling at the idea of her as a cat.

“I like all animals. But cats… Cats were a gift.” Her smile turned far away and sad, and he knew whose gift it was exactly. “Another thing that nobody wanted. Another pet project to keep me distracted. Keep me collared.” Her voice, too, turned sour, but the cat, perking up on her shoulder as in reaction, pushed on his front paws and headbutted his Lady, with another mrow. A less grumpy one. She seemed to calm down, at that, hand coming to caress the back of the animal as she stopped in front of a door. “But I do love them. They’re special, and great companions. You just have to give them some understanding and earn their trust. And that’s a gift most precious than any jewel.”

For a moment, right then, Cullen understood. And indeed connected her with a fluffy red cat that could purr and be soft, and be a ruthless predator the next moment. He stood there to look at her looking lovingly at old Miaule the 17th she was still hugging, the connection between them visible. And wished intensely that she still could look at him with the same eyes.

When she turned towards him, at last, for a moment he believed she could.

And he must have looked at her somewhat weirdly as well, because she cleared her throat, lowered her eyes and stepped back, gently accompanying the cat back on the floor and opening the door they were in front of.

“But I prattled enough for today.” She declared, stepping back on the threshold to give him space to pass. “Here’s your room, I hope it has everything you need.”

The space was spacious without being overtly so. A big window opened west, showing off the mountains and a cut of blue sky where the cloud enchantment ended. The curtains were ready to be pulled. A low bed with a small ottoman on its feet, where his luggage has been already deposited… And three cats sleeping all together right at the pillows, sinking a little in the blankets and testifying for how soft the pillow and the bedding were. A fireplace cracking merrily, a carpet on the floor, an armchair and a writing station. Then a small wardrobe and a door that had another small cat door in it, making him fail to guess where it could lead. The colours were muted and dark, but overall it was relaxing and cozy, and really more luxurious than he ever dreamed.

“It’s too much for me.” He couldn’t but saying, trying to hide how he yes, felt out of place… And how worried he was about how would have he done to shoo the cats away. Maybe he could ask if he could allow Cupcake -brought to the kennels with his siblings- up here.

Aisling, tho, laughed, and stepped on his side, arms crossed behind her back and looking up at him with a smile.

“It’s just enough.” She corrected him. “Pull that string beside the bed and Lazgar will come. She’s not young anymore and will insist on propriety. But she is trusted.”

“I… I don’t know how to thank you, my Lady.”

“Well, a good way would be to call me by my name, when we’re alone.” She suggested. “I think we’re past honorifics, aren’t we.”

He couldn’t but agree, even if it brought a rush of heat to his cheeks that made him turn his eyes away in shyness. She giggled subtly at it, but made no mention of it when she spoke.

“Well, I’ll leave you to settle down. Call if you need something, and if you look for me, I’m usually in my private library when I’m here. Just find the stairs and go up until you can, and that’s the door you should knock. Have I already told you the time of meals?”

She started to ramble, talking quickly and following a line of thought. If she was distracted, tho, Miaule was attentive, his one green eye fixed upon Cullen with a judgemental stare, tail swaying down the prosthetic his fluffy butt was perched upon.

“You did, my- Aisling.” He corrected, last minute. She smiled at it. “I’ll see you later, then?”

“I hope you will.” She replied, still smiling.

She greeted him one last time -made the cat bid goodbye too waving one of his paws gently left and right and making a voice for him as well- and left him alone in what was apparently his new space.

It was, cozy and quiet, even if the ceiling was too high. But it had a nice view of the mountains and the sky, and Cullen thought he would have found himself at ease, there. The idea of showing up sick and at his lowest scared him a little less.

There was, now, only one problem.

“Ok, you three, I think we’ll need some discipline…”

He told the three cats curled on the bed. One -a weird one all cream coloured, but with his face, ears, paws and tail black- rose its head and looked at him with blue eyes full of contempt, as if waiting to hear why exactly he dared disturbing them.

“First rule, not on the bed.” He announced them, seriously.

And made his first weak attempt to move the cats down without having them scratching him. He didn’t know how to pick them without hurting, and he didn’t want to hurt them. After a couple of trials to just shoo them, slipping his hands under their bodies and pushing gently up, he realised that he really had to ask someone how to deal with cats.

Because now he had not one, but three little muzzles with triangle ears all looking at him expectingly.

“… Or maybe you could stay for now. I did disturb you nap, after all.” He conceded. “But it’s either you or me, ok? You can have the bed during the day, and it’s mine for the night. Is it reasonable for you?”

The Siamese cat opened his mouth and made one single weird screeching sound at him. A meow, but high pitched, as if it wasn’t really accustomed to it. It held the same contempt of its look, and Cullen knew it was a “no.”

“… We’ll need to find a solution.” He insisted.

And feeling very silly for being there talking with three stubborn felines that he thought were the real owners of the room he was assigned, he sat on the corner of the bad and started to unpack his baggage, hoping he would have been ignored.

The Siamese, tho, appearently the chief of the three, quietly padded towards him.

It startled him, when she headbutted his elbow with decision. Cullen jumped, and the cat jumped too.

“I-I’m sorry? I didn’t expect to- Oh. Well. Ok?”

He fumbled, as the feline, not, impressed by his apologies at all, got closer again and started to sniff him. Hopped on his lap and slipped its head in his bag.

Not knowing how do act with a cat on his lap, and feeling too close to four sets of claws for comfort, Cullen let the creature do as it please. The other two reached the first, and soon after, he had three cats sniffing around, inspecting what he took out of his bag, biting the strap of the bag.

The Siamese lied down abruptly on his lap, all of a sudden letting go of its own weight on his paws and lying on its side on his thighs, with a deep sigh and all the air of a being that had no intention of moving. Indeed it stayed there until he had unpacked all his clothes at his side and left the empty bag to the second cat – a red one- to hop into and make a nest. The third, instead, a black one with long fur, curled right onto the pile of his shirts, which Cullen suspected will keep staying white for little longer.

The Siamese fell asleep, not caring of the Rohirrim’s pleads to please, move and let him up.

Maybe he would have been late for dinner, it seemed.

[borgien]

Elle veut l'entendre supplier d'être baisé. Puis le faire languir. Apprécier qu’il lui appartient. Attiser son anus avec sa langue, caresser le bord extérieur avant de pousser à l'intérieur pendant que son désir à elle coule le long de ses cuisses. Lui dire quelle bonne petite salope, il est (ces petits mots crus qui l’excitent) et combien elle aime l'entendre gémir ses mots à lui : "s'il vous plaît Maîtresse ... baisez-moi". Glisser un ou deux doigts en lui, les sentir être aspirés alors que son anneau se détend complètement. 

Et quand il n'en peut plus, glisser le bout de son sexe en lui encore et encore. Attendre... jusqu'à ce qu'il miaule d'un besoin brut, qu’il mendie son sexe. Et seulement sonder sa « chatte » (le mot qu’il prononce alors), encore et encore avant de glisser des longueurs de plus en plus grandes à l'intérieur de lui... et saisir l'extase sur son visage, alors que l'orgasme l’emporte...