broad court

ToG/ACOTAR Next Gen Master List: Contains Spoilers

ACOTAR Next Generation

Dacia Archeron

Titles:
High Lady of the Spring Court
Parents:
Tamlin + Ianthe
Adopted by:
Elain + Lucien
Adopted Siblings:
Ash, Adara, Fia, Aella
Mate
unannounced
Age:
21
Sex
Female
Orientation:
Gay
Description
Breast length golden blond hair, teal eyes, pale skin, curvy, 5′10
Distinguishing marks
stretch marks on thighs and breasts, tattoo on side of hand: Blood isn’t family
Abilites
Shapeshifting, shifting others, healing, winnowing, strength
Hogwarts House (because why not)
Hufflepuff

Ash Archeron

Titles:
Heir to the Autumn Court
Lord of the Summer Court (through mating/marriage)
Parents:
Lucien + Elain
Siblings:
Adara, Fia, Aella, Dacia (adopted)
Mate
Unannounced
Age:
18 (currently)
sex:
Male
Orientation:
Straight
Species:
high fae
Description
Red long hair, bright green eyes, freckles everywhere, 6′4, broad shouldered, tanned skin
Distinguishing Marks
none
abilities:
Fire manipulation, advanced healing, unable to be scarred (heals wounds too fast to scar), stops hearts 
Hogwarts House:
Gryffindor

Adara Archeron

Titles:
Dacia’s second in Command
Lady of the Spring Court
Lady of the Autumn Court
Parents:
Lucien + Elain
Siblings:
Ash, Fia, Aella, Dacia (adopted)
Mate
unannounced
Age:
8 (currently)
Sex:
Female
Orientation:
straight
Description
Brown eyes, red hair to middle back, freckles everywhere, 5′8, curvy, tanned skin
Distinguishing marks
spine tattoo of flowers fading into water
Species:
High Fae
Abilities:
healing, winnowing
Hogwarts House:
Hufflepuff

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So, the Ghoul School gang is in a volleyball tournament against the boys from the other school.

This results in a lot of interesting things, such as forced perspective shots that makes Shaggy look tiny…

…bats hitting volleyballs so hard that they teleport straight through the net…

…and plenty of other fun frames.

However, mid-way through the game, we learn the boys are going to cheat to win! Oh noes!

They also talk about their cheating loudly, right by the net… so, wait, can all the people around not hear what they’re saying? I mean, they were talking to people all the way across the court at that volume before….

Whatever. Anyway, they decide to do said cheating via a physics-defying remote-controlled ball, which you’d think would raise some immediate eyebrows from the spectators.

Even without that, though… is it just me, or does this scheme seem way too easy to catch? 

He’s suspiciously holding the remote openly, on the court, in broad daylight, while talking loudly about how he’s cheating. Can no one see or hear him while he does this?

Or here, when he does it again?

Or here, when he does it yet again?

Or here, when he does it yet another time?!

I mean, sure, there’s willing suspension of disbelief and all, but this just seems a little silly. How can no one s–

…wait… is that a….

OH, COME ON

ARE YOU TELLING ME ABSOLUTELY NO ONE NOTICED THE KID FLYING 15 FEET INTO THE AIR WITH A JETPACK

Now you’re just messing with me, aren’t you, Hanna-Barbera?

clockworkamelia  asked:

Why do so many people including yourself seem to think that Margaery had a choice in the matter of remaining friends with Sansa and is therefore only concerned for her wellbeing up to a certain point? I don't get it. Margaery's not in a position to object, because if she's BFFs with Sansa suspicion falls on the Tyrells for Joffrey's murder. Thinking Mace (who wants her on the throne in the first place) would listen to her objections regarding this seems pretty suspect imo.

You’re correct in saying that technically Margaery probably would not have much choice. My assumption that she did choose to drop Sansa as totally as she did hinges on my belief that Margaery is, if not a major player in what overall schemes the Tyrells carry out, a willing participant aware of the nitty-gritty social machinations she herself needs to execute to further the larger scheme. Ergo, she subordinates personal sympathies to her family’s agenda. That’s the point to which she cares about Sansa.

Margaery’s choice in companions would probably be guided by her parents while she was a minor, according to which families needed buttering up, though more likely to be overseen by Margaery’s mother (or, in her case, just as likely to be grandmother) than her father. If the ladies-in-waiting thing in ASoIaF operates much like it did in historical England, yeah, Mace would have the final say. (And depicting female companionship is a notorious weak point in ASoIaF.)

However. 

Margaery herself has a lot of say in how she runs social functions in the court. If she wanted to be friends with Sansa, she could host big parties and widely-attended events, and use them as cover for socialising with Sansa. There are a grand total of two sizeable social events between Margaery dropping Sansa and Sansa escaping King’s Landing, and at both we see only the minorest of minor interactions between the two. Instead, Margaery sets up a clear in-group, and includes Sansa only so long as she is useful. Nor does she make an effort to connect with Sansa when she does have an excuse to talk to her.

Since the choice of being the shining star of a broad and inclusive court scene or the alpha female of the small and exclusive clique is not likely to be Mace-dictated but rather Margaery’s decision, I tend to think that if Margaery really wanted to be friends with Sansa…she could have done a lot more than she did.

anonymous asked:

Awe I love that passage! Could you post the remaining until he's better? Thanks! Happy holidays!

Sure! Here’s the next chapter. It’s actually one of my favorites in Voyager after the printshop/reunion chapters. Happy Holiday!


WHAT’S IN A NAME

After giving him a shot and settling him comfortably, I sat watching until he fell asleep again, allowing him to hold my hand until his own grip relaxed in sleep and the big hand dropped slack by his side. 

I sat by his bed for the rest of the night, dozing sometimes, and rousing myself by means of the internal clock all doctors have, geared to the rhythms of a hospital’s shift changes. Two more shots, the last at daybreak, and by then the fever had loosed its hold perceptibly. He was still very warm to the touch, but his flesh no longer burned, and he rested easier, falling asleep after the last shot with no more than a few grumbles and a faint moan as his arm twinged. 

“Bloody eighteenth-century germs are no match for penicillin,” I told his sleeping form. “No resistance. Even if you had syphilis, I’d have it cleaned up in no time.” 

And what then? I wondered, as I staggered off to the kitchen in search of hot tea and food. A strange woman, presumably the cook or the housemaid, was firing up the brick oven, ready to receive the daily loaves that lay rising in their pans on the table. She didn’t seem surprised to see me, but cleared away a small space for me to sit down, and brought me tea and fresh girdle-cakes with no more than a quick “Good mornin’ to ye, mum” before returning to her work. 

Evidently, Jenny had informed the household of my presence. Did that mean she accepted it herself? I doubted it. Clearly, she had wanted me to go, and wasn’t best pleased to have me back. If I was going to stay, there was plainly going to be a certain amount of explanation about Laoghaire, from both Jenny and Jamie. And I was going to stay. 

“Thank you,” I said politely to the cook, and taking a fresh cup of tea with me, went back to the parlor to wait until Jamie saw fit to wake up again.

People passed by the door during the morning, pausing now and then to peep through, but always went on hurriedly when I looked up. At last, Jamie showed signs of waking, just before noon; he stirred, sighed, groaned as the movement jarred his arm, and subsided once more. 

I gave him a few moments to realize that I was there, but his eyes stayed shut. He wasn’t asleep, though; the lines of his body were slightly tensed, not relaxed in slumber. I had watched him sleep all night; I knew the difference. 

“All right,” I said. I leaned back in the chair, settling myself comfortably, well out of his reach. “Let’s hear it, then.” 

A small slit of blue showed under the long auburn lashes, then disappeared again. 

“Mmmm?” he said, pretending to wake slowly. The lashes fluttered against his cheeks. 

“Don’t stall,” I said crisply. “I know perfectly well you’re awake. Open your eyes and tell me about Laoghaire.” 

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