nobles that deserve to be nobles

We need more posts about why Andromeda Tonks is incredible and you should bow down to her

  • The second eldest Black with so many expectations already on her young shoulders when she began her education at Hogwarts.
  • Slowly unlearning all the blood prejudice and classism her family raised her on; getting into fights with Bellatrix and her cousins because of it.
  • Meeting Ted and liking him, amazed that he sees past her family to who she was. Both knowing when their relationship becomes public knowledge it will be bad, and trying to prepare the best they can.
  • When her family was informed everything goes to hell. Her parents threaten disownership, her sisters act like she isn’t there. Andromeda knowing she can’t live like this, and knowing what she was about to lose.
  • Marrying Ted Tonks in a muggle ceremony because she knew none of her family would come. Several days later receiving a letter written by her father’s secretary informing her that she was officially removed from his will, was disowned, and that Walburga had already scorched her off the family tapestry. They do not contact her again.
  • The First Wizarding War had already begun, rapidly gaining momentum after she was married. Learning that Bellatrix had taken the mark and was moving into Voldemort’s inner circle. Swallowing back the fear that her own sister would have no qualms murdering her husband.
  • Realizing as the war ground into them that not only had she lost all her family, she now had to face the possibility of losing Ted and Nymphadora as well.
  • Then Voldemort was defeated on October 31, 1981 and she thinks she can finally breathe again.
  • Gradually coming to terms that she was still isolated from her family; Bellatrix was in prison, so was Sirius (which was harder to accept than anything the rest of her family did), Narcissa wouldn’t speak to her, most of the wizarding world still saw her as a Black and a Slytherin. Even though the war had ended she had to keep fighting.
  • Nymphadora finished school and decided to become an Auror. Which wouldn’t be so terrifying if there wasn’t so much happening in England and at Hogwarts; strange whispers from wixes that supported Voldemort.
  • And then Sirius escaped Azkaban and all hell broke loose again. Because what if he went after her? Or Ted? Or Dora? And it’s a year filled with restless nights.
  • She had to hold back her fear and panic as she heard about the Quidditch World Cup because Dora was there fighting Death Eaters and there was nothing she could do to protect her.
  • Albus reinstating the Order and asking Dora to join. And Andromeda could only watch and listen as her friends and child and people she loved ran head first into danger over and over again.
  • She’s happy that her daughter had found love; but somewhere deep inside there was that fear. Because he’s a werewolf. And the hair prickled on the back of her neck knowing what he could do, remembering all the things her family said.
  • And the war gets worse, her daughter and son-in-law hiding in their tiny house. Hiding members of the Order between missions, hiding muggle-borns who were now considered fugitives by the Ministry, fully aware that should they ever be found out the consequences would be Azkaban (if they were lucky).
  • Molly flooing her at nearly midnight and there was blood staining her apron and Andromeda couldn’t breathe, so sure it was Dora’s. And the sigh of relief that came when she learned it was George. Hearing from Hagrid how close her daughter came to dying; how close all of them were. But Harry was safe. The mission was a success, and that is what they all need to focus on now.
  • And then it happens all too quick and too fast. Death Eaters come and they are taken to be ‘interrogated’. Trying to be strong as she was tortured, blocking out the screams coming from other rooms as she says over and over that she didn’t know anything.
  • Coming home and finding Dora there, telling Andromeda that she was pregnant and Remus had gone. He returns, in time, but she couldn’t help feeling the anger bubbling in her chest.
  • Having to find the strength to be strong for herself and for her daughter as she hugged her husband tightly, telling him to be safe. Both of them aware that he may never come home. Having to stay strong as her daughter and son-in-law fight, as her world comes to shit.
  • Hearing about Harry and Ron and Hermione and thinking they are only children. And the heavy expectations placed upon their shoulders.
  • Finally falling apart as she heard over the radio static that Ted was gone, her world shrinking down to the ache in her chest.
  • Smiling through the tears as her grandchild is born; Teddy, a sweet boy with blue hair and his father’s smile.
  • Holding tightly to this small child as her daughter and son apparated to Hogwarts. Knowing in her heart her daughter was gone before word even reached her. Trying to celebrate with the rest of the wizarding world, but all she could feel is grief.
  • Yet she managed through all that to raise Teddy. Sweet, kind Teddy who was as much a part of Harry’s life as he was hers. Seeing the best parts of those she had lost shining through in him.

Andromeda Tonks is made of iron, do not dare tell me otherwise

anonymous asked:

DA:I Companions and advisers react to an Inquisitor who has a pet parrot? One that likes to perch on the Inky's shoulder and repeats swearwords that it hears from other people.

Cassandra: She was irritated by the bird because all it did for the days while the Herald was unconscious was squawk incessantly at anyone who it didn’t recognize and perch on the Herald, trying in vain to wake their beloved. Still, she doesn’t comment, because when the Herald is finally out and about, so is the bird, who brings them comfort. The parrot ends up growing on her, slowly but surely, though the first few times it perches on her, she freezes and is unsure of what to do.

Iron Bull: The parrot loves his horns as perches. “Alright, you little shit factory,” he says, amused, “you can sit up there all you like, long as you don’t mistake my head for a latrine.” The bird often bluntly asks for food if he’s eating nuts, and he argues with them before grumbling and giving in, much to the bird’s delight.

Blackwall: He’s never gotten up close to one before, and he’s not sure how to react. He just stares until the parrot starts talking to him, and he blinks in surprise. He enjoys talking to the parrot, especially after his secret is revealed, because it’s not in the least concerned about it and will still talk to him readily, even if it seems nonsensical at times.

Sera: She loves the parrot. She loves playing with it and talking to it and trying to teach it words. The parrot decides they like her, and if the bird isn’t perched on the Herald and cuddling, the parrot’s perched on her or Bull or a few of the other party members. She spoils it.

Varric: He tries telling the parrot stories to see what will happen, and finds that the bird likes it, sometimes repeating phrases back at him– or just over and over again at random times, sometimes annoying Cassandra. Varric greatly approves.

Cole: “They know the words and what words mean more than people think. Side-stepping, dancing, the humans will call me pretty and ooh and ahh and give me treats, it’s all as easy as talking. They are happy because you love them and care for them and give them attention.” He smiles. “It is good.” The bird likes him because of how calm he can be, and he always seems to know where they want scritches.

Dorian: He’s seen a few magisters with them, often neglected and sad once the owners tire of the novelty, so it pleases him to see the happy, well-kept and stimulated bird, who he enjoys having conversations with. He’ll bounce his theories and theorems off of the bird, who’s just happy to talk with him. “You are quite beautiful,” he says wryly one day, “but not as much as me.” This offends the bird, and it shocks him when it says ‘fuck you.’ “Did you learn that, by chance, from Sera?” he asks dryly. “No matter. There’s no need to ruffle your feathers over the matter. We can both be pretty.”

Solas: Parrots fascinate him, he discovers. He tries holding conversations with the bird to see how far its intelligence goes, and is pleased. He almost considers talking with the bird about his internal problems, but quickly decides against it, despite how nice it would be to have an outlet– don’t need a bird outing a wolf.

Vivienne: Like Dorian, she’s seen nobles who get the birds, get bored of them, and neglect them. While she’s not all that into keeping pets, she can at least admire how well the bird is kept– a parrot is a living creature, and deserves respect. Her nose wrinkles when she sees anyone in the party trying to teach it swear words, and she hopes it never repeats these words at any nobles. “Don’t repeat that, Darling.” she says dryly to the parrot as Sera tries to teach it new words.

Josephine: She thinks it’s adorable, up until it starts cursing at Roderick and Marquis DuRellion. Then she spends time looking for the best animal trainer to somehow get the bird to stop saying those inappropriate words. Sometimes the bird hums a tune, though, and it makes her calm down a little.

Leliana: If no one’s looking or in earshot, she’ll consider busting out the lute and singing a song to the bird, just to watch it dance and revel in the sound of music. Birds listen and enjoy music much like humans do, and she finds a little solace in interacting with the parrot. She compliments the Herald on their companion and their care of the parrot.

Cullen: He’s honestly surprised it survived all of this nonsense, and while he initially voices a bit of concern about the bird’s safety, the bird pitches such a fit when separated from their owner for extended periods of time that he lets it go. At one point, when he’s having a particularly bad headache from lyrium withdrawal, the parrot finds him and sits on his shoulder, puffing up and cuddling against his head, gently trying to kiss his head and groom his hair. The company is welcome.

BONUS- MOD SARAH COMMENTS ABOUT PARROTS:

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U is for Ursula: Write a backstory for a minor character who you think deserves more

#CARMENALWAYSDESERVESMORE!!!!

Originally posted by minidodds

For likely the twentieth time just that day, and the umpteenth-millionth since she had started in this position, she twist the little photograph so it wouldn’t be stuck in the glare coming in from the windows. A sweet, precious cherub of a baby being held by a smiling woman; both were donning blue-striped dresses and matching hair bows.

Carmen had gotten those flashy head pieces for them, from the ‘bonus’ Mr. Barba had gifted her last Christmas. She had seen pictures of Detective Rollins’ baby wearing a pink one, that seemingly-omnipresent Detective Carisi was showing them off. Immediately upon seeing the giant accessory, she knew her niece needed one, deserved one- so naturally, Carmen had ordered a custom-made pair… so both mother and daughter could match.

Her niece deserved the world, as did her sister.
It was Carmen’s job to deliver. As always.

A look at the clock. It was nearly seven o’ clock at this point. She had intended to be home earlier, to be able to make dinner and help her sister put the baby down by the eight-in-the-evening bedtime they had decided upon. 

Apparently, seeing as how she was still waiting for Mr. Barba to come back so he could assure her he wouldn’t need anything else for the evening (it was too close to the court date for her to assume), she might miss her self-imposed deadline.

Diligent Carmen, always there when he needed her, even when she needed to be elsewhere…


FLASHBACK;

“Your office experience is impressive,” He had been late to the interview, and noticed how she had managed to arrive early. Of course. “Yet your education appears to have a gap-” The ADA lay out the resume he had been handed, pointed out the ‘end date’ she had listed alongside her college information. “Are you proficient in law at all?”

Initially, she bit the inside of her lip. Was there a ‘good’ answer for this? Very delicately, Carmen caught her prospective-employer’s stare. He was an honest man, a good man; she had read plenty about the illustrious ADA’s successes when the listing for an assistant went up. Lying to him wouldn’t only be unfruitful, but also cheap- she assumed he’d already discovered she had dropped out before bringing up the question.

“To be honest, Mr. Barba,” that was the only way she knew how to be, after all, “I had very briefly begun to work towards my paralegal degree when I dropped out to find full time employment.” Proudly, Carmen used her fingertips to spin the papers back towards him, pleased enough with her answer whether he found it sufficient or not. “I was in a position where I needed to search for financial solutions, and I found them. As you already pointed out, my experience and references speak wonders for my abilities.”

His brows knit together, and he nodded slowly to review the sheet that had been slid in front of him. “If you don’t mind my prying…” it was painful how carefully he was working to find the right words.

She knew what was on his mind, though, even if he couldn’t figure out how to express it. “My sister moved in with me. She was with child, so I became the bread-winner.” Subtly vague and fully honest; good enough for Carmen. “All things considered, I’m confident I made the right choice. As for legal experience, you can see I’ve worked at two law firms prior to this interview-”

“As a file clerk.” Rafael spoke slowly, took a peek at his watch and sighed. “So you don’t actually have any experience in criminal law.”

Actually? Actually; Carmen knew quite a bit about criminal law, and what she didn’t know- she knew how to find it. She had scoured little legal books and statutes when her sister came to her in tears, discovered legalities and key words to bring up with the public defender who could barely manage to walk and speak at the same time (let alone craft a case that would end favorably for her). It was Carmen who had proven how her sister’s old landlord illegally evicted her; it was Carmen who figured out how to get a restraining order without wasting money on a lawyer; it was Carmen, and always Carmen.

“I’m a quick learner, and whatever I don’t know, I manage to discover;” she advised simply, with a soft, complementary smile. “And I do intend on going back to school eventually, I just need to wait until I have the funds to do so.” Noting how he was continuously looking back to his watch, Carmen decided to voice a question of her own; “Your assistant only gave you fifteen minutes, didn’t she?”

Bewildered, Rafael bolted his gaze back to hers, and nodded hopelessly. “And she didn’t let me know until five or ten minutes before you arrived.”

“No wonder you were late, not your fault.” She tisked her tongue, and rolled eyes to the ceiling before leaning back in her chair. “Anyone who makes schedules knows communication is key.” Her shoulders bobbed when he perked a brow. “The role of an assistant is to do just that, assist, not instruct or complicate.”

“I need more of a… dictator-esque vibe from my assistants than this one can… provide,” his face was hidden behind his fingers, as he hid tired eyes with his hands. “I’m great in a court room, but I’m awful at these little things…”

“Well, Mr. Barba, I can lead you to water and hope you’ll drink, but I can definitely do much better than whoever put me in for an interview,” she chuckled, “I’d have at least checked to make sure someone’s education and upbringing would be to your standards before wasting your time.” Thoughtfully, Carmen started gathering her purse and jacket- this interview didn’t seem to be going all too well, and she had others to attend. “And if I believed in telekinesis, I’d raise your hand, but all I can do is-”

Before she could even finish her surely-prolific comparison, Rafael dropped palms to the counter top. “Did you just belittle my current assistant,” fingers splayed out over the paperwork as he rose to his feet, to match her apparent exit attempt, “and quote Vonnegut?”

She blinked, and was taken aback just so slightly. “I suppose so…” Obviously unconcerned with how he may feel about it, she shrugged, and proceeded to rock up to her toes so she could take a look at his watch for herself. “Now, it was a pleasure to meet with you Mr. Barba, but I’m not a fan of inefficiency or mincing words, and you appear to have made your decision already-”

“I sure have,” he grabbed for her free hand, before she even had a chance to offer it out for polite adieus. Better to take a shot than deal with the mess he was currently dealing with; “You start Monday, please…” 


Mr. Barba came sauntering in, a large bag in hand. “Sorry, Carmen,” without really thinking, he rest the sack atop her desk. Before he could even consider asking, she was holding out messages that had been taken from callers who rang while he was away. “Ech, Calhoun, again?”

“You know how much she loves harassing you, Counselor-” honestly, Rita Calhoun was surprisingly kind to her. Well, most attorneys were; if you couldn’t get along with Carmen, you likely couldn’t convince ADA Barba to give you a good deal. “This time, though, she was asking for a consultation.”

“When?” while pulling his meal from the bag, hee knowingly peered over her shoulder, down at the desk calendar she kept on her desk. Giant squares, filled with times and shorthand notes; her personal, consistently-updated version of his calendar. “She could only do Wednesday?”

Carmen was too busy being nosy, stood up to peer into the sack he had left near her purse. The universal sign of trying to get out of the office- her bag and jacket laid out for easy retrieval. “You know she’s picky, and she is never available on Thursdays, which was the only other free day you had.” The scent of Chinese food came from the secret shopping sack, she sighed out loud upon recognizing her own favorite plate from the restaurant he had gotten them from. “You’re making me even more anxious for dinner, is there anything else you need before I go?”

At the seemingly-normal comment, Rafael froze in his steps. His face changed, grew jocular instead of the fallen exhaustion he had been displaying upon his initial entrance. “That is your dinner,” Cockily, he sashayed his shoulders, and actually smiled while holding up his phone, “and your sister’s, I sent her a text to see what she wanted before I stopped.”

Her jaw fell, and she hastily went to snatch for her pocketbook. Him having her sister’s number wasn’t a shock, she had called him from it many times before to alert him of her absence or tardiness when they could only afford one phone line. “Mr. Barba, you didn’t have to do that-” oh, but she was so glad he did. If she didn’t have to cook, or go retrieve groceries from the store, maybe she would be able to slip into the apartment before her niece was laid down. A goodnight kiss from the most precious baby, Carmen’s favorite moment of the day. “How much do I owe you?”

He held up a palm, shook his head to deny the offer, then proceeded to gather all the files from her ‘outbox’ (which she had affectionately renamed, The Barba Box). “Don’t worry about it, I appreciate your staying so late, I was surprised you were still here-” that was a lie, he knew she’d be there, but she didn’t bother calling him out on it. Rafael then motioned elbows towards the door, taking a quick look at the clock hanging from the wall. “Now get home, Amelia will be going to bed soon, or you’re going to need coffee more than I do tomorrow.”

No need to tell her twice, Carmen gratefully gathered up the dinner in both arms and sauntered happily towards the hallway. “Thank you, Mr. Barba, I appreciate it; I’ll see you after your barber appointment in the morning…”

Rafael flinched, looked up from the files to catch her waiting; waiting for him to acknowledge the subtle reminder. “Y-yea, the barber… seven am, right?”

“Thirty,” pleased enough, she turned her back to him, and continued through the door. “But keep telling yourself it’s at seven, maybe you’ll be on time then…”

anonymous asked:

it always bothers me that after claire save marshali from the pirates, jamie doesn't give her any credit for being brave he just scolds or focuses on her wound. would love to see a missing scene where he thanks claire for taking care of his stepdaughter

Humble Pirate  (or some less terrible title)

Mod Bonnie says: 

Okay, lads and lasses: this falls fully into the category of CANON REWRITE. To refresh your memory on why anon (and I!!!!) get ragey about this: 


CANON says: 

Voyager, Chapter 54, Diana Gabaldon

[….]


FANFICTION SAYS… 

Do you honestly—” I choked out, absolutely, blisteringly, and woozily outraged, “—HONESTLY—think I went above decks in the middle of a sea-battle looking for—a THRILL?? A casual funtime adventure?!?” 

“I THINK—” he said, snarling between clenched teeth, “—you’re so heedless and cock-sure of yourself, woman, ye somehow thought ye could be of USE and—”

Cock-sure?” I gaped at him, hoping my face was contorted with exactly as much disgust as I felt. “Ohhh, that is RICH, coming from you, James Fraser.” 

“This isna about me, Sassenach—” 

I threw up my good hand. “Could have BLOODY fooled me!” 

“What this is ABOUT, is—” 

And ‘DO I KNOW that I came damn close to dying’?? Why, YES, Jamie, I had the *slightest* premonition of it, RIGHT around the same time as I was being chased and slashed at by a cutlass-wielding maniac.”

My voice was hoarse with screaming and ragged from waves of pain but NOT meek. I struggled halfway up, panting, and Jamie (who had the absolute gall to look exasperated) tried to force me back down. *Tried,* mind. “And as for ‘will I never do as I’m told’…” My head reeled with the excruciating effort of remaining upright, but I glared at him with all my strength. “…Lesson *bloody learned,* my infallible lord and master. I’ll just sit obediently in the corner with my hands in my lap next time and allow your daughter to be raped, *SHALL I*?” 

And that, at last, got his attention, for he went as white and still as death. 

It only threw gasoline on my fire. “And YOU coming in here all—looming over me all—and—banging your fucking fists—” I panted and spluttered. “Not bothering to ASK me what happened or WHY I might have chosen to put myself in danger—Just—shouting and threatening like I was no more to you than—And you—YOU—Oh, Jesus H. Roosevelt Christ, Jamie….” I was still spitting with indignation, but the pain was overwhelming most everything else, and I fell back onto the pillow as my vision began clouding over with black. “Did Marsali not TELL you what happened?” 

“No.” Quiet. Restrained. “She—She’s been so distraught for ye, she’s scarcely gotten more than ten words out…” 

I waited, blinking up from my pillow. I could smell the blood on him, still—gunpowder—the sweat of battle—fear.  

“Was the lass…” He didn’t meet my eye, but I could see the muscles of his face working as he tried to muster up the courage to ask it. “…being attacked?”

Lord, the pain in those five words—his memories of his own trauma and that of those he loved; his fears and insecurities as a father; the terror and concern and love and barely-contained drive for vengeance over what I’d implied could have happened to Marsali. 

I wanted to be angry at him still. Well, and I was, at that. I had every bloody right to scold him into next year—but I lowered my voice. 

“Marsali got frightened when the cannon-fire started, and she bolted. It’s easy to forget how young she really is, you know? She was too terrified to heed me calling her back. I had to chase after her—Couldn’t find her or hardly even see in the dark—and I was shouting for her, shouting, and I—I heard her scream and—” 

Jamie’s jaw clenched tight but he didn’t say a word, nor did he look up from the floor between his feet. 

“By the time I found her, one of the pirates—a huge brute—had come down into the hold, grabbed her, and had her clutched by the arm. She was doing her best to fight him off, but he was triple her size and—” I heaved a deep breath to keep the blackness at bay. “—And I just….I had to get her away from him…in any way I could.” 

He looked up at me, and his eyes were still and bared to his soul. He tried to say something, but gave up, that gaze imploring me.

“So I slashed at him—cut off his toe, I think, and that set off a rage in him, naturally, and—” I shrugged, “—I couldn’t think of anything except to let him chase me, so I ran as far away from Marsali as I could—barely could see two feet in front of me, just—ran—and—” I shuddered, violently, a latent panic attack, I remarked absently, as the remembered terror coursed through my body. “There was so much mayhem on deck, the only place that seemed safe was UP, somehow, and —I was—c-climbing the rigging—I thought surely with what I’d done to his foot, he couldn’t climb—but he could, and he was gain—gaining, and—If the bloody pe—pelican hadn’t knocked the bastard off balance…” 

Jamie reached for me, to comfort and soothe me—but then he faltered, and shrank back, ashamed. 

“Jamie…” Shaking, I reached for his hand, a peace offering. 

He accepted it and clasped my hand tight, gasping a little as he released the control he’d held over his emotions. “I’m…” He leaned over me to lay his forehead lightly on mine, to cradle my head in his hands. Looming, no longer: he offered me his warmth and his comfort; and, more importantly, his repentance

“I’m so verra sorry, mo chridhe,” he whispered, kissing my face and sniffing as he thumbed one of his own tears from my cheek. “Can ye forgive me?” 

I started to say, ‘of course,’ but he couldn’t seem to stop from blurting, “I was—I’ve been half-crazed wi’ fear that you’d die, Claire—” Jamie’s face was indeed wild, searching mine as though disbelieving, every sight and second. “Lord, I still am afraid that the wound—” He shook his head, his curls tickling my forehead. “But that’s no excuse for—for how I treated ye. And I’m sorry for it.”

“Well, no, it isn’t…” I ran my fingers back through his hair, still damp and dirty from the efforts of battle. “But thank you for saying it; and yes, I forgive you.” 

He made a little, soft sound—something between a sob and a sigh— and kissed me. 

“Perhaps next time…” My tone was light, loving, understanding, even if the message itself was difficult. “….you might start by assuming the best of my intentions, rather than the worst? One capable adult to another?” 

‘I promise.” Such gut-wrenching regret and shame. “I’m sorry I’m—such an arse. Ye deserve better…. I’ll be better.”

To his credit, he did not lower his eyes. They were looking right at me when all at once they brightened. “T’was verra brave and noble what ye did, for Marsali.” 

“’Noble’? I repeated, bewildered.

“Aye. Ye put yourself in such terrible danger, for a girl not even your own—Laoghaire’s daughter, of all people, who you’ve no great reason to love. Ye didna have to—” 

“For Heaven’s sake, Jamie, do you truly think so ill of me?” I felt the sparks of another bout of pain-addled indignation. “You think just because her mother happens to be a—” (raging, homicidal bitch) “—misery of a woman, I’d have left her to fend for herself?? To be—” 

“No, no, no, mo nighean donn,” he said at once, sitting up and showing a hint of laughter (perhaps at my careful epithet and perhaps the implied one, too), before his expression again went serious. “Jesus, never, I only meantjust—Ye risked your life for Marsali, and it….”

He squeezed my hand again; his voice was thick and cracked as he said, “…Thank you. Truly, I....Thank you. ” 

Not only for rescuing her, I thought, from the depth in that expression….

For accepting his life the way I’d found it; all of it, after a notably rocky start. For making the most of the challenging parts we could not change. For not letting petty things get in the way of the *new* life we had before us. 

I smiled and gripped his hand.  

Always, love.” 

Who can find a virtuous and capable wife? She is more precious than rubies. Her husband can trust her, and she will greatly enrich his life. She brings him good, not harm, all the days of her life.

She finds wool and flax and busily spins it. She is like a merchant’s ship, bringing her food from afar. She gets up before dawn to prepare breakfast for her household and plan the day’s work for her servant girls.

She goes to inspect a field and buys it; with her earnings she plants a vineyard. She is energetic and strong, a hard worker. She makes sure her dealings are profitable; her lamp burns late into the night.

Her hands are busy spinning thread, her fingers twisting fiber. She extends a helping hand to the poor and opens her arms to the needy. She has no fear of winter for her household, for everyone has warm clothes.

She makes her own bedspreads. She dresses in fine linen and purple gowns. Her husband is well known at the city gates, where he sits with the other civic leaders. She makes belted linen garments and sashes to sell to the merchants. She is clothed with strength and dignity, and she laughs without fear of the future. When she speaks, her words are wise, and she gives instructions with kindness. She carefully watches everything in her household and suffers nothing from laziness.

Her children stand and bless her. Her husband praises her: “There are many virtuous and capable women in the world, but you surpass them all!”
—  Proverbs 31: 10-29 (via @thylovelylionheart)

[Al-Majid/The Glorious/The Noble]
Al-Majid is another comprehensive name that covers several attributes: He possesses perfect honour and nobility. He is the All-Noble in Himself and His Doings. Being His word, the Holy Qur'an is described as being ‘majid’ “By the Noble Quran!” ‎﴾‬‎5‬‎0.1‎‬‎﴿‬
He is also the One who multiplies His blessings, spiritual and material. He increases them in quantity; and makes them better, and more lasting. So, Allah is praised by this Name where His blessings are solicited: “May the mercy of Allah and His blessings be upon you, people of the house. Indeed, He is Praiseworthy and Honorable.” ‎﴾11.73‬‎﴿‬ And in every prayer we call Him by this name, saying, “You are All-laudable (deserving of praise), All-Noble.” when we ask Allah to give Muhammad the mercy and blessings He gave to Ibrahim, peace be upon them both.

Like a Ship into a Storm 2/6

Sabo wakes in the medical bay. The Baltigo medical bay. The Baltigo medical bay that had, in Sabo’s last experience, been destroyed six months ago.

His fingers run over the sheets; the same rough cotton, the same fabric softener scenting the air but failing to do any actual ‘softening’, the same Koala sitting by his beside.

Guilt surges in Sabo’s chest, a painful reminder that yes, here is his friend, his friend who tried so hard to put him back together again.

But there are just some things that a man cannot recover from, just some things that push a person too far. The loss of Luffy, of Ace dead well before his time (before Sabo could even remember him), it’d ruined him.

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I don’t see enough praise for Regulus Black in the Harry Potter fandom. Reg risked so much, and had to have been incredibly brave. Just the amount of effort it must have taken for him to find the information on the horcruxezs, and to keep that hidden amazes me. I believe he did just as much as Snape did, and yet I never see anything about Regulus. Yes, he had his flaws, and didn’t do everything perfectly, but he deserves more recognition than what he gets. I just love Regulus ok.

The Rise of Vice?

An Op-Ed By Dunnedin Stratford

(Editor’s Note: This is an opinion editorial and in no way is the views or opinions of the Royal Courier.)

Last Friday, two new establishments were opened, each offering a different event, and yet each prevalent with the presence of ‘sin’ and vice. Is this the beginning of a significant legal shift in our city?

First off, we saw the Silk Road open up on private land, away from Stormwind. The Silk Road is an elite club opened by Lady Eve Daniels and the former Lord Warlund Blackfyre. The same Blackfyre that our paper’s founder, Latilda Rommel helped incriminate. The man was eventually abjured from Stormwind, and is allowed to exist in the Alteraci north. The elite club offered alcohol, fine dining and dancers.

However, it had two things that are not normally allowed by Stormwind Law; the sale of less-than-legal drug paraphernalia and the recruitment of escorts and companions, or to use the less polite words that my fellow Gilneans preferred back at home, Prostitutes and whores, in hopes of fulfilling the sexual desires of this crowd. Or at least…less than legal on Stormwind territory.

From what I’ve gathered, the fact that Lady Daniels and Mr. Blackfyre hosted it on their land allowed them to use their legal power as nobles to nullify the illegality of the actions on a localized level, especially since the land, located in the Highlands, is not under Stormwind’s jurisdiction. Alteracian law, as well, is either loose enough or non-existent enough to allow for such actions. Since the Alliance as a collective has not placed an outright ban on the drugs on an international level, or declared an outright ban on willing prostitution, it is technically allowed in such scenarios.

In other words, ‘Elite’ appears to just be code for “I do whatever the hell I want cuz we’re nobles and don’t live on Stormwind land.”

The second establishment, the King’s Cut Gambling House stands in contrast to the Silk Road. While gambling is considered illegal if it is not authorized by the King and is within the bounds of the city, the House of Nobles recently gave the operators, Braxton Hudson and his Shipping Company an operating license in Darkshire. Yes, Darkshire; that town that, if our readers have not forgotten, was slaughtered in a Legion assault only a few months ago and has been the center of a lot of dark dealings for a long time.

The business was simple; it offered simplistic gambling games for the sake of amusement, with plans to expand in coming months. That said, a number of things stood out to this writer. First off, the explicit ban on Illidari. According to the statement made by Hudson in their ad; “[Illidari] are fonts of Fel energy which is a threat to any and all attendees - especially those susceptible to the corruption of magics as destructive as Fel. Such precautions are being taken with specific regard to the possibility of a Demon Hunter losing control which would cause immense damage to properties and untold injury and/or death to patrons and staff.”

Personally, I find this ban illogical and even potentially racist. They place bans on the Illidari, but not the Ebon Blade, who must cause pain to stay sane; not on druids, who, in certain cases, can go feral on those around them; not on warlocks or even Worgens, all creatures who could cause immense damage and untold injury to patrons and staff under the right circumstance? One must wonder if this ban was in place to hide something they did not want one with the special sight of the Illidari to see.

And then there’s the fact that the High Treasurer and Magistrate authorized it within the first month of their term. Is this really what they wish to be remembered for?

It is likely coincidence that both of these events happened on the same night. However, I see it as pointing to something else. The leaders we’ve appointed; the nobles who we want to represent us are instead using the lay of the law to promote and encourage immoral behavior for personal profit.

If the House of Nobles wants us to believe they are going to represent the kingdom of Stormwind’s interests, perhaps they should ask if such establishments are worth their support. Adult entertainment is acceptable in Booty Bay. But when funded by lords and ladies? One must wonder if they deserve their position.

anonymous asked:

Petyr is nasty and creepy and selfish and has to die; Sansa is young and noble and gorgeous and brave and deserves everything in this world (or in any world)/////

“Sansa is young and noble” - grl, i have news for u 

i wonder, when you guys declare your unbridled love for these female characters if you ever make room for their blemished humanity. sansa stark is an idealist whose heart remains steady, but her mind and her character evolve beyond nobility and beyond simple notions of heroic goodness. a lot of these ladies “deserve everything in this world”, but will you let them have whatever they want? and will you still love them if what they want is not holy and pure? but anyway, good talk m8

there’s a post going around right now about horcruxes and how the dursleys were affected by harry being one and like…i dont want to reblog it bc i dont want to put that on any more people’s dashes, but i do have some comments:

-the first line of the description on the photoset is “it’s all harry’s fault”. just so we’re all aware: don’t ever blame a child for the fact that they were abused. ever.

-they argue that, because apparently it’s harry’s fault that the dursleys are terrible human beings, they deserve a place “among the pantheon of noble and virtuous heroes in the harry potter universe.” no. they abused a child. there is no getting around that. why are you trying so desperately to get around that. what the fuck is wrong with you.

-despite being just factually incorrect for several reasons, this post is not only excusing abuse, but literally lauding the abusers as noble and virtuous heroes.

ive seen fandom say some really, really horrible things in my 10+ years as an active member in it, but this is a new low. if you see the post i’m talking about, please do not reblog it. block it if you feel the need to. just don’t spread it where other people could see and be affected by it. thanks.

Read in 2016 » Dirty London by Kelley York 

     I’d be an optimist if people didn’t suck so much. As it is, with the general amount of suckage from most people I know, I consider myself a realist. I can be sad when bad things happen but I understand they will get better. I can be happy when good things happen but I’m smart enough to know that all good things eventually come to an end. Our suffering, our happiness, is never eternal. I see things for what they are. Bad shit happens to good people and vice-versa.
     Some days are harder than others. I sit among my peers fully aware that I’m different. I’m aware that if they knew who I really am, it would be the end of my high school life. This, my dear diary, is the cost of going to a stuffy and severely conservative school. They don’t accept different very well.
     But I refuse to think there’s anything wrong with me. I am normal. I am a human being just as deserving of love and happiness as the next person.
     No, I am not the problem.