and trashed a temple

We have builders just outside our office, and my co-worker turns to me and asks “do lesbians have a thing for women in uniform like we do for men?”..








To bring the “Defenders-landing-in-some-trash” joke full circle, not only should they land in the trash as a group but someone should say something like, “Let’s go take out the trash” before fighting some Hand ninja. 

Three years of build-up for a corny one-liner, I’d die of happiness. 

Also, if someone’s going to say the shitty pun, it’d most likely be Danny. Like, I can see Danny saying, “Let’s go take out the trash”, followed up by Luke saying, “Sweet Christmas, Danny,” followed up by Jessica rolling her eyes and Matt snickering. Then Danny, Luke and Jess look at Matt because he hasn’t cracked a smile since the miniseries started and Matt just says, “What? It was funny, don’t judge me.” 


because YES, Anakin Skywalker absolutely CANNOT BE RAISED LIKE A NORMAL JEDI. He remembers his mother! He LOVES his mother! He has crisis-forged emotional attachments to people who know NOTHING about the Force or the Jedi code, and he knows absolutely nothing about life in the temple while simultaneously knowing a FUCKTON more about life outside it than a normal nine year-old would be expected to handle. He has pride and fear and DRASTICALLY SKEWED EMOTIONAL NEEDS, compared to what any traditionally-educated crechemaster or instructor is used to handling in their typical baby Jedi. 

(and yeah we gotta read-more this one, I guess, sorry mobile users :X)

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This was one of a few incidents of messing with a party member in a 3.5 group.  One of our group was a feral Barbarian halfling; another was a (CN) Tiefling rogue that was going arcane trickster, we had a LN priestess of strategy and tactics, and my LG sorcerer that was going Elemental Savant (ice).  The barbarian character was from a far-south Equatorial area, and by the time the party got somewhere more northerly, my elemental savant, Avelwyn, was well on his way to becoming an ice elemental.

The halfling, Anderall, decided that Reyran, the rogue, was the GREATEST source of information since she was always willing to tell stories and answer questions! 

This led to some interesting shenanigans, starting with the first time the party encountered winter; Avelwyn was already elemental/cold enough to not have a breath plume, and since it being cold enough for that in general was new to Anderall, he’d gone to poke Reyran, whose simple answer was that the little clouds in front of people’s faces were their souls becoming visible in the cold, and that Avelwyn didn’t have a cloud because he didn’t have a soul. 

A brush with becoming a werebadger later, and Avelwyn-bored led to a minor cantrip illusion to make Anderall’s breath disappear in the cold; he dashed off screaming “THE BADGERS STOLE MY SOUL!!!” to interrogate a random wild badger at spearpoint, by which time the cantrip had worn out, and Anderall returned, satisfied that he’d gotten them to give his soul back.

The crowning moment of this came when the DM handed a major NPC, a high priest of Bane (Forgotten Realms campaign), to a passing other D&D player in the dorm; the priest was after the party for something we had, and decided he was going to do intel by kidnapping a party member to learn about us.  After a few failed attempts that included Avelwyn narrowly escaping due to familiar intervention, he managed to catch Anderall, who woke up in a basement room of the temple.

The priest cast zone of truth on him and gave him all the ale he could drink, at which point Anderall, not being the brightest spark, decided that this was a TRUE FRIEND and the truth spell proved unnecessary… with one problem.

Anderall’s assessment of the party was “Creepy undead spellcaster - lich?  That sounds about right, sure” (Avelwyn), “SHINY WARRIOR LADY IN ARMOR THAT’S KIND OF STERN I think she’s a paladin” (Numestra, the priestess), “The nice nice mage lady who answers questions!” (Reyran), “the great warrior who took down an ogre barehanded” (a slightly lower-level bard who’d gotten DAMN lucky rolls once), and “The pretty boy with a harp who’s useless” (a high-charisma warmage that happened to have secondary skill in music that Anderall had never seen at work). 

The guy who’d gotten the priest of Bane cursed as he handed the DM the arrangements for the trap they were setting for the party coming to rescue their halfling.

A session later, we’d managed to thoroughly trash the temple, after they’d been prepared with weapons enchanted against undead for Avelwyn that proved useless, Arrows of Smite Good that did nothing special against the lawful -neutral- priestess, a nice element of surprise for the rogue they didn’t know we had who wasn’t much slowed down by anti-magic zones, and even more surprise when they focused on the actual bard and got Fireball'ed by the warmage. 

Lesson: Don’t get intel from a drunk barbarian.  Ever.

Lion 4

This episode was a real disappointment, I expected so much more plot form a lion episode, I mean it´s the one thing these episodes have: Ronaldo episodes have foreshadowing and lion episodes have plot.

It’s not a bad episode, but “Lion 3:Straight to video” was all plot, definitive proof that Rose had something to do with Lion and that mattered to the plot, in this episode we found out what Steven would be called if he were a a girl, Nora.

Don’t get me wrong it was a good episode, but it lacked that vibe that this kind of episode usually has. The only thing this episode had going for it was the Pink Diamonds Hand Ship, but even that was waisted by having Steven not giving a fuck about them and focusing on Roses temple trash can.

However there is something that I really liked and it’s that Steven decided to try the chest first, which was an awesome way of the crewniverse saying “We didn’t forget” . I can’t wait to see what’s in it.

Stay: Part 2 (Matt/Claire drabbles)

(A/N: Part 1 here. Slight AU where Claire stayed at Matt’s place for a week, and she and Matt never had that fight.) 

“You want to ask me something.”

Claire glanced up from the book her right hand was spread across, her fingertips tracing the Braille, Matthew’s hand a warm, solid heat on top of it as he taught her how to read Don Quixote.

“How did you…?” She licked her lips, sending him an arch look. “Your Spidey-sense tell you that?”

He smiled. “Not so much. Your breathing keeps hesitating like you want to talk. Figured it was a question.”

“Maybe I don’t want to ask it.”


“It’s personal.”

He gave her fingers a gentle squeeze. “I’m not used to sharing secrets, but I won’t keep any from you. Not after…”

He let the sentence trail off, his thumb grazing one of the cuts on her knuckles. She pulled away instinctively, still sensitive to both the touch and the meaning behind it. For once, she was grateful he couldn’t see the momentary flicker of pain on her features.

“When I get up and move around…your head tilts in different directions.”


She bit her bottom lip, hiding a smile. “Are you checking me out?”

Matt coughed, choking on a laugh. Claire’s smile widened until it was nearly ear to ear. “I knew it. At first I thought you were just trying to figure out if I was looking for something, but that time I got up to stretch you were still listening anyway.”

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to—”

“No, no, I’m not offended. I just thought it was funny. When I first got here I thought, ‘oh, well, he’s blind so I don’t have to worry about looking pretty all the time.’ It’s actually kind of comforting that you’re still…well…a guy.”

Matt grinned. “Well, in that case, I’ll do it more often.”

She flicked him in the ear, pursing her lips in a scowl. “Don’t push your luck, mister. Now show me where the next chapter starts.”

Part 3 will probably be posted tomorrow. Thanks for the support so far, Daredevil fandom! You guys are so sweet. 


Darrow had awoken to a commotion outside. He swore to the gods he would exile the spoil brat if he had too, she was not the symbol Terrasen needed. He dressed and met Ren, Murtaugh and the young girl for breakfast.

He sat down opposite of Murtaugh, “what is the commotion?”

Murtaugh smiled at him, not the forced smile he had become accustom to over the last decade. No this was a smile of hope, of triumph, “it seems that kingsflame bloomed last night in the same place our princess swore her blood oaths to us.”

He could feel the blood draining from his face as he whispered, “impossible.”

Murtaugh looked at him, “the locals are also whispering of a white stag being seen in the woods last night, a stag with an immortal glow. It seems, Weylan that you have turned away from our traditions, from the magic that fuels our sacred symbols. It seems that the Lord of the North is sending us a message that the Heir of Brannon has returned, regardless if we formally claim her has our Queen.”

Before he could respond, his messenger appeared before them breathless. They stared at him while he caught his breath, waiting to hear the news.

“They took the temple, they took the Temple of the Stone in less than twenty minutes.”

He needed to know, “Who?”

The messenger took another deep breath, “Aelin, Aedion and the girl from yesterday.”

It was his turn to take a deep breath, it has been a message to him and to Adarlan, the Queen of Terrasen has returned.

The boy continued, “She cleansed the temple with blue flame and there are reports that kingsflame bloomed near the sacred rock.”

He nodded at the boy, a clear dismissal, before he turned to Murtaugh and Ren. “I’m riding for Ilium, they cleansed it, and the least we can do is hold it from Adarlanian trash from reoccupying it. You are welcome to join me.”

Murtaugh was silent for a moment, “Take Ren, I will head to Orynth and begin calling for aid.”

- - - - - - -

It had been a week since the kingsflame bloomed in that crossroads town and a week since she had cleared Ilium of the Adarlanian trash that used their sacred temple as their barracks.

He stared at the Orlon’s kingsflame, since that fateful night, he had always carried it with him. It had bloomed for his King, his love. Everything he has done has been for him. He had kept as much of Terrasen in as much peace as he could for the last ten years. What would his king think of him now?

He sat on the sacred rock, at first it unnerved him, but less than sitting on the kingsflame that seemed to have bloomed everywhere. The Lord of the North was giving his kingdom a very clear message. If only, if only he had given the message before he had turned her away, calling her a spoiled brat.

With shame in his heart he returned to the temple’s archives, seeing if he could find anything to help them win this war against the darkness of Morath.

“Lord Darrow.” He looked up from the bloom that Orlon had pressed in glass to stare at Ren, the boy’s scars were horrible, the boy would have been very handsome if not for the scars. It was his voice that shook him, something was different, and the tone put him on edge.

With an annoyance in his tone, he barked, “what?”

As if in shock the boy breathed, “an armada comes our way.”

They could fight foot soldiers, but an armada, they had not a chance to stand against an armada, “how large?”

“The biggest I have ever seen.”

Shit. Ren had seen the majority of Adarlan’s armada and this was larger. Darrow looked at Ren. He had sent their best hope of surviving an armada away. Instead of welcoming her with open arms, all of them except Murtaugh had turned their backs on her. He had insulted her. He had insulted her court. He had called her bloodsworn a traitor. He had implied that Aedion was a coward. Called the Lady a whore. They deserved their fate. He deserved this fate.

He took a deep breath, “evacuate the city.”

Ren looked at him confused, “no, you do not understand, the ships flags are from … Braircliff, The Silent Assassins, Skull’s Bay, The House of Whitethorn and – “

As if the boy himself could not believe it, a breath above a whisper, “and, Wendyln.”

He ran to the shore. He sucked in a breath and fell to his knees at the sight of the armada. Her promise echoed through his mind.

To call in old debts and promises. To raise an army of assassins and thieves and exiles and commoners. To finish what was started long, long ago.

She had planned this, she had planned for aid, while he was planning with the other Lords of Terrasen to refuse her claim as queen, she planned to protect Terrasen. An armada from The Western Wastes would have taken months, not a week to appear. Wendlyn was a two week journey in fair waters, she would have had to call for their aid at least a month prior. The Silent Assassins would have taken months to call.

Ren cleared his throat, “The last time I spoke to her, I scorned her from walking away. It appears we were both mistaken. She has spent the last ten years fighting for her kingdom under the mask of Adarlan’s Assassin. She had fought for us the only way she could.”

He swallowed, “I called her a spoiled brat and implied she was a whore. I implied that the only way she could help us was through marriage or her assassin’s skills.”

He took a breath, “We will fight, we will fight for our Queen, we will fight for Terrasan.”

He would make his king, his love proud.

fic: every galaxy tells a story

title: every galaxy tells a story

warnings: nc-17. contains light smut and references to depression

word count: 1800

summary: He’s gone, Dan realises, he’s completely and utterly submerged in Phil and he never wants to resurface, because if this is drowning in somebody then he’s glad that he never bothered to learn to swim. 

(or, the AU one where Phil has tattoos everywhere and Dan is addicted and wants to know the stories behind every single one as they lie in bed.)

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eshnoazot  asked:

Concept: Mom Mace is sitting with his new best Pal Qui Gon Jinn and Qui Gon flippantly mentions getting a tattoo and little Anakin perks up and goes "Get me a sharp thing and some ink I have done this before!"

Little Anakin probably looks at Qui-Gon and goes “…We could tattoo an ULTIMATE Friendship bracelet! :D”. Mace nopes out and is like “I don’t even need to have a vision” like an illegal Jedi tattoo parlour inside the temple wasn’t a great idea.

Mace WANTS to just nope out and come back once they’ve got it out of their systems but unfortunately what Mace ACTUALLY has to do is follow them both around for a week like a fucking SPACE HAWK to make sure neither one gets Ideas. But also “encouraging literally all of Anakin’s interests because Not Getting Murdered Out A Window”, so now he’s ALSO gotta track down some Jedi with a less “Tattooine slave culture” approach to tattooing so Anakin can learn enough to decide if he wants to learn MORE. 

Seriously, though, definitely not letting him do the Tattooine version. NO, ANAKIN, YOU CANNOT MAKE YOUR OWN TATTOO GUN OUT OF THE TEMPLE TRASH COMPACTOR. 

Anakin is so offended. He’s not DUMB, he’d WASH it first. 

Somehow at the end of the conversationl, Mace still ends up with an “ultimate friendship bracelet” drawn on his wrist in permanent marker by tiny Anakin hands. Forcedammit, Qui-Gon. 

Seal of Biblical King Discovered in Jerusalem

The bulla seal of King Hezekiah was discovered in an ancient trash dump within an archaeological site near the Temple Mount in Jerusalem. It is believed to be the first ever seal of a Judean King to be found in a legitimate archaeological excavation. 

The seal dates to the 8th Century BCE.  It features a winged sun disk flanked by two ankhs and an inscription in ancient Hebrew which reads: “Belonging to Hezekiah [son of] Ahaz, King of Judah.“

Hezekiah, who is believed to have ruled from 727 to 696 BCE, is one of the most prominent Kings of Judah mentioned in the Hebrew Bible. He is best known for his conflict with the Assyrians during the Siege of Jerusalem in 701 BCE.