land of the eagle


Context: My party of four has traveled to the elemental plane of earth and we found some mudhills that seem to go on forever and have massive and constant landslides. Our goal was to obtain a certain flower beyond the mudhills. We are trying to figure out how to get past the hills and our half-elf Druid (named Vae) suggests that she can beastshape into a giant eagle and polymorph someone into a giant eagle at the same time. Our tiefling wizard (named Armonia played by me) includes that she can polymorph one person as well to help.

Vae: If it takes more than an hour I’d have to end my beastshape and cast polymorph again.

Armonia: We could probably find a safe hill to land on so we can recast everything.

Vae: Well I could probably un-eagle as we’re falling and try and not land at all.

Armonia: How long does it take to re-eagle?

DM: (starts laughing hysterically) That was probably one of the best one-liners I’ve heard in this campaign so far.

Today we’re celebrating our national bird, the bald eagle, for American Eagle Day. On June 20, 1782, the bald eagle was placed at the center of the Great Seal of the United States and remains a symbol of our proud country. After a dramatic recovery, bald eagles are found in every state but Hawaii, soaring high and inspiring the nation. Photo from the Gulkana Wild and Scenic River in Alaska by Bob Wick, Bureau of Land Management (@mypubliclands).

ravenclaws, endless oceans.




that’s what we all think about ravenclaws.

like the eagle, they soar above the land and pick their enemy, calculating how to tear them apart, slowly.

they strive to find the most original, find the most extreme way to overcome their obstacle; or they create a plan that suits them just best. because ravenclaws hold the world in their hands and can crush it in a heartbeat.

but they don’t; they don’t want to take over the planet because the world is interesting and there’s so much to do. because they haven’t discovered all the creatures or found all the plants, they haven’t uncovered the secrets behind the buried whispers of old, ancient artifacts.

or simply, because they have not read all the fanfictions on the website.

there’s so unearth, so much to say and ravenclaws want it all. their hearts crack and cave because not even a lifetime can carry out all the dreams they wish to achieve.

they try, try, try their hardest to fit in the things they love because everything doesn’t last forever. if that means watching netflix until one am before a big test? screw it. because ravenclaws hold the knowledge of creativity and acceptance that even though they are intelligent, being intelligent isn’t everything.

because ravenclaws have learned through anxious times when life became hard. they learned through hunched sobs and heavy hiccups that friends and family and love are crucial to happiness instead of one’s grades and they pity the ones who aren’t content.

because ravenclaws won’t hesitate to shred a person to tears. won’t hesitate to rip them to pieces when they are backstabbed— left in the dust. they know they deserve what they received, but they never fail to create a low, petty competition. because ravenclaws knows that that everything is just a climb to the top, and if they can’t sit on the throne, no one else can. no one can come close.

because ravenclaws are eccentric and quirky and the have the ability to understand why they are the person that they are. because their wisdom diverges into so many rivers and it all leads to one place. acceptance.

because through time, ravenclaws strip away the dirt and the grime from a rock to divulge a diamond. because ravenclaws are striking in a way that no one else is, accepting their own being and being joyous.

because ravenclaws hold the world in their hands simply because they are motivated and competitive and happy.


FAVORITE FRIENDS SEASON (as voted by my followers)
↳ #10: Season Nine

“Listen, listen: a pigeon… no, no, wait, an eagle flew in, landed on the stove, and caught fire! The baby, seeing this, jumps across the apartment to the mighty bird’s aid! The eagle, however, misconstrues this as an act of aggression and grabs the baby in its talons! Meanwhile, the faucet fills the apartment with water! Baby and bird, still ablaze, are locked in a death-grip, swirling around the whirlpool that fills the apartment!”

I’m that mysterious adventurer in time and space, known only as Doctor Who, and these are my disposables – Exposition and Comic Relief.


(yes, really, in episode 11 of this season)

Now It's Three In The Morning

Originally posted by notheartbroken

She calls him up for a good time but something’s wrong. //loosely inspired by “why’d you only call me when you’re high” by arctic monkeys. fluffy, not smutty sorry. i was in my feels. 

Keep reading

Watch on

Perfect superhero landing.

The Day George Washington Came To Town

In 1795, a time capsule was buried containing numerous artifacts of the American Revolution to be opened in 2017. For 222 years it remained under the earth at Mt. Vernon. Among the items included were early drafts of the Declaration of Independence, the tools that crafted the Liberty Bell, and Thomas Jefferson’s fingernail clippings. But far more interesting than all was a handwritten letter by Jimmy Solsmith, age 9 at the time of his writing. It was an account of Washington’s visit to Jimmy’s small village in Virginia on August 8th, 1789, and for anyone interested in American history, it is truly magical. It is here presented in its entirety without alteration:

Deare Teacher,

I write to you upon this date of Auguste the Eighth in the Year of our Lord 1789 to recount the events of to-day, in which George Washington himself did visit my small home town of Billsburgshire, Virginia among his United States of America.

The visit began in the morn as the presidential caravan entered through our village gates. Our first president Washington rode atop the caravan and did wave to the public, who greeted him with great fervor and good tidings. What surprised me moste was his stature. George Washington was well over six feet tall, and had a musculature to equal a great strong mule. As he waved, the meat of his arms did ripple with power and many a lady did swoon upon seeing his chest, which he unbuttoned his overcoat to reveal.

Washington for a brief time stepped down from his carriage to shake hands and greet the townspeople. It was as though a wave of glee rippled across us all. But that wave was cut short when an quake of the Earth struck us. The shivers of the ground unsettled most houses and collapsed the church’s steeple, which had been completed only a year prior. Washington calmed us all with soothing words but the quake was not over, nay, a great rift began to form, parting the earth in several places. From the largest of these muddy wounds came flames, and with them sparks like those of a smithy’s shop.

From the fyre did emerge what appeared at first to be an ox, but as it pour further from the soil we beheld it had the body of a man, the tail of a sea-beest, and several arms. In two of its hands it held swords, sickled like those who fought the crusaders. In a bellowing voice the monstere declared, “I have come for you, George Washington!” The president leapt toward it with a great bound and his voice did bellow, “Come take me, thou ox beest from Hell!” and the two did fight.

The violence was magnificent and terrible. Washington, having pulled a long sword from his trousers, fought the demon hand to hand for well over thirty minutes, as it growled. He beckoned again, “Come at me, brother, is that all thou hast got? Get thou some of this!”

His victory over the monstere was all but assured when the skies opened up and the beest’s brethren from the sky rained upon the village with fury and fyre. No less than twenty more of the things came forth from their ships-that-sail-upon-air. And these did have rifles that shot glowing pellets, and devices that threw flames upon us and our cherished leader. Washington would have none of it. He tore off his shirtpiece and by the shiver of his muscles beat down the creatures! And as they died at his hand, they burst into ashes.

It was then that the mother of these sky ships landed and disgorged a greater beest, akin to the others but with many tentacles and slimy appendages, and also its eyes did glow with blue flame. It spoke disrespectfully to George Washington our founder, stating, “Bring it, thou mother-fucker, it’s time to bringeth the pain.” Washington replied in kind, “Bitch, thou knowest nothing of pain.” And with one of the animals’ weapons he assaulted the mother beest and shot a vast hole in its chest, from which poured burning oil. As the monstere died under his boot, Washington took my elder sister Chastity by the arm and dipped her down as if in a dance, and to her great amazement and glee did kiss her powerfully, all as he held his weapon high and a bald eagle did land upon his shoulder.

Washington finally left our village and we began to rebuild, all the while speaking of his great feats of majestic saving power.

Truly, the greatest president.

  • Allie: So do you like Christen?
  • Tobin: She checks a lot of my boxes. She’s a woman, she’s got a face, she can go outside. I just wish there was a way I could know for sure that we were meant to be together. Like a sign.
  • Allie: A sign? Like what?
  • Tobin: Oh, you know, the usual. Like if we both got struck by lightning at the same time or if an eagle landed on her hand and whispered my name.
  • Allie: Yeah, that’s how you know it’s real.
Sorry about that

Happy unexpected anniversary! Here is another unexpected anniversary in form of fic. Based on “imagine Bilbo arriving to the anniversary party in Erebor late with a Starbucks”. Since there is no Starbucks in Middle Earth, he got an eagle and a tan, and, well, we all know Bilbo is only late when Gandalf is involved. XD

So: Bagginshield anniversary fic, alternating between humor and sap.

The first anniversary of the dwarves’ first meeting with Bilbo Baggins initially threatens to be a sad and solemn occasion. After all, once the dust cleared, no trace of Bilbo Baggins could be found, and all letters sent to the Shire remained unanswered. Gandalf, too, had vanished before the night was out; only leaving word he had urgent business to see to.

But as evening dawns and Thorin gazes westward from the parapets, he is drawn from his grieved recollections by a rustling of feathers. A very loud and sudden rustling of feathers. Followed by a familiar voice shouting: “Thorin, duck!”

And only because Thorin’s muscles are trained to respond to certain commands better than his mind does he manages to narrowly escape a painful skewering by eagle claws. While Thorin pulls himself up from his emergency dive and roll, said eagle manages to more crash than land on the other side of the parapets - among plumes of dust, feathers, and offended squawking.

Thorin’s mind sluggishly tries to catch up. He knows that voice. But it can’t be…

“I told you using your predator instincts to help with landing is a terrible idea,” said voice scolds from somewhere within the dust cloud. Another indignant squawk answers. “Alright, it may work when orcs are involved.”

The dust settles. Thorin forgets to get up, just stays sitting on tiles while to the west the sky drowns in pink and orange. Bilbo’s hair glows golden under it. It’s longer now - long enough to have been pulled back in a short ponytail. He looks glorious.

Keep reading