The Jedi Order mainly being an institution about teaching makes me sad that we never see more "Jedi classes" outside of the popular ones like martial arts, healthcare and Force wackery.
Alongside basic language and science education etc there have to be at least some trade and college courses on offer, right? The Jedi need a bunch of their own people with law degrees. Proper pedagogy studies for future crèchemasters. Cooks. Managers. All types of engineers. Electricians. Accountants. Researchers. How many Jedi hold a doctorate or professorate? Because I think a large number of them do. Their databanks are filled with millennia of dissertations. You can still find Yoda's articles from 500 years ago and cite them in your history research paper.
The Order just having its own micro-economy going on and every member getting their own regular job education next to all the lightsaber swinging adventures... pls
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Danny gets summoned out of his final exams to help the Justice League with a Multivers-level of tread. Grumbling the entire time, he transforms, helps, and just wants to return home cause, hello he was summoned in the middle of his exams but can't return because of the aftermath. Danny is angry and pissy with them the entire time, with a couple exception in the younger generations like Kon when he learned the guy was a clone.
Meanwhile the batkids started to bet on who of the Justice league will attempt to keep Danny:
Red Hood: I like the kid. I give it three weeks, money is on Wonder Woman.
Red Robin: with how B is. Two on him.
Nightwing: One, Green Lantern has been complaining that he wants a kid.
Spoiler: oh are we betting on mentoring or adoption? I put my money on Constantine for the chaos.
Robin: This is ridicules.... I place it on Jon pestering his father.
Red Robin: wait we are throwing in the Sups now? Change it to one week, Kon likes him ever since he mentioned having a clone sister.
Orphan holding up two fingers.
Signal: Mentor wise, two days, adoption? I give him a week. Doesn't matter who though.
Oracle: oh aren't you all forgetting something? The Justice League Dark was the one doing the summoning, they already stated claim on him.
Danny could only stare flabbergasted at them. Didn't they hear what he said? He needs to find a way back home, his final exams were at stake, his sister, the older one, would kill him if he bombed them.
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so one time i got bit by a brown recluse which is one of the only types of spider in my area that's actually dangerous and at first i didn't know what had happened to me, only that it was nasty. the swelling wasn't going down and the wound started to get ugly. i don't want to like get into the details because that's gross but it got to the point 2 weeks later that i was worried enough to go to the doctor, which i hate doing.
i am not afraid of spiders but other people are so i'd been covering it with this big ole square bandage (i needed more landscape coverage than a simple bandaid) and sat in the university medical waiting room, kicking my heels and playing BOTW. the nurse who admitted me was like, oh, we have got to get Tom to cover this one. she wrote spider bite under my ticket.
i waited in the near-empty building for like an hour and then nurse tom shows up in spiderman scrubs, out of breath. "sorry," he says, "i saw - your slip - and I had," he heaves in a breath, "to run home and. get. these scrubs. i literally. ran. felt like a job. for. spiderman."
i laugh. he puts his hands on his knees, thumbs-ups at me. fishes a pamphlet out from under his clipboard that basically says spiders can be scary but you don't need to be scared, there's very few dangerous spiders in new england. "honestly," he wheezes, "we probably don't need to get you into an exam room. just..." he waves his hand at the pamphlet, "read that."
i look down at my arm. then back at him in his scrubs. and then down at my arm. i like that he made an effort to make a joke, but now it does not feel like a good joke, because they are mistaking my calm for a lack of injury. "can i. like. at least show you the bite?"
he gives me kind of a weird look, which is fair, but then says. "if. i mean, if you have to."
i peel the bandage off. his face goes green.
"oh," he says.
"yeah, man."
"a... spider bit you?" his voice is high and tight and trembling. he backs up a few steps.
"i think a brown recluse," i offer. "i know it's nasty, sorry."
"excuse me for a moment." he looks over to the administering nurse on the other side of the small room. "i need to find someone else to take care of you."
the administering nurse smiles over to us with a degree of pleasure that is almost salivating. for a moment, like a window opening, i am briefly aware of what must be a psychic message floating amongst the in-between. her jaguar teeth all say this is like a party for me and i know exactly what i'm doing.
"oh no, tom," she says, grinning. "i gave her to you specifically."
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Loke is the kind of guy to get on his knees and wail to God, “Why must our women suffer?!” He’d cry with one hand clawing at his chest while the other beats at the ground.
I love Gray, Lucy and Loke (also Cana, she’s here in spirit). The imagery and energy that they all share together makes me so happy. They’re all in-love and that alternates between romantic and platonic depending on the mood.
This entire post was inspired by @u1tear and the description on their post ‘hot girl and two bi guys with homoerotic overtones’. If we add in Cana then its just a group of bi losers.
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lyney x reader: hair (drabble)
features lyney
warnings: nothing except the fact that the text isn’t capitalised or proofread ;v;.
notes: what’s this, me writing for a character that isn’t from the first three nations? anw yeah so this is a drabble but it’s over 100 words,,, also sorry but my exams are in. two days. so. I may be m.i.a. for a while… hope you guys are alright with short things like this and the childe one
synopsis: his hair is really pretty, you think.
unlike his siblings, lyney’s hair is slightly different.
lynette’s hair is soft to the touch, and smells slightly of lumidouce bells. it’s smooth to the point that it’s slippery, always slipping through the gaps in her fingers, always obeying to her ribbons when she’s out at night; the glow of her and her cats’ eyes seeping through the cracks in the walls, learning each of their secrets. freminet’s hair is a beautiful pale blonde, the same as his mother’s before she left; the same as his mother’s, a woman his siblings never knew. it’s straight, but coarse on the ends whenever he resurfaces from the water. nevertheless, it suits his eyes swimmingly. sapphire gems on gold fleece.
lyney, however, lyney, the leader, the oldest, has hair with the fragrance of rainbow roses perpetually remaining on its strands. he makes little effort to keep it as gorgeous and luscious as his sister’s, when he very well could— to him it’s not as if lynette pays particular heed to her hair anyway, he’s the one who brushes through her hair and gets her the shampoo she likes because he knows she loves it.
his hair, to himself, is waiting backstage and anticipating a new show no matter how much of a lie it may be; it’s showering as speedily as he can no matter how much he wants to remain in the steady caress of running water, out of habit yet not allowing his siblings do the same, and choosing to brush his siblings’ hair so that they feel comfortable and have the best night’s rest they can have; it’s falling asleep on accident while you kiss his head, rub the pads of your fingers against his skull and brush through the strands ever so gently, as if for a moment he is precious as shards of glass about to shatter even more, as if for a moment he has been redeemed and has never been an actor, has never been a man overdue for confessions.
lyney’s hair to you is strolling in a field, senses awakened by the heady scent of flowers; it’s the comfort in gazing up at the stage and watching him paint the world until it becomes a sea of clamour, an ocean of awe, a vast land of smiles; it’s waking up to him and coffee being brewed behind you as he’s already set and ready for the day with his hair braided to the side. his hair is pretty, pretty because there was never a time when he was not, pretty because he braids it and makes the effort to keep it neat and tidy even if it’s not gorgeous or luscious, so pretty and hence you comb your fingers through it whenever you can.
and it doesn’t have to be slippery-smooth like lynette’s, nor does it have to be as ethereal as freminet and his mother’s. you’d love his hair any other way.
—
“you’ve always got beautiful hair, lyney,” you comment, one day, resting your nonchalance and your chin on your palm and elbow. “you’re always so pretty.”
he laughs. “why, are you trying to steal my poor little heart? oh, take it away, wrest it if you will. and besides, when have I ever been fairer than you?”
“always,” you state, matter-of-factly. “but you’re the prettiest. your hair curls a little at the end and it fits the way your eyes fill themselves with wonder when you’re on stage, or how you braid your hair to the side in the morning like that, I think. it’s like lynette’s, but I think I like yours just a little more. it’s really pretty, that’s all.”
“my, you’ve rendered me speechless, haven’t you?”
your lips curl into a smile. “I suppose I have.”
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