So, You Guys Remember Good Old Ea-Nasir?  The Copper Merchant From Ancient Mesopotamia Who Kept Stiffing

the void

The seeds of heresy started here. okay so nothing sad, nothing emotional, I just want to draw my fav scene :3 Bonus:

so i made a blank version, right? and here's what I came up with.

"Can I use the blank to make him say any-" yeah do whatever you want idc put the whole bee movie script if you want

Modern AU

Book 3 scene / iconic quote from "A Thousand Sons"

Bonus under the cut

“May you have a life of safety and peace”, said the witch, cursing the bloodthirsty warrior.

Something about how Kendal named himself only after Alinua agreed to go with him on the several-day-long journey to Windscrest. Something about how he absolutely refused to name himself when he thought he'd get Vash back to his body soon. Something about how even after he decided to name himself he decided to name himself for a tool that belonged to Vash, that only Vash wielded, that had been both literally and figuratively a part of Vash's incarnation, that was just a useless hunk of metal without him. Something about how you can immediately know when Vash is controlling the body because Vash moves like he's comfortable in his own skin, and he revels in that comfort. Something about "Are you a god?" "No. Just a weapon. But I belong to one of Zuurith's enemies."

So based on that last ask with King Arthur is he choosing to fall in love with Gwen even if she has a high chance of falling for Lancealot? If so, it's tragic. Doomed to love another that won't fully love you back.

Does Arthur even just tell Lancenalot to get the hell put of the kingdom some loops?

I think it's more like-

You become aware of your existence somewhere around the age of 3. You were born under mysterious circumstances you don't know the details of. The first time through, you were growing up in a castle. Lately you find you are growing up among peasantry.

Maybe you have brothers. Maybe you have a sister. Maybe you're an only child. Your family is distant either way. They speak welsh. They speak latin. They speak french. They speak english with american attempts at british accents.

The first few times through, there wasn't a sword. Now it's a consistent presence - a shimmering blade stuck in a plain anvil or a large boulder, haunting your hometown or a nearby forest glade. It looks different every time, feels different in your hands. It was made for you.

There are more trials every time. In the first stories the crown was yours from birth. Lately it's been further and further away, behind more tribulations and tournaments and beasts to slay. More guidance from the ageless old man you remember from the earliest days, the welsh days. He's different every time. Everything's different every time. And still nothing changes.

The crown is yours. It's inevitable. And when the crown passes into your hands, it carries the kingdom with it. It's yours now. And it's going to thrive! You hardly need to do anything. Heroes flock to you and pledge themselves as knights, then spend the decades tearing off on wild quests and adventures, getting into the kind of trouble that serendipitously always keeps the kingdom safe. The adventures feel familiar, but never quite play out the same way. Chalices, black knights, fairy women, questing beasts. You rarely see them for yourself. You're too important, after all. You're the kingdom's beating heart.

You have a queen. You don't spend much time with her. It's jarring how much she changes every time. You hate how much it surprises you the times she genuinely loves you; you never really get to enjoy it. The kingdom doesn't run itself, even if just having you around seems to make the forests grow thick and the rivers run clear. Mostly you spend time with her when you're rescuing her from abduction. You very rarely have children together. You miss them.

It didn't used to end in fire, but lately it never ends in anything but, and you never know when it's going to start. You're never home when it starts, but you spend so much time out tending the kingdom or questing anyway. But you always learn too late - treachery. Your knight, your vassal, your bastard child, your lady love. Camelot is burning. You watch your life's work precede you into the grave.

You die. You sleep under the mountain. You dream. It's quiet.

Somewhere in the world, a writer picks up a pen, and you become aware of existence somewhere around the age of 3.

post king’s tide doodles (not sad)

text via incorrect quote generator

More favourite mad science tropes:

Flashy explosions as a result of errors in procedures that have no conceivable reason to involve any explosive substance  

Lab coats in non-laboratory settings  

All mad scientists being versed in mad psychology regardless of their ostensible mad field of study  

“It comes to life and starts eating people” being a potential failure mode of literally every experiment  

WIldly unethical ways of accomplishing goal that could have been achieved more easily without the crimes against humanity  

[noun] reaction/inversion/overload, where [noun] is something that one would not customarily regard as being capable of reacting/inverting/overloading  

The way that you can pinpoint the popular anxieties of the era of the story’s publication by looking at the form factor of the thing that turns people into face-eating monsters (e.g., weird potion versus nuclear radiation versus psychiatric fuckery, etc.)  

QuAnTum  

World-ending superweapons that are also people even though being a person has no bearing on the world-ending part  

“What in God’s name?” “God had nothing to do with it!”