@hero-ofcanton - Tumblr Blog

here are some more cats 🍓

A blueberry jam cat!

I love Granny Weatherwax so very much, and one of my favorite about her is just that she’s kind of really unpleasant all the time; she’s nosy and critical and stubborn as a mule and a filthy hypocrite and she’s prideful and far too serious and extremely bossy and refuses to admit when she’s wrong, she’s deeply conservative and judgmental and demanding and rude to everyone, no matter who they are. But that never stops her from helping, or wanting to help, she’s going to help and she’s going to insist on helping and she’s going to complain about it every second it takes. Esme Weatherwax is not nice, or polite, but she is good, and I love her so dearly for that

alexandria-stone-author

I FOUND THE TWEET THAT GOT ME TO WATCH PRIDE AND PREJUDICE

perseannabeth

Mourning the potential of Percy Jackson being on filmed sitcom style with Percy breaking the fourth wall to talk to the audience and being set on the early 2000’s

nodded

BROOKLYN NINE-NINE 1.02 → "The Tagger"

shutinthenutouse

anak1n

no rest for me and im not even that wicked ?

dailyputnam

ONLY MURDERS IN THE BUILDING — 1.01 'True Crime' Martin Short as Oliver Putnam Steve Martin as Charles-Haden Savage Da'Vine Joy Randolph as Detective Williams

dr-cassie-mckay

#nothing to look at here #just two wet people

godstiel

in many ways being alive is about getting to have a little coffee every morning

overwelmd

mars black

laurasimonsdaughter

“You’ve got to be joking, surely.”

“Nope,” the blacksmith shakes his head. “Nothing but battle mages around here, and I’m the only artificer in forty miles.”

The traveller tugs on her grimy hair in frustration. “You don’t sell potions or amulets or sigils?”

“Wouldn’t know how to make ‘em,” he shrugs, looking at her with some concern. She looks in desperate need of a meal and a good night’s sleep.

“This place is spoken of as a bastion of magic! A font of innovation and power!”

“Well, I don’t like to toot my own horn, but I’ve got more magic in here than one person could possibly need. Provided you need it forged into a blade,” he replies.

It’s getting rather hard not to take her dismissal personally. He would never have expected someone like her not to value the crafting of magical weaponry; he has never seen anyone look more like a sellsword.

“You have nothing else?” she presses and this time there is desperation at the edge of her voice.

“Sorry…”

All the light seems to leave her eyes. Her head drops and the blacksmith can just make out a frantic stream of muttered words.

“Two months on the road,” she breathes, “dragging him from pillar to post as he wastes away, and there’s not a drop of healing magic in this damned place—”

“Heyday! I never said that!” he protests, urgently stepping forward. “You came here with someone in need of healing?”

Her eyes dart instantly up to his. “Yes. My— My charge. He is affected by some curse or illness… Something my skill could not protect him from.”

“Well, that’s where you’re wrong,” the blacksmith grins. He looks at her, sizing up the width of her shoulders. “Know how to handle a broadsword?”

“Of course I do.”

He takes one from its case, the flawless blade almost black, the glint of the steel almost warm as he offers it to her.

“You take that out to your young man and swing it thrice above his head and see if he doesn’t perk right up. Best healing blade I’ve ever forged. And when you’re done, you can both join the family for dinner and a chat. Seems like you could do with some information about the kind of battle mages we raise around here.”