What The-

What the-

credit

I have a really complex relationship with religion, but here’s something positive

So yesterday’s anon messed me up? I can’t stop thinking about that sweet concept, it’s so GOOD, why didn’t I think of it myself, it’s so perfect.

Like you KNOW Mordred is super attached to Shirou and that she also has negative 50 respect for Artoria.

So Mordred shows up in full swimwear, surfing board under her arm, shit eating grin plastered on her face, and Artoria just puts down the magazine she was reading in the living room.

“I’m going t–” “No.” “–o go su–” “It’s the middle of winter, Mordred.” “–rf for a while, later!” “Mordred, you cannot go.”

The clash of blue and red had already begun the moment Mordred entered the room. “Oh? You think you can stop me? Why can’t I go? It’s a fine day, Artoria, you know? Well, see y–”

“There’s a typhoon warning, Mordred. It is unseemly to go surf in the middle of winter, you’ll only worry those who see you. Stay home and join me for a session in the dojo. We would surely benefit from teaching you some discipline.”

“Oh? You wanna teach me how to be a boring six piece McNobody who sits on her ass all day and watches as her people go to war because she never bothered to learn proper politics? Yeah! I’m down! Let’s make ‘em unhappy! Not. Gonna catch some waves, see ya later, Arts.”

“Mordred, that is no way to speak to your… King…? Father…? Ah, just listen! You can’t go, and that’s final!”

“So it sounds to me like ya want Camlann 2, huh? ‘Cause by running your mouth like that is how you get Camlann 2, yeah, I’m down, clench your teeth, you shithead, because here comes my big, fat, nasty fi–”

“Ah, hold on!”

An angelic voice interrupts this catastrophe right before it reaches critical mass. “Mordred, you should stay home today! I’ll need your help cutting the pork and chicken I brought for today’s dinner. I was trying to make a new recipe, it’s kinda like yakitori, but we are also having a side serve of sweet and sour pork. You think you could wait until summer, and then we can all go surfing together?”

That click you heard just now? That was Shirou cutting the red wire and defusing a bomb with unrivaled finesse. The surfboard was GONE, the swimwear stowed, the fight a mere mirage, no sir, Mordred was fully clothed and her face pressed against Shirou’s chest. “Well, if Mom says so!” she exclaims, her voice muffled. “So should I help ya right now or do we have time?”

“We should get dicing the pork right now!”

“ON IT.”

And through this whole thing Taiga is doing The Face, you know the one,

peeling away at mandarins, watching as Artoria brews a Molotov cocktail of conflicted emotions within her. “You ok, Seiba?”.

“I’m fine.”

From the kitchen, Mordred, with the girliest voice, is clearly having a blast with “mom”.

This is just a reminder that when Sir Terry Pratchett was knighted, he dug up his own iron ore, learned to smelt, smelted it, added meteorite iron, learned to forge, and forged himself a starmetal sword. As you do.

And then he put it away somewhere safe so he wouldn’t violate any UK knife laws.