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Allomancy

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*takes deep breath* I'll be here posting for a year if I do these one at a time. I will make this easier on all of us. lol
Things heard on my TeamTalk server, some of which are quotes and some of which are exchanges, spoilered for length and with most names changed. Long and comedic.


Percy: "Oh, I'm just stabbing your cat with a spork, it's fine."

Christian: "This is the eleventh day of the week."

Alex: "I actually have to die, hold on a second."

Nymyyrriq: "Dude, I wish someone would just light me on fire."

Kitty: "I'm gonna shell, peel, and prepare all the vegetables." (a moment later) "I've been reading too much Stormlight."

Willow (singing): "Ooh, I've got uranium in my cranium."
Me (without missing a beat, in a dry tone): "Well, that explains a lot."

Lily: "So after we go to the moon and eat it--"
Willow: "Wait, I thought we were just biting the moon, now we're eating it? We're just straight up consuming the moon now."
Me (severely): "Do not consume the moon, we need that!"

Me: "Yeah ... Don't fart your way over the grand canyon. It probably wouldn't be fun."

Spence: "Wow, how does Rob Thomas have such a voice?"
Alex: "Don't worry about him, he'll be dead next round."

Spence: "And apparently Rob Thomas is dead now."
Me, to Alex, upset: "You made me kill him! You wouldn't stop destroying your room because he wouldn't die!"

Alex: "I was interested five minutes ago, and twenty minutes have past!"

Me: "I'd like to renovate the universe, that sounds like a good idea ... Ooh, poptarts."

Willow, with emphatically clipped questioning diction: "Why do I hear a bowed instrument coming-out-of-your butt!"

Me: "It's an established fact that I am descended from a human who was with someone who was not."
Willow (in a British announcer voice): "Maybe they were a goat!"

Alex: "I was born in 1975 and today is 2019."

Winston (tiredly): "This whole thing has been stress, since Thursday of 2007."

Willow, distractedly pleased: "Oh, good! That space is just about coming to a boil."

Bell: "Wait, are they just in there diagonally at a 90 degree angle?"

Me: "Why is it that I can only accomplish any kind of growth through massive explosions?"
Spence (in a timid, rising tone): "Because you're the embodiment of punctuated equilibrium?"

Percy: "Roshar is the Oprah of magic in the Cosmere."

Me: "I do that all the time and I don't even do that!"

Lyla: "Head pets for Voldemort."

Heard with no context on Twitter: "I miss you as much as I miss hot lava being poured down my shorts."

Me: "No, no more hemalurgy!"
Willow: "Oh, I'm not done, I need to fix mine."

Me: "If I ever hear a leach screech or a tick click, I'm leaving the planet. Just running straight upward."
Spence: "Achieving escape velocity with your nope."

Willow: "So you know how when you put bread in the cupboard for 9 months and then it goes kind of furry. Well-"
Percy: "Yep, that's how you make a baby."

Nymyyrriq: "Look, close the black hole, and come in side!"


And now on a serious note, one of the things that probably saved my life before I realized it needed saving.
Infinity's Shore, David Brin


In fact, the ocean of night is too vast, too busy to be involved in his agony. An evolving universe can hardly be bothered with the problems of a single individual, a member of one of the lower orders of sapient life.
And why should it?
What a privilege it is, to exist at all! On the great balance sheet, he owes the cosmos everything, and it owes him nothing.
Emerson manages to share a final moment of communion with his captain and comrade--not caring whether the grinning dolphin is a ghost, a mirage, or some miraculous true image. Knowing only that Creideiki's lesson is true.
There is no setback--no wound or blow of cruel fate--that cannot be turned into a song.
For an instant, Emerson can sense music in every ray of starlight.
When the winter's
Typhoon pounds you,
Onto sand grains,
Sharp and gleaming,
And creation
All conspiring,
Breaks you on a
Time of Changes,
At the moment
When breath falters,
And your lifeblood
Pours out streaming,
Cast around that
Bright reef, dear friend,
For a gift
to Grant another,
For some way
to Repay forward,
All the favors
You were given.
For in good time
Prospects glitter
Far along Infinity's Shore.


Nymyyrriq: All serious.


A day will come when you realize how much you've broken, how many cycles you've perpetuated. That day will make or break you. Our measure is not in how we've been broken, or what we've broken, but in how we choose to live when the smoke has cleared.
Huge amounts of things that we don't understand are valid and real. We know as much as we each know, never mistake that for everything.
There's a part of all of us which cries, "I wish to speak to you in my context..."
No one can lock us in boxes as effectively as we ourselves can.
I can think of few things more demanding or more unforgiving than the moment when it becomes inescapably clear that you cannot remain as what you thought you were.
Do you ever hear the sheer pain in the scream of something bearing down on you? The loss, the emptiness, the whatever is missing that this attack is supposed to fulfill?
Paying attention isn't something I try to do, it's a way of life I try to live.
The wheel turns and in the moments when we think there's nothing left at all, we often do the most important things, the things we'd never have risked before.
I don't know who needs these, but have hugs.
The art of being simultaneously so quiet and so loud that you can hear the sound of people paying attention.


Some things I've said, both humorous and serious:


Don't worry, it's not a death threat. He'll definitely still be alive.
The only thing I probably know about anything is that rigidity is rarely a good idea. Rigid things shatter when struck. I would rather bend when struck.
When you lock another into a box, you also lock yourself into one. Invisible and insidious, it makes you dangerous because it doesn't hinder your actions, only limits your perception.
Don't listen to what people are saying. Don't even necessarily always only look at what people are doing. Pay attention to what people are paying attention to, how they're paying attention to it, and what they refuse to acknowledge. There you will find a goldmine of information.
I chose this road. Chose to keep breaking and breaking and breaking until I became intact.
The ones with watchful eyes whose hearts are simultaneously quiet and full of elemental forces, those are the ones I know and love best.
If you're carrying around a tidal sky of sound and wind, if you're so much ice and fire and lightning that you can barely speak for fear of what that could unleash, you're welcome here. You have a place here.
If you try to erase someone, you are just shortsighted. If you let them be, or do what you can to help them realize their potential, you are finally getting somewhere. Putting someone in a box and screaming at them for fighting is not helping. It's not a reason to attack anyone.
Everything I did, every way I did it, all wrong, all not enough. But it's a goldmine of information that I couldn't move forward without. So I value all of it. The missteps, conflicts, failures, each and every one of them has something to say.
Me, vehemently: "Gonna slice it all off!"
Friend: "Wait what are we slicing and dicing!"
Me: "I love how I say slicing and people automatically default to slicing and dicing."

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The single greatest line in all of Fantasy change my mind

"And before the rising of the sun Earendil slew Ancalagon the black and cast him from the sky, and he fell upon the towers of Thangorodrim, and they where broken in his ruin." -Silmarilion

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  • 1 month later...

"Why is it considered more noble to kill 1000 men on a battlefield than to kill a dozen at dinner?"

 

 The life and freedom of everything he loved was hanging on his ability to do nothing. To the Senators, that much was just like another day at the office, but to the district attorney, it was terrifying.

 

Edited by Silverblade5
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  • 3 weeks later...

From the final Dark Knight quest of Shadowbringers, 'Our Closure', which actually made me tear up a bit:

"Fray.

...There is no response. 

Yet there can be no answer but this, can there? So let us wait for a time, you and I. In the cold and in the snow. In the dark..."

"We are the stories we tell ourselves. The brave hero, the tortured soul, the altruist, the pragmatist. They will tell you who they see, but you, and you alone know who you are."

"Now comes your part, to cloak yourself in the fiction, to breathe life into the dead, to give a voice to the voiceless."

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Two of them, both from the SCP Foundation. :)

Spoiler

We've been waiting for you, SCP-4100.


We're not here anymore. We've long since left. We don't die in the darkness anymore. We've won.

We're living in stellar light. Humanity has fled you. The Protectorate will thrive.

We can't contain you. But we can destroy you. We've waited for millennia to say this:


Our planet has FTL. And I don't mean our ships.

-From SCP-4100. It's an automated message from the Foundation. Immediately after this, the abandoned Earth is launched into an eldritch abomination at faster than light speeds, atomizing both.

 

*This one is long, but worth the read*

Spoiler

This Voyager spacecraft was built in the year 42,412 AD by the species you come to refer to as the Gliscian. We are a community of 300,000 beings inhabiting Gliese 445-C. This is our message to your world.

Ever since we discovered radio, we have lived in your shadow. Decades were spent unravelling your signals, searching for answers among the tenuous strands of reason. Through the static and the chaos, we found you. From your small, distant world we found your images, your music, your thoughts, your feelings and your indomitable science. We communicated with your world governments, who kept our existence secret from you. To prevent a culture shock with their own populace, or to reduce your impact upon our own species, it did not matter to us. We could touch the mind of another and know we are not alone.

We learned from you. The scientific revolution following our meeting was miraculous. We lived beyond our natural years and we lived well. Humans uplifted us into an Elysian state, but we could never thank you. From our far away place we quietly deciphered your secrets and over time our technology became your equal.

Together we went, advancing our mastery of the universe. We shared our technology with your leaders in secret, to try and re-pay you for all you will do. In time, came the Gates. At a great expense of energy, we could obtain limitless velocity. With time dilation preserved, we could fly to the universe's birth, and its death. The entirety of creation was within our mutual grasp.

However, that would not be. Before we emerged, the people who live on your planet crippled us. From the sky above, in bright blue flashes, our lives were ended. We do not know their reasons, nor do we know why their hand was stayed enough to forestall our extinction. But now we live on a dying world. Our children are sick. Our water is polluted. We cannot maintain our technology. We will not go on.

To save ourselves, we could have tried to destroy you. It cannot be denied that is how some of us felt we should act. We could still hear your world, unknowing, uncaring. With what little power we had left, relativistic destruction could reduce your planet to ashes as it was forming. It is shaming, but we came so close. We hope you can understand why we thought what we did. But maybe, if we could change what happens, if we could destroy you, then you could save us.

From the stars came Voyager. Your gift. In sending your message, filled with your music and your joy, you showed such touching desperation to find another. We fell in love all over again.

We had but one chance to put things right. I do not know if you can save us. I do not know if you can change who you one day may be. You say you are trying to survive through your time, so you may live into mine. I really hope that you, you, do.

But above all else, there is one thing you need to know.

From one maker of music to another, across all worlds, all times, no matter what you do or what you become: You are nothing less than beautiful.

-From SCP-1342, "To the makers of music".

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8 hours ago, FriarFritz said:

I hadn't heard of SCP before, so I looked it up.

Goodbye, sleep. It was nice knowing you... 

Many are horrifying, but some are beautiful and kind. Try SCP-4999 - Someone to Watch Over Us and SCP-348 - A Gift from Dad.

:)

 

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"Good morning!"

"What do you mean? Do you mean that this particular morning is good, or that you are feeling good this morning? Or that this morning makes you feel good, or that this morning to be good on?"

"All of them at once!"

(That was memory version, let's test it against real version)

"Good morning!"

"What do you mean? Do you wish me a good morning, or mean that it is a good morning whether I want it or not; or that you feel good this morning; or that it is a morning to be good on?"

"All of them at once,"

(Evidently, I did very, very bad)

Edited by Channelknight Fadran
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"Why, O people of the Noldor, why should we longer serve the jealous Valar, who cannot keep us nor even their own realm secure from their Enemy?  And though he be now their foe, are not they and he of one kin?  Vengeance calls me hence, but even were it otherwise, I would not dwell longer in the same land with the kin of my father's slayer, and of the thief of my treasure.  Yet I am not the only valiant in this valiant people.  And have ye not all lost your king?  And what else have ye not lost, cooped here in a narrow land between the mountains and the sea?

"Here once was light, that the Valar begrudged to Middle-earth, but now dark levels all.  Shall we mourn here deedless forever, a shadow-folk, mist-haunting, dropping vain tears in the bankless sea?  Or shall we return to our home?  In Cuivienen, sweet ran the waters under unclouded stars, and wide lands lay about, where a free people might walk.  There they lie still, and await us who in our folly forsook them.  Come away!  Let the cowards keep this city!"

Feanor, The Silmarillion

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  • 1 month later...

After the game, the king and the pawn both go in the same box

"Most people say that war is hell, but it's not true. War is war, and Hell is hell. You ask yourself, which one is worse? To hell, only the sinners go to suffer, there are no innocent bystanders. But in war, the innocents, women and children are the ones who truly suffer"

Edited by Silverblade5
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  • 4 months later...
  • 1 month later...

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