My eyes were not focusing when I saw this thumbnail so my brain autofilled it as this

i was confused because liam is not normally this round so i scrolled up in the notification thing again and i saw what it actually was

15 Lines of Dialogue

Rules: Share 15 or fewer lines of dialogue from an OC, ideally lines that capture the character/personality/vibe of the OC. Bonus points for just using the dialogue without other details about the scene, but you're free to include those as well!

Tagged by @shivunin, thank you so much Mo! It's been so fun. Also a nightmare because I chose Aisling and my goodness someone make her shut up please. Referenced from Monster Fic (which is still getting views?? :"D Welp.), This one Radha fic , this prompt . Five minutes of silence for the one poop line that didn't make it to the final cut of this meme. Always remembered.

🦄✨ Aisling Lavellan ✨🦄

"We look like a swan and the ugly chick of a cuckoo.”

“I do. He’s just been mistreated. The Idiot started training him as a war horse, but it didn’t go well. He’s been beaten and whipped and given little food for too long, and relegated to do the work horse when he’s not. He just needs to learn that people can be trusted again, but he’ll be stronger and swifter than all the others, I’m sure.”

“Hey, I’m trying to stay in the role. I was told I’m a religious figure and I should behave! You’re ruining the mood, people need to think I’m the Herald of Andraste for real and that you can’t laugh! Stop, or I’ll have to sing a very lewd drinking song, you’ll laugh loudly, and they’ll all know!”

“I am aware I must sound like a child. But I believe people are good, deep down. And that everyone deserves a second chance.”

“In the case I’ll tragically fall to my death on horseback, I’ll leave a note to allow you to talk to my funeral and tell everyone that you told me so, is it all right?”

“The bad and the good, Cole. The good is better if there’s bad, like when it stops raining and the sun shines again, or when springs melts the snow and the flowers grow. But, humans can’t choose one, you know it. There must be snow and rain and thunder to make the flowers grow. I’m fine, don’t look at me. What do you want to do?”

“Honestly, I think all the time that you would have made a way better job as Inquisitor, if I hadn’t convinced the Keeper to send me and not you. You would have done a better job as First than I ever did, if… And I’m… I’m trying to prove that it’s not so, that I can be good too. Been doing it all my life, honestly.”

“Mh. I’m not really sure. Care to try again? For science?”

“You wished for a Cinderella, your Grace, but I am a bad one. You would know if you ever had paid more attention to anyone that’s not yourself.”

“But then, even if I feel nauseous and I hate everything and I would beg you to just take the title from me, I can’t take it, it’s too much and I’m just me… Then I remember that if I had run, I’d never met any of you, and you’ve all become family, and… And I do believe that we’re doing something good to the world. And that’s… That’s enough when the walls seems to loom upon me and I think that I can’t shoulder another impossible decision that shouldn’t be mine to take.”

“What if you explain and nothing changes? I know about loneliness, and of thinking you don’t deserve the love you get. You don’t have to face it alone.”

“I know. But I can still do some good, and the important people will remember me. I don’t care for the rest.”

“I’ve been alone ever since people started calling me the Herald of fucking Andraste, but I guess you wouldn’t understand being imposed by others a part that means nothing to you and you hate, right, Blackwall?”

“But if thinking he deserves another chance makes me a traitor, than be it. He’s more powerful than any of you realize. If you really think that hate and open hostility will ultimately save us all, I am glad to call myself a traitor and die as one.”

“No. You will let me finish. I know my shit, I am good at it, I am happy that you worry and care for me, really! I am and thank you for it, but this is getting ridiculous and I’m only doing worse because I’m stressed about you not trusting that I am competent and constantly watching me like… Like… Like a fucking vulture!”

Special mentions:

"Bad horsey!"

“Hey! I also have good days!”

Tagging: @ndostairlyrium @underneathestars @melisusthewee @rowanisawriter @pinayelf @zenstrike @inquisimer @heniareth and YOU!

Hi friends!

I was wondering if anyone would be able to help me identify this piece of text?

I know it is from a religious text, but I was wondering what the passage itself is.

I have tried to identify the piece myself using technology to no avail, thus I come to you all.

thank you in advance 💖💖

In an effort to try write something anything I’ve asked various people to give me a word. I’ll add the micro flashes here as they come out

1. Thigh

If handed a pen and a piece of paper TK could map out Carlos’s thighs from memory. Every curve of firm muscle, every dip of soft flesh, the scar he got riding his bike when he was twelve, the soft hair that dusts them. All of it is burned into TK’s living memory.

When he’s not with him he can see them so clearly in his mind's eye. He can picture the way they tense when he comes and trembles when he desperately needs to. His fingers ghost over phantom scratches he’s left behind on the outside of his husband’s thighs a few nights prior.

They’ll be there, under his uniform, standing raised against golden brown skin.

The inside of his thigh starting to purple in a delicate pattern of bruises from TK’s mouth that morning.

Fuck.

He knows them better than he knows his own. He’s traced his fingers along the veins when they’ve had lazy Sundays wherein Carlos lay on his stomach and read trusting TK to amuse himself, and he’s tasted the salty sweet sweat that peppers his skin when he’s been working out and TK dragged him to bed. He’s felt the power in them when Carlos fucks up into him. How they feel squeezing against his sides, trapping him in place, in a warm safety he’s never felt before.

Work is slow. The energy in the firehouse is low and there nothing to occupy TK’s thoughts away from his husband’s thighs.

It’s criminal they’re attached to the man who’s across the other side of the city.

2. Knife

TK knows that there is probably some deep seated, psychological, issue at play in his unconscious mind right now but he’s pushing it to the side to admire his husband’s knife work.

Well, more like drool over it.

He’s seen Carlos cook a thousand times but it feels like this is the first time he’s really seen it.

He’s finely chopping peppers as he talks idly about his day in that sweet, soothing, tone of voice that comes deep from inside of his chest. The kind that calms the voices in TK’s mind and ebbs away his anxiety like cold water in a stream.

TK isn’t listening to a word. He’s transfixed on the way he has the knife gripped in his hand, it’s secure but not too firm, there’s enough movement from the handle that it works as an extension of him. The blade flashes teasingly as it slices through the vegetable with ease. They rhythmic thumpthumpthump on the chopping board is syncopating with TK’s own heartbeat.

Why is he sweating?

The muscles in Carlos’ forearm flexes with every commanding chop of the knife and TK’s mouth goes dry.

“Babe?” The word floats towards him languidly before settling in his brain. He snaps his eyes up to Carlos’ concerned ones.

The concerned expression vanishes as quickly as it came and a smug tug on his lips appears instead, “you good?”

“Bed,” TK says, he misses suave and alluring by a mile and lands on croaky, “forget dinner let’s go to bed.”

Whether or not the knife stays in the kitchen is between them.

Hi! just read 'everything I loved and feared' on ao3, which I'm pretty sure is yours, and want to say how I feel like tearing holes into this world and screaming until I bleed, an incredibly positive thing I assure you

OHHHH EVERYTHING I LOVED AND FEARED GODS MY CINNAMON APPLE OF A FIC..... That is indeed mine :DDD SKDNWKJD THIS IS VERY EVOCATIVE IMAGERY AND WHAT I IMAGINE SCAR WAS FEELING IN THAT MOMENT WHEN GRIAN ESSENTIALLY CONFIRMED SOMETHING LIKE HIS DREAM HAD ACTUALLY HAPPENED 💥💥💥💥💥💥💥

Im so so glad you liked the fic!!! One of these days i'll get to writing the follow up from grian's pov >:]c

I DID IT!!

Aaaaaaaah 😭

I am mildly impressed that I can't remember seeing a single wing fic. It's honestly fascinating. I have more thoughts about the general trends and types of fics this fandom seems to be drawn to (or seems to skip entirely), but those will have to wait for a more reasonable time of day.

Maybe sometime tomorrow I'll also go over my ao3 history for an estimate of how many of these I ended up reading in the end. 🤔

I'm going to leave the tab open in my browser but now I'm finally going to allow myself to filter out everything I found I didn't vibe with (which... Will probably remove quite a bit of fics. Especially from the E rated ones. Once again I find myself at odds with the majority of fandom when it comes to certain aspects of my otps' characterization). But I did it!!

Send me character or pairing (either WoT or another fandom of mine), and a one word prompt, and I'll write you a quick drabble.

having aa5 bayo origins thoughts( ´-｀) ill ramble in the tags

might fuck around and overhaul my blog in honor of being back

read george chapman's caesar and pompey and got my ass kicked in reading comprehension.

WHAT THE FUVK I'M TAKING THE CRINGE PILLS????WHAT

Teen Tuvok. (Thoughts Below)

Tuvok’s teenaged rebelliousness is depicted as pretty much the same as human rebelliousness in canon but Tuvok states several times that Vulcans are actually MORE volatile than humans so I was trying to imagine what it might be like.  Lovesickness as a true like...sickness. Vulcan emotions are BIG and CHAOTIC and they’re a slippery slope. This firsthand experience with what can happen makes Tuvok doubly annoyed when other races (but most frequently humans) are like “You should have an emotion :)” because Vulcan Emotions are not comparable to human ones...it’s in EVERYONE’S best interest to remain in control. I was also thinking about Tuvok’s father. I think it’d be pretty easy and valid to imagine him as a shitty dad for banishing his kid but I like complicating characters for no reason by thinking about them too much. So I was imagining him trying his best to help his son until finally he's like "I can't help him anymore, I have to send him to someone else." and it's the logical thing to do bc he tried everything else (in my mind Tuvok being kicked out of school is the final straw) but it still hurts which is why he put it off for so long...Tuvok's his only son...his baby.... but he has to do it because Tuvok is clearly not doing well and won't accept help bc he's a teenager and not able to think clearly. This does end up being the right decision but it also does end up damaging their relationship. All as predicted.

y’know maybe I should just try to continue working on my fics

john bashing is very popular and it’s not like he doesn’t deserve it, but i don’t really get it. i mean, i understand that people think it’s fun. i don’t understand why, though, on an emotional level. i want to climb inside his little horrible brain. i want to climb inside all their horrible little brains. that’s the fun part of stories for me. they’re fake, so passing judgement is a matter of personal preference, and i just don’t find it interesting. it’s necessary in real life but these fake people are words on a page and it doesn’t matter if they’re mostly good or mostly bad or whatever it is, we don’t need to flatten them like that, we can just crack open their terrible terrible skulls and have a look and try to pick out which bit’s which. stories give the opportunity for bloodless autopsies.

there are some fics of mine, that "i look over it and i ache."

because they're just so precious to me, and never read and loved in the way that i've sewn them-- which is amazing and wild in it's own light, because how could i have written something that meets so many people in so many different emotions?

if u see me publish a book in a few years abt a hardened survivalist reporter and a tortured scientist i think u should mind your business