#askmemes

[tj-dragonblade]

For the WIP guessing game: wet (in the hopes of providing merhob motivation <3)

All the existing instances of 'wet' in the MerHob wip are in bits previously shared so this actually pushed me to write a little more, thank you!

"I mean. Everything's generally more comfortable when it's wet, but I can lay about up here for hours before I'd really need to dunk under again. Same as you can swim without getting all waterlogged." He cocks his head, brow furrowing into a little frown that Dream immediately categorizes as 'ridiculously adorable'. "That doesn't happen, right? Y'dont go all soggy if y'stay in the water too long?"

Send me an ask to guess a word and if it's in my wip I'll share the sentence (original post to reblog if you wanna play too)

[jamesxdarmody]

If you had to turn five people into superheroes, who would it be and why?

Ermano - Daredevil

David - Hawkeye

because trash babies and they don't like the spotlight but have very down to earth dry sense of responsability and humor ...and are just hurt 90% of the time

Mayra - The Wasp : petite and quick thinker , adorable but knows how to set boundaries, just wants to help

Nicki - Black Canary or Cat woman , boss girl , you just say yes and do a robbery then pick up the pieces afterwards with care and love

and last one, man most are more anti-heros than heroes.

Orion - Green Lantern ... cause I think he has that mind power to be one

[frankxausting]

Are you and Harry in an open marriage? What's going on?

No , we're not in an open marriage. Is there something going on I should know about ?

[shadows-of-almsivi]

For the writing prompt list: 18 & 15

18: Autumnal

The old ostler put out a notice for a horse trainer, when the Rorikstead crops were coming into their height. A small room for my boarding built into the stable, a meal and ten septims a day were, apparently, enough to buy me, to my own surprise. Still, it is only until the ostler’s son returns from some wedding or other, and I’d grown tired of sleeping on stony ground.

It’s been rather a delight for me here, truth be told, though the pay is poor and the work leaves my body numb with exhaustion. Horses are a fondness of mine, and even the meanest and foulest-tempered of the beasts passing through the ostler’s yards can kindle a little tenderness from me. I’m tasked to breathe a little spirit back into these worn-out old carriage drafts, to take wild-eyed Reach ponies and make them fit for the smallest child’s first saddle, and by and large I do succeed by some measure. Having no friends here to speak to nor inclination to find any, I spend all of my time with the horses, and the training goes all the swifter for the closer attention. The ostler seems pleased with my progress, as am I.

Is this what it would have been like, to have held more conventional employment?

The mare I’m working today is a lively young Chorrol Red, near leaping out of her skin with excitement to be out of her stall. I can feel, in the shiver of her flank against my calves, how badly she wants to canter headlong into the open field, kicking free the stiffness of those long and boring days in the stable. Her previous master ought to be ashamed, to have let such a high-natured beast molder away indoors before trading her to us.

Her hooves churn the dirt as she dances anxiously in place. The brass bells about her bridle and breastplate, the training-tack for horses prone to flight or nerves, chime at every restless step. I hold her reins just firm enough to let her feel me; I prefer the more subtle touch of directing from the knee, but she’s liable to bolt without the extra guidance. Her breed is known more for racing and courier work than for level-headedness, more spirit than sense perhaps. She sees open grass before her and nothing else, and I’d best not let her have her head or else she’s likely to throw me at once, or snap a slender leg on some hidden stone outcrop.

But still, how beautiful she is, how uncommonly fine for this place. That rich chestnut coat shines so lovely in the pale sun, bright as a new-minted copper flashing between a street-magician’s knuckles. Her restlessness is infectious; I find myself, too, looking over those rolling plains with sudden, aching longing. There’s a crispness to the morning air that would feel wonderful raking through my hair, a sluggishness to my blood from my days here that I can’t wait to shake loose. Honest labor has its sweetness, but precious little thrill has stirred me since taking up the old ostler’s offer.

Perhaps a sprint down the road to the bridge would let us both focus a little better…

15: Soup.

I’d had such hope for a good fish soup for tonight. I should know better than to think of cooking before the catch, it’s bad luck to fish with a certain recipe in mind. My nets came up in empty tatters, gnawed through and picked clean. I’d thought slaughterfish, of course, until I heard those bellowing, ugly barks from a ways past the shoreline. I was surprised to see one in a lake; Skyrim’s fauna continues to astound me the longer I stay here.

But, regardless, curiosity does not fill the stewpot. No fish soup tonight, but my recipes adapt.

Tonight, then, it is seal.

I have heard horker is best treated like pork, and a seal shouldn’t be much different, I imagine. With this in mind, I selected a shoulder, diced middling-sized, and one fin to enrich the broth. The skin I set aside; its fur carries lovely marbled markings, and should be a fair trade for a new net at the tradehouse.

The raw meat was a deep red, less like an apple and more like wine, almost the same as the wine I poured into the hissing iron pot to steam and spit. Some cabbage I added next, some garlic, a little mora tapinella from the morning’s walk. Finally, a couple of bees, finely ground, just for alchemical safety-- I don’t believe the mushrooms’ poison to survive a long cooking, but you can never be too careful.

Now, the house smells quite delightful, and I can put my feet up for a while. The soup will want a few hours over a gentle fire, and I have some reading to catch up on.

[dreaxbrandon]

Favorite memory as a firefighter?

So at my second fire house, the Captain always wanted us to do our meals as a family. My favorite memory is how we spent thanksgiving together the first year I was there. Everyone helped, and for a solid 10 minutes I was really thankful to have met those people ... then of course the bell rang but..yeah ... that's when I experience for the first time what it meant to belong to a firehouse and have that fellowship. Also first and only time I made gravy.

[graveseer-young]

You have to kill one person in Redwood. It can't be yourself. Who would it be?

Vi

[consultthemuses]

Send me a “🦇” if you like my blog or if you’re secretly a vampire simply on Tumblr to watch mortals with amusement.

[casanovawrites]

THE WALKING DEAD SEASON 6A SENTENCE PROMPTS. 

we can’t turn back because we’re afraid.

are you doing this because you want to die?

i’m doing this because i want to live.

kill me. 

you had someone you loved, didn’t you?

you wanted to go through it to get away from it, right?

i assure you, one of those doors leads out.

we’re not built to kill. we don’t have claws or fangs or armor. 

we feel. we’re connected.

i’ve only met one evil person.

i don’t kill, but i’m not giving up on chocolate.

you have to care about yourself. you have to believe your life is precious. 

what we’ve done, we’ve done. 

i’ve come to believe that all life is precious.

we’re safe, for now.

this place is a graveyard.

they must’ve followed our tracks.

those people who attacked us found us because of me.

i’m not rationing my food now if i’ll be dead tomorrow.

we need to make it last so we survive.

doing this will start us down the road where nothing else matters.

we’re all gonna be dead real soon.

you’re the reason we’re so screwed. you made us this way.

you just wanted to dream.

it’s stupid and dangerous.

i’m not gonna let you go.

you saved my life, now i’m saving yours.

on a scale of 1 to 10, how bad?

i’m just checking in on you.

you’re helping make things better.

i’m so scared of what’s happening in here that i can’t think about what’s happening out there.

being afraid sucks.

i used to not want to see the way things are. it’s not that i couldn’t. it’s that i didn’t want to.

this is what life looks like now. we have to see it.

if we don’t fight, we die.

none of this is your fault. you don’t have to do this.

people are dead. i was a part of that, and i have to live with that.

i don’t get to know why it happened. i don’t get to know right or wrong.

i have to live with that. you do too.

i just got lucky.

good or lucky, it doesn’t really matter. just keep doing what you’re doing.

i wasn’t saying there’s no future. there’s gotta be.

what the hell you got to grin about?

we get out of here. that’s the plan.

we’re smarter than that. we don’t need to leave breadcrumbs.

stand watch or sleep? your choice.

you don’t have to throw yourself out of a moving car to feel like you’re calling the ball.

if you have a roof over your head, you have food, you have walls, then you have choices. 

without walkers and bullets and shit hitting the fan, you’re accountable for your choices.

you’re always accountable. it’s just with all the other noise, you know people won’t notice.

i like the way you call bullshit.

people will trade anything for safety.

if i killed somebody, there’d be no going back.

how many people have you killed?

when we go out there, it’s never easy. it’s never simple.

what are you so scared of?

dying is simple. it all just stops. you’re dead.

the people around you dying, that’s the hard part. because you keep living, knowing that they’re gone, and you’re still here.

are the noises scaring you?

the world is trying to die. we’re supposed to let it.

you want to help? don’t make us come running to save you.

the only thing that keeps you from becoming a monster is killing.

just pretend that you’re somebody who’s not scared.

this is the next world. i hope it’s good to you.

so what are we gonna do, gorgeous?

lock-picking is within my skillset.

it’s best not to try anything.

anyone who stays here is gonna die.

what do you want? now you figure it out.

we have one gun.

people you love, they make you who you are.