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b dylan hollis quotes, in no particular order
“It’s butter on butter. No one tell Paula Dean, she’ll bust in like the Koolaid Man.”
“This is not—how can I say—RIGHT?”
“How did you come up with these ingredients? Did you just throw a grenade down aisle six??”
“Now the chickens are implicated.”
“The only thing this’ll rise up from is the dead.”
“Oh, it’s foaming… please stop growing.”
“Sorry hippies, I’m with Nixon on this one.”
“How long does sadness take to cook?”
“They say there’s a cookie for every occasion, and if so, then this must be the cookie for when you descend into psychosis.”
“To those who use Celsius… don’t.”
“I’m just gonna listen to the Texans.”
“Is the pudding related or did you just want a snack?”
“This pie is made of beans.”
“Ask your grandfather’s grandfather about it… Actually, don’t. You’d have to dig him up for that. He’d be kinda… soupy.”
“In the Great War people dug holes and threw things at each other. It’s a bit like a children’s sandbox… just with an abundance of missing limbs.”
“The La Croix method of adding flavor; just enough to make you realize what you don’t have.”
“You’re diluting peanut butter—to the Gulag!”
“If I have to beat anything else in this recipe, I’m going to be charged with domestic violence.”
“Just let that fester.”
“Shit, gravity.”
“A lot of things start with potatoes: french fries, hashbrowns, famine.”
“Mrs Kirk, you’re my hero.”
“Look who’s fallen from grace. Shame.”
“Seriously, don’t disrespect the Irish, they can be mean.”
“It smells really festive, like febreeze in a crypt.”
“Here come the tears—like my mom after a glass of wine.”
“We start with a box of lime jello—the Abyss beckons.”
“One package of vanilla pudding, this one’s French… It’s given up. What a surprise.”
“I can only describe these as voluptuous.”
“‘But Dylan,’ you say, ‘what if I’m allergic to peanuts?’ Repent. You and your ancestors have obviously done something to deserve such a malady.”
*mouth full* “Everybody say thank you, Judy. You did a good job.”
“Now it says we can add sprinkles for the children. Screw that, this is for me.”
“Juice of a lemon—pretty exotic for Nebraska.”
“Prunes are just plums, post-mortem.”
“The Draugr of the fruit kingdom.”
“This stuff is stronger than my desire to drop out of college.”
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FIC: Borrowed Magic [1/5]
Rating: T Fandom: Stardew Valley Pairing: Shane/Female Farmer Tags: Pre-Relationship, Developing Friendship, Grief, Alcoholism, Depression, Grief/Mourning, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Angst, Slow Burn Word Count: 2,830 (this chapter) Summary: The farmer has a way of making ordinary things seem like magic. Shane just has a hard time believing it. Also on AO3. Notes: You'll get some additional context from reading the previous entry in this series, Liminal Grief, but the references are minimal enough that this can probably stand alone. This fic starts shortly after Shane's 2-heart event, and ends shortly before the 4-heart event. All five chapters are written; I plan to post one per week. Thanks, always and forever, to jkateel and bossuary/misslonelyhearts for their invaluable feedback on this fic.
The days got longer, spring turning to summer, until it was after eight o'clock and there was still some light left in the sky. By the time Jas went to bed, dusk was in full force. It was the best time to meander. The rest of the valley was tucked up indoors, getting ready for the night. There was little to no chance of running into anyone who would question the six pack Shane was hauling around with him. It would just be him, and the balmy evening, and several beers.
He meandered toward the pond. His head was already pleasantly empty; it usually happened like that, on a Friday. There would be no shift at JojaMart tomorrow, no shelves to stock, no conveyer belt to babysit, no Morris breathing down his neck. The weekend stretched before him, empty.
A thought attempted to form—a memory of what weekends used to be like, not that long ago. He squashed it. He didn't want to ruminate, not tonight.
As he approached the pond, though, another anomaly threatened his plans. Somebody was already sitting on the dock. They had a bag, and a fishing pole, and a lantern. On closer inspection, in the light of that lantern, he knew exactly who it was. He stifled a groan.
This wasn't the first time he'd run into Lydia here. Last time, he'd said a lot of stupid things. She'd arrived in the middle of his sixth beer, and he'd been feeling grateful for how she'd been so willing to let Jas use the treehouse on her farm. He cringed at the memory. He'd overshared—a lot. She, unusually, hadn't said much of anything, just patted him on the arm as he'd gotten up to leave.
Ugh. He needed to find somewhere else to drink.
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pariah turned archon .
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woof
inspired by the screenshots from @nananarc 👀👀 his tongue is blue....
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and here is the dalish interpretation of Then'a! I do think I like the el'vhen version better, but i had fun with both.
over the span of thousands of years and voices this (fan)song has changed meaning some, but the dalish interpretation is just as worthy of being sung as its predecessor. now, it celebrates the resilience of The People, and calls for them to band together to continue forging ahead into the future.
lyrics under the cut :)
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Solas has a turtle-shaped teapot. That's all.