#tidbitoftheday

I just couldn't keep myself from sharing this tiny little snippet of dialogue cause... LORD! The pettiness. The utter and complete control-freak of it.

"Well, since no one saw fit to come into the kitchen for tea, I'll just bring it in here." With a pointed glance at both Donna and her father, Sylvia placed a tray of tea and biscuits on the coffee table with a stolid, accusatory clatter. "Oh, thank you, Syl. It looks lovely," Gramps took one of the mugs from the tray, catching Donna's eye as he sat back in the recliner. "It was no bother at all." she traded out the cup he had taken with one of the ones that remained on the tray, "Actually, this one's yours, dad. I made it special. No sugar."

God I really just want to have the brain space to make *any* progress on my fanfiction right now. But there is not time left to the day and tomorrow and the next a packed full of things so here I am. Moping.

So I guess here, have a tidbit. Maybe that will make me feel like i actually got somewhere with anything today.

When I wrote The Delicate Art of Drunkenness in late 2023-early 2024, my challenge to myself was this: write something that definitely didn't happen in canon but do it in a way that fits seamlessly into the established narrative. And I'm blown away by how well it slips right on in there and changes nothing. Kinda. It does change the *vibe* but it's still one of my crowning achievements in fanfic writing and I'm so very proud of it. Just had to toot my own horn a little bit.

So hey... go read it over on Ao3. You might like it.

Which day will depend on how quickly I get it posted.

Anyway, this is an outline of dialogue with no dialogue tags except for one... maybe two? From a story that *I* should not be looking at. But I'm kind of stuck in my current one, so I popped over to another, far less emotionally fraught one for a bit of light bickering. Because good lord was that necessary. "Small Things" is 90% angst and emotional drama. Well worth reading (I think), but so heavy to write.

Anyway, please enjoy this lovely, silly, banter I wrote to decompress from their future selves being so incredibly traumatized and dramatic.

With this one, I'm honestly exorcising some demons. The idea occurred to me as I imagined Fourteen adjusting to life in the 2020s. Of course, they all exist in a fictional universe that is a different mess than ours but... I cannot imagine Fourteen catching the nightly news. OK. The Doctor has resigned from traveling but can you imagine The Doctor watching the news. THIS news. Even if you're not an American like me where everything is sensationalized, what is happening world-wide is still awful and bleak. And i imagined Fourteen hitting a breaking point where he can't take it anymore.

This fic, again, very much a work in progress, explores the feelings of helplessness we all experience when watching atrocities occur around the world and how we humans deal with how small we really are.

Very rough dialogue tags here. Please ignore. This is outline/draft style, so it's super direct and in present tense, which is really not my preferred tense. One of my commentors on one of my other fics mentioned how they start with dialogue and fill everything else in around it after the fact.

So do I sometimes. And this is one where I did just that.

Today's tidbit is a refined version of a piece I wrote by voice text, at midnight, flying down the highway in my car. There is something about the white noise of the road and the beauty of a freezing cloud-haloed moon painting the night sky hazy blue that just sets my wheels turning.

Though, I have plenty of scenes with Morrigan planned out for my post-Inquisition storyline, this little conversation was the first moment I have actually put pen to paper (or in this case voice to microphone) and truly written something. Set in a moment after Lavellan has returned to Skyhold to begin the process of relocating the Inquisition to Val Royeaux, it's power hit me like a ton of bricks. I honestly wrote it in response to the continued discussions of Lavellan "worshipping" Solas, that, as you can probably imagine, given my posts over the last few days, do not sit particularly well with me. But I digress and leave you with Enya being starkly honest as Morrigan goes prospecting for an explanation for why she still insists on redeeming Solas. I will likely expand this at some point in the future. I do so love writing their friendship but for now: Enjoy!

This 6500 word chapter more or less guarantees I will keep writing this fic because I wish so badly to share the whole thing with you. It's a beautiful, soft piece start to finish.

*I do not dislike romance as a genre and if you enjoy it, I don't judge you at all. We all are free to read, enjoy, and write what we please. This is art. This is my personal choice and challenge.