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Image of the quote is loading... SaveSave You can always tell who a writer subconsciously/consciously dislikes/hates/discriminates against in real life based on who they don't write about more than who they do. - Quote by Ash Gray

You can always tell who a writer subconsciously/consciously dislikes/hates/discriminates against in real life based on who they don’t write about more than who they do.

Ash Gray
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Slowly rising from the fire, she went down to the shore, and not wanting to frighten him off again, she squatted on a rock above the water, looking down at him where he sat on the wet sand with his long blue-green tail disappearing into the lapping waves. He shyly offered the bag up to her, which had been woven of seaweed, and she took it with a whispered thanks and opened it, staring in delight and surprise at the sheer amount of oysters that were inside. The siren made a trilling noise and whispered, “I-I hope it is well enough. I do not know what land women eat.
Ash Gray
Growing up learning of distant lands and their bloody histories, Wareska had quickly noticed how pointing to someone else as unquestionably worse was a widely common justification for many atrocities.
Ash Gray
Miriva refused to believe that human decency should be a privilege given only to a small few, and when she complained to her mother that she did not want to be a broodmare for the sake of alliances between the villages, her mother slapped her and sent her to the fields to pick mehazi beans
Ash Gray
Right now, all she knew was that she had the potential to love him greatly and fiercely, and she wanted to do so and nothing else very much and for many years.
Ash Gray
She snuggled close, nuzzling her hair beneath his chin. “Never leave me,” she whispered back. The siren chuckled sadly, the sound vibrating up through his chest and pleasantly against her ear. “But I must return to the sea every now and then or I will die.” He sighed. “Some part of me believes it would be a good death.
Ash Gray
:Wait for me here?:t:Until the moon crumbles into the sea,: Shadowmane whispered. tWareska laughed again. :Always so eloquently dramatic.:
Ash Gray
Parmida had never believed in unicorns, not until a stroll through the forests of Sunneth Dol convinced her otherwise. She was a young human woman living in a world where magick was dead and magickal creatures a myth. Elves and fae and magickal beasts had long ago shed their skin and left their bones. It was a world where humans alone now existed, walking in the dark of night, always looking over their shoulder for their inevitable extinction, as if nature were waiting to absorb them next back into her soil.
Ash Gray
For elves, sex was two souls finding each other in the dark.
Ash Gray
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