Trying to distract himself, he forced his attention to what was physically around him. The campfire crackled soothingly beyond the thick fabric of his tent. It wasn’t the low crackle of smoldering ash, but the sharp snap of fresh logs catching flame. Someone was tending to it still. Despite how close his tent was to the bonfire the Chargers had built, the bitter cold of Ferelden still seeped its way into Dorian’s bones. He wondered idly if he’d ever feel warm again. Cursing himself for enabling his insomnia, he slipped out of the bedroll and got to his feet.

He tried to stretch a bit to appease his angry muscles. It did little good. Ignoring the aches, he leaned down to rummage through his pack. He pushed aside wrapped rations, quills, inkwells, scribbled notes, and rolled maps of the area to pull out a thick tome. Its old worn leather was soft against his fingers. He turned it over in his hands, letting the weight of it comfort him. He had been elated when he’d found it hiding among the other books of Skyhold’s library. Vetrani was a visionary of magical theory, difficult to find in Tevinter due to his radical ideals on the Fade, and it had been a damned miracle to find one of his books so deep in the south.

He stepped out into the night. The scent of woodsmoke was thick in the air and Dorian hurried to get closer to the warmth. The trees around Ferelden weren’t found in Tevinter and, when burned, Dorian found the campfires smelled different. Much more floral. Less of a robust spiced edge of what he remembered of his home. The flames of it twisted up in shades of orange and gold. As he approached, he noticed a familiar figure sitting in the grass.

- By Blood & Lyrium, Ch. 5

My Dragon Age long fic is perhaps one of my favorite pieces in totality that I've written, which I'm still planning on finishing. A sprawling lore overhaul guised as a parallel plot retelling focusing on the relations and growth of primarily side characters. It's told in a tone meant to evoke not only character voice but older pre-90s fantasy epics. Chapter 5 was originally seven years ago now and I think it really holds up. Some of the language could be tweaked to be fully on theme, but it has some of my favorite setting descriptions I've ever written. Specifically, I remember really wanting to get across to readers that this Dorian is an academic and noble in a foreign land - and I do think I evoke his conflicted homesickness throughout this chapter.

Eoin looks up at him with a quizzical frown as they walk out towards their usual spot among the scruffy grass. “Why do you do that?” “Do what?” “You don’t call Mum ‘mum’ anymore,” Eoin says. Ciaran winces at the question, his frown deepening as his little brother continues. “You used to, but you don’t no more.” Ciaran sighs. “It’s complicated.” He pushes a few stray hairs from his face. When he looks down at Eoin, he sees the expectant patience there. He takes a deep breath. Eoin won't let it go now without a satisfactory answer, so there's no use avoiding it. “She’s never really here anymore and, when she is, she doesn’t hang around the house. She doesn’t really feel like my mum anymore.” Eoin worries at the hem of his shirt, twisting it between his fingers. “I don’t think she likes it when you call her Rebecca,” he mumbles. “I think it makes her feel sad.” Something tightens in Ciaran’s chest and an old bitterness crawls up his throat and makes a home behind his teeth. “It makes me sad, too," he manages to mutter. 

-Scarlet Welly Boots, Ch 4

A series of truncated vignettes meant to capture snapshots of my OCs life, Scarlet Welly Boots was a very experimental piece for me. It was a brief return to multi-chapter fics after a long stint doing one-shots, but I was playing around a lot with shortform chapters (anyone who knows me well knows I prefer my chapters 5-8k words) and challenging myself to capture what I needed to in a limited word count. It's also just a deeply personal piece to me. I'm very proud of how a lot of the dialogue in specific turned out.

They raise their hand to knock and the door swings open, bringing them face to face with Ricardo. He's dressed up for going out, in a silky purple shirt and a nice pair of slacks that hug tight across his hips. A hint of musky cologne lingers around him. He blinks once and then again as if not convinced they're really here. "Shadi?" Rashad swallows down the tightness in their throat at the old nickname. "Sorry it's so late." It used to be so easy to talk to Ricardo, especially when it was hard with everyone else. Now it feels like they struggle with the most basic conversation. Or they argue. And they'd really like to not argue tonight. "I didn't mean to interrupt" -they look over his outfit and gel-tousled hair once more- "your outing." "What are you doing here?" Ricardo's tone is abrupt and confused. His eyes widen just as Rashad's do as the question leaves his lips. He scrubs a palm over his face with a groan. "That's not how I meant that. It's just, I wasn't expecting you." He laughs sharply. "I guess it almost feels like-" "Like I'm avoiding you," Rashad finishes honestly, regretting it immediately as Ricardo flinches. "I've just been busy." Ricardo looks at them, his eyes heavy with exhaustion. "So you keep saying."

-Love That Doesn't Have a Place to Rest

This is easily my favorite piece I've written in the last six years, with a close second being Don't Let Me Break This. I have such a deep fondness for the the way I explore Ricardo's sexuality and how he's struggled and thrived with it in time. For all I wish FHR would get more into the nitty gritty political details, I'm glad the lack of it has given me the space to breathe and fill in those blanks as I choose. Publicity and how it takes a toll on one's identity and particularly on what aspects of identity one is allowed is a topic I find deeply fascinating and, while I have a more explicit fic in the works on this topic, I'm glad I could lampshade those themes here. But I did highlight this particular excerpt because I'm deeply proud of how it showcases that Rashad and Ricardo know each other so well as to know how their conversation will go but still languish in the void of things they can't say to each other. It's a really fun dynamic to play with.

He knows he shouldn’t, but Felix has never been one to not take risks, and this is such a small one in comparison. Sliding his hand a little closer across the table, he brushes his little finger against Julian’s. He watches Julian’s gaze flick down to the touch, his expression infuriatingly unreadable behind the walls he’s erected. But then his expression softens, ever so slowly, like watching water run down the icicles that hung outside the windows that one winter up north. He hooks his little finger around Felix’s, stilling them both, and he tilts his head slightly towards Felix. His expression gives away little, but Julian feels emotions like a radio turned up just too loud for Felix’s empathetic senses. He feels himself losing his footing in the stream of it and, instead of fighting it, he lets the undertow pull him into the depths of Julian. Julian feels like loneliness and isolation so often - cold and profoundly deep and ancient as the oceans - but there is more deeper in the blue. There is warmth like volcanic vents, giving life to passion and drive and something small that Felix has to pay closer attention to in order to realize its name. There is hope there, cracked and brittle under the pressures around it, but bolstered by the attraction that tastes sweet on Felix’s tongue. Would he drown here, in the currents of Julian’s heart? Could he, knowing that as soon as they catch Julian’s hunter, he will be gone with the rest of his team?

-Catalyzing with a Breath of Calefaction

A deeply silly title for a very soft fic, but I can't be bothered to change it. I have such love for Julian and Felix, especially in this fic. As much as I love established relationships or romance born from them, it was really fun to write a relationship of just two people getting to know each other, especially when one has stopped opening up at all. It also let me play with Felix's empathic senses and decide how I felt they should manifest. Which, in turn, let me do my favorite thing in writing: metaphorical descriptions.

Lastly, something from a WIP for fun!

"Right," Ricardo announces. He rolls his shoulders and, much like Rashad in the car, Anathema watches him become the Marshal. "Let's go save the world again." He turns and steps towards the barricades, leaving the rest to follow suit. As Anathema widens their stride to keep up, they bump gently into Rashad's arm. "You gonna be okay?" The silhouette of their cowl shifts, no doubt as their jaw works in mild annoyance. "Yeah. I'll just keep to the fringes." "Well, you know I'll watch your back." They elbow Rashad playfully. "Hard to kill the indestructible, even with spooky mind powers." She wiggles her fingers for effect.

-Untitled WIP

I'm finally braving writing pre-HBI character dynamics, which is something I've struggled with and lowkey been afraid of working on, but I'm really enjoying it as I get into the swing of things. I'm quite enjoying walking the tightrope between What We Know From the Books and understanding Sidestep has been through a lot of trauma and that's colored how they think of their past relationships with the Rangers. It'll be four chapters when it's done and I'm so excited to share it eventually.

As the world changes, it is important to be prepared to safely and efficiently evacuate your home, potentially with little or no warning. Preparing ahead of time can help to reduce stress and anxiety, and help you evacuate safely if the time comes.

Red Level (No Warning): People | Pets | Keys. Human life matters most. If you can’t rescue your pets, let them out to give them their best chance. If evacuating by car, don’t forget your keys.

Orange Level (Less Than an Hour): Crucial Meds | Important Papers | Money | Paper Map | Pet Vaccination Records. Crucial meds and medical equipment. Papers including passports, birth certificates, medical records, etc.. Multiple forms of payment. Paper map with marked evac routes in case of signal loss. Phone. Most evac centers require vaccine records for pets to be allowed in.

Yellow Level (More Than an Hour): Photos | Hard Drives | Computers | Chargers | Irreplaceable Items | OTC Meds | Pet Supplies | Pet Food | Clothes | Weather Gear. Family photos. Hard drives and computers. Make digital backups ahead of time. Charging cords. Irreplaceable items such as collectibles and mementos. Over the counter medical supplies such as Aspirin and tampons. Pet supplies such as bowls, crates, toys, and litter. Pet food and treats. Clothes. If you are running out of time grab your laundry basket. Weather gear if needed.

Green Level (General Preparedness): Food | Water | Radio | N95 Masks | Multitool | Power Pack | Gas | Stove + Fuel | Flashlight | Toiletries | Emergency Contact Info | Bedding | First Aid | Can Opener. Easy prep, shelf-stable food. Water. Battery powered/rechargeable NOAA weather radio. N95 masks for smoke. A multitool. Rechargeable power pack for phones. Keep your car at least partially fueled at all times. Portable stove and fuel for cooking food without power. Flashlight and spare batteries. Toiletries including hair products, toothbrush and paste, etc.. Emergency contact info for friends and loved ones. Spare pillows and blankets. Dedicated first aid kit. Can opener.

Save yourself time and stress by preparing an evacuation bag ahead of time and keep it in an easy to access place. At the end of every season rotate out the perishable items within such as food, water, and medications. The more you can keep in the bag, the more time you’ll have to grab everything else. Remember, it is okay if you can’t do everything. Some preparation is better than no preparation.

If you are in the U.S.A. and experiencing disaster related anxiety call the Disaster Distress Hotline at 1-800-985-5990 for support and resources.

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