I was tagged by @breitweisergallery AND @purplejuni and I don't normally do these, but I guess I will now. SOOOOOOOO
Rules: post the first sentence opening of your most recent 10 fanfics and tag up to 10 people.
First Draft — Ashur/Tarquin-esque told through the eyes of Varric and how Rook!Quin got his nickname. Written as a part of my Rook!Quin series and a fun little one-shot from Varric's POV.
Varric had a rule about nicknames: if you had to explain them, you'd already lost.
A Thousand Small Flames — Shadow Dragon Week participation! I never finished, sadly, but some little ficlets of my favorite Veilguard faction. The first is my favorite, and literally came to me at like 11pm as pious Ashur praying over his Shadow Dragons as he cannot be with them that evening.
The cathedral had emptied hours ago.
Only the candles remained.
Hundreds of them burned before the altar, each flame trembling beneath the vaulted ceiling, each a small act of defiance against the darkness gathered in the corners of the Grand Cathedral. Their light danced across polished marble and gilded mosaics, across the face of the Maker wrought in gold leaf high above the sanctuary.
Ashur knelt alone.
Catch My Breath — A character study of Maevaris that I wrote in an effort to get in her head for a roleplay. Inspired by some of the backstory built with @breitweisergallery and their lovely Ashur. Centered around the death of Thorold and her exile from the Magisterium. Lots of emotional angst and grief.
She had been fortunate in ways most people never understood.
Not because she had been born to a magisterial house. Not because House Tilani had carried influence, or wealth, or generations of carefully cultivated prestige. Those things had never guaranteed kindness.
Her father had.
Transfiguration Studies — What was a silly Discord conversation turned into a one-shot while bored at a conference. AND! There's beautiful art by @shotce!!
Ashur had reached one undeniable conclusion.
The nug was Tarquin.
He had reached a second.
Tarquin was finding this much less distressing than he was.
A Boy and His Dog — My first Big Bang! Viperquin and the Shadow Dragons, as told by the resident, adopted mabari princess. This was illustrated by @surnumanaja who was simply a delight to work with. Took barely anything in a word doc and made it a masterpiece.
Before she was Lumen, she was ribs.
Ribs that showed through dull fur. Ribs that rose and fell too quickly when she ran. Ribs that pressed against cold cobblestone when she slept because there was no padding left to soften them.
Docktown had a thousand smells and none of them meant safety.
Regrets, Without You — Viperquin, from my Rook!Quin series. Someone had to tell Viper that Quin was gone... This came out in a sudden torrent while writing my Big Bang and was written in two sittings.
The city had not stopped screaming in three days.
Minrathous burned beneath an eclipsed sky.
Weight of Ceremony — [Rated E]. Viperquin just having some fun before Ashur has to be in front of a bunch of people. 100% inspired by a TikTok.
Tarquin had a habit of watching exits.
Something Worth Watching — More Viperquin! Second time I got to write in an exchange for @that-aster. Just some good, ol'fashioned sparing.
The afternoon sun beat down on the hideout rooftop, turning the weathered stones into a makeshift training ground. Tarquin circled one of the new recruits—a gangly youth who held his practice sword like it might bite him—and demonstrated a basic parry for the third time.
"No, no—wrist loose, elbow tucked. You're holding it like a damn broom." Tarquin knocked the blade aside with ease, then reset his stance. "Again."
Held — also written for the ViperQuin exchange. A bit of a timeloop for Ashur to finally figure out he needs to tell the truth. A bit of an angsty end too!
Minrathous did not fall all at once.
It unraveled.
Fading Fast — Another one for @that-aster in the exchange. 5+1 of times Quin got ideas as to Ash's identity. Because we all enjoy a good face reveal.
Tevinter's capital had a smell in the deep hours of the working afternoon — old stone warming in the sun, the particular mineral sharpness of the harbor outside of Minrathous, lyrium faint and omnipresent in the way of a thing the city had been breathing so long it had stopped noticing. Tarquin had been in the Archive since the third bell and it was now the seventh and the Archive had its own smell, which was old paper and iron water and the concentrated ambition of everyone who had ever worked here and died without finishing, and none of it was the harbor, and he missed the harbor.
Damn.
And, I know it's 11, but this rounds out the exchange, and I think it's the one I had the most fun writing:
Mine — Viperquin that covers meeting, getting together, and post Veilguard for @vands38 from the ViperQuin exchange. This WHOLE FIC was inspired by the Chantry concept art in Minrathous of Andraste with a sword through her heart and how much that would hurt Ashur to see every day. And my mind spiraled from there. Angst angst angst. Kinda happy ending?
The Templars came from the eastern gate, which was wrong.
Ashur had memorized the patrol routes down to the quarter-hour — had spent three weeks watching from rooftops with wind in his teeth and chalk-dust on his fingers, marking their cadence in a leather journal that would, if discovered, see him executed twice over. The eastern gate was closed after the ninth bell. The patrol shouldn't be here.
He pressed himself flat against the colonnade's shadow and counted silently. Four. He'd planned for two.
Below him, in the narrow slaves' passage between the Altus quarter and the docks, the Shadow Dragons were mid-extraction. He could see Lorelei's dark head moving between the crates, the muted blue of lyrium-dulled shackle-chains hanging loose. They had three minutes before the contact boat left. They had four Templars bearing down on them with less than one.
He dropped.
The leather of his Viper's mask was warm against his jaw as he landed, and he rolled the impact through his heels the ugly functional way — the way you learned when you broke yourself repeatedly until you didn't anymore. He came up standing, and the nearest Templar turned.
"Evening," said the Viper.
Four sets of armored shoulders squared. Four hands went to hilts.
"Don't," Ashur said pleasantly. He raised one finger, a thin line of fire blooming above his knuckle — not a threat, precisely. A reminder. "I'm going to need your attention for approximately four minutes. After that, you're welcome to go about your evening."
OKOKOK. ONE MORE. Because I have written something other than Dragon Age. @ssv-normandy-sr3 is an inspiration....
Shooting Stars — Heated Rivalry! WHAAAATTT?! During the long months between games, Shane starts wishing on airplanes. Short little one-shot of fluff.
Shane gets used to the ceiling first.
Different ceilings, technically—hotel rooms, rentals, his own place when the season lets him—but they all blur into the same off-white nothing when he’s flat on his back at night, phone cooling on his chest, heart doing that stupid thing where it pretends it’s calm and then suddenly isn’t.
He learns the cracks. The vents. The way light from the street sneaks in through curtains like it’s trying not to be noticed.
It’s easier to stare up than to think about time.
OKAY! I think that's it! But who to tag? I'm so late to this party, I won't. But thank you so much for thinking of me! <3
