Welcome to the prompt fest! In case you're new to the comm, this is just a day of the week where I give you ten prompts, and you, the writer, pick one to write a drabble on and post it in the comments!
If you need an example of what this round typically looks like, check out
a past round. :D
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Hair black as midnight, with piercing grey eyes. He is gruff and angry inside, but a contradiction. He'd tracked her down, asked to take the joining. He needed this, needed to clear his name, and be a part of something greater. Despite the disaproval of Anders and Oghren, she'd welcomed him, forgiving him the sins of the father.
Time passes and he seems to calm. Joking with those she travels with, but never too personal.
In combat, he's like a shadow, flittering in and out of sight, often claiming the biggest kills.
Does he really have a thing for elves? If so, why couldn't she feel his eyes rest upon her?
Prompts
1.where's your beard?
2.A brother like no other
3.shove your plight
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But eeeeee, Nathaniel (yes, I'm easy. Sue me XD)
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The dwarf grins, one foot resting on one of the Hanged Man's benches ("Stop posing, Varric," Isabela shouts from the bar), and gives Bianca a loving pat. "Some parts of the story will just have to remain a mystery, Daisy."
Merrill's eyes go even wider. "Did someone mistake you for a squirrel? Is that it?"
Years later, Hawke still can't forget the look on Varric's face.
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1. going back to Lothering
2. archery contest
3. cats and dogs
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He was numb and panicked, knowing only that King Cailan's army had been lost, and that he needed to return, now, to find his family, and get them out of the path of what was headed this way even now.
He didn't have time for frustrated anger, to wonder how this had happened with the fabled strategist leading their forces. He only had time to see the last of the people he'd grown up with flee their homes in terror, as they sky turned red and the ground trembled beneath him.
Prompts
1.swording
2.I want to be a dragon
3.love letters
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I just got Aveline's line in my m!mage playthrough, asking him if Carver had ever talked about what had happened at Ostagar, so this appropriately timed fic makes me flail a little more than is probably warranted. I love that you did this interpretation on the prompt.
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That convo always makes me squee. "A bit of a tick, your brother."
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