#aurelia x fenris

[asexualtabris]

OC Masterpost

🚧 Under Construction 🚧

Pictures used made with Dalishious's Elf Maker [x] (I know they're naked rn these are my drawing references!)

Wardens

Aeron "Tab" Tabris

22

He/They, agender

Dual wield rogue

Zevran romance

Bi with a preference for men

He has a twin sister named Aurelia, but she's not my OC. He is Deaf and Auri functions as an interpreter as well as being his best friend. He wasn't looking forward to being in an arranged marriage and was glad to join the Wardens. They are cousins of Aedan and Leila Lavellan.

Sorren Mahariel

28

He/Him, trans man

Two-Handed Warrior

Zevran Romance

Gay

He never felt terribly at home in his clan, other than Tamlen and Merrill, though he felt forced to join the Wardens.

Cylas Surana

19

He/Him, trans man

Primal/Spirit focused Mage

Zevran Romance

Gay

Cylas was born in Tevinter to slave parents, his mother escaped with him and his older brother when he was 2 years old, fleeing to Denerim's alienage. His magic manifested when he was 7, though his family was able to hide it until he was 8 and he was exposed. He didn't have a great time in the Circle, but he was a diligent student, making his own T supplement, and had a Plan for when he was a full fledged Mage. Joining the Wardens was bittersweet for him, but he was much happier with the freedom.

Inquisitors

Aedan Lavellan

30

Dual Dagger Rogue

Dorian Romance

Gay

Aedan was a hunter and helped the Keeper with Elven history. He was averse to being the Herald, but took being Inquisitor in stride, hoping to bring elves a more positive reputation. He had a sister, Leila, who I sometimes switch his place with in my head with a similar story. They are cousins of Tab and Auri.

I have other Inquisitors but ah.... I don't really care about them lol

Hawkes

I don't really have set Hawkes, though I like to have default Hawke twins, Gareth and Killian. I play them Blue/Purple. Gareth romances Fenris and Anders, Killian romances Isabela and Merrill. Killian is a trans woman.

[bitchesofostwick]

♟: Patching up a wound for Aurelia and Fenris? 👉🏼👈🏼🥺

“Oh Maker,” Aurelia mutters under her breath, again and again and again as she paces corpse-ridden ground before him. They cut through the group of bandits they’d run into here on the beaches of northern Ferelden with relative ease before he noticed he’d been hit. Relative ease. Now, they’ve little time to admire their work when his leg is stained bright red with blood. “Oh Maker, oh Maker.”

Fenris scoffs.

“Don’t roll your eyes like that! This is serious!”

He shrugs—or at least, makes as much of a shrugging motion as he can with his hands clutched just below his knee, cutting off his blood circulation until his shin and foot are numb. “It is serious, Hawke,” he agrees, “though your incessant empty prayers are not doing much to—ah—” He winces. “—to help at the moment.”

“What should I do? What do you want me to do? I can—oh Maker, I should’ve listened when Anders showed me how to patch up an injury that day on the Wounded Coast when I accidentally stabbed Bela while learning to throw knives, but I wasn’t listening, I was too busy getting Shadow to chase his tail to cheer her up and—”

“Hawke—”

“—and if I’d only paid attention I could just—”

“Hawke—”

“—would be even better if he was just here himself but of course—”

“Aurelia!”

Though she doesn’t stop pacing, she does stop babbling, and that, at least, is a start. Instead, she snakes her fingers into her hair—still not fully grown back from the last time she’d chopped it off in a moment of frustration or anger or sadness or whatever, he can’t keep track—and she pulls it, scrunching it up so it sticks that way when she yanks her hands back out again.

“I-don’t-know-what-to-do!” she exclaims in a single breath—a rare admission that has him raising his eyebrows.

He’d laugh if he weren’t quite literally bleeding profusely from his shin. “Take off your pack.”

“Why? I don’t have bandages in it. Why don’t we ever carry bandages? Oh, Maker.”

Oh Maker indeed, he thinks, groaning inwardly.

“Mother always said my hubris would be my downfall. She must be laughing in her grave. She—”

“I need to elevate my leg, Hawke.” He beckons to her. “Now, your pack.”

He can tell the exact moment she understands because she goes from staring at him blankly to yanking her knapsack from her shoulders like it’s on fire, dropping to her knees beside him to help prop up his leg.

“Easy.” He winces with pain when she’s just too rough, she doesn’t mean it but she’s anxious and never seen her so flustered and helpless before he thinks, gritting his teeth and sitting up straight again. “Do you have water?”

“I—I don’t—” She glances to the ocean beyond the sand, the tide wading in and out with a slow serenity that sadly rivals the chaotic fervor of her thoughts and feet.

“Fresh water!”

“Oh! Oh.” She fumbles with the water skin at her hip.

“Pour it on, please.” He winces when she does, and it makes her gasp.

“Did I pour it too hard? Or something?”

He frowns. “No, it just...stings. That’s all.”

“Now what? It’s still bleeding. Oh fuck. I—”

“Get me a clean shirt.”

“Okay! Okay.” She rummages through the pack under his ankle, and he has to bite his tongue to keep himself from cursing, from further feeding into her nerves. Finally, she pulls out a clean tunic, and he makes quick work of tearing off strips to use for bandaging.

“A healing draught, please,” he says in the meantime, as much to busy her as to actually hurry the process along.

Again, she fishes through the knapsack until she finds a small red bottle. She hands it to him quickly and he dashes a few drops onto his leg, grimacing again when it burns a little and then cools. He ties the cloth around his shin quickly, tightly, and rolls his ankle a bit to test the mobility.

“Is it—” she starts, eyes darting from his to his leg. “Is that it? Is it done?”

“It should be fine, as long as we don’t continue far tonight and as long as we make it into a town soon.”

He can see the tension in her shoulders drop, and she heaves a sigh that would make a passerby wonder if it’d been her who was injured, not him.

He laughs. “You’re a nervous wreck, did you know that, Hawke?”

Her face turns about as red as the paint across her nose, and he can see her hands ball into little fists at her side. “Well I—” she huffs. “I thought you were hurt.”

“I was.”

“Badly.”

“It was a bit more than a scratch.”

“You know what I mean!” she argues, crossing her arms over her chest. “Really badly. I was—” She coughs, lowers her voice as though there’s anyone around for miles to hear them but the dead bandits at their feet. “—worried.”

He barks out a laugh. “Nothing worries you, Hawke.” As soon as the words leave his mouth, he regrets them. It’s not true, he thinks, remembers Carver and her mother and most of all Bethany, somewhere out there missing and he can’t pretend he doesn’t see the flicker of hurt dance over her ice-blue eyes before she glares at him again. “I didn’t mean that, you know.”

“I know.” She says nothing else.

“Aurelia—”

“I know.” She holds a hand out to him. “Can you stand on it, or am I going to have to carry you?”

Gingerly, he accepts her outstretched hand and lets her pull him to his feet. Not bad. “I’d sooner drag myself on a bad leg than have you carry me and hold it over me for the rest of my life,” he teases, testing his weight on his feet and her temperament with his words.

She flashes him a grin, and he knows there’s no damage done, then.

“Let’s go, then,” she says. “Before these sorry bandits start to smell.”

[punijelly]

six fanarts but only of characters that bring me nostalgia

[frecklef0x]

The charming red-violet Aurelia Hawke of @bitchesofostwick for FANbruary. (pls click for better res)

Look she'll stab you while telling nihilist jokes to her distaster bis so just leave dat ass to fenris you can't handle it

[bitchesofostwick]

mAIA I’M SITTING HERE IN MY BED, WINE IN HAND AND DAI GAME ABANDONED, ABOUT TO CRY BECAUSE I LOVE YOU SO MUCH

first kiss

inspired by this

fenris had no idea why he was here.

well, actually, he did know why he was here - isabela insisted, and would not take ‘no’ for an answer. what he didn’t know was why he agreed to this, or even allowed her to try and convince him. the second she explained it to him, he should have said no, that’s not something i’d be interested in, isabela, and then ignored her next four phone calls like he always did.

instead he let her win him over - or perhaps he feigned letting her win him over and just found it too tiresome to take it back - and now he was standing bare-foot on this large white backdrop, waiting for… something.

a woman, as it turned out, with black hair and striking blue eyes. she walked with a swagger that seemed natural - perhaps accustomed to be normal - but learned, like it over-compensated for something. he nodded his head at her in greeting, shifting his weight from one foot to the other, watching her take the room in stride without a hint of embarrassment or regret.

this would be something.

Keep reading

[eydika]

eydika’s name list 2.0

more... names because the first name list I made isn’t enough anymore

A

Abaddon

Abbey / Abbie

Abel

Ace

Ada

Adam

Adrien

Agnes

Aiden

Akari

Alaska

Alchemy

Alec / Alex / Alexa

Alessi / Alessia

Alexis

Aliana / Alianna

Alice

Alison

Alistair

Alivia

Allie / Ally

Alpha

Alya

Amber

Amelia

Amity

Amos

Amy

Andie / Andy

Andrew

Andromeda

Angel

Anita

Anna / Anne

Annabelle / Annie

Apollo

Apple

Apricot

April

Archer / Archie

Arden

Ares

Argus

Ariel

Aron / Aaron / Auron

Arrow

Artemis

Arthur

Artis

Arya

Ash / Asher

Aspen / Aspyn

Astrid

Athena

Atlas

Atticus

Aubrey / Audrey

Audio

Auger

Auggie

August

Aurelia

Aurora

Austin

Autumn

Ava / Avaline / Avalon / Aveline

Avery / Avrey

Aya

B

Baby

Barbie

Basil

Bea / Bee

Bean

Beatrice / Beatriz

Bébé

Beck / Beckett

Beetle

Bella / Belle

Beryl

Betty

Bijou

Billie

Birdie

Bishop

Bitter

Blair / Blaire

Blaise

Bloom

Blue / Blu

Boheme

Bonnie

Bowie

Briar

Bridget

Brina

Brody

Bryson

Bunny

Byron

C

Cade / Cadea / Caden

Cairo

Cal / Calum

Caleb

Callie

Calliope

Calvin

Cameron

Candace

Canopy

Carly / Carlie

Carol / Caroline

Carter

Casper

Cassandra

Cassius

Catherine

Celia

Cetus

Chance

Charlotte

Cherry

China

Chip

Chloe

Cian

Cinnamon

Civet

Clara / Clary / Clarabelle

Claire

Clementine

Cleo

Clover

Cobalt

Colby

Colt / Colten

Constance

Cooper

Cora

Corey

Corvus

Cosmo

Cricket

Cynthia

Cyra

Cyrus

D

Dacre

Daisy

Dakota

Dalia

Dallas

Damien

Dana

Dandelion

Dandy

Dante

Daphne

Darby / Darcy

Darius

Darla

Davina / Divina

Davos

Dawn

Deacon

Deb

December

Deja

Delaney

Delta

Demi

Denim

Denver

Desmond

Dexter

Diego

Digit

Dion / Dior

DJ

Doe

Domino

Donna

Doran

Dorothy / Dot / Dottie

Douglas

Dune

Dusk

Dylan

E

Eachan

Ebele

Ebony

Echo

Eden

Edris

Effi / Effie

Egan

Elijah

Eliza

Ella / Ellie

Elliot

Ellis

Elodie

Elsbeth / Elspeth

Elsie

Elyse

Embla

Emily

Emlyn

Emma

Emmett

Emory

Erica

Erin

Ernest

Ernie

Esryn

Estelle

Ethan

Eugene

Eva / Eve / Evie

Evan

Evangeline

F

Fae / Fee

Faith

Fawn

Fawke

Felix

Fenris

Fergus

Ferris

Fig / Figgy

Finbar

Fizz

Fletcher

Fleur

Flint

Flora / Florence

Forrest

Fox

Frankie

Freya

G

Gage

Gaia

Gavin

Gemma

Gene / Genesis / Genevieve

Gigi

Gil

Giselle

Gladys

Gloom

Gloria / Glory

Goldie

Grace / Gracie

Greta

Griffin

Gus

H

Hadley

Hailey

Hana

Harlow

Harmony

Harper

Hawk

Hayden

Hazel

Hector

Henley

Henry

Hera / Hero

Honey / Honeydew

Hope

Hunter

I

Ian / Ion

Idris

Ieni

Iesha

Illori

Ilya

Imelda

Imogen

Imp

India

Indira

Ingrid

Irina

Iris

Isaac

Isara

Isla

Ivory / Ivy

Izzy

J

Jack / Jackie

Jade

Jake

Janice / Janis

Jason

Jasper

Jay / Joy

Jenan

Jericho

Jerry

Jibo

Jill

Jinx

Joan

Jude / Judith

Juleka

Juli / Julip

June / Juno

Juniper

Jupiter

Justice

K

Kaiven

Kale

Kappa

Kayla

Kellen

Kelly

Kes

Kimber

Kitana

Kitty

Kiwi

Knox

Kris

Kristy / Kirsty

Krull

Kumo

L

Laken

Lana

Lapse

Lark

Laurel

Lavender

Lemon

Lenka

Leo / Leon / Leonie

Levitt

Liberty

Lilac

Lilith

Lima

Lindsey

Locus / Lotus

Lottie

Luca / Luka

Lucia / Lucie / Lucy

Lucille

Lucky

Luis

Luna / Louna

Luther

Lux

Lynn

M

Mabel / Mable / Maple

Madison

Mae / May

Maeve

Magnolia

Mango

Mantis

March

Marcia / Marcy

Margaux / Margo / Margot

Marina

Marion

Marley

Marmalade

Mars

Martha

Mary

Mason

Maude

Maura

Maxine

Maya

Meadow

Medea

Melancholia

Melba

Memphis

Mercedes

Mercy

Mick

Milan

Milla

Millenia

Milo

Mina / Mona

Minerva

Minnie

Minnow

Miron

Misery

Mona

Monday

Montgomery

Monty

Morrigan

Morwenna

Myrtle

N

Nana

Nancy

Nasira

Nate

Nathaniel

Naveed

Navy

Ned

Nefarian

Ness

Nestor

Never

Newt

Nikki

Noah

Nora

Norma

Nova

Nutmeg

Nye

Nyx

O

Octa

October

Odessa

Olive / Olivia

Ollie

Omega

Omen

Onyx

Opal

Ophelia

Oriana / Orion

Oscar / Oskar

Otis

Owen

Ozzy / Ozzie

P

Paige

Paisley

Parker

Pat / Pattie

Paula / Paola

Pea / Peach

Pebble

Penelope

Pepper

Pepsi

Percy

Petrichor

Philippa

Philomena

Phoebe

Phoenix

Piccolo

Pip / Piper

Pixie

Poe

Pollux

Pomeline

Poppy

Portia

Primrose

Q

Queen

Quentin

Quibble

Quincy

Quinn

R

Rachel

Radian

Ransom

Raven

Ray

Razzia

Rebus / Remus

Reverie

Rhubarb

Rick

Rider / Ryder

Rigby

Rilla

Roach

Robin

Rory

Rosa / Rosalie

Rose

Roux

Rowan

Roxanne / Roxie / Roxy

Ruben

Ruby

Rune

S

Sabina / Sabine / Sabrina

Sable

Sadie

Saffron

Sage / Saige

Salem

Sam / Samantha / Sammie

Savant

Savian

Scarlett

Scotty

Scout

Sean

Sesame

Shea

Skye / Skylar

Sloane

Solomon

Spencer

Sprout

Star

Stella

Sunny

Sybil

Syc

Symphony

T

Tabea

Tabitha / Tabs

Tali / Talia

Tasha

Tate

Tau

Temper

Tharan

Theodora / Theodosia

Theros

Thimble

Thirteen

Thorn

Tia

Tilda

Tina

Topaz

Tora / Torian

Trinity

Trixie

Trope

Tulip

Turnip

Twig

U

Ukiyo

Umara

Umbra

Ursa

V

Valentin

Valerie

Valora

Vargas

Vaughn

Vector

Vega / Vegas

Velvet

Venus

Vera

Vernon

Vesper

Vinette

Violet

Vivek

Volt

W

Waverly

Wednesday

Wendy

Wes

Whisper

William

Willow

Winnie

Winona

Winter

Wish

Wren

X + Y + Z

Xena / Xenia

Xeno / Xenos

Yuki

Yuri

Zafira

Zaria

Zephyr

Zero

Zoe / Zoelle

Zona

Zyra

LAST NAMES

Abbot

Abernathy

Alton

Arcanum

Ashe

Astor

Badger

Balker

Bass

Bennett

Benton

Blake

Bleu

Blunt

Blythe

Cable

Cabot

Cain

Carter

Carver

Castillo

Choi

Clemonte

Coldwell

Collins

Colt

Craft

Craven

Crimson

Croft

Dabney

Danvers

Dayholt

Delpy

Driver

Dyer

Eades

Edge

Epithet

Epps

Evert

Farley

Fell

Fenner

Fig

Finch

Findlay

Fletcher

Foley

Fowler

Fray

Freud

Frost

Geller

Gill

Guest

Hale

Hapley

Harp

Hart

Hearst

Hooper

Hunt

Hyde

Ivy

Jinx

Keller

Kersey

Kingsley

Knight

Knox

Kraft

Krav

Laveau

Lecter

Lock / Lockwood

Lowell

Lush

Marr

Mills

Mist

Morgan

Morrison

Murray

Myers

Oaks

Patel

Pierce

Pike

Powell

Price

Pruitt

Quint

Quiver

Random

Ripley

Ryder

Sears

Sloane

Sparks

Stele

Strom

Sutton

Talbot

Tate

Thorne

Twig

Twist

Tycho

Utley

Valentine

Vance

Vaughn

Vos

Walker

Wallow

Weaver

Webb

Wiley

Wilkes

Winston

Wreath

Wright

Wrong

York

Zella

Zepeda

[bitchesofostwick]

Aurelia/Fenris, #62 Lazy Morning Kisses

Some mornings, Aurelia wakes up on the wrong side of the bed. And she’s snippy, and grumpy, and groggy, and when she says later I know I was a bit bitchy this morning, Fenris only raises his eyebrows. He’d never say so himself. But he doesn’t tell her she’s wrong, either. Some mornings, particularly ones in which they’re fortunate enough to have stumbled on some coffee, she’s chatty--too chatty--and when he’s had enough he tells her for the love of the Maker, Hawke, please shut up. It rarely works and he knows it, because she takes very specific pleasure in annoying him on those days, and more often than not he ends up picking a fight with her, and they end up sparring or wrestling on the ground, or in their tent, or on the floor of whatever unfortunate inn happened to house them the previous night. And it always ends in sly giggles, breathless grins, and both of them finding they can’t quite remember why they were so bothered in the first place.

But the rarest morning is the one in which neither of them is inclined to speak much at all.

They’re in Skyhold when she realizes it’s going to be such a morning. He’d only arrived a couple days prior, having trekked through most of Ferelden after her (she’s yet to apologize for the inconvenience that is her entire state of being, but she has a feeling he’s forgiven her anyway). And here we are, she thinks, looking over at him where he lies beside her, no longer sleeping but not quite up yet. Together again, in a strange place.

They can’t leave the Inquisition’s keep until her wounds from Adamant have healed fully. Their past two days had been spent resting, talking. Playing diamondback in the Herald’s Rest like it was the old days, except in the old days she didn’t have to live with the knowledge that Cullen Rutherford was stealing kisses with his boss somewhere in the shadows two floors above them.

Otherwise, it’s been pleasant. Easy.

We’re not used to easy.

So when they wake up in a strange bed and a strange room for the third morning in a row, they’re quiet. There’ll be breakfast soon, she knows. She’s been eating in the great hall with Varric ever since she’d arrived, and not only is the food there, it’s good. She should nudge Fenris beside her, tell him to get up, aren’t you hungry?

And yet they deserve peace.

She rolls over slowly, and he nearly jumps, bright green eyes meeting hers at her very movement, like he’d thought her still asleep. 

“Hawke,” he mutters, leaving his admonishment hanging in the air in favor of telling silence.

She smirks. “I’m up.”

“Obviously.”

She wrinkles her nose. And, her lips moving faster than her still-half-asleep mind, she leans over to brush a soft kiss over his nose.

“Hawke,” he repeats, slow this time. Almost suspicious.

She laughs, and she kisses him again.

“You’re feeling...unusually sentimental this morning.”

“You came after me,” she replies, kissing him on his cheeks. 

He snorts. “I did. Even though I still think you’re an ass.”

“You came after my ass,” she echoes, and he groans. “I’m glad.”

Sighing, he gives in, meeting her lips in a slow, tired kiss. She missed the way he smells--like bitter black tea, cinnamon, warmth. And more, she missed the way he tastes. Her hands search for his under their too-elegant sheets and duvet, finally meeting his calloused fingers. They’re cold, but that’s fine, I’ll warm them up. She kisses him again. 

“I did,” he mumbles. “You’re welcome.”

[bitchesofostwick]

aurelia asks fenris if he wants to bone in the bone pit and he doesn’t talk to her for a week

[bitchesofostwick]

OMG . Just curious but if you had to assign one dish to each of your otps/ ocs and their l.i’s (whether its their fave food or smth that reminds you of them) what would it be!!

bry!!! this is the most wonderful ask!!!! because i love food and my otps both!!! omg i’m so excited. this was too hard and i’m pretentious so i narrowed it down to “otps as foods i’ve made this year”

ellinor x cullen

ellinor and cullen together are sundubu-jjigae! it’s because cullen is the silken tofu (because he’s bland and soft) and ellinor is the gochujang (because she’s bold and hot) ;) it’s a warm comfort food, it’s soft, it’s a little spicy, there’s ~umami~, it’s served in a piping hot earthenware bowl (and they are down to earth people). it’s them!! it’s perfect!!

aurelia x fenris

FALAFEL SANDWICHES!!! fenris is the falafel. he’s a little rough on the outside but soft and warm within!! the perfect balance of strength (the chickpeas) and a little spunk and humor (all the herbs and sumac inside). aurelia is the yogurt dill sauce because she’s so coooool! get it?? but really lol aurelia is cool when she wants to be, with lots of zest (lemon and dill).

emilia x alistair

emilia and alistair can be my easter dinner, which was baked ham and pierogi (yeah i’m korean but i’m also polish *finger guns*). i feel like a roast of any kind, or in this case a baked ham, is not only a meal worthy of nobility but a meal that feeds everyone! which is why it’s so emilia. she’s a family gal and the glue that keeps her found family together, and she wants to provide for everyone. alistair is a cheese and potato pierogi. because they’re fucking delicious because they are versatile (you can boil or fry them) and the filling is made with durable hardy ingredients (farmer’s cheese and potatoes).

rae x max

hear me out, but rae and max are homemade ramen. i think because you need your standby traditional ingredients (the noodles, the egg, the pork belly) but you can also sort of throw in whatever you have on hand! max is the the traditional ingredients and rae is the random unexpected ingredients��chili oil, edamame, bits of nori.

[bitchesofostwick]

♫ for Aurelia and Fenris?

i go to the barn because i like the // band of horses

Well I'd like to think I'm the mess You'd wear with pride Like some empty dress on the bed You've laid out for tonight Maybe I'll tell you sometime And you were right Right outside By your doorstep In a worn-out Suit and tie I'll wait For you to come down Where you'll find me Where we'll shine

no one is a bigger mess than aurelia! but honestly during the events of DA2, she and fenris are both messes. and even then, they’re proud of each other, and they love each other. even if they don’t know how or when to say it.

send me a ♫ + a character or ship and i will respond with a song that reminds me of them

[bitchesofostwick]

♫ for aurelia/fenris?

fixin’ // walk the moon

Are you fixin' to come with me? Are you fixin' to fix me? Don't even tell me where we are going Hands over my eyes, hands over my eyes Don't even tell me where we are going Just walk, just walk by my side

this is one of the songs i have for aurelia and fenris immediately following the fall of kirkwall. during the events of DA2, they have a very on-and-off relationship, mostly because they want to be together but neither of them is actually ready for a relationship. in my sort of canon-divergent narrative for them, fenris is essentially out of her life until the final battle with orsino and meredith, and they reconcile and they can finally be at peace with being together. aurelia needs to leave the city or otherwise be persecuted by chantry officials, and fenris is ready to come with her.

[bitchesofostwick]

What are your favorite personal headcanons about each of your DA romances? - DoN

hi anon! thanks for asking. i feel like with my recent hiatus i haven’t talked much about my OCs lately :’) so i’m happy to share!

although emilia is very serious, alistair has a way of bringing out her fun and youthful side. they’re only about 20 when they’re married, and though they take their royal duties seriously, he can sometimes convince her to shirk off a day at court in favor of playing in the mabari kennels, visiting friends, or even just staying in bed. they are hopelessly in love with and devoted to one another, but emilia has a bad habit of making choices she thinks are for the best for both of them without consulting alistair first—including leaving him to find a cure for the taint without telling him where she’s going and leaving her mabari to stay with him.

aurelia and fenris are probably wanted in every country in southern thedas tbh. because of this, they enjoy collecting wanted posters of each other and critiquing their likenesses. aurelia has been known to draw crude scribbles of cullen on her posters before re-hanging them.

although i think ellinor and cullen’s main shared love language is words of affirmation, i think cullen’s secondary language could be gift giving. he enjoys getting ellinor a pretty dress he saw her eyeing in val royeaux, a bottle of her favorite wine “just because,” or giving her things he’s made himself, like her favorite meals or a little wooden cat carving.

[bitchesofostwick]

I just.....would die for aurelia and fenris........

the most bitter but loving babies you’ll ever meet uwu

[bitchesofostwick]

my DA ships quarantining: a thread

[bitchesofostwick]

wow i sure am glad Aurelia and Fenris live happily ever after and nothing bad ever happens to either of them!! 😭

bRUH 😭

[bitchesofostwick]

Hey, Isabella! How about "The Hanged Man" from your tarot list for Aurelia and whichever other character(s) you like, romantic or otherwise, for DWC?

it’s been a minute, but i’m finally back doing @dadrunkwriting for at least one prompt this friday! :) here you go, and thanks for asking!! (this one will take place after A Bitter Pill but before Act III)

***

the hanged man: suspension, potential, indecision; “I can’t stay here, but I don’t know where to go. I’m stuck.”

The ale she swishes in her mouth, over her tongue, between her teeth is lukewarm when she tastes it. Bland. She’s about to ask Corff his ratio of beer to water when he diluted it but it’s Isabela who hollers at him instead, something far bawdier, far more witty than she’d have come up with if she’s being honest, and on most nights she might banter back but they’ve put the barman through enough trouble for one night already and it’s hardly passed sundown.

“Tastes like piss,” she mutters, and Isabela takes a long swig for herself before grinning.

“Smells like it too.”

They’ve played through three rounds of Wicked Grace already. At this point, three bargoers owe Varric a few coppers each, Varric owes Aurelia three silvers and a hot breakfast up in Hightown, and Aurelia owes Isabela two sovereigns, three ales, and her shirt, though Isabela had deemed it too early to lose your shirt, Hawke and insisted she hold onto it until the hour is late enough.

It’s fun.

Or at least, fun enough for a hot summer night in the literal ass crack of Thedas. And Lowtown’s the ass crack of Kirkwall, Aurelia thinks to herself. And the Hanged Man’s the ass crack of Lowtown. So really, it’s the ass crack of the ass crack of the–

“Your hand, Hawke?” Varric calls, flashing the Angel of Death before her.

And now, she owes Isabela four sovereigns.

“Another round?” 

Hawke has no problem with losing–in fact, she’s quite used to it–but it’s Isabela who’s an insufferable winner, and at the very suggestion of a fifth game, the majority of the table groans, Hawke among them.

“What?” Isabella whines. “You’re all so boring, playing it safe all the time, and–”

“You say ‘playing it safe’ like we ever had a chance at winning, Rivaini,” Varric mutters, tipping the remaining contents of his tankard into his mouth.

“Practice makes perfect,” Isabela retorts smugly. “And anyway, we…”–her smile flickers for just a moment as she looks over Aurelia’s shoulder–“and anyway, Hawke, I think I’m ready for one of the ales you owe me!” She shoots Varric a look, and for a a duelist and a rogue as herself, she’s hardly subtle about it.

Varric looks up as well, eyes widening for a moment before looking back down and coughing. “I could also go for an ale, Hawke,” he says–a miraculous recovery from “surprised” to his normal sing-songy, storytelling flair.

“Perfect!” Isabela says–a little too eager.

Aurelia furrows her brow.

They’re distracting her.

“What’s going on?” she asks, any previous warmth vacant from her voice as she turns around to see the cause of their odd behavior. It’s nothing, she thinks; a familiar crowd has arrived and let the humid summer air in with them but it’s only Donnic, off from his shift, and a couple of other off-duty guards and then–

Oh.

She feels the color drain from her face when she sees him. It’s the kind of surprise that sends ice through her veins and prickles over her skin. The kind that makes her glad she’s already sitting down. He looks the same and yet it feels so different. The same armor, the same shock of brilliant white hair she’d combed her fingers through the last time she’d seen him, the same gait and posture and tight frown upon his lips when he turns his head enough for her to see his face. 

And the same red cloth around his wrist. Faded and worn, but the same.

I gave him that.

“Hawke,” Isabela says, and for a moment she hates the pity she hears in her voice, the last desperate attempt to divert her attention.

It doesn’t work.

It only draws his.

And when he turns around, looks at her, piercing green eyes on blue, his face relaxes, his eyes soften, he bites his lip.

Hawke, she thinks he says, but the tavern is loud and his voice too quiet and the distance between them feels greater than the few feet they stand apart.

She can’t bring her lips to move.

And when she hears her name again, it’s Isabela and Varric once more, each grabbing her by one arm and pulling her through the crowd, out the door, and when she looks back again she can’t find him. She might think he’d never been there at all if it weren’t for the insistence of her friends that the Hanged Man is boring tonight and let’s find something else to do and maybe off to your place, Hawke?

“I’m fine!” she shouts finally, shaking them off of her, her voice to high-pitched and her words too rough for either of them to believe her, really, but they let go, and she squeezes her eyes shut, takes in the muggy, dirty air of Lowtown in in one deep breath.

He’s back, she thinks, and he hadn’t even stopped by to tell me and he never even said goodbye in the first place and he saw me and he said my name but it doesn’t matter and it’s in the past.

Isn’t it?

And when she opens her eyes again, stinging and wet against the Foundry dust hanging in the air, she cracks a wry smile, rakes her hair back with one hand.

“I’m fine.”