#dickeybbqpit

[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.”

[luckyspacerabbit]

Bry all you Dan Hyun+Thane posts are making me so emotional 😭✌🏼💜

i love youuuu SMAD

[greenteabtch]

Literally Helena's cheekbones live rent-free in my head. I love her temperament and humor, commitment to her family, and devoted love to Sebastian. I love them all. Dan and curiosity and evolution, losing that cookie-cutter within the system to a "do what's right" edge, T'yas' calm and thoughtfulness, Violet's little playfulness and need to just kind of go unhinged after the circle. Cahya's detached style and whimsy.

<3 i love u......................................... mads ur so kind and attentive and sweet to me and don’t make me go on paragraphs about the love i hold for your ocs....

[jawsandbones]

“I got your back.”

The pick sits easy between his lips, his tongue pressed against the end of it. He pulls himself up to the windowsill, manages to squeeze his foot onto the frame. One hand holds to the rope, still looped around the chimney. He makes a note to thank Sera for the climbing claw later. Carefully crafted fingers move over the edge of the window. A few minor spells, but nothing that hinders his way. These spells are meant for magical attackers. Nan takes the pick from his mouth, begins to unlock the window. It swings open with ease, and he smiles triumphantly as he slowly creeps inside. He plants his foot carefully, ensures the floorboard won’t creak beneath his weight.

He pulls down his makeshift mask, the black cloth which covers his mouth and nose. He pulls back the hood, pointed ears twitching free of constraints. He runs a finger down the desk, feels it pick up the presence of a few more minor spells. Nan yawns, flops backwards into the large chair. He extends his legs out far, muddy boots dropping flecks under the desk. He slouches, fingers tapping against the tips of the armrest. He tilts his head, a flick of his ear, and in the moonlight from the window behind him, there’s a glint of something metal.

He gently pushes back the chair as he crouches underneath the desk, feels for the small lock. This one takes him longer than it should. He’ll need more practice with this. Still, he smiles when he hears it click. The drawer is small, thin, filled with fragile parchment. His eyes scan the pages. All Tevene. He sighs deeply, begins to gently roll them up together, pack them into the small sack slung over his bag. Even though he can’t read it, no one keeps something of no importance in a secret drawer. He presses it back in, just in time to hear heavy footsteps on the stairwell. Nan closes the window. He arranges the chair. His footsteps are easy, unhurried as he steps behind the door, waits for it to open.

The magister barges in, slamming it open, and Nan gently closes it behind him, turns the lock. They always expect a fight to come in the form of magic, not a brutal smash to the back of the knees. A pathetic whimper, and Nan kicks the magister to the ground, keeps his foot on his chest. He turns the arrow between his fingers as he slowly bends down. He taps the magister’s nose with the bladed tip. “Magister Caeso, I’m so pleased to formally meet your acquaintance,” Nan says pleasantly. “I’m guessing I don’t need to introduce myself since your assassins knew exactly who to look for.” The arrow’s tip now comes to rest against Caeso’s throat, and Nan’s smile doesn’t reach his eyes as he glares.

“What can I do for you this evening, Inquisitor Mahanon Lavellan?” Caeso laughs nervously.

“See, I don’t mind that you targeted me. I expected that all of you would. But,” the arrow bears down, “you also sent some after him. Now that is something I mind.” He can see it in the quivering of Caeso’s mustache, this mustering of magic. Nan sighs, rolls his eyes. “The poison should be in your system already, so you can stop trying.” They never feel the pinprick of spikes at the tip of his boots. “Your assassins failed. I won’t. Vote to pass his motion in the Magisterium or I will come back, and I won’t be so merciful.” He’s back to spinning the arrow between his fingers as he stands. “Say you understand.”

“I understand,” Caeso is saying, crawling away from Nan on his hands and knees. Nan shrugs. It’s enough. It’s a simple thing to pull the claw loose in the right way, once he’s on the ground. He’s been productive these past few months. He’s fleet footed across winding streets, knowing the best path home intuitively. He slips in through the back door. He’s discarding clothes as he goes, arriving at the bed in naught but his underwear. Everything else can be left to the morning. He’s too happy to see the shape under the covers. He dives in greedily, curling around Dorian’s back.

“You’re late,” hoarse, full of sleep, and Dorian doesn’t bother to move or open his eyes, “where were you?”

“I just had to take care of something quickly,” Nan says as he rubs his face between Dorian’s shoulder blades. “I’m here now.”

“Mnm. I sleep better with you at my back, Amatus…” Dorian mumbles into unconsciousness. The smile spreads wide across Nan’s face, his hands splaying against Dorian’s chest, feeling his heart beat. He presses a kiss against his spine, closes his eyes. The smile follows him into dreams.  

[josieofantiva]

8 interrupting with a kiss :)

So. This became more than I had expected. I’m so.....SOFT. 

“Marry me?” 

Leliana jerked in surprise and dropped the spoon she was using to make dinner, soup splattering across the floor. She whipped around to stare at Oliver. He was frozen, panic on his face, and the bread dough in his hands slowly drooped to the counter. Clearly, he had not meant to propose to her while they made dinner.

“Oliver?” she hesitantly prompted. He did not move, and she could see the gears turning too fast in his head. “Oliver, my love?” She started to reach out to him but he jumped, seeming to break from the panic that had stilled him.

“Wait! Wait, Leliana do not say anything! Don’t! Just- Hold on!” He tossed the rest of the dough on the counter, which caused a large cloud of flour to puff up and get in his hair and on his face, but he ignored it. He took off in a run, leaping over Schmooples II and turning the corner into their bedroom at a dangerous speed. There was a thump and indignant bark from Spud. The mabari trotted out of their bedroom, looking very much like he was startled from a nap, and made a beeline for the spilled soup. 

After a moment of disbelief, Leliana stepped around Spud and followed the muffled sounds of things hitting the floor. She stood in the doorway and watched as Oliver frantically tossed socks from his dresser, muttering to himself. 

Eventually, he pulled something out of the very back with a triumphant “Gotcha!” Oliver turned around, his eyes wild, and fumbled with an old pair of socks, removing what was clearly a ring box from within. He jogged over to her, having to step through the sea of socks that now littered the floor. 

“Uh. Hi,” he said with a nervous smile.

“Hello Oliver,” she chuckled. He gave a shaky wave in response. 

“Do you have something to ask me?” she asked when he did not say anything else.

“Right, yes!” he exclaimed. “Leliana, you are-- oh wait.” He paused and heavily dropped to one knee, nearly dropping the ring box in the process.

“Oliver, breathe.” He looked up at her and Leliana made a show of taking a deep breath, and he followed. She could see as his mind cleared and his responding smile took her breath away.

“Leliana,” he began again, calmer. “My love. There is much I do not know, but there are some facts I know to be true. I am the happiest at your side and I never want to leave. I wake up every day and know it will be the best day yet because it is another day spent with you. So much is asked of us, but all I want to do for the rest of my life is love you, and I know that loving you will be the best thing I ever do.” He idly turned the box around in his hands as he talked. “When the rest of the world overwhelms me and I can not understand any of it, you make sense to me.” He paused to swipe at the tears in his eyes and Leliana could feel her own tears falling freely down her face. 

Oliver nervously ran a hand through his hair, which caused some of the flour to fall and he took a moment to sheepishly rub his flour covered hand on his pants before continuing. “I know that life will separate us, that we will have to take different roads, but I have faith that every time I will find my way back to you, because you are my home. You are with me wherever I go, you have a place in my heart that is entirely yours. So even in the darkest night, a 1000 miles away from your side, I know I am not alone.”

He fumbled with the ring box for a moment before he flipped it open and held it up for her, a slight tremor in his hands. “Leliana, if...if you will let me, I want to spend the rest of my days making you as happy as you make me. I want to be your home as much as you are mine. We do not know what our future will bring, but I would like to be your constant in the unknown. You do not need defending, you never have, but if you would like, I would like to take on every challenge together with you, side by side.”

He paused and took another deep breath, and the shaking of his hands stopped.

 “Leliana, will you marry me?”

She was speechless. She loved him with every fiber of her being, and thanked the Maker every day for bringing him into her life. She never thought she would get this lucky.

Oliver took her silence wrong and began to ramble. “Oh Maker, I’m surrounded by socks and covered in flour, what was I thinking? I had 20 different ideas for how I would propose and this is not one of them, I’m sorry Leliana, would you like me to do it again? I can definitely do it again. I was going to bake your favorite bread and bring you on a picnic, let us do that, I can do that, Leliana! Give me a second chance pl--”

Leliana lunged forward, knocking him onto his back with an “oof” and kissing him firmly, cutting off the rest of his protests. “Yes! Yes, Oliver I will marry you!” She peppered his whole face with kisses, whispering yes repeatedly against his flushed skin. He tasted like flour, and she could not help but laugh. “Oh how I love you my ridiculous boy, of course I will marry you.” 

Oliver laughed joyously and for a moment they laid there together, laughing in each other’s arms before she felt him tap her hand. “May I?” he quietly asked. She nodded and sat up, offering her hand for better access and straddling his legs as he laid on his back. He leaned up, giving her a soft kiss before he took the ring out the box and gently slipped the ring on her finger, and her heart felt like it might beat out of her chest.

 Neither said anything, they basked in the moment, but she couldn’t help but giggle. “Ollie...you are a mess, how did you get flour everywhere?” 

“Hey! I had more important things on my mind!” he said defensively, pouting dramatically. 

Before she could reply, a sudden weight knocked her off of his legs. She looked up and Spud was laying on top of Oliver. “Hey! Spud wait hey stop!” The mabari was licking the flour off of Oliver, who was laughing as he protested. “Leliana help me!” he cried out, flailing his arms around.

And of course, Leliana went to his rescue. She always did, and she knew she always will. Oh Maker, she loved that man.

[magebastard]

15 a quick kiss

thank you sm for the prompt!

nearly drowned for such a silly thing

Kirkwall Gang w Isabela x Allison Hawke kind of a little bit somewhere near the beginning of Act III

Corff has never been shy about shooing them off at closing time.

Tonight, however, ale has flowed arguably overmuch and Varric has never seen Merrill, or Sebastian get so worked up over a sleight of hand from Isabela. Rematch, after rematch of Wicked Grace, and no one has gotten the jump on her quick hands even once. Anders, who has the best record at catching her in the act, is too exhausted on this particular evening to pay too much attention to anyone who isn’t yelling.

They are all taking turns yelling, tonight.

They are all shaking with laughter between words.

Merrill and Isabela seem to have struck some sort of alliance and are working against Sebastian and Allison. Merrill doesn't have the Pirate’s knack for subtlety, so when she pointedly hands a card from where it had been tucked in her sleeve to Isabela, Sebastian and Allison and Varric and Fenris are quick to rise from their seats, outraged.

“Absolutely not-“

“You will not-“

“Daisy, for crying out loud-“

“Not a chance-“

“Will you lot get out!” Corff bellows over them.

Allison finally looks up at the tavern around them to see that they are, in fact, the last ones there. Again.

Half-hearted apologies between giggling sees them out the front door into to the warm, if not damp night air.

They form a loop just in front of the Hanged Man, huddled close to keep voices soft for the hour. This is Varric and Isabela’s stop, and the journey to safely see each of her friends home is necessary, if daunting. They have all—save Sebastian and Anders—imbibed and Allison feels comfortably unknotted. She throws two arms around the closest shoulders which Merrill and Varric happily fold into.

“Right, who’s staying at mine?” She asks. Tries to make it sound casual, and assumptive though endearing. Tries not to sound anxious.

They chatter about for a moment, measuring the idea, and Allison does not weigh in. Tries not to look afraid. Please, her mind supplies.

Isabela says nothing until the conversation slows, and sighs.

“I’ll stay the night, of course. I’m the last to be dropped off; it’d be horribly inconvenient for you.”

With a few eye rolls and a laugh here and there they depart. Allison holds Isabela behind for only a moment to lace their fingers, and kiss the back of her friends’ hand.

“Thank you,” She whispers. Isabela says nothing, kisses hers right back.

[anathemafiction]

Keep getting hit by Alessa feels, and I wanted to know, how would she react to a normally chipper and bright MC suddenly falling very quiet and contemplative and just after a little while asking Alessa to hold her?

She'd noticed, of course. How your eyes seemed far away, looking but not seeing. You had seated yourself in a corner, shunning the firelight as a bat flees from the sun. You, who usually stood bright and center, your voice and smile commanding the room.

Alessa had observed you quietly from afar, blue eyes like a frozen lake, face as impassive as yours. But her heart felt heavy, in her chest, because the look did not fit you. The silence did not fit you. And as often as she had rolled her eyes, and scoffed at your quibs. As often as Alessa called you a fool and hidden the smile that always came to her lips whenever you'd go on your tirades. As often as she may have wished for quietness, Alessa suddenly found your silence wrong.

Cold. Much too cold for you.

But she had given you space. She'd let you be, even as her legs seemed to beg her to move. She'd be silent, too, as you walked to your room. But Alessa could not stop from following your footsteps. And she could not stop from passing the threshold as she saw you seated on the edge of your bed, your head bowed, your eyes closed.

She could not stop from seating beside you, from swallowing the tick knot that clogged her throat. "My darling one," Alessa speaks at last, and if her voice shakes, she decides to ignore it. "What plagues you?"

You are silent. She dislikes it. She dislikes it so. "I-" your voice breaks, and you shake your head and her heart shatters.

Alessa's arms are around you in an instant. And she knows her skin is cold, and her embrace is sharp. She knows she is not good with words and warmth and comfort. Alessa knows it all, but her lips kiss your temple as tenderly as she can, and her voice is as gentle as her throat allows, and her eyes fight back the sting of tears.

"Hush," she whispers, not knowing if she speaks to you or herself. Your shoulders shake, and Alessa squeezes you tight against her chest. Squeezes you as if she could take your pain within and make it her own. "Hush, darling one. I am here."

She can't say anymore. But, hopefully, you do not need it. She can only hold you, and hope that the morrow chases away the dark clouds that fill the night sky.

[glamfellens]

7, 8, and 9 from Love?

7. Do they prefer verbal or physical affection?

i think aelwyn finds it easier to express affection physically... she’s always been used to like, touching and holding and keeping people close to show love. i think alistair is happy with both, he just craves Affection(tm) in general

8. What are some songs that apply to their relationship, in-universe or otherwise?

some of my favourites for them are like real people do - hozier, without you - ursine vulpine & annaca, tender offerings - first aid kit and skulls - bastille

9. What kind of nicknames do they call each other?

aelwyn likes to call alistair “vhenan” or “ma vhenan” (heart/my heart), while he calls her “love” or “my dear”... “commander” when he’s feeling cheeky lmao

ship questions!

[pinayelf-archive]

😊

ty madi!!!!! haha i know i answered this already but i also have a second piece i’m proud of jfdifji and it’s this

This one is for TWC and it’s over here on my blog for it (pluggin it in lmao @freckledfangs). basically this is the universe where amihan smooches a vampire jidfi. I’m proud of this because this was meant to be a sketch that tbh I really started hating at the beginning and was gonna trash. Then I started coloring and was like “wait...” i love the textures here. and even though the lighting eventually covered up the jeans, I think I painted them good haha

-

end of year content meme!

[hanatsuki89]

58. “Enjoying the view, beautiful?”

Prompt 51: “Enjoying the view, beautiful?” Pairing: Zevran Arainai x Warden Amelia Tabris

For a moment, Amelia is left breathless.

The buildings facing Antiva city's biggest square are painted orange and gold the sunset light, the fading rays shimmering on the bay's waters.

Words had always been her forte, back when she had to rely on them to build an army and face the Blight, but she has never been able to arrange them in a poetic way. No, the one who has always been good at that is currently standing a few paces in front of her, breathing in the salty air with a small smile on his face.

"Enjoying the view, beautiful?"

The sun turns Zevran's hair into a golden halo when he turns his eyes towards her.

His hair is longer now, usually styled into a loose braid that he decided to forgo today. She knows there are several strands of white in it, even though it's impossible to notice in this light.

Amelia has moved to Antiva City for good five years ago - seventeen years after the Blight - and she still can't help but get caught staring at him.

She is aware that Zevran is probably referring to the landscape, but when she nods that she is indeed enjoying the view, she is thinking about the white in his hair and the lines that have started to appear on his handsome face.

She will always be happy that she got the chance to enjoy the view of them getting older together.

[cassandra-pentughasst]

2. “The thought of losing you scares me.”

This took me 45yrs because finishing undergrad and I apologise, but thank-you for the request, hope you enjoy ❤❤ ---------------------------------------------------------- “The thought of losing you scares me.” “Did you see the size of the thing? And the wings? Creators even a castle could take flight with those things attached to it.” Ellana gushes, face flushed and wide eyes bright as she grins widely at her. The settling nerves after a hard fought victory giving her a jittering, almost manic energy.  “It was just a dragon Ellana,” Cassandra replies bemused. It was a rather large one, yes, but still a dragon nonetheless. One that came uncomfortably close to taking Ellana down in a flurry of wings and fire when it lashed out in its dying fury.  “tI was almost a close call for you at the end there,” Cassandra murmurs quietly, taking in the torn sleeve of Ellana’s coat and split lip that grins at her. No doubt there were bruises she would be finding for the next week, hidden by the layers of metal and leather that wrapped around her nimble body. “You worry too much, I’m fine,” Ellana sighs, dismissing her concern with a wave of her hand. Cassandra would probably believe her words if it wasn’t for the tremor Ellana isn’t quick enough to hide with crossed arms and balled fists. “I worry as much as I need to,” Cassandra admonishes her softly “And I would worry less if you didn’t go out of your way to scare me in such ways,” “Cassandra Pentaghast? Scared?” Ellana teases lightly. Cassandra rolls her eyes with a small noise of distaste escaping her lips. Ellana was usually insatiable or insufferable after fights like the one they’d just walked away from. And much to Cassandra’s chagrin she was the latter. “I’m scared of plenty of things,” Cassandra huffs, giving Ellana a pointed look. “Like what?” Cassandra pauses. There were plenty of things that she was scared off, even if she didn’t want to admit it. Sometimes there was the fear of being herself around other people. Other times the thought of being helpless or powerless had her waking in a cold sweat, fear prickling at her skin and the corners of her mind. But these days there was one thing that she realised genuinely instilled a cold terror that clawed its way somewhere between her heart and her stomach, leaving her on edge. “I’m scared of losing you,” Cassandra admits quietly.

Ellana’s face freezes in a silent look of realisation, the air of teasing about her disappearing almost instantly at Cassandra’s words. “Oh Cass...” Ellana exhales, trailing off. The tender softness Cassandra was so fond of returning to Ellana’s face as she watches her intently.  “It's silly-” Cassandra flushes, trying to change the subject, but is cut off by Ellana. “It's not. It's not. It's you being honest and that's all that matters because I’m terrified that we’ll make it through all this and you won’t be by my side when it's all over.” Ellana’s words vibrate between her ears, her admission that she felt the same quieting the lingering doubts in her mind. “If you two lovebirds need a moment to yourselves we can meet you back at the keep,” Varric's words are loud and unwelcome, interrupting the silent conversation between them.  “Var -” “I think we might,” Ellana interrupts, cutting her irritation off with a pointed look of her own and a sweet smile at Varric.  And maybe Ellana was right. Scrap that. Seeing the warmth in her gaze and the way her eyes lingered on her lips? Ellana was definitely right. But then again she usually was. 

[bitchesofostwick]

If Cullen and Ellinor were to throw together a meal they both love with any ingredients at their disposal, what would it be?

When they’re walking down the street together do they often entwine their fingers, their forearms, or clasp their hands?

What’s their favorite in-joke?

i am always in love with the idea of ellinor enjoying korean food, but for them to both love it, it would have to be something not spicy because cullen is baby. but i think they would like jajangmyeon!! it’s noodles with a savory black bean sauce and diced pork and vegetables. it’s easy to make (so easy even ellinor could help without messing it up) and quick too, so i imagine they could make it together after a long day of work.

ellinor and cullen are DEFINITELY the type to entwine their fingers together. they start to hold hands a lot sometime after cullen’s raid on sahrnia because at that point they’ve mostly given up on keeping their relationship private and they’re less concerned that people know. so they hold hands while walking often, but also as a signal of reassurance—under the table during tense conversations or in bed after one might have a nightmare. with the mark acting up by trespasser, cullen holds her left hand often and rubs her palm with his thumb to help with the pain.

i don’t know if they have a lot of inside jokes (i’m sorry skdjfks there isn’t nearly enough comedy in my writing i’m realizing) and a lot of their jokes are kind of dry. but one recurring theme (which sometimes ends up being a joke) is cullen not knowing how to or not liking to dance. it comes up three times in awa:

and you best believe it will come up again in hb!!

[fiddles-ifs]

Listen, I’ve wanted my MC to marry Nazeri since she blew a kiss at her and took being called an asshole in stride. But I feel like Nazeri has wanted to marry the MC since the first time she found them fishing through the trash like a starved raccoon for their 20 ct McNugget they temper tantrum threw away, whereupon offering help the MC gave her the finger and told her to “Eat me! You’re not better than me.”

You know the characterization of my characters much better than me, I think.

[luckyspacerabbit]

Blue, red, and black

youre the hot friend ur talking about arent you

[hawkepockets]

Happy birthday <3

[storybookhawke]

For the eighteenth trick-or-treater, Zevran answered the door!