#modern!thedas roommates au

[contreparry]

Happy Friday! From the sharing the bed prompts: one talking to the other when they think they’re asleep

I haven’t written this in a bit, so here’s some modern!Thedas Fenders for @dadrunkwriting !

“You are a blanket thief.”

The words were spoken softly, barely above a whisper, but it woke Anders up as surely as a shout. The mattress shifted beneath him, and he felt a hand brush against his jaw, batting away hair with a soft and considerate touch.

“And you sleep like your cat. Like the dead,” Fenris added, and Anders heard the satisfied smile in his voice. A moment later the mattress shifted again, and a warm, lithe body was pressed against him, torso against his arm, legs tangled together, soft breaths playing with the hair at the back of his neck.

“But you do not snore. Much,” Fenris idly remarked. “Unlike your cat.” The comment made Anders want to laugh- Pounce was always “his cat” when Fenris was annoyed, but “our cat” whenever he wanted the snuggles and playtime Pounce provided.

“Anders,” Fenris sighed, and his sigh made Anders tremble. “I have grown far too fond of you and your brashness. Too fond of your loudness and arguments. Whatever will I do without them?” A well muscled arm snaked around Anders’ waist and held him tightly.

“You. You have a terrible sense of humor. Blanket thief. At least you are warm,” Fenris sighed once more, sleep heavy in his voice, and his breathing slowed until Anders was certain that Fenris had fallen asleep once more. Anders slowly reached with his hand and covered Fenris’, and squeezed it softly.

“Charmer,” Anders whispered into the darkness. “At least you’re warm, too.”

Fenris’ midnight love confessions were some of Anders’ favorites.

[contreparry]

hello and happy friday! maybe "so, what would you be? if you had to power to change all the things making you unhappy, what would your life look like?" from the yearning prompt list? uwu

You know what I haven't written in a bit? The Fenders roommates AU. So here's some pre-Fenders roommates for @dadrunkwriting!

Anders had grown fond of their Thursday night hangouts. When the weather was good, as it was now, they opened the door to the balcony, sat in the cheap plastic lawn chairs, and looked out over the bay while they drank whatever was stocked in the liquor cabinet or fridge. Occasionally Pounce joined them to nibble at the cat grass growing in a pot, but usually it was just the two of them watching the sea with drinks in hand. Sometimes they talked. Sometimes they didn't.

It was the companionship that mattered, really. The knowledge that Fenris was around did wonders for Anders' psyche. It was comforting to have Fenris sleeping down the hall, or to hear him cursing up a storm in the kitchen as the smell of fresh herbs and fried garlic filled the air. It was pleasant to turn a corner and see Fenris flick a cat toy towards Pounce's paws to play with him. And Anders couldn't deny the thrill that ran through him whenever he happened to catch Fenris fully relaxed- thumbing through a book, watering the plants on the balcony, stretching in the living room while wearing those leggings-

It was the companionship that mattered, that was all, but Anders couldn't deny that there was something special about Fenris' company.

"I can hear your brain overheating, Anders," Fenris remarked dryly, and he reached out with his foot to nudge Anders' shin. Footsie. Almost footsie, Anders corrected, and he took a swig of his drink. It was some sort of fruity cocktail concoction that Fenris insisted he try- an experiment for the summer menu at Isabela's. It was sweet. He could barely taste the alcohol.

"My brain is fine," Anders said. "Just... thinking."

"Is it something you can share, or would you rather ruminate on it for longer?" Fenris asked. His eyes were sparkling- or maybe that was just the setting sun. Fenris had nice eyes: big and olive green and surrounded by ridiculously long lashes- puppy dog eyes, Merrill called them, and she was (damnably) right.

"Mmmm," Anders weighed the pros and cons carefully before taking another sip. Fuck it. Why not?

"Just thinking that I enjoy your company. That's all," Anders said. It felt far too simple, considering the enormity of his... his gratitude, in truth. But it honest, and Anders was so careful about his honesty. You had to trust people when you wished to be honest, and trust was hard to come by. But with Fenris... Fenris was reliable. A pain in the ass and stubborn to a fault, but Anders knew him now. Fenris was honest and clever and noble, and he would always find a way to help his friends, even if he grumbled and complained all the while. Fenris made for good company, and Anders liked him, damn it!

Damn it.

"I wonder how painful it was for you to admit that," Fenris observed, a smug little smile playing at his mouth. "Considering how you required liquid courage to say those words aloud." The little swagger that pride and self-satisfaction gave Fenris was rather appealing. A confident Fenris was a delight. It was a shame that it was such a rare thing, and something in Anders cracked. Fenris was a delight, a bright, burning, almost unbearable delight, and though Anders didn't ask much about his past (a mutual agreement to respect pain and secrets) he knew that it was not pleasant. He knew that someone tried to snuff that light, that fire, out, and it made Anders want to set something ablaze.

"Not as painful as you might think," Anders replied. "Might I ask you a question?"

"Ask," Fenris said (with all the noble grace of a lordling speaking to his subject, Anders noted with a thrill of delight).

"So, what would you be? if you had to power to change all the things making you unhappy, what would your life look like?" Anders asked. Blunt. He was forever blunt when it came to Fenris. Were it anyone else he would try to be subtle. He would try flattery, try to bring about his thoughts and queries in an organic, meandering fashion. But this was Fenris, and Fenris deserved the upfront. He deserved honesty. He was someone who appreciated and valued the blunt just as he valued the delicate.

"An interesting question," Fenris murmured. He swirled the cocktail in his slim glass, and held it up to the setting sun as if he were toasting it. Then he knocked the entire thing back and set the empty glass down on the arm of the lawn chair.

"I would rid myself of my fear of magic. From there-" Fenris bit his lip and cast his gaze aside. "... I could learn to live again, if I could do that. It would make life a great deal simpler if I could be rid of this fear."

The honesty wasn't a surprise. Fenris was an honest person. It was the fact that he shared that honesty with Anders that shook him. He could have been knocked over with a feather. Fenris would have never admitted to being afraid of Mages or magic only mere months ago, but now... now was different. Fenris' honesty was precious, and Anders was going to hold onto it with all the care it deserved.

"I think you've made excellent progress. You don't even bristle at me when I boil water with magic anymore!" Anders said, keeping his tone bright. "Data point of one and all, but you do live with a Mage. That's progress, don't you think?"

"The power outage was a reminder of the usefulness of magic," Fenris admitted, and he held up his empty glass and nodded towards Anders' own. "More?"

"More," Anders agreed, and he got up, wincing when his knees cracked in protest. "If I were younger I'd ask you to make it stronger, but..."

"A light pour of gin, then," Fenris snorted. "Or none at all."

"So considerate. That's why I like you," Anders replied, and he hoped that Fenris didn't look any further into the comment. That was the only problem with living with Fenris: his honesty rubbed off on those around him, and Anders found his own tongue wagging when it ought not to. Companionship was all that truly mattered, Anders reminded himself as he followed Fenris inside. He didn't need anything more.

But damn him if he didn't want for everything.

[contreparry]

happy friday!! 'Stubbornly waiting for them before going to sleep' for the pairing of your choice?

I really wanted to use this opportunity to write some Bethany and Carver twin stuff set in the modern!Thedas AU, so here's some of the Hawke twins with their older sibling for @dadrunkwriting!

"Shhhhhh!" The sharp whisper cut through the silence of the dark living room like a blade, and Bethany nearly jumped out of her skin at the sound right by her left ear. Fear gave way to fury, and she jabbed her elbow into Carver's stomach as revenge.

"Don't 'shhhhhhh!' me, Carver! You shhhhhhh!" Bethany hissed, even as she nervously glanced back to the stairs, where ma and da were sleeping. But the lights remained off and she didn't hear the creaking of bedsprings, so everyone else was still asleep. Good. If ma and da woke up and saw that Marian wasn't in bed... Bethany shuddered at the thought.

"I'm not stompin' around like a nuggalope," Carver grumbled, but he slipped his hand into Bethany's and squeezed it firmly. They were a little old for that usually- too sappy for eleven-year-olds- but tonight was different, and they both needed the comfort that only a sibling could provide.

Bethany woke up from a nightmare, a hospital nightmare, and the smell of bleach and air freshener lingered in her nose like a curse. Carver woke up too, even though he claimed he was already awake, and after some discussion they resolved to cross the hall and see Marian. She might be bossy and over-bearing, but Marian was... she was Marian! She could fix anything. She always knew what to do whenever there was a problem. And she could drive away nightmares with a laugh and a story and a mug of hot cocoa, no matter the season.

But when Carver and Bethany pushed Marian's door open, she wasn't there, and the awful stone that was sitting in Bethany's stomach only grew heavier as she realized that her older sister wasn't in her bed. She was never gone before- not without notice- and it felt wrong. Was wrong! She'd never leave without telling them. She never would! This was Marian, and she loved them! Marian promised to take her and Carver to the library tomorrow! She'd never run away, especially if it meant breaking a promise!

But Bethany kept thinking of all the terrible things that might make Marian leave them for good: ma and Marian fought last week, a terrible row about dressing for Chantry services. Carver spilled a whole glass of orange juice on Marian's mathematics workbook two days ago. Da told her that she would have to wait until next summer to take driving lessons earlier in the month, and Marian was still upset about it (Bethany could tell by the tightness in the corners of her mouth whenever Marian's friends talked about their summer courses). And Bethany played Marian's makeup- all her eyeliner and eyeshadows, all those dark and cool colors that made Marian look so serious and grown-up- and made a complete mess of everything. And sometimes Bethany saw the way Marian looked out past their familiar neighborhood and towards the skies, as if she wished she could grow a pair of giant wings and leave everything behind.

"We'll sit here," Carver whispered, sounding confident even though his hand felt a little clammy in hers. "And we'll wait for Marian to come back." Even though Bethany felt as if she was spiraling, Carver's faith in their sister was unshakeable. They sat down on the couch side by side and stared out into the dark, waiting for... for Marian to come back.

"Where d'you think she went?" Bethany asked, both terrified and eager for an answer.

"Probably out to see a friend," Carver whispered. "She'll be back." Visiting a friend made sense, Bethany thought. It was a reasonable idea, yet she couldn't shake the bone-deep fear that Marian would never return home.

"What if ma or da finds out?" Bethany asked, even though she already had a good idea of what might happen if ma and da woke up and found out that Marian wasn't home. They'd fight. Ma would cry. Da would run off to search for her. And Bethany and Carver would have to... have to wait. And waiting was the worst.

"She'll be back before they wake up. And we won't tell 'em," Carver replied stubbornly. They both fell silent then, though Carver reached up and grabbed the plush blanket that served as a decorative throw and wrapped it over their shoulders as they waited. And waited.

It felt like an age of waiting, but Bethany heard the soft metallic click of a key in the front door before it swung open and closed with a soft thud. The lock clicked again, and then quiet footsteps (so quiet, even in those heavy leather boots) walked down the front hallway and towards the stairs. Marian, Bethany thought as relief swept over her. Marian was home. She hadn't run away!

"Marian," Carver whispered, and a startled squeak of alarm echoed through the living room.

"Carver?! What's wrong, you should be in be- Bethany too?!" Marian exclaimed in a whisper, and in a few quick steps she was kneeling by the couch. She smelled like cigarette smoke and night air, and her hands and leather jacket were chilly against Bethany's bare arms, but Bethany hugged Marian fiercely and breathed her in. Marian hadn't run off. She was back, just like Carver said she would be.

"Had a nightmare," Bethany sniffed, relief breaking what her fear and nightmare hadn't. "About... about the hospital again."

"Oh, Bethany..." Marian said, sympathy heavy in her voice. "And you stayed up to keep her company, Carver?"

"Couldn't sleep anyways," Carver insisted, and Bethany felt Marian shift and drag Carver into her embrace. He squirmed half-heartedly for a second before he returned the hug.

"You two..." Marian sighed, and her breath ruffled Bethany's hair. "You're too good. Both of you. C'mon, up to bed. I'll tuck you in."

Bethany followed Marian's lead and the three of them crept up the stairs. Tomorrow, when she and Carver and Marian went to the library, Bethany would ask why Marian snuck out at night, why she smelled like cigarettes, and why she hadn't told either of them where she was going. But that could all wait for tomorrow, because now... now they were going to sleep.

[contreparry]

Happy DADWC! I'd love to see your take on some "Stubbornly waiting for them before going to sleep" for Fenris and the pairing of your choice <3

Absolutely! Here’s some Fenders from the roommates!AU for @dadrunkwriting !

He said he would be in late (or very early) and that Fenris ought not to wait up for him, but Fenris wasn’t the sort who did what he ought to. He sprawled out on the couch with Pounce on his lap and a book in hand and began to read. And read. And read.

It was 10:17 PM and Fenris finished his book. The remote lay on the coffee table just out of reach of his grasping fingers, and Pounce was a warm lump of gingery orange fur on his lap. The book wasn’t decent enough for a second read. It was barely acceptable for a first, truth be told, but Fenris muddled through it out of sheer determination. He could get up, fetch another book and a glass of something (tea, perhaps, or at least water), but Pounce was so… so…

“Wretched little beast,” Fenris murmured as he scratched behind Pounce’s ears and his heart leapt at the sleepy, questioning trill the cat made in response. “There is no lap you will not claim as yours, is there?”

Pounce trilled once more before uncurling himself until he was stretched out along the length of Fenris’ legs. He butted his head into Fenris’ open palm and purred loudly, a rhythmic sound akin to a motorcycle engine. It would be a rusty, loud, inefficient motorcycle engine, of course, but it was an apt comparison. Fenris leaned back until his head rested on the pillow he propped up on the couch arm.

Anders would mock him relentlessly if he saw them now. Fenris always made a point of telling Anders that his cat was a menace- an underclothes stealing, hair-shedding, mug breaking, food begging menace. They both knew they were only words, a mere front that Fenris put up out of habit, but Fenris was stubborn and clung to his habits. Sometimes he feared that if he didn’t he might lose himself amongst all the changes going on in his life. No, best to keep some things the same, Fenris thought as he ran his hand down Pounce’s back in long, heavy strokes.

“Our little secret, hmmm?” Fenris murmured, and Pounce’s little meow was as reassuring to him as any vow.

When Anders returned from the late-night shift at the clinic at the horrific hour of 1:45 AM he found the living room lamp on, a mug of cold tea on the coffee table, and Fenris asleep on the couch with Pounce curled up on his chest. Anders quietly slipped off his shoes and hung up his coat and bag before tip-toeing over to the living room. Pounce lazily peeled open one pumpkin orange eye and met his gaze.

“Not enough that you’re not a one-man cat, but you had to steal my boyfriend too, I see,” Anders whispered as a smile stretched across his face. Pounce yawned, little white pointed teeth like daggers in the pink cavern of his mouth, before he closed it and licked his chops expectantly.

“Aye, I never saw you two cuddling,” Anders rolled his eyes. “You’ll have to content yourself with a crunchy treat, I’m not pulling out a tube of paste for you.” Pounce seemed pleased, however, for he carefully navigated himself off Fenris’ chest and dutifully wound around Anders’ ankles in an attempt to trip him as he opened the cat treat bag and gave Pounce his bribe.

The things Anders did to let Fenris save face!

When Anders returned to the living room Fenris was waking up. For a brief moment he thought he saw Fenris’ expression shift from bemusement to sorrow, but as soon as he realized that Anders was there his face became a neutral mask once more.

“Earlier than you thought,” Fenris observed, and he hid his yawn behind his hand. How prim and proper of him, Anders thought fondly. How perfectly Fenris.

“Caught the train on time for once,” Anders replied, and he inclined his head towards the book on the floor. “Good book?”

“Not particularly,” Fenris said. “Your menace of a cat wouldn’t leave me be.” He grumbled the last bit, and if Anders didn’t know better he would have said that Fenris was pouting. There was an earnestness in his expression that only revealed itself when he was too tired to keep his walls up. He was always so… so wary, so guarded, but when he was sleep-rumpled and barely awake Fenris could be terribly, devastatingly… adorable.

“Awww,” Anders crooned, watching as Fenris blinked slowly and haltingly rose from the couch. “He was lonely!” If only he had had the foresight to take a picture of Pounce and Fenris cuddling on the couch. He never had the presence of mind to record these rare moments- not for nefarious purposes, mind, but because they made for an adorable scene.

“We both were,” Fenris mumbled. “Bed?”

Anders’ heart leapt into his throat and he could only mutely nod as Fenris shuffled past him and down the hall to their bedroom. Anders stood in the living room, a statue that was only brought to life when Pounce wound around his ankles once more and mrrp’d at him.

“Well,” Anders murmured. “Well!” Devastatingly adorable indeed! Anders crossed the living room floor, leaned over, and turned the lamp off before making his own journey down the hall to join Fenris in their bed.

[contreparry]

Hello and happy DADWC Contre Parry! Can I get this one from the DA Lore prompts, involving any characters of your preference: "The Skin That Stalks. Unique armor. The leather of this armor gives off a faint, living heat. It is heavier than it looks, but the weight and warmth are somehow comforting. The armor makes little noise in motion, and after a surprisingly short time, wearing it feels quite natural."

Here's some Merrill from the roommates AU for @dadrunkwriting!

It was a work of art.

Armor, of course, could always be a work of art and a practical artifact all in one. Merrill handled more than one beautiful piece in her time at the museum, but this- this was special indeed. She ran a gloved hand along an embossed leather strap and sighed wistfully. The magic that enchanted the piece was still working, for the leather radiated a pleasant heat that sank into her fingertips. The spellwork alone was impressive, but combined with the leatherwork and smithing that went into this piece, the armor was truly a find! And to think it was locked away in a dusty corner of a Chantry for so many ages made her head spin!

"I would cautiously say that this artifact comes from before the Dragon Age," Merrill concluded. "But the engraving is a pattern that dates back further, possibly to the Storm Age. And it is derivative of Dalish designs from even further back."

The elderly man grinned at her response and stroked his snow-white beard. It was a little like a billy goat's beard, long and wispy, and his watery blue eyes danced with excitement as he looked at the armor with brand new appreciation. This was why she enjoyed her work at the museum, why she pushed on through all the terrible struggles and trials to carve a space out for herself.

"Grandad said it was important. Said he saved it for a friend, who inherited it through the ages in her family. But she hadn't the space to keep it anymore, and she never trusted a museum or university to keep it properly. So Grandad hid it up in the Chantry rafters and checked on it every day after his gardening shift. Climbed up all those stairs and ladders, kept it safe until he retired, and then he told me. Went up the next day and retrieved it, kept it with me ever since. Would've given it to one of my grandkids to keep safe, until I saw that you're the director here. Not to say a shem nowadays can be trusted to keep our people's history intact, but..." the man shrugged then, letting the words remain unsaid between them. There was too much history, too much bad blood, that the Dalish couldn't trust outsiders with their artifacts, with their history.

"I will be certain to examine it thoroughly. And if you ever wish to come and see it, I will be happy to have you as a guest," Merrill informed him. "Can you tell me anything else you remember about what your grandfather told you about this piece of armor?"

The old man grinned and launched into the tale of the armor and its curious name, The Skin That Stalks, and all the rumors of its magical abilities- heat and a comfortable heaviness, like a security blanket, and it could make the wearer almost silent. As he spoke in his reedy thin voice Merrill settled in and listened to a tale of intrigue and friendship and love for people- their people- that spanned across generations.

[contreparry]

Howdy howdy, Ann! Happy Friday! How about a prompt from your romantic yearning list, for anyone? "i sleep better when you’re around". (I'm partial to the modern thedas roommates AU, but I love your writing in general!) Have fun!

Here’s more Fenders from the modern!Thedas AU for @dadrunkwriting !

The strange thing about Fenris was how easily he fit into the cracks in Anders’ life.

Nothing about Anders’ living situation really changed when he moved into Fenris’ place. Sure, he wasn’t in his old flat and his commute was cut down by a good ten minutes, but his lifestyle hadn’t changed much at all. He worked long hours, took care of his cat, did his volunteer jobs, spent time with his friends, fought with Fenris regularly, and the world kept spinning.

But things did change. They were small at first: Fenris offered grumbled commentary like “your coffee mug is ridiculous” in the morning, or raised his eyebrow when Anders shoved a sugar-glazed pastry into his mouth and jammed the crinkly silver wrapper into the pocket of his scrubs. Then slightly bigger things happened: Fenris got him a replacement cat mug when Pounce knocked one off the counter. Fenris moved the cat tree into the sunlight so Pounce could sleep in his hammock while basking. Fenris left out fresh fruit to accompany Anders’ toaster pastries.

And then Anders bought Fenris a plane ticket so the man could take care of his mother when she fell ill and their worlds fundamentally shifted. He couldn’t see Fenris as a combative asshole anymore. Or, to be more precise, Anders had to acknowledge that Fenris wasn’t just a combative asshole who could sometimes have a good point about things. Fenris was… complicated, and Anders knew that he wasn’t the easiest person to understand either. So of course the moment the two of them weren’t ignoring each other or starting up petty fights, the moment they were actually on the same page and were starting to get along-

Well of course Anders fucked the man! Wasn’t his fault that Fenris was handsome and good in the sack. But it was a bit short-sighted on his part, because the next day Fenris flopped out of bed and made breakfast for both of them. He complained that Anders left hickeys on his neck and the only shirt that would cover it was the “horrible shirt Isabela bought.” He walked around in boxers and a tank top and his hair was a nug’s nest and Anders wanted to make a scrapbook and document every last second.

Love was funny like that. Nothing changed, really. But everything had. Anders turned over in his bed, sighed, and grabbed a pillow. He scooted off the bed and stumbled around in the dark until he found the doorknob, then shuffled down the hall until he reached Fenris’ door. Pounce emerged from the darkness and trilled at him before winding around his legs. The moment the door opened he disappeared into the darkness, playfully smacking his tail against Fenris’ bare calf.

He probably snuck in Fenris cuddles without Anders’ knowledge, the little traitor.

“… Anders?” Fenris mumbled, his eyes bright and glowing in the darkness as he stared up and down at him. Anders clutched the pillow he carried to his chest.

“Couldn’t get comfortable,” he explained. “I… sleep better when you’re around.” It was nice to have Fenris there. It felt safer. And maybe Fenris felt the same way, because he shuffled away from the door and ushered Anders inside.

“I have extra pillows,” Fenris remarked when Anders took the left side of the bed and slipped under the covers.

“This one’s ergonomic,” Anders replied with a yawn. Pounce padded over to him and curled up behind his neck, as if he was apologizing for being a rotten little brat who sneakily stole Fenris cuddles.

“… hmm,” Fenris joined him in bed, easily filling in the empty spaces until everything felt right again. “Good night, Anders.”

“Night, Fenris,” Anders sighed, already slipping into slumber. Being in love complicated things, but that was tomorrow’s problem. He’d figure out how to fix it then.

[contreparry]

short story prompt, "a shocking announcement" for dadwc!

Here’s a continuation from last week’s fill, this time from Isabela’s perspective for @dadrunkwriting !

Isabela wasn’t a romantic.

She liked a good love story as well as anybody, she supposed, and she was never one to turn down flowers and chocolates and poetry. When it came down to it, however, Isabela was a practical woman at her core. So when her heart went pitter pat over Marian Hawke and it was clear that she had developed a “settling down” sort of mindset concerning the woman, well, marriage and a wedding was the first solution.

Poor Marian wasn’t a wedding sort of woman, though. Marian could face any challenge with a smile on her face, from her work as a freelance journalist to maintaining the bed and breakfast with her mum to facing off against unruly customers at the bar- Marian Hawke could do it all. But drop the word wedding and the poor woman broke out into a cold sweat. Isabela, the venue needs a non-refundable down payment. Isabela, what sort of food can we get that won’t insult my mother’s friends? Maker, Isabela, the guest list- the fucking guest list!

Isabela was a practical woman. Marriage, legally binding marriage, was a piece of paper. So she got the paper. Problem solved. Right?

The problem with a courthouse elopement was that other problems sprung up in the first problem’s place. She was married to Marian Hawke, which was exactly what she wanted! Good! But now she was married to Marian Hawke and had to tell all their friends and family. Ah.

Hopefully the liquor would smooth over any hurt feelings.

“How many pizzas should I order as a peace offering?” Marian asked as she plugged something away on her phone. Isabela shrugged and shut the cabinet door before flipping down on the couch next to Marian.

“How many pizzas did Anders order when he and Fenris dropped the news about them?” she asked.

“Uh… five?” Marian stared up at the ceiling, her bright blue eyes fixed on the ceiling fan. “Yeah, definitely five.”

“… make it six, just in case,” Isabela decided. “We’re trying to bribe them, after all.”

“I wouldn’t call it bribery,” Marian grumbled. “It’s a… peace offering. That’s what Bethany called it.”

“And Carver?”

“Bribery,” Marian confessed, and she ran her fingers through her short dark hair. The doorbell rang and Marian froze on the couch. Isabela rose to her feet and leaned over to press her mouth to Marian’s forehead.

“Get the bribery ready, sweet thing. Pretty sure that’s Merrill,” Isabela said, and she strengthened her resolve. Isabela wasn’t a romantic, not at all, but for Marian?

For Marian, she might just be.

[contreparry]

Happy Friday Ann!! From the short story prompts: A shocking announcement (or the reaction to it) -- for whoever/whatever comes to mind for you!!

Here's some f!Hawke, Carver, and Bethany from the roommate's AU for @dadrunkwriting! It also references f!Hawke x Isabela!

"I have an important announcement to make," Marian announced the moment her computer screen flickered from black to full color. The twins, her baby siblings, the lights of her life and the absolute pains in her ass, stared at her in mixed expectation and irritation (though Carver's feed was grainy and a little laggy). Bethany leaned out of frame, clearly reaching for something on her bedside table.

"You said it was an emergency, Mar-Mar," she said before she returned on camera holding an enormous coffee mug. "You said "Dragon Level" emergency. I cancelled a date for you." Bethany didn't sound terribly upset, however, and leaned back against her mountain of pillows with her mug cupped in her hands.

"A date?" Marian asked.

"A date!" Carver loudly exclaimed before glancing around and adjusting his headphones.

"Who?" He hissed. "Is it that snob in your unit, the one with the-"

"Dragon level threat, Carver," Bethany reminded him. "Later."

"Hmmm," Carver grumbled, and despite the distance and use of technology (and Carver's dreadful lag, the only internet cafe in the Anderfels really ought to update their system) the two of them did the Twin Thing. Carver scowled, Bethany wiggled her eyebrows and wrinkled her nose, Carver rolled his eyes and scoffed and somehow they came to an understanding.

Might be neat, having a twin. But that wasn't what they scheduled this call for. Marian sucked in a deep breath, held it for three seconds, and raised her left hand to the camera. It was silent.

"Maker's Balls, Marian. Really?" Carver muttered

"You got engaged?" Bethany leaned closer to the screen, as if she could discern the ring by analyzing every individual pixel. It was a nice ring, to be fair. It was simple, just a small sapphire stone and a feather etched on the inside of the gold band. Just a reminder to let yourself fly free, my darling, Isabela said almost shyly when she slipped the ring onto Marian's finger.

"No," Marian replied, sheepishness and delight roiling in her gut like snakes. "Married. Eloped two days ago. Kind of spur of the moment."

"You're MARRIED?!" The twins shouted. The drink in Bethany's mug sloshed over the rim, and someone on Carver's end yelled "Pipe down, lad!" Bethany fell out of view once more, and Carver slammed his head down on the table. Only the top of his head was visible.

"This isn't Dragon Level, Marian, it's a damned Blight and you know it," Carver groaned. "I know you two are mad for each other, but eloping? Really?"

"Nothing wrong with it! Loads cheaper," Marian retorted. "And Isabela and I don't need a big wedding. We got all the stuff we need between the two of us. Only reason she's not here is because she's down at the bar taking care of inventory." That and some things were better discussed between siblings. The twins could be a little prickly about sensitive family matters, and Marian knew that her eloping with Isabela (wife wife wife WIFE) was going to be... touchy.

Bethany was never going to forgive her for not giving her the chance to dress as a bridesmaid. Carver was going to cry once the shock and outrage faded. He had always been the sensitive one between the two of them. And Mum... Marian set her hand down in her lap and scratched at the frayed material of her jeans. Mum was going to eviscerate her.

"Have you told Mum?" Bethany asked, and Marian winced.

"... Mum doesn't know," she confessed. "Just me, Isabela, and you two."

"You didn't tell any of your friends?" Bethany pressed as Carver groaned again.

"I told you it was spur of the moment! We were going to announce our engagement, but we started looking at venues. Y'know, for fun. Did you know the waitlist for the Sea Garden is two years? And then there was the catering, and the invitations, and who we invite, and what season, and- and it was so... Do you know how expensive a photographer is? A videographer? A DJ?!" Marian exclaimed.

Her elopement had nothing to do with flowers or music or wedding colors. It had everything to do with all those things. As she stared at the growing list of requirements and trends and all the money that a wedding would cost Marian's chest tightened and her throat closed up in utter dread. So much money, money that was better spent elsewhere, saved up for a rainy day, saved up for a future, saved up for those times and people who really needed it because a party was just-

Isabela took one look at her, knuckles as white as bone and jaw clenched, and pulled the notebook out of her grip.

"Could you imagine me in a wedding dress? Ridiculous," she teased, her amber brown eyes so warm and understanding that Marian fell in love all over again. "We've got friends at the Keep. I'm sure Messere Cavin will be very happy to fill out some paperwork for us." And that was that. Very little ceremony, in and out in under an hour, and they were married. Wife and wife. No fuss, no mess, just a mountain of guilt to sort through because Marian Hawke couldn't help but panic at the first sign of wastefulness.

But now they had a mess on their hands.

"Blight Level," Carver groaned. "Andraste's Tits, Mum's going to kill you both." He wasn't exaggerating, which only made the guilt writhe inside her even more violently. If only she wasn't so easily terrified by money- it was just money! Just things!

"Thanks. Making this a lot better, Carver," Marian retorted. Bethany frowned and tapped a finger to her chin. She was in Planning Mode, and Maker help any soul who tried to stop her. Marian wasn't going to- she needed all the help she could get if she was going to break the news to Mum and survive the ordeal. She was doing that Twin Thing again, wiggling her eyebrows and grinning while Carver sighed and rolled his eyes. But they seemed to come to a consensus after a few more eye rolls and wiggles.

"... we can make this work," Bethany finally declared. "But you need our help. And your friends. And some luck."

"A mountain of luck," Carver added, but something in Bethany's voice seemed to have pulled him out of the doom and gloom spiral he was going down. "Two mountains, even. But... we could pull something off, if you follow our plan."

"To the letter!" Bethany interjected. "No deviations!"

"... if it saves Isabela and I from Mum's wrath, I'm in," Marian agreed. Bethany and Carver grinned at her as if they were ten again, full of energy and mischief, and the anxiety clawing at her throat died. It would be okay. Whatever happened, her little siblings had her back. And Isabela's. They could endure Mum's outrage and weather the storm if they stuck together.

"Good. We'll take care of everything," Carver declared. "And Marian?"

"Yeah?"

"Congratulations," he mumbled, a flush overtaking his face all the way to his ears. "She... she makes you happy. That's... it's nice to see."

"Tell Isabela we love her! Welcome to the Hawke Family! Caw CAW!" Bethany added gleefully.

"Caw Caw," Marian agreed. "Okay, so step number one. What can we do today?"

[contreparry]

Hi Ann. For dadwc: How about "You asleep?" for a pairing of your choice? Happy writing!

Here's some modern!AU Fenders for @dadrunkwriting!

Anders woke up with a problem on his hands.

More like a problem between his legs, if he was going to be technical, but considering that he hadn't had a wet dream in literal years (his years on the front lines with the Wardens was enough to make him wish he never had dreams again) Anders wasn't going to quibble over definitions. Dreaming itself was a surprise, never mind having an enjoyable one. And it was pleasant! He was soaking in a warm bath that was big enough for him to stretch his legs out completely and have room to spare. He had a beer in hand (a nice light ale), his favorite music was playing on the radio, and some very strong, clever hands massaged his aching shoulders as he leaned back into a firm, warm chest-

So perhaps it was a teensy bit dirty, but who could blame him? It was HIS dream! It just left him with a pounding heart, dry mouth, an ache in his gut, and a rock hard cock, but maybe he could fix that problem with a little assistance.

"Hey. Hey, Fenris," Anders whispered. His voice was impossibly loud in the quiet dark of Fenris' bedroom. A cargo ship's horn sounded in the distance, and the street below was busy with traffic and the sounds of the punk bar across the street, but Fenris' bedroom was a sanctuary, a world unto itself. There was a reason Anders found himself sleeping there most nights, and it wasn't just for the sex or the comfy mattress. It was- Anders turned his head to trace Fenris' profile. Fenris made a soft snorting sound, rolled onto his side with his back facing Anders, and was still.

Well. That wasn't going to help. Anders tried again.

"Feeeenris," Anders whispered, his voice rising perilously close to a whine. "Fenris, you asleep?"

"I was," came the grumbled reply, and with a violent jerk Fenris flopped over to cage Anders beneath him, arms on either side, body heavy on top of him. The meat of Fenris' thigh slid between his legs, ground down into the hard, heavy heat and Anders. Whimpered.

The silence hung like weight above them.

"... are you serious?" Fenris asked. He peered down at Anders, his great green eyes reflecting in the low light of the room, and Anders felt the heat rise to his face because Fenris was staring at him as if he had grown a second head.

To be fair he sort of had.

"I tried to tell you!" Anders said, and he wished he could melt into the mattress and disappear. Maybe it would have been better if he snuck off to his own bedroom to jack off, but that might have woken Fenris up anyways and-

"For a man who complains about how exhausted he is every waking moment, you certainly don't do much to improve your situation," Fenris muttered, though Anders thought he sensed a begrudging sort of admiration underneath his words. Fenris shifted his weight, dragged his hand down until it slipped under the waistband of Anders' boxers. He curled his fingers around Anders' cock and brushed his thumb over the swollen, sensitive head. Anders' hips bucked up as if an electric current raced through his body.

"Fenris," Anders groaned as Fenris reached for the nightstand for the lube. "I- it's not like I do it deliberately, y'know."

"I know," Fenris replied, and suddenly the hand on his cock was gone. "And I'll-" The sound of the cap popping open echoed through the room. "Take care of it." Fenris sounded particularly smug at that, and when he grasped Anders' cock again his hand was slick and tight and-

"Fuck," Anders wheezed. "Fuck fuck fuck fuck-"

"Mmhmm," Fenris agreed, and Anders fell apart under his touch. It wasn't just the swift, tight movement of Fenris' hand. He might have lasted longer if it was just that. No, it was the soft mattress underneath them, the way heat radiated off Fenris like a furnace, the soft brush of Fenris' hand against his forehead as he brushed hair out of his eyes, the huff of Fenris' breath against his bare neck- it was private. Safe. And it was so, so easy to simply let go.

The world returned in pieces: the low vibrating blast of the distant cargo ship horn in the bay, the yellow magic-light glow of the streetlamps below, Fenris' coarse hair against the crook of his neck, Fenris' voice softly murmuring something Anders couldn't quite understand into his chest, the beating of his heart-

"Your turn?" Anders asked weakly, and Fenris laughed.

"Go sleep, Anders," he ordered, and he wiped his hand on the bed sheet before nuzzling close.

"No, but really," Anders yawned, his eyes heavy and his body finally, finally unwound. "Don't wanna leave you... y'know... wanting..."

"Good night, Anders," Fenris replied. "Make it up to me in the morning."

Now that was an excellent idea. Anders yawned again, buried his face into the top of Fenris' head, and fell asleep.

[contreparry]

We've made it to Friday, Ann!! Let's see something for "A shocking announcement (or the reaction to it)" from the short story prompts? Happy writing :D

I’m going to do a fill for the Fenders roommates AU, purely because if I write it here I might be able to write all those difficult bits between the scenes and finally make it a fic! So here it is for @dadrunkwriting !

The silence was the worst part.

You could hear a needle drop in that gulf between his last word and whoever spoke up next, and Anders hated the vastness of the quiet. He hated the that a simple sentence could send shockwaves through their friends, make them stare as if they’d sprouted second heads, make them- Anders braced for whatever would come next. Laughter, maybe? Anger? Maker’s balls, he’d take shouting over laughter. He could bear anger. It was a familiar weight. But to have those he cared for, those he loved, laugh at him for his affections and where they rested- to have people laugh at Fenris, who never deserved it-

Anders couldn’t carry that humiliation. He wouldn’t. He made to rise from the usually comforting softness of Hawke’s sofa, but Fenris’ hand on his knee kept him still. Not forcefully, no, but the weight of love and dedication kept him chained to his side as they waited. At least they were together in this, Anders thought miserably as the silence drew on. At least they weren't alone.

“… I can’t say that I saw this coming,” Marian Hawke finally announced. “But I really ought to have seen this coming, huh?”

Varric snorted, short and huffy, and settled further into the ragged armchair in the corner. "Don't think anyone saw this coming, Hawke."

"We... didn't mean to shock you," Fenris hesitantly said, voice low and eyes trained to the floor. Anders turned his hand over and twined his fingers through Fenris'. It would be fine, he wanted to tell Fenris. They'd get through this together, no matter how awkward and painful it was.

"Well, you did," Sebastian sighed. "I'll... tea? Something stronger?" He rose from the window seat and crossed the room towards the liquor cabinet. It was an antique. Hawke's great great grand uncle or something bought it from some other grand estate and- well, it was a little tacky to keep in the bed and breakfast, so Hawke lugged it up to the upstairs library/media room and now it stored all the shit she knew everyone else would drink, from Fenris' snobby wine to Isabela's Rivani rum. But now Sebastian (the prick) was digging through the shelves for the scotch, and Anders scowled.

"Oh, come off it! Fenris is a catch, why wouldn't I date him?" He demanded. Sebastian turned around and rolled his bright blue eyes to the heavens, which was just- so annoying, truly it was. And he called himself Fenris' friend!

"I'm not questioning your taste, Anders," Sebastian retorted. "Fenris, you're... are you..." Sebastian sighed and downed the scotch he poured for himself like it was water.

"I'm fine, Sebastian. Anders has been..." Fenris squeezed his hand tightly as he searched for the right words. "He's been patient. And he's a good listener. Respectful, even, if you can believe it."

"That's... good. That's good," Sebastian repeated, and when he turned his gaze back up to Anders there was almost acceptance in his eyes. "I'll... I suppose I'll get used to it. Stranger things have happened."

"If I see a flying nug on the way back home I'm blaming you two," Aveline grumbled, which Anders was going to take as her begrudging support. Isabela's small, encouraging smile eased the roiling in his gut, and she leaned close to Fenris and whispered something in his ear. Fenris' spine snapped straight and rigid, and he gripped Anders' hand hard enough for one moment that he thought it might bruise.

"Isabela!" Fenris hissed, and she roared with laughter.

"Oh, so that's how it is, hmmm?" she crooned. "Don't worry, crew, they're doing j-u-s-t fine." She winked. Merrill, who was sitting cross-legged on the floor with her binder full of half-graded papers and a red pen, glanced up at Anders, then at Fenris, then back to Anders again.

"I think you two are lovely together. It's sweet how you watch out for each other," she said, as if it was all so simple, as if she saw what they saw. The knot in Anders' stomach loosened.

"Thank you, Merrill," he replied. "I think so too." And he lifted up Fenris' hand to his lips and kissed his knuckles. Fenris scoffed and rested his head against Anders' shoulder.

"Sap," he muttered. The unease in the room began to lift, and as the questions grew less accusatory and the shock faded Anders smiled.

They would get through this. They would.

[contreparry]

Heyo! How about a prompt from the sexual tensions list for Fenders or whoever you'd like? [ UNBUTTON ] : due to heat or stress or other reasons, sender unbuttons the top of their shirt to reveal their neckline.

Here’s some Fenders from the modern!Thedas roommates AU (a prequel to this fill) for @dadrunkwriting !

It was an unmitigated disaster.

Fenris called management when the kitchen sink backed up that morning. He watched the murky water swirl around in the deep stainless steel basin, scraps of potato and carrot peels lazily floating about like boats on a summer lake. As the automated message cheerfully informed him to “please hold” for the third time in ten minutes, Fenris’ gaze wandered over towards Anders.

Anders stood in the middle of the kitchen. He wore turquoise running shorts, slippers shaped like nugs, and a pale pink short-sleeve collared shirt covered in smiling, dancing cats. His hair was tugged back into a stubby tail, tendrils of dark blond hair slipping loose to curl at the nape of his neck. As the dirty water in the sink slowly rose, Anders would methodically dip a large bowl into the mess and deposit the dirty water into a giant plastic bucket.

“Please hold!” the automated voice exclaimed joyously before it cut back to a soundtrack that a charitable person might call smooth jazz. Fenris watched as Anders unbuttoned one button of his shirt, then another and another until it hung open on his skinny frame. Fenris’ mouth went dry. Anders wrinkled his nose dipped the bowl back into the water. A tendril of hair curled along the back of his neck, long and elegant like a swan.

Fenris wanted to bite that neck.

“Please hold! -dooo woooo do da wah wooo-“

Anders bent down, grasped the paint bucket handle, and rose up in a fluid (ha) motion. He shuffled past Fenris on his trip towards the bathroom, and Fenris couldn’t help but wonder when Anders got those shorts. Anders hated running. But they were… nice shorts. Made his long legs somehow longer, as if fabric held that power.

Might be nice to feel those long legs wrapped around his waist again. He was always more of a hands on type of man.

“I’d say we should call in Hawke, but she might tear out the wall to find the damned clog,” Anders called out from the bathroom, and in that moment Fenris wanted to hang up, call Hawke, and get this whole plumbing problem sorted so he could drag Anders into bed and fuck him until the man lost all control of his tongue.

“Please hold! -doo daaah wah waaaah-“

“Hawke,” Fenris croaked, coughed, began again. “Hawke will bring the apartment down around our ears. I want my security deposit back.”

“Cheapskate,” Anders retorted as he emerged from the bathroom. A bead of sweat rolled down his forehead and the curve of his cheek into his stubble.

“You’d do the same,” Fenris replied, and he obligingly stepped back as Anders passed by him to return to bailing out the flooding sink. Anders only snorted and returned to his work, lean muscles rippling as he moved. Fenris bit his lower lip until it hurt. This shouldn’t be erotic. They were exhausted, sweaty and miserable as they switched off between calling their apartment’s management and bailing their kitchen sink, but Fenris’ eyes remained glued to Anders.

Anders couldn’t be more seductive if he tried, and there lay the great irony: Anders wasn’t even trying to appeal to him. He was trying to fix their sink! But Fenris’ libido had other ideas, as usual, and Anders in his “laundry day” worst was now the peak of eroticism.

“We’re ordering out tonight,” Anders declared with a huff. “I refuse to cook.”

“You rarely cook,” Fenris pointed out.

“I refuse to make you cook after this,” Anders amended. “This is- Maker’s Balls! I’m texting Hawke. Just to see who answers the call first.” Anders grabbed his phone from the counter and texted furiously, his expression pinched with annoyance.

“… might as well,” Fenris agreed, because the sooner this disaster was solved the sooner he might manage to shuck Anders out of his clothes.

[contreparry]

From the Sexual tension prompts 👀 [ PIN ] : sender pins receiver against a wall. 👀 Happy writing 😏

Here's some Fenders from the roommate's AU for @dadrunkwriting!

He's been teasing him all night.

It started so subtly that Anders might have missed it completely: the brush of his arm as they passed each other in the hall, a slight nudge when they shuffled around in Merrill's kitchen with their respective dishes (his store bought cupcakes versus Fenris' homemade pesto pasta), the way their fingers touched when they reached for the same slice of bread in front of them- all of it was accidental. They were brief touches and they both retreated as if struck by lightening whenever it happened.

But it kept happening. Fenris' hesitant touches grew more insistent through the night, and Anders knew it couldn't be an accident when Fenris hooked his foot around Anders' ankle and traced the curve of his calf. He couldn't mistake the way Fenris' mouth curled into a mischievous smile whenever Anders caught his gaze. There was no misunderstanding Fenris' conversation as anything other than flirtatious. The fact that no one else seemed to have noticed them was something of a miracle, but Anders supposed they were all distracted by the mish-mash potluck dinner and the conversation. When he excused himself from the table no one seemed to notice. No one but Fenris, that is.

Merrill's hallway was almost cozy, what with the fuzzy rug and the dark green paint and the many pictures of pastoral and forest scenes. It felt even smaller when Fenris pushed him against the wall and crowded close, his breath warm against his ear and his body a hot line against his own.

"Are you busy?" Fenris murmured. "Or can you spare a moment?"

"You're the one who-" Anders bit back a curse when Fenris nipped at his earlobe. "You wanted to be subtle!"

"I'm being subtle," Fenris insisted as he pushed the meat of his thigh between Anders' legs and ground down, and Anders was going to die. He was going to melt and expire in Merrill's apartment and their friends would find him as a puddle of lust in the middle of the hallway because Fenris got handsy- and Anders wasn't going to stop him. Anders didn't want to. He wrapped his arm around Fenris' waist and pulled him closer, buried his face into the soft cloud of Fenris' hair, and sighed.

"We can't leave," Anders mumbled as Fenris kissed the fluttering pulse point at Anders' neck. "It's movie night." And if they left early they'd have to field so many questions and sly remarks, and Fenris said he wanted to be subtle, said he wanted to be quiet and 'see where this goes,' and Anders wasn't going to be the one who broke their deal-

"Good point," Fenris grumbled before he took Anders' chin in his hand and tilted his head down to kiss him, hot and insistent and biting and Anders clung to him as his knees gave out beneath him. Fenris held him upright, pinning him to the wall as they kissed. Anders sighed into every kiss and touch and vainly hoped that this moment could stretch on for eternity. But all good things come to an end, and Fenris eventually pulled away.

"One hour," he decided, obviously pleased that he came up with a compromise between "leave now so I can fuck your brains out" and "hang out with our friends for our agreed upon time." Anders might argue that it wasn't much of a compromise, but considering that his mind was desperately trying to catch up he wasn't going to complain.

"One hour," Anders echoed, and he dropped his head until his forehead rested against Fenris' collarbone. "Asshole." If he didn't know better, he might think Fenris riled him up on purpose. But this was Fenris, who treasured his privacy more than anything. He wasn't going to parade his lovers and conquests around like, like- like Isabela or Hawke!

Or would he?

"Help me find Merrill's linen closet," Fenris ordered as he took Anders' hand. "Varric asked for a blanket and I said I'd fetch it."

"Clever excuse to corner me," Anders grumbled. He bit down a yelp when Fenris lightly smacked his ass and electricity shot up his spine. Fenris' lips were curled up into a smug little smile. Anders used to hate that smile, but now it made him want to grin in return- when did Fenris' smirks become charming?

"I am clever," Fenris replied. "Lucky you, hmm? You get to reap the rewards, after all." He kissed Anders again, brief and hard, before he opened the closet door and yanked a blanket from one of the shelves. And then he was gone, leaving nothing but an open closet door and the memory of his body.

"Asshole," Anders sighed, and he followed.

[contreparry]

happy friday! [ GAZE ] : sender watches receiver from across a crowded room. for Merrill?

Absolutely! Here's some pre!MerrillxCarver for @dadrunkwriting! It is also set in the Modern Thedas Roommates AU.

Marian said that this was the place, and Merrill peered down at the map on her phone one more time before she lifted her face to read the neon sign above the doorway.

"Siren's Tears," she mumbled to reassure herself that she read it right the first time. This was Isabela’s place, according to the map and the text messages she received from Marian, Isabela, and Varric. All she had to do was be brave enough to cross the threshold and spend an evening with her new friends. All she had to do was gather her courage, take a deep breath, and take one step forward.

“Well, move, damn you!” she ordered her feet, but they remained stubbornly still. One step and she could take another, then another, until she was through the door. So she had never been in a bar or tavern before, always so busy at the library or the museums she interned at to spend time socializing. But that changed today. Tonight! Tonight she’d meet her new friends, she’d have a drink, she’d have a conversation! Not that she was bad at talking to anyone, of course not, she just never made the time before-

“Enough dawdling! Time to move!” Merrill exclaimed, and she marched forward.

It was a crowded room, and Merrill peered through the swarm of bodies, searching for Marian or Isabela in the shifting mass of people. She squeezed between two qunari and scanned the back wall and the many tables. Isabela said she’d hold a table for all of them, and didn’t Varric say something about the usual one at the back? Or did he mean the back patio? Music drifted into the bar through the open patio doors, loud enough that Merrill was certain no one could hear her if she shouted for Marian or Isabela. No, she’d just have to look harder. Merrill frowned and searched the crowd again, concentrating on the bar. There, through the many bodies, Merrill thought she spied a flash of sky blue eyes and inky black hair, and Merrill darted forward to curl her hand around a muscular bicep.

“Hawke!” she exclaimed, relieved to have found her friend. “Sorry I’m late, I didn’t- oh.” This... wasn’t Hawke. This was a man. He was tall like Hawke, and had Hawke’s bright blue eyes and dark hair (cut short, a little overgrown and falling into his eyes), and his features were sharp in a similar way to Hawke’s, but where Marian wore dark makeup and big heavy boots and black (so much black), this man was... probably the opposite of edgy goth in his faded sports team shirt (Ostwick Mabaris) and ragged jeans and- were those flip flops? And the man’s expression- definitely not Hawke. He looked annoyed, which wasn’t Merrill’s intention at all. She quickly let go of his bicep (a nice bicep, that, very toned) and slipped her hands into her skirt pockets and picked at the loose cotton threads.

“Uh... you’re... definitely not looking for me,” the man muttered. “Hold on.” He pulled out his phone and typed something as he scowled at the screen, and Merrill’s heart sank down to her toes.

“Sorry,” she replied. “I didn’t mean to grab at you, I... mistook you for someone else.” Was he going to call a guard? Great job, Merrill, first day of socializing and you get arrested and thrown into shem prison. What would Marethari think?

“Yeah, I figured. You’re one of Marian’s friends,” the man replied, and the relief at his remark was only matched by the embarrassment that she felt when the man’s phone buzzed to life and she heard Marian’s voice through the phone.

“CARVER! YOU FOUND HER!!!” Marian exclaimed. “Bring her over! Or are you going to go drink your sorrows away with Fenris? Baby broooooooother you caaaaan’t, you know mama won’t be happy-” Marian’s crackling voice nearly sang those words, and the man (Marian’s brother?!) winced.

“Maker’s Balls, Marian, I’m ordering a drink!” Carver grumbled before he hung up. “C’mon. They’re this way.”

“Thanks. And sorry for grabbing you,” Merrill replied as she followed him through the crowd. The people parted as he walked, shouldering everyone out of the way as Merrill scrambled in his wake. That was a nice advantage, being tall and big like that. Everyone parted like grass wherever you went- had to be nice. Merrill hurried after her escort.

“It’s fine. Everyone confuses us. Marian and I, that is. She’s really fucking tall,” Carver replied. “You’re Merrill, right? The super genius professor.” He glanced at her over his shoulder, as if he wanted to make sure she was still following him as they wound their way through the dim bar.

“I- super genius?” Merrill sputtered. Genius? Her? Granted, she wouldn’t have come this far if she wasn’t good at what she did, but a genius?

“It’s what Marian said. You do stuff with pottery? Statues and shit. Sounded... uh... cool?” Carver winced, his broad shoulders rising up to his cherry red ears as he spoke. Merrill bit her lip. Most people didn’t understand her research or her work in general. It was a little like mucking around with broken bits of clay and statues, which wasn’t very exciting for most people.

“It’s... I like it! It’s probably dead boring for most, but I like what I do,” Merrill finally said, and Carver seemed to curl into himself even further.

“Don’t know much about it, but the stuff Marian said sounded neat. The stuff with the stories and all. Y’know. Elvhen mythos? Sounded cool. Kinda went over my head, but... still cool,” Carver mumbled, his voice almost loud in the din of the crowd.

Merrill tilted her head. Peered into Carver’s face. Was he... shy? It was hard to imagine anyone related to Marian Hawke as shy, but Carver definitely seemed... at least, he seemed shy to her. Maybe he was a bit like her under all the scowling and grumbling and big shoulders and tallness, so different from herself. Maybe they were... similar. A little lonely, a little lost in all this noise. And there was nothing wrong with making a new friend, was there?

“I can try and explain some of it sometime. A different time, I mean! It’s loud here. If that’s something you’d like?” she offered, and she grinned when Carver’s mouth twisted into a small, shy smile.

[contreparry]

Hello! Id love to see where you take the prompt “A window filled with eerily smiling faces”

Absolutely! Here’s some preteen f!Hawke from the roommates AU for @dadrunkwriting !

“Oh, isn’t that nice, Marian?” Mother asked, and she pointed to a dress in the boutique window. “It would look so pretty on you!”

Marian Hawke bit her tongue. Papa asked her to go for a walk with Mother while he and Carver stayed with Bethany at the hospital. Look around at the shops downtown, he suggested. Get an ice cream. Pet a dog. And because Mother was pacing in the hall and Bethany was clinging to Carver’s hand tight enough that the skin over her knobby knuckles went as white as bone and because Papa never asked for anything, Marian shrugged her coat on and ruffled Carver’s curly dark hair before pressing a kiss to the top of Bethany’s head.

“We’ll be back soon, ‘kay?” she murmured.

“‘Kay.” Bethany’s voice was so soft and small it could have been the autumn wind blowing through the window. Carver, who stood as straight as a lamppost, nodded stiffly. His bright blue eyes were fierce, as if he thought he could beat back Bethany’s sickness by glowering at it, at everyone, at the whole damn world.

“I’ll bring something good for you. Both of you,” Marian promised them, and soon enough she and Mother were on their way.

That’s what Marian was looking for now as she and Mother walked down the sidewalk: something good she could get the twins once Mother had walked off her nerves (that’s what she liked to call it, walking off her nerves). Downtown Denerim had to have at least one bookstore or toy shop, right? But it was all high end boutiques and cafes and the occasional fast food joint, and every window reflected her tense, fake smile back at her until all Marian saw was that wide, eerie grin.

“Yeah. It’s a nice dress,” Marian hollowly agreed, her eyes staring past the pale yellow wisp of a gown that looked like a summer sunbeam given form. Mother always hoped she’d start enjoying frills once she got older. But here Marian was, thirteen and allergic to dresses. Bethany was the feminine one, the one who liked pretty things and dressing up (even if she fought like a demon and chucked snowballs better than anyone else in the neighborhood). It really was more of a Bethany dress, the sort she could wear to a party someday, when she…

When she… Marian clenched her jaw. Bethany WOULD get older. Her baby sister was going to be fine, everyone said she’d be fine, they caught it early and there was a cure now, it was going to be- she would be fine. She’d get better. She was tough and a Hawke! Bethany would be fine.

You could heal from the Blight. Healing magic and medicine had come a long way these days.

“Mum?” Marian asked softly, half-hoping that her mother wouldn’t hear her.

“Yes?”

“D’you…” Marian paused. Stared at her reflection in the glass and that strained smile. Her gaze drifted up to her mother’s reflection and the smile that mirrored her own: stiff, cracked, fake. It would be so easy to break those smiles. Marian wanted to do it. Instead she cleared her throat.

“I, uh… the gift shop has a bad selection of kid books. Just so you know,” Marian said. Mother paused. Blinked. Marian turned her head and faced her, traced her elegant, weary profile as she waited for a response.

“Really now?”

“Yeah,” Marian replied. “Baby stuff, Bethany and Carver won’t like any of it. Can we- d’you think we can go to a bookstore? A good one?” She couldn’t fix Bethany’s sickness. She might be a Mage but she wasn’t any good at healing. They didn’t even let apprentices practice at hospitals anyways. And Carver bristled whenever she tried to reassure him, and Bethany was just so tired and Papa and Mother were on edge all the time- but Marian could find some good books for her siblings. She could bring them a toy and a book and a sketchbook and crayons and- and whatever else they needed.

Marian would always make sure her siblings got what they needed.

[contreparry]

cuddles after being touch-starved for fenders?

Absolutely! Here’s some Fenders from the roommates AU for @dadrunkwriting !

Three days.

Three days away. One weekend of separation. One long, rainy, miserable weekend of being alone, rattling around like a singular pea in the pod that was their apartment. But Fenris had to visit his mother and sister in Starkhaven, and Anders had work and couldn’t join him, and it was only three days. Anders had been alone for much, much longer than that. He had his friends, his cat, and enough fliers to print that he was going to be perfectly fine being all on his own for one weekend.

“Worse than the cat,” Fenris tsk-ed, even as he ran his fingers through Anders’ hair and scratched at his scalp. The pads of his fingers gently massaged Anders’ aching head, and Anders melted further into the couch and Fenris’ body underneath him. Three days and Anders was so touch-starved he nearly jumped Fenris the moment he walked through the door. Man was almost knocked out of his shoes. And socks.

“Meow meow meow, asshole,” Anders grumbled, and he buried his face against Fenris’ warm neck. He needed the comfort of touch, a small reassurance, a solid hand at his back to remind him that he wasn’t alone- and since Fenris touches often came with hand holding and cuddling and excellent massages, they were especially coveted.

“It’s nice to be missed,” Fenris remarked, his voice soft and thoughtful. “But it is nicer to be back home.”

“Nicer to have you back, too,” Anders replied, and he closed his eyes and basked in the warmth and Fenris’ light touch.

[contreparry]

Hey Contre!! I’d love to see ‘lazy cuddles in the morning’ for Fenris please 🥺

Absolutely! Here’s some Fenders from the roommates AU for @dadrunkwriting !

He loved this bed.

It was big. Soft. Too soft, even, because he sank into the mattress whenever he sat on it. The sheets were worn, almost threadbare, and gentle against his skin. But most of all he loved the warmth of it all. So many pillows, so many blankets, and he was free to hog them or toss them aside as he pleased because Anders was a furnace and didn’t get that annoyed when Fenris was fussy. No, he found it funny (“you’re as picky when you’re asleep as you are when you’re awake!” He’d exclaim.). It was the perfect bed, save for one problem. One fuzzy, large, loud, orange problem.

Something large jumped on the bed, padding up the middle like a king entering his throne room. Four paws walked on Fenris’ calf, each step pulling him out of his slumber before the creature plopped down in the minuscule space between Fenris’ back and Anders stomach. A thick fluffy tail whacked Fenris’ lower back, and then-

“Mreeow!” Pounce declared, the triumphant clarion call of the morning ringing in Fenris’ ears.

“Pounce. It is six in the morning,” Anders groaned.

“Rrrrrow?”

“I’m not feeding you,” Anders mumbled. “Two more…. Houuuurs.” He yawned, his breath hot against the nape of Fenris’ neck before he buried his cool face into his back.

There was silence. Pounce, having realized his beloved Anders, his papa, the one who brought him food and snacks and many spring toys, would not wake (not even to feed his starving son), seemed to have quieted down. He seemed to understand that sleep was important, that a few morning snuggles between lovers shouldn’t be interrupted, that-

Pounce leaped over Fenris and hovered near his face, fur tickling his bare bicep, his cheek, his ears. Pounce batted at him- hand, nose, chin, tip of his ear- wherever there was an opening, a soft cat paw smacked him.

“Fasta vass, little beast!” Fenris grumbled as he tried to untangle himself from Anders’ skinny arms while Pounce battered him with cat affection. “Fine, I’ll feed you!”

“Oooo, you got tricked,” Anders mumble-sang as Fenris stormed out of the bedroom, Pounce cheerfully trilling at his heels. “Ooooo he got you good!”

Fenris debated the merits of shoving his hands in the freezer for a few seconds and then running back to bed so he could slip his icy hands up Anders’ shirt. Part of him (the part that Isabela would call “Fun Fenris”) was ready to do it. Sleepy Fenris only wanted to go back to bed after he fed the damn cat. Practical Fenris figured that starting breakfast was a good idea. But what about him? Six AM Sunday morning Fenris was standing in the kitchen wearing basketball shorts and a tank top as he poured cat food into a shallow dish and tried to keep the cat from diving into the bag. Six AM Sunday morning Fenris wanted to snuggle back into that warm bed and enjoy the fact that he could indulge himself in as many cuddles as he wanted.

Six AM Fenris won. With the food put away and Pounce occupied with his bowl, Fenris plodded back to the bedroom and flopped into Anders’ bed with a thump. He crawled under the covers and buried his face into Anders’ shoulder. Skinny arms wrapped around him and dragged him close, and Fenris shut his eyes, content to laze the rest of the early morning away.