I have to say that, as a goth, having to think about flannel fills me with cold terror

So plaideweave is basically the flannel of Thedas right. Thank you for giving me the opportunity to make my son look like a clown and a fool

Thank you so much for asking! This was such a delightful prompt to fill ^^

[Smut Prompts]

Read on AO3prompt: “do you think they can hear us through the tent?” + early morning cuddles (romance month event)pairing: female surana x alistair.rating: explicit.warnings: nsfw, smut, sex in public places.

She awakens to the cool light of the early morning sun shining through the flaps of the tent. The camp is silent, save for Oghren’s drunken snores and the occasional notes of a bird’s call. The day is promising to be beautiful and, if only for a minute, Ana forgets that they have a Blight to contend with. Alistair stirs beside her and wraps his strong arms around her. She smiles to herself as she slides closer to him, enveloping herself in the warmth of his embrace. His eyes open slowly, blinking a few times to try to adjust to the morning light.

“Good morning,” she says quietly, running a hand through his unkempt hair.

“Morning,” he answers sleepily as he starts to drop slow, lazy kisses at the base of her neck, sending shivers down her spine. She gasps, and that seems to spark his interest. He captures her lips between his in a long, burning kiss.

I told you I was going to do this and I’m still sorry but also *sips tea silently*7- “I’ll keep you warm.”

They were lucky to have the time together that they did, she tries to reason to herself. But even in the depths of her grief, trying to rationalise the hollowness of her inhuman sadness she knew. Knew that the time that they’d had together wasn’t enough. Knew that even if they’d lived 100 ages it never would have been enough. Enough for her to love her the way she wanted. The way she deserved. The way she needed to like her every breath depended on it.

She still remembers her smell, the sound of her voice, the ghost of her touch. And even after two years it still hurts as much as the day it happened.

The day she defeated Corypheus is one that's never spoken about. Not in her presence at least. Though sometimes she wishes people would. She grew tired of people treating her like she was fragile, like she wouldn’t be able to bear the mere mention of that day or its events.

No matter how far she traveled, how many rifts she finally closed for good she would never forget the helplessness she felt that day. She had defeated a self-proclaimed god but she was powerless to save the one woman she loved more than anything in the world. Could do little more than hold her as she drifted away, and breathed her last rattling breath. She knew the moment she lost her. Knew the moment she saw the shard of debris jutting proudly from her chest that there was nothing any of them could do for her. 

She still remembers her last words to her. Doubts she’ll ever forget them.

Between shaky breaths and winces of pain Cassandra manages to speak.“I’m so cold,”

Ellana had never seen such open fear in her eyes, and even now it breaks what's left of her heart to think about her beautiful face twisted in such a way, knowing that she was powerless to escape the fate that was quickly closing in on her as she fought for every breath as if it was her last. And they were.

“It’s ok, I’ll keep you warm,” she smiles weakly through her tears, holding on to her the best she can, her hands slipping on the blood coated metal. 

Her words felt pointless at the time, but she didn’t know what else to say.And in the years since she realises that in her own way she has. By keeping her memory close to her heart. By finishing the work they started together all those years ago. 

Being at the Exalted Council without her at her side feels strange. Like she's missing her right hand. Fighting without her by her side feels wrong, leaves her careless, and every time she lets her guard fall she can hear her admonishing her in her head. It would be so easy to fall on the battlefield and finally join her. But her memory deserves better. And the Qunari need to be stopped. She wishes she were there to help her with the pain, to not judge her as she succumbs to the burning in her arm. To hold her when all she wants to do is scream in agony. But she’s not, so Ellana must keep the brave face that she hasn’t let fell for two years intact, and ignore the looks of worry that her companions constantly watch her with.

There’s no time for pity from others or for herself.

It's not a surprise to meet Solas again. It makes sense really that he’s behind the disappearance of the elves. That he’s responsible for the state of the world as it currently stands. She always felt he knew too much and now she knows why.She feels relief for the first time in four years when he takes the mark from her, and she’s numb as she watches him leave through the Eluvian. 

This place is peaceful, and she would have loved it.

But despite the lack of pain, she knows it's too late for her. Can feel it in how dull she feels to the world, like everything around her is passing her by and she’s just idly watching it happen.

At least this place is peaceful she supposes. And the view is nice.

There are certainly worse ways to die. And even worse places to do it.She sits, her back against the warm stones as she looks out across the valley before her, sunshine warming her face and the sound of rushing water lulling her to sleep. No one is going to know what happened to her, and for the most part she doesn’t mind, not after everything she has given and sacrificed, and how little she has gotten in return.

At some point she slips away.

Get ready for a whole load of fluff. I’m starting to see a pattern in my tropes...

The damage could have been much worse. For one thing thebrawlers might have been armed, or gotten a lucky swing when they had Alistairpinned three to one against the chimney. For another, the innkeeper might havebeen far less understanding about the array of knocked tables, shatteredtankards, and disrupted wall decorations upset by the confrontation and thrownthem all out into the gutter. Luckily for the last two Grey Wardens inFerelden, however, Zevran had spent the evening charming the staff and Sten hadwon a drinking competition against the town blacksmith, so the bar had been ingood cheer and good pocket by the time the fight broke out.

“Any idiot fool enough to pick a fight with a group o’strangers such as yersel’s has it comin’ to ‘em anyway,” the gruff, wiry womanhad allowed once everything died down again. “And ah’m grateful ye din’ killanyone.”

Still, discretion was the better part of valour, and Rosslynhad prudently left Wynne in charge of smoothing any leftover ruffled featherswhile she bundled a dazed and bleeding Alistair upstairs to one of the rooms theyhad let for the night. It had taken her longer than it should to hunt throughtheir belongings for medical supplies.

Alistair hissed as she dabbed the knightsfoil compressagainst his temple.

She tutted. “Hold still.”

He would have a wonderful black eye in the morning, inaddition to his already swelling split lip and the cut across the bridge of hisnose where one of his attackers had caught him with a brass ring. She cleanedit with a wad of washed linen, lips parted in concentration, with the firecracking behind them. Their knees were touching.

“I’m sorry,” he said at last.

“Don’t be.”

“The things they were saying about you – to you – I –”

“Hush.” She leaned back and tilted a smile at him. “It wasquite romantic, actually – not them,” she added when he frowned. “The way youstood up for me.”

“Oh, I…” His hopeful smile turned into a wince. “Really?”

With a soft chuckle, she rinsed the cloth in the basin and tookup a pot of salve to spread first on his nose, and then on his bloodiedknuckles. He left his hand meekly in hers, his palm warm and rough, his thumbunable to quite keep from brushing across the pulse point on her wrist as shecleaned the wound.

“But it’s not like you couldn’t have knocked them flat onyour own.”

And she had. She had unsheathed her sword against theringleader’s throat and threatened to skewer him. “I know. But… you actedanyway.”

“They just made me so angry.”

“I know,” she repeated, and this time raised his knuckles toher lips, careful to mind his injuries. Firelight danced in his eyes as hewatched her gaze fall, saw her reach out to trace her fingers along his jaw,and then she was pulling him in, so carefully, for a proper kiss soft andslanting, and even with his bruised lip the reassurance in the gesture left hisblood singing. The unused adrenaline in his system tingled where their skintouched, her fingers against his jaw and his uninjured hand placed over herknee.

A knock on the door made them pause, but neither of thempulled away.

“Are you in there?” Leliana called. “Wynne told me whathappened – are you alright?” She had been scouting through the town with Cuno, andhad missed the battle downstairs.

“Just a moment!” Alistair grinned at Rosslyn and stole one lastkiss as she returned to the task of bandaging his hand. When she was finished,he pushed up from the bad and went to answer the door while she tidied away theinjury kit.

“All fixed,” he announced to Leliana. “You missed all theexcitement.”

“From what I’ve heard, I’m glad,” their companion repliedlightly.

“Yes, well… I should probably turn in. You will lock thedoor tonight, won’t you?” he directed as Rosslyn, who had stepped up behindhim. “In case they come back?”

“What, and deny Morrigan the pleasure of turning into agiant spider and scaring them death?” she teased.

He frowned, caught her gently by the elbow.

“We will,” she reassured. “But you should do the same. I don’ttrust the security of this place.”

Leliana nodded. “Don’t worry, Alistair, we’ll be fine. Now ifI could just squeeze through…”

She passed between the two Wardens, deliberately not payingany attention to where they stood together in the doorway, awkward.

Finally, Alistair straightened and cleared his throat. “I supposethis is good-night then.”

She nodded. “It is.”

“Thank you again, for… well.” He waved his bandaged hand ina vague sort of way.

“Anything for my knight in slightly dented armour.”

“Heyyyy,” he pouted. “It’s supposed to be shining armour, andyou know it.”

Still bashful about being affectionate in front of otherpeople, he forced himself to look away from Rosslyn’s mouth, to push away theurge to kiss her, and instead tugged at her fingers. She smiled as he mirroredher gesture of moments before, her breath unsteady where he lingered in thekiss, oak-brown eyes heavy on hers. When he pulled back, he brushed his thumbover the spot and paused to take in the blush spilling across her cheeks.

“I’ll see you in the morning,” she managed, and plucked herhand from his grasp.

Here is some Couscous for you <33

Aedan Cousland:

A4:  What things are they bad at?  Admitting he’s wrong.  He can be a bit of a stubborn arse when it comes to that.  He’s terrible at lying.  He’s never sure whether its that he can’t keep a smirk from playing on his lips or whether there is something in his eyes that gives him away, but he is almost always found out.  Although his view of this may be skewed from travelling with three highly trained rogues.  He can literally never get anything past them unless they are extremely flustered at the time!

C1:  How do they sit in a chair?  He lounges like a big cat, leg over a chair arm given the opportunity.  Always looking like he owns the place, no matter where he is.

E1:  Does the way they do things portray their internal personality?  Aedan is a pretty open book.  He has been schooled in politics, of course, as the son of a noble family, but he doesn’t see the benefit in being duplicitous, especially since there are a number of people in their party who are far better at it than he is.  He enjoys the freedom of being able to show his emotions.  Although this can make him argumentative.  

11. In what situation was your character the most afraid they’ve ever been?

venturing into the dead trenches and fighting a broodmother is probably the most scared mavis has ever been. it’s the possibility that something like that could happen to her, and that whether she becomes one of those things or dies like any other warden, she’ll still be trapped in the deep roads. it’s that hopelessness she felt that truly terrified her. 

22. What does your character like in other people?

mavis is drawn to honesty and selflessness. she likes people who stand up for what’s right but are modest enough to admit when they’re in the wrong, all traits she herself aspires to. a good sense of humor doesn’t hurt either :)

42. Has your character ever had a parental figure who was not related to them?