#birthentine's bits

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Happy birthday!!!! ❤❣

You were asking for prompts so I thought maybe Euphoric for Merribela? (From 14 DA Lovers day)

Oh! Oh them...gah...I love them so much, and writing Merrill’s POV always makes me feel very...um...I can’t think of the word...good? Yes. That’s it. Good. 

Anyway, thank you for this prompt, @laniardraws (and @14daysdalovers for the original list!). I'm not sure if I really nailed the 'euphoric' part (it’s very abstracted here), but I had so much fun writing them again! This fits somewhere post-DA2, I think...

Merrill breathes in the sea air slowly — 1 2 3 4…hold 3 2 1…out 2 3 4…hold 3 2 1. And back in, wrestling down her nausea through sheer force of will as the ship pitches up and over another wave.

She’s asked Isabela to explain it to her, the euphoria of the sea, in the hope that she might study it, learn to appreciate it, feel it for herself. But when pressed, Isabela merely wields powerful, mystifying words like 'free' and 'alive' with the same effortlessly deadly grace as her daggers. The one that has sliced so precisely at Merrill’s heart is 'home.'

Because Merrill’s home is Isabela, the only home she wants, anyway — to be In her arms, or pressed up against her breasts…or between her legs, preferably. That is the home she chooses. The home she’s made entirely for herself. And if Isabela’s home is the sea…well, then Merrill must learn to love the sea, as well. For it is as much a part of Isabela as she is a part of it, and however Merrill feels about it is inconsequential.

To love a goddess and to worship at her feet is one thing. Like merely wading into the sea up to one’s ankles…maybe. But to stay with her, to dive in and let yourself be carried away, to make your home with her and her home yours…well, it’s the hubris thing again, isn’t it? To believe one could ever be so entitled...

“Feeling any better, Kitten?” Isabela murmurs behind her, wrapping her generous arms around her, entwining strong freckled bronze over all of Merrill's soft and fluttery parts.

“A little…” A lot, actually now that her home has come to claim her. Or at least to keep her from toppling overboard.

“We’ll reach Kirkwall this afternoon. You'll be able to disembark...get a break from all of this.”

Merrill musters all her woozy courage to turn around and say, “I want to stay with you.” Because she would never dare ask Isabela to come away from the sea, to stay with her in her cramped little apartment, bereft of all the things that make Isabela glorious.

“I want that, too. And I applaud your heroic efforts — really, I do — but you’ve been absolutely miserable these past couple of weeks!”

The rumble of Isabela's laughter against Merrill’s chest feels like tree roots, seeking deeper, softer places to grow into, keeping her from eroding away into the waves. But like anything that grows too fast, it stings.

“I can try a different tea. Maybe I’ll get used to it? Eventually...” She presses her face into Isabela's neck, wishing she could just sink into her depths and forget about the stinky, roiling sea.

“May I propose a compromise?”

Merrill doesn’t like that word. She never has. For her, compromise has always meant that someone, something, some dear part of her will be lost or given up. And she can’t bear to lose anymore of her heart.

But surely Generosity, her vhenan, would never ask such a thing.

“What?”

“You go back to living on land and not puking your guts out every five minutes...and I stay with you between jobs.”

“You mean, like, you would…move in with me?”

“If you would have me.” Isabela nods. “I can even leave my things strewn all over your place. I’ll probably forget to make the bed, too. And I'm complete shit at cooking, but…”

“But the sea is your home. This ship…your crew!”

“Meh. It will still be there, waiting for me. As will the ship and its crew, assuming I do my job correctly. But I wouldn’t mind having someplace a little more…grounded to come back to, now that I’m a big girl. Someplace besides the Hanged Man, that is. Especially if you’re there. And anyway, can you imagine the reunion sex?”

Merrill already is, of course, and she blushes as Isabela grins knowingly down at her.

“So what do you say? Can we give it a shot, at least?”

“Yes…” Merrill wavers, until her face tightens in sudden determination. “But you have to promise me something.”

“Anything...”

“Promise I can see you off from the harbor every time you leave? I need to see you when that first big gust of wind hits you, and…” Merrill’s blush deepens. “Just promise me, ok?!”

Isabela laughs, pulling her back in against her chest. “Yeah. That seems doable.”

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Another Bit o’ Birthentine’s Writing

@funkypoacher generously sent me three birthentine’s prompts from this post (prompts taken directly from this year’s @14daysdalovers list!), and told me I could pick which ones to do...which just means I started working on all three! 

So here’s the second one: Nate/Carver and Day 7 Pride or Day 11 Envy...and this sort of feels like both?

It’s also kind of cheating, I think, because it fit so perfectly into where I’m currently at in my WIP Warden Hawke with these two, that I was able to use this opportunity to actually work on the next chapter!

“About earlier…” Nate gasps, when he catches up to Carver at the far corner of the cavernous hall.

“You don’t need to worry,” Carver mutters. “I understand.” He throws down his bedroll and slumps down on top of it with his stew, refusing to look at Nate as he stands there, his bare chest heaving and glistening with beads of sweat from his exertions with the dwarf.

"I don’t think you do.”

“Right. Because I’m an idiot. Or too young. Or too new. Or whatever. So how could I?"

“Stop! Just…” Nate bends down, resting his hands on his thighs as he tries to catch his breath. “I don’t think you’re an idiot, okay?”

Carver finally looks up at him, and Nate can’t tell if he’s fighting back tears or the urge to punch him in the face. Probably both. Oghren’s already worn him down enough that he probably wouldn't stand much of a chance against Carver if he decided to try and tackle him. And the look in his eyes gives Nate the sense that he might not be quite as gentle as the dwarf. Plus, Carver’s bigger than he is. At least with Oghren he had some physical advantages.

Nate takes a deep breath. “I don’t. I just…I don’t want to make things any more complicated right now for you.”

“Yeah. Okay.”

“Check and see for yourself, if you want.”

“Huh?”

“Through the Taint…you can sort of…” Nate trails off into a frustrated huff. “Look. I know I did a shit job of trying to show you how to do this earlier, and then the Darkspawn showed up, but it really would be a lot easier than me trying to explain. I’m not particularly good at this sort of thing…”

Carver doesn't have to search for his heartbeat at all this time. It’s right there, practically pounding out of his chest as he leans over him. Warm and bright and…Carver really just wishes he could crawl up inside of him and bask in it. But he’s already made the mistake of following that instinct enough to try and kiss him. And that is how they got here, isn’t it? With Carver just trying to get a chance to pout to himself about his unrequited feelings, and Nate insisting on having to explain why he’s not interested.

Nate lets out an exasperated sigh, and crouches all the way down next to him. Carver tries to scoot away, because it’s not fair. It’s not fair that he’s being so nice to him when he clearly doesn’t feel anything close to what Carver is feeling for him.

But he’s wedged himself between Nate and the stone wall now, and Carver is so desperate for any kind of connection besides the Archdemon, that it’s nearly impossible for him not to reach out to him. To the tainted blood that courses through him, the same tainted blood that now throbs in his own veins.

“Just try to listen,” Nate whispers. “And I hope you can understand where I’m coming from.”

Carver listens. But it’s not really like hearing. Unless you count the blood pumping all the way up into his ears. Instead, he feels Nate’s pulse, gradually slowing now as he catches his breath, and as Carver’s begins to quicken.

Carver closes his eyes, and their heartbeats sync up, and shapes begin to form out of the darkness he sees behind his eyelids. Everything is blurry and unfamiliar, until he latches onto something he recognizes. Anders? But he’s different. He’s wearing an earring, for one thing, and smirking like an idiot, like he’s just been laughing — the Anders he knows rarely laughs, a thought that fills him with sudden unexpected sadness — and he has this look in his eyes…so needy and desperate. Carver knows this. It’s the way he feels, reflected almost exactly in the face of this strange version of Anders that apparently lives within Nate’s memories.

Nate shakes his head, like he’s trying to clear Anders, and the sadness this has conjured, out of it, and Carver suddenly sees the silhouette of a person with strong arms and a broad chest begin to take shape. He doesn’t recognize this person. He’s wielding a sword like a ferocious warrior, hacking Darkspawn to bits and backlit by a kind of light Carver hasn’t seen since crossing the Waking Sea to Kirkwall. The way the setting sun reflected over the water made it seem like they were sailing through a fiery abyss, and each night, he had to convince himself that they had actually outrun the Blight and weren’t still back at Ostagar or Lothering. Not that things in Kirkwall were much better.

The figure’s icy-blue eyes come into focus, staring right back at him somehow from Nate’s mind, or his soul, or whatever he’s tapped into through their shared blood, but before the rest of the image can fully form, Carver shakes free of it and opens his eyes. It reminds him too much of the Emissary…the way it had locked onto his consciousness. Saw into his soul. His fears…his desires.

“Now do you believe me?” Nate asks.

“I mean…I guess?” Carver’s still not sure what Nate is trying to convince him of.

“The way you’re feeling right now…it’s going to change. You will get through it, even though I know it feels impossible. But it’ll eventually burn its way through you, like it does everyone, and you’ll…well, you’ll be alright. You’ve already made it through the worst of it. And I don’t want…”

“You don’t want to get my hopes up,” Carver interjects. “I know…I know…everyone’s always so worried about that. I really wish they wouldn’t be.”

Nate looks confused. “What?”

“It’s fine. You’re just not interested in me. That’s all you need to say. You’ve clearly got feelings for someone else, or at least some vague idea of what you want, and I’m not it.”

“That’s what you took away from that?”

“You showed me Anders and then some kind of god-like knight in shining armor type person…what was I supposed to get out of that?”

“I…”

“Now, if you don’t mind…” Carver lays down facing the wall with his back to Nate. “I am going to try and get some sleep.”

Nate stays there, speechless, kneeling down beside him for a few more moments. He reaches a hand out toward him — how could Hawke not have seen himself through his eyes? — but pulls it back. He knows how this ends, having been through it all before, and it’s better this way, he thinks. He should consider it a mercy that Hawke’s too blinded by his own insecurity to have realized that the ‘knight in shining armor’ was him.

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Birthentine’s Bit #3

Last one of these for @funkypoacher​ from this post (thank you!!!).

This is Alistair & Anora/Zevran (mostly Alistair & Zevran) with @14daysdalovers​‘ Day 4 A Favor (there are a couple favors happening here...and some not).

Zevran came shuffling out onto the balcony in some heavy, oversized robe from Alistair’s closet, his footsteps lazy and unmuted, which Alistair couldn’t help smiling at. He felt a warm fondness blooming in his chest, and he was sure it came from more than just the bottle of Antivan brandy they’d shared in celebration — Zevran could be comfortable here with them.

“Will you be joining us tonight?” Zevran asked him, placing his elbows on the railing next to Alistair and peering up at him beseechingly with his chin in his hands.

“Yeah…sorry. I was just thinking about…things.”

“I have also been thinking…”

“Oh?”

“Mmhm.” Zevran sleepily looped his arm around Alistair’s elbow. “Mostly about how long it has been since I last got to use you as a pillow.”

Alistair chuckled. “Too long, I take it?”

“Far too long.” He nodded. “I am in desperate need of some good rest after my journey here, my friend. And your wife…”

“She works too hard. I know.”

“Hmmm…yes.”

“But have you ever tried telling her that? I swear it only makes her want to work harder!”

“I can take care of distracting her from her work, of course,” Zevran said with a wave of his hand like it was so easy. One thwarted assassination attempt, and a couple of rounds of Wicked Grace, and Anora had fallen head-over-heels for him. “But I will need you to take on more of the heavier lifting when it comes to ruling your kingdom, whether she gives it up willingly or not. At least until the baby comes, and then…”

“I know…” Alistair groaned. “Morrigan, of all people, has already scolded me about running off to fight other people’s battles in order to escape my duties and obligations at home. If this most recent ‘adventure’ helped me realize anything, it’s that I’m more like Maric than I ever imagined, at least in this.”

“And Anora may be more like her father than she would ever care to admit, as well. But you both are doing your best not to repeat their mistakes, and that is, I think, what matters.”

“Thank you. That is incredibly generous of you. And also! Because I haven’t said it yet, thank you for…” Alistair motioned toward Anora, who was already fast asleep in their bed. “Well…everything you’ve done for us.”

“I do not do any of this just as a favor to you.”

“Right. Well, then…still. I mean I know what it’s like to have a child you can’t publicly claim as your own.”

“And just as you have found many ways to stay involved in Kieran’s life,” Zevran looked up at him now with an earnestness in his eyes that was rare and formidable. “I will remain a part of this child’s life, as well.”

“I hope you don’t think that I meant — ”

“My dear Alistair…” His eyes softened again, and Alistair noticed the new, more pronounced wrinkles at the corners of them. He withheld the comment that immediately sprung to mind about crow’s feet on a former Crow, because this too flooded Alistair with warm fuzzy feelings.

“I know you would never intentionally make me feel unwelcome here,” Zevran continued, squeezing his arm. “But I still feel it’s important to declare these things out loud, no? Just so we are all aware of each other’s expectations and intentions.”

“Well then, speaking of declaring things…Anora and I were thinking we could give you a title. If you’d like?”

“A title?”

“Yeah, like, Head of the Palace Guard or Master of Royal Security or something? Just to make your place here ‘official’ so there’s never any question that you…uh, belong?”

“I see.”

“That’s the wrong word. Of course you belong. But um…I told Anora this was weird. It is weird, isn’t it? Like, we’re hiring you for a job or something. But that’s not it. I promise that’s not it at all. We just don’t want you to feel like you need to sneak in or out or…be a secret or anything. I mean…like, you don’t need to hide. You know?”

Zevran nodded with an amused smile. He and Anora had already discussed the possibility of him moving in with them more permanently as their spymaster once he’d accomplished what he wanted to in Antiva. But that didn’t mean he didn’t enjoy Alistair blundering his way through his own sort of proposal.

“What I mean is that you’re a part of this family. And we want you here. If you want to be. It doesn’t have to be all the time. You can obviously come and go as you like, but…”

“Alistair, please,” he laughed drowsily. “I understand.”

“...just if you want.”

“Thank you.”

“Good. Yeah…no pressure or anything. I mean, well, there’s some pressure, I guess. Because of the baby, but…”

“Yes…” Zevran’s gentle laughter eased into a trepidatious sigh. “I find that impending parenthood has me suddenly feeling a weight upon my shoulders, the likes of which I’ve never experienced before.”

“Oh. Yeah. That…doesn’t go away,” Alistair laughed.

“Then I am happy to have you to share it with.” Zevran yawned. He slid his arm around the back of Alistair’s waist, and let his head fall heavy against him, closing his eyes.

“Are you really going to fall asleep like that?”

“I find your bed more comfortable, but if you insist on staying out here all night…”

“Come on…” Alistair began to tug him inside.

But Zevran slouched all the way down to his knees and murmured, “I think I need to be carried…”

“Maker, I almost forgot what a pain in the ass you could be!” Alistair groaned, bending down and heaving him up over his shoulder.

“You adore me.”

“I do.”

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Happy birthday you lovely person you!

And the prompt "Sugar and Spice" seems just perfect for your Morrigan/Blackwall pairing, which is one pairing we don't see very often!! Or any other pairing you might prefer, really, it's your birthday so you decide!

Have fun!!

Thank you thank you thank you @cleverblackcat! 

This one was fun, and I hope not too goofy. lol. These two can sometimes tend toward a little too much spice, so it was nice to give them a bit of silly/sweet too, and it's a direct follow-up to the other Morriwall prompt I wrote here for Blood Lotus, which canonically, has hallucinogenic properties, so...

Morrigan/Blackwall, Day 3 Sugar & Spice (and Molasses!) from @14daysdalovers​’ list of prompts!

“I think it's probably bedtime for Gobs of Giggles,” Bull announces, hoisting Sera up off the ground by her elbows just as she’s about to roll into the fire.

“Wheeee!” she exclaims. “Is this what it’s like for you, Morriwitch? He says you can change into things. Creepy birds, bats, probably…"

“Dragons, perhaps?” Morrigan smirks.

“Yeah!”

“And you believe him?”

“Well…of course!” Sera sputters. "Look at him!"

Morrigan leans back, eyeing Blackwall like they've only just met. "You shouldn't be so trusting of a man who hides so much of his face behind a beard..."

"Hey now!" Blackwall chuffs, reaching his hands greedily around her waist and pulling her into his lap so he can nuzzle it against her.

"Gross!" Sera laughs, kicking at the air beneath her feet.

“Let’s fly you to your tent," Bull says. "These two look like they might need a bit of time to themselves.”

Morrigan cranes her neck around to see that Blackwall is grinning at her like an absolute idiot.

"Do I want to know what’s on your mind?” she asks him.

“You look like you taste like molasses.”

"So the answer should have been 'no,' then." Morrigan shakes her head, smiling. “Still feeling the effects of the blood lotus, I see...”

“Nah. The scales are gone.” He lets one of his hands wander from her waist to her behind, grasping a handful of leather armor and the wool beneath it, mostly. “No tail, either.”

Morrigan laughs, a low husky chortle. “Pity…”

“Let me lick you,” he huffs into the back of her neck.

“Excuse me?”

“Just a little taste…?”

“Oh, Thom…” she sighs. “I’m afraid you’re going to have to beg for it this time. I wouldn’t want you to get the idea that I can be so easily swayed by your questionable charm after just a few sips of tea."

“My dearest lady witch…” He reaches for her hand and pulls it close to his lips. “May I?”

She tugs her hand away and stares coolly at him, but the illusion of indifference is spoiled by the reflection of the embers of the fire burning low and hot in her eyes. “I believe I told you to beg.”

“Morrigan…” he ducks his chin and looks imploringly up at her from beneath his bushy eyebrows. “Please?”

"Hmm…” She scoots away from him to hide her amusement, but he knows most of her tells by now — the way she raises the shoulder closest to him as she clears her throat is an invitation to play. “You’re going to have to do better than that.”

Blackwall slides off the log, looking a bit like molasses himself, and falls to his knees in front of her with an irreverent smirk.

“I need to taste you," he whines as he presses a kiss to the top of her hand. “I may very well die if you deny me this…” he says a bit louder as he presses another to the inside of her wrist. “I beg you to let me pry that dark, dusky sweetness out of you with my — “

Morrigan’s eyes go wide as his voice grows even louder and she reaches forward, covering his mouth with her hand. "’Tis enough!" she hisses as she falls forward right into his arms, trembling from her own stifled laughter.

Blackwall presses his tongue obscenely between her fingers.

"Augh!" She pulls her hand away. "Why must you be so...so…"

"Irresistible? Handsome?”

"I believe sloppy is the word I was searching for.”

Blackwall frowns, feigning disappointment. "And you don't taste anything like molasses…”

"I never said I did,” she snorts, but goes quiet when she sees the sudden mischievous gleam in his eyes.

"More like…" He leans forward suddenly and licks her cheek. "Charcoal. And..."

He smacks his lips together and Morrigan recoils from the sound so close to her ear and his searching tongue, but he keeps her close with both arms tightly around her now.

"If you lick me again, I swear to whatever gods you believe in I'll — “

She freezes as Blackwall sticks his tongue out and drags it to the tip of her nose. "Bog water! That's it!" he declares triumphantly.

Morrigan shoves at his chest, and he falls back against the ground with a grunt. She looms over him for just a moment, trying her best to look more formidable than amused, and lowers herself into a kiss when she fails at this. But it’s her tongue that does the exploring this time, aided by gravity and a more-than-willing partner.

"Well, you taste like a liar." She pushes herself up off of him to catch her breath. “And a fool," she concludes.

Blackwall bucks his hips up against her. "Your tent or mine, m’lady?"

"Neither…" Morrigan stands up and offers him her hand. “Come with me…my tea is finally starting to take effect, and I wish to find out what the stars taste like tonight.”

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oooooooooooooooh boyohboy. for the 14-Days-DA-Lovers-Thang, Blackwall/Morrigan (obviously, sorry) and with Blood Lotus. and also maybe if you want to Nate/Carver with Pride (or Envy). Also Anora/Zev (&Alistair) with A Favor? Only choose one, or more, if you want. sorry, I got greedy for your writing/characterizations/beautiful stuff oops.

You spoil me!!! Anyway, here's the first bit --- some Morriwall & Day 10 Blood Lotus (from @14daysdalovers) with friends! 

That evening, Morrigan marches right up to him at the campfire, where he sits with Bull and Sera. “Why is there a bowl of blood lotus blossoms sitting in my tent?” she demands.

Blackwall shrugs, trying not to give her the satisfaction of seeing him blush. Not while they have everyone else's attention, anyway. “Saw them when we were in the bog today, and they reminded me of you,” he mutters. Sera and Bull already know about them, but it doesn’t make it any less embarrassing to be scolded for the impulsive romantic gesture.

“Are you aware of the herbal properties of that plant?"

“It's…pretty? And…er, capable of surviving in extreme conditions?”

"Mhm.“ Morrigan nods impatiently. "And 'tis often used to induce altered states of consciousness…also considered, by some, to be a powerful aphrodisiac.”

“Oh.”

“Yes.”

“So…" Blackwall lowers his voice and raises his eyebrows. "Does it work?”

Sera snorts into her mug, and Bull grumbles a "Well played..." under his breath before quickly turning his attention to something that he's certain can't turn him into stone with just one nasty look.

The corner of Morrigan’s mouth twitches, and she gets a menacing glint in her eyes. “Well, that all depends on the quality of the plant and the preparation, my dear Warden…”

“And you probably know how to prepare it properly, eh, Witch?” He decides to play along, having given up on his own self-preservation long ago.

She glares at him, then glances back at the others who are doing a terrible job of pretending not to listen to their conversation. “Of course I do.”

“We should all give it a smoke, then. See what all this fuss is about.”

“Surely not…” Morrigan scoffs.

He knew if he called her on her bluff this time, in front of everyone else, that she’d fold. She is, beneath the arrogance and disdain, quite shy, after all.

“Ah. Right…” He gives her a wink. Just to let her know he’s onto her. “Probably wouldn’t be very wise, seeing as we’re at camp in the middle of hostile territory…”

“‘Tis far more effective if I steep the blossoms and make a tea.”

Blackwall’s eyebrows shoot back up. “Aye…?”

“Hey, whoah now,” Bull says, giving up all pretense of not-listening. “I don’t need to be seeing anything that’s not there.”

“No one is forcing you to partake, The Iron Bull. And besides, ‘tis probably best if at least one of us abstains.”

“I’ll have some!” Sera chimes in. “Can’t let old Beardy have all the fun just cuz he’s found himself a witch to do weird things with!”

“Very well.” Morrigan nods. “So that’s three of us, then? Or shall we extend the invitation to the entire encampment?”

She looks pointedly at Blackwall, who is beginning to realize that this is meant to be some kind of punishment for letting on about them to his friends.

He shakes his head. “Just us three. And Bull will keep us from running off buck-naked into the swamp chasing fairies, won’t you?”

“I make no guarantees.”

…

“I’m not feelin’ anything…” Sera mutters, taking another big gulp of her tea.

“Patience,” Morrigan tells her. “‘Tis not always such a sudden thing.”

But Blackwall is already feeling…something. He glances sheepishly over at Bull, who is watching him carefully. Too carefully. His horns are too long, and they suddenly remind him of the listening horns of the elderly noblewomen who used to request his company during formal military affairs.

“Alright there, buddy?”

“Yeah.” He turns toward Morrigan. “How do you know if it’s working?”

“You’ll know.” She smirks, and takes a sip of her own tea. “Or it may not do anything at all.”

Morrigan’s smirk seems to spread. Her lips curl up to her ears and her whole face looks like it might split in half.

“Stop looking at me like that!” he hisses at her.

“Like what?” She smiles wider.

“Like you’re about to eat me up.”

“What are you on about?” Sera asks, peering at Morrigan’s face. “She looks like her normal smug witchy self to me! Thought you liked that about her?”

“I do. When she’s not turning into a dragon!”

“A dragon, huh?” Bull finally musters up the courage to look directly at Morrigan, but shakes his head disappointedly.

Morrigan takes another slow drawn out slurp from her own cup, but keeps her eyes on Blackwall the entire time. “The Warden’s tea is just starting to take effect a little…prematurely.”

“Well, give it here, then! Yours must be stronger than mine!” Sera grabs Blackwall’s mug, nearly spilling it in the process, and shoves hers into his hands. But he barely acknowledges the swap. He’s too busy watching the smoke billowing out of Morrigan’s nostrils.

You are a genius, @funkypoacher. This is such a nice setup for another chapter of The Witch & The Warden. Sera just dissolves into giggles and nonsense. Bull puts her to bed like the good big brother that he is. Morrigan and Blackwall...probably end up running off naked into the woods? IDK...you decide.

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Birthentine’s Bits, Anyone?

lol...bits...

Anyway, my birthday is on Monday, and I would love it if someone felt compelled to send me a prompt from this year’s 14 Days of DA Lovers List (I’ve typed them out below the read more if that’s easier than clicking the link) or general asks/prompts/whathaveyous (fluffy or not) about any of the following pairings that are constantly in rotation in my head these days:

Anora/Zevran & Alistair (and sometimes Isabela) as my new favorite semi-platonic polycule (in the background of Kieran)

Morrigan/Alistair (in Kieran)

Fenris/Anders (in Linked...part of my Dark Sprawl AU...)

Fenris/MarianHawke/Anders (in Lost & Found)

Morrigan/Blackwall (currently banging in The Witch & The Warden)

Nathaniel Howe/Carver Hawke (in Warden Hawke)

Stroud/Loghain (I know I officially left them in the Deep Roads in Together Into the Abyss, but I’m always happy to write more Stroghainoff fluff if anyone wants it...lol)

Merrill/Isabela (just...in general...)

Delilah Howe/Cullen/Samson (in my perpetually in-progress cracky song fic Dull Scissors)

14 Days of DA Lovers Prompt List:

1. Flirty Banter 2. Slow Dance 3. Sugar & Spice 4. A Favor 5. Kissing in the Rain 6. Declaration 7. Pride 8. Companion 9. Enchantment 10. Blood Lotus 11. Envy 12. Silk 13. Euphoric 14. *Free Choice*

Surprise BONUS Words...

15. Faded 16. Worthy 17. Dispel 18. Forbidden