And that’s a wrap!
If I forgot to post someone’s work, or you didn’t get tag for a gift (and completed your gift), let me know ASAP!
It’s been a fun, wild, chaotic but rewarding ride, and hopefully I’ll see you again next year ;)
If I forgot to post someone’s work, or you didn’t get tag for a gift (and completed your gift), let me know ASAP!
It’s been a fun, wild, chaotic but rewarding ride, and hopefully I’ll see you again next year ;)
From @thekingofcarrotflower for http://foetal.tumblr.com/
Prompts used: Spoiling each other (Dorian spoiling Bull, at least) & eating together
When the merchants filtered into Skyhold with their carts brimming with Josephine’s newest requisitions and whatever new items they had to sell to the denizens of Skyhold, Dorian had politely excused himself from watching the Chargers’ training. It wasn’t uncommon for Dorian to linger near the training grounds when the Chargers used it at what Dorian deemed to be a ‘reasonable hour’, but Bull had noticed the man watching the gates rather than watching Bull, sweaty and swinging a practice sword, like he usually did.
“Huh,” Krem said, digging the tip of his sword into the dirt and leaning heavily on it as they watched Dorian bound up the stairs to the main hall, “He waiting on a new shipment of those fancy soaps and shit of his? Heard him complaining he’d run out of something the other day.”
“I dunno,” Bull shrugged one shoulder, eye lingering on the large double doors. He wasn’t overly concerned - Dorian still valued his privacy, sometimes spend an evening in the library or his own quarters when he needed the space - but curiosity twinged inside of Bull.
“Guess you’ll find out sooner or later,” Krem grunted, lifting his sword again.
Bull grunted in agreement, lifting his own weapon. Krem needed practice blocking blows from his left side, anyways. Whatever Dorian was up to could wait.
—
“New stash?” Bull asked when he returned to his quarters hours later, after training and a long bath. His knee had been acting up since the weather was starting to grow colder, and a steaming bath seemed to do the trick. He’d taken some time to search for Dorian beforehand, to invite him along, but had little luck finding him. Varric had claimed to see him hours ago, conversing with Josephine and heading towards the ambassador’s study, but there seemed to be no sign of him since.
For the prompt: Bull/Dorian open relationship–who else they see, under what conditions, how each of them feels about it, how they communicate about it.
From @saterema for @hobbitkaiju
- - -
When it began, Dorian was content to speak as little of the details of their liaisons as possible. That was familiar, natural even, and seemingly suited The Iron Bull as well. Yet the agreement did not feel the same as ones he had made before, with other men. It was not an unspoken agreement to secrecy so much as that words had not needed to be exchanged. Dorian had been under no illusion that their relationship was anything beyond physical, if he could even have called it a relationship then.
The illicit encounters of his past had always begun with the knowledge that romantic entanglement was forbidden, and often assumed unwanted. But Bull had been different, hadn’t he? Too honest for a Ben-Hassrath, too easy to laugh for a Qunari, too giving for a man who would have only ever wanted sex. Yet the invitation for romantic involvement was as absent as any upfront denial of it; a small detail, but an important one.
That first night still seemed like a dream to him, even now, a night of bliss that stretched for hours into the dawn. He’d never had that luxury before, never had the time to be touched, to be explored, to be worshiped even. It was more than he would have dared expect, and yet Bull had given it to him willingly, happily. And so there was no sinking feeling in his stomach when he left before dawn, puzzling him as much as it excited him. And if a twinge affection rose in his chest the next evening when Bull greeted Dorian jovially at dinner, well… who could blame him?
It had been easy to tamp that affection down though, in the weeks after, when duty called the Altus to Crestwood with the Inquisitor, his knowledge of necromancy a key asset in their countless fights with the undead that haunted the lake. He’d stayed focused, for the most part, on his duty - on being of use. In fact, they’d made quick work of an otherwise abysmal mission.
When all was said and done, lake drained and mayor fled, Dorian had only the return trip to occupy his mind, and so his thoughts wandered. Near a week’s trip on horseback left to sit and wonder if Bull was thinking about him. A week to wonder how many others had found their way into the bed he sought in the Fade as he slept. He dismissed it, as he dismissed most things he desired in earnest. He decided he was not jealous, because to be jealous, Bull would have had to have been his.
Prompt would be “sharing body heat.” Warning for canon-typical violence. For @anidragon from @ofwolvesandshatteredshields
Dorian doesn’t think much of it when the arrow takes him in the arm. It’s most unpleasant, of course, but he has been wounded before, and anyway, there are much more pressing things on his mind. Such as the several dozen Venatori sprinting gleefully toward him over the ice, not to mention the several more dozen who have made the crossing already and are busy gaining a foothold on the snowy bank.
There is an Inquisition camp on this side of the river. The way things are going, that is soon to change.
Dorian puts distance between himself and the melee, moving away from the frozen bridge their mages have summoned towards where the water flows high and fast beside him. The river is as black as the night sky above, and glints in the light of the near-full moon. He reaches up and snaps off the arrow-shaft at his arm, gasping in pain—hasn’t any idea how some people can do that without even a flinch.
Speaking of which, Bull is standing at the place where the bridge meets land, bellowing out some barbaric battle cry or other in that resonant voice of his. He’s neck-deep in Venatori and doesn’t appear particularly bothered by it. The field of snow around him gleams blight with reflected moonlight, and his axe flashes as he swings it through the air. Dorian did try to avoid him for a time—he’s Qunari, after all—but has found himself less repulsed as of late. Qunari, yes, but also thoughtful and clever and, it must be said, considerate at times—if only he weren’t so crude—
With a start Dorian finds a brace of warriors dashing toward him, snow spraying up in their wake. Kaffas. He was almost asleep when they attacked and hasn’t quite woken up yet. He reaches for the Veil to slow the soldiers down—
—and doesn’t find it.
For a moment he’s stupefied—he’s a mage, of course he can feel the Veil. Only he can’t. He only just manages to raise his staff in time to defend himself. Why can’t he sense it? Where did it go? His blocks are weak and sloppy. He stumbles back, wavering in the shin-deep snow, struggling to keep his balance. What’s wrong with him? The two soldiers hack down at his staff, seemingly content just to push him back. So he retreats, and retreats. Each strike jars his wounded arm, the arrowhead still stuck inside it. Again he reaches for the Veil, straining his senses. It isn’t there. It isn’t—
His foot slips down a sharp incline. The bank.
Venhedis.
Dorian heaves his body forward as he slides down the steep slope in a desperate attempt not to fall. Then an armored heel smashes into his cheek, and his head whips to the side, his boots slipping in the snow. He wheels, his arms flailing.
The water slaps into his back and closes over him.
from @ichigo-otaku (a wonderful, wonderful pinch-hitter) for @adaarkadan
“You cannot be serious?” Dorian asks. He is standing in the doorway of his and the Bull’s small apartment (well, what feels small, given that the Bull is a broad monster of a man and can make any living space feel tiny), his arms crossed over his chest and one foot tapping on the floor in disappointment.
The Bull and Krem are standing in the doorway, both of them grinning and holding various objects in his direction. They’re each wearing Christmas sweaters and Santa hats, the Bull even has one on the end of each horn. Krem’s holding a hat out for in Dorian, while the Bull extends a matching sweater in Dorian’s direction.
It’s endearing, if only the Bull’s sweater didn’t read something so crude as “Personal ride of one Dorian Pavus,” and it even has a cute little snowman underneath the caption with a mustache similar to Dorian’s. The sweater in his hands says “Sorry, I only ride the Iron Bull” and is decorated by mini sets of the Bull’s horns. Those, too, have little santa hats on the ends.
“Kadan,” the Bull says, his voice in the tune he uses when he wants to get something out of Dorian. “I think you’d look rather handsome in it. Won’t you put it on for the Christmas party at the tavern? The boys are already waiting for us, and they all pitched in to buy us the set.”
Dorian isn’t hesitant to send Krem a venomous glare, which has Krem responding with a smirk. At least he has the decency to wear a sweater that has some modesty to it, and he must have gotten it second hand from the Bull, as it’s a little large on him and sports a set of reindeer in the midst of a celebratory Christmas romp. Dorian knows he’s seen the Bull wearing something similar once before, in fact he wouldn’t be surrpised if they also had a matching set.
For: @alphabetiful
Author: Melime Greenleaf @melimegreenleaf
Beta: puddlescape
Prompt: Outsider POV on relationship
Words: 1212
Warnings: NoneSummary: The progression of Dorian and Bull’s relationship, through their friends’ eyes.
Felix
Felix checked Dorian’s letter one last time, to make sure he had covered everything in his response. The part about the Qunari agent made him smile, and he wondered if Dorian even noticed he had spent three pages ranting about the advances of a man he claimed not to care about. After a moment’s thought, he added a post scriptum. I know you too well for you to trick me, my friend. This Iron Bull character must be like a dream come true to you. He wondered if he would live enough to see Dorian find a chance at happiness.
Vivienne
Vivienne knew what he was planning since she first saw him that evening. She noticed the elegant but easily removable robes, the recently trimmed mustache, the scent of his perfume imported from Tevinter, the extra care dedicated to his makeup and hair. The following day, when he tried to hide behind alcohol, sell his actions as impulsive, she just smiled at him. She was gracious enough to allow him to pretend that was anything other than a deliberate choice, and she knew before he made up his mind that he would be returning to The Iron Bull’s quarters that night.
Cassandra
Cassandra claimed not to understand. She would question what they could have in common, The Bull’s continued flirtation with her, how The Bull could concile his fear of magic with that relationship, how could they disregard the war happening between their peoples. In private, she would think about how it something coming out of a romance novel, two people meeting under impossible circumstances and finding comfort in each other against all odds. Although she wouldn’t admit it even to herself, she hoped that when this was over they wouldn’t part ways; and that Varric would write that book about them.
My recipient is @birdscameflying, and I chose the prompt “First kiss under the mistletoe.” from @alphabetiful
for @bluesoulspirit and the prompts filled were “May I…hold your hand?” and ‘A loving gaze into their eyes’ (but mostly the first one). from @themusicmaker69
“May I…hold your hand?”
Dorian stared in shock at the Bull. Was this happening? This was like a dream come true, but it was so unexpected, Dorian was wary to trust it. Was this an attempt to appease him or mock him? Had he fallen asleep and was speaking with a demon? Before he could stop himself, he blurted out the simplest thing that came to mind.
“Why on earth would you want to do that?”
He hadn’t meant it to sound scolding, but as he saw the Iron Bull’s face drop, he knew he had failed. As silly as he knew it was, Dorian did want to hold the Bull’s hand. He wanted to stay the night and wake up snuggled up to him the next morning. But he knew better. He knew better.
The Iron Bull muttered a quick apology before turning around to catch up with the rest of the party, leaving Dorian to his thoughts for the remainder of the trip back to Skyhold.
For: @chaoslindsay
By: @amurderof
Tags: nsfw, no other warnings apply
Prompt: - time travel threesome! Older!Dorian travels back to the present and blows Dorian/Bull’s minds not only with being absolutely awesome at sex but also with the obvious depth of his affection for Bull, speaking to a long-lasting loving relationship that Dorian never thought possible for himself
“Are you really?” Sera asks, voice breathless and still too-loud in the revelation that’s followed his — no, the stranger’s, the impostor’s — appearance. “All messed up with your own magic again?”
What do you mean “again”? Dorian’s already halfway to asking, rolling his shoulders back and tipping his head up, opening his mouth — when the impostor laughs, laughs and smiles so easily that it makes something within Dorian’s chest seize painfully. Delightful. His heart will simply give out. Unfortunately everything you’ve fought for in your entire life will be for naught when you decide at some point in the future to fuck it all up and send yourself back to terrify your younger self to death.
“I don’t mess up, Sera,” the impostor says, and his smile colors the words, and he doesn’t at all posture when he says it, and Dorian knows that the man before him is utterly foreign. A stranger. This simply can’t… And then the man turns to Dorian and his smile goes soft around the edges, indulgent and what Dorian wishes desperately were patronizing. “Oh, look at me. What year is it? I’d forgotten how young I looked.”
“It’s 9:42 Dragon,“ Adaar pipes up helpfully, because she’s enraptured with this turn of events, it would appear. Dorian half-expects her to turn to him at any moment and harangue him for never telling her time magic could be applied so frivolously, for the delight of everyone in the room save Dorian himself. "Where — when are you from?”
“Oh, just ages past,” the imposter replies, and he lifts a hand to his chin and scrutinizes Dorian. Dorian has to fight off the urge to step back, or turn and leave. What kind of friend would he be were he to leave Sera and Rae to this — well, to what is clearly a demon. Clearly. Obviously.
“I’m finding the Seeker. If no one else here sees the danger involved in standing about with our tongues lolling out of our mouths, then I will need to take the initiative to protect the future of the Inquisition.”
And that gives him the excuse he needs to — not flee, blessed Andraste, he’s not the kind of man who flees from any such thing. But to extricate himself from what will surely be an increasingly troublesome conversation.
Ha. Troublesome. Troublesome.
He finds Cassandra walloping one of the training dummies in the courtyard, and it’s only as he arrives and she lowers her sword that he realizes he has to now explain why he requires her unique talents.
“Shit,” he says with feeling, and she lifts one of her naturally perfect brows (oh, he despises her) and purses her lips.
Kidfic from http://foetal.tumblr.com/ for @amurderof above: “anything kidfic” (or, well, kidart in this case), but was also partially inspired by her fic “the biggest pavus in generations.”
NSFW below cut: