is it too much to ask for just one good slutty steve fic
Fangirls! Your challenge, should you choose to accept it…
Q:Bethany/Fenris 10 <3
10 - stomach kiss
No one asks how it happened.
No one would, the transgression in that question echoing in every drop of blood they shared. Wardens keep their own secrets.
Still, rumor follows the elf that Genet’s group found in Seheron. The one who carried a sword taller than a good-size human child, bruise-tendrils of taint nearly obscured by raised, silvery markings. He had glared fire and fury, Genet said. Lifted his chin, all quick and sure, and said: “One of your number knows me, and I am not unskilled.”
One of their number. It was Warden Commander Bethany who stared at the sight of him, lips parted, eyes luminous before the worry set in, Weisshaupt’s shadows long at her back. She reached out. Laughed. Shook her head. Stepped neatly back, keeping careful space around the exhausted man. “Fenris?”
“I remembered,” he said, abrupt. “The choice Hawke made for you, in the Deep Roads.” He swayed, and Bethany reached out again, bracing one arm, letting out a small, startled sound when he did not flinch.
“Saved my life,” Bethany said. “Fenris—?”
“—I find myself hoping,” Fenris said, “That my own choice will do the same.”
Bethany’s lips twitched. “Maker,” she said, “The taint doesn’t stand a chance.”
OH GOD HOW COULD YOU
Q:Carver x Cullen sex pollen? Since you want comfort food, let's go for an oldy goldy.
[This is set in a random time pre-DA2 endgame, with Cullen as Knight Captain and Carver as his Knight Lieutenant, no prior relationship though some unspoken unrequited lust beforehand. OK, maybe this is influenced a little by tanukiham’s teasing in "The Light Shall Lead." :P Obvious TW for dubious consent; I’m not at all fond of “sex pollen” stories for this reason, but I’m writing this one just to see how I’d handle it.]
Things Tanu Has A Weakness For When They Are Done Well: Sex Pollen
Also these two. Always, always, always.
I do hope the cinnamon was fake. Ouch.
no but really, like
i know that some folks love telling creative people that “you should be doing it for fun because you love it not for the compliments” but creative people thrive on feedback whether it’s critical or just complimentary
so when i write fanfiction and don’t get any actual feedback i feel like i spent all that time and energy doing it for nothing because i’m not getting feedback from the people i wrote it for
doing something you’re proud of and then presenting it to the sound of utter silence is like the worst feeling on earth
but by the same token I recognise that many people are reserved and shy and can’t bring themselves to do more than click that Like/Heart/Kudos button
and every time I see that Like/Heart/Kudos on my fic it’s exactly the same as if you came up and gave me a great big hug
so if you can’t bear to actually comment
click that button
there needs to be a fic where someone pretends they need to investigate bdsm clubs but in reality they’re looking for an excuse to go/gauge their perspective bed partner’s reactions to the clubs.
Oooh. I’d read that.
*is suddenly having Bigby/Snow ideas*
Q:Prompt: Varric needing to let off some steam between battles, -privately-, or as private as it can get when you're trying to masturbate in a tent~
Varric mutters darkly to himself as he stomps across the camp that night, ripping his gloves from his hands as he went. It hasn’t been a good day for the dwarf. Between battles that always end with a new bruise or cut or scrape, his complete inability to write anything beyond twitterpated dwarves and their very tall lovers, and the Inquisitor’s constant… existence, he’s feeling beyond frustrated. There’s only one thing for it.
He pushes his way into his tent and does his best to secure the flap. It’s imperfect and he’ll be paranoid, but any port in a storm. He makes quick work of his armor, tossing the chestplate and pauldrons onto his bedroll carelessly, and finally shrugs out of his duster.
"Alright, let’s get this shit over with," mutters the dwarf, toeing off his boots and sitting heavily at his desk.
In his experience, writers’ block can be cured by one thing and one thing only — writing whatever comes to mind, reading it over, and burning it. He draws a stack of parchment, an inkpot, and a fresh quill from a desk drawer. He sharpens the quill with a penknife, dips it into the open pot of ink, and starts scribbling furiously.
It’s poorly written. It focuses too much on the protagonist — a dwarf scoundrel named Warrick Fedras — and the love scenes lack enough foreplay for it to ever be seen. Shaelynn, the qunari woman of Warrick’s dreams, is tall and glorious and fierce and the dwarf in the story writes poetry on her skin with his mouth.
He’d have to remember that line later.
Q:Iron bull and female non Adaar inquisitor. Her getting all flustered because she's heard stories about qunari before and he's nothing like that and she can't believe she's falling for him but wow ok yeah he's hot
Inquisitor Cadash unsheathed her daggers for battle.
However, the opponent was decapitated before she could blink.
"Hey, there," came a booming voice from seemingly out of nowhere, "Heard I might find you here."
She swallowed, “W-why are you looking at me like that?”
His eyebrows raised at the insinuation. “Why are you lookin’ at me like that?”
"Well, you’re…big and scary. Like some monster out of one of Tethras’s tales." She rubbed the back of her neck, feeling sheepish at the admittance.
Lady Cadash frowned. “I can’t see.”
"Oh right, you’re a dwarf," The servant said in a panic, "Right! I’ll go get the stool. Please, wait for a minute, Inquisitor."
However, the qunari held up a hand. “Not needed.” Before either could ask what he meant, he picked up the Inquisitor by the waist.
She felt a shiver down her spine.
"I- What are y-you doing?" She stuttered.
Though she couldn’t see his expression, she could tell he was smirking at her, “Letting you see, oh-so-mighty Inquisitor.”
She let out a shaky exhale as she leveled her gaze on him. “Have you ever… you know, considered…”
"No, I don’t know. Why don’t cha tell me?" He crossed his arms over his chest.
"Oh- I don’t know, wearing some plate armor? Preferably on the, uh, torso region?” She swallowed hard, her spine turning to jelly.
There was a twinkle of mischief in his eyes, which did not speak well for his reaction. “Inquisitor, are you asking me to put on a shirt?” He teased.
She chuckled nervously, trying to find the right word. “O-Oh just… it’s…”
"Distracting?" He struck a pose. She blinked rapidly, watching his muscles contract with great interest. Noticing this, he laughed cruelly.
RIDE THE BULL.
I want to give a shout-out to all my fellow authors and artists in the fandom who don’t have instantly recognizable usernames or get tons of notes on everything they post, who might feel like no one really notices or cares about what they do, but who continue to create and post their work anyway. It takes a lot of courage to put your work out there, especially when you’re not getting a lot of feedback, and I salute all of you!
Greetings fellow nonentity!