By my power as Captain of this vessel, I declare us wed!

After being chased for years for being irreplacable, it was a relief to share himself with someone who kept a man in every port.

Cole likes the tavern.

In which people with floofy pauldrons like Cullen should probably not stand so close to the woman waving around a lit candle on the end of a board.

Harding isn't quite sure what to make of Dagna, but she's not one to back down from a mystery--or a challenge.

Dorian's still operating like he's in Tevinter, and the Bull safewords the hell out.

Dorian reacts a little more strongly to a compliment than anyone expected. Bull decides to test how far it goes. (Spoiler: it goes pretty far)

If Dorian were half as confident as he says he is, he'd be a force to be reckoned with.

It takes a long, long time for Dorian to realize that he is still waiting for the Bull to finish what he started.

“Small package of murder, huh?” He laughs. “I knew they’d tell you that.” “It’s the best compliment I’ve ever gotten.” “I’m sure I can think of better ones.”

I love Krem and Bull's banter :D

Iron Bull is almost certainly playing games with him. Dorian is particularly sure of this when he's been drinking.

Afterward, Dorian cannot recall what he had expected, only that it had not been this.

Cullen can't get it up and it turns out the Inquisitor doesn't want that anyway. Funny how these things work out.

Cole grows increasingly confused by gender and seeks out advice.

Well, it’s finally happened. They’ve figured it out. Two years, a handful of concussions, more scars than he can count, and suddenly it all means nothing. That’s Tevinter gratitude for you.

Three families Krem has had.

A Tevinter deserter and a Dalish blessed by Andraste herself have more in common than one might think.

Dorian rolls onto his side to face him, squinting in the mid-morning light. "You wanted to talk, last night. So talk." "Mm, not like this." Bull cracks his neck, stretches his free arm above his head. Dorian doesn't even pretend he's not watching the muscles shift in Bull's shoulder. "You don't talk about sex in bed."

Flowers have meaning and, sometimes, not knowing them can be beneficial.

"It's awkward and confusing all over, because he's not sure he should find something attractive in the way the soft light of the tavern softens Krem's cheeks. That a few dark drops of wine on his lower lip should be worth of study, or that Cullen can perfectly recall the crooked angle of his smirk when the Chargers are away. "

This is a metafic about a disabled Inquisitor and the changes the disability not only brings for them, but also for their companions, their advisors, the Inquisition as a whole, and the people of Thedas. One of my goals for this was for it to be as inclusive as possible: your Inquisitor's race and gender don't matter. Every possible class is addressed. Topics include: addiction, amputation, bigots, blindness, depression, muteness, tranquil mages, transsexuality, veterans, withdrawal.

Cullen, delirious with lyrium withdrawal, is too far gone to ask for help. Cole hears his silent cry. In his roundabout way, Cole sets out to help the commander of the Inquisition forces.

Cassandra stumbles across a secret literature-exchange society in Skyhold. She disapproves, of course. Deeply. (That person who keeps prompting for crossovers with characters out of Varric's novels? Not her.)

If Cole met Anders.

Sometimes things just don't translate well. Other times it's just much easier to say them in a language nobody else in the room knows.

There's nothing wrong with a little online flirting. Cullen hardly ever expects it to go anywhere even if he really does like the man he's been chatting with for over a month.

For the kink meme prompt: "Josephine who is secretly a mage, and is just really really good at hiding it."

Dorian and Bull have a very long day. Chronologically: They get trapped in a pit, then later try to have a conversation about their relationship. In order of difficulty: They try to have a relationship talk and also fell into a pit.

Dagna makes Harding a present. Dagna has no concept of reasonable scope.

Written for the Dragon Age: Inquisition kink meme. A desire demon tries to tempt Dorian disguised as Cullen, and awkward conversations are had.

Playing designated driver is not Dorian's forte. Luckily, he's got some sober company in the form of the second most attractive friend in the group--after himself, of course. Dorian's not sure why Cullen comes to these parties. He doesn't drink, doesn't socialize, he even goes to work with most of these people! There has to be a reason though, right?

"Maker save me from you Southern chantry boys." Dorian shakes his head, rolling his eyes and not seeming like he minds being oggled all that much. "You believe in the Maker?" Cullen asks softly, stunned at the idea. He knew there was still a chantry further north, but the idea of them worshipping the same Maker Cullen does is difficult to grasp. "Don't you?"

A crush, a dog, a kiss, and hope for a lifetime.

"It's bad enough that everybody here in the bloody south thinks that I'll kidnap them and use them for blood magic, it seems a bit over the top for them to think I'm cruel to tiny fluffy animals as well."

Dorian keeps waiting for everything to fall apart. Bull has a better idea.

Dorian had scarcely read through the first chapter when a shuffle of footsteps stopped outside his nook. He glanced up, a little warily, then set the book down on his lap in surprise: it was General Cullen, of all people, still in his military uniform, the khaki pressed to razor edges, the collar blood red against his throat, the gold star of his rank bright and high over his sleeves. “General,” Dorian greeted Cullen, when Cullen seemed to hesitate. Hells, but the man was ridiculously handsome, more so than Dorian had expected: it wasn’t just the uniform, at that - there was something deliciously attractive about a gorgeous man who was utterly unaware that he was gorgeous. “Something the matter?”

Letters Dorian never sends to Halward Pavus frame a short story in which Dorian develops a resistance to being poisoned by Vitaar, among other things. For years now, Dorian has maintained a collection of half-composed and unsent letters home, the sorts of missives one writes in one’s head when one isn’t able to sleep.

Bull and Dorian flirt poorly, get together, and make no promises at all. Spoilers for Bull's personal quest and Dorian-related happenings, that there is a dragon in Crestwood, and that Dorian hates the cold. He was raised on ancient and expensive bottles of Aggregio Pavali. He knows how to judge the legs and the terroir, how to talk about each in sublime company until they surrender to his superior grasp of alcoholic poetry. He prefers the brutish ale. It does a better job of getting one drunk.

A terrible portrait of the Inquisitor is painted for her birthday. She thinks it's atrocious, Krem thinks it's a little hilarious. Drinking ensues to help cope.

In which Cole isn't a desire demon, but thinks it might help if he was.

Kaaras needs to be in control. As he's faced with more decisions, more events the workings of which he doesn't understand, he feels this control slipping. He needs to face the fact that he may not know everything, and may even not know exactly he is himself. Iron Bull and Dorian can help with that. Rated for future chapters.

Scorched earth policies don't leave much to work with, but Dorian and the Iron Bull just might manage.

"You make me feel like I'm not good enough."

“Hey. Hey. I have an awesome idea,” Sera said suddenly, having rolled slowly onto her back until her head and part of her shoulders were hanging off the edge of the couch. “We could… we could totally set Dorian up. With one of our, our other friends. He’ll cry less, we’ll drink less, everything will be great.” “… Sounds doable,” Evelyn burped. “But who?” “Urm.” Sera frowned. “What about Thom?” “Naaah. He’s too much of a sad puppy. He’ll make it worse.” “Bull?” “Think he’s banging some waitresses right now. At least two. At the same time without either of them knowing. It’s like some serious spy shit.”

The Iron Bull never asked Dorian to stay, but Dorian did.

“You’ve done your best,” Cullen interrupted absently, and Dorian’s eyebrows arched in surprise. Cullen stared back evenly, hiding his own instinctive amusement. Mother Giselle glanced at them both, then shuffled away, back to the wounded, leaving them alone at the fire. Finally, however, to Cullen’s surprise, Dorian’s wry, faint smile curled into something warmer. “I’m never going to get used to that.” “To what?” “Being interrupted,” Dorian said dryly. “Here in the South.” “Because you’re a mage, and I’m an omega?” Cullen asked, a little testily.

Dorian is quite magnanimous in victory, and perfectly willing to reward Bull for being so gracious in defeat.

There are times when, for the greater good, one might choose to lose a bet. This is one of those times.

Josephine is not a flirt, really.