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#ehsaan adaar
ringneckedpheasant · 1 year
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blarrghe · 2 years
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All Hail West Thedas
Rating: M | Category: M/M | Words: 27505 | Chapters: 6/?
    Dorian Pavus has run away from home, from a life of misery, from some unspeakable incident with his father, from Tevinter, from himself. He has run out of money, too, and now he is stuck way out here away from things. But maybe it's not so bad. Ehsaan is sweet, The Iron Bull is kind in his own way, and they both say that he can stay as long as he likes.
Chapter Snippet:
Dorian was growing in some certainty about the way of things on this strange Qunari-operated ranch. The Iron Bull was unabashed and obviously prolific in his exploits. He went to town often enough, to meet the Chargers and to drink and, presumably, to “get laid”. At least sometimes, the conquests came back with him; left their evidence on the line. So maybe he had a woman in town to see regularly, but he didn’t talk like he did. He talked like a noncommittal, boorish sort with an infuriating knack for catching Dorian off his guard. 
Keeping his guard up around The Iron Bull was exhausting, actually, but whatever his faults, Dorian was becoming more and more sure that Bull didn’t know the definition of a hangup. He kept making little remarks, glancing at him in that way that was basically a wink. Which meant that he had, in all likelihood, already worked out Dorian’s big, secret fault, and was itching to tease him for it, but not to kick his teeth in. So that was something. 
Ehsaan, on the other hand, could not have possibly been more his opposite. He seemed the settling-down sort; barely left the ranch, cooked and cleaned and gardened away his days. He danced, he baked pink confections in a frilly apron with hearts on it, he — and maybe this was just Dorian’s father’s voice talking — but he had long hair and soft clothes and a high, jingly giggle of a laugh. And maybe it wasn’t at all an imagined thing that Dorian was especially able to get that laugh out of him, maybe he really did find Dorian charming.  
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“What changes their world also changes this one. And yours are footsteps that move mountains in both.”
Ehsaan Adaar
for @gaysolavellan
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queerspacepunk · 2 years
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okay most of my playlists have silly and/or very straightforward names But i’ve got “thou art the armorer of my heart” and u can take your pick of adoribull or fenders
decided to be fairly generous in my interpretation of the prompt and also took thedas' favourite girlboyfriend (c/o @gaysolavellan)
out for a spin.
"thou art the armorer of my heart" | bull/dorian/ehsaan adaar for @dadrunkwriting
Bull's not as good at fighting as he used to be. That's not to say that he doesn't do as good a job, because he does, because you don't get to The Iron Bull's level without learning how to compensate when you need to.
And right now? Bull needs to compensate. He needs to compensate because he's taking to tumbling a punk-ass little Vint who wouldn't know a self-preservation instinct if it propositioned him.
Listening out for mages, for the tell-tale start-stutter sound of mana running dry, or the soft popping whoosh of a barrier dropping isn't new. It's the sort of thing you either learn quick or never have a chance to back on Seheron.
Usually though, Bull's waiting for it, for a moment he can strike. It's the sort of sound that used to turn a grin.
Now it just gives him a headache, leaving his heart racing for all the wrong reasons, head swinging round even thought he shouldn't be. Knowing that he;ll turn and look regardless, whether he tries not to or not. At least this way he can account for the momentary lapse in concentration when it happens. Factoring in what hand he'll use to reach for a potion, or a poultice, or whatever it is Stitches has stocked him up with, as he lays out the movements in his mind.
The crack is almost loud enough to disguise the sound of Dorian's spells dropping out, and the screeching boom that follows more than covers the rest. Bull manages to finish the backward swing of his axe into the little shit of a demon that had just dropped out his line of sight, clearly heading for his blindside before he turns, seeking out the noise.
Dorian's standing, well out of Bull's reach, hair singed, hands a scratched up mess, still holding one half of his shattered staff.
That would do it.
Dorian looks stunned, but he's with it enough to twist the sharp end of his- well, stick now, Bull figures -- around to stab a demon that had noticed Dorian's situation. It doesn't kill the thing, but it does manage to slow it down enough for Varric to land an arrow.
He's strong, Bull knows (carnally) but he's also a fucking mage and he's also wearing a fucking strip tease for armour and there's a half dozen too many enemies between them for Bull to be able to do anything about it.
Bull's not the only one watching.
He watches the Inquisitor take in the scene, halfway between Bull and Dorian, watches him reach out with his free hand to snatch up a sword from a fallen enemy, watches him measuring the distance.
Bull catches on to what he's doing about a half second before he does it. Adaar's not... good at talking, not in battle, not when he's stressed. Yelling out isn't an instinct to him the way it is to Bull, or Varric. Makes him a sneaky fuck of a mage, but not everyone's mind runs the same way his does, makes the same leaps.
"Big guy," he calls, in Dorian's direction, in a voice halfway between the one that sends the Chargers running to their positions and the one that has Dorian doing the same in the bedroom.
Dorian'll give Bull shit for it later, he's sure, but it works, and Dorian looks up just in time to see the Adaar's staff come flying his way, and to catch it, clumsy but solid, and he looks at him first in relief, then shock and then...
Then something that looks an awful lot like that look Dorian gives Bull sometimes. The one Bull's not ready to admit he understands quite yet.
A shriek to Dorian's right and his gaze breaks away, adjusting the staff in his hands and turning to freeze the thing in its tracks. Bull should be doing the same, returning to his own fight, but he takes a second to look back to Adaar, who isn't wielding that sword casually, but capably, and he catches Bull's eye right back.
Pushes back a loose curl of that stupid, pretty hair, and nods at Bull like he knows.
He does.
Bull's hand tightens around his axe as he turns back to the fight, feels the rune humming through it, the weight of good armour on his shoulders. Shit that fits for once, works. Wonders, is this what being cared for feels like.
Fuck it. He can hold his own and keep an ear out for a mage he really doesn't want to lose. Two shouldn't be that much harder.
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tilthedayidice · 3 years
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could i get a character palette for my dragon age oc ehsaan adaar? he’s a qunari mage who specializes in healing/protective magic and he loves wearing earth tones and warm browns/oranges/yellows. hes super gay and likes gardening with his husbands and whittling small animals out of wood. thank you so much!
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Chessex Orange Ghostly Glow
Chessex Ivory Marble
Dice Envy Avocado Toast
Dice Envy Dice Goblin Ling
Beholder’s Gaze Inferno Golem
T&G Brown/Ivory Blend
Wiz Dice Mountainheart
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ringneckedpheasant · 5 months
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compassion / calm / comfort
[ID: A tarot card done in blues, creams, and orangey-browns. The art on the card is a qunari in his kitchen, smiling warmly and holding a plastic pitcher of iced tea while he leans back against the counter. He has brown skin and freckles and his dark curly hair is half up, with the rest falling past his shoulders. He is wearing a nose ring, dangly earrings, a hamsa necklace, a wedding ring with two dark stones, and western wear—a light, pearl snap shirt with a floral pattern on the chest and the first two snaps undone; women’s jeans that are held up by a braided leather belt with a big silver buckle. On one side of him, two cups sit on the countertop, and on the other there is an old milk jug filled with flowers. Soft light spills through the window behind him.
The border of the card is dark blue, with text that reads “Queen of Cups” in a gothic font. Small geometric rosettes bookend the text. end ID]
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ringneckedpheasant · 1 month
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finally did a portrait for the babygirl shrine
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ringneckedpheasant · 1 year
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ringneckedpheasant · 11 months
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futzing around with colored pencils again
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ringneckedpheasant · 10 months
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picking up my second run of inquisition as ehsaan & it’s already not Canon because he’s romancing bull so. im thinking about changing her specialization too
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ringneckedpheasant · 6 months
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considering redrawing my queen of cups card w ehsaan. desperate to see her again
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ringneckedpheasant · 10 months
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necromancer ehsaan got cassandra’s disapproval scene
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ringneckedpheasant · 10 months
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ringneckedpheasant · 2 years
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i see no difference love is love (picrew)
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ringneckedpheasant · 2 years
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okay this is very random, but I was listening to music while cooking breakfast this morning and Trixie Mattel's cover of Jackson she did with Orville Peck came on and I somehow ended up just thinking about Bull and Ehsaan and had a very good morning after that
so just know I love them and I am Thinking about them shkjfhdkjsa
no exaggeration i have probably listened to that song 30 times since you sent this 3 weeks ago, and it’s been sitting in my inbox because i told myself i wanted to do a little sketch to post with it and then did this instead 💛
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[ID: the iron bull and inquisitor adaar, about to kiss in a small farmhouse kitchen. they are both in modern western wear—both in jeans, and the bull in a pink button down and adaar in a short-sleeved yellow shirt with roses embroidered on the back. adaar has a hand on the bull’s cheek, and the bull is resting a hand on adaar’s ass. end ID]
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ringneckedpheasant · 5 months
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editing old fic that was partially beta read & I don’t like the sentence I wrote either but i just realized this suggestion is. the complete opposite of what I was trying to describe. like. ehsaan is often very deliberate about his facial expressions and body language but he never knows if he’s being deliberate enough, if it’s exactly the right look or tone, and part of the reason for that doubt is his inability (at times) to read other people
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