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Adoribull Sunday prompt: Bull's Chargers are famous private instestigators that Halward Pavus grudgingly hires to locate Dorian and bring him home. After meeting Dorian, Bull makes other plans
HOLY HELL so, I love this prompt TO DEATH so here, have the first 4 1/2 pages while I clean up the rest. This is mostly setup but I hope itâs alright!
Private Eye - Pt 1
The Bull and his Chargers were easy to work with. There were only two rules.
1- No doubling up on jobs. If the Iron Bull and his Chargers were on your case, no one else was. Local smokies didn't count. (He had ways of working with law enforcement that helped everyone out, usually.)
2- Be clear about what you want. No client was ever completely transparent but Bull could usually get the pressing details one way or another, even if meant reading between the lines of their facial expressions and mannerisms. He was, and always had been, a people person.
There was a third, but no one knew it except the Bull. He meant to keep it that way.
âAnything good in the mail, Kremepuff?â
âJust the Sundays, a bill or three, and an envelope that says it'll burst into flames if anyone who isn't you tries to open it.â His second called back from across the room. The usual, Bull thought as he took a long pull of his coffee. In his defense it was damn early and he was on his first cup. It took a good five seconds to click.
âWait...what?â
âWritten in Tevene, too. Think you better open it.â
Halward Pavusâs office was worth more than his life, the Bull figured. Â Mahogany desk, cut marble floor, art from some doubtlessly-well-regarded 'Vint artist hung like trophies at strategic intervals around the room. Â The bookshelves were the only things that looked remotely used, several thick tomes on the one closest to Halward sporting spines cracked from age and use.
"Your references are quite good, Mr. Bull, though I feel the need to reiterate that your discretion is this matter is of utmost importance."
It always is. The Bull grinned to himself but kept it off his face, nodding solemnly to his would-be employer. Â Couldn't show off the personality with these high-class 'vints; they never took it well. Halward Pavus looked be the type with four types of stick up his ass, too, judging by the ramrod posture and immaculate suit. Â No Magister robes for this one: unsurprising, given that Bull was his audience. Â
Pavus motioned for him to sit; the Bull ignored him, instead folding his arms across his chest and leaning against the wall by the door. Â He'd already put on his own suit for this guy; his quota for marching to the magister's tune was met for the day. Better he use the little things to miff the man, see if he could shake the cultured veneer.
Halward did not take the bait. He didn't even acknowledge the Bull had contradicted him. Â "As you have doubtlessly heard, I am leading the efforts around an extremely important bill in the Magisterium." The Bull shrugged. He knew, alright, but Halward's ego didn't need further inflation. Â "I do not believe the timing of Dorian's disappearance to be mere coincidence."
"No such thing," the Bull offered. Halward nodded, a calculated single bob of the head. Â
"You have read the dossier?" Â Again Bull nodded.
"I need to know if there is anything else you can think that might be relevant, or that was too risky to write down," even for deeply coded cypher, the Bull didn't say. He didn't need to, judging by Halward's face. Â
(The Bull had actually been impressed at the thoroughness when heâd received the request for he and the Chargers to investigate Dorianâs disappearance. Â The information had taken him days to decode and had caught fire once he'd finally managed to read the contents.) Magical shit was the worst. Halward's hesitation in answering was also not a good sign.
"I also need to know if I'm going to be dealing with the people you believe have him under thrall." Â Halward didn't flinch, per se, but the lines around his eyes tightened, the valleys around his lips carved just a bit deeper.
"The individual responsible for initiating this difficulty has been dealt with." Â Halward turned his back to the Bull then, facing out the window. Â Nice view out of a place like this, Bull knew, but while he thought Halward's words cryptic, they were clearly that way to a fault. Hiding his facial expression was no exception, either. Something about this magister--aside from the normal magical shit he hated, anyway--screamed 'shady' to Bull, made him feel like he needed a good fuck and a bath as a palate cleanser, once they were done. He had a few hours before either was a possibility, though, so he scuffed a small mark on the marble floor just to do it, instead. Â
"We believe the spell was perhaps a timed delay, a curse or hex left dormant to be activated when it could damage us most." Â Magister Pavus allowed himself a heavy sigh, as scripted as the morning news, and turned back to face the P.I. again. Â "When Dorian sees you it is likely that he will fight, or possibly try to flee." Â
"I have that effect on people." The Bull finally grinned at Halward, closing his single eye with absolute deliberateness. Â The other man caught the gesture, nose crinkling in thinly-veiled distaste. Ha. Â "Working around first impressions is a talent of mine. I'll manage. Is he dangerous?"
"Dorian is a powerful mage with an addled mind," Halward replied, turning to the window again, "He is absolutely dangerous. Â You mustn't allow that to stop you. The nature of my political career means that Dorian is at more risk running about on the streets than even he poses as an independent threat to you, as you try to contain him. If my enemies were to come across him in his current state..."
"I have a consultant for magical shit so we should be alright," Bull replied. He shifted his arms and both the wall and his shirt seams creaked ominously. Â "You want him brought back unharmed, though, so I'm gonna need any information you can send along to counter the charm thatâs on him." Â Halward indicated a box on the desk, wrapped in plain brown paper and no larger than one of the fat tomes on the nearby shelves.
"There are notes as well as a couple of countermeasures in there. You may avail yourself of both. Â The bottle of liquid, you should get him to drink firstly, if you can. It will minimize the risk of him fighting you." Â The pause he took was calculated, as crisp as the press lines on a well-tailored suit. Â "But fight him, if you must...anything will be worth it, to get my son back. My wife and I are beside ourselves."
It wasn't a lie, but it wasn't the truth, either. Â Bull didn't push him for more. The truth--or some semblance of it--would come out during the search. It always did. Â Halward's silence announced on no uncertain terms that they were finished so the Bull grabbed the box, tilted his head to Magister Pavus in affirmation, and saw himself out. Â
"Aquinea Pavus hasn't been seen in the city for some time. Word is she's been holed up at the Pavus's other mansion for months." Krem spat the word 'mansion.' Bull didn't blame him. Â All that grandiose shit seemed a waste, but then, he wasn't a 'vint.
"Grieving?" The Bull asked. He had his feet up on his desk, fucking around with his leg brace. Â The thing hadn't been right since Seheron and he was due a check-up, probably. It'd been stiff as all hell lately, not wanting to take his weight.
Across the room Krem shrugged his shoulders, scowl carved deeper on his face than usual, and Bull made a mental note to heckle him later when they weren't working. Kid had a good mug, no sense fucking it up frowning all the time.
"Alti don't grieve, Chief, they hold parties and drink and talk too much. That's what they do for everything, really. Â If she's out at the winter estate and hiding from social functions, she's probably playing an angle." Â He kept right on pacing, arms folded across his chest. Â "Missing heir to a family that major, and supposedly under thrall? Yet, the papers have been silent. Â Gossip like that usually makes the rounds in Tevinter before dawn breaks." Â Krem chewed on a fingernail til Bull chucked a wad of crumpled paper at him to get him to stop. Â He dodged it and kept pacing. Â "Not to mention someone under thrall usually looks it. Â Glassy eyes, weirdo outbursts, behavioral shit...something about this one doesn't feel right, Chief. I don't like it."
"Too close to home?" The Bull offered, fussing with his brace again and watching Krem with his periphery, gauging him without appearing to do so. Â Normally the insinuation of being off his game would have lit a fire under Krem's ass. Instead, his second went still, eyes unfocused. The pensive frown deepened.
"Nah, it's not the fact that it's Tevinter." Â The finger went back to Krem's mouth; the Bull threw the stapler this time and just barely missed. Â Krem kept on talking and chewing, undeterred. "The Alexius boy died months ago. From what I can tell, his father hasn't done anything but grieve since. Â Actual grieving, too, dressing all in black, no leaving the house, like normal people do.â
âThought you said Alti donât grieve.â
âThatâs my point. Â He was Dorian's mentor, just as the reports claimed, but after whatever new-agey magic shit they tried supposedly killed his kid, it appears Gereon just stopped caring. Â He hasn't been seen at the Magisterium since the funeral. That he's the one that's got Dorian under thrall doesn't add up. What would he stand to gain? Maybe it was him that laid the spell, but then, who activated it? Something just...something is off. I can't put my finger on it." Â
Bull understood that, had the same feeling himself, but coddling wasn't what he did with his boys...not usually, anyway, despite their claims he was more tamassran than investigator some days. So instead he opted for his tried-and-true method of 'piss 'em off and stand back,' swinging his legs down and climbing to his feet. He patted Krem on the shoulder with a hand big enough to dwarf it.
"Can't solve a case on a half a hunch, Kremepuff. You're gonna have to do better than that to rescue your countryman from whatever demons have been set loose on his ass. And, if it's a nice enough ass, I might just beat you to it." He grinned as Krem bared his teeth, along with one finger in particular. Â "Get with Dalish and Skinner and see what you can find out. I'll call Rocky. He's been doing recon with some of Tethras's boys. The rumor mill might have picked something up."
"Can do, you ole bastard," Krem growled. There was no heat in it, the younger man clearly running through the case info in his head again, trying to get the disparate lines to match up. Bull watched him go before he picked up the phone.
The Bull had no idea how pertinent his comment on Dorian Pavus's ass would prove to be. Â Indeed, staring at the back side of the Pavus boy across the dingy bar (The Brew'n Baker) was anything but a hardship, despite the 'vint looking to have suffered a few in the recent past. The bar itself was a dump, damn near condemned, everything inside covered in dark panelling or darker wood, a relic of more bustling times and the owner's apparent love for both liquor and sweet treats. Â The lighting was shit and the clientele was, too: shady dock workers; off shift blue collar guys that couldn't roll in nicer places; drifters. Perfect, really, as it meant no one was going to pay much of a mind to him. Â
It had been easy to pay off the owner and to substitute Rocky for the normal barkeep. Â Pavus was so deep in his cups he likely hadn't noticed the difference any more than he'd noticed the bar's usual few regulars had been replaced by Bull and his boys halfway through the evening. Â
Bull himself was at a booth so pockmarked by age that the surface of the old wood table was more groove than actual surface at that point, a splinter or five just waiting to happen. Â His mug of ale had been moved around five separate times, unable to set flush. He grumbled about in passing as he watched their prey instead of the ball game up on the old, browned screen behind the bar.
Dorian leaned against the corner of the bar itself, one hip canted up in what Bull didnât doubt was old habit. Â The manâs clothes were fine of make but certainly not new; a shirt of black silk and a pair of dark grey slacks that had been expensive but worn too often were draped on Dorian's form. Â Bull gave the guy credit. He made the simple outfit look good.
It took them getting just part âStep 1âł of the plan for shit to go sideways.
Adoribull Sunday Prompt: Modern!college!au: We were both "strongly encouraged" to join the Diversity Committee because we're cultural minorities here and now we're bonding over how ridiculous this all is
âBet you coffee after the meeting the nextperson through the door is a dwarf.â
Dorian looked up from his phone at the hugeQunari who was sitting next to him making the desk he was sitting at look likeit was for a five year old. Â âExcuse me?â
The Qunariâs smile made him look lessfrightening than he had when Dorian had first walked into the room. Perhaps it was the way it made the manâs one eye twinkle and thedawnstone eyepatch covering his other eye glitter in the light coming inthrough the windows.  âIâm just sayinâ Josie managed to get a âVint and aQunari into the same room as one anotherâŠIâm thinking she could convince adwarf to join too.â
Dorian arched one sculpted brow at theQunari. Â âLovely, so sheâs collecting one of each of us like some madscience experiment?â
The Qunari threw his head back and laughedfar harder than the comment deserved, but Dorian was hardly going to complainconsidering how pleasant the sound actually was.  Actually wiping his eyeas his laughter faded the Qunari stuck one huge silver hand Dorianâs way. âIâm The Iron Bull by the way, resident Qunari specimen.â
Dorian didnât bother to suppress the smallgrin that wanted to play at his lips as he allowed The Iron Bull to take hishand. Â Or should he say engulf his hand because Maker, looking at it inThe Bullâs huge paw, he looked like a child. Â âDorian of House Pavus.â
âGood to meet you Dorian,â Bull boomed out,shaking Dorianâs hand firmly before finally releasing it rather slowly. âSo, do we have a bet?â
âI suppose in the name of diplomacy I shallhave to accept,â Dorian muttered, absolutely not feeling the loss ofBullâs hand in the least. Â âThough the odds say it will be an elf.â
âOoooh, hadnât thought about that,â Bullchuckled.  âSay, that could be the start of a really bad jokeâŠa Qunari,and elf and a âVint all walk into aâŠâ
âIf you finish that Iâll make sure yourcoffee is decaf,â Dorian drawled, fighting the urge to grin. Â It was alittle startling to realize that he hadnât actually felt like laughing likethis often in months. Â âSo, Iron Bull, how did Josephine convince you tojoin this little committee?â
âItâs The Iron Bull actually, I ratherlike the article at the frontâŠâ
âOf course you doâŠâ
âHey, you want to hear this story or not?âBull grumbled, waiting for Dorian to wave his hand in a âplease continueâ sortof way before grinning and shrugging.  âItâs a short story anywayâŠshepromised me those tiny cakes.â
Dorian snorted, his hand flying to his faceas if he could hide the fact that the sound had come from him, which only causedThe Iron Bull to let loose that laugh again, the one that seemed to roll overDorian like a warm breeze. Â âYou mean petit fours?â
âSure, if you want to get all fancy. Theyâre cakes and theyâre good andâŠâ
Bull broke off as the woman in questionstepped through the door holding a pink bakery box, the smile on her facewilting a little when she realized there were only two people besides her inthe room.  âOh, I rather thoughtâŠwell, itâs good to see the two of you. I trust youâve been getting acquainted.â
It was on the tip of Dorianâs tongue to saythat they hadnât yet but realized that would be a lie.  After all, he hadalready learned The Iron Bullâs name, that he liked coffee and sugar and had alaugh that could light up a roomâŠkaffas, maybe there was more to thisâCultural Diversity Committeeâ than heâd originally thought.
Looking over he found Bull stuffing onechocolate coated cake into his mouth as he nodded at something Josephine wassaying and Dorian found himself faintly disappointed that neither of them hadwon the bet.
Still, there was always next week. Perhaps Dorian could convince Dagna to join themâŠ
Adoribull sunday prompt: modern!au roadtrip, bonus points if the chargers are along as well
Dorianâs mustache twitched.
Bull sighed.
It wasnât a tell. Tells were subtle and unconscious. Tells could be schooled away, leaving a secondary sort of blankness that was its own tell.
This was Dorianâs way of screaming.
Bull tipped his head back against the headrest and closed his eye.
He knew Dorian would keep smiling, wouldnât even notice the faint tick of the tip of his mustache brushing against his cheek. Might prop his elbow on his other hand to tap his chin as he listened to Krem and the Chargers. Sweat at his temples and sticky bangs at his brow, but he wouldnât brush them away. Nothing but a faint smile born of the sort of amused desperation you had to chase to keep up with.
Some honeymoon.
Bull grumbled and flung open the car door and the GTO groaned in relief as he pulled his bulk out. He leaned across the cherry red hood. The engine still ticked in the desert heat and Bull knew it would be a long time before it stopped. No buildings for miles and nothing that could be called a town without some degree of charity for days. Nothing but him and Dorian and the open road and a muscle car with a busted carburetor.
And now the Chargers.
They swarmed around the GTO like a good natured circus, Krem with the tow truck, Grim with his motorcycle, and the rest pouring out of a battered RV that had seen better days. Someone had propped up the tattered shade on the RV and a small table underneath it. A sweaty cooler held melting ice and a few beers. No grill yet to Bullâs surprise.
âWhat do you mean it wonât move?â Dorian said through his teeth.
Krem shrugged. âI mean itâs not moving unless we put it on the truck.â
âThat is unacceptable.â
Something clanked and clattered and banged. Rocky waved and grinned at the lot of them and dragged the grill from the back of the RV.
âPut that back!â Dorian barked. âThis is not-- We are not--!â
Bull hung his head to hide his grin. The tips of his horns scraped the GTOâs hood as he hunched his shoulders to keep from laughing. He stepped away from the dying car and walked up to Dorian before he could storm over to the RV. It took a thick arm and quick flex to keep the slighter man from moving.
âLet it go, Kadan.â
Dorian kept his back tight and straight against Bullâs chest. âNot what we had planned.â
âNo.â Bull lifted Dorianâs hand to his lips, smiled at the glint of light from the new wedding band. âBut weâll get there. Together.â
âYou intolerable sap.â But Dorian leaned into Bull, twined his fingers with Bullâs. Then he sighed and pulled away and started walking towards the RV and the Chargers. âCome along, then, before they start drinking that dreadful Fereldan piss they try to pass off as beer.â
One of the lovely prompts I got today and is WIP because GUESS WHO LOVES DETECTIVE NOVELS. Have a sample so I'm posting SOMEthing on time for once. _______ Adrenaline surged and time seemed to stand still as the Bull froze, seeing Krem trapped under the heavy table with the ceiling beam above him on fire. Flames licked at the heavy wood, already cracked and about to fall; he'd never make it across the bar in time with his bum knee. The realization stung Bull deep and he staggered a step, two, the floorboard giving way beneath his heavy boot. With a swear he caught himself on a chair, but only just. Think. Think. There had to be something. He raised his eye to appraise and happened to glance not at Rocky and Dalish, trying to lift the table off Krem. Instead he looked to the wild-eyed mage, close to his men but closer to the exit and his freedom. Dorian's grey eyes locked on Bull's and for one fucked-up second, Bull didn't see the 'vint, didn't see the privileged kid running from the mess he'd made or even the fucking mage who'd probably just signed the death warrants for half his crew. No, Bull looked at Dorian and saw nothing but fear and hesitation warring on a face that was too expressive for its own good. Judging from the look he got in return from Dorian--open-mouthed panting and a full-body jolt, and one hard swallow--the kid knew Bull had seen him for what he was, too.Someone hiding laid bare, someone who'd strayed and damn well knew it. I don't want to fight you. The Bull had thought him afraid, addled, or both. He wondered, staring at the handsome face in that moment if maybe Dorian had meant instead, I don't want to hurt you. Not that it mattered now, with the whole place on fire and crumbling around their ears. Bull hauled himself upright, made to move forward. Dorian had his way out, had a clear path to run to escape the Chargers and his family and his fuck-ups for awhile longer. The Bull expected him to take it.
Anya is live and ready to show you everything. Watch her strip, dance, and perform exclusive shows just for you. Interact in real-time and make your fantasies come true.
â Live Streamingâ Interactive Chatâ Private Showsâ HD Quality
Anya is LIVE right now
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Free to watch âą No registration required âą HD streaming
vivelyf replied to your post: would you guys wanna see my stream the...
yes for solasmance! Iâm super curious to see how that turns out but since iâm still on PS3 I wonât get to see for myselfâŠ
general consensus seems to be solasmance so i will prepare than inquisitor since idk what the recommended lvl is gonna be...but would you guys prefer me streaming it on tuesday when it comes out (my only worry with this is idk when it will actually be up for download) OR friday night?
Given that there's not a whole lot of canon information about Dorian's mother, do you have any personal headcanons about her?
Itâs definitely an interesting scenario with Aquinea! Because the only thing we really know about her is that she may have been a distant, hands-off parent (Dorian talks about her having servants taking him boating instead of taking him herself).
She could have been distant and cold and just as shrewd a political mind as Halward. She could have been distant because sheâs stuck in a marriage that was arranged and she never wanted children. Halward could have taken more interest in Dorian overall. She could have known about the blood magic and agreed. It could have been her idea. She could have disagreed but not said anything. She could have fought Halward with everything she was able. She could miss Dorian terribly. She could be glad to see their shame of a son gone.
So fans have lots of room to interpret her as they like/as they need for their purposes. For my part, I havenât really settled on an idea yet, since it hasnât really come up in anything Iâve written yet.Â