owlmoose: (da - varric)
KJ ([personal profile] owlmoose) wrote2013-02-06 09:43 pm

Dragon Age Kiss Battle: 2013 Edition



Welcome to the 2013 Dragon Age Kiss Battle!


Any kind of kiss is welcome -- het, slash, femslash; shippy, familial, gen; cheek kisses, mouth kisses, kissing of... other things; serious, fluffy, silly, or all three at once; fanfic, fanart, whatever you come up with; anything goes!

Update: The post is now open! The post will open to prompts and comments at approximately 9AM Pacific Time, Thursday February 7th (Click here for the time in your timezone). I don't anticipate closing it, so come by any time!

THE RULES:

  1. To leave a request: Post a comment with a pairing (or moresome) and, if desired, a prompt. Put the pairing/characters in the subject line and the prompt in the body of the comment.

  2. To respond: Reply to the prompting comment. Include characters, rating, and title in the subject line.

  3. Multiple responses are both allowed and encouraged!

  4. There is no limit to the number of prompts you can post.

  5. Artwork can be posted inline, but try not to make it too large. Please link to images that are very large or NSFW.

  6. Please, be kind to others regarding pairing choices, prompts, or anything else. This game is for everyone! :)

  7. Anon commenting is on, as is OpenID, if you neither have nor want a Dreamwidth account.

  8. Send your friends! :D


If you have questions, please ask them here. Thanks, and happy kissing!!
1smut_princess: (Shemlen: It's What's For Dinner)

Re: Leliana/Morrigan: The Wasp and the Kitten 1/?

[personal profile] 1smut_princess 2013-02-15 10:41 pm (UTC)(link)
Morrigan glowered at the potions she was making, concentrating on the concoctions as she attempted to incorporate some of the concepts Mother had sought to teach her at some point or another. Magic could be used to boost the strength of various healing ingredients - at least beyond their own natural properties and the way they harmonized. It was bringing those things to the foreground that were important. She was no healer, those arts hadn't ever been important. And since they had no actual healer, that left her to try and keep everyone alive long enough until they could stop to rest. During a fight there was barely time to down or smear something onto a wound to keep upright, and Morrigan was left to question just how they were supposed to find and kill this Archdemon that Mother had been on about.

And if the Wardens didn't live, then there would be no way to recover or save the Old God's soul.

She didn't believe Mother planned on doing anything particularly beneficial to the resulting babe, but she couldn't be sure of what. Perhaps there was some other ritual that would allow Flemeth to absorb the power from the soul without harming the resulting child. Not that Morrigan cared. Children were messy things, snot nosed, cried and made messes. It would be bad enough having to carry one for however long. But she planned on finding out how to claim the soul for herself rather than let her mad mother take it. Old witch was powerful enough as it was.

She didn’t trust any of them, Mother included, farther than she could throw them with just the strength of her arms.

That sheep minded Chantry Sister interrupted her work, a large sack of ingredients, a cutting board and a knife in hand as she sat down in a boneless heap. "Morrigan, can I help? Us girls need to stick together." She giggled, that sharp sound that made Morrigan wince with disgust, glad she wasn't an elf at least, that single-minded, sex focused elf always had his ears twitching and curling in whenever the Orlesian giggled like that. "There's far too many men in camp."

Asking with false sweetness, "Did they tire of hearing about shoes?"

Giant saucer sized blue eyes blinked a few times, the overly plump lips puckering, lending the woman an almost vacant look. Stupid men would no doubt find such an expression pleasant; they all tended to dislike when women were as intelligent as them, so the more easily taken advantage of always were more attractive. “And what’s wrong with shoes? If we weren’t on the road, we could have such nice shoes...instead of these ugly things. Oh - and we could have dresses, such lovely dresses!” Clapping her hands together once and bouncing up in place, her excitement nigh overwhelming, “Why I know just the fashion that would be absolutely decadent on you! You really should let me do something with your hair, Morrigan, it’s so beautiful, you could do something with it, even if we can’t have nice dresses and shoes...”

Waspishly, “Keep your hands to yourself, sheep. I’ve no interest in doing anything like that at all! There’s nothing wrong with my shoes, hair, or clothing!”

Clasped hands tucked beneath her chin, and Leliana made a face that put Morrigan in mind of a begging kitten - as though such tricks would work upon her, “I didn’t mean it like that. I just meant, that, well...you’re very beautiful Morrigan, and it’s always nice to have something to bring out just how beautiful you are. It makes you feel good...”

“No,” lips thinning. “‘Tis a wonder you’ve a single thought in your head beyond such frippery that allowed you to become a passable ranger. Enough, be on your way, I’m through listening to your senseless prattle, bother someone else, I’ve no patience to listen to you when there’s medicines to make.”
1smut_princess: (Shemlen: It's What's For Dinner)

Re: Leliana/Morrigan: The Wasp and the Kitten 2/?

[personal profile] 1smut_princess 2013-02-16 01:24 am (UTC)(link)
XXX

Her head was pounding to a degree that Morrigan almost called for Mother to do something about it. However, Mother wasn’t there. Even if Flemeth had been, there was no assurance she would have done anything about it anyway, the old biddy would say that pain was a lesson, and to handle it on her own.

The drafty tent she was in smelled of leather and wet dog, as well as some sort of flower. That at least narrowed down what tent she was in. Morrigan almost would have preferred Erin and Zevran’s, as the assassin, for all his many faults, was a somewhat dependable ‘surgeon’, able to patch a body back together in ways that her poultices and potions could not. It was a curious skill and she did find it interesting, as she had had occasion to see the effects in action of him reattaching the loutish buffoon Alistair’s finger once. Of course her limited skills with healing magic and her unguents had done the business of waking the flesh and such, but it was the fine skill with a very small blade, fire, and stitches that linked tiny blood vessels together, ligaments sutured in their proper courses. Perhaps after the Blight she may very well go to one of those vast libraries he described when talking about things that had nothing to do with sex or killing. Knowledge was power after all, and there was little enough of it they had come across in Ferelden.

Withholding a groan of discomfort, Morrigan took stock inside the dark tent. Her injuries were just extensive enough to make her quite miserable, and the tight burning on her calf indicated that yes, that drake truly had gained a good hold on her leg in that last fight.

Beside her there was a shifting and squirming, Leliana’s voice intruding as Morrigan fought to keep a good hold on her senses as her head swam, “Just a moment, here -” a cup pressed to her lips as a steadying hand raised her head, “- drink this. Zevran said it will help you rest and dull the pain.”

Downing it, Morrigan coughed, “Blast! ‘Tis foul indeed!”

“The last of the honey was used up on your burns and to pack the wounds,” Leliana explained quietly, a waterskin then pressed to her lips to wash the taste out. Rather sure hands tucked and settled the blankets around her, “Is there anything I can get you? Should I fetch Zevran?”

Morrigan grimaced in the dark, not wanting the extra attention and fussing. From anyone. Really she just wanted to find a hole to crawl into and wait out the healing process. Bear shape would be good for hibernating - except the irritating problems of needing to gain enough fat stores, the fact that it was summer, the marauding darkspawn, and, most troublesome, the stretching her body would go through to shapeshift.

“A lack of sermons would be more than I could hope for,” gritting her teeth. “Or vexatious questions. I’m fine and don’t need that elf poking and prodding me.” Or Leliana prodding her as well, but the damned Orlesian was sharing a tent and bedroll with her for whatever reason. It all involved far too much touching, the vacuous minded chit remained on her side, facing Morrigan by the feel of things. It also seemed like Leliana would insist upon providing some sort of something, and if it would keep her quiet, she would go ahead and say something, anything. “If you simply must do something, a pillow would be...wouldn’t be turned away.”

“Ser ‘Ound’s on watch, so the only pillow that might be -” beginning to explain, before there was a pause, and suddenly Morrigan found herself shifted, far, far, far too much touching going on, the tunic Leliana wore all at once was beneath Morrigan. While still being worn. “- there. The only other pillow is me, since our packs are either empty because of doing laundry or filled only with hard, lumpy things.”

Morrigan had gone stiff, awkwardly cradled and surrounded by muscular legs, belly and chest beneath her back as well as her head. And arms were around her, keeping her in place. Feeling trapped and uncomfortable, she shuddered, rolling within the confines instinctually, a momentary thought of fleeing sending her into a panic. No one touched her like this! Not even that...that bumbling...insipid...filthy...Chasind man she had bedded once out of curiosity! It was too much, too disgusting! Too much of a trap!

All those lumps and milkfed body parts were soft and squished, trapping her like the thick mud of the Korcari Wilds, but there was also a great deal of muscle beneath all that, and it came into play, Leliana’s arms wrapping around her more firmly, “Get comfortable, lay down, stop it - you’ll tear your stitches.” A hand pressed to her shoulder, the other to her head, forcing her to lay her head down. “There, that’s not so bad,” fingers ran over her crown and cheek, making her earrings jingle, and Morrigan sought to calm her breathing.

Beneath her ear she became aware of a steady thumping as she lay on her ‘good’ side between Leliana’s legs, the dip of her waist fitted over the warmth of groin. There was also the langor from the concoction the Orlesian had fed her, tugging at Morrigan, and as her startlement faded, she swallowed thickly. This was most uncommon and strange, but the soft cradle Leliana’s body formed was strangely...comfortable. Like finding a perfect burrow to lay on that held dips that would be supportive. Nose wrinkling, she shifted once more with less urgency, and made use of the tall woman’s lower leg to support her own wounded one. When that seemed to fit as well, she sighed, the pressure taken off, the relief rather surprising. With a yawn, Morrigan scooted in place for a moment almost - almost - forgetting it was a person rather than a luxurious mattress as she was dragged down to healing sleep.
Edited 2013-02-16 01:53 (UTC)