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the game is afoot, my friend!

AU Edit for @latefortevinter‘s Dorian Romance Week: The Casebook of Dorian Pavus, a Sherlock Holmes inspired ‘verse. 

↪ when Étienne Faulkes is discharged from the military following a shoulder injury, he’s got nowhere to go and no family to speak of. Desperate for a place to stay until he can get back on his feet, Étienne finds himself answering an ad in the classifieds for a man seeking a roommate; the enigmatic Dorian Pavus, private detective. 

Étienne just wanted to settle down, but can the ex-sniper resist the thrill of the hunt when hauled into Dorian’s newest case? And then the next? And the next? 

posting this a bit early since i’m excited~

thedosian-cockatrice  asked:

Pssst, this might be a bit of a strange question but...how do you draw Dorian? The handsome man is KILLING me LOL.

by crying and praying to the gods.
And using TONS of blood magic reference ma friend ma dude :’D 

seriously, he’s really not easy to draw. But with enough practice you can get the hang of it :D 

I will show you my process meanwhile(which is actually the one I use for every face-drawing) under the cut because it will get long. Anyway, I’m not going to claim that my Dorian is accurate. I am aware that I might tweak him a bit, that’s why I encourage you to use a lot of references from the source.
warning: gifs. A lot of gifs

Keep reading

“The world will wait, Amatus.” It’s said as a command, Dorian’s voice hardened to a blunt edge. He needs it to be true. He pulls Trevelyan to him, earnest. If their days are to be numbered, if their time together brief, let them have this day. 

For all his study of temporal magic – Dorian wished he had learned to freeze a moment. Warm, gloriously so for the mountains in the fall, the sun bright and gold through the leaves of the amber clad trees. Their friends, gathered about the garden, watch them with warm, quiet smiles. A breeze sets the trees clapping, Cole plays a trill high note on a little wooden flute. His husbands body close to his, breath on his face. A moment. 

Just for today, the world obeys. 

Time to kick off Dorianmance week (I’m a day early in Canada but I can’t help myself). Quick sketch + sneak peak from the fic I’m working on. <3 

[A quick little prompt for @numin-lavellan and @kurogoesinthedas ; “Your lover speaks your language and their accent is hot”]

I was looking for Dorian in his usual spot in the library, but he was absent.  We had plans to spend the night together before leaving for the Wastes, a night of comfort and ease before it was back to fighting and freezing and sand in places.  I knew he’d be here soon, the sun setting outside.  So, I stayed and browsed the pile of books he’d set aside for his studies.  


One caught my eye, a reading on time magic.  I stood by the light of the window and read, trying not to imagine the future we had been trapped in together.  The book was interesting enough that I didn’t hear the footsteps come up behind me until an arm was wrapped around my waist and the smell of leather and musk enveloped me.  


“I apologize for my tardiness, Amatus,” His delicious voice whispered into my ear and I felt both of them twitch as the hair on my neck stood up in response.  


“You’re worth the wait, Vhenan,” I sighed, dropping the book to the table and reaching behind my head to feel the back of his neck, pulling him in.


“That library you showed me has the most fascinating literature,” He said between kisses planted on my neck.  “Many on Elven history, and one I found exceedingly intriguing, a catalogue of the old tongue.”


I should be excited enough to run down there and read them all myself, the opportunity to gain more knowledge about my people has been a dream long since forgotten.  Still, I can’t seem to think of anything but the shivers his lips are sending through me.  I try to speak, but all that escapes me is a soft moan of contentedness.  


“Ar isala ma,” he whispered to the sensitive tip of my ear with a practiced precision, and my heart skipped several beats.  To hear my language spoken through the silky Tevene cadence is too much to bear.  I try to muffle the cry forced from my lips, only succeeding a little.  


“Vhenan,” I spoke through heated breaths. “You don’t know how it feels to hear you say such a thing in my tongue.”


He pressed closer to me, pinning me close against the wall so I felt the heat and pressure of him behind me.  “In that case, I have a few more I’d like to share with you in private.  Garas, ma lath.”


[Ar isala ma: I need you; Garas, ma lath: Come, my love]