Pseudocognition wrote...
Merrill reads The Stone Heartbreaker.
Modifié par nightcobra8928, 18 février 2011 - 10:14 .
nightcobra8928 wrote...
how about this one?
Stone temptress new volume:
The not so "silent sisters":whistle:
Herr Uhl wrote...
nightcobra8928 wrote...
how about this one?
Stone temptress new volume:
The not so "silent sisters":whistle:
If anything, there should be one featuring both the Tethras brothers.
Modifié par dirtsa90, 18 février 2011 - 10:42 .
namedforthemoon wrote...
Wow. What is Mary going to think when she comes back from vacation and sees all these steamy romance novels? lol
Modifié par madsabroo, 18 février 2011 - 11:11 .
im just wondering... can the shirt grant wishes or does it teleport people? either way awesome storymadsabroo wrote...
I could hardly pass up the opportunity for some wretchedly purple prose. May I present...
Silken Surrender
Chapter 5: An Unexpected Visitor
Her list of excuses grew by the minute – her best tunic, bloodied that afternoon, was still wet from the
wash; nobody was about and there was no real harm in it; it wasn’t smart or particularly ladylike to wander around the house in nothing but smalls. Besides, hadn’t her mother always warned her that wearing damp shirts would earn her a nasty cold?
The real reason gnawed at her guilty conscience, chewing on her like a teething mabari. But Marian Hawke was a master of her own emotions and slid the soft, worn shirt on anyway, shoving aside all feelings of doubt and guilt. It was just a shirt. It didn’t mean anything. She wandered from the kitchen, wear the she had first glimpsed the fine tunic drying near the dwindling fire. It was as bright as the flames, as bright as a raw wound. Impossible to ignore. Her bare feet slapped the stone floor as she padded from the kitchen and its cozy heat to the chilly hall and then her bed chamber. Anders was right. She was looking ragged. She needed more rest to regain her strength and weather the coming battles.
Marian curled up in her bed, the fire in the nearby hearth roaring away, making covers redundant and stuffy. She hardly knew when it happened, but before long, in the half-haze of a dozy slumber, she smelled something intensely masculine. Spiced… Warm… Like heated, mulled cider on a wintry day. It was irresistible and all around her, emanating from the very furs and blankets of the bed. She tossed, sleep becoming impossible as the heady, strong perfume overwhelmed her senses.
Vaguely, she began to recognize the scent. It came back to her like the licking tendrils of a lost and misremembered dream. Sweat and ash, sword polish and new leather… Marian shivered, clutching suddenly at the shirt and, mistakenly, her own bosom. Her skin seemed to come alive, awash with prickling excitement… It was forbidden even to think of him – her comrade, her friend, but there was no denying the result of simply smelling his tunic. The dark sensuality of his presence seemed to be woven into the very fabric of the shirt, glittering there like the fine golden threads worked into the collar and hem.
In the shadowy twilight, Marian whispered his name, and as if that one word held all the power in the world, she lifted her eyelashes to find a shadow falling over the bed.
“Stones below, that’s a sight I never fancied I see.” His low, purring rasp sent another shiver cascading down her spine.
"How did you get in here?!"
One thick brow lifted in inquiry. "Oh you know..." He shrugged, wiggling his fingers. "Deft hands, I suppose."
“I didn’t… I thought everyone went to the tavern!” Marian sat up and gasped, humiliated, clutching at the scandalous plunge of the neckline, which happened to be exactly where the dwarf’s eyes lingered.
He laughed, amused, and put one heavy hand on the tick.
“Surprise,” he murmured, his lips curling into a knowing smile.
Modifié par DIONAPERSSON, 18 février 2011 - 11:20 .
DIONAPERSSON wrote...
im just wondering... can the shirt grant wishes or does it teleport people? either way awsome story
wait what am i saying, of course it can grant wishes
Modifié par Ammonite, 18 février 2011 - 11:56 .
yukidama wrote...
AHAHAHASDASKJDSAASKJDASJ madsabroo... that was as perfectly ridiculous as only the greatest romance novels should be xDD
Modifié par madsabroo, 19 février 2011 - 12:39 .
Modifié par payroo, 19 février 2011 - 01:35 .
payroo wrote...
So I made a little comic about Varric and Aveline's non-LI status...
(click for link to the whole thing)
...and now I'm inspired to make Varric romance novella covers! dammit!
Nova-FoV wrote...
I thought you should know. Totally in the creepy stalker way, too. (...erm, no, not really.)
*double-checks CCTV* 
Coming up with cheesy blurbs is surprisingly tough; After reworking it many times, I had to quickly jot it down before I forget.Gilsa wrote...
AHAHAHAHAHAHAHA. I don't know what's funnier -- the artwork or the cheesy text on the book covers. [smilie]../../../images/forum/emoticons/grin.png[/smilie]
Right? This cover motif makes me laugh everytime the books that feature this are clearly displayed on the shelves....but now that I've drawn one, the joke's on meyukidama wrote...
Hahahaha Aimo, I get what you were saying now xD Glorious~
Ohohoho, multi-purpose Casablanca art is sweet ;w;payroo wrote...
*snip image*
Stone Heartbreaker is forever!
Join ussssssssss~soignee wrote...
when I am better, I may have to partake in this book meme ><; too good not to resist!
Awww, Merril...I bet you hide those books under your pillow. Or your mattress, just in case of snooping party membersPseudocognition wrote...
Merrill reads The Stone Heartbreaker.
He always knows.madsabroo wrote...
I could hardly pass up the opportunity for some wretchedly purple prose. May I present...
Silken Surrender
Chapter 5: An Unexpected Visitor
Her list of excuses grew by the minute – her best tunic, bloodied that afternoon, was still wet from the
wash;
nobody was about and there was no real harm in it; it wasn’t smart
or particularly ladylike to wander around the house in nothing but
smalls. Besides, hadn’t her mother always warned her that wearing damp
shirts would earn her a nasty cold?
The real reason gnawed at her
guilty conscience, chewing on her like a teething mabari. But Marian
Hawke was a master of her own emotions and slid the soft, worn shirt on
anyway, shoving aside all feelings of doubt and guilt. It was just
a shirt. It didn’t mean anything. She wandered from the kitchen, wear
the she had first glimpsed the fine tunic drying near the dwindling
fire. It was as bright as the flames, as bright as a raw wound.
Impossible to ignore. Her bare feet slapped the stone floor as
she padded from the kitchen and its cozy heat to the chilly hall and
then her bed chamber. Anders was right. She was looking ragged. She
needed more rest to regain her strength and weather the coming battles.
Marian
curled up in her bed, the fire in the nearby hearth roaring away,
making covers redundant and stuffy. She hardly knew when it happened,
but before long, in the half-haze of a dozy slumber, she
smelled something intensely masculine. Spiced… Warm… Like heated,
mulled cider on a wintry day. It was irresistible and all around her,
emanating from the very furs and blankets of the bed. She tossed,
sleep becoming impossible as the heady, strong perfume overwhelmed her
senses.
Vaguely, she began to recognize the scent. It came back
to her like the licking tendrils of a lost and misremembered dream.
Sweat and ash, sword polish and new leather… Marian shivered, clutching
suddenly at the shirt and, mistakenly, her own bosom. Her skin seemed
to come alive, awash with prickling excitement… It was forbidden even
to think of him – her comrade, her friend, but there was no denying the
result of simply smelling his tunic. The dark sensuality of his
presence seemed to be woven into the very fabric of the shirt,
glittering there like the fine golden threads worked into the collar and
hem.
In the shadowy twilight, Marian whispered his name, and as
if that one word held all the power in the world, she lifted her
eyelashes to find a shadow falling over the bed.
“Stones below, that’s a sight I never fancied I see.” His low, purring rasp sent another shiver cascading down her spine.
"How did you get in here?!"
One thick brow lifted in inquiry. "Oh you know..." He shrugged, wiggling his fingers. "Deft hands, I suppose."
“I
didn’t… I thought everyone went to the tavern!” Marian sat up and
gasped, humiliated, clutching at the scandalous plunge of the neckline,
which happened to be exactly where the dwarf’s eyes lingered.
He laughed, amused, and put one heavy hand on the tick.
“Surprise,” he murmured, his lips curling into a knowing smile.
As the proverb goes: "If the mountain won't come to Muhammad, Muhammad must go to the mountain"tmp7704 wrote...
At the rate this is going, Varric thread is going to have more elegant romance content than the game itself.
Modifié par aimo_ahmed, 19 février 2011 - 01:47 .
aimo_ahmed wrote...
ZOMG. I...I love that such delicious purple prose came into existence after I posted the cover. I feel validated as an enabler <3
Is it wrong that I wish these novels were real now?
Man, this is what I love most about this thread, the way we bounce creativity off each other and enjoy the outcome. It gives me the warm fuzzies
payroo wrote...
So I made a little comic about Varric and Aveline's non-LI status...
(click for link to the whole thing and the rest of the pages)
...and now I'm inspired to make Varric romance novella covers! dammit!
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