ridethebull

[ridethebull]

// is tumblr crush even a thing anymore? ah well im posting it anyway

@scandaloussparkler @pelle-lavellan @kaaras-adaar @reilinwarad @xcapableof @hallaloved @thelittlestimperial @brokenbiirds @runawaydalish

[ridethebull]

Some say that you are quite adoraBULL ;)

Gee, never heard THAT one before

[ridethebull]

thequiethealer:

Sleep came easily. The easiest it’s been since he managed to leave with his head intact from Helgen and trying to put as much distance between himself and his master. Each night had been so difficult and plagued with nightmares. Tonight… Tonight was different. He slept with ease, protected by the huge dragon he was sleeping against, and so warm. So warm. There’s a slight, slight snore as he sleeps on, even after the Iron Bull wakes.

When he finally comes around, it’s to hushed voices and soft pillows and a huge wing. A moment of tension, then he relaxes. Right, dragon. Huge dragon, the Iron Bull. No need to be scared. Right. He sits up as the dragon turns his head to look at him.

[It is fine, I was waking up anyway.] A nod at the question of hunger and his ears seem to perk and eyes light up at the mention of a job. A job? [May I? I do not know if I will be of any use, but maybe… I could try?] If he’s supposed to be the alleged ‘Dragonborn’ after all, he might as well start gearing up, right?

[I would not mind since you are of…f-fering.] He stretches, with the shirt riding up to show the scrawny, boney figure and scars of bite marks here and there.

“Breakfast first,” Bull says, eyeballing the elf’s ribs with a disapproving look. He stands up and shakes off much like a dog, his wings fluttering and adjusting to lay flat over his back. Who knows how long he was sitting in one stiff position so he wouldn’t wake the elf. He nudges his nose against the elf’s belly through his shirt, greeted immediately by a creak of hunger. “Lots of breakfast.”

He follows Lerith downstairs, to where everybody else is getting ready to embark on a journey, helping one another into various armor and enjoying a breakfast of hot bread and peppered fried eggs.

“Hey! Someone get Squeaks here a set of armor that’ll fit,” Bull orders, his voice carrying easily through the room. There’s a moment where everybody looks around to see if someone else will do it, before the small dunmer woman from before, Skinner, jumps to attention to go fetch him something. Bull settles at the head of the table, lowering his head to a platter of roast something already set up for him.

“Is he coming with?” Bull’s lieutenant asks from his right, sounding a little skeptical as Bull waits for Lerith to take a seat.

“Yeah, that gonna be a problem?” Bull challenges casually, crunching into the roast, bones and all.

“Does he have any combat training?” Krem asks, trying to backpedal to a more reasonable question.

“I dunno. Do you?” he looks over at Lerith. “I know he’s the dragonborn, that’s already pretty badass.”

The Quietest Dovahkiin

[ridethebull]

luto-lavellan:

Luto gave out a small drunken tune, looking up at Bull, swaying a bit. He raised his arms and made grabby hands at the one eyed man. 

“Yes pleeeease! Carry me like… like one of those princesses in shem stories!”

“A princess, huh? You’re basically a princess, that’s fair,” 

He reaches under Luto’s knees to lift him up like a bride, tucking him against his chest. “Shit, do you even have a body?” he chuckles at how light the tiny elf is in his arms, and makes his way to the door to carry the boss across the courtyard. “Bet that nice big giant bed treats you nice on nights like this, huh? What do elves even sleep on in the wild? Dirt pillows?”

💋

Luto had had one too many drinks in the tavern. He and his party had just come back from the Hinterlands which for the most part was safe now that the dragon there had been taken care of. And to celebrate, he and The Iron Bull had gone drinking. He should have mentioned that he was a lightweight especially when they were drinking a really strong qunari drink.

The elf was currently zoning in and out of focus, babbling about something. “Mister Bull, you are reaaally cool! The way you went ‘argh!’ and ‘wam!’ when you fought the dragon!” he giggled and leaned over to try and give him a friendly kiss on the cheek but slipped and planted a kiss on this chest.

[ridethebull]

reilinwarad:

Seheron was not a good place. Even if one wasn’t serving in the military it left a heinous mark on the psyche. Bull could probably read it on Reilin. The way he moved, the way he looked around and settled his surroundings: furniture set up for an easy escape, knife under his pillow back in the dorm, it as all for safety. The fear of an attack in the night.

He shook his head, “No…no…I like to think no…” He murmured. Bull’s comfort was all encompassing, warm and true, it soothed Reilin’s heart.

Bull eases Reilin down onto his back again, lying on the side of the cot on his hip, pillowing his arm under his friend’s head. “Try to get some more rest,” he murmurs, brushing his hair back and back and back, away from his face and shoulder. There’s so much of it and it springs back into place like foam, but he makes a valiant effort to beat the beast back enough to tug the sheet back up over Reilin’s body. The cot isn’t really big enough for both of them, and his ass is hanging off, but a nurse would have a hard time convincing him to get up now. 

“I’ll stay right here until morning,” he promises in a whisper. Reilin is so warm. It might be the fever, but it’s incredibly comforting against his chest anyway, even if he does have to angle his head weird on the pillow to get comfortable. 

[ridethebull]

kaaras-adaar:

When Bull started, Kaaras stopped in his tracks, turning over his shoulder before he faced him again. For a brief moment, he thought that Bull might say something else, that he was wrong, that he did want more than just friendship. Perhaps that was foolish of him. Maker’s breath, this shouldn’t be so hard. 

His lips parted slightly when Bull explained he didn’t know what he wanted, and his brows arched slightly in concern, as well as surprise. So there was something there, then? Kaaras, of all people, knew that feelings were not just black and white. They were mixes of colours, some dark and some bold, some passionate and fierce. Bull knew nothing of love, at least not while under the Qun. But he wasn’t under the Qun anymore, was he? 

Taking a few steps forward again, the Inquisitor idly fiddled with the ring on his forefinger, as if it would calm his nerves. 

“I want you,” he stated softly, but honestly. It was best to just be upfront about this, so he knew where he stood, and Bull knew where he stood as well. “But I also don’t want this to be hard on you. When we first met, you told me that Qunari didn’t have sex for love. I asked if you’d ever been in love, and it was clear that you had not. I can’t say I am in love with you, Bull, I’ve not even been in a relationship with you, and I don’t think either of us is ready for that. But I do know that I want you.” In more than one way, which he did not admit quite yet. 

“For your sake, we can keep this casual between us. I know that you… you’re active with other people. If you want to do that, then, who am I to stop you? All I know is that when I thought you were lying there, about to die… I… I was terrified I might lose you.” 

Bull feels his stomach clench up in knots the same way it always does when the subject comes up. That tickle lights up in the back of his mind, caution, danger, abort mission.

“That was a lie, you know,” his voice comes out a lot rougher than he would have liked. He sits back down on the edge of his bed with a heavy thump, and he hangs his head, scrubbing his face with both hands. Just saying that much feels like an unbelievable chore, he can’t imagine continuing- but Kaaras is looking at him now, waiting for more, and doesn’t he deserve more? Doesn’t he deserve everything?

He can’t bring himself to look up. “I haven’t been in love in 30 years,” he says. “But it happened before. And he died, very badly. And I lost my mind, very badly. A lot of people died. Made me think a lot about why the Qun forbids this kind of love. Why they don’t allow anything past friendships. Wonder if the same thing would have happened if I just cared for him as a friend.”

His throat burns with tears that haven’t fallen in- can he even remember when? His eye heats up and pricks, and he feels that familiar tide welling up in him, hit something, smash something, break something, beat the feeling out.

By the dragon

[ridethebull]

herahmaravas:

By the time they reached the next town, she knew more than enough about Fisher’s Bleeders, and she was just as wary as before, if not more. She had good reason to avoid linking herself to groups. Wycombe had been a clusterfuck and it had done a lot more damage than she was ever going to admit. This group was no different, and she wanted to keep her distance, but she still needed the affiliation. She wasn’t entirely sure how she was going to manage both. 

She considered the inn, and scowled at his description. Not much to go off, and entirely unlikely.

“If it goes down to his knees, how does he sit down without getting himself stuck on it?” she muttered with a fierce scowl. She did not want to do this his way. She wanted to do it her own. Men with massive beards aside, there were better ways to coerce information from people, and that was what they needed. The information, the whereabouts of the key, she could get that herself. 

The problem was something quite different. And she only knew one way it was going to actually work.

Two qunari in a bar was odd, though, and that would need cover. She considered a moment, then shifted to adjust the pack on her back, trailing around the side of the building before dropping it to the earth and rummaging about in it a moment. She took a moment to dig out her dress, and then reached to unravel her hair from its braid, letting it spill loose down her back as she slipped into it, wrapping the red fabric close about her and worming her way from her trousers. She shoved them into the bag, set her staff against the wall beside it, hidden safe in some bushes, and tucked it all away out of sight so passerby wouldn’t get curious. 

“And if there are multiple people with massive beards?” she said. “No, you know who we’re looking for, you’re going to take me right to him.” She reached to the the red silk of her breast band about his neck a moment, a make-shift tie of sorts, a splash of color to break the mercenary look a bit. And then she examined him a moment before giving a small nod. Best she could do.

“You and I in there are going to draw eyes, so we work that. We go in together, and we make sure they see, and you lead me right to this man. Simple enough, right? After that it gets even easier.” At least in theory. She was going to have to stomach the feeling that settled in her gut at the idea - but the idea was hers, and she could do it, and she could pull it off.

She looked to him, her expression solemn. 

“You’re going to sell me.”

Granted she had no idea of actually following through on that particular arrangement, but no one would question their presence that way, and she was aware she could charm this man easily enough if she needed to. It was easier to do with the cover of being there for that reason in the first place. Anything extra she found - like his purse - was hers for the trouble.

Bull’s brow immediately creases at the suggestion, but it looks like he doesn’t have a better one. He licks his lips, his expression tight with thought for a moment, before he ultimately shakes his head. She’s right. He hadn’t really thought about the spectacle of two qunari because he so rarely thinks of himself as- he shouldn’t think like that, and he knows that.

“Yeah, okay,” he says, fussing with the red cloth around his neck uncomfortably. “But look- this job isn’t the end of the world. If it gets to be too much, you can back out. I’m not gonna sacrifice your health and well-being for a stupid key. I’ll cover for you when we go back to Fisher if you gotta back out. I’ll make it my fault, and we’ll do something else.”

With no more time to lose, he heads for the door.

Killing Rats

[ridethebull]

scandaloussparkler:

“Figured as much.” He tried in vain to keep his voice at a brisk clip, to hide the relief he felt at having company at a time like this. Of course, this meant he owed the Bull a favor in return, but he could dwell on that thought later. For all Dorian knew, he might not get a chance to return the favor.

Instead of the gloom and doom he’d been expecting, the days he spent travelling at the Bull’s side were almost pleasant. Dorian nearly forgot what they were riding towards at times. The culinary arts were quite beyond the vint, but he tried at times. It was better than sitting there, thinking. Or staring at the Bull as he worked. He still didn’t quite know what to make of the man’s help, nor of the cavalier way he went about his business when there was so much to be said, but he tried not to dwell on it too long.

The nights were far worse. He spent them inside his own head, fretting quietly about everything. They were obviously walking into a trap, and if they were, there was precious little time left. If they failed, if his father brought enough people to overwhelm them, so many ifs swirled through his head that every scrap of sleep he found was hard won, and often not worth the effort.

On more than one occasion, Dorian’s voice broke the silent of the night. He never shared why, never went to the Bull for comfort come the morning, but Dorian rode closer to his side on those mornings.

Finally, they arrived, and all his chances to run or actually talk about what had transpired between them had slipped by like water through a sieve. “As amusing as the thought of father’s face when he hears that I arrived riding a throne carried by a Qunari would be, I’d… like your hands free, if possible.” And I’d like for you to be there with me. But of course, Dorian didn’t quite say that.

His nose crinkled softly as he looked up at the door, then up at the Bull. “If anyone makes a move on either of us, we kill all of them. That should send our message loud and clear.” Dorian’s gaze hardened, back straightening as he brushed a bit of imagined dirt off of the Bull’s arm and threw the tavern doors open, but the place was-

“Deserted?” Arching his brow, The mage stepped in, scanning the place for any signs of life. “This doesn’t bode well…”

“Not too late to turn tail and run,” he says, following in after Dorian. All the little hairs on the back of his neck are standing up now, nothing about this feels good. High alert well and truly triggered, he’d probably chop a chair in half right now if it fell over and startled him. 

Then a voice comes, a voice that Dorian recognizes well, but sounds like snakes to the qunari. He closes his hand around the smaller axe on his hip, just for comfort, as a figure comes down the stairs dressed in robes. 

“Dorian.” he says only. Bull’s hand creaks on his axe. The old man’s eyes flick from Dorian to the Bull for a moment, and Bull takes pride in the flexing of the tendons in his neck. 

Bull just waits on the word. One word’s all it’ll take and he’ll put this axe right through that guy’s face. Other than that, he just waits on Dorian to talk to this vassal and give him a good verbal smack-down to send back to his father.

[ridethebull]

kaaras-adaar:

Kaaras didn’t know what that meant. Any of it. Bull hoped it was a dream. So… he didn’t mean to kiss him? He didn’t want to kiss him? Didn’t want to deal with the repercussions? He knew that this was difficult for someone who had never experienced a romantic relationship, but in truth, Kaaras probably wasn’t any better at this than Bull was. He’d only ever been in one serious relationship, and it ended on bad terms. 

His gut felt tight as it formed a knot. His nerves turned to dread, as he realised that he was being rejected. No… that was fine. He had expected this anyway–but that didn’t mean it was any easier to deal with. 

Bull was wrong in the way he felt, though. He wasn’t some person who was heartless. He cared about people and things every day, even if he didn’t want to believe that. He saved his boys from the Qun, he cared about Cole, who was a spirit in a boy’s body. He stuck up for mages, such as himself and Dorian, even Solas. Bull wasn’t heartless, he knew how to care for people, he just didn’t know how to acknowledge that. Conditioning from the Qun, he suspected.

Nonetheless, he didn’t want this to be hard for Bull. That’s not how relationships should be.

“I understand,” he murmured, though the hurt in his voice was probably obvious, despite his attempts to keep it professional and neutral. “I don’t want to make this hard on you, Bull. I can’t make my feelings go away, it’s not how things work, but I will keep things professional between us.” He gave him a nod, as if that was a promise. 

“I appreciate you letting me know, either way. Thank you.” 

The Bull feels his chest clench when Kaaras responds. It shouldn’t have, he anticipated this. What was it he was hoping for? He wanted to reject Kaaras and then have the boss beg, or grovel, and then he’d- what? Cave in? So it wasn’t his idea? That’s not fucking fair. 

“Wait,” he stands up when Kaaras turns to leave. He didn’t think farther than that, so when the Inquisitor turns to look back at him, his mouth goes dry. He swallows thickly, feels the backs of his ears burn. “I... I got nothing.”

Makes him feel like a fool to admit, but he doesn’t have any more insight into what he wants than he did five minutes ago. He had an idea of what he should do, what he’s expected to do. What the Qun would have demanded of him, but... he’s not part of the Qun anymore. For the first time in fifty years, he’s not receiving orders anymore. He has to regulate his own damn life and it’s a lot to deal with. 

“I don’t know what I want,” he admits, because it’s a nicer way to say that he’s scared. “Maybe... you should start. Tell me what you want.”

By the dragon

[ridethebull]

renegxdemage:

       “ Yes. Well, you came to the right place…” Few knew how to find him so easily. The ‘hooker’ and her elven companion could have been from the Blooming Rose. The young men and women who worked there often employed his talents to cure them of various… ailments. They were charming and good natured but he would have to politely decline any payment they offered. Some could be pretty insistent. Those who haunted street corners came to him for other reasons too. They tore him up inside but there was little he could do for them beyond his capacity as a healer. Hawke had most likely dived in valiantly without thinking of his own safety,  throwing himself between two complete strangers and imminent danger. Typical.

             A brief examination revealed nothing more than a few minor cuts and bruises that could be easily mended. The most notable being a laceration on Hawkes temple. The skin around it was already turning an interesting variety of blues. 

             “ And what about you? ” he addressed the Qunari who stood quietly peering around his clinic with some interest. He seemed amiable enough. “ I can look at that cut on your shoulder if you like. And thank you for saving Hawke. He tends to be… rather forgetful that he’s not completely invulnerable. You may call me Anders. I would like to inform this brave lunatic of his rescuer so it would be nice if I didn’t have to refer to you as ‘a Qunari’… or perhaps ‘Tal Vashoth’ given how you don’t seem to be with the ones cordoned off by the Docks. ” He was far too tired to be that concerned with causing any offense but he certainly was grateful all the same.

“What, this old thing?” he shrugs his injured shoulder, if ‘injured’ could even be said. “I’m fine, thanks doc. Your brave lunatic can call me The Iron Bull. I’m Tal Vashoth, you got that part right.”

He takes a seat on a crate of who knows what, folding his arms over his stomach and linking his ankles. “Lucky I happened by or your friend might have been in worse trouble. Slinging magic around on the streets of this city these days isn’t the smartest move. Might wanna have a chat with him about discretion.”

[ridethebull]

@renegxdemage // cont. from here 

“Yeah, my tattoos,” at least the qunari seems good natured. “I believe this belongs to you?” He drops an unconscious man in robes face-down on an empty cot in the healer’s clinic.

“He’s fine. Just knocked out cold.  Saw him trying to fight a whole band of thugs with the help of a dalish elf and... a hooker, I think. I stepped in to help, and the girls went off together after pointing me in this direction.”

[ridethebull]

scandaloussparkler:

It wasn’t the answer Dorian thought he would hear, but it was the answer that dark, selfish part of him was hoping for. He could put on a brave face, hide his fear behind bravado, but it was still there, festering behind all that rage like a cancer. The Bull didn’t make it all go away, but his kind offer made it easier for Dorian to breathe with this malaise constricting his heart.

He didn’t give the Bull an answer, just watched him go with an odd look on his face. Once the points of those broad horns disappeared, he stopped looking.

A half hour wasn’t a long time to prepare, especially when Dorian wasn’t sure whether to come as himself or go dressed up like the veritable Magister’s son in all his resplendence. As the minutes ticked by, Dorian opted for compromise. Dark leathers thick enough to offer protection but not rough enough to ruin his fine skirts, various enchanted rings and talismans that didn’t look too gaudy and his battle staff, the one with a coppery dragon coiling over the top. It would have to do.

By the time he’d saddled up the ‘bog unicorn’- that ghastly, undead beast that no one else had the sensibility to ride, it was too late to run. The Bull was already there, blocking his only exit. If he tried, Dorian knew they could outrun him. His mount wouldn’t tire, it hardly required any maintenance at all, but what was the point? He wasn’t foolish enough to bolt off on his own and get killed.

“I suppose you haven’t changed your mind?” He hummed as he approached the Bull, frowning down at him from the saddle.

“Nope. Haven’t changed my mind,” Bull says, leading his own horse by the reins. He looks Dorian up and down. “If nothing else you’ll at least intimidate the crap out of the guy meeting you in the tavern. You look, uh,” he decides to stop himself right there, it’s getting too close to flirting to sound appropriate for the moment. He clears his throat and hops up onto his horse, and they shove off. 

It’s a long ride to the Hinterlands, a couple days at least, most of which is filled with almost total silence. But it’s not the worst kind of silence, it’s comfortable and companionable, the kind of silence that is only made more comforting when it resumes after a short moment of shared words, when negotiating meals and setting up camp. Bull puts in a little extra work at camp instead of playfully ribbing the mage to help more, if only because he knows how important it is for him to arrive at Redcliffe looking as spotless as he was when he left Skyhold. It surprises him to realize how far he’d go to make sure Dorian’s comfortable.

As they approach Redcliffe, he pulls his horse close to the mage’s to share a moment of conversation before the oncoming storm.

“So. Plan of attack. You want me waiting outside? Want me to come in and look menacing behind you? I’ll carry you in on a fucking chair if you want.”

[ridethebull]

pelle-lavellan:

What more could he really ask for? Bull and Pelle were simply people when in a fight. For one Pelle seldom did anything damaging given his abilties, most of what he did was to support his companions rather than destroy his enemies. Second of all, Pelle was more the type to analyze the situation and formulate a strategy, Bull just liked hitting things and somehow that seemed to work out for him most of the time. 

The elf grinned sheepishly when he caught Bull subtly searching for some kind of leftover residue on his bruise. “You feeling your face to see if I have healing kisses or something?” He teased. 

In truth, a very strange truth, technically yes he could do that. All he would have had to do was channel the export point of his magic somewhere else other than his fingertips and it was done. The elf could heal with his toes if he wanted to really, just most people including himself would be slightly creeped out by an elf placing their bare foot on your wound to heal you. Plus it was counter productive since Pelle tended to have filthy feet. 

The thought of healing someone with his toes caused Pelle to giggle. Once he’d gotten that much out he sighed. “I appreciate the honesty.” Said the elf. “Luckily for you I’ll be around if you get yourself banged up again.” 

“Maybe I am,” he says, dropping his hand from the bruise. “Maybe I need to check. Make sure you aren’t slipping me some crazy mind control magic through your lips.” 

He cups a big hand to the back of Pelle’s neck. “It’s my job as Ben Hassrath, you know. I’ve gotta write a report about your lips, later.”

[ridethebull]

reilinwarad:

Reilin spilled the details of his nightmare.  He had relived the accident in Seheron that took Mani from him.  He was remembering details with each nightmare.  Arvaarad had been the one to push them to leave, he had been on to Mani’s plan to serve for money so they could pay for Reilin’s education.  It was either leave or be torn apart from one another so…Mani chose to leave.  He became Tal Vashoth for Reilin. 

Reilin might have woken up on Orlesian soil but he never truly left Seheron.

“I-I just…if I had left without him…he’d still be alive at least.”

Bull holds Reilin against his chest, his heart clenching up. He doesn’t even know how to begin to comfort the other man, so he just rocks him in his lap and pets his hair and shoulder, brushing his tears away whenever he can. 

“Yeah, maybe,” he says. There’s no use in lying. “But do you think he would’ve been happy?”

[ridethebull]

theirvoices:

@ridethebull ♥’d for a starter

“So.. you’re joined the Inquisition, for whatever reason… Ben-Hassrath spying, payment…” Feyriel waved a hand. The man had been honest so far… he still didn’t trust him, but then… Feyriel didn’t trust anyone.

He looked him over, considering. “… but you’re also a leader. Tell me; what do you make of this band of idiots?” He inclined his head towards Haven. “Our weaknesses, our strengths… I need a relatively outside perspective, and you don’t seem to be bogged down by shemlen politics.”

The last thing he expected was for his new boss to come to him first thing in the morning outside his tent and start talking politics with him, but he’s not exactly bothered. He pulls up a second stump and offers it to the elf, as well as inclining his mug of hot coffee that qualifies as a small bucket.

“Honestly, I think you got the start of something here. Well, you don’t. They barely seem to listen to you, despite putting their thumbs up your ass about being Andraste’s pet monkey. But that Cassandra, she seems capable enough to lead, if she’d just commit. Doesn’t seem like she wants to, though. Neither does the templar. What I think is that you all need to elect a leader. You’re going to crash and burn before you even get started if you don’t have a leader.”

[ridethebull]

kaaras-adaar:

Good. Kaaras wasn’t sure if Bull was aware of what this conversation might entail, but he seemed more than compliant with talking. Perhaps that was just because Kaaras was the Inquisitor, and his boss (for now). Bull always had the option to leave, but he was being paid here, so he figured what mercenary would honestly leave such a great opportunity behind?

Without another word, the Vashoth followed the larger qunari up the stairs so they had some privacy to talk. He didn’t even think about other people watching them as they ascended the stairs of the tavern. He was far more preoccupied with what he was going to say.

There were a thousand thoughts going through his mind, rushing about like a madman and all nerves suffocating his throat. But once they reached the room, all Kaaras could do was think about being direct and as forward as ever. He was good at that, so why stop now? He didn’t have the time to dance around the issue any longer.

“I asked you here. I will start,” he stated as if that were necessary and the right thing to do. “I wanted to talk about us. About what you said to me in that healing tent. I don’t know if you’re aware, or remember, or if you were half out of your mind. It’s what I wanted to clarify.”

Before everything got weird.

“Bull, I have feelings for you. If you don’t want anything to do with me in that manner, then you’re free to tell me so.” He’d not say he wouldn’t be hurt, because that’s not how things worked. 

“I will not hold anything against you, and I understand if you say you don’t harbour the same for me. I would not step out of line and I will continue to be professional with you, and consider you my friend.” 

‘Despite having kissed me, and your words.’

The Bull sighs, his arms crossed over his belly, and he keeps his eye on the ground as he listens. He looks up at Kaaras’ face, and feels his heart clench in that way he’s getting used to. He gives a breathy laugh and shakes his head, looking back down at the ground. 

“Honestly? I was hoping that was a dream.” he rubs his forehead with one hand. “Guess we’re not so lucky.”

He looks back up at the Inquisitor again, his smile almost looks sad. “Wish I could give you a cut and dry answer, boss. I appreciate your honesty, and I can’t say I’m surprised. But you’d be much better off spending your attention on someone who...”

He trails off. Someone who what? Loves him back? It’d be an outright lie if he said that. Someone who what, then? Truly, he knows, but he doesn’t even like to admit it to himself. He sighs again. 

“Someone who knows how to treat you the way you deserve.” 

By the dragon

[ridethebull]

luto-lavellan:

The elf sat up wish a little-lopsided grin on his face. “Really? Oh but I don’t want to make Varric loose his job as a writer…” Luto looked ready to pass out. “Ya know what, we should go fight another dragon tomorrow! Maybe the one in The Hissing Wastes!”

Bull throws his head back with a laugh. “I like your enthusiasm, boss! But I don’t think you’ll convince anyone else that one dragon a week isn’t enough. Let’s get you to bed and see how you feel in the morning before you go making any promises.” 

He pats the elf on the back. “Need me to carry you?”

💋

Luto had had one too many drinks in the tavern. He and his party had just come back from the Hinterlands which for the most part was safe now that the dragon there had been taken care of. And to celebrate, he and The Iron Bull had gone drinking. He should have mentioned that he was a lightweight especially when they were drinking a really strong qunari drink.

The elf was currently zoning in and out of focus, babbling about something. “Mister Bull, you are reaaally cool! The way you went ‘argh!’ and ‘wam!’ when you fought the dragon!” he giggled and leaned over to try and give him a friendly kiss on the cheek but slipped and planted a kiss on this chest.