It means a lot to have the Charger’s motto on the walls of a neighborhood.

It means the drug dealers shies well away from the neighborhood, encouraged by stories of bloody horns and exploding trashcans. It means the women walks a little safer at night, armed with hidden knives and little tricks to incapacitate and escape. It means less gifted children gets taken away to Circle Institutions, even though their methods of evasion are sometimes questionable (What staff? It’s a crooowbar!). It means families without medical insurance worry less, and people who got in the crossfire of the Apostate and Renegade gang fightings need not bleed out in the streets. It means there is a silent guardian watching children play in the streets, and someone to keep the teens busy with basketball and sewing lessons to keep them from joining the more violent city gangs.

It might also mean ‘signs of gang activity’ in reports to his supervisors, but Officer Rutherford only smiles at the writing on the wall as he went on with his daily patrol.

anonymous asked:

Writing prompt? Solas and Lavellan. Turns out Lavellan is a super picky eater. Either she's refusing to eat non-dalish meals (cause human food? Gross), or she's missing simply "home food" and a little home sick?

Ahhhh, I’m sorry this is so late! I wrote a bunch on it(and then I was researching stuff) and then I finally just winged it! Also I got a little worn out in the fluff department so this somewhat cracky disaster was the result. My apologies if it isn’t quite up to par <3 I just wanted to post something of the desperate attempt <3 Might actually elaborate on it at a later date when I’m in the zone…

"Humor keeps us alive. Humor and food. Don’t forget food. You can go a week without laughing."  ~ Joss Whedon

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Iron Bull Personal Quest Cutscenes

All of Iron bull’s personal quest cutscenes in Dragon Age Inquisition 

anonymous asked:

5, bull and inquisitor pleasee

"Wait a minute. Are you jealous?"

Bull knows the Inquisitor heard him, even if he doesn’t answer. Feli is an expert at hiding his emotions, but Bull is a trained fucking Ben-Hassrath (or at least he was— still not fun to think about) and his prissy prince has a peculiar little tell. His posture is already impeccable, back perfectly held in a neat little curve, shoulders back, but relaxed. But when Bull asks the question, that taut curve snaps into position, ramrod straight, bleeding tension and discomfort. Bull’s proud to say he’s one of the few people who notices, not just because he’s trained to notice, but just because he knows his kadan.

The rundown little pub isn’t crowded, hasn’t been for hours now, and Feli’s been nursing his cheap watered-down wine for a good chunk of that time, suffering the piss-poor quality like a champ (meaning he only curled his lip slightly upon the first taste).

But the bartender— a redhead— has been trying to catch Bull’s eye all night, slid him a free drink or two, winked when their eyes met. Bull’s humored the flirtation a little, to be honest, offering a smile, a wink, an occasional flex. He can tell it’s appreciated by the barkeep.

Maybe not so much by the Inquisitor.

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Eveningwear (part 15/?)

Master post here.  Link to AO3 here.


Purple is a good color on Iron Bull.

“Madame,” Dorian says approvingly, eyeing the deep blue-violet of the tight-fitting coat, the silver slashes, and the emerald accents, “your taste is exquisite.”

Vivienne turns to him, the deep red silk of her gown rustling.  She is standing at his side, as close to shoulder-to-shoulder as she can bear, one hand on her hip.  Her dress is one-shouldered, the collar of it beginning in the center of the neckline.  It rises, growing out of the drape of the satin, curving up partially around her neck, the vermilion of it showing off the elegant lines of her collarbone, neck, and jaw.  Smooth, dark skin almost glows.  “Naturally, my dear. As is my sense of dramatic fashion.”

“I would not have chosen purple,” Dorian demurs.  “I find black to make more of a statement.”

“That is so pedestrian, darling.  Small wonder people have low opinions of magisters.”

“Small wonder, indeed.  Madame, sometimes I even wear gold and red.  Shocking.”  Dorian makes an exaggerated expression of surprise, pushes his eyebrows as far up his forehead as they’ll go.

“That does elevate you above your countrymen.”  A sniff.

“Um, watching you two is entertaining and all, but can I move now?” Bull asks, breaking into the conversation.

Thierry walks over from the other side of the salon with something shiny dangling from his hand.  “Not yet, Master Iron Bull.  Madame de Fer has commissioned this eyepatch for you.  You must put it on.”

“Ma’am, you didn’t have to!” Bull exclaims.

“Don’t be silly, Iron Bull, how could I not?”  Vivienne takes the eyepatch from Thierry, and promptly hands it over to Dorian.  “Now if you could be so kind as to put it on, darling.  But turn around first, so that we do not see.”

Bull’s shoulders slump.  “Aw.  But it’s such an awesome -”

“No,” Vivienne says, ending the argument.

Dorian laughs quietly to himself as he goes to Bull.  The Qunari turns and inclines his head, pulling off his eyepatch.  Dorian slips the tie over Bull’s left horn, doesn’t look overlong at the old ruin of his eye, affixes the patch swiftly and adjusts it.  It gleams gold in late afternoon sunlight streaming in from the windows, the lyrium crystals and amethysts encrusting it sending up sparks of violet and blue.

He feels the touch of Bull’s finger, a caress, on his chin.  “Thanks, kadan.”

Dorian can’t help but color a little.  “Ah - you’re welcome.”  His voice drops to a whisper.  “Amatus.”

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Iron Bull Plushie!

Finally finished. The trousers and other clothes are removable for No Pants Friday! Materials: Fleece, leatherette, elastic, ribbon, craft foam, superglue, acrylic paint, small gem stickers, bronze permanent marker, fabric pen. Everything is hand-sewn or hand-made.

I used the amazing references from thedosianimports and miscteatime for the detail work. Thank you both so much for those. 

EDITED: To add clearer pictures.