#beefcakequnari

[foppishdandy]

just you and i? ’

ask box meme. || @beefcakequnari

The Inquisition, such as it was, had earned its notoriety through its rapidly expanding reach. Even its advisors had become something of modern legend among the lower classes. It had its uses to a point, but that particular point ends when situations called for a subtle touch. Illusion and deception, that is.

Dorian, in his wisdom of the present party, volunteered himself and The Iron Bull to cause a proper distraction. A subterfuge so that the Inquisitor could infiltrate the space behind the town's humble prayer house.

"Who better, than you and I?"

He straps his staff firmly across his back, adjusting his gloves with a tug. "There are none better suited for diversion. Doubtful they have ever laid eyes on more symmetrical features than mine. Or anyone as... considerable in taking up space such as yourself. Grunt about our ancestral feud for a few minutes. It'll be the most memorable thing in their provincial lives since..." His hand searches the air for the answer. "...demons pouring out of the rifts, at the very least."

[lightlorn]

"I'm stealing qun-noodling."

“Stealing? When did you become a rogue? Buy it for a single bit and save yourself the embarrassment, Bull.”

[kyouminaine]

“You’re not dead.”

Witcher sentence prompts | @beefcakequnari 

     Bright blue eyes looked up at the qunari dryly. “I haven’t done anything to warrant my death.” He leaned back a bit, tilting his head to better meet the larger male’s gaze. “Were you concerned that I might be?”

[hopewrought]

She was supposed to be one of the good ones, one of those that he wouldn't have to worry about, her own words. That she wouldn't become one of those Bas-Saarebas that were bent on destruction, that were going to ruin the world. It's with a wet squelch that his axe is pulled from what used to be her torso- there is no satisfaction in this kill. Her staff is taken from her, broken and tossed away to ensure that there wouldn't be some type of resurrection, that is the last thing that he needed now.

my muse is dead; how does yours deal with it || @beefcakequnari

posting this super late but i love it and this totes could have happened in say, a scenario where beth is forcibly made to do that ritual plan of clarel’s and ends up one of the possessed warden mages at adamant :^) 

[invertxgo]

Because he wants someone who is willing to put him in his place, a challenge and for someone to see through his bullshit

“Hey, quick question, did you just call me out for being a sub? Is that what just happened here? You calling me out for being a sub and a brat?”

[mvndus]

stop!

@beefcakequnari | Stop!

A sword stands upright on it’s own, unnaturally levitated by magic at the center of a pentagram. Monotone chant of the winged maleficar does not halt at the Qunari’s cry, nor does he so much as acknowledge the new presence beyond the barrier. His sacrifice, a mage left in a sleep-like state, is then grabbed by the throat with a single hand and dragged effortlessly toward the pentagram for the awaiting blade. The lifeless limbs started to wake and then thrash for freedom, the sleep spell dispersing at the last possible moment of sparing the mage a painless death. 

              ❛ Manaveris… Somnoborium… ❜ Becomes the new chant of his tevene tongue. He lifts the mage’s body high upon approaching the blade, a dark aura visibly growing around him as well as the haunted sword. There is no hesitation in his next movement, Impaling the helpless body upon the sword with enough force to bounce their skull off the ground as well. The fresh spill brought life to the pentagram like a flame to a candle wick, illuminating in shades of red and white. 

His chanting stops. Blood beaded up from the forming puddle and through the victim’s enchanted fabrics, becoming a whirlwind that twisted around Mundus’ arm as he released his victim’s neck, climbing up to his shoulder and face where it appeared to be absorbed as magic. He throws his head back as the sclera turns a blood red around the pearl gray hues, taking the blood into himself in euphoric display, wings wide at his backside.

[bakgola]

“Your heartbeat’s really loud.”

speak softly. /// accepting. /// @beefcakequnari

   Thunder rolled overhead. A torrential rain whipped the jungles every which way, and from the safety of a shared, shallow cave, the pair can see the weather wreaking havoc. As far as they dared to enter, the jagged walls formed a dome of sorts. The shape lends itself to peculiar acoustics --- what little conversation they shared bounced inside the shelter.

   Bakgola was crouched beside the meager pile of twigs and leaves --- what was dry enough to be considered kindle --- that they had collected. Dutiful eyes watched the entrance, such concentration that he nearly began to blend in with the cavern minutiae. 

   The storm lulled for a moment. In the pause, the stable thumping of Bakgola’s heart echoed back at them. Apparently, he’s disturbed the other.

   “I am sorry,” he muttered, letting loose a breath while he stood. “It is quiet right now. But the storm is not over just yet.”

[aglaecan]

............

hi hon

[divinitatem]

Me realizing that Urian and Iron Bull are similar: Yikes Yikes Yikes

[cul-en-blog]

Sexily poses to welcome you back

regret.png / @beefcakequnari

[foppishdandy]

Gossip in the tavern is that you ran off and eloped with someone. Don’t worry, I told them all it was just a fling, youre welcome.

“It wasn’t,” he lied corrects. “You are in the presence of a married man now. I’ll only accept sovereigns as gifts.”

[aegisregalis]

Slides him some Maraas Lok, not that he's been paying attention and knows it's his birthday or anything.

@beefcakequnari is a big ol’ softie that wants to celebrate Gladio’s birthday

It’s the scent of the beverage that hits him first before thesound of the bottle grazing over the unpolished wood of the table. The aroma, sharpand jagged, unmistakable the way it forcefully beckons for attention. Gladioluscan’t quite place what its smells like, an amalgam of charred blood lotus, the sickly-sweetedges of Tevinter ink and… was that druffalo piss? But the silent gesture isn’tlost on him and he reaches for the proffered gift and drank of it thankfully.It’s a bit warmer that he would like it to be, but the sweet burn down hisgullet is a welcome one and beggars can’t be choosers when you’re stuck in themiddle of nowhere, waiting out the rough of the storms at batter the StormCoast. 

“Thank you,” he says finally, his chin tipping upward toward hiscompanion a teasing grin sending the corners of his mouth curling. “Didn’tthink you cared, big guy.”

[kyouminaine]

You miss me?

@beefcakequnari​ 

     “It’s pretty noticeable when someone your size isn’t in the room.”

[hopewrought]

So how about that Qun

a recruitment drive doomed to fail || @beefcakequnari

She remembers. 

A qunari bound. Eyes covered. Body weighed down by heavy collar and pauldrons, draped in chains. A mask denying even his vision. 

The Qun’s word for her kind means ‘dangerous thing’. A weapon to be leashed. Until that day, she had believed the circle to be the worst potential fate for a mage. 

After having watched Ketojan immolate himself, Bethany had nightmares for weeks of her lips being sewn shut. 

     “Even if you could take my trauma and grant me certainty; it would only mean I was broken in a different way. I’d rather be sad than brainwashed and leashed.”

[invertxgo]

"Have you ever thought of attacking me?"

Yes Or No || Accepting

‘As if’ wasn’t an option in this game, exactly. Nor was requesting a definition of ‘attack’, or pointing out that they were both people trained to be aware of their... Options, in any given situation. So he’s making some assumptions with what, exactly, Bull means here. Taking the question to mean ‘Have you ever considered wounding me in a permanent manner’, despite that not what was asked, means the answer is simple enough to put into one word. “No.”

[mvndus]

What is your biggest regret?

                ❛ Regret stems from a need to be forgiven. Forgiveness of another or from one’s own disappointments. Iron Bull. Do I give the impression of one whom desires forgiveness?  I am...divine-- A devil. Unequal and unyielding to any force in the realms. ❜ All of his actions, his impure hunger and even darker whims originate from a selfish desire to thrive in existence. He is nothing short of being driven to act of his own will no matter the consequences that follow. A disposition that comes with being born of the vile world and named for it, as well as regal status over an entire dominion. There is no regret in living a life, living by one’s own hands as he has lived his life. 

 He could not be warded from seeing this need for repentance in the eyes of his victims, either. That is why he catered to their regrets. For personal gain or entertainment in the misery, of all mortal influences, it is by far the easiest to desecrate. No one is ever strong enough, brave enough, wise enough. The Demon King could never be so fragile. Though he has recognized his fall, the mistake is the Black Devil’s and the cockroaches he spawned to follow him to death. How could a demon king’s might properly be tested without power unhinged enough to challenge it? It had to be of his former Right Hand. No hunter has ever regretted a prey that did not satisfy.  ❛ I am not so far from my former supremacy, as well. My power will rise again. ❜   

With a smile at the minotaur-like male. ❛ I am, forever, The Darkness Mundus. I do not regret anything. ❜