the warden throws open their windows to see a really weird, really obviously unordinary swirling green sky. they turn back to yell to alistair,
“honey?” “what?" “where’s my supersuit?" “what?!”
So it begins
THIS. MOTHERFREAKING THIS.
Excuse me as I causally anonymously mail this to all my relatives’ homes
I’ve said it before, I’ll say it again: Equating all Muslims with the Taliban or Al-Quaeda is like equating all Christians with the Westboro Baptist Church or those who bomb abortion clinics.
During his downtime between fighting demons and weird ass poisons, Iron Bull takes time to asses each of his allies’ potential as living projectiles.
This is the first (of hopefully many) collaboration between spicyshimmy and myself! I am so excited to do these fun projects with such a talented and incredible person! Her writing does most of the work for me! Go give her a follow if you haven’t already!
bull carrying a very drunk and very handsy inquisitor to their chambers, politely declining all the inquisitors offers to join them in bed
because bull will happily get you drunk enough to impress a sailor and then get you in a hundred different kinds of trouble
but take advantage of you?
Stand where you are, look around, and list whatever liquidy thing is closest to you. This is now your fanfic lube.
GO THROUGH THE TAGS ON THIS POST OH MY GOD.