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Reblog to have the most homoerotic year of your life 2024

Ross Flanigan

Fadel Alkhamisi. IG: @fadel_alkhamisi

redraw of an old thing i never liked, finally getting it out of my system!

please enjoy A Test Of Time!Dorian with Bull’s oversized tee, neon tattoos and dracolisk pajama pants eating “Magic Crisps” and reading… well, Varric Tethras’s “The Pirate Prince” best selling romance novel…..

Reblog if the Iron Bull romance gives you inordinate amounts of joy

A Few Knots

The website I had this on got shut down, so I figured I share it here at least. Follows the idea of “Are we surprise Bull loves ropework when Qunari use it in their culture to begin with?”

Everyday he dragged himself from scratchy, thin blankets. His gray, torn skin shining with sweat from the hot that hung in the air, a heat that would drown and stifle lesser beings. Like the Vints, terrible beasts who hid in robes beneath luscious canopies and sent their betters to fight for them.

Everyday he hated life a bit more, gripped the sword a bit tighter like they were trying to rip the very scriptures of Koslun from his hands. He pushed the piercing screams, the endless darkness, the boiling anger down just a bit more and waited for the lead to loosen too much. Till there was just enough to hang himself with, to turn into one of the directionless monsters that prow just out of sight.

He paused in his motions at that thought, a chuckle forced out of him as he loosened the knot of rope in his hand. Coincidental humor was one of the few pleasures Hissrad could even see before him any more.

He twirled the thick rope in his hands, wondering if he could stand one more day of the same old thing. Ropes lashed without thought into place, feet planted without want, and sword swung without mercy.

He wouldn’t last without Something more and so he looked at the rope longer. The loops there, in his mind, and then he changed it…

He took the bright rope and spun it around his arm. Firm, latticed back and forth. Barely regulation, but clean and tight. It grounded him, it freed him.

A weary smile graced his face, fingers looped and laced intricate knots along the length. Meaningless knots, knots hidden beneath necessary ones to hold it together.

All together, it was a spectacle. A gorgeous masterpiece, an act of rebellion…of safe rebellion. Harmless and just for him, a brightness he needed among the bodies of good soldiers and lost friends.

Hissrad needed that small act for him and the Qun would get what it needed.

The Iron Bull grins slow and sleepy, his eyes still shut as he remembers Hissrad, himself. He rubs his scarred hands along the back laying in his arms, the nubs left on his left hand curling against the dips and burns from his rope. His light touches coaxing a sleepy groan from his companion.

He catalogues each knot and design he pressed and left upon their skin only a bit earlier, pulling each memory of the same marks he had made upon himself.

He needed that, this, little act of rebellion and They would have what they needed.

So I made an offhand joke about trying to picture Dorian in Bull’s little butt slap smooch scene that you get with him in the romance, and brinanners asked me to actually write it. Just completely silly fun.

*

Dorian’s leaning against the wall when Bull steps out of the tavern. He’s watching the Chargers practice, hips tilted just enough to give Bull a good eyeful of his (quite frankly) gorgeous ass. Bull smiles, turning his palm out and lifting it back.

“Hey, big guy.”

Across the courtyard, the Inquisitor is talking quietly with Josephine, leaning close to see where Josephine’s finger jabs at her clipboard. She turns to explain the line to the Inquisitor just in time to hear an unearthly squawk sound from somewhere near the tavern, loud enough to frighten a flock of crows into flight off the battlements. The Inquisitor and Josephine look up sharply, Josephine nearly dropping her clipboard.

The sound is followed immediately by a bright burst of flame, and then…and then, there is all seven feet of the indomitable Iron Bull charging across the grass with the seat of his pants aflame. The Iron Fireball careens through a small crowd of scouts, then past two visiting Orlesian nobles that barely leap back in time, and finally leaping ass-first into a wide basin of rain water along the Keep wall.

For a moment, all sound in the courtyard completely ceases. Then, from the rooftop near the back of the tavern, a shrieking laugh that can only be Sera’s echoes off the walls.

“Shite!” she shouts, slapping the roof tiles, “That… was the greatest thing… I’ve ever seen in my life.”

A snicker bursts from behind Krem’s lips, and that sets the Chargers off, collapsing on top of each other. Then, one by one, the rest of the crowd erupts into laughter. And in the middle of it all stands a red-faced Dorian, with every eye turning in his direction.

After a moment he straightens, brushes some likely imaginary dust from the front of his leathers, and takes a deep bow. The crowd, delighted, begins to applaud. Dorian makes an admirably dignified if very hurried exit through the tavern door, which just happens to be the nearest.

Meanwhile, back against the wall, the Iron Bull’s laugh rings out above all the rest. He lifts a thumbs up into the air where he sits sprawled in the barrel.

“Completely worth it!”

MALIK DELGATY - Warm Welcome (2022)

Aaron Taylor-Johnson in ‘A Million Little Pieces’ (2019)

Jimbo Cooper. British Power Lifter

                                            kind of massive

Elliott Dermond

Rich Ellis

Flash Before Your Eyes

Words by Aardvark Animated transformation by BigBerserk

Twitter | Support

Finally somewhere to sit, Miller thought as he crashed his tired limbs into the cushioned seats of the museum’s screening room. Why didn’t museums ever have anywhere to sit? It made any visit so much worse - not only did you have to shuffle around looking at ugly, meaningless paintings for hours on end, but you were guaranteed to be completely exhausted by the end of it too.

“hiding out in the movie room lol,” Miller texted one of his friends. “i just can’t take it anymore. lmk if you guys get far away and i’ll catch up.” He got a thumbs up emoji in response and then jumped to TikTok, grinning as he viewed prank video after prank video. Since no one else was in the screening room, he turned the volume up and let himself laugh out loud.

Miller didn’t notice the lights of the room slowly dimming, or the back doors shutting with a quiet click. It was only when the sound of a string orchestra surged that he looked up from beneath his baseball cap. An odd series of colors flashed across the screen as he watched, and they made him tired, his eyes lolling sleepily. “Good thing I’m not epi…epileptic,” he said, and his tongue felt like molasses. Even when he looked back down at his phone, he felt like he was underwater, stuck in a world where everything was buffering. He could suddenly feel the start of each breath from deep within him, and his ears picked up on minute sounds from elsewhere, like a vacuum running somewhere nearby, and the chatter of voices outside the door. It was like he was plugged into the museum itself.

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lol

Is there any action more uplifting than this? Well, I guess punching a nazi in the face - but this is still pretty high on the list!

Reblog if you agree.