idk. dump. first half is because I was listening to Still in the Dark and thinking about Guilty Gear crossovers. second half is because Mickie beat his run of da2 tonight.
Secondly, blame @mikkeneko for this. I’ve never done a gif/gif edit before. I couldn’t get the image’s skin tone to match because my GIMP skills are mediocre, and it’s shaky and there’s pixels off but I spent TOO LONG DOING THIS so I’m wiping my hands of it.
Perfect (AO3) Mevima Rated X Tags: Hawke/Anders, Semi-Public Sex, Rimming, Body Worship Prompt: From un-shit-yourself: you know i’m down for anything with anders and his luscious ass. i’ll let you choose his adventure. 😀
The healer had a perfect ass, and everyone knew it.
Most of them wouldn’t admit it in a thousand years, but it was hard to resist the attraction of the smooth curve that his jacket didn’t quite hide, nor the elegant sway of his hips when they traveled.
Occasionally, Aveline could be caught pursing her lips, Merrill with a delicate, high blush, or Fenris scowling deeper than usual as they hung back to trail behind the group, gaze snagged in idle contemplation. Varric was a bit more obvious about it, tilting his head to get a new angle, briefly stopping to sketch a few aesthetic lines for future reference. Isabela, of course, was positively shameless, catching the mage’s eye to lick her lips and smirk suggestively – or catching his lover’s to raise her eyebrows in open invitation.
He was rarely out of the coat, but some nights at the Hanged Man, he’d wind down and relax a little, and the simple black pants he wore – when he got up from the table to fetch another round of drinks – well, one could hardly be blamed for staring.
Garrett Hawke, though, was the only one of their little group who got to see more of that beautiful ass than just a glimpse of its shape. He delighted in groping it just out of sight of the others, giving a firm slap as they turned down an alleyway, or simply pressing him up against a tree a short distance away from where they’d camped for the night, grabbing luscious handfuls, kneading and sliding skin against skin until Anders cursed under his breath and made him stop before someone caught them.
When they were alone, though, Hawke worshipped it: the shape of it, the dimples just at the base of his spine, the firm, heart-shaped swell and the perfect cleft that led to one of his favourite places to make his healer squirm. The feel of it, too, all smooth skin with just a hint of jiggle when he smacked it hard with the flat of his hand. And the taste – laving his tongue over the curve of one cheek, biting down gently where it met the back of his thigh, finally dipping in to lap delicately and then press firmly against the near-hidden ring of muscle.
Everyone admired Anders’ perfect ass, and maybe, just maybe he encouraged it, wore his clothing just a touch too tightly and put a spring into his step, just to get these moments alone with Hawke, where he could whimper and moan and writhe, up on his knees with his face pressed into the bed under his lover’s knowing touch.
If this isn’t Anders’ outfit in DA3 then I don’t even know what the point is.
i did a thing
It’s Orlais. They stop for a while on the outskirts, and even there, far from Val Royeaux and the fashion capital of Thedas, Hawke senses they’re outclassed, at least in terms of couture.
‘I got you a thing, Anders,’ Hawke says.
‘A thing,’ Anders replies.
The last things, admittedly, in order of most to least dangerous, were: more Sela Petrae, for old times’ sake; a dragon’s eyeball, very shiny; special pair of torn trousers, once belonging to Maferath apparently, and haunted by no fewer than six opportunistic spirits; empty bottle (it was not, it turns out, so empty after all); shiny ring (of ancient power; Anders kept disappearing when putting it on); funny colored leaf (also haunted, who knew); shiny pebble (also, somehow, a dragon’s eyeball, now what are the odds?); and a box of yummy smelling incense (not incense).
‘A thing with feathers,’ Hawke says.
Anders capitulates.
‘I look like the back end of a phoenix,’ Anders says.
Queer Fortress 