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semi public ? 👀 for the kinks ?? he may have ideas..
send in kinks and my muse will rate them.
definitely not | no | not really | it's okay | kinda | yes | fuck yes | there goes my pants bonus: giving | receiving | both
I THINK HAWKE THINKS IT'S SOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO HOT!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!1
“What was it like being in the Grey Wardens? Any interesting tales?”
@aposthates liked this for a one liner!
for @aposthates (contd. from here!)
she was exhausted -- that much was clear with her mumbled words to anders, a hand running over her face. she could feel the bags getting heavier under her eyes, could feel her gait slowing and shoulders slumping. hawke was running herself RAGGED. between the bandits and the gangs throughout the city, the viscount thinking that she was some sort of MIRACLE worker, and everyone's problems (which they were allowed to have! but andraste's flaming tits -- there sure were a lot of them!), hawke just felt like she was falling APART.
his question forced her out of her stupor, eyes sore and ever blinking as a sigh escaped plush, frowning lips. "i can't remember the last time i was alright," came a dry remark forced through a chuckle -- ever the jokester. she was sure on her deathbed, she would have one last smart remark to make.
she could FEEL his gaze, didn't even need to meet his eyes to know exactly how he was looking at her. and she felt... small. bare. like she couldn't HIDE. his suggestion almost made her wince. she DID need help -- but how much? more than he could provide, she was sure. and nobody should have to give that much help. she shouldn't have to take and take and TAKE. a sigh at his proximity and for once, she just wanted to lean against him -- against SOMEONE. "i just need a moment. or twenty. maker -- i'm sorry, anders." guilt seeped in. she wasn't supposed to be bothering him with her sorry issues. he had enough on his plate. she turned slightly, just enough to meet his eyes full on as her expression softened.
"i just need an ale and maybe more than three hours of sleep for once. don't you worry about me -- i've lasted this long, haven't i?"
[ zip up ] sender assists receiver with buckling their armor. || @aposthates
ellis had been trying to throw on his armor quickly as possible. he wore it nearly every day, regardless of his task. it was meant to be a statement that he would fight to live, a dare to anyone who would try to take that right from him.
unfortunately, every once in a great while, he had to shed his extra skin. it was uncomfortable to sleep in, especially when they were camping. it was never a function he was fond of, but he always seemed to be in need of. when he woke up, it was in a foul mood & putting the armor back on had frustrated him quickly. anders must have noticed, because he had offered a bit of help. ellis was very secretly thankful for his intervention.
it was terrifying, in a way. trusting anders with his defenses, with his life. some part of him was thankful that the mage cared enough to help him, thankful that he now had a hand in ellis' survival. it's often difficult to trust his new recruits. there were so many unknowns on the horizon & they would be a part of every single one. ellis' armor was more important to him than any shield or sword, it's what would save him. or maybe it was the man fastening the straps on his back that would be doing the saving.
" thank you, " it's a set of words he doesn't use often, but he means them. he raises them to keep himself from getting angry at himself for not being able to do it on his own. to hide how the sentiment cuts into him, " i usually wouldn't be caught dead without armor. "
@aposthates liked for a starter
the clinic is quiet for once, the few remaining patients already sleeping in their cots. edmund hawke leans casually against the doorway as he watches anders tidy up, arms crossed, his staff slung over his back.
"you know, anders," hawke begins, his voice carrying that typical edge of dry humor, i think you spend so much time down here because you’re secretly afraid of fresh air. what is it—too sunny up top? burn easily, do you? or are you just dodging another one of varric’s stories?"
edmund, of course, knows it's deeper than that, but when can he ever resist some light teasing?
"not that i blame you, mind," edmund sighs. "if i have to hear one more exaggeration about my own heroics, i might start hiding too."
“I don’t need a break. I’m okay.”
━━ KARL'S HANDS REST HEAVILY ON ANDER'S SHOULDERS, BEGGING THE MAGE TO LOOK AT HIM ; yet Anders persists his work, swaying on his feet as his magic sputters.
❝ Let me, ❞ Karl says quietly into Anders' ear, stepping beside him.
The fledging healer hovers his palms over Anders', eyes fluttering closed as he strains to channel his own Spirit within. Compassion stirs weakly as Karl's brows knit. The Fade called to his fingers coalesces thinly above the back of Anders' hands, using the mage as a conduit as though he were a breathing staff ; steadying the flow of his magic.
The wound he has labored to heal knits gradually, leaving a puckered scar that would've otherwise been smooth if Anders hadn't pushed himself so hard.
❝ There, ❞ Karl half groans, half sighs, nearly stumbling.
His head vibrates as Compassion recoils like an overstretched band of leather. He breathes deep a breath of mana and reaches again for Anders' shoulder as the injured man eases himself off the table with effusive gratitude.
❝ Now you can rest. Please, ❞ Karl urges, tugging Anders gently, ❝ You are of no use to anyone in your state.❞
❛ promise me you’ll still be here when i wake up. ❜ ....
Assortment of Dialogue Prompts | Accepting
━━━ KARL WASN'T ENTIRELY SURE HIMSELF, BUT HE WASN'T ABOUT TO LET THAT GET IN THE WAY. He smiles despite the uncertainty, the Spirit within him aching at the heavy bags under Anders' eyes ━━ the gauntness of his cheeks. The compassion is raw and new, intense as a wound and he feels it everywhere. Perhaps that is the only reason Anders has finally conceded to rest.
❝ I will not move an inch of my own volition, ❞ Karl promises, a hand cupping the other mage's cheek, gentle thumb across the protruding bone.
Pointedly, he sits on the floor next to Anders' bed, knees folded with idle hands upon them.
❝ Now sleep, ❞ he instructs, though the words may have been teasing years ago, they sound beseeching, like a plea. ❝ I will be right here. ❞
Despite his verbal confidence and the assumption that remaining near was entirely for Anders' benefit, Karl's eyes remained fixed on the other mage's face as he slumbered ; the familiar sight an anchor to the here and now, keeping the nagging feeling of insubstantiality at bay, if by inches.
@aposthates inquired : there's more that you aren't telling me . inbox prompt : the dragon's hoarde ( fantasy - based prompts ). prompt status : accepting !
𝐇𝐈𝐒 𝐄𝐗𝐏𝐑𝐄𝐒𝐒𝐈𝐎𝐍 𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐄𝐋𝐒 𝐈𝐓𝐒𝐄𝐋𝐅 against any would - be tells that could fuel more of the other's accusations . lying came easy to solas , even after awaking a millennia from the last time his feet had touched solid ground , now surrounded by those who did not know their world was but a fragment of what he once called home . a home he destroyed in a haze of grief and desperation , one he sought to revert now that all the fractures the fade had left both on and in his physical form had healed .
ㅤㅤㅤ❛ perhaps , though i imagine there are many things one would want to keep close to their chest , no ? ❜ through effort his tone is even , there is no hiding how pointed his words actually are . the mage's free hand moved to rest against his own staff , leaning his weight against it with a tired hum . though the other mage's curiosity was understood , there was a slight exasperation on the elf's part at having to weave lies that would be stable enough to last for as ever long as they'd be in each other's company .
ㅤㅤㅤ❛ in the current conflict it would be unwise to be frivolous with such significant information , the line between friend and foe often blurs in times of strife . ❜
