Attack of the Fenpaca

spicyshimmy:

frikadeller:

When all else fails, Anders’ dick rescues the day (◡‿◡✿)

With Anders’s fingers in Hawke’s hair and his lips pulled wide, all possible lines run through Hawke’s flushed span of attention, each one better than the last.

Turns out the best part of the sandwich is the meat.

Don’t worry, I’ll get to the buns next, but you’ll have to turn over…

Haha, get it? Turn over, turnover…

It’s in keeping with the food and food products theme.

Sigh. Everyone’s a critic.

Tell me, Anders, is this how they polish a staff in the Circle?

Could use a dash more seasoning, to tell you the truth.

What sort of vintage would you suggest with a big meal like this?

Hmphg Hurghgm mfrph.

Now imagine how much easier this would be if you wore a skirt like any other mage.

I would drown us both in blood if it would keep you safe. …There, now you see how that can be a terrifying image, especially in regards to intimate acts, don’t you?

Varric’s hiding in the closet—what do you say we invite him to have a lick or two?

Are your eyes closed?

Are you sure?

How many fingers am I holding up your—

All right, your eyes are absolutely, positively closed? This isn’t a sela petrae not-quite-the-truth-of-the-matter situation?

Well, in that case, I regret to inform you that it’s the mabari licking you, not me.

Ow.

That hurt.

You have excessively bony knees—has anyone ever told you that?

They’re like weapons in the middle of your legs.

Cute, rosy weapons.

Remarkable how I can do this and talk so much, isn’t it?

I love the way you laugh when you—

Like it’s such a surprise that anyone could make you feel…something. Something better.

And the only punishment you have to suffer for it is the conversation.

Which isn’t so bad, all things considered.

But, Hawke supposes, the best things are always left unspoken.  

spicyshimmy:

frikadeller:

SILLY BABBUS <3

A GUIDE TO SMOOCHING AN APOSTATE ON THE RUN
Read This, It Has Naughty Bits

• Chances are, if you know an apostate on the run, and he’s wearing feathers of any kind, then he’s going to have a long nose and a face that doesn’t know when it’s smiling.
• Don’t worry. You can get around the nose without losing an eye or anything else handsomely important—although an eye patch, now there’s an idea—and even if there’s stubble, a soft, semi-smiling, silly mouth is the best sort for kissing, especially on the run.
• Not while running, though. 
• You’ll definitely lose an eye if you kiss while running.
• That nose is a classified weapon. Disturber of the peace. Wanted from Nevarra to Cumberland for various acts of blatant destruction. 
• NOTE – kissing an apostate on the run is less lonely, disturbed, pathetic, slobbery (if only by a slight margin) and whiskery than mabari kisses.
• NOTE – try not to bring up the mabari while one tongue is in another mouth. 
• Apparently it ruins the mood.
• …More than other topics such as: bomb feces, possession, handsome elves, curious dwarves, how Donnic trims his sideburns and whether or not he does the same on his chest and other areas, sandwiches, salamanders, and phallic tubers.
• NOTE – still, despite cranky faces, apostates on the run love phallic tubers. 
• NOTE – countryside blessed with a bounty of phallic tubers.
• NOTE – suggest manifesto topic be changed to the plight of the phallic tuber. 
• NOTE – perhaps a thousand and twelve things might cross your mind while you are kissing an apostate on the run. Where he’ll sleep. What he’ll dream of. The nightmares you share, just never completely. Whether he’s comfortable; if he knows what comfort is. If you’ve forgotten, too. If the smile is only a memory, a shadow, an echo. A reflection in muddied water. Something to do with muscles more than medicine. Who’s healing whom, and whether or not the city you loved is on fire again, and how many more miles and miles it’s going to be before you rest your weary boots at the foot of a cozy bed, and find a weary chest to rest a weary head. 
• But then, of course, you close your eyes.
• And your noses battle like wooden practice swords. 
• And you kiss, for a while, beneath a blushing sun.