Hawke and Anders from Rhiannon42’s Firefly AU.
Happy extremely late birthday!
Sorry I’m a butt.
FIREFLY AU IS LIKE fdhjkdfsfdsfdsomfgwow
bethany why you gotta be like this
it was just one little annulment
I admit I kinda like seeing art/fics of other characters joined with Justice.
Every now and then, I see a meme going around where you draw one of your favourite characters wearing what you are wearing right now. It tends to bring a lot of cheer, seeing as it frequently results in some rather unexpected fashion choices for the characters. So how about a go of that? A way to show our character and dressing preferences both!
Expectation: Somewhere, someone who loves Sten is wearing silver spandex.
Possible reality: A lot of Anders in sundresses. It will look good.
justice plz do not ooze on my clothes
lol I could do an entire week of these, but they’d all be wearing the same thing :|
HOLY MOTHER OF GOD
USUALLY I’M ONLY HALF JOKING ABOUT FINDING JUSTICE ATTRACTIVE
NOT JOKING RIGHT NOW
Oh God, Justice!
The First Enchanters of the only two free Circles in all of Thedas ought to get along, right?
Just when I think I’ve hit the ceiling of crack pairings, I land on something crackier. I REGRET NOTHING.
Cypher and I were talking a couple days ago about the Awakening crew running around Vigil’s Keep trying to hide Justice from the templars, and this silly little image came to mind.
For the full effect, imagine “Yakety Sax” playing in the background. :|
That is the most perfect thing on my dash in forever.
“FRIEND DUNCAN! IS IT NOT A GLORIOUS MORN—”
Cailan: scarred for life. :|
Happy birthday to the lovely combination-nc, beard muse and purveyor of all things Karl. And Duncan. And chess. And awkward situations in which Cailan walks in on Karl and Duncan after a night of chess debauchery.
OMG THIS MADE ME LOL SO HARD.
“I’ve been fighting for years… Anders, there are many aches you can help me with, the question is will you?”
He arched up and kissed Anders, tentatively.
Anders’ mind went blank. Fenris was kissing him.
A birthday gift for the lovely Syrenpan, courtesy of the also-lovely Cypheroftyr. Cypher sent me some RP logs, and this moment stuck out. :3
Delurking to express my joy and omg I cannot help but flail and jump around like a maniac at this. Thank you so much Hawkward!!! This is amazing…just utterly amazing. Would you mind if I got a print done? :)
… yes, this is the “I forgot to tattoo Fenris’s ass” picture, sorry for the lack of actual Fenris-ass.
Aaaand here’s the other Christkindlmarket picture. :| Thanks for the ref photo, cypher!
Good grief, the Christmas spirit has hit me hard over the last couple days. I want to draw Karl and Anders doing ALL the Christmas-y things—making cookies, wrapping presents, drinking cocoa, having snowball fights, walking arm-in-arm looking at people’s light displays, Anders falling asleep leaning on Karl way in the back pew during midnight mass… fffff when did I lose my inherent personal grinchiness? WHAT ARE THESE WARM FEELINGS
this is too cute for words
i am lost in a sea of cuddly feelings
(i do not object to more karl/anders christmasy pictures. i the opposite of object!)
Oh God. This is just so cute. ♥
Anders’ pillow is brown. Like Ferelden!
Milestone request #1: Varric/Anders.
this is too much. i love them. i love the idea of them. i love varric getting too caught up in anders as he writes him and anders as someone can only live anders, or live with anders—or maybe not live with anders, as the case may be. (because, think about it, who can live with anders? who can take him anywhere?) i love varric’s hands in anders’s hair and varric’s voice low, doing all the different accents from a story anders isn’t listening to anymore, while anders finds rest—rest he needs, rest varric knows he needs. i love the moments of relaxation nestled in sweet on the brown pillow, despite all the adventure that comes before and all the tragedy that comes after, the foolish huge heroics and the history etched with fire and smoke into the sky. varric’s broad lap. the spectacles perched on his nose. the loose wisps of hair falling free over anders’s face. his mouth parted like a younger man, a freer man, a happier one.
Sweet Vanders. ♥
la la la quick Richer Fruits Karl!Justice with his amulet for tempus, because i am shameless
the amulet has someone else’s blood mixed with lyrium in it and is decorated similarly to real-world talismans against the evil eye
i may have spent too much time thinking about this
So I really do like bearded Karl, but this is REALLY just….unfffffffff.
Why hello there.
Anders might have imagined any number of reactions from Justice upon finding himself in a new body, violence among them. He could not have imagined that Justice would clasp him by the back of the head to pull him into a kiss. He stiffened, trying to pull away, but the hand in his hair was firm, insistent, the lips were familiar, and after a moment, even the way they moved was familiar.
He could smell Karl, feel his beard against his face, and when he braced himself, his hand was on Karl’s chest.
He let the struggle go, not sure if he was kissing Justice, or through some miracle, Karl, not sure if he was kissing one of them hello or goodbye or both at the same time. All he knew was that he had a hole in his soul where Justice used to be, and he was feeling a familiar touch in a familiar way. It could not fill the void, but it was something they could still share.
Ahhhhh, I love this fic. So much.
Justice in Karl’s body is one of those ideas that I kind of wish I had had first, but I’m also really glad that someone else had it—particularly someone who can write properly and devote more than five hundred words to an idea and knows how to advance a plot. If I’d had this idea, it would have died unspoken, but tempus had it and so the world has this lovely fic.
Squee! One of my favorite moment from that fic.
The inevitable conclusion. :(
There’s no good analogue for Tranquility in Star Wars, so Karl just gets killed. Anders, as always, arrives too late, but the Justice amulet gives him the burst of raw power he needs to heal Karl just enough that they have time to say goodbye. Or, if you want me to hate you, you could say that it lets him flow-walk back to the moments before Karl dies.
And if you understand that, you have my sympathy.
… aaaand unfortunately the mage/Jedi hybrid robes look like plain old mage robes from the back. Oh well. :|
…is Anders going to have a fit of rage and fall to the dark side now, which he will continue to struggle until the end of the movie/game?
I hate that flow walking exists…
Ahhhh and Karl’s hand!
Sketch for a drawing of Anders and young beardless circle mage Hawke for Shimmy’s birthday… I realized while drawing that this will become about 100 times less interesting when I put clothes on them, so I might as well post it now while it is a) still almost kind of the correct day and b) naked.
Acts of Arson remains my very favorite fic ever in the history of anything.
Drawings of Karl with his beard on fire may come later. :|
H-happy birthday? You are amazing.
love for: anders’s butt. (seriously, just…just look at it.) hawke’s hands on anders’s butt. the flex of that leg. certain ridiculous wonderful perfect ponytails. that spot of muscle and flesh on the flank of a man’s body from this particular angle. lap-sitting. shoulders. did i mention that butt? also, hawkeward.
one of hawkeward’s fics is actually…one of the very first da2 fics i ever read, i think. i admired it so much i spent the entire evening after reading it in a total daze, because it was the sort of writing that would inspire anyone to go: damn. that’s what i want to do. i want to do that. it’s sort of unfair when people are so, so talented, and sort of amazing to watch, too.
thanks are never enough. so gushing, hopefully, forever? maybe that will do? don’t be scared. you can’t hide.
I had kind of a bum day, so I doodled some Professor Thekla as a pick-me-up.
That godawful pea-green wool vest is an actual item of clothing owned and operated in all seriousness by a professor I had for several semesters. It’s still what immediately leaps into my mind when I picture an academic, even though the guy was functionally a hipster.
first of all, hawkeward: i just love you. the way you draw karl sends me into fits. it’s past 12 and all my thinky thoughts have gone, but all i want to do is write the story to this, the one where anders undoes all those buttons and makes fun of that sweater vest—sweater vest!—then wears it and nothing else, except, of course, for professor thekla’s spectacles. tortoiseshell buttons and all.
second of all: be right back as i attempt this anyway. your karl does things to me. just…things. i can’t speak of them in polite company.
third of all: the mr. feeny comparisons are really just never going to stop, are they?
I was watching Boy Meets World while I drew this, so no. Never.
(i am about to watch boy meets world right now. i hope mr. feeny doesn’t sense my untoward feelings.)
‘Rage, rage against the dying of the light?’ Anders asks, reading over Karl’s shoulder the way that makes him close his book and stare off into the middle distance. ‘More like rage, rage against that sweater-vest. Am I right?’
The book’s old, one they picked up at a library sale, with the sticker on the binding and the manila card in the front and everything, stamps and names and signatures in red ink, bleeding together at the faded corners. The pages are yellow—to match the streaks in the tortoise-shell buttons that line Karl’s stomach, to match the gray in his beard and at his temples but not the strength in his shoulders or the thick muscle of his chest.
Anders rubs the fabric beneath his palms, fuzzy and prickly as he suspected it would be, the gleam of a polished button pressed beneath his thumb.
‘That’s my favorite poem, Anders,’ Karl says.
‘And I just made it even better,’ Anders replies.
Anders takes Karl’s glasses off first, studying the color of his eyes, just below the shadow on his brow and above the shadow of his cheekbones. When he puts them on, he can’t focus, everything pitching and blurring; his eyes can’t compensate for what doesn’t need correcting, and the bifocals make him feel like Gulliver on his travels, a monster and a giant in a land of miniature things. Little bed, little bedside table, and little Karl, undoing the buttons on his ugly vest with fingers that smell like library paper, fingers Anders wants to kiss until all he can taste his mouth on the skin, instead of those familiar fingerprints.
Karl moves to fold the vest over the back of a chair, but Anders takes it instead. It itches at his bare skin when he puts it on, flesh that flushes down his spine and all the way across his belly, and Karl laughs when he wears it into bed.
‘Sexy, isn’t it?’ Anders asks. ‘Oh, Karl, you don’t know what you do to me.’
‘And here I always thought you liked clothes better when you’re taking them off,’ Karl says.
Oh God! ♥