winebearcat

[winebearcat]

Happy Friday!! The prompt is: Hawke/Anders, listening to someone's heartbeat 💓

Ty for the prompt! Just something somft tonight :) @dadrunkwriting

WC: 100 CWs: none

His heartbeat is steadiest at night.

During the day he putters and rages and frets and despairs, the beat of his heart accelerating with each stage. Should Justice make his presence known what should be a beat becomes a symphony, his blood singing in his ears and magic flaring to an invisible conductor's call.

But at night, it is only him and Hawke. Wrapped in each other, his heart swells but does not falter. He hears Hawke’s heart, steady, rhythmic, and his heart yearns to follow where it seldom can.

He thinks that’s what love is, hearts beating in time.

[winebearcat]

DADWC: Team Europe Kickoff

Writers Taking New Prompts:

@transandersrights – taking new prompts from here

Writers Hanging Out/Working from the Backlog:

@adainesjacket

🍷

Writers, remember to send prompts to your fellow writers! Anybody can send a prompt to a writer of their choice! You don’t have to be writing tonight or a writer to do so!!

Writers, make sure you mention @dadrunkwriting so that we don’t miss any of your amazing work.

Check out our discord server! All DWC writers are invited! If you need a link to the chat, just let one of us know and we will get that for you.

Tonight’s admins are @pinkfadespirit and @highwayphantoms

If your work isn’t reblogged after a couple of hours, please submit a link, and we’ll reblog it for you!! Have fun!!

[winebearcat]

Handers Pride

Written for a Discord challenge!

Words: 632 | Rated: T | TWs: Alcohol

--------------

The Hanged Man teemed, ebbing and flowing with a steady stream of patrons. Those spat out from the parade, peeling off to lap from the watering hole. It was a grimy dive, underscored by cheap booze, musky pheromones and zero natural lighting. But there was a crude charm to the string of Pride flags suspended from the ceiling, interwoven with fairy lights that twinkled like a promise.

A tall, lithe man pressed a pint to his lips. Feline, amber eyes glimmered over the rim as he casually bantered with two women, his rust-blond hair pulled back into a low ponytail. His right cheek was painted with the bi flag, messily applied with three different tubes of lipstick. He’d been in the pub for exactly four minutes and thirty-two seconds, four minutes and two seconds of which Garrett Hawke had been utterly, shamelessly transfixed.

“Hawke,” a familiar voice grounded him. He blinked his oldest friend into focus, peering across the table with an arched eyebrow. Varric followed Hawke’s former line of sight, perplexed, until recognition bloomed in his eyes.

“Ah,” he chuckled.

“He’s gorgeous,” Hawke lamented quietly, thumbing his pint glass. Condensation beaded at his fingertips, sinking into his skin.

“Well, he’s certainly your type,” Varric remarked, turning back to fix him with his perceptive gaze.

“You think that’s his girlfriend?” Hawke pressed, earning another chuckle.

“Which one? The elf holding the human’s hand? Or the human holding the elf’s?” Varric asked wryly. Hawke’s gaze drifted back over his shoulder, drinking in the stranger’s companions. Both dark-haired, like him, but with their fingers comfortably laced.

“They could be poly,” Hawke sighed, flicking his gaze downwards. His pint was half drained, and he raised it to his lips for another sip.

“Oh, brother. Why don’t you go — ”

“Sorry to interrupt,” a fluid voice interrupted. Hawke’s eyes snapped toward the source, landing on the beautiful blond, who set his pint down on their table. His tone was hardly sorry, his expression even less so. He peered at Hawke openly, his lips dancing with a smile.

“Not a problem, Blondie,” Varric grinned widely, crossing his arms. Hawke blinked, dumbfounded, wrenching himself out of paralysis.

“Are you two…?” Blondie’s eyes flicked between them, like a cat assessing a room.

“He’s straight. And married,” Hawke interjected brusquely. The stranger chuckled, his eyes creasing at the corners. Hawke’s heart clenched, aching to hear more of it.

“What about you?” he fixed his amber gaze on Hawke, pinning him like a spotlight. The question bore a teasing edge, earning a playful smile in exchange.

“Not straight. Or married,” Hawke answered truthfully, drinking the man in, transfixed.

“Oh. We have so much in common,” Blondie purred, drumming long, slender fingers on the tabletop. Hawke’s gaze flicked to his pint glass, amber and full, just like his eyes.

“We do,” Hawke agreed, grasping his glass. He dragged it toward him for a whiff. Hoppy, fruity notes curled in his nostrils, settling warmly on his tongue.

“Add Ferelden IPAs to the list. Shame there’s a fly in yours,” Hawke added coolly, and their eyes met again.

“Is there now?” the man smirked, gaze unwavering, wholly aware of his bold-faced lie. Hawke dimly registered Varric’s chuckle, but his focus remained razor-sharp.

“I’ll get you a fresh one if you tell me your name,” Hawke offered, rising from the table to his full height. That feline gaze dragged up his frame appreciatively, drinking him in before offering a sly smile.

“Anders,” he revealed, his expression expectant.

“Hawke,” he offered in exchange. The smile reached Anders’ eyes, twinkling like a promise.

“Explains the staring,” he purred. Hawke’s face warmed, his throat tightening when those nimble fingers dusted up his arm, kitten-delicate, lightly tugging him towards the bar.

“Come on, birdman. I don’t bite. Much.”

[winebearcat]

[winebearcat]

A small gift for @storybookhawke, get better soon! Love you buds!! ❤️

[winebearcat]

Handers Pride

Written for a Discord challenge!

Words: 632 | Rated: T | TWs: Alcohol

--------------

The Hanged Man teemed, ebbing and flowing with a steady stream of patrons. Those spat out from the parade, peeling off to lap from the watering hole. It was a grimy dive, underscored by cheap booze, musky pheromones and zero natural lighting. But there was a crude charm to the string of Pride flags suspended from the ceiling, interwoven with fairy lights that twinkled like a promise.

A tall, lithe man pressed a pint to his lips. Feline, amber eyes glimmered over the rim as he casually bantered with two women, his rust-blond hair pulled back into a low ponytail. His right cheek was painted with the bi flag, messily applied with three different tubes of lipstick. He’d been in the pub for exactly four minutes and thirty-two seconds, four minutes and two seconds of which Garrett Hawke had been utterly, shamelessly transfixed.

“Hawke,” a familiar voice grounded him. He blinked his oldest friend into focus, peering across the table with an arched eyebrow. Varric followed Hawke’s former line of sight, perplexed, until recognition bloomed in his eyes.

“Ah,” he chuckled.

“He’s gorgeous,” Hawke lamented quietly, thumbing his pint glass. Condensation beaded at his fingertips, sinking into his skin.

“Well, he’s certainly your type,” Varric remarked, turning back to fix him with his perceptive gaze.

“You think that’s his girlfriend?” Hawke pressed, earning another chuckle.

“Which one? The elf holding the human’s hand? Or the human holding the elf’s?” Varric asked wryly. Hawke’s gaze drifted back over his shoulder, drinking in the stranger’s companions. Both dark-haired, like him, but with their fingers comfortably laced.

“They could be poly,” Hawke sighed, flicking his gaze downwards. His pint was half drained, and he raised it to his lips for another sip.

“Oh, brother. Why don’t you go — ”

“Sorry to interrupt,” a fluid voice interrupted. Hawke’s eyes snapped toward the source, landing on the beautiful blond, who set his pint down on their table. His tone was hardly sorry, his expression even less so. He peered at Hawke openly, his lips dancing with a smile.

“Not a problem, Blondie,” Varric grinned widely, crossing his arms. Hawke blinked, dumbfounded, wrenching himself out of paralysis.

“Are you two…?” Blondie’s eyes flicked between them, like a cat assessing a room.

“He’s straight. And married,” Hawke interjected brusquely. The stranger chuckled, his eyes creasing at the corners. Hawke’s heart clenched, aching to hear more of it.

“What about you?” he fixed his amber gaze on Hawke, pinning him like a spotlight. The question bore a teasing edge, earning a playful smile in exchange.

“Not straight. Or married,” Hawke answered truthfully, drinking the man in, transfixed.

“Oh. We have so much in common,” Blondie purred, drumming long, slender fingers on the tabletop. Hawke’s gaze flicked to his pint glass, amber and full, just like his eyes.

“We do,” Hawke agreed, grasping his glass. He dragged it toward him for a whiff. Hoppy, fruity notes curled in his nostrils, settling warmly on his tongue.

“Add Ferelden IPAs to the list. Shame there’s a fly in yours,” Hawke added coolly, and their eyes met again.

“Is there now?” the man smirked, gaze unwavering, wholly aware of his bold-faced lie. Hawke dimly registered Varric’s chuckle, but his focus remained razor-sharp.

“I’ll get you a fresh one if you tell me your name,” Hawke offered, rising from the table to his full height. That feline gaze dragged up his frame appreciatively, drinking him in before offering a sly smile.

“Anders,” he revealed, his expression expectant.

“Hawke,” he offered in exchange. The smile reached Anders’ eyes, twinkling like a promise.

“Explains the staring,” he purred. Hawke’s face warmed, his throat tightening when those nimble fingers dusted up his arm, kitten-delicate, lightly tugging him towards the bar.

“Come on, birdman. I don’t bite. Much.”

[winebearcat]

28 year old voice back in my day you could get a beer shot combo for $5

[winebearcat]

👹

[winebearcat]

WIP Wednesday

Tagged by @winebearcat

This is how i do my sketches lmao

Anddd some random pics from the future <3

I tag @sha-brytols @thewardenisonthecase @paragondreams and whoever sees this and wanna share their stuff <3

[winebearcat]

WIPs on a real Wednesday

Tagged by @winebearcat and @greypetrel both, thank youuu 🫴🏻💕

. . . . . . .

1 and 2. Handers sketches that got sliiightly out of hand. There is a third one hidden in the corner too;

3. Watercolours and ink sketch, I guess I need to figure out what to do with it;

4. An eternal wip that I've been dragging along for months, ft. trying to use my own photos (taken on film) as background textures, but I need to work more on the whole technique.

[winebearcat]

WIP Wednesday

Thanks for the tag @the-font-bandit :)

Started noodling with a Handers ficlet for Pride:

The Hanged Man teemed, ebbing and flowing with a steady stream of patrons. Those spat out from the parade, peeling off to lap from the watering hole. It was a grimy dive, underscored by cheap booze, heady pheromones and zero natural lighting. But there was a crude charm to the string of Pride flags suspended from the ceiling, interwoven with rainbow fairy lights that twinkled like a promise.  A tall, lithe man pressed a pint to his lips. Feline, amber eyes glimmered over the rim as he casually bantered with two women, his rust-blond hair pulled back into a low ponytail. His right cheek was painted with the bi flag, messily applied with three different tubes of lipstick. He’d been in the pub for exactly four minutes and thirty-two seconds, four minutes and two seconds of which Garrett Hawke had been utterly, shamelessly transfixed. “Hawke,” a voice wrenched him back into the room. He blinked his oldest friend into focus, peering across the table from him with an arched eyebrow. Varric followed Hawke’s former line of sight, perplexed, until recognition bloomed in his eyes. "Ah," he chuckled.

Tagging (no pressure): @ridivenire @salsedine @andrewknightley @purpleenjoyer @draco-illius-noctis @lenioxoxo

[winebearcat]

I assure you: somebody, somewhere, is on the exact same wavelength as you are.

[winebearcat]

may I suggest a new mutuals symbol?

[winebearcat]

YCH Commissions Open!

I've opened four more YCH slots, this time with couple of animal poses. These would be perfect if you'd like to see your favourite character cuddling your cat, or your Warden or Hawke with their mabari. You can get them through my Ko-fi commission page!

Prices range from £30 - £60 with a choice between digital or watercolour.

Style examples below:

[winebearcat]

kirkwall soju. do you see my vision

from this post

[winebearcat]

Can't sleep, and it's 01:30 on 1st or June so might as well post this now. Planned back in my bg3 phase and managed to actually finish it as well. No way!!!

[winebearcat]

Marian shouldn’t keep hogging the merribella sandwich