#stab hawks

[simplyscarlet]

Sometimes I make art did this watercolor when last season came out

[pumpkincalico]

anders does not yearn from a distance

[redmyeyes]

❝ In the past I held two truths: my love for you, and my love for God. One was real. And one was a fantasy. ❞

Tim rejecting Hawk, 1968 & 1979

[poppy5991]

Twice: Why do you want to join the LOV, anyway? Isn’t it great being a hero?

Hawks: If I died and went to hell right now…

Hawks: It would take me at least a week to notice that I wasn’t just at work.

Twice: Ok, wow.

[sinnamonpork]

I got some ideas for a vigilante au where Dabi became a vigilante and pro hero Hawks had been flirting with his white haired, blue flamed beau for half a year already. When they get to the point that they already discovered each other's true names, Hawks was ready to meet Endeavor when Dabi said he wanted him to meet his family. Imagine the little bird's surprise when he was instead face to face by Japan's most wanted League of Villains. Apparently, his not very legal partner had some very, very illegal group of friends that had been more than happy to provide for his nightly activities.

Imagine Hawks preparing to meet another pro hero, already practicing his lines so that he could sweep his boyfriend's family off their feet. Instead, he was faced with a Toga that's more than ready to bloody him up if he hurts Dabi, Shigaraki threatening to dust his bird dick, and a Mr. Compress describing all the way he can make his life very painful via his marbling quirk. Hawks was readying to charm a hero's family. Instead, he just hoped againt hope that he'd survive the encounter with his boyfriend's family.

Nevertheless, the various death threats and the very weird social dynamic the League has was worth it to see Dabi smile so freely when the hero said he was willing to meet the League again. Atleast Twice and Spinner were kinda normal. Although the hero can say with full confidence that he'd be avoiding Mr. Compress for a while. The man seems like the most likely to just make him disappear and smile while doing it.

[glowing-blue-feathermage]

Happy friday! For some Hawke/Lavellan this week, “It’s… different. With them, I spent most of my time longing for something that wasn’t even accessible. With you, I simply feel alive.” (from the Moth to the Flame prompts)

Ty for the prompt!! I got so many amazing ones last week I'm going to work through! Some incredibly indulgent Hawkevellan this evening for @dadrunkwriting !

for folks who are reading my fic Vertigo, this is Vertigo Hawke!

Herald’s Rest had been Hawke’s choice tonight, and the longer the evening went on, the better an idea it had become. 

No one had expected the cloaked, hooded elf that had appeared at dusk the evening before, greatsword strapped to his back, bearing a message for no one but Hawke and the Inquisitor. Anders was at Vigil’s Keep, had information about the possibility of a cure for the Warden taint, and needed two things. A blood mage, and someone with enough power to protect him.

Fenris was infamous, his attempts at a clandestine meeting lasting only as long as it took Josephine to start planning a formal dinner. Hawke was the sort of man who made deals in dark alleys, but the Inquisitor negotiated everything over three courses and free-flowing wine. 

Fenris had seen enough of court functions and catered meals with aristocrats for a lifetime. Hawke missed the Hanged Man. 

The evening could have been worse. There was plenty of alcohol of all kinds flowing freely, stories about Kirkwall, and a delightful—if heated—debate between Iron Bull and Fenris that had finally carried out of the tavern and into the courtyard. If Jos hadn’t been glaring at the door they’d just left through like he wanted to set it on fire, Hawke might have followed them.

Instead, he leaned casually against Jos, all but flattening him into the corner of the booth, finally earning his attention with a disgruntled huff. 

“You know,” Hawke said, picking up his tankard of ale and taking a drink. “It’s peak irony that the most unhappy person in this bar is the one it’s named after.” 

He felt Jos’s eyes on him. “What makes you think I’m unhappy?” he snapped.

Hawke chuckled. “You spent half the night looking at Fenris like you want to drink his blood with your morning meal.” 

“Mmm,” Jos hummed, affecting a sharp smile and sipping his red wine. “Lovely image.”

Hawke shifted, draping his arm around Jos’s shoulders. The Inquisitor was far slighter than him, but not shaped so differently from Fenris. He had the same dusky bronze skin, dark brows, vivid green eyes, tattoos. 

“You do realize that we appear related,” Jos said darkly, essentially reading Hawke’s mind. 

“Because you’re both elves?” Hawke pretended to have never considered it, taking a drink of his beer to keep the smile off his lips.

“So amusing,” Jos sniped, squeezing his leg under the table and curling his fingernails in. “Tell me—am I a fitting replacement?”

Outside, snow had started to fall, the windows frosted, and he could no longer see Fenris and Bull. “The two of you are nothing alike,” he told Jos. 

“You described him to me not long after we met,” Jos recalled, setting his wine on the table and dragging a fingertip around the rim slowly like a cat deciding whether to shove it off the edge. “Brilliant. Witty. Resourceful. Deadly. Beautiful. I am not these things?”

Hawke opened his mouth to reply, and then shut it. He drank some more beer.

Jos allowed the silence, but Hawke could feel him simmering. Someone entered the tavern, letting in a gust of wet, cold air that felt good on his face. 

“It’s…different,” Hawke said after a moment. “With him…I spent most of my time longing for something that wasn’t even accessible. It never was.”

“What do they call this in Orlais…” Jos mused, picking up his wine glass again. “A prix de consolation.” 

Hawke laughed. “You are not a consolation prize, you big baby.”

“I can show you how deadly I can be if you like.”

“I’m aware. Yes. I have a thing for mean magic elves. But I only want one.” 

Jos sipped his wine. “If you loved him, why did you not fight for him?”

Hawke sighed, turning to glance at the bar and catch the eye of the tavernkeeper. He got a nod in return and saw the man start to fill another tankard. When he glanced at Jos again, he found the Inquisitor watching him and tried not to think about how similar to Fenris he looked with that line between his black eyebrows.

“There was no part of who I am that he wanted,” he finally told Jos, fidgeting with a napkin on the table. “Not the mage, and especially not the magic I practice. Not the aristocrat. Not the man.”

Again, there was silence, and Hawke could sense Jos biting his tongue. The answer wasn’t enough, so Hawke went on. 

“With him, I felt inadequate. Incomplete. Flawed. With you…I simply feel alive.” 

Another moment passed and then Jos made a small sound—a low hum that Hawke had learned meant approval. Gradually, by the time Hawke’s new beer had arrived, Jos relaxed against him, the hand on Hawke’s thigh sliding just a bit higher.

[disanthropi-art]

Hawks’s Guide On How Not To Parent (Time Travel Edition) by Grinch1234 on AO3

[vigilskeep]

one thing i really like abt the wounded coast is that sometimes immediately as you arrive it triggers combat, but it also triggers party banter, and they just. keep talking as they fight. anyway just had this conversation while being attacked by bandits it was beautiful they kept pausing between the lines to kill people

[9trixieturner6]

One hell of a chapter, the horikoshi foreshadowing paid off and toga gut checks ochako with her knife. Tsu and jirou are getting fucked up as kamui does his best to hold out.

We get more flashbacks for toga and she was a really fucking weird kid while her parents handled it about as well as we expected. The impromptu therapy session is also going as well as we expected with toga stabbing ochako, but ochako is still gonna gamble on toga anyway and try to reach out to her.

The jirou and tsu togas look horrifying, they got those feral and crazy eyes. Tsu feels a bit shoehorned in here but it is interesting to see her take on ochako gambling with toga. Also the paralleling shot with hawks back when he confronted twice does a nice job of setting up the old heroes being realistic contrasting with the new shonen generation.

It's wild the parade is still this potent even though they can't use their quirks, they're basically just crushing the heroes under waves of meat. Really makes you wonder how the first war would have gone if twice had pulled off his parade, probably total victory for afo honestly.

Like the little twice asking her about a villain name, reminds me of bakugo and his waiting for best jeanist to reveal his hero name. It's a nice touch.

Lol of course horikoshi had to have the twice toga grab uraraka by the titty.

This will probably wrap up in the next chapter or two, and honestly I'm pretty happy with it. While it certainly feels like toga and ochako are getting the shaft I think it works in their favor, if they had cut the todofam arc back a couple chapters they probably both would have been the perfect length and felt more balanced. In a good way. I'm happy with how things have gone and I'm excited to see where toga ends up

[tuxedo-rabbit]

Fun fact, my first playthrough of da2 i did not get the quintessential part of the act 2 boss fight where the arishok skewers you.

So whenever I would find yet another fic about Hawke recovering from a severe stab wound after the Arishok fight I was just really confused. I thought it was just like a fandom trend or something.

[shivunin]

stolen kisses while hiding away from a crowd for Maria?

Thank you for asking! This fits them beautifully 💗

(Kissing Prompts)

'Til Evening's End

(Maria Hawke/Fenris | 1,895 Words | No warnings)

Golden light spilled from every window of Hawke’s manor, reflecting on fresh snowdrifts in the courtyard beyond. Inside, the fancy crowd laughed in little clusters. Serving staff, hired for the evening, circulated with little trays of food. A discreet quartet of Ferelden musicians sat at the gallery above the library, playing soft tunes that held the strains of Hawke’s childhood. 

Hawke loved people. She loved the way they spoke to each other, the way the right sort of party brought out the more amiable side of the fine lords and ladies of Kirkwall, the way a certain sort of feeling drifted into a room of people who were enjoying good food and company. She liked presiding over such things—how funny that she should agree with her mother now, after it was far too late to tell her she’d been right in this much—and knowing that their happiness was because of her. 

But it was far too fucking hot in there. 

Hawke stepped out of the house with a swish of skirts now, breath immediately rising in a cloud before her. Orana had hurriedly draped a shawl over her bare shoulders when Hawke had darted for the back door, but she let it slip to her elbows now. How perfect the cool night felt over her flushed cheeks, how sweetly the cold air twined about her ankles; for a moment she just stood there in the night, breathing in the fresh scent of snow and listening to the echoes of the party inside. 

“Maria.”

The voice startled her—she’d neither heard nor expected him before that moment—but she was smiling even before she turned. 

“Fenris! But you said you wouldn’t be here tonight,” she stepped forward, lifting her hands to him, and let him draw her into the quieter shadows beside the kitchen wall. 

“I forgot, and came to see you,” he told her, running a hand over her arm. His nose was red with the cold, his fingers ice against her bare upper arms. “When I saw the lights, I thought I might make my way upstairs and wait.”

“Poor thing—you’re freezing,” she said, and cupped one of his hands between hers. His free hand lifted, tracing a curl back over her shoulder. 

“I do not know how you stand it,” he said. “Especially with your shoulders bare.”

“The cold?” Hawke cupped his hand between hers and exhaled warm air over it. “I don’t feel it. It’s an oven in there; I thought I might choke on the air itself if I didn’t step outside. And here—I have been soundly rewarded for it. A lovely man, skulking about my kitchen garden.”

“I was not—” Fenris began, the sentence cut off when she took a step closer and nudged his cold nose with her own. Music drifted from the windows—something cheerful, she thought. How lovely it would be to share it with him, for she hadn’t joined the fray even once tonight. 

“You ,” she murmured, her lips brushing against his, “should dance with me. We could dance.”

“It is cold,” Fenris told Maria, his eyes drifting half-closed. 

“Dancing would warm you.”

Her grip on his hand shifted slightly, drawing slightly further from their bodies. Her other hand rested lightly over the armor on his shoulder. 

“So would going inside,” he told her, his voice as quiet as hers. 

Something about snow did that, she thought—made one want to whisper. Snow had a way of swallowing sound, making one feel like one dwelled in a world of one’s own. Fenris’s hand lifted, finding her waist easily, and rested just over the curve of her hip. 

“But if you go back inside, you won’t be with me,” Maria said. 

Inside, the quartet struck up a new, slower tune. She swayed slightly, taking a step back, and Fenris stepped with her. He’d told her many times that he was not a natural dancer, but battle and other, softer activities had taught them well how to read the movement of each other’s bodies. He found the rhythm readily enough, fitting his steps to hers after only a slight hesitation. 

“One dance,” he told her, a smile hiding in the corner of his mouth. 

Hawke adored the pink in his cheeks and the light snow dusting his pale hair, visible only when the ice crystals caught the light. She adored the way he sped up to match the tempo, the way his eyes wrinkled slightly at the corners when he looked at her. 

“One dance,” she agreed, “and I shall steal you the finest bottle of wine to keep you company until I can.”

“Is it stealing,” he began, and the hem of her dress scattered snow when he spun her around, “if the wine is yours?”

“I think, since the wine is mine, that I should get to decide if it’s stealing or not,” she countered, smiling broadly at him. Fenris snorted, but caught her tight against him when they turned again. 

They might have kissed in that lovely moment—with the moonlight soft over his shoulders and warm affection in his eyes—but just then, the door to the kitchens swung open with a bang. 

“Lady Hawke? Are you out here? Messere Godfrey was just telling me the most charming story about your battle with the Arishok and I thought I saw you walk in this direction…Lady Hawke?” 

As soon as her guest began to speak, the two of them darted away into the shadows beyond the kitchen, Hawke with a hand clapped over her mouth to stifle the laughter that wished to escape. Fenris left his hand on her waist, head angled to listen. 

“I could have sworn I saw her—Bea, didn’t you say she went this way?” 

Fenris pressed closer, knocking her arm away from her mouth, and she couldn’t help herself; this was a perfectly ridiculous situation, hiding away from her own party with her beau while her guests hunted through the snow to find her. She was going to laugh and give them both away. She was going to—

Fenris shook his head at her, his eyes widening slightly. Hawke bit her lip, shoulders already shaking, and would certainly have given them away if he hadn’t pressed her back against the wall and covered her mouth with his. 

“I do say, what an odd place to be gathering, ladies,” a harsher voice came from the doorway, but Maria hardly noticed it. Fenris’s mouth had been cool at first, but it warmed as it pressed against hers. What had begun as a measure of utility had very quickly slipped into a more familiar and beloved dance. 

“We were simply looking for our hostess!” One of the younger voices protested. “Mama—”

Hawke huffed with suppressed laughter and Fenris lifted a hand to the wall beside her head, angling himself more fully against her. The soft fabric of her dress caught on his breastplate, but she could not have cared less. The way he kissed her—so deeply, as if he was trying to press some hidden meaning into her skin—

“What ho,” came a fourth voice. “Quite warm in there, isn’t it?”

“Quite,” said the icy voice. “Young ladies?” 

“Yes, Mama,” the first voice sighed, and after a moment the door shut again. 

Hawke relaxed slightly, closing her eyes, and Fenris went on kissing her for several sweet minutes. He kissed her like he’d forgotten why he was doing it and didn’t especially care. He kissed her like they had all the time they could care to take, and he would have gone on doing it if he hadn’t shivered, just a little, and reminded Hawke that her lover tolerated the cold far less cheerfully than she. 

“You should go in,” she murmured against his warm mouth, and pressed her forehead to his. “Or I shall have an icicle for a beau.” 

Fenris scoffed and stole another kiss, eyes still softly closed, but he broke away a moment later. 

“Perhaps you are right,” he told her, and brushed his lips over her cheek. 

“It’s been known to happen sometimes,” she told him, closing her eyes. Fenris hummed in acknowledgement, dipping his head to kiss her bare shoulder. “If you—go on doing that, we are going to find ourselves in a rather scandalous situation.”

She could almost feel him considering it, mouth still pressed just over her collarbone, but he straightened a moment later. 

“You promised me stolen wine,” he reminded her. 

Hawke smiled at him—and thought it was a shame that he hated the cold so, for he looked beautiful in it. 

“Here,” she said, and took the shawl from her elbows to drape it over his shoulders instead. The red was shocking against his dark armor and pale hair, though it almost perfectly matched the ribbon tied around his wrist. Fenris raised a hand to hold it in place, brows lifting in silent question. 

“I’ll be right back,” she said, curling her hands in her skirts. A few moments later, she was back, a basket hanging over one arm. 

“That isn’t wine,” he said, and she pressed a hand to her chest. 

“Such accusations, messere. It is like you don’t know me at all.”

“Of course, we are perfect strangers,” Fenris said, deadpan, and extended a hand. “What have you brought me, Hawke?” 

“Wine,” she said, and laughed easily at his expression. “And food, for I am certain you’ve forgotten to eat, and something to read while you wait. I shouldn’t be long. Of course, if you’ve changed your mind…”

Fenris shook his head, but he was smiling at her in that quiet way he sometimes had, as if he hadn’t noticed he was doing it.

“Not tonight,” he told her, but stepped forward to press a kiss to her forehead. “Soon, then?”

“Soon,” she promised, and kissed each of his winter-touched cheeks. “As soon as I can shoo them all away.” 

“Don’t hurry on my account,” he told her, and stepped back with a last brush of his fingers against her cheek. “I will be fine on my own, Maria.”

“I know,” she said, and took a step back. “Nevertheless.”

Fenris inclined his head and turned away, snow caught in his hair, shoulders wrapped in her shawl, and she laughed a little at the vision he presented. A lonely wanderer, trudging long through the snow—she would spin him a tale later, she decided as she watched him go. It wasn’t until he slipped away to the back stair that Hawke turned back to her party and the guests that still waited for her. 

It was warm in her room. He didn’t need her to rescue him from the cold or solitude. Fenris would be comfortable and entertained enough, if he did not fall asleep while he waited. He didn’t need her to hurry on his behalf. It was part of the reason why—with a house full of people who might place demands on her attention or time—she wanted to follow him immediately. 

There was no reason to rush. She knew he would wait, patient as a mountain in a snowstorm, for her to make her way to him again. Even so—if the party ended slightly earlier than intended, she was the only one who needed to know the cause.

And the only one who knew how warm his arms were when she made her way to him at last.

[simplyscarlet]

“Swing your razor wide, Toga, see how well it flits - as it floats across the throats of hypocrites.”

I just think the ending could have done some things a little different.

[101flavoursofweird]

PL Poll

[fallingdowntherathole]

"Varric lied to Cassandra to protect Hawke" this "Varric would sooner die for Hawke than let another tragedy happen to them" that

Guys they died first for Varric when they were left in the Fade.

[poppy5991]

I think why Endhawks is so cathartic for me is that you have two people who have been through a bunch of trauma and made fucked up choices because of it and are both terrified that deep down that they aren’t worthy of love, that they’ll end up alone, that they are inherently bad.

And they are trying, trying so hard to change, to be good, to be lovable.

And they accept each other so easily. Like yes I see you. I see you trying so hard. You’re not hard to love at all. You are a good person at heart and that’s why you try so hard. I won’t flinch away at the hard, sharp edges of you because mine fit together with yours.

And it hits me right in my trauma core.

I just love them. Anyway…

[linc-karo-27]

I've read many people's speculation that hawk will betray tim by outing him deliberately, but if he did, would tim bw able to join the military? bc there are photos of him in the uniform, and synopsis for ep 5 I think implies he makes a life changing decision. I haven't read the book, but I don't mind any spoilers.

Hey Anon! (first one to this account since I rejoined tumblr back in 2021) - right this is where we need to consult the book (and spoilers for Ep1 and 2). SPOILER FOR THE SHOWTIME DESCRIPTIONS/TRAILER.

Sorry this is kinda long but its like the last half of the book. Its messy.

TLDR; According to Showtime we have to wait for it (if it happens) until the last episode.

In the book, a lot of the 1950s happen in a different order. Mary is Hawks Faux GF for longer and Tim running off to the army happens around the time Lucy comes into the picture (there four "sections" in the book, and we have the army life in section 3/4).

The show has already played around with the timeline a bit with a major event of the book that has not happened yet: The Lie Detector Test. This happens about 2-3 months into T&H's relationship. By the looks of it its in episode 4 (and now it could be the reason Tim enlists. If he is not around, he can't get them caught). Then the roadtrip; then Lucy comes along; then Tim enlists; the last few months of him and Hawk; Tim leaves.

right: this is a summary of the book events re: army and onwards to the end of the book.

The night Tim Enlists its after a fight with Hawk over some petty thing (his birthday). This is after someone (whose not present in the show but actions have been merged basically into Hawk and Marcus) phones Tim to snitch on McCarthy and winds Tim up to the point he basically is a mess. When he's in the army Hawk courts Lucy; marries her and gets her pregnant. So when he returns its near the end of Lucy's pregnancy (two years later). He goes to Paris in this time as well (Hawk messes with his enlistment to get him away from any fighting).

During the time he is still in the US he sees Mary a fair bit (and her dad) and she is the one who tells him about Hawk and the wedding, which upsets him so much it basically makes him start to starve himself ("fasting for 36 hours") and into full religious zealotry. Basically most of the time in the army he's kinda depressed imo. Its not a very nice part of the book and i hope the showrunners edited it to make him less.... idk unhappy?

When he returns in 1957 (he leaves in 1955) hawk has found them a secret house (owned by Mary's ex, a brewer called Paul but that isn't important) which is abandoned and falling apart. They move their meet ups to this house and Tim falls basically into worshipping Hawk. At the same time, a job helping the refugees fleeing the Hungarian Revolution comes up and Hawk gets him the job (its basically something he becomes fixated on in the army) and the eve of them about to give it to Tim (and his kid born) Hawk imagines Tim's life post this when Tim mentions he will finally have the money to own his own house (he is living in another character's loft and that character has basically become more fleshed out as Marcus in the show) so after Hawk leaves him for the night he goes to the M Unit and tells them Tim has "security considerations". Tim looses the job (but isnt investigated) and he flees DC; and never sees Hawk again (there's more to the ending told via Mary in the epilogue that is basically Tim has a breakdown and is sent to a place that is basically a mental hospital by his sister and just moves on with his life.

this paragraph from the book summaries this easily (Hawk's reason for dibbing him in)

IN THE SHOW

So Showtime is hinting that Episode 5 ends on Tim being in the army but Episode 6 opens in 1968. So in the show its likely 4 Tim enlists; 5 is his time in the army (so not much of him maybe on screen, but the other 2 stories play out) , ending on him going back to DC OR 5 he enlists and it ends on that. We then have the 1960s and 1970s episodes, with Showtime telling us Episode 8 is 1957 and 1986 (like how the others have gone but a timeskip in the 1950s maybe)

Episode 8 (ignoring the 1986 stuff because rn I have no idea how we are doing that last episode stuff) is the messing with Hawk in the abandon house, but Hawk dibs him in over something (basically close to the book), he leaves and the 1950s end on that.

So yeah......... Hawk being a dick in the 1950s is likely saved until the last episode. Added with the "life changing" of the 1980s (which imo is Tim wanting him and Marcus/Frankie to not be present for those last days and tells Hawk to give him up because he isn't the best person). It would also make sense why every review seems to say ep6 feels weird - its been set up to mirror the 1980s: there is something we the audience don't know that is making everything awkward.