#the hawk is also confused

[betweenblackberrybranches]

you if you were a bug

(beefly)

tho you also could be this (hummingbird clearwing hawkmoth)

Awawawasasssaa!?!?!?!??!?!?!?!?!? 💕💗💓💞💖

Thats the biggest compliment ever?!?!? Those are some of my absolute favourites!!! I love beeflies and hawk-moths they are just so osbsodbwzsvspsnshyis creature, yk? Used to watch the hawk-moths in my grans garden when i was small

I give you flower💕💕💕💕💕

[general-sleepy]

Headcanon:

Post-mage rebellion, "Anders" becomes a common name for the first generation of babies born to free mages. In Skyhold, for example, there will be multiple Anderses walking and toddling around, to the point that it becomes confusing. Someone shouts, "Anders, stop that!" and four kids turn their heads.

[catgrandpa]

I am a staunch supporter of Hawks x the Todoroki family. That sounds bad but I promise it’s not in a weird way.

Obviously it would be separately and also not illegal for Shouto.

Endeavor/Hawks is like hero worship and falling into bed together a few times after a rough fight. Enji insists it means nothing and it’s just a way to deal with the excess adrenaline and it’s not happening again. It happens again. It happens a lot of agains.

Now…. Rei/Hawks? Hell. Yeah. Not romantically, this is purely sexual. Hot Young Hero Gets Pegged By Sexy Milf Divorcee. I can see the hub logo already. Idk how they’d meet tbh maybe he saves her or she divorced Enji rather than… what happened:/ But they meet and sparks immediately fly, and he takes her back to his penthouse and they freak it.

Dabi/Hawks. Classic. My favorite. Sweet and spicy. The tension and the romance is unparalleled. I don’t even need to type any of this out because what happens in canon is already perfect enough. If all of these ships happen in the same universe, this is endgame. But also, if these all happen in the same universe, the first family dinner where Touya brings his bf home and the room is just full of people hawks has slept with… delightfully awful.

Fuyumi/Hawks is where we start to get some sweet innocent dating. Maybe they met while Hawks did a press assembly at her school. Maybe the kids staged a meet cute or smth, parent trap style. They date for a few months, and spend a handful of nights together, but ultimately decide that neither of them are in a spot in their lives where they can pursue a serious relationship. They part on good terms, and occasionally still talk as friends.

Natsuo/Hawks. Baby’s first one night stand 🥰 buuuttt it turns into booty call for sure. Natsu is freshly 18. He’s finally his own person. He’s in university, he has his own apartment. Things are good. So he goes clubbing and meets the youngest hero to reach top 10, and he just so happens to want to go home with him. They toe the line of booty call and friends with benefits, but they don’t really hang out much because hero work and university are Very time consuming.

Shouto/ Hawks. Stop side eyeing me, I said it wasn’t weird or illegal. I intentionally put a space after the slash, it’s unrequited. Hawks was simply Shouto’s sexual awakening, just as I’m sure he was many other kids that age. Shouto never had any sort of attraction to anyone until Hawks showed up in the hero scene. At first he saw his press debut and was just ‘oh wow that man is very attractive. Guess I’m mildly attracted to boys now.’ And then he saw Hawks on tv, covered in soot, walking out of a burning building while holding a baby in one arm and a kitten in the other and he decided then and there that he would never look at another man in his life because no one could ever compare.

[dungeons-and-dragon-age]

trying to get better at everyone's shapes :> Also drawing profiles is fun

(top right to bottom left: Kalagna Brosca, Var'renan Mahariel, Liam Hawke, June Trevelyan)

[shivunin]

Through the Window

CW: Near death experience

(Here is the song Hawke is singing in the second scene c:)

Healing Hawke had taken several hours and what seemed like years off of Anders’ life. 

As far as Fenris was concerned, they were years better spent, but he wisely kept that opinion to himself. The mage had staggered off to sleep in a spare bedroom perhaps an hour ago, and the others, for various reasons, had also gone away one by one. Varric had left to ensure the nobility wouldn’t be a problem for Hawke until she was ready to face them; Merrill had said something vague about herbs and gone away soon after. Aveline had never shown up, not that anyone was surprised given the state of Kirkwall, and Sebastian had gone to the Chantry for a change of clothing—as his things were still covered in Hawke’s blood. 

And Isabela—Isabela had managed perhaps an hour in this room, the shortest of all of them. Fenris could not blame her for leaving. Every single time Hawke had woken, her first words had been “Bela? Did they take her?” as if she remained stuck in the moment of the Arishok’s death, certain the other Qunari would take her friend regardless of what Hawke did. 

Isabela had managed a joke each time, but the jokes had become more wooden, then more quiet, and at last she’d retreated to the sitting room below with a bottle of strong rum. 

Fenris had told the rest that he would watch over her; that he could manage well enough by himself. This was true, but he was not watching her at the moment. Instead, he sat before the window, looking out at the destruction in the city. Dawn was rising now, lighting the clouds of smoke in bands of pink and lilac. How strange, that something so horrible should be remade into something beautiful. 

How strange that the morning should dawn as it always had after such pain and death.

“Fen…ris?” Hawke said from the bed behind him. 

Fenris did not turn at once. He stayed slumped in the chair, looking down at the city. If he was going to speak to her, he would need to school his expression first—and he knew he could not yet manage to do that. 

“Ah,” she said, very quietly, “As…leep.”

Her breath sounded like it hurt; there was a faint whistle to it, high-pitched and strained. Fenris closed his eyes and clamped his lips together. He would need to stand in just a moment; stand and tend to her. As soon as he could keep himself in check. As soon as he could—

“I’m…glad…it was…you,” she said, and her sigh crackled through the air, “I…loved you…you know.”

Fenris’s hands curled hard around the arms of the chair, knuckles standing out paler than his tattoos. She thought him asleep; she would not say such a thing to him waking. He could not stand now; could not show her he’d heard. It would be…would be…

“I’m…glad…you stayed…” this time, her breath dragged in her throat, as if she couldn’t quite manage it, and Fenris sat up in alarm. 

“...can...be…happy…someday…” she said, and didn’t seem to notice that he’d scraped the chair back from the window, nor that he was gripping her hand and bending over the bed. 

“Hawke,” he said urgently, “Hawke. Look at me.” 

The corner of her mouth curled faintly, but she was looking past him at the corner of the room. When she took a breath, her chest hardly moved. 

“Maria,” Fenris said, squeezing her hand, “Hawke!” 

It was no use; he knew that already, and turned for the door. 

“Anders!” he bellowed, “ANDERS!”

Thundering footsteps on the stairs; Fenris bent lower over her, cupping her cheek in his hand. She was so cold—yet her pulse still beat in her neck, however thready and weak. 

“You stay here,” he ordered her, bending low over her body, “Stay here, do you hear me? Hawke!” 

“Move, move,” Anders said, jostling him out of the way. Fenris moved as quickly as he could manage, feeling the tingling of magic already unfurling from the mage’s body. 

He could do nothing; only stand here and—

Fenris’s hand, the one he’d used to touch her cheek, curled into a fist at his side. The other reached for the neat bottles of lyrium on the bedside table, shoved one toward the mage. 

“Drink,” he said, but he didn’t need to; as soon as he held it out, Anders was taking it, popping out the cork and downing it in one swallow. 

Fenris focused past him, where Hawke still lay. Her eyes were open, her mouth still fixed in that horrible half-smile. Breathe, he willed her, moving to the footboard and curling one hand around the post there, Breathe. 

Hawke closed her eyes—and gasped. 

|

Six Years Later

Hawke has gone to Weisshaupt now, Varric’s letter had said, and she’s still in one piece. Maybe you’ll catch her on the road. Won’t be too far from Tevinter, right? 

Perhaps the dwarf had even believed it—but Fenris had known better. 

He stood on the path now, peering past hedges and trees to the cottage tucked inside. When they’d chosen this place, he hadn’t understood why. If she wanted to be in Ferelden, why not closer to Lothering or one of the cities? Why here, of all places? Hawke had just shrugged and gone on nailing a board back in place on the wall.

Because it looks like home, she’d said after a moment. That had been the last time she’d spoken of it. 

Fenris took a breath, his hand on the cold iron of the gate, and swung it open.

Hawke—or someone—had kept up with the garden. He’d expected it to be overgrown, as it had been the last time he’d been here. Instead, the flowerbeds had been weeded and the bushes beside the path were neatly trimmed back. He ran a hand along one as he walked and then, by force of habit, turned to the right and walked around the house instead of using the front door. 

If there had been any doubt in Fenris’s mind that Hawke was here and not somewhere in the mountains, it would have been dispelled as soon as he rounded the corner and heard her voice.

“Ay, quién pudiera/Besarlos más,” her voice sang, trailing from the open kitchen window. Fenris braced a hand on the side of the house beneath and just—listened, for a moment. Her voice was sweet—he’d heard it before, more here than he’d ever heard it in Kirkwall—but she’d never sung this song for him. 

And—how long had it been since he’d heard her voice? Six months, a year? How long since he’d seen her face? 

It was too much all of a sudden; the sunlight, the birdsong, the buzz of insects in the garden. Her voice, so near and yet still distant. Fenris discarded his pack right there and headed for the back door, his feet speeding up as he went. He moved silently, now, used to staying quiet until he wanted to be heard, but her song cut off when the back door slammed shut behind him. 

“Hello?” Hawke called warily, and Fenris stepped into the kitchen. 

They stared at each other for a moment, Fenris breathing hard, Hawke holding a spoon with some sort of batter slowly falling into the bowl below. 

“Fenris,” she said, his name all but a gasp, and dropped the spoon. It splattered something onto her dress—white, embroidered around the neckline—though she did not seem to notice it. She took one step out from behind the counter, then another, and one hand moved to her chest. 

“Are you really here?” she said. Fenris could see her pulse racing at the base of her neck, the way she braced herself on the counter as if she didn’t trust her own legs. 

He nodded once, words momentarily beyond him. She took another step, then another, her eyes wide and wondering. 

He’d thought—the note she left had been terse. He’d thought she had wanted to leave him behind. But the way she was looking at him now—

All at once, Hawke flung herself at him, her arms wrapping tight around his waist. 

“You’re here,” she said, over and over again, “You’re here. You came back; you’re here.”

“I—yes,” Fenris said. He’d lifted his hands when she came close, but he set them on her shoulders now, carefully and slowly. Her curls tickled his neck, loose as they were, and she smelled like bread and herself—anise and sweetness and smoke and how had he forgotten—

“I’m so glad,” she said, pulling away enough to look at him without letting go of his waist, “I’ve missed you. So much, Fenris.”

“But you left,” he said, and his hand rose without his permission, knuckles brushing over the curve of her cheek, “You didn’t tell me where you were going. You left.”

“I didn’t want to…” she sighed, her eyes tracing his face over and over again, lingering on new scars, “Your hair is…different.” 

“Yes,” he said, lifting a hand to touch the shaven side of his head, “and you—it was a bad fight, then?” 

He nodded to her neck, scarred in a strange pattern of whorls and lines. Hawke let go of him to touch the ridged skin, then turned away, back to the table and bowl. 

“Yes,” she said, “It was. Do you…I was just about to bake a cake. Do you…want tea?” 

This was not going as he’d expected. Fenris moved to brush off his armor by force of habit and touched the sticky dough she’d left behind, the smears of flour. 

“...yes,” he said after a moment, “Do—”

He caught the cloth she tossed him, wiped himself clean, and braced his hands against the counter opposite her. Maria avoided his eyes, and she’d moved her hair to cover her neck. A bad wound, then; in that part of the neck, it would have been. 

And she’d left him behind to receive it alone. 

“Where did you go?” he asked. 

Hawke bit her lip and poured the batter into a pan, then tapped it against the counter twice. 

“Lots of places,” she told him, “Everywhere, really. Orlais, Ferelden, the Frostbacks.”

When she walked away to slide the pan into the oven, he saw that she was barefoot. What was it she’d told him back in Kirkwall all those years ago, drifting off to sleep together in her bed? Ah, yes.

I want a home where I can wander around barefoot, she’d said. I want to pick berries right off the bush and eat them till my stomach aches. I want to fill the house with laughter and music and sweetness, and I don’t want to think about death or duty ever again. 

Fenris ignored the clutching feeling at his chest and curled his fingers around the wood of the counter. 

“Hawke,” he said, chiding, as he had a hundred, a hundred hundred times before. 

The scars along her neck were not the only ones; there were more along the side of her calf and around one wrist. There were burns, too, over her back; he could see the shiny edges of them in the sunlight pouring through the open window. 

It wasn’t that Fenris had really wanted to know where she’d gone. All those nights since he’d come back here and found her note, he’d really wondered—

“Why? Why not wait for me?”

“It was urgent,” she said, her back still to him, “Stroud…said it couldn’t wait.”

“Then why not tell me where you’d gone?”

He’d had enough of distance; Fenris strode into the kitchen and stopped before her, standing where she could not help but see him. Maria pursed her lips. 

“Why?” he said again, standing close enough to touch but leaving both hands to hang at his sides. 

“I didn’t want…” she sighed, twining her fingers through the kitchen cloth she held, “It was my problem. I didn’t want you to be forced to follow me into another one of my—”

“Forced?” Fenris interrupted, scowling, “What do you mean?”

She would have looked away from him again, but he set his hand along her cheek and held her gaze. 

“Hawke,” he said, “Tell me.”

Her breath shook when she drew it in, but her fingertips brushed over his. 

“We both made promises,” she said quietly, “I…didn’t want you to think you were bound by them when you had other things, more important things—”

“Bound—Hawke, what are you—” 

Ah. 

Yes. He knew the answer even before he finished asking the question; it was in the angle of her eyes, the tightness at the corners of her mouth. More than that, the answer was in her fingertips and the magic that hummed there sometimes, though it was quiescent now. 

What has magic touched that it does not spoil, he’d said to her once in a moment of pique. She’d always been so careful; never ordered him to do things, always asked, forever cautious not to remind him of the days before they’d known each other. 

Fenris might have told her long ago that Hawke might be a mage, but she was nothing like the magisters he’d known. If he doubted her in the slightest, he would have walked away long ago. Did she think he didn’t know exactly who she was, down to her very bones?

“I didn’t want you to be trapped,” she said, and took another breath, “I…love you, Fenris. I always have. But I won’t hold you here when you don’t want to be held. Explaining what I was doing would have forced you to help; I know you too well to think otherwise. If you thought I was in danger—you would have left what you wanted to do behind. That wasn’t fair. You left because you had to and—I couldn’t make that choice for you. I wouldn’t.” 

The words came too quickly; they collided with each other, trapped in his throat, and trying to clear it had no effect. Fenris held her instead, wrapping one arm around her waist and backing her toward the counter. Hawke moved with him readily, her face tilted up and watching. 

She’d never told him she loved him before; not waking, not in so many words.

Fenris didn’t kiss her—not yet—but his mouth skimmed her cheek, the edge of her ear. He spoke there, where she could not help but hear him, where she could not be distracted by looking for answers in his face. 

“Listen to me,” he told her, “You did make the choice for me—by not allowing me the information to follow you. I do not choose you because I must or because you have forced me to, Hawke. I stay because I cannot imagine wanting to be anywhere else; needing to leave for a time does not change that. Not for a moment.”

Fenris could feel her breath against his ear, uneven and labored. He did kiss her now, on her jaw, her cheekbone, the soft skin over her temple. 

“You,” he said, cradling her face and pulling back to look at her, “I told you I would follow where you lead. I meant it then and I mean it now. Let me choose that for myself.”

Hawke closed her eyes. Fenris kissed the delicate skin of her eyelids and tasted salt. 

“Do you believe me?” he said. 

“You aren’t mad?” she asked, “I thought you would be…If you came back, I thought you would be angry with me.”

“I am,” he said, “There is plenty to say about that later. I never want you to do that again. But now…I find I am grateful just to have you here. I am certain I will find time for anger later.”

Maria laughed, as he’d meant her to, and at least lifted her face to be kissed. 

They stood there in the sunlight for a long, long time, touching and being touched, holding and being held. After a year or more, Fenris was, at last, precisely where he wanted to be.

The badly burned cake, when they finally ate it much later, was covered in fresh berries and honey, and it was very nearly perfect.

(Day Fourteen of @14daysdalovers, which was a free choice. I, of course, chose a little pain and a little sweetness. Thanks to the organizers of the event! I've had a blast and it was really cool to see all the neat stuff others have made. Happy Valentine's Day, y'all!)

[5oz-mud]

setting them up in my brain in the warmest coziest apartment before i start to absolutely microwave them.

[bhaalsdeepbat]

I have a group of friends that I met through DA cosplay and we all agree that the BG3 fandom can't hurt us bc we all were on tumblr and active in the DA fandom at the peak of its popularity.

[savethepinecones]

my mom has been watching mha but she cant remember anyones names so every time they mention everyone she stops the show to be like "whos that one again?" and ive gotten to the point where im using bakugou tactics to keep track of people smh

[bl00dcl4n]

LETS GO WOMEN

[numinousdread-a]

Remember when Hiromasa/Kagura were the younger siblings of Yorimitsu?? Like years ago in that comic? And now Kagura has like a totally different dad from Yorimitsu’s in the Ssn Cg. I’m like , always lsot on the on.myoji rewrites  swear. Should I keep it in lore then that Hiromasa/kagura are directly related to Yorimitsu rather than like ,a branch of the same clan?

[ndostairlyrium]

😫🍳✨Give me all three for all three DA blorbos 😌

Oh no these are super cute ;A; thank you dear!!!

😫 - How does your muse handle a family member being stressed out? What about sick?

Ela: Whenever her brother was sick she was ready to spend the night in his room with comfort food and a book on some epic journey ready to be devoured. And when he was stressed out, she distracted him by organizing small trips in the countryside to just chill and exercise with the sword. Visits to the burg were a big thing too! She's a person that prefers to comfort you how she would like to be comforted rather than trying to do something out of her reach.

Hawke: He's an active listener, so he's asking what would they need first before acting on it. Mother is stressed out? Her room would magically turn into a florist laboratory. Carver is sick? Warm bath with bubbles plus his favorite magazines will appear instantly. Also these. He can handle other people's distress quite well, since he's a chill guy.

Ankh: Oh she is the one that is stressed! In a good way tho, because she's a provider and has many resources. She would be the one googling symptoms, actually, but she won't tell you about that article on autoimmune diseases that just matches perfectly with your illness. She's that considerate u-u She'd stay with her loved ones as long as she can, providing everything that's necessary to ease their suffering. And if they're exceptionally stressed, she can either offer a joke to de-escalate or an ear to listen. Among all three, she would be the most worried, so she'd check on her loved ones often.

🍳 - What kind of family gatherings does your muse prefer and why?

Ela: Considering her family gatherings were huge dinner parties with lot of protocols to be respected literally, mentioning a date for some event crushes her soul. She loathes big events, but she's okay with group activities so if a big gathering happens you can find her at the archery spot embarassing herself with her most beloved.

Hawke: He's okay with everything, really, but the more the merrier, especially if the family involved is his Kirkwall crew.

Ankh: As long as there's some drama to be discussed, or to be watched, she's there, and family gatherings are the epicenter of some major drama she would hate to miss! She'd probably listen to other's preferences before organizing things tho - read as Cullen is an introvert and she prefers to put his comfort first. They can totally hide behind a column to eat berries from a napkin and she would be the happiest.

✨ - How important is family to your muse?

I would say that the three of them care deeply about their respective families / found families and they would totally love to be part of their respective cliques too?? Ankh discussing politics and lore with Merrill and Velanna? Chef kiss. Hawke fangirling over Dorian's studies on necromancy and time magic alongside Morrigan? Prepare popcorns. Ela and Bull demolishing a small building with Isabela just because? 10/10.

The ask meme

[madtomedgar]

WBUR did an article on the care workers shortage and did not interview one single person with a disability who depends on care workers. They sure interviewed some poor burdened parents and some nursing home reps tho 🙄

[firesofdainix]

If someone mistakes Connor Hawke with Conner Kent again I'm going ballistic

[7-oh-ta1]

One funny thing about the slowly resurfacing Anders discourse (and I mean by its real definition, like a debate or conversation not just yelling at each other) is that in his defense people will say, "he didn't tell Hawke what he was doing because he wanted to protect them from being his partner-in-crime" which sounds so noble on paper and in my opinion, is actually the case. Here's my problem: I don't just feel betrayed that he didn't tell Hawke what he was asking them do and making them guilty by association, I mostly feel betrayed because he was Hawke's friend and he blew up a church. Like personal betrayal aside he blew up a church. I think that's what bothers me here. It's a crazy thought, I know.

[eelslippers]

Whenever I see a humanoid character in media with feathered wings i be like *SNSNSNNNSNSSOOOORRRRTT* hehehe

[the-busy-ghost]

On the whole Waverley was not the most interesting hero in the world, but I loved that Scott describes him as reading voraciously as a child and then mostly giving it up as he got older because his daydreams were more entertaining and because he wasn’t prepared for the hard work to master more difficult literature.