hawk eyed

reader i have read the golden age arc at least four times i know that panel i know that back i know this entire scene and chapter and volume by heart and rest assured that i leaned back from my screen in something that wasn’t quite a flinch but nearly was because, ow. because there’s the boy, there’s the line of fires in the darkness, there’s guts sitting up on the ridge because he’s too feverish and banged up to sleep, and there’s casca right behind us the viewer looking at his back with exasperation and bewilderment and something very much like relieved fondness, and it’s been years and years since we got to have a glimpse of home like this and it was very welcome in this moment.

grimsister replied to your post “Anyone want to send me some prompts for the rest of this week/this…”

Hawke getting all googly eyed and blushie. That or some more Fenhawke teeth rotting fluff

After the mess that was Chateau Haine, Hawke wasn’t taking any more excuses. No more tiptoeing around stupid social constraints he didn’t give a shit about. No more trying to fit into some ideal the nobles thought their Champion should be. He wouldn’t even entertain discussion about propriety and tradition, and the last time someone asked him what the harm was in letting people assume what they wanted, the conversation had almost ended in violence.

So Hawke was aware he was potentially making a spectacle of himself, standing in his shirtsleeves in the hallway of some noble dipshit’s countryside palace, pounding on one of the guest room doors.

“Fenris, come out!”

Hawke didn’t quite yell, but he wasn’t exactly whispering, either. Fenris had long ago agreed that accompanying Hawke to these society things was a better idea than letting him crash his way through it alone, without the guidance of someone with more than a little experience. That Fenris always dressed simply and allowed himself to be mistaken for Hawke’s manservant – or worse – was where their current argument lay. Fenris had at last, however reluctantly, agreed to put on the suit Hawke bought him.

Hawke hadn’t counted on the elf locking himself in his rooms, however.

“Fenris!” he said again in that not-quite-a-whisper-or-shout, and jerked on the door handle until he realized he was being watched.

Hawke quickly straightened, his face like stone as he nodded to two passing ladies. As soon as they were gone he bent toward the keyhole again, even going so far as to climb to his knees. He peered into the keyhole, but could see only darkness. He put his ear against it, but heard nothing. “Fenris,” he hissed, but before he could say more the door opened.

Fenris stood there, in his suit, looking down at him with a frown as he adjusted his cufflinks. “Get off the floor, Hawke.”

Hawke forgot his irritation. He forgot everything.

He’d never seen Fenris in a suit before.

“You know this is going to be a disaster,” Fenris said as he scrambled gracelessly to his feet. The elf stepped forward to repair Hawke’s attempts to tie his own tie. He smoothed his collar and shoulders, fixed a missed button. “I can see it now. You insist the nobles treat me as your equal. They don’t. You upend the punch bowl over the host’s head. We leave in disgrace, once again without the benefit of sleeping on an Orlesian mattress. We – Hawke?”

It took Hawke several tries to find his voice. He said, “I won’t upend the punch bowl,” and his voice sounded like a rasp. His face felt too hot. He couldn’t remember why they were there.

Fenris frowned at him. “Don’t lie to me.”

Hawke swallowed, licked his lips. He tried again. “I’ll try not to upend the punch bowl.”

“I suppose try is the best I can hope for,” the elf said, dryly. He reached up to brush Hawke’s hair into order, and frowned at him again. He put his hand to the mage’s cheek. “Do you have a fever?”

“No,” Hawke said.

“Then what - ?” he didn’t get to finish the question. Hawke moved forward, his arms going around him, his mouth capturing his mouth as he backed him up into the bedroom.

He barely remembered to kick the door closed behind them.

anonymous asked:

I'm not sure if this has been addressed already or not since I'm a couple of chapters behind on Halcyon days, but just imagine them wanting to get a pet and Kamilah is like hmm should we get a dog? a cat? And Ana just comes home one day with a fcking hawk and is super determined to tame it and it just goes horribly, but Milah doesn't let her quit because "you brought berta home now go and get her down from the attic or you're sleeping on the couch" idk I just love them so much ok

Pet-related stuff here, here, and here!


Kamilah asks how in the fuck she managed to get a hawk, but Ana doesn’t have time to answer before the hawk tries to peck at her face. She can’t figure out how to tame Berta; it just flies around the house wrecking stuff, leaving half-eaten rat carcasses around, and pooping everywhere. Kamilah’s patience starts to wear thin and Ana willingly takes to the couch until she tames this feathered beast. But the last straw was when Ana found bird shit all over her Bey albums, and finally lets the hawk go. Where? Only she knows.

Fast forward a few years later, 4-year-old Fareeha is playing in the backyard while Ana prepares lunch. The girl bursts into the kitchen excitedly, so Ana turns around, and freezes.

What the fuck.

Fareeha is holding her hand up - which is thankfully wearing a baseball glove, because perched upon her hand is a tawny, sharp-eyed hawk. The bird is calm and quiet, merely observing the humans with its beady eyes. Ana’s mouth works in vain, until she finally finds her voice.



A personal project for upcoming portfolio update.

I had a problem with moths (not the wool eating kind fortunately) in my bedroom for some weeks. While trying to find out what they exactly were I got acquainted with some really pretty moths here in Finland. The moths in this picture are called peach blossom (vadelmavillaselkä in Finnish and if translated as is it means raspberry wool back) and eyed hawk-moth.


Relaxing lazy day at home (this style is definitely my own aesthetic)

Alice and Ruby look like adorable twinsies 👩‍❤️‍👩💕Since becoming besties they like to coordinate their outfits hehe

I also changed Rina’s face to the hawk eyed face in preparation for her new chuunibyou personality ku ku ku!!

1930s flashbacks put in chronological order

Jeon Seol’s first mission was on 19th April, right after that she went on stage as Anastasia, a Saturday-Singer at Carpe Diem. But I’ve checked, only in 1930, did 19th April that fell on a Saturday. However, the hangeul typewriter was invented in 1933.. So the timing did not match with facts.

Well that’s not really important, is it? Story-wise.

Let’s look at the order of events in the series of 1930s flashbacks. The drama flashed back as and when the timing fits. As a result, they are not in chronological order and confusing. 

*Beware, long post ahead.* This post took me so long to write. I included pictures [Episode no. and timings below the pics] so that it is easier to recall the scenes. Then the stills made the post even longer. Please excuse my pathetic GIF-ing skills. 

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Ok so I’m still cracking up this is the most hilarious thing that’s ever happened I still can’t believe it. I was already going to post it but it’s just gotten better and better. Buckle up kids, this is a long story.

It all started two weekends ago. I was at a convention, Anime Detour, because I’m a nerd. My mom had, over the past couple of years of misplaced parental affection, presented me with birthday and Christmas presents of anime and SuperWhoLock shirts that A) I didn’t need because I’m drowning in t-shirts and B) were kind of awful. Not awful enough to be worn ironically, but not good enough to actually wear. Before shipping them away to the nearest secondhand store, I decided to take them to a couple of conventions that have swap meets. I could get them off my hands, and some kind soul with different taste will love them and give me something in return.

I got to the swap meet at Detour pretty late. As in, 15 minutes before it ended. A cursory glance around the room told me that most of the really great stuff had already been swapped away. I made my way slowly towards the exit, resigned that I’d have to wait to rid myself of these shirts, and that trying to find anything quality was in vain.

I was soon to be proven wrong, however.

While I was idly eyeing a gently-used DVD, I heard someone mention a “freebie table”. Apparently this is where vendors put their wares that they have tired of trying to hawk to the dead-eyed weebs that roam the halls, free for anyone to take, no barter necessary.

That’s where I found it. Just as I was walking up, a vendor tossed it onto the table among the Pokemon energy cards and copies of Death Note, Volume 6. As soon as I laid eyes on it I knew I had to have it. It was the most awful, cringe-worthy, beautiful piece of garbage I’d ever laid eyes on.

A physical CD of original songs composed and performed by Vic Mignogna.

I felt like I’d found the Holy Grail of Ironic Memorabilia. Just look at this incredible monstrosity. Look at the terrible font that nobody can actually read

Gaze upon the horrid, cheesy song titles

I couldn’t even think about listening to it. I knew that, in order for me to not turn off the sultry tones of Dick Lasagna instantly, it would have to be past 2 AM where I already am losing my grip on responsible decisions. I told all my friends about it. I reveled in their glee-filled horror. They made me promise not to listen to it until they could be there, and we joked about how hilarious it would be if we could get him to sign the damn thing. I put it on my dresser in as much of a place of honor as I’ve got.

But I didn’t open the case.

Then a couple of days later, it caught my eye as I was about to leave for class, and I realized that I hadn’t checked to see if the CD was actually in the case. It didn’t feel empty and it rattled when I picked it up so I hadn’t questioned it before. But just to make sure, I popped open the case. And wait… 

hold on… 





Yesterday, late at night, my friends and I gathered around a small USB disk drive as it hummed to life, the nostalgic whine of a spinning CD the only noise in the quiet kitchen. An iTunes window appeared and the first track loaded up - “Italian Boys”. We stood in terse anticipation as the bravest one of us clicked play. Twenty seconds later we were all in various stages of collapse, shrieking with laughter at every line. It was awful, in its purest form. This is, without a doubt, the absolute worst item on the face of the planet. 

And it’s MINE.



anders couldn’t imagine what his expression must have been like. he couldn’t seem to find the words. his hand fell away from the key, and came up slowly to cover his mouth. “oh,” he said. “oh, maker.”

hawke eyed him oddly. “what’s wrong?”

“… i’ve just discovered that i’m a cradle robber,” anders said, and laughed at the expression on hawke’s face. “i’m sorry, carver, have you seen garrett anywhere?”

I would like to thank you for the opportunity to draw carver Hawke without a shirt

Headcanon Time

Mihawk is a bounty hunter and he and Shanks met each other when Mihawk went after Gol D. Roger’s bounty and Shanks saw this hawk-eyed guy who was around his age wielding a sword and he was like l “ I’m gonna fight him” and Roger just let him while keeping an eye on them fighting. The fight ends in a draw with both Shanks and Mihawk passed out on the ground. Later Mihawk wakes op in the infirmary and Shanks is laying in the bed next to him with a big smile on his face saying “ This is the start of a beautiful friendship”. Mihawk gets the feeling he doomed himself.


Based on this prompt: “ In a society that invented time travel, it has become a custom to mentor yourself as a child.”

~1400, no warnings, angst

“Books are for losers. He’s a loser.”

“You know, I bet he has some interesting stories in those books. I bet you could make another friend.”

“I don’t need friends.”

“We don’t need friends?” 18-year-old Eren asked.

“No we don’t. They are dis-a-point-ing,” 6-year-old Eren said with a sniff of superiority as he sounded out the word.

“I bet Armin is actually really cool,” Eren sang.

“How would you know? You’re so lame. I am not growing up to be like you. I’m going to be cool,” 6-year-old Eren said, hopping up on the concrete wall, holding his arms out for balance.

“Hey! I’m cool!”

“Ugh, you sound just like Mom and Dad,” 6-year-old Eren said.


Eren bit his lip. His time was almost up.

“Just make one friend…for us?”

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As sick as me

Originally posted by justnegan

A/N: Yooo bonjour bonjour kittens! I don’t even know, Negan mates. 
Just god, motherfucking Negan. 
Basically i was lookin’ for a nice little read and didn’t quite find what i was lookin’ for so i did my own.

Summary: You are a leader of a group, dealing with Negan. But basically having a character like him, you two tend to get along just fine. While you’re group is kind of scared and uncertain about the man and the whole deal, you secretively love his visits - and he makes sure he is there every time the saviors come along. You are his ‘highlight of the week’, as he puts it.

Pairing: Negan x reader

Warnings: Explicit language, typical Negan, slightly sexual

You wanted him. 
And you knew that. 
He wanted you too and you knew that. 
You also knew that you wanted to see him. 
His damn smirk and his fucked up humor. 
Negan, you and yet another bottle of whiskey you two had shared so often in the past now…perfect.
He was too damn charming when he was drunk.

A woman came running up to you and ripped your out of your daydream.
Serena was one of your favorites and a true treasure. She was pretty much the nicest person you knew, ever knew to be honest. Apocalypse or not, she managed to keep her humanity and this was the fact so many people felt drawn to her.
Not that your group was made up of a lot of men in the first place.
Women were gladly accepted as long as they ‘didnt bitch around’, you had declared. Men on the other hand had to get through a thousand of tests and mind games of yours to prove themselves worthy for you to give them shelter.

You ruled this place and you made that pretty clear. Never have you been intently cruel to someone…who hadn’t deserved it at least. 
No one knew where you came from. What you did. Who you really were. 
When you arrived at this place, you got a glimpse at the status and decided in a matter of three days. 
The decision was to kill the corrupt piece of shit that ran this place, throw a few people out and save this heaven. 
And so you did. Declared yourself queen and started ruling. 

“Y/N?”, Serena asked, seemingly worried. 
“Hmm?”, you turned your head, leaning back. 
You sat in your Baby. A black Mercedes Benz. Beautiful, shiny, gorgeous. You’ve found the car in a warehouse about a year ago and cared for it like for a child. The engine wasn’t running at all but you kept the battery fresh - so the radio was still intact. 
The music was loud and you loved the feeling of the your heartbeat melting with the bass. 
The seats were made of leather and the wheel was of beautiful dark wood. Whoever had that beauty made, he had style. 
“They’re comin” the girl stuttered. 
“WHOSE comin’ darlin? Talk in full sentences, will you?”, you groaned, throwing your head back. 

You basically lay in the car, your feet placed on the wheel, your hand tapping in the rhythm of the music. 
‘Just can’t get enough’ by Depeche Mode - a damn classic.
“The Saviors…”, she said, her chest rapidly raising and falling. 
Your hand stopped moving. You froze, slowly turning your head to her. 
“It’s Tuesday.”, you stuttered, pushing your sunglasses down to get a real glimpse at her. 
“I know.”
“Wednesdays. He comes on Wednesdays.”
“I know i know, that’s why-”

Listening closely, you actually noticed the sound of multiple cars, driving through the woods.
The girl was interrupted by some engines that died off in the distance and the sound of car doors getting opened and closed - just as steps of people, coming closer to your beloved walls. 


You’d always recognize his voice.
Somehow, the smallest smile hushed over your lips before you could swallow it down. 
With a gesture of your hand, hanging out of the window of the car, you ordered the girls to open the doors. 

With a metal sound the bars were pulled to the side and Negan, just as about ten men came swaying in side. 
He wore that beautiful huge grin on his face. He’d never really appeared here anyway else. 

The windows of the Mercedes were tinted, all of them, which allowed you to glance at the man, without him spotting you right away. 
“DARLIN’!”, he shouted, still grinning like an idiot, “You are truly lovely, but where’s the queen, sweethearts?”, he looked at the girls which just had opened the doors. 
Like a hawk you eyed his men which stared at your people. 
“Piece, Negan.”, you shouted back, actually gesturing him a piece sign, your arm the only thing that was visible, hanging out of the carwindow. 

Negan’s expression automatically softened. 
“There’s my girl…”, he growled to himself, starting to walk up to the car.
“TUESDAY.”, you yelled suddenly and your hand changed the gesture, now pointing straight at him. 
He started laughing. 
“IT’S FUCKING TUESDAY, NEGAN. Wednesday you said. NOT TUESDAY.”, you continued yelling, not mad at all. 
He suddenly walked up to the drivers side of the car and leaned onto the window, looking at you, smiling smuggly. 

“Hi Babygirl.”, he nearly whispered. 
He was looking at his reflection in your Sunglasses, then at your beautiful full, red lips and even deeper down at your cleavage. 
You weren’t like any woman he’d met since the whole shit started. 
You still cared for style. 
You loved to find make up, you loved expensive stuff and clothes, having a fable for collecting only from the finest Boutiques and shops.  
He licked his lips and shot you a smile again. 
“Hi, Honey.”, you whispered back, your lips slightly parted. 
“Sorry i’m so early. I missed you.”, his voice was dark and hoarse. He sounded longing and it made your heart flatter. 
“Should I get out, or do you get in?”, you asked, gesturing to the door between you.
“I’d love to get inside.”, he smirked yet again, exchanging a few more glances with you before pushing himself of the car to walk around, as you suddenly opened to door. 

You gracefully jumped out, your hair swaying as you turned to him. 
He wasn’t really hiding that he checked you out, nor that he liked it. 
Having basically no more social guidelines, you enjoyed to be able to wear whatever the fuck you felt like and just loved to look good. 
Somehow you managed to keep your outfits quiet perfectly in between  revealing and royal. 
“Wait…we have something to take care of inside anyway…mind following me?”, you proposed, gesturing to the tall building in the middle of the place. 

It was an hotel once. A hotel for really, really rich people. It was huge, left enough space and even had stuff like a pool and a sauna, no one used anymore. 
What came in handy though, were the huge beautiful apartments with king-sized beds and balconies. 

“Do we?”, Negan asked, tilting his head. 
Carefully, you removed your sunglasses, putting them on top of your Mercedes.
“It’s Tuesday, Negan.”, you repeated your statement from earlier, this time way calmer and more serious, “It’s charming that you felt like honoring me with your presence again….which i really…love as you know”, you nearly moaned those last words, smirking at him while doing so, “But…i do not think i can give you, what you asked from me just yet. I calculated to have a few more days…”, you mumbled again, your gaze striving through the mass of his men. 

You knew how much Negan appeared to like you - since the first time you met actually. 
You just felt it. 
The way he felt, was just how you felt. 
Feeling nothing at all. 
You both were dead inside, you both noticed that about each other - and found understanding and interest in it. Just as respect. 

But you still, or especially because of that knew, what this man was capable of.

“Mmmmh Darling…i’ll need to punish you for that.”, he mumbled, still sounding slightly hoarse.
You weren’t exactly sure if he was flirting again or if he was serious.
“Do you?”, you asked, your tone neutral as you looked him straight in his eyes. 
“Naughty girls need to get punished.”, he smiled slightly, eyeing you again.

“I’m not a girl…Negan.”, you walked a few steps closer to him, standing so close that you barely touched now, “I am the Queen, of this place. A Conqueror. “, you hissed, “And i would never be naughty, when it comes to you, you know that.”
You could basically feel him quivering now, biting his lip, staring down at you with want. 
“I will always try to please your needs.”, you whispered, tilting your head, “Doing my best to full fill every, single, order.”

He didn’t answer.

“But you said Wednesday, Mister. I’m sorry. I don’t  have your damn stuff, just yet. You can take everything you want though, you know that, honey.”, you sighted, suddenly dropping the flirt and walking away from him. 
He watched after you, as you put your hands on your hips. 

He wanted to touch you so badly. He needed to. But you never exactly gave him permission and he actually had respect of you.

He also knew that you would never dare hurt him. Not because you didn’t have the balls, but because you respected him too.

 But he saw you dismantling three of his boys as they tried to touch you, wrestling them down as it was nothing.
It teased him to not know who you where. The scars on your arms and knuckles teased him to get to know your stories. 
Your beauty teased him. 
It teased him not to know where else on your body you had some of those stories hidden. 

“You are hot as hell.”
Was the first thing he growled, after he walked up to you again. 
He was standing so close that his chest collided with you back. 

You pointed to something in the distance. 
“Over there we have some things for you stored, i only chose the best ones for my dear saviors. And in my room, i have a special something for you…”

“Did you even hear me?”, he whispered again, his voice clouded with lust.
He wanted to touch you so badly now. 
“I am Hell, Darling. That’s why.”, you shortly answered. 

You could feel his hips against your lower back and didn’t mind to suppress the small moan that escaped your lips.
Hesitantly, his hands grabbed your shoulder, pulling you closer, leaning down to whisper into your ear.

“A special something, you said?“
“A very special something.”, you whispered back. 
“Why don’t we…just go up there. Just let me do the work, majesty.”, he teased, “I promise i fuck you so fucking perfectly you won’t ever let me go again…”, he hovered next to you, his face eagerly buried in your hair. 

This came somehow surprising but… was there ever a moment you weren’t surprised by his actions?

“Negan…”, you got out of his grip, turning around to face him, placing your hand on his shoulder now, “You got five hot wives, which you can fuck all day long in the most delicious ways and i bet they absolutely love it. What kind of woman would i be to keep all that gorgeous Negan for me then?”, you chuckled, your leg brushing his crotch in the slightest, most teasing way.

You suddenly let go, walking up to the Hotel, leaving him standing there. 
“But i want you!”, he growled, like a kidd who didn’t get the toy he wanted for Christmas. 

“The Speacial Something, Is a beautiful bottle of Whiskey, i found. If you are interested”, you turned around, looking if he was coming or not. 
He was, slowly walking after you. 
“And you know how hard it is for me to not drink that myself.”, you teased him, winking and waiting till the man was next to yo, “But i kept all of it for you, like the good girl i am.”, you laughed at your own joke.

“My good girl?”
“Not quite.”, you chuckled. 
“..Yet”, Negan growled, placing a hand at your back. 

Honestly…this was supposed to be a oneshot but it smells a whole fucking lot like a small series…what do you think? Should i do a part two? More steamy? Let me know, below.