trail hawk

anonymous asked:

Da2 Companions to Hawke somehow being a mermaid?

(I have imagined Hawke as human on land but transforms into a mermaid when in contact with water etc)

Aveline: Found out on the way to Kirkwall from Gwaren, when Carver and Beth were being extra protective of their sibling. Was shocked and a little bit suspicious, but eventually came to be accepting of it, if not entirely comfortable.  

Isabela: Is in love. Asks if there’s some way she can be one too. For about a week Hawke gets Isabela trailing after them waiting to see if they’ll transform. Romanced: Still offers to take them on the ship. Pirates have a mermaid on their ship, right? Loves to steer her ship while Hawke is swimming through the waves. 

Fenris: Assumes it is some sort of magic and if Hawke isn’t a mage, he will confront them about hiding their mage abilities. Once he knows, it takes him a while to feel comfortable around Hawke, particularly Hawke near water. He’ll get there though. Romanced: After he knows it’s not really magic, he’ll make an extra effort to ensure Hawke knows he is accepting of them…all parts of them. It takes some work, as the transformation is still very similar to magic, but he’ll accept it as a part of Hawke. He is not amused when Hawke splashes him with water. Not amused at all.

Anders: Probably finds out by accident, but is absolutely fascinated. He loves watching them transform, and likens the talent to shape-shifting mages he’d seen before. Romanced: He is probably told the secret by Hawke, and feels very privileged to be privy to the knowledge. Every night, under cover of darkness, he loves to take Hawke down to the sea and watch them transform. 

Merrill: Like Anders, she is fascinated by it. She will trail Hawke around for a while, asking them all manner of questions about their transformation. When Hawke transforms for her, she takes notes and wonders whether it is a magical process, similar to that which certain Dalish Keepers can replicate. She will do a lot of research and present her findings to Hawke, so Hawke can learn about the history and significance of their wonderful gift. Romanced: Merrill takes Hawke to see Keeper Marethari and they spend a long afternoon discussing the possibilities of Hawke’s gift’s origin. Every evening, Hawke likes to take Merrill down to the beach by her house and spend a few hours swimming while Merrill eagerly watches and observes the technique of the transformation. The two work at possibly finding a way for Merrill to transform as well.

Varric: When he’s told, he doesn’t quite believe it. This is something out a story, surely. It’s just too good to be true, right? It’s a bit weird, but Varric gets on board. He loves to watch Hawke swimming in the big open sea- nothing quite beats seeing a mermaid flip their tail in the air. People notice that mermaids start to feature in many of his stories too…

Bethany: She was always a little jealous of her sibling since Hawke’s gift was discovered, but as she grew up, she became more and more understanding. It’s something they can share; they both have something to hide and thus there is a mutual sort of respect, even if their situations aren’t quite the same. Bethany makes many notes of Hawke’s gift, and tries to discover as much about it as possible, so as to not accidentally trigger a transformation in the middle of the city. 

Carver: As a boy, Carver was delighted when his sibling was a mermaid. It was something right out of the stories that their parents told them. Like Bethany, he was also a little bit jealous he couldn’t be a mermaid too. As he grew up, he became to realise it wasn’t as much as a gift as he had assumed, and he became fiercely protective of Hawke. Whenever they go out in public, Carver makes a mental list of all the possible triggers for Hawke’s transformation, and makes an effort to keep Hawke away from them. It’s an exhausting job, really, but Hawke appreciates it all the same.

Sebastian: He was a bit suspicious at first, as he remembered the stories of Selkies from Starkhaven, but when he realised that Hawke was first and foremost a human, he became fascinated. He wonders at the origin of the gift, and suggests that perhaps the Selkies of legend share some link with Hawke’s gift. He is very supportive of Hawke, and becomes very adept at distracting on-lookers when Hawke begins to accidentally transform. Romanced: He can’t help but feel like he is wed to a Selkie and jokes about how he fears Hawke will one day leave him for the open sea (something Hawke very firmly denies). Sebastian loves to take Hawke out to a secluded river or beach and swim with them at sunset. 

Fenris plots I’d love to see

I want to see fics where Fenris gets to deal with how being a slave, literal property fucked him up and isn’t solved by magical healing cock and/or the power of Hawke’s true wuv.

Where he’s angry and they don’t just brush off his mistrust of magic and mages as whining.

Where he’s described as damn near tall enough to look Hawke in the eye (which he is if you look at the character models, he just slouches) and he does it out of defiance and learning to be free

Where’s he not this weak elf that just can’t navigate the human world without Hawke to guide him; aka woobifying him

Where’s he’s dominant and it’s not about revenge on mages but something he’s learned that he likes, that’s a slow and awkward process

Where sometimes he just fucks off to do what he wants after that night at Hawke’s instead of pining for three fucking years and trailing along after Hawke, heartsick over what he thinks is lost.

Where he goes off on Anders for suggesting he be turned over to Danarius when he’s supposedly all about freedom.(that’s one thing I will never get over)

If he does have magic, it’s not oh, ok and through the written equivalent of a training montage, he’s ok and super proficient in magic all of a sudden. I want him to unleash it on slavers, enjoying wild swings of power as he destroys them.

Sober Princess

Originally posted by cplmerqury

14. “Look, I know we don’t know each other that well, but I’m still worried about you. No one deserves to be alone.”

Sober Princess 

She had reluctantly came to the bar, her friends persuaded her timelessly. They wouldn’t even leave her alone, begging her to come with them. They knew she didn’t drink, so they pleaded for her to come with them to make sure they would be safe… they promised to doll her up, give her sexy cloths, nice stilettos, They even went a step ahead and did her make up and hair. She was dragged around like a rag doll. Her soft brown curls cascaded down to the tip of her round ass, while her dress ended a little over her mid thighs hugging her body like a second skin. She knew if she were to bend just a little everything down there would be on display. Her heels were long and think, her toes scrunched together while she awkwardly made her way around the bar, pushing past bodies and holding onto the walls for support.

“Hey…” A voice slurred, she turned around, her hair followed her harsh movements, “What’s a pretty lady like you doing here?” His slimy hand came to hold onto her small waist, but she was quick to move away from him, once she was a good distance away from the old man, she turned around looking for her tall friends.

“Great,” She pinpointed her girls grinding on two men while sandwiching the boys together. Shaking her head, she wobbled up the stairs before entering a office like club, it didn’t have much people in it, so she scurried to the couch to peel off the heels. “God.” Her voice moaned, while she rubbed the balls of her feet.

She didn’t know how long she sat on the couch, but a man with scarlet rimmed eyes had came Crashing down on the sofa. His tie already opened up half way while his shirt buttoned to the brim, his angry expression could scare off any monster. He looked important, so the girl scooted away while playing with her phone. She didn’t want to encounter anyone at the moment. Her friends had already corrupted her normal routine, sleep in Saturday and stay away playing on her phone, instead she found her self in a club playing on her phone.

Minutes passed before the man beside her started to pull a zip bag from his pocket, grabbing the white powder he made a thin line over the table, before bending down and sucking the substance between his nostrils. With that said and done, the girl had panicked. Pulling him by his shoulders she watched as he looked worried, but instantly his featured curled to anger.

“What do you want?” His tone harsh and jagged. His baby blues pored into her chocolate brown pupils.

“Are you alright?” Her nails dug into his smooth jacket once he died to push her prying hands away.

“Let go!” He hollered, hands limb beside his body.

“Look, I know we don’t know each other that well, but I’m still worried about you. No one deserves to be alone.” She rambled, pushing the zip bag away from his body to the ground, its content spilling. His eyes trailed like a hawks, “Look what you just fucking did!” He slurred, pushing her to the side and falling to his knees trying to collect the drugs.

“Stop!” She fell next to him, pushing the zip bag and running her hand across the pile, making it hard for him to get any of the clean parts. “Stop!” She chanted, pushing him to the ground. She straddled his chest and placed her hands between his head. His hands shot up to hold onto her forearms.

“What’s your problem!” He asked, angry, he knew he could push her down with his breath, but she needed to explain herself. “Do you even know who I am?” He cried, she knew he was drunk, he smelt of alcohol, very strongly. His eyes bore into her, sending a death glare her way.

“No,” She voiced honestly, “But you look hurt…” Her voice trailed. She looked around, no one was sitting in the small office like room. “Are you alright?” Her hair escaped from behind her bitty ears and now framed his face. Her brown locks covered the sight of their faces.

“I’m TJ,” He begun, but hesitated at finishing his last name. “I’m just TJ…” He whispered, releasing her arms from his strong hold, he let them fall to the side, but then instantly ran his palms across her cheeks. She stared at his actions, she knew he was drunk…

“I’m sorry, I have to leave.” She stood up abruptly, but got pulled back by the man, this time falling on his chest. Her cheeks got squished between his pectorals. “TJ, I have to leave!” She cried, her fear eating up her body. He was a complete stranger, and here he was being clingy. What if he took her home and raped her? What if he decided to kill her? She didn’t know, and the need to get away from Him was growing beyond her expectations.

“I think you look pretty sexy-” With that uttered out of his lips, she pinched his nipples, he let go of her and started to rub the sore meat on his chest. She scurried off his body and grabbed her phone, she was about to grab her shoes but TJ was starting to get up. So her black high heels just had to take the sacrifice.

“Wait stop!” He hollered, standing up just at the second her feet hit the exit. Her friends trailing behind her once they caught a glimpse of her running form. “Damn…” TJ mumbled, his gaze fell back to the black heels that stood untied over his expensive table beside the couch.

“I’ll find you,” He chuckled, But fell over the sofa and slipped into a dreamless slumber, with all the commotion his Club emitted being drowned down by all the alcohol he consumed. 

TJ Hammond had a mission first thing in the morning… his sober princess just had to wait a few hours before being rescued.

reneefantasy26  asked:

Omg could you write another scenario with the pregnant s/o and overprotective box weapons?? Any Character is okay <3


Tossing the covers off your legs, you slid off the bed and headed to the bathroom, your bladder about to burst.  “Only one more month,” you huffed as you sat down on the toilet.  “Uri, you can stay out there,” you said when you heard the small cat scratching at the door.

A couple more scratches and a meow later, the little leopard was rubbing against your leg, purring up a storm.

“Do you really think I can’t handle going to the bathroom by myself?  I’m not even that far from the bed,” you whispered so not to wake Gokudera.

Uri meowed again before jumping up into the sink to look you at eye level.  You sighed again and finished your business, shooing the cat away so you could wash your hands.


“Tone it down there whirlwind,” you chuckled at the dog circling your feet.  “I’m trying to walk here.”  Jiro stopped long enough to look up at you and let out a bark before going back to running around.  

“Looks like the new dog food we got is kicking in, he seems healthier now,” Yamamoto laughed, walking over to you with a smile.

“Are Box Animals even supposed to eat food?” you asked, wrapping your arms around your husband.  

“No idea, but he eats it so why not?” Yamamoto grinned, watching his two Box Animals chase each other.

“Either way, get him to stop circling my feet like, I feel like I’m gong to step on him or trip when he does that,” you said, lowering yourself to the couch.

Yamamoto plopped next to you, “He’s just being protective is all.”


The floor thudded with each hop of the large kangaroo that trailed you like a hawk trailing it’s next meal.  “I think I’m perfectly capable of walking to the mailbox on my own,” you said in a slightly annoyed tone.  

The kangaroo said nothing, but continued following out of the house, down the drive way and to the mailbox, then back again, always five feet behind.  “I’m going to have to call Ryohei again, aren’t I?” you asked yourself as you flipped through the mail, sorting the junk from the important.

As if reading your thoughts, your phone rang and your fished it out of your pocket, “Hey babe,” you said, tossing the mail on the kitchen table.  “Mind telling your Australian friend to stop following my like I’m going to give birth at any minute?”

“You aren’t far from it though,” Ryohei said.  “Any day now.”

“And I will call you to come get me.  I have my phone on me at all times, I don’t need to be followed,” you said, exasperated.  

“Fine,” Ryohei sighed, “Sorry for being overly cautious,” he said.

“Don’t start with me,” you warned.  “My body is pumped full of hormones and all I need is someone to unleash them on,” you said, ending the conversation.

submitted by Josh Skaarup

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My somewhat traditionalist gear/medicine bag. Hunting, camping, wilderness survival, the old fashioned way.

What if the Larry O'Brien trophy was custom made every year for the new NBA Champion? Well, a graphic designer brought that idea to life, in this incredible fusion of team logo’s with the leagues biggest prize. 

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I ended up not going in the direction of the false calling – sorry, anon, I tried out the idea but it just didn’t work. So I went with something a little more recently close to home :x

small kindnesses – post-Arishok battle, Hawke/Anders, hurt/comfort.

Anders knew nursing. It had been part of his medical training back at the Circle, part of the training of every mage who passed through the infirmary under Wynne’s stern eye; she didn’t think much of apprentices who were too squeamish, or thought themselves too fine a mage to scrub out a bedpan or two. He knew all the basics: how to mix and administer potions, and what medication for every need; how to cook up porridge for those on liquid diets and broth and tea for the clear  liquid diets. He knew how to give sponge baths and change dressings and keep a brisk and cheerful manner throughout.

He knew it, but he hadn’t honestly used those skills much since he came to Kirkwall. He had no shortage of patients, which indeed was the problem – there were too many of them, and not enough of him to go around. He simply didn’t have the time to sit at the bedside of every ragged Darktown refugee who came through his clinic, to feed and clean them and make sure they drank their potions properly – not when there were ten more patients waiting in the room beyond bleeding or coughing themselves to death. He did the things that only he could do, and mostly left the nursing care to the families or, for those who had none, to his aides.

 But there was an exception to every rule.

Keep reading


Pimped @coldsteelknives trail hawk with fire-steel mod and kydex axe mask kindly sent to me by the good folks @heinniehaynes to pimp up and test .

 Custom knives , sheaths and gear from

king-of-lost-light  asked:

Hello! for the December drabbles can I ask for Fenhawke cuddles on a snowy/rainy/stormy day?

This could possibly be a continuation from last night’s bonus drabble.

Also it’s terribly fluffy.

The tub would have been too small even had he been bathing alone. With Fenris with him, Hawke had to hang his legs over the sides so the elf could fit between them.

Even still, he wasn’t complaining.

The fire in their little inn room cracked and popped merrily, and Fenris let him use just a little magic to keep the water warm. The elf seemed relaxed, lying back against him, his head on Hawke’s shoulder, his eyes closed. The soap smelled of lemon and mint, and it was slick on his fingers as he spread it slowly over the elf’s bare chest.

Hawke hadn’t felt more content in quite a while.

When they had fled Kirkwall, Hawke had had a difficult time, navigating the guilt he felt. Guilt, not only over how events had transpired with the Chantry, and Anders, and all of that – but also over the fact he was pulling Fenris from the home he had made, the first stable place he had found since gaining his freedom. Hawke was taking him back onto the road, back into a fugitive’s life.

He knew Fenris was capable of making his own decisions. He knew Fenris stayed with him because he chose to stay with him.

But he wanted to build a life with him. He wanted to give him a home.

Hawke bent his head. He breathed in deeply, enjoying the scent of the soap against Fenris’s neck. The elf’s skin was warm against his lips – a rare thing, particularly given the snow storm howling away outside. He could feel how relaxed Fenris was, his shoulders free of their usual tight knots. He heard him sigh.

“Are you happy?” Hawke couldn’t help but to ask him. He reached up to pull his fingers through the elf’s hair, combing it back away from his face. Fenris didn’t open his eyes.

“That’s a foolish thing to ask, Hawke,” he told him. His voice was nearly a purr. He angled his head, pointedly, for Hawke to return his attention to his neck. Hawke trailed his fingertips against his skin, then his lips.

“I’m happy,” Hawke volunteered. Outside, the wind howled. It shook and rattled the shutters on the window. Fenris chuckled, low. He caught the hand that had been washing his chest, and directed it under the water.

“You usually are,” he said, “When there is nudity involved.”

Hawke laughed. He said, “Don’t get any ideas. I don’t fancy paying the inn for a new tub. Not when there’s a perfectly serviceable bed in the corner.”

“Spoilsport,” Fenris muttered.

Hawke left his hand where he’d placed it, idly brushing his thumb back and forth across Fenris’s lower belly until the elf squirmed. Hawke said, “I’m still waiting for you to answer my question.”

Fenris glanced back at him, his gaze half lidded and warm. He said, “What do you think, Hawke?”

The wind gave another howl. The shutters creaked and groaned. Fenris’s mouth was soft and yielding beneath Hawke’s own.

“Yes,” Fenris told him at last, his skin warm and wet and slick against Hawke’s. His eyes were soft and sleepy. “Yes,” he said, “I’m very happy.”