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#also hawke is trans
telumendils · 2 years
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Every friend group should include...
[x]
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takami-takami · 1 year
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Thinking about how good Keigo would be about gender stuff. So validating, so sweet about it. He adores every aspect of your identity and presentation, and can tell when you're feeling one way over the other. He listens to the way you communicate it and remembers every word.
Of course he'd love that about you! He can't get enough of learning every little intricacy that makes you you.
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v0idwraith · 1 year
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james lance has officially joined the ranks of straight men i trust to portray queer characters
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thedragonagelesbian · 6 months
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if i was any closer i could only lose me
Fandom: Dragon Age II
Rating: E
Pairing: AndersXM!Hawke
Summary:
do you know i could break beneath the weight / of the goodness love i still carry for you / that i’d walk so far just to take / the injury of finally knowing you
In the aftermath of Legacy and Dissent, Anders has never needed Hawke more… even as he fears that that need might destroy them both.
or: gay sex will not fix this situation. honestly, it'd probably make it worse. that being said i think we should give it a shot anyway
“Anders, please, wait!” The plea kept echoing. It wouldn’t let Anders go, even as he tore through Darktown, even as he slammed the clinic door with all his might, even as he paced in dizzying circles, clutching his skull and gasping each stuttered breath, Cyrus Hawke’s voice reverberated through him. It rang against all the hollow empty parts of him, and he was so very, very empty now. Vengeance had evaporated. Whatever distant corner of Anders’ being the demon had retreated to, he could not feel it. He could scarcely feel anything. The cold sheen of sweat down his back, the tightness in his lungs, the shivers across his frame, the lurching of his gut, the whole of his body still suspended in the miserable freefall, waiting to hit the ground, to stop— Maker, please, let it stop! And a memory of Cyrus’ voice, brimming with a warmth that Anders knew he did not deserve. This was the third time in less than a month that Anders had lost himself to Vengeance. First in Corypheus’ prison, then in the Fade, and now beneath the Gallows. Three times Cyrus had depended on him, and instead it had fallen to the elf to stop him from doing something he couldn’t live with. Something monstrous. He was a monster.  In the Deep Roads, Cyrus should’ve fought him like one— butchered him like one, if that’s what it had come to. Instead, his movements had been precise and delicate. Tender, even, careful not to catch anything vital with his shield. A bludgeoning caress here, a blunt touch there, aiming more for the staff than anything else, and with each regretful strike, he had begged, “Anders, please, snap out of this. I don’t want to hurt you.” Only as a last resort did Cyrus brandish his sword, and rather than plunging it through Anders’ chest, he had closed quarters for a long, shallow slash up his side. Careful. Gentle. Kind. And Vengeance had paid back that kindness by grabbing his throat, hooking Anders’ fingers through the gap between the helm and chestplate, and pumping him so full of electricity that Cyrus was still recovering. Anders swore he could smell it again now. The spray of his own blood mingling with Cyrus’ charred flesh. Sickened, spinning, he knew he needed to sit down to keep his stomach from exploding, but the thought of stilling, even for a moment, made him just as ill. He kept moving. He couldn’t stop. He couldn’t even close his eyes.  What if he felt it? Lurking in the darkness behind his eyelids, that furious cold nothingness taking him again? As frigid and as tenebrous as the Void itself— at least according to the sermonizing templars who had thrown him into solitary confinement for a year. He couldn’t tell which memory was worse. 
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starshapedspider · 3 months
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wasp rick save me…. Save me wasp rick…. Wasp rick save me……..
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a-drama-addict · 1 year
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tiny man appreciation hours
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d4rk-x-w0lf-17 · 2 years
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the idea of sonic crushing on someone who could beat his ass is so funny because like
sonic @ mighty, who's able to beat his ass at literally any given moment: h-hewwo....❤️🖤
sonic @ knuckles, who literally beat him out of his super form: 🥺👉👈
sonic @ shadow, who beat his ass several times: so you wanna hit the movies later--
sonic @ blaze after she kicked his ass into next tuesday:
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sonic @ jet, who relentlessly taunted him and managed to beat him in a speed race (technically not on foot but sonic still count it): 👌🏻😩
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In the final chapter of your Rising Storm rewrite, it is mentioned that all of Sasha's kits are toms, including Moth. Did you decide to change Mothwings canon gender, or are you setting up for Mothwing to be transfer?
she'll be trans uwu
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louisironson · 9 months
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trans woman hawkeye fic got me crying in the club
not mine just a fan of it. like a lot. yeehaw
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nightly-ruse · 1 year
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I need to make a post on how I see Mothwing and Hawkfrost bc they are so complex to me and I need to let my many thoughts out
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gaysebastianvael · 5 months
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trans man Fenris isn't even a headcanon to me at this point. that's just Fenris.
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lakemichigans · 5 months
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fellow travelers is losing me for real WHERE ARE THE WOMENNNNN even queer as folk had main cast lesbians and straight women who existed as more than just plot development for the gay men
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tiredpaladins · 2 years
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It's funny to me that mpreg has been an absolute ick to me my entire life until Hawks, I'm like yeah sure I guess. Do I like it? Not particularly it's still on thin ice but I'm willing to get over it if the plot is compelling
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silly-cryptid · 1 year
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no bc endhawks was never meant to be forever, their romance is one of those movie romances, passionate and sexy and dangerous and eventually the forces of their respective lives will tear them apart, or death will, and the only thing each will have left is the memories, lingering, haunting memories of a love that was always doomed.
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thedragonagelesbian · 11 months
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Little Prince
Fandom: Dragon Age II
Rating: T
Summary:  When Bethany Hawke’s magic manifests, her family’s life is thrown into turmoil. But it’s okay, her older brother tells himself. It’s fine. Cyrus Hawke may only be fourteen years-old, but he knows who he is and what his role is in the family… right?
“Cyrus, it is well past time to go to bed.”
“I’m keeping watch. Until Father comes back.”
Cyrus Hawke was doing his best impression of the man in question. He sat dutifully on the dirt floor of the wooden shack with his eyes trained on the front door, as he had watched his father do for the last five nights. Whether perched in the loft of a barn or squatting outside of their flimsy, makeshift tents, Malcolm had guarded them, so Cyrus had resolved to do the same— though he had no staff to protect them with. Instead, he clutched at the hilt of a knife, cradling it to his chest with both hands wrapped tight around it. He had scarcely put it down since Elder Ischia had put it there a week ago.
“My great grandmother was Dalish. Her mother gave her this knife when she left for Gwaren.” 
Chaos had whirled around them: his mother frantically throwing clothes into a burlap sack, neighbors scouring their cupboards for any scrap of food they could offer up, stolen and anxious horses whinnying as they were hastily packed, someone crying, a shout that a veritable army was making its way down from the Chantry— templars and guardsmen and even a handful of knights sworn to the bann.
“See these carvings in the handle?” 
Everyone had seemed to know what was going on and how to help, except Cyrus himself. He had stood in the center of the turmoil underneath the boughs of the vhenadahl, trying to hold himself as still as possible because even if he didn’t know what to do, he was certain that he needed to stay out of the way. Keep quiet, don’t cause trouble, leave it all to the adults even as he quaked in terror.
“They’re for the goddess Mythal, all-mother and protector of the People.” First, he had latched onto Hahren Ischia’s voice, a soft and lilting lullaby. “This knife has kept my family safe for generations. It’ll keep yours safe too.” Then, he had latched onto the knife. The polished bone of its hilt and the cold metal of its blade moored him, kept his mind from drifting too far away from his body.
Of course, Cyrus was too old to believe that the knife alone was imbued with any particular protective powers. Just as his father’s staff was merely a stick of wood when it wasn’t in a mage’s hands, the knife had to be wielded. It couldn’t keep his family safe— but he could.
And that was exactly what he was doing as he watched the front door, ready to pounce at a moment’s notice.
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transhawks · 1 year
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*looks at the trans masc swag brackets to see if hawks is there*
*he isn't*
k moving on.
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