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I ain’t touching this with a ten foot pole.
Don’t be anon next time, I guess.
OH MY GOD
Following last year’s re-release of Final Fantasy VII, Square Enix has announced...
Because stealyourshiny and I are rp’ing Fenris & Anders in an AU Awakenings setting and I swear to Maker they are the most obtuse, pig headed assholes when it comes to feelings ever.
I’m enjoying tormenting her Anders with my Fenris and cackling like a villain in her lair.
things you need to hear
Fenris wouldn’t admit it even to those he considered a friend, but there were things he needed to hear in order to feel safe. After three years of stupidity on both their parts, what he’d needed was to hear the words, three simple words that shattered the lock around his heart.
“You are forgiven.” three little words that allowed the dam of his feelings to finally crack open and let Garrett know what he meant to the warrior. Then that night, laying wide awake after reconciling with words, touches, moans that spiraled into sounds with no description; he needed to hear the soft whistle of Hawke’s breathing.
To know that he was forgiven, that it was safe to remain in this man’s arms once more. That he could be there without fear of being turned out or his own dreams taunting him with what he’d nearly destroyed with an inability to speak his heart. Not his fault, that had been trained out of him just as the lyrium had been poured in.
Time passes, the things he needs to hear changes with the seasons. In winter it’s the crunch of boots in the foyer, knocking off snow. In spring it’s the patter of rain as they lay entwined, kissing lazily in that magnificent bed of Hawke’s all red and gold like the waking dawn.
It’s the other three words that he realizes he needs the first time Hawke says them. He needs them like air and water. It takes a while to realize the man that has captured his heart has that same need, to hear those words fall from his lips, only freely given, not wanted unless they were true.
“I love you Hawke” is uttered in the dead of night, eyes half-closed, body sated from lovemaking that took the place of conventional sustenance. The response is taken, kept close and given its due by way of a smile that curves his lips, hands that grip his Hawke tight to him and a soft kiss planted on a temple before they fall to slumber once more, the last time they will know peace before the end comes.
Fenris awoke to a warm body next to him—a pale arm draped over his waist, soft breath in his ear. He closed his eyes again for a moment, letting his limbs relax and sank into the warmth. He couldn’t say when the two of them had decided to crawl into Fenris’ bed and pull the blankets over them. He wasn’t sure at what point Anders had removed his coat and boots before sliding in. What he did know was that he’d had the best sleep he’d had in known memory—free of nightmares. He had always been a light sleeper, his time as a slave and then an escapee had trained him well to awaken at any little noise and be alert. But with Anders beside him, Fenris had fallen quickly into a deep, sound sleep. If he had dreamed at all he didn’t remember it, his body and mind seeking out Anders’ comforting warmth as they had slept.
<3 I loved this so much. Anders you are not slick and I have a feeling you will pay for letting it slip that Fenris wants to be a Warden. Aedan is going to be cross with you…
For some reason this post left me with the visual image of Anders and Fenris standing on either side of you, commenting on what you write as you write it. Could you imagine?
Anders: What are you doing? That version of me doesn’t know him very well. I woke up in the story two days ago..
Fenris: This version of you liked that version of me enough to let me kiss you.
Anders: Yeah… But that one lied to me. He goaded me into doing something pretty stupid.
Fenris: As if you needed to be goaded into doing something stupid. You do just fine all on your own.
Anders: *opens mouth for a retort*
Fenris: Besides, it’s been a very long time since she wrote a sex scene. In the other stories she had us doing all manner of things by now. I’m surprised you are fighting this so badly.
Anders: *snaps mouth shut* Huh… There is that. Do you remember when she had you fisting me when we were in Tevinter? That took me by surprise, but damn that was fun.
Fenris: *ears pink* Quiet, mage! *mumbles* Although that was fun…
Fenris: All right, human writer. Proceed. We will try to contain our introspection and revelations in order for you to move the story forward.
*posts and runs off*
OK I NEED TO GO BACK AND FIND THE PART WHERE THERE WAS FISTING WHILE IN TEVINTER. For… reasons >_>
Anders and Fenris have a lot in common. Both are victims of repressive regimes that take whole swaths of people and treat them in a similar, abysmal fashion. They have both been singled out for particularly harsh treatment, and in part due to their own actions. They have both done things they regret deeply. They both continue on but carry the marks of mental and emotional distress everywhere they go. They remain admirably resilient but can never quite let go of their pasts.
The ultimate difference between them is this. Anders remembers what it’s like to live free. He craves it deep down, even if he subsumes that desire for his cause while under Justice’s influence. Fenris’ instincts strongly indicicate that freedom is what he wants, and his resolve is unwavering. But he is unsure what exactly freedom is or how it works. They are both impaired in reaching for it, but for very different reasons.
This helps to explain my instinct that they could help each other.
And here’s a fun factoid. They probably spent some time in their youth within a day or two’s riding distance of one another. Fenris was a slave in Tevinter, but he had not yet won the tournament and received his brands. Anders was living in the Anderfels, as he had not yet burned down his father’s barn and been taken by the Templars. Considering Anders was either unaware of his magic or hiding it, I see no reason for them to be wary of one another. But neither would they have anything in common.
Except perhaps a certain rebellious streak born of self confidence. ;-) If anybody wants to take this and run with it, be my guest. :-D
Roads not yet traveled - Their Pasts
The blond boy was tall for his age, lanky unlike his brethren. He had eyes the colour of honey, or ripened wheat rather than the sea green and blue of his family. He was the odd one out in so many ways…his brothers strapping young lads, muscular from tending the land their family had earned over hard years, lean ones.
They preferred to play soldier and priest, readying for the day they would defend their homeland from the Tevinters or the Darkspawn. Eager for the chance to serve King and country, perhaps even by joining the fabled order of the Grey.
His name, his given one was never spoken by his father. Instead cruel words, names other than the sibilant tones of a name offered in prayer to a deity that had forgotten their homeland, their men, their soldiers, all of it forsaken to the Blights or the elements. It was usually boy in trade or Ander summoning him to chores or the meager supper allowed after his brothers, father and mother had taken their fill.
Only his mother dared call him by the name she whispered to the priest as they welcomed him in the blistering heat, sun beating down on them, reflected from the towering statue of Andraste.
The years went on, until one day he’d had enough. Too young to know better, too old to sustain the lie of obedience without question, he struck out towards freedom, or so he thought.
He was a slave and as such he should never want anything but his masters approval. He should never seek the sun unless master allows it; never speak unless master wishes his property to show how well its learned it’s words and manners as not to embarrass him.
His sister and mother were beholden as well. His sister old enough to be put to task from sunrise to sunset, never to be seen until she crawled into her pallet, a thin gruel her dinner, her only fuel for long days. Her hands marked from labor in the fields, the kitchen, the foyer. Never soft, not her hands, even when allowed to mend masters garments, spin thread and weave fine things for him to show his wealth, his influence, his power over all he surveyed.
His mother was quiet, she rarely spoke to them, not out of malice nor neglect. Simply because there was nothing further to say. Their lot in life was set as the stone walls of their masters villa. Screaming, sobbing, whispering would do no good against their fate. Their lives were in master’s hands and nothing could change that.
Leto was too proud, too fierce, too stubborn to be a good slave. He liked to fight, to feel his heart pound, to know he still had something of himself. He knew his place, he just didn’t know it well. His ability to play the game caught master’s attention, his ability to bare knuckle with even the human slaves sparked an idea. The one time he was caught with a small sword should have been the end, but the master had a plan, and soon he’d wield something far greater than mere silverite.
Leto would be the fuel for his grandest scheme, he would be the key, the way to being lauded as the one to unlock the secrets of Arlathan,magic, and the Dark City. It would be his triumph or his disgrace.
It was easier than he expected to get the elf to agree to the fixed tourney, freedom for his mother and sister. Freedom and a small boon to get them off the streets. All he had to do was fight and be good at it.
This word burned bright in his mind, and sparked its own flame in the boys mind. Freedom, from the drudgery of their lives and all he had to do was agree.
Soon the boy would learn that a magister’s word is as worthless as dust in the road, and tasted of ashes swept from the hearth.
i’ve seen people saying that fenris is written ooc when he smiles or laughs and i’m just like
did you play the same game i did
dude likes to laugh ok he smiles and laughs a lot actually. in fact, he has one of the best senses of humor in the game just