we fall to learn to stand up again

Art by Komoroshi

Am I the only goober who remembers this show??

Every few years I randomly come back to the nostalgic memories of this show. It was the first action cartoon I ever watched, and I only got to see it because it was briefly on Boomerang, on Cartoon Network. And the only reason it was there is because freakin’ HANNA BARBERA produced it?? The makers of yogi bear and Fred Flintstone??

That second arm comes around and I just die a little inside. A++ to whoever is responsible for this. This is a hard embrace. This is a you mean everything to me and I’m not sure we’re going to live and I’m terrified embrace.

I feel like the way that he embraces Fenris here projects so much about their relationship at this point - the way Hawke feels about Fenris, the way Hawke feels about the final battle.

I think the companion conversations with Hawke following Leandra’s death reflect some of the game’s best writing. I love every single one of them, but Fenris’s is my favorite.

I’ve seen some people comment that they were disappointed in this exchange—that they wished Fenris had been more eloquent or comforting. Personally, I appreciated the recognition that there are different ways people grieve, and different ways people console. I hail from the Fenris school of not “filling these moments with empty talk”, and would much rather have someone to just sit with. So, I tend to find Fenris’s awkward little exchange the most comforting of all. 

Nobody really knows what to say in a situation like this. I sure as fuck don’t. I’ve been in the position of “ridiculously terrible things happen to someone I love and what on earth can I do to help” and I don’t know if I handled it quite this well.

Fenris is not the most socially capable person (UNDERSTATEMENT AHOY) but he does get that this isn’t about him right now. He’s been staying away from Hawke even though he wants to be with him/her, even though leaving was “the hardest thing I’ve ever done”, and he’s got a giant pile of his own angst that he’s dealing with right now. But he gets that Hawke needs somebody and even though he has no clue what a person is supposed to do he shows up. He tries. He clearly feels terribly awkward and inadequate but he tries anyway for Hawke.

Yeee… i made some stupid doodles on my nsfw blog.

The Morning After

In layman’s terms: he made funnies. At least he tried. 

Some enjoyed rich flavors with a fine, earthy terroir. Some enjoyed a gulp that burned on its way down and pricked the corners of their eyes with tears—reminding them that all the bad brews made the best memories, and true laughter brought a man as close to weeping as grief. 

A sovereign had two sides. Two heads, as a matter of fact.

‘You know, I’ve got two heads too, Fenris,’ Hawke had said. 

‘Remarkable, then, how little both think before they act,’ Fenris had replied. 

‘Are your legs tired?’ Hawke asked. ‘Because you’ve been running from slavers through my dreams all night.’ 

‘Is that a magical fisting trick, or are you just glowing to see me?’ Hawke asked.

‘I was going to say ‘Nice boots,’ but you’re not really wearing them, are you?’ Hawke sighed. ‘Elves make things so difficult.’

‘You must be a templar, because you’ve got my heart under lock and key,’ Hawke said. 

‘These ‘lines’ are even worse than Isabela’s,’ Fenris replied at last. ‘She, at least, is to the point.’ 

‘Did you get those pants from a moldy barrel of torn trousers?’ Hawke asked. ‘Because I can see myself in them.’

That one didn’t even make sense. But the lines around Fenris’s mouth cracked nonetheless, thin shadows that twisted as they creased.

‘I would hope,’ Fenris added, his fingers knotting in Hawke’s hair, the twitch and jump and shiver of his belly tickling Hawke’s brow, ‘that you will not continue to…’

Hope was a funny thing. The greatest laugh of them all. 

Fenris, on the other hand, didn’t continue. Hawke saved the rest of his jokes for the flesh; the only lines were the ones he drew with his tongue, from the base of Fenris’s dick to the head. ‘Ah, look,’ he murmured, and his voice in his throat hummed, ‘you have two heads, too, Fenris. And one of them is so happy to see me.’ 

Fenris hadn’t laughed. But his moan was perfect, so that didn’t matter. 

The punchline came when Fenris’s hips were rolling—slow as the waves of the ocean that had carried an aimless little boat to Kirkwall’s shores from Gwaren—and Bodahn appeared in the doorway. ‘For the last time, Sandal, there aren’t any salamanders in he…oh. Oh! Oh. Oh, Messere.’ 

‘Mmf,’ Hawke said. 

‘Ahh…’ Fenris said.

‘Ooohhh,’ Bodahn said. 

When the door snicked shut, Hawke added, ‘Perhaps when you locked up my heart, I should have learned to lock the doors.’

Then, against all odds, with Hawke’s lips and teeth between a curl of fine, heady lyrium and smooth, leather-scented skin, then began to laugh together. 

It was all Hawke had ever really wanted. Aside from the big house and the fancy clothes and the drinks in crystal tumblers whose names he couldn’t pronounce. Fenris drew Hawke up from between his thighs and kissed him, the muddied taste on their tongues. He sounded like himself when he chuckled, unmistakable now, as happy as a moan. 

growth