#autumnofanders

[laniardraws]

For @autumnofanders prompt “Freedom”

Statue of Anders in the International College of Enchanters hundreds of years later (+ some baby mage students!)

[autumnofanders]

Introducing the Autumn of Anders Event!

What is it?

Autumn of Anders is an inaugural celebratory prompt event for anyone who loves Anders from Dragon Age! The prompts are only suggestions; we will reblog Anders-centric content that meets the rules and tags #autumnofanders or mentions @autumnofanders.

Who can participate?

Fan content creators or consumers! On SEPTEMBER 22nd, 2021, creators can begin posting Anders-centric works. You can use the provided prompts or come up with your own. Content that will be reblogged includes fanfiction, artwork, moodboards, gifsets, screenshots, edits, playlists, ask memes, fic or art recommendations, etc. This list is not exclusive, but just to give you an idea of content to create for the event!

The blog will reblog or queue up posts (depending on amount of response) that tag #autumnofanders or mentions @autumnofanders until December 21st.

Bingo Cards

TBA

What content is not allowed?

We will not accept any of the following:

Content featuring underage characters (younger than 18) in sexual situations.

Content that discriminates against a marginalized group.

NSFW content that is not tagged appropriately (#lemon or #smut please).

Content where Anders dies or is killed.

Content which features a canonically gay or lesbian character in a sexual or romantic situation with a character of the opposite gender (i.e. no Dorian/f!Inquisitor or Sera/Anders. Some leeway is allowed for true healthy polyamory situations - Anders/f!Inky and Anders/Dorian, where Dorian and f!Inquisitor are onboard with sharing Anders, but Dorian and f!Inquisitor would not interact sexually). Note: Dorian or Sera in romantic or sexual scenarios with appropriate nonbinary or trans characters WILL BE reblogged!

Content from creators who leave negative comments on the works of other creators during the event.

Any other rules I should know about?

Please do not start posting your content early! You can start posting on September 22nd in your time zone. Anything in the tag or that mentions us prior to that date will not be reblogged.

Please only tag your own content. Fic and art rec lists count as your own content for the purpose of this event!

For nsfw content please tag using #smut or #lemon for the benefit of those scrolling the tags to be able to filter out nsfw content.

Use your own judgement with tags! If it's something you'd warn for on Ao3, please warn for it here as well, both in the tags and before the work you're sharing!

Tag Lists

For information about tagging format, see HERE.

Please send any further questions to our ASK BOX.

[aria-i-adagio]

Healer

For @autumnofanders

Day 1, Prompt: Healer

Rating: T

word count: ~600

---

Accidentally - because it was an accident - burning down the barn wasn’t the first time Anders used magic. Not that he was Anders then, he was someone else. It was the first time that anyone else knew - the first time that even he himself really knew that it was magic flowing through him, but he realizes later, when he’s laying in the back of a wagon with an iron manacle around one ankle and a Templar woman who is trying to be at least a little kind - that it was not the first time, and the realization comforted him. Not much. But enough to get through the next set of counting to one hundred before starting again because he knew he’d go mad if he let his thoughts wander.

Two winters before, he found a nest of kittens in the same barn - the one that was now ash. Outside, the snow piled past his waist, he had to break the water in the trough so the cattle and goats would be able to drink, and even with three layers of heavy wool socks, he couldn’t feel his toes.

The kittens must have been a late litter. Their mother was nowhere to be found, and the little bodies were terribly still and cold. One moved a little when he touches it, seeking more warmth from his hand. It opened its still blue eyes and blinked at him. The other two were barely breathing and didn’t respond when he stroked their soft fur.

He loosened his coat enough to tuck three kittens inside and pet their noses and backs with the tips of two fingers. All he intended was to try to keep them warm until it was over. Even at ten, he had seen enough animals die to know that it wouldn’t be long; they were starving as well, he can feel their ribs where their sides should be round with baby fat. He didn’t want them to die cold. His father shook his head with a sigh, when he finished with the milking and saw what his son was doing, and told him not to be too long or he’d freeze to death himself.

A bit after his father left, he started to feel warmer. Much warmer, like he was tucked in the shelf built into the massive hearth in the house, with one of grandmother’s quilts wrapped around him, or snuggled into bed with his little siblings asleep beside him, or curled beside his grandmother while she told them stories in the evening.

He didn’t feel alone.

The kittens started to move, arching their backs into his hand, pawing at his shirt like they would their absent mother’s stomach, opening their eyes, and mewing in tiny hungry chirps, until there’s a small wiggling mass of furry bodies - warm furry bodies - tucked inside his coat.

He thought he heard a soft sigh in his ear, and a gentle push - he couldn’t think of another word for what he felt - to take them to his mother. She will smile softly at him when he does and pour a bowl of warmed goat milk and show him how to soak a bit of fabric in it so the kittens can suck because they’re still too little to lap it up from a dish. His little brothers and sisters will argue over who gets to name them for the heroes of grandmother’s stories. And his father will sigh again, but humor them all, because winters are long, and caring for the kittens will give the children something to do.

That was the first time Anders who was not yet Anders used magic. Not for destruction, but for healing.

[rusted-pipe-of-wisdom]

- Spirit -

@autumnofanders

[midnightprelude]

For @autumnofanders, Day 1! Prompt: Healer Rating: Teen Tags: Blood, death, angst

She wouldn’t make it.

Anders stared at his hands, covered in blood, steady even as tears began to burn the back of his throat, his lungs, his eyes.

He couldn’t look at the little girl, unconscious on his table. Pale as a sheet already, dark veins cross-crossing underneath nearly transparent skin.

What was the point of magic, if not to make the impossible possible?

He wasn’t strong enough, Anders thought, as her last breath left her lips.

He wasn’t strong enough now, but by the Maker’s light, he would become so.

[smutnug]

#9, Dreams

I woke up and he was screaming

I'd left him dreaming

I rolled over and held him tightly

And whispered, if you want him, oh you're going to have to fight me

Night Terror, Laura Marling

[lumienyx]

Reblogging for @autumnofanders❤️🍁

For the prompt — Kinloch

Hello! For DA Drunk Writing I'd like to prompt Handers and #17, "Watching the stars from the window of a Circle." Can't wait to see what's up!

Pairing: Anders/Male Hawke | Rating: T | Word Count: 1740

Summary: In which Hawke and Anders watch the stars from the window of a Circle Tower, and freedom isn't such an impossible dream anymore.

A/N: very out of practice, very frustrated, but i do so hope the fluff makes up for it. sorry for the long wait Reikah >.> i hope you enjoy🍀

🎶 And so It Begins — Klergy

Read on AO3 or continue below the cut!

@dadrunkwriting

~ 

"And so, it ends."

Anders barely heard his own voice, so quietly he uttered the words as he watched the stars dance against the deep dark cover of the sky.

A marvelous view from out the wall-high windows encircling the highest chamber of the tower. A view that Anders could only ever see on those rare astronomy lessons scattered through their curriculum. The windows on the lower floors were damnably unreachable, too high and too opaque for stargazing—for any kind of gazing, really. And the less the mages saw of the outside world, the logic went, the less temptation to venture out and see it.

Stupid reasoning. One that never quite worked in Anders' case, and so—

Here he was.

So many years after that last escape attempt—not attempt, he corrected himself, but a proper escape. One that led him to his dear friend become hero, to the Wardens, to Justice, to Kirkwall, and to Hawke. 

To Hawke, who stole his heart with frightening ease and made Anders forget what it's like to be afraid. Hawke, who stood by him, never faltering, even when Anders would beg for him to step back, if only to keep himself safe.

"I don't want safe," Garrett would say, incurable romantic that he was, "I want you."

One more dangerous, reckless step they took, tonight, on this path to once impossible freedom, seeing hundreds released from Kinloch's unyielding hold. It seemed a dream, and Anders would think it one, if not for his wounds still healing and echoing with pain. A good pain. A reminder that he was alive. That he was free.

They all were, now.

Anders leaned against the railing, closed his eyes, and breathed.

It had seemed too hard, at times, to breathe in this tower. They were never kept in the crowded dorms for days on end, and the classrooms were spacious, the dining hall fit for a palace, really, the corridors winding, confusing, but wide and often likely to lead to unexpected, undiscovered, and deserted places. Somewhere one could hide and contemplate the burning wake of an imprisoned existence, if one wished to.

Anders had wished to. Many times, far too many. That it was gilded didn't make this wretched place any less of a cage after all.

Now, taking a deeper breath didn't seem like much of a chore. Neither did smiling. Neither did leaning against Hawke's side as his lover approached and wrapped an arm around his waist. Warm. Gentle. Safe.

Happy, so ridiculously happy as Anders never thought he'd get to be.

"The last are out," Hawke said, just shy of whispering too, though they were the only ones here. "Some waiting for us, some off to... wherever else. Safety in numbers and all but I can't exactly tell them what to do." He pressed a soft kiss to Anders' temple, and Anders couldn't help but nuzzle into the touch. "No one can, now."

And if Anders had any say at all in the matter, no one ever would again.

"I'm sure they'll be safer with Fiona's forces."

Maker knew their small, if rapidly growing, chunk of the rebellion was a risky gamble, to say the least. With their stronghold built with magic and concealed with it, still a noticeable beacon to a templar sensitive enough. With the deliberate ambushes of templar camps holding mages prisoner, and now—even a venture to a Circle destabilized enough to be overrun and cleared of the Chantry's occupation.

"Don't think that's where they all went." Hawke tried to conceal his frown, focusing on the splatters of stars glittering in the distance, doubly bright now that the moon hid behind a cloud. Anders felt Garrett's magic push outward and coil into an invisible pool of energy right above the window glass, a buzzing siphon that summoned a handful of wisps that spun into what looked to be the burgeoning of a constellation. "Some just prefer going it alone."

Anders shrugged, watching as another wisp slid into place, forming a very familiar, very predictable figure. 

"Alone, not alone, doesn't make a difference. Away from the likes of me's all the better." He pressed his lips against Hawke's before he could protest. "Hush, love. I'm not upset—I just notice how some of them look at me. It's a bit unnerving but understandable." Anders smiled, hoping it seemed reassuring. "Me a decade ago would probably be horrified by me now, you know."

"Anders, I..." A few swift, a tad violent swipes of Hawke's hands summoned a few more wisps to add to the pattern. "I don't think there was a single person out there who wasn't grateful for what you did here tonight."

Anders placed a hand on his. "What we did here tonight."

"What you began." Hawke's hand slipped as he rearranged the wisps, and Anders gently nudged the would-be stars into their proper place. Hawke's smile was tentative, rueful. "The only one in Kirkwall brave enough to do something."

"With Justice," Anders corrected him, feeling pleasant warmth blooming in his chest, "and with you by my side. We did that, love."

Hawke huffed. "I don't remember there being a 'we' when you were making the Chantry into fireworks." A burst of wisps shot from his palm, some dying out, some painting the glass with the tail of the constellation—a firm finishing touch. "Without me, by the way."

The smirk was there, and Hawke's tone was light, teasing. No reason at all to make Anders' insides run quite so cold.

"I—" Anders swallowed hard. "I-I know you're still—"

"Shit." Hawke's embrace was sudden. Warm. Lovely. Feeling like home. "Listen—I mean, don't listen to me. Talk. Stupid shit. Sorry. Just messing with you. Of course I'm not upset."

That particular brand of furious Hawke had been back then mellowed down to upset, and anymore left unsaid. Even so, Anders only burrowed his head in the crook of Hawke's neck.

"If you say so."

"I do." Hawke pressed a light kiss to Anders' temple. To his cheek, then the other. Kissed his nose, his mouth—and drew the last one out in a languid glide of soft lips and twining tongues, kissing Anders deeply, thoroughly. It was nothing less than perfect. "Just, you know," Hawke said against his lips, barely pulling away, "next time you're planning treason or something, consider letting me in on the fun? I hate missing out on the good stuff."

Anders allowed himself a smile. "It's fun to you, is it?"

"Sure is."

"Dangerous ideas of fun, love."

Hawke laughed. "Have I ever been anything but turned on by danger?"

"Perish the thought." Anders rolled his eyes. "I mean, there's your unhealthy obsession with dragons."

"Mm, wouldn't call it unhealthy, and obsession is such a strong word..."

Anders gestured to the miniature constellation pulsating with Garrett's magic above the window glass in perfect resemblance of Draconis shining in the corner of the sky above them. "Case in point."

Hawke sighed in mock frustration. "Anders. Love. Sweetheart. Light of my life." Those gold-bright eyes stared at him with all the almost childlike earnestness Anders was glad Hawke hadn't lost through those grueling years of the misery that was Kirkwall. "Your stubborn refusal to accept that dragons are awesome is only keeping you from enjoying life to the fullest."

"Bullshit."

"It's true!"

"Cats are awesome. Dragons," Anders scoffed, "are scary and want to kill me. The only 'awe' that is is awful."

"If you can't see how cats are demons in disguise with their—with their deadly claws and fangs and Maker the glares and the hissing..." Hawke shuddered, shaking his head in disdain. "You're beyond help."

"Cats," Anders insisted, "are fluffy balls of joy."

"Demons," Hawke said, "in disguise. Ser Pounce Junior's tried to kill me at least half a dozen times—all in the past week, too."

"With his... little claws and... half-formed fangs?"

"Yes, with those!" Hawke pouted. "And the scratches hurt like a bitch."

"Oh, don't worry, love." Anders leaned in to hide his smile in a kiss. "I'll protect you from the big bad scary kitten."

"And I will protect you from majestic, beautiful, awesome dragons," Hawke declared, his lips curled into a goofy grin, and kiss-swollen, and so tempting Anders had to steal another sweet, fleeting kiss. "Fair deal?"

Anders knew he himself was smiling like an idiot, too, but couldn't quite stop.

Didn't want to.

"I love you." It wasn't a whisper, and it echoed in the empty room, seeming so loud, too loud for a place like this. Where sentiment used to be almost a foolish a risk as blood magic. Where such words whispered would sooner lead mages to ruin than to any semblance of joy. "I love you," Anders said, and it was as easy as breathing. "I love you," flowed freely from his lips, making him all kinds of giddy, and happy, making him feel complete, "I love you, I love you, I love—"

The rest was drowned out as Hawke drew him into another kiss. Anders drank him in, and moaned against his lips, and wrapped his hands around Garrett's neck, drawing him closer. Kissed him long, and hard, and deep until they were both of them left breathless and dizzy with it, smile pressed against smile, unwilling—or unable—to part.

"I love you too." A small blush sprang to life on Hawke's cheeks, even after all these years. Words spoken so softly it almost sounded as if his voice was trembling, and a look of such unbridled adoration in his eyes that it made Anders' heart skip one beat, and a few more. "You know that."

It wasn't so much a question, just a hint of it. Just a touch of hesitance—but Anders said firmly, "I do," because Garrett had never given him reason to doubt. Even when he should have. Even when the best thing to do would have been to leave.

Yet here they were.

Constellations above them and the walls of a tower finally empty of prisoners and so only echoing with pain, not screaming raw with it. Beautiful, boundless skies above them, and yet they stood with gazes locked, and Anders sought instead the constellations borne of reflections of light in Hawke's eyes.

On second thought, nothing about this seemed like an end—rather a new beginning, made so much sweeter and less daunting with Garrett by his side.

[potatowitch]

“ we can go back to hating each other tomorrow. “ for fenders?! 👀

I had planned for this to be a relatively short prompt fill, but then it got away from me and, well, 1200 words later, here we are. @dadrunkwriting @autumnofanders Tags: pre-relationship, injury, caretaking, reluctantly sharing a bed, bickering

Anders' boots slosh through the filthy water flooding the streets of Darktown as he makes his way back to the clinic. Around him, refugees and beggars huddle in groups around fires that sputter and spark, trying to stave off the chill that permeates the whole of Kirkwall. It is a small blessing that the undercity is somewhat sheltered from the bucketing rain and howling wind, though that's not much of a comfort for the people still freezing in the sewers tonight.

Anders has left Lirene in charge of keeping the clinic open, purely so that these people have somewhere relatively warm to stay. As it is, he's running low on mana after a day of curing fevers and a late-night birth with complications, so he wouldn't be much help to his patients anyway. He groans as a strong gust of wind filters through the cracks in the walls that face towards the sea, bypassing his ragged cloak and chilling him to the bone.

Not far from the clinic, he takes a moment to lean against a wall and rest his aching legs. Rubbing his protesting knee, his ears prick at a shout and the sound of metal hitting metal. Gang fights aren't particularly noteworthy down here, but even Darktown's stupidest criminals don't usually bother fighting in the streets when it's this cold, wet and dark. His curiosity getting the better of him, Anders inches closer to the source of the noise, keeping plastered against the wall in an attempt to stay out of sight. When he pokes his head around a corner to look into an alleyway, it takes him a moment for his eyes to adjust in the dark, and he's momentarily baffled when he sees a blue flash of light in a vaguely humanoid shape scrambling in the mud.

Then his tired brain finally catches up, and he's readying his staff to dive into the fray.

From what he can see, Fenris is holding back against three men, while another four enemies lie dead on the ground. Anders catches sight of whips and chains on the belts of a few of them as he rushes over. Slavers, then. That explains why they're bothering being out and about in this weather.

"Hey!" Anders shouts. Fenris' attackers all turn around, and the distraction gives Fenris the space to get back on his feet and ready his sword again.

The three men would normally be a trifle for Anders and Fenris to deal with together - Fenris has already managed to take down the group's only mage, after all - but Anders is exhausted, and he has to keep in mind that Fenris looks badly injured and Anders will likely need mana to heal him once they're done. The fight takes far longer than it should, everyone's feet squelching in the mud, scrabbling to stay upright and keep track of where they are in the dark.

When their enemies are finally defeated, Anders leans against his staff with a groan, giving himself a moment to catch his breath before looking up at Fenris. The elf is braced against the wall of the alley, soaked in so much blood and rain and filth that Anders can't tell where his injuries are just from looking. He does have a hand clutching his belly, and in the gloom his nose looks like it might be broken. Anders needs to get him back to the clinic so he doesn't risk bleeding out in the mud.

"Come on," he mutters, wrapping one arm around Fenris' waist. It is a testament to how hurt Fenris must be that he doesn't complain, only hisses through gritted teeth as he wraps his arm around Anders' shoulders. Together, they limp back to the clinic.

"Bloody Void, Anders!" Lirene says when they make it through the door, getting up from where she's sat at Anders' desk to rush over. "What happened to you two?"

"Slavers," Anders wheezes. He can feel the eyes of all the refugees in the clinic on them as he half drags Fenris back to his living quarters. "Can you get us - Maker, everything? I need lyrium, and wet cloths, and -"

"I've got it, boss."

Anders nods at her, and helps Fenris into his cot, heedless of how ruined his bedding is going to be.

"Where's the most blood coming from, Fenris?" he asks.

Fenris weakly lifts his hand off his belly, revealing a ragged stab wound. Anders presses his hands to it, slippery with rain and blood, and calls upon all the mana he has left to knit it back together again. Once Fenris is not in immediate danger of dying, Anders takes the lyrium potion Lirene has offered him - his last one - and uses the tiny mana boost to heal a gash on Fenris' upper arm. That done, he gently helps Fenris swallow a healing potion and gets to work helping him out of his armor. Fenris nudges Anders' hands out of the way of the buckles on his gauntlets, trying to undo them himself.

"Mage," he grumbles. "I can -"

"Fenris, come on," Anders sighs. "Please just let me help you? I need you out of your wet clothes and cleaned up so that you don't freeze to death in your sleep. This will go faster if you let me do it."

He meets Fenris' eyes, wide and dark underneath all the blood and bruising on his face. "We can go back to hating each other in the morning," Anders says. "Just let me do my job."

Fenris sighs, acquiescing to Anders' help. Eventually, both he and Anders are cleaned up and changed into dry clothes. Anders strips his cot of its filthy covers, lying Fenris down on the bare mattress.

"You don't have to give me your bed," Fenris murmurs. "Where are you going to sleep?"

Anders shrugs. "The floor is fine. You're more hurt than I am."

"No," Fenris says.

"No?"

"You … kaffas, you saved my life, mage. Why?"

Anders raises his eyebrows. "Why? Fenris, we're -" He sighs, shaking his head. "No matter how we might feel about each other, we are still allies, and I am still a healer. I couldn't leave you to die."

"Then I cannot leave you to sleep on the floor."

"Must you be so difficult, Fenris?" Anders groans. "You are a patient. I am not letting you sleep on the floor. Unless you fancy sharing my tiny cot, you'll just have to deal with that."

Fenris considers this for a moment. "Fine," he says, and starts shuffling back towards the wall.

"What are you doing?" Anders asks, bewildered.

"I am making room."

"You're serious?"

"Yes. Come here."

"Alright," Anders mutters. He gingerly climbs onto the mattress beside Fenris and lies down, facing away and closing his eyes. Neither of them say anything as they lie together, and the silence is almost unbearably awkward, but Anders doesn't want to risk breaking it. He's exhausted enough that he thinks he might be able to sleep, even as uncomfortable as he is, if he just tries hard enough.

He's getting there when he hears Fenris murmur something behind him.

"What was that?" he mutters.

Fenris' voice is thick and sleepy when he speaks. "I said I don't hate you, mage."

"…oh," breathes Anders. A weird feeling tickles his throat, and he swallows around it.

"I don't hate you, either."

He hears Fenris huff a laugh. They both say nothing after that, though the silence is less oppressive as it was before, and it’s not long before Anders drifts off.

[thatdreadbitch]

For dadwc, "OC goes where LI can’t follow."

Some Handers Angst for @dadrunkwriting and @autumnofanders Characters: Victoria Hawke, Anders Setting: Orzammar. 9:41 Dragon Pairing: Female Hawke x Anders Word Count: 367 ~~~ "You don't have to go. We can pretend we never got the letter." The blonde apostate said, rubbing his forehead with his hands as he stared into the fireplace.  Her conscience couldn't keep her away from it. She knew what Anders was thinking. Remembering what had happened four years ago in that warden prison. If Varric's letter was true, could Corypheus even be killed?  “They need me, Anders.” Victoria sighed, tightening the belt on her blue and grey robes.The idea of pretending to be a warden wasn’t the best, she would have to ditch the robes before she got to Skyhold. But for now, they served the purpose of getting her around Orzammar and not having eyebrows raised as to why a human was here. They would never question or pick a fight with a Grey Warden after all, and Anders can warn her if any wardens show up. “Victoria, I almost lost you the last time we fought Corypheus. How do we know that’s really what happened? What if that’s just what-” “Varric wouldn’t lie like that!” She interrupted him. “Not to me anyway.” She mumbled. She had had the sinking feeling ever since they left that prison that this would happen. That it had been too easy of a fight.  The mabari got up from her bed and walked over to the brown-haired woman.  "I'm coming with you," Anders said, standing up and grabbing the staff, dusting off his robes. “Anders, No.” Victoria grabbed her staff and stared the mage down, Or rather she tried to stare him down. Her eyebrow furrowed, despite the sternness in her voice. “I’m sorry, but you can’t follow me to Skyhold. Someone will recognize you, and the Seeker will probably kill both of us.” Anders’ brown eyes furrowed at the woman. “Anders. Please. The sad-eyes aren't going to work on me.” She turned towards the doorway before looking back over her shoulder. “I’ll try to send a letter once i get to Skyhold. But please don't follow me. I love you too much to lose you.” She then left the building, shutting the door behind her as she made her way through the commons towards the outside world.

[dismalzelenka]

Autumn of Anders: Prompt 9: Dreams

Rating: E

Pairing: Anders/Female Hawke/Justice/Nathaniel Howe

Summary: Whenever Hawke says "trust me," most people in her life have learned to start walking very quickly in the opposite direction. Anders and Nathaniel are not most people. Eight months after Justice is returned to the Fade, Hawke comes up with an experimental way to reunite all of them at the same time.

“Are you sure about this?” Nathaniel eyes the vial suspiciously as Journey thrusts it into his hand. It’s oddly cold for the way it vibrates beneath his fingers, and the liquid contained within glows a questionable shade of irradiated electric blue. “Aren’t you supposed to stay away from this stuff if you don’t have magic?”

Journey claps her hands together and practically giggles with delight. “Technically, yes. Practically speaking, we’ve been playing with the formula. There’s a buffer solution you have to drink, but we’ve tested it on a very willing and adventurous friend who had a fantastic time with no weird lingering side effects.”

Anders shakes his head wearily. “I still cannot believe you and Isabela tried that. It could have gone so badly—”

“Pfft, yeah, but it didn’t, right? I can be very meticulous when I’m invested in something. I followed that formula to the letter and made sure those dosages were absolutely on the mark.” She frowns when he doesn’t look convinced. “Look.” She waves her notebook in his face. “Do you want to see Justice again or not?”

“Yes, but—”

Nathaniel narrows his eyes. “Hypothetically speaking, what happens if the formula is wrong?”

Journey purses her lips. “At that dose? Probably just a mild case of lyrium poisoning. Nothing lethal. They have drugs for that.”

“Probably,” he repeats. He can’t believe he’s entertaining the thought, but when she’d proposed the idea a few weeks ago, he couldn’t help but be intrigued. The prospect of the three of them meeting Justice again in the Fade is an enticing one, even if he doesn’t quite understand how all of this stuff works.

“Don’t you guys trust me?” she pouts.

“I—” Anders begins, but he trails off and huffs out a laugh. “I suppose it’s up to Nate, really. He has the most to risk with all of this, after all.”

He studies the vial again thoughtfully. His curiosity is going to be the death of him one day. Probably. He shrugs and meets her eyes with amusement. “There are worse ways to go out, I suppose.”

Read More on AO3

for @autumnofanders ☺️☺️☺️

[autumnofanders]

Tagging Format

Each post will be tagged with #autumnofanders and #anders

NSFW content will be tagged with both #lemon and #smut

I will try and tag for potentially triggering content such as #cw: blood, #cw: gore, #cw: alcohol, or other things that come up. If you’d like me to add a tag, just send an ask.

Post types: #dragon age fanfiction, #da art, #rec list, #moodboard, #playlist, #meta, #da gifs, etc.

Shipping

Canon Hawke relationships will be tagged with the following format: #anders x m!hawke #anders x f!hawke #anders x nb!hawke

If a creator tags an OC or canon character as non-binary or transgender (other than canonically NB or trans characters), they will be tagged as #nb!Hawke or #trans!inquisitor. Canon characters that creators HC as NB or trans in the tags will be noted like #nb!Anders.

Canon character ship examples: #anders x the iron bull, #anders x fenris, #anders x dorian. I won’t be tagging full names for canon characters :)

If you’re on browser, I have links on the page for specific tags, if you’d like to browse posts for that specific thing! I’ll add more as we go on.

[aria-i-adagio]

Fourth Try’s Not the Charm

for @autumnofanders Day 3: Kinloch

Wordcount: ~2100 Rating: T

CW: templar abuse, imprisonment, hurt/comfort

Anders didn’t plan his fourth escape from Kinloch Hold. It was a crime of opportunity. About two months after his Harrowing, some of the senior enchanters talked the Greagoir into letting them take the recently harrowed mages outside to teach them some spells that could be used with water - in the water. Supposedly, they could be trusted now. Allowed a bit more leeway.

He wasn't planning on doing anything except enjoying the sun, but once he's mastered a spell that creates an artificial current - intended to propel a boat - well, it only made sense to see if the same spell would work for a human body.

Yes.

And by the grace of Andraste or some other power, no one notices when he takes as deep of a breath as he can manage, ducks under the water, and reemerges a good fifty yards closer to shore.

Anders hides out on an overgrown bank for the rest of the day, then steals some clothes from a line and a handful or two of carrots from the ground in the little village beside the docks, and then he's gone.

It takes them one month and five days to find him in Amaranthine.

Anders is already pretty beat up when they get him back to the Tower. Greagoir is infuriated - angrier than Anders has ever seen him - and orders a public whipping to get his point across. Thirty lashes. Anders tells himself that he’ll live through that... he thinks. After about ten or so, his mind just sort of drops out, floats away, to nowhere in particular. Just somewhere very, very far away. He’s not really conscious again until someone tosses a bucket of salted water across his back, then two knights are hauling him down the steps and dumping him face-first onto a thin mattress.

The next time he’s aware of anything there’s a woman arguing with the guards outside the door.

“Sorry, ma'am, but the Knight-Commander wants him to be an example.”

“He won't make a very good example if he's dead, will he?” A very stern, determined woman. Wynne. Just what he needs. A warm, maternal tongue lashing. “Let me through. I won't do anything other than drive out infection.”

“Let her pass. Drop the dampening wards for her as well.”

The door creaks open. Anders can’t tell if the light in the cell increases. His face is too well hidden in his arms. Wynne touches his bicep and shakes him until he groans and turns his head to the side. “Hi, Mom.”

“You are the damnedest fool I’ve ever met.” Wynne tweaks his ear. “Don't you realize how much trouble you create for the rest of us? How worried some of us were about you?”

“I'm not the problem. If they didn’t -”

She sighs. “I’ve heard all of this from you before. You’re old enough to know better.”

Heat radiates from her hands as they hover over Anders’ back. It’s not a full healing spell, but it will keep the open welts from getting infected. And possibly calm the fever that Anders can tell is running dangerously high. Might get an interesting dream or two out of it to pass the time.

“That’s all I’m allowed to do.” Wynne gathers his hair at the base of his neck and brushes the back of her hand over his temple and cheek. “They're leaving you down here for two months and ten days, Anders.”

“Ah, I'll get caught up on my sleep.”

“Don’t jest. I suggest using the time to pray for some wisdom.” She pats his cheek and stands up. “You're smarter than this. You have a lot to offer if you would just learn to accept reality.”

***

Light. Even the limited light of Kinloch Hold’s entry hall is more than Anders can hand;e after two months and change in the dark. An unsympathetic Templar shoves him toward the door that leads into the library. They’re done taking him apart. If any of the other mages want to bother putting him back together, he’s their problem now.

Karl grabs him almost as soon he staggers into the library and shakes him by the shoulders. “You moron.” Then he leans close and kisses him. “You fucking idiot.”

Anders winces at the contact. A kick in the side is about as much human interaction as he’s experienced in the past... however long. In the dark, time collapses and expands in unpredictable ways.

Dark. His vision goes dark around the edges, and his knees give up.

Karl catches him and pulls Anders’ arm across his shoulder, holding him up. “Come on, let’s get you cleaned up.”

Anders hadn’t had the time to fully explore the quarters where the mages who had survived the Harrowing but who weren’t yet enchanters slept. The baths off to the side are about the same as the ones in the apprentices’ dorm though. Cast iron tubs with chips in the enamel and a few folding screens to approximate privacy. Hand pumps for water. A drain in the floor for the same.

They’re on the second tub of water, and Anders is beginning to worry about just what Karl used as a bribe to get this much water and time. “I’m going to have to cut these out.” Karl has been trying for what seems like hours now to work loose the mats in Anders’ hair. Or maybe they’ve only been here a few minutes; Anders isn’t sure.

“Go ahead,” he mumbles.

“Maker, baby...” Karl pushes lightly on the back of his head. Anders lets his chin fall forward onto his chest. The sound of metal scraping together grates against his ears as Karl begins snipping clumps out of his hair. Karl is careful, working slowly and pushing his fingers along Anders’ scalp to keep from cutting the skin by mistake. It’ll grow back. Just like skin does.

He rests his elbows on the edge of the tub and lets his fingers dangle in the water. It’s warm, he knows, but he can’t really feel it, any more than he could really feel the rough fabric of a washcloth scrubbing across his skin.

“What are you humming?” Karl is still trimming, maybe trying to even out the length.

“Am I humming?” Anders started singing to himself maybe a week, maybe two, after he was left alone. Then it turned to humming. He doesn’t even think about it now.

Karl leans around him, scoops up a double handful of water, and rinses out his hair. “There we go.” He presses his cheek against Anders, beard prickling against freshly shaven skin. “Let’s get you dried off and dressed. Do you want to try to walk a bit? The garden is still nice.”

Anders can’t find the energy to respond or even to raise his hand and investigate the feeling of short hair. Karl decides for him, guiding him to the kitchens and begging a bowl of soup and a thick chunk of bread from one of the Tranquil cooks. He sits across from Anders, watching as he eats. Anders doesn’t finish the food, his stomach starts to feel tight and painful before he’s even halfway through. He stares at the surface of the thin soup and stirs it absently.

“Can’t eat more? They’ve starved you too.” Karl reaches across the table and touches his face, frowning when Anders reflexively pulls away. “I’ve never seen your cheeks so hollow.”

“Shoulda left the beard then.”

Karl almost smiles. “Let’s try to stretch your legs a bit then.”

Even though the autumn day is overcast, the garden is almost too bright. Anders has to pull up the hood of his robe to shade his eyes before he can bear it, and he isn't able to walk far before he has to sit down on one of the stone benches. So much for running.

The walled garden is busy with mages trying to catch a bit of sun before winter sets in, but everyone except Karl gives him a wide berth. Anders has no complaints, he can barely manage to not cry with delight from hearing other human voices - or to panic because he’s no longer accustomed to hearing the sounds of people interacting with each other and going about their business.

How much he can stand to be touched comes and goes, but after the first several times Anders flinched away, Karl waits for him to initiate anything, not even daring to hold his hand. It’s probably safer for Karl if that remains the case. Anders just creates trouble for anyone who cares about him.

“You should go. They’ll be watching anyone with me.”

“Fuck that. Besides, I’m already marked.”

“I’m sorry, Karl.” Anders slumps against his shoulder, blinking rapidly in a futile attempt to not start crying. Maybe it’s just the light causing his eyes to water.

“Don’t worry about it, sweetheart.”

“Can we go back inside? I’m tired.” He hadn’t expected to be tired after spending so much time sleeping.

“Yes. If that’s what you want.”

***

Anders’ bed is just as he left it. No one had taken the opportunity to steal a desirable lower bunk tucked into the corner. A sign of respect? Or just Karl zealously guarding it? Who knows?

Anders crawls in and lays down gingerly on the mattress. His back is finally whole as of an hour or two ago when Karl peeled the filthy shirt off him, squeaked in dismay, and healed the one or two remaining welts that had been stubbornly refusing to close up. But Anders has gotten accustomed to moving with care to avoid reopening them. It’ll be some time before he’ll be able to bring himself to move carelessly, freely again.

Anders curls on his side and lays his head down on the large pillow, wrapping his arms around the much smaller one his mother gave him. The threads of the artful needlework are beginning to fade, much like the memory of her face.

Karl shakes out a blanket, drapes it over him, and starts to pull the curtains around the bed.

“No.” All the muscles in Anders’ body tighten, and his right calf spasms painfully. “Stop.”

Karl freezes. His eyes widen then soften with something between pity and pain of his own. Anders reaches out to him. “Will you stay with me? Please. Please don’t leave me alone. And not in the dark.”

Karl sits on the edge of the bed and strokes Anders’ hair. The short length transfers more of the sensation to his scalp, and Anders chokes back the sob that the gentle contact elicits.

“Do you want me to lay down with you?”

Anders nods. His throat is too tight to speak. Karl crawls into bed next to him and pulls the curtains around it partially closed, leaving at least some light streaming in. He folds one arm under his head and continues stroking Anders' hair and cheek.

“I’ve missed you,” Karl whispers.

Three, nearly four months, counting the time Anders was on the run and if in fact, Greagoir had only left him locked up for the time he first named and hadn’t conveniently forgotten about him for a few days or weeks more than promised.

“I’m sorry.”

“You’re not the problem. It’s this miserable place.”

“Keep talking.” Anders hasn't heard voices that weren't gruff commands in so long. “Please. Anything. Tell me what happened while I was...” His voice trails off.

“Hmm... Amaury finished his thesis. He’s got two apprentices now. One accidentally set a tree in the garden on fire last week. He let the Templars scramble for a minute or two before extinguishing it.”

Anders smiles, even if he can't quite find the strength to laugh.

“Speaking of Templars, two were caught at it in a stairwell the other day, and dear Knight-Captain Maude is furious because she'd been tupping one of them, but she can't say anything of course, because you know Greagoir frowns on cross rank relationships. So that's been a bit fun to watch.”

“Ah, so much honor and self-restraint from our selfless protectors.”

“As always. Let’s see... The Formari were asked to up their production of goods. I guess the Chantry didn’t get enough donations this year, or some Revered Mother wants new drapery for her halls. Pity that increased speed increases mistakes. Exponentially, of course.”

“Of course.” The Tranquil within the Formari might not care about being asked to do more, but the enchanters would find subtle ways to indicate their displeasure.

“Enchanter Ines managed to arrange another research trip, so every mage with any training in botany or herbalism is jockeying for a position. Have you ever seen what happens when a growth spell is cast on a fly trap?”

“Please tell me the overgrown carnivorous plant caught a Templar.” Anders manages a chuckle. “I should ask to go. Ines loves me. Maybe I could take a vow of silence."

"Now, now -” Karl kisses the tip of his nose. “Don't make promises you can’t keep.”

[rusted-pipe-of-wisdom]

the healer will see you now ~

@autumnofanders 

[midnightprelude]

For @autumnofanders, Day 3! Prompt: Kinloch Rating: Teen Pairing: Anders/Karl Thekla Tags: Harrowing, reunions.

Cornflower blue eyes stared down at him as Anders blinked the weariness from the sleeping draught and bone-gnawing terror of his Harrowing away. Worried furrows on a well-known forehead smoothed as Karl snuggled up next to him in an unfamiliar room and in an unfamiliar bed.

“Good morning, Enchanter,” Karl whispered, the words and the scent of the kennels Karl tended sending a pleased shiver down Anders’ spine. He placed a tray on Anders’ lap, a slice of honey cake with a single candle he lit with a snap of his fingers resting atop a platter with a glass of milk. “I missed you. Welcome home.”

[ringneckedpheasant]

@autumnofanders

just a couple of he/theys gazing lovingly at each other

[autumnofanders]

can we tag autumnofanders on reblogs of creations we've already made?

Yep! Go for it, so long as the creations are yours!