#dahalloween

[bigfan-fanfic]

DAHalloween Day 3 - 10/26

Here Lies the Abyss

“Get the kids out of here.” Aric growled, not taking his eyes off of the despair demon that was threatening to rip its way out of the possessed mage. Aster and Lissa nodded, already charging ahead with the others to lead any still-living mages out of the tower.

Zevran moved close to Aric, drawing his daggers. “I am with you.”

Aric was touched, but nonetheless shoved Zevran behind him. “Like Void you are. I’m sorry, but I’m the one trained for this. And I’m NOT going to lose you.”

Before Zevran could respond, Aric charged. The mage’s arms began to shake as they covered with ice. Despair.

Aric roared, already drawing a rune in the air. Axii. He sent out waves of calm to force the mage back into control as he kept charging forward. He seized the mage by the throat and stared into their eyes. They were transfixed on Aric’s golden ones, and slowly the magic took hold.

The mage gave a scream, and from their mouth erupted strange blue substance - not quite liquid, not quite gas. It flowed like quicksilver, but the mage collapsed to the floor, unconscious.

The demon roared, torn from its host.

Aric drew his sword. “Take the mage from here. They are free from possession. I will deal with the demon.”

[jchb32273]

@dahalloween

Something I drew last year for my good friend @andrastini. Thought I’d share it again in the spirit of All Souls/Halloween!

Here is Tini’s mage as a Sailor Senshi!

(I was going to attempt to try and draw Alistair as Tuxedo Mask and add him to the picture... but the month got away from me!)

[dahalloween]

★ ART STREAM WITH @farseerdri

★ WHEN: October 26 2019, 6PM EST

we’re taking suggestions now! let us know what you’d like to see during the stream, and it might come to life before your eyes. we can’t unfortunately guarantee that all characters will stay alive...

for more information on the dragon age halloween week, click here!

[carabas]

(reposting for @dahalloween’s day for spirits and possession - an old ficlet, but one i never posted to tumblr. Cole tells a knock-knock joke.)

Knock, knock.

Who’s there?

He doesn’t know. Varric’s head is full of people who are real and not real and all of them hurt, and Cole doesn’t know how to untangle it. But the knock-knock jokes help.

“Okay, kid, try it again like we practiced.”

“Two pairs beats one pair. Four of a kind beats two pairs. She slips the ace of dragons into a thigh-high boot, calls to the barman for another round. Blondie stares at the table, angry, always angry.”

“Focus, kid. You can't beat four of a kind with bad memories.”

He says the memories are bad, but he doesn’t want to forget them. He wants to spin them into stories, familiar faces hiding behind fake names. Maybe if he tells the story enough times, it'll have a different ending.

Maybe this time when Blondie tries to give him an old and tattered pillow, he sees a message in it. This time he says the right words, and tomorrow Blondie’s dark mood is gone and they’re all back to playing cards. It was just another of Blondie’s bad days. They happen. They pass.

Cheer up, Blondie. You’re making me cry just looking at you.

I almost killed a girl.

You’ve killed two hundred and fifty-four by my last count. Plus about five hundred men, a few dozen giant spiders, and at least two demons.

It’s not the same.

Why? Because this one you feel bad about? Maybe that’s the problem.

Those were the wrong words.

The Hinterlands are burning, and Varric’s adding it to Blondie’s score. Or maybe his own score. He should have found the right words.

Another one for me! How many have you got, Hawke?

“Knock, knock.”

“Who’s there?”

“Cole.”

“Cole who?”

“It’s me, Cole. That is my name.”

“No, no. You’re still not getting it. Sorry, kid.”

But hearing the name helps the hurt, because he’s Cole, which means he’s real, he’s a person. And sometimes when Varric looks at him, he’s seeing someone else who was stuck halfway between person and spirit.

Varric asks him how he can fight with all that hair in his eyes, and he raises a hand and pushes it back, but then he stops because Varric’s seeing someone else raising his hands, tying his hair back. Nevermind. Stick with the hat. The hat looks good on you.

In Varric’s memories, he’s keeping the gangs away from the clinic door, and making sure Blondie actually shows up for cards with the guys, and they talk and they joke and they laugh even when it’s just Varric doing the laughing, and he makes sure Blondie remembers to be a person too, not just a cause.

Even when it makes Blondie angry. He is Justice, he says. You can’t claim to support one and not the other.

But Blondie and Justice are as different as the older brother who both is and isn’t here anymore, and Varric doesn’t give a shit about the cause, he just wants his friends to be safe. Well-placed bribes and balls of twine. People and demons always end in trouble. Too many Daisies in this garden.

“I am good, Varric. I am me,” says Cole. “You don't need to worry, but thank you for caring.”

“Al...right? Well, let me know if you ever... er... yeah.”

Cole understands how to tell a knock-knock joke. The punchlines are all there in Varric’s head. But hearing a punchline isn’t what Varric needs. Varric needs to help him be a person.

The jokes work better this way.

“Try it again. You’ll get it.”

“Knock, knock.”

“Who’s there?”

“Me.”

[handmadeprincess]

Im a bit backwards, but I still wanted to do Day 1 of @dahalloween ♥

I like to think that Morrigan has a soft spot for children, especially my Warden’s son whom she secretly comes to visit with gifts♥

[dalishbee]

@dahalloween  His majesty, the King of Nugs, is awaiting his royal offerings!

Day Five: Beware Of Dog

[partytimesloth]

@dahalloween Day 2: From the Ashes (GRIFFONS)

"I'll draw a baby griffon, that'll be cute, right?" *looks up baby eagles* "oh good lord."

Seriously, do yourself a favor and image search "newborn eagle", they are........ amazing. Like small cranky grandpas. 

[himluv]

Clever Witch

Day one of Dragon Age Halloween, “Sneaky Witch Thieves.” 

Very slightly NSFW, but 95% FenHawke fluff. @dahalloween

Marian Hawke lay panting in the dim, flickering light of her bedroom. Fenris lay behind her, his own breathing only just settling back to something to like to normal as his fingertips traced along her sensitive skin. She hummed as she watched the flames undulate in the hearth, the movement hypnotizing her just as sure as his hands did.

Fenris bent his lips down to her ear. “We need to talk about your daughter.” Hawke sighed. Fenris only ever referred to their child as ‘her daughter’ when the girl had done something he disapproved of; ninety-nine percent of the time that meant she’d done something magical. “What did she set on fire this time?” She rolled over to face him just in time to witness the small smile on his lips before he hid it away. “She’s taken to freezing things now,” he growled. “Bodahn nearly broke his neck when he stepped on a patch of ice on the stairs.” He shook his head, silver hair falling over his face. “He was lucky I was there.” She ran a hand up his arm, trying to soothe him. “I’ll sit her down tomorrow,” she promised. His green eyes held her gaze, and the disquiet in them stilled her hand. “She’s reckless,” he said. “Well, she does take after her mother,” Hawke quipped. “Marian,” Fenris said. His tone was unyielding, and something cold slithered up Hawke’s spine at the sound. “She’s dangerous.” She scoffed. “She’s five years old, Fenris.” He ignored her comment. “You’re busy helping Varric run the city and I am not equipped to teach her.” He sighed. “I think it’s time we considered-” “No!” Hawke rolled away from him, sliding into her red silk robe as she stood from the bed. “Absolutely not.” “It’s not like it was before,” Fenris continued. He pushed up onto one elbow to watch her pace. “Divine Victoria has made a lot of changes.” He had a point. The Circles were much more like boarding schools than the prisons they were before. But Leliana’s changes were far from unopposed or popular. And besides, Hawke had mastered her abilities outside of the Circles, her daughter could too. Hawke chewed her lip. “I could get Merrill to help,” she said. Fenris snorted. “Forgive me if I refuse to let a known blood mage instruct my child in the ways of magic.” She nodded; the suggestion had been a long shot at best. She sighed, running a hand through her dark hair. “I’ll just have to tell Varric that I need to spend more time at home. He’ll understand.” He watched her carefully, his eyes weighing her up, judging the truth of her words. “And you will?” She couldn’t quite read his expression in the faint, tremulous light, but the doubt in his voice stabbed at her. “Of course,” she said. “I love Kirkwall and Varric needs me, but not as much as my family.” She meant it, and she hoped he could sense that. He lay watching her for a moment longer, and then he pat the mattress. “Come back to bed, Hawke.” She smiled and hurried back to him, shrugging out of her robe. She shivered at the chill air on her skin, but Fenris pulled the covers over them as she snuggled into his chest. They lay comfortable and quiet in each other’s arms until a thought occurred to Hawke. “Fenris?” He grunted, his eyes still closed. “You were never going to send her to a Circle, were you?” she looked up at him, but he didn’t move. “You just wanted me to agree to stay home more.” He didn’t say a word, his body unnaturally still, until his arm tightened around her and his lips curled into a smirk. “My clever witch.”

[bigfan-fanfic]

DAHalloween Day 7 - 10/30

All Souls’ Day - @dahalloween 

“You have got a surprising amount of chest fur, there, Waffles.” Varric smirked.

Cal glared down at his husband. “Really? The dwarf with the perpetually-fuzzy chest is talking about mine?”

“I wasn’t complaining. More like... enjoying the view.” Varric smirked.

Cal was dressed in a specially tailored longcoat almost exactly like the one Varric usually wore, with a soft red shirt hanging almost all the way open, showing off Cal’s broad chest muscles and the dark hair all the way down to his stomach.

Varric, in turn, wore a set of armor made to look like Cal’s typical vestments, a hooded leather cuirass, one armored arm and one bare. Considering they were headed to a costume ball, they had put a surprisingly large amount of effort into their ensembles.

“You should show off your arms more often, Varric.” Cal grinned. 

Varric laughed. “I’ll show off more than my arms when we’re alone, Waffles.”

“Awww, don’t make me want to leave before we even get there!” Cal joked.

Varric grinned wickedly. “If you behave tonight, I’ll make sure to reward you.”

“...Fine.”

[tarisaskia]

@dahalloween challenge :  ★ DAY SEVEN || ALL SOUL’S DAY Guess who’s been watching Stranger Things season 2 ?

[dahalloween]

DA HALLOWEEN MULTISTREAM || FROSCHKUSS

Hello out there! This is froschkuss also known as kacha. Since I stumbled into Dragon age a few years ago I can’t let go! Since then I created a ton of fanarts and I still will and want to :) I am also a Manga/Comic Artist and create my own printed comics (some might know that smutty lil Cullistair Comic I did with elf x)). I am glad to be part of the stream and hope you will enjoy whatever we draw that day!

[carabas]

(for @dahalloween's day for spirits and possession)

Justice looks exactly the way Anders remembers him. Clouded eyes. Teeth showing through a wound in Kristoff’s skin that Anders had yet to sew closed. And Anders feels like they’ve been talking like this for a while now, here in the familiar barracks at Vigil’s Keep.

Anders leans back in a chair balanced precariously on two legs, and it all feels so natural that for a moment he’s convinced that’s really his old friend sitting across the table from him. Yes, it’s a dream, of course it’s a dream, but there’s this wild hope that maybe in the Fade, somehow, possibly—

But if that’s Justice over there, then what does that make me?

He allows himself one more moment. Then he has to spoil the illusion. “You’re not him.”

What he’s talking to is Compassion. He feels certain of it now, in the way of dreams, seeing one thing and knowing it’s something else, like dreams of the Circle where for some reason it looks just like Hightown, or dreams of Hawke as a templar-eating tiger.

“I am sorry,” says the spirit with Justice’s face. My face. Kristoff’s face. Whatever.

It might be the same compassion spirit who’d helped him in the clinic that day, though he wouldn’t swear to it. Anders watches the spirit and lets his chair tilt back until it bumps against the wall. “For what? Not being Justice?”

Or for pretending to be Justice. But there’s no point in resenting a spirit for taking on a role from his memories. Like getting angry at the wind for blowing.

“For everything that you have given up. For everything that… I did not understand.” Not-Justice does an excellent impression of Justice’s frustration, the look on his face he used to get whenever the mortal world left him speechless, confusing and contradictory place that it was. “And yet if we could do it over again, I would change nothing. For that most of all, I am sorry, my friend.”

The spirit is only saying the things that it’s plucked out of his head.

There’s a map of the Deep Roads spread out on the table between them. Amgarrak Thaig. This dream must be drawing on his memories from before the Commander left. Before Rolan and the templars, before giving Pounce away, before everything else. Long before he’d started lying to Hawke about trying to separate, and the spirit must have seen that particular hurt and decided it needed picking at.

Not-Justice is silent until Anders meets his eyes again.

“Are you trying to heal me?” Anders asks with a smile.

“There were so many things you wanted to say to him,” Compassion says. And Anders isn’t sure which you and which him it means. True either way. But his thoughts are Justice’s thoughts are Anders’ thoughts, and even if they really could speak like they used to, face to face like this, anything he could say would be redundant anyway.

He shouldn’t be able to miss someone when they’re never apart.

“And now you’ve said them for me, is that it? Huh. You picked the wrong appearance. You should have looked like me for that speech.” He holds up a hand to forestall it. “Though don’t, please. I… thank you. And… I’m sorry.”

Directed not at the spirit but at this memory of the old Justice with his clouded eyes, and this dream version of the old Anders with his fine robes that in the waking world have long since been cut up for scraps, and neither of them are real but they’re here in front of him all the same, and he had to say it while he had the chance.

And yet even if we could do it over again, I would change nothing, and for that most of all, I am so sorry, my friend.

[handmadeprincess]

Day 2 of @dahalloween ♥

From the ashes: I like to imagine that on certain nights near halloween, Mahariel visits Tamlen’s grave (the tree she planted for him) and can spend time with him, for a short time....whether its actually his spirit or a hallucination caused by her strong feelings and memories, we can’t be sure, but his smile is gentle and comforting.

[talesfromthefade]

DWC: “I don’t think we have anything left to say to each other.”

Sorry this took so long for me to fill. I had another idea in mind for this prompt but kept getting stuck, and then I was looking over the prompts for @dahalloween  and this one just sort of came to me and took on a life of its own. I hope you enjoy. I’ve always wanted to write how Eloise came to be an ‘Abomination’ and how Cullen might react to finding out.

Eloise Trevelyan x Cullen Rutherford, for @dadrunkwriting

“It’s alright,” Eloise offers up quietly without looking up from the horse she is busying herself with grooming. “I understand,” the mage continues, shaking her head. He doesn’t need to say it. Whatever it is that’s been growing between the two of them in the last few months can’t possibly continue now, can’t survive this. She will be lucky to continue being Herald and Inquisitor after this. Not for the first time, it occurs to her that now would be an excellent time to follow Varric’s early assessment of running, before they have a chance to catch and chain her up once more. But she’s done running. Good or ill, she will face the consequences of her decisions. “This wasn’t how I wanted you to find out. I should have told you sooner, I know, but… I never meant to keep it from you. Not forever. Once we began to spend more time together, and I started to care for you, I didn’t know how- I- was afraid you would hate me,” she admits tearfully, fully aware she’s likely ensured this outcome by her silence rather than avoiding it as she’d hoped. “That doesn’t make it right, I know. For what it’s worth, I am sorry,” she says, mournful hazel eyes finally lifting up to meet his amber ones.

“So, it’s true, then,” Cullen says softly. “You’re- an abomination.”

“I-” she hesitates before answering softly. “I prefer the term vessel.”

“You don’t deny it?”

“No,” Eloise replies firmly. She wants to say that she regrets it. That she wishes it weren’t true, but she can’t form the words. They wouldn’t be true. Whatever she feels for Cullen, certainly it is more and something entirely new than she’s ever felt before, it will hurt to lose it. But she cannot imagine herself other than she is now. Cannot bring herself to regret her decision or the good she has since been able to do because of it.

“You’re possessed by a demon.”

“A spirit,” she corrects, knowing at this point, at least with the former Templar, she’s likely splitting hairs, but unable to ignore him maligning the spirit inside her.

“A spirit,” he repeats, clearly still a little skeptical, a bit cautious. He’s not moved from the doorway of the stables, and his hand is resting, ready on the pommel of his sword like a good Templar, should it prove necessary. He’s poised to defend himself. To defend others from her. All this time she’d thought they had been getting on better, putting their differences aside, perhaps even begun to help one another heal. But the way he is looking at her now, his body ready to strike, it breaks her heart. Somehow she’d thought… She’d find that right way, the right time to tell him. It would be a shock, almost certainly, and given his past, a difficult one, but she’d hoped… It doesn’t matter now, she thinks sadly. “Like Cole?”

“Very much like him,” Eloise nods in confirmation. “A spirit of Compassion just as he is.”

“Solas said those were rare.”

“They are,” she nods. “I have seen and been helped by many spirits, particularly after I began to study healing. But before Cole, I had only ever met one such spirit.”

“The one you-” Cullen beings, but trails off, seemingly unsure of how best to put what he wishes to express into words. She nods all the same. “How did you...?”

“You know most of the story already,” she nods with a rueful smile. “When the tower fell, I tried to find the younger apprentices- the children, the ones who wouldn’t know how to properly defend themselves. But by the time I reached them-” she continues, choking back a sob and swallowing hard before continuing. “A Templar caught me trying to heal one of them, badly injured, but still alive. Just barely. He dispelled my magic and drew his blade on me. Gave me this before an explosion threw us against opposite walls.” Cullen nods slowly, waiting for the part of the tale he’s not yet familiar with. “When I came to there was so much blood, so many dead, few of them quick or painless. They suffered. Their last moments were filled with fear and agony. Everything was still falling apart around me, but I couldn’t move. Couldn’t think. All I could see was their faces, all I could hear was their screams, their pleas. Everything they were, everything they might have been gone. And I was still alive. Then I felt this sort of warmth come over me, a voice calling out to me, comforting me. One I’d not heard in years.”

“I wasn’t the boy my parents had hoped for. The next best thing I could do was to make sure I married well, so mother started her search early. I was eight or nine, I don’t recall how old my suitor was. A number of years. He was half again my height, at least,” she recalls. “It was a kiss. Just a kiss,” she continues, shaking her head with a hollow sort of chuckle. “Except I’d never had one before, and I had this romantic notion that one never forgets their first kiss, so I’d been saving it. He couldn’t have known. But I was distraught. I ran. It had rained the day before, and I tripped. Fell and hit my head on a rock,” she explains, gently pushing back long brunette locks from her brow to reveal the hint of a scar just at the hairline.

“I’d seen the Fade before in dreams, but I’d never been so deep before. I was lost. Couldn’t wake up. Healers told my parents I might not ever. Eventually, I started drawing attention. Most of it bad. Demons. But one spirit. It heard me crying. It helped me. Comforted me. Guided me. Kept me safe, until I was finally able to wake up. With their help, I kept my magic in control and my powers hidden for a number of years. They never asked for anything, never tried to make any deals like the demons. They only wanted to help. All those years, all that distance, but they heard me crying, felt me breaking, and they came. I’d never have left the tower without them. I didn’t want to. Didn’t think I deserved to. Why should I have lived when so many others hadn’t?” It’s a sentiment of guilt and regret, she knows from their previous conversations about their past traumas Cullen is intimately familiar with himself. “With their help, I could do some good. I couldn’t bring them all  back, but maybe I could stop it happening again.”

“We helped and healed everyone we could, and we fled. Some of them went their separate ways afterward, tried to find family, friends, or safe haven somewhere. That was when we heard about the results of the vote and the Conclave. You know the rest.”

Cullen is silent, still staring at her. “I should have told you,” Eloise repeats, shaking her head. “But I woke up in chains and with everyone convinced I’d killed the Divine. How could I tell you I was an abomination when the last one you knew blew up the Chantry and killed Kirkwall’s Grand Cleric?”

“Say something,” she prompts, finally setting down the brush in her hand and abandoning the pretense of doing anything besides waiting for him to pass his judgment. She’s hardly in a position to ask anything of him now, but the silence… it’s deafening. “Please?”

“I-” Cullen tries, swallowing hard. “I don’t know what to say,” he admits, shaking his head. “Can you- Does that mean you can read what’s inside people’s heads, the way Cole does?”

Eloise shakes her head. “No. It’s not precisely the same thing. Cole is a spirit. He’s pure. My spirit and I, we’re sharing, our thoughts, our abilities. It’s harder to hear over ourselves. I can sense things- sort of feel things sometimes. But just emotions. Not thoughts.” Cullen nods, though he still looks worried.

“You said you wanted to help.” Eloise nods. “Cole wants to help too. He- He’s drawn to pain, hurt. I-” he hesitates. “Is that what this was? What we were,” he asks finally voicing the doubt and fear with a frown and furrowed brow. He’s not meeting her gaze anymore, perhaps because he couldn’t bring himself to ask the question that’s been burning within him if he did, his wringing hands suddenly calling attention to the fact he’s no longer thinking of her as an immediate threat. Except perhaps to something more internal and far more fragile. It’s... Not what she had expected, and the young mage finds herself fighting not to make too much of it, to allow herself to become too hopeful for what it might mean. That perhaps this isn’t quite so hopeless as it had seemed when the revelation had come to light in the last meeting with her Council, through Cassandra’s field report.

“You- that’s what you’re worried about,” she asks, not entirely able to believe it. “Not that I won’t suddenly turn into some kind of hideous monster and try to kill you?”

“Seems to me you’ve had ample opportunities to do that,” he replies thoughtfully. “I- I’m still a little… this is going to take some time to adjust to,” he admits. “If you say this spirit is a good one, that you both only want to help and do good, that you’re still you, then I believe you. Maybe the Chantry doesn’t know everything about the Fade,” he admits cautiously. “But, I… what I said, I meant it. I’ve never felt like this with anyone. So, if this is just you wanting to help. To fix someone… I need to know it’s me, not my damage that you’re attracted to,” he confesses, finally dragging heavy amber eyes back up to meet her own.

“I can’t help you with that, Cullen,” Eloise replies gently, hazel eyes shining with tears as she shakes her head. “Either you believe me when I say that I love you- for all that you are- and we will work through this, or you don’t, in which case there is little more to say, and even less to fight to save between us. Only you can answer that.”

“Take some time,” she nods patiently gathering herself and her things to take her leave with a goodbye pat to her horse, much as it pains her to do so. “You know where to find me.”

[dalishbee]

@dahalloween Red lyrium Meredith back to bring the pain!

Day Two: From The Ashes

[partytimesloth]

@dahalloween DAY 3: HERE LIES THE ABYSS

Alistair just needs to hold out for a little while longer, because once Amell finds out, she’s coming for him.