#IT’S SO UGLY *sob* *sob* JUST LIKE ROOK

[emmg]

Emmrich: *sees a filthy hole*

Worne: ?

Emmrich: *starts weeping*

Worne: ??

Emmrich: it’s just like you, dearest *sob* *sob*

Worne: ???

🕳️ WIP Wednesday (on Thurs) 🕳️

Tagged by @heylittleriotact

WELL this one was supposed to be released by now but I have had the absolute delight of needing to write confronting truths to the worst sorts of people. Menace is a way of life. I bring you this. I don’t know what to title it. Weeping Lizards? Sodden Hole? Muddy Salt? Help. I blame @emmg for its creation this is your fault. We’re in Hossberg and Emmrich is crying over a muddy hole that reminds him of Worne (Rook).

———-——-

“Now, please, I have to see to Emmrich, shoo. Everyone’s off.” Rook motioned it with a flick of his hands this time; well aware he might have better luck physically urging the ground below to trot on before budging the Qunari. Thankfully Taash needed no further encouragement and long strides were soon taking them past Emmrich. They paused at a shout from behind.

Rook, calling like a concerned parent, “And get something nice for Lace first!” Taash waved back, looked over their shoulder, regretted that once the Warden started mouthing further instructions, what was he saying? “Floooowers.” And he was pointing at himself, and at Emmrich and. Taash rolled their eyes. Took a moment to turn and mouth back an exaggerated but silent, “Nooooo.”

Rook flipped them off, they sent two back. Rook’s eyes went wide, and he pointed a stiff finger at them. Taash groaned and rolled their head full round. Mouthed a “Fiiiiine.” And finally disappeared down the path back to Lavendell.

The Warden quickened his step. Emmrich hadn’t moved in the time it took to send Taash away for errands. The mage remained locked in place, red and wet faced, staring long at a muddy hole.

Rook didn’t question it, did his best to not startle him, that hazel gaze was far, far away. “Emmrich.”The hushed tone was followed by a soft touch. Fingers entered at waist, trailed up the spine until they went up to hold that opposite shoulder steady, gave a firm grip, a gentle pull towards the rogue. The necromancer was trembling, Rook eased into a shape that fit close, that first touch a needle of first stitch, and like thread he pulled them flush together.

Emmrich didn’t startle, seemed to expect him, subtle movements meeting Rook as he settled into the Warden’s hands finding their way to their places. Still, he kept a bit tense, hands tight together in front. White knuckled as he spoke sniffing,

“Rook. Darling, it’s…look, I…” and then Emmrich laughed, piercingly loud, a wincing crack that made Rook flinch to a confused smile. But the noise was manic prelude, and it was swallowed in the sob that drove it free. The mage’s eyes welled, wet trails provided easy paths for fresh tears as flood resumed. He turned his head down and into Rook, lips quivering to recall words. Shine on his face wrenching the rogue’s gut, Rook listened, attentive as possible, but the necromancer’s trembling smile stretched the sounds.

Emmrich’s hands unclenched from each other and dove round Rook in a desperate clinging embrace. The Warden answered with whispered soft ‘shhhh’s’ and diligently caressed the tall man’s back. They held there for long moments, Rook bearing their weight as the quivering necromancer eased into fewer wails and more whimpers.

Blubbering, mumbling, further shuddering chuckles, but eventually, helped by Rook’s firm embrace, calming touch, and steady pace of lungs, the breaths came even enough for thoughts. Emmrich squeaked out, “...it reminded me of you.”

He gestured towards the filthy hole. And then a lizard popped its head out. Mud obscured its sight, some kind of weed stuck to its chin, and its big dumb face was wide, letting nary a thought bother its whim. Emmrich snorted. Then started weeping again.

—————

tagging: @caffeinatedmunchkin @thepalehorsevictoria @ollypopwrites (look I know you’ve likely been tagged but this is me saying tag me on all your writing updates because imma miss it if you don’t I’m staying away from this place as much as possible to write. Sincerely haha I’ll catch up on commenting when I caaaaan because holy shit all the writing is so good. I’m forgetting people TAG ME I need to post or imma edit the whole thing again.)

[girlwithadragonheart]

I need to yap desperately about one single gripe I have with this game. MAJOR MAJOR MAJOR SPOILERS AHEAD read at your own discretion

The first half is me ranting about how much certain things mean to me and how impacted I was, and the actual gripe comes closer to the end.

I'll preface this by saying this post is about Varric's death and my rage and despair regarding it, but more so about my Rook's.

I've seen people who said they picked up on the hints about whatnot, who knew before the Fade Prison. I was not one of those people. I was so relieved when I saw him after the Prologue that I didn't think twice, because I knew that it would destroy me the second shit started going wrong.

I was already not having a good time when I started the game simply because Varric was getting older. I don't handle aging well or death, and his design showing his age, and the comments he would make about "getting too old for this" just made my heart break.

And then shit got worse. I sobbed disgustingly when that knife went into Varric's chest.

After Rook woke up from talking to Solas and she heard Varric, I was so gods damned relieved. And my Rook was better taken care of by Varric in that year she spent with him than she was in the rest of her entire life.

I cried from the end of Ghilan'nain's fight until the romance scene and on and off after that. I got so used to visiting Varric just to be comforted by his presence. Inquisition was the biggest part of my life for a year and a half when I was just a kid.

I did really bad middle school age writing for it but regardless of the quality, those characters were built up in my head becoming even more than they were in the game. Varric was my biggest support character through everything I was going through at the time.

I don't talk about it much, but I didn't have a great childhood, and I know a lot of people didn't, but I coped with it through writing and video games. Varric was the one supporting me through the abuse I suffered and writing was the way I processed how bad things really were.

When Rook was in the prison she said "What am I going to find here?" And Varric said "I think you already know, kid." I DIDN'T until he said that. The second he said that my entire chest tightened and I just said "No" out loud as I watched Rook find his body.

Now for my real complaint!!!

Rook never gets the chance to grieve Varric. They go from talking to him every day to finding out he's dead and it was all a lie. I have personally never been more fucking pissed at Solas than I am now. But Rook comes back and they have that kind of "closing off" scene with Varric's empty bed (which was so hard to go through btw). And then they fuck their pookie LIKE I CANNOT BE THE ONLY ONE UPSET ABT THAT

FYM I gotta find out my dad is dead and then Rook is up for boning like there's no fucking way unless it's to cope. And at least pertaining to the Lucanis romance, Rook is processing everything that happened and they can say "So much has happened, I just don't know how to feel."

And rather than getting to process that in some kind of way, the devs said nah this scene serves one singular purpose, and Lucanis says "I do" and then dicks them down.

Personally, I felt very dismissed despite being overjoyed about finally having the romance scene, I couldn't even enjoy it with everything that happened prior.

Rook deserved the chance to completely break down after everything they went through. Tbh i don't know how they kept it together. Varric said "don't get all misty eyed" and i thought to myself that's way too delicate a term for what's happening here, I was fully ugly crying.

Fuck your "I had a good run" I still need you bitch.

All this to say I'm very upset, and I'm running my second playthrough and every time I look at, hear, or talk to Varric I tear up again. Wtf Bioware.

Rook should've gotten the chance to actually talk about what Solas did to them, especially in the sense that he made them believe Varric was still there. Or at least get to properly grieve the person who was their closest friend for a long time.

I have very strong feelings about this obviously

[marigoldendragon]

Was thinking about who in the twst cast would be a sobbing mess at their wedding

Riddle. No. He'd be fluctuating between super happy and trying to maintain some decorum, and end up red faced half the time, but I dont think he'd cry.

Trey. Pretty emotionally stable guy. He'd probably get misty eyed if he felt it but otherwise no.

Cater. Yeah. Not like, super ugly crying (he needs to look good in his wedding photos) but I think he'd shed a few tears.

Ace. Yes. He'd be all cocky about it right up until the vows, then he'd start balling.

Deuce. Yes. I think he'd be fine until either his mum or his spouse started crying, then he'd break.

Leona. No, he'd just be a smug bastard the whole day. Not saying he wouldn't love his spouse, he'd just be insufferable about how great they are.

Ruggie. I think he could swing either way. Like he's had a hard life so he'd know how to not show venerability, but if it was a smaller more intimate ceremony where he'd feel safe to cry I think he would.

Jack. No. But his tail would be a blur the entire day.

Azul. Absolutely. Man craves affection. Getting married? He'd be a MESS.

Jade. No. Mr playing at being a butler would be the perfect gentlemen the entire time.

Floyd. No. He would be bouncing off the walls though.

Kalim. Absolutely. He has no qualms about showing his emotions he would let loose on the day.

Jamil. Yes. He'd hate that he's crying in front of people, but someone choosing HIM?? He would not be able to hold it in.

Vil. As fun as it is to imagine getting married is what breaks Vil's mask, no. He's a professional, he's not going to ruin his makeup.

Rook. Yes. One look at his spouse in their wedding attire and he'd be on one knee spouting poetry about their beauty, tears running down his face.

Epel. Yup. He'd probably not be happy about it, but he does cry a lot in the main story. Sorry Epel XD

Idia. Yes, but probably more from being just kind of generally overwhelmed by the whole thing. Like his anxiety gets the better of him once or twice.

Ortho. No? I would assume once he's lived some more life and gotten adult body upgrades he'd probably want to find romance. Maybe he'd make and install a crying unit just so he can experience it?

Malleus. No. But I think it would hit him AFTER the wedding. Like he's at home with his new spouse, looks over at them and it just kind of hits him. Starts ugly crying.

Silver. Hmmmm no. He's a pretty serious guy, and I think he'd get misty eyed, maybe a tear or two, but I don't think he'd be the sort to really cry that hard.

Sebek. Yes lol. He'd try so hard to be the serious mature husband but man cannot control his emotions. He'd have tears running like a faucet all day (and denying it all the time).

Lilia. No, he'd be all big beaming smiles. His sons' weddings however... he'd be a waterfall of tears the entire day. An absolute wreck of a man he'd be so proud.

Feel free to add any thoughts. There's a few characters I'm not super knowledgeable on, happy to read any counterarguments/extra thoughts people have :D

[skiitter]

Ellana looked for Solas everywhere, in every shadow and alleyway of Thedas, at every ephemeral border of her dreams. She hunted him through time, through the annals of her own ancestral history, down through the last long decade of her too short life. She searched for even the echo of his presence in places too old and too broken to be named. And in every corner, through every door, across every dusty room, she found nothing. He was a ghost of a memory, something she stole and kept pressed to the edge of her ribs, just painful enough to remind her it happened.

As the years and the emptiness of her life shuffled on, Ellana's loneliness blossomed outward, consuming the gentler parts of her, until all that was left was bitter and ugly, the refuse of all her wasted hope. And so, for the sake of what life she had life, she set aside that aching desire, and refocused her grim determination on solving problems that he created. If Solas would not have her now, just as he did not keep her then, then so be it. He broke her heart, but she would not let him break the world.

She never expected to see him again, not in this life anyway, and most certainly not in the face of a stranger, in a tavern far, far away.

"This," Morrigan said, "is Rook."

Afterwards, her hand shook for want of something to cling too. The wolf statue she'd given to Thedas's newest champion was all she'd brought on her journey, and so it was to her own miserable shock she was forced to clutch.

"So, what did you think of her?" Morrigan asked upon their return to the south.

'I hate her' was the very first thought in her head, but Ellana pushed it aside for something appropriate, something fair. "She's so young."

Morrigan nodded. "Tis true, she is. But so was the Warden Amell, so was Varric's beloved Hawke," she paused. "So were you."

Ellana felt every second of her 36 years hit her all at once and she failed to keep the grimace from her face. "She's not Dalish, despite her name. I was expecting her to be more..." She could hear the word 'elfy' in Sera's voice as clear as day. "It must drive him mad."

"Oh, I'm sure many things about her do. She's quite obstinate, I'm told." Dorian stepped through the Eluvian after them, brushing imaginary fade-dust from his tailored robes. "Harding says she reminds her of you, all spitfire and stubborness."

It wounded like nothing had in a decade. It was a feeling so far removed from her repertoire of emotions, she didn't dare name it until safely alone in a room, far from prying eyes and clever sight.

Jealousy.

It's so base, so sincere in its immaturity, Ellana smiled despite the revelation. Jealousy, now, at the end of the world. How small it felt before the onslaught of things sure to come, how useless. But it was felt all the same. What a ruin the last decade had made of her pride, the irony of which she was unable to ignore. It would be better, she knew, if she did not love him. It would be easier, she knew, if she hated him. And yet.

And yet.

"El, darling, I've brought you some very expensive and fancy wine that you will pretend to enjoy and I--" Dorian trailed off at the sight of her hunched over in bed, sobbing quietly into her hands. "Oh, Ellana." He did not ask, no one ever did anymore. Instead, he sat down and drew her to him.

"It's not fair," she said into the crook of his neck. "It's not bloody fair."

"Love never is."

"It should be me, sifting through his fractured thoughts, demanding answers and receiving none. A decade of my life, Dorian. A decade. And it's just some--some girl instead." Ellana scoffed in disgust at her own fallible heart. "Her people, they live in his--his home--they--they are sat among his things. They--" She scrubbed at her face, pulling away. "I am so sick of missing him, of wanting answers to a question I asked years ago."

"I know."

"Does this make me foolish? All these years, and I'm still so heartbroken. I'm responsible for the safety of a thousand people and one man, one stupid and prideful man, has weakened me so utterly I cannot help but hate what I've become." Ellana looked at him. "I hate that I hate her. I hate that she was able to succeed where I failed."

"She's only where she's at because of Varric--"

"I spent years thinking of ways to make him stop, for just moment, to just listen to me. And now, she's got him trapped. Trapped and unable to run and I cannot even demand an audience after all this--this searching. He's just as unreachable to me now as he's ever been."

Dorian was at a loss for words, as nearly everyone was when presented with the ugly wound of her heartache. She did not begrudge him such things, nor did she push away his attempts to comfort. Instead, she cried for a while more, just for the posterity of feeling.

"Sorry," she scrubbed at her face after some time. "It's been a long day."

"It's been a long decade," he said gently. "Would you like some company or is this a 'wallow in your own loneliness' sort of evening?"

In response, she grabbed the bottle from him and took a heavy swig. It was impressively dry, like all Tevinter wine. With a grimace, she handed it back. "Company, definitely."

Several cups and not enough food later, the two of them sat before the small fireplace, having lapsed into companionable silence. He had just finished telling her of his recent run in with Vivienne and at the mention of their old friend, her thoughts were inevitably cast back in time to the Dread Wolf.

"I can see him in her," she said softly. "I see Solas in her expression, in the way she carries herself. It's...it's agonizing."

Dorian reached out and took her hand.

"She's so young and the weight of the entire world is on her shoulders. I know that feeling, I know how hard it is going to get," Ellana sighed. "I cannot begrudge her for things wholly out of her control."

"It is okay to hate her, even if it is only a little bit," he replied. "I won't tell."

"I know." She gave him a sad smile. "Maybe at the end of this, on the other side of all this carnage, I can ask her to tell him that I..." There was no word to properly encapsulate the sumtotal of everything she felt for Solas. "That I miss him, even now. And that if he ever wanted to talk, I will always be here to listen."

"He doesn't deserve your heart, Ellana, he never has."

"I know, but it's his anyway."

[moon-mage]

I am so normal about Vil Schoenheit.

I am so normal about Pomefiore.

I got the idea in my head and I so I grabbed my pencil and went to town. I don’t care Twisted Wonderland plays like a magical girl anime in my head. Idia makes me feel validated with dream form change. I imagine the fighting is on badass dramatic as Precure where they use magic yes but they kick ass.

No but imagining Vil getting hit so hard his crown flies off and hair comes undone is just AHHHH. And he girlbosses himself back to his feet and fixes his hair and crown before going to BODY whoever did that is just everything to me. Vil is everything to me.

And Rook and Epel being concerned about their queen but immediately being reminded he is the embodiment of tenacity. But they do this because they care so much and I love them and shhsheheveg.

Also bonus

-ugly sobs over how much I love them all-

[amaryllis-sagitta]

Final thoughts on Solas after DATV 100%

So, after beating 100% I think it kinda gets better in the 2nd half of the game, but there's some moments where the Solas Experience feels just a little off... though it might sound nitpicky to those who enjoyed their time.

For the entire Act 1 and half of Act 2 I felt railroaded into hating Solas. Full on. The first 2 memories gave us an idealized picture of the rebel leader who's ready for sacrifices. Then the third memory destroyed that picture by showing how far Solas had gone in his sacrifices. That moment imo felt a little off because when Felassan pleaded to Solas, he looked so... smug. Then, midway through Act 2, it got a little better. After killing the first Archdemon, my Rook "earned Solas's respect" and their conversation felt sincere and much more on an equal footing. Then, the dinner with my Solavellan Inky who swore to save Solas shed some light on his motives. This section felt better because it didn't feel railroaded anymore, but more like a true exchange of perspectives, and there I felt I can change my mind, and even change Inquisitor's mind. That dinner with Inky gave me all I was missing - a chance to confront someone who had good information. Because Varric's advice has been trite and useless, and for a very good reason. So we were going off the opinions of people who only knew Fen'Harel The Warning.

All of this said, I feel like the reveal of Varric's death jumped the guns justt a little bit in bringing out Solas's trickster nature. I would have preferred if my Rook was given a chance to fail in that moment - to have a breakdown after they lose their first/ mandatory companion, for Solas to intervene then and do his thing. Then he could've come in with the same cold assessment that Rook can't make it. It wouldn't have hurt his treacherous characterization imo, because he still hid from us that killing Elgar'nan just like this would also tear down the Veil.

What puts me off just a little bit in that moment was how Solas is completely torn about some regrets and mentions others almost off-handedly, like tricking Rook is hardly a regret for him. I sincerely wanted to tell him to shove it when Rook got the dagger back in Minrathous.

Then, when we have made it after all and escaped the Fade prison with the power of Friendship, he wants to butter us up again and we are suddenly the best person to wield the dagger? I admit, I didn't suspect to see a moment when Solas would be... cowardly in such an unelegant way. But maybe that's how it's supposed to be? Maybe that's how much he feared Elgar'nan at the end of it all?

What follows re: Fen'harel's fight with Lusacan the Archdemon was 11/10. Sexy Dread Wolf form taking blows for us, almost dying several times and needing help? I LOVED the constant death scares in Veilguard's "suicide mission" that kept me on the seat's edge about blorbos!

About Solas/ Mythal... I am still a little mad that an emotionally tethered, terrified victim is forced to face his abuser and be released by her to get his closure, that he needs to be told that HE IS FORGIVEN. BY HIS ABUSER. FOR THE CONSEQUENCES OF ACTIONS CARRIED OUT FOR HER SAKE... But on the other hand, no-one else indeed could have reached him and ridden him of the guilt about Mythal. He was too stubborn to let go by himself. It really, really would have benefitted the narrative in overall if they dared make Mythal the ultimate antagonist whose nature had been obscured through myth and through pulling the wool over many party's eyes.

Many of us wanted a scene of Solas ugly sobbing as he experiences release from at least a part of his burden, and we got it.

So all in all, I feel the experience is a little bumpy in some moments but overally... more or less adequate?

[maternal-extinct]

some mom lore under the cut!

idk if i mentioned this before but i had a pavlovian fear response for pachelbel's canon in d cus in primary school i had a teacher who would play a record before she punished or berated a student and i was an unruly autistic child so i got yelled at a lot to the sound of that record it got so bad for a while i stopped listening to music in the wild cus id get upset if i heard just the chords to it. eventually it kinda got really embarrassing to be triggered by one of the most recognizable chord progressions in music. i didnt even listen to welcome to the black parade until last year because the last minute of the song is just a cover of canon in d, its the same for basket case by green day lol but thats also what helped me out of it! it was gays making emotionally charged music with that progression! it was finding relatable pieces of music that i could kinda, ease myself into and let myself listen to to ease myself out of the flashbacks. actually, the specific song that did the most for me was devi and rooks (cant) keep it together off of forever in your heart. i still ugly sob to that shit cus well, its canon in d but probably about the trauma of suffering 100000 ego deaths. so like, it was the song I needed to work through being able to hear those chords again

[lowkeyclueless5137]

I'm eyes emoji'ing so hard at the Tartarus Buddies au rn. can we learn more

It's a simple au with very fucked up implications. :3

In here, we have the possibility of a kid overbloting. But the thing is that these kids are growing, their growth can be easily influenced by things due to their faster acceptance of it and overBlot was no exception.

As such, when STIX captures them, they realise they are kept alive as long as they have blot around to run on. Putting them in tartarus only makes them to adapt more and simply live. Their Phanthoms were long dead, but our kids remained in there.

The first one here was none other than Malleus, who overBlotted when he found himself alone, in the castle, Lilia leaving without any announcement. He thought Lilia abandoned him and didn't want him just how everyone else left him, so for a 5 year old it was a pretty hard blow. He was quickly contained because he couldn't tell apart the Charons from real people and thought they were here to play with him, to stay with him and not abandon him.

Cue Idia and Ortho. They were absolutely curious of Malleus's presence. Malleus was also curious of them as well and as such, the 3 started a surprisingly sweet friendship through the glass wall.

Because of that, Malleus was supposed to be in a lower tartarus level, but he came up to the top layers, simply so Idia and Ortho could hang around with him. He wasn't any different than a normal kid. He liked a lot the gargoyle pictures in the books and really seemed to enjoy any kind of food you gave him.

Later down the line, we get Azul, who came in due to a very ugly bullying incident. He was a sobbing mess and afraid of everyone. He just wanted to curl up in a ball and be left alone.

In the end, he also warms up to the other 3 and all become friends. They told that Azul was super awesome and that being an octopus mer was insanely epic, which did improve his self esteem since these guys genuinely thought he was cool and wanted to be friends.

Until Idia turns 8 (he was 5 when Malleus came in), We get Jamil, Riddle, Leona, Rook and Sebek. They all took a while to warm up, but for STIX, it was revolutionary that these boys were able to adapt to the blot and live in tartarus. Sometimes they did get out, but since they were so young and now high on blot, sometimes they would get nauseous if they stood for too many hours.

But when Idia's 8, also the incident happened. Ortho was dragged to Tartarus and everyone did a comune effort to save poor boy. It ends up with Malleus absolutely demolishing a titan, but in the end, Ortho was saved.

Except that he was an overBlot and now couldn't leave tartarus at all. Unlike the others, Ortho was completely bound to the underworld. Even staying at the upper levels sometimes had him dizzy, let along get out of the tartarus. It was painful and the body was going through rapid changed and Idia could do nothing but watch and accept the situation. HE was responsible for this and now his little brother was turning gradually into a monster.

The others tried to cheer Idia up, but what else could they say? At least Ortho's not dead? That would literally be the worst reassuring message. :'3

But times still moves on. Idia came to adapt himself more to the tartarus. He wasn't that affected by blot since you had Malleus, Riddle and Azul who were the clingiest mfs known to man. Leona was the oldest and therefore the leader of the group. Jamil is your local 'if it doesn't work, resort to homicide', advisor. Sebek has body goals and usually is Ortho and Riddle's bestie since the 2 are the warmest. (help, sbk_zgvlt has infested me with the Croc headcannons/pos) And Rook was the eyes for all of tartarus. He knew everything and if anyone needed to find smth in there, Rook was your man.

Cue the NRC letter arriving and shaking the whole tartarus since 'Idia will be gone to school?! But he cannot even open a bag of chips?!'. Up until now, the Shroud parents home schooled everyone. Leona was literally 18 now and he didn't get his letter 3 years ago, which means that their existence was erased long ago. He got for his 18th birthday a hand crafted chess set that everyone else worked on. And he really likes to play with it. :3

Cue Idia trying his best to try and leave the tartarus to go and make his luggage, but everyone literally holds onto his feet and beg of him to not go. These bishes really have abandonment issues :'3

But Idia has to go in the end. To ensure that things would go well on his end, the tartarus Bois get a shared phone that they can call Idia on. But Mrs Shroud told them that they can only call when everyone falls on agreement. Leona being additionally informed to be reasonable when calling Idia due to 1: timezones, 2: he's as school and needs to learn, 3: you cannot attempt to make him homesick. Leona was the deemed leader, so his word does hold sum water for the rest after all.

First day in and Idia turned his phone on silent mode for the ceremony. Back in his room he had 30 missed calls and 1463 unread messages.

Gradually, the others do tame down once Idia actually responds back, but for Idia, gradually it goes worse when he realises that some of these people at school used to be aquitances with the tartarus Bois. And to top it off there's this magicless bish and their raccoon who waltzes in and creates trouble. Overblots happen and the victims are back to normal which Idia knows it would be an absolute shitshow if STIX intervents.

[lowcallyfruity]

no more favorites this favorites that tell me ur LEAST fav ships and ur least fav characters from each dorm /hj

Ok for ships I know you said least favorite but I actually do not hate any of the twst ships I think a lot of them are nice☹️ they’re more like. At the bottom of the tier list 🥰 (I’m sorry I just wanted to clarify 😔)

The only ships I HATE HATE HATE are the illegal ones- like incest and big age gaps (huge age gaps just make me uncomfortable) (and probably another criteria I can’t remember right now ☹️)

Same with the characters- I love them all so very much they all mean the world to me ☹️

Anyways.

Things under the cut!!!

I might get shot for this, but I’m not the biggest rookvil shipper.

I enjoy their dynamic and I definitely get why people ship them- like they’re definitely zesty- and I also do interact with fanart of them/follow rookvil shippers but it’s just not really my thing ☹️

I also personally see Rook and Vil as cousins so I do not ship it in my own ~twst universe~ - 😭😭 Rook is like Vils really weird gay autistic cousin to me 💔💔

Im also not the biggest Florid fan-

Like with rookvil, I get why people ship it and I do interact with florid stuff sometimes- but it’s just not my favorite-

Idk something about it makes me feel weird and icky 😭 I don’t know why I think this way tbh 😭 it is very cute tho !!

And uhh finally silsebe!

Like the other two, I get it. I understand. I follow silsebe shippers and I interact with silsebe art.

But I see then as brothers/family in my ~twst universe~ So I personally do not ship them. And bc of that they are at the bottom of the ship list 😭😭😭

Umm tbh I think that might be all of my least favorite ships? Unless I forgot one 😭😭😭 but yeah- those r like my big 3 I’m not a fan of 👍

————

Ok least fav characters time!!!

Hearts SLAY bul-

TREY CLOVER 🤬🤬 DIE DIE DIE TREY CLOVER (/j) he’s a good character and all- I just think he’s ugly 😭😭 I hate him for the memes and lolz he’s so stupid 😭😭😭 I HATE HIS RIZZ FACE SO MUCH

I also do not like ace. I mean I do like him. I love him. But he is my annoying stupid son I hate him so much I hate white people and gingers 🤬🤬 (JOKE. I AM NOT SERIOUS. I DO NOT HATE WHITE PEOPLE 😭😭😭)

- my sister calls Ace “Ace the disgrace” and “ Ace who doesn’t ace his grades” 😭😭😭

Savanaclaw 🥶-

I love all of Savanaclaw- they’re all great-

If you asked me this like. Maybe earlier I would’ve said Ruggie because idk he just wasn’t super Interesting

Uhhh right now maybe my least favorite would be uhhhh 😭😭😭 I’m just saying all 3 of them- I love them so so much. But they also do not get a lot of screen time. ☹️ especially Jack. Idk. Sometimes they are kinda boring 😭😭😭😭😭😭 idk I cannot pick they’re all pookies

Octavinelle 😍-

Azul. Azul is my least favorite. I hate him. I dislike him. He is so evil. Like. Morally. But that’s also what makes him so good?!?! He’s my love hate character.

Fun fact- I started shipping azujami because I hated Jamil and Azul so much I was like- “hahaha my two least favorite evil horrendous characters get shipped teehee 🥰🥰🥰”

Scarabia 🥶🥶🥶🥶-

Jamil. I am actually Jamil’s biggest hater 🤬🤬 /j I hate him for book 4. I hate him for everything he did to Kalim. He is so morally fucked up (imo) he pisses me off so much. I also have a hc for him, which makes me dislike him kinda 🥰

But actually, I’ve grown to like him!!! I adore his character so much. And his hometown event was so lovely… like damn…. Okay Jamil… sobs….

Pomefiore 😍-

Rook. He’s just my least favorite. Like. For no particular reason. I just like Vil more tbh 😭😭😭😭 so yeah he’s last

IGNIHYDE 🥶🥶-

Idia by default since I like ortho a bit more 😭

Diasomnia 😭😭😭🥰🥰-

Disliking a Diasomnia character is actually illegal and not allowed 😕😕😕 /j

Umm. I love them all with my heart and my soul. But. Lilia is my least favorite by just a bit. I like the others a bit more than Lilia 😭😭😭

And yeah that’s it 👍👍👍👍👍

Sighs deeply

[ravenlking]

warning: slightly triggering (talking about the media's beauty standards)

i'm listening to "try" by colbie caillat and suddenly, it's like rook talking to vil, confessing that vil is beautiful on his own, and he doesn't need to keep torturing himself to be number one; he just needs to be number one and then he'll be the fairest of them all

just look at some of the lyrics! it's literally like a dialogue from rook to vil

Put your make-up on Get your nails done Curl your hair Run the extra mile Keep it slim so they like you, do they like you?

vil just doing his best to make himself fit into the toxic beauty standards of the media, starving himself so he is always slim, never fat nor be a subject to "ugly" rumors

vil always waking at the break of dawn, never giving himself a break before making sure that he is always prim and perfect, even when he was subconsciouly slumbering

Get your sexy on Don't be shy, girl Take it off This is what you want, to belong, so they like you Do you like you?

i think vil is really insecure in the core. like, we always see vil as this- this godly figure. someone who's always confident in themselves. yet, no one is capable of ignoring the comments or the videos of hating them on the media.

vil is someone who always compared himself to neige, or being compared to neige. all his life, he's told that he's number 2 to neige and every time he does something, it's always just a short-lived victory before neige overtakes him again

You don't have to try so hard You don't have to bend until you break You just have to get up, get up, get up, get up You don't have to change a single thing

i can just picture rook embracing a sobbing vil, murmuring all these words so vil can finally understand that he will always be the fairest, that he doesnt need to compare himself to neige

he just needs someone to do that okay?

crying, sobbing, angsty vil does things to me, okay?? like he's bound to break oneday, i just want to be the person to be there for him

...damn, i might actually write something for this

[midnightwind]

I'm unwell about the regret prison, have a brief blurb about it

When she opened her eyes the world was gray. The air was still, indistinct chunks of stone floating by and carried by a wind she would never feel. Dead trees clawed at the blank sky, branches jagged and brittle. She was back in the prison. Had she ever left? Was this the dream or reality?

She dug her nails into the gravel and dirt. It felt real. Her chest squeezed tight, each breath a labored thing. This was her grave. Without the dagger, there would be no escape. Her friends would have to face Elgar'nan alone because Solas would try and fail before them. They would die in a flood of Blight, picked apart piece by piece as punishment for defying their new god. And she would be here, only guessing at when it happened. Uselessly pushed aside and left to die by the wannabe hero who doomed the world once already. Her fist punched the ground, sand flying up, but there was no pain. She screamed anyways, a tearing, pitched sound of a wild animal. Bereft and hopeless and furious. She squeezed her eyes shut.

“Rook?”

When she opened her eyes the world was blue. The fish tank in her room illuminated the sharp angles of Lucanis’ face, Spite shining in his eyes. He had coiled their body around hers, but had begun to sit up. She pulled in shaking breaths as he brushed his knuckles against her cheek, the touch so light it almost wasn't real. Her head spun and she sat up suddenly, panic like lightning in her veins.

“Rook is safe.” Spite crooned, pulling her back into a gentle hug. “With Us.”

She wasn't sure she believed that. The embrace was so fragile, too soft. Spite was scared to hurt her, still learning what was too much. She twisted in their arms, snapping her own around their chest and digging clawed hands into their back. It took the demon a single breath before their own embrace became crushing. He buried their face in the crook of her neck, nuzzling, beard tickling. The motion devolved into soft kisses and she whined out displeasure at the gentle touch. She needed more than that.

When their teeth bit down, she hiccuped. It felt real. Why did it feel just as real? An ugly sob ripped free from her lips, her fingers scrambling to grip tighter to them. Spite reared back in alarm, their hands cupping her face and their mouth moving, but the words fell silent on her ears. It couldn't be real. She pulled in sharp, quick breaths, cheeks wet with tears.

“Rook will wait?” Spite's voice finally reached her.

It didn't make sense, not until their gaze was replaced by the exhausted blinks of Lucanis. It seemed like he had been woken suddenly, confusion and annoyance plain while he tried to parse where he was. “What-” And then he was squeezing his eyes shut, fingers pinching the bridge of his nose. “Spite, slow down. I can't think-”

She was pushing herself sharply from his lingering embrace, sitting on the edge of the couch. Her arms wrapped tightly around herself as she hunched forward, sobs shaking her whole body. Why did it have to feel so real? He ghosted a touch along her back, trying to coax her out of her shelter, but she flinched away. It was too much ‘almost' for her heart. There was a quiet shuffle as he moved in front of her, crouching down as he pried her hands from their white knuckled grip on her arms. He ran his thumbs over her knuckles, looking up into her face.

“Spite thinks he hurt you. What happened?”

[songofamazon]

Thanks for another great prompt! Vel's worst day ever: Tearstone Island. This came to me as fanfic snippets, which took a little longer than usual, so buckle up.

~~~

Vel bit her lip and tightened her grip on her staff. Whatever Strife said, she was a good enough Veil Jumper to tell that the doorway ahead of them was complexly--and dangerously warded. And yet, shrouded in the sickening red light of El'garnan's unnatural eclipse--every moment of it reminding her what, and who, they were up against--Bellara and Neve argued over who should have the honor of dismantling the wards.

"Oh, you won't need to command them to their deaths. They will volunteer."

Vel shivered.

The answer was obvious, though.

Vel turned back to them. Behind Neve and Bellara, Lucanis shrugged helplessly, as if to say, 'You know how they are.'

"Bellara, there is no one better at untangling ancient Elven wards than you," Vel stepped closer to them, "No offense, Neve."

"None taken. You're right."

Taking both of Bellara's hands in hers, Vel met her deep brown eyes, ringed by Vallaslin kin to her own, "I know you can do this, Bellara. You know it too. You really are the best."

Bellara rolled her eyes. "That's what I've been saying."

Neve cupped a protective hand on Bellara's shoulder. "You've got this Bel."

"I do. Trust me." Bellara shrugged free of them both. "But, you should all probably stay back, and be ready. This has at least six layers of protective enchantments, some threads of alarms, and something else that I don't really like the feel of."

"I know," Vel shuddered. Blight. So much Blight.

And then Bellara set to work.

Vel didn't so much watch Bellara work, as she felt it. The sensed the elegant untangling and brittle balancing of magic that Bellara was so good at.

The ward flickered and fell. Bellara was incredible.

And then Bellara was shrieking, pulled off by a Blight tendril.

"Bellara!" Vel screamed. Reaching, casting, grasping--anything for her.

Through an Eluvian and then clatter, smash--she was gone.

"No!" Vel screamed, rushing to the shattered mirror frame, past an utterly frozen, horrified Neve, "Bellara!" She pounded at the Eluvian remains. Shards pricked at her fists, but Vel didn't care. "Give her back! Ghiln'nain you fucking coward, give her back!"

Soppy sobs and blurry eyes. Her best friend--gone. Just, gone. Numb hate. The gods, her fucking gods did this. All of this.

Warm, leathered arms wrapped around her from behind. "Vel..." Lucanis' warm breath caressed her ear. What could he possibly say that would make this better?

Leaning limply back into his warmth, Vel let the hot tears slide down her face, punctuated by ugly sniffles. But he never backed away. Assan slid up to them, twining his soft and feathery body around them both.

I love you, Lucanis. I love you so much. Don't you die on me too.

But she couldn't say it any more than he could.

Imacculate footsteps on stone. "Lucanis, if I may?" Professor Volkarian, then.

Lucanis huffed agreement, then backed away, passing her into Emmerich's strong, yet gentle grasp. Taking her shoulders, Lucanis turned her around to face him. "Rook, there is a chance that Bellara yet lives," he said.

It was enough to snap her attention up to his face, craning her neck upwards. "What?"

"I did not sense her death before she was pulled through the mirror," he said with the same methodical fact-finding she found strangely comforting, "While I don't want to give you false hope of what happens after, we may yet save her. And regardless, Bellara would want us to press on. As you said before, this is our only chance before the blighted gods finish their ritual."

Vel hung her head. "You're right. I'm sorry." She shiffed.

"Don't apologize," Taash was at her side, all strength and fire. "Not for this. We're going to get her back and end those bastards."

Vel brushed her fingertips against the daggar at her hips. The lyrium sang.

"Yes. We will," she turned to face the rest of her team, "So let's get moving!"

~~~

It was hard. The Blight was utterly overwhelming.

Just so much Blight.

But none of Vel's companions wavered, so neither did she.

And then there was Ghilan'nain. She was the heart of the Blight.

Harding took Emmerich, Neve, Davrin, and Assan around for a surprise flanking--if Ghilan'nain could even be surprised--and Vel led the rest of the team for a direct offensive.

"This ends here," she told them.

"This time, I won't miss," Lucanis promised with all the gravity of a professional, the best mage killer (and God killer, she hoped) in Thedas.

And a man with whom so much was left unsaid.

I love you, Lucanis, and when this is over...

"And we won't let you down," Harding promised. "We'll do whatever it takes!"

"Whatever it takes," Vel echoed. She felt as unnatural in her own skin as the blight crawling up the ancient Elvhen ruins. This wasn't what Varric recruited her for. None of this was. But it was what she had to do.

And then it went all wrong.

Blight snatched and encased her entire team, leaving Vel to fight the goddess of monsters and her endless hordes of Darkspawn alone.

Vel screamed for her friends, praying to who-knows-what (not the Evanuris, that was for sure) that they were alive and untainted. She threw fire from her staff in all directions, wailing in terror, until there was little magic left in her.

But one by one, she found and freed them: Taash and Lucanis. With each a ragged sigh of relief that couldn't be resolved until Ghilan'nain was dead.

And then the moment came.

A flash of understanding passed between her and Lucanis: a gaze and a nod across the blighted battlefield.

Vel flung him the dagger, and on Spite's spectral wings, Lucanis caught it, soaring towards Ghilan'nain.

But a her Blight tendril snagged him. Spite's wings sputtered away as Ghilan'nain squeezed the life from him like a python and pinned the dagger to his side.

Vel dove for him, but another tendril caught her. Judging by Taash's roars of rage, they were pinned down too.

It can't end like this. We're all the world has left. It can't.

And then Harding--brave, stalwart Harding--struggled up a broken pillar behind Ghilan'nain while the goddess was too busy pontificating on her imminent victory to notice.

Arrow after arrow pierced Ghilan'nain's neck and side. She screeched and turned.

More arrows.

Taash cheered, spitting flame into the chaos.

The tendrils' grip on them loosened.

And then, like a spear, Ghilan'nain threw a sharpened tendril at Harding. She was too close to miss. It pierced past her armor and through her chest.

"Lace!" Taash shrieked, tearing free.

Ghilan'nain laughed maniacally.

Wheezing, Harding didn't lower her bow, "Whatever it takes." Even as the blood soaked her surcoat, she fired shot after point-blank shot into Ghilan'nain's face.

Suddenly Lucanis was free and flying towards his target to finish the job.

Just as Ghilan'nain pierced Harding's abdomen and threw her aside, tumbling into an abyssal fissure of Blight.

"Harding!" Vel cast out with her magic to catch her, but she was too slow.

"Lace!" Taash wailed again.

Ghilan'nain scream shattered whatever focus Vel had left.

Vel watched, too paralyzed to help, heart in her throat, as Lucanis and Spite wrestled with Ghilan'nain, stabbing her writhing torso again and again, until her screams became a withering sigh, and they toppled to the ground.

The lyrium dagger flashed and tumbled from Lucanis' fingers as he hit the ground.

"Lucanis! No!" But her voice was lost in the rushing white blaze of the dagger. Its invisible force shoved her down and away.

Not now! Not when there is still one god left to kill!

"Get it!" Taash yelled, their voice somehow carrying over the shrieking song of the dagger, "Make it stop!"

So she crawled, fingers grasping at seams in stone to pull herself towards it, inch by inch.

And then she had it. Overwhelming magic washed over her.

Voices. Unnamed songs. Whispers. The roar of lyrium.

Lucanis lay limply beside her on the stone.

"Lucanis!" she cried, reaching for him.

Or was it Varric?

Why was Varric here?

Vel blinked, forcing herself to her knees.

Not Varric. Lucanis.

Lifeless Lucanis.

Blood, lyrium, and Fade whispers roared in her ears, humming against her skin, enveloping her.

And amid it all was Solas.

But it wasn't the wise Solas who, against her better judgement, came to mentor her in this battle against the Evanuris.

It wasn't the gentle Solas who loved her cousin Elanna from across the distance of a decade, the Solas Elanna still loved.

No, this was the prideful god of lies that Vel had been warned of her whole life.

Here to pry the lyrium dagger from her stunned fingers, here to trap her in the Fade in his place.

"I am afraid this was necessary, Rook."

But his words slipped over her consciousness.

Bellara. Lace. Lucanis.

Necessary? And for what?

"Because you, a mortal, could never have faced Elgar'nan and won."

Vel's awareness slipped again, and all the roaring magic snapped to silence.

All that remained were the Fade-eerie echoes of Vel's screaming sobs and the heavy, useless pounding of her fists against the Fade-stone beneath her.

Heyo, it’s Friday again!

It’s the Rook Introduction Hour! ✨🎉🎊🥳

How it works: I ask you a question about your Rook(s) and you answer it with as much brevity or verbosity as you desire. You can do this whenever you want, and I’ll reblog it + add some comments! There’s no time limit— if you want to do the older ones, they are collected here! (The post is updated on Fridays!)

Today’s Question(s): What is the worst thing that’s ever happened to your Rook? Was it during the course of DATV, or before that? What impact did it have on their life? How did it change them as a person? If their decisions had a part in creating the situation, do they regret it?

Thanks for sharing !

[mall-0-ry]

Hello! i'd liked to make another request, and i'm sorry that i kept on sending one! it's because you're the most active creator here.. soo0-- Can i request for 1st year scenario reactiom, of learning that MC/YUU/YN is dating their Housewarden

It’s alright to send requests! i do not really mind! i hope that this work that i did would be alright for you!

- GENDER NEUTRAL READER!

FIRST YEARS REACTION UPON FINDING OUT THAT MC/YUU/Y/N IS DATING THEIR HOUSE WARDEN.

ACE TRAPPOLA:

- He was shocked.

- How did he found out? well, he was trying to apologize for the trouble he caused, by bringing riddle a tart.

- He knocked at the door only to not get any answer, so he opened it and went inside.

- There he saw, You and Riddle Cuddling, while telling him how much you love him.

- He was too shocked to even move an inch.

- but he was too dumb to even keep quiet.

- So he, Shouted “ EW! “

after that, He was collared and was made to do a 6000 words apology, for barging in the room and making a ruckus.

- 100% told Deuce, unconsciously because he was complaining about the collar.

- “ Just because i found them cuddling and being lovey dovey, doesn’t mean he have to collar me! “

- in the end, he’s Very supportive, but he would still tease you and riddle!

Deuce Spade:

- Found out, because Ace was complaining, and had slipped the secret.

- asked you if it’s true.

- told him that it’s true, and was very happy that you found someone.

- Supportive Baby.

- promises to keep the secret.

- would definitely keep up his word.

- would bonk ace hard on the head, for teasing you two.

- while trying his best not to laugh.

- Makes sure that you won’t get into any trouble, because of Grim and Ace’s constant brawls. (maybe a little of his too.)

- “ The House-warden is looking for you, Y/N! “

- super supportive.

- like very.

- Have i mentioned about being supportive?

JACK HOWL:

- He knew.

- He already knew.

- At first, he was slightly shocked.

- He found you and Leona cuddling at the Botanical garden, when he was looking for you. so he put in the pieces that you two are together.

- Was told by Leona to protect you from trouble.

- so he’s often roped into “Trouble” that Ace, Deuce and grim dragged you into.

- He’s very supportive, but won’t show it.

- he’s one of the supportive Babies.

- “ you should go find Dorm-head leona, now “

EPEL FELMIER:

- He found out, he was shocked.

- He didn’t think that his House-warden would lower his standards *sobs* Just kidding~

- part of the supportive babies.

- Genuinely happy!

- why?

- because Vil has been directing his attention towards you and would often teach you about Makeup and etc.

- He’s as free as a bird!

- HOORAY!

- His happiness only lasted for a few seconds before Vil spotted him, and asked him to join.

- He could not refuse!

- very sad.

- gave a wonky smile before accepting.

- Vil told him his smile is ugly.

- he made it even more uglier

- He was then taken by rook, who Vil summoned to put an eye on him.

- He was slightly happy!

- Slightly teases you about your Relationship with Vil.

- Would often come by Ramshackle to give you the makeup kit vil bought for you, and some skin care products.

- Loves the thought that you wouldn’t be single and complaining.

ORTHO SHROUD:

- He was RoBotiCallY HapPy!

- Made a calendar reminder about your monthly Anniversary with Idia.

- calls you Big Sister/Brother

- doesn’t want to call you Sister/Brother in law.

- Would be the one bringing you gifts, that’s from idia.

- doesn’t mind being an Errand boy for Gifts.

- VERY SUPPORTIVE.

- supportive baby.

- hugs you every time he sees you in the hall.

- “ Big brother wants to play this game with you! you should stop by!”

SEBEK ZIGVOLT:

- WHAT?!? a MAGICLESS HUMAN IS DATING THE ALL MIGHTY OGOSH— MALLEUS SAMA?!?

- stalks you.

- still cannot accept.

- Still also cannot accept.

- Lowkey found you and Malleus cute together.

- Came to conclusion that

- If Malleus Sama is happy with you, then it’s alright.

- starts to slowly support your relationship.

- still would stalk you.

- screams at anybody who would come up to you to flirt.

- “ YOU SHALL NOT FLIRT WITH SOMEONE’S SIGNIFICANT OTHER! YOU LOWLY BEAST! MALLEUS SAMA WOULD BE ENRAGED!”

- Made the whole campus know about your relationship with the Dragon fae.

- was proud about it.

- got a scolding by lilia.

[sadinasaphrite]

Whumptober Day 28 - Vil

Post-Overblot, Vil doesn’t like what he sees in the mirror. Rook helps him pick up the pieces. Rook/Vil

No. 28 IT’S JUST THE TIP OF THE ICEBERG

Anger Born of Worry | Punching the Wall | Headache

Read on AO3!

Fic under the Cut!

Ugly. There was no excuse for Vil’s behavior except that he had been absolutely, irrevocably ugly. He’d humiliated himself in front of his peers, came seconds away from committing unspeakable irreversible atrocities, and on top of it all, he’d lost to Neige. Again.

Vil stood alone in his bathroom, applying foundation with a shaking hand. Even if he didn’t feel ready to face the world after the hell that had been the SDC, there was no reason not to look the part. Perhaps he should plead illness and lay in bed like some wilting damsel in distress. Those who didn’t know what happened surely wouldn’t blame him for wanting to rest after the competition. And for those who did know… well. They wouldn’t blame him, either.

They’d been embarrassingly forgiving already. Even when Vil awoke after the incident, blot still dripping from his lips and fingertips, his companions had immediately done their best to assure him that the only person he’d hurt was himself.

As if that made things better. So what if no one was hurt? What mattered is that Vil tried to kill them all. If the others had not stopped him, Neige would be cold and dead at this very moment. And not just Neige, either. Epel, Kalim, Ace, Deuce, Jamil… even Rook, his beautiful hunter, all would be dead by his hand if he’d succeeded. To say he was still beautiful only because he failed was naive.

Vil let his hand fall, foundation only half applied, and looked in the mirror. Skin too pale, lips cracked and chapped, bags under his eyes, angry red scratches along one cheek… this wasn’t beauty. This was the face of a sad, pathetic man unable to own up to his own faults, and so resorted to lashing out at those around him. What had been his logic during the Overblot? The only way to become the fairest of all was to eliminate the competition? How foolish. That wouldn’t have brought him beauty. It would have only brought him solitude.

He was a monster.

His reflection wavered as tears filled his eyes. Vil covered his face with his hands, as if hiding his image would hide what he’d become. Nothing would ever change what he’d done. What he’d tried to do. He would always know the darkness he was capable of, and so would those closest to him.

What was it Rook had said? ‘The strength and pride to believe in yourself is what marks the true fairest one of all.’ Vil didn’t feel like he could believe in anything right now, much less himself. Which meant…

He looked back at the mirror. Pale skin had turned so red and blotchy that even the foundation couldn’t hide it. Bloodshot lavender eyes looked back at him.

Ugly.

He couldn’t stand to look at what a monster he’d become any longer.

Vil clenched his hand into a fist and struck the mirror as hard as he could. Glass shattered under his fist. Cracks sprouted along the mirror like spiderwebs and broken shards fell to the ground, tinkling against the tile. Pain seared through his fist and Vil let out a sob.

“Roi du Poison?”

Fear seized Vil’s heart. He couldn’t let Rook see him like this. Not after yesterday.

“Don’t come in!” He’d meant for the words to be harsh and cold, an order from a Queen to her Huntsman, but even Vil heard the panic that leaked into his voice. In a desperate move, he locked the bathroom door just in time for Rook to jiggle the knob.

“Don’t. Just… go away. Leave me.”

The doorknob fell still. Blood dripped from Vil’s tapered fingertips and splattered into the sink. His heart pounded in his ears, and he waited for Rook’s next move.

“My fair Vil,” Rook’s voice was soft and earnest as only Rook could express. “Neither heaven, hell, nor anything in between will stop me from coming to your aid when you are in need. Not even you.”

Vil knew a paltry bathroom lock would not stop Rook for long, but still he hesitated. Rook had seen him at his worst yesterday. The way Vil was acting now was no better, lashing out like a child having a tantrum.

“Please open the door,” Rook asked. “Let me help you.”

“I’m hideous,” Vil said, his last feeble defense.

“Let me be the judge of that.”

Vil unlocked the door.

Rook didn’t make a scene when he entered the bathroom, for which Vil was grateful. Sharp emerald eyes flicked from the mirror, to Vil’s bloody hand, to his tear-streaked face. Without a word, he tenderly took Vil’s hand and cleaned the wound under warm running water. Soft, leather gloves stroked his skin between picking slivers of glass out of his flesh. Vil remained silent through all of it, staring at the wall as Rook worked, though the tears continued to run down his face.

Rook inspected the wound closely, then broke the silence.

“I think that’s all the glass. Do you feel any more? Flex your fingers for me.”

Vil did so. The lacerations stung, but no more than any other cut. He closed his hand into a fist and didn’t feel the telltale stab of more glass shards in his skin.

“No,” he said, and hated how thick his voice sounded.

Rook washed his hand once more, then patted it dry with a white hand towel. Vil’s blood shone starkly against the white cotton. Rook wrapped the towel around his wound and held his hand tightly between both of his own.

Vil hissed at the pressure and Rook stroked his wrist in apology.

“Désolé,” Rook said, “A little pressure to help the bleeding slow, then I’ll bandage it.”

“...The towel will stain,” Vil said.

“Then let it.”

“It won’t be pristine anymore,” Vil continued. “We’ll have to throw it out.”

“It will still be a perfectly good towel, stained or not.”

“No,” Vill pressed, “it won’t. Even cleaned, the stain will make it look filthy. It will be a blight on any bathroom that hangs it. It’s irreparably damaged. Disgraced. Ruined.”

A fat tear rolled down Vil’s cheek.

“Vil.”

A gloved thumb wiped away the tear. Vil choked back a sob and Rook gently cupped his cheek.

“You are not a dirty towel,” Rook murmured.

“How can you say that? How can you look at me, knowing what I’ve done, what I tried to do? How can you stand to touch me? I’m vile, I’m hideous, I’m—”

Leather fingers pressed against his lips and Vil fell silent.

“You are the most beautiful man I have ever seen and I will tell you why,” Rook said, his gaze locked with Vil’s.

Vil tried to protest, but stilled as Rook stroked a thumb across his lower lip.

“Perfection is not beauty. A perfectly white towel may look nice, but it is no different from every other white towel beside it. To seek perfection implies there is a state of flawlessness that is attainable by any human, which is an impossibility destined to end in tragedy. You are not perfect, mon roi. Nor will you ever be perfect. But you are trying to be better. Every day, you wake up and try to be a better man than you were the day before. Even now, you want to be better than you were yesterday. Not only that, but you inspire the same in others. Myself, Epel, all of Pomefiore, we follow your example and strive to improve ourselves every single day. Because of you. And that, my fair Vil, is beautiful.”

The raw honesty in Rook’s voice cut Vil right down to the soul. Something inside him cracked and the last of Vil’s barriers gave way. He fell forward into Rook’s waiting arms and sobbed.

Vil cried like he hadn’t since he was a child. Ugly, wracking sobs shook his shoulders, tears smeared across his blotchy cheeks, snot ran from his nose, and he howled his misery, shame, and pain into Rook’s chest. Rook’s arms wrapped around him and held him close in a warm embrace, rocking him gently as Vil released the flood of emotion trapped in his aching heart.

When Vil’s tears finally ran dry, he sagged against Rook, utterly and entirely spent. He started to pull away, but Rook held him close. He gathered Vil into his arms and carried him to his room, laying him to rest in his bed. Vil lay exhausted and unresisting as Rook tenderly cleaned his face and bandaged his hand, then combed his hair. Vil only stirred when Rook began tucking him into bed like a child.

“Rook,” he said, his voice raw and hoarse, “no… I… I can’t. I have to get up. I—”

He started to sit up, but Rook stopped him with a firm hand on his chest.

“Non,” he said, gently urging Vil to lay back down. “Rest. There is nothing you must do today that I cannot do for you.”

“But I—”

Rook’s lips pressed against Vil’s forehead, and Vil finally stilled.

“Rest,” Rook whispered into his ear, then placed a gentle kiss to each of his cheeks before pulling away.

Vil let him, and watched as Rook tidied up. He only spoke up as Rook opened the door to leave.

“You’ll come back. Right?” His voice cracked. It was a foolish question, but he needed to hear the answer.

Rook turned and gave him a smile as brilliant as a sunrise.

“My dear Vil, nothing could ever keep me away.”

Then he was gone, off to put out the fires that Vil’s absence left burning. Vil relaxed into his bed and mulled over Rook’s words until sleep claimed him.

He wouldn’t let Rook down. He would be better.

[dreadpawn]

The dagger had been in her hand, and then it hadn't been, and the rest feels like a nightmare that had lasted both an hour and a lifetime. She'd left Varric behind in the Fade, dragged herself up the too-long steps back to their team, their friends, all the apologies they still needed to make and all the gods they still needed to kick in the face.

And then the light had taken them somewhere else. Somewhere wrong.

Rook is tired. Tired and wrung-out on every level imaginable, but more than that they're pissed and absolutely dead-fucking-set on not letting Solas get the best of them, not ever again, and if that means walking across the whole of... of wherever to get back to what remains of their team, then fine.

She doesn't clock the approaching... boat? Boat-adjacent little thing, nor the human attached to it, until he speaks up, jaw set and focusing single-mindedly on their aching body and the thought of ten more steps and then Bellara will miraculously conjure up a new tear in the Veil to bring you back home ( each new affirmation gets a little less believable ). She can't really tell if she's been walking for hours or just minutes.

"That depends on where here is," she begins uncertainly, blatantly staring at the thing he's standing on. They kind of really want to try it out but now is probably not the time - she must look a sight, battered and bloody and, well, honestly she'd kind of been doing an embarrassing amount of ugly sobbing back there in the Fade so she's got that going for her too. Gods, she's so good at first impressions. And she knows how judgy teenagers can be, though at least this kid is making what seems to be a genuinely nice offer rather than directly calling her out on how poorly put-together she must look. "I'd say odds aren't great that I'm anywhere near Rivain, huh?"

Because that would be too easy. Anyway, it doesn't look anything like Tearstone Island, or the Crossroads, or wherever else she might have expected to wind up, though she's not really sure what she was expecting to begin with.

"I'd settle for a potion and some wine, but getting my bearings doesn't sound like the worst idea." Staying is another matter entirely. Ideally, out of the question. "Also I think my feet might be bleeding? ...Maybe you're onto something with the resting thing."

@dreadpawn liked for a starter.

It isn't uncommon for the occasional lost traveler to make their way onto Montressor. The planet certainly wasn't a tourist destination by any means , but every once in a while they get a straggler or two. That's half of the reason why the Benbow stays as busy as it does. People need a place to stay , after all. Any other time , Jim probably wouldn't have even noticed the stranger , but their disoriented state was hard not to see.

❛ You're not from around here , are you ? ❜ He says , pulling up beside her on his solar surfer. He looks left and right and left again. The Benbow's not far from here , but he'd hate to leave them to walk all the way over there. If they even know where they are.

❛ If you want , I know a place you can stay. ❜ It takes all of his effort to not say you look like shit to her face. ❛ Rest your feet for a little bit. Might do you some good. ❜

[lilith-of-rivia]

Chapter 1: The Meeting

Summary: Ina of Cintra the Lioness's firstborn daughter has been a well-kept secret. her title as princess never leaving the castle walls, her abilities, abnormalities not being uttered without the blessing of the queen. She has her entire life planned and guided so she doesn't break the Crown's rules. She has been an outstanding model of good behavior, that's until she meets a certain witcher.

Word Count: 3.6K

Warnings: Blood and gore, swearing, mentions of death

I

“Ma’am…” Knock, knock, knock. I had heard whoever it was coming to wake me up before they even got to my door.

“Yes?” I heard them hold their breath, they weren’t expecting me to be awake.

“Uh-uh yes ma’am, Druk is outside. He has sent for you.”

“Yes thank you. I’m awake.” I said as I rose from my bed. Folding at the hips my fingers gazed at the floor as I yawned in a stretch. My spins cracked along with my shoulders.

“Yes of course ma’am” There were no footsteps and the heartbeat was still there outside the door.

“You may leave now.”

“Right right, yes ma’am.” Scurried light footsteps filled the empty hall as they left.

With a heavy sigh, I contemplated the day I had ahead of myself. Mornings with Druk were never different. The day was was one full day of drills, day two was one different full day of drills than to day three, four, five, then repeat next week. Druk wasn’t like other witchers I had met. He wasn’t focused on the coin or glory. Maybe it’s because he saw his brothers and mentors be slaughtered when his Keep fell.

“Knock knock.” My eyes snapped to the door of my room, dragging attention away from the gauntlet on my. My mother stood at the door. She was still in her sleep clothes, a wool robe hugged her body as she smiled softly at me from the door.

“Morning mother,” I said looking back at my gauntlet, huffing in frustration as I struggled to get them tied.

Wordlessly my mother walked across the room, grabbing my arm as she sat in the chair across from the one I was in. her fingers delicately tied the strings tightly, the gauntlets tightening around my wrists. Once finished, she softly held one of my hands, her face was cold, stoic as always. But once she looked me in the eyes I saw the fear.

“You know, don’t you…” I nodded my head. Looking out the window of my room, breaking eye contact. I stood up walking from her to the armored cabinet in my room. I grabbed my two swords from their hooks looking over them and assessing their sharpness.

“I heard you and the court talking last night. Many in this castle forget I have super hearing.” I heard her sigh heavily, shakily.

“I’m so sorry, Ina…” I turned to her. Her gaze was on the floor, her chest rising and falling fast.

“Mum...don’t cry…” I crouched down by her side, my hands going to hers squeezing them. She looked back at me, one hand cupping my face. Her thumb softly brushed over the scar on my left cheek.

“I’m so sorry I brought you into this world...Into this life...I wish I had known your life would be so painful…” I leaned into her warm hand, my eyes closing as she spoke.

“Stop blaming yourself...everything happens for a reason...and no matter what happens after the meeting today...I will always love you.” Her hand moved from my face to my neck. She pulled me into her chest, hugging me tightly.

“I’m so sorry.” Hse sobbed into my hair, rocking us back and forth. I said nothing, just kept my arms around her, holding her while she sobbed. Her tears wetting the spot she laid on my shoulder.

“Don’t be…”

II

“You know princess, I do not normally wait. You are lucky the gold and wine your mother gives is so good.” Druk’s voice was below a whisper as we snuck through the damp dark woods. My hands felt the tree bark under us as we slowly tipped around the fallen trees, as to make as little noise as possible. Funny with Druk’s big mouth.

“My mother is very worried about the meeting tonight,” I whispered back, following him as he weaved in and around the thickly wooded forest. We were hot on the trails of a stray kikimore that had been terrorizing a southern village. Druk and I were sent to take care of it.

“Are you worried?” Druk asked, pausing to look back at me.

I stopped too for a moment, thinking about his question.

My eyes searched the forest around us while we sat in silence. The forest was no longer lush and green. Late Saovine meant the world was cold, covered in ice and snow. Nothing was awake. All the animals were in hibernation, birds had flown south for the winter. The only things still awake were the monsters.

“No. I’m not. Should I be?” Druk looks away from me, his amber eyes searching the forest around us.

“Tonight is the night a pannel of witchers, mages, and the royal court you belong to decide if you go through the trials...maybe a little of fear. It would be healthy.” I smirked and rolled my eyes.

“Fear isn’t necessary for my vocabulary.” Druk laughed softly, his head nodding as he looked me in the eyes again.

“Then don’t be afraid. Fuck em all. If any woman could survive the trials it’s you.” Once finished with his small sentiment, a cheesy grin spread across his face. He nodded his head in the direction of the kikimore and we both rook off after it again.

Our feet lept, ran, jumped, and sprinted across the fallen trees and rocks throughout the forest. The snow-covered ground would cause too much noise. Druk had gone to the Witcher school of the cat. He prides himself on his ability to remain stealthy and quiet, all while being just as lethal as witchers from other schools. He taught me to only put my feet on the ground when it really mattered. You’re much easier to be tracked and killed when you travel foot to the ground. But foot to a tree to rock is a different story.

Jumping from a rock onto a tree we scaled the side till we were above the tree line. Out heads stuck up and out of the dead branches. Our chests rising and falling heavily as we looked around, noses sniffing out the location of the kikimore. The high point giving us the advantage. Druk’s yellow eyes scanned the trees below while I sniffed the wind. He had better eyes than I. his mutations to thank for that. The wind blew softly and the thick smell of iron and rotting corpses seeped into my nostrils and filled my head.

“To the east,” I said quietly. Druk adjusted his direction eyes grazing the land elbow us. A small smirk graced his lips, he found it.

“It about four hundred yards northeast. Common princess no time to waste.” We quickly scaled our way down the tree till our feet were steady on the branches. He wasn’t wrong, we were already out way longer than we were intending. Meaning we were going to be late for the meeting.

Druk took the lead. His hand holding the hilt of his silver swords. His other hand out in front of him, his fingers gleaming with a soft blue tint. Aard was spoken in elder inaudible to the average human. He was prepared to blast the kikemore to give me more time to ambush it. Druk only ever took the lead, then he’d stand back and watch. He’d teach me a new skill by charging whatever beast. Whether it was a new sign manipulation, a new combat skill, or hell even how he wields his sword. He started, I’d then follow and clean up.

“Ready Ina?” There was a soft pop and a cork fell onto the ground below us with a soft thud. His head fell back the liquid pouring down his throat. He grimaced slightly before turning to me, his eyes were black as night, now white to be seen. The veins on his neck, face, and hands were dark black and bulging. The potion was vital for witchers, giving them heightened senses, and skills. Allowing their powers to increase.

“So fucking ready,” I said, a smile gracing my lips. He returned the smile, his more sinister with the help of his eyes.

My sword was in hand. The silver catching the few rays of sun peeking through the clouds above. We both moved silently through the brush. Out feet feather-light against the snow. We moved fast, never keeping pressure on one spot too long to not break the crust of the snow. Druk made it to the clearing first. The Kikimore was alerted to us as soon as we reached its small nest.

Druk’s hand thrust out in front of himself, a huge ball of blue light smacked into the kikimore, throwing it back and hard into the tree. Druk sheathed his sword and ducked behind me. The kikimore shook its head before it made eye contact with me. I crouched lower to the ground, eyeing the beast. It slowly started to move to its left, so I mimicked it. We slowly began circling one another. The Kikimore’s large gray limbs stabbed into the ground with every step. Its gross snarly face, red beady eyes looking me over, studying my every move. The only issue was I knew where and how it would be.

The kikimore pounced, its legs kicking up dirt as it tore after me. The short distance between us was gone in no time. I lunged out of the way. Diving and rolling away from the clumsy beast. I was much smaller, giving me an advantage.

“My my what an ugly fucker you are.” I mocked. The beast turned to me again, and let out a low grumbly growl. I was moving closer to its nest. I could smell the rotting bodies even worse as I moved slowly. My eyes never leaving the kikimore.

It charged again. I slashed my sword through the air, spinning around, splicing my sword up in the air. The kikimore squealed and screamed as its leg fell from its body. Spinning on my heels my sword slashed through the air again, making contact with its neck. The sword slashed through the beast’s thick, fat neck like butter. The screams stopped, the kikimore’s body falling limp on the ground, blood-spewing, and pooling on the ground and around my boots. I sighed heavily, a smile gracing my lips again as I whipped the dark black blood from my blade before sliding back into its sheath on my back.

Clap, clap, clap. “Very well done princess!! A full-grown warrior kikimore down in two strikes, no potions or magic!” Druk had a smile ear to ear, his potion still in effect. Seeing a laughing, happy smiling witcher with pure black eyes was a sight to see.

“Only as good as my mentor my dear friend,” I said with a laugh. Crouching to the ground, my hand gathering the small tuft of hair atop the kikimore’s head and lifted it so it was eye level with me. Blood dripped from its mouth, nose, and eyes. Its dark purple tongue hung out of its mangled mouth.

“Add another one to my list.”

III

“Common hurry Druk!!” I yelled through the rain as we ran up the cobblestone road towards the castle. The kikimore’s head swung over my shoulder. “We are already late they will have my head!!” Druk ran from the stables after me, quickly catching up with me right as I neared the doors.

The two guards opened them for us as we walked through. I breathed heavily, my lips blue as my teeth chattered. Despite my many abnormal traits I still got just as cold as the average human. The rain had come out of nowhere. The two of us speed walk down the corridor, our muddy boots squeaking against the marble floors as we got closer to the royal library. A place I’d only ever been when I was being threatened by the crown’s court. The doors appeared ahead of us as we both halted before we could be close enough to be heard. The floor below us was wet as we dripped head to toe.

Glancing at Druk I gulped, now that I was about to walk into the room, I was more than terrified. The prospect of the trials was so much closer than they had ever been my entire life. Druks hand went to my shoulder, giving it a reassuring squeeze.

“You’ve got this.” He whispered, before giving me a soft push towards the door. I took a deep breath before shoving the door open, swallowing the fear and placing the stoic look of my mother back on my face.

The voices in the room stopped when I walked in. my boots stopping heavily on the floor. My eyes glanced around the room, everyone there were people I have known for many years. My mother stood in the center of the room by her throne, my sister who was not supposed to be here was next to her. They looked scared.

“Sorry, I’m late, had a prior arrangement.” I heaved the beast’s head over my shoulder and threw it on the floor. It flopped down and rolled a little its tongue falling out as its cold dead eyes stared up at Gadri, a member of the Crowns Court. His face scrunched in disgusts before he kicked it away from his shoes.

“You are nearly three hours late, Ina.” I rolled my eyes my attention going back to my mother and sister.

“What is she doing here?” I asked pointing to my sister.

“We think it’s important that the future queen gets to help make choices regarding her subjects.” Hazzez, a plump fat little man with a bald shiny head and large white mustache and beard said standing from his seat.

I huffed, the corner of my lip pulling into a sly smirk as I shook my head. Water falling on the floor.

“Yes, the future queen who passes her sister even tho her sister is the senior. Yes, and my sister needs to be in control of whether I will be subjected to the trials and if I’ll die or not.” Druks witcher attitude tended to rub off on me. Witchers are trained, to be honest, overly honest. Blunt and rude is what many present them as.

“Ina. enough.” my mother said sternly, her jaw tightening. I bite my tongue nodding my head. My fingers pulled at the buttons of my jacket, throwing it on the floor in a wet pile. The room was cold, making the wet clothes on my body send shivers down my spine.

I glanced around the room, eyeing the other members of the Crown’s Court. And then the other few people who were in the room. Tissaia, a mage from Aretuza smiled at me fondly as we made eye contact.

“Hello, princess, my how you’ve grown.” Her voice filled the empty room. I smiled back at her.

“Tissaia-” I bowed my head to her softly, “yes, it’s been a while hasn’t it? What 15 years?”

“17 years.” my mother chimed in behind me.

“Whos the mystery man next to you?” I asked her, she glanced over at the witcher who was perched next to her. Druk was seated next to him.

“Well get to that in a second. Please sit down.” Hazzez said, gesturing to a lone isolated chare in the middle of the room.

It was as if I was on trial, for simply being born.

IV

“Druk how has she been doing?” My mother asked, her eyes glaring daggers at the five men who were attempting to discredit the years of work and training I had done with Druk.

Durk rose from his seat next to the other witcher, a bored look on his face. “She is exceptional. Not only her physical talents in combat and swords but her book knowledge. I’ve trained three other witchers before her, and none of them come close to the skills she posses. She is a skilled alchemist, a skilled swordsman, she is skilled in nearly every talent she tries. I would trust her in a battle to have my back any day. It has been an honor training her for 15 years, your highness.” I smiled at him, a smirk covering his lips.

“With all due respect your highness we are not interested in what the witcher from a failed school has to say. The witcher to his right has been watching her and keeping track of her success. That’s who we care about.”

Before the witcher could address them, Tissaia stood up. “What is the problem here gentlemen. On her fifth birthday, you all made this a rule. You said her abnormalities would only ever benefit her if she was trained as an assassin or a witcher. She has been trained for 17 years by a witcher, as a witcher. She has proven time and time again she doesn’t need the trials and mutations to be as skilled as a witcher.”

“Thank you, Tissaia, but need I remind you that you are only here to as a stand-in for the mage in your court who can still perform the mutations. Please sit down and be quiet.” My mother shot Tissaia a look, making her shut her mouth and sit down. The witcher next to Druk stood up.

“I have been following her and her trainer. For months now. Even just today I followed them while they killed the stray Kikimore. She killed the Kikimore with two strikes something many of my boys have struggled with as fully mutated and trained witchers. She without a doubt has a talent and a heart of the witcher.” I heard my mother’s breath catch in her throat as she held my sister’s hand. My sister was stating at me, had been since I sat down. Her face was painfully still, her throat tight as she breathed heavily. She looked scared, so did my mother.

“Tissaia, you will take Ina to Kear Morhen. Along with the mages in your court. The mutations will be done by the end of the week.” My throat ran dry. Hazzez kept talking but my brain tuned him out. None of us thought they would go through with this. The chances of me surviving the trials and the mutations were nearly impossible. Less than 20% of the boys who face the trials died. And the mutations are designed for male genetics, not females. I was never supposed to be mutated, just trained.

“Hazzez you piece of shit!!” My mother screamed as she stood from her chair. Her hand reached for the dagger she kept strapped to her thigh.

Her hand came down quickly with the shinny dagger, flying towards Hazzez face. My hands quickly caught her arms and I pushed her back. Knowing if she killed one of her court members over me I would surely be sent away and killed, no chance of survival.

“Mother mother please stop it please,” I screamed into her red, tear-stained face as she attempted to fight me off. Her chest rose and fell heavily. She hissed through her gritted teeth, she was probably breaking teeth.

“Queen Calanthe-” Hazzez spoke. I turned to look at him, my back to my mother. Her dagger is in my hand. I threw it to the floor, kicking it away. “Do not forget the sympathy the crown, and your father gave you for your bastard daughter. She should have been killed out of the womb. But your father cared too much for you. Count your blessing that you got 20 years with her, and at least she will die with a little bit of dignity.” Hazzez stood up to leave, the four men ready to follow him, they gathered their belongings.

“Gentlemen.” My mother said, her voice harsh and cold like the wind outside. Her brows set in a low glair as she looked them up and down. “I am still your queen, you do not get to control everything. It’s clear you’ve made your choice, but when it happens. That is my choice. She is my daughter. I choose when she goes with the witcher. I do not know when that will be but it will be after her sister’s betrothal. If you have an issue with that, find a new court to control.” the five men looked at her, then each other before nodding and walking out of the room silently.

My mother’s hands held my arms as she dragged me into her chest. My sister came up to us both, her hands wrapping around both my mother and me I. her head resting on my shoulder. Wrapping one arm around her and one around my mother, I let my fear fall. My fear came out in silent sobs. My shoulders shook, my eyes clouding as I stared at the wall behind my sister. The tears pooled down my face.

My mother pulled back, one hand on each of my cheeks, her fingers brushing my tears away.

“You will be the first female witcher to ever be. You will make history.” my shoulders started to shake more violently as I cried more. The impending end of my life is on the horizon. My mother’s denial was just to help her cope, but we both knew how it would end.

“Mum...we both know what will happen to me...I won’t survive it.” my voice was broken as I spoke caving as I cried. Her fingers moved faster to wipe my tears as she shushed me. My sister’s hands are on my arms and back.

“Even if that’s the case, it won’t be for at least another month. Live your life for the next month the way you want to, no regrets,-”

“No hesitations.” I interrupted her, a small smile tugging at my lips. Her eyes softened at me. She leaned in placing a soft kiss on my forehead.

“You can do this Ina. You are the Lioness Cub. If anyone can do it, it’s you.”