#Rook thinks Emmrich is all suave

[sunny374940]

Adventures in baking

Rook has a crush on Emmrich. Rook wants to bake him cookies. He has never baked cookies in his life, but what could go wrong? Lucanis is a good friend. 1k words.

..............

“You can do it, Rook, how hard can it be? You killed a dragon, for fucks sake.”

Rook was muttering to himself. There was a crease between his eyebrows, flour on his shirt and he was fighting a losing battle.

He was standing at the counter of the Lighthouse kitchen, poking at a lump of something that wasn't trying very hard to be dough.

He rubbed his forehead, managing to get the offending substance stuck into his hair.

“Shit!” he cursed loudly in frustration.

“Rook, what are you doing?” Lucanis was standing in the pantry doorway, watching him with an arched eyebrow.

“Uhh… making cookies?” Rook offered without much conviction.

Lucanis crossed the room to inspect Rook's creation. It jiggled miserably at his touch.

“Whatever this is, it is not cookie dough. Why didn't you ask me for help?”

He took in the state of the kitchen, which indicated that this wasn't Rook's first attempt.

“I wanted to make them myself.” Rook looked down, frowning. “They were supposed to be for Emmrich.”

“Why?”

“I like him.” The words were out before he could stop himself. He squeezed his eyes shut and pinched the bridge of his nose.

“Just don’t tell anyone, I don't know how he really feels about me. But we visited the Necropolis together and we had tea in the gardens and it almost felt like a date? So I wanted to do something nice for him, but it’s harder than I thought.”

“You are trying to woo the necromancer. With cookies,” Lucanis observed dryly.

Rook blushed and nodded.

“Lucanis, I really, really need your help,” he pleaded. “I've been at it for hours and I don't-”

Lucanis held up a hand to signal him to stop talking.

“Mierda,” he sighed. “Where's your recipe? Let's see where you went wrong.”

“I don't have one,” Rook said.

Lucanis stared at him. “What do you mean you don’t have one? Do you understand how baking works?”

“Well, my mom never used one? She just threw things together and it worked. And no, not a clue,” Rook grinned sheepishly.

“Your mother is either a miracle worker or you didn't pay enough attention. Baking is all about ingredient ratios, you don't just mix stuff randomly.”

Lucanis gave the horrible mass on the counter one last poke. “Now go throw this thing over the edge. If Assan finds it, Davrin is going to kill us. I will find us a cookbook.”

Rook carried the dough out the door and dropped it unceremoniously over the edge, although a good bit managed to keep itself stuck to his fingers.

When he returned after cleaning up, Lucanis was sitting in the kitchen and leafing through a cookbook.

“I think I found a suitable recipe. It is for beginners in the art of baking,” he said, stressing the word beginners with an amused quirk of his lips. “I have never seen anyone fuck up cookies so badly.”

”Yeah, yeah, no need to rub it in,” Rook laughed. “Next time I'm going to pick him some flowers and be done with it,” he grumbled.

“With your luck, you will be jumped by an ogre before you pick a single flower,” chuckled Lucanis. “I will help you romance your necromancer, but Spite says he wants some cookies as payment. With chocolate.”

“I agree to your terms,” Rook bowed to Lucanis with a cheeky smile. “And thank you, I really appreciate your help.”

“Don't mention it. So first we need to get the ingredients and then I will teach you how to measure them.”

They fell into an easy rhythm, Lucanis reading out the instructions and checking Rook's progress. Rook was smiling as he worked, he was finally getting somewhere.

Just as they were pulling the cookies out of the oven, the door opened, startling Rook into almost dropping the tray.

“Hello, Rook, Lucanis,” greeted Emmrich warmly as he entered the kitchen. “Don't mind me, I'm just getting some apples.” He sniffed. “It smells wonderful in here. Have you been baking for Neve again, Lucanis?”

Rook made an attempt to hide the cookies behind his back, but he was thwarted by Spite, who picked exactly the worst moment to appear.

“He. Made you. Cookies. I want. Cookies.”

“Spite, he wanted it to be a surprise,” hissed Lucanis.

But Spite wouldn't be dissuaded. “He. Likes. You.” He added triumphantly.

Rook flushed to the tips of his ears and hid his face in his hands. He didn't notice Emmrich crossing the room, until he was standing right in front of him, forcing him to look up at him between his fingers. Emmrich smiled at Rook and took hold of his hands to bring them down from his face. But even after he'd done that, he showed no intention of letting go. Rook was blushing fiercely, staring up at Emmrich with wide eyes.

“Is Spite telling the truth?” Emmrich asked softly, eyes searching Rook's face.

Rook could only nod.

“Would you care to enjoy the cookies with me, Rook?” Emmrich asked. “Perhaps along with a cup of tea in my quarters?”

“I-” Rook found he had to clear his throat, which had suddenly gone very dry. “I would like that,” he managed to croak out.

“Splendid!”

Emmrich let go of his hands to gather some of the cookies onto a plate, leaving Rook feeling strangely alone. He didn't have much time to wallow in his loneliness however, because Emmrich's hand quickly found its way back into his.

“Shall we?” Emmrich gazed into his eyes, looking for all the world like he had just been offered a candlelit dinner and not a plateful of cookies.

“Lead the way,” Rook smiled, leaning closer to him.

“If you start kissing, I am letting out Spite,” Lucanis threatened, but there was humor in his words. “I know you forgot I'm standing here.”

They started laughing and retreated from the kitchen, taking the plate of cookies with them.

[jaal-ama-daravv]

dissecting the emmrich romance scene (lich path)

dissecting the graveyard scene dissecting the alternate romance path dissecting the argument scene (lich path) mortal vs lich romance path emmrich x rook cinematic

Emmrich Volkarin - Dissecting the Lich Romance Scene fair warning you're in for an emotional rollercoaster

first, i wanna touch on this from our previous dissection (argument) -

"What if I can't bear that for eternity?" Oh, Emmrich. his entire soul aches over the inevitable future that awaits rook. i think this line is so important for emmrich because 'bear that for eternity" implies Emmrich will either, a) go rogue trying to bring rook back c) live with so much grief over his lost love it changes his soul forever in a dark, yet unknown way. and quite frankly, all of these are incredibly sad, and that just hurts. i thoroughly, full heartedly believe that there is no concievable way that emmrich just 'moves on' and 'accepts' the death of rook as previously stated in the lichdom scene. sry bioware, but youre wrong on that one as if he was 'fine' with it, he wouldn't of had a massive panic attack over rooks death and his grief. COUGH, the eternal flame. i could rant for hours and HOURS about how emmrich in the lich path is absoloutley devastating if rook were to pass on, because he is so compulsively, irrevocably in love with them. and not only is he in love with them, he has the love he has yearned for, for over 20 years. its huge for him which is evident given how both romance paths have him terrfied of how much he loves you.

Additionally, Emmrich grew up poor. This would impact his view on society and love. But more impactfully, it would impact his view on himself. His self-worth. Emmrich likely thinks he doesnt deserve this type of love. Hence the attempt to push Rook away and act over-suave at times.

anyway, to the SCENE -

immediately we are hit with this, to which Emmrich replies stating that he did it not to scare the citizens. what a load of huff. youll see why thats a straight deflective lie soon -

don't you worry handsome man, youre not alone emmrich expressing his fear of losing rook, and/or losing eachother, continues to be a major dynamic between these lovers

oh rooky, im so proud of you for opening up about your feelings. (remember the argument they had prior, it was fort knox up in here)

rook expresses clear fear and gratitude that they were able to escape the fade. I do believe that the line "I was afrad I'd be there forever" is a parrelle to emmrichs lichdom - as they would of spent eternity without eachother. hence why this next line, hurts so much -

the raw emotion, the crack in his voice when he says this line tells you everything you need to know. he is so grateful to have rook back with him. I do believe in this moment that emmrich has a moment of realisation of his love for rook, and just how immensed and attached he is with her. which is why he later vows that nothing will part them ever again, "not in this, nor any other world" (cough, soulmates). idk man, i have a feeling that emmrich would find rook's spirit in the fade (or any other world) if they passed on, and he'd never leave.

key point back to the lichdom decision scene -

man would go full blown rogue, scarlet witch rogue, i see it now.

I also want to touch on the "you're here with me" line. this, this is important considering what happens directly afterwards - remember how i mentioned desire a few posts ago? lets break it down, "you're here with me." Emmrich has held a consistent view throughout the whole romance that "its gratifying a fresh-faced adventure took any notice in me at all", does emmrich also possess the belief that the love he so dearly desired may not of been possible in his life time due to his age? i think so. which is why desire and the "wow, you're here with me" is so, so important. Now watch closely -

he looks defeated, ashamed - "why would someone like her be with someone like me? let alone, desire me."

the pose, how he is holding his chest and his body up against the coffin, the disbelief and sadness that is pained over his face. he is heavy with angst. this man wants rook, body and soul. he is SO in love with her. god my heart breaks typing this. he is so in love with her, but is so afraid that she doesnt want him now that he is undead - I will add in here to think back to when he was mortal, 3 flirts lines in total were regarding his looks. UGH, just stab me - ps the music in this scene rips out my heart, stomps on it, and shoves it back into my chest bloodied and bruised.

when rook touches him, his face unstiffens and his body relaxes. he looks at her nervously, but before he can address her or admit his pain, rook has NOTICED (YAY - take that argument scene rook) what is bothering emmrich, because she loves him so much, maybe even more, regardless of his undead figure. "You don't have to hide your face from me" is just a perfect way of phrasing that you are made for eachother. rook reassures emmrich of her undying love for him.

its that gomez and morticia dynamic, unwavering, obsessed dedication to eachother. a bond that strengthens the other. for emmrich and rook at least, theri dynamic is so strong I wholeheartedly believe the death of one, would break the mind and soull of the other.

there is so, so much emotion in this scene and most of it is written into the facial expressions and movements of the characters. watch how the fear of death becomes easier now that emmrich knows that rook loves him truly -

im not crying, you are -

this WRECKED me. because there is a slimmer of hope in his voice and particularly the words he chose. "I will let nothing part us again, my love" emmrich is a lich lord, with powers we dont understand just yet (cmon sequel with rook & emmrich), it is safe to say though that emmrich and rook would fight for and protect eachother to the death so that they may not be parted. This also takes me back to my original point of not letting anything part them, nothing - not even death. hence my belief that emmrich would do anything to find rook in the fade or any other world.

"Not in this nor any other world" - do i need say more? the hope seeps through, its not alot, but its there. don't get me wrong, he still has a crippling fear of death, but its, different. different in the sense that if rook was to pass or trapped somewhere, he would get them back and find his way to them, at all costs, one way or another.

the rest of the scene is very, very sweet and shows them being happy for the extra few hours they have together before facing untold danger - by either rook being able to see the fade through emmrichs eyes, or them boning again. actually i think both lead to boning.

this scene has me in absolute tears everytime I witness it because it is so powerful. it is hopeful. it is pure committment of their relationship and bond to eachother. combining this with the knowledge of the argument scene and having played through the mortal romance path, this - is extremely emotional.

Both romance scene are emotional and touching in their own regard - however, I do think the lich romance scene is more deep due to the dynamic. It is not about simply coming to grips with mortality, it is coming to grips with mourning your lover for eternity, and if you cant bear it for eternity, (which he wont, cmon) he is afraid. afraid of losing, rook. his heart. his dearest heart, and of losing himself because rook is, and I quote, "the most magnificent thing to ever happen to me."

mourn watch rook and emmrich are on a whole other level, and that level is something that is told in the minute details, the edging looks. the tone of voice. there is hope in this scene and a sense of overwhelming love and acceptance, but, there is also impending grief. which makes this story so real.

you can feel emmrich yearning for rook throughout the entire romance path because of the fated connected they share, in this and any other world. you can feel it. but this, in the lich scene? there is yearning, acceptance, hope, grief, joy, and melancholy all in one. without a doubt in my heart, these two, are made for eachother, in every world.

I shall break down the mortal romance scene next ♥ see you soon

[cybershock24601]

Would They Let Illario Hit? Veilguard Edition*

Bellara: Would serial romance enjoyer Bellara Lutare let the hot, suave crow hit? She absolutely would and be really embarrassed the next day about exactly what cheesy line Illario used to get her into the bed. The sex was good though.

Davrin: I think these two would have a sexual, no strings attached summer fling that wouldn’t fix Illario but would at least force Illario to get his shit together because Davrin would absolutely not tolerate Illario’s usual toxic, emotionally manipulative bs because I dare you to look me in the eye and tell me Illario is not the absolute worst sort of boyfriend.

Emmrich: If Emmrich had a few glasses of wine in him and was in the right mood, I absolutely think he’d be down to clown with Illario and it would absolutely ruin Illario. Emmrich knows how to fuck and is such a caring and considerate bed partner even as he blows your back out that I think Illario’s going to be thinking about their night together for years to come.

Harding: Harding was so suspicious of Lucanis at the start, there is no way she wouldn’t be suspicious of Illario having some sort of ulterior motive. Harding would probably be pretty flattered but no way would she be taking Illario up on his offer.

Neve: Years as Tevinter’s Top Noir Detective have lead to Neve having plenty of flings with morally dubious hotties that I think she’d avoid any entanglement with Illario like the plague. She’s been down that route before and learned her lesson that nothing good is going to come out of getting involved with a guy like Illario.

Taash: I think if Illario offered Taash would take him up on it. It’d be a simple no strings attached one night stand but the sex would have been absolutely phenomenal.

Rook: I cannot answer this for you. You gotta look inside yourself and ask, would my Rook let Illario smash? Personally, my Rook wouldn’t even notice a good 90% of Illario’s flirting and the 10% she does would have her asking if Illario was in fact flirting with her to which Illario would go, “I have been for months but thanks for noticing” and Rook going “sorry, you’re… alright and all but I’m actually into Lucanis” which is a response almost tailor made to give Illario the most psychic damage possible what with the pause before settling on ‘alright’ of all words and then saying that she’s into his cousin which means someone is picking Lucanis over Illario once again. When Illario in his outrage asks why, he then proceeds to take an additional d4 of psychic damage as Rook, with the most lovesick smile imaginable, starts listing all the reasons she is head over heels in love with Lucanis.

*Lucanis is not included in the list for Obvious Reasons but feel free to imagine him hitting the rest of the team with “did you fuck my mom, Santa Claus” energy when he finds out Illario’s been trying to sleep with his friends with a surprising success rate

[saxspielercaderface]

An Emmrich headcanon:

@velvet-apricots was adamant I post this XD

So Emmrich's motions when casting his magic are obviously based off of a conductor marking time.

And it got me thinking of a little headcanon. What if his casting style, these somatic components he does to speak with the souls of the dead and whatnot, are exactly that in-universe?

(I know very little of Dragon Age lore at the moment, I just really like this suave old gentleman, so very sorry for any lore inaccuracies)

Sometime in his childhood, his father's business had a rare good turn, and for an anniversary or birthday or some other special occasion, his parents are able to afford very inexpensive tickets to an opera or a stage play, complete with an orchestra.

Their seats are awful and they can't see the stage well at all, but they're able to see a sliver of the orchestra, and right there in front is the conductor putting their all into leading the musicians.

It's a core memory for Emmrich, having a nice night out with his parents, and the entire time he's watching that conductor, entranced by their movements. The way they seem to coax the music - the emotions, the story - forth with their hands alone, it sticks in his mind.

When they return home, he watches his parents dance, one or both of them humming the overture from the opera, and he finds himself waving his hands like that conductor, caught in the moment.

So, when he later joins the Mourn Watch and begins to hone his corpse whispering - that coaxing of memories, emotions, and life stories from the departed - it's no wonder the somatics he uses to channel that magic take the form of a conductor's motions-

Motions that he might have also done to ground himself in that memory of love and joy shared after a night at the opera.

(Bonus for Emmrook shippers) later when he falls hard for Rook he sways as he's imagining the two of them dancing like his parents did all those decades ago, so in love...

[emmg]

Bees

This piece of unholy crack is for my wife @jainydoe

I want a fic where bellara is emmrich's ward and rook does the whole Look at your dad keeping bees Bellara I'm gonna fuck your dad shtick

"So he, like, adopted you?" 

Bellara gets bonked across the face by a very round, very enthusiastic artifact. "I guess? Kind of? A little bit before I was all grown up." 

Rook pulls a face. "Why?" 

Bellara idly scratches her ear with a wrench. "Oh, you know. Legal things." 

Rook’s face only twists further. "That explains nothing. That is the opposite of explaining. What in the Maker’s name does that even mean?" 

"Oh! Well, see, he was in Tevinter, and I sort of—not on purpose—ended up owing a lot of money. And then the people I owed were, um, very insistent that I give it back. Which was unfortunate, because I didn’t have it. And I told them I didn’t have it, but they still wanted it. So he paid it for me, and now I just use his money. It all worked out!"

Rook's eye twitches. "So… you're his mistress?" 

Bellara blinks. "His what?" 

Rook pinches the bridge of her nose. "Never mind. That was a no." 

"Mphff," Bellara replies as her eyebrows are promptly seared off. 

****

She doesn’t mean to stare at Bellara’s not-dad, but, well, here she is. Staring. Very accidentally, of course. Completely unintentional. It’s just—he’s her colleague now, and Bellara is her friend, and who could have possibly predicted that she’d one day reunite with Bellara only to find out that her not-dad was someone she’d end up working in—er, under—uh, near. In close proximity. Adjacent to. 

At the very least, Rook thinks, the Mourn Watch dresses excellently. Or maybe Emmrich Volkarin just has an aesthetic because the man doesn’t walk—he floats. His coattails are so long and dramatic that every step he takes looks like he’s being ceremoniously carried by the souls of the damned. Which, given the necromancy, is not off the table. 

They’ve been at this for, what, three months now? A season. A quarter of a year. Long enough for her to cycle through every possible thought about him and then loop back around for seconds. 

Oh, he’s so polite and well-spoken, she thought at first, when he shook her hand with all the enthusiasm of a professor greeting a particularly promising student.

Oh, he’s a fucking creep, she thought upon learning he had adopted Bellara under circumstances that sounded alarmingly vague.

Oh, well, maybe not a total menace, she thought after Bellara’s half-baked explanation, which made it sound only mildly suspicious rather than deeply, horrifyingly illegal.

Oh, he smells good, she thought during her first week as he escorted her through the Necropolis, his hand casually redirecting hers away from things that would almost certainly kill her, and books that, to her absolute dismay, were not only sentient but also carnivorous.

Oh, he’s rather suave, she thought over the next few weeks, as he took her through Nevarra City, treated her to a hot drink, and assured her that she was always, always welcome to seek his assistance.

Oh, he’s handsome, she thought immediately after—so immediately that her brain barely had time to pretend it had arrived at the thought by accident. And he’s old enough to be her father, but mostly handsome, and the moustache is unreasonably attractive, and the height is even worse, and she should really, really not be thinking about any of this, and yet here she is, thinking about all of this.

"Rook!" Emmrich exclaims one incredibly random, incredibly uneventful day while she is, unfortunately, very busy looking at his hands. "Bellara tells me you have a particularly sweet tooth!" 

She does not. She would die for pickles. She would haunt this plane for pickles. "Yes," she lies. 

"Splendid!" he says, bringing his hands together and clasping them tightly. "Then you must visit us soon. I have recently come into possession of some wildflower honey—oh, it is exquisite, truly, the product of a most diligent colony. The foragers in particular have demonstrated remarkable efficiency this season, and I suspect the local flora has been unusually accommodating due to the recent shift in temperature." 

"Right, well—" 

"—Which, of course, brings me to the worker bees," he continues. "Fascinating creatures, Rook. Did you know they regulate hive temperature by vibrating their wing muscles? And the social structure! Unparalleled efficiency! Every single one of them understands their role perfectly—unlike certain apprentices I have had the misfortune of instructing." 

Rook opens her mouth. "That's—" 

"—And then there is the queen," he barrels forward, adjusting his cuffs. "A singular force within the colony, capable of laying thousands of eggs in a single day. A most demanding role, truly. Yet she is fed and attended to with such devotion! Such order! Such discipline! If only more societies followed such an impeccable model, we might see—" 

"Bees?" 

Emmrich finally pauses, as if just now remembering she exists. "Indeed, bees. What is so odd about them?" 

A slow nod. "Nothing. Just bees." 

Ah. Yes. Silly Rook. Silly, ridiculous, absolutely pathetic Rook who somehow failed to anticipate that obviously necromancy and beekeeping go hand in hand. Because why wouldn’t the man who commands the dead also spend his free time whispering encouragement to a bunch of little winged bugs? 

She forces a smile. "I'd love to see your bees," she glances at his hands, "Professor Volkarin," she glances at his crotch. 

"Wonderful," Emmrich replies, fingers moving ethusiastically. "Now, then. That is maudlin enough. Shall we return to our work? I regret to inform you that the integument of this dearly departed is well beyond viable preservation. A pity, of course, but such is the nature of decomposition. We cannot embalm everyone, though that does not mean we are without recourse in matters of preservation." 

Rook stares at his mustache. "Mm-hm."

"It is but a matter of methodology. Acid or dermestid beetles?" 

Dear gods—Tevene, elven, Andrastian, it hardly matters—she is, at this very moment, experiencing an overwhelmingly physiological reaction to the prospect of engaging in relations with a man who is, quite literally, vibrating with enthusiasm at the idea of either meticulously excoriating a cadaver or observing the natural efficiency of insect-assisted tissue removal. 

Rook supposes there are worse wet dreams to have, worse ways to absolutely wreck her underwear. But if there are, they’re only marginally worse. A fraction. A hair’s breadth. What could be more concerning than getting embarrassingly, shamefully worked up over a man who talks about corpse preservation with the same breathless enthusiasm most people reserve for poetry? 

She should be ashamed. She should be reconsidering her entire life. Instead, she’s two seconds away from letting him embalm her from the inside out.

****

Bellara's eyebrows have mostly grown back.

She’s eating a sweetroll and staring blankly out the window. “What is your not-dad doing?” 

Bellara shrugs. "Something with bees. Oh, I don’t know. Emmrich’s taken with them. He cycles through hobbies. Manfred’s a big help though! He can’t be stung. Because he’s a skeleton.”

“Yeah,” Rook says, chewing, watching. “I get that.” 

She does not get that. Mostly because she's not really listening. 

This is getting fucking ridiculous. 

Out in the garden, Emmrich Volkarin, a senior necromancer of the Mourn Watch, a man tasked with managing the corpses and souls of the dead, a man whose entire job is death, is delicately tending to his thriving apiary. 

I wish he was fingering me instead of that honeycomb, she thinks. 

And then: Actually, no, I wish he was doing both. 

For the first time in her entire life, she thinks she would gladly, enthusiastically, joyously welcome a yeast infection.

Forget a locket, forget a pressed flower between the pages of a book—this would be her keepsake. A souvenir of her reckless devotion, a parting gift from a lover who, in this scenario, has not gone off to war but rather retreated indoors to alphabetize his collection of sentient, bloodthirsty tomes and, of course, check on his precious bees. And instead of a love letter, she'd get an ungodly amount of discomfort, a medicated salve, and a firm recommendation to avoid sugar for a while.

Or, she could just walk off a pier and let the ocean absolve her of whatever the fuck this is.

"Bellara," Rook says after clearing her throat, because she needs to clear something before she says this, preferably her entire fucking soul. "I don’t really know how to tell you this. But. Like. I’m going to fuck your not-dad." 

Bellara pours herself a cup of tea. "Oh." 

"While his bees watch." 

Bellara chews. Swallows. Looks at the wall. "Yeah, they do that. They're bees." 

****

It doesn’t get that far, mostly because Emmrich is self-conscious. Not about himself, not about his station or his dignity. Instead, he is deeply, tragically preoccupied with the goddamn bees. 

There’s a great deal of nervous glancing, a fair amount of softly muttered hesitation, and at least two instances of him clearing his throat as if that might somehow dissolve the situation entirely. Meanwhile, Rook, having very graciously cornered him in his own garden (while Bellara is mercifully elsewhere), informs him, quite politely, that she is going to ride him until his very narrow hips give out. Or, if that’s too much for his delicate sensibilities, she is happy, delighted, even, to let him make use of those long, elegant fingers instead. 

Or—and—and this is the option they end up going for—she can simply kneel and suck the very essence of his being out through his very academic, very esteemed cock. 

"Ah—yes—well," Emmrich says before trailing off. His hands twitch at his sides, his jaw tightens, but it is the unmistakable way he keeps looking at the beehive, as though his tiny buzzing witnesses might be horrified by this development, that really seals it. 

"Your, ah, interest is certainly reciprocated, my dear," he continues, voice smooth but just a bit strained, "but—oh—perhaps—oh—we might consider a more… traditional approach? A courtship, if you will? A proper engagement with dinner, and wine, and—Maker help me—a door that closes?" 

"Hmpf," Rook says, pulling her mouth off his cock before deciding that, truly, there is nothing worth saying to that. 

She sincerely hopes a bee stings him right in the ass so that he stops waxing poetic about the sanctity of romance and just concentrates on fucking her mouth, this handsome, ridiculous, too-tall, too-suave, insufferably sweet, bee-obsessed, not-dad of a man. 

[arduousflame]

Stay, you are safe.

Needed something soft between these 2.

----------------

“Lucanis, is everything all right?” Rook’s head peeked over the banister. Below, the Crow had been rolling his shoulders, pacing in tight circles around the chairs. She didn’t miss the pained scowl flickering across his features.

“Ah, I’m fine. Just a bit stiff after that last stint in Rivain.” Lucanis waved a hand dismissively, but Rook kept looking down at him, and after a few seconds, her head tilted slightly.

“Rook, I’m fine,” he insisted, his tone firmer this time.

Her silence stretched, unbroken except for the soft creak of wood under her weight. Then she replied, dryly, “You want to tell Viago that?”

Lucanis chuckled despite himself, shaking his head. “A round of stretches and some rest should do it.” He rolled his shoulders again, forcing himself to straighten.

Rook disappeared from view, but only for a moment. When she reappeared at the top of the staircase, she was rubbing her arms. A telltale habit, one he recognized as uncertainty.

“I… might have something that could help?” she offered, hesitating just enough to give herself away. Her words hung in the air as her cheeks flushed pink. “Ah, only if you want to, of course!”

Lucanis paused, tilting his head at her, intrigued.

“I learned some massage techniques…” She trailed off, her voice quieter now. “Long story, but I could help ease some of the discomfort. I know where and how you ‘rest’ and that’s only going to make it worse.” Her words tumbled out in a rush, but when she finished, she froze like a statue, bracing herself for his response.

Lucanis crossed his arms, leaning back slightly on the balls of his feet. He didn’t speak right away.

Rook’s face faltered—just barely, but enough for him to notice. Her smile returned a tad too quickly. “Never mind,” she said, her voice light, her words rushed. “Forget I asked.”

In truth, he was conflicted.

A part of him, a loud, insistent part, longed to say yes.. To let her closer. To feel her warmth, not just in her laugh or the brightness of her smile, but in her touch. The kind of touch that wasn’t born of battle—when outstretched hands met to steady or warn—but something softer, more deliberate.

He envied the others sometimes, how freely she gave her affections. The way she hugged Bellara and Harding every morning, unreserved and easy. How she bumped shoulders with Davrin and Taash, playful and familiar. The way she leaned in conspiratorially with Neve, or the quiet focus in her hands when Emmrich taught her a new spell.

But with him…

She always kept her distance. She’d step aside to let him pass, hand him a blade so their fingers wouldn’t brush. Her laughter and her smiles she gave him freely, but her touch? That, she withheld.

He’d start to think Rook did not care for him, now that he was a literal demon.

But the truth was, he did the same to her. Illario had always been the suave one. How

Lucanis exhaled softly, shifting his weight. “Rook,” he began, his voice low.

Her eyes snapped to his, cautious but still hopeful.

“Maybe I’ll take you up on that offer,” he said. A small smile tugged at his lips. “If you’re sure you don’t mind.”

For a moment, her expression was unreadable. Then, a bright, genuine smile broke across her face. “Of course. I wouldn’t have offered if I didn’t mean it.” She took a step back on the landing. “Give me a minute,” she said, “let me grab some stuff. Meet you in your room?”

He did not trust his voice anymore; so he only nodded. The soft fast taps of her bare feet on the wood betrayed her enthusiasm she hid so well in her words and voice.

Was this really happening? Had he actually said yes, letting her get just a little closer? The last five minutes kept replaying in her mind, over and over, as she hurried back to her room.

The thought was still a whirlwind as she dumped her pack onto the bed, rummaging frantically for that small tin of numbing balm. Her fingers closed around it, and before she could lose her nerve, she was rushing back down the hall toward the dining room.

It was late—thank the Maker—so she didn’t run into anyone. Rook was grateful for that, sure that anyone who saw her now would immediately notice the telltale flush on her cheeks. She did have a reputation to uphold.

She skidded to a halt in front of the large doors of the hall. A deep breath in. A deep breath out.

She stamped her feet lightly on the floor, a giddy little motion that she immediately scolded herself for. Stop that, Rook. Compose yourself. She shook her head, willing the excitement to settle. The last thing she wanted was to scare him off now. Not when he’d finally let her in, even just a little.

Steeling herself, she raised her fist to knock on the pantry door when his voice called out: “Come in, Rook.”

Of course he’d heard her coming.

Her heart gave an unsteady flutter as she pushed the door open, just enough to peek inside. There he was—Lucanis, sitting on the edge of his cot, a coffee cup in hand. His posture was tense, his right shoulder slightly drawn back in a way that made it clear to her that he was in much more pain than he’d ever let on.

“I got the stuff I needed,” she said, her voice coming out softer than she intended. She hesitated a moment, then stepped fully into the room, holding up the small metal tin for him to see. “For your shoulder,” she added, a bit sheepishly.

The words hung in the air, and for a fleeting second, her nerves threatened to overtake her. But then, his gaze met hers—not sharp or dismissive, but steady, with the faintest flicker of something she couldn’t quite place.

It was enough. She took another step forward and closed the door behind her.

“How do you want to go about this?” Did he sound nervous?

“Well, it’d be easiest if you sat on the ground... Then I could sit behind you on the cot.” She hesitated, then added quickly, “Oh, and no need to take off your shirt! I’ll be careful not to get any balm on it.”

He regarded her silently for a moment before lowering himself to the floor, cross-legged and straight-backed, as always. She’d never catch him slouch, she was sure. He placed the empty cup on the crate he used as bedside table.

On the tips of her toes, she moved to perch behind him on the cot. Normally, she’d steady herself by slipping her legs around the person she was working on. But not this time. She tucked her legs beneath her, sitting back on her knees instead.

The tin resisted her efforts, her fingers fumbling briefly before she finally pried the lid open. The faint scent of the balm filled the air as she dabbed some onto her fingers. But then, just as she was about to begin, she froze. Her hands hovered over his shoulders, unsure.

“Ready?” she asked softly.

Lucanis didn’t answer, only nodded, leaning back ever so slightly. Barely noticeable, but enough.

Now or never, before the spell broke.

The warmth of his skin was immediate, still lingering from his pacing in front of the fire. He stiffened at her first touch, muscles rippling beneath her fingertips like a coiled predator, taut and poised to strike. The tightness where his shoulder met his neck spoke of strain—too much time spent on edge.

She started lightly, her fingers brushing across his neck and shoulders, searching, mapping. Prodding carefully here and there to gauge his reactions—was the discomfort from pain or from her touch?

It didn’t take long to find the source of his pain: a stubborn knot along his scapula, the skin warm with tension. Her movements grew more assured when he didn’t flinch or pull away, her hands working in firm, measured circles.

“Tell me if it gets to be too much,” she said, her voice steady but low. “Or if you need a break. Just say the word, and I’ll stop.”

His reply was a hum, deep and low, vibrating faintly through her hands. She’d take that as consent.

They sat in silence for several minutes, broken only by the occasional soft wince when her fingers pressed a tender spot. Her nose was scrunching in concentration.

At this point, Rook was sure she was more nervous than Lucanis. Finally, she felt him begin to relax under her touch, his tension melting away bit by bit. Emboldened by this shift, she rested her free forearm on his opposite shoulder, subtly bracing him against her as she applied a bit more pressure.

The silence lingered, heavy but not unpleasant, until it was finally broken by his low voice. “Where did you learn this?”

Her hand stilled for just a moment before resuming its rhythm. “When my mother died,” she began, her voice quiet, “and before he lost his fortune, my father got involved with a courtesan. She... took pity on me. I guess she saw a young girl without a mother figure and wanted to help. She called them ‘useful life skills.’” A faint, hollow laugh escaped her lips. “Let’s just say this was the one I kept up with. I realized it could come in handy in more ways than one when I joined House de Riva.”

Her hands faltered again, this time longer, as she blinked rapidly, trying to clear the tears that blurred her vision.

“I didn’t mean to pry,” Lucanis said gently, his voice softer now. She felt him shift, starting to turn toward her.

Panic flickered through her. The last thing she wanted was for him to see her cry. “Ah, no, don’t move!” she said quickly, patting his shoulder to keep him in place. “You’ll pull the knot. Stay still.”

Her words were firm, but her touch was light, her fingers resuming their work with renewed focus. She hoped the slight tremor in her voice had gone unnoticed.

Despite herself, wanting nothing more than to stay this close, Rook finally asked, “How does this feel? It should be better now, right?”

Lucanis flexed his shoulder and stretched out his arm, testing the range of motion. “Ah, this is much better.”

Rook leaned back on her legs, settling her hands in her lap. Already, she missed the warmth of his skin beneath her fingers. She tried not to dwell on it as her fellow Crow turned toward her.

“Thank you, Rook,” he said, his tone sincere. “I must admit, I was… a bit hesitant. But this really eased the pain.”

His eyes met hers—warm, dark, and so impossibly soft.

“Well,” she replied, trying to keep her tone light despite the flutter in her chest, “can’t have you out of commission. I’ve got to keep my team in fighting shape.”

A chuckle escaped him, followed by a small shake of his head. But before Rook could savor the moment, he winced sharply, his hand flying to his face.

“Lucanis?” she asked, instinctively reaching out.

He waved her off, his other hand resting on his knee as he shook his head. “It’s nothing. Just Spite.”

“Did I upset him?” she asked, her voice tinged with worry.

Those dark eyes found hers again, holding her gaze for a moment longer than she expected. “Trust me,” he said, his voice low, “you’re not the one he’s upset with. On the contrary.”

The last part was barely above a murmur, so faint Rook wasn’t sure if she’d truly heard it or imagined it entirely.

“I better get another brew going. There will be no sleep for me tonight.”

“You do need to sleep, Lucanis.” Rook did not say it outright, but the implication hang between them: the only reason Lucanis got hurt, was because he lost his edge in the field. Another night of no sleep. A moment too slow and the Antaam’s hammer had hit him square on the arm.

She stepped off the bed and motioned for him to sit back down.

“I’m fine, Rook, really,” he protested.

Rook wasn’t having it—not now, not anymore. The nervousness she’d felt earlier in the evening had burned away, replaced by a sharper edge of worry. She’d deal with the implications of bossing a Dellamorte around later. Right now, she spoke as his leader.

“I know some other techniques that might help you relax,” she said firmly, her tone leaving little room for argument. “I can stay here, keep an eye on Spite.”

A flash of panic crossed his eyes, brief but unmistakable.

“Lucanis, please.” Her voice softened. “Let me help. Next time, you might not get off with just a stiff shoulder.”

At last, his resistance cracked. He sighed, shoulders slumping. “What do you need me to do?”

She stepped closer, leaning over him to grab a cushion and placed it against the opposite side of the bed. “Lie down,” she instructed.

His movements were slow, reluctant. As he lowered himself onto the bed, she grabbed another blanket from the corner, folding it neatly and plopping it on the floor by his headrest. She could feel his eyes tracking her every move.

He lay back at last, arms crossed over his stomach, staring up at the ceiling. “I’m not sure about—”

“Same as before,” she cut him off gently. “Just give the word, and I’ll stop. But let me try before you call it quits. Can you do that?”

A pause. Then a nod.

Rook moved behind him again, settling onto the folded blanket at the edge of the bed. Her hands, still slick from the balm, hovered for a moment before she went to work.

This time, she let her fingers drift along his throat, up his jaw, and into his hair. His breaths deepened, steady and slow. A soft hum of appreciation escaped him, so low she almost didn’t catch it.

Rook couldn’t suppress the small smile that crept onto her lips. Not so bad after all, she thought.

She kept up her slow, rhythmic movements until she was certain he had fully surrendered to her ministrations. His breathing softened, slowing to the steady cadence that teetered on the edge of sleep.

Carefully—so carefully—she slipped one arm along the curve of his neck, letting her hand rest lightly on his chest. Beneath her palm, she felt the faintest hitch in his breath, a tiny stutter that made her pause. But he didn’t pull away or speak. Instead, after a moment, his breathing evened out again, the tension melting from his body.

With her other hand, she tilted his head ever so gently until his cheek came to rest against her forearm. His eyes were closed now, lashes dark against his skin. For the first time in what felt like ages, that perpetual furrow between his brows had smoothed out. His face, so often marked by strain or focus, was slack and soft in a way she’d rarely seen before.

Her fingers traced lower, brushing along the line of his neck and dipping toward his collarbone. His chest rose and fell beneath her touch, his breaths slow and deep. At last, she was certain he’d fallen completely asleep.

Still, Rook didn’t stop right away. She kept going for a while longer, her movements gentle and unhurried, until her fingers began to cramp. Only then did she still her hands—one resting on his chest, the other cradling his head against her arm.

She sat there quietly, gazing down at the man in her arms.

Catching herself, Rook tried to pull her arms back, ready to let the man finally sleep undisturbed. But as she began to lift her hand, it was caught by another—his.

Her breath hitched as she looked down to see a faint purple glow streaking through his eyes. The voice, low and resonant, was unmistakable. “Stay.”

His hand rested heavy over hers, a weight that felt both firm and pleading.

“Spite,” she said. She ran her free hand gently through Lucanis’ hair again, her fingers combing through the dark strands with deliberate care. The response was immediate: a satisfied hum, deep and almost content, reverberated through him.

“I’m not going anywhere,” she promised.

The demon’s eyes drifted closed, and his voice followed, barely a whisper, rough around the edges. “Rook is safe. Warm. He dreamt of this. Stay.”

Did he really?

“I’ll stay,” she said softly, finally, her hand stilling against his hair, resting there like an anchor.

He wasn’t sure how much time had passed. The soft tapping beneath his hand stirred him awake, all his senses snapping to attention. Blinking against the faint glow of candlelight, he glanced down to find the source of the sensation: a hand, covered by his own, twitching faintly in sleep.

His gaze followed the hand to its owner. She sat behind him on the ground, her head resting on her other arm, blonde hair falling messily across her face.

The events of the night before trickled back to him slowly. The offer. The warmth. The weight of her presence at his back. It all came rushing in, a quiet tide that brought with it an unfamiliar sense of calm.

His slight movement must have disturbed her, because she began to stir as well.

“Oh, good morning,” she murmured, her voice soft and tinged with sleep. A yawn escaped her lips. “Is it morning?”

“Spite says so,” he replied, his voice lower than usual, still rough with lingering sleep. “We slept a few hours, at least.”

Rook pulled her hand free from his, and already he missed the weight of it. She stretched lazily, arching her back with a contented sigh.

“Must say,” she began, a teasing lilt in her voice, “not the worst place I’ve slept. At least there are no fish here to judge me.”

He blinked at her, caught off guard. “The Fade fish are judging you?”

“Yes, the beady-eyed bastards,” she replied without missing a beat, tilting her head as though to listen for any phantom aquatic critics.

Lucanis stared, equal parts bewildered and amused.

“No one in the kitchen yet,” she observed, brushing her hair back and rising to her feet. “You want some coffee?”

“I’ll make it,” he said quickly, pushing himself upright.

“Oh, that was a quick dismissal,” she laughed, raising a brow.

He smirked faintly, shaking his head. “Viago taught you a lot. Unfortunately, I must agree with him on one point: the tenaciousness of your Ferelden heritage.”

“Tenaciousness?” she repeated, crossing her arms and mock-scowling at him.

“You at least appreciate coffee, which saves you from complete condemnation,” he continued, his tone turning dry. “But between you and Harding, I’d never willingly accept a cup from either of you. No offence.”

Rook gasped, clutching her chest in exaggerated horror. “Oh, no offence at all! Next time, I’ll be sure to serve it lukewarm and watered down, just for you.”

“Kind of you,” he drawled, the corners of his mouth twitching.

She laughed again, the sound warm and bright, and he felt the strange tension of the morning ease just a little.

“I hope you got some rest, Lucanis.” Her tone softened, becoming more serious.

“I... did. Thank you.” He inclined his head in a small bow, his hand resting lightly over his heart. But then, he hesitated, tilting his head with a faint look of surprise. “Spite wants to thank you as well, it seems.”

Rook’s smile returned, warm and reassuring. “Good. I’m here if you need anything, either of you.” Her tone turned playful again as she added, “Now, let’s see if you’ve accomplished what Viago apparently could not. It’s been far too long since I’ve had a chance to properly rile him up. Coffee?”

[heylavellan]

Hello and happy Friday! ^^ How about ""I don't want explanations. I want…" 💋" for Neve and Bellara?

did i get carried away? yes! i had so much fun writing from bellara's pov. veilguard spoilers, read at your own discretion! @dadrunkwriting

no takesies-backsies

rating: t

words: 1282

notes: bellara follows in varric's friend fiction footsteps and writes her self insert falling in love with neve's character. wingman lucanis

Maybe Bellara went just a bit toooo far. Sometimes that happened. More than sometimes. This whole writing thing had been Neve's suggestion. Well, Neve and Rook's. It was a nice break from interrogating the Nadas Dirthalen made by Anaris the Forgotten One and trying not to think about the fact her brother was serving said Forgotten One. Also that her gods thought it would be fun to try and Blight the world.

There was a lot going on, and sometimes Bellara would rather distract herself. The serials Neve brought her were great, but she always finished them before the next chapter was ready. Then she'd read the week's assigned reading for the book club and get bored, so she'd try one of those large academic tomes Emmrich brought. Which inevitably brought her back to the Nadas Dirthalen and all those thoughts she was trying to avoid.

So she started writing about the Veilguard! It was really fun at first, but she quickly ran into a problem. She caught up to the present day. Which was good, because it meant that she could write about things as they happened. But bad. Really bad, since it meant she was stuck with the original problem. Nothing to do.

One day when Bellara was complaining to Lace, the dwarf shared what she knew about Varric's books. About how Hard in Hightown was based on some of his friends in Kirkwall. Donnen was Donnic, Belladona was Isabela, and Maysie was Merrill. Friend fiction, he'd called it.

It was then that Bellara had the perfect idea. Neve was always saying that the press was giving her a bad rep in Minrathous. So why not write a story about how awesome she was? The Neve Gallus!

Well, clearly the main character couldn't be Neve Gallus exactly. Varric didn't drop his friends straight into the works. No, he gave them new names. So how about Guinevere? It had "neve" in the name, but it wasn't immediately obvious. She could be called 'Gee' for short! Agent Gee? No, that wasn't right.

Neve was a suave detective, so Gee needed to be too. But what was she sleuthing? Maybe... for stolen elven artifacts? No, that wouldn't sell in Tevinter. Which was where Neve needed to fix her image. No, she could be the Bloodhound of Minrathous, stopping blood rituals just in time and tracking down anything lost.

And every hero needed a sidekick. Lucanis seemed like a good option, but he didn't live in Minrathous. He was the Demon of Vyrantium. But maybe she could work with that. Maybe they were instead rival detectives, who shared a sidekick unknowingly. The Shadow of Vyrantium competing with the Bloodhound of Minrathous. Yes!

But who was the sidekick. Maybe they were telling the story. Maybe it was... her? Hmmm, that could work. Lucine, the elven sidekick who could sneak across the city unnoticed. She ran a repair shop in Dock Town and sold second hand and vintage wares.

As Bellara continued to shape the story and write the first chapters, it became quite clear that Lucine was in love with Guinevere. Which was strange. Because Bellara wasn't in love with Neve, right? She knew she liked women, after all she dated Irelin for a while. But Neve?

She continued to write. Gee was developing a crush on the Shadow, who she would later reveal to be Lucine's younger sibling Dellen. They both continued to solve crime in Minrathous and Vyrantium until Lucine got targeted by a scheme. The Shadow and the Bloodhound work together to retrieve Lucine, where they admit begrudging respect for each other. And Lucine confessed her love for Guinevere. And they lived happily ever after.

That felt like a good place to end the book. Rook helped her find a publisher, and it was out in Minrathous. She thought that was the end of that. She'd put her first book out in the world!

But with Neve Gallus, things weren't so. Publishing might have been the step too far. After an excursion to Arlathan with Rook and Lucanis (who politely informed Bellara that her book was very popular among the residents of Treviso), Neve was waiting in Bellara's room, reading through a copy of her book.

To be honest, she'd been shoving down her feelings for Neve in case they weren't returned. Until the crush went away, the book was a good enough outlet. "Guinevere took Lucine's hand and kissed her knuckles, looking reverently at her sidekick," quoted Neve, placing a ribbon in the passage she was on. "I was wondering why so many people were asking me if my full name was Guinevere recently."

Bellara blushed and stammered, "I'm sorry if I put your real name out there, but I wanted the character to be like you but also not you?"

Neve smiled -- a real smile, not the ones she wore when she was patiently putting up with Bellara's rambles. "No. I just think it's sweet what you think of me," she replied, setting the book down on the table. "I hope I have enough stories to fuel your next book."

If it was possible, she flushed an even brighter red. Neve drew closer, and Bellara became immediately aware of the curve of her body, the click of her shoes. The deep cut of her shirt. She gulped. "I think so? I don't know if I'll write another. I mean, you're awesome and deserve to have another written about you, but um. Only if you want me to. I really should have asked," she said, letting her mouth speak whatever words crossed her mind. Mythal'enaste, she hadn't been this flustered since she first met Irelin!

"I'm honoured that you want to write about me. But I think the one thing that's stumped me is who Lucine is. The Shadow, Dellen. That's like Lucanis. There's Guinevere, me. You even had Inge, that was a slick way to get Ingellvar in there. But Lucine?" Neve dissected the book and placed a hand on Bellara's shoulder.

She knew? She had to know, right? There was no way she didn't. She was a detective and had clearly picked up that she'd used last names to inspire first names. Guinevere - Gallus, Dellamorte - Dellen, Inge - Ingellvar. Leaving Lucine - Lutare. Neve had to know. And if she didn't she'd certainly have it confirmed by her facial expressions.

Before she could stammer out an apology or explain it away as just part of the book, Neve started, "Look, I don't need explanations. I need…"

Well, if the nug was out of the bag... Bellara cut her off by standing on her tiptoes to kiss Neve. It wasn't intense really, just a quick peck. Before she embarrassed herself. She already felt like she did, but... Whatever. Also, if she kissed Neve longer she'd want more. And Neve might not want that. "I'm sorry!" Bellara squeaked.

The second part of her apology was cut off by two warm hands grabbing her cheeks and a long kiss on her lips. It began to heat up, as Neve licked and nipped Bellara's lips. A small gasp left her mouth, allowing Neve to slip her tongue into Bellara's mouth.

Someone coughed at the doorway. "I'll just bring your tea later?" Lucanis asked, slowly backing out of Bellara's room. Bellara darted over, grabbing her tea from Lucanis with a smile. She missed the pointed look Lucanis shot Neve over Bellara's thank you hug.

Neve mouthed a thank you to Lucanis, and picked up the book. "I'll be back later, Bell. I'm certain we can come up with more ideas for the next book," she teased.

Elgar'nan, Neve was going to be the death of her.

[hydrangeapartridge]

My completely biased review and opinion about companions in Veilguard (major spoilers of course)

(Side note : english is not my first langage, I hope I can express myself clearly enough for you all to understand my points)

- Neve

I like Neve, she’s cool. I loved the detail of the noise her metal leg makes when she walks.

Her questline was however a bit bland. We had better portrayals of power hungry blood mages in previous games and Aelia wasn’t that good an antagonist. She lacks charisma and isn’t seen much before the last quest so you don’t really care about her. It could have been more dramatic, like if we had to fight people of Minrathos being controlled, idk. Also not much about slavery.

I get that Bioware tried to make Neve’s quest like detective work, searching for clues and stuff, but for me it wasn’t that exciting, and Venatori are the mobs I like the least, I don’t like the crystals you have to break in order mechanics and stuff.

I chose to make her the hero of Minrathos and it was satisfying.

- Harding

I can’t find it in myself to call her Lace damn it XD

Of course I was happy to see Harding again after Inquisition ! She is a ray of Ferelden sunshine. I really enjoyed her questline with the Titans ; it was mysterious and you really felt the danger in the deep roads, and the potential threat of her newly acquiered magic. I liked the giant oracle and the design of the lyrium caves. It was a nice throwback to the first games.

The end scene of her quest was nicely done, with Rook trying to reach her while the whole cave was collapsing and then a group hug.

I chose the path of compassion.

- Lucanis

His accent was more funny to me than endearing (as is his signature « Mierda ») and I was surprised to find that he was soft instead of suave. I didn’t save Treviso so I feel like I missed a lot of his quest (and the decision at the end) and in the end he was OK but not that interesting to me.

There was also the problem of Illario ; the second he was introduced I smelled the family treason nd so there was no suspense to this quest. It felt like a bad telenovella.

I like that Zara had a literal blood bath in the quest of the same name. It was a cool fight.

I didn’t bring him out much but I enjoyed that he ended up with Neve.

- Bellara

Bellara is adorable. I liked her quirkiness but her dialogues were sometimes terrible. When she talked I felt like she kept repeating the same things phrased differently and sometimes I felt the itch to skip (I usually never skip dialog!).

I had high hopes for her questline because of Anaris and finding that her brother wasn’t dead, but it all flopped in the end when Cyrian got killed by being sent flying away and Anaris didn’t turn out that scary. It felt stupide that Cyrian was not dead and then really dead…

I chose to keep the Archive but that choice felt like the less impactful of all the companion choices.

- Davrin

I didn’t expect Davrin to be so brash ! I enjoyed his banter a lot and the growth of his relationship with Assan. That griffin is an absolute cutie !

His quests were cute for the Arlathan ones and impactful for the one with the Gloom Howler. I enjoyed Isseya’s story and saving the griffins.

I still felt Davrin to be a little too « jock » coded, but his banter with Emmrich and Manfred was perfect ! I enjoyed seeing the wardens again (Antoine and Evka <3) and am glad he was a true Warden this one.

I chose to release the griffin in Arlathan because my Rook was an elven veil jumper.

- Taash

In real life, Taash is the kind of person I would have trouble connecting with. They’re obtuse and a bit rude. I felt like I was intruding during the parts with her mother (it is probably the goal of those moments but it made me uneasy). I wanted to be supportive so I was but I didn’t feel like my Rook and them ended up great friends. The identity crisis wasn’t handled that well I think, but it wasn’t as bad as people make it out to be and maybe I’ll get hate for that but they come out at first more Trans than non binary given their problem is being misgendered as a girl mostly or expected to do girly things? They even say it feels right to be called a man I think I remember? (but I respect whatever pronouns she chose in the end)

I really enjoyed the dragon hunt quests however and their last quest was cool too. Their mother’s death was a sacrifice that made sense and it pained me.

Their romance with Harding was cute (mostly because of Harding’s reactions and that height difference XD)

I chose to push them towards embracing the Rivein life, even if I think they could have made peace with both ?

- Emmrich

Of course my favourite. And not only because he is the handsome older man who swept my Rook off her feet.

To give us a scholar necromancer that was the antithesis of the cliché : a man poised but a tad insecure, nerdy, gentle, kind, a bit posh, extremly elegant and whose favourite colour is lilac ! Genius !

The Necropolis had such a distinct ambiance that every quest there felt special, with amazing details and wonders of finding a wisp, a spirit or hearing a dead’s last words.

To me his personnal quests are the ones with the best handled rythm. The first one in the peace and quiet of the beautiful garden sets the tone : serious but poetic, sad but hopeful, and dares to tackle very real and grave subjects. Death and regret but also life and love are perfectly handled in his story and brought me lots and lots of feels.

There is a great antagonist whose motives are simple but dangerous ; a friend turned rival, similar but so different from dear Emmrich. Johanna is simply iconic (her hand gosh and the fact that you keep her skull in the end, brillant). The fights are well balanced, the cutscenes and dialogues perfect for immersion. And don’t get me started on Manfred… I love this little guy to bits.

I chose to revive Manfred and for Emmrich and Rook to live the rest of his mortality together. In Undying Love

[jaal-ama-daravv]

About the emmrich mortal argument Do you think emmrich actually believed what he said to rook when they said they knew what they're getting into or do you think he was being a dick Not that it makes that line any better but idk we've seen how catty he can get in disagreements and I can't believe he actually thinks we're that wildly naive right

Thank you for asking because this line you are referring to makes me want to rip my skin off.

"At your age?"

As we have discussed before, Emmrich has this fire to him. Remember he is an orphan, grew up poor, and likely faced alot of hardships through childhood and adolescence. The guy has alot of underlying anger - which is why he wears the cool, confident, and suave mask. Not saying Emmrich isn't kind and gentle - but we all know that the nicest people can also be the meanest, as it takes alot of hurt to be that kind.

To answer your question, no I don't think he meant it. I think he was just desperately trying to get his point across and no matter what, Rook was just trying to reassure him. Both had their defensive walls up. Emmrich has a visceral fear of death, 'it cannot be soothed'. He feels it like his bones were on fire, and water wouldn't be able to drown it.

He can definitely be catty, when he is annoyed at people when they won't listen to him or hear him out. So whilst this checks out for his character, it was said in poor taste. Both Rook and Emmrich say things they don't mean, which leads them into feelings of regret going into the final battle. The whole theme of the game.

[sunny374940]

Let me show you how beautiful you are

Hello again, long time no smut. Emmrich is a bit insecure about his body and Rook shows him just how beautiful he finds him. Get loved, old man.

Cw: anal sex

Here on ao3

And here is the rest of my stories.

Rook woke up, blinking muzzily in the darkness of their bedroom. The greyish light of pre-dawn was barely penetrating the curtains, suggesting that it was too damn early to be awake.

He stretched an arm to Emmrich's side of the bed but he was, like most mornings, already up and about, probably getting breakfast ready. As Rook was rolling over to get more comfortable, he caught movement out of the corner of his eye and turned his head towards it, curious.

Emmrich wasn't getting breakfast. In fact, he was standing on the rug next to their bed, his back to Rook, and he was wearing nothing at all.

Well, not a bad sight to wake up to.

And then Emmrich was stretching himself up, raising his arms to the ceiling and the view of the muscles of his back moving under the skin had Rook transfixed. He looked on as Emmrich bent all the way down, touching the floor with his palms and presenting Rook with a rather nice view of his ass.

So he really did exercise in the mornings. Rook still didn't understand why anyone would choose to do that willingly, but decided not to complain, since he was enjoying himself quite a lot.

But he wanted more than just to look at Emmrich, so he sat up and started making his way to the edge of the bed.

“Morning, handsome,” he said as he reached Emmrich, who was now absorbed in stretching his wrists. Emmrich startled at the sound of his voice, turning around.

“Darling, did I wake you?” He sounded so apologetic that Rook almost felt sorry for him.

“Nope, I didn't even notice you at first when I woke up. But I'm glad I got to enjoy the show.”

Emmrich sputtered a bit at that and a blush began creeping upon his cheeks. Ha. He could be the one blushing for a change. Rook got out of bed, standing on his toes to kiss him.

“You're beautiful, you know?” he whispered between kisses. And Emmrich was blushing even more, he noted with a certain degree of satisfaction.

“This body has passed its prime some time ago, my dear, but thank you for the sentiment,” Emmrich said quietly, and he was looking down now, wouldn't meet Rook's eyes and was he… ashamed of himself?

What the fuck?

This wasn't how it was supposed to go. Emmrich should have accepted the compliment, then said something terribly suave to make him blush in turn and then he should have kissed him again, maybe even done more than just kiss him. He wasn't supposed to go all quiet and sad, and Rook had to do something about that. He grasped Emmrich's chin gently with his fingers, making him face him again.

“Hey, I like the way you look. I think I've told you many times already, no?”

“Compared to you, I leave much to be desired, where matters of physicality are concerned,” came the cheerless reply and his were still downcast and Rook wouldn't stand for it. If Emmrich wouldn't believe his words, he would have to believe his actions. Rook caught Emmrich by the hand and dragged him down onto the bed.

“Lie back for me?” he asked and Emmrich obliged with the barest raise of an eyebrow. Rook sat himself on Emmrich's thighs and ran his hands over the skin of his stomach, relishing at the softness he found there. There wasn't a thing he didn't love about him and Emmrich would know that by the time he was done with him.

“You, Emmrich Volkarin, are a beautiful man, and I am going to show you.”

And Emmrich didn't seem to have anything to say for once. The blush was spreading down to his chest and Rook couldn't stop himself from leaning down to kiss him on the flushed skin. He licked at a nipple as he went, earning himself a breathy moan. Rook raised his head to look him in the face and found Emmrich staring at him, enraptured, the lovely hazel of his eyes a thin ring around dilated pupils. He could start there, then.

“I love the color of your eyes, you know? They remind me of summers in the forest where I grew up, the trees glowing in the sunlight. And your crows feet are so adorable, I want to kiss you right there every time you smile.”

And Emmrich did give him a small smile at that and allowed himself to be kissed. They were getting somewhere at last, but still there was a shade of doubt on his face.

Emmrich reached out to link their hands, as if he needed the reassurance, and Rook took the opportunity to raise Emmrich's hand up to his lips, kissing his knuckles. He didn't let go after he was done, instead using his free hand to stroke at Emmrich's fingers, examining them as if he hadn't already committed every line of them to memory.

“Your hands are so strong but you have such delicate fingers it always surprises me. I love how elegant they are when you weave magic… and how they can take me apart.”

He could hear Emmrich’s breath hitch a little and there was a hunger in his eyes, making Rook want to do all manner of delicious things to him.

His cheeks hadn't lost any of the adorable blush and his lips were parted, just begging Rook to kiss him some more. But that would have to wait for a bit longer, as Rook was on a mission now. Emmrich’s free hand came to hold onto Rook's thigh, fingers digging into his skin, not enough to hurt, but enough to tell him just how much he desired him.

Rook's felt his cock grow hard at the sight and Emmrich seemed to be very interested in this development, eyeing him hungrily.

“See what you do to me? Just seeing you like this makes me want to take you,” Rook said, letting his voice lower into a rumble. “Can I?”

“Yes, please,” Emmrich replied, breathless, cock hardening at Rook’s words.

Rook got off of Emmrich's legs, and reached for the vial of oil that stood on the bedside table and set about getting Emmrich ready for him.

He nudged Emmrich's legs apart and stroked oiled fingers against his asshole, applying just the slightest pressure. The way Emmrich moaned at the touch had Rook grinning and he wasted no time, pushing a finger inside, then a second, opening him up, and the sounds Emmrich made were amazing, little breathy moans and sighs of pleasure.

“Are you ready for me, love?” Rook asked, though there was very little doubt about Emmrich's readiness, as he had taken to fucking himself on Rook's fingers, moaning constantly.

“Y-yes darling, very much so.”Rook entered him then, slow and careful, relishing in the groan that Emmrich made when he started fucking him. His head was thrown back, his eyes closed and Rook would be repeating himsef, but he just had to say it.

“You're so beautiful, love.”

And Emmrich whimpered at the praise, a delightful sound that made Rook want more. He hooked Emmrich's legs over his shoulders, grabbing his ass with his hands, giving it a squeeze for good measure.

“You've got an amazing ass. It's just right for me to hold onto when I kiss you. Or fuck you just. Like. This.”

He punctuated every word with a snap of his hips and Emmrich was lost in his arousal, holding onto Rook's forearms as he was thrusting into him.

Rook took pity on him then, taking his cock in hand, stroking it in the way he knew he liked and he could see that Emmrich was getting close to the edge. Although Rook wasn't far behind, as it was taking all his willpower to not cum right away at the way Emmrich was falling apart under him. But he wanted to see him cum first, see the blissful expression on his face, and he wanted it now.

“I love the way you look when you cum. Can you do that for me?”

And Emmrich was nodding, words seemingly lost to him.

“Let me see you, love.”

Those words were all it took and Emmrich's hips seized as he came all over Rook's hand. His mouth opened in a silent cry, his eyes went wide at the force of it and he looked so beautiful that Rook couldn't hold on anymore and followed with his own orgasm, hips stuttering against Emmrich's ass. He slumped over Emmrich, breathing heavily.

“Do you believe me now?” Rook asked, searching Emmrich's face, hoping that there would be none of the self-doubt from earlier.

“I… am beginning to see the truth of your words. Thank you, darling.”

There was only quiet contentment in his eyes, but it wouldn't hurt to ram the point home some more.

“You are the kindest, smartest, most amazing person I have ever met. And you are also very beautiful,” Rook said, leaning down to kiss him.

“You, my dear, are a wonder and I am honored that you think so highly of me,” Emmrich said after their lips parted. “When we met I had no idea that I would gain such a caring lover, yet here you are, giving me such love I never even thought possible.”

“Wow. Um. Thanks.” And now Rook was blushing. All was right in the world again.

[jaal-ama-daravv]

Dragon Age: The Veilguard Review

i need to put my thoughts into words so hear it goes - dragon age veilguard review

keep in mind my playthrough was the following -

female, elf, mourn watch, romanced emmrich, solavellan import, completed 90%.

full spoilers below - you have been warned!

ill add to this if I think of anything through my next playthrough

Combat

Im gonna cop it for this but I fucking loved it. Its literally fantasy Mass Effect Andromeda. and I have ALWAYS, FUCKING HATED STAFFS FOR A MAGE. Now im a mage ninja and im in heaven.

1000/10

Story

Ill keep this short in a few words -

This is if Mass Effect 2, Mass Effect 3, and Dragon Age 2 had a lovechild. Mass Effect 2 ending choices and companion focus, Mass Effect 3 cinematics with pizazz and impact, Dragon Age 2 haha and compantion depth.

I was genuinely in shock for some outcomes/consequences but other times im like, what, is that IT. looking at you lucanis personal quest

I wish they put more weight on the 'this may be my final mission' but I digress.

The pace was good.

minimal cameos????? I feel bad for anyone who romanced someone in inquisition that wasnt dorian or solas

I was violently sobbing at numerous points and cheering at others. The choices I made, made a difference.

7/10

Solavellan/Solas

Bioware did a good job. They ticked every fucking box for ME personally when it came to the reunion and the ending.

I called it when I said that Solas would turn around and go 'vhenan'.

also talking love to eachother in elvhen? jesus fuck my heart.

I will add that at times i felt like the game was pushing me to hate solas, where if you are coming in from a solavellan experience, can be offputting

I do think they couldve added more OOMPF to solas and his regrets. like one regret about the inquisitor, or mention. but solas keeping his vhenan card close to his chest till the end made me fucking cry like a baby so

regardless, 10/10

Romance w/ Emmrich

I LOVED this romance. It was very well written and suave. The main choice in Emmrich's personal quest does have an impact and I love that. I chose for Emmrich to choose mortality over lichdom in a 'face your fears' type of way.

the romance scene is quirky. sad boy hours there is no naked emmrich.

long story short, sacrificing lichdom causes Emmrich to clench up more and insists that he is a burden to you due to the age difference. The romance still continues but in the LICH path, Emmrich expresses that he is afraid to mourn you for eternity. which i think is way hotter. PLUS. I can HC that my rook seeks lichdom too.

The argument scene has left a hole in my heart

9/10

devastated there is like FOUR WORDS in the epilogue about any romance.

therefore, 8/10

im tired of writing fanfcition bioware just give it to me in game

argument scene

Epilogue

Now this, I have an issue with. It is way too vague. There is no mention of what the companions get up to next, and minimal mention of the world state following the final quest. I mainly remember it just telling me the story isnt over. It is pure sequel baiting, which they couldve still done AND mentioned brief 'what the got up to'. BUT, I shouldnt be too surprised considering this happened with Inquisition as well. Also, huge set up for Rook to be the protagonist in the next game too. WHERE IS THE EPILOGUE SCREEN ABOUT WHAT THEY GET UP TO. I cant with it. Don't get me started on the sequel baiting for a BIG BAD guy in the secret post credit scene where they claim to control all the whacked out characters in the past.

5/10

~~

this is mainly me ranting and/or loving it and my personal views after my initial playthrough

i also love bioware where I will play everything they put out and be thankful I am recieiving something, but do wish they would learn from their mistakes.