#da fanfiction

[elf-trash]

Solavellan Recommended Reading

I made a post like this for SilverV a million years ago and wanted to make one for Solavellan as well!

A few of these fics overlap with the ones I have linked in my current pinned post, but there are soooo many fantastic Solavellan fics out there that I decided to make a longer rec post so I could include more of them!!!

Without further ado, here are some of my favorites, in no particular order. Some of them are one-shots or shorter multi chapter fics, and some of them are massive long fics and everything in between. Some of them are new and still in progress, some of them are completed, and a handful of them are older fics. All of them are absolutely worth your time!

walk you to the shore - Scaryanne A beautifully written post-Veilguard one-shot about Solas and Lavellan having it all out in the Fade. Highly recommend!

the sun to burn - Pip (Moirail) An Inquisition re-write that goes off canon and does a phenomenal job at exploring a ton of aspects of the lore and story. Features fantastic character writing and takes really thought-provoking directions with the lore!

love is not a victory march - Brunchatthebookstore A Veilguard retelling where Lavellan is present at the ritual at the beginning that goes off book from there. It's beautifully, heartbreakingly written and off to a REALLY strong start with some truly devastating moments, so this one is absolutely one to watch.

miles below the surface of the dawn - thefirstaidkit This fic is one of the most beautiful things I have ever read, period. On its face it's just 6 chapters of "there was only one bed" Inquisition-era Solavellan smut, but I stg the writer was channeling the spirit of Solas Dragon Age himself because it is the most perfect Solavellan smut I can imagine. Read this one, just trust me.

Martyr - existential_naptime If you like Solavellan angst, this one delivers in spades!!! It's set during Veilguard and explores what would happen if the Evanuris kidnapped the Inquisitor (and more specifically, how Solas would react). It is DELICIOUS and also extremely painful but well worth it!

Requited - cursedhag A beautifully written, pitch perfect Inquisition rewrite that fully checks all the boxes! Features a lot of excellent Solas POV that incorporates all the new lore reveals we learned in Veilguard. Do yourself a favor and read this!!!!

rook wins in the end - wiltedartist A great exploration of Rook's relationship with Solas in Veilguard. Solavellan, but focuses on the one-sided unrequited feelings that Rook develops for Solas. Really interesting angle that I haven't seen done better.

And Yet - say_lene Beautiful Inquisition-era Solavellan one-shot. All of this writer's fics are so beautiful and well-written, so I kind of picked this one randomly but ALL of their Dragon Age fics are worth reading. We stan a good smut character study!!!!!

In the Colours of Your Regrets - scribeofmorpheus Another excellent smut character study! Solas sadly jorkin' it in the Lighthouse to his own sad murals of his wife. 11/10 no notes.

Roses Where Thorns Grow - Bdafic This one explores what would have happened if, after Crestwood, Lavellan learned the truth about Solas and they rekindled their relationship. It's a beautiful story that stays true to character and explores some of their messier and more complicated relationship dynamics.

Servitude - niceasspavus Another really, really solid Inquisition rewrite that explores Solas and Lavellan's romance. Well-written with excellent details and characterization. Highly recommend all of this writer's other fics, as well.

These Hands, If Not Gods - Gefionne An AU where a pre-Inquisition Lavellan accidentally discovers an eluvian that lets Arlathan-era Solas time travel to her. Beautifully written smut and character development. AUs aren't often my thing, but this one is absolutely worth your time.

Looking Glass - Feynite This one is theee classic Solavellan fic and probably needs no introduction. It's a time travel Arlathan AU, and it still holds up even after all these years, even unfinished. If you haven't read this one yet, stop whatever you're doing right now and fix that.

Wildest Dreams - elf_trash Finally, this one is mine!!! It's a retelling of Veilguard with Lavellan as the protagonist (aka Lavellan IS Rook) that focuses on her complicated relationship with Solas. Starts near the end of Inquisition and will continue through Veilguard and slightly beyond. I plan on reincorporating a lot of scrapped ideas from Joplin.

This list is in no way comprehensive, as a) there are sooo many good ones and b) I haven't read everything (yet lolol), so please feel free to reblog this and add your favorites!!!

But in the meantime, do yourself a favor and check out all of these fics! Top tier stuff all around.

[thedissonantverses]

YO WHAT ARE YOU DOING I am giving you more prompts to angst lmfao this is so good and I’m so happy it inspired you twice!!! It hurts so good thanks!

Writing Challenge Wednesday:

Yay Wednesday! Let's write! (Btw if you sent a Rook Storytime Ask I'm still working my way through them thank you for being patient, they're actually really helping me flesh out my next story and they're a ton of fun. ) As always on these there is no time limit, tag or link or dm or reblog or comment under this post! No word count either just have fun with it that's what it's here for. I don't have standards for submission take or leave what you want, link your Ao3's, and it's all tagged writing challenge on my page! As long as it gets you writing I don't care and I will share. Let me show you off!!!

Okay I did a really fun self-imposed challenge where I turned fluffy head canons into angst cause I can turn anything into angst if you give me long enough ;) I thought it'd be fun to play with that today so I'm going to give you some fluffy head canons and some angsty head canons and I want you to flip the script and take the mood from fluff to angst or angst to fluff. (Please do platonic relationships as well as romantic if you're so inclined I'm into that)

Fluff:

Character A gives Character B a present.

Character A helps character B with their hair/makeup/outfit.

Character A and Character B want to teach Character C a skill.

Character A and Character B go dancing.

Characters A, B, and C are druuuuuuuuunk.

Angst:

Characters A and B have to go to a funeral together.

Character C has tragically gone missing and A and B have to cope.

Character A has lost someone close to them and can't stop crying. Character B and if you want Character C notices as well.

Character A has lost an important item to them or it was destroyed.

Character A and Character B are fighting for real. Real emotional or physical or both. Perhaps Character C intervenes or they work it out themselves.

Have at it and I will post mine later!!!!!

[treviso-nights]

✨ rookanis drabble/mini-fic about gifts & acts of service :') ✨ ✨ read on AO3 ✨

°❆⋆.ೃ࿔:･°❆⋆.ೃ࿔:･°❆⋆.ೃ࿔:･°❆⋆.ೃ࿔:･°

At first, it began with coffee.

Specifically, coffees, plural. Just the way Rook liked it, with enough milk and sugar to kickstart them into their morning routine. The coffees would appear wherever the Crow thought Rook would look first upon awakening—beside the candles in their meditation room, then on the ground beside the couch. Later, the coffees would migrate to the ledge bordering the aquarium, so Rook could not in fact, miss them. Eventually, Rook took to leaving the empty mugs on the desk beside the dresser, so the Crow would see this and stop worrying about his gifts not being received.

When the Crow decided morning coffee was no longer enough, he took to sharpening Rook’s daggers whenever time and sticky fingers would allow. These, too, were lovingly placed beside the morning mugs of coffee, the room’s lowlight launching mysterious, irregular glints of light against the wall. When Rook attempted to tell the Crow that it was fine, that they’d service their own weapons (and thank you very much), the Crow had half-heartedly cursed at them before pushing another mug of something hot and sweet into their calloused hands.

Then came the poison. (And their corresponding anti-venoms. Just in case.) The Crow took particular care to place these a further distance away on the desk, not desiring to see Rook sleepily, and in spite of all their Antivan Crow training, mix a lethal dose into their morning mug. Truth be told, Rook had been neglecting their poison studies, so these occurrences were especially welcome—as was the new, uniform collection of tiny vials. Glass-made, of course, for easy shattering, with a peculiar sigil stamped into each of the curved bodies. Crow wings, spread from side to side.

A second mug soon joined the first, appearing each morning in tandem. “I’ve noticed you don’t eat breakfast,” the Crow said during a sparring match. Rook, explaining that they get stomach aches from eating too soon after getting up for the day, had only been able to feel sheepish when the Crow glared their way. “Fine,” he’d grumbled. The mugs of bone broth began appearing the day after, complementing Rook’s proclivity for a sweetened breakfast coffee blend. Knowing that the Crow was just trying to take care of them, Rook made sure to drain the broth too, painting the wooden desk in a fresh maze of mug rings which spoke of sustenance and love.

It all came to a head when Rook got sick. A fever—nothing more worrisome than the muscle aches and full-body sweat often associated with such. Rook, stirring in the haze of this illness, lifted their head off the futon in their meditation chamber to see if the Crow had delivered more coffee, daggers, poisons, and bone broth, because tradition now mattered. But it was the Crow himself they did not expect delivered, kneeling beside the futon. “What are you doing?” Rook hissed, scowling as the Crow lightly dappled the sweat from their brow. “Dellamortes don’t kneel! Not for me.” The Crow only smiled when Rook attempted to shove him away, batting their hands back with one of his own. “If you insist on throwing a tantrum, then it’s my responsibility to point out that Rooks do not tell Dellamortes what to do,” he grumbled happily, returning to his work. And what was there to say beyond ‘thank you’? Beyond ‘thank you for all of it, and thank you for you, too?’ So, Rook did. And then Rook slept, the Crow’s tender hands on her face like a flowered beak.

°❆⋆.ೃ࿔:･°❆⋆.ೃ࿔:･°❆⋆.ೃ࿔:･°❆⋆.ೃ࿔:･°

[heylavellan]

cuddlebugs

do you think lucanis deserves to have two big qunari lovers? me too!! @riadoodles let me borrow their lovely esha for a sweet little fanfic where they get to cuddle up in bed. it's sweet and fluffy!!

[oftachancer]

Thank you, @maxkennedy24, for this incredible portrait of Anders, Karl Thekla, and Cecily Hawke, from Aisles of Memory and Regret!

Also reposting for the fans of @tranquilweek!

[covertleathers]

Pulling Cords (Rookanis Fanfiction)

Chapter 4: The Verdant Wyvern

Title: Pulling Cords

AO3 Link

Rating: 18+, Explicit, Gradually intensifying sexual tension, nudity, etc etc

Relationships: Lucanis Dellamorte/m!Rook (They/Them pronouns)

Key words: Yearning, teasing, jealousy (if i get there)

The cup had grown cold.

There was also a growing pain in his left side that was begging to be addressed, it is likely Lucanis has broken a rib from his last excursion to the Anderfels a week before. Very rarely did pain linger for him, however, getting hit with a meter long club from an ogre had clearly left its mark. Harding should have some elfroot in her garden that he could use. First thing in the morning he will have to catch her before Rook leaves again.

He was alone, as usual when the rest of his comrades excused themselves for the night after dinner. At the table, he sat in his normal place at the right hand of the head chair. An old, yellowing book and various scrolls splayed out before him. Focus was slipping through his fingers.

A small part of Lucanis had expected Rook to make their normal appearance; gliding into the kitchen as if suspended in air. In anticipation, he had prepared the drink he knew they usually craved at the small hours of the night. 

However, it was the second time since their return from the Wetlands that they didn’t show. He disliked wasting chocolate, it was slightly more difficult to get with the Antaam leaching from Treviso’s ports. Though, throw in a few more sovereigns and there is always a shipyard hand eager to assist. They always remember who pays. Perhaps it was for the best to have this time to research alone. Rook could be…distracting from time to time. 

The quiet was eating at him. Even the murmuring fireplace had become soothing white noise. Crackling, simmering, and the occasional sound of the logs splitting under the intense heat. It was lulling him into a state of quietude that felt dangerous. 

Nevarran scholars didn’t have to complicate their writing with unnecessary details, but of course he had to chew through two hundred pages detailing the deviating familial Pentaghast lineage to learn about some poor possessed bastard of a mage who was locked away in a dungeon under his family’s estate. His end was a drawn out and painful transformation.

NOT. DONE.

Abruptly, he stood. Push it down. Not tonight. He wasn’t going to lose time again.

Another cup of the steaming black. Down the throat. He clutched the coffee counter with shaking hands. A splitting headache traveled from the back of his neck to his temple as if a giant’s cleaver came down on his skull. His eyes, dry from lack of sleep, ached. Spite was pushing against his psyche like mad.

LET. ME. OUT.

“No prep tonight?”

“Rook.” Lucanis let out an inaudible sigh of…relief? And straightened, rolling his neck coolly. Again, he was unsure how he never heard their arrival. He hummed, “You’re late.”

“Ah, well, I got caught up in some reading,” They said with a small laugh, a salve to his mind. “I’m sorry.”

 A balm seemed to settle in the air. He turned to Rook, in their usual night robes, standing at the open doors of the kitchen, a green book cradled against their hip, and a gentle breeze following close behind them. Without hesitation, Rook strode to his side and grasped the cold mug of chioccolata calda, then swiftly shook their head to stop him before he could protest it.

“It’s Bellara’s turn to cook tomorrow. I’m doing research instead.” The assassin poured himself another helping of coffee, trying to ignore that Rook had closed the distance between them. Though, he did not step away, either. 

“Whatever you’re reading, it’s better than that.” He gestured to the book and scrolls he had spread out on the table. Lucanis moved back to his seat, running a hand through his hair to check it wasn’t as disheveled as he felt. Eyes up. Breathe. Rook waited for a brief moment, as if they knew following closely behind would put him on edge. Then, they followed with silent, delicate footsteps to stand beside his chair.

Lucanis tried to ignore that his face was about the same height as Rook's navel. He also tried to ignore that they had draped a golden chain around their waist, intertwined with the Mourn Watch green sash.

“Oh, The Drakon Manuscripts on Demonic Dominions Volume Seven,” Rook mused as they leaned over his shoulder to get a closer look. The chain clattered against the armrest. Lucanis took another gulp of his drink. “I was forced to read that as an apprentice. Horrible to get through. I will never understand nobles and their obsession with pedigree.”

“We can agree on that,” he replied with a grunting laugh. 

Rook’s skin smelled like cinnamon and charcoal. Smokey plum hair fell around their shoulders like storm clouds. Lucanis could tell they had recently washed it with the way a vanilla scent breezed his way when they moved. Always overwhelming the senses. They pulled out the chair to his right and sat, looking at him excitedly with the book propped up before them.

“I was hoping to keep you company while you worked,” They ventured with a steady gaze. “Oh well, we can read together anyway, if you don't mind company. There’s a story in here that I think you would like.”

Lucanis raised an eyebrow as he met their eyes over the rim of his cup. “What’s this about?”

“Wyverns,” The young mage said affably, crossing their legs with an electric look in their lavender eyes. A jolt of excitement made Lucanis nearly drop his coffee. Rook laughed, “I knew that would get your attention.”

“Why wouldn’t it? I love wyverns.” Now curious, he tried to peak over the edge of the book as Rook opened it, who tutted and pressed it against their partially exposed chest.

They had placed one of Assan’s feathers as a bookmark, the tuft of grey peeking from about a third-way into the pages. Rook placed it aside amongst the many scrolls on the table. 

“This story is called The Verdant Wyvern. It’s Nevarran.” They continued with a one-sided smile Lucanis knew too well. “You should know we have a great appreciation for them culturally. Can I read it to you?”

“Of course.” He sat forward a bit.

Rook mirrored him, leaning over the book like a lover.

“A daughter of the great King Witoslav was born under a sapphire moon. In celebration of her birth, he gathered all the highest beings to his High Court to celebrate her naming. Elves, Dwarves, Kossith, and even Spirits danced among crystalline lights in peace,” Rook rested their head in their hand as they read, a look of serenity painted their features. “All was not in amity, however. The King and the Queen had neglected to invite the powerful yet wicked Meredite, Witch of the Chaparral—”

“Rook, you said this was about wyverns,” Lucanis muttered. He was beginning to wonder if this was some kind of ruse to get him to listen to one of Bellara’s writings. 

The young mage hissed defensively, “If you’d let me bloody get to it.” Clearly, this meant quite a bit to them. Lucanis sighed into his drink, realizing that it would soon be empty. 

“Anyway, where was I…right. Meredite arrived in a burst of emerald smoke, so all encompassing, the jubilant attendees fainted from it. In her fury for being overlooked, she cursed the baby girl with poisonous touch.” Lucanis’ ears perked at this. “Every human that would try to touch her bare skin would surely perish by sunset, the witch declared, before disappearing the same way she came. The Queen rushed to calm her crying babe, but just as the witch said, quickly fell ill with plague. She passed before the night was over. 

“With great sorrow, the King sent the babe, Oteria, to live and grow in a tower at the edge of the world. This way, she would be no danger to anyone else. Oteria grew well-read, but isolated and lonely. One day, she is roaming in the fields outside her tower when she comes across…” They paused, looking at Lucanis excitedly. 

“A wyvern?”

They chuckled. “A wyvern. Tall as a man, long as a rowboat with glittering verdant scales. It was curious about her. Oteria cried in terror at its glistening venomous teeth. She fled to the ocean, where she nearly drowned, refusing the wyvern’s offers of help as it swam behind her—”

“Wyvern’s don’t swim. They both would have drowned.”

Rook’s lilac gaze turned almost deadly for the second interruption. He smirked, feeling their irritation delight him a bit. Lucanis swore he could feel a certain something snicker at the back of his mind. 

“You’re impossible,” they said. For what it was worth, Rook could never stay mad for long. They matched his grin, rolling their eyes before they continued: “Oteria wakes in a lavish suite in a castle far away from her tower. Little did she know, the wyvern who rescued her was King Stanimir, a once beautiful man who was cursed by none other than Meredite…”

Black.

Lucanis’ eyes snapped open with a tense breath. Coming back felt like coming up for air after being held underwater. It was too similar to being waterboarded at the Ossuary. Blinking the darkness away, his head was swimming. He was in the pantry, sitting up with his back against the wall. Candles still lit. Where was Rook? Had they seen…?

“Spite finally gave you up, did he?” A silky voice asked from the doorway. Rook was leaning against the doorframe watching Lucanis with soft care. 

Lucanis had to stand. Frustration boiled in his chest. “How long was I gone?” 

“A couple of hours,” They mused. “He really seemed into the story. I told him he couldn’t be out of your room and could only hear the rest if he stayed in the pantry.” 

Rook, for whatever reason, didn’t seem fazed by what had happened. Maybe it was because of their Mourn Watch experience? They took a few steps inside. The book was still in their hand. 

Looking them in the eye was suddenly very difficult. The question came out as a low rumble, “He didn’t do anything to you did he?”

“Ha, no. A little resistant, but for whatever reason he listens to me.”

Lucanis crossed his arms, trying to blink away the pain in his eyes. For whatever reason, it was lingering more and more. He rolled one shoulder, then the other. “I missed the rest of the story. It was just getting interesting.”

They laughed. Like honey to his senses. 

“I am going back to my room,” They said as they stretched and yawned. Lucanis turned his gaze to the stone floor. They paused and he could feel their gaze singe his skin. 

“I wouldn’t mind reading it again. Just don’t fall asleep next time.”

[imakemywings]

The Regrets of Mythal

When Solas tilted his head to deepen the kiss, Lavellan delicately withdrew, as she had done repeatedly since they had entered the Fade. She had made no complaints, nor reprimands, nor in any other way indicated he was behaving inappropriately, yet in the past he had known her to have more tolerance for such things. Unable to suppress his concerns any further, Solas probed carefully.

            “You are distracted,” he observed, keeping his tone light. Lavellan was looking off into what constituted the horizon of their world. “What has ahold of your thoughts?”

            Lavellan hummed. “Nothing,” she said, matching his lightness, looking up at the sky as if there were something there of surpassing interest which he should also find compelling. Solas had grown accustomed to the tells of Lavellan’s lying, even if she had managed it more adeptly in this instance.

            Using a tack which was generally reliable for getting information from her, while keeping his voice gentle, he said: “I wish you would tell me what troubles you.”

            There was a lengthy pause, while Lavellan tugged at the sparse Fade grass around them, debating whether to make another effort at lying. Finally, she spoke.

            “Do you remember when I drank from the vir’abelasan?” Solas snorted in disapproval.

            “Yes, I would not forget.”

            “Well, that piece of Mythal…she is with me still. She does not make herself known often, but she is there. And she is…most …vocal when you and I are close.” They were close more often than not these days. There was no one else for company but the spirits.

            Solas cocked his head to the side, intrigued.

            “Perhaps it—the fragment—is responding to something,” he said. “A memory of Mythal’s, or some association she once had?”

            Lavellan hummed again, in the way she did before she drastically understated something. “No, I don’t think that’s it,” she said, still picking at the grass and not looking at him. Solas studied her profile a moment.

            “What do you think?” he asked, since she was the one with a bit of Mythal in her head.

            “Ah…” Again, he watched her consider lying. Again, she eventually fell out on the side of cautious honesty. “I believe she is…uncomfortable developing such an…incarnate knowledge of you.” 

            As usual, Lavellan phrased herself so obtusely that Solas had to consider her words a moment before grasping what she was putting so tidily.

            And when he realized, he could not stop himself from laughing.

            “Has the fragment spoken to you?” he asked.

            “No,” Lavellan said. “But the sentiment is present.”

            “And what is the sentiment?”

            “I imagine it is similar to how I might feel about suddenly sharing a mind with my sister-in-law,” said Lavellan, and Solas let out another burst of laughter, briefly consumed with the thought of Mythal’s expression at having to be party to Lavellan’s experience of his romantic advances, then sobered as he realized the problems this presented. “I am working on soothing her,” said Lavellan. “But she is still…fussy.” She exhaled loudly. “I must admit you were correct when you warned me that there would be consequences to drinking from the vir’abelasan of which I had not yet conceived.”

            “And I will confess I had not foreseen this particular consequence myself,” Solas replied.

            “Well,” Lavellan sighed with some chagrin, at last turning her attention back to him directly. “At least we have quite some time to sort it out.”

On AO3

[sternentreue]

So I haven't really figured out yet what the fandom's consensus on fanfiction ratings is. I come from fandom spaces back in the day where people wrote and read very explicit (very nsft) stuff and it was normal to publish those but I would like to get the Dragon Age fandom's opinion.

For clarification: I refer to the rating system used on AO3. If you want to know the difference between E and M, this post explains it quite well.

[jb-nonsense]

Extra Dessert

Summary: After making a hazelnut torte for him, Ogden wants to show Lucanis just how much he appreciates him. They spend their first time, Lucanis's first time ever, together, and Ogden wants to make it as perfect as he can. Characters: Lucanis Dellamorte, Ogden Thorne (Rook) Ship: Rookanis Word Count: 5,061 Rating: Explicit AO3 Tags: Smut Fluff and Smut Intercrural Sex First Time Lucanis gets a nice first time with support and love thank u

[isk4649]

Fuck it, I’m drunk. I’m working on a modern AU set in December 1936 that has Rook (a Greek college boy returning to a dictatorship) and Lucanis (a Spaniard going to fight in the Civil War) meet, debate modern politics (i.e. slowly rolling toward an unimaginable apocalypse), and fall in love-ish on a train from London. Who’s interested?

I am, and you’re getting it. Because I’m trauma dumping on all y’all.

[arlathanxchange]

Arlathan eXchange is returning!

IMPORTANT DATES

▸ Nominations Open: Sunday, March 10, 2024 at 12pm ET ▸ Nominations Close: Sunday, March 24, 2024 at 12pm ET ▸ Sign-Ups Open: Sunday, March 24, 2024 at 12pm ET ▸ Sign-Ups Close: Sunday, April 7, 2024 at 12pm ET ▸ Assignments Received: by Tuesday, April 9, 2024 8:00 PM EST (or earlier!) ▸ Works Due: Sunday, May 19, 2024 at 12pm ET ▸ Works Revealed: Sunday, May 26, 2024 at 12pm ET ▸ Creators Revealed: Sunday, June 2, 2024 at 12pm ET

Visit our website to see the above schedule in your local time.

NOMINATIONS OPEN IN 3 WEEKS

Changes and Updates

→ Please welcome our new moderators! @Dirthenera @Inquisimer @Plisuu @Thedaselcor

→ Our rules and FAQs are undergoing some changes - stay tuned for more information and updates!

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→ This event is officially affiliated with The Hanged Man! The Hanged Man is an unofficial collective of Dragon Age fans who try to make a positive difference in the fandom community by giving fans a place to chat, share and create content, and interact. You can read more on our website.

[thedissonantverses]

Yeah it does suck watching good writers get bullied out of the fandom.

It does suck that engagement is absurdly low for most but people still want more fanworks as “content.”

It does suck watching fandom eat itself alive then complain when it chokes.

I’m gonna keep working to build up a fandom positive space. I’m gonna keep promoting your work aggressively and reading and commenting where I can. I’m gonna keep encouraging you to write whatever it is you want to write whether I ship it or not or even regardless of if it’s a ship to begin with.

Because the fact of the matter is if you’re writing or drawing you’re contributing so much more to the fandom then the 1000th negative take of how Veilguard could have “been better if x.” And I’m absurdly proud of you for having the bravery to share you work because I know how hard it is.

You keep creating you let me work on getting you in touch with people that’ll appreciate you.

[treviso-nights]

what the fuck color are solas's eyes? i'm trying to write another fanfic but i can't keep calling them gray-violet lmao

[heylavellan]

Happy Friday!How about "tripping, but being caught in the arms of the other" from your RomCom tropes for Emmrich x Rook?

it is time for barry to reveal himself. to be absolutely shit at comprehending his feelings. veilguard ahead! @dadrunkwriting

tell me there's a chance!

rating: m

words: 621

additional notes: referenced sex acts (not in detail), rook being terribly bad at feelings. barry uses he/him!

qReally, Barry should have been paying more attention. Everyone knows that in a foreign place, paying attention to your surroundings is paramount. A dwarven warrior should know that. A former Proving champion should know that. And, especially, a Grey Warden should know that.

Still, the Grand Necropolis is a place of wonder. The skeletons are very strange, after all they were once inside people and used to have tendons and blood vessels surrounding them. Their bones are very clean and a fine grey colour, no black or yellow discolouration. Many of them are digging tunnels, clearing away debris, and generally tending to the maintenance of the necropolis. A bit like the few working golems in Orzammar. But far more macabre. Oghren would shit his pants.

Bellara leads him through a few winding passageways, and spies a well-dressed skeleton. Well, compared to the other working skeletons at least. A hardy pair of goggles, a well-worn leather backpack and a waterskin tucked in his ribcage. The care and attention to that skeleton is actually kind of adorable. Like a freaky little cat.

He misses whatever Bellara says, and immediately trips over something. Barry didn't quite have time to see what caused him to trip. Instead, he careens into a broad chest, hidden behind fine fabrics. A green velvet waistcoat adorns a pin-tucked shirt with two rows of pearly buttons now pressing into the dwarf's cheek. A thick leather coat presses in on either side of his face as lithe arms wrap around his body.

Truly, a phenomenal entrance. "Are you alright?" asks the smoothest Nevarran voice He's ever heard. Right. Not a problem. Just a nice voice.

He leans back and finally gets a decent eyeful of the man who caught him and bronto shit. In that moment, Barry Thorne learns a few new things about him. First, he is a sucker for a refined sounding voice. His previous two wives spoke like filthy dusters. At the time, that was what he wanted. A strong woman who knew how to make even a proud warrior like him feel small. This man, whoever he is, presents him with a new experience. He hopes he gets to hear more of that voice.

Second, he learns he likes men. He always knew it was a possibility that his preferences might change. His second wife didn't need any gadgets to peg him, she had her own prick to use on him. Never bothered him much. After joining the Legion and then the Grey Wardens? Not much attraction at all. But looking at this fine specimen reminds him of more youthful days, when he brought home plenty of women after winning a Proving match. The longing he felt for this spindly man is as intense a passion as he had twenty years prior.

The third is that he doesn't know how to react to this. Hello? After so many years of accepting that he is dead to Orzammar and quite literally dying to the Blight in his veins, Thorne figured there would never be time for anything more. Or finding someone who would willingly help him tend to his needs at 53. He knows he's gone through the wringer. He doesn't keep up with his grooming as he should. Paragons know he hasn't-

"Rook?" asks Bellara interrupting his thoughts.

"Nothing stops this old dwarf," Barry responds with a half smile to the girl.

The fourth thing he realises is that the man he tripped into is looking at him with concern. Rook properly introduces himself, and shakes the necromancer's hand.

"Professor Emmrich Volkarin, of the Mourn Watch," the mage chirps.

The fifth thing hits Barry harder than he can swing his hammer: there might actually be a chance.

[juneiper-art]

“You’re kind,” she said. It was put so simply it stunned him. Lucanis would not have picked out the word ‘kind’ for himself. Was that how she truly thought of him, stripped of all the irony and pettiness of her moods? She thought he was kind. He had thought himself forever changed, twisted into something detestable. But she had never thought of him that way, had she? Even when they first met, she hadn’t thought of him that way. She hadn’t pitied what he had become. She had envied him for what he hadn’t lost.

happy american thanksgiving. fanfic be upon you

[covertleathers]

Seven Sentence WIP Weekday

Thank you @thedissonantverses for the tag!

I hope everyone's week is going well. I am tagging some lovely folks (no pressure to post!) @corvus-frugilegus @hyperions-light @erin-unknown @postcardsfromheapside @virusq @himluv

I'm including a snippet from Chp3 of Boogie in Murderland :>