#rook cannot swim

[liaragaming]

Rook Swimming Party Banter - Faction Edition

Part 1

Mourn Watch

Emmrich: How was Rook never taught how to swim? Vorgoth: THE WATER IS UNTRUSTWORTHY

Crows

Lucanis: How was swimming not part of Rook's training? Viago: We gallivant on rooftops. Where does swimming come into it? Lucanis: We live in a city that - wait. Do you know how to swim? Viago: ... Teia: And, he's gone.

Grey Wardens

Davrin: How do you not know how to swim? Rook: The only requirement to becoming a Grey Warden is fighting darkspawn. Davrin: Do you know how to swim? Antoine: Please don't bring me into this.

Veil Jumpers

Bellara: How did Rook never learn how to swim? Strife: [to Rook] You don't know how to fucking swim?!

Lords of Fortune

Taash: We started from piracy. Our base is on the ocean. How is it Rook can't swim? Isabella: Well, I'm not their damn mother. Taash: Shouldn't swimming be part of the joining requirements? Isabella: Just remind me not to take them out on my ship.

Shadow Dragons

Neve: Did you know Rook doesn't know how to swim? Viper: There's magical ways around that, right? Neve: I suppose. Viper: Good. <or> Neve: Rook's not a mage. Viper: Oh.

[postcardsfromveilguard]

The Ossuary

Featuring Big Shark

[winterwriterstudios]

Lol. My Tags are basically a rant

*you can change the desicions you make, gowever you do not retain the knowledge of it that you have

reblog for larger sample size!!

[fanfoolishness]

the thing with feathers (it isn't hope.)

Trapped and tortured in the Ossuary, Lucanis finds a possible means of escape. It'll only cost his soul. 2244 words, whump, torture, angst, Lucanis + Spite in the days leading up to Rook's rescue. Lucanis and Spite POV.

---

A vast creature with fins and a massive, sweeping tail blots out the distant sunlight, drifting lazily through the open sea above him. Lucanis watches it move on its way, his vision blurring. Pain pulses with every heartbeat.

It is not the pain of blades or poisons, nothing so inelegant as beating or whipping. It’s something in his blood, Zara’s magic invisible to his eye but writ deep in every limb, every breath, every thought. He lies limp on the cold stone table, the leather restraints unnecessary; the searing pain eats at muscle and bone. He couldn’t move if he tried, and oh, he has tried.

Determination flares within him. He cannot move, but he can stay alive. Crows are patient, and as long as he lives, there yet may be a chance to end her. He breathes in -- jagged fire -- and breathes out -- the taste of ashes.

What day is this? What night? It doesn’t matter. Zara’s voice grates at him, each word a pinprick that makes the pain coruscate brighter. She is dictating her research notes again. 

Another reason to kill her. She is insufferably arrogant.

“... a rarer demon, more fragile than some, but with true malevolent potential. Yes. I believe this will be a fine match for our Demon of Vyrantium.” A sneering laugh colors her words, and her hated face swims into view. She wears a sick, sly smile that does not reach her cold eyes. “Ah, you’re awake. Tell me, Crow, are you afraid?”

He tries to hiss out an insult. He is not afraid. Crows are never afraid. 

Hiding in a secret passage -- how he’d run from voices in the hall -- Mama and Papa in their bedroom, spilled wine on the floor -- tongues swollen, faces purple -- they wouldn’t wake up -- 

(Almost never afraid.)

He struggles. All that escapes him is a strangled groan. Zara smiles icily. “Oh, you should be.” 

She raises her arms to begin the ritual, and his blood boils in his veins. He has seen what happened to the other prisoners after this - found dead in their cells, or mutilated and destroyed here in the lab. He shudders, every muscle twisting, spasming, roiling. Zara’s voice deafens him, cruel and evil words in old Tevene, words that carry a power that crushes him to the table. He can’t breathe through bloody foam rising up in the back of his throat. He opens his mouth, gasping for air. He is choking, he is dying, death has come for him at last --

And then there’s something forced into his mouth, foul and sticky and vile, pouring into him. He gags, retches, but he cannot move under the weight of the magic, and it’s swallow or suffocate. 

Lucanis swallows filth and poison, and everything goes red. 

Violet. 

Black.

-

A small SHARP claw

Twist it into the gut, rend and tear

Hate, hate, hate

Cannot get out. Cannot see. World solid. Unrelenting. Scratch scratch rip

Scream!

Scream into dark, into cold, into empty! No Fade!

Must get her. Get enemies. Get who did this.

Feeling... stronger. Eating growing waking up.

Can start to see…

Water. Magic in the bones, in the sand. Prison. Smell of blood and tears and sweat and sick. 

Trapped here. Trapped in --

“What’s happening to me?” 

Sounds like fear. Confusion. Don’t want. Need spite!

“Get out of my head!” 

This prison moves. Made of flesh. Alive and red. Fingers claw at skull, get out, get out, can’t! Fear, fear, fear --

“What did she do to me? Leave me alone!”

Reach. Try. Ah! Flesh moves! A toy, a tool! Legs drag, sssstep sssstep fall, pain, yes.

Breath. Needs it. Tries. (hate this.)

“What are you?” 

Gasp. Tired. So tired. Mortal. Can’t even see the Veil. lost! lonely!

Take tongue and teeth. Another toy! Strange and clumsy. A voice like blood.

“Spite. No. YOU. Get out.”

“This is my body!” Rage. Tasty. sustaining! “I am Lucanis Dellamorte. I am Lucanis Dellamorte. I am Lucanis --”

“Lucanisssss.” 

Tastes like determination. Dissssssappointing. Find the way OUT! Out of Lucanis!

-

You can’t be possessed. You’re not a mage. You can’t be possessed.

Lucanis mutters it under his breath. Runs it around his head. Tries to wear it as a talisman.

He can almost believe it in the quiet of his cell. The thing skittering around in his mind could be a hallucination. He has heard of prisoners talking to themselves after solitary confinement. Perhaps his Crow training in this regard has failed him and he has simply gone mad. It would be shameful, but it would make sense.

Except he has never heard of a hallucination walking a body around like a marionette, running it into walls until it bleeds and bruises, stealing a mouth to moan and growl in garbled speech. Every time, Lucanis wrests his body back in a sick game of tug-o-war. Every time, he dabs at any blood with the edge of his cloak, licks it from his fingers, removes as much trace of injury as he can. He has been lucky that the guards have not yet realized something is… wrong.

“You are Lucanis. Spite is here! Spite needs to get out!” The voice is getting stronger. Clearer. Easier to understand with every passing day, more and more complete sentences, a sense of a… personality.

He distracts himself in every way he can. He dreams of killing Zara and her cronies in loving detail, picturing lacerated kidneys, punctured lungs, torn throats, poison, asphyxiation, drowing, crushed larynxes, broken necks. When that grows dull and he has mapped out every plausible and implausible cause of death he could visit upon them, he dreams instead of Treviso. The scents of the canals, the sound of water lapping against stone, night-blooming jasmine, coffee rich and hot, paella and pasta and stews, cioccalata calda, roasted branzino, fine cheeses, delicate chocolate pastries --

Then he falls asleep again, and wakes up with new scratches and bruises in the opposite corner of the cell from where he fell asleep, and an insidious little whisper in the back of his mind spits mine. Mine. Mine.

But Lucanis is not possessed. This thing calling itself Spite, speaking with a voice filtered through the Fade, it is only his imagination. It has to be.

It is unfortunate that he has always been a poor liar.

-

The laboratory again. They need the restraints this time. Leather rubs against his wrists and ankles hard enough to leave ulcers. Lucanis struggles -- he’ll kill them all for whatever they’ve done to him -- but it isn’t until Zara cuts his arm and twists the beading blood into her magic that the lie shatters.

“Enough is enough, Crow. Where is my demon?”

Something flows through him, unblocked at last by Zara’s spell. It’s powerful, intoxicating, a terrifying loss of control. A shower of violet light erupts from his body, formless, shapeless -- and then wings, gusting fiercely -- 

Zara steps back, fear in her eyes, then greed. “Ahhh, Spite, there you are.”

The lie in his heart dies with a whimper. There is a demon trapped within him, a monster. Zara knows its name; she put it there. His body sags against the table.

I am an abomination.

His efforts to stay in control fail him. Lucanis’ mouth opens, speaking with a voice that isn’t his, equal parts glee and malice. “You know me?” Spite rasps. “Let me OUT!”

Zara’s lip curls in disgust. “I’ve done my part. What’s keeping you from doing yours? He’s just the incubator. Erupt out of him and be done with it. Come, I’ve work for you to do.”

Don’t listen to her, Lucanis pleads, hoping Spite can hear him. She’s the reason we’re trapped like this! She did this to you! To us!

You believe in me? Understand now?

Yes. Yes, I understand what you are, Spite.

Lucanis’ head lifts as he and Spite both regard Zara. “You did this,” Spite accuses. 

“Of course I did,” Zara sniffs. “Now, come.”

She deserves to die for this. Don’t give her what she wants! Don’t --

The world is lost in a haze of violet light, and for a time, he knows nothing.

-

“I’m alive.” Lucanis. Surprised. Confused. Waking in the cell, waking after Zara. He was gone for such a long while. Spite does not know how to count it, but he knows it was not sleep.

Spite used the time well. Studying. Exploring. Understanding that the world is different here. Rules -- mysterious but there to be discovered. Always choices. He made his, back in the laboratory.

He will show Lucanis what he has learned.

Spite stretches. Reaches. Claws out of the human prison now that Lucanis is awake, takes a shape, familiar. 

Lucanis recoils. “Mierda!”

What does that mean?

“Take a guess,” Lucanis says. Suspicious. Staring. Face pale, wary, hunted. He steps around Spite, examines. Smells like shame. “You look like me.”

A shape. Your shape. Easy to take. I know you.

“You do not know me.”

Hate Zara. Hate prison. I know that. You know that.

“True.” Lucanis, sighing, sitting down, eyes searching. “May I ask about the wings?”

No wings now. He wears a Lucanis shape now, and Lucanis does not have wings in the physical world.

“From earlier.”

She called us Crow.

“Yes. I am a Crow. You are not a Crow.”

I want to be a Crow! Flying, fierce, deadly, strong! 

“Fine. Keep the wings, if you must.” Crossed arms. Closed face. Looks sick. Hurt. Zara did things to the body, see it still in winces, bruises. Not like the Fade, there and gone; lasting, lingering.

Spite could not stop her. Blood magic held them still. Hate. Hate! 

“What? You are staring.”

Zara hurts us. We hate her! 

“I thought she was going to kill me.” Lucanis waits. Pauses. Curiosity. How do mortals hold so many spirits? So many emotions? “Why didn’t she? I thought she was trying to get you… out of me.”

Prisons. I am trapped here. You are trapped here. We! We are trapped!

“You… listened to me, when I asked you to stand against her. That is what happened, isn’t it?” Touches face, touches purple-blue flesh, dried blood on lips. “You didn’t leave.”

Not for her! She would use chains of blood! She bound us, she stole me, she put me here! 

“That is two of us.” Dark eyes, hollow, twin voids. “We could… work together.”

Crow contract?

“Not like that. But a deal. You don’t do what she wants, and you help me stay alive. And I will make certain that we kill her and escape.” Determined. No. Not determined.

S p i t e f u l ! 

Yes! To stay alive only to kill, delicious!

More time. More toys. Trial, error, how to use hands and mouth, legs and feet, speak run leap. And better, to hold blades, rip tear kill, blood on the hands, taste it! 

It is a deal. Let us make the deal!

“I will work with you, Spite.” Lucanis reaches out a hand. 

What is it?

“A handshake. It means we have agreed to the deal.”

Reach back. Translucent purple on olive flesh. Agreement. Understanding. Spite lets the shape go, retreats back into the mind, curls up and waits for opportunity.

-

Lucanis paces the cell, tracing step after step. The wounds from Zara’s attempt to extract Spite have largely healed, and he takes advantage of feeling better by staying on his feet. It keeps him awake. If he is awake, he is himself. Mostly. But when he sleeps…

The weight of the deal sits uneasy on him. He has heard mages in the Crows talk of their temptations, the way demons stalk them in the Fade and in places where the Veil is thin, how a deal with a demon can create an abomination. But his deal with Spite came after abomination. None of it makes any damn sense.

He must worry about that later. It is a lifeline, even if it was made in desperation; it is still a blade he didn’t have before. Like any blade, it could kill the wielder just as surely as the target. 

It is the best he can do.

Spite chatters in his mind. The wards can fall. I can take them, Lucanis! I see the tricks and the sneaky locks!

Spite has been telling him this for the past day or two, eager and brash, ready to go. But the guards on them have been doubled since Zara’s failed attempt to take Spite, and Lucanis has to keep forcing Spite back. There will be a chance, but they will only get one. Lucanis knows it in his gut.

When do we escape? When do we kill her? Spite asks, impatient at being ignored. In the few days since their deal was struck, he speaks more easily, more insistently. 

More annoyingly, Lucanis thinks to himself. It gives him a shred of comfort to think of Spite as an irritant, an illusion of control he clings to readily. He is aware this time that it is purely illusory, but if it allows him to get the job done, he will continue.

“Soon,” he murmurs to Spite. He watches the guards through the wards of his cell. There is something different in their behavior. They are agitated, on high alert. They reach for their weapons, and then they are gone, summoned elsewhere. Something is finally happening.

Lucanis smiles, and Spite is there beside him, a violet shadow with a feral grin. 

“Very soon.”

[inquisimer]

7 or 35 for Arlow from the Rook story prompts, whichever catches your fancy more c:

thank you mo!! going with 7, as it suits a headcanon I've been meaning to write out for a while re: Rook's inability to swim.

Arlow has hydrophobia and water-related trauma, and though she can swim (physically at least) by the time of Veilguard canon, she could not when she originally joined the Crows.

Mind the CWs - in the early days, especially before he is Fifth Talon, Viago is far more focused on ensuring Arlow's survival and usefulness as a pawn than he is on kindness.

7. Rook being taught an important skill

Arlow de Riva & Viago | T | 1460 words | cw: child abuse, hydrophobia, whump

-

She cannot swim. Viago learns this, not because she tells him—for which she will face his wrath later—but because one of the other fledglings teases her for it. She decks him, which is fair, and the trainer brings them both before Viago for admonishment.

He taps gloved fingers on the edge of his desk. Sends the boy off with Heir to learn the value of trust within his House. But Arlow—Arlow he keeps for himself. As always.

“Is it true?”

She’s standing loosely at attention, hands clasped at the small of her back, chin jutted out a bit too defiantly to convey respect. Her gaze is fixed somewhere over his shoulder. She nods, just once.

Of course it is. His question was only a formality—she would not have assaulted the boy over a falsehood, he knows. He made her more resilient than that. Still, his jaw tightens; his lips purse into a thin line.

She is not meant to keep secrets from him. Even by omission. Anything could be a weakness; anything could leave them vulnerable, and she is meant to be the one piece on the board that he can move without thinking—without doubting. He lets his anger bleed into his eyes, into the flare of his nostrils, and he sees her teeth dig into the flesh of her cheek. So, she knows that she is in the wrong.

Of course she does, because she is not stupid. An idiot, and a fool, sometimes, but not stupid, never stupid. They take contracts on, in, and around the water with great frequency. Under the water, even, on the rare occasion. With this, she puts herself at a disadvantage, she puts herself at risk—and by extension, puts him, puts their House at risk.

Unacceptable.

In theory, she could weave spells to breathe and propel herself through the water. But such a thing leaves her vulnerable, in turn, to dispels and Purges and magebane, to simple exhaustion at the end of a fight. More importantly, no mage casts well under the pall of fear—and he suspects that this is not a simple lack of skill, because she knows that he will teach her. Harshly, and with a demand that offers no yield, but he has always taught her, as needed, no matter where her abilities faltered.

No, she kept this hidden, for a reason, on purpose. Concealed carefully for years, which is vexing on its own. She should not be able to hide such a weakness, not from him, not for so long. Concern gnaws behind his careful mask. How deeply embedded must the claws of terror be—in her gut, her throat, her chest—that even knowing the consequences, knowing that eventually her secret must recoil with a snap, she had not been able to unclench the protection her mind had warped around it.

Frustration simmers in his mind as he turns over his options. She would need to learn—to swim, yes, but also that she cannot keep secrets from him. Not of this magnitude; ideally not of any magnitude, but absolutely not one that leaves them so blatantly vulnerable.

Learn is not quite right, though. That lesson has already been taught. She must be reminded. This insubordinate impulse burned away and the instincts of fear replaced by the muscle memory of rote training. He stands, suppressing a sigh.

It will not be pleasant. But it must be done.

“Come.”

She falls into step at his shoulder, not looking half as contrite as he would have liked, though her lower lip pulls into her mouth when he scowls.

He watches her from the corner of his eye. As they walk, she keeps the normal surveillance, checking idly for tails or threats or movements of interest while he winds their way down the roof paths and through the market. In this way, he sees the exact moment when she realizes their destination; her teeth release her lip and her eyes widen, ears flattening against the side of her head. Her fingers tighten around the spellblade at her hip, but she does not stumble, stays in perfect step in his shadow.

Her tongue darts out over her lips. “Viago—“

“No.” The word is steel and sharp and in one syllable it is the verbal whipping she was clearly expecting before. She flinches, and lapses back into silence.

In the shadows farthest from the bustle of the city, there is a dock without any vessels and this is where Viago leads her. Still watching from the corner of his eye, so he sees when she loses control and begins to shake. Little shivers that pass over her from tip to toe, like a breeze rippling through an endless wheat field, as much at the mercy of her fear as the chaff and straw in the wind.

The lapping of the water against wood is not bothering him today, but her ears twitch with each wave that comes to shore. Ignoring that, he stands aside and jerks his head, indicating her to walk ahead of him.

She hesitates, and he glares. Hesitation gets an assassin killed. She knows this, and he knows that she knows how to quash the instinct. That she is receding like this, falling backwards into bad habits, is almost as maddening as the secret that she kept.

The secret that he failed to notice.

He does not move his head again—Viago does not ask for things twice, and Arlow does not need to be told more than once. Not by him. This time she pushes past the hesitation; a thread of relief slips through his anger and frustration.

Her shakes come more violently as his presence at her back forces her forward at a steady pace. Released from her blade, her hands fist at her side and she stares resolutely at the sky, as if keeping the murky, dark waters of the Rialto Bay out of her gaze will remove them from proximity as well. Finally, when the toes of her boots align with the last plank of the dock, she stops.

“Give me your weapons,” Viago orders. Mutely, she unhooks her blade and her focus and passes them to him. “Your leathers, as well.”

Her fingers slip on the fastenings of her cape—not yet the finery of a full-fledged Crow, but a mark of…something, something like security and belonging, nonetheless—and it takes her several tries to strip it and her armor from her skin. Left only in a thin tunic and leggings, barefoot and shaking from the cold now, as well, her toes curl over the wood and she looks back up at the sky.

He does not give her any warning before he pushes her into the water.

Because she is expecting one—he can tell. She thinks he will ask her to jump, force her to take the fear into herself and swallow it, disperse it, tie it away in her gut where it cannot see the light of day. That is what they would have done, had she revealed this to him in the normal course of things, and they had come to this point under different circumstances.

That would have been a lesson. This is the reminder.

There are guildmasters who would find their pleasure here, take this as a hobby rather than a necessity. But Viago’s stomach sinks as Arlow does beneath the water. This is not a pleasure. And it is only a necessity because she made it so.

He glowers at the bubbles that mark her depleting breath, counting a measure of sixty before he lowers his walking stick into the water, handle-end first so that she can see where moonlight catches on the metal snakes, and latch on.

Back on the dock, she sobs and splutters, spitting the bay water out of her lungs and struggling to replace it with air even as fear seizes them. Better here than on a job, he tells himself, schooling the sour taste on his tongue into careful neutrality. Better here than at the mercy of a rival House. Better here than anywhere without him, anywhere that he could not supervise and smooth out this chink in her defenses that she has allowed to fester.

He presses his walking stick into her shoulder and she gasps, winces, turns her eyes—wide and glassy with fear—up to him.

“Viago, please, let me—“

“Do not beg,” he says. Not coldly, not quite, but not kindly, either. Stern, unyielding; like the hands that break a poorly healed bone before it can be properly set. “Know yourself. Control yourself, and you will control this.”

He shoves and she rolls over herself, back into the water once more.

[choccy-zefirka]

She laughs when they break the kiss.

But it's not the bitter, derisive snort that Emmrich half-expected… That he feared. Never quite free of that sinking sensation — as if he were balancing on the edge of a ravine, with spikes of shattered ice at the bottom. The premonition of tumbling down, of getting impaled, never left him, not fully, even as he pressed the shroud's kiss blossom into Rook’s hand.

Surely, he misread the signs.

Surely, Rook's companionship the battlefield and at the Lighthouse intoxicated him so much that he forgot himself.

Surely, his blundering attempts at high romance would seem pathetic to a weathered seafarer with so much turmoil in her past — a hopeless, starving childhood where no respite came to her like it did to him; a long, winding path of crime in the ever-sunless slums of Tevinter; a brutal arrest by the uncaring, corrupt Templars, followed by blood-drenched toil as a galley slave.

She has been through so much, battled such pain and darkness, withstood twists and turns of fate that would fit into multiple lifetimes. Meanwhile he, a man nigh twice her age, peacefully trudged along through just one. What if he's insulted her, what if —

She laughs.

The reflection of the silvery-white petals swirls like starlight in her black sclerae. And she laughs. With the same sparkling, giddy wonderment that Emmrich himself felt when he stepped on the white sand of that beach they explored in Rivain, and saw with his own eyes, for the first time in his sheltered life, just how vivid the turquoise of the sea could be.

She laughs, tucking a strand of long black hair behind the delicately carved conch of her ear, and the rush of blood to her helix darkens it from the usual grey — with a subtle tint of green, like the noble patina on the Necropolis statues — to a rich purple. She laughs, gazing down on Emmrich from her surely seven feet of height (a rare occasion when he is not the one that needed to bend down for a kiss).

She laughs — and he cannot help himself.

Tracing an elegant curl through the air with his fingertips — shaped like the musical clef, almost, and raining soft, ethereal-green sparks of magic — he guides a plucked blossom to rest on the top of her head. And then another. And another. Until he has assembled an entire glimmering floral crown between Rook's horns.

She laughs again and grabs him by the hand, raising it to her face to see her reflection in his bracelet. The blush darkens her face almost entirely, and Emmrich holds perfectly still when he takes her in.

He traps his breath in his chest; his pounding heart, underneath his free hand; and the sight of her, the dauntless, fierce Rook, with starlight in her eyes and silver upon her hair, to memory. Selfishly, he hopes that... if he succeeds in taking that next grim step beyond the Veil and back, the memory will stay.

She pulls him into a new kiss, almost lifting him off the ground in her honed, tattooed arms... But when she lets him go, the flowers are askew, and the elation on her face seems to have dimmed. Like a candle flame, stamped out with a cap.

"So," she exhales, sounding oddly... Tired?

"I guess you will want me to fuck you now."

Emmrich makes a highly un-professorial spluttering noise.

That... Is certainly a blunt way to put it. Of course, the fantasies have been there, more and more persistent since the day on the very same fateful beach, when Taash, even more brusque and to the point than Rook, swiftly disrobed and urged their kinswoman to do the same and follow them into the sea.

"C'mon," they said, doing a little stretch to warm up their trapezius, while Harding attempted, very poorly, to duck behind Emmrich and not to look.

"I'm teaching you to swim. What kinda lousy Lord of Fortune doesn't know how to swim anyway?"

"Told ya," Rook said, shielding her eyes from the glare that danced off the truly Lords-worthy bounty of sun-coins on the gently whispering waves. Her other hand rested on her hip, and she'd bent her leg slightly in the knee, with her pants rolled up to keep sea foam off them, and with her utterly remarkable gastrocnemius on full display.

"I was only with the Lords a short stint. Before that, I worked the galleys; and before the galleys, I ran with the Threads. What would I swim in, sewage from some altus jerk's privy? Have you seen the fucking water in Docktown? Have you smelled it?"

"Ugh, now I'm gonna throw up all over you," Taash groaned.

They may have exchanged a little more banter, generously sprinkled with curses in Trade and in Qunlat, but at that point, Emmrich found it as hard to focus as Harding.

That image of Rook, towering so majestically over the waves, has been the subject of many a messy, feverish dream... But to have it phrased like this, in such a... mundane way, suddenly sends Emmrich teetering on that ravine's edge again.

He... He did misread the signs. She may not have detested his silly flirtations; but at the end of the day, this is what it's about. Again. Inevitably. A quick, physical release and a parting of the ways.

Well.

No matter.

There is no shame in that. And he really should be flattered, at his age. This close to his mortal journey's end. Even if the poetic ideal of all-encompassing, undying love will never be his, was never meant to be his — he can afford a sweet indulgence, or several, before he faces eternity. Especially if Rook enjoys it. She deserves no less.

"I wouldn't, ah, phrase it in such a straightforward manner..." he says, fully back in the present. Fully there with her; for her. "But I would be quite amenable to that, yes. Should it please you."

"Please me?"

Rook frowns, as if he'd just slipped into high academic Nevarran, which she has not quite mastered yet. But she will; he knows she will. Her life’s circumstances have not been too conducive to keeping up a reading habit, but now that the Lighthouse has opened up its plunder of books to her, Emmrich has seen her devour tome after tome with increasing dedication. He... He is so proud of her.

"What does pleasing me have to do with anything? I'm the one that pleases people. You have to know the drill."

She rolls her shoulders and sighs again. Her air is deliberately cynical, just as when she tried to convince Emmrich that no, she shouldn't be in their "fucking book club", it's not for the likes of her... And just as back then, the last remnants of light rapidly leave her eyes.

"Big, tall Qunari mommy. Scars and tattoos for days. Here to step on your chest. Grab you by the throat. Slap you around. Lock my thighs round your head so you never know when it might pop like a melon. Strap one of those enchanted cock trinkets to my hips and ram it up your ass till you can't walk straight. I can even try to growl, but I'm no adaari, so I can't promise we'll do this as well as Taash and Harding. I..."

Her hand slips off his, and her fists clench, pale-knuckled. Her eyes dart up and down Emmrich's face. Searching. Pleading. For a fleeting moment, it seems like the light is back... But it's just the glint of unshed tears.

"I dunno, are you into being insulted? I know I still talk like a fucking... like a Threads bruiser, for all the fancy books I've read... People expect me to always be… foul-mouthed. But it gets kinda awkward for me... Calling someone names during sex."

"Rook..." Emmrich whispers.

Whatever horrible, murky thing is roiling within her, Emmrich can feel its spill-off seep through his own heart. Flood his lungs till it's hard to breathe.

"Rook, darling, you don't have to — "

"I'll do it if you want," she insists. "I'll be as rough as you like, if that makes you want me as much as I want you... I know that unless I show people what a... feral sex beast I am..."

Her voice breaks, and she buries her face in her hands.

"No-one would want me at all."

She crumples into herself, desperate to make herself appear smaller. As though... As though that would suddenly make her softer. More loveable. More worthy of being wanted.

At last, Emmrich tumbles into the ravine, the ice driving deep into his chest. But his heart is not ripping itself apart for his own sake.

"Dearest, no — " he pleads with her, grabbing onto her tense brachialis, as if to anchor her in place. "No, no! You are no beast! You do not have to force yourself to act like one, just because people who... who purport to be your lovers do not see you for who you are!"

He gets tangled up in his own syntax, his mind a messy mush of memories. Not just Rook sunning her chiseled body on the beach; gorgeous as she looked in that moment, that was but one facet of her. He thinks, all at once, at the speed of a fire spell barrage, of Rook discovering her love for reading. Rook, first uncertainly, then with more and more confidence, more inner force, falling into the rumbling, tide-like rhythm of a Qunari verse Taash would teach her to recite. Rook talking to a lost child in the Warden fortress, amid the shrieks of darkspawn and the gloating of the mad goddess in the sky. Rook guiding a stumbling, wounded Veil Jumper back to camp. Rook emptying an entire coin purse into a little cracked bowl extended by a Minrathous beggar with a grimy, shaking hand. Rook talking with her hands, distracted almost to a Bellara-like extent by the story behind the dish she is cooking, while Lucanis darts frantically to rescue the burning pan from under her nose. Rook raising her thumb as she lays on her back, overpowered by a living blanket of affectionate stray cats.

Rook laughing. Oh, Rook laughing.

Rook being herself. Warm. Alive. Beautiful.

How could they not see that, see past her height and built, no matter how impressive? How could they not see... her?

Hesitantly, Rook parts her fingers; moves her hands away from her face, now stained and blotchy with running kohl and muddied glitter. Emmrich catches her in his grasp and gives her a little nod of encouragement. A kiss over her metacarpals. A gentle token of unspoken praise for being so, so very brave.

"What do you want, darling?" 

"I..."

She stutters, like when she first started making out words on a page, after years of dismissing herself as too uncultured, too stupid to even try. But as he did during that precious, unforgettable evening, Emmrich nods along in keen interest. And eventually, she relaxes.

"I... I know it's fucking vashedan, but... I want to go in one of those fancy bath houses, like we have in Tevinter... Or — or I guess they have in Tevinter. I would never have been allowed anywhere near one; only saw the inside when I had to rob some magister on vacation. Maybe there's a place like that in Nevarra somewhere, I don't know... Or maybe Maevaris could pull some favors... For friends of the Shadows... Anyway."

A blissful smile wanders onto her lips. Another moment Emmrich would love to carry between his flesh-cleansed ribs into lichdom.

"I want to get a bathing pool all... All for you and me..."

The blush returns, more intense, more adorable, than before.

"With petals on the water, little candles along the edge... Maybe a few wisps? I want you to undress me, very slow, not ripping anything off me, and not having me rip things off you... And kiss me in whichever places you can reach. I want to show you my scars, and tell you how I got them, and look into your eyes as you listen... With those mabari pup sparkly eyes you get sometimes — yes, like right now!"

They both laugh, and Emmrich moves his arms to wrap around Rook's waist. Oh, listening to her has always been an utter joy.

"We can rub some kinda perfumed oil into other another, too! And then we can go into the water, and sit back, all warm and fancy, maybe nibble things off those little fruit and cheese platters. Have a little wine... Start kissing along the way... And all the time, you'll tell me that I am beautiful..."

Unexpectedly, she begins to choke up again, cracks starting to run both through her idyllic scene, and her voice.

"No, wait; that's too much, right?"

A little more of Emmrich's heart breaks. Here he was, fretting over offending her with flowers — while she was so starved for affection that even the simplest, most casual rendezvous of two lovers in a bath house seems like too much.

"Far from it, my dear. It wouldn't be too much even if..."

He stands on tiptoe and whispers into her ear, nigh scorched by the burst of heat radiating from her.

"... Even if I set down my wine glass and my platter, and ran my fingers all over your body, venerating every inch, warm and sensitive under my touch, outside and within..."

She whimpers in anticipation, pupils widening.

Emmrich allows himself a slow, languid smirk. Even if all his years of waiting and searching never brought him what he wanted, they did leave him with experience. And even if Rook, so young, from a world so unlike his own, will eventually — inevitably — add him to a litany of lovers past and move on, the least he can do is help her live that sweet dream... Of being cherished like the princess she is.

"Wasn't that a lovely sound, my darling?" he teases. "It will be such a delight to hear more. I shall write to Maevaris post-haste."

"You — " she shakes her head in blissful disbelief. "You are the greatest treasure I'd ever found."

"You flatter me, dearest," Emmrich murmurs, sealing their little pact with the third kiss of the evening. "No treasure is quite like you."

[askthepassengers]

Rook / Neve Headcanons!!

Ive been obsessed with Rook/Neve for the last month and wanted to share some of my Headcanons!! (I'll always accept more if anyone else has some ofc! the more the better!)

Rook / Neve Headcanons Part 1

(My)Rook goes by They/Them and She/her, has no real preference though

They are often very personal about their relationship, Neve more so than Rook and she loves that they respect that. Doesn’t stop Rook from being bratty around others unfortunately 

From the moment they shared their first kiss on the docks, Neve spent every single night in Rook’s room. Only ever cuddling and making out before falling asleep. [Until yknow when]

Neve absolutely loves marking her territory in very visual spots. Rook makes sure her love bits are out of the sight because she respects Neve’s professional image.

Rook will deny it if ever brought up/asked but she is always the little spoon. She finds comfort in being held, finds it helps her sleep better. [She got some of the best sleep in her life the first night she and Neve spent the night together.

Rook often shuts down/over stimulates, especially after a mission. Neve often helps her by holding her in her arms tightly or just talking about old cases that she solved while Rook leans her head on her shoulder.

Neve loves Rook's hair. No matter the occasion, sitting down next to each during a team meeting, just hanging out, making out, sleeping etc, her fingers are always entangled in Rook's hair.

Rook loves Wintersend[Christmas basically], Neve doesn’t understand it, but finds it cute

Rook will always bring home stray animals and Neve has to convince her that the can’t keep them all

Neve has a morning skincare routine with a lot of expensive products. Rook will mess with them, not know what any of it is, when Neve isn’t around. Neve knows that Rook does this and doesn't mind.

When Neve first met Rook, she never had a specific brand of perfume she used but the moment she found out Rook loved the smell of Vanilla, she found the best, most expensive brand and wore it exclusively. Rook always smells like strawberry cheesecake because of her body wash.[MAU She bought one bottle from Bath & body works and never looked back]

Rook is surprisingly the better influence with children, while Neve accidentally drops cuss words and the kids learn them.

Neve tends to talk constantly about the books she was currently reading, Rook listens to her even if it's the seventh time that day

Neve is always up before Rook, and on the odd day when Rook wakes first, she’ll prepare breakfast and her favourite coffee for Neve. [The odd time Lucanis pushes Rook away to finish because wtf does Rook know about a healthy breakfast] 

When Rook tends to ramble on about stupid stuff, Neve will kiss her just to shut her up

Will constantly say ‘Huh’ to anything Neve says when she's bored because she knows it will piss her off

One time Neve called Rook ‘chuckles’ and Rook broke down sobbing. Neve had never seen her girlfriend like this before and was terrified.

Rook tends to show their affection more often when they’re alone but doesn’t complain when Neve shows her affection in public

Rook’s love language is acts of service while Neve is more words of affirmation and physical touch

 Rook will often times zone out when Neve talks, just staring at her with giant heart eyes

When Neve is neck deep in a case and she’s too busy to come home/talk to Rook, Rook will send Wisps to deliver lil love notes / In a modern setting, she’ll send their pet cat 

Modern NeveRook have a orange tabby cat named Hermie

Rook on more than one occasion, has fallen asleep while hugging Neve

Neve was the first of the group to realize Rook couldn’t swim/was afraid of water. She is SUPER protective of them whenever some, most likely Taash, tries to tease her about it or pull Rook towards water. She once blasted Taash like thirty feet with her Ice into a lake for trying to force Rook into the lake.

(My)Rook hates fish. Absolutely cannot stand the taste or smell but will never not get Neve some grilled fish from her favourite spot when she knows Neve is neck deep in work, and she knows she hasn’t eaten and won’t step away to get something. 

Rook’s parents LOVE Neve. They adore her so much that they call her more than their own daughter just to talk. 

Before they had gotten together, Rook had constantly flirted with Isabella whenever they were in Rivian with Taash. It pissed Neve off more when the Pirate would return the flirtation and purposely make it more explicit because she knew that Neve had a crush on Rook. [It was her way to push Neve to admit her feelings]

These are the first ones that I've come up with and will definitely add to! I hope you guys like them!!!

[ruehyte]

lrb (do people say that here Oh No) but

I keep thinking about how Emmrich, the man with the crippling fear of death, the man who has a panic attack if he thinks of his own mortality for long enough, fell in love with the absolute idiot who cannot go ten minutes without trying to drown themselves.

Rook? Can't swim. Scared of heights. INCREDIBLY reckless on the battlefield no matter how good you are at the game. Keeps getting KICKED IN THE TITS BY A DRAGON. Has the directional sense of a headless chicken.

I'm just saying what's probably already been said but that man has grey hair because of us. Emmrich Volkarin thank you for still loving me after having to pull my broken body out of a very shallow lake for the fifth time in five minutes.

[liviavanrouge]

Twst

Name: Jelena

Nickname(s):

-Puffin(Floyd) -Mademoiselle Tech-Lady(Rook) -Topaz, Toto, Jel, Lena, Lele, Jelly, Jelfish(Livia, Lilia, Silver, Sebek, Malleus) -Tech Potato(Vil) -Money grabber(Azul, Leona, Fellow, Rollo)

Twisted from: Topaz(HSR)

Birthday: Ocotber 23rd

Age: 16(???)

Species: Human

Homeland: Valley of Thorns(Original Home is Unknown)

---------

Family:

-Unnamed Mentor -Lilia(Battle Instructor) -Livia(Best Friend/Sister figure) -Silver(Best friend/Brother figure)

---------

Hobbies: Studying animals

Pet Peeves: Being a human calculator

Favorite Food: Meat stick with cheese

Least Favorite Food: Livia's fruit stuffed food

~~~~

Dominant Hand: Left

Height: 5'8

Dorm: Octavinelle

Grade: Freshman

Class: 1-D

Club: Board Games Club

Best Subject: Mathematics

---------

Appearance:

~

Personality: Jelena is mysterious to those who don't know her and can be quite stubborn with giving out a name. Those she is close towards, she can be nicer to but that doesn't exempt them from her sarcastic or witty comments every now and then. She can be quite sweet if you're not on her bad side. She is also actively seen with Sneeze, who Livia gifted to her as a new friend so she wouldn't be lonely whenever the others weren't around.

Can be quite energetic when the time calls for it and is a very fast runner when she's determined to make a grand escape or get away from people who got on her last nerves. A very smart student, as shown in Ch 3 where she immediately pieced together that Livia and Ogre were the same people due to Livia using magic to make another version of herself temporarily. Has no tolerance for bullies and will fire warning shots from a special blaster Lilia had made specially for her.

She was close with her mentor who when missing and tries hard to hide the other part of her life from the people who found her, feeling bad for lying to them at times. She is quite sassy at times and others have stated that despite being best friends, she and Livia seemed more like they were enemies but in reality it's not and she's explained with much patience that's just how the two of them are.

~~~~

Unique Magic

Jelena's Unique Magic is called "Technical Advantage", where she displays a screen in front of her, which feeds her information of the area she's in and allows her to gather information others cannot. Jelena also says that she won't even need the screen at times and her feet will send magnet waves across the area, scanning everything and bringing back what the waves have found.

Spell: "Give me the Knowledge I need! Technical Advantage!"

~~~~

Trivia:

-Jelena tried Livias fruit stuffed meat when she was found and puked for the next ten minutes -Jelena states whenever she sees or smells Livias special food, she has to run away to the nearest bathroom to throw up -Sneeze is closer to Jelena than she is with Livia, which is why she was gifted to her -Jelena is unaware of the one-sided beef Azul has with her when it comes to her money-making skills without using a contract -She and Livia spooked Malleus together on Halloween -Jelena almost transferred to Diasomnia were it not for Lilia convincing her to stay in her current dorm to make new friends -Jelena said that she fell into a river that washed her up in the Valley of Thorns then Lilia found her alongside Silver -She absolutely despises Leona's lazy attitude but respects him at the same time -She over bought Christmas gifts one time and got scolded by Malleus and Lilia -Her original age is currently unknown and Lilia gave her a birthday based on the day he found her -She taught herself how to fire the special blaster Lilia gave her when she was only eight years old -She has a Magicam Account that gives advice on how to make money without scamming others or resorting to other bad means -She has a close relationship with Ruggie, finding him cool with how hard he works -Lilia states that he had to force Jelena to learn how to swim due to her nearly drowning -She and Livia always run through the halls of school and other places, liking to race and has kept score of who won each time -Jelena gave Lilia a small heart attack when she went missing for three days straight and was found in a foxes den, covered nearly from head to toe in mud and having stuff in her hair

[nerdee-blondee]

i haven't stopped thinking about this deleted raunchy scene with lucanis ever since i saw it ☠️

if i was a fanfic writer i would be BUSTING out a one shot but ALAS i am not SO here i will give you my description on how this scene would go with my rook Valeria ✨

the premise is, my LOF valeria will be traveling to tevinter and isabela gives her a little side mission since she's in the area to find a relic that is submerged in water. (this will also take place after the almost-kiss scene in the pantry so valeria and lucanis are a WEE BIT awkward atm)

(WE ARE ALSO retconning that at least my rook can't swim. there is NO WAY IN HELL that my PIRATE LORD OF FORTUNE rook can't swim.)

SO valeria will bring lucanis and neve on this excursion. but neve will have gotten a lead on a tip and have to leave this outing to head for dock town, so it just leaves lucanis and valeria.

they get to this place where the information they have to go off says it is and see it's a beautiful little oasis area. and valeria starts to strip off her armor so she can swim down and grab the relic. lucanis, who is DESPERATELY trying not to stare at her undressing form, makes a snide comment about "not being able to swim" and valeria will get defensive like "I'LL HAVE U KNOW i most definitely CAN swim but you try swimming with all that armor and gold that i wear" "well maybe all that armor and gold is a restriction in battle?" "YOU try being a treasure seeking pirate WITHOUT all the gold"

and the tension from their previous NOT kiss will dissipate. than valeria will be like "this would go a lot faster if you came in and helped me find the damn thing". and so lucanis, after a beat, would start stripping down as well and both would go into the crisp clear waters. fully focused on finding this relic, they are all business for a time. until eventually they find it and all is well and good with their side mission. until lucanis gets out and looks back to valeria and asks "are you getting out?". as valeria is now floating in the waters says "have you ever dreamed about being a fish?" and this would stir a whole conversation about valeria's childhood as lucanis takes a seat on the edge of the water to listen.

"i miss when my life was simple and all i had to worry about was why i couldn't be a fish and be able to swim in the seas forever. not have to constantly worry about 2 ancient elven gods and the whole state of the world crumbling around me..." after this moment of vulnerability valeria would sit up and, like the little shit she is, send water careening over at him. and lucanis, now wet again, shakes his head and jumps in to splash her himself. and they have a really nice "battle" where valeria will use some magic to accurately get him in the face. and then lucanis will dive under water to grab her ankles and pull her under the water's surface. after this they would both remerge and laugh in a way that haven't been able to since all of this god-hunting started. their laughter dies down as they are just looking at each other and then they both realize they are a little too close. and they have too little clothes on. both of them just look at each other. not wanting to break whatever is happening in this moment between them. then very slowly, not wanting to scare him off, valeria goes to reach for a stray piece of hair that is stuck on lucanis' forehead. she wipes it away and slowly brings that hand to cup his cheek. he full on melts into her touch as both of their breathing seems to pick up a little. he opens his eyes that he didn't realize he closed and looks into her eyes and sees deep in her eyes that same desire from back in the pantry. and this time, he cannot find it in himself to ignore it.

he surges forward and kisses her. their first kiss. it's literally wet. and kind of clumsy as first kisses go. a small squeak leaves valeria's mouth as it happens and now, she finds herself melting into his brief touch. the kiss is over as quickly as it began. and they are both staring at each other and panting as if they had just run a marathon. they again stare into each other's eyes and both notice that the other's irises are being swallowed up by their pupils. one kiss has set both of them off. neither of them knows who started this next round of kisses but they know they neither of them want to stop. they are hungrily grabbing at each other and their lips don't leave each other. as if the others lips have all the answers to all the questions in the universe. her hands are caressing his beard and his face while his one hand is rooted at the base of her neck and in her hair while the other has a death grip on her hip.

than after a few of the best minutes of just savoring each other's kisses, lucanis brings his lips to all over her face. a kiss on the nose. on the forehead. on both cheeks. on the corners of her mouth. all, he hopes, conveys his apologies to not being able to show his love attraction for her sooner. and, as if she understood this sentiment, valeria gently places her hand on the back of his head while he indulges. as he feels her hand on the back of his head he groans and brings his lips down to her neck. when he gets to her neck, she lets out a gasp. she already has a sensitive neck but his beard there makes her squirm in the most delicious way. after hearing her gasp, he lets out another groan that turns more into a growl and he starts to lavish her neck with his tongue and small bites....

AAAAND THAT'S WHERE WE GET THE CUT IMAGE. after finishing typing ALL THAT i realized i basically wrote a fanfic LOLOL. but YEA this is how my valeria and lucanis would have their first kiss and almost immediately fuck but they are able to restrain themselves.

their FIRST TIME would probably be right after murder of crows, and after the deleted gondola scene! WE ARE DESCREATING VILA DELAMORTE BABY 😏😏

[liaragaming]

Rook Swimming Party Banter

Taash: You're just gonna watch? Davrin: Sink or swim. It's the only way to learn. Taash: That's not how I was taught. Davrin: ... Taash: Pretty sure Rook's sinking. Davrin: Yeah...

...

Lucanis: I once had a contract who tried to flee across the Minanter river. Davrin: *laughter* That river is full of monsters! Lucanis: Oh, the river monsters definitely ate them. One of the easiest contracts I ever fulfilled, if a bit anticlimactic. Davrin: At least there's no monsters in this water. Lucanis: That we know of.

...

Spite: Why... water... hurt... Rook? Emmrich: It is not the water itself that is harmful. It is rather the fact that Rook cannot float. Spite: Can... Spite... float? Emmrich: An emotion can linger. Floating is... hm. Lucanis: Please, don't confuse him.

... Harding: I thought you were watching them! Bellara: Sorry! I got distracted! Harding: Can't you magic them out? Bellara: Um, the gauntlet isn't really built for water rescue. Can't you magic them out? Harding: If there were rocks around, sure!

...

Davrin: *groan* I'm starting to think Rook does this on purpose. Assan: *questioning squawk* Davrin: No, boy. You stay here where it's safe. I'll go get them.

...

Emmrich: Have you taught Assan to swim? Davrin: No! He still hasn't learned how to fly! Emmrich: The act of swimming comes natural to most animals as I understand it. Davrin: And I suppose you've tested this theory with Manfred? Emmrich: Manfred is a skeleton, and bones I'm afraid do not float. Davrin: And Assan has nearly 250 of them.

...

Harding: We should start charging Rook for this. Lucanis: Now you're talking!

...

Neve: There they go again. Emmrich: *sigh* Honestly, Rook, Manfred doesn't give me anywhere near as much trouble around water.

[callsign-mimic]

Masterpost

Allo! I'm Mimic, and I write sometimes. Pronouns are she/he/they. This is an 18+ blog, adult swim hours only. MDNI

Links to writings below the cut (cannot guarantee timely updates)

AO3

Ficlets:

Baking with Gaz and Soap (SFW, fluff)

Nikolai's Hugs (SFW, fluff)

Making Donuts with Soap (NSFW)

Nikolai's Dad Bod (SFW)

Café 141 (dark!141 coffee shop AU)

Fics:

Threads of Moonlight (Price x GN!Reader, SFW, fluff)

A Waltz With Patience (CoD OC fic, Castle x Mimic, mostly SFW)

Oral Fixation (CoD OC fic, Castle x Mimic, Rook x Chaos, slightly suggestive silly fluff)

CoD OCs "The Warforged":

A Part of the Pack (CoD OC fic, Saint x Mimic, NSFW at end)

Strangers in Strange Places (CoD OC fic, Silverado x Mimic, NSFW)

Captain Bastian "Big Papa" Reinhart

Lieutenant Renee "Mimic" Foster

Sergeant Michael "Stripper" Johnson

Sergeant Logan "Rusty" Steiner

[gwynbleiddyn]

oc week 2025 shenanigans ahoy

inspired by the wonderful @sunshinemage's post (though i will be less artistic and far more cryptic)

it's been literal years since i've ventured into the waters of oc kiss week so this year i have decided to jump straight into the deep end for no good reason other than i crave the OC content

what does this mean

it means i am once again going to be tearing through written drabbles like a deepstalker on rocks or whatever they go cronch cronch on

i am predominantly focused on dragon age for this, and these drabbles will be (mostly) in response to the ockissweek prompts which are:

desperate

first

stolen

reunion

worship

forbidden

caught

how does this work

LAWLESSLY. my askbox is open for people to jump in with an OC of their choice, and select an OC of mine (they'll be listed down below!) but with a little twisty twist, so in step by step order:

pick your beloved oc that you wish to use for blood sport oc kisses

browse the shortlist or, if you're feeling brave, wade into the depths of my oc page where unknown horrors lie in wait, and select one of my ocs for tribute/sacrifice/kisses

browse the lovely little prompt list above and consider the vibes

when you have your oc, my oc, and a prompt you'd like to see filled, CONGRATS YOU'RE HALFWAY THERE

now, for my little twist, what i would LOVE you to do is:

pick a song that represents your chosen blorbo and send me the title/artist so i can also enjoy it while i write👀

(OPTIONAL) and also give me a word that you would love to see represented! it could be a colour, an emotion, an item -- literally anything. could be innocuous, could be meaningful. it's just extra ✨flavour ✨

a point (or two) of note:

none of these will necessarily be romantic unless i know the oc well and it's something we've talked about, however i am absolutely not against some Fruity Tension somewhere. feel free to add this into your request, otherwise, i will likely default to platonic kisses!

depending on how many requests i get, the drabble lengths will also vary. i am at the mercy of whatever my braincell wants to do, and i won't force a long drabble if i feel its detrimental to the vibe im going for. so pls just be aware that some drabbles may be longer than others, but be assured i put the same bit of care and mildly unhinged writer love into everything i do!

who is this for?

i dearly miss the Olden Days of Yore where dragon age ocs made up the resplendent tapestry of my dashboard from hither to yonder and i like to think i can recreate that old feeling, so i would absolutely love to reach as many people as possible!

you don't have to be a mutual or anything just some guy with an idea and an oc you want to subject to my roster of miscreants, which lies below the cut for ur viewing pleasure

aforementioned roster of miscreants

i'm gonna keep the shortlist, well, short, i guess. these are my mains, the ones i'm comfortable writing anyday anyhow any which way. you are also very welcome to look at my full character page to see if any of those take your fancy - just make sure you're in the Dragon Age section!

Rion Severan - Warden Inquisitor (DA:O / DA:I Protag) [he/him]

pushing 50, certified DILF, ego only dwarfed in size by his banged-up and bleeding heart, which he consequently keeps locked in a cage of his own poor design. unlock at your own risk.

likes: beaches, dogs, rivaini wine, sunsets, antivan wine, a nice sword, tevinter wine

dislikes: ferelden

Kerros Severan-Laidir - Rook (DA:Veilguard Protag) [he/him]

young son of a gun who unfortunately has his father's tendency to get involved in saving the world. an unrepentant Lord of Fortune, he lives for gold and glory, but if sheer love and willpower could keep him alive he'd outlive the world.

likes: good treasure, the ocean, the smell of gaatlok, doing things just because, swimming in various bodies of water, and big boats (and he cannot lie)

dislikes: the fade, magical exposition (please write him the sparknotes version), political bureaucracy

Beren Ingellvar - Veilguard Companion (DA:Veilguard) [they/them]

ancient. unknowable. literally torn apart and put back together through the unabating power of a mother's love. their hands have never touched a thing without reverence. there is nothing in their eyes but time. they would love to smoke a pipe with u tho :)

likes: magic. spirits. theoretical discussion. books on theoretical discussion. lectures. nevarran academia. silver jewellery.

dislikes: hot places, coconuts, bitter coffee, cities, books with narrow margins and unindented paragraphs

[queenmuzz]

6. and 7. please

6. What is their favorite thing to do together? Do they share any hobbies? Does your Rook teach their partner their own hobbies? Does the partner teach Rook theirs?

Zea Ingellvar:

She likes taking walks through Arlathan with Emmrich. There's something soothing about the vegetation growing as it will, no pruning, no careful cultivation like at the Memorial, every plant grows where it will, a surprised of what will be growing around the corner.

Emmrich loves teaching her plant names, both in Trade, Tevene, and Nevarran, their uses in medicine and alchemy, especially the ones that have fragrant properties, or those used in the preservation of the dead. Usually, their treks end up with her loaded up with samples and supplies in her pack, but she doesn't mind. She just loves hearing Emmrich talk.

Her own hobbies, such as she has, are harder to share, mostly because she doesn't feel like they would be interesting to someone as knowledgeable and learned as Emmrich. No doubt he would find her maps of the Necropolis, helpfully updated and accurately changed with each shuffle quite boring, but she is surprised at how fascinated he is at how detailed she has made it, the fact she has the text labeling each family crypt, even the extinct lines, each using the correct historical font, so that it makes navigating via reading tomb names much easier. Milo De Riva:

Unlike the other two, He and Lucanis enjoy the urban life. Each betting each other the fastest route to reach a tower in Dock Town, or to get from the cafe to the Cantori casino in least amount of time, with added challenges of not being seen, not using their hands. Or not using the ziplines. Winner has to buy the next coffee.

Lucanis is trying to teach Milo to swim. Surely a Crow that lives in Treviso should KNOW how to traverse the canals. 'HOW DID YOU SURVIVE TO BECOME A CROW WITHOUT THIS SKILL?!' he asks as he dumps Milo in, intending to let his sense of survival and adrenaline to bring Milo to the surface. It doesn't take, Milo sinks like a lead weight, and as Lucanis grows more concerned and at war over whether to dive in and save Milo, Spite decides he's had enough, and drags Milo out.

Perhaps he will have to start in shallower water first.... Milo's hobby is deceptively simple. Feeding birds. No, not seagulls like Taash does, throwing the feed on the ground as the flock pecks at it.

Milo specializes in the infamously skittish ruby-throated peawhips, native to Treviso, small sparrow sized birds that will fly at the merest movement. So Milo instructs Lucanis on how to remain perfectly still, for up to an hour, hand outstretched with seeds, until one brave and plucky bird lands on his hand, and cautiously takes a peck at the offerings. The reward is the gentle calling of 'Mi-LOOO, Mi-LOOO' that alerts the other birds that it's safe to approach. It's actually very soothing, to remain still, to empty himself of tension. Even Spite seems to quiet down, for a while.

Lucanis can't help but notice his fellow Crow shares the same name as the bird call.

7. Are they a physically affectionate couple? Are they fine displaying those affections in public or do they prefer to be in private? If they're not, how do they prefer to show their love instead?

Zea Ingellvar

It takes a while, but eventually she makes up for lost time with expressing her love for Emmrich. At first it's small kisses and caresses in private, until she realizes that the ENTIRE group knows about their relationship. Then she gets more comfortable at it, although Emmrich lets her take the pace.

Milo De Riva

To an outside observer, you'd never notice that Lucanis and Milo were a couple, in private, or public. There's no kisses, hugs*, or any sort of hand holding between them. It's understandable, they are both Crows, and one of them has a Demon within him that he cannot quite trust himself with.

Neve though, she notices. Lucanis makes Milo's favourite dessert on more than one occasion, and his eyes soften when he looks at Milo, when he thinks no one else is looking. Milo for his part, stops testing his food for poison, but only if Lucanis is the one that makes it, and Neve can't help but notice that he always walks and sits on Lucanis's left side, Milo's 'weak' side due to his eye injury. A subtle way of showing trust.

Taash can tell because they reek with attraction smells whenever they around.

*When Milo has broken out of the Fade, the two touchstarved men cling to each other in full view of the others, both thinking they'd never see the other man alive again.

[teyrnacousland]

Rook can't swim is a fun headcanon and I love it, but I cannot imagine any scenario in which Viago de Riva, most paranoid man in all of Thedas, would let his favourite fledgling continue on in their lives not knowing a skill that, especially in a country on the water in cities full of rivers and canals, is a necessary survival skill.

[theshotsheardacrossworlds]

Redcliffe

Agi receives a missive from the Inquisitor that changes everything. Luckily, she doesn't have to deal with it alone. Not anymore. SFW.

“Alright, let’s get everyone around the table at the Lighthouse and discuss our next move.” Agnes said to Lucanis and Neve before they passed through the eluvian in Treviso to return to the Lighthouse.

An overall good day.

Maybe Emm and I can share a bath later…

However, any thoughts of a romantic bath with her lover soon disappeared when she saw Harding sobbing in the dining hall with Taash trying very hard to comfort the dwarf.

“What’s going on? Harding, what happened? Is everything okay?” Agnes asked, taking a step towards her. She then felt Bellara’s hand on hers and shot her an inquisitive look.

What’s going on?

Bellara shoved a letter in her hand and muttered several apologies.

The letter, as Agnes discovered, was devastating.

“Yet I fear that even Skyhold won’t be sufficient. Already the darkspawn have claimed Redcliffe, and the shores of Lake Calenhad writhe with the blight’s corruption. Our land sickens and dies, and I fear that whoever among Ferelden’s people live through this relentless assault will starve to death instead.”

Redcliffe…

No.

NO.

NO!

MUM!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

The letter fell from her hands as she turned on her heel to leave the dining hall, tears streaming down her face. She only made it a few steps into the courtyard when Emmrich stopped her, his jeweled hands on her shoulders and concern painting his features. “Dearest, wha—”

She shook her head and tried to shake him off. “I need to find Mum. Redcliffe…Redcliffe’s been…”

My home is blighted.

The lake I learned to swim in…to fish in…to skate on…it’s dying.

The forest where I would hone my magic is dying.

My friends and neighbors, those who survived, are starving.

The flowers…remember the flowers…there’s hope even among the blight…

“Darling, look at me. Look at me.” He commanded softly, waiting for her gaze to meet him. “We just got a missive from the Inquisitor. She has your mother. She’s safe and on her way here.” His hands moved from her shoulders to her pale cheeks. “I-I’m so sorry, Agi.”

Mum is safe.

Mum is fine.

Mum is on her way here.

But home…

It was then that Agnes Aldwir, otherwise known as Rook, threw her arms around Emmrich’s neck and sobbed uncontrollably.

***

The rest of the day passed in a blur---the tearful reunion with her mother; settling her mother in her room while she moved her basics into Emmrich’s; and then writing to adventuring friends to call in every favor I have. My people won’t starve. They won’t. I won’t let them.

“Dearest.”

She looked up from the last letter she was composing in Solas’s music room and saw that Emmrich placed a bowl of pasta on her desk. Her lover’s expression was grim, and she imagined hers was no better.

“You need to eat.”

She shook her head. “I’m almost done, and then I will. I promise, love.”

If Thancred can smuggle food into—

He cleared his throat and clasped his hands together in front of him. “It can wait until tomorrow, my love.” His expression softened, and not the first time that day, she felt tears in her eyes. “You cannot take care of others if you’re not taking care of yourself. That is what you’ve told us time and time again.” He dragged a chair next to hers, sat, and wrapped a long, slender arm around her shoulders, pressing a kiss to her head. “Let me take care of you, darling.”

Wonderful. The most wonderful man.

Exhaling deeply, she nodded, a small smile tugging on her lips. “Perhaps…perhaps that wouldn’t be so bad, love.”

Emmrich barked a laugh. “Dearest, you positively wound me! ‘Wouldn’t be so bad?’ My goodness, whatever will I do with you?”

She rolled her eyes playfully as she lifted her fork. Penne with vodka sauce. One of my favorites. Thanks, Lucanis. “I don’t know about you, but I’m going to eat this and then think about a place to live for Mum once the whole ‘killing gods’ business is over.” Oh fuck me, thank you so much Lucanis. So good. Perfect after a day like today. I wonder if Emm asked him to… She paused to have another bite and heard him clear his throat.

“I’m sorry, darling, but I…well, your mother and I have already spoken about that. She’s going to stay with us. If, however, we decide that particular arrangement isn’t working some reason or another, then I will purchase her an apartment close by.” He smiled softly, one of his bejeweled hands on her thigh. “You needn’t worry about this, my love. It’s settled.”

Her free hand found his and gave it a squeeze. “Thanks, love.”

Glancing at their joined hands, he sighed. “Your burdens, your troubles are not yours to shoulder alone, my darling. As you have been a pillar of support and love to me---a beautiful new constant in my life---so too I shall ever be for you.” A grinning Emmrich then pressed a kiss to her cheek. “You stubborn woman, let me help you.”

Agnes dropped her fork and grabbed his face, pulling him close until her lips collided with his.

I love you.

I love you with all that I am, and I promise you, Emmrich Volkarin---we’ll make it through this. Together.

Because I want to spend the rest of my life telling you…showing you…how much I love you.

“Thank you.” She whispered, breaking the kiss with a small smile. “For everything.”

Leaning his forehead against hers, he returned her smile. “I have you, my darling, as you have me. Our home awaits you.”

Our home.

That luxurious townhouse with six bedrooms and a small garden is our home.

Our home…

She looked into his brown eyes, her heart racing with what she felt like an urgent need to tell him—

“Emmrich, no matter what, please know that you’re the best thing to ever happen to me. Promise me you’ll hold that close to your wonderful heart when things inevitably swing back in the ‘oh shit that’s actually horrifyingly terrible’ category.” Giggling, she gave him a quick peck before continuing. “Promise me.”

His moustache twitched slightly. “Dearest, you know I cannot refuse you.”

“Don’t tease me.” She whined slightly, her nose wrinkling.

His gaze fell to her mouth, which he then captured in a slow, deep kiss. He tugged on her lower lip and purred, “I am yours to command now and always.”

Her pale cheeks burned at her mind wandered to totally not appropriate implications of what he said. However, before she could respond, her stomach growled loudly.

They stared at each other for a moment, both sets of eyes wide.

Then they burst into laughter, as joyful and easy as their relationship (which may have developed rather quickly but fuck it the world might be ending), Agnes’s focus returning to her dinner. “Sorry about that, love!”

He shifted in his chair, facing her, his hand once again resting on her soft thigh. “Don’t apologize, my heart. All is well at the moment, I assure you.” Watching her take a bite of pasta, he smiled. “Ah, but what shall we do tonight, dearest?”

“Could you read to me?” she asked between bites.

His eyes sparkled. He loves reading to me. To Manfred. To anyone who will listen. “Anything in particular?”

Shaking her head, she swallowed. “Whatever you want, love.”

He patted her thigh, a warm, deep chuckle escaping him. “I’ll forgo academic texts, darling. Those seem to put you to sleep.” Accurate. “Perhaps some poetry? I have several collections of love poems in my library and some of a more erotic variety, if that pleases you, my love.”

“Honestly,” she smiled. “It all sounds lovely. Maybe a mix of both?”

Emmrich quickly rose, giving her a hand a kiss before releasing it. “I’ll select the volumes and then check in with Lucanis regarding the churros—”

CHURROS?!?!?!?

FOR ME?!!?!?

Her eyes widened. “Did you ask Lucanis to make me churros?!”

That man has the gall to look offended!?!?!? SIR?!!?

“My dear, of course! Now, be a good girl,” EMMRICH!!!!!!! “And finish your dinner. I shall return soon.” He bent to kiss the top of her head and then walked through the music room door.

Agnes closed her eyes, breathing slowly.

Slow. Deep.

Everything will be alright.

It will be, because I have him.