I'm caving and doing it: a masterpost, because the votes are in and it turns out disorganization makes me antsier than even peripherally talking about myself. We learned something today!
As a certified Elder Millennial, I am here to tell you all that I am not good at Tumblr but sure am excited to yell about my favorite pixel barbies with any and everyone who will listen. Right now, those would be the Dragon Age Veilguard crew, particularly Lucanis, but look, I wanna mush all their cheeks. Every single one of'm. Anyway. I am always down to talk/play tag games/yell about pixel people/etc. etc. etc.
Fic List:
Birdwatching - Lucanis Dellamorte/Rook Mercar, M, WIP; a modern-era Thedas AU. Get in, team: it's the future and we're doing spy shit!
kindred spirits - Lucanis Dellamorte/Rook Thorne, M, 75k words, completed; the fic that dragged me kicking and screaming out of writing hibernation. If idiots-to-lovers and self-deception as a lifestyle choice is your jam, come on over.
And associated shorter stories about the same crew, though most (all?) could be read alone and still make sense, I think:
stay quiet - pre-relationship, M, ~4k words, forced proximity trope you are my kryptonite.
the thing with petals - G, ~2k words, very many of them about why Mila is the best Warden I don't care that she's nine
with cause - pre-canon, M, ~4k words: "She wasn't always Rook. She was always a real pain in the ass."
strange things - Lucanis/Rook/Spite, E, 15k words: so! your demon needs sex-ed!
—Inexplicably, Command - T, ~4k words, written for Thorne day during Rook Appreciation Week 2025: "Three prompts, three parts, one absolutely baffled Junior Warden just straight up not having a good time."
on this far side - G, 1.8k words, a post-Tearstone conversation in the Absolute Worst Alternate Timeline™️that wasn't (but could have been).
and then there is this absolute silly business, written by Bellara, edited by Lucanis, transcribed by me: FIRST draft - No Peeking!!! (Neve that means you!) - G, metafic, to be continued probably when the silly strikes again
Tumblr Tags:
my fic | wip | tag game | my rook(s) | fic: kindred spirits | fic: birdwatching
For the fic ask game: W for bw Evka and Antoine please!!
Did you forget asking me this for the fic ask game, @epiphany-jones? I didn’t! My brain just stubbornly refused to go back into canon-realm while on the BW fixation and then, as you know, even more stubbornly refused to do anything at all. Why it decided to abruptly spit this out all at once, I cannot say, but here it is.
(I did slightly misremember the full prompt and only remembered ‘waiting’ but, uh… I mean, look, it’s halfway there, right?)
W. Waiting for something impatiently
It is a matter of patience and strategy, these days, to secure a moment or two of the First Warden’s time.
Antoine did not have too much cause to complain. He did, after all, manage to secure a great many more of them than most. But they were often stolen things, tucked in where time allowed—more often than they once were, less often than he’d like.
Fortunately, he is inventive.
There is a short queue of people waiting beyond the closed door of Evka’s office. (There is always a queue of people waiting beyond the door of Evka’s office. On better days, it is short.) It is understood, generally, that Antoine will join it with the rest to wait his turn. In official matters, after all, he is a Senior Warden of no other particular distinction, and posted at the Hold to boot. The same can’t be said for all gathered, on either count. It is unfortunate for them, then, that he is not here on official matters today.
“Ah—my apologies. Martin must have been called away or he would have been here to tell you—” Martin had indeed been called away. By Antoine. But technically, true. Yes. “—the First Warden has obligations this afternoon and will not be available for the next few hours. If you have anything written to deliver, I’m happy to pass it along.”
Grumbling follows, naturally. (There is also always grumbling.) And a few reports, which Antoine tucks neatly beneath his own to rediscover after dinner. Then the group disperses, and he is left alone to wait.
Five minutes is entirely reasonable. Ten, even—whoever is with her beyond the door waited just as he is, surely, after all. At a quarter of an hour, Antoine decides it’s been plenty of time to have made it through the major points, whatever they are. The nuances will keep. He gives a brief rap on the door but does not wait to open it.
Two sets of eyes turn up at the sound. Evka herself blinks and then raises an eyebrow at him, the silent question plain. Beside her, Rook doesn’t lift her finger from the long paper unrolled across the desktop before them, but her face does brighten with the sudden smile.
“Pardon! If I’d known it was you in here, I would have interrupted much sooner.”
She laughs and withdraws her hand. “I was wondering where you were. I popped by your workshop when I got in earlier.”
He holds up the battered leather folio containing his own report. “The old manor again. The soil there finally seems to be starting to recover. But that’s not what you’ve come for. Please, unless you’d prefer I step back out…”
“Why make Evka repeat it later?” she grins and returns her attention to the desk. After one more look, more skeptical than searching now, Evka does the same as Rook resumes whatever it was she’d been saying. “So… right, yeah. Here—it’s about a two-day ride south of Brynnlaw on my side. They’re not coming up anywhere I can find along the edge of the forest, so we’re thinking something must have opened up not too far inside. Dav and I figured…”
It goes on a few minutes more, an excellent opportunity to set the reports gathered from those he sent away down for later.
“Alright,” Evka says eventually. “I like it. You two let me know how many you think you’ll need and we’ll go from there.”
“He ought to be coming in today, too. I’ll catch him and we’ll come back to—” Rook falters only briefly as Antoine catches her eye. The adjustment comes quickly. “—morrow. Morning. Once we’ve gotten some names together.”
Not quickly enough (of course, with Evka, it rarely is). “Mm,” she says, looking between them. “Tomorrow then.”
Rook rolls up the paper but leaves it neatly to the side of the desk. “Left a few bags of that coffee you liked in your shop, by the way,” she says. “And I’ve got a message from Viago. Something about Ghoul’s Beard. Find me when you’re free.”
“My thanks on all counts,” he tells her, though of course he means mostly for the one where she leaves. Given the quick wink on her way past, she seems to have gathered as much.
“He doesn’t need more coffee,” Evka grumbles, and Rook’s laughter is abruptly muffled by the door she pulls closed again behind her.
“She’s a week or two early, no?”
“Soil?”
Again, Antoine raises the folio. “A report—for the First Warden’s consideration.”
She does not seem to have quite decided whether she is amused or bothered. “You’re here to bring me a report on soil.”
“There are some very promising signs,” he assures her, which is quite true. And then, “I waited,” which is certainly not.
Perhaps amused is winning. Only just. “You waited out there.”
“I did.”
“On the line.”
“It was my turn.”
“But you didn’t notice Rook, standing right in front of you.”
There is that, yes. “Some others may have wandered away,” he concedes. “I’m sure they will return.”
Evka rolls her eyes, hand outstretched for the folio, though a hint of a smile does appear all the same. “I’m sure they will,” she says, and opens the cover to look briefly down at the top page. She does not sound the slightest bit surprised when she adds, but a moment later, “This is blank.”
“Oh, no, it is quite dense, I assure you,” Antoine takes it back when she extends it towards him, if only to set it to the side. “An hour’s worth of reading at the very least. Perhaps two.”
“Antoine.”
“It may even need your attention through dinner—to address any questions.”
No longer a hint, her smile, but a battle, and one she seems disinclined to fight for much longer. (A promising sign.) “You know I can’t.”
“Mon cœur, no one is in the hall—”
“Because you got rid of them, I’m assuming.”
“—and if something pressing comes up, we are not exactly well hidden here, no? Someone will come along.”
Evka considers that, her hands on her hips, and there is a smile, yes… though not a decision. Not yet.
But Antoine has nowhere else to be than right here, where she is, now or any other time. He does not mind to wait.
“Just this once,” she finally says, and allows him to catch her hand, to draw it up until he can press his lips to the back of her fingers.
Just this once is perfectly fine. He can come up with something new next time. He is, after all, inventive.
“You feel the bulge in his pants” - implies that you are feeling some guy’s penis, may be sexy depending on context
“You feel the bugle in his pants” - implies that this guy has a military horn in his pants, invites confusing questions like why does he have that and how big are his pockets
Tagged by @epiphany-jones and @dags-over-caravans and caught @sorrygoldfish’s open tags. I love these and I love hearing about what everyone is up to. 💜
...what I'm reading (books): I’m on hold for The Mountain in the Sea, so that’s going to need to be a full dive as soon as I get it. In the meantime, I’ve just started Remarkably Bright Creatures. I think it might make me cry.
...what I'm reading (fic): I learned from goldfish’s post that there was an update to @skogrr's Salt & Blood which I will be catching up on pronto. I also want to keep on with @slothquisitor’s Portrait of a Family, which I have loved so far but think I will need to pace myself on re: emotional torment. I also have seen @gatesofminrathous’s Nothing and Everything to Lose and @woodlandeelf’s The Orlesian Job recced more than once and have both of them high on the TBR; I was avoiding modern AUs while working on Birdwatching to avoid crossing mental wires, but now it’s full speed ahead.
...what I'm listening to: The last few days has been a flurry of household decluttering, so I’ve been leaning in on instrumental focus background music. I love the Horizon Zero Dawn for stuff like that (and for writing) so that’s been on strong rotation.
...what I'm watching: Nothing! I'm not a huge tv person in general but right now nothing is appealing to me. Now accepting recs.
...what I'm playing: I just finished Clair Obscure: Expedition 33 and will never be okay again, probably. I don't have anything on deck. Maybe a nice game about sitting quietly, being very normal. That's about the emotional intensity I have available after the last one. Looking at you, @epiphany-jones.
...what I'm eating: I made a creamy orzo with chicken sausage and vegetables tonight and my kids even ate it! A rare miracle.
...what I'm working on: Still nothing, which is becoming a point of frustration. I have a bunch of vague ideas, several 300-500 word starts, but no direction on anything. I want to write, I've just got nothing there. Tumbleweeds. It does mean I've gotten to just roll around in the muck of The Recrumbening and friends, it's an ouch.
...what I'm doing to touch grass/what's making me laugh/what's giving me hope: Combo answer on this one because I've actually been in an increasingly weird mental place over the last week or two. I think the personal project of Birdwatching and the school year wrapping up at the same time created a kind of weird mental void that I'm not quite sure how to get out of. I'm decluttering my house a lot, which is long-term satisfying but day to day kind of a slog. I probably need to be touching grass a little more aggressively. But my husband and oldest have been having the best time watching the World Cup together and that's be really sweet to watch, my youngest has started announcing that she's imminently getting super powers that will let her throw her body into space, and my sister is having a baby in seven weeks. It's all gonna be a-okay.
Tagging @blightwashed @skogrr @styxdysnomia and uh... anyone else who hasn't done one recently, the brain's not braining, see above re: mental void. It's just echoes all the way down in here, folks.
important reminder that most people you follow online are significantly lamer than you think they are including me. and if you feel insecure comparing yourself to someone online: DON'T. theyre probably also lame and weird. most people on the internet are
really nice gift for Specifically Me when the character has an immediate and violent panic response to being held down / physically restrained. especially if their affect is usually cheerful or relaxed or reserved and this is their one "sicko mode (wildly uncharacteristic)" button.
So Davrin hasn’t been back to his clan since he left, and I can’t stop thinking about it.
Because Davrin clearly cares a lot about being elven. He’s the first to point out how the actions of Solas and the Evanuris will negatively impact elves. He talks about how important the halla are, and the Way of Three Trees is core to his approach to life. It’s heavily implied that HE named Assan.
And yet he’s never gone back home. He didn’t fit in with clan life, and he’s obsessed with finding a purpose. I wonder if he feels guilty, like he needs to have an ultimate justification for why he left to “redeem” the choice. Because otherwise he’s betraying his people, his culture, to become part of the world at large— the world that harms elves and persecutes them. Is he afraid he’ll be scolded? That he won’t fit in anymore? That he won’t be seen as “really elven”?
This is why the scenes with Eldrin are so important. When Eldrin says “I’m glad you took the road less traveled” essentially, he’s giving Davrin permission to not feel guilty for his choices. He’s telling Davrin that he doesn’t have to Be A Specific Way to still be Dalish. He’s allowed to be himself and ALSO a Dalish elf— which goes hand in hand with the conflict between being a hunter and being a caretaker.
Technically Davrin’s arc starts when you meet him, but his character progress starts when he survives Weisshaupt. He’s been forced to face the fact that the world isn’t what he thought it was, which means he doesn’t have to hold himself to these strict rigid standards between categories. And that’s what Assan teaches him over the course of the game as well. He’s allowed to be many things, and he can accept all parts of himself without fear or shame.
Would we call this fashionably late, or "oh no what is she wearing?!" late? Asking for a friend.
11 & 12 combo action: make up an an alternate title and blurb for one of my fics.
Normal Man, Nailing It
No one has ever accused Viago de Riva of being average, though it would be a stark improvement. Witness this man miraculously fail upwards into the catch of the century and possibly a throne via such feats as "paranoid coffee drinking" and "exasperated co-parenting of a dog". I don't know, friends, it baffles all of us, too.
I am very late, yes. But I didn't forget! Just a lot of this face 😬 okay?
6. Is there a specific character you think I write well?
All of your characters feel very really to me, but I have really fallen in love with your Neve in ACBTMN; she's very layered and guarded in canon and seeing her internal world vs. her interactions with others feels extremely true to her, even if we haven't spent a ton of time with her in that world yet.
I also certainly can't say I've fallen in love with TWAWKI's Illario but I've definitely fallen into understanding with him. He's very real and human (and frequently infuriating but it is, again, Illario, so.)
13. Do you have any headcanons about any of my characters?
I think AMF Rook encourages if not instigates the group nonsense a little (maybe a lot) sometimes, because the chaos feels like home.
