I had to do this one, and thank you so so much for the tags @davrinsleftpectoral, @sandcastlekings, @woundedsoul12, @serialsforbellara, and @zennihilation! DR would join a criminal enterprise with your Rooks any time!
I’ll tag, if they want to: @hyperions-light, @ofcrowsanddragons, @bygonesigh, @juniper-and-dragonthorn, @mageofquandrix, @grimrevolution, @mythals-whore, @jouskaroo, @justskipit, @skullypettibone, @operative-arrow, @pixiedurango, @curiouswisp, and @fadetouchedlurker and anyone else who wants to join in!
Tag your gang and steal the dividers!
DR’s reaction (because of course he had opinions) below the cut.
“200 gold?! Come on, I have to be worth more than that.”
Neve sighed and shook her head as Rook continued pacing back and forth in front of the still unexplained fish tank. He was gesticulating wildly, the parchment clutched in hand, as he reviewed it with a more critical eye than even her most particular teachers in the Circle.
“Are you really complaining about the amount of your reward?” Not that she didn’t know the answer. Sure, he tried to play it off as humor, but beneath did seem to be a shade of genuine indignation.
“No! Well, yes, but…okay, first, I didn’t do all these things—”
She cocked an eyebrow at that declaration, and he changed course.
“Okay, I did most of these things, because stealing slaves, with or without threat of violence, is technically illegal. Even if I freed them. And technically killing Venatori cultists is a crime. I guess.”
“And the vandalism?” Neve asked, tone idle. She couldn’t help the amused curl at the corners of her lips, though.
“Well, that I did for fun. Maybe it’s art?” He paused in his back-and-forth tracks as he considered it. “Sure. We will go with art.”
She snorted. Rook took off again. Neve wondered if the fish were getting dizzy with it too.
“But even if I did do all these things, you’d think that would make me a notorious enough criminal to be worth more than 200 gold!”
“Does it matter?” She asked, not buying the feigned shrug of disinterest he offered in response. “And 200 gold is a lot for some of the Imperium. Think of what a family in Dock Town could do with 200 gold.”
He stopped, holding the paper in front of him to look at it. Again. When he lowered it though, there was a mischievous twinkle in his eyes.
“Rook—”
“Okay, so I’m thinking Hal….”
Of course. Generous idiot.
“We are not getting you arrested on purpose. No. Absolutely not.”
Many eons ago, after I had finished my first playthrough of Dragon Age: the Veilguard, I felt that odd itch in my brain. It had been a long while, but I recognized it. There was a scene, one we didn’t get in VG but that my brain was stuck on, that I wanted to play out.
So I wrote it. It was the first time I’d written fic in years, and only the second time I’d written in the Dragon Age fandom ever.
I posted it up on November 15, 2024. I figured, like my only prior DA fic (and, up until that point, my only fic on AO3), that’s where it would end.
But then another scene not in the game stuck in my head. So I wrote it, too. Posted it less than ten days later. Surely that would be enough to satisfy the brain worms.
It, uh….yeah. I was wrong. About a year ago, this week, I finally finished:
Getting Into Trouble (series)
Ratings vary | 16 one-shots | 34,813 words total | Neverook
The series that brought me back to fandom. Something that I am proud of — both for the work that went into it and that it was completed — and I was honored to get to share with folks.
Happy anniversary, Getting Into Trouble! And thanks to everyone that has read it, helped with it, and encouraged me in writing it.
And if you feel like reading or reading-reading it: it can be read in any order you like, and it’s listed in chronological order on the series page, but my favorite reading order is by posting date. ☺️
Many thanks for the tags, this week and last week, from @juniper-and-dragonthorn, @davrinsleftpectoral, and @woundedsoul12!
I’ll offer some gentle tags, if folks want them and haven’t gone already, to: @bygonesigh, @mageofquandrix, @hyperions-light, @ofcrowsanddragons, @mythals-whore, @grimrevolution, @natsora, @sandcastlekings, @hedwigoprah, @blackwall-my-tiny-husband, @bronzieinthedas, @shadowed-rook, @bestboyargos, @the-sparrohawk, @justskipit, @becausedragonage, @jouskaroo, and @nevesserialwriter, and anyone who wants to!
If you haven’t been tagged yet and wanna be? I’VE tagged you.
I’ve been going through some future stuff for TVJ, so below the cut is what I was cleaning up most recently!
As the tailor turned Rook this way and that, and while his cousins bickered, it occurred to him that the easier plan might’ve been breaking into the Imperator’s party.
For one thing, he might not have needed formal clothes; he was always mildly concerned he’d get tangled up in them.
Rook mourned his simple tunic and trousers.
For another, he wouldn’t have spent the last week with Sabine pecking at him like an agitated bird. His clothes weren’t fine enough, but without time for custom clothing to be made he was forced to purchase some and have them altered. The fabric color was wrong for his eyes. What was he going to do about his hair, or his beard? He was already an embarrassment to the family (which, okay, yes, but bringing it up over and over felt like a little much), he’d better not embarrass her worse.
And, of course, Livinia was always there to chime in and needle her — usually in his defense, at least — which generally meant he’d spent a week feeling like a dog toy being fought over by a mischevious Nevarran canis lupus familiarus and an angry Ferelden mabari. It was loud, he’d been spat on (accidentally) at least three times, and he felt stretched to near breaking.
He was grateful for his cousins’ help, he really was. But between the poor sleep he’d been getting, the strain of quietly sitting alone observing people he didn’t particularly care for day-in and day-out, and being one more thing for Sabine and Livvy to fight over — he was ready to leap out of his skin.
“Is that even sitting on him right?” Sabine snapped, glaring imperiously down at the tailor.
Rook made a mental note to pay him extra. The Sabine Tax.
She turned on Rook, “You look different; what, did you gain weight?”
“In the last seven years, eating meals rather than rations, and going from twenty-four to thirty-one years old?” He asked, cocking an eyebrow. Livvy smirked behind her sister. “I’d hope so, wouldn’t you?”
“I think he’s gained muscle, too,” Livvy offered. “Even if he’s too secretive to tell us how or why.”
“You try doing odd jobs with no physical skills and get back to me,” he shot back.
“It fits him quite well,” the tailor offered kindly, finishing up his inspection. “We hardly altered it at all; I almost feel bad charging for it.”
“It’s not a pro—”
“Then why did you?” Sabine asked snidely.
Rook decided that after this he was going to need a stiff drink. Or six.
Thanks so much for the tag, @juniper-and-dragonthorn! I think I’ll combo this my usual ADHD-tricking Sunday Accountability Post.
I did manage to write a bit before and some after the flu came for Casa Mage y BDB. And, with your guys help in decision making and encouragement, out (virtual) pen to (also virtual) paper to work on Davrin Week!
I’ll give some soft and fuzzy tags to: @hyperions-light, @bygonesigh, @dymme, @mageofquandrix, @ofcrowsanddragons, @mythals-whore, @davrinsleftpectoral, @blackwall-my-tiny-husband, @the-sparrohawk, @bronzieinthedas, @introvertedfangrl, @bestboyargos, @grimrevolution, @desperatejoys, and @jukkaricity if the haven’t and want to play, and if you’re reading this and want to share please do! I’m tagging you, and if you tag me back I’ll come yell about it!
Since my Davrin Week stuff is Top Secret (tm), I’ll share some (very, very rough) future stuff from The Ventus Job that I wrote this week below the cut.
The worst part of it all was when he was confined and alone. The stone he sat on was hard, sure, and the cold of it seeped through the threadbare fabric of the slaves robes he now wore, that was true. The manacles around his ankles and wrists chafed against his skin, and he could already tell they’d be rubbed raw in no time at all, if they weren’t already. But the physical discomfort wasn’t what was burrowing under his skin. No, it was the…stillness. He needed to do something, anything, but in the cell he was confined to while they “decided what to do with him” there was no space to do. There was barely space to be, and he’d never done being very well to begin with.
Rook wondered if it would throw off course what he’d managed so far if he started bashing his head against the wall recreationally. His fingers fiddled with the frayed gray hem of the robes he wore, chains jangling with every slight movement. If he’d thought they’d done it on purpose, Rook might have been a little impressed; he was struggling to think of a situation he would have preferred less.
He let his head fall back against the stone wall, and idly scratched at his chin for a moment. He hadn’t had a long beard in awhile, not since the months after his infamous end in the Tevinter legions; he wondered what Neve would think. Rook suspected she wouldn’t much care for it, but since he’d managed to get captured it probably was going to be low on her list of issues with him when she found him.
Well, if, he supposed. Really depended on if he’d pissed his captors off too much or just enough. Time would tell.
Which meant waiting. Venhedis, he just wanted to move.
On the other side of the heavy door they’d pushed him through after his little audience with his hosts, he could hear the shuffling footsteps workers – almost undoubtedly slaves – carrying something heavy down the hall followed by an ominous hollow thunk. A large stone vessel against the floor, maybe, it sounded too cavernous and thick for ceramic to survive an impact like that. Promising. What might blood mages up to no good and with less than usual to lose be doing with a huge stone vessel? He didn’t exactly care for the answers his brain was offering to that particular question.
Had he sold his value to them, enemy though he still was, well enough? Could he at least buy time and access with his efforts and negotiation? All needed was a chance, and he’d take a slim one, to get word to Neve and the others about what was going on here.
Rook decided to assume his jailers just wanted to get drunk on copious amounts of a moderately high priced Ventus vintage. Hope was the last and most powerful weapon a man could wield, after all. He wasn’t going to let some time in a heavily-fortified closet take it from him.
Thanks so much for the tags @sandcastlekings and @zennihilation!
There he is, the Disaster himself! And he is fascinated to know how he is received. 😂
I’ll give out some gentle tags, if they wanna play, to: @hyperions-light, @juniper-and-dragonthorn, @ofcrowsanddragons, @dymme, @bygonesigh, @mageofquandrix, @grimrevolution, @tarasmom, @curiouswisp, @pixiedurango, @woundedsoul12, @hedwigoprah, @melikochan, @seaglassmelody, @mythals-whore, @davrinsleftpectoral, @blackwall-my-tiny-husband and, if you’re reading this and want to, YOU.
Wow, I am so wildly behind, but thanks so, so much to everyone who tagged me in one or the other or both of these: @juniper-and-dragonthorn, @aetherflowers, @pixiedurango, @serialsforbellara, @sandcastlekings, @zennihilation, and my apologies if I missed anyone!
I'm way behind the eight ball, but I'll tag, in case they haven't done it and are interested: @hyperions-light, @ofcrowsanddragons, @dymme, @bygonesigh, @mageofquandrix, @davrinsleftpectoral, @jouskaroo, @grimrevolution, @curiouswisp, @himluv, @andthekitchensinkao3, @thatgaymerguyb, @mythals-whore, @definitelynotadeathclaw, @seaglassmelody, @rooks-dagger, and @justskipit. And, of course, anyone who wants to! Please tag me so I can see your beautiful people!
The Picrew maker used can be found HERE.
And the Valentine's Sweethearts meiker I used can be found HERE, as well as one for F/F and M/M sweethearts!
My "canon" Dragon Age OCs and Neve regretting allowing anyone near her and DR with a camera below the cut!
Top Left: Aiden Cousland, Warden-Commander of Ferelden, married-or-as-good-as to Morrigan, father of Kieran.
Top Right: Garrett Hawke, dumbass (purple), property of Isabela (his words, not hers).
Bottom Left: Maxwell “Max” Trevelyan, alleged Herald of Andraste, Inquisitor, and man with way too much on his plate. Luckily, spending time with Cassandra helps.
Bottom Right: Micah “Rook” Mercar, property of Neve Gallus (both their words)
Many thanks for the tags for WIP Wednesday @mythals-whore, @wolfsong-the-bloody-beast, @the-sparrohawk, and @woundedsoul12! Y’all are the best!
I worked on some The Ventus Job in the last couple of days, so some of that be upon ye!
Aaaaand so many thanks too to @justskipit and @juniper-and-dragonthorn for the Last Line Tag!! I actually wrote some things today, so I’ll put that in here too!
Efficiency. 💪
I’ll give some very gentle, very optional tags to: @hyperions-light, @ofcrowsanddragons, @bygonesigh, @mageofquandrix, @dymme, @grimrevolution, @davrinsleftpectoral, @jouskaroo, @serialsforbellara, @littlemissgeek8, @shadowed-rook, @aetherflowers, @desperatejoys, @bestboyargos, @pixiedurango, @wukodork, and anyone else reading this who wants to do either (or both) of these!
WIP Wednesday - The Ventus Job
“So. That was Octavian Mercar.”
He chuckled, though there was a tightness to it. “That was Octavian Mercar.” He agreed. He looked around, his gaze seeming to slide across the well-manicured and carefully cultivated foliage without seeing it. “Hasn’t changed much. I guess seven years isn’t all that long after all.”
“He baited you fairly quickly,” she observed idly, careful to keep anything that might be read as judgment from her tone. After all, were it her own relatives here tonight, could she say with certainty she would handle it any better?
She doubted it, honestly, depending on which relation it was.
“He’s had decades of practice,” Rook said, bitter smile chagrined. “And, unlike when we were kids, he has something real to hang his taunts on now.”
Decades of practice. So this was not simply another result of Rook’s forcible removal from the legions, it predated it. Decades ago, after all, Rook and Octavian had been children. But, as her brother’s voice rang in her mind, Neve knew that old wounds could sometimes be the deepest.
“Sounds like you were never close, then?” She prodded gently.
“Well, we were frequently in enforced close proximity?” He shook his head a little. “Not sure if that counts. We know, or knew I guess, each other well. Probably too well.”
Neve raised an eyebrow in question, even though Rook was carefully not meeting her gaze in favor of studying the grounds and stars. Not something normal for him. Was he ashamed? And, if so, of what?
“Familiarity bred contempt?”
“On both sides.” He cast his eyes at some point on the ground in front of him. One leg all but jumped as he bobbed it up and down. Neve glanced around to ensure they were, in fact, still alone before gently setting her hand on his knee, and Rook took a long and shuddering breath.
There was clearly a lot here, hiding beneath the surface. Rook had a habit of existing in a cultivated shallow guise. Happy-go-lucky, optimistic, clever, and heart on his sleeve. And he was all of those things, that was absolutely true. But he was more than that. He had a history. One deeper and darker than he typically shared and that she was confident he consciously ignored.
Here, tonight, wasn’t the time for her to prod at that, though.
“He’s wrong, you know,” she told him, and at that he abruptly turned to face her, surprise painted across his features. Rook, the injured part of him clearly at the fore, looked at her with some mixture of skepticism and desperation.
She knew the feeling, and her heart cracked.
Last Line - A Troubling Case/the Modern AU (tm)
Rook’s face was pure trouble, and Neve was willing to wager he’d been something of a demon as a boy with the way he had lit up with glee at the idea of derailing a ritual through smaller acts of sabotage.
