Hello! I'm Becky, a jolly Canuck who writes as a day job and writes fanfic by night. Yes, I'm a little off my rocker. Right now I'm all about Dragon Age, specifically the Antivan Crows from Veilguard. I'm Tricksy_Hobbitses on AO3.
Most of my work can be found in the Hobbitses Dragon Age Universe Prime. I only play games once, so I have one single personal Dragon Age canon. Universe Prime is where my Rook, Meruka de Riva Dellamorte, comes out to play, largely in post-Veilguard fics. It's also the home of my longfic, Blood Venom Sex Magic, where a Ferelden apostate mage becomes entangled in the lives of the tempestuous talons, Viago de Riva and Teia Cantori.
My big project right now is a Rookanis farmer's market AU called In the Market for Love. This Rook isn't Meruka but a different character whose chosen name is straight-up Rook.
I'm also a visual novel developer, creating a romance VN based on the Robin Hood legends over at @velvet-cupcake-games!
Art Credits:
Happy Halla pic by @loustica-lucia.
Blood Venom Sex Magic pic by @kairennart
Amelia keeps her surname because she chooses to stay in House de Riva, but her and Lucanis' children are all in House Dellamorte. Viago did try to convince her to allow some of her children to join House de Riva, but she wasn't keen on interhouse rivalry within their family home.
As heads of their respective houses, Viago and Lucanis agreed that Lucanis would consider allowing them to join House de Riva when they were old enough to make the choice, and Viago said that all of his grandchildren would be eligible to become head of the house - if they joined it.
Meruka decided to become Meruka de Riva Dellamorte. Lucanis did not wish to be both her husband and her Talon (she agreed that was a bad idea), so she stayed in House de Riva. Viago bitches that he still never sees HIS Crow anymore and also that Meruka's discipline has grown lax because Lucanis indulges her.
"I'm her husband. You're her Talon," Lucanis replies with a shit-eating grin. "How Do You Solve a Problem Like Meruka" plays on repeat in Viago's head.
I really wonder what the demographic outcome would be of trans people involuntarily getting "the body you'd have if practicality wasn't a concern" like what percentage of the resulting bodies would be obviously nonhuman?
So I'm probably going to be pretty quiet for the next few months. I'm taking part in the Dragon Age Big Bang, which means I'm doing a 25k+ longfic (mine will probably be around 40k) that I can't talk about in public until like November or something.
I am super excited and having an absolute blast writing it so far, but between this longfic and my day job, I probably won't have time to write much else. I'll still be here cheering y'all on and reblogging cool Dragon Age shit and other random posts.
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
Confession: In my head Bellara has never eaten pussy before and Neve offers to help her so that's how Rook ends up tied down to Neve's desk while Bellara eats her out and Neve gives her pointers
The door to the Caffeinated Crow chimed in the middle of the afternoon. Lucanis, wiping down tables in the back while his employee worked the front, didn't look up.
What was the point? He had fallen helplessly, hopelessly in love, miraculously been loved in return, and lost it all mere hours later. He deserved it, he knew. The person he'd once been had ruined the future for the person he hoped to become. It had been far too optimistic to think he could truly turn over a new leaf.
Rook, the best thing that had ever happened to him, never wanted to see him again. He had dared to imagine a shining future at their side, and it had all come crashing down when it had hardly begun. Now all he had was a struggling coffee shop, a tyrant of a grandmother, and a treacherous cousin. He didn't even have coffee anymore.
"Comrade?" Spite's scratchy voice intruded on his self-recrimination. "I can't help but notice you've been scrubbing the same spot for a while now. Are you all right?"
Ah, yes. Spite. He still had Spite. He looked up. The thin man's eyes shone with an emotion Lucanis had never seen in them before. Concern. Lucanis sank into a chair, tossing the cloth onto the middle of the table.
"No, Spite. I am not all right."
Strangely, Spite did not reply with a lecture about how joining the worker's movement would cure all ills. Instead, he sat in the chair opposite Lucanis, crossing one leg over the other.
"What happened?"
That simple question was all it took. The pain that Lucanis had buried for days came pouring out as he told Spite his miserable story. The other man was a surprisingly good listener, and Lucanis found himself saying more than he normally would. Of course, he gave himself no quarter in the telling.
"I can see how you misjudged Rook, back then," Spite said once Lucanis ran out of steam. "They're smart, competent, and well-spoken. But they're sensitive, too. I don't know everything, but I know they're not on good terms with their dad. He wants them to be somebody they're not."
"Yes, and I treated them like a political opponent or a business rival. Now I know that's the last thing they want."
Spite folded his hands on the table in front of him, his gaze steady. "Rook is special. I know most people find my dedication to the cause annoying. Rook does, too. But they've always treated me kindly. They really care about things. People, too. That's why I'm still trying to recruit them."
"I know. I think when I met them I saw a reflection of the kind of person I want to be. I didn't want to hurt them then, and I would never hurt them now." Lucanis found himself wringing his hands as he spoke.
"So how are you going to tell them that?" Spite asked.
"I don't think I should. They told me to, and I quote, 'fuck right off.'"
Spite's eyes widened. "I've never even heard them say fuck!"
"I've heard them say it in Marchese and Antivan," Lucanis said, fondness coloring his recollection. "The Antivan was on my behalf."
"I've seen the way they look at you," Spite said with a smile. "Never saw them get hearts in their eyes for anybody else. They've had a nasty shock and you earned their anger, but they're not the type to hold a grudge. Give them some time, then apologize."
"Do you really think they'd accept?"
Spite chuckled, a sound rather like a cat with something stuck in its throat. "You might have to grovel a bit."
"I would grovel for the rest of my life."
"I believe you. Now go turn those sad eyes on your person."
Lucanis stood, feeling a bit less hopeless. It was a start. He never would have guessed that their local radical leftist agitator had such hidden depths. It turned out he was a rather good friend.
"Thank you, Spite."
"Of course. I want Rook to be happy too⊠and you're not bad for someone whose family owns way too much of the means of production."
"Oh, so you do know about my family."
Spite shrugged, a tiny smirk on his lips. "AskGenitivi.com is free. For now."
Lucanis found himself laughing. Sometimes good things came from the most unexpected places.
@vorchagirl wrote a very nice drabble based off this artwork. It's a very violent delight (yes, it's pretty violent), watching Spite and Lucanis make the most of the occasion as they recently mastered the power to ignite fire.
Too late for @dragon-age-met-gala, but just in time for @datvcompanionweeks' Lucanis Week 2026.
Lucanis by Wisdom Kaye
It's just so hard for me to skip a Wisdom Kaye reel appearing on my Instagram feed, and every time I see one it's just style inspo. This one is a modified version of some of his vegan leather men's leggings outfits, with a touch of Crow feather.
I've been an illustrator for a few years, but a graphic designer for far longer. I had so much fun designing and illustrating the logo, especially now that it comes with a fic haha!
Also...it's my birthday in a few hours where I live hehe. So this is my birthday post.
The door to the Caffeinated Crow chimed in the middle of the afternoon. Lucanis, wiping down tables in the back while his employee worked the front, didn't look up.
What was the point? He had fallen helplessly, hopelessly in love, miraculously been loved in return, and lost it all mere hours later. He deserved it, he knew. The person he'd once been had ruined the future for the person he hoped to become. It had been far too optimistic to think he could truly turn over a new leaf.
Rook, the best thing that had ever happened to him, never wanted to see him again. He had dared to imagine a shining future at their side, and it had all come crashing down when it had hardly begun. Now all he had was a struggling coffee shop, a tyrant of a grandmother, and a treacherous cousin. He didn't even have coffee anymore.
"Comrade?" Spite's scratchy voice intruded on his self-recrimination. "I can't help but notice you've been scrubbing the same spot for a while now. Are you all right?"
Ah, yes. Spite. He still had Spite. He looked up. The thin man's eyes shone with an emotion Lucanis had never seen in them before. Concern. Lucanis sank into a chair, tossing the cloth onto the middle of the table.
"No, Spite. I am not all right."
Strangely, Spite did not reply with a lecture about how joining the worker's movement would cure all ills. Instead, he sat in the chair opposite Lucanis, crossing one leg over the other.
"What happened?"
That simple question was all it took. The pain that Lucanis had buried for days came pouring out as he told Spite his miserable story. The other man was a surprisingly good listener, and Lucanis found himself saying more than he normally would. Of course, he gave himself no quarter in the telling.
"I can see how you misjudged Rook, back then," Spite said once Lucanis ran out of steam. "They're smart, competent, and well-spoken. But they're sensitive, too. I don't know everything, but I know they're not on good terms with their dad. He wants them to be somebody they're not."
"Yes, and I treated them like a political opponent or a business rival. Now I know that's the last thing they want."
Spite folded his hands on the table in front of him, his gaze steady. "Rook is special. I know most people find my dedication to the cause annoying. Rook does, too. But they've always treated me kindly. They really care about things. People, too. That's why I'm still trying to recruit them."
"I know. I think when I met them I saw a reflection of the kind of person I want to be. I didn't want to hurt them then, and I would never hurt them now." Lucanis found himself wringing his hands as he spoke.
"So how are you going to tell them that?" Spite asked.
"I don't think I should. They told me to, and I quote, 'fuck right off.'"
Spite's eyes widened. "I've never even heard them say fuck!"
"I've heard them say it in Marchese and Antivan," Lucanis said, fondness coloring his recollection. "The Antivan was on my behalf."
"I've seen the way they look at you," Spite said with a smile. "Never saw them get hearts in their eyes for anybody else. They've had a nasty shock and you earned their anger, but they're not the type to hold a grudge. Give them some time, then apologize."
"Do you really think they'd accept?"
Spite chuckled, a sound rather like a cat with something stuck in its throat. "You might have to grovel a bit."
"I would grovel for the rest of my life."
"I believe you. Now go turn those sad eyes on your person."
Lucanis stood, feeling a bit less hopeless. It was a start. He never would have guessed that their local radical leftist agitator had such hidden depths. It turned out he was a rather good friend.
"Thank you, Spite."
"Of course. I want Rook to be happy too⊠and you're not bad for someone whose family owns way too much of the means of production."
"Oh, so you do know about my family."
Spite shrugged, a tiny smirk on his lips. "AskGenitivi.com is free. For now."
Lucanis found himself laughing. Sometimes good things came from the most unexpected places.
Lucanis Week 2026 | Day 6 | Past/Future
organized by @datvcompanionweeks
"Mierda."
"I had to kill a man once who did blood magic on nugs. A hundred little pigs with hands came after me. All together in one big writhing ball. Have you ever tried to stab a ball of angry nugs? That was a bad job."
Ever since I heard Lucanis tell this story, it's lived rent-free in my head. So, I drew Live Lucanis Reaction to a pile of blood-magic-controlled nugs.
i also love thinking about what might've been going through viago's head when lucanis gave him the knife. bc, like...
viago just having no fucking clue that lucanis was flirting is an amazing mental image to me. and feels quite plausible... not necessarily bc viago is clueless, but bc lucanis flirting with him was just so far out of his concept of possible things that he just kinda took the knife like "...thanks?"
viago 110% understanding and being like Oh Hell No bc he was NOT gonna get involved with one of the first talon's grandsons, the one who is most likely to become first talon. just edging away like thanks i have a sufficient number of knives at my back already
I did one where Viago 110% understood and was attracted but didn't respond because he thought he would be bad for Lucanis. But perhaps with a little help from a gentler third party...
If the World Was Ending
https://archiveofourown.org/works/83410486
(Rating: Explicit, no archive warnings, Lucanis/Viago/Teia)
For the final week of Pride Month, all flower crown flag chibis are BUY ONE GET ONE when requested through vgen!! This can be two individual chibis, or two characters in a single image!
Visit me on vgen to request!!
Check out Katchy's commissions and portfolio! | Hi there, I'm Katchy! I'm a digital artist with a love of Dragon Age. Nearly 40, northeast U
tags: @beachhotdog @blackwall-my-tiny-husband @casa-dei-corvei @crushedv3lv3t @emryx @flowersforthemachines @genjyoandgojyoandhakkai @handsignals @in-the-drowning-deep @jukkaricity @kai-dimir @ladyofcrowsandcoffee @mushrooms-x-moss @nyx-de-riva @paxvoik2 @pixiedurango @serensama @serialsforbellara @tarasmom @thechaosbard @vorchagirl @waxlyricalmoon @wolfmoonwildflowers @woundedsoul12 @zennihilation
tag list a WIP, let me know if I should add or remove you on on this post đč.á
I wanted to get a lil' Bi4Bi graphic for my Meruka and Lucanis and @xkatchy delivered! Look at my lil' cuties. Yes, Lucanis has Demi colours on him as well. ;)
The memory was hazy. A fancy dinner. An uncomfortable outfit. Mama sitting too far away, near Nonna, the only Crows in attendance. The other grown ups were strange, wearing fancy jewels and fancy titles the way Mama and Nonna wore their daggers.Â
Lucanisâ loved those daggers. His favorite of Mamaâs had wings flanking a crow skull, like the statues lurking around Nonna's gardens. He does not remember what possessed him to grab it when Mama came to check on him, but he still remembers the numb blooming pain, colorless pooling to red as he fumbled the blade.
Mama wasnât happy.
There is no elegance to the training knives, practical and plain, but there is an edge. Not as sharp as Mama's blades collecting dust in the armory, the inheritance left to Lucanis once he has earned the right to carry them, but enough to mark mistakes with blood.
His first weapon. His first step to becoming a weapon.
Illario complains. How boring they are - the knives and the repetitive drills. Lucanis keeps his mouth shut and head down and practices. A plain dagger can still kill and dead is still dead and all of Mamaâs fancy knives didnât save her.
He takes the traditional path.Â
He didnât have to - there was no one to witness his first contract. He had heard rumors of Fledglings who hide swords near ambush sites or sneak poison into their markâs final meal - not a killing venom, but something insidious, that confuses their senses or slows their reaction time or make them more trusting of a shadow in the night.
Something to make it easy.
As Lucanis cleans the simple dagger he had been given - one of his motherâs, the mystique long gone - he reflects that it shouldnât be easy - killing someone.
But it was.
Lucanis noted the wyvern tooth dagger in a place of honor at the stall. He could also hear Caterina in his head - A crow is only as good as their blade. Undisputed, undeniable, unequivocally true. Such a weapon would be poorly balanced. Incapable of keeping a proper edge. Best to ignore it and how it set him wondering at just how large a wyvernâs mouth would be, to grow a tooth that long. Ignore how his hands twitched, wondering at the texture. Ignore the fondly prompted memory of sneaking into Illarioâs room with his new book, a plan, an adventure.
Sometimes, the Maker was cruel, putting the thought into Lucanisâ head that Viago de Riva - sullen, prickly, and distant - was smart and funny and wouldnât it be interesting, to see how he worked up close, to listen for the caustic wit in his sparse words, to see how curly his hair was before he meticulously styled it for the day.
He finds the knife during a contract in Tevinter. A snake, fangs bared to the world, tail curled around the sharpest blade and knows who it is for.
The gift was never acknowledged, but that was probably for the best.
The first was his rialto. Caught the lightning blast, dropped the hilt to make sure the electricity did not jump to him.
Then the offhand dagger. Three Venatori in, embedded deep enough in a bloodmageâs sternum that it was prudent to let go.
Stiletto, pinned his opponent to the mast.
Left arm sheath, back, chest -Â thrown.
Boot dagger, overboard in a grapple that got out of hand. At least he managed to keep himself on the ship.Â
But as his weapons and options dwindle, he starts to wonder if it would have been better to give himself to the sea.
Spite does not understand.
We are. Weapons. Make the broken parts sharp!
And Lucanis wants to laugh at the absurdity of it all. They broke all the bones in his hand that morning and he doesnât remember the last time he ate and and he is probably going to die here, but he still explains the physical impossibility of sprouting daggers from bruised flesh to the Demon in his head who doesnât yet grasp the immutability of reality.
But Spite is correct: he is a weapon and right now his will to live, however dulled, is all he has left.
His rescuers have one of his knives, bound in mourning cloth, violet so dark it might as well be black. That is a token not easily come by. When the mage - Rook - says Caterina sent them, he believes her.
He was planning to go with her regardless, but nice to know he was not forgotten.
After, once they have escaped he detours to the Villa - to recover the rest of his gear, wrapped in mourning cloth in memory of a dead man.
Spite flares in his reflection as he unwraps the blades and he isnât sure the memorial was wrong.
Fighting with Rook is a new experience.
She uses a mage knife as her primary focus. It looks like it broke off part of her Necropolis - runes on a blade the dull green of corrosion that buzzes with energy. He suspects it is not made of metal, but it seems too intimate to confirm his suspicions. The first time she is disarmed he inquires about her back up blade and learns she doesnât have one.
Once he realizes she is not joking he excuses himself to reconfigure his own gear, adding a mage knife to his arsenal - just in case.
She buys it for him. Holds it as if it werenât weighed down with years of quiet want. Gifts it to him as if he deserves such indulgences, however impractical. She smiles too - another gift unearned and undeserved and unnecessary to fulfilling this contract and all Lucanis can do is stumble over a hasty explanation of how much he loved wyverns and hope she hears the âthank you.â
It feels exactly as he imagined as a child. He has no idea how she knew. Spite smugly tells him the Spirits knew and unlike some people, she knows how to listen.
Lucanis has come to hate the Lyrium dagger. It was extraordinary - conduit of miracles in Rookâs hands - but it taunts him. Pale blue line pointing right to his failures. First at Weisshaupt, when its edge just kissed Ghilan'nainâs cheek, and then at Tearstone when it and Rook are stolen away along with the fragile hopes he had just dared start to imagine of a future beyond blades and blood.
He should have known - such treasures always have a cost and weapons - however ornate, however precise - are tools of death.
He was a fool to ever think he could be otherwise.
There is no elegance in the aftermath. Dead and departed gods, the Veil held together by sacrifice and repentance. A city and a people emerging from the blighted boot of tyrants.Â
His grip on his sword does not loosen, even as the people around them realize they have survived to see the sunrise, as Spite sits in his head contented, satiated, at peace, as his friends exchange hugs and tears and laughter and relish in their victory.
It is only when Rook eases his hand off the hilt that he relents, relaxes, and allows himself to tentatively meet her smile.
Sometimes the Maker was kind. His gift to Rook - to his bride - are throwing knives designed to amplify magic, like her favored mage knife but balanced for flight and easily hidden. Unexpected and clever. A means of keeping her safe even when they arenât together, though he intends such moments to be few and far between.
She has one of them strapped to her arm when they exchange vows, a glint of gold in the cascade of Antivan lace and it's like a secret but really any with eyes could see she long ago embraced him, sharp edges and all.
His children notice his knives - curious hands and curious questions and Lucanis is careful to show them how they cut and how they dance and how they need to be respected. They all learn the basics, though it is a choice not an obligation, and Lucanis makes sure they know they are more than their weapons.
Tonight, the only blades present are the chefâs knives as they work together to prepare a meal.
These memories might fade, but he knows the love threaded through will be eternal, a warmth when they wander in darkness.
He hopes it will be enough.
Day 1 Day 2 Day 3
Thank you @datvcompanionweeks for hosting đ Amazing Lucanis border by @gutz-ingellvar đ
