lordshaxxhandler

[lordshaxxhandler]

MY WILL IS MY OWN.

Destiny 2: The Edge of Fate

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Got cursed by thought goblins

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been building a collection of posts from like minded individuals

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“I wanna take you in the kitchen. Lift up your wedding dress someone was probably murdered in.”

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Man, Crimson Days huh?

Don’t forget to celebrate them with your favorite people!

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The amount of kitchen knowledge I have in my head because of Knife's Edge is unfathomable. I am now well versed in several ways to prepare a single filet of fish.

(Dragon Age Modern AU - Chef Edition)

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another day bein a parent to a griffon.

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An angsty Rookanis one-shot I wrote in the dead of night:

Villa Dellamorte was silent, wrapped in the kind of stillness that only came after a storm. The rain had passed, but the air remained thick with the scent of earth and steel, the weight of something unfinished lingering in the quiet.

Lucanis sat at the edge of their bed, his shirt discarded, his hands resting on his knees—stained red with blood that was not his own.

It had been a long night. A necessary night.

The contract was done. The bodies disposed of. The message sent.

And yet—he sat there, unmoving. Caught somewhere between exhaustion and something heavier, something he did not name.

Then—a shift. A presence.

Rook.

She moved through the soft candlelight, her crimson hair still loose from sleep, her amber eyes sharp despite the late hour.

She said nothing at first. Only stepped closer.

Lucanis watched her, tracking every movement as she came to him—unhurried, steady. She did not hesitate. Never had.

And when she reached him, she knelt, her hands finding his wrists, her fingers curling deliberately over his own.

Lucanis didn’t stop her. Didn’t move.

Only watched.

Rook turned his hands over in hers, tracing the lines of his palms, her touch featherlight yet unwavering. Her thumb brushed against the dried remnants of another man’s life, blood caught in the creases of his knuckles, the scent of steel still clinging to his skin.

Then—her voice, quiet. Steady.

“These hands.”

Lucanis didn’t flinch. Didn’t look away.

What was there to say?

These hands had taken life.

These hands had ended men.

These hands had carved out a reputation built on death and silence.

And yet—

Rook lifted them.

Brought them to her face.

Rested his palm against her cheek, eyes never leaving his.

Lucanis stilled.

Because it didn’t matter how much blood was on them—

She had never once hesitated to touch him.

To let him touch her.

Her voice was softer when she spoke again, a whisper between them.

“But they cradled me, yes?”

Lucanis exhaled, slow and unsteady.

His fingers curled—tight, instinctive—as if he could keep her there, as if she would ever leave.

His throat worked, but no words came.

Because what could he say?

That he had always feared his hands would only ever know death?

That he had never imagined they would be used for something softer, something worth holding?

That he had never once deserved her trust, but she had given it anyway?

Rook smiled—small, knowing.

Then she leaned forward, pressing a slow, deliberate kiss to his fingertips.

Lucanis closed his eyes.

He was hers.

He had been from the beginning.

And if these hands were meant for blood and death—

Then let them cradle her, too.

[lordshaxxhandler]

Part. 1

I like drawing comics from time to time, and I really wanted to draw this moment (beware btw, potential spoilers...?). I'm looking forward to the part. 2 ✨

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Turns out you can smile. A real one, even. And more than once.

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the victory ball

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Since apparently Rook is sensitive to Gingerwort Truffles I had to add that of course Abel drank alcohol with it and of course he was tanked.

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spider den

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I'd suffer hell if you'd tell me what you'd do to me tonight...

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Cover art for my Emmrook fic 💜

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rook is going for a midnight snack

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Commission