onelooseskull

[onelooseskull]

Another pairing I'm completely normal for. >>; God damn those bedroom eyes. Sir. SIR.

[onelooseskull]

I love how the game tries to convince you that the First Warden is so unreasonable and annoying and a pisser when Rook talks to everyone like a flat earther. Like going up to your county sheriff and saying "hold all your calls. We need to focus on the real problem: Zeus and Aphrodite from Greek Mythology are in the White House and they have the nuclear missile codes" it's a wonder he didn't just kill them on the spot

[onelooseskull]

editing is so funny because it's like "damn, i wrote 'before' two times within three paragraphs. they are going to stone me in the town square for this"

[onelooseskull]

Emmrich 'Doe Eyes' Volkarin

[onelooseskull]

MAKE THAT OLD MAN BLUSH

[onelooseskull]

Emmrich & Manfred ⌇ Endgame

[onelooseskull]

The Veilguard has defeated the gods. Now, Rook and Emmrich take on a new adventure; having a family.

Hi ya’ll! Here is the first chapter of my very first fanfic! There are absolutely not enough fics of Emmrich getting to be the wonderful father we all know he would be, so I'm trying my hand at writing one! You can check it out thru the top link or below the cut.

Big thanks to @lilac-ossuary and @draco-illius-noctis for helping me proof read!

Hope you guys like it! There’s a preview under the cut!

Rook had always liked the idea of children, but hadn’t thought about it seriously in a long time. It was hard to picture carrying an infant with her when she was conducting rounds of the lower crypts, monitoring the spirits and undead. And then with the War of the Banners, Varric, and everything that happened with the Veilguard, it had slipped from her mind.

Until this morning. She couldn’t stop picturing it. Her curly hair, Emmrich’s hazel eyes and regal nose. Ten little fingers and ten little toes. The little coos and sighs infants made. Her hand drifted to her abdomen. She had always wondered what the little kicks would feel like as the child grew. And she could already picture Emmrich reading to her belly, the child moving around and kicking once they heard their father's voice.

Maker, Emmrich….

She didn’t even know if he still wanted children. The whole idea could have been a passing fancy of a man in his 30s. Something that never materialized, so it became a dream of the past. Now that he is in his 50s, he might not have an interest in having children. He still got anxious about their age difference from time to time, but she was an expert at soothing him by this point. Their age difference wasn’t even so large, a mere seventeen years, his 53 to her 36. But her gorgeous, kindhearted, adorable necromancer still fussed. He worried about his own passing, but now, even more so, he worried about leaving her to suffer his absence alone. Rook had made her peace with this long ago. She had never loved and been loved by anyone like Emmrich before. And that love was worth the heartache she would one day feel in his absence. Besides, if they had children, though, wouldn’t she always have a piece of him with her? Some essence of him would always remain, living on through their child.

And, if Rook was completely honest, she wanted Emmrich to make her a mother. Maker, the man had to be one of the most thorough lovers in all of Thedas. Just this morning, before he left for his first class, he had her pinned under him, his mustache tickling her neck and her hands above her head while he whispered filthy things into her ear. She’d come around his cock not once, but twice, and he still relentlessly fucked her until he reached his own peak and spilled inside her with a groan she could still hear.

Read the full chapter here!

[onelooseskull]

Listen, I love Strife as much as the rest of you, but as a diehard Emmrich girly, this is my reaction every time I walk through the VJ camp

[onelooseskull]

What a day of unexpected splendor💕

(I finally finished my Veilguard stamp rally prize for Anime Expo woo!!)

[onelooseskull]

I think I've got my first chapter done 👀 im gonna do a final proof read/edit after work today and post

Im big nervy yall 😅

yall i got a wee bit of food poisoning and im using my resting time to try my hand at writing a fic abt that old man.

im scared how do yall do this every week

[onelooseskull]

Ngl the Taash one made me cry a bit. From skull fucker to bestie 😭

He GIVES the best hugs, no past tense, I refuuuuse that, and I needed to see these hugs realized so, here, indulge 💖

[onelooseskull]

@starfleetteddybear bestie thats the EXACT face I made when I saw this

I forgot to post again but since the unfinished version is getting traction again...here is the SFW version finished!

[onelooseskull]

One day, I'm going to be normal about my fictional husband.

Not any time soon but, y'know, one day.

[onelooseskull]

[onelooseskull]

[onelooseskull]

oops, i'm late for thedasweekend prompts! oh well lol

for emmrich/thana, from one of the fluff prompts lists: “I’ve waited a lifetime for you, I can wait however long it takes.” (i suspect emmrich might be overestimating his simp-ing self restraint here lol)

Thank you for the prompt!!!! I have unfortunately turned this fluff prompt into a hurt/comfort one instead 😂 but I'm finally getting back into the swing of things, so yay! For @thedasweekend

Set post-Fade prison, so spoilers ahead. A sequel to this fill and is set immediately after that one.

902 words | AO3

“Emmrich, Emmrich.” Her sweet voice grew distant. He panicked as the edges of his vision blurred. “Emmrich!”

The strain of the last fortnight caught up to him, the dagger having drained the last of his reserves. Emmrich swayed and the world tilted around him. The last thing he saw was Rook’s face — though he couldn’t say he minded that one bit.

***

Emmrich startled awake, sucking in harsh breaths, the air icy pinpricks in his lungs as he scrambled to reorient himself. The ritual site, and the dagger, and — Rook.

In his arms, her lips against his, and— and— not here.

His eyes darted around the room, recognizing the smell of elfroot and the soft lights of the Lighthouse infirmary. He was alone, laid on one of the cots, his arms like lead as he struggled to sit up. Where was she? Why wasn't she here? His blood ran cold.

Had it… had it all been a dream? The conjurings of a desperate mind? A spirit of Desire feeding on what he wished for most?

Emmrich couldn't breathe, the air expelling from his chest in quick, shallow movements. He was gasping, lungs burning. Fingers clawed at the sheets below him as he swung his feet off the cot, trying to steady himself even if he could feel his shoulders shake from the effort of staying upright.

He needed to get up. He needed to get back to his laboratory, continue his experiments with the dagger, but — but had the dagger been a dream too? Did he simply imagine, hallucinate the solution to their problems and he had to start from scratch, Rook slipping further and further away from his grasp?

Emmrich wanted to scream, but his throat closed around his heart. He was wasting time sitting around like some invalid, the smell of elfroot making him sick to his stomach. He needed to get Rook out of the Fade, he needed to push away the fatigue and the exhaustion and do something useful.

He stood, knuckles turning white as he gripped the frame of the cot, legs shaky like it would crumple under him. He breathed hard, vision turning blurry from pain as he struggled to turn and walk to the door.

Then — it opened.

“Hey, hey, hey.” Rook's voice was soft but alarmed as she rushed to him, clutching his sides. “Emmrich, you shouldn't get up. Sit down, yeah?”

“Rook?” His voice broke, and he sagged, energy dissipating and knees hitting the floor. Rook held onto him tighter, sliding down to the floor with him, keeping him upright. “Rook. Rook.”

“It's me, just me.” She stroked lines up and down his spine, pressing gently on the muscles until he began to relax.

“Is it truly you?” he asked, disbelief coloring his words. His eyes stung as he cupped her cheeks, thumbs stroking her skin. She was warm. “Are you here?”

“It is.” Rook pressed her hands to his, nuzzling her nose into his palm. “I am.”

A sound tore from his throat — grief and joy in the same breath.

Rook's face turned alarmed, her hands wrapping around his wrist and pressing her nose close to his. He could feel her breath on his skin as she spoke and it only made the tears flow faster.

“Hey. It's alright. It's going to be alright.”

“I'm so, so, so sorry, darling,” he tried to say through gasping breaths, his face sinking into her shoulder. “Forgive me, forgive me.”

“Oh, Emmrich.” One hand cradled the back of his head, the other returning to stroke his back. “It's fine—”

“It's not,” he interrupted her. “I was unfair. I said terrible things.” He breathed in the smell of her shirt, damp from his tears, the scent of the elfroot salve over healing cuts. “I hurt you.”

He hurt her. They were about to face gods, the likelihood of their deaths staggeringly high, and he hurt her. At your age, he had said, and there was that sudden burst of shock in her eyes, stepping away from him like a physical blow, so taken aback by his words. He shouldn’t have said it, regretted it the moment they left his lips.

But what did he do? Nothing. No apologies, no walking back, only more bite and fear that she didn't deserve. Rook left the room, taking a piece of his heart with her, and that was that. The night was colder than he could have ever imagined.

Then he lost her and he was set adrift.

Then she returned and still he was unmoored.

Emmrich had nothing left to say — I love you and forgive me and I'm sorry over and over again as Rook held him through wracking sobs on the cold infirmary floor. A fortnight's worth of regret at her feet.

She didn't say a word, only hummed and hushed him through the worst of it, lips brushing the top of his hair and the sweat of his forehead.

He didn’t know if she would forgive him. He spent two weeks agonizing over how to rescue her, he hadn't thought of anything else. What else could he say? What perfect combination of words was there to earn back her affection, her forgiveness?

It didn't matter. He had waited for a love like this his whole life. Another fortnight, another lifetime — he would remain at her feet and beg if he had to, however long it took.

[onelooseskull]

yall i got a wee bit of food poisoning and im using my resting time to try my hand at writing a fic abt that old man.

im scared how do yall do this every week