#nonbinary rook

[postmanlee514]

Spite did a favor for Lucanis

I love Emmerich talks with Rookanis

[madameoni]

Veritas "Rook" Ingellvar

Thank you dragon age now I can play as a very weird nonbinary femme goth and date an old man. Better believe I will obsess over her as much as I obsessed over Elaar, and more probably.

[ofcrowsanddragons]

The next chapter of my Rookanis fic, A Working Relationship:

Secret identities. Demons. A few short weeks to stop a slaughter in Minrathous.

Mags de Riva fucked up while succeeding on a contract. One of the other Talons is out for blood.

Viago finds himself in the unenviable position of needing to send Mags on a contract that's designed to get them killed. And the unenviable position of asking someone that he doesn't fully trust (Lucanis Dellamorte) for help in keeping Mags alive.

Lucanis is only thinking of fulfilling a favour to the Fifth Talon when he agrees not to tell Viago's young Crow that he's the First Talon's grandson. He doesn't know that Mags is hiding a much bigger secret.

The two Crows know they're hunting demons... but which demons are already haunting them?

Latest Chapter Start with Chapter 1

In the latest chapter of A Working Relationship:

“It's not a spell I've seen before,” said Luca. “Not in that particular form.” And he would have seen a lot of them, was the mage-killer’s underlying message. “Here,” I said, gesturing with my hand over the table. “Hold out your hand with the chain.” I was lucky to be working with someone who wasn't particularly afraid of magic, although I had the feeling that to him, being afraid of magic would have been like being afraid of a blade in the dark. There's little purpose in fearing something that defines your life. (link)

[flushwithdarlings]

argentei, tenderly holding lucanis' face between their hands: lucanis, I need you to do something really important for me.

lucanis: yes, anything. say the word and they're already dead.

argentei: okay...could you please, please......drink some water instead of just coffee?

lucanis: hm...

argentei: pretty please?

lucanis: ...I can certainly try.

spite: WHAT.

[alittlebitnerdy]

Can I ask for a Rookanis kiss number 17, please?:)

Kiss prompt 17. a kiss on the underside of the jaw. link to prompt list

minor trigger warning for description of bone setting!

“We’re going to have to set the break before I can heal it,” Bellara grimaced.

Rook’s knuckles were white as they gripped at the edges of their gauntlets, “Fucking venatori bastards-!”

“Lucanis, can you try and distract them? I’m going to grab some elfroot from my pack for them to chew.” He nodded and quickly knelt next to Rook’s head, gently lifting it to rest in his lap. His normally stoic demeanor was marred with concern and sympathy at Rook’s pain.

“Rook, just a bit longer,” he gently stroked from their cheek down the side of their neck. They didn’t respond beyond a groan.

“I’m back, here Rook!” Bellara shoved two large elfroot leaves between their lips which they immediately got to chewing.

Lucanis grabbed Rook’s hands, which they grasped tightly. Bellara nodded to him and pulled hard on Rook’s leg. A sickening crack came from their knee and Bellara began pouring healing magic into the area.

Rook’s back arched as they screamed, their head tipping back over the side of Lucanis’ knee as the pain subsided.

“I’m here, cariño…” Lucanis soothed. He leaned down and kissed the underside of their jaw as they panted, exhausted from the pain.

His beard tickled as he whispered against their skin, “Tonight I will banish the memory of this pain from your mind.”

Rook sighed as he lingered there. He withdrew and they slowly sat up, continuing to chew the elfroot leaves.

They both froze as they met Bellara’s gaze, her mouth agape and eyes twinkling.

“Bellara, my knee?” Rook chuckled. A light blush rose in their cheeks out to the tips of their ears.

“Right!” healing magic resumed flowing into the mending bone, Bellara smiling cheekily all the while.

[avoyagerinspace]

A little late to the party, but here's Isra and @ottobooty's Velani for OC Kiss Week! What's better than a pirate Rook? Two pirate Rooks kissing.

[aamuusva]

thinking of crow!Rook lately

[lemonlilactea]

Aaah emmrich/Rook wip

NSFW and unfinished and I'm bad at this

It's late, as far as he can tell. It's always hard to tell in the Lighthouse, but it seems most of the team is nestled away in their rooms, a soft quiet laying over the air. Emmrich left Lucanis in the kitchen, nursing his 3rd cup of coffee, to retire to his own room, noting that even Rook appeared to be resting as well. He was glad of it, knowing their leader often neglects their own care for the sake of the greater good, and they even brush it off when it's mentioned. With a sigh, he feels a wave of fondness for them, stubborn and strong as they are. 

His own room is warm, bright flames licking the stone, his books and trinkets filling the space. He even added a larger, comfier chair beside the little table holding his gift from Rook, that lovely statue they bought him. The chair is fit for two, if one is on the other's lap, at least, and they both quite enjoy spending time reading books curled into each other. Lately, of course, time is less and less available to them, and he sighs to himself, regretful. A blossoming romance, one to rival any garden, a fragrance of adoration lingering in his mind when they leave the room. Their skin, softer than any petals, and their eyes brighter than any bloom. Everything about them, Emmrich takes in wholly, and often. He's caught himself staring, likely looking a besotted fool, dreamy and far off as he gazes at their features in moonlight, or crackling flame.

As he moves toward the statue gift, his fingers trailing the details of the carved stone, a noise catches his attention. Quiet and muffled, it sounds like it comes from Rooks's room, through the cracks of the wall. Emmrich, ever naturally curious, takes the few steps to lean his ear toward the widest gap in the cold stone of the wall. It's quiet for a moment, and he thinks he may have imagined it, but there, again- a gasp, stuttered breathing. Sounds of motion and the familiar effort of staying quiet reach his ears, the effect of a hand muffling a moan one he knows well. Heat tears through him, and he has to brace a hand on the wall at the unexpected strength of sudden arousal. 

Rook is moaning, in their room. He'd have to be an idiot not to put the pieces together, they're obviously masturbating, he can hear another moan barely creep into his hearing. His own breathing has already quickened, and he has to swallow the lump in his throat.

He should step away, stop listening in. They would want privacy, they wouldn't want someone, him, listening in, would they? But he can't make himself do it. His hands clenched into fists against the wall, his head turned to keep an ear near the crack, feeling a chill breeze pass his skin, seeping into his Rooks's room. If only he could follow, simply ease through the gaps and caress their skin, leaving goosebumps in his wake. His lips, leaving a trail of kisses and marks, possessive and tender and- 

Before he can either stop himself or shake out of his reverie, something beyond a simple groan creeps through the crack. A word? Not quite, he thinks, straining to listen, no shred of shame for the way he's pressed against the wall, listening to his darling moan into empty air. 

‘Emmrich..’

His eyes widen, his jaw drops and he feels another searing round of heat clench his gut. They're calling his name, touching themself. They're thinking of him, just as he thinks of them in those nights where he'd rut into his fist, biting a pillow to muffle his own cries of their name. He almost has to gasp for air, the realization of the fact they want him just as badly as he needs them. 

Without thought, one of his hands falls from the wall to squeeze his length through the fabric of his trousers, the material a little strained by his growing interest. Emmrich has to actively remind himself to keep quiet, to keep his reactions to the unknown show to a soft whimper. He wishes he could see through the little gap in the wall, wishes he knew how they touched themself. If they'd let him touch like that. His hands, adorned in gold, trailing down the curve of their side, gripping the flesh of their thigh or gripping hard enough to bruise. The way he would revere them, every movement a ritual of adoration, a piece of proof of his devotion to them, to his Rook, his dearest.

Another moan from their room, louder now, as if they're losing the presence of mind to quiet themselves. His hips press into his hand, into the wall, and he leans his forehead to the cool stone to try and regain some kind of composure. It would be more possible if he couldn't hear the gasping breaths from Rook in the other room, the mental image of their lips parted and their eyes half lidded making him clench his jaw. They'd look lovely with a flush across their cheeks, and their chest, for that matter. A stunning, unique specimen, a prime example of everything he could possibly want, everything he craves. In truth, he's had to keep himself from distraction anytime they've shown any kind of skin, and it makes him feel all the more desperate for them. 

And gods, what would their touch be like? Would they want him to lead, or would they? Rook, their strong hands running through his hair, gripping his shoulders, trailing across the expanse of his constantly covered form. Their fingers, tracing teasingly along his waistband, under his shirt, across his chest…

He takes a shaky inhale, face half pressed into the stone as his hips roll into his own grip once more. A brief, quiet sound of his own tumbles from his lips like a drop of rain, hardly noticeable in the torrent of sensation that his body is providing. What he wouldn't give to tear this wall down, break the barrier between them so that he might show Rook in every feasible manner how much he wants. 

He can't help but let his hand begin to move against his length, pressing into the fabric roughly as his mind continues to paint a picture of lust, each movement a brushstroke in his mind, the image of his Rook laid below him, their chest heaving with breath. He can picture it, their hair below them like a halo, their fingers entwined with his. In his mind's eye, his teeth graze their neck just as a real gasp slips through the wall again, as if they can feel his imagined motions.

A stuttered breath of his own makes him lean into the wall and pause, needing to recenter and think. Is this a terrible idea, getting himself off at the whimpers and groans through a crack in the stone? Would he be able to look at them after without the echo of their pleasure in his mind? And, oh, what would they think if they saw him like this? Desperate, pathetic little whines into the stone, his body pressing itself forward to find any kind of pressure, anything more. Would they stare, their eyes raking over his form, watching his attempts to be quiet while his hand shoves into the fabric, the metal of his rings meeting hot flesh with yet another noise he tries to muffle. 

He has to turn, his back meeting the wall, head leaned back, his teeth biting into the gloved hand covering his own mouth. He wants to be quiet, not to be unheard but so he can strain to listen to the next gasp from Rook’s room. How he wished he could be there, even just watching them as their hands trace along their own skin, deft fingers finding pleasure where they so wish. Those fingers on him, what they might do…Their verbal teasing translating to how they touch him, never quite where he’d want. Emmrich feels his back arch from the wall and his grip tighten around his length, his next breathy gasp matching the one next door. Between moments, he can hear their voice again, a soft plea. ‘Emmrich, please, fuck…’ And if that doesn’t make his jaw drop, along with his gut, stalling his movements lest he finish far sooner than he’d like to admit. In his hazy mind he almost laughs, Rook once again making him feel far younger than his years in so many ways. Instead he inhales a breath that catches in his throat, eyelids fluttering as his hand starts to resume the slow glide up and down, the metal rings adding a tantalizing sensation to the motion. 

He feels near insane, his body in control and his head addled with lust, with need. An inferno under his skin, crawling through his veins, a fire started by Rook, and one that could only ever be quenched by them. 

[wolfwhisperertf]

Lucanis glances over his shoulder, half to make sure Davrin is still following them and half to simply smile at Ashwyn. Their hands intertwined as he leads them down the trail to the hot springs.

“Merida!” Lucanis almost trips over his feet as he startles at what’s behind him, “I always forget about that”

“What?-“ Davrin and Ashwyn ask in unison, glancing around to make sure it’s still just the three of them.

“Elves… your eyes glow”

Davrin lets out a snort and starts blinking his eyes dramatically as Ashwyn just grins.

[and-his-hands-were-24-crows]

-Hold, Still-

My final art of 2024, since I didn't finish the one I was doing on the plane last night. ✨

[sebthesmoll-art]

Accidentally deleted my last post of Nehn, so added two more screenshots of them, cuz you can never have enough Nehn serotonin for your soul!

[postmanlee514]

Spite: Rook. No Need. For Cape.

Rook: Yeah, I’ve already got yours.

And Lucanis just can’t stop thinking Rook wearing his cape.

I LOVE my best team so much

[kokoa707]

I was going through my screenshots, and I'm telling you.... these two are a little too interested. They were definitely spies left there by Illario. He stormed off in a huff so we would let our guard down. 😤

Also, this was one of my favourite NB dialogue choices—I found it touching and thought it flowed pretty naturally.

[keppsfreakerroom]

AHHHHHH I FUCKING LOVE EMMRICH VOLKARIN

Stupid handsome dapper smart tall talented sexy dumb old man

😭💀😤😤

AHHHHHHH

[flushwithdarlings]

"I don't like leaving you alone with a demon. I-"

"You don't have to worry about me."

"Lucanis..."

[alittlebitnerdy]

Helloooo!! For the prompts, could I ask for sparring turned sexy with a dash of I've been meaning to ask you something ?

Ty for your patience! Been chipping away at this and it just kept getting longer, enjoy! Prompt from Vorchagirl's Veilguard Prompts (please send me more these are great) This is pre-relationship rookanis :>

------------------

Rook shook out their hands, bouncing from foot to foot, “Ready?” Lucanis stood still as a statue, arms by his side, “Yes.”

They feigned right, ducking back left to dodge his immediate response. Hopping around his left side, they moved to strike but he was faster. Lucanis stepped gracefully and purposefully out of reach, then back as Rook retracted their fist.

Their brow furrowed as Lucanis remained stoic.

Spinning, they whirled a kick at him and he bent back to let it fly through the air. Using the momentum of the kick they quickly switched legs, spinning to kick again with the other.

Lucanis stepped to the right and then past them.

His every foot placement was firm, purposeful as a dancer, while Rook felt like a rabbit hopping around him.

“Why aren’t you hitting me” Rook demanded. “Why aren’t you?” they could almost sense a smirk in his words, knowing the quip was meant to bait them.

Rook’s hopping brought them backwards another foot, further from him. Lucanis circled them slowly, clearly waiting for them to try another attack. His stare was hard, cataloging their movement.

Their gray eyes flicked between his face and wherever they intended to hit next, every time.

Rook never stopped moving, always bouncing while stationary, trying to calculate their next step.

Sweat was beginning to trap the hair of their sideburns, where their long ears curved into the edge of their jawline. Rook spun to strike again, but Lucanis' eyes had not been watching theirs. It was too late to dodge, so he quickly caught their fist and tried to swing their arm backwards and into a hold. Rook kept moving however, slipping below his grasp and landing a playful chop to the back of his neck. “Dead. Your turn!” Rook huffed a smile, bouncing away out of reach again.

Lucanis sighed.

Distracted…

Shut up… He shook his head to silence Spite. His eyes analyzed Rook again. Their gaze darted between his face and hands now, preparing to defend.

Rook’s technique was sloppy but effective. Years of lost back alley fights had made their mark in every step they took.

It should be simple to neutralize them, if he weren’t getting so distracted.

His eyes caught on a bead of sweat rolling down their neck and disappearing into the collar of their shirt. Following what would’ve been its path had it not been interrupted by the linen garment, his gaze traveled down their chest to the waistband of their pants, drawn up high and cinched with a simple cord at their navel.

Solar plexus, but they’ll see it coming, so turn and kidney strike. With that plan in mind, he moved. He stepped quickly into Rook’s personal space, keeping low like he was trying to strike their stomach. As predicted, they swung both hands down to deflect him, and he spun past them. He swung his arm around their middle, pulling them backwards where their lower back met his hand – where a knife would’ve been in a real fight.

Rook froze in place, clearly startled by the quick maneuver. His arm around their middle felt as firm as a statue’s, locking them to his chest. “Dead,” He murmured softly. Rook felt his breath hit the shell of their pointed ear and shivered.

He released his grasp slowly, fingertips tracing the band of Rook’s pants before stepping back from them. Neither spoke as Rook stepped away, turning to face him again. Their eyes met for a second but Lucanis quickly looked away. That was too close, he chided himself, too intimate.

When his eyes returned to Rook he was stunned to see their shirt making its way over their face as they doffed it. They quickly wiped their face and neck with the discarded garment before tossing it aside, shaking out their hair. Their skin was tanned from days in the sun. A pale scar swirled down their right side, clearly magical in origin from Lucanis’ estimation. Clearly old and painful, to have scarred so badly meant they’d gone without healing magics as well. Defiance, punishment, but a badge of honor later. Spite murmured, as though reading the history of the scar off a page. Lucanis knew all too well that Rook had come from Tevinter. Rook blushed and huffed, “Yes, I used to have breasts, its complicated.” “What-? I-?” Lucanis flushed red, he hadn’t been caught staring at someone like this since he was a child, “That’s not what I…” “Oh? Oh, yes the other scars,” Rook chuckled, “Usually people are too polite to stare at those, but can’t take their eyes off my chest since its not what they expected.” Glancing back at Rook he could see the twin slash scars, edges much neater than the magic scar, at the curve of their pectoral muscles. “Forgive me, Rook, I…” his eyes met theirs, dark gray like a rolling storm. They stepped closer, “Yes, Lucanis?” “I've been meaning to ask you... ” his stomach wavered as Rook took another step towards him, now just an arms reach away.

He could smell them this close, the tang of sweat mixed with cedar.

“Hmm?” They leaned in closer, stormy eyes scanning his for a hint. Their faces were inches apart. Lucanis swallowed. His voice was low and soft, “What would you like for dinner tonight?”

Rook’s gaze softened, a small smile gracing their face, “I thought you’d never ask.”