This one is an anon request for their Rook, Pigeon de Riva 💜 I love your backstory for your Rook, especially the Viago/Emmrich dynamic

To My Dearest Dove,

How am I meant to endure this?

You have not been gone a full day, and already the air feels wrong—hollow, tasteless, too still. I am deteriorating at an alarming rate. I tried to busy myself with my notes, only to discover I had written your name in the margins of a tome on ritual embalming. Five times. In increasingly elaborate calligraphy. Manfred attempted to intervene, but once he realized I was also flipping through your pressed-flower book for comfort, he gave up and left me to it.

Everything aches. My arms, from the absence of yours wrapped around them. My mouth, from the cruel lack of kisses. My jaw, from not smiling like a fool every time you speak. I am a shell of a man. I have begun to refer to myself in the third person. “Emmrich is unwell,” I muttered this afternoon, upon realizing your absence had ruined soup for me.

I miss your mouth. I should not write that in a letter, but there it is. I miss your mouth on my cheek, my throat, my jaw, the corner of my lips when you think I am not paying attention (I always am). I miss the way you kiss me like it’s your second nature. As if touching me is not optional, but necessary. Vital. And Maker help me, I have become so very accustomed to being vital to you.

And your hair—Maker above. I find strands of it everywhere: tangled in my scarves, wrapped around my rings, clinging to my pillow like some cruel reminder of heaven. I buried my face in it the morning you left. You laughed. I don’t think you realized I was trying to memorize the way it smells. Roses and sunlight and you.

I have lived alone for so long, I thought I knew what quiet was. But this? This silence? It is unbearable. It is the shape of your absence pressed against everything I touch.

Tell your charming half-uncle I am still recovering from our last debate on the ethical applications of belladonna, and that if he dares to keep you in Antiva a moment longer than necessary, I shall not be held responsible for my actions. I am only half-joking. (You may tell him it’s the upper half, he’ll understand.)

I know we said forever. I know we promised ourselves a future. That you will be my wife still feels like a fact too wonderful to be real. But I find myself wanting it now. Not months from now, not when the world settles—I want the mornings where I wake to your fingers in my hair, the afternoons where we argue over books we’ve both only half-read, the evenings where you fall asleep on my shoulder and I pretend not to cry from the sheer enormity of loving you.

Write soon. Or don’t, and simply arrive. I shall be waiting, dramatically draped across furniture and sighing into the middle distance. Poetry may already be happening. This is your only warning.

Yours, in suffering and adoration,

Emmrich

dead. dying. deceased. oh my gawwwwd 🤭💙✨️

Manfred keeps walking in on Emmrich and Rook having sex. 

He doesn’t understand what’s happening but they always seem happy afterwards so it must be good. The first time they notice him, Emmrich gives him a talk about privacy but doesn’t explain what they were doing.

When Manfred learns to speak, he asks. Emmrich gives him a technical explanation and now Manfred knows what, but not why.

So naturally he turns to his other parent and asks Rook who promptly hands him a romance novel (four scarves fluttered in shock out of five) and says it should answer his questions.

Manfred reads the book with his two best friends, Assan and Spite. Assan is mostly uninterested but Spite is fascinated. He has a lot of questions that Manfred doesn’t know the answers to, so he offers to ask his Dad.

Which is how Emmrich ends up having to answer Manfred’s questions about “throbbing members” and “quivering flesh” while Johanna loses it (yelling) and Rook loses it (laughing).

As Emmrich is explaining that they’re metaphors, Lucanis bursts in and demands to know why Spite is asking about “heaving bosoms.” Rook suddenly remembers something extremely urgent that they have to take care of in Minrathous and vanishes.

Emmrich, who firmly believes that there is nothing shameful about consenting adults having sex, suggests that Lucanis explain it to Spite himself. Lucanis, who would rather eat a meal prepared by Viago than explain sex to a demon, tells Spite to ask Emmrich next time Lucanis is asleep.

And that’s how Emmrich ends up teaching a sex ed class at two in the morning.

Another letter for @redheadsramblings and Rowan! 💜 This one comes after the gods are defeated (he misses her a LOT).

My Dearest Rowan,

How unbearably dull this house is without you in it.

Manfred misses you terribly. He sits at the foot of the stairs for hours each day, head tilted toward the door, and makes a sound I can only describe as accusatory whenever I pass by without you. He found one of your hair ribbons yesterday and carried it around for a full hour like a prize. I would have laughed, but I was busy doing the same with the shawl you left behind.

My love—I miss you. Desperately. Unapologetically. In the way a man misses sunlight after a lifetime indoors and finds that, now having known its warmth, he is entirely ruined for anything else.

And yet despite my misery, I am giddy. Giddy like a schoolboy who knows the object of his affection is not only real but returning to him. The very notion that this—us—is not a fleeting thing but the beginning of a shared life, a home, a future? It is enough to undo me.

I love you. There—let me begin plainly, since I seem to do so little else with you. I love you, Rowan Hazel Juniper Ingellvar, and I shall go on loving you in every breath until I am nothing but breathless dust and echo.

And when you return, when the door opens and it is you standing there, real and warm and mine, may the gods help me, I will never let you out of my arms again.

I think about our bed here, and how it has not yet known you. The pillows are untouched. The sheets do not carry your scent. It is offensive, frankly. I would burn the entire room down and start again if I thought it would help me sleep. But I know I won’t sleep until you’re here.

You, curled beside me, tangled in linen, cheek against my chest—or perhaps on top of me, knee hooked around my hip, my hands running along that glorious spine of yours. You have no idea how often I imagine it. And no shame, my darling, none at all—my mind is a wicked and devoted thing, and it does not rest.

I dream of you rising above me, head tipped back, mouth open, my name the only sound you can make. I dream of undoing you slowly—of kissing every inch of your skin until the past means nothing and the only thing you remember is how I touch you. I dream of your thighs trembling around me, your nails dragging down my back, your voice cracking when I tell you how obscenely beautiful you are when you come.

I dream of trailing my mouth over every scar, every mark you trusted me to see. You said they made you self-conscious, but Rowan, they make you you. I would not trade a single line of your story for anything in this world. They are not flaws. They are chapters—and I love all of you, even the parts that once made you flinch. Especially those. Because they are yours, and you are mine.

You trusted me, Rowan. With your heart. Your past. Your body. Your future. And I—we—are going to build something worthy of that trust. Together.

There is a garden outside with far too many roses and not nearly enough wildflowers. I’ve saved a corner for you to plant whatever you like. Manfred has decided it will be where he buries his “findings,” so I hope you don’t mind the occasional stolen sock or… is that one of Davrin’s carvings?

Come home soon. I have tea waiting. A bed that is entirely too cold. And a heart that beats far too loudly in your absence.

I love you. I want you. I am yours.

Always, Emmrich

*[taps mic]* Good evening, beloved Emmrook community. Everyone doing well? Sexualizing that old man? Good. I come before you to ever so humbly request a single song off of your Emmrook playlists. I don’t care if they’re 80 electro pop or opera metal, Gregorian chants or stomp. I will take them all. Throw them in the comments or in the tags.

I’ll start.

Stars upon the ocean (NSFW)

You asked for Emmrich on a Strap-on? You get Emmrich on a strap on. Read under the tag or an Ao3. If you like it, I would love to hear it <3 Thank you to all the people leaving comments and encouragement on my WIP! It meant the world to me.

Pairing: Emmrich Volkarin x Siobhan Ingellvar (Emmrook)

Words: 5,316

Warnings/Tags: NSFW, older man/younger woman, Bottom!Emmrich, Top!Siobhan, Rim Jobs, Anal fingering, Body Paint, Body Worship, Strap-on usage, Sucking the Strap-on, Emmrich can ride, Siobhan is down bad, Multiple orgasms, Multiple Positions, Aftercare, Nipple piercings, Mentions of bugs, Mention of scars

fuck it homebrew boop button. reblog this post to boop the person you reblogged from.

to all my fellow dragon age fans with ocd…..

how’s your Lucanis/Spite hyperfixation going? 🤭

HEY! you did not need to call me out like that.

Now Accepting: Personal Missives from Emmrich Volkarin 💀 Requests are Open 💀

“I am not a man of idle thoughts, dearest—but when it comes to you, I am undone by them.”

This started because I love Emmrich, and because I love writing letters in his voice. If your Rook is someone he might write to, I’d love to send a letter their way! You can request multiple letters if you like; I’ll keep a running list on this post so you know where you are in line. Letters will be written in character from Emmrich’s POV, tailored specifically to your Rook.

📜 Letters in Progress

His pen lingers, hesitates. Still, the letter will come.

HOW TO REQUEST A LETTER: You can submit a request via my askbox. I’ll post the letters here on my page and will use the hashtag #Letters from Emmrich to keep track. 

Anons are welcome! Just make sure I can tell which Rook you are. If you'd like to remain anonymous but still receive a personalized letter, feel free to give me a nickname or identifier for your Rook (ex: “Rook with the red scarf,” “blue-haired Rook,” “Rook who leaves gifts for Manfred”)

WHAT I NEED FROM YOU: Feel free to copy/paste and fill this out in an ask (or submission, because we know how tumblr gets). Not all of these are required, but will help me make the letter even more customized to your Rook.

Please give me a couple of days to craft your letter (it will probably be less, but just in case life is busy).

All Rooks are welcome! 

1. Rook's name (or identifier, if you’re anon) 2. Pronouns / Gender identity 3. Relationship status with Emmrich: (pining? early flirting? established lovers?) 4. How does your Rook show affection? (touch, words, acts of service, gifts, awkward silence...) 5. What does Emmrich love most about your Rook? 6. What does your Rook love most about Emmrich? 7. What kind of letter would you like? (soft and romantic, dramatic yearning, flirty/teasing, full-on lovesick professor...) * 8. Any other fun details I should know? (faction, physical description, a favorite moment, a habit they have, a private nickname, etc.)

If you have a tag or post detailing your Rook, feel free to send that, too!

Have a question? Please don't hesitate to ask 💜

* I am comfortable writing smutty/spicy letters if requested. I will not veer into that territory unless asked. If your Rook has something cough particular that they like, feel free to tell me. If you don’t want to include it in the ask itself, just send me a private message and I’ll make sure to add it.

Interested in a letter to or from your favorite Crows? @pixiedurango runs the Antivan Postal Service!

Forgive me, this is still percolating, and I LEGIT may use it for my fic, but I must get it out of my head, half-brewed and barely coherent.

Rook is desperately teasing Emmrich (at a point where he's still being reticent to get fully physical), asks permission to be vulgar, and goes for it. Mostly, it's a lot of blushing and pearl clutching, but Rook closes it with something painfully sweet. "Sorry, I just want to let go with you , because I know you'll take care of me." And Emm is immediately putty, abruptly down to clown. Which is funny, and Rook does call him on it "Oh, so it's emotional vulnerability that gets you off? Should've known." So he switches gears, saying lovely, kind things instead and Emmrich is absolutely DTF buuut Rook ends up fucking weeping.

Is that anything? I don't know, but now it's out there 🤣

"seduce me with your tears"

Professor Emmrich "finer points of anatomy" Volkarin, AKA Emmrich "Vol-carnage" Volkarin ABSOLUTELY knows how to stab a bitch without spilling a single drop of blood yet causing massive internal haemorrhage

Johanna Hezenkoss quickly learns to regret taunting Emmrich Volkarin when Nahida Mercar is in the room