Hi! Iām Pi (they/them) | Black | 30s | Non-binary Lesbian | AfroĆsterreicherIn Veilguard enjoyer and fanfic writer. (Will occasionally ramble about Autistic Burnout recovery and DID) Moots may ask for my discord My AO3
I'm Pi (they/them) and I'm glad you're here! Have a rummage. Open the cupboards. Judge the silverware. Marvel at the tiny hotel soaps. Pocket some of the tiny hotel soaps. Flee the confines of my blog, utterly replete with soaps. Re-sell the soaps on the black m
First things first: Iām an adult blogging with other adults in mind.
This is largely a Veilguard blog - Iāve been a DA fan since DA:O and Iāve been fandom active since this post. I mainly write nonbinary Crow Rook because my OC is dancing a jingle in my head and refuses all attempts at exorcism.
I'm a Multi-shipper. Nevecanis applauder. Spites Union Rep. Teiago enthusiast. Enjoyer of all things queer. Currently hyper-fixated on Spookaneve, DreadRook and Hooke (Hawke/Rook), but will Oneshot any combo if inspiration hits because I love them all.
Mwa!
āMy Asks are Open!
āMy tag list is dissolved :)
āTofana de Riva Altar:
Intro Post | Character Inspo | Tofana's Tag
āMy Fanfic Masterlist | My AO3
āMy Current Projects
āOff the Hooke. Hawke/Rook post DATV sapphic rivalmanceāFollow Along on AO3 or check out the WIPS on tumblr!
For you if you like Sapphic fiction, rivalmances, gratuitous denial of feelings, humour, over-the-top smut
āAlliteration Part One; A Crow!Rook Origin Story ā Currently being re-written!
For You if you like Viago & Rook, Teiago, Found Family, Crow Politics, AUs grounded in existing lore, Mysteries with Darker themes, Unreliable narrators, collecting NB!Rooks
āViago, Did You Know? Kid!Rook short fics āFollow Along on AO3 or check out the WIPS on tumblr
For You if you like light(er) hearted short works, Parental Viago, Fail!Dad Viago, Rook being a Horrible Goose
āGallant Gustav's Grand Ghoulish GhastliesāWIPs here!
Gustav has one job : Keep the bairn from the cairns! But the Sweet Child Ingellvar has other ideas...For you if you like Rook being a Horrible Goose and eerie vibes around The Necropolis
āI'm Learning To Draw (ć Ā“ Ė `)
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Thanks to @epiphany-jones and @ratbagjasper for the tags! In love with the way you both write tension between characters - it makes the eventual fallout so much juicier for it.
Currently working on fleshing out the earlier scenes of the big Voice-verse AU, the period where Esha and Lace are travelling with Varric. Since the soul bond doesn't come into play for them until Lace touches the dagger, I wanted to lay the groundwork in the early chapters to give a sense that the two of them would probably have fallen for each other/were already falling for each other even without it (and that it's arguably more of a wrench in their plans than anything, because I love to mess with tropes like this).
"Lace?"
She's distracted enough that the soft voice makes her startle. There's a faint flash of elf eyes in the dark that disappears when Harding pulls the door to behind her, much more carefully than she'd opened it.
"Sorry," she whispers. "Didn't mean to wake you."
There's a faint rustle of blankets. Poor Rook, ever the light sleeper. "S'okay. You good?"
"Yeah," Harding tells her as she feels her way around the end of her bed. "Yeah, I'm good."
Rook's little 'hmn' doesn't sound entirely convinced, but there's no more questions from her end. In fact, as Harding slips between her own blankets and curls up on her cot, the shuffling from Rook's bed goes quiet again. Her breath does too, evening out into the faint slow noises of sleep - and when she hears that, Harding lets out a breath of her own.
Time was, that sort of interruption would've woken Rook up for good. Time was, the other girl barely slept around anyone. But then again...
There was a cat back in Redcliffe. A mouser who'd crept into the farmhouse while the Hardings slept, some time after the Blight. He'd been black-furred and beautifully agile, always darting an arm's length away or more whenever anyone came close. Perhaps, Lace had reasoned, he'd survived those endless waves of darkspawn and undead by simply outpacing them all. It had taken months of Lace leaving out little scraps of meat before he'd so much as eat it within eyeshot of her. But one night, almost two years on from the first glimpse of him, she'd felt tiny paws press heavily across her back while she slept, and a tiny warm body curling up against hers.
Gentle tags below the cut! The taglist is over here if you would like on or off.
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Rules: Tell me about your writing! Pick a scene/chapter from one of your fics (or I'll suggest one!) and add any commentary you feel like. Why that line? How come this plot twist? What does the eyebrow waggle MEAN?!?! I want the dirt and I can only smash my face up against the glass of your stories so hard before I start to leave smudges.
Was reminded about this from @genjyoandgojyoandhakkai post about their Aydenne de Riva series.
It got me thinking about my long fic, Into the Grey and why I personally feel like I fucked up in the pacing (My biggest issue atm) and just not having a solid plan for it. Hence why I cut it up.
A cure for the Itch is part two and even though there's currently three chapters for it. I, at least, have better plan than I did the first go around. But overall I wanted to try and give a more...cohesive telling of the first chapter of Into the Grey and what is happening.
So as we all know, Zea is a Grey Warden and one thing that has always intrigued me about them was that they go through this ritual of sorts involving blood and magic(possibly blood magic) and are now stuck with an unnatural ability to fight one of the great evils of the world and their reward is death? Cool.
But I also like really fucked horror and body horror. So with everything that happened within veilguard, the way the blight changed and acted different, I wanted to explore how that would affect the Wardens. Especially after the fact.
Things start out as normal. Cleanup after the final battle, and Zea still dealing with Warden duties. While also trying to figure out how to be domestic with Emmrich. With the blight being cleared out, the thought of what life would be like once she no longer needed to be a warden was something.
Adjusting to life in Nevarra was easier said than done for Zea 'Rook' Thorne. She and her ragtag group saved the world by killing two elven gods, sealing away Solas, and ending the sixth and final blight. Life as a Warden prepared her for life on the move, not staying in one spot. She spent the better part of her life camping under the stars, training new recruits, and fighting enemies alike. Everything still felt surreal, even two months out. Accepting Varric and Harding's death were impossible to come to terms with. Especially Varric. In dealing with the aftermath of a world ending war, her own mental struggles and her Wardens responsibilities, she was now fighting an illness.
One particular morning, Emmrich noticed.āDarling, are you alright?ā He questioned observing her aversion at breakfast. āYou've scarcely eaten in the last two days.ā
And now she's sick. Don't know what's happening. Zea has a sensitivity to the blight like Antoine, so she figured it was just that along with the ever changing blight. Since she wasn't the only one getting sick.
During drills, walking, or even just standing still. During one excursion, Rook felt like the undead she moments ago dispatched of. Davrin accompanied her as they trained new warden recruits deep in the wetlands. He sent the fledgling wardens to scout ahead as he turned his attention to Rook, who was bent over, hands on her knees attempting to catch her breath.
āRook. What's going on?ā Davrin asked, his brow furrowed in concern. āYou look like you're about drop any moment.ā
āI don't know.ā Rook uttered between breaths āI haven't been feeling like myself in weeks. Everything smells wrong, my body doesn't feel like my own.ā She explained, trying to piece together an answer for her predicament. āI thought it would pass but it seems to be getting worst.ā
Davrins expression changed little.
āThere's been more wardens getting sick or displaying weird symptoms. Go talk to Flynn or one of the other healers once we get back to Lavendelā
āIf it's related to the blight, there's nothing they can do right now. Though Antoine did say my symptoms were a little different than the others.ā Rook stated as she stood to her full height.
āWhat do you mean?ā
āDespite everyone being nauseous, I'm the only one puking their guts, inconsistent dizzy spells, and weird body aches. Though I don't have any boils like some Wardensā
āWith this blight being so unpredictable, I'm surprised theĀ joiningĀ hasn't changed or caused someone to grow a second headā At this, Rook laughed.
āCome on before those recruits get killed.ā
Here we get a glimpse of Davrin and Zea still doing their warden duties, training newbies from those infected by the blight during the final battle and just from the course of the events. Though most wardens are displaying weird symptoms, Zea's aren't the same. Blight boil growing on people? eww.
A rare day with no Warden or guard duties, Rook was home alone. Emmrich and Manfred were out for the day, thus giving her a chance to finally leave her mark here. Despite the one floor home being much bigger than his apartments, it still felt more like his and notĀ theirs. She didn't have much in the way of personal items, less to carry and quicker to move when out in the wild.
As she cleaned and reorganized the kitchen, it gave Rook a chance to reminisce on the past few weeks. When she agreed to move in with him, she was surprised at how quickly he sold his small apartments and bought a cozy house just outside the Necropolis. However, she spent little to no time at home unless Emmrich was there. Just like her time spent at the lighthouse, she never sat still even when there was nothing to do but wait.
She needed to be moving, somewhere on an adventure. He was the only person that truly kept her grounded, especially if it meant being underneath him. Nevertheless, she wanted to make a home with her Emmrich and dammit, she was gonna try. As she cleared the remnants of breakfast, her thoughts wander to her time in the Fade Prison, the shock of learning four weeks of her life were gone, the night she spent with Emmrich before the final battle.
Again Zea isn't use to domestic life and is trying her best to be a suitable partner for Emmrich. This was the furthest she had ever gotten in a relationship in such a sort time (I hc at most a year it took them to fight the gods)
The intense nausea drew Zea back to the here and now. With the arduous task, cleaning the kitchen sink vanquished, she gripped the edge as her breakfast threatened to resurface. She hurled the contents of her stomach over the freshly cleaned basin, the sour burn of bile filed her nose, she mentally cursed at another fine meal ruined.
As if the violence of the nausea wasn't enough, the room began spinning.
She slid down to the floor, her back against the cabinet, eyes shut tight while beads of sweat gathered on her forehead. Chest rising in controlled breaths as she tries willing the onslaught away.
Unsure of how much time elapsed as Zea opened her eyes, her dizzy spell had passed but the unsettling feeling in the pit of her stomach lingered.
As she is having a grand time reminiscing about her life before and the night after she returned from the fade prison, she's hit with her sickness. Hard. Having no idea what the hell is happening and her only clue is that it's blight related.
I have finally gotten back to writing.
This last month has been hectic with being made redundant and having to find a job (I was fortunate, I signed a new contract elsewhere just over a week from my final day at work) so my mind has been all over the place. But no more! I want to finish this chapter this week and a chapter for Dr Who next week before I have to start my new role!
So here's a piece of my AWWF piece, "Of Houses, Hearts and Hidden things" Chapter... 26? 27? One of them.
OPEN TAG, and tossing out some tags in the general direction of @foxeareddevilish, @dirthera15, @waxlyricalmoon, @therivercrow, @christeeenith, @broodsys.
(there is a reason i tag risk aware consensual kink instead of safe sane consensual. this ao3 tag probably brought to you by these series: Dreams and Desire, Interludes in a Dream.)
Oh hi, hello, long time no see. Thank you for the tag, @broodwoof
Some very gentle tags since I have been gone so long: @waxlyricalmoon, @amellderiva, @notyourmamasdeerbat, @myheartdreams, @idunnaldwir, @the-wolfs-ravensong
I have been away, visiting other realms and suffering in real life due to too much work, which is sucking the energy out of me to write (but at the same time I have started, finished or am in the middle of several WIPs, so my writing for the past 6 months was a journey), but here I am. Trying to push past this not-really-author's-block-but-something's-up, and hopefully sharing will somewhat help with it. Or at least it will help me lock into finishing the story I wish to finish the most instead of dilly-dallying with new fun plot bunnies.
Of course, I offer you a little bite from Chapter 30 of The Dread and The Flame
Viper sighed, eyes trailing the horizon, sea before them crashing against the pier below, "He would not trust Neve."
"She's involved with a Templar." Fenrel shrugged, matter-of-fact.
"We have Tarquin."
Fenrel offered him a bitter chuckle, "That's the whole issue, is it not?" She could not spare Tarquin a kind word, and Viper did not bother arguing it.
He turned to face her now, and for a moment she could've sworn she saw a glimmer of blue beyond the blighted irises of his, "I hope you do know that I regret it."
"It matters little now, does it?"
"It will always matter to me."
"Is that why you're saddling me with your legacy? A twisted way to atone for your regret?" She could've laughed, she could've cried, but the anger now was too dull, too inconsequential. Poisonous words missing their sting.
"It's more of a hope," He said, sadness and firm belief in his voice, "You'd do better than me and would not make the mistakes I did."
She could've turned to watch the sea, the one comfort she always sought after, but her gaze remained steady, meeting his eye. There wasn't enough time left for them, there would never be enough time for them, and there was never the right time. They were a lost cause from the moment they met, and their run was almost at the end, and only now, she realised what she should've long ago. On the spot, they would meet away from other Shadows, on the roof they would share a drink, or play cards, or lie down and stare at the skies, pretending for a moment they were just regular people living regular lives. "For what it's worth, I do not regret you."
And a bonus bite for anyone who is watching House of the Dragon and has ever wondered what would happen if there was a modern AU with all blorbos as F1 drivers (okay, I am perfectly aware I am an audience of one on this specific theme). TW: I fell in love with a blond man.
Now Aegon was looking back at her, glass raised in a mock toast, seeing if she would return the favour. She did, keeping at the same tight smile. It was easier to treat him just like everyone else and a liability at once. Not her worry. Not anymore, not ever. Looking back, she told herself that all worked out as it always had to. She chose the right brother, and there was that. But there was Aegon, closing the distance, making steady steps between bodies, weaving through the crowd between them, light breaking on the blond waves bleached by the sun. Where the sun stole colour from his hair, it gave back to his skin, a healthy tan shown off by undone buttons of his shirt, a suit worn only as formality, but made his own. Sleeves rolled up to show off the ink on his skin, tie undone. It was supposed to be a black-tie event. He technically wore one. At least he bothered to dress in black for once. She elected to ignore the myriad things wrong with his clothing and kept standing in the spot where she'd spotted him, as if moving away were now improbable.
"Lexi," Aegon smiled, clinking his half-empty glass against her untouched drink. "Looking lovely as ever."
"Aegon," She said, looking him up and down, as if she hadn't done it all night, remarking the rings on his fingers and the golden line of a necklace, and the white line where the sun did not touch under the thin metal, now visible when it moved out of its assigned placement. He didn't bother to take the necklace off for the event, because why would he?
"Looking sharp." She put just enough pressure on the word so he would know she did not mean it. Even if she did not bother to press it, he would've known. He was always good at understanding what she said versus what she meant. She hated it then; she missed it now, and she would never say it aloud.
He clicked his tongue before speaking, lightly shaking his head as if disappointed. "Don't be like that, Lex."
"Always have been like this, always will be."
"Because my mother is watching you watching me?" He gave her a bitter chuckle before taking a long draw of his drink, leaning across her to place the glass on the bar behind her, and remaining there, leaning. "Now, she can't see you. Much better, right?"
"There's press." She hissed, eyes jumping across the room to see who watched.
"There's always press," He shrugged, "And they bring whispers."
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Here's my super late entry for Shadow Dragon Week! Thanks @shadow-dragon-week for hosting
A Shadow Dragon in the making. We travel back in time to when Amir's magic first emerged. Which just so happens to coincide with the first time he freed slaves.
https://archiveofourown.org/works/88460256
Also here's Amir's Bingo Card:
Tagging for interest: @rooks-dagger, @redaresss, @maagisterpavus, @in-the-drowning-deep, @dudewheresmynug, @waxlyricalmoon, @ratbagjasper, @epiphany-jones, @bluerose5, @jukkaricity, @sparklingarsonic, @vllygyal, and anyone else whoās interested.
As always thanks to @thatgaymerguyb for helping me edit!
This is 2 separate giveaways for my two crocheted Harding dolls I did for Harding week, Iāll let this run until Monday night and then draw 2 winners. the first gets to choose between the cone and the bean š
How to enter:
just comment that you want to be entered in the giveaway on this post (one entry per person, if youāve won a giveaway before feel free to enter another one ā¤ļø)
its free if you're in the USA I will pay for shipping because it's like 6 dollars. If you are out of the us and want to enter that's fine with me I will go to the post office and fill out whatever papers they need from me for tariffs/ oversea shipping/etc, I just ask that you pay shipping (and only after you receive your doll to make sure it makes it to you) (Iāve shipped to a couple places outside the us and itās been around 20-25 dollars so far)
Gently tagging (super no pressure) some hardingmancers in case they want to enter:
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monolinguals think of translation as mapping words 1:1 but really it's more like every word covers an area of meaning, and word a in language a will never completely overlap with word b from language b. it's a venn diagram, not a mix and match.
Every time I express that I think it's shitty to say that genAI "hallucinates," people get weirdly pissy and combative with me.
But until real human beings who experience hallucinations are treated like human beings worthy of respect and dignity...I think perhaps it's shitty to keep associating hallucinations with being non-human, dangerous, and a liar.
It actually really fucking sucks that hallucinating is seen as monster-movie-scary, dangerous, inhuman, and worthy of scorn and/or mockery. It actually really fucking sucks that people who hallucinate or experience delusions can't get compassionate help or understanding, because everyone thinks it's an automatic sign of being dangerous, violent, and a liar. It's a massive problem that people look at hallucinations as "dangerous crazy person shit" that should be gotten rid of or locked away.
I find it crass, at best, to flippantly use the term "AI hallucinations" when real-life people get abused, imprisoned, and killed because they experience hallucinations.
But what do I know, I'm just a crazy person. ĀÆ\_(ć)_/ĀÆ
People in the notes keep proposing alternatives or asking me what they should say instead, and I really think y'all are overthinking it. You don't need to coin an entire new term. You can just say "AI generates misinformation." If you need it as a noun, "AI misinformation."
If you want to be provocative, "AI spits out garbled bullshit" works, too.
Fully agree, as someone who experiences mild hallucinations. Also it is simply bad terminology, bordering on propaganda, because it is used to position these 'errors' as unexpected phenomena that can eventually be worked out. As opposed to what it actually is, an inescapable fact about the way large language models work.
LLMs generate text to sound plausible without any regard to whether it is true. That's literally it.
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