#my brain won't write

[nothing-but-paisley]

Sorry to anyone waiting for Amanuensis updates! I have been traveling/jetlagged and sick but it's in the works! 😭😭

[crossistent]

[lesbicosmos]

i think dead boy detectives might have actually altered my brain chemistry

like what do you mean after months of having no motivation to write, ive written 6 fics and i'm currently working on 3 more?? what the fuck

[cardo-de-comer]

matej doodle

[trashcatsnark]

SilverV as Onion Headlines

[aquanutart]

She is offering water to any lost travelers! However, it's so hot that the water has become tea, so she's adjusted accordingly!

[ministarfruit]

I also did mock CGs of them for fun!!

(doppelgänger magni and vesper concepts)

[einsatzzz]

H.K. & H.K. 🥹💖✨ khr x sanrio collab will always live rent-free inside my brain

[zhongrin]

INCUBUS ZHONGLI who's lacking energy and needed to feed caught your sweet scent when passing your apartment window which was open and sleeping peacefully was you. You were so helpless so easy to take advantage of so deliciously innocent to corrupt it's making him drool but he wants to take his time with you slowly make you fall for him and him alone. Over the course of 4 months he's been in your dreams giving you sensations you never felt before the overwhelming pleasure he gives you.

Dream after dream you always see him this mysterious man with brown hair golden eyes it was like he was sculpted by the gods like they were telling you he was your soulmate but you were so so wrong about him entirely, he is nothing but a demon a sex demon who will TAKE whatever he wants weither they come willing or by force.

It has been a year now that Zhongli has entangle you in his web and just like he wanted you know nothing but him only him and it was about time he showed you what he truly is and claim you as his mate where you can never think of escaping him.

~~Later that night~~

You were fast asleep naked in your bed (the day was hot and so was the night) when Zhongli entered your room in his true form golden horns that curve along his head, arms black with veins of gold running up along them, a long serpentine tail with ridges lining all the way to the tip with tuffs of fur and eyes that's like molten gold glowing ever so brightly in the dark room

"Ah my dear jewel the time to claim you is now, you will be mine wholly for all eternity"

"Now then let's give you a little dream to loosen and wake you while I devour you"

~~In your dream~~

The sounds of high pitched moans and whines spill from your lips breathlessly begging the man between your thighs for more or to stop probably the former, he was devouring you like it was his last meal he'll ever get after cumming for the nth time face and chest covered in your slick, his tongue long and forked reached place you never knew that made you feel this good

"My dear don't tell me you're tired already and we haven't even begun this is just me preparing you for what's about to come"

After finishing his sentence his form started to change into that of a beast (a sexy beast at that🤤) that towers over you like a predator would to a prey with nowhere to escape

"It's time for you to wake up my darling"

~~End of dream~~

And when you come too the sight that greeted you was the man who you called Zhongli is eating you out like it was his last meal in a long time (which was true) but he was different his appearance changed into the beast from your dreams, it until you felt him suck harsh against your clit did you snap out of it letting out a whorish moan chuckling against you he said

"Finally you're awake darling I've been enjoying my meal for the past 15 minutes now let's continue where we left off in that dream of yours"

Did I mentioned that he is fucking HUGE both in size and girth with ridges on the underside of his cock no well now you know so that strench is going to leave you gaping that's for sure.

"I'm going mark and breed you until you're nothing but my little personal cumdump that'll take all of my cum whenever I want"

And with that he slowly push his cock in making sure you feel the ridges of his cock inch by inch until he's balls deep, letting out a cry and a few tears at the burning sensation of his cock strenching your cunt

"I-It hurts please it hurts"

"Shush it's okay my darling the pain the pass soon shush I'm going to take good care of you"

Whispering sweet nothings to you in hopes of helping you relax and adjust to the strench of his cock in that tight cunt of yours after a minute or two you tell him it's ok to move

"A warning to you my dear once I start I won't stop until I'm satisfied that I've fuck you senseless even if you pass out I won't stop is that understood"

"Yes I understand"

"Good then I shall not hold back"

You had lost count of how many times you've cummed that night probably around your 10th orgasm and yet Zhongli has cummed a total of 3 times and as pre his warning he did not stop even when you passed out from being overstimulated with orgasm after orgasm right after the other, Zhongli on the other hand had his fill of your energy but it wasn't enough he couldn't get enough of it he's addicted to it to you and he will never let you go after all he did claim you before you even knew of him by placing a special tattoo right on your womb after all you are his and his only😈

Oh one more thing incubus semen is more potent than human semen but let's keep this as a little secret 🤫

Did a little drawings of that very special womb tattoo couldn't decide which I like more both are the same but one has an extra detail to it

cw. total filth utc - you have been warned

oh to be incubus!zhongli's little darling whom he uses as he pleases as his personal fucktoy. oh to be utterly overwhelmed by his serpentine tongue, his ridged cock, his entire being. oh to be his little cumdump who gets filled up every single night, to be the vessel that carries his demihuman offspring... hskdjskjdlsjddl *grabby hands* gihb meeeeeeeeeeeeee

that second pic with childe... oooooghdjshfjsk what if. what if demon!childe caught on to what his friend has been doing? and he's so curious... what does this puny human look like, how captivating are you to make the normally so stoic and composed incubus so addicted? so he visits you one night and sneakily peeks from your window, and he sees you. such an obedient thing folded in half as you're being made to take a cock that's too big for your human pussy. babbling incoherently, eyes unfocused, singing so beautifully in such a sweet voice.

and oh, the way you beg when the demon teases you. the way you arch your back and pant like a bitch in heat as the dark fingers of his friend tweaks your pebbled nipples and pinches your raw clit. the way you apologize when you cum without permission and the delicious-looking tears cascading down your cheeks as you're made to lay across your bonded mate's lap, made to take the harsh slaps to your ass, made to choke around the ridged cock slathered with the mix of precum and your own releases from the previous rounds...

childe thinks he too, is captivated by you.

so who can blame him when he knocks on your window the next night, a sultry grin on his lips as he presents himself for you, offering you double the pleasure and some demonic magic that could spice up your night with your favorite incubus?

he's fine with third wheeling for now... eventually, you'll realize that he can give you more than what his friend can offer.

[carionto]

The duality of Man, or triality? quadrality?

Alien to Human about New Human: Correct me if I'm wrong, but they appear abnormally large for your species?

H: Yea, he's a biggun alright, even without the EV suit I'd say... 7'3'', 310 pounds, bet he power lifts.

A: Umm... not to be rude, but, uhh... he seems, well... how should I put this...

H: Intimidating? Terrifying? Evil? Yea, if this station didn't have high screening standards I'd be totally pissing myself if he started walking towards me. The mohawk and eye tat totally make me believe he could snap me in two with a single glare.

A: I feel ashamed that my instincts are telling me to flee. I wish nature were easier to change.

H (shouting at NH): Hey buddy! Could you come over here for a minute please? You look awesome by the way!

A (whispering nervously): what are you doing?!?

H: Gotta overcome those fears somehow, I believe the best way is a direct confrontation.

NH approaches, somewhat slowly, looking around at all the other aliens in the station that are chatting, waiting around, or doing some work. He finally approaches A and H, and in a very deep and husky voice says: Um, hi, hello. T-thanks for the compliment, I, uh, was a little worried I would stand out too much here.

H: Oh you totally do, my friend over here is practically about to pass out from how much like a gothic viking of death metal you look.

NH: Oh no, I'm so sorry, I-I just grew up in Sweden-Delta and both my parents were huge into classic local music, so I just, uh... it's complicated. I'm sorry, I didn't mean to scare anyone.

H: Hey, relax pal, we're all good people here. Anyway, what you here to do? I'm planning on starting a bakery, still testing out what kind of flour most species here can actually stomach. My friend here is on the team working on Moon theft preventative measures.

NH: Oh, that's cool. I'm here as an exchange student with the department of applied astrophysics. If all goes well, I can finish my Bachelors degree remotely and stay here as an intern with the head researcher.

H: Oooh, that's cool. (so cool yea that you're apparently half my age but oh well guess I'm a big fat time waster like my father before me and oh god change the subject before I get depressed in front of strangers) That's a real big bag you got there, carrying some super secret science things, eh?

NH: Oh, that... uhh... guess it can't hurt to tell, security vetted it already anyway.

NH proceeds to unzip the bag and hold up a large white piece of clothing with light blue rings and accents, alongside a strange white cap with what looked like small fins, and a curious little backpack.

NH: It's uhh... um... my... Ika... musume... cosplay.... (oh gods I can't believe I said it out loud again)

After a moment of awkward silence, NH slowly puts on the backpack and presses a button on it's strap, and suddenly numerous light blue colored tentacle-like appendages sprout out from the backpack and move in line with NH's movements.

NH: I, uh..., got my engineering friend to make them articulate and interface with my contacts. I can make them do all sorts of things, like make various shapes and animals with them, though works best as a shadow theater.

H:...

NH:...

A now frozen out of confusion than fear:...

H: That's so

NH: (oh I know it's so lame, but I love that show)-

H: COOL! I don't know what a ika musume is, but those things look amazing. You said articulate? How precise can they be? I'd love to have something like that instead of my useless assistant. Poor lad can't make a piece of toast if his life depended on it...

NH: Y-you like it?

H: I LOVE those things. My daughter does cosplay too sometimes, but she makes her Dreadnought suits herself from scraps. One time the military came to our house and installed a limiter on the gauss cannon she found in a crash site, said it would otherwise start to generate small doses of radiation if used too frequently. But she replaced it with a handmade rail gun before the next convention. Do you go to those? Did you see a 7 meter tall hulking metal monstrosity with a bunch of candles all over? That was her.

NH: Oh, I think I've seen video of that, but no, not in person, I go to smaller events. I don't really like big crowds.

H: Oh yea, I get ya, you do seem a bit on the shy side now that we've been talking for a bit. Hey, no worries, like I said, we're all good people here.

NH: T-thanks, but I think I should be going now, the teacher is calling me over.

H: Oh yea, go ahead, didn't mean to take up so much of your time. Have a fun stay and I'm sure you'll ace that paper or theory? Or whatever astrophysicists do, you seem like a solid kid.

NH: Oh, uh, thanks. Good luck with your bakery. And you with stopping those weird people from stealing more moons. Bye.

H: Bye bye, come visit, don't be a stranger now, I'm set up just a short bit from the main lift on floor 14.

NH: R-right, I'll, uh, be sure to stop by soon.

A is finally able to process what they just heard and says: What was all that just now?

H: What? Just a friendly chat with what is apparently basically a kid. Man, this kid's got so much going on, while I'm almost 50 and I have an oven. Life, man, it can go in so many ways. Anyway, let's go grab a drink, I'm parched.

[the-ace-with-spades]

this is about slow down (you're doing fine) fic but also a general headcanon I think is universally true for me

I like to think that before the whole USNA papers fiasco happened, Bradley was very much Mav's kid.

He was the best of the best in anything he put his mind to and he always seemed to do it so effortlessly (it wasn't). He had no fear of danger that looked like pure bravery but was in truth, just him trying and trying to be brave (he'd 'do it scared'). He was a painfully loyal person and friend but rarely trusted to have it reciprocated. He was known and liked but rarely close enough with anyone to be fully seen as who he really is. He was commanding attention whichever room or group he wasn't in, and he was doing it on purpose. He had this weird intensity about him (always aiming for more, always being best at whatever he wouldn't start, always so sure of what he wanted and what he didn't) that only few brave people dared to get close to and explore, that very few people wanted to have in their life.

Even appearance-wise a lot sips off from Mav (not that Bradley would ever admit it) because Mav's been recylicing four pairs of Levis 501s since the 80s and buys only solid colored t-shirts that are easy to replace and jean and leather jackets. Sure, maybe Bradley did try not to fall under the trap of this, but it was hard to find clothes that were comfortable and not baggy.

He was a skilled pilot even young, even just flying boring Cessnas and that will continue because it's like driving - a good base is everything, and his base was taught by Pete Maverick Mitchell. He's beyond people his age, when he gets his pilot licence at 17, he's beyond people twice his age, and that's because he puts his heart into anything he cares about, which he inherited from the same man and great pilot who taught him how to fly, who spend hours at home and hours in the same cockpit, putting all of himself into Bradley.

Bradley's never felt like it was necessarily bad that he was so much like Mav — the way he saw it, the right people loved and liked to be around Mav, and sure, a bit embarrassing to be like your kinda-dad, but he much prefers this over ending nothing like him. The life Mav has — a man that loves him, a job that is demanding but one he always wanted and dreamed about, a kid that slowly grows to be like him, a small but tight group of friends and family — he'd love to end up with that life, too.

So just imagine. Bradley who thinks that all that's best of him was taught to him by Mav, who thinks all that's best of him comes from Mav, having his dreams crushed and hearing as the only explanation of why, from the same Mav that made him the best he could turn out to be, that created the person he was in such a permanent, significant degree, that he's not ready.

Every single insecurity he's ever had fixed with the use of loving, supportive parenting gets reopened.

And sure, at first he's in denial of it, he's nothing but stubborn, so he pours it all into spite and makes his life powered by the thought that he's going show Mav he's fucking ready and he's going to do it alone, without help from him or anyone else. He's not denying who he is, no, he still loves with his whole heart, he's still brave, maybe to the point it's now slightly more of reckless bravado rather than lack of fear, maybe he goes overboard into anything he cares about, trying to prove something to himself

This is when the hyperindepedency sets in, when the guards set up around him, and when the trust he has in people he cares about is permanently damaged, and when he starts thinking that there's no one in this world who can love him forever the way he is (the person he thought would love and support him no matter what couldn't, after all).

It's only later, once he finally becomes a naval aviator, that he realizes he'll never 'show' Mav how good he is, that he's always going to think he wasn't ready, that he can't trust the parts of himself that were built by Mav.

This is when spite gets too bitter. This is when he promises himself (even if he doesn't know it) that he'll never again be like Mav.

(the winging ceremony from slow down is what I was thinking in this case, but it can be anything - it can be a phone call to Mav, it can be Mav not showing at the winging ceremony, it can be him or Mav reaching out and thinking it's going good until he realizes Mav will never apologize because he's not sorry and he still thinks he was right)

He is distanced to the people who are in his life and not open to having any new people in his life. He's expecting everyone to leave eventually and he acts like it (he takes in anything they give him with even bigger appreciation, but rarely gives more than he's already given, afraid it'll set things off earlier than necessary).

His flying changes drastically but in a way that people think is just him maturing. Instructors and COs thinking he's good enough and mature enough not to show off and to play by the rules when needed. Newbies still noticing how skilled and precise he can be in the air. But it goes the other way as well and soon enough, it's not just playing by the rules — it's being overly cautious, it's overthinking everything, it's constant hesitation what he can trust himself with, it's giving up while anticipating the next bad move against him that never comes. All because he never wants to fly like Mav again

The only people who notice are the people who are the closest to him. Guys from his squad, Nat.

Jake.

Jake, who's the closest person Bradley has, who always had the front seat to the shitshow that Bradley Bradshaw was as a person, can very well tell something's changed.

But that's all. He's stuck just with the feeling something is wrong and that Bradley is moving further and further away from him and doesn't want to tell him what and why it changed. And he can take a lot, because he does love him, but the minute he presses Bradley, truly presses for the first time, it's the end.

That's why Jake is so pissed. He knows something changed, he knows it's why they ended, but as days and days follow, he never figures out what caused it. And he's fucking bitter because he wasn't even given the chance to prevent or reverse it. It just happened and Bradley never even thought to let him help. And Bradley stays the same as years go on and on, and if he just told him, back then, maybe Bradley's life now would be different, would be happier.

[mareastrorum]

if essek did it, why do you think he did? i'm at a loss as to how it would benefit him to give her a shiv. (hope my tone doesn't read hostile, i'm genuinely confused)

I haven't taken any of the asks as hostile, so no worries!

The short answer is that Essek would have benefited whether the Scourger succeeded in killing Caleb or not. Longer answer:

To begin with, let's set the stage. In episode 56, the Nein had handed over the beacon, and in 57, the Bright Queen awarded them with emblems that represented their status as heroes of the Dynasty. It was only after the Bright Queen elevated their status in front of the entire court that she assigned Essek (without asking first) to be their "steward" for the time being, including the responsibility of seeing as to their lodgings.

The Bright Queen is clever. She certainly considered that maybe this was a ploy from the Empire to insert spies into her midst, especially because only one of two beacons was returned. From her perspective, assigning her most trusted spymaster to keep an eye on these idiots is exactly what she should do. If they're plants, Essek would sort it out. If not, they were highly valuable assets that could be used against the Empire or as liaisons.

So, let's orient this from Essek's POV. This bunch of chucklefucks that don't know court decorum came into the queen's throne room, intending to ask a favor in exchange for ridding Asarius of a demon infestation. Then a rival noble calls them out for attacking him and other Kryn outside of Asarius. Just before they're arrested, the human (ginger with blue eyes, a Zemnian) pulls out a beacon of the Luxon, announces that he and his friends are not friends of the Empire, and then offers it to the Bright Queen. Now they're the queen's favored, and out of all the people at court that day, she chose Essek Thelyss, the Shadowhand, in charge of the Dungeon of Penance, to keep an eye on them.

But Essek is the one that stole the beacons. He realizes the same possibilities (spies or well-intentioned rubes), but if anyone in the Dynasty knew about the Volstrucker, it'd be Essek. There is no reason whatsoever for Essek to trust the Nein because those beacons were supposed to stay in the Empire. The reason he handed them over in the first place was that he was supposed to share in the research done by incredibly powerful wizards who did not care about the religious significance. Whether Essek knew or not that one had been lost by the Assembly, the Nein's act of returning one negatively impacted the deal he made. There's the possibilities that Ikithon and the other Assembly members betrayed Essek by lying or hiding information, or perhaps they sent the Nein to expose Essek as the traitor to remove a loose end, or perhaps the Nein really are ignorant and they could gum everything up. Regardless of which situation this is, the best outcome for Essek would be neutralizing the interlopers before they come upon, intentionally or not, his involvement in the theft of the beacons.

The problem, of course, is that the Nein are Heroes of the Dynasty, and since Essek is responsible for their care in the Dynasty, failure to safeguard them would also reflect badly upon him. That could also sabotage his position and ability to do the research he pleases. So he can't just kill them. He has to get them killed in a way that would not make him look bad, preferably in a way that scapegoats someone else for the inevitable blame at failing to protect them.

The condemned Scourger attacked Caleb in episode 77. None of the events between Essek's introduction and that point provide a reason for Essek to trust the Nein regarding his personal risk as a traitor to the Dynasty. Here are his subsequent appearances and what happened:

Episode 57: Essek lets Yeza out of his prison after the interrogation yields information on DeRogna's research of the beacons (the potions Yeza made) and that she took the beacon back two days before the attack, which was shortly before the Nein arrived in Felderwin and began heading to the Dynasty. Because of the timeline of events, Essek realizes that must be the second beacon, so now both are accounted for. This also lets him know what sort of research they did with that beacon, and since Yeza only saw one, the one the Nein returned must have been used for something else. This is great intel for Essek, but not a reason to trust the Nein--only to find them useful.

Episode 61: After the Nein report back to Professor Waccoh of their completion of her mission, Essek arrives at the Inn where he lodged the Nein and escorts them to the Thelyss estate that his den has secured for them. Notably, the work they did was not for Essek; they worked for Waccoh and were paid for the trouble. That just proved they're capable mercenaries.

Episode 62: Essek visits the Xhorhaus after the Nein have settled a bit. He's rather cold: declines offer to join for dinner, declines a drink, has to be persuaded to answer why he isn't familiar with the neighborhood, doesn't want to say where he lives, repeatedly says he wants to get back to his research, etc. It's only once Caleb starts discussing magic and how he wants to learn that Essek starts the game they play about trying to get info from the other without divulging anything useful. Essek requests something impressive for the chance he might teach Caleb something. He then asks questions when Caleb shows off his familiar and giant earthen cat paw:

Essek was flat out rude to Beau, and this was before the whole "White Xhorhasian" drink faux pas. But even with an unimpressive persuasion roll, he offers Caleb a choice of the types of spells he could learn and even lets Caleb handle and read the book himself. Again, Essek has no reason to trust the Nein at this point. This wasn't because he believed or trusted Caleb--Caleb didn't persuade Essek of shit. Essek was fishing for information. He was already going to teach Caleb something, and the persuasion roll was probably to see how many spell levels he'd get. What spells does this Zemnian that stole a beacon from the Empire want to know? Would he give into the temptation to read elsewhere in the book? Caleb chose "the bending of fate, destiny" and learned Fortune's Favor and Gift of Alaracity. Essek is slightly less rude to the Nein as he leaves, probably pleased that he learned something useful in exchange for low-level dunamancy spells, plus now Caleb owes him a favor. Favors are a great way to set up the Nein for whatever scheme he intends later.

Episode 63: Essek is present in the Bright Queen's throne room when the Nein report their findings from the Overcrow Apothecary to her. During this conversation, Caleb admits to the Bright Queen that he had received some training to become a Scourger, though he did not complete it. When Essek is asked if he believes them about the cult of the Angel of Irons, he says he does, and even says he trusts them, though he declines to join them on this quest. Essek has not had any reason to trust the Nein by this point. He flat out lied. Even Fjord commented "'Cause he's been checking on that shit," because he and the others felt Essek was likely keeping an eye on them via Scrying (since they discovered hovering orbs in the Xhorhaus). Maybe their strangeness and civility (even if a little racist) made them endearing, but that's a different issue from trust. Essek wants them to chase down this cult precisely because it is dangerous and could get them killed. All the better that they die in service of the Dynasty, because then he won't be blamed for something sanctioned by the Bright Queen herself.

Episode 65: Jester sends to Essek asking about the Arbor Exemplar in the Barbed Fields, and while she asked for more, he only provides the name, notes it's dangerous terrain, and says they're doing him proud.

Episode 70: When the Nein return to Rosohna and report to the Bright Queen, Essek is again in the throne room. Before Essek is singled out, Caleb requests from the Bright Queen more training from Essek and info on the newly captured Scourger (which they just learned about, and Caleb suspects is Astrid). The Bright Queen says that the Nein haven't quite earned that much trust yet. Once Caduceus explains that the Nein want to fast and safe travel to the Flotket Alps, Essek makes himself known and offers to take them there, again declining to do more than transport them. Essek does not accompany the Nein to see the Scourger, but considering it's his dungeon and he is a spymaster, he was probably Scrying or otherwise tracking what transpired. Of course, it turns out that she isn't Astrid. Later, Caleb returns to the Lucid Bastion and waits to speak to Essek. Caleb confirms he was not actually a Scourger, but knows some about them. Caleb also requests a chance to speak to the Scourger again, even if Essek is there, and that they not accelerate the execution. (He didn't even ask for a delay.) Essek says he'll see and leaves.

Sidebar: Essek absolutely wants intel from this Scourger. He would know they report to the Assembly, and he would not know whether they are aware of his deal with the Assembly. As a condemned captive, her word against his isn't going to mean anything anyway, so the potential of the Scourger outing Essek is practically nil. Thus, there isn't any real risk at letting the Scourger say whatever she wants to say to Caleb. If anything, observing undetected meant better intel.

Episode 71: Jester sends to Essek, who arrives with an armed guard (weird) to teleport the Nein to the Flotket Alps. Before they go, the Nein left ball bearings on the ground to see if Essek floats (he does) and then pretend to berate Dairon, their "housekeeper", for leaving them out. Essek seems to find the whole thing amusing, then teleports them. They got a mishap because of the roll, but then arrive in the mountains. Again, stuff that could be endearing, but why did Essek have an armed guard...? That's so weird.

Episode 72: The Nein poke a little fun at Essek for the mishap, but he leaves via a Teleportation Circle.

Episode 73: Caleb asks Jester to Send to Essek to ask about the status of the Scourger's execution date, but Jester instead requests a delay. Remember how Caleb didn't request a delay before? Now he's requesting a delay indirectly; he didn't even ask Essek himself. (Man, that would seem rude from Essek's POV.) Essek responds that he'll try, but notes his den has no further interest in keeping the Scourger alive. When Caleb asks Jester to pass on that he might be able to help because of his history, Essek responds the same, but cracks a joke since Jester ended with "You pooping?" Essek's trying to endear himself to Jester, but we can't conclude whether it's sincere or subterfuge. After all, if she told anyone he joked, he could easily deny it. That was specifically for her.

Episode 74: The Nein send to Essek and ask him to come to the Xhorhaus so he can teleport them and meet someone. They briefly discuss the Scourger, and while Essek managed to get an extension of 2 weeks on the execution, he needs more of a heads up for Caleb to visit the Scourger again. Caleb then says here is a formal request, and Essek says he'll deal with that arrangement then. They introduce him to Reani, he dispels an enchantment on a paper hiding some items, then he teleports them to Mythburrow. At the end of the episode, Matt notes they're racking up quite a debt to Essek.

Let's pause there.

Each prior time the Nein went to the Dungeon of Penance, it was impromptu. They had just been announced as Heroes of the Dynasty when Essek personally took them to the dungeon to see Yeza as their first stop. The Nein were permitted to visit the Scourger unescorted as soon as they learned about her. Now there needs to be notice? It couldn't be because of the execution because the Bright Queen mentioned to begin with that the Scourger would be executed. There was no change of plan other than the extension that the Nein requested only a day prior. Why would Essek need to give anyone notice about someone visiting a condemned prisoner held in the prison that he manages?

Probably to make sure that Scourger has a fucking shiv.

Episode 75: At the beginning of the episode, before returning to Rosohna, Essek notes the Nein are ridiculous, tells them to have fun, and even calls them "friends." Again, that makes him seem endearing and less formal, but it's done out in the boonies. If any of them tried to tell someone from the Dynasty that he had done any of those things, he could probably deny it. So his reputation is safe, and it makes it seem like he likes them.

That's twice now he's been nice without any reason to trust them. Hmmm, sure seems like building some plausible deniability to me.

Episode 77: Jester summons Essek to the Xhorhaus. They discuss that the Bright Queen would like the Nein to find where the remaining beacon is in the Empire. Caleb attempts to fish for whether any particular Assembly members come to mind that Essek wants investigated, but he replies that he could list all of them if Caleb likes. Beau's insight check to see if Essek is sincere about ending the conflict fails. Caleb attempts to fish for a last known location of the beacon, and Essek gives an unhelpful answer that it must certainly be moved frequently. That's Essek being rude; they already know the beacon was last seen in Felderwin because Yeza said DeRogna took it from there 2 days before his capture by the Kryn. Essek is being intentionally and obviously obtuse. Fjord asks if others are on this quest, and Essek answers yes, but declines to give the Nein a way to identify them. Then they bring up the condemned Scourger, and Essek only recommends speaking to her soon; no specified date. Caleb asks if that day works, then Essek assents and offers to escort him.

That sure is a suspicious moment to suddenly decide to be helpful, isn't it? Sure is weird that he went back to being rude after being openly amiable and even joking with them, isn't it?

Then, when they arrive at the prison:

That is a really weird thing to say after the Nein were permitted to visit this same prisoner unescorted without notice as soon as they learned about her. Of course, then the attack happens. Matt doesn't mention whether Essek entered the cell before, during, or after Caleb starts talking to the Scourger, but Essek kills the Scourger after the attack.

Looking back at all the events that occurred leading to this point, Essek has not had any reason not to think that the Nein are somehow working for the Assembly or otherwise would expose him to the Bright Queen if they discovered what he had done. The key issue is that if the Nein placed their loyalties to either the Empire or the Dynasty over their loyalty to him, they could ruin him. That circumstance hasn't changed by this point, so the only reason to keep any of them alive is that they're cute. There's his entire life in the balance if he keeps letting them run around, especially if they search for the other beacon.

With that in mind, setting up the Scourger to be able to attack Caleb only puts his reputation at risk, and Essek has already taken steps to minimize that problem. Caleb was the one that requested a delay. Caleb was the one that wanted to speak to the Scourger. Caleb was the one that volunteered he had been training to be one. Caleb was the one that offered to fish for information useful to the Dynasty. Each was a push on the Dynasty's normal procedure and/or a personal risk to himself.

And what does Essek have to gain? It would be easy for Essek to frame this as the Assembly's pet Zemnians putting themselves at risk for small gains, and they're so devious even the best prison in the Dynasty was not enough to secure them perfectly. All the more reason to demonize the Empire and the Scourgers. It wouldn't matter if Caleb died or not; the attack was simply fuel for propaganda. Remember, Essek did not want peace. He wanted war. That bolstered his position as a spymaster, distracted the Dynasty from anything he was up to, and provided cover for the Assembly's research. In the long-term, it would just be one more incident to point to if Essek ever needed to sow dissent about Caleb's mental or emotional stability or the risk posed to the Dynasty by the Assembly.

And if Caleb died? One less member of the Nein to worry about. They'd gotten Essek some decent intel about the beacons, about DeRogna's research, and about the Scourgers. But that's it. They've done him no favors, they aren't directly useful for his research, and they're a massive liability.

Either of those outcomes specifically required violence. It wouldn't be enough for the Scourger to just rage in her chains. She needed to somehow get loose and have a weapon. Spells wouldn't have been a sufficient/sensible threat; she wouldn't have possibly been able to prepare spells from a book, and cantrips wouldn't have done much on their own against someone as strong as Caleb. But getting the Empire-trained assassin a shiv sure would have been a threat to a wizard made of soggy paper, and no matter how it played out, it only made the Empire look more monstrous.

So, yeah, I absolutely believe Essek went out of his way to make sure the Scourger would have an opportunity and weapon to attack Caleb. Risking some human's life for one more justification to prolong a war he started? That's the sort of shit I would expect from a neutral evil Shadowhand.

[midnightwind]

Summary: Killing 5 Venatori to escape was easy, trying to get a read on the two elves waiting outside his cell was proving the harder challenge for Lucanis. Takes place directly after the introduction cinematic for our favorite assassin.

Word Count: 5794

Mage.

The demon’s voice curled at the edges of his thoughts, almost purring the word as he stared at the two women blocking his way out. There was a fascination to it, but also a hunger, a pull the spirit felt. He watched its ghostly form stalk around the tanned elf, pulling in huffing breaths. It pawed at her red hair, as if trying to capture a lock between its fingers. Frustration growled from the spirit, turning instead to stare into her slate eyes.

Smells sweet. New scent. What is it? So sweet…

He blinked in confusion, taken aback. In the year since the demon had been forced into him, it had expressed curiosity only a handful of times. The pure rage of being trapped usually took up most of their stay. It unsettled him how Spite was suddenly enamored with a stranger. It felt foreboding. Then the demon was twitching to look at the woman’s companion. Another elf, dressed in bright leathers with her dark hair gathered in a messy bun. She seemed to vibrate with nerves and energy in equal measure, with heavy looking metal… contraptions, for lack of a better word, wrapped over her arms.

Dusty. Reeks of magic. Stolen. Borrowed. Found. Smells of ancient.

And then it was back to prowling around the redhead, a starving grin cracking its face. It caused a scowl to crease his own. Anything or anyone that captured the demon's attention like this was trouble. He shouldn't have even given them pause. A few more knife flicks and he'd be on his way to freedom. The cold calculation of his work was washing through him, but then Spite was surging to stand in front of him, causing him to jump.

Smell good. Maybe help? Finally! Let us out! Free us! Outoutout!

The thoughts were a deluge, slamming into his mind like a tidal wave. It scattered him for a moment, causing his head to swirl. He tightened his grip on his daggers, leather and steel biting into his palm. The weight of his weapons centered him, but before he could pull himself into familiar, deadly action, Spite's fascination was speaking.

“You must be Lucanis Dellamorte.” It wasn't a question. Her eyes seemed to almost shine as she looked him over.

She knows you.

He narrowed his eyes. “Who sent you?” And then his brain finally recognized the armor she wore. “You're a Crow.” She was sporting the leathers tailored for mages, loose sleeves trailing her motions. Had another House put a price on his head? Did this mean he had been properly abandoned here?

Before the doubts could work themselves into a proper panic, she was giving him a flourishing bow. “Of House de Riva. It's an honor.” It sounded almost genuine, voice tinged with a laugh. Then her head flicked up slightly, her gaze meeting his. “Caterina sent us. She’d like you home.”

Hope swelled in his chest, bittersweet and sickly. He hadn't been forgotten, but it was too late wasn't it? He was far too changed, now. A monster in human skin. It was a cruel twist of fate. He pulled in a long breath, finally sheathing his daggers. A member of Viago's House meant this was likely genuine. Rescue had come and he could trust that. So long as the other Crow led, he wouldn't have to worry about a poisoned blade nicking him. A second assassin would make his job easier, too.

“I still have a contract here. I need to kill Calivan, but before I can do that we need to find the vial of my blood they took.” He had to grind the words from his throat, disuse trying to choke them back down. “They can use it to control me otherwise.”

The other elf finally spoke up at that as she almost cowered behind the Crow. “Because of the demon.” Her voice was soft, empty of malice, but the single sentence cut him to the core.

This was where they'd leave him at best, or try to kill him at worst. He felt his fingers twitch, heartbeat leaping as adrenaline surged. He'd have to kill the mage first, that was fine. He knew how to do that. She sported a knife instead of a staff, so he'd have a few seconds to close the distance as her orb was summoned. That was plenty of time to slit her throat and collide with the archer before her bow could be nocked. He'd owe Viago an apology for killing one of his Crows, but it was par for the course.

“That’s fine, assuming you're still the Mage Killer the First Talon promised me.” The mage said brightly, smiling.

She didn't move for her weapon, her hands even clapping quietly in front of her. That was baffling. The word demon sent mages into a panic, usually, all fire and brimstone raining down at the thought. Why did she look almost gleeful?

“I can still work.” He answered carefully.

“Perfect!” Relief caused her shoulders to sag for a moment. “Once we clean up your contract, I have my own for two ancient elven mages pretending at godhood. If the stories I've heard about your work are even partially true, your help would really turn the tides.”

“I…” Gods? That was a new one. “I would owe you.”

“A favor between Crows.” She closed the distance in an instant, startlingly fast, and held a hand out to him.

The sweet scent that had fascinated Spite washed over him. Red berries and jasmine. It was pleasant enough, but strong. Hiding the acrid smell of poisons and venoms with perfume was a popular cover among assassins. Given her House, it made sense. The scent was simply dizzying after his year in this pit of the ocean smelling only rotting seaweed, blood, and burning flesh. It also made him hesitant to touch her at all. His reluctance must have been obvious because she laughed, pulling her hand back.

“You know Viago, huh? I don't coat myself in poison quite as enthusiastically as him. Perfectly safe to touch!” And then she was winking at him. “Kissing less so, but you look like a gentleman.” He wasn't sure what to do with that, but she was spinning on her heel and waving at him over her shoulder. “I’m Mirenna, by the way, though people are calling me Rook nowadays. Maybe Viago mentioned me?” There was a hopeful note in her voice, a desire for acknowledgement. When he remained quiet, she let out a disappointed sigh. “Likely not by name. If you ever had to listen to him rant about an annoying protege, I apologize. I exist to annoy him, apparently.”

That did stir some faint memories of the Fifth Talon muttering about a recruit causing nothing but trouble. His tone had never been properly angry or even particularly murderous. It had always read to him as a similar energy he reserved for Illario. A sibling that needed to be scolded, but whom you loved. Now he had a face for the many complaints. The reverie was interrupted as her companion popped into his view.

“Um, I’m Bellara, by the way. It's nice to meet you. I think?” She seemed to want to say more, mouth opening before snapping shut as she scurried after the mage. “Do you really have poison on your lips, Rook?”

Rook’s eyes crinkled as a devious smile curled across her face. “Would you like to find out?” 

Her voice was low, almost sultry. Tempting. It was familiar. Viago was close with Teia, it wasn't a far leap to assume that the elf would have had contact with House Cantori. The casual seduction had Teia written all over it. The perfume also made a little more sense, the initial allure of the honeytrap. His assumption that she was trouble only felt more vindicated.

Bellara tittered away from her, half laughing and half nerves. “No! I'm okay. I like not being poisoned.”

“Shame, it's a fun one.” Rook hummed. “I can give you the rundown back at the Lighthouse. We have Venatori to gut and a legendary assassin to free.”

Knows of you. Likes the idea. Spite was prowling behind her, head cocked. What would. Poison taste like?

“Not as pleasant as you want.” He muttered, voice quiet and leaden feet finally following his odd saviors.

Taste like smells? So sweet. What is scent?

“Red berries and jasmine.”

She glanced over her shoulder, a knowing smile on her lips. How loud had he said that? Turning on her heel, she walked backwards to face him.

“Offer stands for you, too.” Her voice was just as alluring as before, but she had dipped her head toward her chest, looking up at him through her lashes.

Cheeky! I like her!

He blinked blandly back at her, cursing himself for letting the demon bait him into this situation. “I'm familiar enough with what the Fifth and Seventh Talons may have taught you.”

She tilted her head to the side, mischief touching her features. “No curiosity for what their talents combined might create?”

Spite is! Let me talk. More fun.

“I am perfectly content as is.” His tone was flat, emotion scrubbed free.

Boring! Let me out! Let me talk. Spite was raking claws through his psyche, his shade looming before him as he screamed. Outoutout! You cage! You trap!

He pinched the bridge of his nose as he walked past her, trying not to think about the myriad of poisons she could sprinkle on his leathers at this distance. Dealing with the demon was exhausting enough, a second Teia would simply be too much. There was a quiet scuff of her boot on the rock floor as she turned back around. The silent speed that had her matching his pace shortly after was unnerving. She seemed on the verge of saying something when they finally emerged back into the facility.

A group of Venatori had been desperately trying to set up the wards again, the blood magic causing his eyes to ache. The two Crows were in motion instantly, his daggers almost leaping into his hands and a crackling orb sparking to life in hers. Lightning magic explained her speed. Bellara was a few seconds slow on shrugging her bow off her shoulder, each assassin removing a blood mage before she had an arrow loose. The smell of ozone filled the room, like the air before a storm. He had expected the mage to fight at a distance, but she peppered the Venatori with quick bolts before lunging forward with the mageknife. Her magic jolted through their bodies at the contact, their writhing forms easy prey for his blades. And then she was shooting off to swipe the enchanted blade at the next target, sweeping their legs and falling upon them with a ferocious stab.

It had been some time since he last saw a Crow mage in a melee. Watching her parry a bolt of energy back at the caster before letting loose a scorching ray from the orb, walking slowly forward as the magic ate the man alive, quashed any doubts he had about her training. She danced and dashed among swinging blades, hunted down any mage that dared to fire in her direction, and was careful to curve her dagger around his and Bellara's strikes as they navigated the field. She was skilled. By the time the Venatori were dead, he had a seed of respect for her taking root. He had been afraid the flippant energy had meant he'd be babysitting another Illario in a fight. He had been wrong.

Smells of blood. Metal and sharp. Powerful.

Wiping his daggers clean on the tunic of a dead mage, he watched her sheath her weapon and shake her hands. Almost like she was trying to regain feeling in them. When she caught his eye, she gave him another wink. He frowned, turning away to pluck the key for the door from a corpse. She followed two steps behind him, quiet for a moment.

“You don't like the tactic.” Again, not a question.

“I was never fond of Teia’s method. It is more my cousin's style.” He rested a hand on the pommel of a dagger. “I prefer being direct.”

“Oh.” There was a note of disappointment coating the word. “Teia took me for a ride. She promised it would be funny, but she meant for herself, didn't she.”

He narrowed his eyes at her, busying himself with unlocking the door. “What?”

“Told me to tease you. Said it would be hilarious.” Was she pouting? “Now I just feel like a jerk and like I made a terrible first impression.”

“Would you have preferred I swoon?” The door opened silently under his touch.

She made a noncommittal noise in her throat. “If it made you a little less gloomy, sure. Laughing would have worked, too.”

Gloomy? He imagined he would look a little worse for wear, but gloomy?

She wants. A smile?

Ah. That felt beyond him.

“Rook messes with everyone.” Bellara chimed in, hovering several steps behind him. It made him wonder how long it would take to slip a dagger between her ribs from this distance. A few seconds, just a handful of quick steps. “Usually means she likes you!”

“Should I be flattered?” There was an almost bright note to his voice as he led them through to the next dilapidated chamber, perhaps an overcorrection on his part.

“Only if she stays nice with it.” She continued, her steps gaining an almost bouncing quality as they walked.

“Don't give away all my tells, Bell!” The mage feigned injury, hand pressed her chest, but the wide smile betrayed her intent. “I'll only look cool and capable until we get back to the Diamond.”

“Oh, was Viago not done? He sure yelled at you for a long time already…” Bellara gave her a sympathetic pat on the shoulder.

“He could berate me for a week straight and still have a bone to pick.” She shook her head sadly. “Such is my lot.”

The two continued their inane banter for a while longer, but he ceased to listen. Instead, he focused on the twisting pull of his would be phylactery. Normally its presence filled him with dread. It still did, as they drew closer, but there was a note of dizzying anticipation. The shedding of the final chain. Freedom. His steps quickened, pulling ahead of the two women. He led the duo toward his target, singular focus trained ahead. And then he stopped, staring at the wide chasm that yawned between him and a very enthusiastic stabbing. The path had collapsed at some point and he faltered. He didn't know the facility well enough to pick an alternative route, if one even still stood.

“Ah. Damn.” Rook muttered, chewing on her thumb. “I really hoped we wouldn't come back this way. I don't have a plan for this.”

Just walk? Path is right there.

“What?” He forgot to quiet his voice, too baffled by the suggestion.

Do you not see? Oh! A path. Just for Spite! Poor Lucanis. Needs help! The demon was definitely laughing at him. I can pull. The path through. Let me reach.

Rook had turned a confused eye to him and he groused under the gaze. “He says he can pull something through.”

“Who..?” She started, but he was already holding a hand out.

Spite had pressed itself into his body, the ghostly avatar layering over his skin. He felt the demon grab something, weighty and odd, and together they pulled. Phantasmal rubble sprang into being over the gap, an echo of what used to be. It felt draining in a strange way, an inkling that the path wouldn't stay forever.

“You can just do that?” The mage gasped.

“I'm as surprised as you.” He breathed before shaking his head. “I don't think it lasts, let's move.”

That seemed to light a fire under them as they quickly scrambled to the other side. The route grew more precarious as they went, large chunks of the facility sheared away from itself to form deadly chasms. Bellara had fallen silent, staring down at her feet as they shimmied along a crumbling wall. Rook for her part was almost trapezing along the rubble, lips curled faintly in a smile. She paused as they reached the next section of fractured flooring, head tilting.

“Demons.” Her voice was almost flat.

He stole a peek, sizing up the several prowling shades. “Zara’s pets. That’s what success looks like.”

She gave a hum at that before tossing him a wild grin. “I’ll get their attention. Looking forward to seeing you work again!”

Before either he or Bellara could object, the mage was vaulting over a broken pillar. Lightning crackled as her orb materialized, her mageknife rolling once in her hand. She took bounding steps, running the outer ring of the platform as her weapons streamed magic. The demons swarmed towards her like moths to a flame. Lucanis cursed under his breath, sliding down the slight incline to try and close the distance. Bellara had begun nocking arrows, firing into the mass from her vantage point. He wasn’t going to make it before the creatures reached the elf. Why did all his jobs go south?

He loosed a handful of throwing daggers, downing one demon and staggering another. That earned him a few more seconds. It might actually be fine so long as she kept running. Except she turned on her heel without warning, her orb shimmering into a second dagger as she lunged into the mass of monsters. She planted the two blades into the heart of one demon and then pulled. The air sounded like it was torn apart violently, a violet maw cut open with electricity and lightning slicing free. It floored several demons, easy prey for his daggers. As the magic fizzled away she was throwing out another spell, a carpet of thunder that sent her jumping backwards with a cackle. For a split second, the magic almost looked like a cloud of feathers before it too evaporated.

When the creatures finally recovered, most of them were dissipating back to the Fade. The stragglers went down easily to the dancing blades and patient arrows. He huffed as he pulled a dagger free from the steadily disappearing corpse under his boot. Rook was back to shaking her hands, bouncing from foot to foot for a moment. The sounds of rocks being displaced announced Bellara joining them on the lower platform.

“You,” he started slowly, pointing a blade at the mage, “are reckless.”

“But it tends to work.” She gave him a lopsided smile.

“Until it doesn’t.” He clipped.

“S’why I have you guys!”

“Rook…” Bellara cut in, her tone scolding.

The mage sighed, holding her hands up in surrender. “Fine, sorry. Proper plan before the next fight.”

“With any luck, our ‘next fight’ is Calivan.” There was a sharp edge to his voice now as he started to pick his way further into the facility.

She was silently at his side again with no warning. “Was there a specific way you wanted to deal with him? It is your contract, after all.”

“Oh, do Crows not usually work together?” Bellara asked, popping up on his other side.

Rook hummed, shrugging. “If you belong to the same House and your Talon tells you to? Then sure. Between Houses is more rare, but poaching a contract is frowned upon. Unless they super fuck it up, anyways. Besides just being rude and an insult, the buyer can use it to try and weasel out of paying which causes all sorts of issues. But since I’m here on a contract for the First Talon, I think we’re good. I don’t plan on trying to cash in on the Calivan contract either.”

“If you help me take him down,” Lucanis cut in quietly, “you would be entitled to the reward.”

She gave him a queer look at that, head tilting slightly. “Viago would likely take any gold I make. Besides, your whole thing is killing mages. I don’t want to get in your way.”

“And here I thought you had a fondness for attention.” He mused.

A wide grin slowly stole across her face. “Is the Demon of Vyrantium teasing me?”

“Surely not, I’m gloomy after all.”

“Bell, I need you to pinch me.” She extended an arm behind his back, causing every alarm in his mind to scream. “This has to be a dream.”

The sound of the other elf gently slapping her hand away with a laugh had him quickening his steps. They responded well enough if he played along, good to know. It kept them distracted, but that had its uses. He didn't fully trust having another Crow from an ostensibly rival House at his back, but he could only dedicate so much worry towards her right now. If Caterina had truly given de Riva the contract to rescue him, she was maybe safe enough.

He had a bigger target to focus on. Confronting Calivan had a few ways to play out. If they were lucky, he was holed up in a chamber with deep shadows and high perches. Dropping on the man from above to crush the air from his lungs as daggers bit deep would be ideal. Quick but brutal. Given the state of the facility, however, it was far more likely the mage would be in an annoyingly open area with next to no cover. Getting to punch him into submission had its allure, but it was messy. Unreliable. Dangerous. He did have a mage and ranged support, so a head to head confrontation would likely go better than usual. It made him uneasy, but a little trust would go a long way.

“When we find Calivan,” he started suddenly, voice even, “if he's in a place where I can take him down from stealth, that works perfectly. I think it more likely he'll see us coming a mile away with the state the Ossuary is in. Which means I'll likely be the distraction whether I want to or not.”

“I'll make sure to shock him within an inch of his life for you.” Her grin had a hungry edge to it this time, the job bringing a sharp focus.

“Helping with a Crow contract…” Bellara sounded almost in awe at the idea. “The Jumpers won't believe me.”

“We gotta find him first.” Rook hummed before she stopped suddenly, catching the edge of his leathers and tugging gently to have him follow suit. He almost wrenched it violently from her grasp, a year of bad memories leaping up at the touch. “Lots of Fade activity ahead. It's a mage at the very least, could be Calivan though.”

“Quick and quiet, then.” He murmured the little mantra, blades snapping into his hands as he prowled forward.

It was, unfortunately, not their target or his blood vial. Instead it was an underling trying to fend off loose demons. They simply waited for the mage to finish killing off the monsters before quietly approaching and putting an end to the Venatori. The next few chambers were just as disappointing. More demons and abominations to be put down to clear the path, the facility seeming to hold an obnoxious amount of them. The tug was growing more incessant and there was a sense of familiarity to the area. He'd walk this path many times on the way to the Venatori lab. His stomach twisted at the thought. That singular room held many horrors for him.

For us. Spite hissed.

There was a nagging worry as they entered the large chamber that functioned as a torturous lab. If they didn't want to break his phylactery, if instead they wanted to use it, would he have time to stop them? Would it be better to lead the way, forcing them to pass him to seize control, or hover behind them, daggers hungry?

He was playing and replaying the scenario in his mind as they took in the remains of the less fortunate subjects. When they quietly destroyed the many Venatori crystals locking them out, he was favoring the plan that let him bury a knife in each back with one strike. He let them walk in first, eyes watching their weapons carefully as they beheld the sizable phylactery.

“I’m guessing the monstrous vial is yours?” Rook offered weakly, trying to force a note of mirth into the words and failing.

His daggers slipped silently from their sheaths. “Destroy it and let's move on.” His voice was level, not quite emotionless, but peaceful. Encouraging.

“Should we-” Bellara started, but she cut herself off with a yelp.

The vial exploded without warning as Rook flung her mageknife at it. The loud shattering was the most beautiful sound he had heard in his life. She shifted a foot back, bracing, as the fiery laser leapt from her hand again. The blood concoction ignited, burning any lingering connection to a crisp. His daggers were sheathed in the next instant, eyes fixed on the mage. There was a familiar cold calculation to her features, the Crow focus brushing aside the lopsided grin. There was a deeper emotion buried in it, almost like a fury. That was interesting.

Free. Spite seemed to breathe the word. She freed us. She hated. The final chain. Why?

Maybe she knew something about being controlled like that. Maybe as a mage she simply had a dislike for phylacteries. Maybe the mere thought of dominating someone like that sat ill with her. He didn't have an answer for the demon. So he remained quiet as they boarded the elevator, focusing instead on carving his path to Calivan. Killing the man wouldn't make up for what had been done to him, but it would feel good. He'd take the scrap of positivity.

His mind turned back to planning, imagining sinking a dagger to the hilt in his tormentor. If they gave him the time, there were several places he could plant a knife before finally killing the man. A little payback would be nice. Some kind of retribution for the cruelty.

“So,” Rook's voice sliced through his murderous fantasy abruptly as Bellara seemed to huff next to her, “what's Caterina like, usually?”

Was she trying to fill the time? Couldn't she have asked anything else? He couldn't help the bitterness in his voice. “I've been gone so long, I fear I don't remember.”

She seemed to flinch, a quick hunching of her shoulders. “Right. Well… we’ll have you reunited soon enough it won't matter.”

The elevator thunking to a stop saved them both from trying to salvage the conversation. Rook led them down the crumbling hallway with quick steps, a sharp focus coming over her. She was almost darting forward, seemingly appearing on top piles of rubble to look ahead. She had pulled the hood of her leathers up to hide her shocking red hair as she scouted. An unhappy hum escaped her as she bounded back to them.

“Big open space. Might be some side rooms, but… we should be ready for a fight with little cover.”

Iron and salt. Screams and curses. Blood for blood. Kill Calivan.

It felt like Spite was clawing at the world from behind his eyes. He rolled his shoulders, neck cracking. “Time to work. Ready?”

Bellara swallowed heavily, but gripped her bow tightly in hand and nodded. “If he doesn't know Rook and I are here, then that gives us an edge.”

The mage flicked her mageknife into hand, the blade glinting as her orb crackled to life. “Quick and quiet.” It was unto a prayer for their work, her features sharp and focused.

“Quick and quiet.” He echoed before he stepped into the open.

The Venatori mage was waiting for them, in a sense. A ritual circle was carved into the floor, a permanent fixture to the chamber. He had been turning a slow circle, observing the runes, when Lucanis stepped into the open. The jailer clicked his tongue in almost disgust, an exaggerated shrug lifting his shoulders.

“Of course it’s you.” He spat. “Zara and her little jests. ‘He’s already the Demon of Vyrantium! Won’t this be ironic?’ We should have killed you months ago when the demon never manifested. Waste of time and effort.”

The Crow didn’t wait, daggers in hand as he sprinted towards the man. If the monster wanted to taunt, let him waste the air. The Fade fizzled as glaring red orbs sprang up around his target, forcing him to spend precious time dodging left and right. He caught a brief blur out of the corner of his eye as his knife lunged out. The blade caught against the mage’s staff, his offhand punching towards the man’s gut. The burn of magic in the air stung his eyes, his strike missing as the Venatori fade stepped away. The scream that followed from the mageknife biting into his back brought a ravenous grin to his lips.

Rook had used his initial rush to dart around the little piles of rubble and crumbling pillars. Calivan had positioned himself directly in front of her hiding place and she had wasted no time capitalizing on it. Her magic sparked along his body, shimmering as it pinged off the barrier so common to mages. Calivan spun with a snarl, swinging his staff towards her, but she tossed out her own spell. The carpet of electric feathers blinded the man as she darted back into the shadows.

“You made friends. Was the demon not enough?”

The taunt was met with two daggers swinging for his neck, the barrier cracking heavily under the dual strike. He snarled, a wave of red crystals erupting from under his feet that left a flaming trail. It forced Lucanis to leap backwards, daggers held defensively against a follow up attack that never came. An arrow cracked loudly against the barrier and it shattered as Calivan half turned with the strike, a red line cut into his cheek. Spite surged at the smell of blood, a fury and glee rushing through his limbs with such strength it caused his hands to shake.

Blood for blood! Screams and curses! Iron and salt!

The manic chanting caused his head to swim, his step faltering. It earned him a crimson bolt in the shoulder. The pain grounded him and he let the attack’s momentum spin him into a low crouch. A throwing dagger was plucked from his belt and loosed in the motion, gifting the mage a matching pain. Two more arrows arced towards Calivan, a zigzagging shadow rapidly approaching from behind. His angry summons sliced through the air, the force of the Fade bursting open throwing the two Crows back as a lumbering demon took the mage’s place. That… that was a problem. Lightning crackled along its body as it clawed into the physical realm. Lucanis took two steps back, assessing, trying to find the weak point, bracing for an attack. A familiar mad laugh reached his ears, his gaze stuttering over to Rook.

Her orb was streaming magic again, held aloft like a beacon as a wide grin split her lips. “Now there’s a challenge!”

She was taunting demons again. It turned on her with a starved hunger, blade lashing out. Lightning arced along her legs, the air burning with her magic and she seemed to blink around the strikes the demon aimed at her. Her cackle matched Spite’s own echoing laugh in his mind. She was weaving closer and closer to the demon before her orb seemed to snap out, snagging the demon’s blade mid strike. It flicked the weapon back into the creature’s face and it staggered backwards. Three daggers and a flurry of arrows descended in an instant, the thing screeching. The next exchange of blows it managed were weaker, scattered, and Bellara managed to bury two expertly shot arrows into its core. It died with the sound of dry wood cracking.

Victory was short as Calivan manifested where the demon had stood, a look of pure fury on his face. The shimmer of his barrier was back and as he fade stepped out of the way of more arrows, several copies of himself popped into existence. They all smiled with his sickening grin, but the gloating ended abruptly. Rook had lunged forward into the center of the clones, two magic daggers sparking. The air was rended, a loud cracking of lightning heralding the devastating tear she had used earlier. Calivan staggered, alone in the center of the room and cursing. The line of spikes he sent out with a furious growl did catch Rook before she could recover from her casting, sending her staggering over a pile of rubble.

Two more arrows thudded into the man before he could chase the downed Crow. He spun with a snarl, launching a barrage towards the archer. It was all the opening Lucanis needed. He was behind Calivan like a dark shadow, one dagger slipping easily between the ribs to puncture the heart, the other drawing a quick line across the throat. The mage sputtered, hand grasping uselessly at his throat before he crumpled. Lucanis let him slide off his blade with a heavy thud.

“The Crows send their regards.” Was all he offered, bending down to wipe the blood from his daggers on the rich robes of the Venatori.

Cold and quiet! Heavy chains, scraping metal, sharp edges! Silent and gone!

The demon's celebration felt like it was rattling his teeth. Bellara was sprinting to where Rook was struggling to sit up, the mage rubbing her legs gingerly. Her leathers were singed, but she appeared fine otherwise. She was wincing as the elf helped her to her feet. With wobbling steps, she joined Lucanis over the body.

“Well, one contract down.” A lopsided grin settled on her lips.

Lucanis nodded, his response drowned by Spite.

Smells like blood. Ashes. Not done. Not yet!

His eyes narrowed as he stared at the demon manifesting at his side, to the point where he almost missed Rook's question.

“Lucanis? Are you good?”

Careful. They know. We're not right.

“You cannot see him. I had wondered…” His voice was tinged with weary curiosity.

“Alright, vaguely ominous. But more on all that later.” She waved it away. “I'm tired of the ocean, aren't you?”

An earnest laugh rumbled in his chest. “More than you know. Lead the way.”

She seemed to beam at his response. “Oh, does your plus one have a name or… title? How do demons like to be addressed…”

A wry smile tugged at his lips as they filed out of the chamber. “It's Spite.”

[shalom-iamcominghome]

Ugh, I got to talk with my rabbi again and getting to talk about Psalms and then g-d and why g-d decided to leave His nature open-ended and then about how I feel about am yisrael and how I now can't stop thinking, "these are my people" and why I have such a complex relationship with yisrael was honestly kind of healing. I also told him what my hebrew name will be and now two people in the world know it, and there's something special about that, too. There also isn't a word limit for the questions my beit din will ask because I was so scared that I would go over any word count tenfold (there's a questionnaire portion and I might have to write in some answers)

Give it up for my rabbi for being a champ for two hours straight while I was yapping away 😭

[a-confused-spoon]

Silly question but uhm, would anyone be interested in a Sorvus fanfiction taking place in between book 3 and 4?

The canonical events taken into account would only be the ones of act 1 and some of the short stories from the 'Reflections' collection, but not Through the Moon (so Rayla's around 🙂). I was thinking along the lines of the "slice of life" genre 'cuz I wanted something chill, if not for the fact that the "life" in question is of two guards in a fantasy setting dealing with the first attempt at peace being led by the child ruler they're supposed to guard after centuries of war, so how chill can that actually be...

I've been working on the layout for a while and I don't really have many chapters yet- and by that I mean I barely got the first one done (as in, I don't), but the more ideas pop into my head the more I want to work on it in spite of English not being my first language and uni taking my soul away 👉👈

If I was to go on with it, the platform would be ao3 (duh)

[amusingmusie]

I know it's not going to happen but what do you think a child between Nel & Alastor would be like? Personality wise or appearance

History Repeats Itself

This is goddamn ridiculous.

Heels click against shiny vinyl flooring as Nel tears off down the hallway, speeding past flyers promoting honors ceremonies and painted murals of happy children. Pushing open door after door and stomping hard enough to make her knees shake, she does nothing to hide her rage over such a bullshit situation. Her fingers twitch with the need for a goddamned cigarette, but she doesn’t trust herself to not light this private school aflame with it. Oh no, she’s not chancing that, not when she’d ruin the career she fought to earn and the schooling she pays out the ass for in one fell swoop. 

Her warpath only halts when she reaches a thick wooden door simply labeled as Dean’s Office. It’s becoming increasingly familiar as of late. With a barely contained growl, she knocks the door open, steps into the room, and prepares for battle.

“She is evil!”

“That’s a strong word. I prefer the term strong-willed instead.”

“Shut it! You’re a malignant tumor on this school!!!”

“Wow, that was a good one. You’re improving your vocabulary, congratulations!”

“DEVIL!”

“You know, anything you say can be held against you in court, I’d mind your words if I were you.”

“WE ARE NOT IN COURT!!!!!”

Nel watches a teenage girl hiss and spit pure venom with all the rage of a feral creature. Her dark eyes are blazing with unfiltered fury, something Nel herself recognizes all too well. There’s no need to ask what has her raging- oh no, Nel is aware of the issue, she sure fucking knows exactly who is responsible for this mess. 

Turning on her heels, Nel stares down the little shit sitting primly in a chair by the flabbergasted dean. Not a curly hair is out of her place on her head, with each chocolate strand pinned neatly back with a stylish bow. Quickly, she gives a small pat to her immaculate bumper bang like she’s brushing away some invisible dust that could possibly disrupt her picture-perfect image. 

She’s a doll with smooth caramel skin and large hazel eyes. 

She’s adorable with pearly white teeth and freckles dotted across her cheeks. 

She’s precious with her long, poofy skirt and long, poofy hair.

She’s perfect.

Except, her mother knows better. Oh, does she ever know better. 

“Sweet Christ,” Nel sighs with something that isn’t quite disappointment, but certainly isn’t glee. Nobody has breathed a word of what events called her down to the private school, again, but she’s certain that her spawn is somehow responsible because she is always responsible when chaos occurs. “Evie. What in the hell is going on here?”

“Momma, there you are!” Bouncing out of her seat, Evie skips over to her mother without a care in the world. She doesn’t bat an eye at her classmate glaring daggers at her or the dean blinking in exasperation since she’s too busy sidling up to her revered birth-giver. “Listen, this is all a big, silly mix-up. I’m completely innocent-”

“Lies-!”

“It was Roxxy who dumped the paint on her own bag to frame me-”

“NO, I DID NOT-!”

“Because why would I ever do such a terrible thing?” Looking for backup, she moves her gaze to the dean, who simply nods his head in slight agreement. “I would never jeopardize my perfect record with the threat of a conduct mark, and for what? To upset my good friend Roxxane with a ridiculous prank?”

“We are not friends!” the other teen growls, her skin turning an intense shade of crimson from the wrath boiling in her bones.

“You’re right, we’re best friends! Thank you for reminding me,” Evie chirps, her toothy smile growing wider.

Nel swats away unfortunate flashbacks that threaten to overtake the moment. 

“Okay, kid, put a pin in it. Just, God, come on, we’re leaving, now. Go.” Once her daughter departs from the room with a final wave to her so-called friend, Nel stares at the dean. “Stop calling me for this bullshit. I pay this school too goddamn much money to run up here each time there’s an issue with these two- next time, deal with it.”

The door slams shut behind her, and she marches on. 

Leather pumps and leather oxfords click together in time down the hallway. 

“What on God’s green earth possessed you to do that?” Nel scoffs, not pausing her march to freedom for a moment. It hardly matters since her kid already has at least an inch on her, because of course she does, her legs are more than long enough to keep up with the redhead’s shorter stomps. “Dumping paint on someone’s bag? Shit, did you just forget any home training I gave you?”

“Momma!” Evie gasps in offense, her round eyes going wide. “You don’t believe in my innocence?”

“No.”

“Okay, fair enough.” Just like that, the act drops and she shrugs, clicking her shiny saddle shoes on the floor. “But I didn’t do it for fun. Well, maybe I did, but she also deserved it.”

“You cannot continue to terrorize that girl. This is the third time that there’s been an incident in the past five weeks. Every time you get yourself into a mess, I gotta hightail it up here to drag you home, and that’s time I lose with my clients, and that’s money I lose to spend on you. You think it reflects positively on me when I’m unable to run my firm because I’m wrangling my daughter?”

“I know, but-“

“Genevieve Marie Sheridan-“

“You don’t understand!”

“Then enlighten me.” 

“She’s terrible!” Uncharacteristic irritation crosses over Evie’s sharp facial features, contorting them into a disgruntled expression eerily similar to the one worn by the ginger walking next to her. “I’m telling you, I have never met someone so absolutely dull and unpleasant in all my life! Sure, I’ve only been alive for fourteen years, but I’ve had a worldly fourteen years!”

“Oh, really now?”

“Momma, forget the details! What I’m trying to explain to you is that she is awful, so I’m attempting to help her become less awful with some harmless fun.”

A familiar feeling creeps along Nel’s skin. It’s a distant feeling, one she hasn’t felt in nearly fifteen years, but it’s one she can never forget, not ever. It’ll haunt her til the day she dies, and long after that too. 

Cold realization begins to dawn on her.

“...What makes this girl so bad?”

“What doesn’t?” the teen snips, rolling her eyes. “She always has to argue with me or oppose me, she can never just listen to anything I say! I don’t understand. Everyone else loves me- as they should, I’m amazing.”

“Mhm.”

“But not her! Never her. She’s been against me since we moved here, what, seven years ago? All because everyone adores me due to my benevolent nature and because she’s an envious ball of rage with no friends.”

“Mhm.”

“And I always think of how repulsive she is, especially at the worst times! Did you know that I dreamed of her nasty little face the other night? She’s a true nightmare at this point. I can’t escape her even in my sleep.”

“I bet.”

“So, in conclusion, she is my number one enemy, and I will destroy her.” Evie raises her upturned nose into the air with a slight huff. “In completely legal ways, of course. Such as kindness. And a few ink bombs too.”

There it is. 

Pausing at the front of the school, Nel faces the little turd fully, her initial anger fading. Hell, she can never stay mad at the kid for long; that’s her baby, no matter how tall she grows or how ruthless she becomes. 

When Evie returns her mother’s softening gaze with a kind one of her own, Nel swallows down an old sadness that’s taken root inside of her. It’s been there for years, always hovering like a ghost in the background, always lingering no matter how long she ignores it. But, its presence isn’t so heavy with her kid here, even if she wears a dead man’s face and speaks in his same chipper tone. 

It would be just like Alastor to have a child so eerily like himself. He could never quit the game; he’d always leave some version of himself behind to plague Nel. 

Fitting. He always had to have the last laugh.

“You know, I know a thing or two about having an enemy.”

“Oh, like the DA?”

“No, not that son of a bitch, though he’s worthless,” she grumbles. “No, I had someone else I swore to destroy a long time ago.”

“Well, did you?” she asks, and Nel gives her a strained, tired smile. 

“Yes and no. That’s a story for another day. For now, all I’ll tell you is that you need to be careful, and that maybe you should spend some time using that big brain to decide what you really think of this nemesis of yours.”

“Well, I hate her. I don't need to think about that.”

Nel rolls her eyes. “No doubt, but hate can sometimes…ah, fuck it, I’ll save it.” With a shake of her head, she waves away her words. “You’ll figure it out, baby. Now come on, we’re getting the hell out of here. Goddamn ridiculous school.”

“Yes ma’am!” Evie skips along happily next to Nel, contagious cheer radiating off of her. “We need to go anyway. I’d like to be at least down the block before the dye bomb I placed in Roxxy’s locker detonates.”

“...The what?”

There’s a distant pop, and then a muffled scream from deep inside of the school building.

Evie blinks innocently, and then Nel sighs. 

History always repeats itself.