#lucanis and spite

[riverbase]

After that one scene. You know which one.

[lostinforestbound]

Do you think that Spite had to learn what love was when Lucanis fell for Rook?

Did he feel that fluttering in Lucanis’ chest when Rook comes around, and he didn’t understand what it was? Did he demand answers and Lucanis ignored him out of embarrassment?

Does he ask why Lucanis’ face feels hot when Rook’s hand smoothed over his shoulder blades, telling him a job well done after a harrowing battle?

Did he ask why Lucanis feels joy when making them their favorite drink or dish, and why the feeling surges when he sees Rook’s face light up at the sight of it all presented?

Does he realize that Lucanis is calmer and more relaxed when Rook is close?

Slowly, does he figure out that’s what love is?

Does he think he loves Rook too?

[nerd-elf]

I love him, your honor

[fiadoesart]

I did the sillyest lil page based on this post that had me cackling out loud.

Onestly Illario, with that face it's difficult NOT to stab you....I love you tho

( ages later I realised that I forgot davrin chin tattoo I'll fix it eventually )

[cosmiccrushes]

This Isn't A Good Idea

Lucanis x Rook x Spite || 1.5k words

on ao3 too

summary: just a little scene expansion. couldn't resist thinking about what Lucanis and Spite went to talk about after that almost kiss.

~~~~~

Lucanis shudders back into his body, standing in his room. He shakes his head to clear the layer of fog over him. Rook is several paces away, watching. 

“Rook?”

“You were sleepwalking.” 

“Spite was sleepwalking.” Insufferable demon. 

“He didn’t go anywhere. Nothing happened,” Rook offers, as if that makes up for what his negligence has allowed. 

A frustrated twitch of Lucanis’ head. “I didn’t want you to see that. Again.”

“Nothing I’m seeing makes me want to look away,” Rook replies, a soothing balm to his anxiety. 

“How do you always do that?” The marvel filters through his words like sunlight. Threatening to illuminate what should remain in the dark. 

“Do what?” She asks, brows scrunched in confusion. 

“Break apart my perfectly gathered clouds of doom.” He gives her the truth, which he so often subterfuges to hold her at arm's length. “You deserve better than to deal with my mess.” A warning, a plea. 

A glint sparks in Rook’s eyes. “You’re more than what you’re going through. And you wear it well.” A heat bubbles beneath her words, warming his blood.

“This isn’t a good idea.” Lucanis steps towards her anyway, a demon pulled in by the thing it craves. 

“Sometimes a bad idea is better.” Her voice crackles over him, smoldering charcoal on the coldest night.

“You like to walk a little close to the edge.” Lucanis’ voice drops low of its own accord. He leans into her space, places his arm against the wall by her head. A physical barrier to hold his distance from her. He does not feel his usual control over his actions. It’s the wanting guiding him now. He’s so tired of fighting it. She makes it so hard to fight it, with those eyes always looking at him as if she sees him, all of him. 

Rook matches him, leaning in, a seductive smile curling her lips. She taps a finger to his chest. “So do you.” 

“At least I know I’m doing it.” Does he, though? Know what he’s doing right now? As his head tilts to meet Rook’s. As he inhales her sweet, earthy scent. 

Melon…and woodsmoke, Spite whispers. A thrum of pleasure radiates off the demon, blending with Lucanis’ own elation in the moment. 

Lucanis halts, drawing back from Rook. “I…need to clear my head.” He walks backwards away from her, horrified with himself. “Excuse me.” 

He exits before she can respond, not looking back. He can’t bear to see if there is hurt on her face, anger, or perhaps just a sorrowful resignation. He grows weary of denying himself, but he’s not sure what he would do if she ceased giving him something to deny.  

Lucanis walks briskly, climbing the stairs to the balcony outside of the dining hall. Air, he needs air. He needs to chase away the smell of Rook lingering on his skin. 

Spite hisses his frustration against Lucanis’ teeth. Why. Did you leave? 

Lucanis ignores the demon, hands gripping hard onto the balcony’s railing.

We want Rook! Go back to Rook! 

“No! You don’t get to want anything. You don’t get to have anything!” Lucanis’ jaw hurts from how hard he grits his teeth. 

Why. Deny us this? Spite asks, genuine curiosity in his question. 

It is not safe for her. Lucanis can’t believe he’s having an argument about a woman with a demon. 

At first, he had tried not to pay attention to Spite’s growing obsession with Rook. But whenever he was in the same room as her, Spite was there, banging against his mental cage, demanding to speak to Rook. Bloodying Lucanis’ nose when he refused the demon. Even when Spite was quiet, Lucanis could feel him tracking Rook’s movements. A hunter stalking unsuspecting prey. It chilled Lucanis’ blood. He didn’t know what Spite’s intentions were and he refused to give the demon the chance to act upon them.

This couldn’t keep happening. Lucanis could not lose control over Spite. Nightmare visions of surfacing to consciousness, finding himself hovering over her unmoving body haunted his every waking moment. You didn’t get to kiss a woman you were secretly terrified of murdering in your sleep, Lucanis reprimands himself. 

Why not…it is what…you want, Spite coaxes. Smells so good…

Like melon and woodsmoke, Lucanis registers Spite’s earlier whisper. 

“Stop smelling her, demon.” Lucanis wants to bash himself against closed fists. Anything to dull the demon's leisurely stroll through his mind and senses. 

Can’t stop…you won’t stop…

Lucanis sighs. Therein lies the crux of his problems. Was it Spite who was obsessed with Rook…or him? Did Spite’s eyes follow her in every room, or did Lucanis’? It’s not the first time he’s faced this revelation. 

From the moment Rook broke into his watery prison, he'd been intoxicated by her. A woman so fearless that she dared to stand against gods. Her own gods, even. Dared to believe in others to do the same. She'd come for the Demon of Vyrantium. When she found a literal demon in his place, she did not bat an eye. She has never once looked at him like he is an abomination. 

Yes… Rook understands us, Spite persuades. 

“That doesn't mean anything! It's my responsibility to protect her.” As a fellow Crow, of course. Viago would take out his own contract on Lucanis if anything happened to Rook. Then Viago would fulfill it himself, slowly. 

Protect her? From what? Spite sounds so earnestly surprised by this that it gives Lucanis pause. 

“From your spite.” Lucanis feels mildly absurd, reminding a demon of its nature. 

Another hiss from Spite. I do not want to hurt Rook! 

Lucanis wishes he had a mirror so he could stare at the demon behind his eyes. “Then what do you want?” Lucanis asks cautiously. He’d assumed that, even a demon infatuated, would not diverge from its inherent nature.   

Spite’s contemplative grumble rumbles through his mind. Melon and woodsmoke… The demon breathes. Venom and vengeance in her heart…

Lucanis waits but Spite says no more. So you like the way she smells…and her anger? 

Spite hums his affirmative. We like our blades…striking with hers. We like our malice…drawing blood.

This, Lucanis has felt too. How their steps synced in a dance of retribution against the Venatori. Every swing of her blade a wrathful reckoning. Lucanis caught himself daydreaming more than once about what it might be like to take a contract with her after all of this was behind them. What it might be like to take every contract with her.

An unfamiliar and alarming feeling for Lucanis to deal with. He didn't think of people like this, with yearnings for long term plans. By the time he caught himself in daydreams of Rook, it was too late to unravel whether he or Spite had felt it first. It hardly mattered anyway, it didn't change what Lucanis felt and it couldn't change what he must do about it. Which was nothing.

You're scared, Spite observes. 

“I'd be a fool not to be wary of a demon,” Lucanis snaps back. 

True, Spite acquiesces. But not…with Rook. I would not hurt her. The demon pauses for a moment. I would not hurt something…so important to you. 

Lucanis is baffled. “Why? You are Spite. It's in your nature to hurt.” 

Spite is silent for so long Lucanis thinks he won't answer. Then the demon materializes next to him. A disturbing, shadowy replica of himself. 

This is why, Spite gestures to himself. We are trapped. Together. Hurting you so deep, Spite growls, tossing his head. Would hurt me. 

Lucanis watches him thoughtfully. “It would hurt you, because you care about Rook too.” 

Spite bares his teeth but doesn't disagree. Rook knows us. We trust Rook. Rook is ours. 

Lucanis can feel Spite’s possessiveness flow through his own veins, twisting around his heart. “She's a person. You don't own someone.” Lucanis chastises. 

Then what? Again Spite's curiosity is so solemn that Lucanis can't help but laugh, short and rough. 

“Mierda. I don’t know,” he answers honestly. “I've never–” He swallows hard. “It's only ever been Rook.”

Only Rook, Spite echos, nodding his head. 

Lucanis turns, leaning against the wooden railing. “Of all the things to have in common with a demon,” he says, shaking his head. 

We can go back to Rook now? Spite asks eagerly. 

“No,” Lucanis says sharply, earning him a howl of outrage. “Like I said, this isn't a good idea.” 

Rook likes bad ideas! Spite yells indignantly. 

The demon certainly isn’t wrong about that. But at least this was one bad idea he could prevent.

Rook. Gets. To choose. Lucanis hates how Spite isn’t wrong about this either. It should be Rook’s decision. It’s not Lucanis’ place to make it for her. But the thought of revealing this strange reality to her petrifies him.  

He sighs, leaning forward on the railing, the wood edges digging painfully into his elbows. How was he to explain to Rook that not one, but two demons have fallen in love with her?

[thehouzekat]

[awardenandacrow]

SNIPPET 65

What I wrote for that words with friends prompts has me in my regret prison feels. I both am and am not sorry.

[Lucanis has his own regret prison]

DRAGON AGE THE VEILGUARD SPOILERS

——————————————————————————

He���d been certain she’d been about to say she loved him. And he’d *stopped her.* He couldn’t let her say it. *He* certainly couldn’t say it. If only she’d known what had been going through his mind, throwing those knives at the wall, before she’d walked in and interrupted him.

*I love her.*

*Thunk*

*I* love *her.*

*Thunk*

*What if I can’t keep her safe?*

*Thunk*

*What if I can’t do what I need to because I’m distracted by* this?

*Thunk*

And then she’d swept in to check on him, to… put affairs in order. Like she was prepared to die for them, for him, and he couldn’t bear it. Once the words were out, they were *real.*

Saying it meant he had something to lose.

But it hadn’t mattered that the words remained unspoken. It *was* real. He *did* have something to lose.

*And he’d lost it.*

He’d about lost his mind with her. Sloppy, desperate, angry. Spite vascillating between whimpering in confusion for Rook, and unleashing on anything in front of him. Davrin and Taash dragging him toward the Eluvian while Emmrich tried to placate the demon, and Bellara. Bellara, tears streaming freely down her face, loosing more powerful blasts of magic than he’d ever seen her use. And then the quiet of the Crossroads. Five standing where there should have been eight.

Caretaker ushered them back to the Lighthouse, to safety.

But now what?

How long would safety last?

Elgar’nan had gotten away. And now *Solas* was free as well.

What good was safety without *Rook?*

[the-sparrohawk]

Doors Are How You Go Out

Imprisoned in the Ossuary, Lucanis negotiates a contract he never could have imagined.

Rating: Mature Category: Gen Relationships: Lucanis Dellamorte & Spite Additional Tags: Canon-Typical Violence, Implied/Referenced Torture, Body Horror, Imprisonment, Possession, Angst, Pre-Canon

»»»»»»»»⬨��«««««««

It hurt.

It hurt even more than being torn. The pain of that had not lasted. There was rage and then a rending, a sudden bright bloom of agony. And then... not quite nothing. But not something. Not peace or quiet. But not this.

This was crushing. Squeezing. Shaking. Sensations without name or precedent, and everywhere, everywhere, hatred. Hate smoldered like rage but was cold and pointed, a compass needle. The hatred echoed off the walls (what are walls?) and permeated every strange crevice of this existence.

Over and above and through it all there was a sense of not-wholeness. Things were missing. Even the memory of them was missing. All that was left was this aching absence, the ragged edges where once there had been tethers... to what? Now, there was loss. Now, there was emptiness. Now, there was hunger.

Hunger could be assuaged.

There was sustenance here, even if it was a bitter drink. Hate was more than nothing, and under the hate was fear. Supping was a matter of pushing out the tendrils, turning torn edges into a new bond—sucking, seeking, grasping.

Growing.

»»»»»»»»⬨««««««««

Lucanis vomited.

Nothing came up, and he tried again, the hangnail on his index finger scraping the tender flesh at the back of his throat. He gagged and his stomach muscles locked but still, nothing. He collapsed exhausted in the grit on the floor of his cell, eyes closed, pushing away the terror.

They had fed him something.

He knew only the broadest outlines of what that meant, but it was enough. They had bound him, and beaten him, and bled him, and then they had shoved the rotten thing into his mouth and clamped it shut.

Swallow. Swallow, damn you!

Hold his nose. He'll swallow if he wants to breathe.

Get the gavage. Just don't shove it down his windpipe or he'll drown. She'll kill you.

She'll do worse than that.

He trembled and forced his eyes open. The cell was dim, but focusing on what he could see quieted the memories, reducing them to a dull hum in the back of his mind. Pushing himself up to all fours, he crawled to the corner farthest from the door and huddled against the wall. The rough stone pressed against his back, solid and undeniable. He could see, and he could touch. He could hear a human voice rising and falling outside the barrier that sealed his cell, but he could not make out the words. He could smell. The smell of blood, the smell of seawater. The smell of rotting flesh, faint and sickly sweet.

He did not know how long he had been here. More than a week, he thought, though neither night nor day could be discerned from inside the cell. He'd been bled five times, and he didn't think they could do that every day. A man has only so much blood, after all. He'd spilled enough of it himself to know what it took to kill.

No, they didn't want him dead. But they didn't seem to want information, either. They'd asked no questions, made no threats against his family.

His family.

He closed his eyes again against the ache. Would they look for him? Caterina would be looking. He and Illario were all she had. So she would look—unless she thought he was dead. He wasn't sure what had happened to the ship after they'd been attacked, but he knew what he would have done had a target been on board. He would have had it sunk or run aground. In a shipwreck, if you don't find survivors after a day or two, then there are no survivors. And often, no bodies. The sea and the hungry things that swim in it take care of that.

So perhaps he was alone. It might be that there was no help coming. It was better to think of it like that. Hope would dull his edge, make him miss opportunities. He couldn't afford hope.

What he could do was wait. Because every enemy makes a mistake, if you wait long enough.

Keep reading on AO3

[ditzytheartist]

Lucanis’s Coffee Break with Spite

Here me out 🙌

Coffee Time isn’t as entertaining without Spite 🐦‍⬛☕️ 🟰 😈🔥✨

Also, couldn’t decide if this looked better with or without speech bubbles? 💬🗯️

Whatever, you get all of them! ✨

[raccoonslittlehands]

I love you Rowan

also, shut up Lucanis. let the boy have his moment

[riverbase]

One of my first attempts at drawing Lucanis. Wasn't a fan of the drawing itself, but the Spite was too good to not show.

[lostinforestbound]

My Random Lucanis Dellamorte Headcanons

*Drops these and runs away*

His favorite dish that his mother would make him is Carnitas Huevos Rancheros. He doesn’t quite remember how to make it as it’s been so long, but once in a while he makes an attempt. It never tastes the same.

The Crow has night terrors. He doesn’t remember them, just lingering fear when he wakes in a cold sweat. But Spite remembers. He always remembers.

It’s noted that Lucanis feels the back of his eyes itching when blood magic is near. I wonder if that would trigger migraines? Caffeine is known to help with migraines, so I can imagine drinking coffee helps with the throb (written by me, a person who has chronic migraines and takes caffeine to handle them)

Since he enjoys cooking so much I imagine his love language is acts of service! For both friends and a romantic partner.

Can you imagine him cooking for someone as an apology? Do you think he made Illario’s favorite dish whenever they fought? Does he do the same with a romanced Rook?

He can feel Spite more physically as their bond increases. It freaks him out at first but he’s surprised how quickly he gets used to it.

He loves having his scalp and back scratched. That’s it, that’s the headcanon.

Lucanis kisses as if he’s running out of time. Brief, perhaps clumsy, at least with Rook. It grows more desperate as time goes on. He doesn’t have Illario’s finesse in that area but the passion makes up for it.

I imagine he cooks with Bellara more often than not! He even teaches her different styles of Antivan cooking. It’s an absolute joy, especially with how excited Bellara is to learn.

Speaking of Bellara, I think she would absolutely take her writings to Lucanis to see what he thought. It eventually turns into a writing workshop for the both of them.

I have more but my thoughts are a mess. There’s a Lucanis Dellamorte shaped braincell bouncing around in my head, and it doesn’t seem to be leaving anytime soon.

[jazzy-lea]

Stock photos are the perfect place to get some Lucanis and Spite inspo.

[mrsdellamorte]

little beans

✨tiny spite belongs to psin!!!✨

[fiadoesart]

Just did the stupidest lowest quality meme and i love it. I can go back to school work now

Adding translation just because

" a coffee is not enough, I need to chew an electric cable "

[nerd-elf]

Me too sweetie