#fails from the crypt

[oxventurequotes]

corazon: i spend the time feeding breadsticks to dob

corazon: platonically!!!!!

[martyrbat]

batman and superman vs vampires and werewolves #2

[bunji-enthusiast]

Hey can you do a reader oneshot where the player ended up become heavily emaciated from enduring starvation for so long to collapsing in the cave where Doey found them and take them to the Safe Haven where they interact with the Toys( and getting some food to be fed )? Something dark yet ended up getting a good ending

You, the ex-employee, have spent days or perhaps weeks starving, a shell of your former self. Your body, once strong and capable, is now reduced to little more than skin and bones. The hunger gnaws at you from within, twisting your thoughts into a blur of desperation. The world around you feels distant, as though your senses are failing, and every step you take becomes more of a struggle. 

time seemed to pass so differently where the light reached nowhere, you left it awhile ago. falling into the cold and cadaverous crypts, you could truly feel the full force of the torment that went on for the experiments here.

"sonuva-" You curse, taking another ragged step. the shortness of your breath was not left unnoticed by you yourself, it felt as if you were a shot-down tail-spun plane. there was no love here, not for you. you shake your head, trying to vy for some unforgotten strength you didn't muster just yet.

however, it seemed that wasn't the case.

unfortunately.

Collapsing into the cold, damp embrace of a forgotten cave within the Playtime Co. facility, your body gives way to exhaustion. You lie there, barely conscious, drifting between the waking world and the comforting darkness of unconsciousness. The hunger, the cold, the pain—each one seems like an insurmountable force in itself, but you no longer have the strength to fight.

the human body could be and has been impressive, proven in many cases. able to take on pain like nothing else or just even react faster and quicker then the average species of planet earth.

though, your body was nothing short of that. it was just that, average as anything else. in fact, it was already impressive enough that you managed to muster the energy to continue going on after the sudden self-imposed train crash after you had incidentally freed poppy. something you began to regret doing.

back then, you had repeatedly questioned poppy. to which she had only said a few decent answers, pick and choose you suppose. some seemed to hit home deeply, leaving her to deflect those specific ones. however, it's not as if you had a choice in the matter anyway. having no where else to go but----forward.

forward.

how ironic.

even if you had dearly wished for the children of playtime, each and every victim to have justice for their strife. you just couldn't keep going, you were just a human. only a human, against all those wrapped in monster-skins and facades.

you let out a sigh, wondering what you have done in your life; or any past lives for that matter as you cast an agonizingly long glance despite the pain, at the cold and desolate corners and hallways. the lights that flicker, and the shadows that the monsters prowl from within. you just wished something, or someone had ended you already.

people lost lives to this damned facility, what's one more?

It is there, in the deepest shadows of your despair, that Doey finds you. The plump, clay-like creature, bright and colorful in contrast to the gloom, seems to appear from nowhere. His long, playful limbs extend towards you, lifting you carefully from the ground as if you're nothing more than a fragile doll. Despite his cheery appearance, there is a certain understanding in his movement—a deep empathy that shines through the usual cheerfulness. Doey knows the pain of being lost, of enduring torment. 

you let out a low groan as the strange toy had jostled you to a safe position within his arms, or something on his body, you couldn't tell.

"Why?" is all you ask your savior.

though he didn't respond---that was something you had often asked of anyone and everything, in the factory of Playtime, that was all you seemed to ask. Especially since that very question circulated with finally finding out the bigger bodies initiative had existed, you weren't a higher up, no way; so you had no knowledge of such a thing.

not up until now.

The faint hum of the factory’s empty halls echoed through the long-abandoned Playcare dome. Dust and neglect had taken hold of the once-vibrant space, but none of this phased you now. your hand clutched the tape you had found hidden deep in a forgotten cabinet. It wasn’t the regular assortment of old company VHS tapes. No, this one was different. Something about the way it was buried, shoved aside, felt off. 

you slipped it into the player, fingers trembling. The grainy images flickered to life on the screen, an old commercial featuring Poppy, the doll that haunted you in your nightmares. But as you watched, you realized that something was wrong. This wasn’t just a commercial. The footage had been tampered with, and a series of frantic scribbles beneath the screen flashed warnings—"The bigger bodies initiative... They've been watching... they're still here..."

The tape abruptly cut off, and you stood frozen, mind racing. The implications were horrifying. The factory had always been a place of mystery, but this? This was worse. This wasn’t just about the toys. They had known about them—about you. And what had happened to the others? The missing employees? They weren’t just gone. They were still here. The realization was a bitter pill lodged in your throat, one you couldn’t swallow.

you growled, low and guttural, as anger boiled in your veins. The truth was out. And they had been hiding it from you and everyone else at the time. The bigger bodies—what were they doing here? Why weren’t you told? your thoughts spiraled, the once-seemingly innocent world of Playcare now twisted by the weight of this new knowledge.

The factory—your former place of employment—had become a prison of shadows and manipulation, its walls now hiding dark secrets beneath every creaking floorboard. you couldn't shake the feeling that it had always been like this. The sinister undercurrent had always been there, but you had never been able to see it until now.

you could feel the fury building in your chest, breaths coming quicker and quicker as you paced back and forth in the empty hall. The VHS tape had given you more than answers—it had opened a door you weren't prepared for, but now you couldn’t just walk away from it. No, there was no turning back now. 

your mind raced with the consequences of this discovery. There had been whispers among the employees, hushed voices passing around rumors of experiments, of something far more sinister happening in the darkest corners of Playcare. But you never took them seriously. you thought they were just scared, or paranoid. 

But now… now you saw it all for what it really was.

you gripped the worn edges of the tape, squeezing it so hard your knuckles turned white. your body tensed, ready to take action. This wasn’t a place to get scared. No, this was the moment for revenge. The factory had betrayed them—you—and it was time to find out who was behind this horrific "bigger bodies initiative." Whoever they were, whatever they were planning, you were going to stop them.

you headed for the deepest part of the factory, the place where the truth always seemed to lurk, hidden beneath layers of deception. The bigger bodies—they would pay for what they had done. 

And you would make sure no one ever came back here again.

You don’t know how long you’ve been out of it, but when you open your eyes again, you're in a place far brighter, warmer. A safe haven. The walls are decorated with worn-out toys that had long sought refuge, old but somehow still exuding life. You feel a strange sense of comfort in this room, where light and color seem to welcome you rather than mock your exhaustion. Doey, ever kind and patient, places a small meal in front of you. It's simple, but it's enough. The warmth of food, the comforting presence of someone who cares, stirs something deep within you—a feeling you thought had long since withered away. 

"thank... you" you rasped, barely managing the words you so wished to say.

Doey nods, as if he was conflicted for a moment, but then returns your sentiment with a gentle smile; "don't worry, you just rest up. we'll talk later." He pauses for a moment, almost trying to think of something else to say. Maybe words of comfort.

but he doesn't, and instead says, "okay?"

you nod simply, leaving your mind to wonder about your allies poppy and kissy missy.

As you eat, the toys around you, though broken and tired, offer their own forms of solace. Some of them play quietly nearby, others rest, and a few approach to offer small gifts or gestures of comfort. Among them, Doey's eyes—those holes where his face should be—soften, as if trying to reassure you without words. You are no longer alone. 

For the first time in what feels like forever, the weight of starvation, fear, and loss lifts. You don’t know what the future holds, but in this moment, you are safe. The darkness that once seemed suffocating begins to lift, and you realize, for the first time in a long while, that maybe—just maybe—there is still hope. The twisted factory and its horrors are far from over, but in this small corner of the world, you have found a sliver of peace.

Doey, ever the protector, watches over you as you rest, and though the path ahead may be fraught with danger and uncertainty, you are no longer alone. You have found the strength to carry on, even if just for another day. And in that, there is hope.

[bleedingichorhearts]

𝐃𝐨𝐨𝐦𝐬𝐥𝐚𝐲𝐞𝐫 𝐇𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐜𝐚𝐧𝐨𝐧𝐬

“A Headcannon for the Slayer as his new game comes out.” - Ichor

Summary - “Smut & Normal headcanons for the Scourge of Hell.”

“DOOM: The Dark Ages came out! :D So, these are HeadCannons for Doom Eternal.” - Edit

TW // Smut.

|°𝕄𝕒𝕤𝕥𝕖𝕣𝕃𝕚𝕤𝕥°|

𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐚𝐜𝐭𝐞𝐫: 𝐃𝐨𝐨𝐦𝐠𝐮𝐲

"The mark of the Doom Slayer was burned upon his crypt, a warning to all of Hell that the terror within must never be freed. There he lies still, and ever more, in silent suffering." - Slayer's Testament

𝐑𝐨𝐦𝐚𝐧𝐭𝐢𝐜/𝐏𝐥𝐚𝐭𝐨𝐧𝐢𝐜:

Alright, as we all know, he doesn’t really speak. Not even a peep of pain leaving him as he gets wounded from minor or severe injuries. He is like a brick wall, and it’s almost like talking to one too, but that doesn’t mean he isn’t listening in on you. You are at least humane enough that you just… ramble to him at points whenever he is around, and it rather makes him feel more… included in life than he was.

He was unsure of you at first, like any other soldier or person that has found another survivor of an apocalypse, but he eventually gets used to your presence. Sometimes he even turns a bit, expecting you to be next to him when he was out slashing demons. He gets a bit… saddened each time when he sees you are not there. Though, I believe he would have some voice recording of you in his helmet to put him at ease.

Eventually, he likes to be around you more and more. Always finding himself coming to your house/base and watching you doing something mundane. Something this is something else rather than killing and hacking demons. He… he enjoys the simplicity of life. It’s very much different from his usual order: slash, kill demons, rip and tear until nothing is left, repeat. He likes watching you, and in return? You watch him as well.

Either he follows you around like a big protective puppy or you follow him around like a mewling kitten. This is no in-between. You going out to rob some abandoned joint? He’s coming with you if he is there with you, no matter the time, dusk to dawn. You following him? He grows to enjoy it, but just because he lets you follow him when he’s out slaying doesn’t mean he’ll let you every single time. It’s very possible he will stick you somewhere if you’re adamant enough to follow him. He’ll come back for you, don’t worry.

Big ol protector, is one of the things he’s being great at in a gore-like way. Don’t expect him to be all pristine after tearing all those demons apart either. That is his job, don’t disintegrate it for he is really good at it, and well… I don’t think he would appreciate you bad mouthing him. Despite that, he would protect you to the fullest. Being your leader once he learns of your pathing between abandoned cities and factories, and demons know full well to not get in the way. At least, not without a powerful hoard. (That will still fail, but there are possibilities…)

Speaking of the possibilities, he is brutal when something happens to you. The slayer has lost so much already, he is not going to be kind on whatever hurt you or is perceived a threat by you. It’s x10 worse when he finds you gone and he finds out about it himself. His livid, but again, silently. That is until he gets his hands on the demons or even humans that have captured you or perhaps even killed you. If they have put you 6 feet under, expect the aura of this silent behemoth to go up.

Honestly doesn't like seeing you gone from his sights for too long. It gives him a weird feeling of dread after a while. Sure, he’s focused on his task, but who’s to say that a brain doesn’t multitask? This slayer can think of you all day long, and many days he has. I mean, what if there is a demon hoard around your base/home? Getting through you to get to him? He wouldn’t put it below a demon to do so…

Likes helping you out quite a bit with most of the mundane chores of the world. You going to wash the dishes, including his plate? No, let him do it. You made the food, it’s only right for him to help you clean up. You need to travel to get more supplies? Expect a hefty amount in your pantry/storage the next day, maybe a few hours. He just likes providing like he human again.

He definitely likes to jam out with you. Sharing each others music tastes. He even listening to your music while he fights off demons. Mercilessly tearing down his enemies as a rather cute song plays. The blood of the his opposers staining his armor while he just continues on his way. Somehow even sending you recommendations when he out slaying. You encourage him to focus on his set task and he just sends you another song in response, despite your worry.

Encourages you to defeat your enemies when you to battle together. He helps you to know your weapons, slowly teaching you how to weld what you hold. Doing some combos and tactics: thrust, dodge, slash, thrust. A simple combo, but it sure is amusing to see you trying to use what he’s teaching you of. It never fails to have you a bit… dazed in your training, and perhaps… underneath him.

𝐒𝐞𝐱𝐮𝐚𝐥/𝐒𝐦𝐮𝐭:

For those who veiw the Doomslayer in a religious light. I would say he would like wait until you are both married to have sexual intercourse, and at that certain point I believe he would take it slow at first. You are both testing your boundaries. It’s usually not good to rush unless experienced with your partners body. Also, he’s definitely huge and would not like to ruin you the first time. No matter if he had tempting thoughts of you.

Worship can both ways in this one. With him? He likes to caress and massage you. His tongue and teeth gently giving kitten licks and nips to test your skin and nerves before starting the main course. Do it on him? Best believe he would be a bottom for a bit. His hands squeezing your thighs gently while you focus your attention on doing your treatment on his own battle hardened skin. You can hear him sigh out a couple of times to your affections.

In my opinion, I think he would like biting more than praise. He’s more hands on than all talkative, but he won’t object your praise to him if that is your subconscious duty. He will grow to love it. Though, back to biting. He loves to mark his partner. Sinking his teeth into their skin just hard enough to leave a mark, and he absolutely doesn’t mind if you do the same. It will surprise him at first, but he’s not against it with how his member twitches.

Definite size kink. That man is what? 7ft? Almost? Ones has to have a size kink of being such a powerful size. So, with a smaller partner he would absolutely thrive on how tight you feel around him. Your body unable to take any more that what you have already inside of you. Bigger partner? He loves just how much you can take him. To see his cock disappear within you as you take him greedily.

Belly budge kink, if he liked watching himself going inside of you, he’s going to like watching that bit of skin the creates a budge inside of you. Telling him of how much you are taking him, and it’s impressive. His hands usually wandering over that bit of skin and gently thumbing it. Watching you closely as you wither and whine at the sudden touch.

I see him having a lingerie kink. So, it would become a great surprise to him if he sees you in nothing but lingerie. He wouldn’t expect that of you, but he certainly isn’t declining your clear invitation of your body sitting so pretty upon the bed with sighs of his name falling from your lips while you pleasure yourself with your fingers. He is quick to not leave you unsatisfied.

Ough, chastity. This one can last a while as he would not have a high limbo. This can be torture for you and more like a walk in the park for him. So, I would advise you to plan this one carefully. Perhaps even challenge him (and well yourself) that you two can’t fuck each other, but you two can tease one another. It’s mostly you teasing, but once he does it? It’s hard to keep your hands to yourself because he knows you like it when he gets back to you and takes his armor off to show the hidden muscle underneath. Bastard.

You could ask him to be bottom for a night, but he would be a power bottom. His hands grasping at your thighs and thrusting up into you with impeccable timing. Your mind going a bit frazzled at his actions as you thought you were going to have him withering but it seems he keeps you in your place in either position. He also likes it when you look exhausted above him. Your hands splayed out on his chest with your heated breathes coating his skin.

There are times where this man gets needy after having you has a partner. The chastity maybe a hard one to get him on, but it honestly takes a lot of time for him to become needy. He is more of a war machine than a sexual one, so it makes sense he isn’t, but when he is? Expect him to be curled around you with his cock deep inside of you. His own, hot breaths breathing into your ear as he stuffs you slowly with him. Taking you deep and slow, savoring you.

It takes a long time for him to do chastity, needy sex, and so does rough sex. He really isn’t that much keen on that one as he doesn’t like to imagine on hurting his partner, but he does obey your cries for more. For him to go “r-rougher!” And by god does he deliver, drilling into you with huffs and growls. His hands squeezing tightly at your waist just enough to create a bruise later. No doubt leaving you bedridden for the next days to come. You’re lucky however, that he cares for you afterwards with love.

[ririleil]

vampire!suna and witch!reader headcanons

a/n: these hcs are actually related to a fic i wrote write right here but they could serve as a standalone! there are more hcs under the cut so feel free to check them out! i might make a pt 2 for these hcs because i still have a whole lot of stuff for vampire!suna and witch!reader. im so sorry if this was too wordy i tried to make it as short as i could but anyways, pls do enjoy!!!

cw: mentions of death, blood, and implied sh (very mild but still, do take caution!)

masterlist

you both first met on a quiet night at a library when you stayed behind to help sort through books. you saw a sleeping suna in one of the reading alcoves. he was too still, too pale, with hands that looked too cold to be alive. you also sensed no living mana emanating from him. 

without knowing he's a vampire, you immediately assumed the worst. you thought he had died, or someone had murdered him and left his corpse to rot alone in the library. to make sure of it, you reached down to check for a pulse but felt nothing at all.

instead of calling for help, you took this chance to try out on a resuscitation or revival spell (you had a let-me-do-it-spell-first mentality)

you were halfway through the spell when he opened one eye and with cold hands, suddenly grabbed you by the wrist. 

"could you not chant a necromancy spell directly into my ear while im sleeping? thanks"

startled, you jumped back and smacked him with the nearest book you could grab (he dodged and funnily enough, the book you grabbed was about vampire anatomy and physiology)  

“you were just lying there! dead and cold!”

“uh, im literally a vampire? thats kind of my whole vibe” 

you guys had a mini back and forth banter. you were kind of embarrassed by the encounter so you scowled at him the entire time while he just smirked at your reactions. he liked how unshaken you were. most people would've just ran away from him.

and that’s where it all started. he kept showing up lately after that night. around closing time when you’re there.  

at first, you thought suna visiting the library every night was him being annoying. eventually, you realized it’s one of the only places he feels calm enough to fall asleep.

suna is that one vampire who will still and always ask for permission to come inside your house (except for that one time when he desperately needed your blood) everytime he visits without fail. he won't get in until you let him. even though vampires can enter and exit someone's property freely once already invited, suna still has the need to put distance. he even does it to mess with you for shits and giggles. in a teasing tone, he'll say something like:

"aren't you gonna let me in? or will you just stand there blocking the door?" "suna, stop messing around and just get in, will you?"

you guys banter like two roommates in a very “old couple way”. he called you a hag one time because you speak like an old witch sometimes and you retaliated by calling him nosferatu

you guys share the same humor in morbid things. no one else laughs at it. but you guys crack up everytime.

“if you bite me in my sleep, i swear i’ll curse you to puke slugs for a month” “bet”

asides the library, vampire!suna sleeps in weird places. the attic, his basement, crypts, your couch (his favorite). he dislikes coffins—claims that they are too outdated and too last century.

one of your specialties is making magical tea blends, whether it's for calming or for boosting effects, etc. you occasionally add drops of your witch blood to suna’s tea blend for him to recharge but not enough to satisfy his hunger. you didn't tell him about it but he knows. and he's silently thankful for that.

suna can turn into a bat but refuses to unless it's absolutely necessary. you once pestered him to turn into one because you haven't seen that form of him before. you already did though. once. when you saved what you thought was a regular bat but it was actually suna transformed into one and you tried to “adopt” him. 

you cast quiet wards around his resting places so no one could stumble across him or disturb him while he's asleep. suna, without your knowledge, shadows you in town at night time when you're out searching for magic items or ingredients. he just wants to make sure you're safe and doesn't want you to be alone in dark alleys (you're capable enough to defend yourself, he just wants to be there). 

suna is annoyingly fast. he moves soundlessly and appears beside people without warning, it startles them. you're the only one who doesn't flinch anymore (unless you're hyper focused with something else);

whenever he tries to scare you in that way to mess with you, it always ends in failure with you saying “you don't scare me, suna. let it go.” in a blunt tone. he's glad though, that you don't find him scary at all.

despite being dead for years, something about your exasperated sighs and your passion and dedication in spellwork make his unbeating, dead heart flicker. he likes watching you while you work and pretends not to be fascinated by you (you know he's staring but you pretend you didn't).

suna once half joked about watching everyone around him fade and die. you calmly and seriously replied “i know a few spells and rituals to stop aging or slow time if you ever get tired of being alone.” he didn't reply, but he noticed the look you gave him. it stuck with him forever.

a/n: if you've reached this part, thank you sm for reading until the end. also, did you guys catch the sinners reference?

photo credits: pinterest

dividers: @/cursed-carmine

© ririleil 2025 | do not copy, modify, repost, or translate without my permission

[dragonshoardofworks]

Reincarnation Everlasting Trio Part 2 (DPxDC)

(The flu is kicking my ass, so I decided to fight back by publishing this! (๑•̀ㅂ•́)و✧ ...At least I'm at home and not at work? Small victories... And please don't hate me...!)

Part 1 | Part 2 (you're here) | Part 3 | Part 4

Gotham's second third best kept secret after the locations (and their related secrets) of the BatCave and Danny's resting place is the Stolon.

In the most hidden crypt under the corpse of the oldest greenhouse ever built in the gothic city, there's a thick net of roots and vines that cover every inch of the marmored chamber. Like a protective shell or a vegetal Fort Knox, the crypt enshrines Undergrowth’s (the Ancient of the Flora) most precious gift to the Green (their living offspring): the Gynaeceum, a cocoon-like structure capable of generating either an offspring or an avatar for the Green to inhabit and walk on Earth.

But since Professor Pamela Isley is an excellent avatar for them already, the Green doesn’t feel the need for a body at the moment, buuuut… conveniently their Parent loaned them a soul to look after recently and Poison Ivy deserved a reward and, let’s say, an incentive to keep pursuing her beloved Harleen Quinzel…

So, why not incubate the loaned soul with the DNA of both Pamela and Harley in the Gynaeceum? It’d be a huge success for everyone!

The soul, however, wasn't agreeing very much with the idea (like the rebellious goth child that she still is) and had to be coaxed through the stages until proper development, let's say until puberty begins to kick in for a standard human body, so around 8-13 years old, so the body had to stay in the cocoon until that age.

So after a “natural” test tube pregnancy of 10 years, Antheia was born as a pre-teen, right before the newly wed Pam and Harley, who were called there by the Green.

The two Sirens were taken aback by (but not averse of) the gift after the shock settled and they got an explanation as to why and how all of this happened.

(The only reason they didn't go apeshit on the Green for basically doing the same thing Lex Luthor did with Superman to make Connor was that Pam knows that the Green doesn't have the same set of morality and values that humans do, plus they don't even think in the same way, so she understood even if at the beginning she was a bit miffed for not being asked. Harley, since she trusts her wife, suspended her judgement until Pam explained the Green's reasoning and way of thinking. If she also can't hate the child because she somewhat feels familiar, it's another thing that she doesn't voice to anyone… And… she's so disappointed for having missed so much of her new baby's life! They could have visited during the gestation and human contact could have made the soul more cooperative and so have it latch earlier on their new body and so get birthed earlier!)

Antheia was mentally on the level of a newborn, but catches on quickly and in just 2 years or so she’s already behaving like (and with the knowledge of) her physical age. 

Pam and Harley absolutely love her to pieces and don’t-call-me-by-my-full-name Thea shares the sentiment. Both women have different connections with their daughter, tho: Ivy through Green’s powers and shared beliefs on nature and Harley by being fiercely protective of what they consider their own, not accepting (anymore) abuse by anyone.

[After failing to “cure” the Joker and falling into his clutches/partial insanity in her origin story, Quinn did kill people, but only criminals, as inexplicably something always stopped her from harming civilians and innocents. And while the Joker did punish these lacks, he still considered her useful, so he used her only where she was able to act. When and why did Harley finally manage to renounce everything about him, then? During the nth escape from Arkham, on a whim she went and checked her mail kept in the asylum deposit during the years. An enthusiastic letter from a girl in Illinois struck so many chords in her that made Harley say to herself: “Wtf am I even doing with my life?? This isn’t what I wanted to be!” And so proceeded to go and beat the everliving shit out of the Joker as he was starting to do the same with the newest and second Robin in one of Gotham warehouses, where the latter had been lured to. Having called Bruce (since she had figured out his identity a while ago because of knowing each other in med school), he rushed Jason to the ICU (remember the kinder timeline I mentioned in the previous post?) and managed to save him in time and the Joker got back to Arkham for a while longer than usual…]

The attitude that Thea inherited from her mothers (once 12) leads her to at first trying to sneak out and follow them in their night time activities of “anti-heroes”, but thanks to the Green, she always gets caught. After one too many times of that, the Sirens cave in and decide that it will be better to teach her the ropes and make her their sidekick, since it’s safer than letting her go solo and they can’t really stop her (much like Bruce does with all his Robins, tbh. (≧∇≦) )

During one of these escapades/missions, it was inevitable that the latest (the fourth, since it's been a while since Harley saved Jason) Robin and Thea (codename: Blossom) meet… and pick on each other like cat and dog.

The rest of the BatFam places so many bets on them, with Steph and Dick comparing them to Bruce and Selina, but with violence as a love language. Jason and Tim just hope that they won't tear each other out (since they got the burnt of Damian's hostility back when he came at the Wayne Manor, but without the canonical murder attempts, since Jason is still in rehabilitation and Tim had openly stated from the beginning that he was subbing in for the Robin role until the former got better to get back on the street if he wanted).

(Tim, in this, prefers to be the tech guy much more, with only some brawl in the mix, like Oracle’s assistant that does what Babs cannot anymore. The timeline is still kinder, since, while Babs won't recover the 100% of her functionality, she can still walk with a cane.)

Then it all changes when Phantom, or better, Danny joins in the mix. He and Damian!Tucker have so much to catch up with that they're practically joined to the hip and that leads to not meeting Blossom while they’re on patrol since they take different routes than usual.

Hearing the rumor of a new meta vigilante and the sightings of him only with Robin, absolutely doesn’t stir any jealousy in Thea (note the sarcasm) and so to set things straight with her rival, Blossom calls a favor with her mom to arrange a meeting with Batman and Robin. Harley is super amused by the whole thing, so she accepts only on the condition of chaperoning the whole thing (plus B wouldn’t come “just for Blossom”, she has to be there as well!)

In order to keep things civil (as a contingency plan agreed by both B and Harley), they meet on the roof of a Batburger (the highest one where no one could overhear them and it’s away from the plants), only the four of them. (They get Alfred distract Danny by asking him to do chores with him since “he’s getting old” *cough*BS*cough* and our boi is so eager to help/people-please.)

Blossom and Harley are already there when the Bats arrive and the former is already glaring at the boy.

“So? Where did you leave your new pet?” Blossom demands, looking around.

“He’s not my pet!” Robin snaps, hackles raised.

“Then how come he’s following you around like a puppy, uh? Bet he’s at your beck and call” 

“Don’t talk about him like he’s a thing! His parents already did that enough back when they were alive, so don’t you dare, allochthonous species!” Blossom gasps in outrage, since it’s an (ecology) insult he learned from her.

“So this is just a crusade to fix the new stray while forgetting your duty? Where were you when we busted that exotic animal smuggling ring? You abandoned us!” 

Hit hard by the guilt trip, Robin is quick to recover, though. “You managed just fine, didn’t you? I couldn’t leave him, as there’s no one other than me who’s able to deal with his breakdowns!” He snaps, then centers himself and frowns at her. “What’s your deal, by the way, dudette? You didn’t act like this when I collaborated lengthily with Superboy Jr.”

Getting the whiplash from the unfamiliar slang mixed with formal language, Blossom recoils, as a wave of vertigo hits her. Wtf was that?? She focuses back on the topic, steeling herself. “That ‘Supersons’ thing was nowhere near what’s happening here. You changed so much that I can barely recognize you. So don’t feed me this BS! What happened that made you leave me behind?”

Oh. That’s the crux of the matter, isn’t it? Before Danny’s return and the subsequent recovery of his memories as Tucker, Robin and Blossom had been vigilante partners whenever they teamed up, sometimes even more in sync than with Batman. But how to lay out gently that she’s partially right but he hasn’t meant to? It’s then that Tucker Foley’s famous nonexistent mouth-filter strikes, subverting anything Damian Wayne has ever learned about tact. “Hey, it’s not my fault! You would change too if the guy you like kissed you out of the blue!” He blurts.

(In the background Batman facepalms, hard, Harley gasps and the BatFam cackles in the comms, as Oracle is making them eavesdrop.)

“...So that’s how it is.” A pause, then rage. “You led me on!”

“Wha- Never!” The Tucker in him is still on the reins. “Circumstances changed and I swear I didn’t mean to stop thinking of you! It was a blast from the past, literally, that I had no idea it was available to me!”

“Oh so now it's because of your tragic backstory that you're dumping me? I thought we were partners in crime!”

“We still are, it doesn't have to be mutually exclusi-” Damian!Tucker begins, hotly, only to be interrupted by an alarm going off in the comms.

Everybody tenses as Oracle starts to interject. «Arkham just noticed that the Joker has escaped, they have a hole of two hours in the security tapes!»

«I’m tracking his goons as we speak, it seems that they gathered so much C4 that they could celebrate the Fourth of July!» Hiereus (priest in Greek, helper of the Oracle, new name I choose for Tim instead of Red Robin) informs them, sound of the keyboard being smashed in the background. 

“Where are the bombs?” B demands, tense, ready to grapple at a moment's notice, while the other three get ready too.

«Still searching, still searching… here! All the Batburgers’ roofs.» There's a pause of appropriate horror, before they all register the sentence. «B get out of ther-»

You know what they say about any kinder timeline?

The more you have to lose (the taller they stand)...

BOOOOOOM!

…The harder you (they) fall.

[niteshade925]

April 13, Xi'an, China, Shaanxi Archaeology Museum/陕西考古博物馆 (Part 5 - Tang dynasty, Song dynasty, and later):

Happy Mid-Autumn to everyone!

First up is again an undisputed star of the museum, the gold crown of Li Zhui/李倕. Li Zhui was the 5th generation descendant of Li Yuan/李渊, aka Emperor Gaozong of Tang, the first emperor of Tang dynasty (618 - 907 AD). It's speculated that this crown was what the Tang-era term "轻金冠" (lit. "light gold crown") was referring to. The crown itself wasn't just gold, however, it also had parts of silver, copper, and iron, decorated with pearls, mother of pearl, agate, turquoise, rubies, amber, ivory, and glass.

And it wasn't just a crown either. There were other pieces that were part of her outfit:

Various Tang-era gold and silver thread embroidery pieces found in the crypt of Famen Temple/法门寺, the plaque is visible in many of these so I won't be naming them all. There's a saying among Chinese archaeologists: "dry things last a thousand years, wet things last ten-thousand years, half-wet half-dry things last half a year" ("干千年，湿万年，不干不湿就半年"). This refers to the conditions the artifacts/remains were in over time, stable conditions usually preserve artifacts and remains better than changing conditions. Fabric-based artifacts are notoriously hard to preserve, especially in Xi'an's "half-wet half-dry" climate, so these are a rare sight:

Note that the bird and flower design on the right is actually not an embroidery, but designs woven straight into the fabric:

The gold threads used in these embroideries were made by wrapping long strips of gold foil around thread through the turning of these hook-shaped tools.

The gold threads produced from the above process were mainly used in two ways, either woven into the fabric (top), or embroidered onto fabric (bottom). The kind of embroidery here is called cujinxiu/蹙金绣, which uses gold threads and a technique that is similar to couching

Models of the microscopic structure of different types of silk fabric found in Famen Temple. In common usage today, the term sha/纱 often refers to light, almost see-through polyester fabrics, but in the past this term refers exclusively to a type of light silk fabric. However, the other ones listed here (ling/绫, luo/罗, juan/绢, jin/锦) almost always refer to silk fabrics.

Different types of motifs/patterns found on artifacts throughout time. Left is the evolution of juancaowen/卷草纹 ("curled plant motif") from Tang dynasty to Jin dynasty (1115 - 1234). Right is the evolution of lianhuawen/莲花纹 ("lotus flower motif") from Northern Song dynasty (960 - 1127) to Yuan dynasty (1206 - 1368).

Left: evolution of juhuawen/菊花纹 ("chrysanthemum flower motif") from Tang dynasty to Yuan dynasty. Right: evolution of mudanwen/牡丹纹 ("moutan peony motif") from Tang dynasty to Yuan dynasty, and the evolution of youyuwen/游鱼纹 ("swimming fish motif") from Northern Song dynasty to Yuan dynasty.

This is another one of my personal favorites, a Ming dynasty (1368 - 1644) bronze vessel with cloisonné enamel (called 掐丝珐琅 or jingtailan/景泰蓝 in Chinese). This type of vessel is called a gui/簋.

Song-era green-glazed porcelain from Yaozhou Kiln Site (耀州窑), so it's called yaoci/耀瓷 for short. This particular style is made by carving designs onto the piece before glazing and firing. I have attempted something similar when I took that wheelthrowing class years ago, but I failed lol

A Northern Song-era stone dui/敦 from the tomb of Lü Dalin/吕大临. The calligraphy here is in kaishu/楷书 script.

Also from the tomb of Lü Dalin, the left is a wine flagon with a dedicated holder used to warm the entire vessel along with the wine inside. The right is a incense burner with a swastika on top. Note that swastikas are very common in Chinese Buddhism, and is taken to mean "myriad" or "infinity" (the swastika is pronounced wan/萬, which literally means "ten-thousand", the figurative way of saying "infinity" in Chinese).

The process of making tea in Song dynasty, called diancha/点茶, which generally involves these steps: grinding the tea into a powder, sifting the tea powder, putting tea powder into a tea cup, pouring in hot water, and whisking the tea with a chaxian/茶筅 to create a light foam before drinking. In Song dynasty, the literati would hold contests among themselves to see who could make the perfect tea using the diancha method. This complex and time/effort consuming method was gradually phased out within China by the time of Ming dynasty, but deeply influenced Japanese tea making methods.

Left: a small porcelain piece depicting a mother lion and cub. The Chinese depiction of lions, called shi/狮, largely comes from a combination of the mythological suanni/狻猊, and the rare real lions that were given to China as gifts in the past. Right: a pottery dragon from Yuan dynasty, if I remembered correctly.

Also the previous part on Han dynasty (202 BC - 220 AD) artifacts was getting way too long, so I put these two pictures here at the end. In ancient China, many round coins had a square hole in the middle, and these holes were used to string the coins up for easier storage and counting. Such strings of coins are called minqian/缗钱, and this is why the quantifier for coins in ancient China is usually chuan/串, guan/贯, or diao/吊. In usage, chuan is not a strict quantifier, but 1 guan or diao = 1000 coins.

A modern recreation of a Han-era painted lacquer box, this red pattern on black background look is very characteristic of Han-era painted lacquerware:

Painted pottery statue of a Buddhist deva:

The painted wall murals of a Yuan dynasty tomb, viewed from below:

And this concludes the posts for Shaanxi Archaeology Museum! The next museum (also the last one) will be Shaanxi History Museum, specifically the new Qin-Han dynasties museum.

[pursuitseternal]

“Knowledge is a dangerous weapon:” Bookworm!Tav, Vampiric Spawn Powers, and Breeding—“Bites” Update 📚

Astarion x F!Reader | E | 4.6K of banter and breeding

Based on an anonymous prompt

(HBD @lipstickghoulie )

Summary: You have always loved your books and a challenge, when your Vampire Rogue learns his starvation has kept him from his full powers, you take him up on his challenge to teach him the skills that are his due. As you draw closer together, he finds that one bit of information you have failed to teach him… how to make a dhampire

CW: light mocking of Astarion’s ditziness, Spawn Spidercrawl, catching powers and feelings, flirty touching, creepy silent vampire moves, Breeding talk, no babies just breeding, Mating Press™️

Ao3 link | Series link | Masterlist

📚✨📚✨📚✨📚✨📚✨📚✨📚✨📚✨📚

You always knew he was… dumb. Thick headed. Unobservant.

Okay, at times the comments from his thick, rosy lips were just plain stupid. “That lever… must do something…” That was a wonderful moment, one that earned him your eyes rolling so far back in your skull they hurt. “We have some words and some… circles…. Wonder what they do….” Another example of his unparalleled intelligence.

Not to mention the countless times he failed to remember any of the major gods and their shrines as you passed through crypts and defiled chapels.

For as handsome as he was, for as sultry and seductive as you found him, he was… smoothed-brained. But as your journey forced you closer together, you couldn’t help but think some of it may be merely pretense, he was a magistrate after all. He was abused and tortured for centuries, surely that does things to one’s mind. And he was always reading. Every day, every night at camp, his beautiful aquiline nose stuck in a book, crimson eyes devouring the words at a breakneck speed.

One to even rival your own thirst for knowledge.

Maybe it was that you allowed the poor Spawn a chance to drink living, thinking blood for once. Your own. Maybe that was what began to take his little, stupid moments and turn them into something endearing.

Not that he was gracious when you corrected his ignorance. Every time, he gave that adorable, grumpy harumph and then defended his comments, or… since he started feeding from you, he’d just look at your neck still freshly marked and lick his lips. That really shut you up. Set you on fire.

But it wasn’t until you needed him to reach that last little chest up on the crumbling ledge inside some dank cavern that you realized his ignorance wasn’t wholly pretend.

Astarion, vampire spawn, didn’t know just what he should be capable of. He looked positively befuddled when you told him to just climb the brick wall. His sass had been sharp, “I’m not some spider, darling.”

“But you can spider climb, you dolt,” you had laughed imitating his tone, trying to call his bluff on skills he should have, at least according to what you had read in your book. A Spawn should scale such a wall with immense ease.

He just narrowed his crimson eyes at you, a snarl on his lips as he shook his head. “I have never performed such an act, darling, nor have any of my brothers and sisters, those of us Cazador kept for his bidding. Better check your precious facts in your precious tomes before you throw your assumptions on my prowess… dear.”

You still shiver at that night. Back at camp. When you ignored the way he bristled as you approached him in front of his tent. He had sneered at you, readying his next acerbic quip for you… Until you sat so close beside him, settling the heavy book in his lap. Leaning in, you point to the page. Traits and Strengths of the Vampiric Spawn.

You felt him cease breathing, his left hand clutching at the edge of the book growing even whiter. “Astarion,” you breathed. Leaning in more, you looked into his eyes, his gaze scanning the words so quickly on the aged vellum. And then he shoved you by your cheek out of his sightline. He needed to finish this.

“Why, I should be positively remarkable, assuming your book is correct,” he sighed, as if he saw a vision, a dream fulfilled. One where he was powerful.

You nodded as his crimson eyes flashed at you, wide with wonder. “You mentioned Cazador never let you feed enough, and not from thinking creatures.” He nodded, skeptical even as his eyes fixated on your lips. “Well, what you did not know was that denying you a sufficient diet meant also restricting you from your full powers, even as a Spawn, Astarion. You should be able to climb up walls and ceilings, move swifter, lift boulders too much for even Karlach to manage. You should be able to heal almost instantaneously, without potion or feeding.”

“And now?” he replied, that little tremor of hope in his voice unmistakable as his hand traced over the page of your book.

“Well, it’s a difficult deduction, since you have our unwelcome illithid parasite. But now that you are feeding regularly, even from thinking creatures, you should find the effects more than just making you feel… happy,” you rambled on. Even as you kept talking, his eyes glued their gaze to your neck, your lips. If you weren’t mistaken, they even dipped down the v-shaped cut of your tunic.

“So… the more I drink from thinking creatures, the stronger and more powerful I will be?” he murmured, a slight grit in his throat as his eyes definitely darted down your bosom now.

“Y-yes,” you rejoined, sliding back just a touch.

And he slid that touch closer, and then some.

“You’ll help me, won’t you, darling? You’ll help me learn these skills? Give me all I require to access my full potential….” His eyes looked wet, the ruby irises glowing in the flickering firelight. “Please?” he adds with that smirk and that single arching brow of his made you stomach flutter and heart thump so hard in your chest.

“I…” you started, but he only seemed to lean ever closer.

“You know, when I was a Magistrate, back in the City, I would have craved someone with intelligence like yours. We would have been rivals, colleagues…” his eyes dip once more shamelessly up and down your seated body. “Perhaps lovers even,” he breathed. “I always surrounded myself with those of highest intellect, darling. Intelligence is so… undervalued by many, and knowledge is a dangerous weapon, but I see you, my darling. Won’t you please come to my aid now?”

“We… we can try,” you had whispered, barely able to the let the words from your lips with how you seemed to seize under the intensity of his stare.

“Wonderful,” he purred, catching your cheek, your chin in his cool palm. “I just hope we don’t have to wait too long…”

You squirmed as his thumb began to brush beneath your lip.

“…to put my new strengths to the test I mean, of course.” He smirked that little bit more twistedly. More seductively. And you knew he heard your heart beating in your artery, your blood rushing under his touch in your veins to pool lower. It was his nature, and you knew more of it than he did.

“Of course…” you breathed. “I’d be happy to help.”

“Then it’s settled,” his voice was thick in his throat, you relished the way his other arm stole around you, clutching at you back to bring you all the closer under his heady spell of charm and seduction. “All that’s left is to seal our new arrangement somehow…”

He pushed that heavy book off his lap, sliding to bring you into completely flushed against him. You’re sure your pulse was raging so loudly, it’s deafened his pointed and twitching ears. That chilled, corpse-cold touch under your chin tilts you up just… so…

You melted, closing that distance between your lips. Every logical thought dispersed in the wind of your desire, that panting breath that passed from your lungs into his.

That’s how this all began, and where it had brought you to this moment, where he clings to the ceiling of a massive cavern filled with both the stink of Gnolls and the vile creatures themselves. Dagger gripped in between his glinting fangs. He readies himself with a look of pure and dark excitement. He loves this. He misses this when it’s just you all back in the quiet of camp, where he tests his ever growing strength and climbing abilities, where he drinks from you every night before he hunts in the dark.

Where he slowly makes you more and more aware of your awakening body the more he touches you and caresses and kisses you. Always every night. Always between your increasingly intellectual discussions about vampiric powers and the moment he sinks his fangs into your skin to feed. He always leaves you after dark, his own belly sated, while you… you grow all the hungrier. Needier. You want more debate, more analysis, more of his body covering yours as he drinks you down.

But not anything more. Not yet. Even as you knew he was edging closer to asking you for sex. Even if he didn’t know all the… implications. After all, knowledge was a dangerous weapon.

You shake your head to free yourself from the longing thoughts of past nights and burning expectations of the night to come. You give him the signal, watching him release with flawless precision, dagger in hand now, as he falls from his spider-perch.

The Gnolls never see you coming, not before your endearingly ferocious Vampire Spawn lands with preternatural grace on their heads and vivisects them before you even reach their location.

He pants as you get at least one good shot from your bow, right for the last twitching body on the ground.

It’s not until you smile, satisfied, you notice that Astarion’s pale skin is riddled with scratches and tears from the beasts’ claws. He holds out his arms, rolling up his sleeves and smiling. Enjoying the sight of his vampiric body healing before his eyes. That crimson gaze practically glows as he looks at you over the carnage. “See something you like, my sweet?” he purrs, arching that brow, just for you, as if the others in your party aren’t even there.

“Ahem,” you clear your throat, turning to find the coveted chest of supplies, that Zhentarim sigil on it is no deterrent to you. Not when your Vampire Spawn can charm anyone to do anything now. “We better head back to camp,” you kneel before the strong chest, trying your hand to pick the iron lock.

“Tch,” his voice brushes your ear, physically tickling the small stray hairs that make you gasp. “You know I’m far more skilled with my fingers, especially when it comes to slipping inside…” You shudder to feel him crouching right behind you, his thighs pressed against your ass, his waist brushing your lower back. “…Slipping inside chests, locks, that sort of thing,” he adds louder, just to appease your unease. That dexterous touch has only grown all the smoother and stronger and sneakier now that he has fed well for a while.

He is so sneaky in fact, only one of his hands actually works the lock pick for a moment, the other quickly skates up your leg, tracing the inner seam of your buckskin breeches almost to the peak of your thigh. He laughs in your ear as you muffle a noise under your own palm.

“Soldiers, you really need four hands to pick one lock? Haven't you gotten better, Fangs, now that our fearless leader has let you suck on her and tutor you in being a Spawn?” Karlach chortles, her feet swaying side to side in that perpetual motion dance she seems to do.

“Don’t you have somewhere else to be?” Astarion throws the barb over his shoulder, letting you bury your face to hide the tweaks of ecstasy at the corners of your eyes as his fingers keep moving higher… higher. “Some silent performance only you get to savor, it seems?”

“If I didn't know better…” Gale’s pedantic voice draws closer.

“There now,” Astarion crows like the proudest rooster of them all, his hand quickly leaving the edge of your mound to twist that pick and pop the lock just as Gale peers from behind. “Look at all this loot,” he groans and stands, satisfied as he folds his arms over his chest. “Good thing you have a strong, well-fed Vampire to bring it back with us. Wouldn’t you agree, darling?”

He smirks down at you, hand extended to help you to your feet. Back to the rest, he flashes you that fang-toothed smirk that he knows sets your pulse galloping out of control. Pulling you up, he has to steady you in your legs, near boneless as they are with just that tease of pleasure. “Calm yourself darling, you're making my undead heart hurt sympathetically from all that… excitement,” he rasps right into your ear once you’re on your feet before him, releasing you in favor of bags of treasure and potions and loot to stuff in his pack.

Your mind is racing as your trod back towards your little camp well off the Risen Road for good measure. Thoughts scramble, worries peak their heads up, and you can’t stop thinking about the rest of what you have learned reading about vampires. Necessary research for you, particularly since Astarion has seemingly added flirtation and seduction into your witty repartee this last tenday. So far, you’ve managed to keep his wandering eyes from those pages when he glances through your tomes. He seems to prefer every little dip of your skin where he can see it at any rate. So far, you’ve managed to keep his hands in places on your body that are not too dangerous, yours on his as well.

But something inside you knows that tide is shifting. He wants to offer you more in exchange for more… and… well, if it doesn’t just make your body thrum with life in ways no books had and no previous interests had either.

He has beaten you back to camp, haphazardly tossed the loot for the rest of you to sort out in the center of camp. You know he’s waiting in his tent, now that the sun has begun to trek lower and lower. It’s time for your research, for your indulgence of his strength, and… whatever else might happen.

His tent is dimly lit as you enter, a mess of blankets and pillows, some fine and some in tatters. Stacks of books in the corners have replaced the blood bank bottles you first found here to clutter his space.

But no Astarion.

You tilt your head confused, settling down on one pillow, more or less intact, reaching for an apple he keeps in his stash of food just for you. Just to replenish you between his own feedings. As you bite into the hard skin, as the juice fills your mouth, you reach for a book, some ancient law book he found in the ruins of that village. Must make him think of his old life.

The pages are old and soft in your fingers, your eyes absentmindedly skimming the long words and complex sentences as you chew.

Peaceful. Until you realize it’s far too quiet.

You feel the hairs on the back of your neck prickle, that feeling of being watched creeping up your spine. Turning, mid bite, you peer into the shadowed corner of his tent behind you.

Two glowing red eyes stare at you from the dark, just a hint of glinting teeth as he smiles and drinks in your fear and surprise. He laughs to hear you hiss as you jump in your seat. “There you are,” he croons from his darkened corner. “I’ve been waiting.”

“F-f-for what?” you force a smile and force your breath to steady all at once. He slides closer, settling down right beside you, and you notice your worn book in his hand, the smile on his face is sultry.

And predatory.

And for a moment, you regret teaching him as much as you have about his untapped powers.

“When were you going to tell me about your little bit of… research… on the side?” his voice is chilling, his brow arching as he flips the book open right to the back.

Right where you had been trying so hard to prevent his eyes from skimming, his ambitious brain from devouring the knowledge.

Your body is hot and rigid, and you know from the way his pointy ears twitch, he hears your pulse. You know from the way that his nostrils flare that he smells your arousal, the slick that dampens your underthings just to be this close to him again after his little stunt today.

“If my observations are correct… and they usually are…” he purrs, even though the stack of evidence to the contrary is vast. But you bite your tongue as he continues, your heart leaping at the topic he is about to breach. “You sound and smell eager to discuss this topic if dhampires, my darling.”

You swallow, watching so heated and frozen as he slides so gracefully to place the weight of that tome in your own lap, his fingers removing the half-eaten apple from your fingers to toss to the side. Then he brings their sticky, juicy tips to his mouth to suck them clean.

You moan, unbidden, at the wet and vigor with which his tongue cleans every crevice of those digits.

“Now, I’d hate to be left wondering just why my intelligent, little darling would withhold such a vital… potent… part of my unrevealed powers as a vampire?” he sets your hand back on your thigh, a little extra brush of his fingers, returning to trace that seam inside your breaches as he had before. “Is she… curious? Afraid? Is this why she has been just so hesitant during our…” he grips your chin, turning your head with commanding force until there is nowhere else to look but his deep crimson eyes, “…late night trysts?”

“It’s not something one just… brings up, Astarion,” you try to flatten your tone, even as that one hand still traces up and around your thigh. “It’s just not… done…”

Something about his eyes softens, “It would be important to discuss, you know, for there is more that I would like to share with you than just witty banter and blood…” his tone dips low into a rumble. “It’s not something I would have known, not a concern I would have shared until I knew of it…”

“There’s more to it than you might know,” you squeak as his fingers press into that slot between your legs. “Now that you’re well-fed, you’ll feel actual….”

You swallow the word. His touch presses hard enough into your folds through your breaches to make them soaked. And you, wanton you, you give a breath and a buck of your hips to keep his fingers there.

“Pleasure,” he smirks, eyes scanning your face as your force your eyes back open, halfway at least. “Yes, I gathered as much. The more I feed, the more I come alive… alive enough to perhaps even bestow a new life…” he squints a grin at you, your mouth slack as he draws that touch just as hard again, “…perhaps one day.”

You arch your body, trying to slip closer. Your secret is out, your anxious thoughts over clandestine information dispersed in the air. And so, the next words from your mouth just build on all that you had been swallowing down.

“Yes, perhaps one day…” you sigh, leaning back on your hands to try to give him full access to your cunt. “Perhaps one day, we could test out those powers together.” Your voice shakes with excitement, it’s pressed with the sincerity you feel for him.

“Oh, my love,” he smirks and reaches both arms around your waist. That newfound strength pulls you flush into his lap, until your molten, silk-soaked center presses against where he’s hardening. “You always know what to say… Seems like quite the power that will take much preparation and proper timing…” He brings your fingers back to his lips as he kisses them softly. “I’d have to feed on more than just a bear and more than just sips from my little treat, sweet as you are…”

You nod, once or twice, before losing yourself in the bliss of his tongue on the tingling inner skin of your wrist. Barely more than a lap before his fangs pierce your skin and suck you down. Your very essence, your living blood pools in his belly, you feel it coursing in his veins. It fills him and hardens him beneath your hips in an instant.

“Well, practice makes perfect you know,” he croons, bloodied lips barely hovering off your own. “I can tell from your scent you are not… in season…. And I have only had the single little taste.”

You pant, writhing at the scratch of your clothing, you long to rip it off and toss it where your book has long since been abandoned. “Sounds right to me,” you hiss, arms tucking around his neck to lower those arrogant stupidly handsome lips to your mouth.

Astarion’s throat rumbles with a growl, the taste of your blood fresh in his mouth as he rolls you on your back. Primal. Feral. He’s your powerful vampire, blood in his body, lust in his brain. And you want to put it all to the test—your own little experiment to match his enthusiastic desire for you. His touch is lightening fast and strong, pulling off your clothing, swift and sure and careful until every inch of your bodies are bare.

Strength hums in his muscles, even as his hands gently caress your cheek, your neck still sore from all his feeding. His body presses you into the pile of blankets that cover his plank of a bed. His hips grind your belly, your thighs are pulled almost against your chest until you’re spread wide open for him. But for every jolt of his cock as it prods above you and drips his early cum on to your belly, his kisses on your lips are sweet, gentle. A silent movement of gratitude for all your willing aid. Those fingers drag their slightly warmed touch around your breast, kneading it tenderly. With every arch of your back, you can almost catch the base of his cock inside your folds.

And you shake. You quiver. You’d had a few lovers, mostly boring and few and far between. But never has your body burned for anyone like it does for him.

As if his vampire touch is calling your blood to pool beneath it. Not one traditional strength, but with Astarion, you aren’t totally sure he doesn’t have some unnatural ability to command your body. To make your blood pound and sing just for him.

“What a good girl,” he rasps, a grind of his hips to send that cock near your navel, over your skin. “I can feel your heat for me from here. Just waiting to be fucked full.” His mouth descends quickly but carefully, only taking a single nipple in his lips. Sucking hard, he pops off with a loud wet noise.

Almost as loud as your moan.

“So ready, aren’t you?” His question weighs you down, your eyes half shut to savor the way he drags back with that length, sliding it in just an inch or so into your aching sex. “I’m waiting…” he growls, and you sob as he pulls even that little bit of his tip back out.

“Yes, hells below, yes,” you pant, hands flying to claw into his ass. Pulling him towards your throbbing core.

That blunted tip prods just barely inside you again. “You want me to fill you?” he rasps.

You nod, your teeth biting your lip hard enough to bleed.

“You want me to fill your belly like you let me fill mine with your sweet blood?” he grips his arms around your shoulders, pressing harder into, cock sliding in another little bit. “Fuck you so many times, my cum will drip from you for days?”

“Yes, Astarion…” you breathe, his mouth devouring your words, ready to swallow your cry as he does, finally, fill you.

You feel the gravity of his body crushing you, his legs braced with every tendon taught as he snaps his hips into. It’s so deep, so driving the way he fucks. And every thrust slaps your flesh and smacks his balls against your ass, but you love it. His breath dampens your collarbone, arms wrapped so tightly around you, you can do nothing but hold on for dear life. Your thighs burn from how they’re bent into your stomach almost, your folds leaking with arousal, and the drag of his cock touches every part of your walls and slams against your channel’s end.

He licks your shoulder, wet tongue lapping up to the artery in your neck. Where it pulses and dances in time with his beat inside you. Flushed and boiling, speared on his length, you pant, suffocated deliciously until you burst. Your visions swimming and muscles contorting in his press, you scream for him. You can hear your arousal, your slick, coating his thighs as his thrusts only increase with speed.

Lifting his head, he sweeps a hand down your sweat-drenched belly, palm bracing just below your navel. His push is relentless, hard and gradual enough you feel it behind your belly, how he gives you resistance from outside against that constant ramming of his cock at your deepest point. It’s enough to throw you into another coil of bliss instantly. “Good girl, so wet and dirty and waiting to be filled…'' he finally speaks through his panting. And he pushes on your belly once more, grunting with each fuck as he comes undone.

As he thrusts and spills his seed, prodding the full length of him to the deepest point yet. You can feel it almost sticking through your skin as he pulses. As he spills, burst after burst, he still rams that end of your cunt.

Beads of sweat drip from his forehead as he looks down your body, and how your skin is wet and flushed and marked from where he gripped you so fiercely.

He smiles and licks his lips. You try to clamber out, but his hand only comes to rest on your shoulder. “Ah ah,” he tutts his tongue at you, slipping out, only to take two of his fingers to play in your mix of cum, slipping it back inside you over and over again. “You’ll need to practice too, and you’ll need to rest to keep all of me inside of you.”

You shudder, a smile wide on your mouth, aroused and embraced, half hidden behind the back of your hand as you cover your face.

“Tch,” he chides you, pulling that hand from your face, “none of that, my darling. I’ll watch every bit of your blush darken your cheek until you’re ready to go again.”

“Again?” you choke. Your hips already feeling stretched and sore, you lay them flat and try to ease the aches.

“Oh yes,” he purrs, “you’ll have to build your strength the old fashioned way, my treat. Now,” he gives your ass a little smack on the side as he lifts it, “on your knees, darling…”

You finally take a breath, freed from his wiry, heavy frame. One cool hand settles between your shoulder blades to have you rest your head on his bedding. But that other hand pulls your hips up, slipping through your juices and teasing your clit until you buck back against his belly. You breathe contentedly, savoring the way his fingers caress you, worship you.

You close your eyes, wriggle your hips, already craving that stretching fullness inside you. A future with him at your side during the day as your strong, well fed vampire… and on your back and knees and belly and any way he would want you during the long nights with your virile lover.

[soullessbullshit]

I want it on record that I am a proud member of Team "Gabrielle Benele is Completely Unhinged."

This may be a rather lukewarm take, as I don't have as much interaction with the Daggerfall Covenant side of the ESO fandom, but I'm convinced that, like myself until a couple years ago, neither has anyone that has ever earnestly considered her a voice of reason.

Gabrielle is that one character that people assume is put together at first glance because she's intelligent and professionally accomplished, but that perception completely shifts as people gradually discover the laundry list of borderline war crimes she's used those smarts to commit.

Her canonical claims to fame include, with no hyperbole applied:

Singlehandedly breaking into a cult-infested crypt for a talisman rumored to open portals to Oblivion.

Gleefully hacking the warding sequence on one of the most secure vaults in the Covenant and openly admitting that she'd wanted to take a crack for some time upon learning it was named the "Impervious Vault."

Getting banned from the Anchor's Point Inn for setting fire to the hair of a pushy dragonknight who failed to heed her rather upfront request to stop hitting on her (easily the most understandable point on this dissertation).

Losing "teleporting directly to the Evermore Mages' Guild" privileges for a reportedly similar incident.

And, most unnervingly of all, sending a treatise to Covenant generals advising the displacement of beasts and beastfolk in enemy territory to send them rampaging into local settlements as an invasion tactic.

Ya gurl may have more outward tact in professional settings, but there's absolutely no way her dynamic with Darien doesn't involve him reigning her in ethically as often as she reigns him in conversationally. These feral besties are two halves of a whole common sense and I love that for them.

Thank you for coming to my TED Talk.

[greypistacchio]

be for real now, how were we meant to believe that Castiel and Dean aren't endgame when all it takes is an order to deceive or kill Dean for Castiel to start disobeying Heaven!? like!?!? Naomi made him murder a fuckton fake Deans because Castiel kept failing to comply with her kill order, but as soon as he's told to keep Dean in the dark about the Tablet in the crypt he's making up excuses to not do as she said??

then when Dean is holding the Tablet and won't hand it over, Naomi screams at him to just kill Dean but Castiel refuses time and time again because there must be another way!!?!?!? AFTER BEING PUT THROUGH FUCKING TORTURE WITH THE VERY SPECIFIC GOAL TO BRAINWASH HIM INTO BEING ABLE TO NOT GIVE IN TO HIS SOFT SPOT FOR DEAN!??!?

Naomi says kill him, Cas says "I can reason with Dean, he's a good man"

naomi yells at him to stab Dean, but Cas replies "This isn't right. I won't hurt Dean. What have you done to me!?"

he fucking breaks free from Naomi's brainwashing as soon as he's asked to hurt Dean, HE BREAKS FREE FROM HER BULLSHIT BECAUSE EVEN HEAVEN CAN'T FORCE HIM TO HURT DEAN LIKE THAT

then Naomi forces him to beat Dean up through extreme mental torture, and Dean doesn't fucking fight back because he knows this isn't Castiel, and-

"I need you" then Castiel drops the fucking blade!!? "you need to choose. him, or us" AND HE DROPS THE FUCKING BLADE!?!!?

YOU CAN'T MAKE THIS SHIT UP, CAS REFUSED HEAVEN A SECOND TIME THE MOMENT DEAN ADMITTED TO NEEDING HIM

WHEREAS DEAN "EMOTIONAL CONSTIPATION" WINCHESTER NEVER FOUGHT BACK, JUST TOOK EVERY HIT AND BEGGED CAS AND FUCKING REASSURED CAS THAT THIS WASN'T HIM AND HE COULD BEAT IT BECAUSE HE NEEDED HIM

"what broke the connection?" "i don't know" bUT HE WON'T LOOK DEAN IN THE EYE AS HE SAYS THIS DESPITE THEIR EXTREME FONDNESS OF EYE-FUCKING THEIR WAY THROUGH DEEP EMOTIONAL MOMENTS

jesus fucking christ. in what universe aren't they in love. they keep defying Heaven and Hell and Crowley and Lucifer and fucking God fOR EACH OTHER, I WILL NOT GASLIT INTO THINKING THAT THEY AREN'T BOYFRIENDS

[theinsideofablackhole]

(More) Rain World Pearl Writings

Now with some hit-or-miss doodles I made to visualize the pearls. They might be incredibly compressed idk...

Bicker

Interesting… It is a debate forum on the punitive ruling of a homicide. To thrust an enlightened individual across the cycle was considered abominable.

However, the presiding Just Order decided that the perpetrator embodied “The Remorsive Luminance Within”, and recommended her for temporary exile to a temple.

The discourse over the sentencing is… vulgar, to say the least. Many of my citizens did little else but talk, and thus the political landscape mutated into a frenzy of dozens of quarreling factions.

Most systems were commanded by the dynastic Concepts, so the remaining scraps of governance were subject to vicious competition by these factions. Power changed hands constantly.

The perpetrator was lucky. Had it been any other cycle, the ruling Order would throw her in a sensory deprivation tank or wipe her memory. Or perhaps she would be declared unsalvageable and turned into fodder for ritual combat.

It’s a bit baffling that they rarely just transcended their criminals in a Void Fluid bath instead. Probably because it would defeat the point of their bickering…

Mast

Oh? This contains a very old intellectual offering to the 52nd Great Mind, or the Aetherial Mast west of here. It consists of a very flattering, complex riddle.

Since you’ve been to Five Pebbles, I imagine that you’ve seen those grand towers piercing into the sky. They once formed a communication network between iterators, but a few of them - such as this particular one - are actually older than iterators like me.

After the Void Fluid Revolution, people quickly discovered that if any construct got complex enough, it would gain sapience.

So they threw as much computational power as they could into these towers, and waited. They expected the Aetherial Masts to quickly discover a method to implode the cosmos into the earth, achieving global transcension.

It inevitably failed. The 52nd Great Mind was later connected to a larger, more deliberate construct, and underwent apotheosis to become Looks to the Moon. Which is me!

The first of us iterators were reborn from these Great Minds. Afterward, most Masts were created with an iterator already in control.

Thank you, little creature, for this memento from my distant past.

Brain Tree

It's a treatise on memorykeeping. There’s a crypt nearby here, under Five Pebbles - piles and piles of cabinets, holding the legacies of my departed creators.

Through a complex bombardment procedure, the storage components of a person's mind would grow a twin lump, which contained cherished memories. The "memory fruit" was then removed and placed in a cabinet.

When the crypts began to acquire a hefty pile of cabinets, my creators discovered that all the fruits had united via a network of roots. The formation bulged outward endlessly, breaking into a factory far, far away. The cleanup effort was monumental.

Now, a microbe system continually expels the fruits' boundless energy, and kills them if the defenses fail to keep the fruits from getting too large.

Rare as they are, mass fractal neural emissions are a worrying phenomenon. Please keep your distance if you see a fruit that has grown into a tree.

Don't touch it - I don't know what might happen to you.

[oxventurequotes]

corazon: those could have been invisible and watching you throughout your entire life doing anything you thought you were doing in private...

egbert: all those midnight snacks

dob: is that what we’re calling them

[loviatarsluv-old]

The Last Vampire Spawn

inspired by this post by @fangsandfeels as well as this gorgeous art by @ria-neearts above that may or may not have made me sob at work when I saw it :)

also inspired by my dire need to hug this poor baby in this scene in particular and give him literally any sort of comfort because god knows he needs it 😭

Astarion x gn!tav / Astarion x gn!reader

SPOILER WARNING! act 3 and the climax of Astarion’s quest line!

CW: violence, death, anguish, angst, blood, gore

rating: sfw (still mature for the listed content above)

in summary: Astarion finally kills cazador and bro needs a hug and a therapist fr

this one is very short I don’t even know the word count lol

Astarion’s guttural and enraged wails echo against the stone walls of the crypt, nearly drowning the sounds of Cazador’s failed attempts at gurgled shrieks as the dagger pierced his body over, and over, and over.

You stand at the bottom of the stairs and watch, gripping onto Halsin as he wraps a comforting arm around your shoulders as the three of you watch in horror while Astarion lets out two hundred years worth of pain, and agony, and hatred into every single thrust of the blade through his old master’s body. Hot tears sting your face as you watch on, tension filling the gaps of silence between your companions.

The vampire lord’s body falls limp before Astarion, bloodied and covered in viscera, lifeless. He takes a deep breath, falling back on his feet as his knees dig into the bloody marble floor. Sobs wrack through his body as he looks down with disdain at the corpse before him.

You exchange a glance with Halsin, a deeply unsettled and concerned face set into his features that wasn’t typical for his usually calm and collected persona. He looks between you and Astarion, and with just a glance, you realize what he’s thinking.

Before you can stop yourself, you run to Astarion, kneeling beside him. He’s too distraught to notice your presence beside him, so you place a gentle hand on his shoulder. He jolts slightly at your touch, then turns his face - his bloody, tear stained, and ever beautiful face to you, crimson eyes filled with a million emotions you couldn’t even begin to comprehend.

“I’m here, my love. It’s over. You did it,” you whisper, voice trembling and breaking.

His eyes scan your face frantically, chest rising and falling rapidly and anxiously, his breathing ragged and uneven - he looks at you, and you look back at him, as you try to force a reassuring smile through your own tears.

His face twists into an even deeper scowl as his eyes dart between you and the ruined corpse crumpled on the floor next to you.

“His death isn’t enough. It’ll never be enough.” He growls, his fists clenching onto the fabric of his breeches.

You stare at him, speechless. You know that no words could suffice or possibly begin to dull the pain that was evident in his face.

“I suffered through two hundred years of pain and starvation and torture… and all I’ve gotten from it all was being the one to see the light leave that monster’s eyes,” he whispers angrily, tears still rapidly streaming down his blood covered cheeks. “It isn’t fair.”

You tentatively move your face so that your eyes meet his once again, nearly afraid of what you’ll see when you do.

His eyes scan your face for a moment, and he presses his lips into a thin line.

“And where were you twenty years ago? A hundred? Where were you when I was new? When I was one of those innocent young men you’d come to the rescue for?” He barks, his voice booming and bouncing off of the stone walls and into your ears making your head pound.

“Astarion—“

“How dare you! How dare you come to me now… when I’m this!” He wails, his voice cracking on the last word, his shoulders slumping.

Hot tears return to your waterline and pour over your lashes as you wrap your arms around him, pulling him into your chest and cradling his head.

He presses his face into your chest, eventually wrapping his arms around your waist and melting into you, causing you to fall backwards slightly as he practically lays on your body, sobbing into your gear. He grips the back of your shirt as if his life depended on it, even though for the first time in what felt like a while, perhaps it didn’t.

Because despite the roiling dread in his gut - he was free. At long last.

You tangle your fingers into his hair, gently rubbing circles into his bare back as you let him cry. Sob. Scream. For as long as he needs.

The others slowly migrate closer, but not too close, not wanting to interrupt or intrude, just silently exchanging sympathetic glances, and a flash of pride across Karlach’s face as she looks on.

After what felt like hours, Astarion goes quiet, his breath slowly evening out. He sniffles, then slowly lifts his head so his eyes meet yours.

You place a hand on his cheek, wiping a tear away with your thumb. He closes his eyes, savoring your touch, and sighs.

“He’s gone,” he whispers, almost too quietly for you to hear. As if he were mostly whispering it to himself. “He’s really gone…”

You nod, rubbing small circles on his cheek with your thumb. “I am so, so proud of you.”

He offers you a small, weak smile, that you return in kind. You place a kiss to the spot between his furrowed brows, his tense body relaxing only slightly into your touch. He still feels coiled up like a serpent ready to strike, still heavily on guard despite Cazador and his minions being long gone. You presume it will be a long while before he truly relaxes, but you feel more than willing and ready to be there every step of the way.

[thewertsearch]

Resolution to the summoner's mutiny is foggy, as I only understand what has 8een rel8ed to me through the 8rief answers I thought to solicit. Ultim8ely, the ire of the Condesce would 8e such that in the settling dust of the conflict, she would 8anish all from the homeworld, except the young. […] I cannot imagine how she would come to enforce such an upheaval in our civiliz8tion. Though I suppose she will have on her side the advantage of an unparalleled lifespan, and the leverage extended 8y the hideous psychic prongs of her deep undul8ing monstrosity.

Attention is drawn to the prodigiously long lifespan of the Condesce - the empress of Mindfang's time, and Feferi's probable ancestor. I used to think that the modern Empress was a different troll, but now that we're aware of fuchsiablood longevity, I'm pretty sure the two are one and the same.

Based on a line from Feferi's introduction, I was assuming that she was the only fuchsiablood in the universe - but let's take another look at the way that line's phrased.

You are 'the only of your kind' known to possess this blood.

That doesn't necessarily mean she's the only fuchsia troll, does it? For example, it might just mean she's the only Alternian with fuchsia blood, because the Empress doesn't actually live on the planet.

I really want this to be Mama Peixes, because the existence of a living Ancestor has so much story potential. Just how much does she know, and what's her agenda?

Nevertheless, I take the prediction as truth, and find it amusing that a homeworld domin8ed 8y children will 8e the gr8 summoner's legacy. One of them, at least.

Anyway, the Summoner - the boy who could fly - is the reason Alternia is a planetary Neverland, making it clear that he was the original inspiration for Pupa Pan.

It's also notable that we've only just started delving into Alternian history, and we've already learned about two massive rebellions against the social order. Contrary to what Alternians have been led to believe, this oppressive culture clearly isn't natural to them, and they've been fighting it every step of the way.

They don't want to be a murderous empire - they're forced to be, again and again and again.

More importantly, and less amusingly, his legacy will 8e my demise. You see, I first learned his name when I asked who would 8e the one to kill me.

And here's yet another layer to the Quest Cocoon Incident. Vriska wasn't content with living like Mindfang - she wanted to die like her, too.

Given that Vriska knew about the Summoner, one can only imagine how weird she must have been around Tavros. Not only was she constantly berating him, she was also putting him on this bizarre pedestal, comparing him to someone I'm damn sure he never knew existed.

And she'd never tell Tavros about the Summoner, either, because that would allow him to derive confidence from something other than her tutelage. No - she just silently compared him to a legendary hero, and he constantly failed a test he didn't know he was taking.

Seems like something's going very wrong in the Veil.

This seems like a sign that the session is on its last legs, and we're running out of time before it completely turns to static. We're entering the endgame.

The oracle I will resolve to part with. I will conceal it in a crypt 8earing the sign of the expatr8, with a map to its loc8tion hidden in this journal.

The cueball was sequestered in an Expatriate chest, which makes me speculate about whether Equius ever got his hands on it.

He can't see inside it himself - but like Mindfang said, it shouldn't be too hard to find a technological workaround, and Equius is a roboticist. I wonder if either Zahhak ever used it for themselves?

To whomever finds it, 8e wary, for the truth it tells may leave its new keeper 8lind as I was. Though no more.

She warned you, Vriska.

She told you it would leave you as blind as she was.

And it did.

[whoops-all-jennas]

Past Lives pt. 5

Wednesday x witch!reader

"I've got this strangest feeling."

"This isn't our first time around."

Summary: It's the day of the Poe Cup and you and Wednesday are determined to beat Bianca.

Warnings: Small descriptions of blood and injury

Bianca gives Y/n and I a look as we pass her on our way to go talk to Enid. It's a perfectly cloudy day. Not too many clouds, but not too little.

Enid stands with a mischievous smile "We're all set."

"Good, Things in position." Enid and I's shoulders are touching as we talk just above a whisper.

"Wanna tell me what you three were up to?"

"And ruin the surprise?"

Enid's face lights up. "Speaking of surprises, your costume is in the tent!"

"Costume?" I look at Y/n who gives me an apologetic smile.

I leave the tent in my black cats costume, met with Enid and you approaching. The costume hugs your body tightly. As I stare at you I can't help but admire your figure.

"OMG, You look purrfect!" Enid says while doing a claw motion with her hands.

"Where are your whiskers?" You ask, pointing to the whiskers drawn on your face.

'Ask again and you'll be down to eight lives.' Is what I wanted to say, but there was this look on your face. A pleading look.

I look between Enid and you. "Fine, only if you draw it."

You practically jump with excitement as you run into the tent, grabbing the makeup.

You come back shortly after, taking the marker to my face. This is probably the happiest I've ever seen you. You stick your tongue out as you draw some small and simple whiskers on my face.

"Done!" You say with a smile.

"Do I look ridiculous?" I state, flatly.

You shake your head with the same smile. "You look cute, I swear."

For the first time, I feel my face feel a little warmer due to your words.

We finished getting prepared for the Poe Cup, lined up in our boats. Enid looks to the right, meeting eye contact with Ajax and smiling.

"Focus." I say to the back of Enid's head, her posture focusing forward to my words.

I feel Y/n's eyes on the back of my head for a moment causing me to turn around. I am met with her usual smile.

Xavier looks between Y/n and I, interrupted by Bianca. Her voice full of confidence.

"What do we have here? The runt of the litter."

I look at Bianca's face. I can't wait to wipe that look of it.

"For the record, I don't believe I'm better than everyone else. Just that I'm better than you."

Bianca's face loses confidence as Principal Weems starts to speak.

"I want to welcome you all to the Edgar Allen Poe Cup. This is one of Nevermore's proudest annual traditions dating back 125 years." Principal Weems says into a microphone with a smile.

"Each team must row across to Raven Island, pull their flag from Crackstone Crypt, and hustle back without sinking or being sunk."

I look at Thing crawling towards my feet for a moment near a couple of switches on the floor of the boat.

"The first team to cross the finish line with their flag wins the cup and bragging rights for a year, as well as some special privileges."

Weems points a gun to the sky, indicating the race is about to begin. The racers posture get prepared, their eyes focused in front of them.

"Let the Poe Cup begin!" The sound of the blank fires, the competitors immediately start rowing their oars. The sound of cheering fades as we get further from the bank.

"Oh, excuse us." Xavier says teasingly while cutting us off. Xavier's team all has jester hats driving a red boat along with some scary clown makeup. Or at least, trying to be.

A team in a purple boat show up next to us. They pull a lever on their boat followed by the sounds of gears turning.

The axes on the side rise up and swing side ways, going to slice us.

We all duck simultaneously, narrowly avoiding the axes.

Suddenly the purple boat starts moving towards a cone in the water, the competitors on the boats failing to regain stability with their oars until they smash into it. Their boat breaks in half as the competitors fall into the water, exclaiming words of annoyance.

"Y/n did you do that?" I ask, turning my head around to see her shake her head no.

I turn around to see a tail emerge from the water.

"Thing." I say, commanding him to make the next move.

Thing crawls over to the two different switches, pulling one of them down. There is the sound of gears moving and then the sound of a net shooting through the water.

There is the muted noise of a scream under the water. Whoever it was is gonna stay there for awhile.

We reach the shore of Raven Island a moment after Xavier's team does.

I stand to go grab the flag before turning around.

"You stay here and make sure Bianca doesn't sabotage our boat."

Enid and Y/n nod their heads before I go to run to get the flag.

I see the flags as I run to them. Xavier and their teammate running past with theirs.

"Later Wednesday!"

I glance back for a moment as Xavier and Ajax run past me.

I go to grab the black one, putting my hand on the pillar of Crackstone Crypt while grabbing the black flag to stop my motion.

It feels as if electricity is coursing through my body as I fall onto the ground, entering a vision.

I stand up, finding myself back at Crackstone Crypt, except it's foggier and the atmosphere is illuminated by the moon shining a deep red. I turn to find a woman facing away from me in a white bed dress with white hair past her hips.

Her hair looks ethereal as it reflects the moonlight and flows elegantly in the wind.

I notice she has cuts on her arms and legs, blood dripping from each wound down her limbs till they pool together. The blood dripping onto the floor from her fingertips.

I find myself turned around to meet a woman with blonde hair braided on each side of her head down in front on her shoulders and my face. It felt as if I was looking into a corrupted mirror. Its silent for a moment before she speaks.

"You are the key."

"Taking a cat nap?" I am brought back into reality as I open my eyes to Bianca grabbing the flag and running back towards the shoreline.

I glance at Crackstone Crypt, taking in what I saw in my vision for a moment before I quickly get back onto my feet as I run back to our boat.

"Come on, hurry up we have to go!" Enid says while I put the flag up and sit in my seat.

We start to catch up as Xavier's boat slows down, sinking into the water.

"See, ya jokers!" Enid shouts while we pass them.

"I just asked myself, WWWD, what would Wednesday do?" About time my deviousness started to rub off onto others.

We start to approach Bianca's team's boat. I pull down the second switch revealing four spears emerging for our boat.

We start to approach their boat, getting intimidatingly close until there's a sudden push on the boat pushing us away.

We're being pushed towards one of the cones like that other team. Y/n and I see Thing jump into the water. Thing swims through the water to see a siren pushing our boat. He swims to build up speed before punching him at full force in the face. A few seconds later the boat restabilizes with the pressure removed from the boat.

After we make some distance I hear Y/n from behind me

"Accio!" She has her hand out towards the water, The severed hand comes flying from the water into her grasp.

"Thing are you okay?!" She sets him down so she can keep rowing. "That was awesome!"

My eyes soften for a moment, only for a moment at your worry for my family member.

Soon we start to get closer to Bianca's boat again. When we start to get too close, all four of them push at our boat with their oars to keep the spears from penetrating theirs.

We keep trying to push our boat past their makeshift barrier, until I feel our boat slow down for a second as Y/n stopped rowing. She has her wand pulled out.

She flicks it towards their boat. "Aqua menti!"

Suddenly their boats starts rapidly filling with crystal clear water, sinking at the rapidly increasing weight in their boat.

"Y/n you're going to pay for that!" Bianca shouts with an angry expression on her face. Meanwhile Y/n is smiling at the satisfaction of outsmarting her.

We keep pushing our boat towards theirs so they can't attempt to get any of the water out of their boat until they have fully sunk.

"Quick thinking Y/n!" Enid shouts back to her.

"I never thought you had a competitive spirit in you!"

I glance back to see Y/n with a shy smile plastered onto her face.

We finally get the boat to the dock, all us of running to the finish line flag in hand.

Applause fills the air as we cross the finish line.

"We did!" Enid is jumping erratically, carrying the flag in hand

"This is the greatest moment of my life!" I see Enid shaking Y/n by her shoulders before turning her gaze to me.

"Admit it, you kinda got into the whole school spirit thing."

I glance to the water to see Bianca with an angry expression written on her face as she climbs onto the dock, before seeing Y/n's eyes on me full of admiration.

"You didn't tell me it was a dark, vengeful spirit."

I find myself standing awkwardly in front of the whole school with the rest of the black cats, I look to the side to see Wednesday probably the most annoyed I'll ever see her.

"The first Poe Cup took place in 1897 as a way to not only honor Nevermore's most famous alumni, but to celebrate those values that all outcasts share. Community, perseverance, and determination."

Enid's face is beaming as her metaphorical tail wags at the attention.

"And we certainly saw those values on display today."

Weems hands Enid the trophy as everyone cheers. "Congratulations to Ophelia Hall!"

I see Wednesday taking advantage of the applause to leave. So, like usual, I follow her as she sits under the Edgar Allen Poe statue at the end of a dark hallway.

"You okay?" I say as I catch up, her gaze meeting mine before she notices something in her peripheral vision, causing her to up at the book the statue is holding.

"What, did you see something?" I quickly approach and look under the book to see the symbol from before.

"Holy shit this is huge!" I look back down to Wednesday with excitement in my eyes.

Enid approaches from behind. "What are you two doing back here?"

"Hiding." Wednesday states flatly. "People keep randomly smiling at me, it's unsettling."

Enid grabs both of us by the arm, dragging us back towards the quad.

"It's called having your moment, you took down Bianca Barclay. Try to enjoy it."

We walk back out into the quad before Enid continues. "The girls wanna know if you two wanna hangout later."

Wednesday and I look at each other, as if confirming our plans to investigate the statue tonight.

"Oh come on, it won't kill you."

Wednesday takes a moment to respond. "I'll think about it."

Enid skips past us to a table with the trophy on it, with the biggest smile on her face.

"You two are starting to become quite the pair." Principal Weems sneaks up onto us.

"Impressive use of that spell Y/n. Your mother used that same spell when she was on Mrs. Addams and I's team back when we competed in the Poe Cup back in the day."

"Thank you Principal Weems." I say with a smile. I don't get to hear about my parents often, so any time is a welcome surprise.

"And you Wednesday." Principal Weems continues, her gaze moving to her. "I'm glad to see you finally fitting in."

Wednesday is silent for a moment before we both turn around to see Bianca seething at her table. I find a smile creeping on my face due to our true victory.

Wednesday and I approach the statue. The only light being casted from the moon and a light charm from the end of my wand.

We stand on the base of the statue to look inside the book to find a series of questions listed. Wednesday instantly starts writing down answers before I can help.

Soon she stops writing and comes down from the base, I follow her. She stands in front of the statue, staring at her notepad.

I take a step closer, our shoulders touching as I look into her notepad. "Can I?" I hold out my hand over the notepad.

Wednesday hands me her pen. I circle the letters to the left to form one word.

It clicks in Wednesday's head. She lowers the notepad, and holds her hand up. The sound of two snaps fill the hallway, followed by the sound of gears shifting and the scrapping of concrete as the statue moves backwards.

A staircase is revealed beyond the statue. Wednesday and I glance at a each before heading down.

At the bottom of the staircase we find a library with a marble floor with the symbol from before. The room is filled with dust and cobwebs.

Wednesday quickly finds that some dust is missing from a section of the bookshelf. Wednesday grabs the book, and finds the other half of the missing page.

She quickly closes the book, putting it in her bag. Wednesday turns around to leave.

"You think there's anything else down here that we need?" I ask, Wednesday turns around again to meet my face a few steps away from me.

Suddenly, I find a bag over my head as my vision goes dark. I drop my wand onto the floor out of fear, cancelling the light spell that use to illuminate the abandoned room.

Part 6.

Past Lives Masterlist

a/n: I was thinking about making this chapter longer, but it was so satisfying to end it at the end of the actual episode.

[itsalwaysteatimeinwonderland]

With Care (Spike x y/n)

Requested: Yes

TW: No

Word count: 693

Masterlist

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There's no reason to party. There is no particular celebration. However, that didn't stop you and Spike from having a night out in the town. Spike was a heavy drinker, but you were a lightweight. He never failed to count your drinks and monitor you. He knew when enough was enough. 

He gives you the signal that it’s time to wrap up. You're tipsy and giggly. You refuse to leave. He threatens to carry you out of the bar. You smile sensually and dare him to. He obliges and carries your tipsy self all the way to his crypt. 

He gently lays you down on the sofa. He is careful with you, as if you were the most precious and fragile thing to him. All the while you're giggling and trying to get out of his grasp. Even in this state you knew that he was stronger than you but that didn’t stop you from being a brat. 

"Love, we're home. You can stop fighting me now." He gives you a small smile. 

You pout but give in. 

"Let me help you out of that dress."

"I'm too tipsy for sex." You slur your words. 

"It's not like that! I'm trying to get you more comfortable for bed, love."

You sigh. "Fine."

You do your best to stand up to help him get your dress off. He stops you.

"Let's go down to our room. You'll be more comfortable."

He makes sure you don't fall down the stairs as you descend. You plop on the bed; he sighs in frustration.

"Up, please." He says. 

You're unable to get up so you sit on the bed. He unzips your dress and help you shimmy out of it. 

While you're in your underwear he resists the urge to touch you, caress you. He knows you're in no state to consent. He rummages through your drawer to find comfortable jammies. 

"Now I need you to do your best to stand up."

You try again to stand up and fall into Spike. You giggle and start kissing his neck. 

"Have I ever told you how handsome you are?" You slur your words. 

Your hands travel down his chest all the way to his pants. Before you reach your destination Spike stops you. His breathing is fast, and he is clearly aroused. 

"No love." He sets a boundary like a true gentleman. 

He instructs you to take off your bra and put on the clothes he has provided. You slowly oblige but not before giving him a sultry look. His restraint is painful, but he knows that he has to hold back, just until you're sober. Come morning there will be no saving grace for you. He plans to ravage you and remind you who you belong to. 

Once you're dressed you climb on back to the bed. He sighs. 

"I still have to take your make up off."

Very gently he passes a make up wipe over your face. Careful to not hurt or mark your beautiful face. You're calm and welcoming. He admires your every eyelash, the dip of your nose, the swell of your lips. He can’t believe that you chose him. 

"Done." He leans down and kisses your forehead. 

You pout. "No actual kiss?"

He laughs and leans down for a chaste kiss. You smile into the kiss. 

"You're all done. It's time for you to sleep."

You rustle in bed, defiant and ready to cause an argument. You wanted to stay up with Spike. 

"What if I stay by your side until you fall asleep."

You nod and settle down. He lays at your side caressing your hair, whispering how much he loves you. It doesn't take long for you to drift off into sleep. 

He slips away but not before setting a cup of water near your nightstand, and a bucket just in case you need to vomit. 

He takes one last look at you and smiles. You may not be able to hold your alcohol, but he didn't mind taking care of you. 

You were his to keep and he made sure to treat you like the precious gift you are.