#i water buffy and angel

[genericaces]

i've been really into designing chibis these days LOL and wanted to make some stickers for myself. if anyone else wants to snag some you can grab em here! (there's leverage stuff too!)

[harricislife]

If vampires are hurt by the cross and holy water, it stands to reason they would be by other godly symbols of other religions too, right?

Like in media that is not very religious, for example, in Buffy and Angel (haven't seen either in their entirety so could be wrong) when vampires were hurt by the cross it always confused me, less so after I learnt what the cross represents, but still it confuses me a little.

Like vampires are abominations that are kept away by the power of god, but there are many gods and many symbols that represent them, or are vampires just specific to christianity?

Has there ever been any media that has touched on this, like a muslim vamp, or a hindu one, etc..?

[bloodcoveredgf]

Yeah this ruled

[cpirits]

“ i  want  you  to  stay. “ buffy to angel

He wasn't sure if he should or not, the night had literally just started, and there he was, almost out the window as she struggled to grab his arm. Fingers on the window frame, Angel didn't have the nerve to look back, he didn't want to see the look on her face.

He loved her face, he really did, he could get lost in those eyes, and didn't ever want to come up, but they were taboo, something not meant to be. It'd be better if Buffy had a Human for a boyfriend, not someone undying, and night crawling as him. Angel felt ashamed, but couldn't voice it, lips tight as he nearly gnawed the skin with his fangs.

His voice was quiet, near a whisper in the quiet of her bedroom. "Do you really?" His brow furrowed as he cast his gaze outside into the coming black, he still couldn't face her.

( @taleswritten )

[snekdood]

lmao???

this quiz sorts through characters from like dozens of fandoms and finds the one you’re most like. I’m not even a little bit surprised by my result

[courtillyy]

oh i see. tvd just straight up copied this plotline.

[prose-for-hire]

Should I stay or should I go? (Part one)

Part 2 // Part 3 // Part 4

Spike x Giles!reader

Part one of four! Be kind please💖

Warning: reader drinks, difficult relationship with parents, especially dad!Giles, reader loses their home.

You had moved to Sunnydale a few years prior with your father, he had tried desperately to train you up as a watcher but you never listened, you hated following orders and ultimately, you failed your observation when the watcher’s council came into town to check on your progress.

It bored you and for the 48 hours that you had been in charge of Buffy, you had all gone to the Bronze and let an apocalyptic rift open in the heart of the town when you failed to investigate or do any meaningful research. In your defence, it was a very minor and basically harmless apocalypse. Well, it was after Angel contacted your father when he couldn’t get hold of you or Buffy and he came back into town.

You hated dusty research and telling people what they ought to be doing. You hated the weird pressure your father put on you to become a watcher just like him and sometimes, you even hated Buffy because of the way your father doted on her so. She could do no wrong, even when he was mad at her or telling her what to do he gave her a much easier time than he ever had with you.

You were a disappointment. You could see that clearly enough.

You stayed in Sunnydale though, for reasons unknown to yourself. You just didn’t have anywhere else to go. Nothing excited you, it seemed.

You had moved back in with your father after you couldn’t make rent. You had let another crappy job throw you out the door. You just couldn’t stick to their stupid pointless rules. They made no sense and they paid you next to nothing at that.

You were sitting on the lid of the toilet as Buffy fed your newest houseguest blood from a novelty mug.

“Willow may have had a very helpful idea. She seems to be coping better with Oz’s departure, don’t you think?” Giles asked walking back into the bathroom, directing his words at Buffy rather than the rest of the room as he walked in. It was like you didn’t exist most of the time.

“Well, she still has a way to go but, yeah, I think she’s dealing”

“What, are you people blind? She’s hanging on by a thread” Spike stated, muttering to himself after and rolling his eyes. Buffy just scoffed and left the room, taking the blood he had been drinking away with her as your Dad followed her out.

You had just been about to say something similar, but in a perhaps more conversational format rather than accusatory.

“You’re quite astute really, aren’t you” You said, scanning Spike’s face. He used to creep you out a bit back when he was trying to kill you and all that. Not that you would admit it.

You had never really studied him this closely before. But looking at him now, he just looked so normal. Apart from the shackles and the almost painfully pale complexion… and the fact he had blood crusting at the corners of his mouth.

“It’s no talent, pet, a man walkin’ in from the street could read the lot of you like a book”

“I like to think I’m not that predictable”

“Don’t you all. Humans, you’re always thinking you’re so original, but you’re all a copy of the last”

“I guess when you’ve been around a thousand years everything gets sort of old… apart from the, uh, obvious” you sort of gestured vaguely at his face, a little glint in your eye as you teased him.

“Watch it” He warned, his shackles clinking against the tub as he pointed to accentuate his words. You waited for a moment in silence, watching the tap slowly drip beads of water into the cool porcelain. You waited about seven drips before you spoke again.

“Don’t you get bored? I get bored of the days here sometimes, it’s always a demon or a spell or some dumb melodrama with Dad’s little protegees”

You were surprised at the way this admittance casually tumbled from your own mouth. You weren’t sure why you were speaking to him like this, perhaps you were seeking some kind of connection. It was very you to try in such a stupid place.

“No” he shrugged turning away from you and staring up at the ceiling.

“Come on, I’m trying to open up here”

“Well close back up again” He shrugged, his eyes still fixed upwards. You shrugged, standing and leaving him in his bathtub. You hoped boredom consumed him for the rest of the day.

You left for a bar and returned late at night, having missed another eventful Sunnydale evening. By the morning when it had all calmed down, Willow had showed up to apologise again to Giles and caught you brewing your morning beverage.

She explained animatedly about your father going blind, Buffy and Spike getting engaged and Xander being a demon magnet. You tried very hard to focus on her words and gasp in the correct places whilst your head spun and you gripped the handle of your mug.

Willow was your favourite out of the Scoobies, she was a sweet kid and you made the most effort with her as you got the sense she knew what not being listened to felt like. You were glad you had missed the evening’s events, not that sitting alone at a bar and nursing a drink was much more interesting.

A few weeks later, Spike had been allowed to roam more freely by this point and he was lying on the sofa in your living room. You had a snack in your mouth and had carried a steaming mug of blood in one hand and a box of Weetabix in the other.

You gestured with your head for him to move his legs and he just stared at you for a moment before moving and snatching the mug and the box from your hands. You settled in beside him in front of an episode of Passions, trying, once again to speak to him but he was cold with you. Not even a thank you for the blood. I mean, he was evil, but did he have to keep it up all of the time?

You had tried talking to him, asking him questions about his past but he only really gave short sentences in reply. Today you were unceremoniously told to shut up so that he could watch Passions in peace.

You huffed but stayed beside him, weirdly drawn in by the stupid show. You missed his eyes lingering on you briefly as you glued your eyes to the set.

Truth was, Spike had a little soft spot for you. One that had grown even slightly since he had become a hostage in the same house you lived in. He tried to keep a distance from you, not directly look you in the eye as if you were some kind of love-inducing gorgon that would turn his resolve into a stone that could so easily crumble.

But he wouldn’t give anything away.

By the time Spike left, you were relieved that you could use your bathroom in peace. You knew trying to talk to him had been a waste of time but he interested you and, more to the point, you had found yourself being incredibly lonely.

You had been distracted lately, trapped inside your mind. You felt like you were missing something. So much so you had maybe accidentally skipped a couple of shifts at your new job. You had been sneaking back into your house when Giles caught you. You winced at his voice, knowing you would have to fess up.

“Shouldn’t you be at the Magic Box?”

“Oh, right, about that…” You began, unsure how to explain what had happened the day before. You had been avoiding your Dad ever since. You didn’t have to say anything, he already knew.

“You really are a bloody-”

“A what? Go on, say it!”

“A liability” He stormed over and poured himself a whiskey.

“It’s not exactly surprising is it, being told I couldn’t even visit my mother, left only with a man like you as a father, hey Ripper?” You don’t know why you said it. Truly, he wasn’t a terrible father. He was just bad at hiding his disappointment which made you feel, in a word, terrible about yourself.

He went very quiet for a moment. The temperature seemed to drop before he finally spoke again.

“I suggest you leave”

“What-?”

“Pack up your things and leave” he repeated, pronouncing each word crisply.

“You can’t mean that!”

“You can’t support yourself, Y/n, and I certainly shouldn’t have to”

“Where am I supposed to go?!”

“I suppose you will have to begin by figuring that out for yourself” He stared through you, downing the rest of his scotch before thundering up the stairs to his room and slamming the door.

You were ashamed to admit that as soon as he slammed the door, you broke down into tears. You knew you had been fucking everything up. You just wanted something more, you couldn’t describe it.

You packed a bag, slung it over your shoulder and walked out of the door, not once looking back. To this day you still don’t know how long you walked for, but by the time that you could see the sun threatening the dark skies through your blurred vision you had found yourself in a graveyard.

You had nowhere else to go and you weren’t above sleeping in a graveyard, you soon discovered You were so exhausted you could barely move another step. You ducked into some old mausoleum, kicking away some dust from the corner and laying out your jacket as a sort of mattress and you bag as a pillow.

You curled into the corner and screwed your eyes up. You had finally began to drift into a fitful sleep when heavy footprints came towards you.

“This ain’t a bloody hotel, bugger off would you-!” He stormed, reaching down to grab your shoulder before he recognised you, “Y/n?”

You bolted up, relaxing only for a moment when you noted you weren’t in any immediate danger before descending straight into embarrassment. You would really rather he hadn’t caught you sleep-crying on the floor of a crypt. Then again, it didn’t really matter what he thought, you reminded yourself quickly. He scanned your face, finding pain written there and seemingly making a decision before he turned away.

You stood up, noting an old couch had been pushed into the far corner of the tomb. You sat on it, bringing your bag with you and noting that it was only marginally more comfortable than the floor.

“Here” Spike returned, offering you a half empty bottle of  liquor. You took it, nodding your thanks and taking two large gulps. His eyes bulged for a moment before pulling a face of slight approval, until you looked back at him and he hid any evidence of expression from his face.

“Why are you being nice?”

“You take that back. I’m not bloody nice”

“No, I know, you’re evil and all that. I’ll admit, I felt a little shiver when I saw you first until, I uh, remembered you couldn’t…” You tailed off, “Not helping my case am I?”

“Liquor’s the cheap stuff so you’re doin’ me a favour by getting rid of it” he shrugged. Spike was secretly pleased for the company. He had felt so alone of late.

You watched his lips, eyes scanning down to his neck and over his leather-clad torso. The way the dim light accentuated his features, the curve of his jaw, that sparkle in his eye, that smirk that was never far from his lips.

Oh God, no. You didn’t… did you?

[littlemsshoney]

Dark!Hannibal kidnapping his darling

Well to get one thing straight I don’t think he would kidnap his darling on a whim (he's not cazy). It would be very stratigic and done only if there was no other way like the situation really called for it, like you finding out your missing friend was last night’s dinner, or a last minute get away trip to italy.

The first days are the hardest. A new environment, new rules to live by, he⁰ understands any frustration from your part, he truly does.

So at first he is kind and understanding with you, giving you time and space to adjust to the situation, but not only is there bitterness and fury in your glare but to your once honeyed voice too. You refuse to eat, you refuse to talk or listen to him, you just scream and yell. He wouldn't take the rudeness.

The first days you kicked, screamed and cried all day. Your attempts of protest and resistance however were fruitless. He wouldn't give, your shouting meant nothing to him he didn't even bother to keep you quiet. He just let you locked in your new room till you wore yourself down.

After a while with your throat becoming harsh from your wailing, your eyes red and buffy, there were no tears to shed.

To your sad, pathetic sobs of course he soon answered, taking you into his arms, rubbing circles into your back promising it would all be easier if you just gave in to him.

You didn't. He knew you would be stubborn. He loved that about you just not right now when he tried to bring your relationship to the next level.

For you however there was nothing that would make you give in. You didn't have a plan, just find a way to get out of there whatever it took.

But you would be a fool if you thought he wasn't always three steps ahead of you.

The first days he wanted to show you trust and love in an attempt to prove to you- but mostly himself- that he could be gentle and you would appreciate his effort. So he left your bedroom door unlocked.

Once aware of your late night "walks" (failed attempts to break free you called them) he forced you to sleep in the same bed with him.

You had lost the privilege of your own room, he said. If you only gave in, things would be much easier for you.

You didn't need him however, not him or his cruel love you just wanted to be free.

He found that sweet but what about what he wanted? And he wanted you but you only thought and cared about yourself blind to his feelings and love.

But that didn’t disencourage him. Well begun is half done, right?

From early in the morning you woke up together and you watched him prepare your breakfast as you grumpily sat near him, having to get through small talk and stupid questions like how you slept, all aiming to create an environment of normality and stability between you two.

According to your behaviour there were some options for entertainment while he worked. Have you been a sweet, well behaved angel? He provided books and magazines, along with some CDs for music. Were you an uncompromising brat? you could just sit in silence with your thoughts for hpurs till he comes home and finds a more appropriate punishment.

There was a solution for every misbehaving of yours.

If you refused to eat he would have you cook with him and if even that didn't make you want to eat he wouldn't hesitate to shove the food down your throat. Your rude words would be washed away by limited water till you found a better way to waste your saliva, he said. And if you dared to use any strong vocabulary such as the simple words "i hate you" he would force proximity, having you sit on his lap while you read the same book or anything that would have you close to him.

He wouldn't force any further physical contact except from the occasional forehead kisses you once loved. However the rare occasions when your judgement was overruled by your needs you let him touch you anyway he wanted.

When he was at home he let you out of your bedroom into the living room where you could watch some tv, read a book or if you were sweet enough come join him in the kitchen. You didn't however bear to spend -deliberately- any second with him. When he thought you weren’t watching you caught him looking over at you but even though you thought it was supposed to be a loving act there was just something so unsettling.

He bathed you and washed your hair before brushing them. He dressed you up in all the finest clothes and showered you in luxuries. Not to buy your love just to remind you how much he appreciates you going through all that for him. Occasionally he even braided your hair, knowing it's something you loved since you were a child. Sometimes you looked in the mirror and felt yourself fading, changing and to be honest you didn't particularly mind who you were becoming.

At night he would read to you anything he found to cultivate your mind given the situation. French poetry about passionate love, novels of great classic authors that highlighted that human condition and justified it pushed people to walk over some thin lines (just in a month living with him he had read to you everything dostoyevsky has ever written). He wanted to make you understand he wasn't a monster, just a man in love who wanted what's best for you. And that you, you weren’t just a projection of his need for control, or a result of his possessiveness and selfishness, he truly cared about you.

-though the last part I wouldn’t believe it either-

The times when you tried to be hurtful and say that you would never love him he replied that he would wait for you forever and that's a promise.

You soon became used to him. His need for control over you felt like warmth, protectiveness; it was a sign that he cared. You knew he cared, you never doubted that-just in a very selfish way that had to break you down and punish you before lifting you up into his heaven, like some biblical god. Caught into his web of lies you soon found a way to accept him for who he was. it seemed polite since he did the same for you.

[tr45hy45h]

SPIKE PRATT X AFAB READRR!! (!!!SMUT!!!)

Your POV-

I was sitting on the couch eating mac and cheese and watching some comedy show on tje TV waiting for my boyfriend spike to come home from fighting demons with angel,me and spike have been very distant lately and i don't know why.I was interrupted by my own thoughts when I heard the front door open and slam shut.

I turned around to see who entered and to my shock I see spike,slightly coverdale in blood with a torn up shirt.I stand up and walk over to him to ask him of he was ok but before I could ask him anything he just put his hand up and said "I don't wanna talk about it m'love" I wasn't shocked at all,spike never spoke about his feelings that often so I just nodded and walked into the kitchen to get him a glass of water.

I give the water to him and sit down next to him. "Are you ok?.." I ask him,he turns to me and sips his water "I'm fine." He placed the cup of water on the coffee table and leaned back on the couch.i pursed my lips and looked at him "take your anger out on me.." he turned to me and smirked.

Next thing I know my clothes are getting torn off by him with him kissing all over my exposed skin.he took his shirt off and I ran my hand down his chest to tease him slightly but he grabbed my hand and pinned bith of my hands above my head "I'm incharged" he said before he growled and started kissing down my stomach to the rum of my panties.he looked up at me and I nodded giving him consent (consent is key ☝🏻) he let go of my hands and he started kissing my clothed pussy through my panties "fuckk,your so wet for me darling" he said as he trailed the tip of his fingers up and down my thighs.

He took off my panties and threw them across the living room and he placed his middle finger on my clit,drawing circles around it.I whimpered under his touch and he slide his middle finger down and slid it into my hole making me arch my back and whimper.

He chuckled as I tightened around his finger and he slide his index finger inside me stretching me out. I was a moaning mess,I could feel my orgasm increase in my lower stomach but before I could come he pulled his fingers out of me. I could hear him undo his belt and pull his pants down and positions himself infront of my hole,he placed his hands on my hips and trusted slowly into me. My hands shot to his white hair and I pulled on it softly, his hips met mine wich ment he was balls deep inside me. His breathing started getting heavier "s-so..tight!..aah~" all I could do was whimper in response.

-

I'm now laying on the bed.iv lost count of how many times iv came,tears stained my face all I could do was moan as spike came in me over and over again.he moan loudly as he came inside me a 5th time?6th time? I can't remember, I'm so fucked out right now. He pulled out slowly and bend over to kiss me softly on the lips and whisperd "I love you" I couldn't even speak all I could do was smile weakly. He layed down on his stomach and placed his head inbetween my legs and started placing soft kisses on my thighs. I ran my hand through his hair softly as he kissed closer and closer to my pussy. He gently licked my clit,I whimpered in pleasure but also feeling overestimated. He moved his tounge faster and I moaned louder and I pulled on his hair and wrapped my thighs around his head as I was getting closer and closer to another orgasm,he slid his index finger inside of me and that was enough to through me over the edge, I came all over his tounge and finger. Spike sat up and layed next to me cuddling me into his chest and wrapped us nith in the blanket, he gently kissed my fourhead and I fell asleep in his arms.

--

I'm so sorry this took so long to upload i was logged out of my account and I couldn't remember my password 😭😭

Also I've mare an edit of buffy and spike sooo if you wanna see that lemme know 🫶🏻🫶🏻

-ash<3

[explosionshark]

hyped that you're writing again!

Fuffy (Faith/Buffy) + scrape, rain, dame

(maybe a noir vibe?)

okay lmao i know you've been wanting this for a minute, I hope it satisfies

-

Faith's never seen rain like this, not in the entire time she's been in California. And she might be a recent transplant but she's not stupid — this is no regular summer storm. No, this has to be something else. Driving winds, great freezing wet gouts of water gushing from midnight black clouds, like God himself opened a vein. An arterial baptism for the City of Angels, a place so choked in sin that the blood of lamb wasn't cutting it anymore and the Father, despairing, had no choice but to offer his own.

That or Buffy was right and there's a powerful coven at work and they're running out of time to stop them.

Speaking of Buffy—

She's got her hand clamped tight— bruising tight— around Faith's wrist, heels that couldn't be worse for this weather for if they were trying splashing noisily through filthy puddles in the sidewalk as she ran ahead, tugging Faith along behind her.

“Come on, Faith, come on,” Buffy's saying and Faith wonders, dazedly, why she sounds so scared until she feels herself falter on the slippery pavement, shoots a hand out to steady herself on a glass storefront beside her and sees, even through the dark and dim, the bright red streak of blood her palms leave behind.

Oh, yeah. She's shot.

It's a struggle to tear her mind free of the gauzy haze that surrounds it, but when Faith's ears pick up the distant sound of a motor getting less distant by the second, she manages it.

“They're coming back around,” she wheezes, sure that her voice is too pained and weak for Buffy to hear over the weather.

But she does, judging by the quiet curse she lets out, the way she squeezes Faith's hand. “Okay, okay. I know a place. Hang on, okay? Just a little farther.”

Faith would be the first to admit, if anyone would bother to stop and ask her, that in her current circumstances she is probably not the person best qualified to judge her condition. She's biased, in her own way, and being down a few pints of blood is probably not helping. But she's a detective, or at least Buffy has asked her to play the part, so she can do what detectives seem to do in those dime novels she reads from time to time: look at the evidence, draw a conclusion.

Faith + shot + the goons in that old beater coming back around to take another shot at putting the chill on her and it all adds up to one thing: she doesn't have much of a choice about whether to trust Buffy or not or if she wants to keep running after her through all these dark, filthy allies. 

All her life, Faith has been sure that she'd kick off this way someday: running. Running a con, or from the cops or after some dame with a face too sweet and a mouth too pink and inviting for Faith’s own good. Faith knows enough to know she doesn't know exactly what kind of scheme she's let herself get drawn into, but she figures whatever it is, her chances are still better with Buffy than with those hoods and their irons.

So she goes.

And within a few minutes, Buffy is tugging her to a stop in front of a nondescript door in the alleyway of some big brick building Faith doesn't recognize, someplace downtown. Faith, no stranger to running for her life, is a little disappointed that she'd failed to memorize how they'd ended up here, but she figures she can afford to cut herself a little slack tonight, given the circumstances.

She sags, exhausted, knees shaking, against Buffy, no doubt getting blood all over that smart dove gray coat she'd shown up wearing, that Faith had, a few happier hours ago, fantasized about peeling off her. Ruined now, no doubt.

“Sorry,” Faith mumbles, or tries to, because what comes out of her mouth is more like “Shrrrgghh.”

“Shh, it's okay, hang on,” Buffy says, voice a little too frantic to be comforting. She pounds on the door again, again until she finally lets loose an aggrieved sigh and puts her shoulder through it. She makes it look effortless but Faith hears the wood splinter, sees the metal of the steel lock bend like putty.

Everything else happens in a blur. Buffy hauls her through the doorway, down a dark hall until a man… a green man? With little red horns? Intercepts them. He's wearing a plush royal blue smoking jacket and a look of perfect terror but he does as Buffy bids him and ushers them into a sparsely furnished room with a mattress on a metal frame and not much else.

Buffy settles Faith down on the bed, saying over her shoulder to the man, “Sorry about the blood. And your door.”

He waves her off and rushes back out of the room, returning moments later with what looks like a doctor's bag.

“Now, let's see the damage,” he says, sounding far too cheerful for a man peeling her bloodstained shirt up from her skin. “Sorry, darling,” he at least has the good grace to say. “I know this is terribly ungentlemanly of me, but please bear with me now.”

At this Buffy stumbles back knocking into a dresser and toppling a small mirror onto the floor, where it shatters into bits. As if we needed any more bad luck, Faith thinks.

Aloud, she says, “Where y’goin’?”

Buffy shakes her head, voice quavering. “I'm squeamish. I can't watch.”

And then trips her way out of the room, falling all over herself to leave.

“She'll be okay,” the man says, kindly, warm hands easing her back onto the bed. He produces a bottle, something home brewed but strong that he urges her to sip. “So will you. I'm Lorne, by the way. I promise you're in good hands.”

Faith doesn't doubt him. Life has seen fit to instill in Faith certain skills for survival, one of these being discerning quickly and with good accuracy how much a man with intent to touch her wants to cause pain. There's nothing in Lorne’s hands that reads malice or danger.

No, that thrum of simple minded fear, that prey animal feeling pulsing through Faith's body isn't because of Lorne at all.

It lingers as she watches the door Buffy disappeared from with all the intensity of a rabbit struck still in the brush, waiting for the hawk to pass.

To distract from the pain in her side as Lorne goes to work with his tweezers and alcohol and gauze, Faith recalls Buffy's face. They've had their moments in the weeks since Buffy approached her, asked for her help. Long hot glances and lingering touches, loaded silences and innuendo both. Nothing has come of it, but one of Faith’s other survival skills, honed over the years, has been learning how to tell when a broad wants what she has to offer. And she’s felt that want from Buffy, choked as it is by what Faith had assumed this whole time was an abundance of caution. Maybe she had a secret beau, maybe she’d been burned before, maybe she just didn’t think Faith was worth the risk. But Faith had felt the want in her, before. 

And that was nothing compared to the hunger she saw in Buffy tonight, when they’d finally stopped running and Lorne had exposed the sick oozing wound in her side and she had lurched forward, helpless as a drunk. Oh, she’d caught herself right away, pulled back, a little too far, but Faith had seen it. Had seen the way her mouth went slack before she tightened it to a pained grimace, had seen her nostrils flare, her hands shake, the way her pupils had gone big and black, like a gowed-up dope fiend.

Faith had seen. And so now, she thinks about it like a detective, lining up the evidence. How they always met at night, how Buffy had knocked that door in like it was nothing, the way she was able to lug Faith around like she was made of cotton and air.

By the time Lorne is finished, Faith is exhausted, and slips into a deep, dreamless sleep. She wakes up in the daylight, for Lorne to change her bandages.

“Buffy had to go home,” Lorne lies as easily as he stitches her up. “She’ll be back in the evening.”

They talk a little, before she falls back asleep. “Weren’t you green last night?” she asks.

“Guilty,” he says and explains.

“Demon was my second guess,” Faith says amicably, squinting and tilting her head to try to see past the glamour. No such luck, it's solid work. “First was that I was hallucinating from blood loss.”

She drinks some broth, has a few more nips of whisky, and falls back asleep.

It is indeed evening when Buffy comes back. She’s cleaned up, looking sober and genuinely concerned as she hovers in the doorway.

Faith wonders, for one terrifying moment, how much she still smells like blood. If she’s in danger from Buffy losing it.

Then she thinks, if all Buffy wanted out of her was a quick meal, she could have had it weeks ago. 

“You might as well come on in,” Faith offers, eventually, sick of the silent staring. “You’re lettin’ in a draft.”

Hesitantly, Buffy steps into the room. She shuts the door behind her and pauses until Faith gestures to the chair at her bedside.

Settling down, Buffy asks, “How are you feeling? Lorne says the wound looks good. He doesn’t think it’ll get infected.”

Faith shrugs, regretting it immediately but hoping the pain doesn’t show on her face. “S’alright. Basically a scrape.”

“The bullet went all the way through you and out the other side.”

“A deep scrape,” Faith amends. 

Buffy shakes her head and Faith, goddamn her, feels her breath catch in her throat, despite everything.

“Where you been?” Faith asks, trying to sound casual. “Catching up with the mugs that tried to give me lead poisoning?” 

“No. I couldn’t find any sign of them when I left here last night.” 

“Grabbing a bite?” Faith tries, watching carefully for—

Buffy freezes.

Faith waits.

“Yes,” Buffy answers slowly. “I had something to eat.”

“I could tell,” Faith says. “You look steadier than last night.”

She waits another beat while Buffy looks at the floor.

“So, who was he?” Faith asks.

There it is. Buffy’s gaze snaps up to meet hers. “The man who tried to shoot you? I told you I didn’t find any trace of him.”

“Not him.” Faith says, then, despite the pain, she leans forward, holding catching Buffy’s eye and holding it. “Who’d you eat?”

“I didn’t hurt anyone,” Buffy says in a rush. “On the square. I didn’t.”

“C’mon, drop the veil,” Faith says. “I know what you are. A vamp, in both senses of the word.”

“I didn’t hurt anyone,” Buffy insists.

Faith frowns. “So, what? Thralls? Heard about a guy back east who paid hookers for it. That your bag?”

“I… There’s this butcher shop—”

Faith rolls her eyes, “Don’t give me that—”

“I mean it!” Buffy practically shouts. “I don’t feed from humans. I swear.”

Faith wants to believe it. She wants it so badly she’s not sure she trusts the feeling. 

“If you don’t, you’re the first bloodsucker I’ve ever met who doesn’t hunt.” Faith says. “So, what’s different about you?”

“I have a soul.” Faith rolls her eyes and Buffy, affronted, cuts her off before she can speak. “I do. Look, it’s a long story and I’ll tell it to you later, but for right now I need you to trust me. This shouldn’t change anything about our deal. You keep helping me, I’ll pay you what you’re owed, and together we save this city from a whole heap of trouble.”

“You expect me to trust you?” Faiths asks, head aching, wound aching, heart aching, and a special new kind of exhausted she's never been before. She wishes she knew how to stop the way her heart still speeds up when Buffy looked at her just like this — big eyed and sincere. “After lying to me?”

“No.” Buffy reaches out, tentatively and lays her hand over Faith’s. “I expect you to trust me after saving your life last night.”

Warmth flows up Faith’s body, from her belly all the way to the roots of her hair. Just like that.

Dizzy over a dame, she thinks, exasperated. A vampire dame. Ain’t I the world’s biggest chump.

“You said it was a long story,” Faith says, finally. “You ending up with a soul…”

“Yes.”

“Well,” leaning back into bed, Faith is careful to let her hand continue to rest under Buffy’s grip. She jerks her chin down toward the patched wound in her side. “As you can see, I got nothing but time.”

Buffy waits a beat, then nods. “Okay. It all started with a man. His name was Angel…”

[spuffybot]

I just did a watch of Welcome to the Hellmouth and The Harvest. There’s so many amazing little things happening in those first two episodes.

1. The Music: there is so much 90s sitcom music happening. Especially at the end of The Harvest when they avert the apocalypse and it’s just Giles, Buffy, Xander, and Willow reflecting on what happened. The music sounds like it’s from an episode of 7th Heaven.

2. Everything David Boreanaz is doing is hysterical. You can tell it’s one of baby’s first real acting gigs. He doesn’t know what to do with his hands, his arms are swinging inexplicably, and he makes standing still look so painfully awkward.

3. The Wardrobe: We get some of the best and worst looks in these two episodes and it’s quite frankly, iconic. Buffy’s first day of school look literally defined a generation. However her first night at The Bronze look??? What is happening here? And let’s not even get started on Angels shiny plush velvet jacket. He’s giving hot topic vampire.

4. The Lighting: I love how dark season 1 is, it’s a total vibe and I have so much nostalgia for watching this show when it was first on TV. But there are scenes that are actually impossible to see (the opening sequence for example) and there’s a moment in The Harvest where Buffy shatters a window and you can just see where the prosthetics are glued to Luke’s face.

5. The Prosthetics: If you didn’t know, they changed the prosthetics because they were so hard to talk in! Darla is impossible to understand half the time and they had to change some of Jesse’s lines because he couldn’t say “s” words.

6. Darla x The Mythology: ok so obviously we know Darla goes on a journey. It’s funny to look back at these initial episodes and see her behaving in ways that feel out of character. She doesn’t seem to know much about Slayers. She’s easily defeated by some holy water and a cross (wielded by Willow and Giles of all people.) She’s deferential to Luke in a way that makes her seem higher in rank than a fledgling but certainly not the 500 year old vampire we come to know. There’s also so many small mythology things that don’t make the cut or are evolved over time. Giles has seemingly never encountered many supernatural creatures and is unaware of what a Hellmouth is. Vampires eyes glow in the dark and they have talon like nails. Buffy’s stakes look like coffee table legs. I love seeing how the show grows beyond these beginnings.

I’m excited to continue watching season 1. I almost always skip straight to School Hard in any rewatch of the series and it’s so much fun to revisit these early episodes.

[genericaces]

if u did a tier maker of buffyverse ships i would enjoy it 🙏

This is tricky because ships are one of those things that people can get really passionate about, and I don't want to upset anyone. I try to steer clear of any drama when I can, but I also want to feel free to express my opinions, you know? Because god knows I have them.

I guess I'll say before I wade into any discourse that, disclaimer: my enjoyment of a ship doesn't mean I condone what goes on in it, and I can separate fiction from reality. I try not to moralize when it comes to fictional ships and approach them both objectively in terms of quality and also subjectively to my personal tastes. But I also believe that, at the end of the day, it's just fandom and people should do whatever floats their boat.

So with all that being said, here's my (highly personal!) rankings of the ships in Buffyverse:

C Tier:

ATS 1x09 - This is the ship with the bomb that Doyle sacrifices himself to disarm. Now it's a good episode, but this is really the only wide shot we get of the boat. I literally forgot that the climax takes place on the water. The interior is fun with lots of stairs and various apparatuses for fight scenes, but it could just as easily have been a basement or abandoned factory. Honestly, I wasn't too impressed by the ship factor. Rating: 4/10

B Tier:

BTVS 2x13 - You might be thinking, "You're ranking a BACKGROUND ship higher than an actual location?" but hear me out: because the ship is in the background, I actually remembered that this scene had a ship. There's a great fight scene in front of it where Buffy uses the chain along the docks to choke out a bad guy, and then she gets thrown into the water. The ship hangs out in the background the whole time and brings together the whole nautical-themed fight. Rating: Angel diving into the water/10

A Tier:

BTVS 3x15 - Now we're cooking with gas. We get a FULL shot of the whole ship on the dock. The establishing shots linger on the boat more because Buffy and Faith have a confrontation here. Not only do they have a conversation with someone visibly ON a boat, Faith starts out on the upper deck of the boat then swings herself OFF the ramp to argue with Buffy on the docks. Bonuses for a visually dynamic conversation and the boat representing Faith's plans to fuck off, interrupted by HER choice to get off and get in Buffy's face about it instead. Rating: Saving the girl that's supposed to be your enemy/10

S Tier:

ATS 3x22 - I know, we're getting into controversial territory here. But look how beautiful this ship is. Is it a boat? A schooner? A yacht? I don't know, but I DO care. Extra points for it being a plot-necessary boat, of course, since they had to get Angel out into the middle of the sea somehow. What's great about this ship is that it's really condensed all the ship elements into a smaller vessel, so you're aware throughout the tense emotional scenes that you're actually ON a boat in the middle of the sea. It really emphasizes Angel and Connor's isolation at this point in the finale, both physically and emotionally. And, I mean, look at this: we actually have a shot that has most of a boat AND most of a person in it. AND it's the climax of a season finale? THIS is the ultimate Buffyverse ship. Final rating: The misunderstanding-to-patricide pipeline/10

[burningexeter]

Here's a damn fine solid amount of all the different kinds of media that I think both can definitely fit well in and could legit share the same universe as what is in my opinion one of the best trilogies ever made, Gore Verbinski's Pirates Of The Caribbean Trilogy, which you can both read and see below for yourself right about here:

• Jon Turteltaub's National Treasure Duology

• Stephen Sommers' The Mummy (1999)

• John Carpenter's Big Trouble In Little China

• Joe Johnston's The Rocketeer

• Soman Chainani's The School For Good and Evil (Book Series)

• Tomm Moore & Ross Stewart's Wolfwalkers

• Chris Sanders & Dean DeBois' How To Train Your Dragon Series (1 - 3 & TV Series)

• Steven Spielberg's Indiana Jones Series (1 - 4) & The Adventures Of Tintin (2011)

• Julius Avery's Overlord (2018)

• Andrew Adamson's The Chronicles Of Narnia: The Lion, The Witch and the Wardrobe & The Chronicles Of Narnia: Prince Caspian

• Andrew Stanton's John Carter (2012)

• Warner Bros.' Wizarding World Series (Harry Potter 1 - 8 & Fantastic Beasts and Where To Find Them)

• Guillermo Del Toro's Crimson Peak

• Remedy Entertainment's Alan Wake & Control

• Michael Dougherty's Trick r Treat & Krampus

• Mark Waters' The Spiderwick Chronicles (2008)

• Matt Reeves' Let Me In (2010)

• Kathryn Lasky's Tangled In Time (Book Duology)

• Robert Beatty's Serafina (Book Series)

• Katherine Arden's Winternight Trilogy (Books)

• M.J. Bassett's Solomon Kane (2009)

• Chris Carter's X Files Series (First nine seasons, Fight The Future, Millennium & The Lone Gunmen)

• Joss Whedon's Buffy The Vampire Slayer & Angel

• Vince Gilligan's Breaking Bad, Better Call Saul & El Camino: A Breaking Bad Movie

&

• Kurt Sutter's Sons Of Anarchy & Mayans MC

[witchothewest]

What she says: I’m fine!

What she’s thinking: Do vampire bodies produce fluids other than blood? We know they don’t use the bathroom. Do they create saliva? Do they sweat? In the True Blood universe, vampires cry blood, and when they’re killed, they explode like a water balloon of blood as if it’s the only thing they’re made of. Should we assume because of this that they also ejaculate blood? Obviously they don’t produce sperm, since they’re dead, but what about semen? We as a society are forever obsessed with vampire mythology because in it we see the intersection of horror and eroticism displayed so beautifully. Sex is almost as integral to the genre as the blood drinking itself (thought obviously the two are intertwined as the feeding is a metaphor for sex.) But if we’re to deduce that male vampires ejaculate blood, what about female vampires? Do they produce blood in place of vaginal fluid? On a separate thread, the Buffyverse is a “dry” vampire world building, juxtaposed with True Blood’s wet world building. When vampires are killed, they turn to dust. We also rarely see actual blood dripping from wounds when a vampire feeds, though that has more to do with the approachability to a broader, younger, cable audience than anything. We do see actual tears in the show though. The only times we see a bloody feeding in the show are when the vampire bite in question had more narrative impact or is sexual in nature, a perfect example being when Angel feeds from Buffy at the end of season 3. I propose that while True Blood vampires must surely ejaculate blood because of the vampire biology put forth as part of the world building, buffyverse vampires probably don’t in contrast ejaculate dust. In this essay, I will—

[coraniaid]

I think there's something fascinating about the evolution of Darla as a character in the Buffyverse.

It's very common in the Buffy fandom to talk about the show almost as if it were fully planned out from the beginning or somehow emerged fully-formed one day in its entirety.  To analyze Season 1 episodes as if the writers had already decided on the Heart/Mind/Spirit symbolism of the core Scooby Gang; to act as though a Season 5 retcon means that Spike was really in love with Buffy as early as Season 3's Lovers Walk; to suggest the constant changes in how the show deals with soul lore or vampires as a metaphor must mean that Giles and the Council were 'really' lying or ignorant in the first few seasons; to wonder what the Watchers Council introduced in Season 3 were doing in the show's first two seasons; to insist you can't really understand Season 1 until you've finished Season 7.

And, look, I totally get the temptation to do that sort of thing.  It's unavoidable if you want to talk about the universe of the show as a real thing in its own right, or try to write fanfiction that takes every season seriously.  It can be a useful and interesting way of thinking about the show.  I've done it myself and will no doubt keep doing it.

But at the same time, it's very misleading if you want to think about the show as a constructed work of collaborative art: as a piece of fiction in constant conversation with itself, shaped and reshaped again and again over years by a team of different people.  Which, to be clear, is what it actually is.

The real show is almost a piece of improv or some sort of conjuring act, with the writers and actors constantly juggling with new ideas and twists without any time to worry about how exactly everything fits together. With some episodes reportedly being written in only a handful of days and lore being continually changed and ignored as fits the current demands of the plot.  Questions like "how does soul lore really work?" or "after Prophecy Girl who is the real Slayer anyway?" ultimately can't be answered, because there simply is no single truth to uncover.  It depends entirely on the current episode.

And I think the ever-changing character of Darla provides the best illustration of that reality.

In the original unaired pilot, Julie Benz plays an unnamed vampire who is nonetheless pretty easy to identify with the Darla we'll see in the show proper.  She has no links to Angel or Luke or the Master, because none of these characters even exist yet.  Just like in Welcome to the Hellmouth, she lures an unsuspecting victim into the high school after dark before vamping out and killing him, but by the end of the episode she is dead: gruesomely dispatched (or as gruesomely as the pilot's limited special effects budget allowed) after Willow douses her with holy water.

The two parter Welcome to the Hellmouth / The Harvest expands on her role slightly.  She has a name now, for one thing. She works for the Master, too, but she doesn't at all seem to be his favorite (she's very much subordinate to Luke in both these episodes), and there's no suggestion that she has any special connection to Angel.  (Unsurprisingly, as the show's writers hadn't even decided to make Angel a vampire at this point.)  And her ultimate fate at the end of this two-parter is unclear: just as in the pilot, Willow soaks her with holy water, and then she's ... gone?  Nobody mentions her again, she's not in scenes with the Master in later episodes which logically she should be. I'm pretty sure that, just like in the pilot, we're meant to assume she's dead.

But then Darla gets her first big break.  Angel is, it turns out, a vampire, and he needs some backstory to match.  Julie Benz obviously made a decent enough impression in the first couple of episodes, and nothing she did or said quite ruled her out as Angel's sire, and we never quite see her die. So suddenly she's back,  now the Master's favorite vampire, attacking Buffy's mother in her own home and sowing the seeds of mistrust between Buffy and Angel and ... oh, she's dead again.  Bummer.

Except then in Season 2 Angel's role expands again -- he's not just Buffy's intermittently seen vampire boyfriend anymore, he's the focus of the whole season and he's going to appear in all but one episode.  Of course, he's going to need more backstory (and we're all going to be treated to David Boreanaz's best Irish accent) so ... once again Darla rises from the ashes, albeit this time only in flashbacks.  And the Darla we see in Becoming's flashbacks is once again an evolution of the character we last saw in Season 1's  Angel.  More confident, more complex.  A character that it is honestly difficult to reconcile with the take on the character we saw last season, especially the one we swa in the show's first two episodes.

Anyway, Angel gets sent to hell in Season 2, but not before managing to (somehow) act his way into his own spin-off series.  And yes, that means more flashbacks, and more Darla, and more retcons about the precise nature of her relationship with the Master, but ultimately it means the writers decide to bring Darla back from the dead at the end of the spin-off's first season (for, depending on exactly you count it, arguably the fourth time, though only the first in-universe).  And this iteration of Darla -- both the human Darla we see in the beginning of Angel's second season, and the vampire she becomes again later that season -- is arguably the closest thing there is to a definitive take on the character.  This is the Darla people mean when they talk about her on the show.  Not the mid-level vampire of Welcome to the Hellmouth or the essentially single episode villain of Season 1's Angel, but the real deal.  Darla at her most complicated and rich and alive, a Darla whose history is hopelessly entangled with that of her on-again, off-again lover Angel, a character who provides the driving force for the spin-off show's greatest season.  A character who is, I think, one of the most  interesting to ever appear on that show.

Then the last few episodes of Season 2 completely drop Darla and all trace of the arc she introduced. When she reappears next season (in just a handful of episodes) it's so that her character can be written out of the show via mystical and impossible-by-the show's-previous-rules pregnancy in order for men to feel sad about it (but not for very long), and afterwards everything generally goes to shit.

But then, that tells you quite a lot about the Buffyverse and its creators as well.

[loisfreakinglane]

i just finished buffy season 2. my mind is swirling with many thoughts and feelings and opinions, but the number 1 line item is.... kendra deserved a whole lot more. they didn't need to bring her back for 3 scenes just to kill her. nobody NEEDED to die in that episode, and frankly they had a whole cast of white regular and recurring characters to kill that would have had a deeper emotional impact on buffy. it's just disappointing. i'd remembered her having a much bigger spotlight in her last episode than she actually did.

it just feels like they tested the waters of showing buffys dynamic with another slayer, but were too racist to commit to making a black woman a recurring character. i adore eliza obviously but of COURSE it's the white slayer who became a huge part of the universe. it's such a missed opportunity. (a lot of people point to the accent being the heart of the problem but i call aggressive bullshit on that. they let james and alexis stumble thru accents for maaaaaany episodes before they made it sound vaguely natural. and thats not even addressing davids ~irish~ accent lol)

anyway kendra is a precious angel baby princess, a tiny asskicking nerd who named her favorite stake MR POINTY, who had a competitive relationship with buffy, who died trying to save buffys friends, guarding them while they tried to save angel, a girl who deserved love and a life and friends and to fucking survive. and if they were dead set on her dying from a tiny shallow cut from a fingernail, she deserved to be resurrected. OR HEY, HERE'S A NOTION! DRU SHOULD HAVE TURNED HER!!!!!!!!!!! FUCKING IMAGINE THAT!!!!!!!!!!! we spent years discussing whether sunday the vampire could have been an undead slayer, we should have seen the real thing. that would have been sooooooooo much fun.