shootmestuffmemountme-blog

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Xander made a satirical horrified expression as a counter to the vampire’s loathing.

“Dickless? Well, you could ask Anya about that--oh wait, you did, didn’t you? I’m not helping you, you Justin Timberlake wannabe. Oh, and the watcher’s in your motherland, so do us all a favor and shut your trap, pal, or I’ll grab the duct tape. We’ll see who’s annoying when your mouth is muffled.”

Open~~

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Xander mocked the expression she gave him before turning back to his comic book, blatantly ignoring the dark slayer. He huffed out some fumes from his nostrils as she continued to talk, trying his best to focus on the Avengers’ newest grand scheme.

“Someone you could never add up to be if you poured water on yourself and multiplied, Faithy.”

“Not really. Just another day on the job,” she answered him with a shit eating grin, although she was boiling beneath the surface.  

Xander was bugging the hell out of her, which only made her want to hurt him. Of course, she might as well hit him, but it was pretty obvious that he was acting overly jealous for some reason, and so she figured this might just be the way to get to him more. Not like being the nerd he was, he didn’t get beaten up often enough already. Probably wouldn’t even faze him. So this was definitely the way to go. 

“He was wicked good, number 247. I didn’t have to show him around any curves. He just stuck it to me good, y’know. Who’s Amy Yip?” 

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“Don’t you full name mom me, Buffy Anne Summers. I’ll have you know that I’ve been questioning this friendship the moment you began mugging my Oreos, young lady! It’s a felony! Cookie theft!” He announced, pinching her shoulder without any pressure in a mock Spock fashion.

“It always worked on the show.” He grumbled.

“My face is a canvas. –I don’t even know what people mean by that, but it is. And are you really threatening me, Alexander Harris? For a cookie? I’m really starting to question this friendship.”

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Open

“I don’t speak Klingon--okay, maybe I do a little, but that’s beside the point. I don’t really wanna talk right now.”

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Fellow roleplayer appreciation time: it's time to tell some of your favorite blogs that you acknowledge, and appreciate their work; let them know that you love them. Spread the love to 10 of your favorite blogs, and if you don't have 10, then just spread it to the next 10 on your dash!

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“...”

“You actually think I’d want to give you a hand? Oh Spikey, that’s a laugh! In fact, it’s actually rather pathetic. You’d ask the guy you constantly find useless to help you out? You really must be desperate.”

Open~~

“Would you give a bloke a hand and unchain me? This is all some fool’s idea of a laugh.”

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“Buffy, do I look like Chef Boyardee? Come on, sentimentality is nice and all, but there’s simplicity in store-bought stuff, too! What if this pastry that we’re mixing together comes alive and tries to murder Will? See, this is why I just get her something.” He groaned, scooping the flour as she directed despite his protests.

“You know it’s the American Dream to be lazy, right? This isn’t being lazy—this is fraud. Fraud, I tell you. Fraud.” He complained, staring at the utensils in front of him until he glanced at her again.

“What now?”

"Yeah, but it means more when you cook it yourself! Come on Xander this is baking! It’s not even cooking, it’s mixing ingredients and pouring it into a pan. Here, two cups of flour, you don’t need to apply heat at all there. Yet." 

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dxstructogirl:

"I don’t know. Is that a pout, Harris?”

"Your face is a pout, Buff, now give me my cookie. I won the bet and I'm only warning you once. I've become rather skilled with the Vulcan Nerve Pinch, you know."

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theblueeyedvampire:

"You… are… a slob," snarled Spike. "I’ve seen Guänō demon nests that were cleaner than this… this stye! Jus’ because I got kicked out of Watcher’s flat and am bloody stuck here with you doesn’t mean I have to be nice about it!” And with that, he picked up Xander’s Sunnydale High letterman’s jacket and made a show of rubbing his cigarette stub into the fabric.

“And. You. Are. Dead. With an NSYNC hair fetish, at that. Seriously, what is it with you and that hair? Robbing boy band styles should be a federal offense in your case.” Xander retorted, smirking at the vampire’s pissy attitude.

He watched as Spike had burned his jacket, the smirk receding into lip curls as he nodded slowly to himself, his fingers rapping against the arms of his chair. He slowly pushed himself up with a breathy laugh, reaching into his pocket for his crucifix as he shoved it in the vampire’s face and snatched his jacket.

“Look, Timberlake, I’m not happy about this forced coexistence either, but let’s get one thing straight: you don’t touch my stuff. Or burn it. Bite it. Whatever. Hands off policy or I can talk Buffy into giving you a real hands off policy. At the wrists. Got it?”

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faithdarkslayer

The babe and I made it to season 3 despite this being her umpteenth rewatch.

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faithdarkslayer:

Okay?                  She wasn’t okay and hadn’t been for ages. Drowning.                  Always drowning with no one else to notice. Only, now Xander had taken notice. Despite everything she had done to their little Scooby gang, and more importantly, to Buffy, he was still reaching out to her. It made her feel sick to her stomach. Faith didn’t need his pity or to be forgiven based on her approaching end. She had always been the only on on her side, so why should things change now? Glaring at him before she could stop herself, the dark haired Slayer reached inside her jacket for the familiar shape of her blade, its hilt fitting her hand so perfectly like it was made for her. Considering it was a present from Wilkins, she suspected that it just might have been forged just for her. Either way, it always reassured her and the darkness within settled into a more steady mess than the swirling chaos Xander was making her feel. Faith didn’t pull it on him, although she wanted to hurt him, just like the world kept trying to hurt her. Why did she have to be the one dying? She was ten times the Slayer Buffy was, and never once did she get the praise. Life just kept trying to screw her over. The brunette should be the one walking those expensive spoiled shoes. Meeting his gaze again, she lost the hositility —partly— but there was no warmth shining from the one them either. He’d just been a fuck, nothing more and if he deluded himself into thinking that gave him the right to knowing the details of her pitiful existence, then he couldn’t be more wrong. What did she care anyway? Shrugging, she finally told him, “Five by five. —What do you care anyway? Shouldn’t you be back at the library, kissing little miss perfect's behind like a good little SIDEKICK?”

Xander glanced away from Faith, lips pursed as he cracked a feigned smile. He appeared strained, nodding his head as he bit back remarks. She always assumed someone didn’t care even when they tried, so he didn’t really know why he was bothering at this point. What aggravated him more was how she was condescending him as if it were some sort of self-defense mechanism. He wasn’t anyone’s sidekick.

Was he?

He almost wished he didn’t care right now, but he wasn’t going to lie to himself. He glanced back at her, letting that smile recede into a sneer. He wasn’t buying her little ‘I’m okay’ act, but he also knew prying wasn’t gonna be much help. Then again, when did helplessness ever stop Xan?

“I’m not a sidekick and I do care. If you think I don’t, that’s your own damn delusion, okay?!”

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My muse is dying and hasn't told your muse . Send " are you sure you're okay?" For my muses reaction

[shootmestuffmemountme-blog]

“How did I navigate her birthdays? It’s something called a bakery—or Easy Bake, but that’s not the point right now, Buffy! I don’t cook! I’m not medieval enough to say only women cook, but I burn every ingredient I touch!”

"Just follow the instructions I wrote down! It’s just a birthday cake not a nuclear bomb! How did you ever navigate Willow’s birthday before me?”

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                                               Scott; Scottish                                                  Meaning ‘Painted Warrior’              

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“Fair enough, Will. Fear not, with Buffy and I by your side, no one will lay a finger on a single ginger lock of yours. Oz, too—guard dog and all. Maybe Cordy if I throw her in front of us first. Acetic blood is not to be trifled with.”

"True…both are iconic characters.”

"You mean, to fight against?! I don’t know, Xan—they’re both super strong. But if I had to choose?  Xenomorphs, I guess. They’re kinda similar to some of the creatures that come out of the Hellmouth, and all together with Buffy, we may be able to take it down.” 

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His breath hitched as he found himself quite cornered by Faith, nearly falling backwards if he didn’t catch himself. He smiled uneasily, trying to laugh off the nerves as he kept his hands off of her, glancing away when she caught his earlobe in her mouth.

“Me? In your mouth? Do you mean like right now? Like how my earlobe’s in there? I mean, wouldn’t I be taking advantage of you? In your mouth?”

Rolled rolled her eyes, he could be such a drag. But it was oddly endearing the way he worried about those kinds of things. Would make getting him to do certain bad things that much more fun.

"Then we find a nice little quiet corner away from prying eyes." Faith suggested as her fingers rubbed over the crotch of his jeans. "Just gotta promise to be real quiet when I have you in my mouth." She whispered in his ear and nipped his earlobe.

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Xander contemplated the thought before vigorously nodding, now finding his dream all too tempting.

“You know what? You’re right. I’d rather drown in frosting and calories than be enslaved and drained by demonic vampires any day. What about you? How would you like to perish by donuts? Be very explicit, please.”

"Well, as far as apocalypses go on this hell mouth, that would be the way to go wouldn’t it?" she joked, a smile tugging at her lips. "I mean way better than, our last apocalypse."