#Vamp Dank

[astatia-ghast]

You know that Default Blog Icon Maker that's been circulating on Tumblr due to the bot plague?

Well, I decided to take it for a spin, and I came up with this cute lil dude!

His name is Vamp Dank, and he's going to keep us all company on our dashboards for a while!

[funnyazzmemes]

Bite me

[celestialspecial]

Blood Rush (Pt.2)

Read Part 1 Here

After being alive for far longer than any man should be, Billy is convinced he's seen it all. Until his path crosses with a mysterious girl and the game changes-for both of them. In ways neither could have ever imagined.

Warnings for Series: Mentions and descriptions of blood/grisly scenes, 18+themes and spice, use your own judgement.

One second you were in a dark alleyway, the musty smell infiltrated your nostrils. The dank heaviness that hung in the air.

Then you could smell the man holding onto you- a musky scent, punctuated with a spice you couldn’t place. It wafted from his skin, from his hair that hung in your face.

The dull ache between your legs, a pressure from his knee pressing where you needed it but it wasn’t enough. You never needed anything quite so bad before. 

An unhinged desire seemed to crash against you in waves. Then you felt it. A sharp prick against your neck, searing pain then bliss.

Like all the blood in your body was replaced with warm honey. Flowing through your veins, every major artery pulsed in pleasure. 

If this was deaths warm embrace perhaps you could stomach it. A slow decent into darkness.

Billy fed and fed until he could feel a wobble in your pulse. Pulling back and staunching the flow with a pin prick of his own blood. 

You’d slowly slipped into unconsciousness, held in place by his arms. The buzzing in his head reached a fever pitch.

You tasted so good but it wasn’t what he’d experienced before. Some peoples blood just tasted better, gave off an undeniable fragrance that tantalized the intense sense of a vamp.

This wasn’t that.

He felt a prickling sensation creep across his skin and heat rose to his cheeks. THe usual blood rush would streak through his system in a matter of minutes.

This built slowly. The poor girl in his arms shifted and Billy knew he needed to get her home and off the streets. God forbid another vamp came back with friends looking to end her for good.

Her wallet had an ID and address on the other side of town. Resting her against his chest as he thumbed through the other contents of her purse to verify this information.

Something stopped him cold in his process. His fingers. They looked…pink.

The pale flesh he had grown accustomed to was replaced with a soft tinge of a flush. The pads a deeper hue of the tone. 

His heart sunk. He’d drunk too much. He’d killed her, for the blood to overtake him so powerfully. 

Pushing aside your hair, fingers skimming against the revealed skin. He felt a pulse. It wasn’t weak or fading. She truly was just passed out. 

Shaking his head, Billy adjusted the wallet back into her purse and tossed her into a carry that allowed him to move more easily. 

What would take a normal person hours to traverse, it only took Billy less than 15 minutes. Moving quickly and staying out of sight, carrying this girl in his arms with ease.

He could feel the blood settling into his system. Strength and speed picking up, it was as if his joints crackled with newfound power and dexterity.

Muscles tensing and releasing in powerful synchronicity.

It was a familiar rush that happened after every feeding.Go too far and an inexperienced vampire could go drunk with that power. Become lost in it. 

Losing sense of time and space itself. Some would go crazy. Killing and killing until another vampire took them out for risk of being caught and their species being exposed.

The door to your apartment popped open, key swinging inward as Billy carried you over the threshold carefully so as not to wake any prying neighbors.

It was a small place he noticed. A tiny kitchen table strewn with all matter of paper. The dark screen of a laptop stared back at him. 

A couch in a makeshift living room, bookshelves from floor to ceiling completely enveloped in books on every subject. He didn’t miss the few shelves dedicated to romance novels.

If he didn’t know better he’d say he felt the telltale whisper of a blush on his cheeks. What did you like to read about? What naughty ideas popped into your head when reading them?

Did you touch yourself-

No.

He needed to get you to your bed then leave. And probably never see you again. The thought turned his stomach in a way he didn’t want to think about.

A small bedroom stood off to the side, a queen bed consumed almost the entire room. Soft purple sheets and a crumpled duvet lay off to the side.

Setting you down gently, adjusting the pillow so your hair splayed across it, he took a step back.

You looked so small and innocent lying here before him. Grabbing the corner of the duvet he pulled it up to your shoulders. Being sure not to make it look too staged that you were tucked in.

Denying himself the urge to reach out and caress the skin of your cheek. How had you not been killed by another vampire smelling the delicious scent that you carried?

The thought would most likely consume him in the high hours of the day when he’d be trying to sleep. 

Along with thoughts of your face. 

The undeniable tightness at the front of his pants reminded him he needed to go. Making sure the key was back on your table with your purse as he climbed out the window onto the nearby fire escape.

Billy didn’t remember the last time he prayed. Maybe it was as he lay in the street bleeding out. How he’d foolishly believed his prayer was being answered at the sight of a beautiful face above him.

How stupid he’d been. 

But tonight he’d pray. For your safety, that for however long you had seemed to fly under the radar of the vampires in the city, that it would continue. 

And with that, he pushed off from the wrought iron railing, jumping to the alleyway below and taking off back in the opposite direction of your home. 

“Damn you look like shit.” Cassie lovingly noted through your FaceTime call in the morning. 

“Gee thanks. I feel great.” The sarcasm leeches into your words as you tossed your hair into a messy updo, grabbing the nearby spoon coated in peanut butter.

“Sorry, I just didn’t realize you’d partied so hard. You didn’t even text me you got home!” 

To be honest you didn’t remember getting home. All you remembered were deep red eyes and a flourish of pleasure coursing through your veins before passing out. 

Somewhere in there you must’ve got your shit together and called a cab. How else would you have got home?

You did not plan on mentioning the fact that bloodsucking vampires existed and you almost became one’s meal last night. 

Your body tensed at the thought of the large bald man with razor sharp fangs. 

But then the other man…the handsome one who had been watching you from the club. 

How he’d found you after you’d taken off, how he’d saved your life.

“Earth to bestie?”

“Sorry. I’m just really tired. I passed out and totally forgot to text, but as you can see I am home. I am safe. I am dead tired.” 

Your response seemed to assuage your friend as she visibly relaxed on her end of the phone screen. 

“Im just glad you’re ok. I could tell you were feeling…itchy to leave.” She delicately danced around the subject of you feeling you had been watched.

You had been right.

“Yeah I’m just going to veg out and catch up on some tv shows before work tomorrow.” You took the peanut butter covered spoon into your mouth as you navigated your pathetically small kitchen.

Work. Right.

Sex and the city had made writing in New York seem like a dream gig. You’d have a penthouse somewhere in the upper east side, glamorous outfits to don to extravagant parties. 

Instead you were behind a month in rent for a flat the size of a matchbox. You owned exactly three button up shirts that were work appropriate and the rest of your wardrobe consisted of T-shirts with various wolves and dragons on them. 

Cleaning the last of the peanut butter off the spoon and tossing it into the sink with a metallic clang you turned back to Cassie, taking a deep inhale, forefingers and thumbs touching in a mock gesture if inner peace.

“Aaaaaand I’m going to prepare for my interview tomorrow.”

“That’s right!! Who was it with again?” 

Tugging at the hem of your sleep shorts, ripping a loose thread before you set the phone down, sticking your head in the fridge to see what food you had. Food that was still edible and not having expired months ago.

You frowned as you picked up an old yogurt container that was slowly evolving into a living breathing animal. Tossing the mold ridden thing into the trash.

“Some big shot CEO. Founded Anvil, a personal security service or something. I don’t know, he’s probably one of those high and mighty types.” 

“Why’d they give you that interview? It seems like a big deal and you seem….blasé about it.”

The sigh, slash groan that dramatically left your lips as you slammed the fridge door shut, collapsing into a seat at your very tiny kitchen table.

“Because Maura is out on maternity leave, Ross is out of the country on vacation and Jeremy is covering fashion week. The dream team is occupied so they’re stuck with me.” 

Cassie frowned, brows furrowed on her semi pixelated brow. 

“I don’t like this kinda attitude. YOU are an amazing writer and deserve to be considered a top tier “dream team” occupant as well as any of those others.”

You wanted to believe her, you really did. But writing was your passion and honestly all the projects you’d been put on as of late fell short. No stories had enthralled you, and your lack of enthusiasm clearly showed.

“Cas, I’m tired. I don’t know if I have another droll business-y interview left in me. I try, I really do, but I don’t care about the latest vegan restaurant opening in soho or the new wearable garbage that vogue is printing. How am I supposed to stoke a fire with my words when I’m given the scraps?” 

What started as boredom had turned into a blood pumping anger fueled vent session. 

“I don’t want to interview a ceo. What am I supposed to ask? Did you always dream of being a millionaire? How do you feel about the stock market right now? Are your suits custom or store bought at Saks?”

“I’m gonna cut you off right there-“ Cassie interjected. “You got a piss poor attitude about this. I know it’s not your dream gig. I know you’re tired, but a high ranking business owner who runs a company making a small fortune that HELLO, people know about.”

She took a long deep breath before continuing.

“People, maybe not you…or me…but people, know about this company and want to hear about its owner. Think of them, write it for them. People who look up to this guy and want to be inspired. Inspire them. Paint one of those lovely pictures with your words.”

Damn her. Cassie was right. Just because you didn’t care about this company didn’t mean other people didn’t.

And this could be the chance for you to impress your boss. Really create a passion piece that blows your readers away. 

“Damn you, Cas.”

Your friend grinned brightly on her end. Knowing she had gotten through to you, in the way only she could.

“Go, Go and shine on for both of us my little star!” She exclaimed blowing a kiss to the phone screen. “Now me and my handsome fiancé are going to go get dinner. Make me proud mama.” 

With newfound fervor you turned on your laptop, the screen flickering to life as you placed an order for Chinese food. Extra lo mein and crab Rangoon to assist with your brain storming.

Fingers zoomed across your opened word document, typing up juicy question after question. This time would be different, you could feel it.

Billy groaned into his pillow, running his fingers through his mussed locks. Convinced that sleep would evade him but instead he had passed out and slept better than he had in years. 

Turning over in his large bed, the image of the girl from the club seared into his mind. The smell of her skin, the way her hair lay framing her face, how those wide eyes had watched his every move.

The way her blood tasted.

The mid-afternoon light shone in his eyes, forcing him to cover his face with his hand to block the…sun.

Sunlight.

The closest thing to fear he could experience shot through his body. Pushing off to the complete other side of the bed, sheets tangling up around his legs.

Holding his hand up to his face and inspecting it carefully. No burns. Not even a red mark marring the pale skin. Allowing his fingertips to poke and prod along his face where the light had hit, coming up empty.

Not a scratch on him. Impossible.

Pushing off the covers and coming to stand on the razor edge of his blackout curtains. The menacing blade of sunlight danced across the carpet, to anyone else it appeared to be a bright clear day outside.

To a vampire that meant certain death. To be caught in the sunlight and burned alive before you even had a chance to escape to the shadows. 

Vampires experienced fear less and less as they aged. Soon the only fear that remained was the sun. 

Thankfully Billy ran a company and when you’re in charge you get to make meetings and social events whenever you damn well pleased. 

Swallowing the anxiety rising like bile in the back of his throat, Billy stuck his hand out tentatively. Inch by inch moving towards the ray of light.

Then he watched as his fingers touched the beam. It flickered over his skin harmlessly. His palm turned this way and that, marveling at this new quandary.

It had been over fifty years since sunlight had touched his skin. Feeling a bit braver he stuck his arm into the light. Then the front of his chest. 

Nothing.

Curiosity conquered the fear and he tore open the curtains, letting them fall wide and drenching the room in bright yellow light.

And for the first time in just under a century Billy stood in the light of day. Looking out at the city. His city. 

Basking in the warmth on his skin. Admiring how the skyscrapers glowed and glittered in the brightness. Looking down at himself. Bare, save for a pair of black boxers, looking at his form in daylight.

A knock at his bedroom door was the only thing that broke his concentration on the skyline around him. 

“Yes?” 

“Mr. Russo?” His assistant, Marcus.

“Come in.” He’d never usually say that, but today, today was different.

Marcus walked in, a towering stack of folders balanced in his hands. Two cell phones in his pocket, a lanyard hung around his neck, and a laptop case draped over his shoulder.

“I’m sorry sir, I know you never want to be bothered at this time…I wasn’t gonna knock, but your secretary said some of these documents needed looked at immediately.”

The young man continued on musing about some meetings he had scheduled that night, intermittently apologizing for the intrusion. Billy couldn’t help but realize that Marcus barely registered that Billy was standing in the sun before him.

Because of course he wouldn’t understand. No one knew what he was. Why would it be weird to see your boss standing before the open window in the light?

The man prattled on about something else but Billy only turned back to gaze at the city. Why was he unharmed? Why was he able to do this?

He examined his hand once more, watching the illuminated dust fall around it before asking,

“Will that be all?”

“Yes, sir.” Marcus hoisted the pile back into his arms, giving a somewhat silly bow type move as he backed out of the room. He was a good kid. Very green, but good.

He had a certain affection for the younger man. Maybe he reminded Billy of what he’d been like before he became so jaded in his years.

Not wanting to move from where he stood, but eventually strolling over to the table with his itinerary for the day…well night rather, on it.

All the usual things and an interview that evening at 9 pm. Wonderful. He hated interviews.

It took exactly 4 hours before whatever magical protection had fallen over Billy to disappear. It was then that he’d felt the tell tale burning and searing pain wrap around his body from the sunlight.

Hissing and pulling back, nearly knocking the table over with him. His coffee cup spilled onto the ground, coating a few documents that would need printed again.

He had pulled his table over in front of the windows to work, tying back the curtains for the first time ever and letting the vibrant yellows and oranges coat the room as he worked.

Typing away in his laptop, answering phone calls, he even had a brief meeting on zoom so people could see his face in the light. Maybe these last years had been a horrible hallucination and he was still human after all?

Maybe the sleepless days and endless nights, the death and destruction of all he knew or cared about wasn’t real. He had been asleep and dreaming awful vivid dreams of needing blood to sustain himself.

Toppling backwards and landing on his rear in the shadowed area of his room. Bringing a hand to his face and seeing red blisters, already beginning to heal but prevalent nonetheless.

His time in the sun had ended. Why did he feel so…terrible? Anguish. That was the word. A longing for something he swore he’d forgotten. 

To feel the heat on his cheeks and savor the warmth that had begun to feel like a far off dream.

He sat dumbfounded for another minute, hearing a buzzing coming from his phone. A reminder for his next appointment.

The stupid device still lay on the table completely covered in daylight,

Well almost. The sun was setting.

Billy watched from the side, hidden safely in the darkness as the sun slowly fell below the skyline and his room was once again cloaked in darkness.

Safely walking over to his phone and typing in his passcode. Pausing to look out over New York once more.

This was the sight he had become so familiar with. The buildings no longer glimmered, but fell muted.

They shine in their own way at night, the moon and stars could be dazzling and bright but it would never be day. 

His phone beeped again. Right. His interview. Deciding to ignore the spilled coffee and messed papers, choosing to attend to those things later and get this stupid thing over with.

Adjusting his suit collar and tightening his tie in the elevator, watching the numbers light up as he ascended to the floor where his office resided. With a delicate ping the metal doors opened and he was greeted by his secretary, Jess.

“Your 9pm is already in the conference room.” She noted, passing a notebook to him and another stack of papers.

There was always something.

“Thank you. This will be quick.” He strode off down the hall and turned right pushing the frosted glass door open.

Only to come face to face with the girl from the club. 

[docs-before-dawn]

03 :: Pink Slice

Honestly, this started as an OC doc I made to re-vamp for my own self-insert. But, I decided to modify it (changed 'Quirk' to 'Power') and edited the color away from my personal favorite scheme (black and amber-yellow) to a more pink-and-purple style! I hope you enjoy it!

How to use: Go to 'File' and select Make a Copy. DON'T REMOVE OR MODIFY THE CREDIT.

Please like/reblog if you end up using this doc template, danke!

Have fun editing, but please be careful! Certain elements of the doc weren't built for text to go on too long or be too short, so you may have to make empty spaces to keep everything in place (or shrink the text a bit!).

This is meant to be an OC Info template, complete with General, Appearance, Personality, Traits, History, and a brief Extra Details page!

Have fun!

Remember: ♥ < 🔁!

[minefield-of-a-ninja]

Prompt: "There’s nothing wrong with women, but a woman can’t hold you down and fuck you like I can.” MOC Dean (or your choice, honestly)… but we know he’s definitely the bottom."

Characters: Dean x Benny with voyeur Castiel

Warnings: 18+ ONLY, cum and spit as lube, anal sex

Words: 1,360

Author's note: for @brrose-apothecary

WHEN WE FALL, THEN WE'LL KNOW EACH OTHER

Purgatory is pure filth, dank and exhausting.

Dean’s never felt so right. Eat, sleep, shit, fuck — except the fucking part; he hasn’t had an opportunity for that since he’s been here.

Still, there’s a sense of harmony, of being true, knowing you’re on the correct path. The soldier in Dean likes doing good, checking things off his list, and sticking to the plan.

Benny wasn’t part of the plan — until he was. Dean’s grateful to have someone who has his back, even if he is a vamp.

Who is Dean, anyway? Isn’t he just an animal at the end of the day? Who’s he to judge his comrade in arms for his less-than-human proclivities?

They still can’t find Cas. They keep hearing about him, missing him, just on his tail. Benny thinks the angel’s dodging them, but Dean won’t stop looking.

“’S’been a day,” Benny says as they settle for the night. They never find impenetrable shelter, and Benny doesn’t sleep, but they guard in shifts wherever they decide to rest. “Y’seem tense, brother.”

Benny notices everything — heightened senses, Dean supposes — and he doesn’t hesitate to call Dean out. Dean doesn’t know if it’s the place, the shift in his own priorities and sense of self, or just Benny, but he never hesitates to answer.

“Gotta find Cas, man,” Dean speaks quietly as he tucks himself into a darkened corner and wraps his jacket tight around his torso, the arsenal inside cloaking him in security and peace.

“I know, I know,” Benny replies just as quietly. “Why don’t you catch a few winks? We can take a closer look at that map we been makin’ after you get some rest.”

Dean nods, and before he knows it, he’s lulling into sleep.

When he wakes, the light is just as saturated, just as indistinct as any other time of day or night; it never changes. Benny’s staring into the distance, stalwart and radiating strength. Dean admires that strength.

Dean’s just-out-of-dream thoughts slip and slide around his consciousness. Benny’s there, almost electric with power, deadly and stunning. These are words that Dean doesn’t say out loud because those are words that no one else needs to know that he thinks.

Benny turns his head and arches a brow. He knows he’s being watched. 

“How’s the nap?” he asks, slowly looking back out at the horizon.

“Same old,” Dean rasps then clears his throat, shifting in place.

“Yeah?” Benny asks, keeping his eyes out on the field. “Sure ‘bout that?”

Dean wonders… “Talkin’ in my sleep again?” he asks.

“Little bit,” Benny chuckles as he looks back to his partner. “You know…” He pauses, his eyes wandering over Dean’s relaxed and prone form. “Ain’t nothin’ wrong with the love of a woman.” He holds up his hands in surrender. “But I promise you, no woman can fuck you like you want right now.”

Dean exhales low and heavy, letting his long legs stretch out and fall open at the knees. “That so?”

They hold each other’s gaze for several beats before Benny looks back out and around them, scanning their surroundings. Then he nods.

Dean rolls his neck and loosens his arms with an accompanying grin. “How do I know you ain’t gonna bite me in the throes of passion?”

Benny turns and stands. “Brother, ‘f I’s gonna bite ya, I’da done it by now.” 

He saunters over to where Dean remains propped in a corner, watching his every move.

“And you’re gonna fuck me how?” Dean sits up straight, pulling his knees up and open, his elbows propped there. “No lube in purgatory.”

Benny smirks and kneels beside him, gripping the back of one knee and yanking until Dean’s flat on the ground. “Oh, cher, I have my ways.”

Then Benny settles over Dean’s longer, leaner body. Dean cocks his jaw and brings his knees up around Benny's sides, watching Benny settle in the cradle of his hips. 

“So romantic,” Dean says, whipping Benny’s cap off and tossing it aside.

Benny huffs a laugh and takes Dean’s mouth slow and languid with his own as Dean pushes his fingers through his hair. He twists and pulls at the cropped sides then drags one hand down between them to hook on the collar of Benny’s t-shirt.

“Just like this, huh?” Dean asks, twisting the fabric in his fist.

Benny nods and dips in to kiss him again. From there, they’re all action and flow. Benny slides until he’s pulling Dean’s jeans open and down to his ankles and his rigid cock into his mouth. He works Dean rough and hard, spitting and sliding two fingers between Dean’s ass cheeks before he can crook a tip inside. 

Turns out he doesn’t have to work too hard, and Dean isn’t too proud to beg because mere minutes pass before Dean groans and thrusts into Benny’s mouth. Just before Dean comes, Benny pulls off to gather as much of Dean’s cum as he can and uses it to mix with his own spit before pushing another finger inside his ass.

“Fuck, man,” Dean breathes, letting himself get loose, reaching for Benny.

“Nah, on your hands and knees,” Benny says. “We gon’ do this right.”

Dean smirks and scrambles to obey, twisting his jeans around his ankles and cursing. Then he spreads his knees as wide as the situation will allow. Benny spits again and pushes two fingers inside.

“Ahh, yeah,” Dean hisses. “Right there, fuck.”

Benny grins, retrieves his fingers, then pushes inside, slow and slick. Dean hangs his head with a heavy sigh.

...

Cas keeps himself hidden. He has for weeks, but he’s always watching, ensuring that no Leviathan catches up with Dean. He watches as Dean lets his vampire companion partially undress him, take his cock inside his mouth, and make him come.

Cas has seen many acts of sex, variations, positions, and many different partners and species. He’s even seen Dean have sex, not that he makes a habit of it, but, on occasion, he’s attempted to check in at inopportune times.

But Cas has never seen Dean have sex with a man.

It’s rough, but Dean’s grinning, almost laughing, as he reaches up and back to grab Benny’s head, pulling him in closer. Cas can hear them clear as crystal, grunting and huffing. Dean’s swearing as he rears back

“Fuck, yes,” he whispers. 

Cas assumes that Dean doesn’t want to alert any beings within earshot of their location and silently vows to watch the perimeter. He can watch for encroachers and watch Dean and Benny.

“Don’t fucking stop,” Dean groans, yanking at the back of Benny’s neck, twisting his fingers in his hair.

Cas feels his vessel respond. He feels his own cock grow hard, and he instinctually grips himself over his pants as Benny grips Dean’s bare hips with meaty hands.

Benny breathes heavily, bracing his head between Dean’s shoulder blades. He nuzzles the leather of Dean’s jacket and sniffs. 

“Gotta stop sometime, Dean. But I want ya to come again. Ya gonna come again?”

“Oh, yeah,” Dean replies. “That’s happening.” 

Benny runs a hand up under the layers of clothing covering Dean’s torso.

“Fuck, use your nails...” Dean grits his teeth and bucks back into Benny. “Hard.”

Benny laughs and does what he’s told, making Dean hiss and throw his head up, arching his neck. Cas sees the teeth as they descend, sees Benny close his eyes and mouth, and shake his head. He watches Benny slam into Dean harder on each thrust, keeping his fangs locked away.

Cas has seen what this vampire has done for Dean; he knows Dean is in no danger from him. So, Cas keeps watching.

He unzips his pants and grips himself in his hand just as Dean grips his own cock, and thrusts in time. He watches, pacing with them. After three more hard pushes, the men on the other side of the stream, amongst the brush and boulders, growl their blissful release, and Cas finishes quietly on his own.

As Benny and Dean collapse in a satisfied heap, Cas tucks himself away and sinks further into his hiding place, scanning the perimeter once more. 

If you like this, tell me or buy me a coffee!

[jvstheworld]

The Buffy re-watch: S1 E1 (part 2)

Welcome to the Hellmouth.

Here's part 2:

-Did people really use 'pos' 'neg' an 'negly' in the 90s?

-Did Giles actually work for the British Museum? Or was that faked because the Watchers Council needed him to work at the school? Either way, a high school librarian is a major step down.

-Do people really ask invasive questions to new kids at schools? I've never been the new kid before so haven't experienced this. If I did I would be concerned too.

-We get our exposition on Vampires, Slayers and why Sunnydale is weird. Good to know these things.

-We never got to meet an incubi or a succubi, I'm sad about that. That would have made for interesting episodes.

-Giles' job is to prepare the slayer in her duties. He can train her as much as he possibly can but it doesn't prepare her for the losses she will face along the way because you can't prepare for it. He also doesn't prepare her for normal life too, and we all know how that will turn out for her.

-The Master's lair is actually a pretty good set, it's dark, dank, creepy and gives a good vibe that something evil is there and isn't over the top about it. He's a vampire, not a bond villain, so it works.

-I love Joyce. I just need to say that.

-And now we meet Angel. Buffy's mystery stalker with the cryptic advice. David Boreanaz does look good here, won't lie.

-One thing I can't fault the show for is the choice in music. Having live musicians play in the background at the Bronze was a good choice. I love diegetic music, adds a sense of realness to scenes.

-I can relate to Giles so much when he is at the Bronze, I too would prefer to be at home with a good book.

-So, Giles already knew who Willow was when Buffy pointed her out. He had been in Sunnydale a couple of weeks and Willow probably already spent a enough time in the library so Giles knew and remembered her name.

-Darla is such an interesting character, I'm glad we et to see more of her in the spin-off, otherwise she would have been a wasted character, in my opinion.

-The Master's intro is just him rising from a pool of water. Not the greatest entrance, that goes to Spike in season 2 and 3, but it's not the worst but does feel a little lacklustre.

-The human to vamp transitions in the show can be hit and miss at times, like some will be seamless and some will look dodgy (Spike's transformation in Once more With Feeling springs to mind).

-Shouldn't Darla recognise a slayer? She would be old enough to know about them, even before the backstory of her, Angelus, Dru and Spike being written, right? So why does she act surprised that Buffy can kill vampires? Seriously, she acts like 'Oh my, a girl who knows about us and can kill us! How is this possible?'

-And we end on a cliff-hanger. Episode is over, see you next week. except I'm watching this on Disney+ so it's actually going to be 20 seconds.

Okay, that's the first episode down, how many more are there? Oh boy, this might take a while. Anyway, thanks for reading if you did.

[lilacsandorangeblossoms]

The beautiful Cover by briarrose. Edited by the fabulous doublemeat palace.

Tagging: @austennerdita2533, @crazychicke, @karinanic, @mydarlingklaus, @tara-maclay-is-still-alive-guys, @i-believe-in-melinda-may, @gh-0-stcup

Everything is quiet on a nice night in Sunnydale, California when the Welcome to Sunnydale sign is driven straight through with a black DeSoto. The driver's side opens and so does the backseat door.

Spike puts his hand out for Buffy to take and he spins her into his arms and dips her as he leaves a kiss on her lips. She laughs as he says, “Home sweet home. God this town will burn.”

Inside the car they hear Drusilla laugh. “Pretty fire.”

Xxx

Spike’ DeSoto comes to a stop outside a factory, it was a little after sunset. He gets out and seconds later the back door of his car opens and Buffy gets out looking around. There's nothing around, no people, no buildings, they are in the middle of nowhere. “I like the hotel better. Even with the blood stains it is better than this place.”

“Oh, is my childe sad? Let daddy make it better.” He pulls Buffy by the waist to him and she puts her arms around his neck.

“You, luv, I can tell are going to like staying at nice places. I can stay anywhere: crypt, hotel, factory in the middle of nowhere, doesn’t matter. Drusilla likes the dark vampire lair type places. After we cure Drusilla I’ll take you anywhere you want to go.”

She raises her eyebrows. “Anywhere?”

He nods and she asks. “What if I found somewhere that was nice but still dark, could we live there?”

“If Drusilla is not too weak to move we will live there.”

Buffy smiles, leans up and kisses him. “Thank you daddy.”

Spike leaves a kiss on her forehead and says. “Watch over Drusilla while I deal with them.” He motions his head in the direction of the door. She nods and his face changes to his vampire face.

With Spike inside talking, Buffy turns to find Drusilla has got out of the car and is going towards the door where she stops her grandsire. “There’s power in there I can feel it.”

“That’s great but you know what else could be great? A new house, what do you think?”

Drusilla doesn’t answer her but looks down at her nails. They are black with white tips. Spike did them last night when Buffy and Darla were killing Lothos. “Do you think I’m pretty?”

She uses the same phrase Darla told her. “Cute as a button. Now what do you think? We’ll need a big place even though it’s the three of us. Spike will probably want some minions; he seems like the type that would want that. And we’ll need a table for research on how to fix you. Ohhh we could have a garden for you and Miss Edith could plant things.”

“I could sleep naked in the dirt under the stars.”

Buffy smiles as she is getting Drusilla on her side. “Yes.”

The younger vamp turns her back on the older one for a second and she hears the door to the factory open and she groans, running after her into the factory.

Spike upon hearing the door open turns his head and at first glance of Drusilla and Buffy, his face goes from vamp face to his normal handsome human face. “Drusilla, Buffy. What are you doing here? You're weak.”

Drusilla points a finger at a twelve-year-old boy sitting higher than everyone else. “He has power, I can feel it from the outside.”

“Yeah he’s anointed.” Buffy can hear the annoyance in Spike's voice, Buffy looks around the room, it's dank and dark and devoid of any color. Just because she is dead doesn’t mean she has to live in the dark. Her Spike and Drusilla are the only pop of color in the room. Drusilla in her white nightgown, Buffy in a blue miniskirt and a black tank top with black knee high boots and a brown jacket. Spike is in black jeans, a black tee shirt with the red button up.

“Spike, I'm cold.” Drusilla’s childlike voice breaks the silence of the room. Spike drapes his leather duster over Drusilla’s shoulders.

The anointed one and his minions look at the three, they are weird. “Do you think you can do it?”

“Not faster than nancy boy but yeah I can do it.”

[edupunkn00b]

Ours, Ch. 2: The Family

Prev - The Family - Next - Masterpost - [ AO3 ]

With the city in a frenzy after V, the oldest spawn of Dracula, is rumored to have sired his first, Pathos meets an impossible man on his patrol. Day 2 of @royalityweek - Family WC: 1738 - Rated: T - CW: discussion of vampires and feeding -

The streets that night stank of bloodsuckers.

Pathos sucked in another deep lungful of the dank, muggy air. A low, involuntary growl slipped past his clenched teeth at the coyly sweet scent of blood and pheromones. 

He’d been out all night patrolling the streets. He circled the blocks around the bloodsuckers’ little den they’d quaintly disguised as some common bar. Hunters could smell it for miles, and so could the vamps. The only benefit of the deceptively friendly moniker out front was the chance they might entice some poor soul guilelessly wandering in.

Some were poor souls. He wasn’t completely naive. He knew there were sickos who actively sought out the monsters, collars open and offering their scarred, delicate skin for the bloodsuckers to feast on. Apparently some portion of the population found it pleasurable. Probably the same portion that enjoyed heroin or… Russian roulette. Pathos frequently spotted those kind of people lurking about Emile’s, just waiting for the sun to set and the doors to open.

He used to try to dissuade them, pulling them away and buying them a coffee or a soda or anything, really. Anything to distract them from their warped impulse to open their veins for a monster.

It rarely worked.

It was nearing dawn, and now that the legitimate human nightlife had flitted away, Pathos would typically return home. Tonight, though… Tonight the city felt activated. The bloodsuckers roamed the city, partying like it was a true last call. The Hunter Guild fought hard to suppress it, but rumors were flying and, if Pathos hadn’t seen it for himself, he would’ve dismissed it all as idle talk, too. 

The spawn of Dracula had finally sired.

Not only that, he then called on one of the traitor Hunter packs to hunt down Yann, the vamp who’d drained his spawn. It wasn’t the first time V had put out a hit on one of his own, but to dust a fellow bloodsucker who’d taken someone who’d initially been willing? Pathos had watched Yann lead the human from Emile’s, slinking together into the darkened alley like lovers. 

But Yann had quickly gone from feeding to draining, well past the point Pathos had seen before when he should have shared his own blood with his victim. If he’d been intending to sire him, at least. Before Pathos could leap down from the roof, V had come roaring in. He’s chased off Yann then finished the job himself. All that just to have him dusted in the end. It didn’t make sense.

So, Pathos continued his patrol. As the night wore on and the genuine bars and clubs closed for the evening, he tightened the spiral of his rounds until he focused on the center of bloodsucker activity in the city. Stationed near the doorway of Emile’s, he watched bloodsuckers and their pets saunter away, the nauseating stink of sex and blood and hormones heavy in the air.

But he could smell the dawn approach and Pathos closed his eyes, the promise of a long, hot shower and a good nap with the rest of his tiny pack settling his stomach. The sound of footsteps closer than expected set his hair on end and his eyes snapped open. Impossible.

Like a dream, the man Pathos had watched Yann drain strode toward Emile’s door. Growling too low for fully human ears to detect, Pathos leapt forward and yanked him away. 

“Do you have a death wish?” he gripped the man’s arm and stared into his eyes. He was alive, heartbeat loud enough for Pathos to hear from where he stood, cheeks and lips flushed with fear. How was he alive?

“What?” The man pulled weakly, shadows heavy under his eyes and a tremor in his hand. The scent of coffee and cortisol poured off of him and Pathos wondered when was the last he’d slept. “Look, I… I don’t have a lot of money but just take it!” He struggled, twisting his arm up and forward, trying to knock Pathos off balance so he’d release him.

A fighter. Pathos grinned. “Money?” He laughed, gently, trying to put him at ease and released him. “I don’t want your money. I’m trying to save your life. That’s a vampire’s den.” 

“Those aren’t real, they—”

Even through his fatigue, he looked strong. Had a little fighting skill, even. But terribly naive. Before Pathos had to argue, though, a bloodsucker and her pet slunk out of Emile’s and into the street. 

Pathos pulled him back to the safety of the shadows and covered his mouth. “Shh, and watch…”

“Oh, my sweet…” the bloodsucker cooed, feeling up her enthralled pet like some object. Pathos’ skin crawled at the display, lower lip caught between his canines as he fought the growl at the back of his throat. It would only scare the soul in his care. Her pet whined and writhed against her. He was so far gone that Pathos was briefly tempted to end his misery right there.

No. The innocent in his arms was his priority now. 

When the truth of Pathos’ warning hit him, wheezing, panicked fear bubbled up and he slid down the wall. Pathos crouched in front of him, one ear out to listen for threats, the other focused on him. He took his hands. They were like ice, cold and clammy, shaking in his grip. He was strong enough to grip back, though, and Pathos squeezed rhythmically to his own breaths. 

“Hey, Kiddo, just breathe for me, okay…” He squeezed again, modeling steady, calm breaths. 

The poor guy choked on his own breath, a terrified sob spilling out. “That’s good, that’s a good try… Try again now,” he murmured. Pathos kept his voice quiet, unwilling to cue any of the bloodsuckers still inside Emile’s to the man’s vulnerability. This was a terrible place for a panic attack, but he was in no state to move. Not yet, at least. 

Pathos moved closer and rubbed his temple against the man’s hair, letting his own scent fill his senses. He was fully human, so he couldn’t consciously register the calming pheromones, but he didn’t have to know it was happening for it to work.

The harsh, scraping sound of his breathing eased, and his heart slowed just a bit. “Very good, that’s it…” Pathos said, smiling when the man nodded. “That’s right. No bloodsucker’s gonna hurt you with me around, okay?” 

The man looked up, the street light clearly illuminating those familiar features. And his perfectly undamaged neck. How? “It’s you, but…”

His eyes widened, hope and fear wrestling for control. “You’ve seen me before?”

Pathos blocked out all the competing scents of the street and drew close. He was… almost the man he’d seen Yann drain. He shook his head. But it wasn’t him. “Not you…” 

“With a mustache?” Pathos wanted to smack his own head. How could he miss such a detail? The man stood, a fresh, hopeful energy radiating off his body.  “You’ve seen my twin? My brother, Remus, I—”

A twin.

“Oh…” Pathos fought a rush of tears. No. This was hardly the first grieving family member he’d consoled. He wasn’t even the first family member of a victim he’d witnessed ripped from this world by a bloodsucker. But this one…

Pathos watched the hope die in his eyes, jaw hardening even as his knees wobbled. “I’m so, so sorry. I…” Pathos held him closer, firming his grip and lending him what strength he could.. “I have seen your brother… he…” 

If only he’d just been a little faster, if he’d been just a little more suspicious of a ‘pet’ he didn’t recognize… He could’ve saved this man’s brother.  “The bloodsuckers got him.”

“What? No—” Tears coursed down his cheeks and Pathos maintained his grip, pulling him close when his denials broke into sobs.  

“Oh, Kiddo,” he whispered, rubbing his back. “There’s no body, Kiddo. They… they turned him.”

He trembled in Pathos’ arms, pulse raging just beneath his skin. “How… how do you know?” The man’s voice was quiet and it felt like he was still grasping for hope. 

Hope Pathos had to tear away.

“I saw it happen, Kiddo.” He held the man close, again rubbing his temple against the side of his head and growling just below his level of hearing to soothe him. “From the roof.”

"And you just watched!?" The man stepped back, fleeing the truth, but Pathos held fast. He couldn’t let him run. The first bloodsucker who sniffed out his vulnerability would take him down in a heartbeat. 

He explained as gently as he could. But it wasn’t gentle enough.

“I’ll kill him.”

Pathos really thought he would try it, too. The man stared back at him, daring him to even try to come up with a reason why he shouldn’t. 

He was young, and strong, and determined. There was a ferocity just under the surface, but a softness, too. Warmth and care. Loyalty. Is this what Ire saw in him all those years ago? “What do you know about The Hunters?”

“I…” He vibrated under Pathos’ hands, eyes darting out to the street. He wanted to run, he wanted to go and hunt V down single-handedly. Pathos knew the feeling. “I didn’t think they were real, either. Like Superman or something.” He looked Pathos’ up and down, at his stake, his knife, his calloused hands. “But you sure look pretty real to me.”

Pathos smiled and offered his hand. “I am.” His smile grew when the man pressed shaking fingers in his grip. “You can call me Pathos.”

“Roman,” he said quietly.

“Thank you for your name, Roman,” Pathos nodded. “I will guard it.”

He waited for Roman to ask. The Hunter’s code would not allow him to ask him first. “So you’re a Hunter?” he whispered. Roman squeezed his hand and Pathos squeezed back, just a hint of his full strength. 

Roman smiled. His smile was beautiful. “How…” He stood a little straighter. “How do I become a Hunter, too?”

“I’ll show you.” Pathos laced their fingers together. Roman stilled then, thumb rubbing circles in the bits of remaining fur on the back of his hand. “I’ll show you everything.” Smiling, Pathos led him out of the darkened alley. The sun was just beginning to trace a line of pink along the horizon, peeking through the canyon carved between the skyscrapers. “Come with me, Roman, and meet the family.”

[synsick]

[lord-of-the-demons]

The Count from Seasame Street probably fucks Mac and cheese.

[jaeyleo]

Maybe another prompt with Henrik taking care of a starving vamp!Chase? Only if it’s something you want to do! And I love your writing!

thank you so much! youre a sweetie !!! also! i said this a while ago but for reference since i’m getting more vamp prompts: when a human is about to be fed on, they see the moon as a blood moon!

tws: blood, hunger, paranoia

—-

Henrik can feel eyes on him.

He is alone in his little clinic, organizing and reorganizing medicines he’s organized and reorganized four times today already. Softly he is humming to himself, trying to keep his mind away from the paranoia.

Because, that’s all it ever is, isn’t it? Just paranoia?

There are eyes, eyes like drills and screwdrivers and saws tearing into his skin. There are eyes on his back and breath on his hair and teeth on his throat- teeth on his throat!!!!!

Henrik whips around, pressing himself into the counter. No one is there. He is breathless and shaking, but no one is there.

Just... paranoia.

But in the corner of the room, he sees a pair of owl eyes, watching his every move. Listening to his beating, healthy heart. The light is casting gentle breaths on its hair, and slowly, the owl emerges, and reveals itself as Chase Barrens.

A shaking, starving, Chase Barrens.

“Doc....” says the vampire. His eyes are drills and screwdrivers, and Henrik’s are wood softened by rain and moss. Easily, and satisfyingly breakable.

“You sit, Chase,” Henrik chokes. He is a mouse, a small, frail little mouse in the presence of an owl. He points to the clinic bed. “I check on you? Yes? Y- you need..... you need check up?”

“I need food,” growls Chase. His eyes flicker around the room, Henrik’s neck, Henrik’s moss green eyes. The fangs are visible in Barrens’s mouth, and nearly fully grown out. Nearly ready to feed.

“S- sit down. I have food. Not me. But I have f- ah! Bitte!”

Chase didn’t mean to move so fast. There are holes drilling into wood. Starving breath on Henrik’s skin. The doctor looks up at Chase, his wrists held to the counter by the vampire’s hands. If Henrik were to look out the window right now, the moon would be a familiar crimson shade.

“Sorry...” murmurs Barrens. The doctor trembles like an autumn branch in a leafless tree.

Chase backs away and sits on the clinic bed, watching Henrik’s every move as an owl will watch a little mouse.

A blood bag, stolen from a donation truck, is taken out of the fridge. The little mouse hands it to the owl, and with claws as sharp as knives, eyes as loud as drills, the owl takes it from the mouse’s trembling, autumn branch hands.

Chase doesn’t wait for a moment to open the bag and begin drinking. Blood rushes down his throat in steady waves as if it was a river held in his hands. His eyes close, and he hums as the craving slowly ceases. Henrik’s heartbeat isn’t so deafening to the owl’s strong ears anymore.

The doctor has pushed himself against the far wall, watching Chase’s chest slow from heaving to steady rising and falling. The bag slowly becomes empty, and the vampire finishes with a heavy sigh.

“Better....?” asks Henrik, watching as Chase lies back against the clinic bed.

“Yes. Danke, doktor....”

Henrik hums in his reply, sinking to the ground in relief.

[allykatsart]

“Danke for ze meal, Darling.”

I have gotten SEVERAL comments ( Yes, I do read your tags. Yes I do see you thirsting over him) on Vamp Henrik’s design. Most of them being of the “OH NO HE’S HOT.” Variety. So i figured why not and gave into temptation.... and perhaps so did Henrik. :3

@taikeero-lecoredier @immabethehero @skatle-skootle-demon-noodle

[elvendara]

Mysme Fictober Oct 2nd

For @mysme-fictober 2020 prompt list

This one is so-so, don’t judge!

Day 2: Vampire Hunters

“Shut the hell up or I’m taking my sock off and stuffing it in your mouth!” Vanderwood growled through gritted teeth. Seven thinned out his lips and ran his pressed thumb and forefinger across them as if zipping them up. Vanderwood rolled his eyes but said nothing. Seven forced himself to hold in his laughter.

He knew it was serious, but his coping mechanism had always been to joke about what he was a afraid of, and a nest of new vampires was high on that list, especially as they now snuck towards them. The agency had developed some UV lights and there were several that now hung from his belt. The gun was tightly in his grip, but it was useless unless he got lucky and shot the vamp in the heart. His skills with the weapon were not on par with Vanderwoods. Since the older man was more experienced, he led their team through.

All were dressed in black from head to toe, the ski mask covering Seven’s red hair, not a single strand visible. He wore thick goggles instead of his glasses as it could be problematic if he were to suddenly lose his glasses. Checking behind him to make sure the rest of the team was still there, he didn’t notice Vanderwood stop and bumped into him, almost dropping his weapon.

Vanderwood turned and glared at him. Seven shrugged and gave him a thumbs up. The taller man shoved Seven back and continued his slow advance.

A few minutes later he halted the team and sent two agents to the other side of the opening he’d come across. The cave was dank, lichen covering the walls giving off an eerie green light. The cavern they stood outside of felt immense, as if it was the entrance into a black hole. Vanderwood gave Seven the signal for him to stay and watch. Seven nodded and took Vanderwood’s place at the edge of the opening. He watched as the tall man entered slowly and made his way towards what he assumed was the center. It didn’t take long for the man’s form to become indistinct in the darkness. There was nothing but silence surrounding them. Seven’s heart seemed to be screaming in his ears.

A scream pealed through the air, a sound Seven never thought to hear from his stoic handler. He reached for one of the UV lights on his belt, turned it on and aimed it towards the source of the scream. Several other lights came on from other agents. Seven instinctively closed his eyes from the overwhelming glare. Blinking rapidly, his eyes finally adjusted. Vanderwood sat on the ground, his back towards Seven and the others, slumped over. Seven’s eyes scanned the area but there was no sign of any vamps, or anything else either. The cavern’s floor was smooth if gravely, there were some stalactites were visible within the light, but the ceiling of the cavern was too high to see.

Seven swiped the light around Vanderwood and towards the ceiling, nothing seemed out of the ordinary, but the stalactites were thick enough for vamps to hide behind. Vanderwood was perfectly still and Seven knew they had to go in and get him out. He motioned to the rest of the team and they headed in, Seven straight for Vanderwood.

Hanging the UV light back on his belt, keeping his weapon trained down and away from the man, he reached out to Vanderwood. As his fingers touched his shoulder, the man turned towards him, a mask on his face of a grinning pumpkin. Before he could even register that fact there were several pops from above him, his head snapping at the perceived danger, his weapon coming up, looking for a target. Several balloons fell from the stalactites and confetti rained downed on him, glitter attaching itself to his dark clothes. His amber eyes narrowed in confusion.

Then he heard laughter. He looked down, Vanderwood was doubled over, holding his stomach, his shoulders heaving with humor.

“What the fuck?” Seven glanced around him, noticing that the rest of his team was also chuckling. They began to take off their masks and Seven was stunned. Yoosung, Saeran, MC, Zen, Jaehee, and even Jumin were among those that had come in with him.

“We got you! Oh my God we finally got you! You should see your face! Saeran, did you record all of that?” Yoosung was gleefully jubilant, dancing on his feet.

Seven wasn’t sure he was seeing what he was seeing. Was this real? Had they ganged up to prank him? Had they really gotten Vanderwood and some of the other agents to go along with it? His chest hurt with the thrumming of his heart. He was glad there was no real danger, but fuck! He shook his head and had to laugh. They got him, yep…he would have to keep his eyes open from now on.

[2021ya]

IDOL GOSSIP

by Alexandra Leigh Young

(Walker Books, 9/14/21)

9781536213645

Add to Goodreads

Purchase from Bookshop

An inside look at the K-pop phenomenon, in a wry, punchy young-adult debut that probes cultural differences, sisterhood, and the minefield of fame. Every Friday after school, dressed in their new South Korean prep-school uniforms — sweater vests, knee-highs, pleated skirts, and blazers — seventeen-year old Alice Choy and her little sister, Olivia, head to Myeongdong, brave a dank, basement-level stairwell full of graffiti, and slip into a noreabang. Back in San Francisco, when she still had friends and earthly possessions, Alice took regular singing lessons. But since their diplomat mom moved them to Seoul, she pours herself into karaoke, vamping it up in their booth to Lady Gaga while loyal Olivia applauds and howls with laughter. Alice lives for Fridays, but when an older woman stops her on their way out one day, handing Alice a business card with a bow, singing turns serious. Could the chance encounter really be her ticket to elite status at Top10 Entertainment’s Star Academy? With a little sisterly support, backed by one of the world’s top talent agencies, can Alice lead her group on stage before a stadium of 50,000 chanting fans — and just maybe strike K-pop gold? Not if a certain influential blogger and the anti-fans get their way. Delicious gossip squares off with genuine heart in a debut about standing out and fitting in, dreaming big and staying true — for avid K-pop fans and those just discovering the worldwide cultural phenomenon.

[dustedmagazine]

The Vacant Lots — Damage Control (A Recordings)

The Vacant Lots churn out a clanking, droning, psychedelic racket, tipping nods to Spaceman 3, Jesus & Mary Chain, VU and, perhaps because they are also a duo, especially Suicide. They come by these references honestly, by the way, having opened for Suicide and collaborated with a bold-faced roster of drone-rock names. They recorded their first album, Departure, with the aid of Sonic Boom, and their second, Endless Night, with Alan Vega. Damage Control packages two EPs recorded with Brian Jonestown Massacre’s Anton Newcombe: Berlin from 2016 and Exit from 2019.

The two principals met in Burlington, Vermont in the late aughts, drawn together by their shared love of dank, Teutonic grooves. Jared Artaud sings and plays guitar and bass, while Brian MacFadyen mans electronics, synths, drums and also sings. Together they conjure a dark, distorted and motoric sound full of echo and clangor. They use something called a “drone box,” an electronified Indian tanpura, to generate the long wavery tones that ground their hard rocking songs in shadow and mystery. The songs on these two EPs rattle on for a good bit, circling back on riffs in dogged repetition, yet opening out these structures through expansive use of pedal effects and electronic sounds.

The compilation works in reverse chronological order, starting with the four songs from Exit, then moving to the earlier Berlin. It’s a sound decision, because the material from the later disc is noticeably stronger, particularly chiming, swaggering “Bells,” which sounds a lot like Echo & the Bunnymen. “Silence” uses a jaw harp-ish sound in its opening, but settles soon into a Spacemen 3-esque vamp. Maybe the best is “Disordered Vision,” decadent and dissolute, a raved out bummer of a song that spits vitriol at religion (“explain to the sky why you’re someone to save”), politics (“a means to an end is just a beginning”) and patriotism (“lend a hand to your nation and they’ll take both your legs”). Clanging guitar rouses, while deadpan lyrics ask what’s the point. The cut is so decadent and world-weary that you start to wonder what it would sound like in German—and, after a couple more cuts, you find out in “Vershwinden,” the most intriguing track from Berlin.

This one is lighter and more dance-y than anything we’ve heard so far, layered with shimmering female voices speaking in German, the synths translucent, a buoyancy in the percolating repetition. If Exit sounded like it was recorded in a damp cellar, Berlin lets a bit of air and sunshine in, at least occasionally. Though, admittedly, it ends in a long, droning, mind-melter called “Funeral Rites.”

The question, with a band like Vacant Lots, is whether it’s more than its impressive touchstones, whether it adds much to the canon or only echoes it. If you like Brian Jonestown Massacre, Suicide, Spacemen 3, etc. you will almost certainly find sounds to enjoy here, but not much to take the genre further.

Jennifer Kelly

[dumbbitchenergy17]

I’m Sorry (Part 3)

Summary- You are Michael’s vessel as you are dean’s kid and letting him use you instead of your dad

Dean x daughter!reader

Word count-2,374

A man sits in a small motel room getting ready to pray. “Glorified be you, all praise is yours, perfect is your name, most high is your majesty and greatness. None has the right to be worshipped but you, the only one God.” he speaks in Arabic placing his knees and hands on the floor, “Glorified be my God, the highest. Glorified be my God, the highest. Glorified be my God, the highest.”

He looks up. In front of him, Michael is sitting on a chair and staring down at him, wearing Y/n’s vessel. He falls back, scared. “Hello, Jamil.” Michael greets “Who are you?” the man quivers “Oh, we’ve never met. But you’ve read all about me. How does it go?” “Whoever is an enemy to Allah, and His angels, and His messengers, and Gabriel and Michael then indeed, Allah is an enemy to the disbelievers.” He declares resting his hands on his knees as his eyes glow blue.

“You’re… God?” Jamil wavers

“Close, but… not quite.” Michael sighs “Gabriel?” he questions “The other one. The better one.” Jamil replied“Michael.” “There we go.” Michael clasps his hands “No, no, no, no. Why are you here?” He asks Michael stands up brushing the invisible dirt off him “Well, that is the question, isn’t it? Why are we here? I know why I’m here to ask you a question.” Jamil wonders “What question? Michael leans in closer “The same question I’ve spent weeks traveling around this world asking all sorts of people. Holy men, leaders, killers. And now I come to you, Jamil Hamed...What do you want?” Jamil stutters “What? “Do you want? Exactly. If you could have anything, name it.” the archangel pressed “Peace. And love.” Jamil answers Michael hums “If you cared about peace, you never would have left Syria. You never would have ran and abandoned your friends to die – and they did die.” “No.” “And if you cared about love, you never would have gone into that broom closet with – What was her name?” Michael continues “No.” Jamil breathes shakily “Darlene? Your wife would have never left and you wouldn’t be living in this... rat hole.” Jamil tries to attack Michael, who throws him on the floor without even moving. “And that’s the problem with you. You’re lost... And not worth saving.” Michael sighs “Wha—what—what do you want?” Jamil cries

“What I always wanted... a better world.”

Survivors from the Apocolypse are preparing their weapons. Mary approaches one of them. “Hi.”

“You got silver. Devil’s trap. Holy Oil.” Russel lists pointing at various bullets as he grabs a gun “And these here, they’re dipped in Dean Man’s blood.” Mary takes the gun and loads it. he continues “Basically, you need some freak dead? I got you.” Mary checks the gun. In front of her, Maggie is helping another survivor with his wounds. “A rawhead did this?” she asks “Yeah. Outside Phoenix. They’re faster than they look,” Howard winces as Maggie extracts a fang from the wound, “Meaner, too.” he said “So, so gross.” Maggie gags

The door creaks open. Trevor walks in. “Soup’s on. Who’s eating?” “Right here.” Howard lifts his good arm up “Yeah, I’ll –” another began just as Sam enters the bunker making his way down the stairs. “Yeah, right here. How about you guys?” Trevor asks Mary looks up to her youngest “Sam.” she smiles pulling him into a hug “Hey, Mom.” “How was Atlanta?” she asks walking with him “It was, uh... It was a bust. The woman who claims she saw an “angel”... was,” he laughs, “Let’s just say I think she had one too many hits of the brown acid, you know?” Mary frowns“Sam, we’re gonna find her. Ketch is working that thing in London. Castiel is in Detroit. I know it’s been three weeks since Y/n...Something will break. It has to.” Sam nods yawning “Yeah. Yeah, you keep saying that.” Mary sighs “Have you slept? At all. Sam, you need to rest. Go and lay down.” trying to convince her son “Mom –” Sam sighs “Chief.” Someone cuts into their conversation “Hey.” Sam gives a weak smile “Good to have you back.” he says handing a bowl of soup. “Thanks.” Sam nods

“Don’t thank me yet. Word is we got some vamps heading East on I-90. Gipsy types. Pickin’ off truckers mostly. Last body got drained and dropped just outside La Crosse six hours ago.” he explains  Sam sighs before talking

“Okay. Um... All right. Get me teams of two. I want watchpoints every 50 miles. If you see something, say something. Maggie, can you hack the traffic cams on the freeway?” he questions

“Um... no,” Maggie says sheepishly

“Right. Right. Of course. Sorry. Um, I got it. Thank you,” Sam says passing the untouched food to Mary “Uh, please. Would you call in Sharon and her crew? We’re gonna need all hands on deck here.” the man nods walking out the war room Sam sits down, starts typing on his laptop. Mary approaches him again.

“Sam..” Mary starts “I’m good,” Sam replies Mary puts a hand on his. Sam looks at her. “I’m good. I am you should be asking Dean that he’s the one with the missing daughter.”Sam says giving her a sad smile  “Hey, how’s Jack?” As devotees are leaving the Church. A couple stops to talk to sister Jo. “You saved me, Sister.” The man thanks “Thank you.” Sister Jo smiles “God bless you.” the woman states “He does, every day.” Sister Jo walking down a dimly light alley, counting the money she made. Suddenly, a flutter of wings “Hey, Jo.” The feminine voice stops her in her tracks. She turns Y/n Winchester but not her. “Who are you?” Jo queried “You don't recognize me with this pretty face?” stated Michael Jo frowned “You're not -- You're not Y/n Winchester. You're,” she trailed off seeing his true form, “oh god.” she inhales sharply

“People keep calling me that.” Jo turned to walk away. “Ah, ah. We need to talk.” Michael tsked “You're the Archangel Michael, from another world, and you're possessing Y/n Winchester.” Jo confirmed

“Sounds more complicated than it is.” Michael shrugged “Why would she ever say “yes” to you?

“Love.” Michael spat walking towards Sister Jo. “Really? That's very Hallmark Channel. So, I'm just gonna go now.” Jo chuckled “No, you're not. Not until I ask you... what do you want?” He remarked

“I don't know. Chanel, Dior, Louis Vuitton.” Jo joked “You think this is a joke?” Jo shook her head “I don't know what this is. You asked I answered. We done?” Michael scoffed “No. I asked, and you lied.” “I didn't.” Jo crossed her arms Michael walks closer to her placing a hand on her cheek. “I know about you, Jo. Because he knew about you. You're the rebel, the angel who doesn't like playing by Heaven's rules or whatever. You pretend to care about these things -- pretty things. But that's all it is -- pretending. These trinkets, they don't make you happy. They just pass the time. They're not what you really want.”

“And if you're so smart, what do I really want?” Jo sassed

“Love,” Michael stated, “To belong, to have a place -- a home, a family. It's very very human of you. And so, so disappointing,” he smirked, “I can sense how many angels are in this world. There aren't many left. I thought... maybe I could help. But if they're all these sad, lost, fallen things -- things like you -- maybe they're not worth saving, either.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Sam walked out of Nick’s room sighing running a hand down his forehead. his phone goes off seeing it’s Cas he picks up “Hey, Cas.” He greets “Hello, Sam.” A voice answers Sam straighten up at the unfamiliar voice “Who is this?” he demands the voice laughs “Oh. I'm the boy who's got your angel. And if you want to see him again, you know, alive, we should probably chat.”

Sam begins to pack some weapons to rescue Castiel, along with Bobby, Jack, Maggie, and Mary. “It's a trap.” Mary sighed closing up her bag “Yep.” Sam nodded continuing packing

“This guy's a-” bobby asked “Demon.”Sam cut him off as he closed up his bag “He just told you he was a demon?” Jack questioned

Sam nodded “Yeah. He seemed pretty proud of it, too.” Bobby grumbled, “Yeah, they ain't a real humble bunch.” Maggie looked at the group of people “So, what do we do?” Sam loads his gun speaking “We get Cas back. All right, grab holy water, Devil's Trap bullets, angel blades, because whatever we're walking into-”

“It's gonna suck.” Bobby groaned “Exactly. Maggie, you're with Bobby. Mom, you're with me.” Sam continued Jack stood up looking at Sam “I'm coming, too. I know I'm not as strong as I used to be, but... I can help...I have to.” bobby placed a hand on jack’s shoulder “Listen, kid..” “Okay. Grab your gear.” Sam interrupts him Jack smiles at him and hurriedly leaves to prepare. Bobby looks over at Sam shocked “Sam, I mean -- Jack's a worker, but he ain't ready for a full-on demon smackdown.” Sam sighed “So... we keep an eye on him. He needs this, Bobby.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Kipling grabs a cup of coffee from the bar. Castiel is still chained to the chair, bloody from his previous fight with the demons. “And danke, sweetie.” The demon raises his glass towards the bartender as he sits next to Castiel. “Castiel, you sure I can't get you anything hot and black?” Cas replied, “Coffee has no effect on me.” Kipling shrugged “Hm. Me either.” he takes a sip “You know, not anymore, but it's like saltwater taffy or infants -- you know, I just like the taste.” “Why are you doing this?”

“I'm just trying to be a good host like Mother would have wanted,” Kipling answered

Castiel sighed “No, Why are you using me as bait?” He said shaking the chains around him Kipling looked over at him “I mean, it's kind of what you're for, isn't it? And I need something... from Sam Winchester.”Castiel laughed “You really think that he's gonna make a deal with you?”

“Oh, he's dealt with worse. You see, recently, I had a revelation. You know, somebody asked me what it was that I wanted, and I realized that after 600 years as a demon walking the planet, destroying, drinking, defiling -- you know, the Three D's -- I didn't know. So, I sat back, and I gave it a good think, and I realized exactly what I wanted.” Kipling continued now standing above Cas

“And what is it?”

“Everything.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ 

The Impala speed down the road, followed by another car Sam focuses on the road as Mary is sitting shotgun “Sam, it's gonna be fine.” she tries to reassure him. Sam scoffs “Stop saying that, please.”

“What?”

“It's gonna be fine,” that everything's gonna be fine, we're gonna find y/n, and..” Sam started thinking about his niece out there with Michael having no clue what he could be doing to her. Mary placed a hand on his shoulder “We are.”

“You don't know that....Y/n's gone, and we have no idea where she is or-or if she's even still alive. You know, Michael could have... burned her out or... worse, and...” He sighed

Mary frowned ”I know. I know she's out there, scared and alone. I know. I know she might never come back. Never think I don't know that. But -- I can't -- I have to think about the good, Sam, because, if I don't, I will drown in the bad. For Dean's sake for his kid, I can't do that. We can't do that.” She answers for the sake of Dean Sam and the rest had left after killing Kipling and most of the demons before heading back. Sam sits at the table, pressing a cold beer to his forehead as he talks on the phone “Yeah. Yeah, yeah. I -- No, I don't care. I -- just keep looking. Yeah. Thanks.” he hangs up sighing another dead end.

“Who was that?” Cas said entering sitting next to Sam “Uh, Ketch. He's in London searching for the Newton-Dee Hyperbolic Pulse Generator.” Sam answers

“The what?” Cas tilts his head in confusion

“It's the -- It's the magic egg that kicked Lucifer out of the President. I thought we could use it on Michael, but -- Ketch can't find it. So, that's another dead end, which is just awesome.” Sam explained sighing

Cas glanced over to his friend “Sam, are you all right?

“Yeah, I've been better. I've been worse. You?” Castiel looked down ashamed “I'm-I'm just sorry. I should never have gone to those demons.” Sam placed a hand on his shoulder “Cass, I -- No, I-I-I don't blame you. I... Honestly, I-I wish I'd have thought of it first. If it meant finding Y/n, I-I'd work with -- I'd do anything. Dean hasn’t been himself since.”

After Cas left Sam headed to his room he turns the light on and leaves his phone on the table. The phone starts vibrating Sam grabs it answering “Hello?”

“Sam?” The voice of Sister Jo calls through 

“Jo?” Sam handed heard from her since Lucifer 

“Yeah. We have a problem.” Jo answered

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Now, you -- you know exactly what you want. You don't pretend to want to help people or save the world. Your want is pure and simple and clean. And that's why you are worth saving. That's why we are going to work so well together. Because you -- you just want to eat.” Michael smiles looking over at the pack of hungry werewolves and vampires.

Dean sits in his room staring at an old photo of him and Y/n it was her 17th birthday they were sitting on impala talking about life when Sam took a photo of them together so happy and pure. A tear lands on the glass as Dean realizes he’s crying, wiping the tears from his face he stares at her face in mid-laugh. The door opening tears Dean from his thoughts.

Sam looks at him with a small smile “Dean we found her.”