SPIKE

spike // age 166 or 26 // vampire // love's bitch but at least he knows it

[willivmthebloody]

gravediirt‌:

“midnight’s not usually a prime time for mourners. vandals, on the other hand…” his tone wasn’t accusatory but he let it hang in the air. isaac wasn’t buying the tears and sniffles. “rules are rules. i don’t make ‘em, i’m just paid to keep ‘em.” he’s paid to dig graves and clean graffiti, actually, but this too. 

"Vandals? Good thing there aren’t any around here, then.” Spike nodded with a smirk. “If I see your employer, I’ll be sure to share what a thorough job you’re doing with your midnight patrol, and all that. But seeing as I’m not causing any trouble-- can’t see what it’d hurt if you kept on your way and let me keep on mine.” 

[of-impala-deactivated20200213]

meme starter prompt: ⛪ a church right after a funeral, a small handful of people dressed in black hanging their heads in silence [ @willivmthebloody ]

It’s not like Dean makes a habit of hanging out at funerals.

He’s been to a few: hunter style, the pyre and the drinking and the rowdiness. He’s even been to a few proper funerals, but only in the investigative sense, never because he knew the deceased – except for one, twenty-two years ago.

Maybe that’s why he’s hanging out on the edge of the graveyard. His dead mom is not only alive, but also here, and a slayer (surprise!) which he guesses makes him the son of a slayer (double surprise!), and here Dean is: sitting on the trunk of the Impala in the early evening, watching a small crowd filter out of a tiny church, following the coffin to the adjoined graveyard. It’s overcast even as the sun is setting, the coffin’s adorned in flowers, and at a distance, he can just make out tearful voices.

It’s freaking depressing, that’s what it is.

And this guy, who’s walking past? Dude might be dressed in all black but he sure as hell ain’t funeral appropriate.

“Wow. Billy Idol called, and he wants his entire look back,” Dean cracks. “I mean, it’s hot, not gonna lie, but I’m kinda expecting you to break out into White Wedding any second now.”

[willivmthebloody]

Of course there’d be a crowd of mourners in his way as he was leaving the crypt he’d recently claimed. He’d gotten a job earlier at the mechanic shop in town, worked the earlier morning shift, then headed back to the graveyard to waste time for the rest of the day, intending to offset his productivity with appropriate laziness. Now that the sun was setting, though, he was ready to see what else in town he hadn’t explored yet-- and it would have been an absolutely lovely walk through the graveyard if it weren’t for the funeral in his path. All crying, and whispering, and carrying on. And blocking the sidewalk. 

So he takes the long way about, carelessly cutting through the gravestones and the grass, and still finding people in his way once he gets closer to the exit. A slow-moving procession, it seems. He's in the middle of giving one young teary-eyed girl a dirty glance so she’ll get the hint and move out of his way when a voice stops him in his tracks. He turns around to see a man sitting atop the trunk of his very impressive-looking old car. Heckled about his fashion sense in a graveyard, that’s a new one. “What’s it to you?” 

And Billy Idol’s look? It was Spike’s look first. He casually swerves from his intended direction and headed over towards the car to set the record straight. “I don’t sing. If it did-- A, it’d put Billy Idol to shame, and B, feel like them over there wouldn’t appreciate the mid-service entertainment.” He jerks his thumb towards the procession. Though it would make the funeral more memorable.

[willivmthebloody]

chcos‌:

continuing to hum the song, drusilla plucked herself up, rising to her feet before sauntering into the next room. her feet landed on cracked tiles, her shoes had been discarded long before she broke in here. there was always a need for her to be connected to the earth in some way or another, generally a bare foot did the job well. long black fingernails travelled across the back of his shoulders in a tap along with the melody she hummed before her arms lazily draped over his shoulder. “my mum used to sing it to me when i was a child. beautiful, isn’t it?” her lips brushed against his cheek as she took a seat next to him, fingers gliding over the keys of the piano but not touching them. “I missed you at the party–” she began, eyes running over his features before a small smile crept onto her scarlet lips. “Do you ever think about what it would have been like if you and I had met without me being–me?”

Drusilla’s continued humming heralded her entrance into the piano’s room. Spike resisted the urge to sigh as he spared a glance at her bare feet, which were bound to get sliced open on a rusted nail or shard of glass in a dilapidated place like this. He didn’t fuss about it aloud, though-- he knew by now that nothing he said would change her mind, anyway. “It’s not bad,” he agreed as she settled down next to him. “Missed you, too. Hope you didn’t have too much fun without me.” Stretching his fingers back out over the keys again, he slowly continued her song as she spoke, underscoring her words. “Without you being you...” He supposed she meant if she’d been human when they met, maybe. Or if she’d not been the special way that she was. But the way they had met, and everything that followed-- he would never have wanted to change it. Spike shrugged before examining her face curiously. “Never gave it much thought, no. Why?” 

[ashxmiles]

Once again, Ash was drunk at Harvelle’s Roadhouse, sipping on a beer as the chatters of the people echoed around him. The thoughts swirling in his head over research sometimes made him think in different languages, and occasionally it echoed with his speak. Turning to the person next to him, he quickly cheered in Japanese before leaning closer. “What’chya doin’?” He asked, Ash’s tinted glasses did not hide his glazed hues that clearly showed that he was tipsy.

[willivmthebloody]

There was a hunter at one of the tables in the back of this Roadhouse place. They walked a certain way-- gave it away. That, and the weapons Spike’d seen in the back of their car in the parking lot. Following them into the bar, he’d only meant to keep a curious eye on the hunter, but figured it was prime time for a drink, especially when he recognized one of the bartenders as having stopped at the mechanic shop earlier. Spike was finishing his second old fashioned, relatively unbothered, when someone leaned over and invaded his personal space. “What does it look like I’m doing?” he asked, annoyed and leaning away from the intrusion. “Drinking. Not talking. Got it?”

[willivmthebloody]

🎹

let’s gooooo! answered here.

[willivmthebloody]

@chosenslayer // atmospheric starter meme

Spike released his fangs from the neck of the man in front of him, letting the body hit the dirty floor with a thump. He wiped his mouth on the sleeve of his jacket before nudging the man’s leg where he lay on the ground, but the man didn’t move. He might wake up later-- or he might not. Wasn’t Spike’s problem. The shifty man had looked like he’d been trying to steal from this derelict house when Spike had wandered by-- really, the house’s owners owed him thanks. Not that they’d been here in a while, though, judging from the layers of dust on the bookshelves and the overturned furniture. This man hadn’t been the first to ransack the place, and he probably wouldn’t be the last. 

Leaving the drained body where it’d collapsed, Spike began to make his way back towards the door before... pausing. Maybe it was the night wind blowing through the broken windowpanes, or maybe it was a shift in the uneven floorboards of the slowly-crumbling house-- but he’d heard what sounded like the tinkling of piano keys. He took a curious step towards the next room, speaking aloud in case anyone was there. “Bit late for a house call.” 

[askjldfhaksjldfaskjdf]

@willivmthebloody // meme based starter

crumbling paint and distressed old furnishings decorated the abandoned mansion with an almost elegance. back in it’s day this place would have stood with pride amongst the trees and shrubbery that now were overtaking. Drusilla lay with her back to the old dining table, hair strewn in a mess about her, one hand grasping an old silver knife and another, delicately tracing the patterns on the dusty yet still fine tablecloth that lay under her form.  she felt an almost calming sense in places of disrepair, something that spoke to her spirit within the walls of the crumbling beast which people once called home. 

she was lost in her own thoughts about the people who lived here, what secrets they had, how many parties they’d thrown and why they’d left. why did people like the lockwoods get to keep their old houses when others didn’t? the soft strokes of a baby grand sounded from the other room, dancing to her with nostalgia filled notes. she began humming along, a tune begging familiarity. “run and catch… run and catch… the lamb is caught in the blackberry  patch… Spike? is that you my love?”

[willivmthebloody]

A dust-covered baby-grand piano sat untouched in the corner of the decrepit room. As Spike wandered over towards it, he could see that water dripping from the ceiling had rotted away part of the lid, but surely the hammers would still strike, if the strings hadn’t wasted away. Leaning up against the front of the piano, he let his fingers settle across the rotting keys as he began to idly pluck out a one-handed melody. Two of the keys were silent, so he shifted over to a lower octave. Slightly better, though still sorely out of tune. 

He wasn’t surprised when he heard Drusilla speak up from the next room over. He had followed her here, after all. “Yeah, it’s me,” he replied, continuing to pluck out the melody. Who else would it be? Best not to ask. When he abruptly pulled his fingers off of the keyboard, their sour notes continued to echo through the abandoned mansion. “What’s that song, anyway? Think I must have learned it from you...” 

[willivmthebloody]

💀A cemetery full of dead, dry flowers as if all of the plots have been forgotten, some of the stones cracked or sinking into the dirt

wahooo answered here. 

[willivmthebloody]

@delicacyies for darla // atmospheric starter meme

If they were going to be in this town for a while, he thought, he might as well scout out a halfway decent place to stay. Sure, he could check out the houses on the edge of town, or the apartments downtown, but there was something solidly reliable about a good old crypt that couldn’t be beaten. He kicked over a crumbling headstone as he made his way towards what would be the back of one of the cemeteries in town. The front of the cemetery-- those marble gravestones were pristine and well-dusted, with mourning flowers still in bloom, carefully placed along the neatly-edged sidewalks. 

But farther back here, the grass was overgrown, weeds towering over the stones. In the dim moonlight, he could see decaying flowers lying at head of only one of the graves. Spike reached down to touch them-- the brittle petals cracked under his fingertips. Standing back up and brushing his fingers off on his jeans, he glanced towards the nearest mausoleum, looming crookedly, as if it were sinking into the swamp-ish mud. “Well, this looks promising,” he mused aloud, turning towards the figure cloaked in the darkness nearby. He knew someone was there, though he wasn’t sure who-- and it was about time to find out if they were friend or foe. “Don’t you think?” 

[willivmthebloody]

🔥 / from riley

yaaaaaaasssss answered here. 

[willivmthebloody]

@gravediirt for riley // atmospheric starter meme

Orange flames crackled in the distance, their smoke visible against the pitch black sky as it drifted up towards the sky through the hole in the forest clearing. As Spike circled closer, he could begin to make out darkened silhouettes moving in clusters around the bonfire, though they were too far away to tell who they were. A family? University students? He’d have to get closer to be able to tell-- so he began to incrementally stalk closer. 

A low level of chatter spread outwards from the fire pit and trickled through the trees surrounding it, interspersed here and there with a louder shout or the breaking of a thick, sooty log in the shifting fire. Suddenly, the much-closer snapping of twigs against the ground alerted him to someone else’s approach. Spike slowly rotated towards the sound. “Looks like it could be a rip-roaring good time over there, eh?” he remarked off-handedly. 

[willivmthebloody]

Closet Monsters: Does your muse hide any aspects of their personality/life from others?

from the fear-based ask meme

Spike would literally rather be staked in the heart than have anyone find out he used to be a poet and that his family was very upper class, prim & proper Victorian. He keeps that human part of his past extremely tampered down (crossed out, erased, locked in a box and thrown in the sea). In terms of personality, he’s also a lot more sensitive to criticism or insult than he would have people believe. He takes everything so personally, it’s ridiculous-- but he always tries to portray himself as being nonchalant. 

honesty hour, or whatever

[stcllxr]

[ @willivmthebloody - spike ]

        she knows better than to walk home by herself; especially given all that has happened lately. and all that she knows. but her house is only a few blocks from the grill. and even more so, there’s a strange sense of fearlessness that comes with being friends with a slayer. or, at least, a naive feeling of invincibility that will surely soon be proven wrong.  her backpack hangs low, steps taken in a directionless amble. sure it’s dark - but no one’s going to notice if she’s back late. it’s unlikely they’ll even notice if she comes home at all. 

[willivmthebloody]

Spike watches from the shadow of a tree as a girl walks down the street, in the dark, alone. Or maybe she’s a young woman, not a girl-- but her backpack makes her look younger than she might be. Either way, she’s by herself, which makes her almost too easy a target. (Almost.) He steps out from underneath the branches and makes purposely audible footfall as he steps onto the sidewalk and strides slowly in her direction. “Hey, you,” he calls out in a friendly tone. “Any chance you’ve got a minute?” 

[horrificmemes]

Fear-Themed Headcanon Questions

[willivmthebloody]

horrificmemes‌:

Send one (or a few) to my muse and they’ll answer: 

Spiders: Does your muse squish bugs or put them outside? The Dark: Did your muse sleep with a nightlight as a child? Snakes: Would your muse ever keep an unusual/exotic pet? Blood: What’s the worst injury your muse has ever had? Clowns: Does your muse prefer comedy? Or horror? Mirrors: What is your muse’s least favorite thing about their appearance? Tight Space: Does your muse ever feel that they’re not living up to their own potential? Closet Monsters: Does your muse hide any aspects of their personality/life from others? Crowds: What does your muse think of big cities? Death: Name one thing your muse has lost that they wish they could get back. Ghosts: Has your muse ever seen something they couldn’t explain? Needles: Does your muse have a strong stomach? Curses: Does your muse believe in good/bad luck? How about karma? Heights: Is your muse a risk-taker? Solitude: Name 3 things your muse couldn’t live without. Fire: Would your muse rather be very cold, or very hot? Failure: Has your muse ever given up on an important dream? Abandonment: How would your muse win back someone who left them? The Unknown: Is your muse a philosophical person? Boogeyman: What position does your muse sleep in? Falling: What does your muse think about falling in love or commitment?  Change: What was a turning point in your muse’s life? Disease: What does your muse do on a sick day? Number 13: Does your muse believe any superstitions?  Noise: Name one sound your muse finds absolutely unbearable. Insects: Name something your muse finds gross or annoying.  Dolls: Has your muse ever collected something? Getting Old: Would your muse rather live 50 years loved, or 200 years alone? Social Phobia: Does your muse consider themselves an outgoing person?

[horrificmemes]

Eerie Atmospheric Settings: Plot Starters

Instead of a specific plot to work around, here’s a list of settings that all feature a melancholy, moody, or creepy atmosphere. Simply send me a symbol for a setting you want to RP in, and I’ll either make a starter or approach you to plot!

🌕A full moon night with wind whistling through the trees

🌊The seashore late at night, with lightning over the water in the distance

🏤Stepping into a house that gives off all the wrong vibes

🍁A cold day in late autumn, which is silent and deeply lonely

🎹Nighttime in an ancient house/manor, with the tinkling of piano keys from the next room

💧 Rain in the early morning, so dark that there’s hardly a sunrise

⛪A church right after a funeral, a small handful of people dressed in black hanging their heads in silence

🌳A maze-like forest at dusk, with a sense of anxiety as the sun disappears

⛵On the beach before dawn as remnants of a ship wreck wash onto shore

🍂A chilly, overcast autumn afternoon

🌃Midnight in a busy city, sirens blaring a few blocks away

🎃After dark on Halloween night after trick-or-treating ends

🚘Sitting with a popped tired on the side of a long stretch of road, waiting

⚡Distant thunder from a massive storm headed straight this way

🥀An overgrown garden of nothing but poisonous (or dead, dry) plants

🌾An eerie plot of farmland with seemingly no one around for miles

🐊Murky swampland with posted warnings to keep people away

🔥 A roaring bonfire in the distance on a pitch black night, with dark silhouettes crowded or dancing around it

🚧Standing near old, abandoned train tracks when the bell starts to ring

🐟Taking a swim on an uninhabited plot of beach, noticing ripples in the water

🌿An old-fashioned plantation with secretive locals and a bitter history

💀A cemetery full of dead, dry flowers as if all of the plots have been forgotten, some of the stones cracked or sinking into the dirt

🚇A dingy old subway station, walls chipped to pieces, while waiting for a ride home

🌈The sad silence after a violent storm, debris and wreckage everywhere

👗An attic full of musty clothes and antiques belonging to someone long-dead

❄ A snowstorm locking everyone in their homes, with electricity flickering

🍄An enchanting plot of forest or stream, tiny whispers cutting the silence

🌑Inside of a re-occurring nightmare had time and time again

☔Taking a long walk with an umbrella, struggling with a low, low mood

☕At a quiet cafe, but unfamiliar folk are whispering and staring

🌵A winding road through the desert with only one dingy hotel, its ‘vacancy’ light flickering red

💤Dreaming of scraping nails gainst the window glass, and waking to still hear it

🐕A quiet night, the only sound being the call of coyotes/wolves in the woods

[izaaklahey]

@willivmthebloody / isaac & spike

the graveyard was as dark and gloomy as ever. he frowned and his eyes scanned the grounds. the moon was out, the sun long gone. in this town, the night shift was always the most dangerous, but at least isaac had something to protect himself with now. claws and fangs that he was getting pretty good with. he’d be okay. he just had to do his job. as he started on that, he spotted someone else. “did you know that graveyards having closing times?” he called. “sunset, which was a while ago.”

[willivmthebloody]

"Is there really a daily time limit on... mourning?” Spike replied to the voice that had called out in the murky darkness of the graveyard. His scandalized tone didn’t quite match the nonchalant way that he was sitting atop a moss-covered tombstone, his legs spread wide casually. He sniffed for good measure, reaching up to wipe away an invisible tear from the corner of his eye. “Just doesn’t seem right to me, is all.” 

[willivmthebloody]

this week kicked my ass but i’ll be on to do replies & reply to messages later this afternoon! xx