𝓠𝓾𝓮𝓮𝓷.

docs are in progress they will go here

private (mutuals only) and selective

21+ there will be possible triggering content featured on this blog

oc and crossover friendly

darla does best with supernatural beings/fandoms but there are exceptions

guest muses are typically more suitable for non-supernatural plots

send a meme or im to interact 

i’m talentless and nothing on this blog was created by me all the pretty belongs to @murderousbitch

@perfectdespair​ (lizzy) asked:  ❝ I lie to everybody, what makes you so special? ❞

                         Brows arched before they were tugged down into a frown. The question stirred up nothing but mild confusion with a hint of anger. Jason knew he wasn’t anything special to anyone, least of all her, but he thought maybe, just maybe, she wouldn’t pull the same damn stunts with him. “’Cause it’s me, Elizabeth!” he hissed, trying to keep his voice down. Hands raised and collide with the sides of his face before he scrubbed at his stubbly cheeks, letting out an annoyed growl. “Jesus woman…I-I thought ya wouldn’t pull yer shit with me ‘cause…us…” he muttered, hand waving back and forth between them.

“Elizabeth?” She repeated her own name back with a scoff under her breath. She hadn’t really set out to upset him so much, but at usual she hadn’t really thought of anyone other than herself. As she watched him though she couldn’t help but feel uncharacteristically guilty. 

perfectdespair​:

 A blonde brow quirked in amusement at the girl’s immediately snarky response. Darla’s assessment seemed to have been correct, she was going to be fun. The Slayer kept her guard up but Darla remained relaxed, hip slightly cocked. She didn’t underestimate the girl but she didn’t expect that this would need to escalate to any violence. 

Darla’s nose scrunched at hearing Buffy derogatorily described as a good girl. There was some animosity there, a history between the Slayers that she made a mental note to explore later. If only for the gossip. However, the mention of getting out alive cause all her features to drop. Her head nodded in acknowledgement of the introduction. 

“Faith,” she repeated with a somewhat dreamy tone. “That’s beautiful.” She sized Faith up, eyes moving fro head to toe. “Darla,” she responded. “Charmed, I’m sure.” Before continuing further the vampire paused, eyes slightly squinted as she waited to see if this Slayer would know who she was by name alone. 

Okay, this chick was a little creepy. Not as bad as some of the vamps she’d met, but…

“Yeah, you like it? My mom had a weird sense of humor. Not really the religious sort, unless she thought God was at the bottom of a bottle of beer,” she said, cracking her neck from side to side. Faith crossed her arms over her chest as the woman scanned her. She could appreciate being looked at, sure, but the Slayer wasn’t a peep show. But… the vampire’s name sounded familiar for some reason.

“Darla,” she repeated in her inelegant Boston drawl, narrowing her eyes as she tried to think. Then there was a slight, distant recognition. Like a friend of a friend, in a backwards sense. “You’re… Angel mentioned you. But I thought you were… y’know. Kansas, Point of Know Return.”

Shit, if she’s gotta worry about vamps coming back outta the dust, someone oughta keep an eye out for Kakistos…

Mommy issues. Darla took note with a quick flick of her gaze over the Slayer. Saving that information for later. The way that Faith crossed arms over her chest brought Darla’s attention away from her but she took a step closer, head tilting as she made sure that the other didn’t make any sudden moves. 

perfectdespair​:

The question about Dru feeling him had largely been rhetorical. Darla knew well that Dru felt everything, and she was glad that she didn’t get a snarky response like she would have from the boys. She came to a stop in front of the other vampire and exhaled a breath that she hadn’t inhaled. Her head tilted with curiosity at the suggestion. 

“The gypsies?” She asked, a little incredulous. “And how exactly do you propose we get them involved? Or that they would even know what to do after all this time.” Even as she questioned the idea, the wheels were turning in her head. She had planned to have the clan reverse the curse once, until Dru and her dog had eaten the hostages. 

“We’d have to travel…” She mused aloud, still not quite convinced. 

FINGERS CONTINUED TO DANCE ALONG THE SIDE OF HER HEAD, eyes flickering from side to side as she pondered her own suggestion. She could feel Darla’s resistance and hesitation like a palpable force which only caused her to groan slightly. The travel would be a hassle but not at all impossible, she in particular enjoyed long distance travelling, though she did have a tendency to get a bit angsty at times, quite often when her hunger became overwhelming. Eyes finally focused on Darla then, lips slowly coming to part as fingers stopped their dance and lowered. ❝ They neva’ could resist a lil’ torture for sport. Then o’ course, there are the witches. ❞ Eyes flickered once more around their surroundings, Leslie’s apartment suddenly feeling chilly. Single finger rising to pursed lips as she shushed, ❝ shhh… I feel a tingling. ❞ She sighed, ❝ Wolfram & Hart already have the answer. Hidden, deep deep deep. ❞  

Pale green eyes narrowed as Drusilla shushed the room. Darla could tell when the girl was actually thinking, rather than just blathering. An involuntary scoff escaped her at the mention of Wolfram and Hart. “Right,” she sneered as she moved away to flop down onto the couch. 

“I’m sure they have the answer. They always have some sort of answer. Or plan, they had a plan when they brought me back, when they brought you here. And look how well all of that worked out.” She was ranting again at it was a small favour that she didn’t need to breathe.

i have to go back to work tomorrow after 2 weeks off and im v v sad about it. but i do wanna be here more in 2023 so hopefully you’ll see me around! 

perfectdespair​:

@maliignant​ liked for a starter | accepting

Adaptability had previously been one of Darla’s greatest life skills. But she had lived a couple of lives now, and the most recent swath of changes was grating on her. Just as she was beginning to come to terms with losing Angelus, he had killed her. Adapting to being a human when she was first brought back had been the hardest change of all. At least now she felt more like herself again. Except for her new-found connection to Drusilla. To her sire.

“I know we have him right on the edge.” Chunky heels clicked as they crossed the tile in Lindsey’s apartment. “I can feel him, you feel it too, right?” She didn’t wait for a response as she continued her tirade. “Angelus is inside there, he’s just below the surface, and he wants out. You would think the two of us together would be enough…” even as she said it she felt that her boy was too far gone. Even the allure of herself and Drusilla together wasn’t going to win out this time. “He’s too sick to even want his own family anymore.” Bitterness dripped from her tongue like syrup. “No, we need a new plan. We need something that will catch him off guard…”

OF COURSE, SHE COULD FEEL HIM. SHE COULD ALWAYS FEEL HIM. She could feel when he was the real him and when he wasn’t. It always pained her when he wasn’t ; like looking through a reflection of a person and seeing someone else entirely. Often times, she did that with herself. Darla was on a rant — not uncommon — which Drusilla had learned to keep quiet during after so many years. Eventually. Usually. In this case, she merely hummed with eyes closed, fingers curling and twirling along either side of her head as body swayed slowly. As if trying to get a prediction somehow and yet, there could have been the possibility that she was just dancing to dance. ❝ Daddy’s screaming. ❞ She hummed out, finally. But breaking Angelus free from his soul bound corpse would take far more than either of them were capable of doing. Even together, Drusilla knew that. Eyes opening to glance towards her former grandmummy turned daughter. She admired the hope that still shined brightly in Darla’s intense gaze. ❝ We neva’ did kill all the gypsies. ❞ She stated with a grin.

The question about Dru feeling him had largely been rhetorical. Darla knew well that Dru felt everything, and she was glad that she didn’t get a snarky response like she would have from the boys. She came to a stop in front of the other vampire and exhaled a breath that she hadn’t inhaled. Her head tilted with curiosity at the suggestion. 

“The gypsies?” She asked, a little incredulous. “And how exactly do you propose we get them involved? Or that they would even know what to do after all this time.” Even as she questioned the idea, the wheels were turning in her head. She had planned to have the clan reverse the curse once, until Dru and her dog had eaten the hostages. 

perfectdespair​:

@wickedlehane​ liked for a starter | accepting

The Slayer.

Darla had never really understood the fascination. In their glory days the Slayer wasn’t something that the Order particularly cared about. It was taught that she dealt with the more pedestrian of their kind, the ones who weren’t smart enough to keep their nefarious activities private. When the boys, especially Spike, had grown obsessed with the concept of the Slayer Darla had dismissed it as boyish wartime fantasy. But then Buffy had come along to change it all. Suddenly, The Slayer became an unwanted key player in Darla’s life - and the eventual cause of her death. 

A second chance at life - and another chance at eternal life after that - had really forced some perspective into her. The times were changing and the Order had crumbled. Suddenly she was among those pedestrian vampires who found themselves entwined in the business of Slayers. 

“So,” she circled the new one slowly, predatorily. “You’re the new Slayer, huh? I have to say, you’re cuter than the last.” She had never been into the competition of other blondes. Pale green eyes fell to the, admittedly awful, tattoo on the girl’s arm. “You look a lot more fun, too.”

Faith was pretty used to vampires having a general idea of who she was – at least they knew the Slayer. Could sense it on her, the same way she could sense the vamps with her slay-dar. And some of the vampires were famous enough, old enough, to be written down in the history books (which admittedly, she didn’t bother to read most of the time). But she didn’t exactly feel bad about not knowing who this was, considering-

“New Slayer? Pfft, I’ve been here. And I don’t plan on going anywhere any time soon,” she retorted, keeping her guard up. Faith knew she had a stake tucked in her left pocket. She knew where her knife was too (and hoped she didn’t have to reach for it). She knew where the vamp kept its fangs and as long as they were talking, they weren’t biting. Yet.

Of course this chick knew about Buffy. Couldn’t escape Blondie no matter where she went.

“Hah, yeah- well, unlike Buffy, I’ve never been accused of being a good girl,” Faith shrugged. “Surprised you met her and lived to tell the tale. She’s a little self-righteous, though she does make exceptions… The name’s Faith, by the way. Walk away and you’ll live to remember it.”

 A blonde brow quirked in amusement at the girl’s immediately snarky response. Darla’s assessment seemed to have been correct, she was going to be fun. The Slayer kept her guard up but Darla remained relaxed, hip slightly cocked. She didn’t underestimate the girl but she didn’t expect that this would need to escalate to any violence. 

Darla’s nose scrunched at hearing Buffy derogatorily described as a good girl. There was some animosity there, a history between the Slayers that she made a mental note to explore later. If only for the gossip. However, the mention of getting out alive cause all her features to drop. Her head nodded in acknowledgement of the introduction. 

@maliignant​ liked for a starter | accepting

Adaptability had previously been one of Darla’s greatest life skills. But she had lived a couple of lives now, and the most recent swath of changes was grating on her. Just as she was beginning to come to terms with losing Angelus, he had killed her. Adapting to being a human when she was first brought back had been the hardest change of all. At least now she felt more like herself again. Except for her new-found connection to Drusilla. To her sire.

@wickedlehane​ liked for a starter | accepting

The Slayer.

Darla had never really understood the fascination. In their glory days the Slayer wasn’t something that the Order particularly cared about. It was taught that she dealt with the more pedestrian of their kind, the ones who weren’t smart enough to keep their nefarious activities private. When the boys, especially Spike, had grown obsessed with the concept of the Slayer Darla had dismissed it as boyish wartime fantasy. But then Buffy had come along to change it all. Suddenly, The Slayer became an unwanted key player in Darla’s life - and the eventual cause of her death. 

A second chance at life - and another chance at eternal life after that - had really forced some perspective into her. The times were changing and the Order had crumbled. Suddenly she was among those pedestrian vampires who found themselves entwined in the business of Slayers. 

perfectdespair​:

Pale cheek, dusted in a pink powder, pressed softly against the knuckles that caressed her. Her head turned slightly and her arm extended, mirroring her companion’s as she also set aside her own empty wine glass. She knew that he wouldn’t fight her on the plan, and his outright enthusiasm was well appreciated. 

A quiet hum moved through her small frame as she felt his hand rest on her waist. Coupled with his charming whispers and the anticipation of carnage, it was a wonder that Darla wasn’t already in overdrive. But she could feel it coming. Naturally her body flowed towards his, seeking him out, needing more after just the slightest touch. 

The front of her skirts met his torso far before she ever could, and she leaned forwards over their bustling fabric to place a soft kiss against Angelus’s lips. For them it was tame, chaste even, but in polite society they were only sure to elicit even more dirty looks. 

“And you have the execution of a highly trained mercenary,” she responded, murmuring lightly, still close to his lips. “It’s one of the many things I admire about you,” she repeated his compliment with a smile before leaning in again for a final peck.

When she pulled back something was different in her demeanour. Less human, though her face was not yet vampiric. Darla’s back arched and her head swiveled as she took in the crowd of party goers milling around them. It was almost a straight shot down the main hallway to the kitchen and with the grace of a ballerina, and the silence of a cat, Darla made it there in no time. 

Just a few moments later the sound of a commotion from the back room filled the house. Someone yelled fire as black smoke begun billowing into the hallway. There were more blood curdling screams, some thumps, and a crash as onlookers were barred from entering the flame-filled room. 

             The willingness the younger vampire showed could have easily been described as gleeful eagerness. As if he were a child given a few pounds to go spend at the local shop, indulging himself with sweets of every type. It would be a correct observation, one that Angelus could not deny as he very seldom opposed what his sire conjured up in the way of entertaining themselves.

Which, they would need to do so soon or else he would eagerly find other ways to spend their time. Though this slaughter was just the beginning of their evening, their appetizer before the main course. However, he hungrily returned the soft kiss, something that was very mild for them though it didn’t matter especially given their current environment. Onlookers were lucky ( unfortunate though because when they weren’t behaving, they were a sight to behold ) that they showed restraint, that they both had enough manners to do so.

The smallest of purrs vibrated in his chest at Darla’s praise, his hand remaining on her waist with much difficulty. He had two hungers that raged on inside him and they mirrored her own. One would be indulged in just a few moments while the other would be soon to follow, something he silently reminded himself of as he showed restraint. The final peck was that, final, and his hands dropped from her waist so that he could watch her work, noting the shift in her demeanor immediately.

Eyes closed for a brief moment, shoulders rolling as anything human about him melted away like ice. Yellow vampiric eyes glowed, teeth flicking against fangs as he listened to the commotion in the kitchen unfold before he smelled the burning of something. Then the blood curdling screams poured out and he couldn’t suppress the growl that bubbled up inside of him and clawed its way out of his throat. It was then that the first person ran for the front, exactly where he was, and they were first to shed their blood; Angelus grabbed the woman and with nothing but animalistic motions, he tore into her neck with a growl. Mouth pressed open to flesh to allow the crimson sustenance to gush and flow down his throat.

Not even a ruffle of skirts was heard as Darla waltzed into the kitchen. She set the fire easily, with a combination of readily available rags and open bottles of alcohol. The servants didn’t have a minute to comprehend what was happening before their lungs began filling with black smoke and the blonde vampire was upon them. 

The glee that she took in a massacre was beyond compare. Her demonic side fought daily to be free and when if was, it didn’t take a single moment - or victim - for granted. Sharp, shining fangs slashed while claws tore messily. Cavernous wounds were created through layers of thick fabric and thin human flesh. Blood flew in spurts, rivaling some of the world’s greatest fountains, from carotid and femoral arteries. The thick crimson liquid coated Darla’s demonic visage, it dripped from her chin and clung to her bosom while her own bodily fluid began to coat the inside of her thighs. 

Her tremendous scene was backed by the score of chaos coming form the front of large house. The sounds of her beautiful boy’s own delightful destruction pulled Darla almost to distraction, but she was able to finish her work in the kitchen. When she emerged her blonde curls were in disarray, and her expensive garments were torn and singed. 

She paused for a moment in the grand hallway, taking in the sight of her beloved tearing his own way ruthlessly though the doomed party guests. From her periphery she noticed a man quickly approaching her, vase raised above his head. In one fluid motion she turned and snapped his neck, watching both him and the vase shatter to the floor before she took a step over him.