#The last one kind of comes from BTVS

[lady-griffin]

You’re Not My Real Dad, You Can’t Monologue at Me!

While I do love the speculation of who is going to be Jinx’s next (presumably evil) parent; I honestly can only imagine Jinx being super resistant and judgmental to anyone who tries to be her next overly dramatic evil parent, because they’re just not Silco.

Listen, she’s use to a quality kind of villain parent, and you sir or madam are just not meeting her standards.  

Jinx Sassing Her Would-Be Future Evil Parents

You call that a monologue, bitch please.

I didn’t even let Silco talk to me like that, so let’s dial back that tone, shall we.

Look, if you can’t do a full-on dramatic, theatre-ready monologue about your life philosophies at the drop of a hat, then don’t even bother trying.

I’m going to be honest with you; you should just do your grand evil plans without talking about them beforehand because you fucking suck at public speaking.

You’re not my real dad, you can’t monologue at me!

At least Silco was interesting to listen to when he droned on and on.

How is an evil mastermind this boring. I mean usually being evil gives one some kind of personality, but you... God, I can’t even imagine how dull you would be as a good, moral person.

I mean sure I would try to ignore Silco when he went on and on with one of his life lessons, but he was honestly hard to tune out; I always ended up being captivated and absorbing everything he said in the end.

Oh wow, you killed 1000 people in an hour. What did you give a lecture or something?

Listening to you speak right now, I’m starting to realize how fucking lucky I was to be adopted by such a high class and well-spoken villain like Silco.

First off when Silco asked me to make weapons of destruction he didn’t yell at me. Also, he said thank you and please; and when I finished, I got a cookie and a kiss on the forehead for a job well done.

[missredherring]

An Act Of Kindness

Eddie (BTVS) x Fat!F!Vampire!Reader

Rating: T

Word Count: 3k

Summary: "More," he begs, his tongue eager and searching out every drop. "Please."

Contents: fatphobia. descriptions of throwing up. horny thots. mouth-to-mouth blood transfer kiss. Max being a dick. Sweet baby angel vampire Eddie.

A/N: I really had a fun time playing with the idea of Max being Eddie's selfish douchebag maker. I'm also trying to write a more explicitly fat reader, and a confident one at that.

Thank you to @reaperofmen for beta reading.

Tagging those who expressed an interest: @prolix-yuy @oonajaeadira

Part Two

The man is a little too intoxicated for your tastes, but you've put off feeding for too long this time. He followed you out here without complaint, just strolling after you with a sleazy grin on his face. It takes effort to keep up the coy act; the arrogance and stupidity of men hasn't changed in centuries. 

He only chuckles when you nudge him to the wall and reach to pull the shirt collar away from his neck. His sweaty hands are on your wide hips, pulling you closer and squeezing too hard. 

You almost don't hear it with how focused you are on his pulse, with how the hunger has hollowed you out so the rattling bass of the club music thumps inside your chest in place of a beating heart. The smell however, couldn't be missed: rejected blood on damp pavement. The hot and cool scent sours in your nose and makes you turn away in an attempt to clear it. 

"Don't get nervous on me now, baby. C'mon, you should be thankful I'm paying attention to a girl like you. Not everyone likes 'em big," your prey says and you give serious thought to opening his neck and draining him like the pig he is.

A hint of a command in your voice shuts him up and pins him in place. He's humming to himself, stargazing in the back alley of a club like an idiot while you walk around the nearby dumpsters to find the source of the smell.

It would be bad manners to poach in another's territory. Vampires have a habit of becoming especially violent when feedings go wrong, and by the smell of it, this one had. The days of killing first and asking questions never are sadly long gone. The consequences of a bad temper are swift and deadly when everyone has a camera in their pocket. The newer generation of vampires think your kind are invincible, but they just haven't shed the bravado of youth enough to appreciate just how well thinking before acting can serve them. The last thing you need tonight is to spend precious hours cleaning up after someone else's mistake that could've been prevented with a little caution.

You see a tattered book sticking out of a back pocket first. The pages gleam like a beacon in the dim light. The figure is hunched over, clutching at their middle with one hand and the wall with the other for support. One more spasm of their stomach expels a bit of tar-like blood and there's nothing left to come back up. 

At their feet are the mangled remains of a human; flesh torn in haste and wasted blood already turning dark and dry. It reeks of alcohol.

As they stumble back their heel catches on the corpse and you end your observation to act, putting a hand out to stop their fall backwards onto the dirty pavement.

They whirl around to reveal a face as pale as the pages of their book. Dark eyes stare back at you in fear from under floppy brown hair that's fallen over his forehead. It's a fledgling vampire, as you suspected, his face still transformed from his high emotions. 

"I d-didn't- it's not what--" he tries to say but his stomach gurgles and he has to lurch away again; the heaving of his muscles is undeniable. 

Your lips curl up as fresh bile scents the air, but you reach out to pat his back a little until he calms and finally stops. 

"Thank you." He says, turning back to you. He wipes at his face, leaving streaks of blood on his sleeves and cheeks. Tears wet his lashes as his face slowly smooths back into its human death mask. It's easy to see he's beautiful even in this terrible lighting. A sharp bone structure balanced with round eyes and plump lips. He's sorely out of place in the clubbing scene, dressed as he is in simple clothes, sneakers, and a jacket that hangs on his frame. He's a fallen angel let loose on the devil's playground. 

With all of his sudden movements the book has fallen from his pocket. You pick it up, reading the title with an amused twist of your lips. Mary Shelly's Frankenstein. You hold it out to him with a smile wide enough to show your own fangs.

"Where is your maker, darling? Surely they didn't leave you on your own?" You ask.

He flusters so prettily, and you imagine how red his cheeks would've turned when the blood ran fresh in his veins. Some of the tension drops from his broad frame and he carefully takes the book from you with a nod of thanks.

"I'm Eddie," Eddie motions towards the club's backdoor with the book. "Max- my maker- he's still in there. He told me to watch him 'do his thing,' but it's been hours so I came out here to read. A-and then this guy came out and wouldn't leave me alone. I was so hungry-"

He glances down at the corpse and swallows thickly, his shoulders rounding as he hunches in on himself. 

You tsk and turn Eddie away from the mess. He goes willingly, twisting the book in his hands before stuffing it into his jacket pocket.

"A club full of unleashed humanity is no place for a fledgling. Come, you may share my meal. It should be enough to hold you until you can find more suitable food."

Your prey is still looking up, his throat on full display, when you lead Eddie to him. 

You motion to Eddie your permission for him to feed, but he doesn't move.

"He said it's supposed to get easier," he says almost to himself, his gaze glued to the hypnotizing beat of the man's pulse. "But I didn't mean to kill him. I don't know if I can control myself right now."

It's sweet, that thread of earnestness in his voice. You smile at him and take up your previous position, finally biting into your prey's neck. The blood is hot as you suck it into your mouth. It's so very tempting to swallow and gulp, to latch on and drain every drop until the heartbeat slows just enough to keep him alive. But Eddie is shifting behind you, and it's a reminder of his plight, his nervousness and attentiveness at your back. His breathing picks up when you break the seal of your lips, even though he doesn't need to inhale anymore.

The man slumps back into the wall as you leave him and approach Eddie. 

Eddie's eyes are wide, the pupils expanding in reaction to his want. He flinches just a little when you press both of your palms on his shoulders, using a bit of force in your muscles and only a twinkle of amusement in your eyes to put him on his knees. Then you cup his handsome face and kiss him.

He's hesitant and unsure when you press your lips to his and slip your blood-coated tongue into his mouth. A rush of liquid follows gravity's lead, and he grabs you then. His arms surge up under your own, careful not to disturb your hold on him as he fights to get as good a hold on you as he can. Large hands catch on fabric, and he grips the rolls of cool skin on your back.

He holds you to him with the desperate strength of the newly turned. You chuckle into his mouth. His hands may sink into your soft flesh, but it'll take much more than this to break you. 

After the initial rush he sips and sips at your mouth. He sucks blood and saliva from your tongue and whines in the back of his throat when it's gone.

"More," he begs, his tongue eager and searching out every drop. "Please."

He growls when you take a step back, his grip shifting to your clothes, and it's a testament to your seamstress' skills that they don't tear. Although, you're starting to think you wouldn't mind this young vampire rending your clothes from your body. 

You swipe at a smear of blood at the corner of his lip, and your thumb is in his mouth a second later, his dark eyes never leaving your face. 

"Do you feel more under control now?" You ask, and the question brings him back to himself.

"Y-yes. Thank you." He says, and his attention goes back to the night's meal. Another glance at you and Eddie is on the man, his fangs sinking into flesh in the same spot that yours had. 

Eddie's moan is a sinful call and there's an answering throb in your fangs and your core. 

At a more leisurely pace you come up behind the men, taking in Eddie's feeding technique. It's sloppy and non-existent. His hunger is only just tempered by the fear of his new existence. 

"Listen closely to his heartbeat. Can you catch its rhythm? Pull on a beat, and then wait. Move the blood in your mouth; taste it, savor it, and be thankful for its nourishment," you instruct him in a soft tone. Food aggression can get nasty with fledglings before they're taught better table manners. 

Eddie's head tilts towards you, and he blinks a few times, his gulping stuttering to a stop as he absorbs your words. It takes a moment, only one heartbeat, and then two, but he finds the rhythm and begins to dine instead of gorging himself. 

"Well done, darling, that's it," you say, and the way he preens under such little praise makes you want to shower him in it. 

Feeding, fucking, and fighting are core tenets of a vampire's life, and you feel them keenly right now. It would be easy to find another meal and then test Eddie's skills in other areas. You run a hand over his head and note how he doesn't growl or snap or perceive your presence as a threat to his meal.

Your hunger is changing, the allure of food fading as you feel the slight movement of his head as he readjusts his angle at the man's neck. If you took his chin in your hand and directed his mouth to your cunt, would he continue feasting? Eddie gulps, forcing his Adam's apple to bob in his throat, and you clench your thighs together to tease yourself.

"Killing isn't necessary when feeding. It's downright rude when you have consenting partners and is frowned upon in most circles these days. Follow the rhythm until it falters and becomes too irregular. That's enough to satisfy you and leave them alive."

The man's heart has only just begun to misfire from the lack of blood when Eddie jerks away, landing on his backside and breathing hard. Again he wipes at his face with his sleeve, but this time the expression on his face is triumphant. 

He looks at you with a grin stretching his ruddy cheeks, and you want nothing more than to kiss him again. To sink down on him and feel the fresh blood rushing through his body. It would be so tempting to drink from him in return, to mark his pretty skin with your teeth. Has he had a vampire lover before? Does he know the pleasure of another's bite? Would he let you be the one to show him?

You rest a hand on the alley wall, and your nails gouge through the cinder block like a cat's claws caught in lace. You allow yourself to indulge in the lusty thoughts before taking control of your urges. 

"Are you alright?" He asks.

"Just hungry." You say, your tongue catching on an extended canine. 

"Oh. Oh, no," he frets. "You said you'd share him and I drank it all. I'm so sorry, I can go find someone-" Eddie gets to his feet and is turning away from you, but you take his hand and keep him in place.

"You're a fledgling, darling, and need it more than I do right now. Don't worry, hunger is an old friend." 

You're about to tug him close and offer to spend the rest of the night with him when an unctuous voice calls out from behind you.

"I was wondering where you'd gotten off to. A back alley blowjob, huh? You didn't even have to leave the club for one of those."

Any distracting desire is sufficiently snuffed when you recognize the voice, and you curse your foolishness for it.

Of course Eddie's maker, Eddie's Max, is Max Phillips. A graduate of the feeding ground disguised as a college. It chewed up a selfish boy and spit out a selfish vampire. He cares for nothing but his own gain, and frankly you're surprised that a boy as seemingly sincere as Eddie got tangled up with him. But if they're together, maybe Eddie isn't as innocent as he seems. Max does like to pull the wool over his victim's eyes. 

Eddie quickly steps in front of you. "Max, I-"

"I don't care, kid. You're not dead so that's good enough for me," Max says, not taking his eyes off of you. Up and down, they roam over your thick thighs, wide hips, and ample curves. His perusal makes you realize that Eddie's gaze had never strayed far from your face. 

"Well, if it isn't Bella Lugosi, herself," he says, smirking at his own joke. 

"Bella?" Eddie echoes, looking at you with curiosity. 

"I have been called beautiful in many languages over the centuries by lovers and admirers alike. I do like bella; it suits me well, don't you think?" Ignoring Max in favor of teasing Eddie, you enjoy the way his eyes track the movement of your hand across your belly, his eyes keen on your fingers as they press into the giving flesh of your hip. "Max thinks he's being clever." 

"I was clever enough not to be fat when I was turned. A gym membership won't do shit for you now, sweetheart," Max shoots back, and your lip curls in disgust. It's so disappointing that he is quite handsome. While his looks are striking and sharp, the image is ruined when he opens his mouth and starts spewing shit.

"What small insults from a small mind," you say. "Eddie is your fledgling, then?"

"Sure is. Aren't you, champ? You didn't smell my scent on him?" Max saunters to Eddie's side now, his polished shoes clicking on the pavement. He slings an arm around Eddie and shakes him a little. They're a mismatched pair in every aspect. Max's tailored suit with its coordinated pocket square and cufflinks a stark contrast to Eddie's simple attire. Had Max even bothered to procure more clothes for him, providing for his fledgling, as a maker should? Or did he leave Eddie to his own devices? A miserable look passes over Eddie's face before he tries to cover it up, and you think you know the answer. 

"I thought that was the dumpsters," you say and wrinkle your nose at the strong cologne Max insists on wearing even with his heightened senses. There's a hint of a smirk on Eddie's lips before they twist back into a semblance of a straight line. 

Max opens his mouth to say something, but a scream coming from inside the club stops him. Another one follows, and the pounding music is abruptly stopped. You could feel the vibration of many feet moving on the ground like a disturbed ant hill. 

"Leaving another spoiled hunting ground in your wake I see, Max." You scold him, but he just shrugs. Has he no shame for his actions?

"Just a few girls who wanted a good time," he says and jerks Eddie a step away. "That's our cue to leave, kid. Say goodbye to the big bad vampire lady."

Eddie's eyes fly to you, and you're surprised at how strong the bloom of disappointment is in your chest. He wriggles out of Max's grasp and swallows at the scowl his maker throws him, but his steps are sure as walks back to you.

"Thank you for your help tonight." Eddie says, taking your cold hand and squeezing it. He brushes a kiss on the round apple of your cheek, and his lips are warm and chapped from his recent feeding.

The tang of Max's scent is on him, yes, but now that both men are present you can identify the scents that are unique to Eddie. You inhale and memorize the hint of vanilla, citrus, and cedar. 

"You're welcome. It was a pleasure meeting you, Eddie." 

He smiles, revealing a deep dimple in his cheek. "The pleasure is all mine, bella. I hope I'll see you again."

You untuck a slim card case from your cleavage and take out a calling card. The way Eddie's eyes track your movements, lingering on your chest, makes you stand a little taller and lean a little closer to him when you hold it out to him. 

He takes it, examining the cream cardstock and tracing a finger over the iridescent ink. Your name and a street address in the city are the only things printed on it. 

"If you need help in the future, you may call on me." You tell him and he nods dutifully.

"Oh. My. God. You're gonna make me hurl, and the alcohol hasn't even kicked in yet. Let's go, Edward." Max says, and the command snaps Eddie to attention, forcing him to turn away from you and follow Max out of the alley.

Police sirens are getting louder, and the streetlight is soon overshadowed by flashing red and blue lights. 

You don't spare a glance at the man passed out against the wall or the corpse a little further down as you leave. They can be lumped together with Max's mess, and he can have the blame for them as well. 

Tonight didn't go as planned at all, but you know that teasing your appetites only deepens them, and when you finally sate them it will taste that much more delicious.

[darling-i-read-it]

Replacement

Rupert Giles x fem!reader, slight Wesley Wyndam-Pryce x fem!reader

Word Count: 2.6k

Warnings: younger reader (12 years younger than Giles but super legal ofc), btvs season 3 spoilers, jealousy/insecurity, drinking, light insinuation to smut 

Author’s Note: I know this is literally not on the list of things I was supposed to write and I’m going to get to the requests tomorrow I think but the fact there’s so little giles content makes me wanna DIE. anyway here’s this <3 watching buffy season 3 and feeling things for him. 

Summary: Set in season 3 when Buffy gets Wesley as the new Watcher. The reader, the assistant librarian and also Giles’ girlfriend, gets hit on a bit by Wesley and Giles gets protective™. 

Genre: mostly fluff! 

I don’t own these characters. They belong to author/director/creator

(not my gif)

“They’re sending in the new Watcher soon,” Rupert murmured. He was sitting on the couch in front of you. You could only see the back of his head but you could tell what kind of look he had on his face. Contempt, annoyance, some disappointment lacing his features. He had a glass in his hand, his arm over the back of the couch. He glanced back at you in the kitchen. “I fear I might be a tad unbearable for the next couple of days.” 

“You’re always unbearable,” you quipped, grabbing your own glass as you finished pouring it. “That's what I like about you.” 

You knew Giles was extremely worried about Buffy’s new Watcher. It had been the topic of conversation ever since Buffy’s test. It had also been a general point of contention; how could he let her go through that? Though now that he was being punished through various other means, you laid off on the argument. 

“Do you know who it is?” 

“No. They won’t tell me. Fear of my reproach I imagine.” He shook his head a bit. “I can’t believe they’re allowing someone else to come in after Gwendolyn Post.” You stayed silent. It was better to let him just talk through this himself, without any kind of argument or solace from you. “Buffy will never trust someone as she trusts me. Trusted me that is, I suppose. I never should have gone through with it. No, don’t say anything. I’m just conceding to your earlier point, I know.” You rolled your eyes. 

“Relax. The Watcher won’t be here tonight…” you put your hand on his arm. “So let’s not talk about him hm?” 

“You’re being suggestive. Is it because I conceded to your point?”

“One of the various reasons,” you explained. “Relax Rupert. I have no ulterior motives, I’m not a vampire, I’m not possessed. I’m just a girl in your house with some light alcoholic suggestion.” He nodded slowly. 

“You know, I don’t need that much convincing.” 

“I know.” You grabbed his drink and put it down on the coffee table. He admired you with an eyebrow raised until your phone rang. You groaned, picking it up beside the drinks. “It’s Buffy.” He let out a soft sigh. 

“Duty calls.” 

“Hey, it’s my phone. Maybe she just wants to gossip.” 

“Moments like these I remember we’re from slightly different generations.” You rolled your eyes and answered the phone. 

“12 years is not that many years. Hey Buffy.” 

“Arguing about your age difference again?” she said over the phone.

“Always. Ever the straight.” You kicked your legs up onto his lap. He grabbed his glass back from the table and took a drink. 

“I have said you have odd taste in men right?” 

“Once or twice. What can I do for you?” 

“Was gonna ask if you want to go to the Bronze with Willow and I before patrol. I fear this will be my last night Watcherless.” 

“Does she know I can hear her?” Giles questioned. You shrugged. 

“I would love to come but I think I’ve got my hands full over here. Men's feelings are hard.” 

“Tell me about it,” Buffy muttered. You could almost see her rolling her eyes over the neverending Angel ordeal. 

“You should go,” Giles said. “I’ll be fine.” “I made plans I don’t like to break,” you pouted. “Rain check Buff?”

“Sure thing.”

“Have fun.” 

“I would say you too but that brings awful images to my brain.”

-

You came into school a little bit late. You were working as library assistant, at Snyder’s hope to keep Giles the least destructive as possible. Giles woke up ungodly early and usually had several cups of coffee before you even saw him. 

You pushed open the doors to the library, holding your bag to your side. You slowed at the sight of a man you didn’t recognize by the check out desk. Your eyebrows furrowed as you tried to place the suit. Familiar, but foreign. The man turned around, revealing some glasses and an even looking face. 

“Good morning,” he said, just as evenly. 

“Good morning…” You craned your neck to look behind him, wondering if you had suddenly entered a world with a different librarian. 

“Are you here for the librarian? He’s out at the moment.” He stumbled over his words a bit, making you unsure of his dedication to the sentence. 

“Who are you?” He cleared his throat. 

“Wesley Wyndam-Pryce.” He offered his hand. You shook it, warily. 

“Wesley Wy-” You paused and thinned your lips. Maybe it was the British accent that gave him away or maybe it was the suit. “Are you the new Watcher?” His eyebrows raised. 

“I take it you know about the slayer” You shook your head. 

“Just a tad. I swear I’m not a threat, just a friend. Y/N.” He nodded once, looking you over. 

“What kind of friend?” You scoffed a bit. 

“You Watcher’s have a type,” you observed. 

“Hm?” 

“Where’s Rupert?” 

“Out.” 

“What was it? Westley?”

“Wesley. Wyndam-Pryce.” You nodded, pointing a finger at him. He smiled shakily, looking down. You opened your mouth to speak when the door opened again. 

“Oh man. You’ve met the new Watcher,” Buffy observed. Wesley straightened up and cleared his throat. “Getting along?” “Well,” he observed. Buffy raised an eyebrow at his stiffness and then glanced back at you. “I wonder if the Watcher’s have a book that says what kind of girl they’re allowed to go for. Maybe Giles just stuck a picture of you somewhere and this guy read it wrong.” You rolled your eyes. 

“Do you know where Rupert is?” 

“Nope. He’s not my Watcher anymore, remember?” she said, defeated. She passed you further into the room. You put a hand up in defeat. 

“He could be dying and none of us would know.” 

“I’m sure he’s alright,” Wesley promised. “Are you and Rupert…” 

“Yeah,” you said curtly. As if on cue, Giles walked into the room, holding a stack of books, looking completely in his natural habitat. “Thank God. Giles.” He halted when he caught sight of the two of you. 

“You met the replacement.” 

“I did. He’s a little stiff.” You squeezed his bicep. He watched you do it. “I was looking for you.” 

“Is everything alright?” He put the books down on the counter. “Are you okay?”

“I’m fine. Just wasn’t sure where you had run off to and I like keeping tabs.” 

“That’s unhealthy,” Buffy noted. 

“Your boyfriend is dead,” Giles retorted. She shrugged with a point taken look on her face. You turned back to him. Wesley gave a once over at the two of you. Giles had put a hand on your upper arm, a gesture that was familiar to the two of you. You took the top book off his stack. 

“Whatcha reading?”

“You’re miraculously calm.” 

“One of us has to be.” You took the book and walked over to sit beside Buffy. She was eyeing the new Watcher intensely, like the whole world could come down at her mere gaze. Knowing her, you wouldn’t be surprised. 

“He’s gonna say something stupid,” she muttered. 

“Hm?” you asked. Wesley was looking at Giles. 

“Don’t you think she’s a bit on the younger side for you?” 

Silence went over the room as the words seemed to hang in the air. Giles stared bullets into his former colleague. 

“I don’t think that’s any of your concern,” he said coldly. 

“She looks closer to the slayer's age. My age. I have every right to ask, as a proceeding member of the council and part of the investigation towards your extermination.” Giles took a step forward, too close. You were suddenly reminded of the ‘not so booksmart’ person he used to be, the one who would throw a punch before working with words. You stood back up. 

“Keep her out of your mouth or so help m-”

“Alright,” you intervened. You stepped between the two of them. “I’m only 12 years younger but you flatter me. Giles, a moment?” You grabbed Rupert’s arm, gently pulling him in the direction towards his office. It took him a moment, not wanting to digress from the standoff. Eventually he followed. 

“Don’t leave me here all by my lonesome with this guy,” Buffy pleaded. 

“Vetoing your contribution here slayer,” you called back. She let out a huff, returning to staring bullets. You shut the office door gently behind you. 

“That’s a tad dramatic,” he pointed out. “I’m fine.” 

“I’m not going to put words in your mouth but I’m allowed to observe, yeah?” He pursed his lips, shoving his hands in my pockets. You nodded. “Other Watcher, bad. Wiles Westley Watchamacalllhim is making you, Rupert Giles, sad. You want Buffy to remain under your watch, lack of better word, and this new man is now stepping all over your toes in that regard. Observations correct?”

“Generally.” 

“What am I missing?” He shook his head. 

“It’s not important. Move on with your speal please.” 

“Buffy won’t trust this man the way she trusts you. She never could, you have too much history. You have the upper hand here, despite the council not backing you up. He’ll never be half the Watcher you are,” you promised. You grabbed his hand. “Speal over.” 

He nodded gently, rubbing the bridge of his nose.

“You do have a way with words.” You laughed gently, shaking your head.  

“I’ll try to be more Bronte later.” He squeezed your intertwined hands, a defeated smile on his lips. 

There was a knock on the office door. You rolled your eyes and released his hand. You swung open the door to meet Wesley on the other side. 

“I have to speak to Mr. Giles.” 

“He’s all yours Wes.” You patted his chest as you walked past, back to Buffy. 

-

As the day wound down and everyone started home, you were stuck in the library still. You loved the place but the more you spent in it with two Watchers, the more you were starting to see its lesser qualities. Giles had followed Buffy and Faith out to have a generally mentor-like talk. 

Leaving you alone with Wesley. 

“So you know of Buffy because of Giles?” he questioned. You raised your head from the book you were reading. You had hardly noticed him watching you. He had a cup of coffee in his hand, standing disgustingly straight. You sat on the steps. 

“I was assistant librarian. Almost died by vampire. Happens to the best of us.” 

“He fraternized with a colleague?” 

“Continues to do so. Don’t look so jealous, Wes.” You put the book to your chest. “You’re ruining the perfect balance of the scooby gang you know.”

“Perhaps it needed to be out of kilter. I don’t see it going swimmingly right now.” He walked over to you. You looked up at him, observing his very even stature. You wondered, not for the first time, if Giles looked like this when he was a little younger. “What are you reading?”

“Rereading.” You glanced at the book. “Wuthering Heights.” 

“Classic.”

“Yes sir. One of my favorites. Helps me forget about the neverending impending doom,” you muttered. He looked awkward for a moment and then sat down beside you on the steps. You raised an eyebrow. 

“I’ve always enjoyed a bit of light fiction reading.” You opened your mouth to speak, reading the signals he was not so eloquently putting off. You were interrupted by the library door opening. 

Giles slowed his walking speed at the sight of you. Wesley stood up, embarrassed. You gave Rupert wide eyes, a gentle I don’t know sign. 

“Go do Watcher duties won’t you? The girls need someone to watch them before patrol.” Wesley wanted to argue but noted the look in Rupert’s eyes and decided against it. He gave you a nod and then passed him to leave the room. 

You were alone with Rupert. Finally.

“Wuthering Heights?” he asked gently. You nodded, a small smile on your face. 

“Am I so predictable?”

“You’re a classic.” 

You leaned against the railing, watching him with admiration in your eyes. There was something special about emotions fluttering around the room, knowing there was something to be said and something understood. You softly patted the stairs beside you. He walked over, sitting down without a word. 

“You know what I’m going to say,” he breathed. You grabbed his hand, staring down at it as you traced the lines of his palm. 

“Wesley will never be you.” 

“Are you speaking for Buffy or…or for you.” 

“For me.” You wanted to argue aggressively, assure him that whatever he was thinking was wrong. You felt the opposite, you would never love someone like you loved him. That Wesley, no matter the difference in your ages, it would always be Giles. That the age truly wasn’t even that big of a deal. You were consenting adults with fully formed frontal lobes. 

Instead you leaned down to him and put your chin on his shoulder.

“I love you,” you whispered. He did a double take with his eyes, not moving his head so as to not disturb you. You hadn’t said that yet. “You don’t have to say anything-”

“I love you too.” 

You smiled brightly. You kissed his shoulder and then sat up all the way. 

“Can you read to me?” He glanced up at you, wondering how you had moved on so quickly. 

“Hm?” 

“I just like to listen to you talk Rupert,” you murmured. You handed him your book and slid down the stairs so you were sitting beside each other. He cleared his throat curiously. “One second. I’m gonna go grab one of your sweaters from the office, I like to get cozy. You got any blankets in there Rupert?” You got up and walked away. He smiled to himself. 

“Under the desk.” 

“Ah ha!” you peeked around the corner. You emerged wearing one of his gray knitted sweaters. “I love that you have blankets in your office. Hm. I love you I think.”

“Oh?” You shrugged. 

“Yes sir.” 

You sat beside him again and put a blanket over his lap. 

“Go on. Heathcliff won’t read himself.” 

When Wesley returned he glanced through the door window before walking in. Your head rested on Giles’s, eyes closed in content. You looked rather cozy on that step. Giles kept reading, even as you presumably slept. 

Wesley turned back to bother Buffy some more.

[worflesbian]

I think part of the reason janeway compels me so much is bc i really feel like on any other show she would've been a sympathetic villain at best. like in the last episode I watched she holds a baby while talking about killing it's siblings and it's genuinely only through the thoroughly established context of janeway having to make horrible choices in order to save her crew that we can read that scene as anything but unhinged. and it Does make sense in context bc she's talking about killing adolescent Borg drones to stop them from assimilating hostages, but in most other shows that kind of thing coming from a female character especially would not end up with her being the good guy at the end of the episode.

im thinking about how btvs which aired at a similar time had a whole arc about the pressures of leadership driving buffy to become way too harsh and the consequences of that are she gets kicked out of her own home. avasarala on the expanse does a lot of awful things but being uncompromising and not giving a fuck is like her most notable character trait, she tortures a guy in her first appearance. these narratives have little sympathy for women who do bad things in the name of something greater, either they're punished for it and rejected by those around them or they're characterised as cold and lacking compassion. but janeway for the most part has the full support of her crew and spends the majority of the time being kind and diplomatic, As Well as choosing to sacrifice lives or collaborate with mass murderers when she has to.

and it's conflicting bc although this is almost a one of a kind female character I think part of her existence is due to voyagers unwillingness to challenge the status quo of star trek despite having the perfect premise to do so. everyone wears uniform and adheres to rank despite half the crew being unenlisted terrorists, starfleet is largely unquestioned as an absolute moral good despite the origin of the maquis being designed to undermine and examine that, and the captain is always the hero at the end of the day.

[quietblueriver]

More Buffy the Vampire Slayer AU. My take on Helpless from slayer!Bea's perspective. Part 1/2.

Find the rest of the BTVS AU pieces here.

-

There are runes and symbols painted onto the ceiling of the training room at Cat’s Cradle. Beatrice tracks the deep red lines as her chest heaves, a ward of protection woven artfully around one of the recessed lights. Shannon’s work. 

“Beatrice?” 

She lifts her head to find Superion in the doorway, arms crossed and tone working itself toward what Beatrice might call concern, if she didn’t know that Superion’s threshold for worry begins somewhere around serious bodily harm and only really hits its stride when, as Ava puts it, death has entered the chat. 

“I’m fine.” 

“You’re on the floor.” 

Whatever shadow of care might have been present before is gone now, replaced by a raised eyebrow and the dry, mocking inflection that Beatrice has come to understand, generally, as begrudgingly fond rather than intentionally cutting. 

“Yes. I am.” 

The second eyebrow joins the first, and Beatrice pushes herself from where she had been resting on her forearms into a sitting position, bringing her feet together in front of herself and wrapping her hands around them as she leans forward. She relishes in the pull and stretch even as she worries at the twinge of pain in her lower back. 

She had fallen. It’s not unheard of. She’s a slayer, but she is not perfect or invincible. Still, this had been rather embarrassing–her enemy a pommel horse and the weapon her own body, a failure of balance leading to the swift shock of breath being forced from her lungs.   She raises her eyes to Superion, who is still waiting expectantly. 

“I made a mistake in my routine and paid the price. I am…” She hesitates, embarrassed at her own shortcomings, but there’s nothing for it, so she forges ahead. “I am more exhausted than I should be, patrolling without Ava and the others. I’m not certain if I’ve just become too used to…to working with a partner or if I’ve let myself fall behind in my training, but it has become obvious to me over the last few days that I’ve been failing, somehow.” 

Superion’s lips pull down, and Beatrice readies herself for a lecture, understands that it’s what she deserves, is grateful, even, that Superion might develop some kind of new training plan to help her to get back to where she should be. 

Instead, she says, “I’ve readied today’s meditation,” and turns back through the door. 

There’s an unpleasant turn in Beatrice’s stomach. The total disregard is worse than a lecture. Superion cannot be bothered to address Beatrice’s mistakes, and of course she shouldn’t. She’s here to be a watcher, to provide assistance and guidance to the slayer. She’s not here to provide remedial lessons or hold Beatrice’s hand as she figures out how to balance the demands of her life. 

She shakes her head and pulls herself to stand, ignoring the stab of pain in her muscles as she follows Superion. 

-

“That doesn’t sound normal, Bea. Are you sure you don’t want to rest a bit? Talk to Superion about it? Maybe there’s, like, a slayer flu or something.” 

She’s wrapping her arm, a nasty gash left by a vampire’s switchblade, as Ava’s voice sounds, tinny, on speakerphone. She and Lilith are in Memphis, assisting a coven with an unusual surge in demonic activity. 

She feels a twinge of annoyance–unfair and unkind–because Ava is right, but she’s also part of the problem. It’s not normal for Beatrice to be injured this way, to lose her advantage in a one-on-one with a vampire, especially one as mediocre as the one Beatrice had faced tonight, all clumsy swings and brute force. It’s not normal, but it’s certainly not the result of a slayer flu. No, it’s because Beatrice has allowed herself to become distracted–by Ava, by her friends, by life outside of her responsibilities. 

“I’ve let myself fall behind in training. I’ve been too focused on…other things.” 

“On having a life, you mean.” 

She says it the way she always says things like this, assertive and unyielding, as if she’s unquestionably correct in her belief that Beatrice can and should have a life that extends beyond her role as slayer. As though Beatrice is normal. As though she’s ever been normal. 

“Not especially useful to have a life if I'm not alive to live it, Ava.” 

It’s sharp, a match to the pain in her arm as she tightens the wrap, and she feels guilt for a moment before hardening herself again. 

“I’m just saying that…”

“I know what you’re saying. You’ve said it before. But not all of us feel comfortable treating our responsibilities to others as afterthoughts. I have a job to do, Ava, and I owe it to the world, to myself, and to the slayers who came before me to do it well.” 

Silence on the other end of the line, and Beatrice winces as she lifts her arms to slip her sleep shirt on, gathering the medical supplies together into piles to be thrown away or returned to her kit. She’s begrudgingly debating an apology when she hears the sigh, a throat clearing. 

“Right. Yeah. Okay. I’m going to let you go, Bea. I’ll talk to you later.” 

There’s no fight in it, only resignation and, Beatrice is fairly certain, more than a little hurt. The annoyance that had been driving her morphs to guilt, a familiar shift of emotion that leaves her feeling embarrassed and exhausted. 

Ava is distracting, but it’s not her fault that Beatrice can’t keep herself together. Ava wouldn’t even be a slayer if Beatrice hadn’t been so careless, hadn’t failed to follow direction and ended up dead. That had been no one’s fault but her own. She has no right, now, to use Ava as a scapegoat when things get difficult. 

“Ava, wait…” 

But the line has already cut. 

She finishes tidying, stares at her phone for 10 minutes before turning the screen face down on her nightstand and falling into sleep. 

When she wakes the next morning, there are bruises forming, mottled purple on the skin over her ribs, her thighs, her bicep. The gash from the vampire’s knife has changed, but not for the better, red and swollen in a way that indicates it might be heading toward infection. 

Something is wrong. 

- 

She doesn’t want to raise the issue with Superion until she has done some research. It’s always best to approach with as much information as she can, and maybe she’ll be able to put together a list of possible issues and solutions to ease her own mind. 

She is alone as she enters the library, the campus quiet and bright in the springtime sun. Camila and Mary are out of town for the break, Beatrice having convinced them through a series of forceful conversations and stern looks that she would actually stop speaking to them if Mary gave up her senior spring break plans to help her patrol. She hasn’t told them about her problem, and she won’t, if she can help it, at least not until they get back. Their compromise in leaving, delivered with steely gazes of their own, had been that Beatrice had to inform them of any abnormally life-threatening issue or injury. As of now, she does not believe that this qualifies. 

She pushes to the side the small part of her that says otherwise. 

Unsurprisingly, she’s unable to find anything in the books or in the digital database Camila is working to compile on slayer flu. Slayers have fallen ill before, but it’s all easily traceable to demonic or other supernatural intervention. When she leaves the library, she has no new information as to what might be happening with her but several new worries; the number of demons that have the potential to produce fluids capable of causing necrosis is certainly going to make her more cautious when evaluating unknown substances in the field. 

After a few hours with the books at Cat’s Cradle, she admits defeat and calls Superion, arriving at her house in the early afternoon. The door opens immediately, Superion stepping to the side to wave her in and pointing Beatrice to the kitchen table, her medical kit and new favorite set of crystals already set out next to Beatrice’s chair. 

She examines Beatrice’s bruises and her arm with a careful eye and a gentle touch, humming under her breath as she applies antiseptic to the angry wound and wraps it neatly in new gauze before turning her attention to the medical supplies and beginning to tidy.

“I don’t think it’s anything to concern yourself with. Your body is enhanced, but if you fail to sleep or consume enough food to help it heal, then it will begin to struggle like any other.” 

She won’t meet Beatrice’s eyes as she says this, and Beatrice’s face flushes with heat as she realizes that Superion’s diagnosis is simply that she cannot take care of herself appropriately. 

It has been more than a year since Beatrice was chosen, and the two of them understand each other better now. Beatrice believes, genuinely, that Superion cares for her even beyond her role as slayer, and it makes sense that she’s sparing Beatrice the embarrassment of eye contact as she informs her that she has failed in this most basic set of duties to her body and mind. 

“Right. Of course. I…I apologize. I’ll reevaluate my schedule.” 

Superion hesitates at the waste bin, closes it before turning back to Beatrice with something softer in her gaze. Pity, she realizes, and she turns her own eyes down to the table in shame. 

The legs of the chair scrape lightly as Superion settles again and says, “Meditation will help.” 

She looks to the crystals as Superion begins her guidance, grateful for the distraction, and finds her focus. 

-

The windows are boarded, and she knows that she’s not strong enough to break through them. Her arms feel weak already from bruises and wounds old and new, and she’s still slightly dizzy from the blow to the head she suffered in the cemetery, her legs unsteady as she leans against the side of the armoire and evaluates her options. 

She has no idea where she is. Whatever he had used to knock her unconscious had kept her that way until she awoke, tied to a rickety wooden chair in a decrepit house, a note pinned to her shirt that read, simply: 

11:45. Ready or not, here I come. 

The hands of the grandfather clock to her right indicated 11:25, and it took her ten minutes of rocking to get herself free from the chair, bruising herself badly but thankfully leaving her without any bleeding wounds. She had taken five minutes to evaluate as much of the first floor as she could, eyeing the stairs and determining that she didn’t have time to investigate and couldn’t risk a second story fall if she could help it.

The slam of the front door had alerted her to the start of his game. He yelled, delighted, “Ready or not, slayer! We’re going to have fun!” And Beatrice had been doing her best to hide ever since. She doesn’t know how much time has passed, but at this point, she has been through every room on the first floor that she can see. Every window is boarded. 

She has a broken chair leg in her hand, a last resort, but she knows her odds are vanishingly small if they reach hand-to-hand. Her best chance at this point, even taking into consideration the injuries she’ll incur, is on the second story, with the possibility of an unboarded window, or even one loose enough that she can attempt to pry it open. 

The voice that sounds from the hallway is deep and rough as it sings, “Oh, slaaaayer. Come out and play, won’t you? Rude to leave me all by my lonesome.” 

Her heart is pounding and she tries to take deep, slow breaths, doesn’t want him to be able to hear or smell her panic. The floorboard outside of the room where she’s hiding creaks and she resists the urge to press her nails into her palms or bite her lip. No blood, Beatrice. No blood. 

The sound passes, and she waits thirty seconds, until she hears the sound of a door opening down the hallway. It’s accompanied by a raspy, “Come now, little one. I’m getting bored of this.” 

Carefully, she steps from behind the armoire and toward the door. She can still hear his footsteps, though her slayer senses are gone at this point, the creak of the ancient floorboards providing her with some assistance even as they force her to play a game of memory and hopscotch with each new location. She does this now, following the pattern she had found as she entered this room. 

She reaches the doorway and waits, hears echoes of movement faint enough that she thinks he must be searching another room. This is the dance they’ve been doing, Beatrice switching locations as often as she can, doubling back and moving forward randomly. 

Her captor is a vampire, clad in an eerie Victorian suit and styled almost to look like a puppet or a porcelain doll, hair coiffed perfectly and makeup applied carefully to give him unnaturally red cheeks and smooth, pale white skin. He laughs and yells in equal measure, seemingly both delighted and infuriated by her ability to evade him. She hears another yell, distraught, from the end of the hall, “Have you picked the bathroom then, pet? So very boring of you!” 

And she runs. 

She tries her best to be quiet, had taken the risk of removing her shoes earlier in the night, her boots clunky, and now she reaches back to her ballet and martial arts training to remember how to step with light feet. It seems to have worked; he’s still singing somewhere down the hall when she reaches the stairs.

She’s breathing hard, her legs shaking. She’s so weak. It’s unfamiliar and terrifying. Even before she had her powers, Beatrice was exceptionally athletic. Years of martial arts, archery, and the conditioning that allowed her to excel at each left fit and capable. Now, after the briefest period of exertion, she feels as though might lose consciousness. 

She takes a moment to evaluate the stairs, looking for rot or obviously uneven spots, but she hears movement in the hallway closer to her and makes the decision to climb before she can take full stock. 

It’s this that dooms her in the end. The fifth stair gives way, her leg and ankle falling through rotted wood as a nail shears through the fabric of her sock and into the soft skin of her foot. She does not cry out, even as tears stream from her eyes, but the noise is more than enough to alert him to her location, and she barely has time to pull her ankle free before she feels arms around her, lifting her back toward the first floor. She tries to move her hand but he breaks it, as easily as if it were a twig, the stake falling to the floor. She doesn’t bother trying to hold back her cry this time. 

She’s back in the living room, secured to a dusty chair upholstered in worn, red velvet as he moves around, almost dancing, to collect things that he wants. He drapes a dress—similarly Victorian in style, black with a high collar and lace, the fabric nearly worn through—over the back of the twin to the chair to which Beatrice has been tied. A dark, wooden music box, freshly polished, comes to rest on the small wooden side table near her. A patch of embroidery spans the center, cream cloth depicting in neat stitches a rabbit hanging from a wolf’s mouth, red thread dripping blood from its maw. He opens it with a flourish to reveal jewels–a ruby necklace and earrings—and then produces another, larger box, a garish pink plastic thing full of makeup.

He finishes by bringing another table to rest directly in front of her, a kind of vanity, the mirror built into it surrounded by ornate carpentry, now chipped in places. Adjusting the angle slightly, he comes to stand behind her and rests long, spindly fingers on her shoulders as he meets her eyes in the glass. She refuses to look away.

“Now, my doll. Let’s play.” 

[omarandjohnny]

SHIPPY SHIP SHIP!

Tagged by @negrowhat <333333333333333333333333333333

1. What ship were you completely obsessed with when you were a teenager, but now you don't care anymore?

I didn't really have a fixed ship to hang my hat on in those days (aka the before the internet tiemz), but Buffy and Pike (movie BTVS) were the main couple I fixated on back then (still was figuring out why movie Lestat and Louis made me feel funny in my tummy at that time, so Buffy and Pike were the easier option LOL)

2. Which ship would you consider your first one?

Roz and Dan from Night Court; I was 7 and I wanted them married and arguing until the end of time <3

3. Your first fanfic belonged to which couple?

(hops in the wayback machine) Pretty sure I was writing for Greg/Nick (CSI) just a bit before Ennis/Jack (Brokeback). Still so very thankful that those four introduced me to friends I'd still have in my life 20 years later!

4. Do you remember the first couple you saw a fanart over?

I very clearly remember the Spangel fanvids that took more than day to download from our AOL dialup, yes XD

5. Did you ever get into ship discourse?

Attempting to nail jello to a tree would be a far more productive use of my time.

6. Did you used to have any no-otp or have it currently?

Can't say anything comes to mind, really.

7. Who were the couple in the last fanfic you read?

Had to go through my AO3 history, last time I had a clear enough head to attempt to read anything was early autumn last year (oof) and it was a modern AU of Jiang Cheng and Nie Huaisang that I don't think I finished because I really can't recall any of it. Ah, well.

8. Currently, do you have any OTPs?

Since I can't engage in fic it's hard for me to keep hold of the newer ships, so my brain tends to fall back on old reliables- Loustat/Loumand being at the top at this very moment because the fandom's waking up again for season 2 in May.

9. Is there any couple that, to this day, you are extremely mad about not getting together?

Another one that I can't think of anything.

10. Is there any ship you used to dislike but now you think they are kind of interesting?

Not Really, if I hated them then I'm sure I still hate them now. (keeping your answer here, Eboni, because same)

11. Do you have any ship that, in the past, was considered normal but now you would be cancelled over?

I'd be cancelled over any ship at any time for anything, such is the nature of this goofball puritanical mindset that has taken over fandom socmed. (I know the problem reaches so much further than that, but I'm not clearheaded enough to write a dissertation LOL)

12. What was your favorite crack ship?

Can't say I've ever had one.

13. Who is the couple you read more fanfics of?

20+ years ago I was slowly killing copious amounts of trees and our at-home printer with Spangel fics that I didn't want to lose (have since lost all of the printouts, and the fics are still online in their respective webrings, yikes) So yeah, Spangel would probably still win. Ennis/Jack, and Wangxian would round out the top three, I'm sure.

14. What most of your ships usually have in common?

Bastard-coated bastards, pastel/goth, grumpy/sunshine.

15. What do you absolutely hate in a ship?

Drawing a blank here. Though, I will have a harder time engaging if the source material is mainly written in 1st person POV, which is why I'd be considered a fake Vampire Chronicles fan XD (forever thankful for my friends that actually read the books and school me on what I don't know)

[perexcri]

stonathan sunday

hi hello this isn’t really a ficlet, but one of the prompts this week fit well with the next scene i needed to write for my stonathan week fic, so here’s an excerpt from that!! it’s gonna be a btvs au where Hawkins sits on a hellmouth, so there’s always some kind of supernatural nonsense going on :)

apologies as it is not very edited and idk i don’t usually write for stonathan so this is new territory for me lol. anyway thanks again @stonathanweek​ for posting some helpful prompts~

prompt: "Why do you care?"

“I do have one question. Please, just–I need to know,” Steve says, his voice sounding ragged at the edges, pleading for assistance. “I’ll leave you alone after this, I swear.”

Jonathan chews at the side of his cheek, refusing to make eye contact. He only allows himself a single, curt nod to tell Steve to continue.

Clearing his throat, Steve’s eyes dart down to the camera, then right back up to Jonathan’s gaze. Jonathan focuses on a smudge of the gym door window, but he feels those dark eyes boring into him.

“Do you feel any different today? Like, at all?”

Oh, holy shit–not this again.

Jonathan sighs, eyes mid-roll, when Steve adds, “I’m serious, I really need to know–”

“Why do you care?” Jonathan huffs. “Is this just because I broke up with you last night?”

Steve’s mouth opens and closes several times; it makes him look like a beached whale gasping for air. “I mean–it’s tangentially related to that, but it’s not like–”

“Okay, then how about this.” Jonathan gently lowers his hands from the camera, careful to make sure it remains secured to the strap, then throws his arms out. “I feel goddamn wonderful today. Amazing, even. And the only reason today has sucked is because you won’t stop bothering me, and now you’ve got the whole fucking school moping over you because you can’t stand to not be the center of attention for more than two seconds!”

Steve’s cheeks fill with color, looking almost sunburnt. His eyebrows knit together, and he looks pained as he asks, “Is that true?”

Not entirely, an unhelpful voice offers in Jonathan’s head, but he’s been a good liar for a long, long time. His nod is swift, his gaze damning, and his jaw set with tension.

Steve takes him in for a few seconds, scanning his face as if he could find a different answer hidden somewhere in his features, like the truth could be scoured away by the force of his gaze. He blinks a couple of times, shakes his head, then shoves a frustrated hand into his hair. “Okay, fine. Whatever. I need to talk to Chrissy.”

Nerves begin to tighten in Jonathan’s chest, and he opens his mouth to say, “But I need to take her picture–”

But the door’s already closed in his face, and Steve’s already crossing the floor to where the cheerleaders are practicing their chants. Not even the squeak of his shiny new sneakers can hide the choruses of Hi, Steve! coming from the cheer squad.

Some venomous concoction of jealousy and vexation swells in Jonathan’s gut. He glares daggers through the gym door window one last time before he turns on his heels and shuffles down the hall, deciding the cheer squad pictures can wait until the game tonight.

He doesn’t want to be anywhere near Steve-fucking-Harringotn right now; it’s a good reminder that there’s a reason he broke things off between them, that he was right in his decision.

It does frustrate him to know that he’s not the only one who can close doors between him and Steve, though.

[tuiyla]

Buffy season 6!

Okay I finally have a moment to write this out and it’s now or never so here goes, beginning of Buffy season 6 thoughts. Seen up to episode 6.

I knew going into it that it was a controversial season and obviously I’m yet to see most of it but I really enjoyed the tone the opening three episodes set. It was dark and ominous but not in the “for the sake of it” kind of way. BtVS got more saturated, if not substantially tonally more jovial when Angel the Series started but the start of season 6 almost felt like the Wishverse, what with gangs ransacking Sunnydale and Buffy nowhere to be seen. When I first accidentally found out that Buffy would die once again and return yet again, I didn’t think much of it. In that, she has died once and sure, we got an episode long PTSD and Kendra and Faith as a result (sigh, Faith) but the world didn’t feel fundamentally different. Due to many different factors, including the excellence of Buffy’s sacrifice in The Gift, this time it felt different. The Scoobies, while not quite a shell of their former selves are markedly different. Life went on but the absence of Buffy is felt in every corner. Everyone is effected but standing out the most is Willow, now leader and powerful, perhaps too powerful witch.

Willow’s development has been fascinating to follow and though she didn’t have the most to do in season 5, her not so quiet progression was all too clear when she took on Glory. And Willow’s game face when faced with the loss of Buffy is as serious as it was with Tara’s, such is the depth of their friendship. Alyson Hannigan, newly promoted to the special last but least position of the credits portrays Willow as beautifully as ever and brings a whole new dimension to her. This isn’t the same Willow Rosenberg who was too afraid to talk back to Cordelia in the pilot. She knows what she wants and what she wants is Buffy, alive and well and back with her family. Her path this season is set, even if I didn’t have vague (and not so vague) ideas of what’s yet to come. And Willow’s hardened determination is only highlighted when juxtaposed with her more relaxed self after Buffy returns. Hannigan taps more into the old Willow when Buffy’s back: her smile, her jokes, as if the weight has been lifted from her shoulders now that her friend is back. Now that the chosen one is back. But all is not well with Willow, and part of that is all being far from well with Buffy.

When it clicked what they were going for with Buffy at the end of episode 3, I felt a special kind of delight. The one you get when you know you’re about to witness something great. In this case, a fascinating journey and conflict for Buffy. They can never know but they will. Her friends will eventually have to face the fact that they ripped her right out of heaven itself. I wasn’t sure about her initial shock at first, in that I wasn’t sure it was going to be appropriately serious but also adding to her as a character. But the revelation that she’s not just startled, she’s resentful is delicious drama. And already in season 6 we have what I can only logically conclude is the build-up to Spuffy. Buffy is now so emotionally distant from her friends and even, to a degree, from Dawn. This enormous secret that she has to keep comes with having to pretend she’s grateful for something that she actually resents and tries so hard to wrap her head around. And here comes Spike, someone she doesn’t have to pretend with, someone who, if in a twisted and remote sort of way, is the closest to getting it. What an interesting way of building up Buffy’s side of the relationship, how refreshing that they’re putting the storytelling effort in instead of just catering blindly to what would be aesthetically pleasing. Granted, I still cannot yet say whether I will be satisfied with the way Spuffy unfolds but colour me intrigued at this point in time.

I had a few more thoughts after the first six episodes but really Willow and Buffy in the first three was the bulk of it and what excites me most about this polarizing season. I will say three gripes I’ve had just to let it out. One is the coffin of it all, obviously, Buffy’s friends being skilled enough to pull a resurrection off but not thinking to actually dig her body up before returning her soul into it. Also on the topic of the resurrection, why is everyone fully convinced that Buffy, saviour of the world on several occasions, defender of the innocent, hero to all went to hell? Or a version of hell, anyway. I get that so far in the Buffy lore there wasn’t much about any sort of heaven, just the different kinds of hell, but surely Giles or someone would stop to think, gee surely Buffy would have gone to heaven if there was one. I’m fine with the concept of them wanting to resurrect her regardless, fits very well with Willow’s story and of course their grief would be stronger than any notion of Buffy possibly being at peace. But still.

And finally, I really hope the Trio are just a decoy “Big Bad” and will soon be shoved out of the way to introduce... anyone else. They’re played for laughs so obviously they aren’t the actual Big Bad but I don’t think their comedy is funny, at all. Jonathan just pisses me off so much, someone who has SO MUCH to be grateful to Buffy for being a little shit. And as a group they’re just pathetic, not amusing. I don’t see how them messing with Buffy was played for comedy when girl is suffering enough as it is. She was ripped from nirvana and put back into the wheel, and we’re going to spend an episode, potentially more on some little shits inconveniencing her? No, please, get rid of them asap. Continue what the first three eps were building to and I’ll be happy.

[ghostwriterofthemachine]

will you pretty please tell me about how teen wolf is a shonen??

Oh Griffin you're gunna be so sorry you asked.

I started thinking about this in the first place because I was pondering about the genuinely weird fan reaction to the first couple of seasons of Teen Wolf. Mostly, how people went "this is a concept we like!" and then had no idea what to do with and how to react to the main cast.

To be totally fair, part of this is because the writing of the first season is even worse than you remember it being and the Scott/Allison romance, which is supposed to be the show's centerpiece, is maybe the worst written part of all of it. Another part of it is that the acting talent skewed very young (Dylan O'Brian and Tyler Posey were both only 19/20 during season 1) and their ability to work with this frankly terrible material was a little bit uneven (Posey got WAY better as the show went on and by the end of it was really great imo, but oh man. that first season is not his best work).

But I also think there's a genre and genre convention thing going on here. Let me explain.

(disclaimer because this is a public post on tumblr: this is not that serious and is mostly a thought experiment in genre conventions please don't take it that seriously)

When did Teen Wolf first air? 2011. What were some comparable shows coming out about that time, or that an audience who wanted to watch Teen Wolf might also have watched/been aware of?

The Vampire Dairies, Supernatural, probably something like Buffy the Vampire Slayer.

What do some of these shows have in common?

Snarky/sarcastic main characters (Dean Winchester, Buffy)

Main characters who are often gray-moral or struggle with a pull to The Dark Side (the moral compasses in these shows are usually part of the supporting cast) (and are always high up on the list to be killed off for drama tbh)

Pre-streaming TV formula (episodic monster-of-the-week builds to a larger plot which is resolved in the last 4th of the season)

Romance that relies strongly on will they/won't they, love triangles, and edgy angsty 2000s vampire shenanigans.

You will notice that Teen Wolf has. basically none of this?

Teen Wolf has:

A painfully sincere main character

That same main character is about as moral and stick-to-his-guns as they come

Said main character gives Big Sweeping Speeches that convince irredeemable bad guys to be on his side instead of theirs.

Structured in clear and well-defined arcs, no episodic monster-of-the-week, where the bad guys keep getting bigger and scott's party keeps needing to power up to deal with them.

Audience knows who Scott is gunna end up with pretty much immediately (even when Scott moves on from Allison because of IRL cast fuckery, he always has one main romantic objective and works toward that)

Liberal application of coming-of-age themes/The Power Of Friendship

,,,,,Hm, I think to myself. That sure is something that feels more familiar to the way a shonen is structured than how a western supernatural teen drama is usually structured.

Scott in particular is an archetype that feels very foreign to the landscape of the western supernatural drama at the time. Protagonists of those types of shows were rarely as good and pure and kind as Scott is, and I think it's a big reason why so much of the audience didn't know what to do with him at first and instead attached to Stiles (who is gray-moral and sarcastic and would not feel out of place in a show like spn or btvs) (yes yes I know the sterek thing is also a big reason but go with it for a second here). However, Scott is NOT an archetype that would feel foreign to Shonen Jump at the time, particularly in an era where Naruto was still ruling the world.

Honestly, the whole cast of characters feels out-of-beat with a 2010s Western supernatural drama. The dynamic of the main cast in early seasons — Pure of Heart-Dumb of Ass hero, Tragic Cold and Competent foil (Derek basically playing the role of Sasuke here, lol), Powerless Childhood Friend, Love Interest with a Badass Weapon to Hide Her Vulnerability — all feels much more familiar with the tropes of a shonen (something like Shaman King specifically jumps to mind) than something that would show up in The Vampire Diaries. In Western supernatural dramas, you usually had a Snarky-Angry Hero, Tragic Brooding Love Interest, Concerned But Useless Friend/Sidekick.

,,,,,,Tbh, in a standard western teen drama, the Derek character would have been Scott's love interest. Which. Honestly, what the hell, now I want that, that sounds like an awesome show. Probably better than the Teen Wolf we got.

Oh. Also, there's a hot murder uncle. which is for-sure an anime thing.

ALSO-also, there are kitsune in this show for one season for like no reason because they're never mentioned again and vanish in the next season which happens WAY MORE THAN YOU THINK IT WOULD in this DUMB BAD NONSENSE SHOW —

clears throat. nevertheless. My thesis:

1: At the time it came out (2011), Teen Wolf was structured more like a shonen than a western supernatural teen drama. 2: That is part of the reason why fans had weird reactions to it — they were expecting one genre and it gave them another one, which a lot of the audience likely wasn't that familiar with. 3: this whole show is batshit bonkers.

Thank you for coming to my ted talk. *bows.*

[faithlesbian]

can we get ur thoughts on ftm!spike x mtf!angel (they're both butchqueer)

this is going to be way more in depth and serious than you probably hoped for so, sorry in advance

ppl who know me know i rarely consider pairings in a vacuum, i've got narratives and character arcs to think about which makes this ask Very interesting!! i think me and @titsgirlbuffy once joked that spike is transmasc bc he transed from one masculinity to a different masculinity, so considering him as ftm opens a whole new angle to that take. was he living as a man when he was alive? did he know who he was but stayed in the closet until he got turned and decided well, nothing can stop him now? did he slowly figure it out over decades of marauding the globe with Dru? i think that last one could intersect really well with the Trans Angel Reading in which he is Very closeted, bc if spike wasn't out when angel last saw him a century ago, their reunion in school hard would be even funnier while also probably making angel confront at least a few things. an ftm reading of spike would also interact in Ways with how he views and treats women, but that's honestly a whole nother can of worms so lets not be here all day. i think in general tho this reading of spike gives SO much weight to lines like "i know that i'm a monster, but you treat me like a man", "(the chip) won't let me be a monster, and i can't be a man", "to be the kind of man who... to be a kind of man" like that's what we're here for, that's what its About! i also think it lends an interesting aspect to how spike gets along with women as friends a lot better than he does with men if by the time he started living as a man he was already a vampire and therefore cut off from normal society, never learning how to be "one of the boys" except maybe from angel who, as we know, is not a normal example of anything

i'm not gonna cover my thoughts on mtf angel bc we all know them by now. im literally tumblr user transangelus. in the context of ftm spike tho i think mtf angel becomes a lot funnier given their constant rivalry from btvs s2 onwards -- im pretty sure me and @titsgirlbuffy reckoned spike would be Delighted by angel coming out bc it finally proves who's the better man. on that note tho as much as i fucking love their dynamic, i have no idea if they could actually be "together" in isolation. like as part of the polycule they were obviously fucking on the regular and doing erotic joint murders and the like, but idk if in the present with both of them having souls and trying to be better people that a relationship would be possible. it's like when darla was brought back as a human and her and angel spent like, five minutes together in actual understanding before dru showed up and killed her. with the sheer extent of baggage between centuries-old murderers, i think it's hard to disentangle from the worst versions of themselves they were together and what they did to eachother in the past in order to have a relationship that's not gonna implode messily within months at best (despite the fact they're always clearly desperate to fuck eachother). that being said i haven't actually seen ats s5 all the way through and what i did watch, i don't remember -- so maybe i'll eat my words!!

[sunnydaleherald]

The Sunnydale Herald Newsletter, Wednesday, November 29

SPIKE: It's kill or be killed here. Take your bloody pick. XANDER: Maybe it's the syphilis talking, but... some of that made sense. GILES: I made a lot of these points earlier, but fine, no one listens to me.

~~BtVS 4x08 “Pangs”~~

[Drabbles & Short Fiction]

Promise (Angel, Buffy, G) by badly_knitted

Interrupted Vacation (Xander, Assassin's Creed xover, T) by madimpossibledreamer

Cookie Fever (Buffy,Spike,Dawn, PG-13) by veronyxk84

Movie Night (Spuffy, PG-13) by veronyxk84

On the way to solitary (Angel, Faith, T) by Zouiguy

Second Chances (Buffy/Angel, Tara/Willow, T) by Willow's Promise

[Chaptered Fiction]

the slayer's brat kid sister, Chapter 4 (Buffy/Spike, Dawn, T) by InvisiblePinkToast

Breathe Again, Chapter 15/18 (Angel/Cordelia, M) by Califi62

New Blood, Chapter 13/13 COMPLETE! (Xander, Naruto xover, T) by danu40k

Dawn Rising, Chapter 22 (Buffy/Finrod Felagund, Silmarillion xover, T) by Luna_delCielo

Moments that Make You: The Hero and The Princess, Chapter 96 (Cordelia/Doyle, T) by myheadsgonenumb

The More the World is Changing, the More it Stays the Same, Chapter 3 (Angel/Spike, M) by the_widow_twankey

New York, Chapter 23/43 (Giles/Xander, M) by drsquidlove

Crash and Burn, Chapters 25-26 (Buffy/Spike, E) by NautiBitz

Days of Future Past, Chapter 32/34 (Buffy/OC, Angel/OC, Buffy/Angel, M) by a2zmom

Segue, Chapter 7 (Xander/Cordelia, Ensemble, T) by Francis_Eugene

A Reincarnation in Sunnydale, Chapter 22 (Buffy/Angel, M) by DracoRim98

To Be Hers, Chapter 23 (Buffy/Spike, unrated) by faefawn

1632 Revello Drive, Chapter 12 (Buffy/Faith, T) by Miath's Writing Corner

Her Old Fashioned Boy, Chapter 16 (Giles/Jenny, T) by Bobbie23

Vamp for Rent, Chapter 11 (Spike/Xander, M) by forsaken2003

Crash and Burn, Chapters 23-24 (Buffy/Spike, NC-17) by NautiBitz

Cherry On Top, Chapter 6 (Buffy/Spike, NC-17) by Maxineeden

Spiderwebs, Chapter 44 (Buffy/Spike, R) by Willow25

Amara Time, Chapter 9 (Buffy/Spike, NC-17) by Joan963z

the broken gates of kingdom come, Chapter 9 (Buffy/Spike, R) by disco-tea

Old Fashioned Romance, Chapter 4 (Xander/Steve Rogers, Marvel xover, FR21) by calikocat

the broken gates of kingdom come, Chapter 9 (Buffy/Spike, R) by disco-tea

[Images, Audio & Video]

Artwork: can you guys watch him while I go smoke (Spike, worksafe) by yarboyandy

Banner: [about various winter holidays] (worksafe) by NotASlayer

Artwork: Angel, Spike, and Oz in some fun Styles :) (worksafe) by CoffeeMilkLvr

[Reviews & Recaps]

PODCAST: Episode 43: Helpless (w/ Dean Jurhs) by Gym Was Cancelled

PODCAST: HELLMOUTH HOMOS: Amends by Fear Queers

[In Search Of]

[In search of] Fuffy fanfic rec requested by Strange-Equipment400

[Fandom Discussions]

It’s kind of a bummer that The Master was so quickly written out of the Buffy story... by secretlyasummers

Tiny baby S3 Dawn would have thought Faith is the coolest person... by secretlyasummers

BTVS-OG Experience - Watching Buffy as it was originally released by mondaymiddlemarch

[Willow's forgetting spell in S6 "All the Way" and character analysis] by multiple posters

Is Angel [the series] worth it? by FeatheredDrake

Can anyone explain who the Guardians are and what their purpose is in S7E21 End of Days? by Taraisawkward

Just watched the final episode [of AtS S5] by koken_halliwell

What's something from Buffy or Angel you feel fans come down on a bit too harshly? by InfiniteMehdiLove

What was something that you thought had the potential to be something great if the writing was better? by george123890yang

When Ben was a baby? by MixPurple3897

How do you think the first Slayer made it to what is now California from Pre-historic Africa to slay the last Old One by Virtual_Row_8445

Submit a link to be included in the newsletter!

Join the editor team :)

[missredherring]

An Act Of Kindness - Part Two

Eddie (BTVS) x Fat!F!Vampire!Reader

Rating: T

Word Count: 6.9k

Summary: That feeling of wrongness is so strong. He isn’t supposed to be here. Something is going on. Something is wrong. Wrong, wrong, wrong. 

Contents: Descriptions of throwing up. Character death. Canon/vampire typical violence and gore. Sweet baby angel vampire Eddie. Reader uses the nickname "Bella."

A/N: Here we are for part two! Thank you everyone for your interest in this story so far. I'm nervous since this chapter is more set up than anything really juicy. I hope you enjoy it. I certainly had fun adding more characters. 🩷

Not beta read. All mistakes are my own.

Divider by @saradika-graphics

Tagging those that I remember being interested: @prolix-yuy @oonajaeadira @maggiemayhemnj @alltheglitterandtheroar @boliv-jenta

Part One

Eddie’s at a bar.

It’s not one of the numerous ones near the college campus that the students like to go to and try their luck with fake IDs. The bartenders there are too eagle-eyed and his face is never going to look older in person, no matter how well-made his own fake ID is. Instead he’s at a dive bar at the edge of town, close to a cluster of motels that have mostly out-of-towners as clientele; people who come and go and just want a drink in a dark bar for the night. It’s a quiet atmosphere that thankfully doesn’t test his hunger and at least he’s not the only one nursing a beer at the bar top tonight. 

One of the first things Max had done for him after his change was get him a new ID, saying something about not wanting a wet blanket weighing him down. Max handed over the shiny new ID and aged him up with an air of carelessness that stung later when Eddie had time to think on it. He can buy alcohol and even rent a car now, but neither feels like something he’s earned with the privilege of living that long. 

Raiding the beer fridge in the garage, sneaking sips from parent's stashes, and hoping no one noticed how loud they were in the basement; they’d been tipsy and carefree. Surrounded by mismatched, beat up furniture, they'd talked about all the parties they’d throw once they came of age; it was one of the ultimate rituals of growing up. But there'd been none of that with Max. No acknowledgement of this milestone in a young adult's life. Just another thing Max took from Eddie because of his own selfishness.

And now something is wrong. More wrong than all the other little things Max has done so far. Eddie has a running list of those that just keeps getting longer, but there’s nothing so obvious that he can point to for this wrongness that’s been picking at his nerves since he woke up today. 

He’d told Max about it, but his maker brushed him off. He’d been obsessively focused on this new job he’d gotten, saying something about sweet revenge. He hadn’t even taken his eyes away from his tie as he tugged the fabric this way and that to get the perfect folds and creases. 

“Relax,” Max said, smoothing the fabric down his front and picking a piece of microscopic lint from his suit jacket. “It’s probably just indigestion from the take out from last night.”

Take out delivery guy, Eddie corrected in his mind as Max grabbed his bag and keys and made for the front door. 

“Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do.” Max quipped and threw a wink over his shoulder. With a slam of the door, Max was gone.

The unnamable wrongness kept him moving until he got to the bar.

He takes a mouthful of beer, swishes it around, and carefully dribbles it back into the bottle under the guise of taking another sip. He readjusts his grip on the bottle higher up on the neck and hopes it’ll be enough to hide the pursing of his mouth. He feels a little nauseous from the residual amount he swallows and pointedly doesn’t think about the rising percentage of backwash to beer ratio. He picks at the damp label and thinks about chugging the whole thing just to see what would happen.

As if reacting to his idle thoughts, his stomach lurches and he claps a hand over his mouth. He’d been drunk a few times before he was turned and it had been a gradual effect, not something that slammed into him after not even an entire mouthful of beer. His vision gets hazy with blackspots in his periphery. Eddie feels the tell-tale saliva pool in his mouth and he quickly makes his way to the bathroom. A few disgruntled shouts follow him when he bumps into people, so focused on his goal, but they die away once the other patrons get a look at his young face turning green.

He’s glad of his vampire abilities as he strides into the bathroom, slides to his knees, and hunches over a toilet in under a second. He gives into the feeling, stops fighting the contraction of his muscles, and he heaves and heaves, only to spit saliva into the bowl. Everything is doubled, and even worse, they're in separate colors: a red and blue toilet next to each other in what he knows is a small stall. Is this a vampire thing? It'd never been this bad the few times he'd passed out as a human. He clenches his eyes at the sensation and his mind drifts to the last time he’d thrown up and was comforted by a kind voice behind him. As much as he’d like your presence again, he doesn’t think the universe would be kind enough to let you stumble on him in the men’s bathroom of a dive bar. 

His stomach stills and he sits to the side, panting into his arm as he wipes his mouth and waits for the walls to stop warping. That feeling of wrongness is so strong. He isn’t supposed to be here. Something is going on. Something is wrong. Wrong, wrong, wrong. 

He can't take it anymore. He’ll find Max and demand an answer. Eddie swallows thickly and goes back out to the bar to get his jacket and leave. When he pulls out his wallet to give the bartender a tip your calling card falls from the bill fold onto the bartop. The thick cardstock makes a sound like a bell to his ears over the murmur of the patrons and the jukebox music. Iridescent ink flashes in neon lights and here is a much more appealing option. 

He’d thought of showing up at your house a couple of times before now, but he could never find a valid reason. What was he supposed to say, that he just wanted to see you again? How would that make him look? Now with this extreme bodily reaction to the wrongness gnawing at him, he had a good enough reason. He hoped you wouldn’t wave his concerns away like Max had. 

Eddie doesn’t know what he expected your home to look like. He realizes, as he double checks that the street number by the front door matches the address printed on your card, that he’d built up something from a gothic novel based on the impression of your personality from one meeting. There isn’t any dramatic architecture or even a gargoyle on the corner guarding the household. It looks like a normal townhouse in a row of them in a normal neighborhood closer to the center of the city.

Pinching the card between two fingers, he approaches the door and knocks. He sees a doorbell a second later and feels queasy again. Should he have rung that instead? Would anyone be close enough to hear his knock? Vampires have good hearing, but maybe you’re in a room with good sound proofing and if he has to try again, should he use the doorbell? He’s about to reach out and ring the doorbell when the door opens.

It’s not you. 

A male vampire with hazel eyes and neatly cropped dark hair opens the door. Eddie can tell the suit he’s wearing was made by a skilled tailor; he’s gotten used to seeing them considering they make up the majority of Max’s wardrobe, but this man’s style is understated compared to his maker’s. 

“Can I help you?” The man asks, and Eddie hesitantly holds out your card. He doesn’t want to let it go, but it might be his only way of entry. 

“I met her- uh, Ms. Bella? A little while ago, and she said if I needed help, I could call on her,” He’s losing steam, his confidence deflating the more this seems to not be as cut and dry as finding you and getting your help, so he finishes his thought quickly. “I need help.”

The man takes your card and looks from it to Eddie, taking in his appearance. It makes him nervous when he tucks your card into a pocket instead of giving it back. It’s become a thing of comfort, providing the possibility of meeting you again, but before he can do something stupid like asking for it back, the man turns into the entryway and motions Eddie to follow him.

“Come in. I’ll let her know you’re here.” 

The man waits for Eddie to step past him before closing the front door and ushering him into a front room. There’s a large bay window covered with gauzy gray curtains to obscure the view from the street. A fireplace takes up one wall, and bookcases line the others, filled with knickknacks and books. The color palette of the room could only be described as "neutral" with creams and grays accenting the dark brown wood of the mantle and bookcases. A couch and chairs are centered in the room, making it seem like a place to meet and talk but not lounge and stay. It’s a little sparse, but normal. Just like everything else. He takes stiff steps around the room.

He can hear footsteps overhead, and then more coming towards the room, and a thrill goes through him. Is it you on your way to him? Are you excited? Did you want to see him again? Or is his sudden appearance interrupting your plans and you’d toss him out as soon as it was polite to do so? Eddie forces himself to check out the titles on the closest bookshelf. He’s found three of what his mother calls “bodice rippers” and two Edwardian philosophy books when the footsteps stop behind him in the entryway. He picks at the skin around his thumbnail and only turns around when he hears your voice. 

“Eddie. How lovely to see you, darling.” You say with a smile. 

Darling. It’s a pet name that could mean nothing, just a habit you’ve picked up along the way through the decades, but it soothes him. He’s finally found something that quiets that worry, and it’s you. He smiles back and comes over to you, taking your offered hand. 

You're the most colorful thing in the room. 

You’re wearing a silky teal robe cinched at the waist. It gaps a little at the neckline, showing a hint of lace and his stomach drops. He has interrupted you getting ready for the night. Or did you already return and have plans at home? Is there someone else waiting for you upstairs? 

He’s so twisted up that he can’t even focus when you lean up to kiss his cheek and lead him, his hand still in yours, to the couch. You sit him down and take a seat beside him. His thigh and knee presses against yours and he swallows. 

“Now what’s the matter?” You ask, and lift a hand to swipe his hair from his forehead to get a look at his whole face. Your eyebrows pinch together. “John said that you came seeking help, and I hope you don’t mind me saying so, but you don’t look well.”

Your hand on his forehead and the relief that it brings makes him feel childish. Eddie straightens his spine and shoulders. He can do this. 

“Something’s wrong. I’ve had this feeling all night, it got worse when Max left for work, but then I was at this bar and I almost passed out; it was so bad. I didn’t know what to do, but then I remembered what you said, and-and came here.” He finishes lamely.

He doesn’t want to see what your reaction is, afraid it’d be something like pity or annoyance, so he focuses on the sleeve of your dressing gown and how finely stitched the embroidery was. He’d never given details on clothing like that any attention before, but now he can see the tiny twists of thread and how deliberately they were stitched into the fabric. 

“I see,” You say slowly. “Have you tried calling him?”

“I-I- No.” He says and fights the embarrassment creeping up the back of his neck. “I wasn’t in my right mind, I guess. I just came here.”

“I’m glad you did.” You say, touching him again on the arm. He looks into your eyes and sees nothing but concern. “I said I would help you and I meant it. Let’s start with calling him. Do you have his number?”

You stand and go to a telephone on a side table next to the window that he hadn’t noticed. He pats his pockets and fishes a wrinkled business card out. Max was always stuffing the stupid things in the weirdest places. “You never know when you’ll have the chance to advertise my business prowess, kid.”

He reads off the numbers, first for Max’s office and then his cell phone. There’s no answer from either numbers and Eddie’s about to suggest sending a fax- the last number listed on the card- when you sigh and roll a shoulder in one of the most elegant shrugs he’s seen someone do.

“We’ll go pay him a visit then, if he’s too busy to answer his phone. I’ll just go get dressed.” You say and leave the room. 

He's following behind you and just catches himself on the doorjamb when his muscles get the message from his brain to stop. The urge to reach out to bring you back is so strong his fingertips tingle with it. He wants to pull you to him. To undo the belt at your waist and see if the clothes you have on under it hug your body in the same way your robe does. It must; everything must want to hug your body the way he wants to.

When you disappear around a corner he’s lost again. He hesitates in the doorway. Should he go back into the room to wait for you, or stay in the entryway? If he stayed in the entryway you wouldn’t need to go into an unnecessary room, but what if you expect him to go back into the room? He sighs and fidgets with the cuffs of his sleeves. He lets his indecision decide for him and stands awkwardly in the doorway.

You come back down in simple clothes: jeans and a black sweater with a purse tucked under your arm. He’s so distracted by the sight of your beat up sneakers that he doesn’t notice John joining them until he asks for an address. Eddie finally looks away from you to give it and you’re off, packing into one of the small cars parked on the street out front.

The grouping of beige buildings looks like any other business park in the country. Nothing seems out of place until they come to Max’s office building and see the trail of bloody footprints walking away. 

“Well, that doesn’t mean much, considering who is involved. He might have had an eventful night.” John says, crouching down to run a finger through a footprint. “It’s just starting to dry.” 

It’s worse the further they go inside. More and more blood and viscera everywhere. Not just on the floor, but on every surface. Sliding down the walls, dripping from the ceiling, splattered over the shattered remains of cubicles and computers. 

He looks in the office with Max’s name plate but there’s nothing inside. For a scene of such destruction it’s eerily quiet. 

“Oh, Max.” You sigh, taking a few steps into another office.

“What happened?” Eddie asks from the doorway.

He doesn’t recognize the name on the door but the room looks like a bomb went off inside. A blood bomb. It’s completely obscuring the windows, making the red color stand out against the rest of the drab office interior.

He carefully enters the office and looks around. On the back of a chair is a suit jacket that seems to have missed the majority of the mess with the chair blocking it. Eddie still has to check the tag to see his maker’s preferred designer’s name. Inside the breast pocket is Max’s cell phone with a number of missed calls and unread texts.

You bend down and pick up a wooden name plate. He doubts they’ll ever be able to get the blood out of all the grooves. 

“Max has been killed. I’m sorry, Eddie.” You say, turning towards him.

Killed? What did that mean for a vampire? He looks around the blood-soaked office again. There was too much even for a sloppy feeding. Does that mean that a vampire born from violence has no other end but more violence?

“I found a survivor.” John says, dragging a grumbling vampire behind him. You and Eddie join them in the larger office space. 

“Man, watch it. This sweater vest is new.” The vampire says. There’s several blood stains already darkening the vest.

“Tell us what happened.” John orders.

“What, not going to introduce yourself or anything? I am the boss here now, you know.” 

John shakes him, once.

“Fine, fine.” He huffs and spills his proverbial guts. Telling them of Max’s plan to take over the company and get revenge on his college nemesis. 

Eddie can feel you and John glancing at him, trying to gauge his reaction, but he keeps his eyes firmly on a chunk of what must've been a vampire that's now slowly sliding down a wall. 

No wonder Max hadn't needed to feed as much when he'd come back to the apartment: he'd been feeding on his coworkers before turning them. Eddie had no idea Max was going to such lengths to back Evan into a corner. 

As the story continues, Eddie switches to watching you and John, his eyes bouncing back and forth between them. John’s face gets grimmer and grimmer while you seem to inflate as the tale comes to an end. When the vampire, Andrew as he introduced himself, finally stops you let out a gusty sigh and pinch the bridge of your nose. 

“That idiot.” You hiss. Annoyance is rolling off you in waves and in a movement so quick, Eddie wouldn’t have been able to catch it if he wasn’t a vampire, you take Andrew’s head in your hands and rip it from his shoulders. There’s a trickle of blood from the wound, but nothing like the explosion that happened in the office behind them. 

Andrew’s head is still protesting, but you punt it away with a solid kick. The body falls limply to the floor with a wet ‘plap’ from the already soaked carpet.

“That reckless idiot.” You repeat, surveying the office floor again. 

Eddie doesn’t know what to say or do. Maybe he’s in shock. That always happens to people in the movies after traumatic events. Can a vampire go into shock?

“Call Liam. Accept whatever his fees are. We need his skills for this big of a mess. Do a sweep of the rest of the building and take care of any other messes Max made. Eddie will be his only surviving progeny.” You say, turning back around and focusing on John. He nods, already on his cell phone. 

Things move quickly after that. You rummage through Max’s office until you find his keys and tell John you’re taking Eddie home to gather his things. 

“If it’s alright with you, you’ll stay with us until we can figure out the next step for you, Eddie. Is that okay?”

“Yea, that’s fine. Thanks.” He says.

“I’m glad. It isn’t good for you to be alone right now. We just need to find Max’s phone before we can leave.”

“I have it.” Eddie says, finally feeling the weight of the device he hasn’t put down in the confusion of everything.

“Wonderful. We can go then. I’ll see you at home, John.” You call out and sweep Eddie from the office and into the garage. 

“Can I drive? I-I need to do something.” Eddie asks. There’s so much going on that he doesn’t know what to do, but driving to Max’s apartment? He can do that.

You hand over the keys and he doesn’t know if it's good or bad that you don’t say anything and just slip into the passenger seat. At least he’s able to focus on the familiar task of driving.

There are few things that Eddie feels the need to pack up and take with him. Besides the clothes he actually likes, he takes his well-worn copies of Maughan’s Of Human Bondage and Shelly’s Frankenstein that he’d spent hours reading and annotating as part of what would be his last college course. It all fits into his battered backpack and he pretends he doesn’t see your disapproving frown when he tells you he’s ready to leave.

This time he doesn’t protest when you go to the driver’s side and just concentrates on shoving his backpack on the floor between his feet. The night is dark around them, but he can still see the bright red painting the office windows on the back of his eyelids when he closes them. 

“What do you want to do now, Eddie?” You ask him. He looks at you, taking in the roundness of your face and how the streetlights and shadows play over your nose, cheeks, and chin as you drive through the city. “It’s up to you.”

The last major decision he had a say in was what classes he wanted to take in the upcoming semester. The one he never got to attend since Max bumped into his life and turned him, changing everything.

“I don’t know,” He says honestly. “I like being a vampire, but maybe not the kind Max wanted to be.” 

You nod. “That’s as good a place to start as any. You won’t be alone in this, darling.” 

He’s heard a lot of good intentioned promises over his short lifetime, but he wants to believe in this one. He wants to believe in you.

The rest of the night is a blur. You usher him back into your townhouse and press a glass of warmed blood into his hands as you take his backpack from him. You lead him upstairs and into a guest room.

With a brush of your hand on his cheek and a reminder to rinse out the glass when he's done or else any blood left behind would congeal, you leave him to his rest.

Eddie is so grateful for your comforting presence in the house and his full belly, that when his head hits the pillow it's blissfully empty of thoughts.

Days pass and Eddie still has no idea what to do. 

You make sure his needs are taken care of. He’s never kept hungry for long, and he’s allowed free reign of the house, but he doesn’t know what to do. At least with Max there had been some kind of schedule –Max's– for him to follow. There’s an obvious ebb and flow of activity that follows some sort of pattern, but he doesn’t know where he can fit into it. Instead he finds nooks and crannies to keep himself out of the way and buries his nose in the familiar plots of his books. At least those won’t change suddenly. 

He found a comfortable window seat at the back of the house tonight and while he has a book in his hands, he isn’t reading it. He’s staring at the words on the pages, at the small spots missing in the letters where the ink had lifted. He’s rubbing his thumb over the bottom of the page where he’s holding it open, taking in the rough texture of the paper used in the mass market paperback edition. He can’t seem to focus on the story tonight, so he listens to the house around him instead. 

People, both vampire and human, come and go at all hours. There’s constant movement between the three floors, in the areas he explored and the ones he hasn’t had the courage to enter yet. He’s found several offices and guest rooms, a library sprawling between two rooms, and what looks like a small ballroom that takes up most of the back of the first floor.

Eddie’s listening to the rhythm of a back and forth conversation in what he thinks are your private rooms, on the right side of the third floor, when John finds him. 

“Do you have any plans tonight, Eddie?” He asks. Eddie’s learned that John prefers to skip the usual small talk and he’s taken a liking to the direct way of talking. He admires the way John gets to the point and doesn’t dance around what he really wants to say.

“I don’t. What’s up?” He says, closing his book and setting it into a small recessed shelf next to the window.

“Come with me.” John says and then starts off in the direction of the front door. 

During the car ride into the city John hands Eddie a small notebook and indicates he opens it to a page with a bent corner. 

“We could’ve done this at the house, but I thought you’d like to get out and stretch your legs.” John says, giving Eddie a look before turning back to the road. 

Eddie doesn’t exactly duck his head, but he does look down at the notebook. It reads like a list of errands. Mostly normal stuff, if you didn’t know it was for a household of vampires: Pick up drycleaning (they know how to get even the stubborn dried blood stains out), contact grocer about the recent rise in food costs (blood and food), and checking in with the seamstress about an outfit that’s behind schedule.

"Do you really need my help with this?” Eddie asks.

"I can do this myself, certainly, but you need to learn. You also need established vampire company to regain your balance after Max's final death." He says, watching the traffic as they pull onto a street and smoothly parks the car.

"Regain my balance?"

"Yes. The bond between a fledgling and maker is a strong and important one. Usually when that bond breaks both vampires are old enough to withstand it and there are minimal effects. But you're young, and it could be detrimental if left unattended." John says and gets out of the car.

"Is that why I want to be with her all the time?" It’s the first thought that comes to mind with this new information, and it’s a small hope that John didn’t hear him say it out loud. There's still traces of sunlight in the dimming sky and the cool air is refreshing as it surrounds him. Eddie is a little surprised he missed the feeling.

"It could be part of it. But Bella is alluring all on her own, isn't she?" John says and Eddie is thankful he didn’t laugh at him or mock him like Max would’ve.

"What am I, a baby duck? Imprinting on the first vampire after I wake up?" Eddie mumbles as he follows John down the sidewalk. There aren't many people out right now: it's late in the day for shoppers and too early for the night crowd. John laughs and it’s a nice sound.

"You certainly fit the bill," John says. He holds open a door and ruffles Eddie's hair as he goes by, tugging on the cowlick at the base of his neck that swirls the hair there into a little point reminiscent of a duck's tail. "Little Duck."

Pet names are an easy affection handed out by the majority of the household, Eddie's discovered. He's not used to it, to others wanting to bestow them on him, but he has gotten used to vetoing the more absurd or reaching ones. The names are given freely and often, but he has noticed that you don't call anyone else darling but him. 

"Nope. Not that one." He says. He eyes John a little as they walk through the back end of a restaurant and approach what looks like an office door. He doesn’t know if he could trust this camaraderie between vampires. He’d never felt anything like friendship with Max. 

John shrugs, still smiling. "Fair enough."

A person comes out of the office and stops short when they see them. They look at their watch and sigh. 

“I’m so sorry, John. We’re running behind on schedule. Daniels’ is unloading the last of our shipment, but I’ll send him over when he’s finished. You know how he likes to inspect every last bag. Please, wait in my office.” They say before rushing off. 

Eddie can hear the noise of a restaurant beyond the walls: the quiet conversation of diners and the rapid back and forth of the kitchen staff. The silence in the office is companionable and he finds John's steady presence comforting; it quiets his nerves. Maybe there's something to the theory of keeping vampire company as a support system when you’re newly made. 

"Have you been with Bella long?" He asks. 

"Are you still thinking of time in a human way? How long has it been since you were turned?" 

"Uh…" Eddie has to think back and was a little stunned at the answer. "Almost a year."

John nods. "I've been in Bella's household for a few decades now. We were lovers for a time, but we work better together as friends." 

"And you're fine working for her like this?"

"There’s never a dull day with her."

The conversation ends when the door is opened and closed by another man coming in with a clipboard in hand. He’s focusing on the papers on the clipboard and looks casual in a denim jacket over a button up with the top button left undone. The dark dark on his head is as neatly styled as his mustache.

The opening of the door lets a waft of hot hair smelling of cooking food in. Eddie remembers it smelling good, but now it was just a strong, unpleasant smell. He inhales again, and gets a good whiff of the man’s cologne.

“How do you stand the smell?”

John doesn't look at him, but says in a easy way: “You don't have to breathe.”

Oh, right. Eddie’s glad John doesn't make a big deal out of his lack of vampire common sense. Max would've had a field day. He never missed an opportunity to point out when Eddie asked him dumb questions.

“Right.” Eddie says, and stops breathing. It's better, even though the smell lingers.

“Good to see you, John. You didn’t have to come track me down, you know; I’ve got your shipment for this month in the truck.” The man says.

“There’s nothing wrong with meeting face to face for business is there? Everyone is in such a hurry these days.”

“You know I don’t mind a little face time with a handsome fella like yourself,” The man finally looks up from his clipboard to wink at John. His eyebrows hike up when he sees Eddie standing next to him. “Now who’s this young buck?”

“This is Eddie. He’s a new member of the household,” John motions between them as he makes the introductions. “This is Jack Daniels, a senior partner at Statesman Distillery.”

Jack nods and raises his hand to his forehead in a gesture that Eddie’d seen in western movies.

A senior partner? He doesn’t look like one with his casual style. “The liquor company?”

“One and the same. We cater to all kinds of clientele, even the after hours variety. Money is money and whether the people that give it over are undead or alive, it still makes the world go ‘round.”

“Unfortunately,” John makes a noise of agreement. “Which brings us to business: We’ve noticed an increase in the cost of the last few shipments and we would appreciate an explanation.”

Jack is nodding and tapping the edge of the clipboard against his palm. “I hear ya, John, but it’s just that: business, plain and simple. Costs have gone up across the board to maintain the quality of the product we provide.” His mustache pulls down in an exaggerated frown. “Sourcing has always been an issue, but it’s gotten worse with the rise in recreational drug use.” 

Eddie shifts his weight on his feet and tries to pay attention to the conversation. John said he’d needed to learn, so there was something here he felt he needed to know. The problem was that Eddie had gotten so used to tuning Max’s business babble out over the past year. Would he have paid attention, if he’d known Max wouldn’t be around for much longer? He doubts it.

Another business card is thrust under his nose and Eddie jerks back before he gets a papercut.

“Nice to meet you,” Jack gives him a wink when he takes it. “Be sure to give Bella my regards.”

John is already holding the door open for them when Eddie looks to him. This time he remembers to stop breathing as he goes back through the restaurant. When they’re back outside he takes a deep lungful to clear out his senses and he notices the perfectly normal looking delivery truck tucked into the alley next to the building, the Statesman logo shining in gold on a black background. There’s nothing to hint at the blood stored next to the liquor in the back, all of it on the way to thirsty customers.

“Eddie.” John calls him from the car. 

“The… seamstress is next, right?” Eddie says in an attempt to show he was paying attention. 

John nods and the drive across town is quiet except for the disgruntled noises he makes at the other drivers. They make a stop at the dry cleaners where Eddie jumps out to collect the armful of clothes and linens for the house. He hangs them from the handle behind the driver’s seat and they’re off again. 

The dry cleaning bags rustle from the backseat, there’s low music playing from the radio, and for the first time in a long time, Eddie feels normal. He’s just like everyone else in the multitude of cars around them: running errands and thinking about what to do with the rest of their day. There’s no ulterior vampire motive at play. Nothing that would single him out as ‘other’ if anyone took a closer look at him. Max reveled in the bloody violence of the vampire lifestyle, but it seems like you and your household choose something different. A life despite being a vampire? No, not despite it, maybe living with it would be the better description.

Eddie doesn’t know if he can pin it down yet, but he knows it makes him feel optimistic for the first time since he woke up as a vampire. 

A jaunty ringtone brings his focus back into the car and Eddie admires the smooth way John takes out his cell phone from a pocket while keeping a steady hand on the wheel. Except his hand isn’t on the wheel and Eddie’s a little embarrassed that he didn’t notice that the car was stopped and parked if not turned off yet. How long had he been wool gathering? 

At least he notices when John’s conversation pauses and he leans over to Eddie. 

“I’ll need to take this. Would you mind going in alone? All you have to do is say you’re picking up an order and tell them for who. There shouldn’t be any problems.

Eddie nods and when John’s attention goes back to the call he gets out of the car and stretches. He can do this. The sidewalk is packed with people and Eddie takes the chance to practice his movements. It’s more difficult than he’d thought, blending in amongst humans, when he can zip through the world with ease. The rhythm of breathing and paying attention to his foot placement helps. Inhale, heel, exhale, toe. Again and again until he’s in front of the seamstress’ storefront with a hand on the doorknob.

The entire room is packed with bolts of fabric. Rows and rows of them, broken up by mannequins on display and a few tables topped with some ready to wear options. The air is stale from being blocked at every turn by more fabric. Before, he might’ve called it cozy and a good fit for a seamstress shop, but now he feels almost trapped in the small space. The only empty counter top is situated near the back with a computer on the corner and a brass bell in the middle. A quick glance around assures him no one else is in the front so he rings the bell and waits. 

The fabric also muffles the noises from the surrounding shops and any upstairs areas, but it only takes a few minutes for him to hear shuffling from the back doorway. The door opens and in sweeps a woman carrying a fancy garment bag over her shoulder. She’s been called ‘seamstress’ but this woman didn’t match the mental image Eddie's been building from the title and the shop. He imagined a woman in clothing from an earlier time period maybe, or at least something with an insane amount of embroidery and craftsmanship to show off her skills.

She’s short, wearing plain clothes of a loose top and pants. Her shaved head makes her glasses look even bigger on her face. A pincushion is strapped around the wrist of the arm that’s holding the bag against her body, the pinheads catching on the light with the minute movement of her chest as she breathes. They blink at each other owlishly.

“I’m here to pick up an order, for Ms. Bella.” He says. She frowns and slings the bag over the counter. 

“I told her man John it’d be done by the time we closed, and yet here you are not even an hour after sundown.” She says in an annoyed tone. Then she rolls her eyes and turns to the backroom. “I suppose it’s a good thing I’m a wizard with a needle.”

Another garment bag is thrown onto the counter and she unzips it to show a dress of silky fabric. Here’s the dense, pattern heavy work he was expecting to see on the seamstress herself. Dotted on the collar in what he thinks is a floral pattern, the tiny beads are so small and so dense that he’s surprised her human eyesight was capable of the detail. He touches a flower and jerks his hand back when a stinging spark leaps from a bead to his finger.

She smirks at him and gives him the receipt. “Careful. The spells woven with that beadwork don’t like close inspection once they’re set. I’ve billed the usual account, so this order is officially complete.” She makes a little hooray motion with her hands and zips the garment bag closed with a sense of finality. 

He says goodbye and drapes the heavy bag over his shoulder as he leaves, wondering what you need a dress with spells on it for.

John is still on the phone so Eddie stays quiet on the return to the townhouse, his contemplative mood returning as he's lulled by the passing streetlights.

You're waiting for them when they come in, sprawling out on the stairs in a pair of sweats. It's the most dressed down he's seen you so far, he thinks as you look up from your phone and hop down to greet them. 

“How was your night out, fellas?” You ask.

“Productive,” John says, and bends down to kiss your cheek. He takes he dry cleaning with him as he leaves. “I've got to handle some last minute arrangements for the meetings next week. Ciao, Bella.”

You look after him fondly before turning to Eddie and making grabby hands for the garment bag. 

He holds it up for you to open and when you sigh in appreciation the sound goes right to his gut. Your hands smooth over the fabric and it pushes the bag back into Eddie's chest. It's so faint, but he can feel the ghost of your touch and he's never wished to be a piece of clothing more in his life with the way you're looking at the dress right now. 

“Oh, it's perfect. I knew it would be. She has a real magic touch, you know.” You say. 

With quick movements the bag is zipped up again and hung on the railing behind you. You bend down to straighten the bottom of the bag so it doesn't wrinkle up. He looks at your fingers instead of the way the pants stretch over your ass and doesn't feel guilty at all when you smile at him. 

“I’ll be attending a charity gala at the Austen Art Museum this weekend. If you don't have any plans, would you like to join me, Eddie?”

“It's a date.” He says before he knows what he's saying.

He doesn't blush like before, with blood rushing up his neck, into his cheeks, and spreading to the tips of his ears. The emotions are still there though: the shock of his own daring, wanting to run from the room and never make eye contact again. 

But when you beam at him with twinkling eyes, with your entire face crinkling up in delight, he can feel his face warm up just the slightest and it feels like when he used to turn his face towards the sun on a clear winter day.

[darling-i-read-it]

Would you be willing to maybe write Giles headcanons from btvs. Like about his love languages and how it would go? Much love 💕! Please and thank you ☺️.

angel? spike? no. giles. it'll always be giles. (ps thank you for this request im knee deep in watching buffy so this is on my mind lots)

this is love language headcanons or alternatively: different scenarios in giles house. (gentle warning for some insinuating jokes lol)

acts of service

Giles appreciates when other people do things without him having to ask. He's very used to be in charge and likes that position; it makes him feel important

but goddamnit it sure would be nice for someone else to shoulder the weight. it would be double nice if it was someone other than buffy who also never gets a damn break.

it also doesn't have to be big things. Setting the tea bags out for him, buying the kind he likes when he's low.

Bringing him books you think he'll like or putting away the ones he had left out.

This also goes for things like helping research or helping Buffy if she needs it. A lot of his life is surrounding helping her so if you help as well it takes some of the pressure of his shoulders.

Giles ran his hand through his hair as he left the bedroom. You had stayed over the night before but weren't in bed when his alarm clock went off. He looked around the corner, seeing only himself in the mirror coming down the stairs. He wanted to call out your name but didn't, out of sheer exhaustion.

When he emerged into the living room he could hear you. You were in the kitchen, gently humming to yourself. His eyes opened wide, the sleep leaving them, when he saw you.

"Mornin sleepy head. You forget to turn your alarm off?" He gave you a confused look. "It's a holiday today. No school." He looked back up the stairs, trying to find what day it was in his head.

"Why are you awake then?"

"Couldn't sleep." His eyes drifted down to your hands. You were making breakfast. You had pancakes on the counter already made. Bacon was sizzling.

"Breakfast?"

"Figured it was the least I could do. You were so generous last night," you teased. He smiled, shaking his head.

"This..this is a lot of bacon." There was a whole stack already made.

"I figured your scoobies were going to be stopping by sometime this morning with a problem. Don't want them to starve." His eyes floated to your face with the most adoring look. You met his gaze. "You okay?"

"I love you. I love you so much."

quality time

Giles doesn't have a lot of free time, at least not in the first few seasons. He was technically always running around and doing something with the library or with Buffy or with the council. Constantly stuck within a losing battle of his free time and his sanity.

Spending all the time he could with those he loves and appreciates is important to him. He attempts to make time.

It's just...not easy.

It isn't actually his fault necessarily but yeah...he can barely finish a book for pleasure.

But when he has that time he does not like to waste it.

"I've taken the phone off the hook," Giles announced. You looked up from the couch where you were sitting. He looked quite proud. "Buffy is patrolling with Angel. She'll be safe for the night."

"You don't have to convince me," you told him.

"I know. I was convincing me." You gave him a sly smile. He sat down beside you. He had a stack of books in front of him on the coffee table. You were cuddled up in the corner of the couch with a blanket and a mug. "Has your tea gone cold?"

You shook your head, no.

"Good." He picked up the stack of books and rested them on his lap. You watched him with big heart eyes. He was about to talk about something he was extremely passionate about. You were excited to listen.

"Which one are you going to read to me tonight Rupert?"

"I have options."

"Naturally."

physical touch

we all saw the episode where they reverted to their teenage selves

growing up, Giles had the tendency to be handsy in relationships. That wasn't something that exactly faded away as he grew older, he just became slightly better at hiding it

It was something you were surprised about when you started a relationship with him but it was something that was simple to ease into. It became natural fast

He likes to have his hands on you whenever you're alone. the whole time. all the time.

in public he's okay, he's sophisticated, he's borderline shy/timid. He does not want to traumatize the children he is constantly around. Even when Xander makes joke after joke after joke after jo-

Will pull you aside privately if he feels the need to though. Stern talking to. You look too good. That's literally not his fault.

but ALONEEEEEE

"Rupert," you muttered. He had his arm wrapped around you tightly from behind as you sat on the couch. He had his book up but was holding it with one hand. Everytime he turned the page he would set the book down and turn it so he didn't have to take his hand off you.

"Yes?" he questioned. You looked up at him. You sat between his legs, your back flush with his chest.

"I need to go to the bathroom," you said. He raised his eyebrows, floating his gaze back to his book.

"Can it wait?" You laughed.

"No." He let out a hearty sigh as though you had just told him grave news.

He moved his arm off you so you could get up.

"Hurry back," he said. You smiled, face scrunching. The warmth in your chest expanded out towards to your face as you walked away.

"I'm hurrying."

[hedgewyse]

Tag 9 people you want to get to know better Tagged by @dummerjan, @misspoetree, @letsabandonthisworld (I got around to it eventually!)

Three ships

I love power dynamics in ships, and people who absolutely should not be together. I love people who could destroy one another if they chose to. Whose family or society would be horrified they are together. Bonus points if they are definitely fucking each other up, but continue anyway.

Dongfang Qingcang/Shangque - Love between fairy and devil Ghostship

I love the idea that Shangque is this ancient, powerful dragon but is utterly devoted to Qingcang, knows all his habits, looks after his little mood swings, let's him feel like he's in control even though he probably knows rightly how to manipulate him if he wanted to. Qingcang is the definition of cringefail edgy villain who tries not to show that he's squishy in the middle but only for the right people.

VegasKim - Kinnporsche Ghostship

I really don't care at all about the cousins angle here. When you take a step back and think, our weirdness about that is rooted in concerns around genetic risks and that's uh, not really an issue with same-sex stuff, y'know? Anyway, no, the bit that does it for me is that both families would be outraged, and that they are both utterly tough and unhinged about the family business and absolutely could destroy one another. And they are definitely fucking up each other's lives, ambitions, and self-identity.

Gahan - The Devil Judge main co-stars

Kim Gaon and Kang Yohan are so clearly into each other. So much fascination with each other, how the others operates, what motivates them, the grudging respect. But also just really hot for it. The roaming eyes on both sides when shirts are off. The moments of softness Yohan allows to slip out, the moments of brokenness and anger that Gaon suffers Yohan to witness, how they betray each other but are inexorably drawn together again anyway. I love the moment Yohan risks discovery to save Gaon. I love the moment Gaon risks his life to go down with Yohan. I love both gradually realising the other will come to rescue them, no matter what the risk. I love the age gap. I love how different they are, and how they are two broken pieces which fit together perfectly nonetheless. It's messy and beautiful.

Honorable mentions: WangXian ults, obvs. But I can't put them in every single one of these so I'm trying to branch out.

First ever ship - BtVS: Sprusilla

The second I laid eyes on Drusilla and her graceful, syrupy brand of crazy I was in love, and Spike is such a cringefail dark little villain I was always going to fall for him. They are perfect together. I wish they'd had a spin off series Bonnie&Clyde-ing all over Europe.

Last song

I got this recc from a fanfic. Fucken love when people have fic songs! Set the vibe, queen, I wanna cosy up in your brain.

Last movie - Wandering Earth

Currently reading

Mastering Active Directory by Dishan Francis. Don't even ask, honestly.

But I pretty much read some kind of snuggly fanfic every night to get to sleep - I need my 'literal sleeping together' angst fix.

Currently watching

Just finished Physical: 100 (the women! 👀👀👀) and Moonlight Chicken (this was my first FourthGemini and I am SOLD, holy smokes).

Deciding now between The Glory, Interview with the Vampire (which I'm resuming at ep 5 after the friend I was watching with got distracted by his girl and I am tired of waiting), and I'll probably cave to My School President even though I hate school BLs because of the aforementioned FourthGemini. I'm also still in the middle of Taxi Driver and a rewatch of Magicians with a different friend.

Currently consuming

It's been a really hard month so I've gone back to comfort food; so sweet and sour chicken, pad thai, garlic ramen. And still burning toast every time I come home drunk, lol.

Currently craving

I dunno. Friends who actually want to dance as something more than just pulling at the club? Skinship? An occasional twink to spoil? A deeper conversation? Carrot cake?

Issue declined due to absence of required parameters

Pretty sure everyone has done it already, but just in case, tagging @hilema @negrowhat @dream-thief-forever-amen @cloudburst-ink @eyesof-kkomi @staytotheend @saturnskyline @hoe-for-jihyo @sinistergooseberries

[marvellousinternethideout]

BUFFY THE VAMPIRE SLAYER

Season 2

Ep 12 - Bad Eggs

Something is gonna happen in the mall, isnt it?

Welp. There you go I was spot on. The cowboy hat guy is supernatural. A vampire.

Yes, buffy save the poor girl.

Buffy always has something smartass remark before she kills a vampire. Everytime.

Xander and Cordelia. Kissing in the closet. Still hating each other. Still fighting, saying they dont need this but they can't stay away from each other so in reality, they in fact, need this. Back to snogging I guess.

Lmao, so they are having a sex banter in the classroom. What a foreplay. The sex is gonna be bed breaking.

Taking care of the baby (egg), the classic.

They massacred a village before they became a vampire!!? Buffy do not underestimate them.

"please, like angel and I are helpless slaves to passion, grow up", also buffy passionately makes out with angel on her job, doing absolutely no hunting.

Buffy girl do some hunting and slaying, they're literally sitting on the tree.

What's up with the egg?? What's in it?

Bitch, whatever it's ugly and creepy. Also, Buffy is in danger.

What's with this two killer vampires? They're weird.

What did that egg do to her!? She's fine(I mean not really) but what it did to her?

She's talking funny. Oh, it's both willow and buffy. So probably everyone.

Xander and Cordelia and they know just one word now, closet. Say closet and they're gone.

And its bangel make-out session again.

Ohhhh, its getting awkward and having hard talks. Babies, future. Damn you two poor stars crossed lovers.

Damn buffy. I love the passionate confession and It's lovely and sad but you can't have a life with angel.

It's either Cordelia and xander or a dead body or our security is gonna die.

Yup. Security just died. It's the professor isn't it?

Holy mother of God, the egg broke, in front of buffy and wtf was that? What the hell is that ugly spider thingy?

Yuck, she just killed it and yup, she just killed it.

Nah willow, check your egg. You're not safe, Oh fuck, too late for that. What did the egg do to willow!?

Joyce I get you but your daughter is the chosen one so get a life.

Cordelia just shut up.

Oh so xander got saved because he boiled it.

Oh no not everyone's egg. Xander is also yuck. It's everyone's egg.

Oh, so it's both Cordelia and willow and the rest of the school. Welp, it's a war from insects or whatever tf it's called.

Giles is also fine, right? Oh no he isnt. And neither is joyce anymore. Fuck! It's everyone now.

Oh thank God, buffy and xander are fine. Now go save everyone.

What exactly are these demon children building or well they're not building, they're collecting the eggs and setting their mummy free.

It's time to behave like them. Move like a zombie them. Blend in. Yes, go xander became one of them.

Oh cmon not the right time cowboy vampires, either help her or get the hell out.

Who made Willow the leader of mummy land.

Help buffy you freaky vampires.

YUCKS! WHAT KIND OF CREATURE IS THIS? GIRL RUN!

OH FUCK NOOOOOOO! DID THE MUMMY JUST TOOK BUFFY WITH HER?

Or wait did buffy killed the main mummy? You, she did. Good job slayer.

Joyce, there was a gas leak, ffs, give her a break, why aren't you more worried?

Grounded or not, buffy will get her Angel fix of the day. Alright, girl, we get it, you're horny and in love and he's good.

Also, now I've a question, well lots of it. Who gave schools the eggs?? Like, where did the eggs come from, did the teacher just collected them from the basement because the school is a cheap ass hoe Or did someone deliberately delivered these eggs for this purpose, if yes, then who is it? Damn, how it really happened? Someone tell me.

Well, another day, another episode and again, I loved it. This was a less intense episode then the last one and not the main plot focused, nevertheless I enjoyed it.

We had a lot of bangel, well more like bangel make out sessions, also xander and cordelia's make out sessions. I think this is the episode with most make out and kissing yet in BTVS. Not much of willow, which was weird as she was also possessed.

The plot was cool, ofc couldn't predict it but still was surprise. Gotta say the killing of the mummy in the end was pretty anticlimactic, like that was too fast and easy. I get it that she's the slayer and all but still she just did it like nothing. Also, how did she kill it?

The massacre vampires were a useless addition, they brought nothing to episode and had no point of being there. What the hell was the point of them in this episode? I just kept thinking how would they tie to everything else and nothing, I thought they would help buffy in the end but nothing. Why exactly were they in there? Unless BTVS brings them(or well just him as one died) then I can see but other than that it was just useless.

Joyce is sometimes getting on my nerves. Like, a gas leak and her first thought would be if her daughter is okay, instead it's why weren't you where I told you to be? Like some concern would be good.

I guess that's it, loved the bangel in this episode, we finally have them. Xander and Cordelia are still happening. No spike or drusilla in this episode. No jenny either. No oz either.

Well, that's it, see ya in the next one, cheers 🥂

[wolfstrong]

BUFFY SEASON 4 THOUGHTS AND REFLECTIONS

Okay I’ll start out by saying I LIKED IT. I ENJOYED MY TIME HERE OKAY. it’s BTVS. I FREAKING LOVE THIS SHOW!!!! However, I think my complaints are simular to what I had to say about last season, where the one off episodes were great but the over arching plot was a little UHHHHH. UHHH so let’s just go in chronological order shall we?

This season started off with BANGERS MAN. BANGERS. There was some episodes I kinda didn’t like early on (harsh light of day… too much sex!) but other then that, I’d say we had 10 episodes of straight BANGERS! Like seriously early season 4 was also some of the funniest BTVS I’ve ever seen? They really really hit their stride with comedy having the humor come from the situation and not the lame jokes. See now the show knows that we know it’s character well, and it knows exactly what kind of situation will subvert our expectations and be very hilarious. The “””bad parts”” of this season was about half way through when it really started to get into the main plot. When the Initiatives was first introduced I was actually kinda getting into it because I thought there was gonna be this whole thing where Riley and Buffy had to hide their identities from each other and also maybe Buffy wouldn’t know the Initiatives motives and they maybe thought she was a demon of some kind so they would be fighting without realizing they were on the same side and Buffy and Riley would date without knowing they were each others enemies. But they did this for like one episode. And then we learned everything about the Initiative instantly and they weren’t even cool at all they were just like a big gang of boot boys. Also I kinda liked Maggie Walsh as the main enemy person and it REALLY threw me off when Adam just killed her unceremoniously ??? After all her build up? And then Adam just kinda replaced her and he was the main villain?????? Did Maggie Walsh’s actor want to leave the show or something? I felt weird vibes from that sudden death and tbh the main plot never recovered. Anyway for that short period Faith was back that was really awesome, and I also liked a couple more episode in the later half but eh. Then the ending felt kind of lack luster just cuz I didn’t really care about Adam and never felt like he was that big of a threat for some reason (idk, giant franking stien monster who acts like evil jesus just isn’t really scary to me) so when he died and the collective went away I was like. Yeah okay whatever. Also Buffy going super saiyan by combining with all her friends to defeat the big bad was so cheesy that it was kinda awesome. And to end everything off weird dream sequence episode where we were I guess supposed to use our Freudian-like psychoanalyzation skills to deduce each of the characters insecurities, flaws and strengths. Anyway, at least at the end of the season, they kind of acknowledge the way that the gang had been drifting apart.

It was hard because they were intentionally putting strain on the Scoobies and that was also a big theme of the season. Like thinking back on earlier episodes, I remember Xander would just like show up on campus to eat lunch with everyone or it would cut to everyone chilling in his basement or AT LEAST Willow and Buffy having roomie vibes. But towards the end they never did any of that stuff :( one of the main issues I think is they didn’t have a centralized hang out spot. I really really miss the library, i know that Giles house was kinda a replacement and they spent a lot of time there, but it’s not the same. The library was like a neutral space where they could do demon hunting work but also just hang out in. They only go over to Giles place when there is something bad going on. Also everyone had their respect romantic partners that drove wedges between them, if unintentionally. Anya was a pretty bad offender of this, but I think Riley was the worstest. He didn’t mesh well with the whole group at all, and Buffy spent WAY too much time with him. Even Angel meshed better with the rest of the group!!! ANGEL! I think the thing is you got the sense that Angel cared about Buffy’s friends, at least because he understood they were important to her. He say that and he say them work as a team and he integrated accordingly and helped as he could. I’d be surprised if Riley even knew Xanders last name, or like even his first name for that matter. I feel like he barely gave a shat about the external forces in her life, he was just obsessed with her only and his stupid job. They put on blinders for each other and for a lot of scenes it was just the Riley and Buffy saga and I DID NOT CARE FOR IT!

So in conclusion I think on an episode to episode basis this season was very solid and had some episodes that were the funniest I’ve seen in the whole series. The first half was way better then the second half, and the overarching plot was pretty sloppy, all over the place and a bit boring and lackluster. I didn’t like how the Scoobies drifted apart and I hope that next season is a return to form in terms of group dynamic.

Anyway, my fav episodes:

Hush: number one all time fav of course of course, just like, so good on every level and I could go on and on but I’ll take a page from the episode book and not say more about it

Living conditions: I had assigned dorm mates when I was a freshman who I didn’t exactly mesh with, so this episode just felt so so real.

The Initiative: see this is when I thought the overarching plot was gonna be really good,,, but tbh it peak here. This episode was just kinda a riot and I think often about the scene where Spike tried to but Willow but he can’t cuz of the chip and they treat it like he’s got erectile dysfunction. It’s just too good.

Pangs: I KNOW. ITS BAD. BUFFY HAS TO MURDER NATIVE AMERICAN SPIRITS ON THANKSGIVING. BUT THE EPISODE IS LOWKEY SO SELF AWARE AND ITS SO BAD ITS NOT POLITICALLY CORRECT BUT ITS REALLY FUNNY

Something Blue: … Buffy and Spike in love… I laughed I’m sorry. Also just a good Willow episode me thinks

A New man: Ethan shenanigans and major Giles demon fail… LOL UPVOTE!

Who are you: I know this was a two parter but I thought the first part was kinda boring (sorry I know that episode has a lot of stans) anyway I thought the whole body swap thing was a great way to explore faiths character, literally putting her in Buffy’s shoes and making her see what it’s like to be the good girl. Also Sara Michelle Geller did a wonderful job acting as faith in Buffy’s body, not all actors can pull off the body swap thing (I should know, I’m a Star Trek fan) so I was very impressed.

New Moon Rising: you had me at Tara/Willow. Yeah

Lest favorite episodes: eh none of them really jump out at BAD some just weren’t as exciting as others. Just like any Initiative and Riley heavy episodes were kinda a snooze fest.

I won’t recap the character I’ve already talked about, but the Scoobies really did change a lot this season, I won’t say for better or for worse. They just changed in ways that are realistic to their new situations.

Anya: I know this doesn’t make any sense, but I don’t hate Anya, I just hate everything about her. Lol. No but for real like i said before, when she’s not talking about Xander I actually kinda like her. I think the very dry and blunt but completely uncaring about social cues thing can be very funny. BUT THEY DONT LET HER DO ANYTHING BUT BE XANDERS LAP DOG. All she does is talk about Xander Xander Xander and it makes both of their characters much much worse. I wish they would have switched the roles and had Xander really like her for some reason and her kinda not care much about him. Idk. Sigh. I wish Xander was gay

Tara: I LOVE YOU TARAAA!!!!!! I know i already said this but she reminds me of so many girls I went to school with so to me her presence is just so warm and comfy :) her and Willow are very sweet together and by the end of the season their relationship kinda became what I was most invested in

Spike: I’m pretty sure I haven’t wrote about spike in previous season reviews? But anyway I kinda love what they did with spike in this season, I mean really how can you not. He was just kinda their weird pathetic friend who actually wasn’t their friend and was still evil but everyone forgot cuz it was so hard to take him seriously. The writers wanted him to be a main character but also kinda didn’t know what to do with him every episode, so sometimes it would just be like “yo why’s spike the bus driver?” But tbh I kinda didn’t mind. His wet stray dog presence really added something and was always funny when you remember he was the big bad of season 2. Oh how the great have fallen.

Riley: yeah yeah our white bread red blooded boot boy all American nice guy. Completely doesn’t mesh with the vibe of the show and is way too boring. He’s so an Angel rebound, I’m sorry. Like I just KNOW that’s not Buffy’s type. It’s just not. But I already talked a lot about him so whatever.

Okay and those are my thoughts 😁 I’m not rereading all that rn so typos damned! Looking forward to season 5!