#william the bloody awful poet

[its-a-livie]

Ok but think of this trio forming a book club

[iamnotathornbird]

aiight so i've been obsessing thinking about fictional character crushes for a minute now, because tbh i don't like this lusty obsessive hyperfixation bc it just gives me this weird desperate sad longing feeling in my gut (i think it's knowing that 1. this crush is not going anywhere, ever, for multiple reasons, and 2. namely the fact that they are not real) that i'd rather not feel.

anyways.

i figured it out what sets it off, and the three big ones (spike, peeta mellark & eddie qavvik) all give their love interests this one look at some point. it's this look that conveys adoration, and love, and not really asking for anything in return (at least not in that moment) and it just gets me like 😳😤🤩😍

[iamnotathornbird]

(pic is from SMG's IG, sarahmgellar)

listen..... i know actors are people, and people age, but there's something i find so upsetting about watching vampire actors aged IRL. like, please stop aging james. you're supposed to look like you're 34 years old in perpetuity and you're supposed to outlive me, by several hundred years, ok? 🥺

[winepresswrath]

i've reached drusilla my perfect baby girl oooh it is so good that a) darla picks her out as a present for angelus b) she's actually kind of disturbed by what angelus did to drusilla. like it was a very explicit student surpasses the master moment in text.

[iamnotathornbird]

[idreamofspring1]

Four Fictional Crushes

thanks @galvanizedfriend for the tag

Keeping this to TV shows

1. William Pratt

William the Bloody Awful Poet

William the Bloody

Spike

You will always have my heart

2. Klaus Mikaelson

He makes me feral. FERAL.

3. Sawyer

I mean, look at him

4. Sauron

So evil and so hot 🔥

No pressure tags to

@iamstartraveller776

@artemisravencourtney

@kcthescreamqueen

@fiddledeedee85

@belleyousra

@finnismyoriginalsin

and anyone else who wants to play

[blackdogswims]

So apparently the church scene in s7e2 Beneath You was originally been written by Doug Petrie, before it got binned by Joss Whedon who rewrote it the way it ended up in the show. The Petrie version was... not good. I find myself in the awkward place of having to give Joss kudos.

Here's a link to James Marsters discussing the change:

Here's Petrie's version, pulled from the above Reddit post:

A CEMETERY. 

It's dark, long shadows cast from headstones. Buffy comes running into the cemetery, stops.

She looks around, searching.

But the place is empty. Buffy turns to go, then stops. She looks back to the sole source of light casting these long headstone shadows...

Buffy's POV - We see, at the far end of the graveyard, a solitary CHURCH. A single light comes from within.

Buffy stares at it a moment, some kind of peace coming over her. Then she walks toward the church

INT. CHURCH - NIGHT

Twin heavy doors swing slowly open and Buffy enters the church. She hears the sound of sobbing.

She walks in, cautiously, drawing a stake.

Buffy's POV -  We see a figure, its back to us, sitting in one of the pews, rocking gently back and forth.

Buffy approaches. It is Spike, sitting alone, looking as lost and frightened as he can. He speaks softly and sanely.

SPIKE: I figured it out. Took awhile, yeah, but...I think the real problem is...

He looks to Buffy, eyes wide, vulnerable,

SPIKE : I was once this really nice guy.

Buffy remains cautious, keeping her distance.

BUFFY: So that's the problem.

SPIKE: I think.

BUFFY: Got news, Spike. You're not that nice.

Spike laughs, quietly, enjoying the irony of a good joke.

SPIKE: Yeah. I've been...well come on- Let's face it, been a one-man slaughterhouse, last hundred years. Raping. Murdering. And for what? (beat) Kicks.

He stands in the pew, bows his head in reverence.

SPIKE: William the Bloody awful poet, skipping down the lane...good boy, bad boy, all the sodding same. You like it? Wrote that one myself.

He rolls his head around slowly, up to the ceiling, staring.

SPIKE: Is it hot enough in here to burn all your mortal sins away? 

And suddenly, vampire-fast, he stands straight up.

SPIKE: Or am I just crazy? 

He laughs, steps from the pew, into the aisle.

SPIKE: Stuffy. Stuffed. Full, packed, sorry mate, no room, out you go, we're packed to the bloody brim, standing room only and no room for that. We. Are. Full.

Buffy steps back, giving him a wide berth. Spike lurches forward, up the church aisle, zig-zagging left and right, but always moving forward.

SPIKE: Full of sin. Full of guilt. Full of hate and love and loss and feeling. Full of it, quite frankly and it's been so long.(laughs) Since we felt anything here. Rusty switchboard, sparked to life, bound to be more'n a few sharp shocks.

Buffy slowly following behind, never losing grip on that stake, and watching...

SPIKE: Right? RIGHT?!? Shh. Quiet. Church. His house. Place of clasped hands, reverent hymns, and massive raw amounts of BEGGING. On your knees, boy. Beg him. BEG HIM...

And we see where Spike is heading: at the head of the altar, there stands a large, carved-stone CRUCIFIX.

SPIKE:...for forgiveness.

BUFFY: Spike...

SPIKE: Buffy. I can't sleep. Can't think. There's voices and darkness and blindness and pain and help me, I- I...

He keeps walking, slowly, up the aisle. Gets to the altar's steps and keeps going...straight to the cross.

BUFFY: You have a soul.

Spike stops at the cross. Responds without looking back.

SPIKE: I do indeed.

He wearily lets his head rest upon the stone crucifix. And STEAM rises from where his flesh makes contact. He grimaces, but does not scream.

SPIKE: And it's killing me.

He reaches out and HUGS the crucifix with both arms. Steam rises from his palms.

SPIKE: God...

He releases the cross, slowly pulling back and turning to Buffy

SPIKE: God hates me. You hate me. I hate myself more than ever.

Buffy wants to step forward but does not.

BUFFY: But why'd you do it...?

SPIKE: You know why. I got my soul back...

He keeps turning, now facing Buffy, barely able to stand on his feet, wobbling a bit - and holding his arms out wide.

SPIKE:...So I could be the kind of...(laughs)...Person...you could care for, the man you would come to...the man you could love.

Spike GRINS through bloody teeth. The burn marks stand out fresh upon his forehead and palms. He looks like death, and any second he's going to collapse.

And still, it's like something terribly sad is actually, deep down funny - and only he gets the joke.

He walks toward Buffy. Staggering gently. Eyeing the stake she still holds in her hand. He's drawn to it - and to her.

SPIKE: I was the enemy, then I was nothing, and now I'm God's garbage, not even a joke, less than, less than, less than all His creatures combined so tell me, dear Buffy...

Buffy lets him approach, unmoving, but not letting go of that stake, either.

He barely makes it to her - and SLAMS straight down, to his KNEES. And opens his arms wide.

SPIKE: How ya like me now?

Buffy's mind goes a long way trying to come up with the answer, but her mouth cannot speak and we:

BLACK OUT.

END OF SHOW

[iamnotathornbird]

you ever see a ship you love so much and saying "i ship them" isn't enough. like no you don't understand they give me mental illness

[girl4music]

I don’t want to say Cordy makes Angel happy because we all know that’s a no no. He can’t be happy. But he is brighter as a person. Radiant. Dare I even use William the Bloody Awful Poet’s own term? Yeah I think I’m gonna… Around her he is Effulgent.

And it just makes a hell of a difference to him as a person, as a character. Constant broody, moping, miserable, guilt-ridden, self-hating, self-contemptuous, pained Angel is not fun to watch. Sure - his mission is about redemption but take it from another brooding dark stoic character whose mission is also about redemption - Xena was never this depressing of a character throughout the entirety of her show. Why does Angel need to be?

A character that comes into their lives that helps these two tortured, hopeless people find a light in themselves by being their light is the whole point to a redemption arc because you can’t receive a redemption if you can’t allow yourself it. For Xena, that person was Gabrielle. For Angel, that person is Cordy. A vampire burdened with a conscience and were he ever to feel even one ounce of happiness, revert back to the soulless evil monster he once was is not an ideal situation but not everything has to be doom and gloom. And with Cordy around - it won’t be because there is no danger it will tip the scale. She knows she needs to be careful and cautious around him in a way Buffy never truly understood because Buffy is the Slayer. Fighting evil vampires and demons is her unwanted “destiny”, it wasn’t something she “wanted” to do because she “chose” it. Cordelia is different. She’s chosen this life - this path. Even more so now she’s become part-demon. Of course it’s not entirely the same but now she’s his equal partner she can provide for him and be a light in the dark. This matters. This balances the scale. This is the whole point to what she’s there for. She’s there for him.

[folksy]

angel has so much will if I were him and spike was constantly calling me slurs and derogatory terms that basically amount to “effeminate man” or being “overly sentimental” I’d bring up his past as william the bloody awful poet

[iamnotathornbird]

“he’s a murderer” to YOU. well to me too but i forgive him<3

[winepresswrath]

drusilla's canon grandma kink is a thing that can be so charming & unhinged.

[idabbleincrazy]

Damage (A Missing Scenes Ficlet)

Chapter One: Scarred

Fandom: Angel (Buffyverse)

Rating: M

Pairing: Spangel (implied)

Word Count: 1453

Warnings: angst, some teasing, missing scene fic, ep 5x11, two repressed idiot vampires who just won't admit they want each other 🙄

Summary: Angel gives in to his repressed feelings, sort of, and offers Spike an alternative to staying in the medlab while he heals.

A/N: this will be a two part piece, with smut of some kind in the second.

Spike stared down at his useless hands as the lull in their conversation drew out, unsure of what to say in the light of this temporary truce they seemed to be in. He’d expected Angel to start pestering him to get dressed and out of the building. He’d expected vitriol spewed at him, another attempt to make him see he was unwanted here, to leave and stay gone. He hadn’t expected Angel to actually make an attempt at comfort, hadn’t expected his quiet words of understanding, the acceptance and agreement. Their masks of hatred had slipped, and he didn’t quite know how to take that next step.

Angel watched Spike’s bowed head, his mind swirling with thoughts he wished he could banish. Images of that filthy factory basement flashed through his mind, Spike’s detached arms thrown carelessly across a cluttered worktable, his Childe drugged and bleeding out, chained up and defenseless as Dana loomed over him, ready to hack him to dust. He’d almost lost him. He’d pushed him away to keep him safe, and yet he still almost lost him. He should have known better. He should have known Spike, his Will, would continue to be obstinate, would be unable to completely ignore the soul crying out within him, and would ultimately end up playing the hero yet again. It was foolish to try to send him away, to pretend to ignore what would always exist between them.

He’d smelt the anger, fear, and underlying arousal that had wafted off his Childe last week when he’d saved him from the Silminth demon. He had even given in to his intense loneliness and tempted Spike to stay, uncertain of where he’d wanted it to lead if the blonde had acquiesced. He just knew that, after all those hauntingly real dreams, after being pulled from that final fantasy of peace, he’d opened his eyes to find Spike looming over him and the smell of male desire in the air, and he just wanted to hold the blonde, to be held in return. He’d wanted comfort, and company, he wanted to give in and keep his Childe by his side, where he belonged.

And, now, the hospital room reeked of guilt, pain, and sadness, mostly wafting off of Spike, but some of it his own, too. They had been innocent victims themselves, once. Hell, William had been innocent enough, for a vampire, before Angelus had molded him into the perfect predator. Until he had made him into a vicious companion who needed him more than his own Sire. He had made William, the soft, sweet poet, into William the Bloody, and by default, Spike, once his attentions had begun to wane, sparking the young vampire’s reinvention of himself. Just as Darla had twisted and freed the demon within him, he had done the same to Spike, pushing him to new heights of depravity and cruelty. And, now, they were both paying the price for the monstrous things they’d done.

He pushed aside his brooding thoughts, always time for that later, and broke the drawn-out silence with the one thought he knew would perk Spike up some. He needed the younger vampire in at least somewhat better spirits than he currently was if Angel were to accomplish what he'd come down here for.

“You know, there was an awful lot of arousal wafting off that Andrew kid back in the conference room, you sure nothing happened between you two?”

“Jealous, Peaches?” Spike smirked halfheartedly up at Angel, wary of where this conversation was headed, but touched somewhat that his Grandsire had been paying enough attention to even notice. “Kid’s harmless enough these days, he’s jus’ got a bit of a fangirl in ‘im, ‘s all. Reckon the bloke’s always needed someone to idolize, an’ I just happened to be the closest one around for him to imprint on after the last one went south of cheese. That Warren bastard fucked with his head for a bit, as did The First. Think he’s stayed on with Giles and company in hopes of makin’ up for the damage he helped cause the last couple years.”

“Not so different from you, then,�� Angel teased, grinning.

“You take that back!” Spike shuddered at the thought and glared up at Angel, lips pouting and rather spoiling the fearsome look he was aiming for. “I was never that pathetic, mate, don’t you ever-”

“Calm down, Spike, before you rip your stitches.” Angel firmly grasped Spike’s arms to stop his angered gesticulating, slowly setting his useless hands back in his lap. “I was only kidding, I wasn’t trying to upset you...this time.”

“Yeah, alright. ‘Sides, Andrew’s seeming li’l crush must not be as big as all that anymore, blighter didn’t come visit ‘fore he flitted back across the pond.”

“Uh, sorry?”

“Bloody hell, don’t be! I’m not. Little brat got right annoying most the time, never knew how to shut up...well, you saw, all that blatherin’ on, comparing us all to Vulcans and Hobbits and all that rot.”

Angel bit his tongue to keep from pointing out how Andrew wasn’t the only one with the tendency to talk too much; Spike’s arms would still take another few hours to heal enough for the stitches to become unnecessary, the nerves in his hands longer still, and he really didn’t want the younger vampire to risk making it worse. Leaning over Spike like this, he felt the strong urge to kiss the petulant vampire, to move those last few inches and press his lips to the blonde’s pouting ones. Clearing his throat, he straightened up, gearing himself up to broach the other matter he'd come to address.

"Look, the doctor spoke to me earlier, they wanna keep you overnight, for observation." Spike's eyes widened, half in anger, half in fear, and Angel held up a hand in placation as he opened his mouth to speak. "I tried to tell him you wouldn't agree to it, but he insisted on keeping you monitored, so I pulled rank, made him come to a compromise."

"More bloody compromises. So, what's it to be then?"

Angel hesitated, mentally kicking himself for putting them in this position in the first place. He knew Spike wasn't going to be very happy with either option, he just had to make one sound marginally worse than the other.

"Well?"

"You either stay here, hooked up to all these machines, staff poking their heads in on you every couple hours…or, you stay up at the penthouse for the night. You can stay in the guest room, and, hey, at least the blood will be better than here; none of that chemical taste."

"Christ, you sure you can't just have one o' your lackeys drive me home and pretend you kept me locked up?"

"No, Spike." Angel looked away, mumbling and rubbing the back of his neck. "Besides, they're not the only ones who wanna make sure you heal right."

Spike's eyes widened fractionally, the soft haze of the pain medication leaving him unsure if he'd really heard Angel correctly, or if he was just hearing what he wanted to hear. Sighing, he shuffled closer to the edge of the hospital bed and swung his legs over the side, cursing his misfortune as his fingers failed to keep their grasp on the blanket.

"Fine, then. Mind handing me my clothes? This gown ain't closed at the back, an' I don't much feel like flashin' my arse to the night staff."

"Um, they had to cut off your clothes while you were passed out, for the surgery. I've already got you some new ones upstairs."

Spike cursed again.

"Son of a - tell me they didn't fuck with my jacket!"

"No, no, your duster's safe. Your boots, too. Here," Angel shrugged off his own jacket and handed it to Spike, who, after a bit of struggle, pulled it on over the hospital gown. "Come on, then."

Angel helped Spike up from the bed, holding tightly to his arm as he fought against the numbing effects of the drugs they’d pumped into him. Once he was standing firmly on his own, he shrugged Angel’s hand off, wanting but not wanting to want the feel of the brunette’s touch on him, and slightly embarrassed to be needing his help at all.

Angel led Spike through the medical level, biting back a groan and tamping down the flare of arousal that spread through him at the sight of Spike's pale, lean, legs and bare feet as they made their way up to the penthouse. God, it was going to be a long night, but at least he'd be able to keep a close eye on his injured Childe.

~~~~

All Things Spike: @leatafanfiction @captain-peroxid3

[faggotwalkwithme]

THAT'S ALSO SPIKE?!

The name Spike makes sense for Edgelord Prince of Darkness guy in the last gif but THE GUY WHO LOOKS LIKE AN 18TH CENTURY AUTHOR? THE POOREST LITTLE MEOW MEOW??

What is the context for this I have to know now

OKOK LOL SO

spike’s a vampire right so he got his nickname because he used to torture his victims with a railroad spike? but his real name is william so that probably clears it up:) he changed his name so that he sounded cooler and abandoned the nickname he was dubbed by others

something funny though before he got the nickname spike he was known as william the bloody, and this was before he was a vampire it was short for william the bloody awful poet :3

[iamnotathornbird]

yes yes characters doomed by the narrative always slap BUT what about characters saved by the narrative? characters who have already given up hope and don't know they have a happy ending? characters who believe they are a lost cause, characters who feel irredeemable, characters who think there's nothing left for them, but the narrative does provide a way out? what about the characters who don't expect anything good, who don't even remember how to wish for it anymore, who get the things they need anyway? what about the characters who actively run from being saved getting saved in a way they can't stop or control. what about being saved by the narrative!!!