𝔠𝔥𝔬𝔰𝔢𝔫 𝔬𝔫𝔢, ᵀᴴᴱ

questions best asked for those who portray canon characters, and for those who’d like to get to know the author behind said canons better.

What made you pick up this character?

How did you get into this franchise/fandom?

What’s the best thing about the show/series/books/comics/etc.?

What’s the worst thing about the show/series/books/comics/etc.?

What’s the best thing about the fandom?

What’s the worst thing about the fandom?

What’s the best thing about the canon you are writing?

What’s the worst thing about the canon you are writing?

Have you tweaked the character from canon? If so, what did you tweak?

Would you say that your portrayal is canon divergent or not? 

Are there some things you dislike about how the show/series/etc. portray the character you have picked up? If so, what?

What would you say is the most unique trait about your character?

Are there any other characters from the franchise you’d like to play?

Are there some characters from the franchise you can’t stand? 

What are your thoughts on the canon ships for the character, if any?

What is your personal ship bias for your canon character?

Are there any ships you can’t stand, why?

How long have you been writing the character?

Should people get into the franchise your writing from, yes or no?

If you could sum up your character with one sentence, what would it be?

all  the  vampire  had  been  able  to  think  about  was  the  slayer.  she  had  resurrected  from  wherever  she  had  been  and  he  couldn't  imagine  the  pain  she  was  feeling.  he's  never  been  to  a  hell  dimension,  but  he  knew  a  thing  or  two  about  death  and  torture  and  suffering.  hell,  it  used  to  be  one  of  his  best  friends  and  favorite  pastimes,  yet  he  hardly  ever  thought  about  it  at  all.  in  fact,  the  thought  never  crossed  his  mind.  the  only  thing  that  plagued  his  every  thought,  waking  moment,  and  even  when  he  slumbered  was  buffy  summers.  he  wanted  to  be  there  for  her,  but  her  friends  kept  finding  reasons  to  kick  him  to  the  curb  despite  his  gracious  help  with  slaying  and  keeping  an  eye  on  the  littlest  summers  throughout  the  summer.  it  would've  bothered  him,  their  negativity  and  turnaround  in  attitude,  but  he  couldn't  care.  he  was  worried  about  @daethsgift.

he  was  in  his  crypt,  as  he  usually  was  practically  every  night,  enjoying  his  favorite  soap  opera  and  a  mug  of  cold  blood  straight  from  the  fridge.  he  had  been  down  in  the  underground  of  his  cozy  crypt  when  he  heard  the  metal  doors  creak  open  from  up  above.  immediately,  he  assumes  it  was  a  vampire  or  some  other  creature  looking  to  loot  his  place,  but  then  he  hears  her  voice.  it  was  like  an  unlikely  angel  beckoning  him  into  a  dream  he  never  thought  would  map  out  into  reality.  he  ascends  the  cement  stairs  quietly  and  makes  his  presence  known  by  allowing  the  door  to  the  basement  slam  shut.  at  first,  he  just  stares  because  he  just  couldn't  believe  she  was  here  again.

❛  slayer,  ❜  he  greets,  offering  a  single,  quiet  nod  as  he  saunters  closer,  careful  with  every  step.  he  stops  next  to  his  television  that  was  playing  dawson's  creek  in  black  and  white.  he  glances  over  and  then  back  at  buffy,  ❛  careful  wanderin'  into  a  creature's  place  of  domiclle,  y'know  ...  never  know  what  kinda  uglies  are  lurkin'  'bout  ...  ❜  he  warns  in  a  subtle  teasing  tone,  no  real  threat  to  his  words.  his  head  tilts  to  the  side,  drinking  in  her  presence,  ❛  how're  you  holdin'  up  ?  ❜  he  asks.

       physically, she exists. she occupies space, draws attention and concern. but in reality, it does not feel like she's here. or anywhere. she floats somewhere between real life and death, not having yet returned to her body, to . . . her life? it doesn't feel like her life anymore. it feels like she's living through someone else's experience, of other people's needs and commands.

                     who is buffy summers anymore?

       absentminded, she doesn't even realise when spike materialises himself in front of her. her eyes hold nothing, her expression still, at his greeting yet there is a sense of relief to be looking at someone other than her friends. than willow, xander, tara and anya. the mask of pretend feels heavy on her skin around them. with spike, it seems easy to drop it, and not expect intrusion about it.

       at his comment, she draws the stake out of her pocket. just half of it, quickly putting it back where it belongs. " i always come prepared. " but the words lack conviction. she lets herself sit down on the stone bench, surrounded by the candlelight. gaze averts his when he asks her a question she so dreads the real answer to. she shrugs instead, taking space in the silence that lays between them.

       " i like what you've done with the place. " she's not sure she actually does, but it seems different to the last time she saw it. he's made it a home, his, and buffy envies that. not even her house feels like a home right now. the people living there all aliens to her. " i── " she clears her throat, finally daring to look at him and there is a gentle smile in the corners of her mouth. not that of content, but of respect and appreciation.