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quietblueriver · 9 months

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Hit with sudden inspiration, so here's a little Avatrice Buffy AU. Now with a part two.

Now with more that can be found here.

It’s a trap.

Of course it is. She knows better than to do this. She has made it as long as she has as a slayer by knowing better than to do this.

It was irresponsible, and, she thinks, as she watches two more demons emerge from behind a shelving unit halfway down the warehouse, their knives glinting in the low light, now she’s going to die.

It won’t be the first time.

She hadn’t known any better, then. Had been overconfident and followed her instincts all the way to the bottom of the pool in the school gymnasium, red swirls dancing in her fading vision as she sank. She’d used the last of her strength to bend her knees and press against the bottom, weak but something, enough to get her high enough to hook an arm over a rung of the ladder before she lost consciousness, gasping for air and finding only water and the taste of iron and chlorine.

She woke up heaving and coughing to the impassive face of Suzanne Superion, who moved Beatrice’s own hand to the gauze she’d applied to the wound on her neck before standing and brushing her hands over the fabric of still perfectly-pleated pants.

A grimace. A murmur: “I just had these dry-cleaned.”

Beatrice pushed herself up from the clammy tiles, the sucking sound of her wet cotton shirt pulling free of the floor unnaturally loud without the cover of whistles and shouting and water displaced by the clumsy strokes of her peers.

She swayed slightly, felt Superion’s critical eyes on her until she stabilized. She turned, then, and Beatrice followed, slowed by blood loss and the particularly awful feeling of wet socks squishing in her wet trainers with every step. Superion did not slow for her, calling out over her shoulder, “This is why you should listen to me.”

She should have listened. To be fair, though, she had seen a vampire carrying a screaming child into the gym. Only two weeks in, she didn’t yet have the instincts to understand that the child was a vampire, too.

Beatrice is not generally particularly kind to herself, but she thinks she made an understandable decision at the time.

Tonight, though, she had merely been reckless. A moment. But she knows better than anyone that that’s all it takes.

She’s backed into a corner now, a dozen vampires and demons congratulating each other and sneering at her as she takes stock. They haven’t attacked her yet, despite their numbers, and they’re excited about something. She’s already heard a ritual mentioned in three different languages. Also, blood.

This makes sense given the symbol chalked into the floor nearby—a resurrection spell, if she had to guess, although she can only get a partial view. Most of it is obscured by the jostling bodies of a vampire—most likely newly turned, if his too-bright eyes and muddy shoes are anything to go by—and a Liliiad demon. His face, like all Lilliad faces, looks a bit like a half-melted candle, and she’s unsettled, as always, by its ability to convey its hatred so clearly through gray, blurred features.

A ritual with the slayer’s blood, then. Another one. Far from the first time they’ve tried something like this, although they’ve finally managed to catch her off guard.

She’s well and truly alone, off the trail of her prescribed patrol path, and she has the stake in her hand, the cross on her neck, and her knives. At least she has her knives.

A figure steps forward, tall and broad and dressed in red robes, his face shielded by his hood. Next to him stands the reason Beatrice entered this warehouse in the first place.

His demeanor now is a stark contrast to what it had been an hour ago, his shaking hands and disheveled hair and breaking voice.

“They slipped away,” he’d said. “The same group that got Shannon. Three of them.”

She hadn’t asked any questions. A rookie mistake, letting emotion guide her.

She thinks of the night she found Shannon on the library floor, the crack in Superion’s ever-present armor as she recognized her friend’s broken body. She thinks, very seriously, about using one of her knives to kill him, but she’s not ready to escalate, and he’s not worth wasting whatever chance she might have.

And, of course, she knows that whatever happens here, Superion will figure him out and he will pay. For Shannon, and, maybe, for her.

“Beatrice.”

She says nothing, and Vincent sighs.

“Very well.” His eyes turn to the face of the robed figure. “I’m going to the tomb. You know what to do.”

He steps back through the circle of demons and walks toward the exit. She hears the groan of one of the warehouse doors opening as the robed figure takes another step toward her.

Her fingers move for a moment to the scar on her neck and then she breathes, steady, lets her senses expand, shifts her stance.

She is the slayer. She will not go down easily.

And she doesn’t. The person or demon or creature coming toward her is slow, fumbles when she dodges, and she has somehow caught the rest of them off guard. Two quick stakes and three knives gone and she’s opening up the circle, taking full advantage of their characteristic lack of organization.

Something takes out her knee and she collapses, breath taken out of her when she hits the floor. A shadow, and a boot comes down on her knee with a sickening crunch. She cries out and closes her eyes, only for a moment, before catching herself.

She opens them to the face of the robed figure, hood now pushed back to reveal the raised planes of his vampire form, bright blonde hair and blue eyes and a predatory gaze. He rests his boot on her chest as she tries to think through the pain, moving from thoughts of escape to thoughts of sabotage. They may kill her but she’ll be damned if they use her blood to raise whatever godforsaken creature brought them all here.

“If we didn’t need all of your blood to raise our Lord, little girl, I would rip your throat open right now and have a little taste. I’ve heard slayer blood brings a real high.”

She has had more demonic creatures than she can count tell her that they’d love to rip her throat open. It’s nothing new. But the feeling of satisfaction that comes over her at his words is—he’s given her the information she needs.

She can’t run. Slayers heal quickly, but not that quickly.

But she has a knife left, and he’ll have to carry her or drag her. Plenty of time for her to bleed before he can get her to the symbol. An easy cut to the brachial artery. Her clothes are dark, and she can be quiet. He won’t realize until it’s too late.

The knife is in her boot, but when he moves to drag her, she can…

Before she can finish the thought, there’s an explosion at the symbol, heat from a raging fire reaching Beatrice’s face, and she watches as the vampire above her turns his face to the commotion. In the same moment, a stake lodges itself in his chest, and she hears his final scream of rage and confusion as the boot on her chest crumbles to ash.

A new figure looms. Small. Familiar. And Beatrice feels a new kind of pain as she’s offered a hand and a crooked smile.

“Sup, Bea? Sorry I’m late to the party.”

#avatrice #warrior nun #sister beatrice #ava silva #warrior nun fic #btvs au

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boopsterliv · 10 months

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So I have an au where Kendra stays in Sunnydale, dies for a bit when Angel loses his soul, and then Faith shows up. So Jenny and Giles have basically adopted three teenaged girls with super strength

(It’s also Powerpuff Girls themed, Buffy is Blossom, Faith is Buttercup, and Kendra is Bubbles)

#it’s also spuffy #they definitely interrogate the hell out of him #and get Kendra more shirts #and give Faith love #calendiles #jenny calendar #rupert giles #kendra young #faith lehane #buffy summers #Buffy the vampire slayer #BtVS #BtVS au #buffy the vampire slayer au

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thepunkmuppet · 8 months

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so I was thinking about the Key plotline as I often do, and the line “the monks made her out of me” is suddenly really interesting to me.

obviously what this means is that they made dawn’s body to have the DNA of joyce and hank, hence her being buffy’s sister and having the same DNA as buffy (“summers blood”). but like imagine taking that line literally.

“the monks made her out of me.” buffy has an identical twin.

obviously they didn’t do this because 1, they wanted a younger character to be in peril and provide variety in the cast, 2, having your lead actor play two characters would probably be much too much for them, and 3, the cost of having sarah play two characters and having to use split screen and doubles and stuff with the limited cgi of the time would just be too much. (dopplegangland was great but they probably couldn’t feasibly do that every episode for three whole seasons)

but just the concept of it is so interesting to me. this twin literally has buffy’s face, buffy’s voice, buffy’s body. but she’s not the slayer. dawn has to deal with being in the shadow of her slayer sister all the time, but the added strain of looking exactly like her and being the same age as her would just be so heartbreaking and interesting to explore.

I also think the impact of the reveal would just slap more. oh my god there’s two buffy’s!?!?!! oh my god buffy has a twin all of a sudden?!?!!!? there would also just be another level of angst, with buffy feeling violated that the monks just made another version of her and essentially used her body, and with the twin feeling like an afterthought, a duplicate, an impostor, etc.

plus them being twins would emphasise their bond more, as twins are supposed to have a really close and special relationship for obvious reasons. the monks made dawn so that buffy would protect her - the two of them having a strong twin bond and remembering a life of growing up doing everything together would really help with that!

also also I just love the idea that if the buffybot still got made, then at one point there would be three buffy’s but only one of them would actually be buffy. absolutely hilarious to me, smg would be working some serious overtime!!

I just love this concept and I might write it as a fic if I can come up with an actual plot. can any of you think of any names for this twin? or would she still be called dawn (what with the whole symbolism of the sun coming up in the gift, the foreshadowing, etc.) if you come up with any more ideas or discussion points about this au please lmk in comments/reblogs/asks etc, I’m obsessed with this idea and I need to talk about it!!!!

#btvs #buffy the vampire slayer #buffyverse #angel the series #ats #buffy summers #dawn summers #btvs fanfiction #btvs fandom #btvs au #sarah michelle gellar #michelle trachtenberg #buffy season 5 #btvs season 5 #I have so many thoughts on this #it literally just popped into my head a matter of minutes ago and the cogs started turning at the speed of fucking lightning #I can just envision it in my head so well!! as much as I love dawn and michelle trachtenberg this would have been awesome!!#btvs meta

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doesimmons · 5 days

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So my life has been a little hectic lately, and my relationship with my art has been a little love-hatish...but have some SUPER lazy BTVS AU FitzSimmons doodles I made the other day. Ft. me getting distracted and literally forgetting what dialogue I was going to add. The words were not wording and I don't care anymore! (What if I stopped attempting to make very polished work for a while and did silly self-indulgent doodles forever? I think everyone would be so much happier. Mostly me.)

Additional pre-vampirification Fitzy because the thought of that poor boy being killed and turned evil makes my heart hurt and you all need to think about it as well.

#fitzsimmons #btvs au #fitz is a hot vampire #he's equally hot for jemma tho

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theladycarpathia · 1 year

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The vampire doesn’t make it two steps before bursting into flames. Robin spins on the spot, face hot with indignation.

“That’s cheating!” she shouts - as though she’s not wandering Hawkins Cemetery at night and therefore easy pickings for whatever undead/vile/demonic creature that happens to be lurking.

Billy smirks and easily extinguishes the flames from his fingers. The light fades, leaving them in darkness once more. Hawkins Rose Street cemetery is lacking in any sort of working lights, ensuring that they’re walking around in the dark. Which would be great for an ambush, if they weren’t hunting the nocturnal sort of demon.

“I was quicker,” he says smugly. Robin grits her teeth and stows the stake away in her jacket once more.

“You cheated,” she says, grumpily. “At least let me get my stake out.”

“One of these days, I’ll do that and you’ll be dead,” Billy says pointedly. She sticks out her tongue.

“I’m the Slayer,” she says wearily, unimpressed by Billy’s showing off. Billy’s only been learning magic for the last year, since he fell into the whole ‘Hawkins is sitting on a Hellmouth truthers gang' but it’s still a rush, still his favorite thing in the world to feel the flicker of magic under his skin. He feels warm. He feels strong. It’s a power that no one can take from him.

“Slayers die,” Steve adds somberly. He’s leaning against one of the larger mausoleums, watching the two of them fight over vampires. He’s tucked into his favorite navy coat, with the collar pulled up around his ears and a bright red beanie pulled down. Steve hates patrolling in the winter.

“Not me,” Robin says resolutely, her eyes already scanning the empty graveyard for more early risers. It’s barely even curfew and yet they’ve already had a busy evening - three vampires rising from their graves and one lizard demon have crossed their paths.

“You died sophomore year,” Steve says bluntly. He pushes away from the wall and wanders over to Billy. “Remember? Vecna?”

Robin makes a face. “I don’t intend on repeating it,” she says, churlishly kicking at a clump of grass. As though her death at the hands of the Master of all vampires was nothing more than a hiccup. It was only because Steve was there with his magic to help revive her, that there wasn’t a funeral.

“If you die again, do we get another Slayer?” Billy asks and shrugs when Steve turns to glare at him. “I was just asking!”

“I don’t know,” Robin says, drifting between the cobblestones like a ghost in cargo pants and a duster. “Ask Murray.”

“Probably not, right?” Steve says, and as they follow Robin’s path Steve reaches out to link Billy’s fingers with his own. “I mean you died and we got Nancy. If you die again and we get another Slayer and then another Slayer wakes when Nancy dies, that’s still two Slayers. I thought there was only supposed to be one?”

“So say the mystical old guys who wanted a girl to fight their battles for them,” Robin points out.

“Right, so another Slayer will only happen when Nancy dies. Not you,” Steve continues. Robin stops and screws up her face.

“So does that mean Nancy is like…the Prime Slayer now?” Billy snorts in amusement, eyes flicking across the graveyard for any more company. Vampires are crazy good at skulking around in darkness and Billy would like the chance to flambé them before they rip his throat out.

“That’s the thing you’re worried about?” he asks in disbelief. Robin shrugs.

“I don’t know,” she says, slowing her pace so that they can fall into line with her. “For so long I was the Slayer. The one and only, the Chosen One. Now there’s two of us. I’m feeling a little less special.”

“Not to us you’re not,” Steve says gently, because if Billy ever has to feel like he has to compete for Steve’s attention with anyone it would be Robin. “Nancy can get her own Scoobies.”

“I don’t think she wants any,” Billy says, somewhat rudely. He never got on with Nancy even before she turned out to be the next in the Slayer line. She’s annoying, a priss and always thinks she’s right. By the time Billy joined the gang she was already a part of it - going on patrol with Robin, lounging in the library with Eddie and Chrissy, keeping watch over Argyle for those three nights a month when he’s extra toothy. She’s also Steve’s ex-girlfriend from the start of junior year for just that little extra knife twist.

“Yeah, well,” Robin says, with a shrug. “She helps out with Slayer stuff. I don’t mind her hanging out.”

“I do,” Billy mutters mutinously and Steve squeezes his hand tightly.

Steve shouldn’t be so understanding of Billy’s jealousy but he is. It just makes it that much worse when he catches the two of them sharing an inside joke from before Billy arrived. Sometimes, he wonders that if they’d moved from California sooner, would he and Steve spent the last four years together?

A hand erupts from the nearest grave, freshly buried dirt cascading down as the pale fingers scrabble around for purchase. They stop and wait patiently.

“Must be tiring,” Steve comments, watching a second hand reach out into the open air.

“I almost feel sorry for them,” Robin says dryly, pulling her stake from her coat. She shoots a warning glance at Billy. “This one is mine this time, do you hear?”

“Yes, ma’am,” Billy says obediently, saluting her. There’s a dark head emerging from the thick layer of dirt, and Billy winces as it becomes clear that it’s a familiar one. Shit. He forgot about the announcement at school last week.

“Shit.” Robin echoes the sentiment as they watch David from the school paper haul himself free of his grave and shake off the debris. He looks up and sees them, face morphing into one of surprise.

“Hey,” he says, brushing a splinter off his sleeve. Steve shrinks into Billy’s shoulder, horrified at being faced with someone they’d seen at school alive, only just last week. He always hated this bit the most, so Billy soothingly rubs his thumb across the soft cashmere of Steve’s gloves.

“What a surprise,” he says, as though they’d run into each other at the mall. Wasn’t expecting to see you guys here. Quick question. Am I…”

“Dead,” all three chorus at once.

“Ah,” David says regretfully. He tugs at a strand of limp dark hair, smeared with mud. “That is unfortunate.”

“Sorry, mate,” Billy says, because no one should die and rise again at eighteen. David nods thoughtfully. He looks like he’s about to scurry after Nancy, asking for her opinion on the placement of Jonathan’s pictures on the front page.

“I suppose you’ve come to kill me?” he asks and Billy raises his free hand - the one not entwined with Steve’s - and prepares to summon a fireball.

“We have to,” Robin explains quietly, face full of sympathy. “Or you’ll go kill, like you were killed.”

“Yes,” David agrees. He nudges at a small pile of dirt still covering his coffin. “You’d think I’d care about that…I mean, I certainly used to care but…the thing is I don’t anymore. Isn’t that odd? I know I should but I just can’t quite seem to bring myself to. Actually, all I really care about is that I’m quite thirsty.”

“That happens,” Steve says, from Billy’s side. He’s also ready for a fight, if it comes down to it. Steve’s a badass at fighting vampires, after three years at Robin’s side, although he’s always been slightly queasy about staking former classmates. Billy doesn’t have that - if you’re a bloodsucker, he’ll stake you, doesn’t matter if he sat next to them in Math the day before or not - but he loves that about Steve.

“Should have guessed it would be you three,” David sighs, heavily. The change isn’t quite on him yet but there’s just a tint of yellow to those eyes, a pulsing in his throat as he fights to retain any part of David against the overwhelming thirst that’s now consuming him. “You were always odd and no matter what weirdness went on, you were always there. What about Eddie? And Chrissy?”

“Them too. Chrissy’s psychic actually,” Robin explains patiently, as though they have time for a long description of their group dynamics. Billy vaguely remembers a similar conversation after being attacked outside the Bronze. “Argyle’s a werewolf. Nancy’s another Slayer. She’s not on patrol tonight, sorry.” The benefits of so many in their party means off nights. They all trade off. Tomorrow, it’s Nancy, Jonathan and Argyle’s shift, which means Billy intends to take Steve out. It doesn’t fucking matter where, so long as there’s no vampires.

“Out with Jonathan, I expect,” David says ruefully. “Shame. I’d have liked to say goodbye to her.”

And then it happens, so quickly that you could almost put it down to the faint moonlight, the flicker of shadows. His face changes into that terrifying mask of ridged skin and long, sharp teeth. It doesn’t do him any good, however. Robin has had her stake tucked away since David rose and now her arm strikes out, fast as lightning. She hits her mark and David only has time to look down at the wood lodged in his heart before he crumbles into dust.

“We should…” Steve says, heavily, gesturing at the grave. “He was just buried today. His family might mind.”

Billy withholds a few sarcastic comments and bends down to help Steve push the dirt back, forming a neat mound once more. Robin watches their backs, cautious of anyone else sneaking up behind them.

“Fucking sucks,” Billy mutters, brushing dirt off his gloves. He’d be quite content leaving the gaping wound of a grave open but Steve has lived here all his life, knows basically the entire school and their families to boot.

“I’m sure it was an inconvenience to David too,” Robin says dryly. She looks down at the freshly cut flowers and sighs. “I’ll have to tell Nance.”

“The joys of the Hellmouth,” Billy says, with a shrug. He doesn’t mean to be blase - it’s just that's how life is here. Moving from California two years ago had come with the unexpected bonus of finding out that the yearbook has a pretty sizable ‘In Memorandum’ section. He just didn’t know why until midway through Junior year when Robin saved him from a vamp one night, after too many beers at Tommy Hagan’s party. She’d staked the vamp as easy as breathing, dragged his drunk ass up and called Steve to give them both a ride. That was how he’d ended up as part of the group, part of the secret.

Steve’s casual comment about teaching Billy magic had been a genuine promise that Billy had been hesitant to accept. Magic, as if the school stoner turning into a huge werewolf three nights a month, and the crabby school librarian was in fact part of a council that protects the world from demonic forces, and that the head cheerleader having visions and dating the Dungeon Master weren’t all weird enough. But it had all been worth it. The first time that Billy had made a pencil float had been the first time the feeling of being helpless had eased in his chest. The night where Steve had leaned over and kissed him for the first time was the day when Billy finally felt like Indiana was home.

He tugs on Steve’s sleeve, pulling the other witch to a stop.

“Billy?” Steve asks, brown eyes huge with concern. Fuck, Billy loves those eyes. He may call Steve Bambi as a joke, but all Steve has to do is look at him with those big trusting eyes and he’ll do anything Steve asks.

Billy cradles Steve’s cheek, red from the cold, and leans down for a kiss. It’s soft, tinged with cool skin and the faint taste of Steve’s chapstick. Billy slides his hand up, under the beanie, just to feel Steve’s hair. He can burn vampires with a flick of his hand, blast down doors and shatter glass panes with one strong gust of wind but all he ever really wants to do is hold Steve like he’s the most precious thing in the world. Steve grabs hold of the front of his coat, tilting his chin up and when Billy bites gently on his full bottom lip, the sound Steve makes - like a whimper pulled from the back of his throat - is enough to have Billy hard in his jeans.

Steve is also a power that no one can take from him.

“Can you fucking stop macking and help?!” Robin screeches from behind them and they break apart to see several vamps stumbling towards them. They’re all fresh, grave-dirt still clinging to their clothes, attacking with the awkwardness and desperation of the newly thirsty. Billy flashes Steve a grin, the kiss stirring up his blood just enough to prepare him for the fight.

“Bet I can get more than you,” he challenges, watching for the moment that Steve’s gaze clears.

“Please,” Steve scoffs, swiping a tongue across his red lower lip. Dirty cheating tactics. “You’ve been doing magic for a year. You’re a baby who has a fireball and thinks that’s real magic.”

Man, Billy wants to bite that petulant bottom lip again.

Steve lights up the first vampire creeping towards them with barely a hand gesture and Billy can feel the warmth of the flames from here. They watch the ash float on the breeze and Steve turns to Billy. Billy grinds his teeth, unbelievably turned on. Steve has so much power hidden in that long, lean frame and every time he shows his hand, it’s like catnip for Billy.

“Still think you can beat me?” Steve asks smugly and Billy does pull him in to bite down until Steve’s lip is red. A promise for later, when they tumble in out of the cold and the fighting, and make love in Steve’s empty house.

“Watch me,” he vows and raises his hand.

#harringroveweek #harringrove #harringrove harvest #last day of harringrove harvest #prompt: buffy #btvs au #Billy Hargrove #steve harrington #slayer!robin #slayer!nancy #witch!steve #witch!billy #nancy is faith #but saner #I rewrote this so many times #but absolutely love it now #really tempted to write more

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juniperhillpatient · 11 months

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Yellowjackets au Btvs: Willow as Shauna, Spike as Misty? Faith as Nat?

Oh this is great & you know what Willow & Shauna are actually kinda similar??? Idk I see it. Guess that makes Tara Jackie which also tracks 😭

Faith as Nat just makes sense. And this hurts me to say but hear me out - Buffy as Travis & Dawn as Javi 🥺💔

I am dying laughing at Spike as Misty though 😂 Who the heck is coach Ben? I said Buffy & Dawn as the Martinez brothers as the emo option but hear me out - Buffy as Ben as the comedy option only because Spike is Misty LMAO

#yellowjackets au #btvs au #asks #anon #au ideas

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abadbadbrujah · 1 year

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BTVS AU where Spike and Drusilla are both at full power and beat Buffy/Scooby Gang without Angelous (they kill Angel before that). Unlike the Master’s AU ep they keep the Masquerade because Spike fondness for the world as it is and at heart he’s not really all that bothered as long as he can feed and have a little fun now and again.

BUT they have to defend Sunnydales Masquerade against the later season’s big baddies who want to pull the curtain down.

Spike and Drusilla vs the Mayor, first he comes to them to join forces after they kill Buffy to kill Faith before she can stop him, then when he tells them his plan after they spend half a season to kill Faith. Spike turns on the Mayor.

Spike and Drusilla vs the Initiative/Adam, basically the US military have to try and take over Sunnydale to farm the Demons for soldiers. Spike and Drusilla have to beat them back because Sunnydale just got very boring from losing all their demon pals.

Spike and Drusilla vs Glory. Somehow the Key falls into Spike and Drusilla’s lap one night and Drusilla can see it for what it is. Maybe they both injest the Key’s blood and now they’re the key and have to find a way to stop Glory from bleeding them dry.

Spike and Drusilla stop Nathan Fillion from killing all the girls first in Sunnydale. Then the First gives Spike his soul back to torture and weaken him before it opens the hell mouth for the UberVamps to come. Drusilla manages to rally up the Vampires to fight against the UberVamps otherwise they’ll be wiped out by the introduction of a new Predator on Sunnydale. She finds the amulet somehow and gives it to Spike because fuck if she cares about Soul Spike anymore. When they’re fighting in the Hell Mouth, Drusilla tries to duck away whilst Spike explodes in sunlight but he grabs her before she does and they both turn to dust whilist wiping out the hell mouth and Sunnydale.

#btvs #buffy #btvs au #btvs spike #btvs drusilla #this whole thing is born from 4 hours of sleep badbrujah drinking caffiene and being pissed that we never saw full spike and dru together #also fuck you joss whedon #i know you'd hate this one #also in this au drusilla is some kind of warlock #basically a witch but uses demon magic

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talktomeinclexa · 1 year

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Clarke the Vampire Slayer

By: TalktomeinClexa

Rating: Mature

Warnings: Minor violence

Status: WIP

Summary: When Clarke, a 19-year-old pre-med student, wakes up one morning with superhuman strength, destiny comes knocking on her door. Sent to Polis to prevent a demon from opening the Hellmouth, she can count on Lexa, a former Watcher, and her new friends to help her dispose of vampires, demons, and other evil creatures. But will she succeed in stopping the Apocalypse?

***

Chapter 1: Destiny Awaits

The obnoxious ringing of the alarm echoed around the room, louder and louder, disregarding the poor girl hidden under her comforter. With a groan, she risked a hand out of the comfortable nest she had made for herself and felt around the bedside table for her phone. Or — as she dubbed it in her head at that moment — the modern, enslaving instrument of torture responsible for the din. Before she could locate it, the bathroom door opened, and an annoyingly nasal voice spoke over the ringing.

“Could you please turn off your alarm, Clarke? It’s been on for a minute straight, and it’s driving me crazy. Who sets their alarm so loud?”

Non-alien people who don’t magically wake up at six on the dot every single day without one, Kathy, Clarke thought from under her pillow. She had to give it to her roommate; the sound was irritating. That was kind of the whole point. How else was she supposed to wake up and drag herself out of bed, ready to face endless lectures and — Satan’s personal invention — group projects?

“You should hurry, or you’ll be late for your orgo class again. And you know how much your mother hates that. She made her disappointment pretty clear last week when she called.”

Why, oh why had Clarke thought that introducing her usually-kind-though-aggravating roommate to her mother, Dr. Abigail Griffin, would be a good idea? Kathy, always the people pleaser, loved nothing more than to keep Abby updated on Clarke’s life at Arkadia University. The cardiothoracic surgeon mercifully didn’t ask too many intrusive questions about Clarke’s love life. But she followed how well her only child was doing academically, going as far as to text Kathy when Clarke was being evasive.

Being a pre-med sophomore with a 3.8 GPA was not enough to please, no. Abby expected focus and perfection when it came to Clarke’s future as a medical doctor. Something she never forgot to remind her during their weekly phone call.

“I’m up. I’m up.”

Clarke sighed as she lifted her head from under the pillow and pushed away the comforter before shutting off the blaring device. Her phone, not her roommate. She had yet to find Kathy’s off button.

“You can go ahead. I’ll head out in a few and grab something from Starbucks on the way.”

“You know, you should really start eating healthier. Those muffins and cakes are sugar traps. And very bad for your teeth, too. As a future doctor, you should pay more attention to your diet.”

On any other day, Clarke would have rolled her eyes and replied something along the lines of, “Thank you, Second Mom.” They had replayed the same conversation so many times since freshman year; it was almost automatic. But she hadn’t slept well, weird vivid dreams plaguing her the whole night. Violence, a river of blood, people fighting and snarling at each other, strange faces with deformed features… She had woken up exhausted, and her patience hung by a thread. Rather than lose her temper at the woman she would have to live with for another six months, she grabbed some clothes and retreated into the bathroom with a huff.

Wondering why she felt so different that morning, Clarke took in her reflection in the mirror. As far as she could tell, nothing had changed since the night before. The slightly round, pretty face of a 5ft5, 19-year-old stared back at her with a frown. Deep blue eyes, a beauty mark above the lips, shoulder-length blond hair with pink highlights at the tips — her mother had thrown a fit, but Clarke refused to change it back. Chalking the qualm up to her nightmares, the girl bent over the sink and splashed her face with water to chase away her sleepiness.

“Hurry up. It’s already 7:43.”

“Damn it, Kathy. Just go. I’ll be on my way soon.”

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#clexa #clexa fanfic #btvs au #slayer Clarke #watcher Lexa #vampires #apocalypse #Clarke the Vampire Slayer

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disco-tea · 2 years

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yoooo btvs alice in wonderland au dru is the mad hatter, giles is the caterpillar or the white rabbit, angel is king(queen) of hearts (could do some good metaphors with yhe whole painting the white roses red rather then just planting red roses) spike is the chesire cat because cmon now buffy is alice errr cant think of any others

OP I’m actually losing my mind over this and I’m actually so upset there was never a weird acid trip episode like this omg. Because Buffy is SO Alice and I can picture her in the blue dress so clearly and instead of falling down a rabbit hole she falls into an open grave. Lmao I can picture Giles as the smoking Caterpillar so clearly sksjs. AND YEAH SPIKE IS ABSOLUTELY A SARCASTIC ANNOYING CAT WHO FOLLOWS BUFFY AROUND AND MAKES COMMENTS JUST TO ANNOY HER BUT ULTIMATELY TRIES TO HELP HER. And like since this is probably humanized it’s just him vanishing/appearing and hanging around up in trees in vamp face the whole time, grinning like a moron. Gosh…ANON I CAN PICTURE THIS SO CLEARLY AND CHESHIRE CAT SPIKE MEANS SO MUCH TO ME ALREADY.

And DRUSILLA AS THE MAD HATTER OOOF. Drusilla and her tea parties…Drusilla in her mad hatter costume…I love this so much.

AND KING (Queen) OF HEARTS BUT ITS DEFINITELY ANGELUS…and maybe Darla is the queen (king) of hearts…

hmmmm…I’m trying to think of what everyone else would be. Maybe Anya as the March Hare, like her with a mallet would be hilarious and she’s literally a rabbit lmao. For some reason when I first started thinking about it, Willow gave me White Rabbit vibes but I think Whistler would fit better lol. Probably Cordelia as the duchess. Idk about Xander…I feel like it could be interesting if he and Willow were tweedle dee and tweedle dum? Just because they are a duo sksks. Oz is the doormouse…napping through all the chaos, totally chill. DAWN IS THE KNAVE OF HEARTS BECAUSE THE KNAVE WAS ACCUSED OF STEALING STUFF. But also she’s Buffy/Alice’s sister who wakes her up in the end.

And that’s how the story ends, with Dawn waking Buffy up on the couch and she’s confused and disorientated because apparently Spike found her passed out in the graveyard and took her home. He says he thinks maybe something got the jump on her. Buffy talks about her weird dream, says it felt so real but Dawn, Spike, and ultimately Buffy agree it was just a dream. Buffy gets up to leave the room and Dawn follows. Spike trails behind, only to turn to the camera, his eyes flashing and a grin splitting across his face. He pressed his finger to his lips and goes “shhh” and the screen goes black.

#op I love this entirely too much sksjshs #buffy the vampire slayer #btvs imagine #btvs au #btvs asks #alice in wonderland

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jadedloverart · 1 year

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A BTVS AU bouncing around in my head.

Lena as Faith makes a lot of sense in my head. Another young warrior stripped of innocence, who just wants to be good and to do good- to rise above the circumstances of her given company.

Alas, achieving "goodness" is a sisyphean task. One that every person fails with enough time, leaving those who abide by the compass to ask, "What is the difference between the monsters and me?"

With none to answer the question, the warrior is left to her own understanding.

Of course Lena would get the sexy knife... Except her redemption arc would be much quicker and far gayer.

Pt. 2

#yall I got 10 hrs clocked on this #and it still doesn't feel done #but I am leaving it here because my god #i need to go to bed #my work #reblog dont repost #supercorp #supergirl #lena luthor #katie mcgrath #buffyverse #supergirl/buffy crossover #supergirl fanart #btvs au

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quietblueriver · 9 months

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Part III of the BTVS au because why not. Jumping around in time; this is before the first and second parts. Rest of the ficlets can be found here.

Some Mary + Beatrice + Camila friendship time.

Mary slides onto the bench across from her at lunch and stares, unrelenting and silent. She steals one fry and then another from Beatrice’s lunch tray, dipping them into honey mustard she had brought herself (clearly prepared to be a thief) without even looking down. As the silence continues, she keeps this up, alternating her sauce with Beatrice’s ketchup, entirely unapologetic.

Beatrice ignores her, focuses on her plain chicken sandwich, which is as bland as always but better than any of the other culinary adventures available to her in the lunch line that day. She had learned quickly that flavorless is always the safest option.

They could do this all period. They sometimes eat lunch silently together anyway, both of them grateful for the brief respite from social expectation. Today, though, the silence is more predatory than companionable, and Beatrice refuses to be the prey.

It’s Camila who breaks their standoff, sliding in next to Mary and saying, around one of Beatrice’s fries (a pair of thieves), “So?”

There’s a moment where she considers playing dumb, but maybe the direct approach will end the conversation sooner.

“Her name is Ava Silva. Superion confirmed that she is also a violinist.”

“I thought there was only supposed to be one.”

Mary’s done with silence, it seems, leaning forward so that her forearms brace on the picnic table. She grimaces as a stray drop of ketchup smudges her skin, wiping it away and then checking the sleeves of her hoodie, rolled up to her elbows, for damage.

“Maybe you wouldn’t spill ketchup if you didn’t have to travel so far with your fries.”

Mary, defiant, steals another fry and the small cup of ketchup, moving it to her own tray.

“You’re right. I’ll bring my own next time. Now, answer my question.”

“It wasn’t a question.”

Camila sighs, giving both of them chastising looks.

“Isn’t there only supposed to be one violinist?”

“Yes.”

“And it’s you.”

“Yes.”

Two sets of expectant eyes. She takes a bite of her sandwich to buy herself some time. It remains almost impressively unseasoned.

It also gives Camila an opportunity to reach a conclusion Beatrice was attempting to avoid.

“Unless you die.”

All violinist pretext is now gone, Camila’s tone dull in a way it never is. She looks simultaneously like she might cry and also kill Beatrice (again). Mary’s arms flex on the table as she leans even further forward, eyes searching and mouth pulled tight.

“Something you need to tell us, Beatrice?”

Beatrice wipes the corner of her mouth, takes a sip of her water, and says, as though she’s updating them on her weekend, “There was an incident a few months ago, just after I started. I’m fine now.”

“An incident?”

“You died?”

They know better than to yell—Beatrice sees both of their eyes do an instinctive population check of the courtyard—but having them hiss at her is almost worse. She flinches, rubs without thinking at the scar on her neck, and Mary catches it, instincts excellent as always.

“You said it caught you off guard. You said it was nothing to worry over.” She’s using her worst British accent now, which means Beatrice is well and truly in trouble. “You failed to mention that it,” she waves her hand at Beatrice’s neck, half-standing in her distress, “killed you.”

“It didn’t.”

It’s out of her mouth before she can stop it, Mary’s growing concern and Camila’s silent tears enough of a distraction that her normally excellent filter malfunctions.

“Oh?” Camila is wiping her eyes with a used cafeteria napkin, rough brown paper pressed to delicate skin, Mary’s dab of ketchup now smearing on her ring finger. Beatrice hands her a clean napkin and she takes it, wobbles a smile and then catches herself, frowns again, and deeply, at Beatrice. “So you didn’t die?”

“No, I…” Beatrice bites at her thumbnail, immediately hears her mother’s chastising voice. “I did, but it wasn’t…” She rubs at her neck again, sighs. She feels like a coward as she stares down at the pitiful half-leaf of lettuce that has escaped her sandwich bun, tells it quietly, “I drowned.”

Silence. Silence, and it’s somehow worse than a dressing down from Mary or a disappointed speech about “friends supporting friends” from Camila. When she raises her eyes again, Camila is crying, harder now, and Mary looks as though she might give Beatrice back her fries, clammy and fully seated again, slumped forward and blinking.

She isn’t sure what to do. She loves them. They’re the first real friends she has ever had, and she’s not very good at any of this. She wants them to feel better, but she doesn’t want to lie, and there is not much to be done about the reality of it: she died. She drowned, and while she made a conscious decision, with Superion’s agreement, to keep that from them, Ava Silva had wrecked her plans.

It’s at least the third time Ava has done this in the two and a half days Beatrice has known her, and she’s more than certain it won’t be the last.

“I’m sorry that I didn’t tell you. Superion revived me, and I learned my lesson.”

This does not appear to have the effect Beatrice had hoped, as Mary scoffs and Camila sniffles harder.

“It won’t…”

She wants to tell them that it won’t happen again. She is fairly sure she’d be lying. She has, after a few months of reading slayer and watcher journals, an understanding of the average lifespan of a slayer, even a very careful one.

“I’m sorry.”

Suddenly, mortifyingly, Beatrice is crying. They’re quiet tears, but tears nonetheless, and she fumbles for another napkin, turning her head and wiping them. She takes a few deep breaths, centering herself, and when she turns back, Camila and Mary are looking at each other, having some kind of conversation that she can’t yet understand, may never understand.

Two heads swivel nearly in unison toward her. Camila’s eyes are red but she’s no longer crying, the wadded up napkin now being torn apart in her hands.

Mary says, solemn, “You have to tell us things, Beatrice. That’s part of the being friends deal. Even hard things.”

Beatrice exhales, shakily, and feels embarrassed, knows the hot flush of her cheeks must be giving her away. It softens Mary, though, and she leans forward with Camila, each landing on a forearm, warm through the fabric of Beatrice’s sweater.

“We love you.” This from Camila, smiling, and Mary picks up, easily, “Even when you’re being an idiot.” Beatrice snorts but says, forcing herself to look at them, “Thank you. I’m not very good at this, at being…at friendship, but I’m…I’m trying.”

“You’re good at it!” Camila protests, and Mary nods, affirms, as she steals another fry, “This shit’s hard. You’ll probably have to yell at me for being all weird and withholding at some point, too.”

She takes her ketchup back, what’s left of it, and Mary grins.

“So. Tell us about Ava Silva.”

#warrior nun #sister beatrice #sister camila #shotgun mary #btvs au #warrior nun fic #avatrice

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