#BTVS AU

[lesbianabril]

Here's my fantasy post-btvs/angel world where no one died and the comics never happened

Buffy still fights against the forces of darkness but, since she's not the only slayer anymore, she's allowed to take breaks and not deal with every apocalypse by herself. She also gets paid monthly, along with all the new slayers.

Dawn went to study abroad and is now head of the new and reformed watchers council, where she works with Giles and Andrew delivering missions to the different slayers.

Also Dawn came out as a lesbian during college, and Tara was the first person she told.

Buffy and Spike are together, taking things slow and talking every step of the way (think their relationship in season 10 and 11, that's the only thing i can accept as canon from the mess that were the comics).

Spike works along with Buffy, they patrol together, and he still meets up with Clem for kitten poker (although he can't bear to eat the kittens when he wins)

Faith and Buffy have become really good friends, they're the only ones who know what being a slayer was before when there was only one, and they've bonded over their experiences and now get together quite often for coffee. Faith also works as a slayer so sometimes they go on missions together.

Tara and Willow live in a lovely cottage in the countryside and still help out on the fight whenever needed. Most of the time they sell potions and spells-in-a-bottle to the slayers.

Oz transitioned and now she and her new girlfriend are invited over to Willow and Tara's house every week for dinner and board games.

Anya now runs her own magic shop in L.A. She's going on dates but is mostly enjoying her independence. She's still in touch with the scooby gang but she has also made new friends in L.A.

Season 4 and 5 of Angel never happened so Cordelia, Fred and Wesley are alive and still working for Angel Investigations along with Gunn and Lorne.

Angel got to raise Connor since he was a baby with the help of his team, and Connor grew up surrounded by love

Cordelia and Anya reunite in L.A. and get together for drinks quite often to bitch about life for a few hours.

Harmony is thriving. So is drusilla.

I don't care how Xander is doing.

[sunny-rants]

Yellowjackets Buffy the Vampire Slayer AU. did you hear me I said Yellowjackets Buffy the Vampire Slayer AU!!!

[jeskerthefool]

what if. Buffy the vampire slayer human au (for now)

[jadedloverart]

The chosen one, the hero, the sacrificial lamb... She who fights like the sun against the forces of darkness.

She understands that with the power to affect change comes an obligation to those who cannot; that girlhood is forfeit in the balancing of lives.

She knows that without something to fight for, this world will eat her alive, and so she loves- she loves like a bird loves the Dawn, even when she no longer recognizes herself without gazing into the mirror of her friends.

Pt. 2 of this BTVS AU

Pt. 1

[emryses]

opened the btvs steddie for for the first time in a while.

[quietblueriver]

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.”

[patchodraws]

Ya see, Mac Coyle was supposed to die at 16.

The cancer had rendered her nearly immobile, done such a massive fucking number on her brain that she could hardly count to ten anymore. Half the time, her veins were pumping painkillers instead of blood through her body. She’d been made a husk of the fiery, fierce girl she’d so bravely decided to be for the past five years.

A week later, when KJ went in to check up on her, she was gone. Her heart had plummeted in that instant, any semblance of warmth in her body disintegrated by the painfully unsudden shock of Max finally being gone — and it had all been undone, replaced, moments later when the nurse told her she’d been sent him after a literally miraculous recovery.

Mac had kept quiet about the whole affair when she met her for milkshakes the next afternoon. Completely barring KJ’s hurt that her supposed best friend — the girl she’d spent the last three years pining after all while knowing more and more that she could never have — couldn’t even phone her up to tell her she’d been released, Mac seemed distracted. Distant. Unfocused. KJ had to remind her to even drink her shake every now and then, as opposed to every other time when she’d have to playfully reprimand her for stealing sips when she’d though KJ wasn’t looking.

“I wish I could tell you,” Mac had said as if her seemingly magical recovery wasn’t beyond all reason, “but I’m back now. I’m better. Cancer’s gone.”

“And you never said anything because…?”

KJ’s question had gone unanswered all night. Mac deflected her inquiries, or got notably short with the prodding, and managed to entirely silence KJ into confused and bitter acceptance that her best friend was alive, and she was never going to know why.

The silent they’d stewed in lasted until sundown, and it had done its work grinding KJ’s patience down to dust. Mac hadn’t even half finished her shake by the time KJ stood up and, with a betrayed scowl damming any scathing, choice words, strode back to her car—

And that was when it attacked.

It, because KJ had absolutely no clue what to call that thing, other than definitively not human. Some part of her mind, quiet and distant, seemed to want to ping in recognition of it, but a second glance at the twisted mockery of a young woman with burning yellow eyes tamped down on that thought in an instant. Whatever she was facing, she’d never seen anything like it, and as it approached with bared fangs and a bestial snarl, she feared it might actually be the last thing she saw.

Instead, what she saw was the woman go stiff, accompanied by the sound of flesh being pierced and bone being split; a second later, and she was gone, blown into the evening wind as dust, revealing in her place Mac.

KJ panted in panic, in shock, in disbelief, as Mac flipped a pointed wooden stick in her palm before hastily shoving it into her jacket pocket. “You alright, Kaje?”

“What was that?” KJ asked, her voice wobbling, before her wide stare trained back to Mac. “What are you?”

Mac shrugged. “Cats out of the bag, I guess. I’m the fucking Slayer.”

[boopsterliv]

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)

[thepunkmuppet]

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!!!!

[buddiekinard]

Oooo!

👶👶🧛‍♂️🧛‍♂️

Xoxoxoxo

some tpreg i keep giving people more than they ask for...oops?

“You say that like you didn’t come into my house and look at my ipad when you thought I was looking at porn.” Eddie comes back through.  “So, you’re having a baby?” 

“Eddie, leave him alone.” Evan rolls his eyes.  “He’s not here to break my heart again.”

“He’d better not be.” Eddie gives Tommy an intimidating look that Tommy probably deserves.  He’d been trying so hard to protect his own heart, and he knows Evan’s got shattered in the process.  Honestly, Tommy just thought he’d be sad for a couple of days and then move on, but it looks like maybe not.

and more buffy au

“They aren’t my friends, Mr. Buckley.” 

“You haven’t even told me your name.  This is so fucking weird.” Evan kicks at the ground.  “Why am I even here?”

“It’s destiny.” 

“Not sure I believe in that, man.  If all that stuff is real, I don’t think it would have picked me to be chosen for anything.”

[dalgursbate]

of street names & subway wall prophecies (2/?)

Summary: So picture this: it’s 3:36 in the morning and she's lying on the roof of her high-rise apartment building, twenty six stories of steel and glass raising her into the sky like an offering. The shitty, thin beach towel under her is the only thing protecting her shoulders from the rough concrete. To her right is a boy who is not really a boy, but an animal in a boy disguise that isn’t even all that convincing. They’re not looking at each other, both content to stare at the few stubborn constellations that shine in spite of the light pollution. Picture this: it’s 3:36 in the morning and she is stargazing with a creature she's meant to kill. It’s 3:37 in the morning and he just lit her cigarette for her. Yeah, Shadowheart has given up trying to make sense of anything these days. — Shadowheart and Astarion & the million ways they try to outrun the inevitable. (aka the bg3/buffy crossover event i've decided needs to exist)

Pairing: M/F, M/M Shadowheart/Astarion, Astarion/Original Male Character (background)

WC: 11,865

Rating: M (for now)

CW: trauma (including sexual trauma, childhood trauma, etc.), mentions of abuse of all kinds, violence typical of both canons, mental health etc. etc. Mind the tags.

[bisexual-steveharrington]

I just don't think fandoms are utilising btvs AUs like they should be

[doesimmons]

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.

[thinkingabouttheimplications]

In a hatchetfield btvs au, Miss Holloway totally would be an ensouled vampire very similar to Angel. Imagine the angst potential??? Especially with Holloweane with Duke as a watcher.

[jadedloverart]

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

[emryses]

🧛🧛🧛!!!

eeee kam tysm!!!! beloved btvs snip for u

He flattens his hand on Eddie’s chest and pushes. Eddie stumbles back, his eyes opening wide and he looks at Steve. He just looks at him, mouth dropped open, red and kiss bitten. Steve clears his throat. “I’ll see ya,” he says, and disappears around the corner.

wip emoji game 🌞🧛‍♂️