#lesbidar

holiday gifts | buffy encouraging/empowering women for @lesbidar

buffy x willow in every episode: never kill a boy on the first date

“Missed what?”

“I don’t know,” says Buffy, and shrugs a little awkwardly. Her eyes are still fixed on the TV screen, as though she thinks if she looks at Willow, the moment’ll fade. “When you were with Tara, we stopped sitting this close, you know?”

“Well, that was just because–” Willow fumbles a little, wanting to wring her hands or play with her hair, but she doesn’t want to move her head from Buffy’s shoulder. “I didn’t want you to think, you know, I might have a crush on my straight friend or something. I heard straight girls don’t like that.”

“I wouldn’t know,” says Buffy very carefully.

Willow resists the urge to jerk her head up very fast. “What?”

“Um, I,” Buffy’s fumbling too, “I don’t know if I can be anything but ambiguous right now, Will. Still kinda trying to figure things out.”

Willow considers this, then says with a similar amount of care, “So I wouldn’t have a crush on my straight Slayer friend right now, then, would I?”

Buffy bites her lip and smiles at the TV, reaching around to drape an arm over Willow’s shoulder. “Yeah, I don’t think you have one of those awful unreciprocated crush things,” she says.

“That’s good,” says Willow.

btvs fanwork appreciation //  this can’t be living now by @lesbidar (faith/buffy)

read for: found family dynamic, lesbian pining, and an unique take on afterlife

“When a person dies, any sentimental objects they have on them end up here. As far as I know, Repository objects are the only things in this realm that have any real value. As for the way it works—it’s a little like a library. You can check out objects for indefinite periods of time.”

“Why doesn’t everyone just come here and get what’s theirs? How’s there so much stuff here?”

I decided it would be super fun to use another snippet from that Chloe and Lucifer go undercover as a couple at a Christian couple’s therapy camp fic. It works for the crying thing! So here it goes:

The priest made them circle up around the piano in the front of the chapel and asked them to each think of a song to sing that would remind them of a time in which they had loved God. Chloe wondered what Lucifer would be doing for this task, what way he would subtly make a devil joke with none of the other people being the wiser for it. She found herself looking forward to whatever his secret joke would be. She was having a hard time coming up with some answer for this particular question because:

a. she had never really even believed in God before Lucifer

b. She had come to wholly subscribe to the God Is A Dick theory, courtesy of every single interaction she’d had with His sons.

In the end she chose some meaningless christmas song that she vaguely remembered from attending holiday services with Dan’s parents. She felt she’d done a passable job singing it, matching the notes the priest played on the piano to accompany her.

Lucifer went last. He wordlessly shooed the priest from the piano and sat down. He took a few deep breaths, seemingly nervous. Then, he began to play. It was, as always, a treat to watch him play; he was a masterful musician with a clear and obvious passion for the piano. There were a few measures of piano intro before he began to sing; the couples all fell completely silent within a few notes, perhaps sensing that they were in the presence of a master. Then, he began to sing. There wasn’t even a trace of irreverence or humor — this performance was completely sincere. He sang in a language Chloe had only heard once from him, when she’d caught him arguing with Amenadiel in the precinct.This was a song of heaven. She certainly couldn’t understand the words but she felt them. There were warm and light, filling her up. There was such a deep, unending love coming from the words, blind devotion for all eternity.

These people standing around her had no idea that they were hearing the music of heaven, the song of an angel, and she found some kind of strange humor in it, that she, a life-long atheist knew for certain the truths of their faith.The song changed, becoming mournful.

One of the women began to cry, then one of the men.

The problem that Lucifer had, Chloe realised, had never been that he hated God. Lucifer loved his Father even now, even after all this time, all this hurt. His problem was that he loved too much, that he desperately wanted to hate his Father, and could never truly bring himself to it. She wondered if he had been made incapable of it. The thought that it was possible made her angry, and more committed to being the president of the God Is A Dick club.

The whole time he sang, Lucifer kept his eyes up at the ceiling, staring at the rafters of the chapel, up to the heavens. When he played the last note, sang the last word of his song, he looked down and met Chloe’s eyes. There was a wealth of emotion that passed between them in that moment — there was so much grief in Lucifer, Chloe thought. He looked away, stood up and swept out of the chapel, keeping his eyes cast down. The warmth and light that had filled the chapel while he’d sung his song was gone along with him, and they were all shivering, cold now. Chloe, as susceptible to Lucifer’s divinity as a rock felt the loss the least. The others had been taken under by his unconscious use of his divine gifts.

With an apologetic look at the priest, Chloe dashed out the chapel determined to follow Lucifer. When she stumbled out into the bright daylight she found that he had vanished. She stood there for a few minutes, looking up at the clear blue sky, wondering.

Lucifer, she thought, are you okay?

She felt almost foolish thinking that he’d somehow hear her thoughts.

There was a whooshing sound then, like a strong wind, and then Lucifer was there, standing next to her, face unreadable even to her who knew him so well.

“I’m getting there,” he said in a whisper, voice soft and gentle.

Neither of them made to look each other in the face. Instead they stood in silence, in front of that chapel, looking out across the California desert. At some point his fingers had reached for her and she’d reached back, curling her fingers around his, squeezing his hand in reassurance.

“I’m here,” she said, hoping he could read everything she meant to tell him from those two words.

Out of the corner of her eye she could see a bittersweet smile breaking across his face. “I know darling,” he said, “I know.”

They’d gotten to the point in their friendship where long silences between them didn’t feel uncomfortable or unnatural. His presence, solid and warm next her was enough, his steady pulse her anchor.

You still love Him, don’t you? she wanted to say, but she held her tongue afraid of breaking this fragile moment, afraid of breaking him, afraid to hear his answer.

He answered her unasked question anyways, leaving her wondering if he really could read minds.

“After all this time,” he said, voice heavy with bitter grief and anger, “I still love Him.”

There were tears forming in his eyes.

She tightened her grip on his hand, “Sh-shhh,” she murmured, “I know, I know.”

“It’s not fair,” he said, voice tiny and broken.“I know,” she said again.