Regala Electra AKA Obraham Linbama's IDK BFF

Regrets (A Faith Fic Series) 4/7
Author: Regala Electra
Rating: R Overall
Pairings: Faith/Wood, Faith/Buffy, Faith/Wes, Faith/Others
Spoilers: Set after the BtVS & AtS Series Finales
Series Summary: Faith’s seen The Muppet Movie. She likes to think of herself as a master of moving right along.
Part Four Summary: She can scream later.
Author’s Notes: Series of short ficlets featuring Faith's life post-Chosen. Er, I also am using these fics to set up a context for Faith in the Other Myths That Aren’t True Faith/Dean Crossover Series of Sexy Doom. You do not need to read that series to understand these ficlets, they are mostly BtVS/AtS oriented. Titles to each section are song lyrics, all credited.

wet with the midnight dew
Johnny Cash, God’s Gonna Cut You Down

( Her jeans aren’t soaked with her blood, so Faith’s got that working for her. )

Regrets (A Faith Fic Series) 2/7
Author: Regala Electra
Rating: R Overall
Pairings: Faith/Wood, Faith/Buffy, Faith/Wes, Faith/Others
Spoilers: Set after the BtVS & AtS Series Finales
Series Summary: Faith’s seen The Muppet Movie. She likes to think of herself as a master of moving right along.
Part Two Summary: She had dreamt of Buffy's lips against her forehead, whispering that now the floods have rolled back, she will fight no fires.
Author’s Notes: Series of short ficlets featuring Faith's life post-Chosen. Er, I also am using these fics to set up a context for Faith in the Other Myths That Aren’t True Faith/Dean Crossover Series of Sexy Doom. You do not need to read that series to understand these ficlets, they are mostly BtVS/AtS oriented. Titles to each section are song lyrics, all credited.

*

mary, mary, mother full of life
(Mary; Kristin Hoffmann)

Faith still stands at the threshold of Buffy's apartment, even though she's been told to come in. Twice. Shifts from one foot to another, wincing at the new ache deep in her knee. Some fucker had tried bringing her down with a fumbled kick to the knee. ( He’d learned his lesson right quick. )

On 11th Day of Reg's Improbable and Ridiculous and Completely Insane Ficathon, regala_electra gave to thee -

Eleven drabbles and drabblets featuring BtVS/AtS characters!

Rating: R
Spoilers: Everything from the series finales are fair game.
Author's Notes: Requests are noted. This is what I call the Non-B/A day of my drabbles, and I just realized I have no Angel/Spike in my drabble series. Hmm. This is Not Cool. I shall have to do some Angel/Spike in another 'day,' because hell yes to the A/S. Well, at least there's sex and a little femslash. Mmm.
Feedback: I say to thee, 'hell yes, and it is muchly needed to feed the student stuck in the middle of exam week.'

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Leaving Neverland
(Dawn as The Key)

What if, she thinks, and there's a name on her tongue just begging to be realized. What if, she thought, and if was released, maybe she'd turn around, and there it would be, waiting for her, like always, and she clap hands together, and yes, there would be joy, and peace, and in the end, a sacred silence.

What. If.

She does not believe in such trite things, so when the shadows follow her, when she finds darkness even in the brightest, most tranquil days, she makes a wish for it to end, and it does, in the end, not unlike magic, not unlike power.

If what she thinks is real, then what she believes in is nothing, and either way, she's not going to say it.

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for coppersinger

Homewarming Gift
(request: happy Buffy/Wes)

( Read more... )

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for callmesandy

Bedside Manners:
(request: Buffy/Gunn)

( Read more... )

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Young Connor Plays It Safe:
(request: Connor)

( Read more... )

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The Cheshire Dragon:
(request: Lilah and Spike)

( Read more... )

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for stephanierb

Through the Looking Glass:
(request: Wes/Faith)

( Read more... )

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for doyle_sb4

Chase the Moon Across the Sky:
(request: Nina)

( Read more... )

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for netweight

Fear and Loathing While Slaying:
(request: Buffy/Faith)

( Read more... )

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for fb2wendy

Argument #607:
(request: Faith/Spike)

( Read more... )

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for eleniangel

When In Rome:
(request: Buffy/Wes)

( Read more... )

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for stars91

Contemplation Sans Redemption:
(request: Faith, anyway you [i.e. me] like it)

( Read more... )

Hey didn't I say I wanted to write some fic? And didn't I totally get stalled when starting up a Buffy/Wes idea? And aren't I completely and *utterly* avoiding PotC, X-Men, and O.C. stories that are crushing me to death?

Well, yes I did. And then Faith arrived after being silent for several months and I did write.

Title: 150 Cigarettes Later
Author: Regala Electra
E-mail: regala_electra@yahoo.com
Rating: R
Pairing: Faith/Wesley (Mentions of: Faith/Wood, Willow/Fred, Willow/Kennedy)
Summary: You came back.
Spoilers: AtS "Home" and BtVS "Chosen"
Warnings: Sexual content, violence, language
Author's Notes: A billion years ago, I wrote the opening sentence of this story to MollyTM over AIM and said, "ooh, I want to write a Faith/Wes story!" And because MollyTM is my crack dealer, she was all "do it!" And I tried. And I didn't like it. And it stalled. For many months. And I tripped and danced over the fact that I never finished it and then something happened and I realized, "hey, I rather like this, I want to finish it." So, here it is: the story of Faith, cigarettes, post-saving the world from The First, and looking for answers she doesn't want to understand.

*

It's exactly one hundred and fifty cigarettes later when you see him again.

You didn't intend for that to be the way you kept time, but it happened and you still do. You had cut down to ten a week, not for any particular reason.

And ten seemed like a fitting number, something you didn't notice until you stopped yourself from lighting up and put away a cigarette on Thursday to save for Friday, the start of the next week, so that it wouldn't become eleven. Thursday's the last day of your week.

You like to think of being born on a Thursday.

It's not for the sentimental purposes, but because it would make sense. You left prison on a Thursday.

And in prison, left with only your thoughts (and you honestly didn't trap yourself in your mind, you once teetered and fell over the edge and insanity's scars never heal no matter how many times you try to ignore them), you had stumbled onto a battered book in the library. You remember the hard rush of pain, and you, an expert of pain, almost relished in it, but the steady hard thrum was ignored as you bent down to pick up that object, that cause of your clumsy pain.

"Mythology: A Collection," the battered, stained book cover so said, and you laughed, knowing that stories that had never really happened, gods that didn't exist and heroes who had never died, had nothing on your life. It didn't interest you, you've never been a reader and mythology's never been your strong point. You always had a thing for short stories and mysteries, though you'd never admit that to anyone else.

And there, stuck in a prison you sent yourself to for as long as needed (and you knew the answer was "forever"), you learned the days of the week. Sun and Moon days. But the other days, those were the days named after gods. And Thursday was Thor's day, the day of thunder.

You don't know why you decided that Thursday was the last day of the week for you, only that it had to be that.

And you're back in Los Angeles at exactly one hundred and fifty cigarettes later and it's a Thursday. And Wood left you two Thursdays ago and while you hate that he proved your counting system does work, you feel relieved too.

You were able to escape your obligations without a single scratch. And given your history, that's saying something.

He doesn't see you that Thursday though.

You intended to bump into him at the Hyperion on a Monday, because it's safer that way and then, there wouldn't be anything to expect other that a brief conversation that'll go nowhere.

You know you're a pessimist at heart, but you had left the good old Sunnydale gang (though they're no longer based in Sunnydale, as it's now California's most impressive crater) because they stopped asking for your help once you stopped being Faith-and-Wood and went back to plain old Faith.

On Wednesday, you try to contact anyone using every number you have. You even try Fred's cell phone number, even though you have suspicions she may be on her way for a 'friendly' visit to Arizona.

You had gotten the cell phone number from Willow, who knew the number right off the top of her head and while you know the witch is smart and much more powerful (and therefore dangerous, there, you admit it: you don't trust them, and you never will), the dark blush across Willow's face proved it wasn't just innocent knowledge.

And you had noticed that Kennedy's possessions were no longer in Willow's room and that you'd only seen Kennedy when Buffy called for a group meeting, as far away from Willow as possible.

But you're not a matchmaker and you're certainly not stable enough in the romance department to start shilling out advice.

You left all of them a week after Wood left you because you were phased out quickly, you've never been a part of *them.* A part of you, no, all of you, burned out on trying to laugh when they accused you of being too unstable and on trying to be appear distant so that they wouldn't notice that you really did want to be a part of the Scooby gang, even though the name's never appealed to you.

You call them, to ask if something's up, casual, light. One of the many Slayers, you know you'll have to learn the names someday, but today isn't that day, answers. They don't know the history, or if they do, it's the abridged version and all your bridge-burnings have left you outcast.

So you learn from a nervous voice, from a girl's body who you don't really remember, through a shitty connection, that they're set to leave for Europe and not a goddamn one of them bothered to call you to inform that latest fun fact.

You think of the last time you saw them and you hate them all a little, somewhere safe under the skin, buried deeper than any knife you've ever plunged into flesh. You hope it doesn't escape, but it's there, itching sharper than a craving for a cigarette.

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