#if you cant tell what i did i stretched them out to fit the dimensions better

[elipheleh]

some rwrb phone lockscreens/wallpapers. (part 2 part 3 part 4)

if you like/use them please reblog, i’d really appreciate it. the best way for others to see this is if people reblog the post rather than just liking it.

[an-army-of-nightmares]

Porcelain Jekyll au

-

This is gonna be long so heres a tldr

TLDR: Jekyll gets taken to a sort of real nightmare party full of dolls, if he misbehaves they'll kill him and if he's a perfect gentleman he'll turn into a doll. There's a branch where he's rescued and two where he turns into a doll

--

•The au starts with Jekyll going to sleep, timeline honestly doesn't matter as long as Frankenstein, Jasper, and Jekyll are all around. Could start where tgs currently is? But Jasper doesn't accidentally wake Jekyll up in his panic

•"The Party of Dolls" is basically a supernatural nightmare? I haven't found a better explanation but basically it's a nightmare that's real and happening, while still "just" being a nightmare. It takes you to like a different dimension while you sleep basically? (The party of dolls isn't the only one but that's not relevant)

•The dolls invite specific people, they invite people who want to be perfect. People who dont want anyone to hate them or find a flaw. Jekyll fits this perfectly

•Jekyll is taken to the party. He tries to be polite despite being unnerved. There's another human at the party, he doesn't learn the man's name before the man gets ripped apart by the dolls for shouting

The dolls target specific people, but they can still take "fodder", people they know will immediately break the rules. So that their actual guests can learn what happens if they are impolite. The dolls also surround guest on all sides, and have them in the exact middle, so that the guest cannot just run out

•Jekyll is terrified, now knowing he'll die if he does something wrong, he tries his best to be perfect

•Unknown to Jekyll, if he's "perfect" he'll start turning into a doll. Ultimately it's a die or die situation

•Jekyll does start to notice the porcelain creeping up him, its be hard not to. He is very much (silently) panicking. But,, the more porcelain on him the more calm he becomes, the more he acts as if this is a simple party and nothing is wrong

•Eventually he reaches a point where he'd actively resist being taken away from the party, but still not fully covered by porcelain

A quick note, Hyde can't do anything about the situation. He wasn't invited and the dolls are suppressing him so much he can hardly even tell what's happening, or leave the mindscape. He's absolutely terrified about this because he can Feel something is wrong and everything is just becoming more and more suffocating

Now onto the branches! There are 2 and a half branches for this au!

Branch 1: Jekyll gets rescued

(Assuming this takes place at Chapter 11 Page 8)

•Jekyll is asleep on the couch, Jasper rushes in the room like his panic on the page except this time Jekyll does not wake up at Jasper's sudden entry. Jasper, noticing Jekyll is asleep, silently contemplates on if this problem is really worth waking Jekyll. Because on the one hand he's probably overreacting in his mind, but on the other Jekyll is really the only person he can panic to?

•He decides not to wake Jekyll, and wait until it's properly morning or noon?, now that the panic is a bit subdued he probably still has stuff to ask Jekyll

•He goes up to find Jekyll is still asleep, and Zosi frantically pawing at Jekyll's chest, occasionally nibbling him, and seemingly really wants to wake Jekyll up. Jasper tries to wake him up but it seems no matter how hard he tries Jekyll stays asleep

•Seeing how Lanyon probably isn't in the Society at the moment (and besides Jasper is pretty sure Robert dislikes him) and he's currently avoiding Rachel. Jasper cant ask Jekyll's friends if this is normal behavior. Why doesn't he ask the lodgers? Maybe a combination of they all seem busy and still being a bit intimidated by them? So he goes to his last best bet, Frankenstein. She's, kinda a doctor and has traveled quite a bit, so she may know whats up with Jekyll and why Zosi is panicking

Note: This whole decision happens in like a few seconds while Jasper is panicking

•Frankenstein does not ease Jasper's worries

•Ah, I guess there has to be some sort of tell, something that makes it clear someone is in one of these "supernatural nightmares" and that Jekyll is specifically in the party of dolls. Idk yet what that tell would be. But Frankenstein knows and thats all that matters

•They take Jekyll back to the attic, lock the entry, and make preparations for a rescue mission

•Frankenstein will be going in to try and distract the dolls while Jasper will be looking for Jekyll. Creature is there as plan B in case the dolls get hostile towards them (as Creature is fully capable of lifting them all up and running out of there. And the dolls are very likely to get hostile towards them)

•They get in, how? I have no clue. But they do. Probably a potion?

•Jasper quickly finds Jekyll and tries to convince him to leave. Much to Jasper's concern, Jekyll doesn't want to leave, and keeps brushing the danger off

Frankenstein and Jasper dont know much about the nightmare. Its likely all they know is that its filled with dolls and people who are "invited" are never seen again/found dead

•Frankenstein's distraction consists of pointing out flaws in how the dolls act. The dolls keep finding excuses, but eventually become agitated with her

•Japser notices the porcelain on Jekyll and loudly panics, attracting the already agitated dolls attention

•Creature picks them all up and runs towards the doors. Jekyll is greatly struggling against this rescue attempt, but once they get out of the building and onto the stretch of yard before the exit Jekyll calms down significantly

Jekyll did not actually calm down, but rather Hyde managed to weasel control after they left the building. Hyde absolutely does not want to be at this party, and Jekyll's struggling could've jeopardized the rescue

•They get back! Whatever porcelain was on Jekyll falls off him with ease. He's angry for maybe half a day or more. But when the doll's control completely leaves him, he's nothing but relieved

Sidenote: It seems reasonable that this whole experience would leave Jekyll with a fear of going to sleep. Perhaps give him something that can deter these types of nightmares? A desire for the comfort of another person, at least in the room, while he's asleep?

Branch 2: Jekyll fully turns into a doll

•Well either Jekyll went to sleep at his own home or some place where no one would think to look for him, as if he was right in the society they'd certainly take notice that something is wrong

•Jekyll fully turns to porcelain. Once he's a full doll they give him new clothes (the sand/beige colored suit I tend to draw porcelain Jekyll in)

Previously, Jekyll had been wearing the suit he wears at any formal party, like the ball in An Army Of Nightmares

•Porcelain Jekyll gets back to the real world. This is not entirely out of the ordinary for the dolls to do. If a guest was reasonably young or famous they'll be returned once a doll, to make themselves more known or respectable before they "die" and go back to the party full time

•Zosi notices something is Wrong while Jekyll is asleep and tries to wake him up to no avail, Zosi can't bark for attention and he's scared of leaving Jekyll alone, the few times he does go out to find someone he's largely ignored or avoided, or they misinterpret what the zombie pup wants. When Jekyll does wake up, Zosi immediately notices that it's not Jekyll, at least not anymore. Zosi knows he's supposed to get rid of any evil creatures, but this was once Jekyll. So the pup runs away and avoids him instead

•ooo I dont want to describe this whole branch? This has already taken way longer for me to write then I want XD, just check out this reblog chain about it bsksndks

•

Branch 2 ½: Jekyll dies

•Jekyll fully turns into a doll, however instead of entering the real world his real body simply dies. He's found rotting in bed. "Jekyll" however, is still in the party. (Fun fact, this was the original plan for the au)

-----

Extra notes:

▪All the dolls in the party were once people, except for maybe one or two? A handful? But it has long since been lost who's who. And it never mattered

▪Lanyon would not have ever been invited to the party. He doesn't seem to want to be a gentleman, and he knows too much about etiquette to be fodder either

▪Jasper is a proper candidate to be invited, and in branch 2 "Jekyll" is giving him alot more lessons on how to be a proper gentleman, planning to invite Jasper to the party at some point

▪The party always has a host that they cycle though, the host talks to guests a bit more than everyone else

▪Porcelain Jekyll gets to keep his new clothes when returning to the real world

[takachirou]

nsfw hc’s w/ tsukishima, matsukawa and oikawa

including: tsukishima, matsukawa, and oikawa.

summary: just random nsfw hc’s

warning/s: nsfw, choking, slapping, master kink, daddy kink, degradation ?, edging, pain kink

wc: 1.5k+

a/n: this was very self-indulgent… also an excuse to write some smut, 

nsfw under the cut!

˗ˋ .*ೃ✧₊˚.❁ ↷

tsukishima kei

HE CAN USE ME LIKE THE CUM DUMP I AM

 calls you a whore and his little puppy and god it is so hot

master.. he loves it when you call him master. (i had a hc that he LOVEs being called senpai too but thats a whole other thing)

HARD DOM. will slap the shit out of your ass and throw u into the next dimension type shit.

he LOVES making you cum over and over and over again until you cant. and he forces it from you.

 it’s either he overstims u or EDGES u SO much. 

he just wants to break you and he will he wants you to cry and drool from cumming too much.

also loves face fucking and im for all that.

“please master, let me cum.” you whimpered against the restraints. you were blindfolded and tied to his bed that was wet, fluids mixed with sweat, tears and his cum. you were shaking, chasing your high as you felt the familiar hot feeling in your stomach again. when he saw you were close to your release he removed the vibrator from your clit.

you cry out in frustration, “please, please. i want to cum. i’ll be a good girl for you!” you feel him rub the tip of his cock against your clit, teasing your neglected yet sensitive bud. as he pushes in his cock, you feel his lips right against your ear.

“be a good little whore for me and maybe i’ll let you cum,” he whispers before he pressed the vibrator against your clit and buried his cock deep in your wet cunt, feeling every inch of him against your walls moving painfully slow in and out of you. as he felt you pulsate, he picked up the pace, you moan feeling your high come closer. he changes the vibrator to the highest setting, you cry out due to the overwhelming pressure. “i’m gonna cum, behave for me baby.”

you feel his cock twitch, painting your walls white. he turns off the vibrator, taking out his cock out of your sopping cunny leaving you begging for a proper release. he kisses your forehead softly as a sign of reassurance before you feel his fingers pressing against your clit. you shuddered at the feeling, finally, you think. he starts rubbing it in circling motions, making you gasp out due the stimulating feeling.

“i’m cumming, i’m cumming.” you breathed out making him rubbing your clit faster. and then your orgasm hit you harder than you expected, waves of pleasure run through your body, making your legs shake.

when your high came down, he ordered you to lay on your stomach. you felt him rub him ass before smacking it, most likely leaving a mark, “hmm, do you think you can squirt puppy? let’s see how much you can take whore.”

matsukawa issei

horse cock mattsun yes

he knows his dick is big and loves that you like the pain !!!!!!!!

im like tiny and this man with his horse cock CAN BLOW MY BACK OUT AND USE MY PUSSY (and he WILL).

100% would spit in your mouth while you’re literally so out of it cause he’d fucking you so well.

loves fucking you with your clothes on

would also slap your face.. yknow what im tb? like you’ve came so many fucking times and youre so fucked out so he gives your face a little slap slap and goes “look at me, slut” 😻

issei’s cock was huge, both thick and long, and no matter how many times you’ve fucked or how much he’s prepped you, you’re barely prepared for the way your pussy stretches just for his huge cock to fit. the way you were positioned, on your back with both of your legs above your head, his cock was able to go deeper in your sweet pussy.

his mouth always made you satisfied but god, his huge cock, fills you up so well. the way his cock feels inside you is always painful when he firsts put it in but it’s such an enjoyable feeling. and when he pulls out from your your pussy, he slams his hips into yours, his cock so deep in you, the tip of it touching your cervix. you moaned, “i-issei, f-fuck daddy,” he looks at how your slopping pussy takes him, throwing his head back at the view. now you, you were lost in the pleasure and pain, all you can hear are the skin slapping and your own moans.

“look at me slut, open your mouth.”

he slaps your face in attempt to get your attention, squeezing your cheeks so your mouth opens, sticking your tongue out, knowing what comes next, he gathers some of his saliva and spits in your mouth. “swallow,” he said. he tugs at your hair, forcing you to look at him, “swallow baby, every last drop of my spit.”

and you did, the erotic face you made, your tongue out with excess saliva, face flushed and your eyes rolled back turned him on even more. “fuck b-baby, you’re so hot,” he stutters out, you feel him getting closer to his orgasm as his hips started stuttering, his thrusts becoming slower but the feeling of his cock slowly going in and out of you is what pushes you to the edge. you feel his length in you, every inch, you feel how your pussy takes his huge cock. he then adds a finger in your cock filled pussy, “i can take another one”, you managed to say. the overwhelming pleasure then builds up, your orgasm slowly washing over you, you hold your own orgasm trying to push yourself deeper and deeper. you let go, your pussy contracting around his cock, feeling waves overwhelming pleasure and relief.

“issei, issei! f-fuck.” you cried out loud as he cums in you, his warm cum filling you. you stayed there for a while before he pulls out of you, slowly. he got up from the bed, his foot steps a little fainter before it was loud enough again. you turn back to see issei holding up a dildo and a butt plug.

“you think you can cum again for me princess?”

oikawa tōru

fingers

thats it. just his fucking fingers down my throat after he finger fucks me.

youre the one who cleans up your own cum from his fingers

while he’s fucking you, one hand rubbing your clit and one hand around your throat.

he squeezes it lightly and you moan… god he fucks you harder and his dick goes deeper.

he is balls deep in your pussy, and he crumbles at the sight of you. youre a moaning mess, holding his hand, telling him to choke you harder.

one of his hands travel down your neck and down to your breasts, softly caressing it before attaching his mouth to your nipple. you sighed in content as his tongue drew circles, sucking and nipping at your hardened nub. he left soft kisses around your chest before one of his hands slowly travel to your throat, tightening its grip. your breath hitched when he kissed you with so much fevor the feeling left your cunt aching, tongue slipping in your mouth lazily.

he hands slowly traveling below your waist, he looked at you for consent, “yes,” you breathed out. peppering soft pecks around your neck as his fingers found your covered slit avoiding your clit. “can you take these off for me princess?,” you slowly got out of your underwear and bottoms, leaving you completely naked. you looked up at your boyfriend who was now shirtless.

he kissed your legs before pressing his finger in your pussy causing you to moan in content. he added a second finger before curling them inside you. he holds you down as his fingers reach the spongy spot in. “found it,” he whispers into your ear.

you moan in bliss, his fingers curling and his palm pressing against your clit. he kisses you while his fingers continue to work your tight sopping pussy. his tongue softly slips into your mouth, groaning when he felt you palming his cock. you whimper into his mouth when you felt him remove his fingers from your cunt.

“suck.” he demanded as he shoved his fingers in your mouth. you swirl your tongue around his fingers, tasting yourself. he shoved his pretty long fingers down your throat, causing you to gag. “that’s my good girl.”

taglist: @miki-snake @yaoyoroxu @drabblily @bearri @ukaiscigarette​

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[borderlandscast]

btb: leave no vault unturned (epilogue) preview, part four

He’s cautious, at first. Ravs understands his need to initially keep it under wraps, letting Rythian feel out his comfort zone at his own pace. He’s easier to please than Rythian initially assumed. His physical affection doubles; Ravs is unbearably doting, needing to touch Rythian in some way every time they meet, brushing his hand over his, gracing him with a quick hug or delivering a cheek kiss.

Certain people observe that he’s cheerier than he’d previously been, as with Rythian. Rythian takes his mealtimes with Ravs in the mess hall instead of in his own room. It’s a good excuse to stretch his legs and boost Junior’s contact with people aside from himself. Occasionally, Ravs will reserve the kitchen from Honeydew and cook Rythian a special meal.

Rythian forgets that Ravs is a phenomenal cook when he’s not busy. It’s all homemade (barring his use of raw ingredients, measured by ‘eye’ sprinklings of condiments and extra bits). If Rythian hadn’t been watching Ravs make it all, he’d thought that Ravs had magicked it into existence from a secret pocket dimension.

A few weeks after these private dinners, Ravs actually tries to teach him how to cook. Rythian almost declines the lessons, then realises that it’s Ravs’ way of wanting to spend time with him without first exhausting all their other dating options on The Blackrock.

Well, there’s always sex (which Ravs would definitely be up for), Rythian would rather wait until he’s good and ready. He’d like his second time with Ravs to be better than the first; the first happened when he was in a bad mental place, when the guilt to sate his own loneliness proved too much for him to bear in the aftermath. Ravs still clearly looks upon it without bitterness of any kind; it’s clearly a precious memory of his. Once upon a time, Rythian wanted it gone from Ravs’ head. This time, he wants to do it right.

He tries broaching the subject with his favourite listener: Teep. Teep’s gone for long periods of time, so the best way to reach them is through ECHO. He’d also not rather endure the humiliation of having to ask them in person and their reaction.

> hey teep, i got kind of a personal question to ask but you can answer whenever you’re awake or free

> it’s embarrassing but i’m tired of hitting my head against a wall and i

> shit i hit enter too fast

> go ahead and shoot

> oh, you’re awake?

> ya im between planets right now so i got loads of free time

> oh okay

> how did you...ask ravs?

> youre gonna have to be more specific than that bc you can ask a lot of things and depending on what you ask you may either want to bury yourself or him

> fine, how did you preposition ravs

> step one you mentally prepare yourself

> step two you make sure you have clothes on bc very important so you dont look desperate

> step three you go and find ravs which is easier than you think just look for the signs pointing to the frigate drunkard

> step four ask if hes dtf and if he says yes then you take off your clothes and get dirty with the buff bara man

> step five profit

> all you have to do is ask???

> yes rythian asking is is a part of communication

> did they not teach you this at that fancy university of yours

> excuse me sirs i wanna get fucked hard so tonight that i cant walk tomorrow and skip class so do you know the nearest dive bar

> TEEP, THAT’S NOT WHAT I LEARNED AT UNIVERSITY

> clearly theyre teaching you the wrong life skills

> you must be thinking of the dahl military

> are you calling me a slut

> NO, I DIDNT EVEN KNOW YOU WERE IN THE MILITARY

> surprise bitch where else did you think i honed my sick knife throwing skills but anyway im telling minty, zylus, daltos and arsenal that youre slut shaming us

> please no, i don’t want to get annihilated

> hmm okay since im in a good mood youre safe for now

> why are you in a good mood?

> that lazy panda finally paid off their snack tab to me with interest

> you’re cruel to charge for snacks in the first place

> so says the guy who lives on a moving ship and has the luxury of a proper kitchen while all i got here is what i can fit into my modules and storage units

> okay you may have a point

> plus snacks are an important part of a survivor’s action kit

> never know when you might want to chow down on some jerky while beating some zombified guy’s head in with a crowbar you found

> back to the original subject before i give up all the major secrets to my zombie survival plan

> i dunno, i kinda wanna hear about your plan

> first we get a planet thats got everything we need to sustain civilisation as we know it for the next two centuries and then we get big cannons so that we shoot down all ships that aren’t responding to our hailing so therefore we dont get infected by people trying to sneak in past quarantine and we shoot anybody who tries to hide their bites and

> nice try rythian

> seriously just ask ravs

> what if he thinks im just in this relationship for sex?

> he wont because he knows that youre better than that

> you could always ask daltos for advice if im not around either

> why would i want to ask him?

> newsflash you forgetful asshole hes ravs ex

> oh

> shut up i dont keep track of all these relationships so intimately!

> wanna see my board then bc you might learn sth from it

> no thank you i bet it’s about the size of my wall

> heh you wouldnt be wrong about that

> im gonna go and play some games now before power napping so run along and ask ravs ifs he dtf and lemme know how it goes later

> remember that theres nothing wrong with wanting a lil bit of sweet loving you sad lonely deprived beanpole

> okay good luck with your games and the prep talk and i’m going to ignore that last bit

> i dont need no stinking luck when i have fast hands and an impeccable aim

> knowing braggart

> learned slut shamer

That concludes that. Rythian closes his tab with the conversation, sinking onto his bed. Junior’s taken to hiding in his closet for some reason. They must like how quiet and dark it is in there. Not concerned, Rythian switches off his light and slumps on his side, slightly more content with his life decisions.

[writing-nolan]

Zane was at the gate. It wasnt a surprise. Aphmau was talking with Laurance, Dante was about to discover Brendan.. The whole situation was a mess.

Lucas sighed, deeply concerned about the events that would soon take place.

He had one chance- stop Garreth from.. joining his brother, or suffer the concequences. The High Council was already on his ass about this sort of thing.

He bit his lip hard. The taste of copper filled his mouth and he spat out the blood rapidly accumulating on his tongue.

Commotion near the intersection between the wheat fields, the guard station, and Kiki's barn tore his attention away from his thoughts. It had begun.

Lucas stretched, flexing the powerful muscles in his wings. He had to find that slippery blond bastard before Zane could get a hold of him. Lucas snarled to himself- he had half a mind to kill that raven-haired fucker now. However, he was already in enough shit because of the amnesia.

Azrelyis already made sure he owed her. The High Council had him in the palm of their hands, waiting for him to misstep.

Almost bitterly, he laughed to himself. He'd been doing this too long to fall for that.

Buildings flew beneath him- Molly and Dale's, Nicole's, Cadenza's, Emma and Corey's homes.. Ungirth's memorial.. yet another reason to stop this now.

He spotted Garreth on the wall, glancing down at the Ok'hasis soldiers Lucas already knew where down there. Brian was at the gate.

Landing effortlessly next to him, Garreth looked at Lucas in a panic.

"LUCAS- I- uh-" Garreth began, floundering for an excuse.

Lucas sighed, snow white hair falling into his bright, golden eyes a bit as he stared down at the obviously shocked soldiers below.

"Garreth, continue down this path and you'll regret it." Garreth stared at him, glare untrusting.

"You don't know what I've been through. Zane is the only one who really cares about me."

"He slaughtered Jeffery the Golden Heart. And yes, I know exactly what you've been through. You know damn well I do."

Garreth looked slightly off put at this new information. "I- didn't know.. a spot had just come up-"

"No matter. You realize Aphmau's been worried sick over you right?" Lucas' gaze hardened, staring at Garreth annoyedly.

"It's not my fault. If she wants Laurence over me, I'll just go my own path. It's horrible being betrayed by a brother, though.."

Lucas couldn't help but snort. "You honestly think Laurence took her away from you? first off, you havent made a move. Second, she doesnt have to choose you. Third, what you saw was a fake vision set up by that snake of a woman, and fourth, you know that Zane is manipulating you, you're just going along with it to push the blame on someone else."

Garreth stared at him for a long moment. "Why do you say I'll regret it?"

"I'm not supposed to tell, but my primary job is saving the lives of innocents so I suppose I'll deal with this now. Garreth, when your brother gets the amulet, he's going to head to the Irene dimension. Aphmau will gain the artifact there anyway, and in a fit of blind rage Zane will attack her. Laurence talks sense into you, Aaron nearly dies trying to protect her from the sociopath you're related to, and Katelyn kills the other woman. You'll be stuck there for just a few minutes, but you get back and years have passed. The only portal opens when Zoey gives up her immortality."

"Beyond that is grey. I cant remember everything- some vital details are left out, I'm sure. But you will regret it. This whole conversation is pointless, since you're going to go through with it anyway, but I thought I'd give it a chance." Lucas sighs. Brian opens the gates, running into the trees with Grey Wind. the shadow knight in training looks scared of being discovered.

Garroth watches him run. The soldiers linger for a moment, confused, before charging inside.

"..what about this place?" He looks around. Regardless of his alligances, Pheonix Drop had been his home for years.

"It dies. Scaleswind retracts their help. The residents leave, or try to survive when they get back. Many head to Scaleswind. I cannot tell the fates of those people..." Lucas pauses, staring towards the east. The sun is breaking. The sky looks like it's bleeding as shouts and the sounds of battle fill the otherwise stifiling silence. "Levin.. Malachi.. they believe their mother has abandoned them. Malachi knows better, but Levin does not. He honestly believes his mother didn't love him."

Garroth stares at the man beside him, shock sending him to the ground, falling flat on his ass. Lucas doesnt bother to help him up, just eyes him carefully.

"Levin looks just like you. Aphmau doesnt get to see their childhood. Her house is taken care of, but the rest of this? it's abandoned. Ungirth's memorial is robbed and desecrated. Raven's place gets ransacked. He has no reason to stay since you left. They're heartbroken." He says, ignoring Garreth's pained cries.

"I can show you, if you want. One of my abilities works somewhat like Malachi's, except I can show what really happens, not someone's fears." Garreth shook his head.

"Please don't. I don't want to see that."

"Don't want to see the reprecussions of your actions? Or don't want to see how the boy who's essentially your son grows up without a mother, how the people here scramble and panic to find a leader, and how Zoey ends up sacrificing everything for your selfishness?" Lucas growls, staring at Garreth openly.

Garreth looks back at him, tears of guilt flowing down his face. From below, they hear the aftermath from the battle.

"-Laurence did too. Are you alright?" It was Dante.

"Yes, I'm fine. I just hope Garreth is too. We need to find Nicole." Aphmau's distressed, exhausted voice floated up.

Lucas didn't have to say anything. Garreth realized she was still caring for him, regardless of what he might be doing.

"Are you still going through with it?" Lucas asked. He already had the answer, dissapointing as it was.

"I still have to find it.. And Nicole.. the battle that ensues might.." Garreth trails off.

"Laurence. Laurence has the amulet. Nicole is trapped underground. Kenmir might find her in time but not before at least a hundred souls are lost." Lucas stared at the ground beyond the gates.

"Why would you tell me that?.. WHY WOULD YOU TELL ME SOMETHING SO IMPORTANT?!" Garreth shouted at Lucas. He was crying again.

"Isnt that what you needed to know?"

"But- but- I thought you were on their side-" Garreth was confused.

Lucas was on no one's side, completely neutral no matter what happened. That was the role of a story-specific dimension hopper.

"Garreth, I'm offering you a way out. You know where it is. If you don't do anything, good for you. If you do, that's your fault. If you choose not to go, I'll cover for you. You will not face your brother's wrath for doing the right thing. If you do.. I may have to declare you an accessory to the deaths of the innocent. I'll be getting Nicole in a few minutes. Make your decision by tomorrow. If you decide to do the right thing, stay at the southeast guard tower. Betray your people, and fight by their side. This is up to you. I'll take the fallout for once if you'd let me."

Garreth was left to his thoughts, the angel-esque man leaving him alone up on the wall. Brendan had been the first to get hurt. Glancing over his town, Garreth knew the fallout of going against his brother would mean the deaths of everyone. But.. Lucas had promised to take it for him. He stared at his hands, for the first time since Lilith had counceled him, he felt unsure.

[ernestsdesign]

Presenting my work

This week I am going to build six slides in order to showcase the work that I have done so far. Although this will be a difficult task since I have more work done than that which can fit into 6 slides, I will focus on showing the "why" and the progress of the project.

86,400 seconds

Every day we get this much seconds and there is no way we can get them back. Although showing this may seem like a lot, it isnt and the important question we need to ask is what did we do today to make progress? Did today help me develop? Did it help my progress? What did or could today change? Watching a movie is something fun to do however doing so all day everyday does not help us develop and grow professionally but it also doesnt help us progress into who we want to become. In saying this once again I believe the 80/20 principle applies because if we spend 80% of our time watching movies we only get 20% back from them, and when I say back from them I mean in terms of learning something because a good movie can teach us too; it can show us different mentalities, ways of conencting however if we watch movies constantly we stop evaluating them and valuing them as much as we would otherwise.

We cannot allow time to slip through our fingers because we can never get time back.

The perfect pitch

The perfect pitch has purpose, and that is to grab people's attention. Understanding that is important because once I began thinking about that, presenting my work became easier in the sense that I knew there should be a fair mix between words and images and because this weeks pitching is related to a slideshow, this will be my focus.

I began realising that my idea's are only half the equation, because I need to be able to present them with confidence and an interesting story.

structuring narrative

My upcoming presentation will be a 10 minute talk, and I am taking this into consideration because it means I should not go above or below thaat time too much. In order to keep within this time I will need to read over the notes I make, set a timer during the presentation so that I know when to switch slides and think how much slides I should have so that I can smoothly switch the pace if I am presenting information either more quickly or slowly than anticipated.

Sun tzu's book "the art of war" states that every battle is won or lost before it is fought and I feel like the same is true of presentations. By saying this, I need to remember that proper preparation is key!

Woodrow Wilson said that “If I am to speak ten minutes, I need a week for preparation; if fifteen minutes, three days; if half an hour, two days; if an hour, I am ready now.” preparation, if fifteen minutes, three days, of half an hour, two days, if an hour, i am ready now." This suggests that the longer we have to present the easier it is to do so because information does not need to be "squished" into a very limited amount of slides as is the case with my current task where I will be preparing only 6 slides to showcase everything to date. The shorter the speech, the harder it is to prepare as we need to focus on only the most important parts.

Before presenting it is good to get on stage beforehand because going on stage and seing the people before presenting makes it easier to handle once actually presenting.

When sharing any projects or doing speeches, I need to think of the key which is that a good story is the backbone of all things.

For this project to follow this key I will be telling the audience about the significance of reading stories for example by stating how it transport's us to another dimension and I can bring the issue up that not many people read stories anymore.

I will focus on a beginning, middle and end to the presentation as if I were taking the audience through a story, I will show them different content in each slide.

The beginning can be used to tell the audience about what I am going to be saying, it could start as "Im going to cover the following..." During the beginning stage it is important to build empathy, which I could do by asking a shared problem such as "do you struggle to find time for long books?" For the presentation to be striking I must try making the audience think in the same way as me about the problems that I will solve.

In the middle I will show the structure and chunk of my content in an organised manner so that they know what the product/service looks like which will help build familiarity with the project.

During the ending I could decide to to one of two thing; bring the audience back down or make them soar even higher.

If I were to bring the audience back down it would involve going back over the important points that I have made. However, If I were to make them soar even higher then I could include an inspirational quote or some other important note that would make the audience keep thinking about what was said after.

The content being presented needs to be coherent, it needs to be easy to understand which I can do by explaining what certain things mean or how they will work.

The story of the product/service needs to be simple, for example I could say that I want to sell more tickets, because it equals more profits.

I will need to keep the presentation memorable by ensuring I don't overdo it but instead choosee simple and fun wording such as: "well I put the man on the moon and returned him to earth safely instead" of making it more complex as making it complex would make it more difficult to be understood by the people.

For the presentation, starting to think on paper and post-it notes could lead to more idea's that are not limited. It is about going by the numbers and then finding clusters.

Building a "rough cut" is easier and more productive to do before actually decorating the presentation because this will allow me to jam in the stuff on the pages and checking if it flows and makes sense.

Slides and their alternatives

The more the content is in order, the easier it is to create a flow and hence the people can follow the train of thought so they are less likely to get lost. I will put some items up on the board so the people can read and other information I will keep only for myself such as statistics.

By using slides, I am able to divert the gaze from people so that they do not only have to look at me presenting but can look at visual content to help them see the project.

Notes should onlyhowever be used as a safety blanket, I should learn not to put 500 words but instead start presenting from knowledge. I should start using the notes for facts that cant remember instead.

I could use Rands starter slide to see the screen ratio and make sure all colours are working fine.

Until I gain some more confidence with presentation tools, I can use templates however throughout time I should take a look at making my own slide presentation as a designer and developing my own presenting style.

Slides are able to showcase design skills and consistency is king! In presentations one typface should be used with no crazy font styles. Content should be easy to parse, they should break down complex information and ideas and they should be efficient. When adding images, I should use a grid to line them up consistently and keep them the same dimensions.

Diagrams can be used for communicating information.

Transitions are the animations that happen between the transition from one slide to another.

Builds are awesome because they can do multiple actions to show a complex idea in one slide.

When creating my slides I will avoid making too much slides and adding lots of notes.

Using the body

By not sitting down, you open up the diaphragm It is important to use hand gestures to create a passage between people Making eye contact is easier if looking at the audiences' nose or forehead. By doing this it is easier to connect with the whole room thus owning the stage.

If people start getting spaced out, I could tell them all to come closer to the stage.

People in the audience will (reasonably) do what is told to them and so I could tell them to for example stretch out before starting the

Rhetorical techniques such as repetition, rhetorical questions, metaphors, alliteration and humour can be used which would help guiding the audience in such a way that they could see my opinion and understand my points.

I could also create a phrase that would be repeated, for example for my current project I could say "are you short on time but love reading?"

To calm myself before presenting I should "breathe the room" so for example I could focus on colouring a wall in specific colours on every outbreath.

Adrenaline will get anyone through and so all I must do is come prepared, for example by bringign a pdf on a memory stick and a HDMI cable to connect my presentation.

To let the auidence feel how much the presentation means to me I should show my true emotions, such as happiness and pride because Confidence comes from practice.

[whatdoyouthinkmyjobis]

Hunters on the Hellmouth

masterlist

first chapter

previous chapter

AN: This chapter was inspired by events in BTVS 7.10 “Bring on the Night” and 7.14 “First Date.”

Warning: implied torture, blood, STRESSSSSS

Chapter 26: Digging

All she said was, “We're alive. Get here.” Racing back to Buffy’s, Dean’s mind flooded with bloody, maimed pictures that fit alive. When he saw the house -- dark, windows shattered, doors smashed -- he bit back a scream. Alive. Alive.

Xander and Anya, sweeping up glass around a body in the living room, both pointed upstairs. He found Buffy in her sister’s room lifting an unconscious Andrew. Seeing Dean, she dropped the boy’s limp body and leapt over the bed, landing in Dean’s arms.

As he held her, he tried to make sense of the bodies in the hallway and the giant hole between the sisters’ bedrooms. Through the hole lay the splintered remains of the chair Spike had been in. “Did Spike hurt anyone?”

Buffy started to tremble. Dean eased her to her room where she set loose a torrent of tears muffled by his chest and a pillow.

After a few minutes, she blew her nose, and chewed on her lip while searching for words. “It’s all the same thing. It’s all one thing. My visions. ‘It is watching.’ Mom and Tara. Spike killing. It’s all the same. Its flunkies, they were in my vision a few nights ago; it was the first time in dozens of visions that I saw what killed me.”

Fear had carved a place around her eyes. It was the sort of fear people had when they first heard the hounds baying for them.

“Girly, ain't nothing gonna kill you. I’ll kill it first.”

“But that's what they're doing.” Her voice was rough and weak. “Dean, I think the evil monks are killing Slayers, or at least unactivated Slayers. I'm probably the big finish. It's the only reason I can think of that I would see and feel so many of these deaths.”

And she felt them. Night after night, she’d wake coughing, sputtering, flailing and scared. When her breathing steadied, and she stopped sweating, she’d tell him her vision. Always a girl being murdered. Sometimes she ran. Sometimes she fought. She always died.

He refused to accept it as some sick prophecy. “Maybe you're just supposed to protect these girls, and that's the only connection.”

“The bodies. Those are the monks. That’s what wrecked the house. A crew of them came to kill Andrew and ran off with Spike.”

Spike. Of course. Were the tears for Spike the redemption project or Spike the ex?

“What happened?” he asked.

She seemed to calm as she recounted Spike attacking Andrew, though Dean was less than thrilled to hear the thing had dressed up like him. She rattled off details of the attack on the house like it was a paper for school.

“Spike’s gone,” she said, an emptiness taking over her eyes. “He has information, and God knows what they’re doing to him.”

“We’ll get him back, Buffy. We’ll find him. Now, tell me how we kill the branded freak shows.”

“They’re easy enough to kill, but we have no idea what’s controlling them. It knows where to find us.” The fear returned to her face. “I c-cant fight this! It's just me, and I-I n-need Giles.”

Dean took her face in both hands, once again reveling in just how tiny his superhero warrior really was. “Look at me. This nasty has been hiding underground for how long?  Even if it’s met a Slayer before, you’re a goddess-crunching, master-vampire-dusting badass who’s fucking climbed back from death. It may have been the baddest son of a bitch on the block back in the day, but it ain’t got shit on you.

“First thing we’re gonna do is seal up the house. Then Sam and I are gonna get rid of those bodies. When I get back, darlin’, if you’re not in bed, I’m dragging you in with me. You’ve been up for days. Tomorrow, we’ll hit the books. Okay?”

She slid back into his arms, calmer and quieter than before. “You’re wonderful, you know. I love -- love hearing your voice. It’s all deep and rumbly and calming.”

“Uh-huh,” he said, concerned about her brief pause, the way her words sped up to the point of tripping her tongue. He looked over the room again just so he didn’t have to make eye contact. “Get your cute little ass in bed. I gotta deal with the bodies.”

He was sound asleep, but Dean still stretched out his arm for her. Buffy placed his searching hand over her heart and smiled as he snuggled deeper into the pillow, his pouty lips slightly parted, his brow smooth with peaceful sleep. The night they’d met, she had a hard time pinpointing his age. Dean Winchester existed between two extremes -- the wide-eyed, grinning boy with a soft heart and silly humor, and the brutal, cold-eyed hunter with a temper. Both sides of him had a place in her life, but she liked seeing his boyish side the most. Perhaps because that was a rarer moment, a moment when they were safe and happy; she liked to imagine who Dean would have become had his innocence not been stolen from him when he was four.

What if Dean’s mother hadn’t been killed? What if Dean never knew monsters were real? Would they have still found each other? Doubtful. Maybe that Dean would have settled down with a wife who could provide him with a couple chubby babies to bounce on his knees. He wouldn’t know the recoil of a gun or the sensation of blood on his hands.

That Dean wouldn’t be afraid of the words I love you which Buffy had felt obligated to choke back a few hours before.

But a Slayer and a Hunter would be crazy to think of happily ever afters. They’d discussed the likelihood of dying young many times, but those talks had been what ifs. Now, an unknown evil was knocking down her door, and she had no idea how to stop it; which meant the clock was ticking on their time together. She wondered if those glimpses of Dean the Lost Boy were about to disappear.

Startled by the sound of a window sliding open, she reached for the dagger she kept on her nightstand. Then she recognized the shadow climbing inside from the trellis. Painfully aware that she was wearing her boyfriend’s t-shirt and nothing else, Buffy approached the man in her bedroom. “Angel, what are you doing here?”

Her vampire ex, her first love, glanced at Dean sleeping in her bed. “I heard you were in danger.”

She tugged at the hem of the shirt and willed herself to stop feeling so dizzy. “So you climbed through my bedroom window? That might have seemed romantic to high school me, but I gotta tell you, adult me would have appreciated a phone call. Or a knock on the door. It’s battered and glassless, but still extremely knockable.”

He shook his head and smirked. God, did she swoon over his smirk. “Had to be in person. Had to be secret. So the rumor’s true then?”

“Off-the-scale danger. Some big evil force with an army of evil monks is trying to kill me with...evil. And I have no idea how to fight it.”

“I wasn’t talking about that. I was talking about your new boyfriend, Dean Winchester,” he said, pointing at the bed.

Feeling like she’d been dunked in cold water, Buffy grabbed a blanket and sat down on the bench. “How did you know about Dean? Are you keeping tabs on me?”

“Not in the ‘Let me know if my ex is seeing anyone’ sort of way,” he confessed, sitting down beside her, “but a stranger rolls into Hellmouth City from another dimension? That causes some waves. Been hearing his name for a while, doing some research, catching some whispers. Buffy, he’s bad news.”

“I know who he is,” she said with a bubbling rage. “Who do you think you are to come here in the middle of the damn night to comment on my love life?”

“I’m someone who cares about you! This guy is a pathetic low-life. He’s a womanizing, alcoholic criminal. Worse than that, he’s a black hole. He’ll suck you in and you’ll die. He’s got a trail of bodies in his wake, and a lot of them are people who cared about him.”

“We live a violent life. You know that. Just because people died, that doesn’t mean it’s his fault.”

“Okay, ask him whose fault his dad’s death was. Ask him about his girlfriend Jo and her mom. Ask him about Bobby--”

“Bobby’s not dead. He’s just missing.”

“Then he probably doesn’t know about Bobby yet. Anyway, they all died because he abandoned them, and he’ll abandon you too. You think he’s going to fight beside you against whatever is coming? Buffy, it’s here because of him. He’s going to get you and your friends killed, then turn tail and run. He only cares about himself and his brother.”

“If you knew Dean at all, you’d know that’s not true. He cares about everyone. Yeah, Sam’s definitely special --  he practically raised him for God’s sake -- but Dean Winchester would never run from a fight.”

“Is that why he jumped dimensions? He wasn’t running?” Angel rose and straightened his jacket before walking towards the bed. “I’m sorry, Buffy, but you’re not listening to reason.” In one swift motion, he yanked the pillow from under Dean’s head and covered his face with it.

“NO!” Buffy pulled on the vampire’s arms while her boyfriend flailed. “Angel, stop! Please, don’t!”

Her cheek stung, and when she opened her eyes, she saw Dean leaning over her, worried. “You okay, Buffy? You were screaming about angels. Did you have another vision?”

She was in her room, in bed with her boyfriend, alive. “Let’s hope not.”

A cup of cold water to the face didn’t rouse Andrew. Dawn crossed her arms and twisted her mouth. “Boiling water?”

“Ooh, that’s an excellent idea,” said Anya, nodding.

Buffy smacked Andrew, causing his lip to bleed. Stung awake, the boy shook his head, trying to take in the room. She grabbed his bound wrists and practically spit in his face. “I am done playing. Tell us about the seal, or I’m turning you over to them.”

She pushed him into Anya’s arms. “Anyone have any wishes for Andrew?”

“Could you turn him into a jellyfish?” Dawn asked from the stairs.

“No, please,” begged Andrew, as Anya pushed him down at Willow’s feet.

“We have some unfinished business,” said Willow darkly.

Andrew, pale and shaking, rolled away from her. Sam yanked him up by the shoulders and turned him to face Dean.

“Wha-what are you gonna do to me?” Andrew asked with a small bit of hope.

Dean smirked. “Whatever we want. See, my brother and I, we just like hurting people. What’d’ya think, Sammy? Kneecap first, or maybe a molar?”

“Knee,” Sam replied.

Dean raised a hammer.

Twisting away, Andrew cried, “I liked you so much better yesterday, when you were just the guys who tied me up!” He bumped into the Slayer. “Thank God! The crazy hot guys are trying to kill me. You’re a hero. Go hero for me!”

“Answers now or--” Buffy pushed him back to Willow.

“Oh God, no! No! Please! Okay, the seal is in the basement of the high school.”

“In that case, it’s guaranteed to be sealing sunshine and rainbows,” said Xander, who’d been watching the show from the stairs with Dawn.

“What does it do?” Buffy asked.

“Don’t know. I was just told to open it.”

“How?”

Looking very much like a child learning to lie, Andrew bounced on the balls of his feet and said in sing-song, “If you sing it showtunes, it will tell you everything your heart desires.”

Grabbing Andrew by the throat, Dean raised him to eye level. “Willow, you think he needs two eyes? That seems like a lot.”

“Blood! Blood! You open it with blood.” Dean dropped him, and Andrew fell to his knees gasping.

“The pig’s blood,” said Willow.

“Yeah, I botched it the first time, so I was hoping to open it with pig’s blood or I’d be next.”

“First time? Why do I have the feeling the first time wasn't a simple ‘open sesame’?” asked Buffy.

“H-he told me how to do it, but it didn’t work. The pig’s blood was sort of my long-shot to the thermal exhaust port, but I-I’m not as good of a pilot as Luke.”

“Details, Andrew,” Buffy demanded.

“W-Warren told me sacrificing Jonathan would open the Seal of Danzalthar and we’d become gods, but Jonathan didn’t have enough blood.”

“First of all,” said Willow, shaking her head as if it would help make sense of the chaos, “Warren is super dead. Second, you killed your best friend because your dead worst friend told you to?”

“Warren is very convincing. He’s like the Yoda of badness.”

“Yeah, a dead Yoda,” Dawn scoffed.

“Death cannot stop a true Jedi!” Andrew shot back. “Plus, Jonathan said it was okay. It didn’t even hurt, and he’s in a better place.”

“For the record, kid, getting stabbed always hurts,” said Dean, setting down the hammer and leaning against the washer.

“But Warren said--”

“Andrew, that wasn’t Warren!” Buffy was rubbing her head. “Your friends haven’t been talking to you. Those guys who came to kill you last night were sent by whatever thing’s been visiting you.”

“Assassins?” His big blue eyes filled with tears as the betrayal sunk in. “But I’m just Andrew Wells, little brother of the guy who ruined prom.”

“I thought you were Moriarty,” said Sam, bored.

“This may surprise you, but I was never very good at being bad. Warren was the brains. I was just the brawny lemming.” He pulled his knees up to his chin and started to weep.

Dean looked at Buffy, who shrugged. When they’d set up this ruse, they hadn’t expected tearful remorse.

Willow mouthed ice at Dawn who went upstairs for something to help Andrew’s swelling.

Dean almost felt bad for the kid -- was he even eighteen? Nerdy and insecure, he’d fallen in with a bad crowd, much like the teenager who’d stolen Sam’s body months before.

Andrew sat up and wiped his face on his sleeve, leaving a noticeable trail of snot. “If Darth Vader can throw the Emperor into the reactor shaft, I can change too. It’s never too late for a super villain to redeem himself. I’ll help you.”

The timing of everything was a perfect stress cocktail. Buffy should have been studying for her Developmental Psych exam next week. She should have been decorating and shopping with Dawn. She should have been planning her first Christmas with Dean, who, if the pattern held true, hadn’t had enough holiday cheer in his life. Of course, all of the evil would converge around the holidays and finals time. When did the bad guys ever make things easier on her?

Instead, ‘tis the season Buffy and Sam were following Xander and Andrew through the high school basement.

“Pick up your feet, you shuffling waste of air,” Xander hissed.

“It’s hard to walk with my hands tied behind my back. It’s hurting my bad shoulder, too. I pulled it in a light saber fight right before Episode I came out, and now whenever the weather changes it--”

“Shut. Up,” barked Sam.

Maybe if she wasn’t so stressed, Buffy wouldn’t haven’t gone gushy on Dean. There was fear in his eyes when he left her room, though she didn’t know if it was because she’d almost said I love you or because of his phobia that caring about him marked her for death; not that she needed help in that area. But he’d come back and climbed into bed with her after doing God knows what with the bodies. He’d even told her a story about a cursed coin, a wishing well, and a suicidal teddy bear she refused to believe was true. True or not, it was funny and sweet that he wanted to help ease her mind. They seemed to be okay. Maybe her fumbled attempt at affection hadn’t hurt.

After a couple turns, they entered a small room. Xander whistled low as Sam and Buffy swung their flashlights over a large metal plate featuring a goat’s head in an inverted pentagram. The ground was littered with shovels, burnt torches, and spots of blood. When Sam lit one of the torches, they could see a large, bloody wheel suspended from the ceiling.

“Of course this is what’s in the school basement. I don’t know why I expected anything different,” Sam muttered.

“The wheel of misfortune wasn’t me,” Andrew said. He looked away from them, his voice falling to a whisper. “I just stabbed Jonathan and took off.”

“You left your friend to die alone?” snapped Buffy, who wished more and more that they didn’t have to let their hostage talk in order to get information.

“It was icky.”

“Someone was bled on that thing.” Buffy wondered if it was Spike’s blood. If so, at least no one died, but it couldn't have been pleasant. What would they have done with him after?

“Do you think it opened the seal this time?” asked Xander.

Passing around shovels, Buffy replied, “Don’t know, but we have to cover this thing.”

Later as they were leaving the little room, Buffy stopped short and stared at a dark corner, a corner she’d hidden in days before. “Andrew, what night did you kill Jonathan?”

“Wednesday. I remember because I had to record--”

“No one cares,” said Sam.

“Slayer senses tinglin’, Buff?” Xander asked.

“I was down here on Thursday during school, and I ran into Principal Wood. He had a shovel and blood on his sleeve. If Jonathan’s body was still down here, maybe Wood moved it.”

“I don’t know,” said Sam. “Wood is a pretty chill guy. He’s never given me the impression he’s wrapped up in Hellmouth business.”

“Maybe he wasn’t before,” Xander said. “See, the Hellmouth used to be directly under the library. Giles had a bunch of charms and incantations to keep from going crazy with it blasting him every day, but that room we were just in sits right under Wood’s office. He may have started the year as Principal Nice Guy, but who knows where his head is now. Sam, you got a key to his office?”

“Just the outer doors and the library, but…” He pulled a lockpick kit from his jacket.

Principal Wood’s office was tidy, modern, and devoid of any personality. Buffy sneered at the motivational poster on the wall. “I hadn’t noticed he was Anya levels of bland. He doesn’t even have free, random business pens.”

After some poking around, Sam said, “Nothing looks out of place in his files; well, other than you.”

“What do you mean?”

“Here’s my employee file. Standard stuff. My resume. My quarterly review. School picture.”

“Look at you with your tie!” said Xander.

“Very handsome,” added Andrew.

“Your employee file is similar, but I found this laying underneath all the other files.” He slapped a thick manila folder on the desk.

Suffering horrible high school flashbacks, Buffy flipped through it. Disciplinary records. Report cards. Teacher concerns. A Child Protective Services notice that was never sent. She knew her file was thick, but the other additions alarmed her. Wood had her records from her pre-Sunnydale stint in a mental hospital, transcripts and letters from all of her schools -- university included -- medical records, lists of jobs she’d worked and friends she’d had. Most disturbing of all was a small collection of candid pictures -- Buffy at school, at her house, in various graveyards -- all clearly taken from a hidden place with a professional camera.

A snap pulled her away from the stalker puzzle. Sam had jimmied open a locked case on the wall, revealing hangers full of axes, knives, and swords.

“For the record, I’ve never met this Wood and have no idea what his deal is,” said Andrew.

“Apparently none of us have,” said Buffy.

Dean chewed on his lip as he thought about how to get away with murder. It was important to not leave a body, but if he made it look like the principal was killed by a vampire, would anyone even look twice?

“Babe, are you listening to a thing I’m saying?”

“‘Bout how your boss is a fuckin’ stalker? Got it. Thinking ‘bout how to handle it.”

“Not the priority right now.” Buffy handed him another dish to dry. They’d been piling up for days, a fact no one had noticed until there was only one plate for lunch. “Besides, it’s not like he’s going to break into the house to steal my underwear. It felt more like research notes. You know, kind of Initiative-y.”

“You think he’s workin’ for the government?”

“Or crazy. Should be able to handle either, although I admit gave me the wiggins. We’ll keep an eye on him.”

“I got a footnote in the stalker file?”

“No, it looked like most of it was pre-Winchesters. I guess he didn’t feel like he needed to follow me around anymore since my desk is right outside of his office.” She shuddered and started scrubbing the flatware. “Tell me happy news about research,” she said.

“Dawn’s gonna lap Sam for smartest kid in the class.”

“You think Sam’s the smartest? Don’t say that in front of Willow. She had a panic attack over an A minus.” Buffy grinned.

“My brother’s brilliant, an’ you know it. Anyway, Dawnie found a pile of letters with your monks on ‘em. Post-translation, she found out they’re called Harbingers of Death. I know what you’re thinking, that’s an awesome name for a metal band.”

“You know me so well,” she said, stretching on her tiptoes to give him a peck on the cheek.

“These Bringers worship something called The First Evil, which Anya said is a shitty demon pick-up line, but I figure she never got high enough clearance in the demon world to learn some of the uglier stuff.”

Buffy pulled the plug on the drain and dried her hands. “How do we fight it?”

He wanted to keep doing dishes, keep making her smile with lame jokes, instead of telling her what hours of research had produced. “That’s it. Jack shit on the seal. We got two letters in Sanskrit, an’ they’re mostly poetry.”

“That’s not enough! We need--”

“We need a lotta things. The geek squad is crackin’ at it now. Do you wanna call the Council again? They gotta know something or at least have more books.”

“They made it pretty clear they have no desire to help.” Throwing her towel on the counter, she grumbled, “I need Santa to bring me a very English-y Giles bearing answers. An army would be nice, too. And some new boots.”

Xander popped his head in the newly repaired backdoor. “Hey-ya handyman, can ya gimme a hand with the drywall situation? Unless you two enjoy zero privacy.”

The Median Witches’ Chronicles was also a bust. Willow looked at the book-strewn dining table and, not for the first time, longed for the resources the Magic Box provided. She kicked herself again for burning it down. One of those books could have had answers. No, no, she wasn’t going to guilt trip herself again. She wasn’t going to dwell on what she couldn’t change. Healing meant those moments had to stay in the past.

“Anything?” she asked the room.

“I found a really cool spell for changing hair colors,” said Dawn.

“Ooh, lemme see!” demanded Anya with grabby hands.

“I thought the drug store sold magic kits for that,” said Xander, relaxing on the couch after reassembling Buffy’s house.

“Try to focus!” snapped Buffy. “I know you’re all tired, but we’re sitting ducks right now. We don’t know how to kill this thing or even how to find it.”

Willow, too excited to find words, began waving her hands and ooh oohing.

“Monkey girl, do you have something to share with the class?”

“We don’t know how to find it!”

“Why is that exciting?” asked Dean.

“Locator spell. I can find anything.”

“Like with the map and little lights?” asked Sam, closing his laptop.

“That’s one kind, but with the not-so-creative name of The First, I’m thinking we won’t get great results. There’s another kind that lets you essentially search for something’s essence and see what it sees without it even knowing you’re there.”

“So any time you’re bored, you could get inside me, touch my essence, and have a looky-loo?” asked Dean. “Willow, I didn’t know you were such a perv.”

“What? No perv. Not perv!”

“Do you really want to try touching something that calls itself The First Evil?” asked Buffy.

“Yeah, you touching evil books didn’t go so well for any of us last time, and publication is several steps removed from evil essences,” said Anya, as she copied the hair spell from Dawn’s book.

“I’d like to think I’m smarter than that. No, for this to work, I need to touch something it touched. We don’t have anything of The First’s, but we have those Bringer blades. They probably touch each other’s weapons. They worship The First. Maybe if we find where they’re hiding, we could, I don’t know, bag one and give it the once over for answers.”

“I knew we shouldn’t have staged that Andrew scare. Now the fear-lust is in you,” said Buffy.

“I also like to think I’m a badass,” said Willow.

Everyone gathered in the dining room to watch her work her magic. The spell itself was shockingly simple -- a couple candles, some sand, ground eggshells, an object, a bowl; it was staying in the subject’s head that was hard. It was the beyond the mental equivalent of tiptoeing. She had to be cat-like quiet, or whoever’s mind she was in would kick her out. Pouring the sand over the knife, she closed her eyes to see.

The room was cavernous. A church warmly lit with the flicker of a thousand candles. She was sitting in one of the pews beside a few other Bringers. At the front of the church, beneath a dark rose window, lay Spike, pale and stripped, stretched out on the altar.  

“Why don’t you bugger off?” she heard Spike. “You’re wrong. She’ll stop you.” She couldn’t see or hear whom he was talking to. Focusing on the host Bringer’s legs, she tried to stand.

Suddenly she was hit by an electric blue light searing through her body, a voice rumbling like thunder. Witch, you will only make me stronger.

The roar of it deafened her, and she blacked out.

Everything was dark. There was a steady beeping. Willow reached for the needles in her arms. “Will, don’t try to move, okay?”

“Xander? I’m scared. I-I can’t see!”

He squeezed her hand. “There’s a bandage over your eyes. No, don’t freak on me,” he said, pulling her other hand off of her face. “The locator spell went kaboom, and this giant demon ghost thing came out of you and started shooting lightning at Buffy and Dean. They’re okay, but your eyes have a flash burn from whatever you saw. The doctor said you’d heal, but only if you keep your eyes covered.”

Willow tried to speak, but her voice was replaced by a choked wail. She heard a couple clicks and felt Xander crawling into the bed with her, wrapping her gently in his arms.

“You can get through this, sweetie,” he murmured. “You can do this. We’ll all be your eyes while you heal. You’re not alone. You’re not alone.”

But she knew. It didn’t matter that she wasn’t alone, because the First wanted to see them all die together.

next chapter

[ellerevelle]

copy paste journal entry 4

one year later

October 20th, 2016

im jealous

when you seem fine to go to a party, when it comes across that you dont "need" me to go with you,

when i try to find you at a show but you had a fine time on your own regardless of my presence,

that people recognize you

that you make amazing music and are constantly having ideas and writing

and people want to be a part of it like taylor and ida and its a talking point and something to have in common with people

im jealous. that you are confident in your abilities at work, that youve found your creative outlet and feel the desire to work on it all the time, that you know people in this town and people know you. that youre comfortable in your humor and your tastes and how you dress and you know your way around town and know where things are and just...

you seem to have it together and i'm jealous, and taking out that jealousy on you because i'm not there, and im just scared. and i tell you all the time how i feel and... you dont really express as accutely when youre down or blue, you zen it out or just carry on with the casual day. and i'm not really on that level, not yet or maybe i'll never handle things the way you do.

but that doesnt mean its fair that i make you feel like youre never doing enough. i'm setting a christmas list of expectations because... im jealous of you and your "fine"ness. i want you to feel so fine, above fine, that youre able to scoop me up and teach me that all the shit im freaking myself out with isnt real.

but then, youre a human. and maybe you seem fine to me, but inside youve got all the same swirlings of doubt and fear. and now im adding to it by what looks to you as blowing things out of proportion. and from my side youre downplaying.

so what do we do. i wish you'd share more. i feel less lonely if i know youre going through stuff too. but... what if thats not your style? what if you dont like talking about the down stuff because it gives it more fuel in your mind? i feel like that sometimes too. like the more i talk about bad stuff... well, the more im thinking about it and feeling it and its then all i can think about. i understand why you zen things out with music or moto, and where the stress comes in when either of those things arent working out as planned.

i wanted to see you at that show because im worried we dont have a whole lot in common. but when we touch or laugh or smile at each other and bop, we lose pretenses and just enjoy the moment. very present. at least thats how it is for me, and thought for you, so when you were indifferent after the show i felt a bit shattered. i thought i was setting up a great chance to connect, but failed. and had already felt like a failure for not going to that party. for not progressing at barre. for not hearing anything about my resume. for just... not being a real Person in Austin the way youre a real Person.

I'm afraid I'm not interesting enough, not sharp enough with wit or jokes, I dont even have the prowess of cooking to impress you with now that youre doing it solo (which I'm so fucking proud of you btw but definitely kinda miss having that gold star) and I want to still cook together, to feel like its a date and not a chore.

I love that you asked me about my collages for your album cover, and that you vented to me the other day about work. I love to see you confident about moto parts, or at least confident about learning them. but then if ever a glimmer of money or time comes in, doubt soaks its way through, your voice changes into a drained man.

cant sleep in because today needs to be 8 hours to pay for the recording session, that barely 12 hours ago was a great thing! but now its a chore? fuck, man.

I dont want to be another chore. I want you to see me ... as a cleansing of the chore. or someone to work things through with. or even do literal chores with.

I've lost my train of thought intention ...

and i think back to when you talked to me about struggling with depression when you were younger

and you seem to have compartmentalized it so much. i talk about my shit all the time, how it strings together and lingers sometimes. echoes. old bruises.. that sort of thing.

but you allude to having attempted suicide before, which is huge... and to therapy, did you even tell me you went to a rehab thing? and yet like... it doesnt come up. which i respect, but... i duno. i want to know more. even your divorce, you never ever talk about it. about the past. you hardly talk about the past and thats ALL thats on my mind these days in my own world.

is it to cope?

we're such different people, I fear.

I am so very proud of my past, shit and all. I hate it but I wear it and all the emotions that come along very boldly and probably too obviously. at least until I can figure them out better.

i just lost the most reassuring presence in my life. even when it was bullshit grandiose lies, shed reassure me. "ill never be as pretty as so and so" "you hush youre the most beautiful girl in the world"

even though she and i lost our relationship over time, that way, i still wasnt ready to lose that soother. that teacher. that support.

ive always looked for reassuring people. teachers bosses, even the nod of someone flirting with me was (in my dilluded mind) reassurance i was doing something right.

so when youre confident. when YOU have plans. when YOU have vision, and I dont... I want to see myself in your voice. I want to hear you want me there. I dont assume it. I assume that youre fine either way. which in reality i know you are. but ... i can think im special til the cows come home, but im still alone. but if YOU think im special... If i matter to your day... if confident YOU sees something in ME. then i remember to see something in ME. its just the right momentum to get me out away from the devil on my shoulder telling me im worthless.

now that sounds codependent. fuck.

i just... why do i feel alone even when were together? because you sit there doing life any old way, with me or without. makes no difference. do i have to get used to that?

i guess just... i want a bold force. bolder than myself. i want a leader. someone whos strength reminds me of my own. reminds me to have fun with this life.

and a lot of the time i just feel like you need to be single.

not to be with other women, but just to be with yourself. to stretch your limbs and be a man of this world and do your projects and just... be. without another person around.

because i need you. and i dont really think you like it. when im complaining or saying you did this wrong or that not enough or why didnt you this that this that... its because i need you and ... yea. whatever you were thinking or not thinking, wasnt enough. or was wrong. in my book.

my anxiety makes things you think are irrational completely and utterly real to me. normal life things, every day things that every one goes through and deals with become gigantic make-or-break moments. i cant deny that a lot of that is due to the recent trauma of mom's addiction, various times i had the choice to call 911 and didnt... literal make or break things that i fucked up. and also with moving away from philly. leaving thigns that seemed blah, but now that im away i wonder if ive severed ties that i cant return to. if ill ever be relevant anywhere, enough so to matter, to make a difference or impact. choices that seem black and white but spill into giant oceans of grey and chess pieces scatter... so when you ask me how my day is, i cant really answer with the truth that i was so crippled by feeling like an idiot imposter that i gave up on trying to park my car at a fucking coffee shop and drove away crying thinking that the patrons outside were watching me fail in my big clunky car and laughing at me. and that i cried harder thinking about the fact that i dreaded going back to my apartment empty handed, having wasted time and effort and just... failed at trying to do ANYTHING with my day.

so i keep quiet and when something goes iffy between us, like the show last night, or like... us hanging out and you roll over and dont touch me or say anything when you go to sleep at all... i assume youre mad at me. or i act cold until you ask me whats wrong and express my insecurities in the shape of "YOU did this wrong, why didnt YOU do that, etc" when really i just...

wish things were different. i wish i was different, i wish you knew how to fit the bill i need.

and im afraid the more i say, the more i struggle with myself, the less you'll like me. that motorcycle thing, target fixation.

you see whats wrong with me, and then i TALK EVEN MORE about what i think is wrong with me... then you probably see that too. when i know youve got your own personal stuff happening and im sure i dont fit the bill you perfectly need either.

you want the carefree traveling girl you met.

well... i stopped traveling for you. im worried both dont exist simultaneously.

who knows.

i feel less mature than you. but i also think youre more stubborn than me. youre patient but in different ways. we're both conceded but in different ways.

i wonder, if given the chance, if we'd hate each other in a different dimension. a parallel world.

and in another, if we'd ever EVER even meet or notice each other.

you stood out to me, and still do, because of how you care for me. and accepted me from the start as a person and not a sexy girl or a commodity or a person to know to get ahead or any of the barbary popularity contest crap brainwashed me to believe.

i admire your drive and your shine and how you can fix things and learn things and are sweet and goofy and care about your mom and just...

i wish we'd met a different way.

i wish i hadnt been drinking.

i wish i'd seen you on stage first. or working somewhere. or out doing an activity.

i wish i'd had to try to impress you. i wish it was more of a chase to get to know you. to vie for your time.

i dont know why. i just... i think i like to rise to the occasion. i want to see who i can be when trying to impress you. because often, i impress myself. and am proud of myself. and THAT shows.

That showed when we met. i was proud of myself because i love traveling alone.

but now im here, and i feel aimless and im not proud of myself... and i dont quite know what to show you.

when we talked about Carrie... i was SO proud of myself for finding a cool theme point to talk about. it felt like college again. like i had found a point that impressed my professor. i felt smart. like i'd scored a three point shot.

i know that led to our sex being so good. at least in my mind.

i miss that fucking FIRE. and i know its something i have to find in myself. but im kindof afraid when i do... someone else will have helped me get there. and i worry that thats what i want. i want a teacher. i NEED to be stimulated. i NEED someone to notice when i dont show up to class. To feel a gap in the debate when i'm not there to chime in. to hear a difference in the choir without me.

so when youre fine. when you dont think twice about me not going to the party. or when youre not really phased when we dont link up at a show i specifically asked you to come to.

it really really bothers me. it makes me want to keep that power from you, the power i feel when i AM proud of myself.

i believe we give the best of our selves to people we feel deserve it. and i hate that this has become a tit for tat of deserving. when youre weird or lame or quiet, i dont want to have sex with you. but i know sex for you triggers a sense of connection and you treat me better and are happier to see me and be affection with me after we have sex, because that assures you i desire you and thats validating and boosts you, so youre happier and then youre nice. and then i feed off that and im nice and we're fine.

but when you suck, i dont want to sleep with you.

and often, if i dont sleep with you, you think i suck.

chicken or the egg.

we've talked about this but i think we're still chasing our tails.

i think we both have depression, i think i talk about it too much and i think you talk about it too little.

i think we both need a hobby that requires physical activity, and/or one that involves doing it together.

i thought cooking could be that, but... i duno. it'll ebb and flow.

group scenarios.

i want to matter to you.

i dont do a whole lot without you. and sometimes i fear that if i do, youre gonna feel left out. oooor that itll come back and bite me, like if i prioritize hanging out with staci or nelson or michelle and dont hang out with you or invite you, itll be crappy later on.

which is unrealistic to think about if we're gonna make this last. of COURSE were gonna have other friends.

ah, my brain just twisted down the other long term thing.

it really bothers me that you dont have the father gene.

its a huge warm fuzzy puppy when a man is good with kids. expresses posi vibes about children, even about being a teacher or a coach or paling around. its a vibe, either there or its not. and with you, i think youve clearly stated kids arent in the cards for you. and that appears to me like a literal wall of sharp, shiny obsidian black. dark like your eyes when youre angry or disappointed in me. i do not like that darkness. same way theres a dreaded tone you get in your voice sometimes. that tone, and the black eyes, i fear them because i lose you. you drift away, cut away, either back to someone i didnt know before we met, someone you were before, past life that is still there like an id, or someone thats there all along and just doesnt come out into the light often, but is there under that curly dark hair. im not sure which i fear more.

even now, so many pieces are swimming around. longing, disappointment, wishing youd be more, wishing i needed less, wishing i could see you purely without "need", worrying im not enough for you, worrying im not seeing your depression, wishing youd talk to me more, wondering if youre mad, wondering if youre sad, if youre stewing, if you want to leave me. that im too stubborn, that ive hurt you before and am now still on you about all this shit.

i havent been a good girlfriend. ive emotionally cheated and had shitty untrustworthy conversations and here i am still complaining that youre not doing it right.

which is freaky. because youre clearly an awesome motherfucker and have put up with a lot when, if the tides were turned, i probably wouldve left.

but why have i done these things. why did i cry out for attention in those ways, and STILL if i dont get the attention i need from you, i cry out to you. get on your shit about it. im not satisfied. i think my actions have made that clear.

but what do i do.

every time i hear something outside i wonder if youre here.

but why would you come here, why would you come to me if youre mad.

i wonder if youre at your place feeling in the right and thinking im in the wrong. thinking of reasons to leave me.

i know i need to be more humble and learn, and mature. but what if these instincts and urges to complain are telling us we're not right for each other.

itd suck. but what if? or what if its just that we're young and its supposed to be hard and we've gotta stick it out?

how the fuck are we supposed to know the answers to these things? im not interested in looking for another you :( no ones known me like you.

sometimes you make me feel like im not smart enough or deep enough for you. like youve accepted me but i havent accepted you.

i have a lot to learn. this needs to be picked back up upon another time.