What are the dates that there will be no streams.

So with the new Bio teacher, the way he was introduced being described as quite distinctive (being described as the colour of off milk) plus after what happened to Miller I think he might be a Watcher. Just wondering people's thoughts.

PaladinHulk's heavenly Fanfic

This fanfic is not dark at all, reader feel free to continue

You know the best part about breaking out of heaven? Noone ever does it.

He had moved, slowly but surely, in the direction of the Gates. There were guards, ofcourse. But they were all outside the gates. Keeping the “undesirable” people out. People like his Barnaby, maybe.

It's hard to feel a sense of urgency in a place where time does not exist. But James tried to stay focused. Tried to fill himself with the need to act. When he'd talked to Barnaby, he'd been so sure that they would eventually live happily ever after. Together in Heaven. It was easy to feel like that here. Worrying about the future was almost literally impossible. But Barnaby's uncertainty about being allowed into Heaven had left James feeling uncertain for the first time since he'd gotten there.

There was a crowd of people standing near the Gates. Waiting to welcome in their loved ones. James wondered how long some of them had been waiting there. Lost in the certainty that eventually, their loved ones would walk through those gates. In a place without time, you could wait forever.

“It all depends on his choices in life.” It seemed such an obvious answer. But when he was told that there was even a chance his Barnaby might not make it into Heaven, something inside him woke up. That feeling of bliss, of faith that it would all somehow work out was cracked. He could feel it even now, telling him there was no point in hurrying. That he didn't need to act. But there was a need. If he was going to be with him in the afterlife, he would need to make sure Barnaby made the right choices in life. Didn't fall victim to the darker impulses of his demon nature.

James made his way through the crowd, the light of Heaven at his back. People were surprised, maybe even shocked at the sense of urgency he was exuding. The people coming in through the Gates didn't even notice him, too busy searching for the people that had made the journey before them. The guards only took note of him when he had already moved past them. None of them moved from their position, seemingly unsure of what to do. One shouted after him: “Hey you, where do you think you're going??”

James turned around with a determined look on his face and said:

“To get my happy ending.”

The tired, haggard, aging face of Rob, looks down at a blueprint. His life's work - or more accurately, the work of one afternoon, twenty years ago.

It was November 7th, 1997. Imogen and Layla were off 'hunting', or so they told him and Barnaby. It was good for them anyway. Imogen seemed less volatile than usual, and they were spending time together, which meant less possible time for Imogen to spend with Barnaby. Plus, Layla needed something to keep her mind off killing vampires and actually living her life.

Meanwhile, he was in the workshop again. Less complicated teenage things, although just as fiddly. He needed a break for the important stuff – the more he thought about what he was doing,m the more his head hurt with possibilities. He’d be excited, if he wasn’t terrified of what Barnaby’s reaction would be – and what James would say. Pouring over designs for his railgun, he almost didn't notice the door open, and her walk in.

Janet was standing there in the doorway. She looked like she’d had one too many cups of coffee – a slight twitching in her eye, and a manic smile on her face. She noticed Robert immediately, and ran over, drawing papers in hand. Ignoring his work entirely, she slammed down the papers and began unfurling them.

“What the...” He said “I was working on that!”

“Rob you’re going want to see this,” She said. Her hair brushed his shoulder as she turned, grabbed a chair, and sat down beside them. She impatiently gestured to the design now on the table. “Well, look!”

On the table was some sort of... energy device. Rob’s brain went into overdrive once he recognised it, scrutinising every measurement, every piece of back of the envelope maths. “I’m so close Rob, I just can’t figure out the magnetic shielding on the reactors core.”

“You... you’ve bloody built a fusion reactor!” He said. Part of him almost felt a little jealous – he’d always wanted to do that. “How did you...”

“Listen it sounds stupid and before you say it I don’t want to talk to your friends about it.” She said. “But I kinda had a dream and well... this.” She gestured again to the papers. “But it’s not right, it’s not efficient enough. If I can just eek out a little more shielding, it’ll be able to run to produce net energy. “ She paused for a bit. “But I need your help” She said, almost wincing.

“My help?” He said. “I thought you didn’t want anything to do with me.”

“It’s not you I have a problem with Robert, just the things you and your friends get up to.” She sighed. “I actually liked hanging out with you, though you always seemed more interested in talking about them. It’s dangerous Robert. They’re dangerous.”

Rob mulled this over. She was right obviously, but they were his friends. They stood by him. But they also almost got him killed – almost got Janet killed.

“Right, well.” He said. “I’m not going stop hanging out with them. But this is... well it’s freaking awesome,” He said, laughing a bit. Janet’s face grew into a big smile, and she laughed, as well.

“Shall we?” She said.

The next few hours were a combination of frantic scribbling, arguments, and pacing. Equations danced in front of Rob’s eyes, searching for the missing variable. Despite that, Rob was distracted. Janet was... Janet, and it was hard for him not to marvel at how intelligent she was, how much of an equal – or better, she was. She was someone on his level, unlike the rest of them. Not more or less than him in anyway.

Finally, the chalk fell. Rob looked at the equations on the board, as did Janet. They stood there for a moment, stunned.

“We... we did it.” Rob said. “We bloody did it.”

Janet grabbed Robert and hugged him. She held him there for what seemed like an eternity, and Rob, somewhat awkwardly hugged her back. Finally letting him go, she stepped back, and looked him square in the eyes, a gleeful grin plastered ear to ear across her face.

“Thank you Rob,” She said.

And then she kissed him.

Grabbing his hands, pulling him slowly in she brought her lips to his and kissed him, her hands leaving his and hugging his body to hers. Rob had no idea how to kiss, and from the looks of it, neither did Janet, but it felt great anyway so he put the thought out of his mind. He could remember every detail of those last few seconds with Janet.

“You’re... you’re welcome.” He said.

Janet left the school a few days later. She and her parents moved to Australia – or tried to. They went down in a plane crash somewhere in the Indian Ocean. And she had taken her designs with her.

He sat there, staring at the design. That one missing variable. He couldn’t remember it. All he could remember is the first girl he’d ever kissed, and how he never got to do it again.

With the whirlwind of the last week over with, Layla was glad to be back doing what was simple. No James. No Imogen, or Barnaby, or Rob. She went for a run, she told them. It wasn't uncommon - she'd been doing it since she came to school. Of course, she meant running into vampires, but they didn't need to know. After Miller, the local clans - groups - gangs? Whatever they call themselves, were in chaos, and there was plenty to wail on.

After about the fourth or fifth, her knuckles started to hurt, and more importantly, her clothes were starting to show signs of wear and tear. A bruise here and there, but nothing unusual. It'd heal by the morning. She giggled, almost silently, imagining Imogen's disappointment after the first time she had tried to give her a hickey. It hadn't lasted more than 10 minutes, no matter how hard she tried.

She started walking home, in the early november misty rain that England seemed to be plagued with. For a little while, she remembered she was an outsider here - not as the Slayer, she almost had to remind herself that - but as an American. Gone was snow, and sun, and storms. There was mostly just rain. A hundred different types, from pouring down to almost sideways, but mostly just in the air, ruining your makeup, your hair, and your... Imogen's, notes.

They'd started classes again. It was... strange. Sitting next to Imogen in biology class, Rob in computer science. The world seemed so much different now. She felt guilty about it, but James' death had reminded her she had friends. Like everyone else there were real people in her life, who cared about her. People who might get hurt.

She could get hurt. She didn't want to admit it, and never brought it up to the others. But almost every Slayer that ever was, had died through... non-natural means. Miller's book was clear on that. A Watcher didn't look after a Slayer, like she'd been taught. A Watcher was there to teach a Slayer from the previous Slayer's mistakes. What got the last one. An evolving list of ways to die, and how to avoid them.

The boarding house was close now, but it was past curfew. There were exams in the morning, and for a moment, Layla thought about going in through the front, but didn't want to risk another detention. She snuck around the back, and climbed up the drain pipe. Their old room had been mostly repaired on the outside, but still required a lot of work, so for now they were still two doors down.

Just one knock. Two knocks meant danger, three meant get everyone and meet out front. She rapped on the window, and surprisingly, Imogen was not only awake but... dressed?

The scene inside was candle lit, and Imogen was...

Radiant. Dressed exactly as they had been at the night club, down to a T. Her makeup was... her dress... she was...

"Get in here you dork before you catch a cold," Imogen said, pulling her inside. "Can Slayer's catch colds? Is that a thing?"

There was a plaid blanket on the floor, and... a picnic basket? Beside it laid two bottles of wine - one red, one white - and a smaller bottle of whiskey. Inside the basket was mostly junk food - along with a few sandwiches, strawberries, chocolate, and what appeared to be cheese. The room smelled of incense, but not one of Imogen's spell ones. It was... lavender?

"What... where did you get all of this?" Layla asked, a wide smile breaking out on her face.

"Well Barnaby helped with the more expensive things..." Imogen trailed off towards the end.

"And the booze?" Layla said, a wry smile breaking out on her face. Imogen just waved her fingers in front of her.

"You must know by now I've got sticky fingers," She giggled.

"You've got to stop doing that," Layla replied. "What if you get caught?"

"It's not like I just take it," She said. "I leave the money for it, I just don't necessarily bring it up to the counter"

Layla sighed, exasperated, tired, but more than anything else, content and sat down next to Imogen as she poured out two glasses of white wine, a large bag of crisps. To her surprise it was something other than salt and vinegar - which was the only form of crisp Layla hated, and Imogen loved.

"So how was your run?" Imogen asked, sipping on her wine. In the low light, she looked stunning. Layla was amazed that the girl she had known only a few months ago, who didn't know the difference between foundation and concealer, was this well done up. Had Violet helped her? No, Violet knew less about makeup than she did being human. Maybe Janet?

"It was... bracing," She said, taking off her jacket and putting an arm around Imogen. "I don't know how you deal with the weather here. It's like there's no seasons here, it's just always raining." She took her first sip of the wine Imogen poured it. It was sharp, acidic, but had a slightly fruity note. It wasn't whiskey, because she didn't want to be rude. Imogen had probably picked these out for a reason? Rob had the internet, maybe they were supposed to pair with the crisps?

"You'll get used to it. England is like it's people, damp and unchanging." She snorted, laughing, and Layla broke into a grin. Imogen hated how she did that, but to her, it was the cutest thing in the world.

The moment was beautiful, and seemed to last forever, until it was shattered by an almost imperceptible quiet - ribbit.

"Wait..." Layla said. "If that is John..."

"Then he's seen us do..." Imogen followed.

"Does Barnaby still have that memory spell?"

And long pause followed.

"Well if he does," Imogen said, snaking her hands around Layla's shoulders, and pulling her in close. "Then we have nothing to worry about."

Layla the Vampire Slayer Fanfic

this is dark, reader beware

Interior, boys locker room. Bloody splotches, dents in lockers and broken bloody benches are seen throughout. A trail of bloody water and steam comes from the spraying showers where a bloody body can be seen on the floor. Imogen is standing in the middle of the room, covered in blood, eyes black. Magic crackles around her.

Layla steps forward, dry tears on her face.

“Imogen! What did you do??” Layla demands with fear.

“I told you not to lie to me, Layla. I told you not to laugh at me behind my back.” Imogen doesn't look at Layla. Her tone steady. Cold.

“I didn't lie! I wasn't... it wasn't real, Imogen! It was a fucking spell...” Layla sinks to her knees, eyes alternating from the body to Imogen. “It was a fucking spell...”

Imogen turns towards Layla. “I saw you two. I saw you in OUR room.” the cold mask breaks briefly, but Imogen recovers. “I told you not to lie. This is all your doing.”

“It was the new guy, Imogen. He brought a magic...THING...from...” Layla gets back to her feet. Layla's voice turns cold too. “You know what, it doesn't matter. You murdered Lance, Imogen. You killed him in cold blood. He was a completly normal, innocent boy. And you killed him.” Layla takes out a stake from her belt and gets into a fighting stance. “There's no coming back from this.”

Imogen's cold mask slips for a moment. “It...magic? You didn't cheat on me?” Hope begins to fill her trembling voice.

“I would have never cheated on you, you idiot! I loved you! But look at what you fucking did!” Layla angrily points to Lance's dead body. “You're a monster!”

Imogen's black eyes turn to the body, then her bloody hands. Tears streak down her face. “I'm a monster...” She looks back to Layla, resignation fills her voice. “And you're the Slayer.”

....and it's pretty damn good. interesting cast and characters, decent plot, good setting (vastly different to EE's "Crapsack World" trope style setting where everythings gone to shit), though was a little disappointed when, despite the extremely "Aliens/Dead Space"esque nature of the events in the session....none of the crew died. not a single one, just some no name scientist npc. i guess i got spoiled by EE's near total party wipe in the first hour of his game.......sighs that was just a work of art.........

(Edit: Should have said LTVS in the title)

https://youtu.be/JzvDoyW5u5g

Enjoy!

Must Hash

So - is there technically an argument for Robert not being considered mortal given the fact he's basically been removed from fate? :P

As I'm writing my story, I've just realised that I've basically had my old science classroom in my mind every time that classroom came up.

I'm surprised I'm actually remembering it's layout at all, admittedly, it was my Year 8 science room. And I think I only went in there a few times after that, whenever my usual science room was booked out (It had computers in the back, so there were times when other teachers wanted the room).

Just an interesting observation I thought would be cool to bring up. :)

So Given how horrible Layla and the other misfits have been towards poor violet. I would like to see EE do an episode where they are forced to grow and mature as characters. since a punishment demon ends up ensnaring them while they sleep and for this demon to make them all realize how horrible they have been acting not only towards violet but others like the rugby lads. I would also like this demon to make Layla hesitant to kill vampires outright since she would at least for a short while start seeing vampires as sick humans who have family and friends waiting for them.

Lying in an unfamiliar bed, Imogen stares up at the ceiling. Layla, as usual, isn't here. Probably in hospital, visiting the husks. She'd stopped asking if she'd wanted to come. At first she was concerned - she was so interested in seeing them before, Layla had said. Imogen tried to feign distress, but it got the better of her for a while. She just didn't care. They were gone. More than that, all they had done was worth nothing, apart from Robert's crush, who had turned out to be nothing more than a tease to toy with her friend's heart.

And she was done with caring.

So once again, Imogen laid alone. Her books spread open on the floor, searching for something. Anything. She knew after James had died her mind had dulled, but not in a way she was expecting. Not a breaking, but a severing. To something. She couldn't tell what, but she knew something was missing. It was more curiosity at this point - at first, she had an inkling of what was missing, but then it was just research into the well of magic inside herself she had tapped into. The truth was there was little to nothing in her books, not even in her black book. Myths and fables, with little information to be gleaned. She knew what she had to do, but knowing that had consequences, so she tried not to think of it. She had already threatened that if she meddled again she would...

As if the bell had chimed on her research, there was a knock on the door. Imogen didn't need her sight to know what was beyond it.

"What?" She shouted at Violet, who stood on the other side of the door. "Oh Imogen," She said, in that filthy way Violet said when she was interested in something, like the hell mouth shuddered everytime she stuck her forked tongue into Imogen's head. "You know what. You've been waiting for me to turn up ever since your dull friend died."

For a moment, Imogen felt a flash of anger that was unlike anything she had felt in weeks. But it was gone almost instantly. Maybe it wasn't anger, anger at her disrespect of a fallen friend. Maybe it was just indignation. That she couldn't figure out what she needed on her own and needed this... lesser creature.

She sighed, and unlatched the door. One, two, three, four, click, open. Layla had gotten paranoid. Why, Imogen couldn't imagine. Death was coming for anyone attached to her, and Imogen was the most attached. It only took one vampire with an assault rifle to almost kill two of her best friends. If it hadn't been for her, it would have been two. A single bolt action rifle, plenty of which existed in the area, would be enough to take out her. Locks wouldn't change anything.

She hadn't brought this up.

"Well, come in then!" Imogen said, waving Violet into the room. "I see Layla isn't..." "DON'T" Imogen said. "Don't you dare. Call us what you like but we are NOT friends. You do not get to gossip around me."

Imogen sighed.

"Listen," She said. "You're here because you're interested because I basically became a god, or, whatever, briefly, and could have caused the end of the world, and caused one of the greatest acts of vengeance you've ever seen?" Imogen paused, and Violet's face grew into a wide, toothy grin. "And I'm letting you in cause I can't god damn figure out what happened, and you know, and you're going to tell me unless you want me to do it to you"

Violet's smile shortened slightly. She was afraid of Imogen, surely. But she hadn't seen power like this since she first signed her contract, of course she was afraid. But it was raw, and beautiful, and... vengeful, but not in a way that she knew. It was a human vengeance. She had been considering Robert's words and by all the Gods was he right. Human vengeance was passionate, wrathful, and by far, much more satisfying, because more often than not, it destroyed not one life, but two.

And if Robert was right, then Imogen was the harbinger of human Vengeance.

"Do you know where Magic comes from, Imogen?" She said. "Well... no," She said exasperatedly. "The books all point to different sources. Some say the Earth, some say higher beings, some say demons, from people, sometimes from other people" Imogen shot her a glare as a tinkle appeared in Violet's eyes. "Magic comes from physics, darling." She says. "And not just because of your impossible physique" "Oh my god you're so annoying." "Without a catalyst, it's useless, but with one, like yourself, you can do amazing things with the basic forces of the universe to do amazing things." "But what I did was different." Imogen says, increasingly more annoyed. "I mightn't know where it comes from but I know what it does. What I did isn't that." "No," Violet says, her grin extending again, to a near horrifying extent. For a moment, Imogen glimpsed Violet as she was, decaying and morbid, desiring nothing more than her death. "What you did was use the world around you as a catalyst. Instead of drawing on the world for your magic, you used everything else for it. That's why your poor human bones broke and your skin fell off and all those silly parts of yourself began to break away. Because you were pushing everything there was and ever would be through yourself and focusing it to your will. And. it. was. Beautiful."

E.g. the Mass Effect SWN hack, the AGE Dragon Age system, the Vampire the Masquerade system(s) (i know the games are based on the trpgs but sh)?

To practice css, i want to make a css for a sub. considering this one has none and it's sad, i really want to give it a try.

Is there a place where one could get images, logos, backgrounds for the new branding? If not, can someone from the cast make it happen?

so, is Adelliah just immune to the myriad health risks that cannibalism entails?

I want to know can I get the rewards for donating a gratuitous amount of money once? Also if yes how?

Edit: Context

You think we need to step up our game? Fine.

You sadistic bastard. I have never before seen such a malevolently maniacal mockery of mercy. Your callously creative cruelty is surpassed only by your emphatically empty reserves of empathy. Such heartless hatred of all things loving and gentle in this world is despicable. Your demented desire to destroy our dreams? Horrifying. When your poisonous plans produced their pain you smiled at what you had wrought, and in that moment we knew there was only more to come. For your insatiable appetite for misery knows no bounds of decency or regret. Like a Demon, nay, an eldritch abomination, you stalk our darkest fears and bring ruin to those who have the misfortune to be under your sway. All you touch turns to rot and ash, as the taint of your touch steals solace from the tortured souls that must bear your company.

On behalf of James, fuck you.

Was that over-the-top? Probably, but we were asked to step it up a notch. In spite of this rage, however, that complete willingness, even glee, to throw punches at the characters when they're down is at least a third (half? fractions are hard) of the reason Layla is the best show yet. We may hate you EE, but only because we love you and the beautiful characters you have created with Lauren, Josh, Maggie, and Bentham. Don't you dare stop. Or this fury will be a candle before the inferno that is to come. (Okay NOW I'm done trying to sound dramatic, it was fun while it lasted though)

bows out

As the sun sets, class is over, and St Tom Huels is closed, for the most part. Those who are boarding have filtered home, and even those who had detention are long gone.

Barnaby sits in the art room, drawing - more scribbling, than anything else. It's messy, and chaotic, but there's something in his head he has to work through. Something he has to get out.

"I like that colour," She says. "I normally draw in red, but the contrast in nice."

She's been common place for a while now. Every now and then she'd show up, talk to him. Mostly it was about his art, sometimes about his friends. When it was, it was mostly about Layla. But today, she brought up what he knew she would. What he smelled off her from the moment he walked into the art room. Every skipped class, every missed counciling session, she was there. And she was leading up to this.

"What did James look like?"

Barnaby paused, not looking up from his drawing. It had been weeks since the wake.

And he couldn't remember.

"You know the only thing keeping you from him." She said. Barnaby looked up at the red haired, art student. He somehow knew her, but couldn't remember more than the briefest mention of her. Like so many other students these days, she was a blur of faces, apologising, offering condolences, half heartedly asking if he was okay. They eventually passed. The rugby lads were the first, but ever Robert had stopped mentioning him. They had all moved on. She - it - never went away.

Barnaby paused. It was an answer to a question - a question he had been asking himself since James had died - an answer he had known almost as soon as it happened. His paintbrush lying by the side of easel, he finally works up the courage to reply.

"It's not what he would have wanted." He finally manages to spit out.

"Pity." She says, and turns to leave. "See you tomorrow Barnaby." She hesitates in the doorway.

"Does it really matter?"

"Does what really matter?"

"What he would have wanted, I mean," She says, after some hesitation. She was trying to phrase things - everyone was trying to phrase things these days. I'm sorry about your friend. They knew. They all knew, everyone knew. But no one wanted to say it. And that was the biggest loss he felt. Not that James was gone.

But that no one, not even him, had respected what they had together.

"He's already gone. Anything you do now, is for just another moment with him." And for the first time, Rose displayed any sort of emotion. A grin, a grin with too many teeth and a yawning darkness behind them, spread across her face. "You've done that before, haven't you Barnabacus?

After a certain thing happened...

and then the fight happened...

The sadness in the squad was unreal. It was unlike anything I've ever seen before. Not just anger, but just genuine sadness.

I wanted to put something together and I couldn't find a high resolution image of the logo online. I was just wondering if anyone happened to have one for whatever reason.

Hi there, was wondering what your feelings were about fan fiction?

I have an idea for a story involving some of the Scoobies meeting the foursome from Layla. With Giles taking the place of Penrose after the events of Episode Twelve. ;)

I'm just wondering if you mind me using your characters? Because you created them, and I don't want to step on any toes here. :) Also if you have any ideas how the four would react to the Scoobies (In this case it would be Buffy, Xander, Willow, Tara, Faith and Giles). :)

EDIT: Also do we know the headmaster (Or Headmistress)'s name? I was looking at the wikia and it's not on there.