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#at least now I know one of the outcomes of trying to voodoo!
galemalio · 4 years
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Hazbin Hotel and Compulsive Representation
(aka my accumulated experience writing and researching about Hazbin Hotel characters as a fan and critic)
Date: September 17,  2020
This is going to be my last article for Hazbin Hotel for now. After that, I’m taking a long break from HH.  
I Can’t Ignore My Own Research
I like Hazbin Hotel. But when people have criticism for it, I listen and try to understand why they have concerns about the cartoon that I like.
Mindful Consumption of Hazbin Hotel’s vodoo Content
When someone has concerns about Alastor being an example of Hollywood voodoo, I listened and did the work since I didn’t know what Hollywood voodoo was.
What I found out after writing the article? Alastor’s use of sacred symbols and inspiration of those symbols of an exclusive religion gave me the impression that Vp didn’t do her research beyond aesthetic. 
Exploring Angel Dust’s Gay and Sex Worker Stereotypes
When someone said Angel Dust has a lot of stereotypes, I listened and did the work in order to understand where they are coming from.
What I found out after writing the article? The roots of Angel Dust’s stereotypes made me wonder if Vp really delved into what he will represent in media.  
3 Examples of Racial Bias in Animation Storytelling
When someone didn’t like how Vaggie was treated in the pilot, I watched the episode again if what they are saying is true... and you know what? Vaggie deserved better.
(I’m also happy to announce that Medium has made this a Recommended article to their readers.)
What I found out after writing the article? The more prone-to-violence dark-skinned girl (Vaggie) to the light-skinned ingenue (Charlie) gave me an impression that Vp isn’t aware of the plight of dark-skinned women who aren’t allowed to be vulnerable and delicate as their white counterparts. 
If a character is going to represent women of color, shouldn’t she have done research on their experiences? Or interview them?
How did it all come to this? 
That’s when I realized Vp’s compulsive character building from Zoophobia may have seeped through into Hazbin Hotel.
Vp and her Artistic Compulsiveness
I have first read about Vp’s artistic compulsiveness from @zpredraws.
Their blog gives fair feedback and critique of Vp’s art works including Zoophobia and Hazbin Hotel.
Here is what they said about her artistic compulsiveness:
“Viv tends to exaggerate way too much in her designs that it causes a lot of anatomy problems, coupled with her habit of not reviewing her sketches, and sketching impulsively.”
This compulsiveness goes beyond sketching from what I have noticed in my research and writing: 
Her habit of thinking character traits from the top of her head makes her dependent on stereotypes, tropes and her other preconceived biases with no to little effort of developing them. 
Coupled with her habit of not reviewing sketches is parallel to her not reviewing the writing of her own characters. 
Compulsive Representation
 @zpredraws​ mentioned about her character representation in Zoophobia (paraphrased):
She wants a diverse representation of minor groups them adds them compulsively in the story. But because not much thought was given to them, there is not much passion felt for them either. 
The characters then end up as token characters with no direction for their stories. Thus, nullifying the point of representing them.
@zpredraws​ also commented on her compulsive adding of characters (paraphrased):
She has a habit of compulsively adding a character because she liked an aspect of it from an animated film without developing it much. 
This is a common mistake of young artists who haven’t matured enough into making a good story. But Vp has graduated years ago and still has this habit.
It’s okay to be inspired but they need to be developed enough to be unique.
With her habit on grabbing only the aesthetics but none of the histories beneath them (which I have observed in my research), the misrepresentation through characters in media continue:
Alastor being similar to Dr. Facilier whose personality traits are misconceptions on Vodou such as cannibalism.
Nifty being similar to the cute genki girl  with the yellow-skinned othering of anti-East Asian propaganda and Asian house-keeper stereotype while being fluent in Japanese. 
Mimzy having anti-Semite features and being money-greedy -a common antisemitic stereotype. 
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Vaggie’s valid anger being played as comedy as the aggressive angry Latina (which is a negative stereotype of dark-skinned women of color). 
Angel Dust as a gay sex worker represented as a horny sex worker stereotype in and out of his profession. 
However, Vp did say she developed Angel Dust the most, but for @zpredraws , she’s overdeveloping him.
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“If Viv wants Angel to be a drag-queen, a gay pornstar, a mobster, a stripper, Angel will conform to that personality. Viv is focusing and developing Angel so much that she is actually over-developing him. Other characters are being under-developed, while Angel is getting more and more traits stacked onto him that nobody really knows what or who he is anymore..
Lastly, Angel Dust is here not so much for being the worst design in how aesthetically nice he looks, but it’s more of “What exactly is he anymore?” Angel doesn’t have a consistent design anymore, he can be whatever Viv wants him to be. Looking at the above, few people on first impression would know that is the same character. I just don’t know what Angel is anymore, and I think many fans have that same thought too.”
@zpredraws further advised:
Vibrant colors and drawing on impulse can only carry your art that far, and won’t be able to hide mistakes for long.
And I think it’s carrying over to the writing of her characters. 
I understand that the pilot took three years to make and that a lot of work was done in it. But in that span, I have concluded in my research that most of the characters’ pre-story personality was compulsively done and not developed further beyond their stereotypes. More effort was put in their design. 
As Youtube Staxlotl had noted, the art of Hazbin Hotel pilot took over its writing:
“I do hope if VivziePop decides to continue with the series, that she looks into putting a bit more effort into the writing and dialogue to make the plot more engaging, the characters and jokes more entertaining to watch. Because honestly, if you strip these characters of their amazing voice actors and replace them with mediocre ones, the show would be much, much more boring.”
Hope for Improvement
I hope Vp would hire the people her characters are supposed to represent (queer sex worker, dark-skinned Latina, etc.) as givers of feedback or at least put them in high positions in the creation of the episodes of HH. That is, if she truly wanted an adult comedy without sacrificing a thoughtful story on redemption and tangible character growth that speaks truly of the represented people’s experiences.
Not just make it up as they go along then pat themselves on the back when they get progressive points.
Because for now, the characters with their stereotypes are just continuing the misconceptions of the minorities that they’re supposed to represent. This can negatively affect real-life minorities on how other people perceive them.
I have read that Vp has driven away artists who wants to help her with her Zoophobia. I wished she wouldn’t drive away people who have valid criticisms whose intentions are to help improve the show. 
Other Short Works:
The Intention vs Outcome of “Shipping ANYTHING You Want!”
How to avoid cultural appropriation and ableism in making Alastor content.
Angel Dust: Rooting for a Character Who Doesn’t Want to Grow… Yet
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justfangstvdto · 4 years
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Open Coffin 2 | Chapter 03  “Living On Borrowed Time”
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Disclaimer: This is a sequel! Find Part 1 here. For some context, I´d advise you to watch The Originals to understand some occurrences.
Chapter warnings:  a little bit of a slow breather chapter, timeline divergence, canon divergence,  Also apologies for the long break in between...I allowed myself time to let it marinate a little, feel free to wait for more chapters to come before reading, 
Word count:  5450
Tags & Author Note at the bottom. Feedback is my lifeblood and keeps the writing coming (eventually...lol).
Open Coffin 2 Masterlist
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Your feet dragged over what was left of the road in the cemetery that had been split open by centuries of floods and moving earth. The white paint of a few sparsely placed tombs was so bright you had to shield your eyes from the reflecting light. The trees swayed in the gentle breeze, diluting the light above into a shaded mess. There had never been an English word for the way the sun and wind interplay with each other to create dappled sunlight, but it decorated the entire tree-lined walkway. 
Leaving the shadows, you turned the corner towards the far end of the cemetery, skipping some of Lafayette´s prominent resting places, "Why the hell did I agree to this again?" 
“Because you're taken with my personality?” Kaleb was walking behind you a step or two, taking his sweet time as if he had no trouble wasting seconds to nothing. He had convinced you to not kill him immediately with a promise of revealing his intentions. You agreed, knowing that if he walked you into a trap you could still end him with a rub of your fingers.  It was a win-win, though a time consuming one so far. 
And time was running out. You hid a bloody nose from his eyes when he was unconscious - the second one that day - and it was only going to get worse from here on out.
“You think if I´d be taken with you, I would´ve handcuffed you to a radiator?” You scoffed, ignoring his attempt to lighten your mood completely. 
“I don´t know,” he shrugged, “you might be into that.” 
You rolled your eyes at his comment, progressing further. Passing another set of stones older than dirt, you adjusted the straps of the bag that carried your letters, fastening the metal handler around your shoulder.  It was comforting to know that they were with you again and that they only fell into the hands of the stranger next to you. After a few more steps, the sound of shoes crushing loose stones under his weight grew silent. 
"This is it," he said and nudged his head towards the building on your left.
You looked at the building towering next to you and it took a moment for you to scramble together where you are. Like a squared lighthouse, the second story building had glass windows on the second floor that wrapped around all sides. The first floor was used by the local witches as a place to congregate and meet with each other, while the second floor was full of plants, herbs and other ingredients for all kinds of spells.  You knew the place all too well. Besides plants, it currently housed a newly moved in leech that fed on people's weaknesses. One that was followed by her offspring and one - that despite the meaning of her name - was the worst of them all. 
Esther.  
"Of course you're working for her. I should've known.” You pinched the bridge of your nose, breathing out the weight of uncertainty from your lungs. Finally, the pieces revealing the stranger in front of you fell into place. Esther sends a distraction. Needless to say, you were not surprised. 
"Correct me if I'm wrong, but you too are working with her?" He had a smug grin on his face as he replied as if he´d outfoxed your question. Smug Bastard. 
"Let me guess, she's the one that wanted my letters?”You asked, and he confirmed with a nod “Why?”
“To exploit your secrets, I'd imagine." He shrugged, then opened the door to the building and stepped aside “After you.” You brushed past him, brushing against his torso trying to fit into the outlandish small door frame. At least this time you were not wearing any hindering clothes as you did 100 years ago. You remembered that once a part of your coat ripped trying to enter this building and if you'd look closely you might even find particles of the clothing still littering the doorframe. 
Entering the room at the top of the building, you heard Kaleb breathe out in annoyance once he laid eyes on Finn. He- who was still inhabiting a local Voodoo master with the name of Vincent Griffith - stood at the table, ripping feathers from a dead crow that laid on it. 
“Ah, Finn. Just the person I didn't want to see." Kaleb looked at him with such disdain one would have deduced that there was some sort of sour history there. Still, Finn said nothing and blankly stared through his borrowed eyes. 
Looking at him, you wondered if the people underneath Esther´s and Finn's possession had any control left. Did they feel or see too? Or were they gone, totally locked away? You never wanted to find out first hand. 
“Kaleb, Y/N. I see you two have been acquainted.” You heard Esther speaking from an adjoined room before you saw her. But now she wasn´t the teenage witch she had been inhabiting when you met, it was a local shop owner and witch that had been selling witch items not far from Marcel's new place. But even in another body, she remained the most questioned pawn on the board.
 “I guess it was bound to happen since you sent him to steal from me. I don't appreciate you meddling in personal business. That wasn't part of the deal.”
“Did I, now?" She paused and shared a look of disapproval with Finn next to her "Very well. Since Kaleb revealed himself to you, you´ll join forces for the time being. Perhaps then I'll get what I seek." 
"Yeah no, I don't do teams." You shook your head and glanced at Kaleb next to you “No offence.”
“You'll do as you're told," Finn said. His jaw was clenched and he tipped the tip of his finger against the table. Ah, the scolding finger. Another thing he had in common with his brothers. 
"Oh, of course!” Kaleb scoffed, slicing his words in a sudden stern veer “Now Finn, the sycophant, speaks up! Are you gonna grovel at your mother's heels for eternity, or what?" 
Finn dragged his eyes from the table and ogled him down as if he would implode to dust under his gaze  “I advise you to stay your lane." 
You rolled your eyes at their ongoing dick-sword fight, wishing they´d either attack each other for a little entertainment or simply hold their tongue until you´re out of the way.
“We should move this along.” Esther sounded annoyed as she ordered Finn to the back room with a nod of her head. He tore himself away from the hostile conversation with reluctance, yet he complied. “Now,” Esther looked at you with stern expectation “What brings you here? I do hope it is not another empty promise.”
"I come bearing gifts." You said, stepping forward to the table in the middle of the room. You brushed dried up leaves from the roses that grew in the room from the table with your elbow. Kaleb's eyes went wide when he saw what you held in your hands. The white oak stake in all its silver veined glory. You watched Esther's eyebrows ripple with surprise. She wasn't expecting you to bring the white oak to her as you promised. 
She reached out to grasp it, but you brought the tip of the stake to the ceiling to withhold it from her   “I need some repayment first. A part of the spell, an ingredient from the list, something."
"You haven't fulfilled your part of the deal." She stated with certainty in her voice. 
“This is the start of it. You said you wanted to convince Klaus and Elijah to become human, right? But of course, they´re not as easy to persuade as you thought. If you can't convince them, pour salt into their wounds until they can't do anything but listen. You´re their mother. I´m sure you have secrets about them floating around in your head somewhere. Use them.”
“I am well aware of-” 
“I'm not finished. They're hiding something big. Elijah went off like the attack dog he is without me doing anything to cause this, which means that they're hiding something. They have to be. He's too suspicious of me to not want to keep something hidden away. I can find out what it is if you give me something first.” 
“You will give me the white oak stake and I will consider handing you a fraction of the spell” 
So that's how this is gonna go. You're baiting the wrong person here, Esther... 
You considered your options for a moment, going over the possible outcomes of any branch, but all led to disaster. All but one. That meant not playing her game anymore. It would never get to the point where she would keep up her end of the bargain.  But this endeavour trying to gain her sympathies had no use. It was time for Plan B.
"Fine. I'll be back with more soon” You met her observing gaze, looking at her without a glimmer of fear she so hoped to spot. You let her grasp the white oak stake and let it fall into her hands.
“It's not like I'm living on borrowed time or anything." You muttered as you turned to leave through the door you came into. 
What Esther will do with the white oak, that only her twisted mind would now. But at least it will give you time to come up with another plan. Including another obstacle that was your new companion who, if your senses were not completely obliterated, knew too much to not work against you. 
For now, however, getting out of the fire line is what was important, or you´d not stand to see this through. 
--
You stood on the corner, watching as Marcel paraded around in front of his new initiates. He was trying to rebuild his community, the one that Klaus took over with his scheming and intrigues. You never grasped why he thirsted for power as much as he did. Perhaps, you thought, he tried to eliminate the feelings of not possessing any power whatsoever when he was young. Or it was to outgrow Klaus' shadow that has been resting on him and this city. Even now exiled on the other side of the river, he tried to rebuild what Klaus took from him. 
Marcel, similar to New Orleans was a Phoenix rising from the ashes. Burnt down countless times, defeated and broken, yet resilient. You wondered how he kept going after all this time. Possibly he was just better at moving past issues than you were. Or he was nothing but more skilled at concealing it. 
“I'll be right back.” You informed Kaleb, as Marcel announced the end of his drafting process. Marcel spotted you walking towards him out the corner of his eye, smiled and outstretched his arms, waiting for your opinion of his recruits.
“So, what do you think?”
“I don´t know, a little too groupy for me, to be honest.” You shrugged, “But I'm not a team player so what do I know?” 
“Fair enough.” He nodded and let his eyes wander for a second before he spotted Kaleb watching your conversation like a hawk. “Who is this guy?”
“A friend.” You answered, hoping he wouldn´t pester you with questions. You had no time to waste. 
“Since when are you making friends? Especially ones with death stares.”
“Well, guys with death stares are kind of my brand.” You joked, but Marcel was nowhere near laughing. Your smile fell and you cleared your throat before you continued “Anyway, listen, do you still own that cabin out in Terrebonne? I could use a little retreat.”
Marcel cocked his eyebrow “Who do you have to hide from now? I know you´ve been going the extra mile to piss people off lately, but that has to be a new record.” 
“Nobody yet, but there will be soon. I'm just getting the hell out of dodge before that.” You felt bad for only visiting Marcel to get something from him, but you were not exactly running on a lot of time. You were sure he understood. 
 “Cabin´s still there, but  I had it warded against magic a while back, so no zapping in and out of the place. You can disable it if you want once you´re there.”
“Great. So a road trip it is.”  You were not particularly thrilled of hanging out in a confined space with someone you barely knew. But there was no use in complaining.
"In that case,” Marcel continued “you´ll probably want your ride back. It's down at the docks, with all your stuff in it."
“Shit I haven't thought about that piece of metal since-”  You paused, but there was no need to finish your sentence. Marcel understood.
“I assume you have a passcode for the doors? Or do you want me to blow the door up to get in?” 
"Uh, yeah. It´s…" He scratched the back of his head in avoidance. 
The second you knew why he was stalling, your face fell “Don't tell me the password is…password.”
“No, of course not.” 
“It´s password, isn't it? You dumbass.” 
“It's a car, not an atomic bomb! As if anyone's gonna steal that old thing.” 
You slapped his shoulder, shoving him back a step or two “How dare you. You can insult me, but never that car, alright? It's been through a lot.”
He smiled before raising his hands in defeat. “Alright, alright. Call me if you need backup with this one.” He nudged his head to Kaleb still standing where you left him.
“Thanks, but I never need backup.” 
----
You definitely needed backup. Even simply to hurl Kaleb out of the window for how annoying he was. Throughout the first few miles, he flipped radio channels with his magic, whistled along to every song that came on, or bumped his knees on the glove compartment repeatedly. He even asked about Marcel with such vigour, you barely managed to divert the topic. You knew many people had something against Marcel and his supernatural politics, you included, but Kaleb´s disapproval was on the upper spectrum. This only added to his questionable character.
You halted at a rest stop a few miles down the road after Kaleb insisted on getting road trip snacks. He had an extra pep in his step when he found the snack Aisle, you could see his excitement through the smudged storefront windows.You pulled out your phone when he disappeared into the back isles dialling a string of numbers you haven't thought about in the last decades. You tapped your foot throughout the beeping tone, anxiously waiting for the other person to pick up.
You heard a groggy moan before the scruffy voice of an old friend cut through. "Y/N ain't that a nice surprise.” Shank said, “It's been what 90 years?" 
"Yeah not exactly. We saw each other about a year ago in New York. Or have you forgotten?" 
Shank considered for a moment “Oh yeah something seems to brush through my drunken haze. I think. ”
Shank did not drink to forget like most, he drank to remember. He claimed that once he entered a state of non-sobriety, memories he had long forgotten would creep up. You always thought it was nice he even could forget anything at all. 
“Anyway,” Clearing your throat, you continued “I need you to do some dirty work.”
“Dirty work?” He sounded surprised yet elated by the prospect of digging up some dirt by either burying someone or by digging up secrets “What are we talking about? Murder, mayhem? Mayhem with some murder?”
“Not that kind of dirty. I need you to pull up all the records you can find for a guy called Kaleb. I don't have his last name, but I'll send you a picture.” You looked over your shoulder to check if Kaleb was already finished with getting snacks, but he was nowhere to be seen. 
“I see what I can do.” He agreed and you could hear him hammering on the keyboard through the phone “Is he a problem I need to know about?” 
“I don't know yet. I just want to make sure we're on the same side.” You explained, leaving out the details he had no use of knowing about “Thanks for doing this, by the way, I know I haven´t exactly been around.” 
“You can thank me by checking in with the boss.” 
Of course, he would bring her up. How could he not? He was so blindly loyal to her, it was a wonder that he was not killed yet.
“I don't know what Mae told you but I don't want to speak to her ever again.”
“Just call in, kid.” He seemed impatient in his wish, but, you had no intention of following through with it. That chapter was closed. 
“I'll think about stopping by instead.” You lied. You had no intention to go anywhere near the headquarters.
There was silence on the other end, then what sounded like a drink that was poured before Shank spoke once more "You can't. It's all gone." 
"What do you mean it's gone?”
“Haven't you heard? The Guerra Werewolf pack bombed the place. Did the same to the crescents on the Bayou. Whole building collapsed in broad daylight, almost everyone died. Some of them people were dumb as a ton of bricks, but they were family.”
“Shit. I didn't know.” 
"Nobody knows except Boss and I, and our high and mighty Mikaelson's of course."
"If there's anything I can do-”
“Nothing to be done.” He answered curtly, then returned to his task at hand. "I'll get you the info. Take care of yourself, kid.” And without another word, he hung up the phone. 
Entering the car, you leaned forwards after terminating the call, head pressing into the steering wheel. How have you not heard of the explosions? If you had, you would have made the Guerra werewolves suffer longer. Or at least dragged some of them back to the surviving members they could do with them whatever they liked. 
You pushed the thought away when Kaleb showed up at the register. You snapped a photo of Kaleb when he appeared at the register through the windshield, disguising your action as trying to find a signal. 
“Did you find it?” He asked through the opened passenger window before throwing the three bags worth of snacks behind him on the backseat.
“Find what?" You asked him, confused about what he meant.
“The signal?” He said when he opened the passenger door and hopped in   “I saw you from in there.” 
“Oh, yeah I got like one and a half bars at best.” You lied. before reaching out for the key stuck in the lock cylinder. Turning it with the foot on the clutch you started the car, ready to continue the journey.
------------
On a lonely stretch of road close to Morgan City, Kaleb had finally resorted to looking out of the window for the first time since leaving New Orleans. Silence at last. Ah, yes. Hair breezing in the wind, soft tunes that played on the radio and some nice peace and...
“So New York huh?”  Kaleb asked and you had to stop yourself from burying your face in the steering wheel. 
...Quiet, yeah not so much.
“Just because we're working together, doesn't mean we have to talk.” You blew him off, “Also, is there an encyclopedia of Y/N somewhere I don´t know about or how do you know where I was?”
He smiled and said "Touchy, are we?”
"I don't know why you're surprised. Do I look like the person that ́is offering free hugs or something?"
"Well, if you ́re offering, I wouldn't say no." He shrugged, flashing a pearly white smile that you figured was deadly to girls' hearts in the vicinity. 
“Fine.” You sighed and turned the radio volume down. “Ask away. What about New York?” You hoped he would be satisfied with a few questions answered.
“You, uh, what do they say.”He tipped the tip of his finger against his lips as he considered “Ah yes dropped off the map. Then years later you resurface in New York. Why that filthy city out of the whole world to choose from?” 
You stranded there, was the short answer. The real answer was much more complicated. “I did it for the Bagels.” You shrugged.
Kaleb almost choked on a corn chip as your words registered “The bagels?” He said through a cough or two. 
“The bagels.” You confirmed, "And I spent some time there back in the '50s, so I knew my way around."
You did not tell him that you just found yourself in New York one night after you tried aimlessly to find something to dull the pain. You did not tell him that you spend weeks feeding through the drunkards that wandered the streets at night. Or how you made the top spot on the wanted list on several covens or small circles of witches for stealing spellwork. You had nothing to lose, and nothing to fear from any of them. You had your goal, and you did not care about casualties. 
So you lied. He had no use hearing any of those things.
“And what about your family? Did they visit you there?” He asked further.
Why do you ask so many questions, Kaleb?
You dug your nails in the fabric of the steering wheel at the mention of your so-called family. You have not seen Stefan or Damon in years. But only thinking about them resurfaced memories of the last time you spoke to Stefan on a lonely winter night in New York, months after everything that happened.
You remembered how cold your hands were from the freezing storm that iced the city overnight. There was another blizzard predicted to roll through in the day to come, but people in New York had experienced harsher winter conditions than that. You watched them drink their mulled wine and cinnamon-spiked coffee from the bench you were sitting on. The snowed-over trees of Central Park were a perfect backdrop for the winter wonderland they were seeking. 
The ring tone felt like an endless repetition of empty promises, each more disappointing than the last. What if he had no desire to pick up the phone? Or perhaps he was in trouble? Maybe you should- But then his voice cut through the silence. He didn't say your name just answered with a standard phrase you´d greet strangers with. You told him who you were and before you could explain that you wanted to make amends, he said: “Whatever it is, I can´t help you.” Then he hung up and left you in the cold with nothing but the light of your phone that remained the sole evidence for your conversation. 
Clutching the steering wheel tighter, you shoved those memories back where they belonged; behind a door and forgotten as so many have been. 
“I don't have a family” You finally said. “What about you? Got any family left?” 
“They're all crazy as loons.” He shook his head “No, my family these days contains of one person. The only one that's never given up on me.”
Huh. So you were in the same boat after all. Interesting...
“Is that the reason you started working for Esther? To be reunited with them?” 
“That's the primary goal, yes." He confirmed and reached for another chip in the bag. “So, New York.” He repeated once again  “What did you do?”
“I'm sure you´ve heard the stories. Everyone has.” 
“I rather get information from the source. Can´t trust chatter these days.”
“I've done what someone like me does.” You answered with the hope he would have the sense to stop pestering you with questions. 
“Well, darling, there is nobody like you, so have to be a little more specific.” The familiarity of the word of endearment made you turn your head and you glanced at him, but he was already staring ahead. 
“Murdered, maimed, pissed people off, you know, the usual. Bad things happen when people like me grieve.” You replied, focusing on the road ahead once more. 
“All that to get your boyfriend back?” 
You slammed your foot on the breaks, halting the car with a loud screech. You leaned over with fury dwelling in your eyes  "Let's get one thing straight, you'll never bring him up. Ever. Matter of fact, why don't we keep our history to ourselves."
"I didn´t-" 
You didn't let him finish. Instead, you turned the radio volume up, ending the conversation in an instant. You felt his stare every now and then and he nervously fumbled with his left hand and outstretched his fingers only to retreat them a moment later, as if he was regretting reaching out.
The song on the radio swallowed the silence as it played on, thick with grief as a man sang on about how he couldn't go on without his special person by his side. How absolutely cliche it was for the song to play right at this moment when you were reminded of him.  
If Kol was here he would point his finger into the air and utter “See there's the universe again. Laughing at us, taunting us, but also telling us we ́re on the right path.”The memories of his smile and the way it would outshine your grimmest thoughts drifted over you, a cruel reminiscence of paradise lost but never forgotten. You relived flashes of memories every day, in the place you dared not to touch nor let go. As long as you remembered, nothing was lost. Kol still existed. You still existed.
The road ended in a mess of mud and overturned ground as the song played out. End of the road for now. And that meant digging through the outskirts of the swamp. On foot. At that point, you started thinking this was a bad idea.
-----------------------
Birds settle on a power line across the dirt road leading to the cabin. Most birds gathered as a group, some were scattered, but one was sitting next to them and tilted his head to observe them.  They scattered into the wind when the cabin door behind you fell in the lock. You felt his eyes on you as he stepped forward on the roofed deck. Thanks to an invisible spell Kaleb was unable to see Mikael parading around with a wooden lance on the space before the cabin. 
“I didn't mean to upset you. I'm sorry.”His voice sounded remorseful and quiet as he leaned against the brittle railing where chipped-away paint chips rained onto the dirt. 
“It's fine. Just forget about it.”You brushed him off. You could have told him that he found your weak point, and that was not the mention of Kol, but the fact that you had forgotten about him for a moment and then Kaleb brought him up. 
“It's nice here. If you ignore the blasting heat.”He was trying to establish some sort of small talk, but you were never one to care for it, and certainly not now.
“Yeah.” You glanced at him through the corners of your vision. 
Above, the birds screeched and tore through the silence, and you looked up to see them retreat into the trees. It was getting dark now, stars had started to crack through the sky, some lighter patches, others clusters of faint and bold light. You gazed at those bright friends of the moon and the midnight blue canvas stole every thought from your mind. The carousel of worries was forgotten for a moment. That was one of the advantages of life outside of the city where stars were put to death every night by the shine of streetlights and suffocated by manmade pollution. 
You turned your head again and caught Kaleb's gaze in the light the oil lamp that swayed in the breeze provided. You had to warn him. Warn him about the danger he put himself in being here with you. People around you either leave or end up six feet under. He at least deserved some cautious words. 
“Listen,” You turned to him “everything I plan goes bad for me usually. And this time it's foolish too, so if you want out-”
“Nonsense. I'm with you. And I don't change my mind.” He said as a matter of fact as if standing by words was such a common thing to do "Besides, what am I supposed to do, play lapdog with Finn?" He scoffed and shook his head, the image alone too ridiculous to fathom. 
The corners of your lips tugged into a smile, an expression which was mirrored on his face. But, when he looked at you next, his face went pale. Before you could ponder about what he saw, you felt the warm liquid run down your nose even before you smelt the copper that taste. 
“Shit, sorry.” You wiped the blood away with the back of your hand which stained the fine lines that covered your skin with the crimson remnant ”You´re squeezy around blood, huh?”
"No-” He shook his head, then paused “that is why you said you´re living on borrowed time?”
You were surprised he heard that “Yeah. I just need to undo some things I´ve done before I kick the bucket. A monster seeking absolution. What a cliche, right? Whoever, be it the universe or whatever, that´s conducting my story has never heard of an original plot, that's for sure.” 
“You're not a monster. “ He said.
“Isn't drinking blood enough cause to be one?”
“That describes what you are, but who you are isn't defined by the things you've done. Nobody can be summed up by the total of their wrongdoings. I don't believe that, and neither should you.” You opened your mouth to deny what he declared, then stopped yourself from saying it. Kaleb noted your silence as a sign to drop the topic “I might be capable to help you figure out what causes this. If you let me.” 
“I have nothing to lose, so why not?” You shrugged, knowing that time would run out eventually. And at this rate, it won't be too long. “But first there's something you should know. I'm not working alone here.”
“I hope not, or I'd be nothing but a figment of your imagination.” He grinned and nudged your shoulder “As flattering as that is, I´d rather be real. Being invisible will drive you mad.”
“You better see it for yourself then.” You raised your hand towards the space Mikael had been training while you spoke, uttering one simple word to reveal him “Invisique.”
You watched Kaleb's expression closely as it dawned on him who remained only a few feet away from where he was standing. 
“Mikael.” He swallowed and withdrew with a few steps backwards, until his back hit the rigid wooden wall. He was scared. Good. That meant he wasn't a fool.
“So you know who he is. Good, that spares me the history lesson.” 
“How is he here?” He sliced his words in a sudden stern veer, and kept his back flush with the wall, not moving an inch. 
“Let's get inside and I'll tell you what you need to know.” Opening the door you went inside first, holding the door open behind you. “Don´t worry, he won't come near us.” 
Kaleb tore his eyes from Mikael and secured the door with his hand. Before entering he looked over his shoulder, suddenly feeling like he was being watched. He scanned the tree lines and the road up ahead but there was nothing to be seen. Then, out of the corner of his eye, he saw something tussle the leaves in the distance beyond Mikael's training ground. And he feared that the storm above and the vampire that hunts vampires was the least of his worries. 
And who or whatever was watching him, he thought, surely agreed.
-----
A/N: And we´re back with another one! This is a little bit of a slower one, but I hope you liked it! If there anything that stood out to you or anything that you liked or disliked, let me know!!  I would love to hear your thoughts.
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victorluvsalice · 4 years
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Yeah, so -- random drop-in who wanted to see Marty and “catch up” now that Marty was a Rising Star. I didn’t recognize Kai, but Marty was willing to chat, so I set them to it -- and then I got an idea. Jennifer got a voodoo doll from Emmett way back in the day, and I had yet to use it. Perhaps she should go back to her Chief of Mischief ways for a bit and torment the fellow?
And then I actually opened up the “bind to” menu, and Marty was the only viable option. Hmmm. Well, okay -- maybe she could do something nice to Marty? I went ahead and bound the doll, then had her try cuddling and tickling --
Turns out, that doll does not take any of this witchcraft lying down! I had no idea they could actually threaten their holder with their own pins! Jennifer managed to talk it down, so to speak, but that bit of poppet magic was definitely unsuccessful. So she was left kinda embarrassed, and Marty kind of uncomfortable from the attempt.
Perfect state to be in for the start of their weenie roast! XD Then again, this is Sims -- it wasn’t THAT hard to overwhelm their bad moodlets with good ones. Marty went out and got the fire pit going while our guests arrived, and Jennifer started grilling as I tried to gather everyone for a group story to fulfill some of the party goals.
And ran into my first problem of the night -- Sims are both incredibly fickle and incredibly stubborn at the same time. Namely, Marty spent a good portion of his evening standing around waiting for Nikal to get her ass off HIS computer so he could tell his story about vampires! Not even canceling the interaction and restarting it helped! It seemed like this party was doomed from the start. . .
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thegaitguys · 5 years
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The “Dodgy Foot”, a UK runner’s dilemma.
We get “help me” emails from all over the world on a regular basis. Recently we received this photo from a runner in Oxford, UK, often we cannot help, but when there is a story to tell that everyone can learn from, we offer what we can. This runner was frustrated, explaining a “dodgy foot”. We like the word.
dodg·y däjē/
-dishonest or unreliable; potentially dangerous; of low quality.
We can likely guarantee you that the solution here to this runner’s form issue is not wholly at the foot which appears “in toed” and slanted and appears ready to kick the back of the right heel, not to mention the knees that are about to brush together. Thus, merely working on their foot strike would be so remedial and corrupt that it would a crime.
Ivo and I do not take on cases via the internet because we cannot give all the information because we cannot examine the client, many do offer such services but people are not being given the whole story and we pledged long ago not to be part of the problem. Anyone who recommends exercises from things they see on a video gait analysis are basically doing the same disservice in our opinion. But sometimes, as in this case, their inquiry offers a opportunity for dialogue. This is one of those cases. I will not be presenting a solution, because I do not have the examination information I need, but I will propose a thought process that further investigation may afford progress towards some answers.
This appears like a non-pathologic cross over gait in my mind until proven otherwise, there may be other sources, causes and components, but when it quacks like a duck you’d be silly not to check for webbed feet. There are many component parts that leave someone with a cross over type gait (ie a narrow based gait, that if taken further, might as well result in running on a line). This runner even confirmed upon questioning that the left foot scuffs the inside of the right ankle/shin often, both sides scuff in fact but more left shoe on right shin. No Einsteinian epiphany there.
This means a narrow swing through (adducting) left limb. This might mean stance and swing phase gluteus medius communication problems. This might mean swing leg foot targeting problems. This often suggests right, but sometimes both right and left, frontal plane pelvis sway problems which means pelvis control is challenged which means core lumbar stability control is challenged. This means adaptive arm swing changes from the clean norm. Arm swing to a large degree is driven by the lower limb motor patterns, despite what some people will propose (dive into our archives to find some of those research articles). This does NOT mean this runner has pain, or pain yet, or maybe never will have pain but there are many determinants of that which I will discuss below.
But, make no mistake, this is flawed gait mechanics, but that does not translate to injury, speed, outcome or pain. But when they come with those complaints attached, one would be foolish not to at least consider these biomechanics as a source. The left swing leg is clearly targeting a more medial placement, meaning limb adduction (active or passive or both is to be determined) and this is a product of the cross over gait (unfamiliar with the cross over gait ? SEARCH our blog for the term, you will need a few hours of free time to get through it all). Some would call the cross over gait a lazy gait, but I would rather term it an efficient gait taken too far that it has now become a liability, a liability in which they can no longer stabilize frontal plane sway/drift. A wider gait on the other hand, as in most sprinters, is less efficient but may procure more power and the wider base is more stable affording less frontal plane drift. Just go walk around your home and move from a very narrow line walking gait to a wide gait and you will feel a more powerful engagement of the glutes. Mind you, this is not a fix for cross over gaits, gosh, if it was only that simple !
This runner might investigate whether there is right frontal plane drift, and if it is in fact occurring, find the source of the drift. It can come from many places on either limb. (This client says they are scuffing both inside ankles, which is not atypical and so we likely have drift on both right and left). We have discussed many of them here in various places on the blog over the years. Now as for “Why” the foot looks in toed, well that can also come from many places. Quite simply the adducted limb once it leaves toe off (a toe off that is most often a "low gear toe off", meaning not a medial/hallux toe off), can look like this. But, perhaps it is also a product of insufficient external rotation maintenance occurred during that left stance phase, affording more internal rotation which is being unchecked and observed here during early swing. Remember though, if this is in fact a cross over gait result, in this gait the limb approaches the ground unstacked (foot is too far inside a left hip joint plumb line) the foot will greet the ground at a far lateral strike and in supination. Pronation will thus be magnified and accelerated, if there is enough time before toe off. However, and you can try this on your own by walking around your home, put yourself in terminal stance at toe off. Make sure you have the foot inverted so you are toeing off the lateral toes (low gear toe off). Does this foot not look like the one in the photo ? Yes it does, now just lift the foot off the ground and you have reproduced this photo. And when combined with a right pelvis drift, the foot will sneak further medially appearing postured behind the right foot.
Keep this in mind as well, final pronation and efficient hallux (big toe) toe off does often not occur in someone who strikes the ground on a far lateral foot. I am sure this runner will now be aware of how poorly they toe off of the big toe, the hallux. They will tend to progress towards low gear toe off, off the lesser toes. This leaves the foot inverted and this is what you are seeing in her the photo above. That is a foot that is inverted and supinated and it carried through all the way through toe off and into early swing. It is a frequently component of the cross over gait, look for it, you will find it, often.
Final thoughts, certainly this can be an isolated left swing phase gluteus medius weakness enabling an adducted swing limb thus procuring a faulty medial foot placement, but it is still part of the cross over phenomenon. Most things when it comes to a linked human frame do not work in isolation. But i will leave you with a complicating factor and hopefully you will realize that gait analysis truly does require a physical exam, and without it you could be missing the big picture problem. What if she has a notable fixed anatomic internal tibia torsion on that left side. Yup, it could all be that simple, and that is not something you can fix, you learn to manage that one as a runner.
* Side bar rant: Look at any google search of runners photos and you will see this type of swing limb foot posturing often, far too often. That does not mean it is normal ! That means, that many people do this, but it cannot mean that it is optimal mechanics. And yes, you can take the stance that “I do it as well and i have no injuries or problems so what is the big deal?”. Our response is often “you do have an issue, it may be anatomic or functional, but you do have an asymmetrical gait and you think it is not a problem, YET”. And maybe you will run till you are 6 feet under and not have a problem because you have accommodated over many years and you are a great compensator, yes, some people get lucky. Some people also do not run enough miles that these issues express themselves clinically so lets be fair. But some of these people are reality deniers and spend their life buying the newest brace or gadget, trying a different shoe insert, orthotic or new shoe of the month and shop over and over again for another video gait analysis expert who can actually fix their pain or problem. And then there are those who have a 45 minute home exercise program that they need to do to keep their problems at bay, managing, not fixing anything. Or, they spend an hour a week on the web reading article after article on what are the top 4 exercises for iliotibial band syndrome for example. They shop for the newest Graston practitioner, the newest kinesio taping pattern, Voodoo bands, breathing patterns, compression socks etc. And sometimes they are the ones that say they still don't have a problem.You get the drift. Gosh darn it, find someone who knows what the hell they are doing and can help you fix the issues that are causing the problem. And yes, some of the above accoutrements may be assistive in that journey.
I have dealt with this unique toe off issue very frequently. Once you see something enough times, you learn all of the variations and subtle nuances that a problem can take on. But, trying to fit everyone into a similar solution model is where the novice coach, trainer or clinician will get into trouble. Trust us, it all starts with an examination, a true clinical physical examination. If one leaves the investigatory process to a series of screens or functional movement patterns, “activation” attempts, digital gait analysis or strength tests one is juggling chainsaws and the outcome you want is often not likely to occur. There is nothing wrong with making these components part of the investigation process, but on their own, they are not enough to get the honest answer many times. Of course, Ivo and i were not able to jump the pond and examine this runner with our own eyes and hands so today’s dialogue was merely to offer this runner some food for thought to open their mind to our thought process, in the hopes that they can find someone to help them solve the underlying problem and not merely make the gait look cleaner. Making someone’s walking or running gait look cleaner is not hard, but making it subconsciously competent and clean (without thought or effort) requires a fix to the underlying problem. We can ALMOST guarantee you that the solution here to this runner’s form issue is not wholly at the foot that looks in toed and slanted. Merely working on their foot strike would be so remedial and corrupt that it would a crime.
Dr. Shawn Allen, one of the gait guys
#gait, #gaitproblems, #crossovergait, #gaitanalysis, #gluteweakness, #toeoff
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oipteaapdoce · 5 years
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More on secrets and the occult
When I first started out in magick, well OK maybe for the first 10 years lol, I also felt that everything should be public.  But then I learned some pretty deep stuff, and changed my mind rather quickly!  It’s definitely important to keep a little out there, so folks who are drawn to it know it exists and where to maybe start looking.  Though there are some things which will always be hidden, either intentionally, or because the path itself, and the path ancestors are choosy about who is let in.
For example, pedophiles really aren’t accepted in many paths.  Sure perhaps they can fool the living humans, but the spirits, they can see and know way more than we do, and know how people live their lives.  Some paths are even more strict and have taboos against such things as cheating on your significant other (though you only get into trouble, not thrown off the path generally).  Many paths also do not allow killing of another human.  The spirits of that path will turn against you if you go that far.  Other paths though, they are fine with such things.  It all depends really.
Another problem with information being public, is that then charlatans will pretend to be on the path, or sometimes even think that they are on the path, because they read so much about it, or watched so many youtube videos on it, and use the information and supposed path to scam people.  Most practitioners unfortunately cannot tell the difference, just due to lack of knowledge themselves of the path, even if all the information was out there, we can only understand so much of a new thing in the first 5-10 years.  Or if the path is from a culture, or in a language which is not our first, then we can more easily be fooled.  I guess better than by a used car salesman, but then again maybe not.  At least with a lemon used car, our health or spiritual bodies, or energy doesn’t get messed up for a lifetime or few if things go really wrong.  Or at least not to as great of a degree.
Which brings up another point; unqualified people teaching and initiating into paths which they know nothing about, or where they themselves were initiated by a newbie or fraud from a particular path.  I have seen the outcome of such initiations and the results are pretty bad; the person’s energy body messed right up; so many many nasty died bad spirits around, so many corrupted or maligned nature or demonic spirits around, all who aren’t the actual ones they think they have around and are trying to call.  Now if the person wants to work with these beings go ahead, but one should be fully aware with the entourage they are getting and the true nature of them, not thinking they are a Deity, Daemon or other strong spirit and meanwhile getting your garden variety low level random spirit.  
Also, each time something is talked about, it really does lose power.  With many spiritual paths if you go through an initiation or retreat, they tell you to not talk about it afterwards.  Of course, everyone gets all excited and wants to talk about it :D.  But, you can feel the energy wane immediately when this is done.  Holding something as sacred and important to us, is definitely part of the path.  Our connections with the various spirits, as well as personal information about our spirits, is not something that we just share with anyone.  We break a trust there, but then also open the spirits up to mass lineups of random people trying to contact them and demanding they do their bidding!  This doesn’t make the spirits happy about working with humans in general lol.
Now the point of why do only a select few get the information while others do not?  Those who have put in the work for it generally.  Or those who have spiritual or physical ancestry in the paths.  (this is beyond those silly DNA tests).  Also, past lives tend to play a strong role from all I can tell.  Sure everyone likes to think they were a great so and so or such and such in past lives, but really, that sort of thing is seen by the spirits, not by us.  
We are all born with (or perhaps just still have in this incarnation) a certain number of spirits.  We also have some which we do not align with for various reasons.  Of course, we all try to contact the ones we don’t align with as well as the ones we do! This can bring troubles, if one doesn’t have an experienced teacher to help them sort things out.  Also, many of the spirits prefer certain ways of being approached and certain offerings, these are important, for many different reasons, including the energies aligning properly (from what I can tell).  When approached in the incorrect way, or with the incorrect offerings, sometimes things can really go awry!
Some paths require initiations to even be able to properly work with the powers, beings, forces and energies of that particular path.  This is for many different reasons.  One of the reasons being that folks who are in line with the path and how things work, is important.  Having the path not just turn into a random mess of crap is another good reason (some people tend to try to make this happen to all of the groups they are in, ever seen it at a workplace?)  Also, the path elders and spirits know far better than we do, which path/s are right for us and which are not.  We may like to think that we can just work any path, but some paths are better for us on ever level than others are.  This is individual to each person.
Just as important, not sharing too much information everywhere helps the dabblers and practitioners who try to work these paths with a lack of connection or knowledge... people really can, and sometimes do, become very unbalanced or go completely off the edge with the stronger practices.  Believe it or not these paths are not for everyone.  Some would like to think that they are, but really that is not the case.  Not everyone’s psyche, energy body, or thought processes are in line with these important works.  Some folks are really just not up for spirit work, no matter what they like to think.  The more folks think they know, the more warped the paths are for them, the more tainted and less pure, and thus the energies being very unhealthy on many levels for people.  I have seen many things happen which are far far worse than most car accidents.  Then there are the silly dabblers of what they feel are the darker paths, who end up making pacts with random low power/level spirits, which last many lifetimes, and mess this lifetime right up!  Though that in itself is probably another article entirely.
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#magick #occult #secretorders #voodoo #atr #vodou #illuminati #sorcery #grimore #goetia #satanism #goldendawn #oto #djinn #jinn
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upontheshelfreviews · 5 years
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Of all the animated Disney films out there, few have had a history as troubled or as fascinating as The Black Cauldron. Shaped less by the average process of transforming a novel to film and more by the decade, regime, mindset towards animation and internal struggle of power of the studio that made it, The Black Cauldron is considered the black sheep of the canon; those who worked on it have few fond memories of the experience, and the result of all that blood, sweat, tears, and voodoo curses hurled in Jeffrey Katzenberg’s direction is an odd creature Disney is content to let wallow in relative obscurity. To this day it’s looked down upon by all but a few loyal fans who’ve elevated it to semi-cult status. The story of how and why this is is worth a documentary of its own.
As for my thoughts on the film itself…well…
“It’s complicated.”
I honestly can’t talk about my feelings towards The Black Cauldron without putting it into some context first. And there’s a LOT of context that needs to be explained. Hence why I’ve decided to split this review into two parts. This first half will go over the history of the movie and behind the scenes shenanigans, while Part 2, which is the review I know you’ve been anticipating, will be released next week. So if you want to avoid an engaging history lesson that discusses the climate in which The Black Cauldron was created in depth and go right to the film itself, I suggest you return at a later date. Or go watch Waking Sleeping Beauty. It’s a fascinating, personal look into the struggle that shaped Disney’s Renaissance era and they devote a good chunk of the beginning into what went down during the making of The Black Cauldron.
By the 1980’s, Walt Disney had been dead for nearly twenty years and his enterprise as a whole was lacking a good leader to keep everything together. The live-action films were woefully behind the times, Walt Disney World’s recently-opened second park EPCOT wasn’t meeting attendance expectations, and while the animated films were holding up surprisingly well, the department had to deal with their budgets continually being slashed in order to make up for the failures of the previous two branches of the company.
Politics within the animation studio threatened to tear it apart as well. It was time for the stubborn old guard of Walt’s day, which included the revered animators known as the Nine Old Men, to pass on everything they knew to a ragtag band of fresh recruits with newfangled ideas about how Disney animation should be. Needless to say there was plenty of headbutting and saltiness from each end throughout the ordeal. One of the outcomes was that two no-name pipsqueaks decided to jump ship – Don Bluth, who committed high treason in his contemporaries’ eyes by forming his own animation studio (and giving Disney some admittedly much-needed competition to get their act together), and Tim Burton, who was dissatisfied with the direction The Black Cauldron was taking and felt his own inventive if bizarre contributions were going unappreciated. Bluth is still considered a persona non grata in Disney’s circle for his mutiny, but I can imagine their parting ways with Burton going something like this:
“Tell ya what, loser, if you manage to gross over a hundred million with those weird little films of yours, we’ll make that stop-motion singing skeleton picture you always wanted!”
Things came to a head after it was announced that Disney’s next animation project would be Lloyd Alexander’s popular high fantasy series The Chronicles of Prydain – or rather, taking the first two books of said series and combining them into one 80 minute film.
“It worked for Ralph Bakshi!”
“No it didn’t.”
“Come on, what kind of cockamamie studio would we be running if we devoted an entire movie to each entry in some crummy little fairy tale saga? Or hell, splitting one book into two movies to cram everything in! How do you expect to make bank on that? We’re not made of money, you know!”
“Sir, the contractors are here to go over the building of your swimming pool to contain all your other swimming pools.”
“Thank you, Ramsley. Tell them they’ll receive their deposit once we get the box office returns on Herbie Goes Bananas.”
“Of course, sir.”
Now the 80’s were a golden age for cult fantasy flicks. You couldn’t swing a dead elf around without hitting a Labyrinth or a Princess Bride or a Last Unicorn or a kajillion overlooked Baron Munchausens. Disney tried their hand at this genre with fare such as Return to Oz and Something Wicked This Way Comes and I think they’re good films. Like, really, REALLY good films. But unfortunately they share something in common with the previously mentioned fantasy movies, and that is they were major flops upon release. Yet the animators’ toiled away under the sincere hope that The Black Cauldron would be the one to break that losing streak. They were going to do something unique, something that no other animation studio – least of all classic Disney – had ever done before…
…or they might have if the old guard hadn’t kept stepping in to curb their creativity.
I understand where the former generation was coming from; I’d be pretty grouchy too if I had to train these too-big-for-their-britches whippersnappers who were going to replace me, but one of the reasons why the Disney company was this close to declaring bankruptcy in the decades after Walt’s passing was because it was adhering dangerously close to the mentality of “What would Walt do” instead of trying new things and evolving with the times. The very idea of “What would Walt do” is a paradox; none of us – not me, not the most religious of Disney fans, not even the workers who knew him the longest – could ever really know what his course of action on creative decisions might be, and yet the one thing we do know for certain is that Walt Disney always chose to move forward instead of clinging to the formulas or modes of thinking that were deemed the most successful. His whole body of work reflects that. Walt was one of the first studio heads to embrace television as another method of entertainment instead of fearing its growing popularity over theatrical venues. He not only revolutionized the theme park business but he kept building upon what was already there to enhance the experience and bridge the gap between man and machine, rather than just letting Disneyland sit in the middle of Anaheim and churn out money while it gathered dust. And as for features, well, after he was pressured into making sequels to the successful Three Little Pigs which proved to be less popular than the first, he infamously said “You can’t top pigs with pigs!”. Walt hated repeating himself in order to triumph, and he took every opportunity to push the envelope when it came to the story or technical aspects of anything he touched. He dove head first into the new, and if he made a mistake along the way, he learned from it instead of retreating back into the safe zone. Sadly, in a misguided attempt to keep Walt’s legacy alive, the old regime forgot about that and micromanaged every aspect of the company until it became a time capsule instead of a thriving creative business.
Look no further than the artwork made during the concept stage of the film’s production if you need an example. Here’s some of what the new crowd came up with:
Pretty neat, huh? Now here’s what Milt Kahl and some of Walt’s homeboys pressed on to them.
Compare these sketches to something from Sleeping Beauty, The Sword in the Stone or any silver-era Disney film. It’s too close to the house style from back then. You’d think it was rejected concept art from one of those films. Poor Tim Burton got the worst of it. He shared some awesome ideas for the Horned King’s henchmen, his gwythaints (aka dragon things), and just about anything having to do with the guy not excluding his own living space. The animators adored them, but management, in a move that would be the last straw for Burton, told him they wouldn’t spare the time or expenses needed to revamp the look for the film.
“Redo a bunch of doodles so it’ll look like a bunch of DIFFERENT doodles?! We’re stretched for cash as it is!”
“Sir, your 30-foot diamond sculpture of yourself has arrived. Where shall I have the men place it?”
“Eh, stick it in the ballroom with all the other diamond sculptures, I’m busy!”
“Very good, sir.”
To further quash morale, the animation department was unceremoniously booted out of the original building it was housed in from back when Walt Disney built the studio. They now worked in what was basically a cramped little trailer park across the street.
Tensions were high all around.
Animation, once the lifeblood of the Disney company, was now on life support.
Certain higher-ups were even questioning if they should pull the plug and turn their focus to the parks and live-action films.
“Hmm, they did make those wacky duck cartoons I liked when I was five…then again, I’ve been wanting my own private archipelago for some time now. Oh, nobody has it harder than I do!”
“Sir, just a reminder, you have a meeting with Misters Eisner, Katzenberg and Wells at four.”
“Who?”
“Your new bosses? The former heads at Paramount Pictures? The men who greenlit hit after hit for film and television including Happy Days, Laverne and Shirley, Raiders of the Lost Ark and the Star Trek motion pictures?”
“…Doesn’t ring a bell.”
Indeed, a solution of sorts came in the form of a sweeping management makeover. Out went Ron Miller, in came Michael Eisner and Frank Wells. Together they were something unprecedented – they ran the company in a manner parallel to Walt and his brother Roy, and it WORKED. See, Walt was the idea man as well as the amicable people person; he was able to generate ideas and see them through thanks to his power of persuasion and ability to inspire others. Roy was the sensible subdued banker who calculated what could and could not be feasibly done and brought Walt’s dreams into reality. Through their lifelong partnership and ability to compromise commerce with art, they founded one of the biggest entertainment enterprises on the planet.
I’ve noticed any time where Disney’s CEO is just one person, they’re rarely able to handle that balance of creativity and finance without leaning heavily towards one aspect – which nine times out of ten is always the financial one. When it’s a partnership like these two pairs, however, the company has flourished. Wells was approachable, knew how to appeal to his employees, a good risk taker and vicariously enjoyed the process of bringing a project to fruition. Eisner was known for having some pretty stupid ideas – ideas he’d carry with him once he was given full command – but his business savvy brought the company out of the red and into a new golden age. Working together they shaped Disney into the company we know it as today. Wells was Walt, and Eisner was Roy; the only difference between them being it was Eisner who was the charming face of the company thanks to his many appearances on TV via holiday specials and the Wonderful World of Disney.
“…which is why it came as such a FUCKING HUGE STAB IN THE BACK when he cut corners in the parks, started the direct-to-video sequel line, and divorced Disney from traditional animation, the greedy bastard!! SHELF SMAAAASH!!!”
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Also along for the ride at Eisner’s behest was Jeffrey Katzenberg, who was tasked with overseeing the animation studio. Eisner recognized from his years in television that there was money to be made in marketing nostalgia, and what gets people more nostalgic than Disney animation? This decision proved to be both a blessing and a curse. Sure, Jeffrey was one of the pillars in revitalizing Disney’s animated films, but his adjustment from working with the live-action medium to pencils and paper was rocky at best. He quickly developed a reputation among the staff for being passionate about his work but highly volatile. No one knew what could piss him off one day or make him laugh the next. The one certainty was that Katzenberg was a man with a mission. He wanted to bring Disney animation back to its glory days. To the days when the name Disney meant something. In his own words, to wake Sleeping Beauty.
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Joel Hale, producer on The Black Cauldron, scoffed at this. He already didn’t approve of the new animators acting like privileged children and he certainly wasn’t fond of these Hollywood big shots coming in and shaking up the status quo. “Who do they think they are? Sleeping Beauty’s already awake,” he replied.
He was fired almost immediately after.
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And so, down one producer, up several more, nearly seven years after production began and several million dollars over budget, The Black Cauldron finally entered the most anticipated and dreaded stage of the Hollywood assembly line, the test screening. When it got to the part with the cauldron born, animator Mike Peraza counted down to the second the moment he knew the screaming in the audience would commence. And he was right on time. According to well-documented testimonies, the children there not only screamed and cried but fled the theater. As for Katzenberg’s reaction to The Black Cauldron as a whole, it wasn’t a far cry from what was happening on screen.
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Indeed, the animators succeeded in creating something Disney had never done before – and Katzenberg HATED it. It was too violent, too frightening, and too distant from all things associated with the Disney name. Granted, I can see why he would feel that way; Disney has gone dark before (The Headless Horseman, Fantasia’s Night On Bald Mountain, the entire second half of Pinocchio, you get the idea), but at this rate The Black Cauldron was coming very close to earning Disney its first R rating. Not mincing words here. The film we have today is the freaking Care Bears Movie compared to the original cut that was screened. There were some pretty gory deaths in the action scenes, the Horned King’s own demise was somehow even worse than the one we’re familiar with, and most notably the cauldron born sequence not only had them kill some unnamed henchmen onscreen but explicitly showed one dissolve alive in the mist. To this day, individual cels of that scene circulate the internet as proof of its existence, and I can only imagine the awe and terror of seeing it play out as it was meant to.
Desperate to salvage whatever he could with as minimal mental scarring as possible, Katzenberg demanded the directors cut fifteen minutes from the film. Not any specific fifteen minutes, mind you, just fifteen minutes. It went down almost exactly like the scene from Amadeus where Emperor Joseph praises Mozart’s opera but asks if he could cut a few notes because he thinks there’s too many. He thankfully backs down when Mozart pointedly asks him which notes he wants him to cut. Unfortunately, trimming a couple of seconds here and there wasn’t enough to mollify Katzenberg, and he took it upon himself to fix his own perceived problem.
Pictured: Katzenburg preparing for an editing session.
Katzenberg shocked all present when he said that this film needed to be edited. They protested that there’s no way you can edit an animated movie, to which Katzenberg replied “Of course you can!” In a way, he was correct. All films, including animated ones, can and should be edited to some degree; either to give a moment some breathing space or get to the point of a scene. The problem is, Katzenberg was NOT an experienced editor in his own right.
Imagine you’re given a fine steak to eat and someone offers to cut it for you. They trim off the fatty bits first, then carve it into equal portions. Seems good, right? But then they start to cut away parts they think may have too much gristle, or look burnt or undercooked, or has one peppercorn too many sprinkled on – parts that you might actually enjoy and would make the experience of enjoying this meal more complete – and you’re forced to watch as they turn a culinary treat into a dinner with an unfortunate amount of its flavor and meat stolen from you. Once you recognize where Katzenberg made those haphazard cuts and alterations, you see the film in a new light, like that steak. You’re left wondering what could have been, how a pretty decent movie could have become a potentially great one.
And how is it that I am privy to such arcane truths?
Because, hand to God, my boyfriend managed to procure a shooting script of The Black Cauldron that was produced before Katzenberg did his hack job.
What, you don’t believe me? Then tremble before me and despair, you heretics!
“BRING. IT. ON.”
• TO BE CONTINUED •
Artwork by Charles Moss.
Milt Kahl and Andreas Deja production sketches courtesy of Andreas Deja’s blog Deja View, which I can’t recommend enough.
October Review: The Black Cauldron (1985) PART 1 Of all the animated Disney films out there, few have had a history as troubled or as fascinating as The Black Cauldron.
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neni-has-ascended · 6 years
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Watching Lostorage conflated WIXOSS...
Five Episodes in, I have the following comments (Beware of spoilers):
So, um, are Hanayo and Midorko actually Hanayo Unjou and Midori Ichikawa again, or just detailed copies made from Yuzuki’s and Hitoe’s memories? Hitoe and Yuzuki sure act like it’s really Midori and Hanayo, but it’s never made 100% clear, which is frankly confusing. After all, if the real Midori and Hanayo went missing, wouldn’t their friends and family be in turmoil too? This needs addressing, show!
Chinatsu being a good person now is so nice to see. Also, the fact that she and Suzuko are happy and in a healthy friendship/relationship now. It’s satisfying. These girls deserved this outcome and I hope they can keep it by the end of the show.
Related: Tama living as Ruuko’s adopted little sister is adorable as all hell. It’s so good to see Tama just living and doing normal person things, a dream she didn’t even dare to entertain back when she was LRIG. Now, I know she’ll have been in battle again at least once by the time this show is over, the OP spoils as much, but for now it’s good to see she enjoys being human and that the Kominatos have accepted her with open arms.
Generally, all the friendships are great. In the previous seasons, the Anime always had such a “every (wo)man for themself”, bleak kind of tone, but this time it really does feel like people are working together, which gives everything a sort of flair more typical for card game Anime. I like it, I feel the show was sorely missing that until now. 
Good Writing: Dona’s fate. Seriously, every time Dona is on screen, it’s heartwrenching. I am so glad they didn’t forget about her after Lostorage. The fact that she’s forced to live the life of a friend she’s lost, having to pretend that she’s him is so sad and the show handles it well. The way she keeps wanting to honor his memory (pun not intended), even if it means meddling in things she’d rather stay away from and putting her own safety on the line is just so endearing. Dona is a good girl. It’d be wonderful if they could get Shouhei back and let Dona live in a body of her own, but I know that’s a pipe dream. (Please, just don’t get captured, Dona-) Talking of which...
Everybody’s getting kidnapped left and right. Seriously, so far this is “Kidnapping. The Anime.” Frankly, I don’t care too much about Milulun and Anon, they had it coming, but I seriously feel very sorry for Midori, Hanayo and Yuzuki (especially if the former two are the real Midori and Hanayo). Those girls just can’t ever seem to catch a break, can they? Only reason Hitoe hasn’t been completely screwed over yet is probably so she can inform Ruuko of the damsels to be saved.
Talking of which, everyone morally decent but Ruuko, Suzuko, Hanna and Kiyoi continues to be awful at WIXOSS. (No seriously, it’d be nice to see Hitoe win a game for a change. Pls. Make it happen.)
Related: Layla is OP as hell, pls nerf. She’s giving me some serious Yami Marik-style “I CAN DO WHATEVER THE HELL I WANT BECAUSE I AM INSANE AND ALSO ANCIENT EGYPTIAN VOODOO”-vibes, and it’s kind of annoying. (Also, Layla and Carnival seem kind of like redundant characters. I hope there’s a purpose to having two characters this similar in the show.)
Why is Akira still insane? I thought the ending of spread implied she was getting better after hooking up with Iona (the real one). Did Iona dump her? Oh boy...Somebody, just, send this girl to therapy already.
Are we finally gonna see Ruuko’s LRIG form? If we do, is she gonna look like the artwork of “Gothic Boundary”? 
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Where is Remember?She’s in the opening. You can’t fool me, show. It’s only a matter of time. I am counting down to supreme bullshit character whom I love to hate.
Where is Yuki? Like, I assume she’s just chilling out somewhere, minding her own business and being happy, trying to not involve Ruuko and Tama in anymore craziness, but I sure hope the girl is doing alright. She deserves so. Given that Mayu’s spirit seems to be calling out to Tama, there’s a chance Yuki might get involved again as well...Maybe as a surprise appearance in a later episode. Ohhh boy.
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mamawolfblood · 3 years
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Chap 9 paitball deer hunting
Chris: Last time on Total Drama Island… Both teams set out on a canoe trip to deadly Boney Island. Cody hit on Gwen about eighty times, but he made up for it by setting her up with the guy she actually wanted to hang with, Trent. Good strategy, bro! There were winners. And there were losers. Also known as, The Gophers. The last marshmallow was set to go to either Izzy or Lindsay, but the RCMP swooped in and bam! Izzy hightailed it outta there! [laughs] Man, I knew the girl was nuts, but I didn’t know she was totally insane! However, one Gopher may have secretly done something even crazier when she brought home a creepy stick statue voodoo thingy from the deadly haunted island. Will Beth live to regret her souvenir? And can my teeth possibly get any whiter?[ding] Find out here on Total. Drama. Island!
Iris pov
I was writing all possibilities on how to get back at Duncan. I also was writing all out comes trying to pick the best strategy. All good outcomes points to being nice to Harold. I was about to put my jurnal away, when the sound of a helicopter scared the shit out of me. 
Duncan[waking up,scarred]: Oh! Hit the deck! They’re coming, man! They found us!
Leshawna: Huh! Ooh! Ugh! Okay, that dude is really starting to get on my last nerve!
Heather [after she yawns]: Whatever. He just loves ruining our mornings. Beth, Lindsay, go warm up the shower for me. Now! And remember…
Beth: Not too hot this time, I know. [yawns]
The girls were waiting for Heather to be done in the bathroom. Gwen and I go in the woods to pee. "So you don't get any special treatment from Chris do you?" Gwen asked. "He has tried but I turn him down." I said handing her Toilet paper. "One would think you would considering how we are treated." She said handing it back. "Exactly why I don't want special treatment. It just wouldn't be fair." I said before walking back with her. 
Chris [through loudspeaker]: I hope you’re ready for the most challenging challenge yet. Breakfast in three minutes at the campfire pit. Gwen and I sit together chatting waiting for everyone.
Chris: Are you ready for today’s extreme max impact challenge?!
Owen: We are ready! [laughs]
Chris: Incoming! This… is breakfast.
Heather: No, breakfast is crepes, croissants, even Chef’s crappy burnt eggs.
Owen: Beans beans, they’re good for your heart, the more you eat, the more you–[ a can thunks at his head]
Chris: Today’s challenge is about survival. We’re going hunting.
Duncan: That’s more like it.
Harold: Isn’t that a paintball gun?
Chris: Why yes Harold. It is.
Harold grunts
Bridgette: So we won’t be killing anything?
Chris: Negatory. This is the first ever paintball deer hunt. I’ll announce the team’s once we get into the woods. So… finish breaky.
Owen [burps loudly] : Ahhh… Got any more?
Chris: And now for the team breakdowns. The Killer Bass hunters are… Harold, Geoff, and Bridgette. Locked and loaded with bass blue paint. And using orange paint are the Gopher hunters, Leshawna, Beth, Owen, Lindsay.
Owen: Whahoo! This is awesome, man!
Chris: You also get these stylin’ glasses and wicked camo caps! The rest of you are now deer. Here are your antlers, noses, and little whitetails.
Heather: Yeah right. I am not wearing that.
Duncan: There is no way I’m a deer.
Chris: Take these off and your team is toast.
Owen chuckles.
Duncan: What are you lookin’ at?
Owen: Oh, nothing. Bambi.[snaps Duncan's tail]
Duncan: You’d better be a good shot, tubby.
Courtney: At least we get a headstart.
DJ: I don’t know about y’all. But I’m outta here.
"Guys we should split up. If we hang in a group better chance of us losing." I said making everyone nod. While hiding in the bush I spot Heather being guarded by Beth and Lindsay. "Hey Beth Lindsay your hunters. Heather is a deer shoot her. I mean she is a mean two face bitch. Don't you want some payback Beth." And like that paitballs flew at Heather. It turned into a paint war with everyone. I hung low to the ground
Courtney: Why do you smell worse than usual?
Duncan: It’s Owen’s stink. It’s following me around like my juvenile record.
Courtney: Well, I’m heading back. This stupid game must be almost over by now.
Duncan: You’re going the wrong way.
Courtney: Excuse me? I was a CIT, remember? I have a natural sense of direction. Camp is this way.
Duncan: No. It’s that way.[ their antlers smack into each other]
Courtney and Duncan grunt.
Courtney: Very funny. Now let me go!
Duncan: Hey princess, this isn’t my idea of fun either.
Courtney: Great, Duncan.
(Confessional: Duncan)
Duncan: Sure, we could’ve taken those lame-o antler hats off, but Miss Counselor-in-Training would probably go blab to Chris and have us disqualified. And hey, I kinda liked it.
(Confessional off)
Courtney: Now what?!
Duncan: You wanna make out?
Beth, Heather, and Leshawna: [indistingueble] Ow! Ow!
Bridgette: This is really fun!
Chris [through loudspeaker] :Attention human wildlife and hunters! Please report back to camp! It’s time to show your hides and tally up the scores!
Cut to the campers standing in line.
Chris: Tsk tsk tsk. Stealing from Chef. Eating chips in the woods. Being mauled by bears. Do you know what I see here? I see a very undisciplined group. I see a disgraceful mess. I see a massive waste of paint product. And I have to say… that was awesome! Haha! When you guys opened fire on your own team? Wicked TV, guys.
Harold: Hey. Where are Duncan and Courtney?
Courtney and Duncan grunt as they come in,still tangled.
I had to keep my composure seeing them like that. I am definitely going to make them pay
Gwen: Oh, this is too much.
Owen [ in between laughs]: Duncan, you sly dog, you!
Duncan: The girl can’t keep her antlers off me. [grunts] [falsetto] Can’t even bend over.
Chris: Easy, Courtney. Our medical tent is really only equipped for one at a time and Cody’s pretty messed up. Well, since three members of the Gophers are dripping in paint… Make that four members. And some of them aren’t even deer. I think we have our winner![Bridgette, DJ, Harold, and Sadie cheer] You’re off to a hunting camp shindig!
Duncan and Geoff: Whoo!
Duncan groans
Chris: Gophers, I’ll see you at the campfire ceremony. Again.
Heather: I mean, seriously. Twice in a row? What is wrong with you people? I can’t wait to see Beth get kicked off. I just wish I could vote off two campers at once.
(Confessionals: Cody, Owen, Leshawna and Lindsay)
Cody: Heheheh. Okay. I know I got mauled by a bear, but I’m feeling good about this. I’m a quick healer. And besides, Heather’s as mean as a snake, dude. Her own team shot her like eighteen times. They’ll never kick me off.
Leshawna: Who did I vote for? Well, Heather’s been a pain in my butt from day one. But I gotta say… Cody.
Owen: Yeah, that Cody. Not so useful in challenges anymore.
Lindsay: I totally admire Belle for standing up to Heather, but she’s so dead now.
(confessionals off)
at the elimination cerimony.
Chris: There are only eight marshmallows on this plate. When I call your name, come up and claim your marshmallow. The camper–
Gwen [quickly]: Who does not receive a marshmallow must immediately return The Dock of Shame, catch the Boat of Losers and leave. Can’t we just get this over with?
Chris: Fine. Whatever. Spoil the moment. Trent. Iris. Lindsay. Owen. Gwen. Leshawna. Beth. Campers, this is the final marshmallow tonight. Heather.
Heather: You are all lucky, okay? Very lucky!
Chris: Cody. The Dock of Shame awaits, bro. I guess we can help you get there.
Beth: I’ll do it![Pushes Cody to the dock of shame]
Gwen: Bye, Cody!
Leshawna: Seeya, buddy!
Owen: Take care, dude.
Cody tries to speak but i's muffled.
Beth: I know. I can’t believe I stood up to her, either.[Cody tries to speak but its muffled] I’m gonna be okay, don’t worry about me. And I still have my good luck charm! See? I got it from Boney Island last week. Cool, huh? Bye Cody. Take care. [kisses Cody's head]
Cody muffled screams before falling into the water with a splash
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kzbrandt · 3 years
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Alcoholism
 Clink, Drink, Sink… Did I just walk off the brink?
    Alcohol has taken everything from me. I hate it more than you can ever imagine. First, it took my mother and birthed the horror of our relationship. Then, right under my nose, without even noticing it, it took my father. Both walked over the ledge into a sea of addiction and carelessness. One lost their sanity, while the other drowned his impetus.
    To be honest, my mother was one of those people where the habit became painfully obvious, she dug herself an early grave and it was no surprise to anyone once she lied down in it. My padre on the other hand, all could see it but me. Maybe I just didn’t want to believe it, maybe in my eyes the man who saved me could do no wrong. He only had a few each night just to take the edge off. What was wrong with that? It’s not like he ever hurt anybody? What I didn’t realize is he was only hurting himself.
    It would take 10 years to finally recognize this rug pitifully covering a dirty floor. How could I condemn a man who raised me, he was given no favors, no easy paths were ever found around here. How can I blame someone whose own mother abandoned him to a mental institution, while his father found solace in whores rather than anything outside of a bar? They bowed down and worshipped their demons, at least he was still putting up a fight.  
    Every Night I dreamed of the one who possessed him, he was oblivious of course, but like always I was burdened with the truth. You can't lie to an empath, especially when various superpowers were already in play. Fear. This alone consumed me, every dark corner or shadowy precipice filled my heart with dread. I knew what might linger there, hidden under the opaque and terrifying sheets. I’ve heard his roar and felt his grip, seen its reflective eyes mirrored within my father's itching for complete control.
    The Devil always finds me, since I was very young I have felt the horned one’s pursuit. Prayers and protective signs only kept them away for so long. Sometimes I dreamed of ending it all, but I wouldn’t let them entrap me so easily. Most teenagers prefer late night parties and social frivolity under their parents' slumbering eyes. Not me, I never bode well in this respect. People are simple when you know what to expect from them. Humans let you down, disappoint or betray you. Even my own dad, as much as I love him, would rather drown, shipwrecked in a bottle, rather than try to swim for shore, not even if I begged. When it came down to it, I always believed I was more important, wasn’t it easier to choose his only daughter rather than addiction? How many times did he promise me and his words fell as empty as his glass each night?
    Piece by piece he lost himself until he wasn’t my father anymore. He had chosen the one who sneers and had only one ambition. He had already taken so many and most fell too easily into his grasp, while others were coaxed gradually and didn’t realize until it was too late. The conquest was what he loved the most, the select prey that was clueless even as they were devoured. Not even when his cancer spread terminally did they look up from their limitless loch of gluttonous, idolized debauchery.
    His true name was Holicus, one of the old ones festered and brought to life in the realm of the Abyss. Many evils were birthed there, where even a single ray of light refused to enter. The Catholic Church likes to claim only a venerated man has the power to exercise and cleanse a soul, but this is just another lie. One of many they like to tell. Religion is nothing but a plagued web men in power loved to weave. It spun their cruelty, secured their dominance, they didn’t spread hope, but disquietude. This isn’t to say there aren’t select individuals who still serve Abiel, but they grow fewer by the second. Not even the whitest soul is immune to the draw of Lucataerius or as many know him, Diablo.
    I can’t believe looking at the past and present, that this could’ve been what God wanted? A church that was blind to the monsters it invited in and when finally granted the sight, hid and obscured the truth. In it’s omission pacified crimes too horrible to speak of. The violation of all those poor children was just the tip of the iceberg.
    I was never very good at small talk or making eye contact, but slaying demons was something I was quite good at. Demoniac was a condensed powder extracted from the center of these godless creatures. Over the years I have accumulated a very impressive collection. By day my bedroom was that of a normal fifteen year old teenager. It was simple with pink walls, a small spring mattress and the expected amount of clutter associated with disorganization. By night with the click of a button hidden under the floorboards, this seemingly average room was transformed.
    Under the cover of night when my chronic insomnia took hold, I would work in my secret laboratory, tracking and experimenting with strange and unnatural substances, harvested for one purpose. Under my father’s nose I was fighting the shadows, the demons, the monsters that continued to ravage the living.
    Certain things only grow in the moonlight and some bloom for one night, others a couple months. The trick is knowing the location and time of year. This knowledge is only granted to the elite, initiated into the Vulvun Oculus. At the head of this secret organization was Japunte Black Moon. He found me when I was only a baby, plagued with a strange supernatural illness. As an infant I had one birthmark in the shape of a cross centered on my forehead, the sign of Abiel, King of the light realms. This insignia called to both forces of nature, good and evil. My mother couldn’t stand to nurse or even touch me and so only a newborn, I dwindled on the ledge between life and death.
    My father grew desperate and Harold, who was raised catholic got the number of a strange voodoo doctor. This was how it all began, the first steps taken before the journey. If it wasn’t for Japtunte I don’t know how I would’ve survived adolescence. Some girls were concerned with normal things like boys and accessorizing, not me, I got nightmares that animated before me changing the fabric of my reality. No wonder I barely slept, too afraid to relive the darkest recesses of my imagination, sleep deprivation was a welcome reprieve. The things we dream aren’t supposed to come true, such things were meant to remain in horror flicks.  
    I remember looking at the other girls wishing I could be like them, so pretty and perfect, so happy. Why couldn’t that be me? Usually this is when my lovely African mentor would pipe in, “Krista with such gifts comes with specific obligations, you have a responsibility to use your talents and not waste them.” So serious all the time, how does he do it? How does he stay the course so consistently?
  I reached my breaking point in my 17th year, my maiden hood would leave me to make room for young everlasting-love. It was right about this time I abandoned the Vulvun Oculus and moved in with my uncle. I needed a change of scenery, something different and new. Running seemed to be branded into my DNA.
    It worked for maybe a year. I joined the cheerleading squad, made some friends, fell in love, I was just your regular junior in high school. It was bliss while it lasted. No matter how hard I tried, they would never forget who I was, the shadows always found a way to creep in.
    Friday, October 31st, the day of the Halloween dance, 2010. It was unseasonably warm, 75 degrees and humid. Typical Michigan weather. It was just outside Belleville High that I received the call that would shake me awake, dreaming for too long now. How could I ever forget this conversation, if you could call it that?
    “Kris, you need to come home now. He’s taken your father, I’m sorry.” Click.
    Running my soft cashmere hands through blanched but radiant yellow hair, I felt the chill of a rogue breeze, ominous and dark. The message was clear, a demon had possession of someone who was very dear to me. Jetting off in my blue and white uniform, I needed a pair of wheels no matter who they belonged to. Something fast…
   Two monstrous wheels ensconced in chrome and leather, off all alone begging to be saddled. What kind of woman would I be if I didn’t oblige? I was surprised how easily this metallic stallion roared to life. Barely flicking the throttle, the engine purred and miles blurred the colors of Columbia Drive. Imagining how peculiar I must have looked never entered my mind as I kept the ocean calm within, readying for any outcome, any obstacle.
    Japunte liked to call me the Exorcist, but like any skill it needs to be practiced, rehearsed. I was more than a little rusty, how did I know if I would I be strong enough? Calling to the angel who always stood by my side, silently I prayed for strength and protection. In the reflection of passing carrs I swore that I could see white wings extending out. There was such a rooted comfort in knowing that I wasn't alone in this fight.
    The closer I got to Saint Clair Shores, the more prominent his smell became. It was Holicus, how could I not recognize his repugnant oversaturated odor? My father finally reached the bottom of the bottle and found who was waiting for him, on Halloween no less.
     Holi. impregnated man with the knowledge to brew him into being. Most of the time he’s harmless, even Jesus partook, although he had a vigor that was intangible. It was the ones who possessed something he lusted for and not easily acquired, those were the souls he needed, such a feast was worth the wait. Arriving at a familiar destination, 20220 Rosedale drew near. This was my childhood home. While I lived with my mother, this was heaven, my one and only escape from the corrupt black iron doors that reached out and never retracted, entrapping you in their icy grip for all eternity.
    Imagination can be a dangerous game, it can build bridges and towers to the most magnificent places, or it could host your worst nightmares. No matter how hard I try, I can’t seem to stop playing.
    Even though it grew late with no sunlight left to spare, I could see the past so easily. There I was only ten years old making mud pies with a strange boy who loved to climb our made up kingdom atop the trees. How easily time passed us by, never had I been so happy or had a more suitable playmate.
    Now that I thought about it, Doug was a mystery to me. I couldn’t remember a single thing about his family or his life, only the time we spent together. I didn’t even know his last name. A few months later he had just up and disappeared, moved out without saying a word. That would be the last time my partner in adventurous endeavors would venture to my side of the road.  I liked answers and the reasons why, but sometimes we are only made and never opened, keys amiss this door would remain forever closed and elusive. Life would wash it away, another memory, another dream.
    Silencing the engine, I slid off my lustrous brushed and borrowed hog slowly walking towards the front door. Not a single light was lit, an eerie sense of dread settled over me and I wondered what was waiting for me inside… Turning the cool door knob, the entire house felt dead and rotten. What had happened here? Where was my dad?
    Striding through the dark living room a shadowy figure was seated across a dusty checkered floor. The shell of my father breathed uneven, choppy and shallow.
    “So, you finally came home, Krista Star. It’s too bad you just missed your daddio, haha.”
    “It’s time for you to leave.”
    “Leave, why? He invited me in, little by little he made room and I won’t be evicted, not even by you. What can a cheerleader do against me?”
    “I have dueled you before, if only by blood. You may remember him, Constantin Excalibur.”
    Silence chilled the suddenly very small room. Continuing to shrink and contract with a petrifying veiny pulse.
    “One daughter remade, one thorn wrapped in crimson shade, Excalibur remains, forged from the far away Valean glade… This isn’t possible?” Sweat trickled down a grey and sickly looking brow, lined with three distinct wrinkles.
    “Believe it… Holicus. You took my mother, but you won't’ take him, I won’t allow it. I reveal myself to you, Holicus demon of the under realms, by the order of Abiel we cast you out!” As I finished speaking, angelic symbols of the Vale, once hidden, burned brightly illuminating the kitchen, and so the rest of the house. Light from an insurmountable army of Angels obliterated every demon in sight, pulling the plug on Holicus and all who followed him. Of course, most drink would still be stained with his residue but it was now devoid of flagitiousness.
    My power came from the soldiers of Abiel, who served him willingly. I am one of them, maybe not a worthy comparison but a follower all the same. An unholy screech pierced the walls and everything vibrated so hard the foundation threatened to crumble around us. With all the strength my soul could muster, I whispered the sacred, hidden words of Abiel, secrets of the white fire.
    Few knew of them, even among angels. I won’t abuse what he has given me, I may lose faith in myself, but I’ll neve lose faith in him. Straying in thought I fought against the current, thrashing against the tide I managed to come to the surface.
     “K-Krista? What’s happening, where am I?”
    “Dad don't worry it's all okay now, but we may need to talk about some things...”
    Alcoholism, it sneaks up on you, before you know it the reflection you thought you knew morphs into something alien and unfamiliar. I may have removed the demon, but his essence remains. How many more will you drink before you put down the glass and live your life? Prepare yourself, the Darkness is coming, how will you be fighting drunk or sober?
Happy Halloween, Sincerely, the Exorcist.
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tk--421 · 7 years
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i am drinking wine and eating pasta salad pantsless in bed so to answer your question no i did not have a good day
i was unable to bring myself to work on a project i have to update my status on tomorrow morning all week so i tried to start last night but i was tired and couldnt concentrate and have been sleeping poorly all summer so im feeling gr9 rn and then the policy person on my project asked to meet with me but like...  she graduated. and she is difficult. and i did not want to meet with her. also she kept asking me to pull and clean and analyze data that our funder had no interest in so i never did it because i was focusing on ya know the important part so turns out she never got her policy brief published because she was missing data but thats... not my problem. her boyfriend IS A BIOSTATISTICIAN. the data set has NO IDENTIFYING INFORMATION SO ANYONE THAT REQUESTS CAN HAVE ACCESS TO IT. she could have done this herself! so she kind of complained that i never gave her the data but i couldnt have and didnt want to work for her for free and then she spoke AT ME NOT TO ME about how horrible life is after grad school and whats the point and why did she get this degree and whats the point if she hasnt been published and she keeps trying to say everyone was working against her but like she never got anything done? ok cool you had a bunch of meetings with important people in the community but NOTHING CAME OF IT. and when she finally left i went to class and it wasnt just drinking from the firehose of knowledge it was a 4 hour slog into VOODOO MAGIC (aka generating potential outcome estimations which is a counterfactual way to model perfectly a subject being both exposed and unexposed in the same study and populate missing data with the best statistical estimate) which hurt my brain and then once i finished one assignment i had 2 more assigned YAY that fucking assignment took me an hour when it should have not taken that long but the data set was so fucking big it hung both r and sas when i did a proc glm and a mfp and so i am HUNGRY AND ANGRY going back to my car AND I HAVE A PARKING VIOLATION because technically im parked in the 2 hr lot but ive been parking there all summer and then i go home and have no food so i dump a can of tuna, a hardboiled egg and the 1/3 cup of pasta salad i have left and eat that in bed pantsless with a sutter home mini bottle of pino grigio trying to find the will to work on my data project so i can go to that meeting tomorrow morning and then go back to lab to try to work on one of those hw assignments because GUESS WHAT i have 2 more classes starting monday hahahahhah fuck me also?? the clinical trial emailed and was like “oh hey i know we told you to not come in for 2 weeks because you work too fast and got through our backlog faster than we thought but now we have 7 more patients completed BUT dont come in until we have at least 12 also the recruiter and the statistical consultant are both on vacation right now so idk when that will be” so you KNOW i am going to be slammed with that when i am slammed with classes. and then i had to go to the practicum office and be like “look i know i signed up to finish 100 hours this summer but the clinical trial is dead in the water and theres only so much data i can process at one time please let me count the 90+ hours i did over the last 3 quarters” and they said “maybe” but like im at 37 hours and im about to be a whole lot more busy soooooooooo fuck me! also i dont get a birthday this year because i have a final on the 5th and another on the 6th and so instead of a 3 week break i get less than 2 and a half weeks to recover from this summer of hell before i am thrown back into it
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5hfanfiction · 7 years
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Falling Over - Chapter 39
it’s been 84 years I’m sry
“Lauren it’s been months,” Vero starts, ignoring the glare Zayn sends her way at the mention of time, “we get it that you miss her and shit but don’t you think visiting every day is getting a bit tedious?” she continues and as rude as it seems, Vero knows Lauren and she knows that her mood and attitude towards the whole coma thing will become more positive.
The green eyed girl had been in a slum since the two month mark and after two more Vero and Zayn agreed things were getting even more upsetting than they already had. Zayn hadn’t wanted to go about it so bluntly, but both of them knew that something had to be done to get Lauren out of the downward spiral and look on the brightside.
They knew Camila was alive. From the start they’d all known the recovery was going to be a long process, Chord had been in a coma for months and he was stronger than Camila, so it only made sense that the girl would take long for her body to get back where it needed to be. It wasn’t fun, but it was a good thing when it came down to it that Camila’s body was getting the rest it needed.
Technically speaking they should have been more worried if Camila woke up sooner than she was waking, but at this point it was more Lauren Camila’s girlfriend speaking, than Lauren Camila’s protector (in the ghost sense) speaking.
The girlfriend in her was missing her Camz, she was missing the cuddles and the kisses and the jokes even if they did suck. The doctor in her knew that if the girlfriend wanted to fully enjoy her Camila then she would need to wait at least a little bit longer.
The only reason things were starting to get unsettling was that Camila’s expected time was three and a half months plus, meaning she could be awake at this point. Sure it was good that she wasn’t because it meant that her body needed more time and Lauren doesn’t want anything in her recovery process to be rushed, but it was still frustrating to have to go through months without Camila by her side in a conscious way.
“I know Vero, it’s just…” Lauren trailed off, surprising her friends in the room who were certain she would’ve snapped back at them. “I don’t know I’d rather spend my time with her asleep than not with her at all.”
The difference between Zayn and Vero at this point was the experience. Sure, Vero was there for the last moments, and sure she got to see how Lauren and Camila interacted together, but Zayn had seen their relationship become what it is.
He’d seen them go from basically strangers (not that Camila and Lauren ever weren’t close), to friends, to people who relied so heavily on each other it seemed impossible to go alone. They became attached at the hip and he knew that each girl brought out the absolute best in the other despite all the shit they had to go through together.
He had also befriended Camila himself and knew how downing life had gotten without her shit jokes and he knew that whatever pain he was in, Lauren was feeling at least a billion times worse.
“Lo, we just think maybe a few days off could help you get back into the headspace you need to be in,” Vero continues with a shrug, moving towards where Lauren’s seated next to the hospital bed. She made a move to place a comforting hand on Lauren’s shoulder but the green eyed girl casually shrugged it off, not rudely just not really looking for any comfort. “You know better than any of us that this is completely normal and we know that you miss her but-”
“There aren’t any buts Vero,” Lauren cut in with a calm voice, “I know I’m not exactly a good time right now, but that’s not the point. I’m not falling over with pity right now, I’m simply missing my girlfriend and trying to be as close to her as possible.”
“She’s right Lo,” Zayn speaks softly after a moment of silence, making both girls’ eyes flash to him. “I’m not saying to not visit for a while, but I know you aren’t sleeping too much here and I know that you’ll be better off with a little time spent not thinking about her. Trust me, I know you’re trying to not think of her but let me help? I can do some of my so called voodoo shit and give a few hours?” He offers playfully and Zayn is always sweet so Lauren listens to him over Vero.
Don’t get her wrong, Vero is sweet too but she’s more cutthroat. She doesn’t know Camila but she does know that she’s a patient of Lauren’s. Vero saw this more of a medical thing, more of an issue where it concerns Lauren as the doctor not the girlfriend, but Zayn knew how hard this had to be on her, especially since he can literally feel her pain, so Lauren found it easier to trust his advice than vero’s, even though the girl did have good intentions.
“Plus, the doctors know to call you if anything happens in the slightest, I can even stay here so you can be updated okay?” he continues and Lauren wants to argue, she really does but she can’t find any fault in their proposal and she thinks maybe if she sleeps a little or does something fun, she could make time go by faster and then maybe Camila would wake up.
“So? You’ll take us up on the day off?” Vero pushes a little further once she gets the nod from Zayn saying that Lauren’s definitely thinking it over. “Zayn can sit with sleeping beauty and you can come with me for a day of fun? A day of forgetting the shit that’s happening?”
Lauren still can’t think of a reason why not, so with a last squeeze to the unconscious girl’s hand, she lets it rest on the mattress next to her body and allows herself to be led outside.
“I told you you’d love this place,” Vero brags with a smug smile as she leads Lauren out of the spa by their locked arms.
“I’ve only been to this one once but there’s another in Wisconsin and then one out where I was in Barcelona that’s owned by the same-”
“Can we do something else?” Lauren cuts in, thankful for the spa day but still not quite letting Camila leave her mind.
What Zayn had talked about earlier was still ringing in her mind, but she knew that once you started that type of voodoo shit, you got hooked.
That was one of Zayn’s powers though, he had the ability to put a spell type thing on a simple concoction of “potions” and, voila, you have a mind block.
It was hard to fully understand unless you had Zayn’s touch, but the solution would somehow block out certain parts of your mind, which ultimately could do things like make Lauren forget about Camila for the time being.
Still, Lauren knew that there were side affects and in a way it was addictive, and she didn’t want anything in her head other than occasionally Zayn.
She was close to taking it honestly a few weeks ago. Not that Zayn had offered like he had today (because he usually would never), but Lauren obviously knew the ability existed and thought maybe it could take some of the pain away.
Then she did her research.
It had always been kind of faulty, having a 50/50 success versus failure outcome.
Even in some recent studies it had been known to have lasting affects, making the potion take a longer affect than intended, and god forbid Camila woke up and Lauren was still under the spell.
So Lauren was torn before, but she would never risk that so ultimately she’d have to find a real world way to forget about Camila for at least a few minutes.
The issue was that although a spa day may help Vero stop worrying about a girl she didn’t know, Lauren needs more to forget about the girl she’s in love with (even if only for a few minutes).
“Something else like what?” Vero asks, not letting her disappointment show on her face. She didn’t know Camila but she did want to help get Lauren’s mind off since obviously the girl was in more pain than she can imagine.
Lauren’s faces scrunches up as she tries to think of a new thing to do.
She’s not a stress eater so unfortunately that won’t help, but that’s always been kind of a plus so she doesn’t linger on resenting the fact for too long.
The mall they’re at is huge. One of the biggest Lauren has been to by far but there isn’t anything she can think to do.
“I have an idea,” Vero speaks after a moment, one sign catching her eye and a smile taking over her face as she tugs Lauren back towards the mall exit where she’s parked.
“Where are we going?” Lauren protests after being tugged for a moment.
“That’s for me to know,” Vero starts and skips the few remaining steps to the car, “and for you to find out,” she pulls open Lauren’s door and stands behind it with her arms crossed. “Now get in loser, we’re going shopping.”
“Ha ha,” Lauren deadpans but gets in the car and lets Vero shut her door for her. “We’re already at a mall so the reference is kind of dumb.”
“Bah humbug,” Vero pouts and Lauren doesn’t quite get why she says it but she giggles none the less. Vero types out a text on her phone and they’re off.
The ride to wherever they’re going is quite aside from Vero’s attempt at an occasional pun and the radio on a low volume.
They’re getting closer, or so Vero claims, and pull off the high way and into a more suburb area that Lauren’s never seen. She’d been to Camila’s hometown (or like, her city near Boston, not Miami but even though technically yeah but you got the point), but other than there she’d only been in the city part of Boston.
“Where exactly are you bringing me to? Is this kid napping cause I’m pretty sure it’s-”
“Relax Lo, you’re going to love me for this,” Vero interrupts with a grin as she turns into a neighborhood and off the busiest road you’re going to got in this type of area. “Or maybe you won’t love me, but in the long run this’ll help,” she continues and Lauren squints at her because what could that possibly mean?
“Okay well,” Vero shifts onto another even more empty backroad, “my faith is in your hands.”
“And it’s well placed trust me,” Vero replies before stopping outside a white fence house. “Now let me do the talking.”
They make their way to the back door and the door bell is snapped off so Vero knocks hard at the door and they only have to wait a moment before the door opens and a middle aged woman opens the door with a friendly grin.
“Veronica, dear it’s so nice to see you’re still doing well,” the lady speaks and pulls Vero into a tight hug, apparently they’re old friends or something? “It’s been too long I was thrilled when I got your message.”
“Well i could say the same to you Betsy, you look great, the house looks great,” Vero smiles and leads Lauren inside so they can shut the door. “Betsy this is the friend I told you about Lauren, Lauren meet Betsy. She’s an old family friend,” Vero explains and Lauren nods politely, half wondering why they’re here half wondering why she’d never heard of Betsy before.
“Old? I’m hoping you mean the duration of our friendship not myself?” Betsy asks in faux offense and Vero chuckles before following into what looks to be a living room.
“So you got what my girl needs?” Vero asks once they’re all in the new room. Lauren still confused and Betsy grinning.
“Oh yes I do, she’s an easy read, matter of fact I could read her as soon as she stepped in, and I have an even easier match,” she answers and Lauren’s about to ask what she means but she continues, “I’ll be out in just one second with it.”
“What is this Vero?” Lauren asks quietly once they’re along but she’s shushed.
She thinks she knows what’s going on, not because she’s good at picking up on stuff but because of the talk with “matches” and honestly she’s hoping she’s wrong but then she’s proven right when Betsy returns with a leash in her hand and a dog happily trotting along next to her.
“Here he is,” Betsy greets again with enthusiasm as she gestures to the medium sized dog wagging his tail and sniffing the air, eyeing the two girls cautiously.
“He’s a lab mix, found on streets in Puerto Rico and very very good at what he does after the training,” Betsy explains on the dog but the girls know not to make move to pet him yet. (Lauren didn’t really care to pet him but Vero’s mind is always on ‘pet the dog’ mode so she’s impatiently watching for him to make his move).
She’d never really considered a helper dog, and yeah that’s what he is, kind of like a normal service dog but he’s trained to have the sixth sense. All dogs kind of have it, but certain ones, like the lab mix before them are trained and master in helping certain specialties.
That’s what she meant when she said perfect match. Apparently this dog was what Lauren’s abilities needed to do their best. She’d considered getting one to help with Camila but at that point things started moving too fast and she decided not to.
Usually they were rescue dogs and based on the patches of fur and scrawny look to the dog, Lauren could tell he’d had mange and must’ve been malnourished. Granted he’s in better shape now, she doesn’t really need a dog though.
“Lauren meet Lorenzo, Lorenzo, Lauren,” Betsy says with her motherly grin still in place and Vero stifles a laugh but Lauren’s jaw drops at the name.
“You’re kidding?” She hopes but the grin stays in place and oh well looks like-
“Oh my god Lo he’s your soulmate dog,” Vero squeaks, barely holding off the urge to pet him before Lauren, “your soul dog,” she decides with an awed look.
“Vero I don’t need-”
“Oh don’t even try,” Vero cuts in, “you need someone to be there but you suck at people interaction. So by default little Renzo here is the perfect answer.”
“But Ver…”
“Lauren it’s on me, and Betsy since she’s hooking ya girl up, but you can’t deny a gift, it’s rude,” Vero answers before Lauren can protest.
“Well I guess I’ll accept then, I just don’t think-”
“Perfect! I’ll fill out the paper work, you do the bonding shit,” Vero squealed in excitement because dog.
“Brendan will set it you up in the kitchen dear,” Betsy says in response to Vero. “Lauren, the binding is quick and simple and you’ll be done in no time.”
Vero is still squealing in excitement but Lauren’s still looking at the dog with a small grimace.
Turns out the bonding shit is legit just her petting him in simple terms. It’s all about the eye contact and him knowing her scent and aura and that just means he has to spend a ton of time with her.
By the time ten minutes go by she has his leash in her hand and an enthusiastic Vero on the ground playing with the pup. He’s four years old, Lauren argues, but Vero protests saying all dogs are puppies.
“Okay ladies, I guess you should go get the proper dog care stuff, but Lauren my number is in that folder for your questions and Vero knows a lot of the answers too since she had to go through the new stuff with Angelica a few years ago,” Betsy explains and when Lauren raises an eyebrow at the name she continues, “her cat.”
Lauren doesn’t really like pets though. If anything, she feels bad exposing an innocent creature to the scary world she’s been a part of since she was six years old.
They make their way out and Lauren sits in the back because she doesn’t want Lorenzo to be scared at all alone back there and stuff but not like, not for any reason really.
“So you’re welcome,” is all Vero says and Lauren can’t tell if she’s happy with a dog or not. He is cute but still, innocent animals don’t belong in this life.
The pet store isn’t really anything special, and once they’re checking out (lauren with the leash wrapped twice around her hand so he doesn’t get loose [not that he’s even tugging really]) they’ve got him a bed and food and bowls and some toys and yeah.
Lauren had been staying at Zayn’s apartment with him so she hoped he didn’t mind, but she knows he won’t argue with it no matter what (he’s high key a huge dog person).
It seems too much like a coincidence though, that the only day she doesn’t spend at the hospital in months something would happen.
Too much like something that would happen in a movie or some shit.
So that’s why it’s unexpected when it does happen.
“It’s Camila,” Zayn speaks into the phone, voice rushed and nervous and nothing like Zayn’s usually is.
Lauren’s running to the exit win Lorenzo hot on her tail before Vero knows who called.
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mebeingserious · 7 years
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(c.) End 2012 - Early 2013
- - #1
#Based On A You Story. Blinking cursor.
Peep my Doogie Howser blue screen. Peep my blue light. No bloc festivities, streamers, or tails to pin anything on. Pin that shit on yourself, B. Take responsibility.
“Pin The Tail” had a Max B verse on the original. Do with that knowledge what you will if what you will do is reimburse me for my strong miscellany-fact-brain game. I refined it through the arthritis of those on my personal Mt. Rushmore.
I’m unknowable, really. You should get to un-know me.
And it was an inside job, btw. Egged on by the peanut gallery, flipped the switch, gave you a parachute and some mumble-mumble about how the chlorophyll’s gonna be stunning.
I’m just another human cat, word to Grass Green. Don’t treat me like the grassy knoll. Leave them stones turnt all the way down.
But that “you” isn’t you, that’s you’s on you’s on you’s. UUU, if you will. Gotta not have it.
New swatch alert. Here. Peep the texture and the hues. That’s the interior.
Cam’ron in a Utah Jazz throwback staring back at me through a phone’s reflection. [||]. You right, you right.
Captain Quirk but the Captain Crunch Dog at the same damn time. Pretend it’s two months ago, though.
Your last.fm recent plays leave you vulnerable, if you think about it. I thought about it.
I need to remind myself I don’t do this for the little or the big dunns. Everyone needs to get their Lex Luger on from time to time. B.Y. Before Yokozuna.
So I say that to say this: “Can’t call it, might spoil it”
Performing tune-ups with some VBRs and possibly, 192s. You can only crash so many planes before you start frisking yourself in the airport.
Further and farther are in full effect. But then I remember “that’s when the money starts running” and Stoicism, and put it in hands I once knocked down.
- - #2
Spot ‘em, got ‘em. I got dirt on you, doggie.
But God made dirt and dirt bust your ass.
Or my ass. I know too much. Internal Spy vs. Spy.
I saw those stars. Had my radars up. Tangible air.
One minute it’s in the constellations, the next sixty-seconds it’s a “Superthug” if.
Hella.
No, not you. The other. But you? You’re putting together a 150-piece in the dark.
Me? S.O.L. S.O.S. But I’m like Private Ryan. So you can save that.
Oh wait, I forgot that motherfucker survived.
Anyways, haardships.
My window’s been closed but at least I have a window. But it’s lowkey amazing that a window is even a thing.
I just did what Game did with the coaching of the fat producer on ironing Dickies. But you don’t hear me, doe.
Do you hear me, doe? This is the Gawd.
He doesn’t take requests but he’ll play me, though.
But really, I did that. Sorta like what Kane said on “The Symphony.”
Anyways, indecision.
He who hesitates in peace is even worse.
The pyramids didn’t get built by throwing stones or sitting on them. But I fucked up when I entertained the E.T. theory.
I’m the man now, dog. But really, without the seven you’re not Sean Connery. You’re just…
Anyways, alternate universes. That exist in shared thought bubbles.
But that’s the only place they ever existed, nah?
But let’s thought experiment. Does that outcome satisfy?
Or is it just better than hearing a single echo against drywall?
I can give you advice on farther but my track record is a stumble out the blocks paired with a horizontal starting gun, finished off with a somersault. 1.0 - 1.0 - 1.0
Got gotted and spotted.
Need is whatever you think it is.
But try to take my arm and leg and I might be that shoe with the band between the big toe.
You can have a symphony composed of c-notes in that porcelain but if you don’t embrace that internal Hammer … well. Basslines don’t come across well in sign.
You can go on and be Big L’s Rocafella debut, but you don’t know voodoo.
But tangible is good. I mean, Tough Luv holds up pretty well eight years later.
I guess I misunderstood that originally. Or I tried to understand too soon. He was right when he said “…or rather me.”
- - #3
The last verse on “Pyramids” without the sonic context.
Strikes Back. In the Empire. They say it’s their favorite flick.
Swore my hand waved to me as it fell, in that “Hi, Hater�� motion.
Took off that mask and it was a mirror. No disrespect but there’s truth to it.
Anton Chigurh in the guidance counselor’s office basically saying “heads or tails.”
Saw it with the old man. In the alt. section of the universe it was Batman Returns.
Trying to lucid dream about the Northwest in 1996, but I’m better off sleeping. And peeping those trees with the date emblazoned in a reddish orange beneath their stumps.
Subsidized Napoleon complex had me fighting on the wrong side. Got did like Waterloo.
Manila envelopes addressed to that British newspaper. Don’t you know this is the Empire?
Telepathy returned to sender.
Heard “boo” from that pocket-sized frame.
But ghosts only come for your wig when you turn your back.
“Whoa” ain’t me, that’s Black Rob.
Speaking of that song…
Come to terms with endearment.
You chose the ball and you joined me in breadth.
Another one chewing dead skin, dirt particles and textile fibers.
Carly Simon. Bet.
What came first, the wound or the egg that provided the shells that were stuck in the soles?
South West here like Northern OH. Something something “talent.”
Indecisive travel agent that forgot to build a plane.
I saw the white plates, the blue plates, and now they’re yellow. i.e. I’ve seen the Empire crumble.
Let an ocean talk for me.
What the fuck is portamento? Not worth it.
Waking up to a foreign vocabulary test. Appealing. No comprende.
Opted-in because I was loyal to the wrong things. Minus the fuckboy-isms.
He was the Pookie of venlafaxine.
Caesar: Judas.
Conversational anesthesia. Was on that Freud shit.
Liked the yellow yoshi that stomped and the one with wings.
And you can tell a lot about a man by how he uses a warp whistle. Button on the VCR.
Meant to hear Tiến Quân Ca in person but couldn’t. If he saw the inland, I wouldn’t.
Lucas Arts revisionist tip. Script = flipped. And now…
Telling the emperor “We don’t need to see all that.” I’ll say it.
And maybe worth it. But no capitulation. The sign fixed.
- Carly.
“You, Me, Him and Her” gets played twice.
The first one’s near Luxor, prolly.
Gut snitched.
Us couldn’t stop dreaming, then I couldn’t get to sleep. Both.
“I fuck around and have you sleeping underneath something”
But that last verse, though.
- - #4
Pop culture hustling and cocaine references are the way to my heart. My heart is sullen and abandoned; full of un-shatterable Pyrex-brand measuring cups.
Or is it. Racially ambiguous inquisition. Internal. In-terminal, I keep ticking. So, maybe occupied.
Don’t knock it. I’m taking out this time. To compose choppy sentences that stop before they start because I’m so non-fiction I might call myself Tumblr Game Tom Wolfe.
Looking back, YN really inspired me with his Letters From The Editor. But nah to that “Ha!”
Flirting with disaster because she sent me a flick. Y’all are too literal. Down to the ‘I’m so crazy.’
Meanings on top of meanings. Princess and the Pea. That now archaic Jay-Z and Kanye interplay. References need a new hard drive. They’re making that grindin’, too busy to stay up-to-date sound.
I’m not looking at your dues, I’m looking past you. Why are ghosts see-through but you can’t see through what you can see.
Peter Piper was too fucking picky. End of story. Citing Antwan Patton in MLA style. If you want the references, you gotta pay for this. I accept Juelz. Pay the pause forward.
Subtle is my subtitle. You can read or watch. An internet quiz will tell you what that means for you and your personality.
John on the run eating. But wasn’t gaining.
Acting like shenanigans in loosie, but there was no explaining.
No, no, no. I’m not you, rapper.
Jesus H. Pylori. The church of disrupted insulin function and latter day faints.
Glue where the flex be. Vampires that never heard about the smallpox blankets. Paul’s Boutique sample count. Dust, brother. Trying not to bite down.
That admittance, and the small BIC. Alluhdat.
Three letters. Now I feel alluhdat.
Maybe knowing in retrospect is the win. Like when they extend those legs and and hold their hands in a state-enforced half-hearted semi-prayer position saying “I hope this provides closure for your family.”
A & B convos. Split-tests. More like a two and eight.
Good things surface for those that hold elevators. Or something.
Lost the top about fitty-leven times. No lojack. Find it, then repeat. Dementia. Kojack.
No lolli. Point the finger, no Rollie. No handle, no bars. Just folly.
Was on that “If I die, I die.” Life Game Ivan Drago.
Try to be a fatalist. Unexciting Mortal Kombat finishers.
Marcus Aurelius darts onto the screen to kill the opponent with mercy.
No hip hop genius to help you. Y’all Nah Right sidebar. Newsy. Your quotient can’t save thee. Or thou. Or you. Let’s say you.
Because I’m like Jason Bourne asking himself about that one birthday party when he was an age that gets spelled out by the Associated Press. Hope unseen sequels don’t kill my simile.
We’re all trying to live facsimile’s meaning if you said it quick. Gender neutral, though.
Don’t, doe.
Because reflection requires dedication. Three’s ain’t always charming. There’s precedent. See the millionaire trying to kickflip.
I’m not a walking version of the back of the teacher’s edition history/sociology/psychology combo cost-saving textbook.
Slight of hand. Converse with it.
Phonte’s monologues on the last two from Get Back.
That’s the point. Nipsey Russell.
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Prologue -- Part 2  
Word count: 2,016
Warnings: I think ??? nothing
Thank you if you read this! 
[Previous] [Next (Coming soon...)]
All of the students finally gathered in the gym. Despite the introductions, they all still felt anxious to be here. For an entrance ceremony, this sure was strange. It was just a gym with a few portable chairs placed in random spots, not enough for all of them anyways. There was also a stand which everyone assumed was for the headmaster. Except…where was the headmaster? He had so much time to get ready; after all they have been getting acquainted for more than a short time.
“So,” Jem trailed, bending her arms behind her neck and looking around. “Is anyone even here? Did our headmaster forget our ceremony? He was literally just announcing-“
“Oh, hun, trust me, I’m here!” A voice called out, the same voice that was in the intercom. But where was it exactly coming from? Everyone was confused, they felt like they were on a wild goose chase until a small monochrome bear hopped out from behind the stand. “It’s me! The headmaster! Upupu!!!”
Was…was Satomi seeing things all of sudden?! There was a talking, moving, black and white tiny bear that resembled a stuffed toy sitting on the stand and calling himself their headmaster. Judging from everyone else’s expressions…they all saw the same…
“U-Uwaah?!” Larisa finally yelled, breaking the silence. He looked absolutely mortified, but Satomi didn’t blame him. This was a situation that was hard to believe… Was Hope’s Peak always like that? With their…their bears…
“I am extremely creeped out right now.” Naoki stated, his usual happy expression replaced with a poker face. All of them had questions right now, but before they all could ask anything, the bear laughed again.
“Upupu! Like I said, I’m your headmaster Monokuma! You’ll get used to it! And if you don’t…upupu…” He paused, rubbing his little paws together. “Well, nothing will happen unless you resort to violence against me, but that’s one of the rules anyways, we’ll get to those later! Now, I assume you’re all just DYING to know what’s happening, right?”
“Y-You know, if it wouldn’t be too much of a hassle…at least I’d like to know..?” Larisa muttered, his face showing obvious signs of fear. He was confused and that led to him being scared, of course he couldn’t hide his fear, definitely not in this bizarre situation.
“Well then, if you insist!” Monokuma chuckled, that grin not leaving his face, not even for a second. But could it even leave…? “You little bunch, if you didn’t know yet, you’re all special! Just overflowing with endless talent! And wherever there’s talent…there’s hope.” Satomi thought he sounded…somewhat bitter when saying ‘hope’, but maybe it was just her imagination. “And in order to preserve that hope, you will all live entirely among the school walls from now on!”
“Excuse me, what?” Emiko said, her accent getting thicker due to her distress.
“Like I said, my dear! You will spend the rest of your lives in here, completely shut out from the outside world! After all, I, as your headmaster, wouldn’t want all your talents to be snuffed out by the cruel world! What if someone uses you for their own advantage? Or worse… What if someone kills you? Upupu! I certainly wouldn’t want that! So, just for your own safety, you will remain here for the rest of your small lives!”
“No… No, no, no…” Toki kept repeating the same word under hear breath, looking directly at Monokuma after a few moments. “Me and Gin, we… We have a family! We can’t just leave them alone like that! With no word, no letter, no phone call! I’m sure everyone else feels the same way! We all have someone who loves us outside of this school, we can’t just completely disappear from their lives!”
“And what about our lives, our…our careers? We all spent so much time building what we have now! People adore our talents and by trying to keep us away from getting snuffed out, you’re doing that exact thing! Taking us away from the world isn’t going to preserve hope!” Inori exclaimed, seeming like he was completely infuriated by the bear and all that Monokuma did was just laugh.
“Oh, look who’s talking! Are you just saying that because you’re angry that you won’t be able to scam people anymore? Upupu, the least your talent brought was hope so you’re definitely one to speak!” Monokuma said as he laughed again, throwing Inori completely off guard and shutting him up for good.
“You’re wrong if you think that we’re going to just stay here like that.” Satomi stated, a blunt tone in her voice. She crossed her eyes, throwing a glare towards the bear with absolutely no effect in the end.
“Oh, of course you weren’t going to stay! I know you’d take the first chance to leave right now, but to your dismay, you’ll find that you can’t! If you just look around, you’ll see that every window, every door, every mean of escape is blocked.” Monokuma said, looking to his left, to the row of windows. But it was no longer that, was it? All of the windows here were covered in a steel plates.
Satomi looked around herself, around the gym and it was true, the windows- at least here- were covered up, probably even unbreakable. She walked to them, inspecting them and lightly brushing her finger against them. It felt like genuine pure steel, they couldn’t break it even if they tried. She just stood there, her hand on a plate. There was no way…this whole school was like this?
“Is there anything else…that…that we need to know?” Rouso asked, looking down at his feet. He seemed so dejected, after all, everyone knew that being trapped like this wasn’t his thing, it wasn’t something he could take in easily. He travelled, he wrote about it, every day he found something knew out, but if he just stayed in this school…
“Yes!” Monokuma exclaimed, a shrill laugh escaping his mouth just as soon. “If a person breaks the order, they alone can leave the school. That is a rule called “graduation”.”
“Breaking order? What does that mean, headmaster?” Katsuro tilted his head, rocking on his feet slightly. That boy was nothing but a bundle of confused right now, he needed to know how to get out of here just as much as the others.
And then, the bear replied.
“The act of killing a person.”
Kill…
“Beating, stabbing, clubbing, beheading, burning, suffocating, strangling, slaughtering, voodoo cursing… The method really doesn’t matter, but only a student who kills can leave the school! It’s a very simple rule. After all, the most evil of actions lead to the best outcomes.”
The moment these words left, a sudden silence took over the room. No one moved, no one talked, nothing. Everyone was more than shocked. It was such a horrible rule and such a horrible thing prompting for them to do something like that. If they didn’t kill, they won’t be able to leave. That was…
“Upupu… I can already hear your hearts beat! You’re all so distressed, I can see it, upupu! But I’m so excited, I can’t even put it to words! Like I said before, you are the hope of the world! Making students of such hope kill one another… Such a despair filling situation…” Monokuma chuckled. “My little heart is thumping in excitement!”
“Alright, I am sure this is enough.” Aya spoke up, being the first to regain composure. “That was certainly a…fun joke. Surely, not of my taste, but a joke nevertheless. Now I am sure that all of us would appreciate whoever is controlling you to show up and make a proper initiation.”
“A joke? Proper initiation?” Monokuma’s red eye glowed an ominous tint of red, despite the grin that was still on his face, he seemed angered. “Do I have to repeat myself? Don’t you get it? From now on this school is your home unless you kill someone. Got that punks? It’s an all-you-can-kill, kill-or-be-killed, killing-killing-killing-all-around place and you won’t get out unless you really try!” He sounded so…deadly serious this time, no one dared to speak back.
Satomi clenched her first, she had enough of being in this gym, she had enough being shut out already. How was she supposed to stay in here for the rest of her life? She needed fresh air, but could she really get that? Maybe, just maybe the bear was lying? Maybe he just needed to keep up the prank? And with that little tinge of hope she ran. She ran out of the gym, leaving everyone behind without a single word.
“Unorinko…?” Jem turned, staring at the door the other had just ran out of. But then she saw someone else running out of the same door.
“Unorinko!” Larisa exclaimed, running after his classmate. He didn’t want anyone to feel too bad about this situation and the fact that Satomi actually just ran out of the room did give off the vibes that she wasn’t feeling too well.
It wasn’t hard for Larisa to catch up, after all, he was the more athletic out of the two. The fact that these halls felt like mazes added to Satomi’s confusion, making her slower. However though, it was hard for him to actually run up to her, he didn’t know what so say, he didn’t know how to read emotions, he felt useless in this scenario, so he did slow his pace. Eventually he saw Satomi cut a corner and stopped in his tracks. He knew where this was… She cut the corner to get to the main entrance. If it really was closed, if there really was no way out…he didn’t want to see her face in that case! But then something zoomed past him.
“Hey, hey, Unorinko! What are you doing?” The familiar voice of Jem sounded, but fell silent all over again. That silence really didn’t sound good, at least not to Larisa and that’s what prompted him to finally cut the corner to confront the two females.
After he did so, he couldn’t help but stop and look at Satomi with pity clearly in his eyes. She was fiddling with the doorknob, spinning it and turning it, but nothing budged, the door didn’t show the faintest signs of opening. She finally slammed the door with her fist, resting her head upon it.
“H-Hey, are you…okay?” Jem stepped closer and put her hand on the other’s shoulder. Obviously, the answer to that question was more than obvious, Jem knew, but she couldn’t stand there in silence without doing anything.
“Do I look like I’m okay…?” Satomi asked, her voice cracking just a bit. She finally turned her head to the two, tiny droplets of tears forming in the corners of her eyes. “How the hell are we supposed to define what just happened right now? How do I put all of this information inside of my head without crying like a little kid? We’re supposed to…we’re supposed to kill a person to get out! Our freedom depends on the death of an innocent! This is not why I came to Hope’s Peak! I just wanted to start anew and now…” She stopped talking because if she didn’t she wouldn’t’ve stopped herself from choking up.
“Unorinko…” Larisa muttered, stepping closer to Satomi and Jem, Jem’s hand still resting on top of Satomi’s shoulder. “Everything’s going to be okay, all of us will get out of here without any death. I promise, okay?”
Satomi nodded, wiping the forming tears with her wrist. She knew his words held no meaning, but she still felt like she was obliged to nod. It wasn’t “what if” anymore, it was “when” and she knew it. When will someone make the move for freedom? When will someone kill? She came to this school because she had hope that her life was going to be better, but she realized now that it was all just a huge mistake. The only thing that she was going to get from Hope’s Peak now…was despair.
PROLOGUE: END STILL ALIVE: 16 STUDENTS
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lpdwillwrite4coffee · 4 years
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CHILDREN OF LILITH CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
Gabriel re-crossed his feet at the ankles and settled against the park bench. His eyes flicked upwards, past the surrounding tree limbs and rooftops, to the darkening sky. More rain was to come.
“Maybe if I interceded elsewhere,” he mused. “Perhaps with one of the other Hunters…”
“You think that would change things?” Michael asked, walking in front of him. He hadn’t stopped pacing since Gabriel’s last vision.
And given how Gabriel felt, he was surprised he wasn’t the one treading a ditch into the ground.
Sighing, Gabriel folded his arms. “Doubtful.”
“Okay, well, I’m sure there’s something,” Michael said.
“Altering small details can sometimes have a larger outcome.”
“Like the Butterfly Effect.” Michael nodded and snapped his fingers. “Okay, yeah, this is good. This is something we can work with. Alright, what small detail can we change?”
Gabriel scowled at the grass in thought. “Well…” He paused. “I don’t know.”
The toe of Michael’s boot scuffed the ground as he turned. “Seriously?”
“I’m thinking,” Gabriel muttered. He uncrossed his legs, only to cross them again. He hated feeling fidgety.
“Okay, let’s just brainstorm. Quick fire style, ready?”
“I suppose.”
Michael gestured with his index finger. “We fuck with the engine in their van so they can’t drive.”
“They’d walk,” Gabriel countered. “Or use public transportation, seeing as this is New York.”
“We could fuck with public transportation.”
Gabriel arched an eyebrow at his brother. “That’s a bit extreme.”
Michael huffed. “Fine. Okay, no fucking with motor vehicles-”
“Could you not swear quite so loudly? There’s a family with young children behind you.”
Glancing over his shoulder, Michael shrugged. “They probably hear worse on cable TV.”
Rolling his eyes, Gabriel shifted in his seat. “Shall we continue or-?”
“Right, okay, let’s see… We could come at this from another angle,” Michael offered. “What if we cut the head off the snake? Just go ahead and get rid of one of those Alpha Vampire douche bags.”
Gabriel frowned. “I don’t think that’s a small detail. In fact, I’m certain that’s a large detail. A very large one that will leave gaping holes in continuity.”
“Party pooper,” Michael grumbled, making another lap. “What about the other Seer? Mary, right? The witchy woman with an underground lair?”
“You want to kill her?”
“No, dingus, I want to use her.” Michael paused, rolling his eyes up to the sky. “That came out wrong.”
For the first time all day Gabriel smiled.
“What I meant was,” Michael forged ahead. “She could be our small detail. Maybe find a way to get her a little tidbit of info, she takes it to O’Connor, he calls the meeting off, and everyone stays home and gets drunk and has a grand ole time.” He clapped his hands together. “Whaddya say?”
Gabriel thought it over, chewing the inside of his bottom lip. “It isn’t a horrible idea…”
“Great!” Michael beamed.
“But-”
Michael’s chin knocked against his chest. “Auughh.”
“How do we get the information to her without exposing ourselves?”
“You were willing to intercede with another Hunter two minutes ago,” Michael said, waving his arm out.
“As a last resort, yes,” Gabriel said. “But perhaps we should be a little more diligent this time?”
With a dramatic, full body eye roll, Michael groaned. “Fine. We’ll be diligent. But if Voodoo lady gets an attitude I’m pulling the Angel card.”
Gabriel uncrossed his legs for the last time and went to stand up. “That’s-”
Lightning rocketed up his spine, ricocheting against vertebrae and piercing his skull. He stumbled forward and Michael caught him just before he hit the ground. Blind and in agony, Gabriel clung to his brother.
“Gabe? Gabe, c’mon, stay with me,” Michael said in his ear.
A static pop sounded as Michael cloaked them both and settled Gabriel back onto the park bench.
“Something’s wrong,” Gabriel whispered.
Michael’s blurry face appeared in front of him. “What was your vision?”
Swallowing, he shook his head. “Nothing.”
“You don’t need to hide anything, Gabe. It’s okay,” Michael told him. “Just tell me.”
“No, I mean…” Forcing his eyes to focus, Gabriel stared at his brother. “I meant nothing. I didn’t see anything.” He swallowed again, throat uncomfortably tight. “There wasn’t a vision.”
Michael rocked back on his heels, stunned. “What does that mean?”
“I don’t know.”
“Is it a warning?”
Gabriel shook his head. “No, it’s…” His gaze landed on the swaying branches of a nearby tree. “It’s just… nothing.”
* * *
Handcuffs clacked against the metal folding chair in time with Twitch’s shaking. He couldn’t feel the tremors anymore- he was too numb- but he could still hear the whirring from the air conditioner directly above him. They’d cranked it on full blast when they locked him in the white cinderblock cell.
Nicholas Bradley’s play room.
“You aren’t passing out on me, are you?” Bradley asked, circling from behind. “We’ve only just started.”
Twitch jerked his head. “C-cold.”
Nicholas hummed. “Yes, it is chilly in here. I would offer to change it but I’ve found I work best in colder environments.” He smirked, running the tip of his finger down the edge of the blade in his hand. “Now, where were we?”
“I-I-I don’t- I don’t kn-know.”
“Ah, I remember,” Nicholas exclaimed. “You were going to tell me where you got your blood supply, or I was going to remove your organs one by one and show them to you.” His smile broadened as he stepped forward.
Twitch’s eyes pinched shut as he forced air into his lungs. “Wash-Wash-Wash-”
“Oh for fuck’s sake, stop it,” Nicholas shouted, gripping the front of Twitch’s cotton tee shirt and shaking him. He bared his fangs. “Your nervous tick is possibly the most irritating thing I’ve encountered this decade. Now stop stuttering or the first thing I’ll remove will be your tongue.”
“I’m…” Twitch inhaled slowly. “Sorry.”
Smiling, Nicholas released him and smoothed his hand down Twitch’s chest. “That’s better. Would you like to try again?”
Biting his frozen bottom lip, Twitch nodded. “Washington Heights.”
“You got enough blood to fill six oil drums from a disadvantaged Black youth?”
“No.” Twitch swallowed hard. “A pack. They were looking for a discount on product.”
Nicholas furrowed his brow. “They were willing donors?” When Twitch nodded, Nicholas tapped the broad side of the knife against the man’s shoulder. “Well that accounts for about one twentieth of your supply. And the rest?”
“I-I told you-”
Nicholas stabbed his knife through Twitch’s thigh, screams echoing off the walls.
“Careful,” Nicholas warned against the shell of Twitch’s ear. “You don’t want to move too much. One slip and this blade cuts through your femoral artery and you bleed out in minutes. And we wouldn’t want that, now would we?”
It wasn’t easy, but the fear of dying kept Twitch’s body still.
“Good boy,” Nicholas murmured. “If you don’t want me to take this out and shove it somewhere more permanently damaging, then you should answer my question.”
“I have a connection in Boston,” Twitch offered.
Nicholas arched an eyebrow at him. “You expect me to believe that, instead of selling it in their own city- which would turn quite a profit- your connection makes a three hour drive to deliver blood to you?”
“It’s…a very strong business relationship.”
“I bet.” Nicholas blinked at him. “Do you also suck their cocks and let them snort blow off your ass when they’re through with you?”
Twitch shook his head. The increasing agony made it harder to keep his voice steady.
Nicholas regarded him, eyes flicking over his slender frame. “Are you sure? You look like the type that might enjoy that.”
“No,” Twitch bit out. “I get my supply from Boston. That’s it.”
“I see,” Nicholas mused. “But here’s the thing… I just don’t believe you.” He ripped the knife out and brought it down again, this time in Twitch’s other leg. “You’re a liar by trade, Twitch,” he shouted over the man’s cries. “All dealers are.” Twisting the blade, he dug it in deeper. “You want this to end? You want the pain to stop? Then start telling the truth.” He tore the knife free and sliced into Twitch’s bicep.
Twitch screamed. “I am!”
“Not all of it,” Nicholas countered as he carved up Twitch’s shoulder. “A lie by omission is still a lie, Twitch. Didn’t your mother teach you that?”
Twitch’s vision started to fade. The copper stench of his blood made saliva pool at the back of his mouth. Nicholas Bradley was going to kill him…
“Onyx,” Twitch choked out. “I got the rest from Onyx.”
Slipping the blade out of the newest wound, Nicholas pegged him with a curious stare. “The club in the Village?”
Twitch whimpered in agreement. “I know the head of security.”
Nicholas held the tip of his knife between his front teeth, nibbling on it in thought. His free hand circled the back of Twitch’s neck, pulling him forward.
“Tell me everything.”
* * *
Nikki tried to open her eyes, but her lids were too heavy. Everything was heavy. And warm- too warm. She was burning up.
There was no pain like the last time. Extreme discomfort maybe, but at least she didn’t believe was on fire. Instead it was like a fever she couldn’t break. Her skin was a shrunken wool sweater, her bones bent and brittle.  She was locked inside her own body.
The dull hum of voices surrounding her sharpened, and the volume turned up, despite being in darkness.
“She’s not part Vampire is she?” Boz asked.
“You know that’s physically impossible right?” Lisa said, and Nikki could practically hear her eye roll. “Vampires can’t reproduce.”
“Hey, I’m just covering all bases okay? It’s not like John’s giving us anything.”
“As I explained before,” John interjected calmly. “I’ll divulge everything once Nikki wakes up. Since it involves her, I feel she has the right to know first.”
“But we’ve been here for five hours,” Boz whined. “She’s little miss comatose over there, and I’ve finished hacking everything hack-able in the entire state.”
“Then move on to Connecticut,” Lisa intoned.
There was a dissatisfied groan followed by shuffling and squeaking, from a chair Nikki thought, and the room grew quiet again.
But not for long.
“Is she a mutant?”
“Boz…” Lisa and John both muttered.
“This isn’t twenty questions,” Lisa added.
“Fine, okay, sorry, I’ll just…” He trailed off and there was clicking from a keyboard. “Wanna watch a YouTube video of a penguin falling down in front of its buddies?”
“I’ve seen that one,” John said. “It’s delightful.”
“Right? So cute.” Softer noises from the computer speakers filtered through and Nikki heard footsteps. “Aw, look at it. Watch, here it comes-”
A chorus of distressed penguins filled the room and Boz and John erupted in laughter.
“I can’t believe I’m seeing this,” Lisa mumbled.
“You wanna see it again?” Boz asked her.
“I wasn’t talking about the video.”
“Alright, grumpy pants. You just keep pretending you’re too good to watch cute animal videos.”
“Oh look, baby pandas,” John exclaimed.
Nikki wanted to laugh- would have, if she’d been able to witness two grown men cooing over fuzzy animals- but trapped in the black void, she could barely register she still possessed a tongue.
A mass shifted against her- touching her leg, perhaps? Her nerve endings were confused, unable to send clear signals through the haze of fever and pain. Drawing on what little energy she had, Nikki focused, and waited for the thing to move again.
This time it was closer to her torso. Solid and… breathing? It squeezed her hand- yes, hand, I can feel that now, she thought- and for a brief moment, sensation returned to her fingertips.
Griffin. The thing was Griffin.
Griffin was holding her hand.
Wake up, she ordered herself, suddenly frantic. Wake up, wake up, WAKE UP.
Emotion she couldn’t control roiled in waves, her fevered insides turning into a kiln.
Wake up, God, just open your eyes. Move. Do something, anything! Just fucking do it!
“Nikki?” Griffin’s voice whispered close by. “Are you…?”
She screamed inside her head. I want out, I can’t get out-!
“You’re okay,” he continued, holding her hand tighter. “Nikki, it’s alright. You’re fine.”
I can’t wake up. I want to wake up! Goddamn it, let me out!
Fear was dragging her back under, drowning any coherent thought and tearing her down to base instincts. She had to stop before a storm of her own design ruined her.
Her hand. She started there, focusing on the very edges of her fingernails and the pads of each digit. She imagined her fingers moving- bending and flexing, curling around Griffin’s. She visualized it all in excruciating detail until she could almost feel it. Then she did the same for her arms and legs. Like a looped video, she thought of them stretching and working as limbs were supposed to. She pictured her eyes opening, her mouth and tongue moving in tandem to form words.
I’m awake, she thought, hoping it would encourage her body to follow through. I’m awake, I’m awake, I’m awake.
“Nikki?”
I’m awake, I’m awake, I’m-
“…Awake. I’m awake.”
Her voice was hoarse and the words were splintered, but she had said them.
She’d said them.
“I’m awake,” she said, louder. “I-”
All her senses sprang back into full working order. Her eardrums ached with how much they could hear, her eyes stung from the bright lights. Her hands gripped tighter than ever.
“Oh, God,” she gasped, pulling on Griffin. “I-”
“Whoa, hey, you’re alright,” he murmured in her ear.
She was upright. When had she sat up?
“Nikki, you’re okay,” Griffin continued, bracing himself with his other arm on the back of the sofa. She had yanked him so suddenly, he’d nearly head butted her.
“I’m awake,” she whispered, trying to regain control. “I… I’m okay.”
Griffin nodded. “Yeah. Yeah, you’re alright.”
“What happened?”
She heard him swallow and take in a shaky breath. “You… You passed out again. Like you did at Mary’s.”
Nikki frowned, remembering grey clouds. She’d been staring out the window after…
After she and Griffin had fought.
“Oh.” She blinked down at their clasped hands and a chill swept away her fever.
“Welcome back Sleeping Beauty,” Boz exclaimed, peeking around Griffin’s shoulder so she could see him.
John knelt beside the sofa, his medical bag beside him. “Would it be alright if I checked your vitals again?”
“Sure.” Nikki glanced down at her hand still clasped in Griffin’s.
She remembered what he’d said to her, the icy bitterness in his words. He hadn’t been the Griffin she knew. Sure, he was prone to snap, to let his emotions get the better of him and say things without tact. He was sarcastic, dry witted, maybe callous at times. But the cold, cruel man who provoked her was another creature entirely. One that lurked beneath Griffin’s surface.
Nikki tugged her hand out of his grasp. She felt unsteady as it was, she didn’t need to touch something even more volatile.
She caught the sudden stiffness of his shoulders, and glanced up. His expression shuttered closed as he stared at the bookshelves behind her. When John leaned forward, stethoscope in hand, Griffin stood up.
“I’ll give you some room,” he muttered, passing Boz and Lisa on his way to the kitchen.
Nikki refused to watch him leave.
“This won’t take long,” John told her as he listened to her heart and lungs.
Boz motioned to the instrument. “Why do you use that thing anyway John? I mean, you’ve got that whole Vampiric hearing thing going for you, so…”
John smiled, looping the stethoscope around his neck. “I reason that supernatural hearing plus an amplifying device means there’s less of a chance of missing something important. Vampire hearing is heightened, but it isn’t perfect.”
“And did you? Find something, I mean,” Nikki asked.
“Your heart rate and breathing seem to be back to normal,” John said. “Your temperature is still elevated, which reminds me…” He dug out a digital thermometer and held it out for her. “If you wouldn’t mind.”
Nikki nodded and opened her mouth, letting him tuck the end under her tongue. After a moment it beeped and John read the screen.
“One hundred and two,” he said, frowning.
“I don’t feel that warm,” she told him.
“Maybe you should take some aspirin to lower your fever?” Lisa offered.
John shook his head. “I highly doubt that would help.” He paused to pack up his bag before continuing. “I think your temperature has something to do with your gift.”
“What did you find?”
“There isn’t a lot, but I found a personal account of someone meeting a Hunter like you- A Luminari.” John held her gaze. “The young girl wrote about a man who was called a Luminari- a man who burns. She also said his people, and all the other Hunters, referred to him as King.”
Nikki stared at him for a moment. “Does that mean… what I think it means?”
“Yes.”
“I’m…” her windpipe struggled to relax. “I’m Queen?”
Boz whistled between his teeth. “Whoa…”
“I’m Queen,” Nikki repeated, feeling the weight of the word in her mouth.
“Which explains a lot,” Lisa said. “Like why Rex and Bradley and practically the entire Underground has gone ape shit.”
John gently held Nikki’s wrist. “You’re a Luminari. A Hunter Queen.”
Heavy boots scuffed on the hardwood, bringing everyone’s attention to the kitchen doorway. Griffin stood, holding a glass of water, staring at the rest of the group.
Boz turned, gaping at his friend. “Dude… You’ve been dethroned.”
She couldn’t be certain, but just then as Griffin’s eyes met hers, Nikki could have sworn she saw the corner of his mouth twitch in the tiniest semblance of a smile.
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