#and for the record i hate the term 'elevated horror'

[northern-passage]

cw: mention of suicide

not sure how many of you are into traditional horror games (or more specifically the indie horror game scene)

and while i don’t usually play these games myself i enjoy watching playthrus on youtube and one of the games that circulated pretty recently was MADiSON, as well as martha is dead, and less recently was the blair witch.

all 3 of these games have 2 things in common: they are “psychological horror” and they all have suicide endings.

i hated all of these games. i think if i had to choose, martha is dead is the one i hate the most. but i don’t want to talk about that specifically (we’d be here all day)

it’s very obvious that there’s a trend towards “psychological horror” or as they call it in film for some reason, “elevated horror” and i think it’s fair to say that that’s true for IF as well. i don’t think that’s a bad thing, i like psychological horror, i don’t really have a preference to be quite honest; what i dislike, though, is the demonization of mental illness.

it’s always been a problem in the horror genre, but now i think it’s shifted slightly in a less direct way. i started thinking about this because i was watching a review about the blair witch project game, and she opens up the video talking about the ending, as well as MADiSON’s.

she made some really interesting points that i think are worth repeating. i know up until recently i had a “sanity” mechanic in tnp - it served a purpose, and it still does, but it never really needed to be labelled that way.

the reviewer even makes a comment about how mental health has been reduced to a “bleak soft magic system” - a game mechanic, a setting for people to play around in, a setting where bad things can happen for no reason other than it’s dark and edgy and shocking.

her criticism essentially boiled down to: mental illness isn’t your playground to experiment in, to spitball ideas for your horror game, it isn’t a toy you can pick up and play with. it’s not a game mechanic, it’s something that real people live with every single day. and that really resonated with me and put into words what i couldn’t.

tnp revolves around the hunter and their mental health - it’s an important part of their character, and impacts the way they interact with their companions and the wider world of the game, as well as how they deal with the rot. and with it being fantasy, it definitely blurs the line - is it magic? is it their imagination? is it the rot/their illness? was the hunter the killer all along?

mental illness can be scary. but it’s also manageable. it is not Thee Horror at the end of this book. and i think that’s important to remember when writing some of these horror stories. what is the point of mentioning this here, in this specific story - is it just for shock? is it just to imply and emphasize some imagined horror about the mentally ill? is it just to slap “dark themes” in the description, to grab the attention of some edgy readers? or is it actually serving a purpose in the narrative, offering something of substance beyond “mental illness scary”? beyond “dark and edgy” just for the sake of it?

here is the original video. i haven’t finished it, but the opening 10 minutes is where she discusses the trend of “suicide endings.”

it definitely made me pause and think about how i’ve approached things in tnp, and definitely made me regret not changing the humanity mechanic sooner.

[voidstilesplease]

untitled 3/?

~•~

Theo is always second.

He is the second son, the second businessman, the second acknowledged, the second option, the second opinion, the second to know, the second they ask about, the second to receive glances. He is never first, maybe because his entire identity is a hand-me-down.

He is an orphan - was - before the Hales adopted him. He was ten and an addict. His father used to inject him just for fun - but it was all right if it dulled his empty stomach from the feeling of hunger. His father died in a drug raid and left Theo to fend for himself. His father had all of two dollars in his pockets. How was Theo to survive without money and relatives to take him? The answer to that was an orphanage where the Hales were sponsors. He didn't know how he was able to charm the couple - probably it was during his rehabilitation period to wean him of toxin dependency. But in less than five months, he was out of the institution and into the Hale mansion.

The Hales owned businesses from advertising to small food chains. The two largest are the sister companies Alpha Advertisements in New York and Beta Promotions in California. They said as an official Hale he could be managing one of the branches in the future.

Theo set out to do just that.

But he is always second - second to the Hales' only son, Derek.

It was always transparent that Derek did not like him from the beginning, as well. Theo had developed a good relationship with his adoptive sisters Laura and Cora. But he and Derek had long had an unspoken agreement that they weren't going be friends, much less be brothers.

God, he hates Derek. It isn't enough that he's a real son. He also has to be the better one. He always has to be first.

•••

Theo is not thrilled to be going home to New York. But Laura is going to get married to her soulmate, and he loves his sister. So, he leaves Beta Promos and flies to the other side of the States.

Theo spends the entire flight listening to Laura's pre-recorded gushing about her soulmate. Theo rolls his eyes every time Laura says the word. It's an old belief, soulmates, but they still exist today. Everyone is born with a red cord around their little finger. It hangs about three inches long with its tip glowing in soft sparks, like a severed thread. Only they can see the string unless it connects to their soul-bonded. The red cord then lengthens and ties around the finger of its other half. Only a few people meet their soulmates in their lifetime. Most live and die without finding the other end of their thread. And Theo's all right with that. His parents had been soulmates. But Theo's older sister died, and his mother followed a year later by overdosing. His dad had turned to drugs after losing them. Then, Theo lost him, too. Even soulmates aren't guaranteed a perfect life. They can even be destructive. Maybe it's for the best if they never cross paths at all.

•••

He wakes up the next day in his hotel room and notices it. 

The thread in his finger has expanded. He no longer sees the glowing tip - there is no more tip. Instead, there's a bright red cord flowing from his bed. Then, down to the floor, and out of the hotel room door. 

Theo's stunned. He pries his hand and stares at it wide-eyed. Experimentally, Theo tugs at the string - it feels concrete in his touch, instead of the usual semi-abstract existence. He can't believe it. His "soulmate" is somewhere close.

But when his initial shock has subsided, he decides to disregard the string. He doesn't have time for soulmates. He's going back to California after the wedding and obsesses over his work in the company. Theo will outrun Derek in the race. 

That's where his soul bonds to, not to some stranger that he's never going to love, anyway.

•••

He's supposed to meet Laura in the Alpha building before going out for the lunch date they had arranged weeks prior. So, Theo gets into the vehicle that Laura sent and rides the way to Alpha Ads in contemplative silence.

He enters the property thirty minutes later and is aware that his red string continues inside the building. He tries to neglect it once more, but when he steps out of the elevator to Derek's floor, he gives up on his avoidance. The string's other end is somewhere on that same floor, and it bothers him to no end. Barely catching the assistant droning on in his tail, Theo holds the thread and starts following its tug. 

He doesn't hear the assistant trying desperately to call his attention when he comes face-to-face with Derek's office door. He's only half-aware of the new voice attempting to warn Theo. The string goes through to the other side, so without second thoughts, he pushes it open.

What he sees is not exactly unexpected. Theo has heard from Laura that Derek has a younger boyfriend, about Theo's age, who works at a law firm owned by a Hale family friend. Theo's seen pictures, as well. And Cora has said his name is Polish from his roots, and a mouthful to pronounce, so he goes by the nickname Stiles. Theo has no doubt that the tall, slender man perched on Derek's glass table is that Stiles. 

He never imagined seeing him in person. Derek is not the long-term relationship type; one of the few things Theo understands and can relate to him. Stiles has been the first one to pass the six-month mark --- but they're not soulmates. Laura has said so. Which isn't a problem, she said, because she likes Stiles. Cora is friends with Stiles; their parents adore Stiles, and Derek has never willingly introduced anybody into the household. It's pretty apparent that Derek caught feelings this time. They didn't need to be soulmates to work. They didn't need to be soulmates to love.

Derek jerks back from his previous position in between Stiles's legs, hands clutching the man's hips and sucking at his pale neck. Stiles also promptly leaps off the table, flushed from ear-tip down to his collarbone, trying to smooth down the creases of his clothes. Derek turns slightly aside, hands reaching to adjust himself in his pants, before turning back around and sending Theo his most vicious glare.

Derek signals his assistant, hovering awkwardly by the door, face horror-filled - at catching her boss getting it on with his boyfriend, or for having no power to stop Theo from interrupting; he doesn't care either way - to close the door. When it's shut firmly, Derek doesn't waste time barking his displeasure.

"You can't barge into my office unannounced, Theo! Are you crazy?"

But Theo doesn't hear it. His eyes are on Stiles.

His eyes are on the other end of his red string.

•••

He laughs, bitter and dry.

Theo is always second. He's even second at finding his soul mate.

•••

The joke's on Derek. Maybe soulmates are meant to cross paths. 

Fuck if Theo's going to let Derek win this time.

~•~

check out this lovely moodboard by @sunel0. I can't appreciate it enough 😍🖤

[edit 12.30.20]

[fal-carrington]

Heyy!I love your writing very much!Could you please write a story where MC is jealous after Kamilah has been flirted by another girl?😙

I’m sorry for taking so long, anon. Thank you! Please don’t give up on me 😅🥰 jealous Mc that is!

It was a meeting. A stupid meeting that had lasted almost two fucking hours to end. I watched her intently from the other side of Raines Corp's boardroom, most of the time trying to avoid looking at her and keeping my eyes on anything other than the CEO who stood out among other executives in that room.

I should have been doing my job, — being damn professional for once in my life — But how can you think of being a professional when you fall in love with your boss's best friend, who happened to be a CEO of a multi-billion dollar company? I was fucked and miserably failing to accomplish that feat. Adrian had started a new partnership with Kamilah's company, and another Arizona company that was a pioneer in wind energy. He was excited to develop a new project that he had been working on for months.

It had been a while since I had seen that sparkle in his eyes. That pure joy and excitement. It was almost heartening to see him so happy, except… if it weren't for the scene before me. Kamilah was incredibly dapper in that white Armani suit, her Egyptian gold necklace bringing the expected attention, shining on her tanned skin. Her straight brown hair fixed in that perfect hairstyle, she was the definition of perfection. Sitting cross-legged at the other end of the table, with a calm yet authoritative look on her gorgeous face.

And I was drooling again like the proud dumbass that I am. Maybe I am the biggest dumbass who ever lived.

But even in my intoxicated state of drooling over my near-maybe-girlfriend (?) I could see the glances the CEO of Sunlight Co was giving to Kamilah. They were not discreet looks — they were curious, attentive looks... And behind that charismatic smile and bitchy face... was desire? Fuck me. I didn't spend months trying to get rid of Gaius and the risk he generated not only for me and my friends, but maybe for our possible-maybe-relationship (?) To get a newbie at this point of the competition so fast. I just killed that bastard for nothing?

The CEO who gave Kamilah curious looks was a woman — perhaps in her thirties — looking older than me. Her name was Carmen Olsen. She had black hair and dark skin with amber brown eyes. She was attractive. Way more attractive than I'd like to admit. Clearly a successful and older woman. Maybe Kamilah’s type?

That thought made my stomach turn, if I still had something in my stomach and were human, maybe I'd throw up right here. I clenched my fists, and pressed them against the fabric of my skirt, keeping my eyes locked on the iPad in my hands. Trying to control my breathing, my fangs who stubbornly were threatening to surge. I have to make the red blood in my eyes disappear. Urgently. I knew perfectly well where my place was.

We were not in a relationship she’s free to see whoever she wants to see. Just like me. She’s my maker, my mentor, my friend... Fuck, why this hurts so damn bad?

Because you’re in love with her you dumbass.

Now Kamilah watched her closely, both of them exchanging words briefly, Kamilah's expression unreadable all the time, until the moment a small smile appeared on the curves of her red lips... making one of her dimples appear. Shit. She nodded at the woman's comment and the latter laughed back. Since when they’re such close friends?

When Adrian finished the meeting and shook hands with his fellow executives, they both lagged behind. I avoided looking at the scene, or at least tried. Trying to get busy at my desk and failing anyway. I could hear Carmen's comments, praising her from Kamilah's suit to her purse and the unnecessary touches she made on her arm.

I leaned over my desk, rolling my eyes at the comments I was unwilling to hear, scanning a stack of papers in the printer, trying to ignore the tightness and warmth in my chest. Stupid Carmen, damn company, damn time Adrian had to have this idea of ​​a deal. So many companies in America and he had to choose just this one? Fuck me.

I looked up from the printer for just two seconds and found a pair of intense brown eyes staring back at me. Those eyes. Those gorgeous eyes I've spent nights trying to memorize every trace of them. I felt the flush on my cheeks come back, and my heart speed up at the look Kamilah was shooting at me. An intense and penetrating look.

Carmen keeps talking excitedly beside her, but Kamilah was looking at me. Before I could do anything, she winked at me. It was brief. Fast. And incredibly seductive. I was so completely distracted and in a trance that I barely noticed that the paper had stuck until the printer made a monstrous noise.

“Shit, shit,” I said hurriedly trying to save the rest of my work, and from the corner of my eyes, I saw the silent chuckle Kamilah gave when she saw the scene.

I sighed as I finally managed to fix the shit I'd done. I ripped the paper and threw it in the trash.

“I didn't realize you and the printer were on bad terms.” I heard Kamilah's familiar hoarse voice behind me, which made me jump with the sudden approach. I knew perfectly well that I was still in the process of enhancing my powers... But she could approach me so quietly. It was almost impossible not to notice.

"She hates me." I said shrugging and turning to look at her. Kamilah watched me curiously. "It's nothing new to me."

"Maybe next time you're not so distracted." She tilted her head slightly, I let out a laugh.

"I'll keep that in mind next time when you try to throw your charm on me." I said with the papers on my hands.

“I... I wasn’t.” Kamilah tried to argue, but she saw the smile on my face. “Oh, you’re teasing me. Well... it worked?” Kamilah asked, flashing a wide, slow smile that was dazzling and incredibly bright.

I opened my mouth to respond when I heard Carmen's annoying voice behind Kamilah.

"Shall we?" She asked, smiling and too excited for my taste.

"Yes," Kamilah said with her eyes still on me. I looked between them, feeling my throat close again and that tightness in my chest return. Where were they going? Going out together? Oh God...

"Tell Adrian I'll be in touch tomorrow, and I'm out for a drink with Carmen, right?"

"Uh... Right." I could barely tell by looking into her eyes. The sound of the elevator doors was enough to make me collapse in my chair and sigh, trying not to cry.

...

3 days later

“Hey! So, I'm already going on my date, and… ” Lily jumped excitedly toward the living room but stopped at her tracks. "Girl please tell me you're not watching dirty dance again." Lily alternated her eyes between me, lying on the couch and the television.

Lily watched in horror at the me, my blond hair was trapped in a disheveled bun, and I was wearing a knee-length sweatshirt of my old university, my eyes were probably red from crying as I sucked blood from a blood bag

"Shhh, I love that part." I gestured with my hand to get Lily out of the way. “It’s so beautiful.” I sobbed.

“Girl you watch this movie every time you're sad. Oh come on, you're doing drama for nothing, maybe they're just friends and they went out for a drink. We do it all the time. Does not mean anything."

“She was touching Kamilah nonstop, Lily!” I emerged from behind her blankets. “I never touched her like that all the time. I know she likes her space and I respect that. I know I’m not her girlfriend or anything, but...”

“You guys are so complicated. More complicated than the Kardashians, to say the least. I don’t know why you guys don’t make official already. Everybody knows about you two.”

"Well you know Kamilah, she has an image to keep, she's important and blahblah..." I hide under the blankets again.

"So this is your plan?" Lily crossed her arms. "Watching dirty dance for the fifteenth time and suffering under the blanket?"

"Yes, until I get old."

"Girl you dumb you're immortal," Lily pointed out.

“Uh, yeah. So until next week. And don't mind, I have footloose recorded on TV and it will be my next victim.” I said.

“You’re hopeless, do you know that? Well, I have a date to go. Don’t be dead at the time I go home, alright?” She said and I nodded sipping more blood watching her go.

I grabbed my cell phone from the coffee table. There were 5 messages. One from Adrian, one from Jax and three from Kamilah. I decided to ignore them and searched the contact list on my phone until I found the rest of the Chinese restaurant I wanted.

A few minutes had passed since Lily's departure, when the doorbell rang and I stumbled to answer it. Hoping it was the Chinese restaurant.

“Good night.” And there she was, like a vision exclusively from my personal hell, dazzling standing at my door, like my own demon coming to fetch my soul, which I would give gladly and spontaneously. Kamilah.

[nomnomsik]

My Terms, | Chapter Two

Summary: Relatively close in age and similar hidden personalities, an idol and bodyguard discuss secret terms unbeknownst to the company. What will come about them and what exactly did they discuss?

Word Count: 2.2k

A/N: Please let me know your initial thoughts and feelings as it motivates me to continue this series! I’m not sure the direction I’m going in!

Trigger warnings: Yandere-themes, eventual sexual content, extreme possessiveness, mentions of violence, mentions of drugging, alcohol mention, clubbing mention, unhealthy relationships. Please read with caution!!

»»————- ✼ ————-««

“I understand.” You whispered softly, papers fluttering in your hands as your manager strictly went over your schedule, every single event planned perfectly in a tight timeline. Your only response was a yawn, stretching both arms up above your head and easing back to a normal standing position. 

“That will be all.” Your manager concluded, drawing the assistants back in and ready to head out of the suite room of the booked floor, courtesy of your company. You too, packed the few things you brought, reaching for the door handle and pulling it open. The shuffling of shoes and bags behind you were recognized as Jungkook, feeling his presence without even having to look back. The walk down the hall was short, sliding your room card through the lock and opening your spacious room. 

It was another suite, one queen-sized bed in the living room and another in a medium-sized bedroom. As you dumped your bag onto the floor near the kitchen and bar, you turned to see Jungkook enviously eye the bed in the living room, his hands tightening his grip on the carry-on bag. You only smiled to yourself, turning around and fixing yourself a glass of champagne in the late evening, the sun setting in the horizon, glittering off the large window panes from your room, which conveniently overlooked the city. 

“You can stay if you want.” You proposed, waltzing over to look out at the city lights, buildings slowly flickering them on. A scoff, or what seemed to sound like a scoff, escaped Jungkook’s lips as he laid the heavy bag out on the floor. 

“Noona, you know better than that.” He chuckled to himself afterward, setting out the various skincare products out on the living room table. “I could get fired for that y’know.” 

“Oh, I know.” You simply replied, taking another gulp from your glass. “You don’t have to do that for me, Jungkook.” You turned, a smirk on his lips as he seemed to move faster than you expected, already laying out most of the things from your toiletry bag. 

“Oh.” You muttered, eyes darting away from him and mumbling a ‘thanks’ under your breath. Instead, you plopped down on one of the soft sofas, unlocking your phone and beginning the scroll that was Twitter. Jungkook made his way to your side, leaning over to catch a glimpse of your feed as you scrolled and scrolled down. 

You paused, stopping to watch a video that was recorded the day in the airport back in Korea. Your eyes couldn’t help but squint as you watched a bystander record your entourage, the moment where Jungkook grabbed and shoved the man onto the ground. From the video, you were able to take in Jungkook’s slanted eyes and dark gaze, only to quickly return to your side. A scoff left your lips as you tried to suppress your growing smile, aware of the attentive boy who was staring straight at you, looking for any reaction. 

“Noona?” He questioned, eyes sparkling with curiosity. What was that face? Were you proud of him? Did you want him to always act like that? There was an ache in his hands that caused his fingers to twitch, impatience building up in his already restless body. 

“Don’t you think you were a bit too rough?” You joked dryly, replaying the clip one more time for good measure. The overeager “fan” toppled and hit the ground, hard. You were no orthopedist, but you were sure that his muscles would sting for a couple of days. 

“I thought you liked it when-” 

Jungkook stopped his own train of thought as you stood up from your seat, walking over to the kitchen of your room. He followed you like a puppy dog, again at your side while you laid your glass into the sink. Your fingers trailed to the faucet, letting the warm water pour and fill the glass as you cleaned it out. 

“Look nice tonight, Jungkook.” 

He paused, cocking his head in slight confusion until it clicked in his mind. 

“Noona…” He sighed, huffing as his footsteps echoed into the kitchen. “You can’t be serious. Today? Tonight? We just landed. You need to rest.” 

“No.” 

Today was not a day you would be rejected, especially with the convenience of being in another country, a place where the likeliness of foreigners and locals noticing you were slim. Even just taking a glance at your schedule made you feel tired, the list going on and on for what seemed like an eternity. By then, you wouldn’t have enough energy to have fun. 

“Listen Jungkook, I’m going to be busy tomorrow and the day after that. Today’s the only day that works. You agreed to my terms, so you better stick to it.” You slammed the knob to the faucet off, eyeing the younger with no intention of backing down. 

Jungkook’s eyes seemed to flicker with hesitation, throat gulping and body squirming under your gaze. He closed his eyes, ruffling his dark locks only to reluctantly agree. 

“Fine.” 

»»————- ✼ ————-««

A knock, then two, then three. You slipped out of your covers from your bed, rushing toward the door as you slowly clicked it open. Jungkook slid in through the slim opening, arms coming to engulf you in a tight hug. 

“Well?” You inquired, slipping your bare feet into two-inch heels, the entrance light illuminating above you. 

“They’re asleep. The guards on the floor are finished monitoring for the night. We can slip out through the staircase since the elevator is too loud.” 

You nodded, taking hold of Jungkook’s hand as you both slipped into the hallway, the door softly closing and locking behind you. Jungkook stood slightly taller than you, guiding you through the bright hallways and pushing the door to the stairwell open. 

“Well done.” You complimented, watching each step you took, having to walk a few floors down. Jungkook patiently waited for you until you finally met him by the door to floor 10, the two of you walking over to the elevator and descending down to the main lobby. 

“We should have two to three hours.” He whispered close to your ear, his fingers still interlocked with yours. It didn’t phase you that his hand was intertwined with yours, but from the glances you seemed to steal, it seemed Jungkook had the opposite reaction. He kept staring at how you were finally joined with him, how soft your hands seemed to be, and much smaller than he anticipated. 

You flipped your hood up, huffing as you stepped outside in the cold night weather, city lights glittering each street. 

“I hate wearing this. It’s so ugly.” You sighed, baggy hoodie drenching your body as you took quick steps down the sidewalk. 

“It’s better than getting spotted.” Jungkook laughed, admiring the liveliness of the city with you by his side. 

“Who cares at this point?” 

“What do you mean?” Jungkook asked, turning to you as you walked ahead of him. His face was stricken with a complicated emotion, one that you had trouble discerning for yourself.

“I mean- I wish I didn’t have to sneak out. Why should people care if I want some drinks at a famous club?” 

Jungkook only stayed silent, hesitant but nodding nonetheless. He didn’t feel that way at all, he enjoyed being here with you. In fact, he loved it. He loved how you needed him to sneak out, how you were only with him. 

Yes, you were with him this late at night. Nobody else. Just him. Now that he thought about it, how was this any different from a date? Your hands were interlocked with each other like every couple that passed by, and yet… 

“Jungkook.” You called, opening the door that led downstairs into a darker room, LED lights illuminating onto the walls. He followed after you, the intensity of the music only growing further when he walked in. You immediately beelined for the bar counter, taking a seat on one of the red stools. Jungkook watched in admiration as you gave your order in English, swiftly to turn to him and giving him a confident smile. 

You were enjoying a few drinks by the bar with Jungkook, clinking glasses together and giving him such a bright and flirtatious smile that made his heart pound harder and harder in his chest. Your face was a rosy pink, half-lidded eyes smiling down as you swirled your drink. 

“I didn’t know you were that strong of a drinker, Jungkook.” You shouted, bubbly laugh reaching his ears despite the loud music. 

He gave a bright smile back, taking another shot with you that burned his throat. As you called for another few glasses, a few voices came from behind you. Jungkook couldn’t even register just how fast, three men surrounded you, one on each side. They all had vibrant blonde hair, one with a warmer brown mixed in, but Jungkook looked at them with distaste. 

They were young. Maybe 19 or 20. Of course, they got in. America seemed to impress him every day.

Jungkook tried to lean in closer, but with the loud music and his lack of English, he couldn’t barely make out the conversation. While you preoccupied with one of the young boys, Jungkook kept a good eye on the one far behind you, your back facing him. The bastard struck fast, almost enough for Jungkook to miss it from a single blink. 

White powder. It quickly dissolved into the clear glass infused with your drink, while you were conversing with now the other two boys. 

“How about you leave me be? Besides, I don’t like my men as young boys.” 

The boys laughed as if it was the funniest joke on earth. You rolled your eyes, returning to meet Jungkook’s gaze while your hand reached for one of the glasses on the counter. 

“Noona?!” Jungkook yelled in panic, his hand reaching for your drink as you quickly batted him away, eyes wide as he stared in horror. The music and heavy bass echoed off the wall, drowning his voice as he watched you toy with the drink in your hands. You were literally playing with fire, and Jungkook couldn’t even tell if you truly knew or not. 

The male in front of you, probably the most confident one of his group, raised an eyebrow at you, also taking a glass from the counter and gulping it down. You joined him much to Jungkook’s horror, gulping down the shot with one fluid motion.

“Thanks for the drink.” The young one called, snickering as he turned away and went to the back of the dance floor with his friends. 

“Dumbass.” You scoffed, stepping off from your seat, straightening out your hoodie and shorts. “Wrong glass.” 

“Jungkook.” You again called, extending your hand, only for him to quickly take it. Jungkook still had a worry stricken look on his face. Would he ever stop worrying about you? “I’m fine, Jungkook.”

“Noona? Y-you just-” 

“Jungkook, I said I’m fine. Why else would three boys come up to me? Do you really think they want to have a friendly conversation with me?” 

Jungkook opened his mouth, but he realized how foolish he was. Of course, it was obvious from the start that you knew exactly what you were doing. 

“Now, let’s have some fun. If I have to sneak out every night just to enjoy my life, then so be it. I’m not going to let being an idol stop it.” 

He followed you as you led him onto the dance floor, other bodies fervently moving about. Even though the air was filled with sweat and other disgusting smells, the two of you were enraptured with each other, his grip strong on your hips as yours met his shoulders. 

“You really suck at dancing.” You laughed, a smile gracing both his and your lips. 

“I know.” He giggled back, feeling the alcohol coarse through his veins. 

Your foreheads touched, intoxicating breaths fanning each other with the heavy bass in your ears. He lips met yours, eyes fluttering closed as you held onto him. It felt just like it did a few months ago, blood pooling onto both of your intertwined legs. Even without his chapped lips, finally having time to heal, he tasted exactly the same. 

“You can do better than that.” You whispered once your lips separated, encouraging him further. He gladly accepted your challenge, pressing harder on the dance floor even when all he could taste was alcohol. 

When had you said that? He wondered, his mind drifting off as his lips still remained on yours. The sentence seemed oddly familiar, flashes of red and black painting his mind. 

N-Noona, I love you. I want to tell you how much I love you. I want to protect you forever. I need your guidance. I want to be the most loyal...

Jungkook hoped the blaring music would deafen out his voice, mash it up with all the other sounds in the room. It was something he had always needed to get off his chest, three words that rendered the contract void. 

“Noona…” He whispered. “I lov-”

A finger came up to his lips as you hushed him. 

“Don’t…” 

[letterboxd]

Lockdown Lens.

The filmmakers behind found-footage hits Searching and Host share their best tips for making movies in quarantine. Hint: you’ll need to tape your camera to your laptop, move away from the wall, and plump up the post-production budget.

“There is a really opportunistic moment here that you can take advantage of, if you come up with the right thing.” —Aneesh Chaganty, director of Searching

“You should never wait for the ideal circumstance because it doesn’t exist. Look at what you’ve got right now and use that.” —Rob Savage, director of Host

A low-budget thriller starring John Cho as a desperate dad, Aneesh Chaganty’s 2018 debut feature Searching, co-written with Sev Ohanian, shook up the found-footage genre with its seamless blend of content from chat rooms, social platforms, security-camera footage and news coverage. Chaganty and Ohanian’s next film, Run, which also takes place mostly inside one house, will debut on Hulu later this year after its theatrical release was quashed by Covid-19.

Meanwhile, a 56-minute séance horror that appears to take place entirely on a Zoom call became the most popular film on Letterboxd within a week of landing on Shudder in July (our popularity score is based on the amount of activity across our platform for each film, regardless of rating). Host—conceived and completed within just twelve weeks—was written by Gemma Hurley, Rob Savage and Jed Shepherd, and directed by Savage.

Our editor-in-chief Gemma Gracewood asked Chaganty, Hurley, Savage and Shepherd to draw on their expertise in making browser horrors and other limited-setting stories, to inspire other aspiring filmmakers sheltering in place.

Listen to the full interviews on the Lockdown Filmmaking episode of The Letterboxd Show.

Joseph Lee and John Cho in TV news footage from ‘Searching’.

Keep the parameters tight.

“Making a story in a limited setting is a very smart thing to do for an aspiring screenwriter—first and foremost because it’s produceable,” Aneesh Chaganty advises. ”If you’re an unknown entity in the film world, the cheaper your product takes to make is probably a better bet for you to be taking as opposed to writing a kajillion-dollar project. The first project that I wrote was a $90-million movie that Sev and I wrote. ‘Why did we do this?!’”

Chaganty also stresses the need to ensure your project wants to be a limited-setting story. “A lot of times I’ll read a found-footage script and it will often feel like all it wants to be is a not a found-footage script. There’s a lot of times where it feels like the writers don’t want it to be that.”

Explore the whole box.

Chaganty encourages aspiring writers to imagine your limited environment as a box. “You’re writing within this box, all the characters are in this box, I think the best way to examine it is not to ever try leaving the box, but make sure you explore it every which way. The box upside down, the box right side up, the box left, the box right…

“This is an objective that should apply to all films, but it’s easier to objectively analyze whether you’re doing it in a limited setting. With a film like Searching, we have to make sure that every possible iteration of how a narrative can take place on a computer screen is done. Looking at a movie like Buried, they’re doing every possible iteration of how that story can be told underground, in a coffin, before [the location] starts to change.”

(Good news for fans of Searching: with new tech platforms appearing all the time, it turns out there are more parts of the box to explore. A sequel is in the works, but Chaganty won’t be in the director’s chair.)

Give yourselves a deadline.

With no end to the pandemic in sight, it’s easy for one day to melt into the next. Keep your team motivated with a deadline. “I gave us two weeks,” says Rob Savage, Host’s director, who co-wrote the film with Jed Shepherd and Gemma Hurley, after his Twitter prank went viral.

“So we had two weeks, all three of us, to come together,” adds Hurley. “Let’s figure out a structure, let’s figure out these character dynamics, figure out a way to build tension around this idea of a séance and hang a story and a journey for the characters, for where we want the séance to end up. We had a Google doc where we were editing it together. I’d go away and do my pass, Rob would go away and do his pass, and Jed would. And that was it. It was really just like, run and gun, go go go.”

“If things had gone to plan we would have had this out in two months; in the end it took three,” Savage continues. ”It took twelve weeks from when I first called Jed up and said ‘let’s make a feature’, to delivering the movie—roughly breaks up as two weeks of writing, we shot for three weeks, and then a lot of editing and VFX time.”

Know your story inside-out, but don’t labor the script.

“We’ve got some hearts to break, here,” warns Hurley. “There was no official script in the standard way because there just wasn’t time. The whole point was capturing a zeitgeist moment… If we went away and wrote a feature-film script, well, ‘we’ll see you after the pandemic’s over, guys!’. You’d miss that moment. That was the joy of it. You didn’t have time to labor over every syllable.”

Some of Host’s key moments were scripted, Hurley reassures. “We had lines we wanted them to suggest, but more than giving them dialog it was about giving them prompts for every scene.”

Savage adds: “The thing that we did really well, at the end of the two weeks of writing, is every single scene, me, Jed and Gemma, you could quiz us all in separate interrogation rooms, we’d be able to tell you the purpose of every scene and what we wanted to get out of them. We had the movie so clearly in our heads in terms of how we wanted it to feel.”

An advantage of having a treatment rather than a completed script? “A sense of discovery every day,” says Savage. “The actors just brought that amazing spontaneity to it and these incredible performances, because we knew the parameters.”

Aneesh Chaganty and John Cho on the set of ‘Searching’, with a GoPro behind the laptop capturing the webcam view. / Photo by Elizabeth Kitchens

Choosing your camera (spoiler: it’s not your laptop’s).

“John is acting against a black screen,” Chaganty reveals. “There’s nothing on his computer, he’s literally looking at nothing.” To ensure complete control over their footage while preserving authentic eyelines, both sets of filmmakers taped additional cameras to the laptops of their key talent. In Host, each of the Zoom participants had iPhones recording at their highest resolution “so we knew we were getting a clean 1080p,” says Savage. In Searching’s case, it was a GoPro taped to the rear of the various computers used by John Cho.

“Before we started shooting the film,” Chaganty explains, “we had to make [an animatic] version using Adobe Premiere, because much of John’s performance is knowing his eyeline. He needs to know exactly where the iMessages open up—in order for us to know that we almost have to know those decisions already.” Chaganty and his team developed a 100-minute animatic cut, with Chaganty playing every role; “understanding where every window is, where every cursor is, so that by the time we get to set, what I’m doing is showing John ‘okay, this is where that message pops up, and while you’re talking to Deborah, you’re going to look over there, go down there, open Chrome, type in…’ So everything is very specific eyelines. Sometimes my notes after a take would just be ‘John that was great, just move the cursor a little further to the left this time’.”

Haley Bishop as séance host Haley in ‘Host’.

Develop your characters and the genre will take care of itself.

Chaganty and the Host team have the same advice for how to ratchet up the tension in a limited-setting film: it’s all about character. “If you’re going to end up putting these characters through tough times and potentially kill them,” says Shepherd, “develop them as real characters, so that we care about them.”

Although Host’s script was, in fact, only a seventeen-page beat-sheet, the most important part of its structure was the long stretch up front where the characters are dialling into the call and catching up—what Shepherd calls the “getting to know you bit”. “That first part is really important because if it wasn’t for that, the third act wouldn’t work at all. The best thing to do is make your characters real, authentic, believable. Everything else takes care of itself.”

Chaganty agrees: “When you are writing something that is genre, your other decisions don’t have to be genre, and in fact it might elevate it more when you don’t do that, because everything else is already doing that, you know?”

In particular, he advises, trust your talent to lean into their characters, rather than into the genre. “This was my challenge at least, as a totally amateur director: sometimes what I was looking for was the most obvious take as opposed to the most subtle take. “When we left the shoot I was thinking it was take six, or the one where it was most obvious [John] was angry or he was sad or something—and what we ended up using was the most subtle takes. That subtlety, that underneath layer, so much of that was him. He’s so good. He’s so good. I hate to say it, but I didn’t realize how good he was until we edited it together.”

Spend time getting the interface right.

“There’s not a frame of Zoom footage in the actual movie.”—Rob Savage

Found-footage films and browser horrors rely on the believability of the content. Searching and Host work because the footage feels real, even though the reality is there are multiple takes and a lot of post-production. Just as Searching was built around a detailed animatic, Host is, in fact, not a recorded Zoom call, but a result of three weeks of filming every actor in multiple takes, with stunt set-ups, followed by the addition of VFX and Zoom interface details.

“Originally the plan was just to screen-record a Zoom call, but then we realized that we were pumping so much money into doing these crazy stunts and effects that we could blow half the budget in 30 seconds,” says Savage. “You’re basically making five movies. We have to make sure the performances are all tight in every single screen. Radina might be amazing in take one and Jemma might nail it in take three and we have to cut them all together so they work seamlessly.”

Savage praises Host editor Brenna Rangott for pulling it all together, underscoring the importance of post-production in your budget and schedule. “Honestly, what Brenna did with all this footage? It’s her movie as much as it’s anyone else’s movie. She absolutely smashed it.”

The Host crew also relied on fellow filmmaker and designer Dan Hawkins to build the almost 4,000 individual assets in the film, and producer Douglas Cox, who went through the whole movie to type out every single name, label and other Zoom interface detail. “4,000 times he had to do that, and that’s what you see to make it play seamlessly.” (And, yes, they had Zoom’s permission.)

Jed Shepherd, Rob Savage and Gemma Hurley during a Zoom séance for Slashfilm with Chris Evangelista.

Trust your gut.

The Host team were pursued for a feature-length version of Savage’s Twitter prank by a “mind-blowing” number of studios—“it was a really competitive situation,” says Savage—but they went with Shudder for one reason: instinct.

“It was the height of the lockdown and a lot of production companies just started ringing and saying ‘Is there a longer version of this? Because it’s the only thing we can shoot right now’. So we pitched to a bunch of places, and the pitch was basically ‘a Zoom séance, we don’t know if it’s going to be any good, we’re going to use our mates, are you in or not?’ and Shudder [was] like ‘of course we are’.”

It wasn’t about the money. Some companies offered more generous budgets, but wanted to release six to eight months after filming. “We were like, ‘no, this needs to be out this week’.”

Move away from the wall.

Since so much of the movie business—all those endless meetings—has pivoted to video-calls, we asked the filmmakers for specific advice on how to present yourself online, in pitch meetings, table reads and the like.

The very minimum, they all agree, is to have good lighting. “It’s crazy what a difference a desk lamp can make to your environment,” says Chaganty. And move away from the wall. “Rule number one any director of photography will ever say, is don’t shoot at a wall,” he adds. “The further that you can place yourself from that wall, it’s just going to look better.” (It also gives you more protection from any demons that may burst from cupboards during your Zoom, Host’s filmmakers advise.)

Chaganty reveals that the pandemic has actually helped his pitching abilities in video meetings with executives. Chaganty and Ohanian are currently developing a heist movie, while simultaneously pitching a television show. “Right now pitches are all digital. Traditionally when you pitch something, it’s a lot of material and you just memorize it. But now, you can have your script with you—but you can’t make it seem like you’re reading off a screen.” The trick, he says, is to re-size the window of the person you’re pitching to, and re-size the script to the same dimensions, then place them directly over each other.

“So you’re reading and your eyeline is exactly where they are, and then you switch over, and they’ll never know and you’ve just pulled it off perfectly because you’re still looking at the exact same spot. It just kind of feels like an incredible performance where you’ve pulled these great words out of your mind and your heart, without anyone knowing.”

On the other hand, don’t put too much effort into details that nobody will notice. “We were doing a table read for a film,” says Host’s Shepherd, “and I thought it would be fun to change the background to correspond with what scene were were reading. I thought it was really clever but nobody noticed except me.”

Producer Natalie Qasabian, writer-producer Sev Ohanian and writer-director Aneesh Chaganty on the set of their forthcoming feature, ‘Run’.

There’s no time like the present.

“When digital cameras came out, everyone started saying ‘this is a great thing for filmmakers because it really democratizes filmmaking’,” says Chaganty. “We are in a very small bubble where it’s even more democratized than it was before—that’s because everybody has the same resources that we do right now.

“It feels like John Oliver and Hasan Minhaj and Trevor Noah are all making stuff with the same quality that you can make, that I can make, just in our own houses right now. The longer this pandemic goes on, and the longer that it feels that Hollywood can’t make traditional stuff the way it used to, the more likely it is that the demand for content is going to rise.

“If you can make something good in this time, I think you’re in a really good spot as far as getting eyeballs on it. And eyeballs essentially are the things that can propel a career to the next stage.”

Plus, there are mental health benefits to making movies together, at a time when we are all being urged to stay socially connected while physically distant. “What’s been really nice about the whole thing is it just made it so clear how collaborative a process filmmaking is,” says Savage. “Normally people kind of forget about that and you have ‘a film by’, but here you had to put so much trust in everyone. It was just a really fun way of working. I recommend it to everyone.”

‘Host’ is available now on Shudder. ‘Searching’ is available via VOD platforms. ‘Run’ is coming soon to Hulu in the US and will be released theatrically in international markets. (Aneesh Chaganty has been diligently updating his Letterboxd diary, which includes one of our favorite recent reviews of Steve Soderbergh’s ‘Contagion’.)

[badlypostedeverything]

First meeting

July 10th 2016

"Do you ever look up at the stars and think of me?"

"In your world there are different types of people. There are those who travel, those who learn, those who fight, those who create, and so many others. But that's in your world. In their world. And then, there's me. Up here, things are a little different. I've spent a lot of time hating you for how different things really are in the little world you've made for me. I don't think even Jack could count the number of times I've screamed myself hoarse wanting, needing, anyone at all to hear me, but it's been over three years since you cast me aside. Just another toy you were tired of playing with, abandoned to drift through space. What I've come to realise, though, is that I must be here for something. And one day, maybe I'll find my own purpose, I'll bring Jack and Sam with me too, but whatever it is, I don't want you to be a part of it. I don't know if you hear these, Sean, but if you do, I want you to know I haven't forgiven you for it. For any of it. This is Captain Angus Irwin of the Septiceye craft signing off."

Click.

The little recording box whirs for a second, before flashing green. "Log 1192 successfully entered," a voice echoes from the control console. Angus replaces it into it's holder without needing to look at where his hand is going. He rubs his eyes, pushing off from the desk on his swivel chair.

"Alright Jack, anything interesting happening?"

"A JSE video upload is due in three minutes," the computer offers.

"I think I'll pass," he stretches out, reluctantly standing up from the chair and walking towards the door. "Maybe we could work on unlocking those rooms? That's always.. Fun."

"Captain, those rooms aren't able to be opened by physical means. Your two hundred and fifty seven attempts prove this point."

Angus shakes his head in annoyance. "I need somewhere new. I was created to explore, wasn't I? I think I've seen every inch of this fucking spaceship"

"We have a virtual reality generated forest. It cannot physically be fully explored." In the hallway, a screen lights up with Angus' face, although upon closer inspection, there are some noticeable differences like scars and a few years of age. "There is no need for us to keep trying to break into an impenetrable room."

"It's not the same," Angus sighs, stepping into the elevator. "Come on. Level zero." He leans back against the wall, picking at the lint on his overalls. After a few seconds, he realises that the doors haven't closed. "Jack, have you gone deaf? Level zero." He thumps the switchboard. "You can't just not-" A loud beeping makes him recoil from the electronics.

"Mandatory attendance on the viewing deck,' a more monotone voice drawls through the speakers.

"What the fuck does that mean?"

"Mandatory attendance on the viewing deck," the same voice repeats. "Mandatory attendance on the viewing-"

"Okay, fine! Will you shut up and take me down to level zero if I go to the viewing deck and watch the bloody video?"

"Mandatory attendance on the viewing deck."

"Fucking fine!" He storms out of the cylindrical room, back down the hallway and through a slim door in the control room, finding himself on the viewing deck. Casting his eyes over the coffin sized capsule built into the side wall, he throws himself down onto the sofa, leaning his dusty boots on the arm. The screen crackles to life and there he is. The bastard himself.

"Top of the mornin to ya laddies!" Angus scowls at the screen as the excitable man slaps the screen. "Welcome back to welcome to the game!"

"Jack, why are you making me watch this?" He receives no response. Paying no attention to the video, he stares up at the ceiling until a phrase catches his ears.

"-Into a superhero!" He hears the end of the sentence. Slowly, he takes his boots off of the chair arm, swivelling around and leaning forwards towards the screen.

"No," he whispers. 'Jackieboyman' appears on the screen, wearing an ill-fitting suit and with a whole other personality. "That's the cool patrol kid, right? What is he, sixteen? Sean, you can't do this." He holds his head in his hands, watching in horror as the superhero persona builds up before him. During the outro, Angus isn't even sure his heart is still beating, if it ever did in the first place. The video ends, leaving the room in silence.

One,

Two,

Three.

The seconds tick by, and Angus almost thinks he's safe. That his creator wouldn't be so cruel. But then the whirring starts, emanating from the capsule. "This can't be happening," he scrambles up to stand by the beeping lights, wringing his hands out in anticipation. What, he's been alone for three years and now he's going to have a brother to look after? A teenager? Fuck, he doesn't even remember what counts as polite, or how to hold a conversation with something that can actually feel things. How's he supposed to look after a whole new person?

After what feels like hours, Angus realises that his vision of the capsule's inside is no longer obscured by opaque glass, but rather the heavy condensation of a clear window. He sees the blurry green hair, the blue eye mask, a red suit and a pale face, scattered with stubble.

"Capsule opening," the monotone not Jack informs him. He takes a step back as the top lifts slowly, and watches as his new brother's eyelids flutter for the first time."Welcome to Septiceye craft, Jackieboyman."

His brother's eyes are blue. The exact same shade as Angus' own. He doesn't know what he was expecting, honestly, they are both copies of the same man, but the first time he opens his eyes, he's caught off guard by the similarity.

"Hey," he approaches the new boy nervously.

"Huh?" He sits up, eyeing Angus suspiciously. "Are you here for the codes? I don't have em."

"Codes?" Angus is confused. "What codes?"

"Computer codes for the web, there was someone in my house trying to- trying to-" He trails off, looking Angus right in the eyes. "Where am I? Why can't I remember what happened?"

"Funny thing about that," Angus scratches the back of his neck, throat drying up. This isn't how it was supposed to go. It wasn't supposed to go at all, if he's perfectly honest. "I'm your brother, Angus. We were created by a youtuber, and have since been cast aside. We are currently floating through deep space. Do you want, uh, a cup of tea?"

It takes a few seconds for it to sink in.

"No! No, no, no. This is just some joke. It's not funny," he staggers out of the capsule and runs crookedly towards the door of the viewing deck, leaning against the frame for a second before entering the control room. Angus follows a few steps behind, unsure what to do. Did he overdo it? Probably. He passes through the door to find the hero frozen in fear staring out at the stars, many of which are closer than should be necessarily possible in terms of heat proximity. "What?" He breathes, transfixed by them.

"Jackieboyman, right?" Angus awkwardly stands beside him, noticing the slight shake in his hands.

"That's just my hero name. My real name is-" He struggles to think for a moment before visibly deflating. "I don't know anymore."

Angus grabs the swivel chair, wheeling it towards him. He sits down heavily. "What can you remember?" Angus positions himself on the control console opposite.

"I go to highschool," he begins, furrowing his brow. "I like to drum. I can rollerskate. There's a type of dance I can do and I think it has something to do with this," he pings his suit against his skin.

"Any hero powers?"

"Excuse me?"

"You know, superhero powers. Since you're a superhero."

"Listen, kangaroo man, I may have lost some memories, but I'm fairly certain 'superhero powers' aren't real." Angus doesn't reply, instead holding his palm out towards the wall. A silvery ball slowly appears, casting them in it's light.

"Believe me now?" He looks quietly pleased at the amazement on the boy's face.

"Okay then. No powers I can think of," Jackieboy corrects himself. "I can also speak some Swedish."

"That's all?"

"I think so," he nods.

"Okay, let's go and get you some things," Angus slides off of the console, offering a hand to him. He doesn't take it, pushing himself up on still shaky legs and following a few steps behind his new 'brother'.

"One more thing," Jackieboy asks as they walk into the hallway.

"Shoot," Angus offers.

"I can't see, is there any way I could get some glasses?"

[chick-with-flicks]

My name is Holly Whiting and this, is Grave Encounters.

Grave Encounters is a found footage horror film made in 2011, which was given a five star rating by The New York Press, they also labelled it “Paranormal Activity on steroids”… which doesn’t do the movie any justice because lets be honest, Paranormal Activity is pretty crap and comparing any film to it is cruel.

 While writing about the character Houston Gray, I noticed that some of the names in the movie weren’t changed from that of the actor and I felt that was a little lazy but overall, it was a good film.

The footage film starts like a regular ghost hunting show you’ll find on the channels that nobody watches, while in parts that the audience are supposed to see, the crew act very serious about the ghost hunting but we soon realise that they don’t actually believe any of it, even paying off the building’s gardener to say that he saw ghosts on the residence. The crew are shown about the building by the building owner and the caretaker before being locked in the building for an 8 hour lock in for recording. Before the time hits 12AM the crew does a sweep of the building for recording footage and nothing happens, the building is so uneventful that later on Lance states that “this place is as haunted as a sock draw”… not the best description I’ve ever heard but it gets the point across. The first paranormal event doesn’t occur until after 2AM where one of the windows opens by itself on the top floor, not that anyone sees it. Slowly things start to happen to the crew, all of them understandably getting freaked out. Eventually after getting too scared, camera man T.C Gibson (Merwin Mondesir) attempts to break the front door down to get out, only to find that the building seems to have completely changed. This moment in the film put me on the edge of my seat, this building was said to be built like a prison and now it’s keeping the crew as its new prisoners. It’s at this point where the crew realise that it should have gotten light outside already… but it hasn’t, the outside world is like a completely disconnected place. Nothing truly worth spoiling happens until our cast has been trapped for around 23 hours when they encounter their first demon, it’s a patient, her face shifts… and its actually pretty terrifying.

It was around this point in the movie where I nearly had a heart attack because I thought I could hear my dad asleep and snoring in his room, but it was still light outside and thought some trippy time stuff had happened, but thankfully it was the trick of my headphones and it was just mum trying to figure out how to use the pressure washer to clean the car.

Now, less of me being dumb and back to the movie. After being scared again, the crew (who have clearly never seen a horror movie before) run into a bathroom where they were told an ex patient killed herself in one of the bathtubs whichhhh is now filled with blood, from which a demon in the bath pulls T.C into it, Sasha and Lance tip the tub over to find both T.C and the demon to be gone without a trace.

Fast forwarding to the end of the movie so I don’t spoil the best parts, Lance, on the floor with his eyes bleeding does his outro to his show (like the dick he is), and the camera cuts. Amazing.

The first Character we meet in this film is Jerry Heartfield (played by Ben Wilkinson), the owner of the production company that the footage that the movie was made with was sent to. His company, according to Jerry, specialises in reality TV and Grave Encounters was supposed to be a ghost hunting show, they already had five episodes, episode six was supposed to be the footage in the film. Jerry is essential to the set up for the film, assuring the audience that this is “not a movie” and explaining how the film was only edited for time purposes. Unfortunately, this is all we see of Jerry but either way he was good for the set up of the movie and that’s all he was really needed for.

Lance Preston (Sean Rogerson) is the main character of the film, he’s the producer of the show and the main presenter of it. Lance is pretty chilled out for the duration of the film and pulls the douchebag move of recording the events of the whole ordeal, even after he’s had demons operate on him and he’s bleeding from the eyes (seriously dude?). His best scene in the movie is at the very end when he has gone insane and smashes a rat with a pole then starts eating it and yelling “fuck you”. Sean Rogerson deserved a medal for that part of the performance.

Our Third character is Sasha Parker (played by Ashleigh Gryzko), an occult specialist and co-presenter to Lance. First time watching this movie I hated her and honestly thought she deserved how she was getting it worse from the demons in comparison to anyone else but watching the movie thoroughly and taking notes for this review I realised she is clearly the only person in this film who has ever watched a horror movie. She mentions that splitting up is a bad idea and yells at lance to stop recording. Honestly, girl got brains. My favourite thing about her character is her dumb pout she does to the camera while Lance is talking. Most of the events in the movie seem to happen to her. The first thing to happen to her is tame, her hair is lifted by a spirit, they run and understandably she panics (though hearing that fast breathing nearly the whole film drives me nuts). Later on, in the film, Sasha wakes up with the word “HELLO” cut into her back (I mean they wanted ghost contact, didn’t they? Why are you complaining). Later on, in the movie she, and the people left with her wake up with hospital bands on and she freaks out, again! Even further on she gets grabbed by a ghost hand through a door. Toward the end of the film she starts coughing up blood which is kind of wasted when it comes to how she dies? She just disappears with some fog and its really anti-climactic considering how much she suffered in the film.

Fourth character in the film is Houston Gray (played by Makenzie Gray), is a ‘psychic’ that Lance invites on the show to try contact the ghosts. I use the term ‘psychic’ loosely because very quickly after he first appears we learn that its just an act, which amusingly through the movie, Lance cant decide when he should keep the act up or not, often telling him to “stay in character” or to knock it off. Clearly reading the room is second on the list of things he can’t do (because the character himself really can’t act). As a character Houston isn’t that important. You could take him out of the movie and not a lot of the atmosphere would change. He’s just kinda there until he gets separated from the group, then gets choked and yeeted down the hall by a ghost and then he’s gone for the rest of the film. I feel cruel saying it, but I was glad when he died because the character’s bad acting and psychic act as a whole really annoyed me.

Now it’s time for my favourite character, Matt White (played by Juan Riedinger, whom I discovered in this movie, is incredibly talented at playing an asylum patient). Matt is the crew’s Equipment Technician (you are the tech guy. You are the motherf**king tech guy) who handles the ghost finding technology such as cameras, voice recorders and Geiger counter. One of the first scenes that focus on Matt is where he’s setting up cameras in the asylum’s ‘hotspots’, his face is right up in the camera, later on after his transition to a patient he does the same thing before jumping down an elevator shaft and dying. Incredible cinematography in my opinion. Matt’s the first person to go missing in the movie but thankfully not the first to die. His character is used to foreshadow the fate of the characters with lines such as “ we can all leave as soon as we’re all better” and “he’ll help you too” (easy there Pennywise, I’m not floating yet!). The movie really feels scarier once the other characters are having to look after him like a helpless child and honestly, I love the character.

Finally, we have Doctor Arthur Friedkin (played by Arthur Corber), one of the doctors at Collinwood Psychiatric Hospital. Doctor Friedkin was infamous for the poor conditions his patients lived in and his experimental surgeries and lobotomies to try to treat his patients. He’s not alive in the film as he was stabbed to death by 6 of his patients that broke out of their rooms. Despite this he is still in the movie at the very end as one of the ghosts (an incredible scene might I add). In this film there are hints that he may be linked to occult or satanic rituals, but I’ve heard that that’s followed on in the second movie which I haven’t actually watched yet.

Overall I’ve got to say, I love this movie, some points are cliche, I’ll admit that but as far as fount footage, psychological horrors go, it’s a really good film and I completely recommend it. It’s not the scariest or most creative movie ever and the pacing at the end is a bit rushed, but I have it on DVD so it must be worth it. I even brought it to a friend’s place to watch with her and her dog and we’re both really excited to see the second film!

See Ya Later! ^-^

[thereturnofthedirtyblog]

Paranormal reality show blames Witch community for hauntings

By Heather Greene  | January 7, 2018

WOLF CREEK, Ore. — The paranormal reality show Ghost Adventures (2008- ) blamed a local Witch community for the hauntings being reported in a Oregon ghost town. Airing Sept. 23, the episode “Golden Ghost Town” finds the Ghost Adventures crew in an old mining town in southwestern Oregon. The old town, which is currently in a state park and being restored, is well-known for its hauntings, which the show labels as being demonic and “unleashed” by local Witches.

As is explained in the show and by various websites, Golden, Oregon was once a mining town established by Chinese immigrants. The promise of gold attracted William Ruble, who eventually purchased much of the land and established the town with the post office opening in 1896. Ruble was reportedly very religious and kept Golden dry.

However, the town only lasted until1920, when the post office officially closed. The area was abandoned, leaving only dilapidated structures and, apparently, some ghosts.

When the September episode of Ghost Adventures opens, the crew, made up of Zak Bagans, Aaron Goodwin, Billy Tolley and Jay Wasley, is driving into the abandoned town. One of them feels an immediate sensation, saying his stomach hurts. Later, several of the interviewees say the same thing.

Bagans then interviews local religious official Archbishop Cloud, who claims that he heard rumors of “occult activity” taking place in the church after it was abandoned. This activity, as he explains, has “desecrated” the sacred space. This type of religion-based narrative is not unique to this show or to paranormal reality stories. In fact, such a narrative structure provides the baseline for a large percentage of ghost-related fictional works. In these stories, a sacred space of some sort, as typically-defined by Catholic theology, is violated, misused, or abandoned, consequently attracting evil. In other cases, it is only the sacred that can save.

However, in this particular show, the ghost adventure goes so far as to blame modern Witches for the haunting, rather than only dead ones from some long ago past.

After experiencing an encounter at night in the abandoned Golden church, the archbishop and Bagans discuss “what might be feeding the malevolence that permeates the entire area.” Bagans asks Cloud, “Have you ever heard about this sanctuary out here in the woods somewhere that is very close to this? They do these rituals; I know it’s Witchcraft. It said Pagan rituals. Have you heard about this group?”

Cloud answers he has and that the Witches are all over, and that the ritual practices are “steeped in Witchcraft,” and that he is sure that “they are conjuring demons.” Another interviewee later confirms that by saying that she “knows” it is caused by the local Witches.

During the discussion between Cloud and Bagans, there are flashes of various images of people at night in the woods obscured by branches and trees. The entire sequence, which includes hanging stick figures and dramatic sound, is reminiscent of The Blair Witch Project (1999).

“Could the unusual number of violent acts in this area be caused by the dark entities conjured by this group of Witches?” asks the narrator.

Interestingly enough, there actually is a Witch camp not far from Golden. Bagans is right; the area does have modern Witches performing modern Pagan rituals.

It is Free Cascadia Witchcamp, one of Reclaiming’s annual retreats. Last year, the week-long event happened in late June, quite possibly at the same time the show was being filmed. However, that has not yet been confirmed.

During the show, Bagans claims that he attempted to interview and meet the 100-plus people at this Witch camp, adding that his request was denied. They are a “very secretive group,” he explain, “Which raises the question what are they doing? What are they conjuring?” It also has not yet been confirmed whether he actually did reach out to anyone from Reclaiming, or any modern Pagans in the region.

Like many paranormal stories, the entire Ghost Adventures episode feeds off of the theme that the Witch activity is feeding whatever was once conjured back when the church first shut down. The absence of the protection of the church, so to speak, leaves a void for evil, as the story goes.

The show concludes that the hauntings are mainly due to these “man-made” conjurings, both old and new, and they have affected the region’s animals and have enchanted the forest.

While elements of Witchcraft are commonly recalled in paranormal reality stories, this one points very directly to modern Witchcraft practice in an accusatory manner, and has Pagans, who regularly enjoy such shows, deeply concerned.

Peter Wize told TWH, “I have been an avid watcher of Travel Channel’s Ghost Adventures for some time. In one of their recent seasons I have noticed an increasing level of anti-Wiccan /Pagan bias on the show.” Wize found the episode “offensive and openly hateful toward Wiccan, Pagan and Heathen people.”

“I have also noticed that in recent months the Travel Channel’s other ghost hunting show Dead Files has also had a radical traditional Catholic influence to it as well,” Wize adds. “The RTC Christian sect has had a history of paranormal investigation going back to Elizabeth and Ed Warren of ghost hunting fame who called themselves ‘religious demonologists’. Needless to say they take a dime view of witches and occultism in general.”

As Wize notes, the Warrens were famous or infamous for their religion-based paranormal research. Their stories have inspired many fiction films, such as The Conjuring (2013), Annabelle (2017), and perhaps the most famous, Amityville Horror (1979). The concept of the paranormal in such stories pits Christianity, as the safe and sacred, against the occult, as the evil and the ruin of humanity. This is an age-old duality of good versus evil, noted by other Pagans who showed concern.

Like Wize, Yaya Nsasi Vence Guerra is a fan of paranormal reality shows. She explains that, as a medium, she enjoys watching them and critiquing them. “They are entertaining,” she says.

However, Nsasi also recognizes the problem. In an email interview with TWH, she wrote, “Rather than educate, many of these paranormal shows prey on this nation’s puritanical and traditional views of religion. They demonize that which is considered ‘other.’ They give any practice that is non-Abrahamic as ‘occultism.‘” 

Along with being a medium, Nsasi is a Yaya Nganga in Palo Mayombe, and a devotee of Santa Muerte. She says, “Many religious denominations view the occult as being anything supernatural or paranormal which is not achieved by or through the god of the Bible, and is therefore considered the work of an opposing and malevolent entity. This is how we then see all paranormal activity connected to demons. Altars are portrayed as gateways to Hell or other dimensions. It gets tiresome.”

“Ghost Adventures is sensationalistic and is constantly naming Satantic practices as the reason house have demon entities,” Nsasi continues.

“This is not to say that there aren’t demons. However, it doesn’t take into account that some entities are not demonic. Some entities are just plain dark, lower-level entities that are operating on low frequencies. There isn’t an exploration of the metaphysical components of the given aspects of all entities; frequencies, how frequencies work, elevated spirits versus lower spirits. It’s always Satan and demons.”

However, according to a 2016 TWH interview with Paranormal Lockdown stars Nick Groff and Katrina Weidman, the reason is not always one of disrespect.

In that interview, both Groff, who once himself starred on Ghost Adventures, and Weidman said that they are not personally religious at all, and that they are very aware of the modern Witchcraft community. However, they both noted that the language of paranormal research is steeped in Catholic theology. It is just what is used, for better or worse.

When asked if they ever consulted or worked with Witches or Wiccans on their show, they said that they had, and welcomed the opportunity. One such person that they cited was author, medium, psychic, and television personality Michelle Belanger.

Belanger is best known in the paranormal world for her work on A&E’s Paranormal State, but she is also considered an expert on paranormal research and the occult in general. One of her books dives into the intersection between occult and the paranormal disciplines. That book, Ghost Hunter’s Guide to the Occult,was published in 2013.

The book’s advertising blurb reads, “How do you tell the difference between the symbol for the Order of the Eastern Star and a pentagram? What does a Wiccan mean when she says she practices Witchcraft? Paranormal State’s Michelle Belanger explores the complex and sometimes confusing realm of the occult, outlining the history of the Western tradition, defining key terms, and exploring the meaning of a variety of icons and symbols.”

The need for such an explanatory text appears to be important considering Groff and Weidman’s statements concerning the language used in paranormal research, which has lead to or has supported the negative, or at the very least confused, portrayals of occult practices, including Witchcraft.

Outside of the religious aspects of the paranormal shows, Nsasi also notes her concern over the treatment of the dead. She says, “Sometimes it gets frustrating because they don’t respect the spiritual realm.”

“Many of the ghost hunters have this hubris about them,” she goes on to say. “They are the living; they have audio recording devices, ghost meter sensors, electromagnetic field radiation equipment, digital spirit voice detectors and, what not. Here, they are all powerful mortals. When the truth is, that these spirits are more powerful than we are and our alliance with them can create beautiful and wonderful things.”

Despite these concerns, many Pagans join the general viewership in being fascinated with ghost hunting and the paranormal. Many of those that we spoke to said that they enjoyed seeing the reality of spirits recognized in the mainstream media.

Alpandia, a Strega living in South Florida who likes going to haunted places herself, says that she enjoys the stories. “It’s another connection to a time past and people who lived before. And seeing the look on the face of the investigators when they are in the moment and have what they feel is a genuine interaction is always fun.”

Emrys, a Witch in Pennsylvania, agreed. She said, “I enjoy the historical and biographical aspects of these shows. They tend to share stories of everyday people you wouldn’t learn about in regular history classes.”

In a 2017 TWH interview, paranormal researcher Brian Laythe did say, however, that “not a single T.V. show […] practices anything close to a reliable scientific method for verifying paranormal claims. Producers want ratings and excitement, not valid science. Thus, most (if not all) shows promote shoddy practice and their own paranormal perspective. Not anything that would come close to science.”

While that may be the case, paranormal reality shows, such as Ghost Adventures, are undoubtedly popular and have been since the early days of television. There is a basic human fascination with this type of storytelling experience whether it is accurate science or not, from the fictional horror films or television serials, to the reality-based shows, or to the lived experience of legend-tripping fun.

Nsasi said, “At the heart of this interest in paranormal shows is the search and/or need to find proof that life isn’t random or prescribed (depending on the spiritual/non-spiritual path of a person). Also that we have less control over things than we thought we did. Also, it adds credibility to the stories we all grew up with about things that go bump in the night. [They] are an actual intersection between science and ‘spirituality.'”

Laythe, who wants to see more occult and magical studies used within actual paranormal research, said, “A scientist is a scientist. We respect all religions, practices, and faiths. Most people don’t separate phenomena (what physically occurred) from the interpretation (whether Christian, Pagan, or otherwise). Any legitimate parapsychologist should be able to separate the two. In other words, something floating is something floating. Whether it was [the Abrahamic] god, the devil, an angel, or Odin is a function of peoples[sic] interpretation of the event.”

In that light, the general fascination with what is termed “the paranormal” is not really much different than the enduring fascination with the occult. The two have more in common than they do different.

Credit: @ourxrayspecs 

Link: https://wildhunt.org/2018/01/paranormal-reality-show-blames-witch-community-for-hauntings.html

#HauntedParaClassics

[edream93]

I don't know if you are still accepting prompts but here it goes: write a prompt inspired on what's my name but like Uma and Harry are singers and their record label have the idea of releasing a song Uma feat. Harry Hook and they just meet on the video clip day. Also Uma is Harry's celebrity crush...

Hi anon! Thank you for being so patient! When I first got this prompt, I actually laughed because I had been thinking of something similar literally days before. I’m glad that I was able to put some of those thoughts into an actual prompt. I do want to apologize though, if you’re a Mal fan, there’s a bit of Mal bashing in this one (I don’t necessarily hate Mal. I actually think she’s has the potential of being a really great character, but the last movie just dropped the ball on that. It was just the only way I could think of to make the story work).

Anyway, I hope you still enjoy and obviously, you should totally listen to “What’s My Name” at some point before, after, or while you’re reading.

After the media horror show that followed after Mal very publicly broke up with him (who the hell breaks up with someone right in the middle of an interview, he thought), singing artist Harry Hook wanted nothing to do with collaborating with another wannabe diva. 

(He and Mal hadn’t even been dating, but when Mal had hinted that after their last project together - which had been an auto-tuned disaster - that they were something more than just colleagues and one time collaborators, his manager - also known as his harpy of a sister Harriet - had told him to neither confirm nor deny the rumors. After all, Mal’s manager/mother had been in this business long enough to squish his blossoming career with one snap of her red manicure fingers if he angered or insulted her daughter. With her beautiful features but caustic personality, Maleficent made The Darkest Fairy, sound more like a fact than a former stage name.)

“I’m not doing another song with some harpy who doesn’t even know the difference between B flat and A sharp,” Harry murmured darkly as he followed his oldest sister into the elevator that quickly took them to his record label’s, Second Star, recording studio.

“You’ll do what I tell you, little brother,” Harriet growled, over her shoulder, her black with red accented business attire doing nothing to lessen the air around her that practically declared that she was not one to be messed with. “And stop being a pretentious emo music nerd.”

Harry rolled his eyes but kept his mouth shut. Harriet may be annoying, but she had made a promise to help him reach his dreams when they were just wee tots and as she always did, she kept her promise. There weren’t many people in his life that Harry could trust but Harriet was one of them, despite how much she nagged.

As they entered the recording studio where Jonas was already setting things up, Harry took a moment to glance at the music that Harriet had handed him. He held in a groan when he saw the song’s name.

“What’s My Name? Seriously, Ettie? How self-entitled is this lass? This…Uma?” he questioned annoyed before he paused. “Wait. Uma? Where do I know this name from?”

“She’s Mal’s former ghost writer, man,” Jonas supplied from where he was checking sound levels. “The one that hacker, Son of Hades, revealed was actually behind all the award winning songs that Mal claimed to have written herself. After he broke into Spinning Needle Records database, he revealed all their fraud and creative theft they’ve been doing of small independent artists for years.”

Harry nodded. He vaguely remembered that. It had happened while he and Mal had still been “dating”. He did remember Mal stomping around in a rage after her stylist, Evie, sent her a message, muttering something about shrimp and “That bitch thinks she can go against me? I’m the fucking queen!” (The fact that this Uma seemed to inspire so much anger out of Mal definitely gave her a point in Harry’s book.)

“Maleficent let Uma go immediately despite how much obvious success she could have brought to their record,” Harriet continued, not looking up from her phone. “But her loss. Our gain. Uma left with a book full of songs she never showed that dragon bitch and Second Star swooped in on the opportunity and signed with her just a few weeks ago. The process is going a bit faster than usual for a new artist,” his sister said glancing up at him, “but Pan wants to capitalize on the media controversy, hoping that’ll help put Uma out there as a singer and give Mal some real competition.”

“And he loves messing with Maleficent,” Jonas added.

Harriet nodded, a wicked grin on her face. “Who doesn’t?”

Harry looked down at the music again, this time looking past the song’s title and to the actual lyrics.

“Not bad,” he muttered shifting the pages as he continued to glance at the obviously handwritten song sheets. “I’m guessing this is a big ‘fuck you’ letter to Mal?”

“You could put it that way,” Harriet shrugged before frowning. “Though not in public!”

Harry grinned, mischief woven into his smile as he headed towards the sound booth. “Maybe this collaboration won’t be so terrible after all.”

—

“This is terrible,” Harry moaned.

Unsympathetic giggles responded back as Dizzy Tremaine, his stylist, leaned around him to also take a look at the mirror in front of him.

“Didn’t you tell me that you wanted to be a pirate, once?” she continued to giggle.

“When I was a wee lad!” he exclaimed turning around to face the much younger woman. “Not now! This is just ridiculous!”

“It’s Pan just being cheeky,” Harriet said stepping into his dressing room, unannounced. “You know. Because of-

“Because of Da,” Harry said cutting her off. “I know, I know,” he sighed trying to not imagine what type of scathing criticism their father, the lead singer and guitarist and also co-founder of the of The Jolly Rogers along with Second Star current executive producer Peter Pan (and thorn in Harry’s side), would give him if the man was still alive.

He sighed, taking care to not wrinkle his pirate inspired costume. A production assistant had just stopped by a few minutes earlier to let them know that Uma’s makeup was taking a bit longer than expected and that he had a few extra minutes before he was needed on the set. He pulled out his phone and earbuds to tune Dizzy and Harriet out, quickly scrolling to a downloaded audio file. It wasn’t the best quality since the audio had been taken from a recorded video but Harry had found himself listening to it almost religiously every day since that day in the sound booth.

The audio was from a recording of Auradon Got Talent that was done years ago. As he closed his eyes and listened to the music, Harry imagined the stage in the video and the young and oh so small girl with teal hair that came onto the stage as if she was born on it. Her voice then had been powerful for such a small lass and now…he couldn’t help but shiver at the memory of her voice that he had heard when he was recording his part in her new song a week ago. Her talents had definitely been wasted forced into Mal’s shadow.

He felt an earbud being pulled from his ear and for a moment he thought it was Harriet who always had a bad habit of wanting to know what he was listening to, mother hen that she was despite her preferred edgy style.

“Huh. Haven’t heard this song in a long time,” a voice that was definitely not his sister’s startled him to open his eyes to look at the calculating expression of his current collaborator (and, if he was being perfectly honest, his current crush). He glanced around the room, seeing that Harriet and Dizzy were no longer there. (Damn, them.)

As he scrambled for something to say, Harry couldn’t help but appreciate how breathtaking and not to be messed with Uma looked in her own costume. Once he had taken her in, he nearly wanted to smack himself for staring but if the small little smirk on her face, as well as her own appreciative look she threw him, she didn’t mind and also liked what she saw.

“Uh…hi?” Harry squeaked under her gaze, wondering where the hell his usual smooth, suave bad boy persona went.

“Hey,” she returned. “I just wanted to introduce myself and thank you for agreeing to do this, especially with, ya know, me not being on the best of terms with your ex, currently.”

“We never dated. All just a rumor,” Harry found himself saying before he could stop himself. (Harriet was so going to kill him.) He had the strongest urge to tell her everything, to fall to his knees at her feet and assure her that there was nothing between him and Mal, ever.

Uma surprised him though.

“I know,” she said simply and it was like a weight he hadn’t been aware was on his shoulders was lifted. “That’s why I asked for you specifically. I’ve always wanted to work with you. Even before Mal. I’ve…I’ve kind of been a fan of yours for awhile. Even before you and Jay went separate ways musically,” she continued and it was like she had both drowned him and allowed him to fly. The experience was dizzying and wonderful all at the same time. And were his eyes deceiving him or was she…her cheeks had definitely looked like they had darkened, right? “Besides, Jay was adorable but he could never tell the difference between a B flat and A sharp,” she smirked, trying to hide her embarrassment by flipping her hair casually over her shoulder.

That was it. Harry’s brain seemed to implode at that moment as he sighed adoringly, “Will ye marry me?”

Uma’s eyes widened, caught off guard, and it took everything in Harry to not just walk out of the building where they were currently in and just hop into the trash where he belonged.

Before he could salvage things, he heard the most beautiful sound: her laughter.

“Sure, but let’s get through this music video first, first mate,” she winked cheekily using the song’s character description for him.

A beat didn’t even past when he responded back with “Don’t you mean, first date, Captain?” he grinned back.

The two both broke out into loud boisterous laughter, that seemed to follow them even when they made their way onto the set where their other collaborator DJ G3., or Gil, who they were both surprised to find out was a mutual friend to the other, was waiting in his own pirate inspired garb.

And the laughter from that day followed them all the way to “What’s My Name” rising to the top of the charts, beating even Mal’s most popular songs for weeks on end (it was so satisfying seeing Mal’s newest song barely even make it on the top 100 list only to be pushed off after a week) to years later when, once they both had multiple Grammy’s and other various international music awards under their belts, Harry got down on one knee, his mother’s ring held in his hand.

All Uma could do was grin. “I already said yes the first day we met,” she said before kissing him deeply, and not for the first time Uma made his heart sing.

(AN: Also, if you’re wondering, there’s no difference between an A sharp and a B flat. They’re the same note.)

[sending-the-message]

My Work Is Haunted by amcma10

For as long as I can remember I've always wanted to be a nurse. When I was a little girl I would transform my room into a make shift infirmary. All my dolls would be bandaged up and I would even construct IV poles complete with ziplock baggies full of water and straws connecting to my "patients".

Fast forward to present day. I now work in a long term care facility and contrary to popular belief they aren't all depressing places where families drop off once loved relatives and then forget about them. We have a terrific Activities Director who makes sure there is something special planned for our residents every day. I know this not because I actually get to witness it, but because the calendar of events is prominently displayed at the entrance and throughout the halls.

By the time I get to work, which is roughly 5 minutes before my 7p-7a shift most of the residents are finishing up with supper and after their meds are dispensed they retire to their rooms for the night.

What I have neglected to mention about my place of employment is that it actually consists of two buildings. The main building or A building is a large brick structure that sits right up against the main road and the back building aka B building is much smaller and is connected to the larger building by a long covered breezeway.

I work in the B building which is the newest part of our facility that was constructed during the late 80's. The main building is much older, originally constructed in 1952 and was once the only hospital in the small rural town where I live. It was run by Catholic nuns and saw it's fair share of tragedy and unimaginable heartache. Some of the "lifers", a term of endearment we give our long time employees who transitioned over to the LTC facility after the hospital shut down used to regale us with stories that were both hysterical and soul numbing. While those tales were often embellished I could reference some of the facts from our "death book".

I remember the first time I had to access this book, I had only been on the job for a week when one of our geriatric residents passed away. All deaths must be recorded with the following: name, date, age of deceased, time of death, next of kin, address, followed by our signature.

When the hospital was in operation the "manner of death" was also listed. So many young lives taken too soon by accidental drownings, gun shot wounds, stabbings, MVA. I hate that damn book and have been vocal about our need for a new one. Unfortunately this is the way things are done in my county and for now the death book stays.

If any of you have ever worked in LTC then you are well aware that if anything can go wrong it does go wrong after midnight. Confused residents fall out of the bed, scream out due to hallucinations, attempt to leave AMA etc. Anyone who thinks "night shift nurses" have it easy need to be throat punched.

In any case, when we have someone in need of a safety alarm such as a bed alarm or chair alarm there is only one place at my work that houses the spare equipment.

The old ER, or dungeon as we call it. It is in the basement portion of the main building that also houses the kitchen, custodial offices, employee break room, an old chapel and several conference rooms. I hate going down there and usually I enlist the help of one of the CNA's to accompany me. This was mainly just for safety reasons. Once, a drunk man was able to gain access to the back door where the time clock was located and was found passed out against a drink machine near the employee break room. He was completely oblivious to where he was when the cops showed up and took him off in handcuffs.

In order to get to where the spare equipment room is located you must go through the swinging metal doors leading to the old ER. Past the doors there are several round metal speaker systems that hang out from the top of the walls and an assortment of old signage directing patients to the front desk, bathrooms, exam rooms and the radiology department. It truly looks like you stepped into an old episode of the Twilight Zone. Trust me when I say that walking down these halls by yourself is extremely unsettling.

Any way, about the dungeon. One night last November I needed a bed alarm for one of our newer residents who had fallen out of bed twice within 3 hours. Its our policy after the 2nd documented fall then we institute soft restraint measures to prevent injury. Being short a CNA that particular night I was forced to retrieve the alarm myself since there had to always be one employee on the floor at all times and Grace, one of my "lifer's" was elbow deep in shit at that moment.

It was a little past midnight when I grabbed my coat exited out into the frigid night walking the breezeway leading into the main building. The door to the main building from the breezeway opened up to a dimly lit hallway where directly in front of the doors stood a single elevator. I observed that the elevator door leading upstairs to the main floors was open. Odd. Unless someone is entering the elevator or exiting it the door remain closed. As if reading my thoughts the elevator door slowly closed and I watched as the "up arrow" glowed brightly.

I'm one of those people who can generally get freaked out by the slightest thing so already I was dreading my trek down the hall to the equipment room. As I walked along the corridor leading to the swinging metal doors it felt like the heating system was on the brinks. I could almost see my breath that's how drastically the temperature change was. In that moment I remembered every horror/scary movie I had ever seen where a sudden drop in ambient temperature meant that ghosts were present. I tried humming the Pharrell Williams song "Happy" to keep my mind from going to those terrifying thoughts.

After pushing through the metal doors I thought I saw a glimpse of movement off to my right. Perhaps one of the other nurses or CNA's from the two upper floors were down here getting equipment as well and I chastised myself for being such a scaredy-cat.

I quickened my steps and made it to the door marked "Radiology" which was where all our extra equipment was stored. During the time the hospital was in operation this was where all the x-rays were performed and it still held some of the ancient machines. I could hear movement as if someone were pushing a wheelchair or stretcher out of the way and again relief washed over me.

I opened the door and was immediately struck with fear. There was no one else in the room! Despite its size I would have been able to see someone even if they were crouched down looking through one of the storage bins. The air again was even more frigid in the room, so cold in fact that I actually could see my breath in front of me.

It felt downright silly but I uttered a shrill "Hello?" as I took a few steps inside. The door slammed shut behind me. Panic was now reaching every cell of my body and I could hear and feel my heart as it bounded in my chest. My mind raced as I turned behind me and tried the door knob. It was locked! I was way past terrified at this point and started banging on the door shouting at the top of my lungs. My voice bounced off the sickening green cement blocks that made up the walls. "Help!" I continued to scream to no avail. Then it happened.

A voice, so soft and faint came from the other side of the door. "Is it time?"

I moved back from the door and detected movement from the other side however even with the dim fluorescent light fixtures in the hall there should have been a shadow.

I swallowed hard even though my mouth was dry and my throat burned from my screaming. I listened again, waiting and the voice a little louder asked "I'm ready to go, is it time?" After those words were again uttered the soft sniffles of a child crying echoed through the room I was in. I remained motionless, frozen by fear when I heard another voice, much older say "Come on Lily, this way." I could hear the sound of footsteps leading away from the door.

Not even a minute later the door opened behind me and I screamed when I heard my name. "Janie?" He looked bewildered. It was Steve, one of the new CNA's from the 2nd floor coming to get a wheelchair. I must have looked like a ghost myself as I'm sure all the color had drained from my face. "Jesus they need to get the heat fixed down here" he said as he moved past me to grab the chair.

"Could you wait, just a minute while I grab a chair alarm?" I asked. Steve looked at me funny before breaking into a grin. "Why? You scared?" he snickered. Asshole.

Nevertheless he waited while I grabbed the alarm and I hauled ass down the hall and then broke into a jog after exiting the building before punching the code to get into my own building.

I made it back to my nurse's station and handed the alarm to Grace, the older CNA who had been keeping a watch on the halls and told her to take it to room 301. When she rounded the hall I opened my desk drawer and pulled out the death book. I don't know why I was compelled to do so but after flipping through and skimming several names I saw what made my heart drop to my stomach. NAME: Lily Robertson DATE: October 5th 1958, AGE: 5 CAUSE OF DEATH: Blunt force trauma to the head. I now know without a doubt that my work is haunted and sadly it was not an isolated incident.

[justsomebucky]

The Only Exception (Part 3)

Summary: AU. Reader is given the task of running a popular love advice internet show when her coworker is fired. Her cynical attitude toward love makes her offer some harsh advice, and more than a few hearts are caught in the aftermath. Will hers be one of them?

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x reader

Word Count: 3,523

Warnings: language, fluff, wishful thinking, hot firemen, sarcasm, cynicism, bad jokes, drinking, sad story retelling (mentions of death and loss)

A/N: Moving right along…and yes, I used a Keep Reading line. Also, shout out to @redgillan for making my day brighter.

Part - 1 - 2 - 3 - 4 - 5 - 6 - 7 - 8 - 9 - 10

“What do you mean this is my office now?” You stared at your name, which was now fixed on a plate outside of the door. “I didn’t actually agree to anything long-term yet.”

“I don’t think May cares,” Scott said with a shrug, moving inside the office. “Views are clicks, and clicks are money. That’s basically all they want right now.”

To your surprise and horror, all of your belongings were now in Leah’s office. “When did they manage this?” You stepped in cautiously, as if more awaited you inside.

“Two guys from Maintenance and one from IT were here an hour before you to set everything up.”

You reached into your pocket and pulled out your phone, sending a quick text to your so-called assistant (and so-called best friend). When were you planning on telling me about the move?

“Right now!”

At the sound of Natasha’s voice, you whirled around and narrowed your eyes at her. “You’re supposed to tell me things like this before I get to work and find everything moved already.”

“This part is actually not as bad as the other thing I have to tell you, Y/N.”

Now you were worried. “What? Explain yourself. What other amazing surprises should I be expecting?” You moved closer to where she was standing, your hands on your hips.

“Well,” Nat began, pulling out her own phone and scrolling a bit. “There were four things total. First, you have a meeting with the creative team this afternoon.”

“I knew about that,” you nodded. “Keep going.”

“You have a new office, yaaay!”

Your eyes narrowed some more. “Also knew about that, thanks.”

Natasha gave you a nervous smile. “Here’s a good one: I took the liberty of setting up a date for you and Bucky tonight, once his shift is over.”

“You WHAT?” Now you could feel the out-of-control anger rising. “Natasha! I never agreed to that! He hasn’t even contacted me, and it’s been an entire week!”

“Yeah, about that, he busted his phone on the job Monday night, and begged Steve to ask me for your number again.”

“Likely story,” you huffed, turning away to look out the window. If you were going to be stuck in this office, at least it had a view. You did your regular calming exercise. There’s the Empire State Building…

“Last but not least, May wants you to stream your show live today.”

“Live?”

“Yeah, you know, as it happens. Not pre-recorded. Live,” Scott supplied.

“Got it.” You’d forgotten Scott was even in the room, that’s how quiet he’d been. “Scott, did Leah ever have to live stream her episodes?”

“Oh shit, no, never,” he laughed. “Can you imagine how awful that would have been? We had to do at least three or four takes every episode.”

“Doesn’t matter.” Nat’s voice was grim. “May saw some article about how more and more companies are using live stream on YouTube or Facebook to connect with an audience, so she wants to try it.”

“Don’t you generally have to advertise this so they can actually get an audience?” Scott asked, crossing his arms over his chest. He didn’t look happy, either.

“Well…that’s another thing…a fifth thing, if you will.”

“Spit it out, Nat,” you growled. “What else?”

“May has been advertising it, on the site that your show links to at the end. And not that you want to hear it, Y/N, but there’s been an awful lot of interest.”

“This cannot be happening.” You moved to sit at your new desk, head in your hands. The room wasn’t spinning, right? That wasn’t a thing that happened. It was just you, feeling faint. “I don’t want to do this.”

“I believe May’s exact words were, ‘She has to do it.’”

You groaned, letting your head fall to your desk.

This day just kept getting worse.

“Okay, just the same as ever, Y/N. I’ll count down, but instead of reading questions from email, you’ll be reading questions live from the comments. Nat is going to be picking them as they come in.”

“Try not to pick terrible questions, Nat, okay?” You were still mad at her for not telling you sooner, though you knew it was unreasonable. Knowing sooner would have just made you worry that much longer.

“Fine. Just, can we get to it? It’s almost time.”

Scott nodded, checking his watch. “Okay, ten seconds.”

You glanced in the mirror, touching your hair one last time before staring at the camera.

You can do this, you can do this you can do this…

“In five, four…’

Shit, you can’t do this! Don’t do this!

“…three, two…” After another beat, Scott pointed at you.

“Hi, I’m Y/N, the Love Therapist, and I’m here live streaming today with all of you to answer your questions, and hopefully offer up some helpful advice. Let’s get right to the chat, shall we? My assistant is going to be picking questions, so if yours doesn’t get answered, don’t worry, the regular show email is still available for you to send in a question.”

Scott left the camera on you as Nat read off the first question.

“Isaac212 asks, ‘I got a girl pregnant, but I don’t really like her at all. She’s terrible, boring, and clingy as hell. What should I do?’”

You made a face at Nat, then the camera. “Well, Isaac, I’d say first of all, it doesn’t really matter what you want anymore. You have a kid with this person you loathe, and the only one I feel sorry for here is the child. Congrats, dad. Time to take responsibility for your actions, even if you hate the woman. Next question.”

When she didn’t say anything, you glanced over at her. “Aren’t there any more questions?”

“Well, actually…this question comes from user Confused in Brooklyn’s Ex-Fiancé.”

More follow up? Why would you have expected anything less… “Go on.”

“He writes, ‘I just wanted you to know that you ended a relationship the other week, and I’m still pissed off, because you gave an answer without thinking of the consequences of your actions. I hope other people think first before they take your advice.’”

There was a brief silence in the room, before you cleared your throat. “Fair enough, Ex-Fiancé. I deserve that. It was my first show, and I did give out advice that was somewhat vague, which led your former significant other down a certain path and away from you.”

You glanced to your right, to the window and your beloved city, before looking squarely at the camera. “But, if you think I caused the problems in your relationship that led to its ultimate demise, you are sadly mistaken. You need to look at yourself and the role you played in making your fiancée feel like she couldn’t talk to you about your problems, so much that she relied on a stranger from the internet for help.”

Scott was nodding behind the scenes, but you were too fired up to acknowledge him.

“It sounds to me, Ex, that you thought everything was sunshine and rainbows when it wasn’t. Were you the only one benefiting from the relationship? Were you even paying attention to the poor woman? I suggest you work on your communication skills, and I sincerely hope everything works out for you in the future. Moving right along…”

The show continued live for an hour, and by the end of it you were mentally and emotionally exhausted. The thought of going home and curling up with a nice book or binging a TV show sounded like heaven right then.

You didn’t even bother to ask permission to leave; what were they gonna do now, fire you? You grabbed your coat and phone, determined to leave work’s baggage where it belonged.

“Where are you going?” Natasha called down the hall.

Dammit; you’d hoped to sneak out before she saw. “I’m going home, Nat. I’m tired.”

“You have a date with Bucky tonight, remember?” She rushed to catch up with you, keeping pace beside you as you hauled ass down the hall.

“No. No, I cannot tonight. I’m sorry. Maybe some other time.” The thought alone made you downright drained.

“Um, well…he’s downstairs waiting.”

That stopped you in your tracks, and if looks could kill… “Excuse me?”

“Steve sorta…asked where we work and I told him.”

“Nat, I love you, I really do, but you have to stop meddling in my personal life. I didn’t ask for your help, and I didn’t ask you to set me up with Bucky again.”

“Well you weren’t going to see him on your own!”

“Maybe that’s the point!” Your voice was getting too loud, so you tried to calm down a little. “I’m not ready. I’m not.”

“You’ll never be ready,” she snapped, before turning and walking away from you.

You didn’t really have a retort to that. Maybe she was right; maybe you were never really going to be ready. Why was it that you could give good advice to strangers, but not take it for yourself?

With a big sigh, you trudged to the elevator, then the lobby, where Bucky Barnes was indeed waiting for you.

“Hey,” he said with a smile, though it didn’t quite look like it was reaching his eyes. “Ready to go?”

“I don’t know if I really want to go out tonight, Bucky,” you said apologetically. “I just had a bad day at work and I kind of just want to go home and veg out.”

“What’s wrong? I watched your show, by the way, on my lunch. That was pretty intense.”

Great. Just what you needed, for the guy you were kindofsortof seeing to see you embarrass yourself live. “So then I guess you heard the one guy who blames me for ruining his life?”

Bucky’s eyes widened. “That was something, wasn’t it.”

“Yeah,” you scoffed, glancing around the lobby. “It’s not my fault his fiancée was having doubts, but suddenly I’m the bad guy who ruined everything. All I did was tell her to evaluate things for herself. Then he goes and suggests that no one should listen to me….Ugh! Whatever.”

“Hmmm. Well, I am a fireman…I can rush you to the burn unit if you want?”

You glanced back at him to see he was absolutely kidding, his eyes now twinkling with mischief. “Hilarious.”

“Just thought I’d offer.”

“Mmhmm…” You nodded out the door. “Well, are we having this date, or what? I could use a distraction, I guess.”

“Ah, that’s the enthusiasm I was looking for,” he joked, motioning for you to lead the way.

You weren’t sure why it surprised you, but your day definitely got better the moment Bucky showed up. He’d taken great care to make sure you were laughing the whole way to dinner.

He’d taken you to a Japanese restaurant, conveniently located halfway between your apartment and the firehouse, because he personally knew the owner. When she first saw Bucky walk through the door, her eyes lit up, and she swooped in to grab him and hug him tightly. He hugged her back with such ferocity, and a fondness you’d never seen from him before.

Now the two of you were seated across from one another, at a small table near the kitchen.

The entire restaurant was comprised of the main dining area and then the small kitchen in the back, but the way it was laid out and decorated made it feel like it was twice its size. Hand-painted designs played out scenes from history and mythology all along the bright yellow walls, while heavy red curtains and red tablecloths brought you back down to reality.

So far, the date was going a little too well. “You won’t be called out again, right?”

Bucky shook his head, a small smile lifting the corner of his mouth. “Not tonight, no. I swapped on-call shift with Steve so I could be here, uninterrupted.”

A warm feeling spread through your bones, seeping into your heart a little, though you’d never admit it. When was the last time someone put effort into spending time with you? It had been…well, you couldn’t recall, but it had been a long time.

Bucky must have noticed a shift in the atmosphere around you both, because he started fidgeting in his chair. You wondered what could have brought on his discomfort, when he was the one to make such a bold statement.

“I used to live in an apartment above this place,” he explained quietly, his eyes traveling to the staircase in the back of the room. “They were very gracious landlords when I first struck out on my own. She and her husband treated me like family. Her husband passed away last year, so I try to stop by and see her as often as I can.”

You let your own eyes wander over his features while he was lost in thought. His brown hair was getting a little long, and his blue-grey eyes were contemplative. His eyes had little laugh lines around them, and you saw a scar across his chin. Maybe that was from a fire fight gone awry; you’d have to ask him sometime.

When his eyes met yours sooner than you were expecting, you saw surprise flash in them. “You’re staring at me. Was it something I said?”

“No.” You shook your head, feeling your face heat up a little at being caught observing him. “You just haven’t told me much about yourself before.”

“Ah. Well, there’s not much to tell. I was born and raised upstate. My parents moved a little closer to the city, though, after…”

You were almost afraid to ask. “After what?”

His fists clenched on the table, and when he noticed, he moved his hands to his lap. “When I was eighteen, I had just left to go to school down here in the city. My parents were off playing cards with the neighbors, and they left my little sister alone.”

Bucky’s eyes dulled and his expression darkened for a moment, but he shook it away before looking back at you. “She had some kind of candle burning, then they think she fell asleep. There wasn’t much left of the house after they were done putting out the fire.”

“I’m so sorry,” you whispered, your heart aching for him. You had a sudden urge to try to fix everything, though you knew that was not only absurd, but impossible.

“That’s why I became a fireman, anyways. I wanted to help prevent other families from going through that if I could.” He averted his eyes. “So, tell me why you went into the advice business.”

It was pretty obvious that he was not comfortable talking about his past any longer, so you indulged him this one time. “I didn’t get into the advice business. I got into the therapy business, at least I wanted to.”

“Why, though?” He lifted his curious gaze to meet your eyes again. “What made you decide that was the career for you?”

You didn’t answer him for a moment, trying to collect your thoughts. After his big revelation, you didn’t want to sound like an idiot. “Ever since I was a kid, when someone else was hurting and they didn’t deserve the pain, I hurt, too. If a kid was bullied, I comforted them. If a stray cat was hungry, I fed it. I just-”

You looked down, fiddling with the tablecloth in front of you. “I’ve been told I am empathetic. Over the years, it got to be too much, and it would weigh me down. So I decided that if I could channel it into something more productive it wouldn’t hurt me as much. I don’t know if you noticed, or anything, but I have a hard time letting people get close to me.”

“It sounds like self-preservation.”

Your eyes flickered up to Bucky’s, and while you were expecting judgment, you only saw understanding in them. “Really? Because the guy on the live stream today, the one with the wedding I inadvertently helped cancel, basically told me that I’m a life-ruiner. I’m not going to be able to get over that anytime soon.”

Bucky visibly flinched, but he coughed to cover it up. “Let’s just have a nice meal and forget work and our pasts and anything else but the two of us, okay?”

“That’s the best idea I’ve heard all night,” you admitted, reaching for your sake. Things were getting too sad and deep here, and you didn’t want to chase him away yet.

The owner came over just then with both of your plates in her hands, and your stomach rumbled in appreciation at the delicious food she placed in front of you.

“Thank you, this looks amazing as always,” Bucky told her, laying on his typical charm with a smile. The gloom his eyes held earlier was gone, and for that you were grateful.

“You are welcome. Maybe next time you won’t take so long to visit?” She turned her eyes to you, her eyebrows raised. “And you, good for you for putting up with this one. I hope he doesn’t scare you off like he did the last one.”

That must have been a sore spot for him, because he cleared his throat and gave her a nod. “I’m sure I’ll swing by again soon.”

“Good.” She gave a sharp nod to you both, then disappeared through a swinging door into the kitchen.

“What was that about? You scared off your last date? Should I be worried?” You tried to sound like you were kidding, but you were wondering why she would bring it up.

“It’s nothing,” he shrugged, taking a bite of his food. “Don’t worry about it.”

Instead of pushing the topic, you decided to follow his lead and eat your dinner. You even beat Bucky to a clean plate, leaning back with a satisfied groan. “That was amazing, but I’m too full to move.”

Bucky laughed, the little lines you’d noticed earlier finally making an appearance as he stood. “No dessert then?” He gave you a mischievous glance as he pulled out his wallet and laid some money down on the table.

“Let me pay my half,” you offered, reaching into your bag as you stood up too.

Bucky’s hand covered yours before you got very far. “Let’s just head out. I don’t like extended goodbyes.”

“Okay.” You let him take your hand in his and lead you out the door.

Outside, under the weird orange light from the restaurant’s sign, without any warning at all, Bucky cupped your jaw and kissed you for the first time.

If he’d meant it to be a chaste kiss, you wouldn’t know, because you moved closer and deepened it almost instinctively. His other arm wrapped around your waist, locking you tightly against him.

It felt really good to be wanted.

Bucky pulled back after a moment, looking more than a little disheveled and breathing hard. “Y/N, I have to tell you something.”

“Right now, on the sidewalk?” You made a face. “Can’t we wait until we’re indoors somewhere?”

“I don’t want to go any further with this-“ he gestured between the two of you, “-without talking about it.”

“Have you murdered someone?”

Now it was his turn to make a face. “No.”

“Are you…seeing someone else?”

“No, I’m not.”

There was only one logical explanation left, and it hurt to even say out loud. You felt your chest tighten as your anxiety made its presence known. “It’s me, isn’t it? You just aren’t into me? Well, at least you tried, you know, that’s more than most men, and-“

“No,” Bucky interrupted, his hand lifting to brush your cheek gently. “That’s definitely not it at all, I just…I’m worried that when I tell you, you won’t want to see me anymore.”

“What is it then?” you breathed, feeling like your insides were tying in knots. “Because I don’t exactly have a lot of self-confidence, Bucky, and I really need to know.”

He took in a deep breath, then let it out slowly as his eyes searched yours. “It’s a long story. I-“

You could have cursed the entire planet when his (new) phone started going off, interrupting him with an emergency alert. “I thought you said you weren’t on call tonight?”

“If it’s a big enough emergency, I don’t have a choice. I’m really sorry. I don’t want to have a short conversation about this, or text about it. Can we hang out tomorrow?”

“Okay, I will carve out some time for you tomorrow. But we’re doing something that I want to do for once.”

“You got it.” He leaned over and kissed your cheek, then walked backwards slowly. “I’ll see you tomorrow. Can you get home okay?”

“I think I can manage the three blocks to my apartment. Be safe.”

“You, too.” With a final wave, Bucky turned and jogged up the road to the firehouse.

You sighed, holding your bag a little closer as you walked the other way to your apartment.

There was no way you would sleep peacefully that night.

Part - 1 - 2 - 3 - 4 - 5 - 6 - 7 - 8 - 9 - 10

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[ismael37olson]

The New Regional Arts Commission

To our great surprise and horror, after 27 years of funding New Line Theatre, the Regional Arts Commission (RAC) decided not to fund us this season. We were truly baffled by the decision -- we get rave reviews for every show we produce, we have a national profile for both excellence and risk-taking, and Broadway writers periodically come see our productions of their shows, particularly when those shows were destroyed on Broadway, but brought back to life by New Line. One article about RAC's new direction said, "Among the plan’s recommendations is that arts groups work with local organizations to help solve community problems. Arts groups can play a role with efforts to build affordable housing, improve public safety and other civic initiatives, RAC executive director Felicia Shaw said." I think this is seriously misguided. You don't drive a nail with a pair of scissors. Same principle here. Theatre and other art forms often address social and political issues (at New Line, almost always), but it is not the job of an arts organization to build housing or make neighborhoods safe. We are storytellers, not the police and not construction workers. We make our communities better places already by telling important, relevant stories that make people think. Does she not understand that? Felicia is essentially telling us, though she may not realize it, that if we want to be funded by RAC again, we have to change the nature of what we do, change our mission statement (which does not currently mention affordable housing or neighborhood safety), etc. In another interview, she said, "The focus of the report is 'how can the arts play a larger role in making St. Louis a better place to live,' explained Felicia Shaw, executive director of the Regional Arts Commission." The arts already do that in spades. In every city that creates an arts district, neighborhoods around that district thrive, because the arts automatically make an area a better place to live. One person commented about all this in a St. Louis Theatre group on Facebook, "I believe though that sometimes we have to go beyond our comfort zone for what the community needs. I think that’s what RAC is trying to accomplish." But it's not about comfort zones; it's about mission statement. People don't donate money to New Line to build affordable housing; they donate to us to tell them interesting, thought-provoking stories that intersect/interact with the issues surrounding us in the real world. There's also something much more, much bigger going on here. Felicia's comments reveal something far more concerning, an underlying assumption that the arts are not "enough," that creating art and sharing it with the community, the entire point of a nonprofit arts organization, isn't sufficiently valuable in her eyes; that feeding the soul and the brain and the heart are less worthy endeavors than feeding the stomach.

All this despite the fact that storytelling is one of the most basic, most necessary of human functions. It's how we learn, how we connect, how we cooperate, how we govern, how we record our history and our culture, how we work through problems, how we grow collectively and individually. Storytelling is one of the most basic of human needs, going back to the first pictographs on cave walls. To disrespect that long, proud, noble history, by telling us we only have value when that storytelling is augmented with "real world" service, is truly disappointing. Felicia obviously doesn't understand that, as important as building houses will always be, just as important is building empathy and understanding and connection, through the very real magic of storytelling. We shouldn't have to help build housing to prove our worth. Let's look at the IRS and nonprofit status... 1894 – The Tariff Act of 1894 provided the first statutory Federal income tax exemption for charitable organizations: “nothing herein contained shall apply to … corporations, companies, or associations organized and conducted solely for charitable, religious, or educational purposes.” 1909 – The Payne Aldrich Tariff Act of 1909 exempted from a general corporate excise tax “any corporation or association organized and operated exclusively for religious, charitable, or educational purposes, no part of the net income of which inures to the benefit of any private stockholder or individual.” But what counts as educational...? 1973 – Revised Ruling 73-45, 1973-1 C.B. 220, holds that an organization formed to develop a community appreciation for drama and musical arts by sponsoring professional presentations such as plays, musicals and concerts qualified for exemption under IRC 501(c)(3). In other words, the arts are inherently educational. They teach us about life, about our world, about each other, and about ourselves. Even without the express "educational programs" that funders love, the arts are inherently educational. They don't need to add activities in order to serve their communities. One of Felicia's other focuses is talking about how the arts generate economic activity. That's great, but it also buys into the notion that what we do is not sufficiently worthwhile. We also have to prove that we generate money. Again, how terribly misguided. By accepting that premise, she normalizes the idea that we should measure the arts in dollars. We shouldn't. The title of her new plan is chilling:

Arts &

A Creative Vision for St. Louis

The title tells us all we need to know -- that the arts by themselves aren't enough. We have to create "art and..." Also, I love that the "creative vision" is that the creative arts aren't worthy unless they're combined with something else. I love irony. On the first page of the Plan, it says, "That’s why we are pursuing a cultural vision to benefit and elevate not only the arts and culture in St. Louis but also to benefit and elevate St. Louis." So the art will be elevated by having to take on non-arts projects...? The Plan summary also says, "But if all people in St. Louis have access to create and engage in the arts, and if the arts are understood and assumed to be for all, not just for some, then the arts can be not only an equalizer but also a ladder to opportunity, a job creator, a bridge between communities, an educational asset, a source of civic pride, an attractor of visitors, a draw for transplants, and a true economic engine." The arts are already all those things in St. Louis, and have been for quite some time.  One "Community Leader" is quoted in the report, saying "What is new [in St. Louis] is that if you want to be the creator -- a program, an event -- people aren’t asking for permission as much, they are just making it happen."

That's not new. That's been happening in St. Louis for decades. Anybody remember the St. Marcus Theatre, City Players at the shut-down Coronado Hotel, the ArtLoft, the Black Rep at the 23rd Street Theatre...? Nobody asked permission to start New Line 28 years ago. At one point, the report says, "Many artists said that they see and experience the same disparities of race, gender, and ability that are pervasive in society in both the nonprofit and commercial arts sectors. Barriers raised by racism and segregation add to the challenges they already face as working artists, further hindering their careers." That is a real problem. But it's worth noting that New Line regularly has some of the most diverse casts on St. Louis stages, and that's been true for a decade or more. But New Line got zero-funded by RAC. Felicia wants arts organizations to tackle important issues. New Line has been doing that for 28 years. Felicia wants young people and people of color to have the chance to shine. New Line has been doing that for decades. In our last show the actors playing our "royal family" were white, black, and Asian. Felicia wants local ogrniazations to hire local artists. New Line has hired only local artists for 28 years. But New Line got zero-funded by RAC. The report says, "The arts are already working at the intersection of health, community and economic development, transportation, tourism, faith, education, and other sectors. But what we heard from participants is that they want to see even more connections between the arts and other nonprofit and social sectors, because they see this as a key way that the arts can help advance positive social change." You know how the arts can best help advance positive social change, RAC? Changing the way people think, through the most powerful persuader known to humans -- storytelling.

Take for example, the very silly Zombies of Penzance, which we're about to open. I'm sure Felicia would not find our production particularly worthwhile in terms of social service. But if you look closely, Zombies is not just a silly romp; like all of Gilbert & Sullivan's shows, it's a satire. In its original form, as The Pirates of Penzance, it was about the absurdity of class distinctions. Now as The Zombies of Penzance, it's about the "Othering" of people not like us, the way we become "Us" and "Them," the way we see the Scary Other (Mexicans, Muslims, Gays, Transgender Americans, etc.) as less than human, so we can hate and even oppress them without any guilt. We are in a particularly dangerous time of "Othering" right now, and this story will be particularly potent right now. But it won't help with affordable housing. In the conclusion of the report, it says, "This process made clear that the time is right for RAC to expand its capacities beyond its role as grantmaker and consider ways to fulfill a bolder mission." RAC has always been much more than just a grantmaker. Under Jill McGuire's decades of leadership, RAC supported the arts community in so many ways, some of which Felicia has already ended. Why do new people always feel the need to trash those who've gone before? Why did this report need to imply falsely -- and classlessly -- that in the past RAC has done nothing more than disburse grants? It seems likely that New Line will never again get RAC grants, but we will apply again next year. In the meantime, please support small arts organizations in our area, particularly those several dozen that got cut off by RAC this year. We will keep soldiering on, and somehow we will make up for the $12,000 per year RAC took away from us. If you think New Line's work is already worthwhile, help us make up for the indignity of this loss by making a contribution to New Line whenever you can. New Line will continue to tackle the issues of our world, through provocative, intense, and yes, sometimes silly, adult musical theatre. The incredible praise for our work over the years, the rave reviews, the contributions that increase every year, are all the proof we need that we're on the right track. We open Zombies of Penzance next week! Ticket sales are great! Get your tickets now! Long Live the Musical! Scott from The Bad Boy of Musical Theatre http://newlinetheatre.blogspot.com/2018/09/the-new-regional-arts-commission.html