#dilapidated statue vibes

[polyporethewicked]

My take on false son! (Very, very WIP)

I thought his design was insanely good conceptually, but missed a lot of potential in the personality it could convey. I wanted to really get across how his body is a dilapidated statue.

[sparrowlucero]

Hello sorry I am being shy and anon but do you have any advice for someone who wants to get into Doctor Who again after briefly dabbling (and enjoying it very much) in like the early, early 2010s? I know this is mostly your art blog but you were the only person I could think of to ask you're like the Doctor Who authority of blogs I follow

Oh yeah of course! People can be really confusing about this so I'll try not to be.

So first, the majority of doctor who episodes are self contained stories that you could just watch and understand perfectly without any further context. even when there is some overarching context it's usually written in a way that's either pretty easy to glean and/or just doesn't impact your understanding of the story. 99% of the episodes don't even care if you know the premise and are just like "what if some people were on a spaceship and the devil was there? wouldn't that be fucked up or what??". Don't feel like you have to binge a 60 years long show to watch it. Some standalone episodes I think are fun if you (or anyone else) just want to check out one or two:

The Empty Child/The Doctor Dances (A supposed-to-be-dead boy in a gas mask haunts a young woman in world war 2)

Blink (A woman gets wrapped up in a mystery involving statues that make people disappear. This one is especially good if you flat out know nothing about the show. Has some really great time travel stuff.)

A Christmas Carol (A christmas carol pastiche (of course) where the doctor tries to rewrite the past of a cruel man who's going to let a lot of people die. very sad and sweet. I love the "wintery planet with sky fish" setting of this one)

Vincent and the Doctor (The famous Vincent Van Gogh Episode™)

The Rings of Akhatan (A pretty lowkey little adventure story about an alien festival. has supreme autumn vibes)

Flatline (A species from a 2 dimensional world tries to break into our 3 dimensional one. really fun special effects)

Midnight (A tour bus breaks down on a diamond planet where nothing can survive. Something knocks at the door.)

Silence in the Library/Forest of the Dead (The Doctor and friend go to a library that covers an entire planet and finds that everyone has disappeared. Has a lot of really great, interesting concepts baked into it that I won't spoil)

It Takes You Away (A girl is left alone in a cabin in the woods when her dad disappears through the mirror. Has a famously goofy ending that I really love)

73 Yards (A character is steps on a fairy circle and is followed by an old woman who always stands exactly 73 yards away)

The Devil's Chord (This doesn't really have, you know, a plot, but it does have jinkx monsoon as an evil music god)

Boom (The doctor steps on a landmine on an alien planet and cannot move)

Wild Blue Yonder (A two hander where the Doctor and co are trapped on a dilapidated spaceship at the edge of the universe. really atmospheric with some fun/strange visuals.)

That being said, it does add a lot to watch it in order; there's a lot of plot twists, character dynamics, and general payoff you get if you marathon it. I would personally recommend starting with either the first episode of the 2005 show ("Rose") or the first episode of the 2010 season ("The Eleventh Hour") and just watching in order from there. I think you could also start with "The Snowmen", "The Pilot", or "The Woman Who Fell To Earth" if you wanted, but the first two (especially rose) are the better jumping on points.

some other little notes of advice I don't often see people mention:

it's stupid sometimes just roll with it

once in a while the show sort of "reboots" with different writers, actors, directors, and a new tone. it's much more like watching several small shows than one long show, so don't be too put off by the length!

IMPORTANT: pretty much all streaming services will separate holiday/anniversary specials from the show proper and you have to deliberately search them up on the same service to find them. It's really necessary to be aware of this because many of these specials are the first or last episodes for characters/whole eras of the show and are genuinely unskippable. I strongly recommend looking up a list of the episodes and checking it after finales just to make sure you don't skip anything on accident.

there's two spin offs (Torchwood, a more adult (read: gay sex) show about a mysterious agency that solves sci fi crimes, and the Sarah Jane Adventures, a pretty good monster of the week kids show) that ran concurrently with season 1-4. You don't have to watch them to understand anything happening in doctor who, but sometimes they cross over with the show in fun ways, Ex. the first season finale of Torchwood continues directly into season 3 of Doctor Who. My friend and I got a kick out of watching them at the same time so maybe you will too. (either way I recommend watching "Children of Earth", the torchwood miniseries, if you want to see a weird dark sci fi show about the government making contact with aliens. It's a bit like arrival (2016) if it was way nastier.)

alternatively, you can inject fast acting brain poison into yourself with this

anyways I hope this all reads as, you know, more approachable than the way dudes on quora recommend this show:

[rapha-reads]

IWTV rewatch

(how to resume the second half of this episode: *Captain Holt's voice* paiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiin)

Season 1 episode 5 [A Vile Hunger For Your Hammering Heart] - part 2/2

- The way Louis' face is still as a statue as Loustat make their plans. The way you can feel the resentment covering the entire house.

- Lestat immediately shutting down going to Paris.

- And now welcome to the portion I'd like to call "Claudia Suffered More Than [insert your favourite martyr figure here]". Oof, Bruce immediately gives off a bad vibe, more than that white student who is after all only reproducing classic patterns of racism and classism.

- [Louis] "As the depression set in on the nation, I barricaded myself within the dilapidating walls of 1132 Rue Royale, educating myself from Lestat's library, ignoring all other duties of the role Claudia once mocked me for - the unhappy housewife." - was the raccoon really necessary? It is a nice touch, I won't lie, but really hammering in the point: the depression Louis talks about isn't just the Great Depression, it's his own (I like hammering points too, sorry). But you know what, I WISH I could lock myself wherever my books are and just ignore the whole fucking world and everyone in it for 3 or 4 years.

- [Louis] "Flaubert's style is so dense." - L'éducation sentimentale is, I'll admit it, a horror to read (but less than Le Rouge et le Noir, Stendhal really gave it his whole to make that one unbearable). Madame Bovary on the other hand is a gem.

[Lestat] "Louis Armstrong is in town tonight, playing at the Pelican" - when a bookworm introvert dates a music addict extrovert - beware the conflicting schedules and discordant ambiances. (In which I am Louis and the perfect day is a quiet day with classic music playing lowly in the background and a pile of books)

[Lestat] "You sound like every pompous Sorbonne student I've ever eaten." - ... As a former Sorbonne student, I have absolutely nothing to say in my defence (I studied French and English literature and linguistics for a year with a minor in audio-visual media, fyi). I am sadly very self-aware of how pompous I sound whenever I start talking literature. Sorry not sorry. (would absolutely not protest if Lestat decides to give me a visit. Ahem. Who said that.)

- [Lestat] "'You draw me into your gloom.' [Louis] 'It's your fault she's gone. If you hadn't pushed her... ' [Lestat] 'Claudia.' [Louis] 'If you hadn't done your...' [Lestat] 'Claudia, Claudia. I cannot listen to this insanity about Claudia one more time, bordel de merde.'"

I know we justifiably talk about Armand's "Lestat, Lestat, Lestat" litany, but Lestat's "Claudia" is quite good too.

Also, can't quite decipher what Lestat says in French there. English accent too thick. I think it's "ils me chient dans la main [gibberish]" ("they" or maybe "he shits in my hand") but don't quote me on that.

- Bruce's been stalking Claudia for a while, huh. And interesting to note that it's partly Louis' fault, his repetitive calls to Claudia that attracted his attention.

- Louis's destroying that table. I'm going to focus on that instead of whatever happened to Claudia or what Louis's doing to Daniel, no thanks. Just like how Armand immediately calms Louis down, and gonna cheer for that slap, good one, Daniel, well deserved, about time.

- [Lestat] "It could be her, but I am the one who is currently standing in front of you, and unlike Claudia, I am a full-blooded adult... with all the right appendages. So if all my considerable considerables continue to be squandered..."

'Stat... Yeah, I have nothing to say.

- [Grace] "Whoever you are that took my Louis" - yeaaah, if one of my sibling would say that to me, I think I'd just crumble and shut down. But at the same time, kudos to Grace for having the strength to bury her brother while he's standing in front of her and keeping whatever secrets he's guarding.

- [Claudia] "I spent time following Louis and Lestat now that I am my own woman, with no obvious sense of why I follow them, other than meaning slowly disintegrates without them... my companions in immortality. But today at the cemetery, I finally understood something so obvious, which I pondered for a decade... why they made me. To be Louis' sister."

*silently sobbing* It's the way Louis knows that passage by heart, and the way Claudia's prose keeps on being heartbreaking.

It's how Louis curls around his pain, and how Claudia makes herself taller in the face of this pain. It's how they don't even need more than an embrace and a word to make it better. It's how siblings who have gone through the same shit know each other so intimately. It's how that's the moment Claudia goes from daughter to sister.

- [Lestat] "The vampires out there are vicious. Oh. But you knew that already. Who did you meet out there in the American hinterland?" - oh, you are being especially awful, Lestat. I love you but you are being unfair. Even if you fear loneliness and abandonment, even if you've just went through seven years of not getting a single kind word or affectionate gesture from Louis... Lashing out, refusing to tell Claudia the truth about European vampires, the cruelty, the violence... No, that's not a good reason for it. But then again you wouldn't be Lestat if you didn't lash out when terrified and angry.

- Ouch. Contrasting that fight seen through Claudia's perspective with the s2 scene seen through Louis and Lestat's... Shivering. This is baaaaad.

Oh, no, no, no, no, I don't wanna see that part. I don't want to have to think about it and analyse it.

Man, I had forgotten how much that episode fucking hurts.

No, but the way Louis won't even say "I don't love you" not just because he won't give Lestat that satisfaction, because he lives to be stubborn and contrary, but maybe also because after all, after everything, that would still be a lie, and Louis doesn't lie; he forgets, he obfuscates, he redirects, he refashions his memories, but he doesn't lie... Even when his own life depends on it.

Episode insider:

Rolin Jones saying for Claudia "why was I the thing to make up for your mistakes". Yeah.

"This is where we start building the Anne Rice universe. As Lestat rightfully warned her there are wolves around the corner."

"It's the kid that goes 'My parents weren't all that bad. I have gone out and seen life. It is not all easy and conquerable'. And she comes back with hat half in hand, but with a mission - to take the good vampire and continue on with her life, and that is at odds with the other vampire in the house."

"It is about the fight of Louis, the fight for Louis's soul. I mean, in the end, it's 'Everbody Loves Louis', isn't it?" - Louis is catnip for vampires. And honestly I can relate. Did I say lately he's my favourite too...

That shot of Lestat hovering in the air all dressed in black with his hair floating around him while Claudia covers Louis's broken body with hers... Enraged Angel. Oh, that's worthy of a full oil on canvas painting.

Alright. That was harsh. And we're so not done. We love angst and tragedy, yey! *sobbing*

episode 1 | episode 2 | episode 3 | episode 4 | part 1 | episode 6 | episode 7

[savagewilderness]

OK!  Thoughts on S2E2, Do you know what it means to be loved by death?

I love the gold (Pegasus?) statue Louis and Claudia sit upon at the start of the episode

“We’ve been together 77 years Daniel.” …”44 more than he did with Lestat.” LOL Armand (I agree with Daniel: “Keep selling it!” !!!!)

LOL @ Louis’ Parisian neck scarf

The fashion plates Claudia has cut out and stuck inside her bed… my heart

Louis looks so good in the red darkroom light, oh my!

Claudia asking Louis who he is reminded me of my thoughts the other day (a very brief summary):

Louis is afraid to look deeply within himself at who he is, in case he is not perfect, as he needs to believe he is.  But he does believe he deserves love.

Conversely, Lestat knows himself - for his evil especially, and despite it all, he still likes himself mainly. But he is afraid he is utterly unloveable.

Claudia talking about a new brain in her head and Armand a new body for her brain… are they *really* going to go there?  It is seeming like it?

I like Madeleine from the wee bit we saw, and I love Claudia’s dress

“It’s just Rashid” LOL

The first meeting of Armand and Louis:

Armand is like a poem made into the form of a being - the way Assad’s Armand speaks, how he looks, how he looks at Louis: he radiates a quiet peace, calm & poetic gentleness, which gave me shivers and goosebumps. Like the beautific gaze of an angel. All added to by Daniel Hart’s divine score, reflecting exactly the same emotions. This is how Armand is often described in the books (until he’s not), but because of the extremes Armand can go to, I don’t often think of this calm, angelic, almost innocent side to him so much… but oh how I felt it

I love how the lamp lights flicker.  It’s like a fairytale romance and everything about it: down to “I will not harm you” is exactly as Louis would wish to hear

SANTIAGO!  I love Ben Daniels.  I love Santiago’s outfit and his eyes and his theatricality and his evident cleverness.

Interesting how dilapidated the Theatre des Vampires is.  Seems like it hasn’t been updated since the ’20’s - half empty; broken bulbs… I am sure we have more to hear on this in the show…

Love how Armand brought cinema into the plays

The plays though have such a tawdry, distasteful feel.  I would agree with Louis’ and Lestat’s visceral dislike of them, even before the human sacrifice.  Though I do like the Brecht vibes.  But it is such a contrast to S1 Lestat and Louis at the Opera…

LOL @ Louis’ face seeing the portrait of Lestat!  And “They’ve got a shrine to him!” Hahaha

Whaaatttt @ Santiago and star charts!! Hahahahaha??!?!?!

Claudia on Loumand… I guess we have our answer now as to whether the vampires really are having actual sex and exactly how!  Cheers Claudia!!!

Roget knowing about Lestat potentially sleeping… interesting…

I’ll copy and paste from elsewhere my thoughts on the Loustat scene…

“Do not waist life…” - Oh Lestat, the illiterate boy & young man you were; so desperate to learn & be good, with a Mother for whom knowledge & escape through books was her only solace… who couldn’t even be bothered to teach you the alphabet.  Now, with your preternatural skills, you can read & write & do any thing you wish… but of course - it makes sense that you would never have entirely learned how to spell, or at least that there’d be the odd, common words you didn’t know. (Occurence, too.) Little details, breaking my heart even more. Thank you everyone for caring so much, you thought about the spelling of Lestat’s letter. I noticed. I care about every tiny detail like this & feel it, like love: deep in my soul.

Also: is Dreamstat *really* going to make me cry in every single episode of season 2, even when he’s barely in the episode for a breath?! (1 min 40 seconds to be precise!) He made me cry in episode 1, and here he made me cry too. 

Oh Louis: to read this letter & all your internal pain & shame & sorrow & guilt & love to deepen, I’m sure even more. Oh Sam, how you spoke the letter. Oh Lestat’s outfit, from their first “date”….

Another link to the episode title here -  Do you know what it means to be loved by death? too

For anyone who’s like the full text of the letter:

“My Louis

In the event you are reading this, something dreadful has occured, which is not my own death, but rather the fact that we now both exist (e?) in two different worlds.

Do not waist life seeking revenge on the person or persons responsible. Do not give them the satisfaction of the hunt. Let their treachery eat them from within and instead…”

(Continued as spoken…)

“And you… you go carry on with your living. Know only this, Mon Cher, you are the only being I trust and whom I love, above and beyond myself.

All my love belongs to you. You are its keeper. A veil will now forever separate our union. But it is a thin veil… and I am always on the other side, my face pressed up against your longing.

Lestat de Lioncourt”

Alice truly doesn’t exist, does she?  Armand: what *have* you done to Daniel!?!  Is all of his life a lie? Is Daniel's shaking here evidence that Armand's mind-altering has had physical impact on Daniel too?  And Louis clearly knows some of it too… though I presume not the love part…. And THEY MUST LOVE EACH OTHER like Devil’s Minion which always makes me sob. (Or maybe Alice does exist, but Armand is why she wouldn’t marry Daniel?)

Oh Claudia - your GLEE at Murder mansion

“I like how you withhold” - Armand providing your next chat up line - you’re welcome!

OMG we’re going to actually see Nicolas play violin!  I am SO SCARED!  I hope I’ll adore it and I have faith in the show makers. But, I have also seen so much terrible violin miming (it makes me wonder, when people play surgeons, is what they are doing this annoyingly unrealistic too and I just have no idea!?!) and it is particularly noticeable, as usually piano miming is very good!  Anyway, I know it is such a minor thing in the greater scheme of things, but I know I will be so irritated if it doesn’t look like Nicki is playing the violin.  And it’s only that telly violin miming is so notoriously bad.  Oh, please - let me believe in it!  I BEG!

[lolziesitsame]

Uhhh quick update sooo I may have put glue on Reiji to make him shine a bit more

But hey I think it looks pretty cool kinda like it's giving angel statue a little ? Like a dilapidated statue vibes but either way learnt my lesson

[fregget-frou]

ALRIGHTYYY FOLKS HERES MY AU

Chernabog Dorm AU!

Basically before ramshackle was ramshackle it was an actual dorm!

For me I think the whole general theory of Yuu being related to Chernabog from Fantasia is amazing and I love it so much for many reasons!

(If you’re unfamiliar with Chernabog I have notes on him that I’ll link here, and some video links to YouTube for his parts in the movie fantasia)

Yt vid #1 Yt vid #2

anyways, i made a dorm logo! Say hello to the 8th dorm, Chernohyne!

Some things I added to this:

Chernabog’s horns, similar fashion to disomnia as him and Malificent are connected

His volacano/mountain that he sprouts out of

Ramshackles colors and vibe to fit more with the story for Yuu

Stone outside to symbolize Chernabogs likeness to Gargoyles!

Chernohyne roughly (I mean roughly) translating to “old servants of the dark”

The dorm in general is themed after Slavic architecture(because the myth is of Slavic origin), with a lot of themes coming from Ukrainian, German and Russian inspiration. Ramshackle is very boring to be completely honest and holds some German/French inspiration, but I have a headcannon that dorms are similar to living creatures in a way, where they are fueled by the students energy. Not to go too into it but after being left alone for a while the dorm now known as ramshackle had reverted and dilapidated into what we are familiar to with today in canon, even if in this au it could’ve have very well looked like scarabaria and it would’ve still reverted to what it looks like today because of abandonment and neglect.

Chernohyne however, would have a very stony look similar to pomfimore or disomnia, with a plethora of dark spaces, cold frigid weather, rocky and mountainous terrain, statues, ghosts galore, and mostly importantly to me, gargoyles or symbols of Chernabog himself!

Here’s some examples of what that could look like, I’m very bad at building design but it would look similar to these buildings!

The domes are part of the main structure coming from Russian/Ukrainian architecture while I’d imagine there’d be more German inspiration in the spires and towers that still litter the dorm. The most alike to what I’m imagining is the first image with the same domes/spires as the last one with browns, grays and blues as their color scheme.

Themes/Attributes of Chernohyne:

Members of Chernohyne are often seen as dutiful people, people who take a clear goal and run with it. With a seemingly unrelenting spirit they’ll latch onto something and focus on it. They are also known to be adept at spiritual magic involving the dead, skilled at flight lessons, a malevolent to stony personality ranging from tricksters to goody toe shoes. They are all connected with their desire to continue on and their innate connection to the night.

If you were sorted into Chernohyne you’d likely be from more northern places or atleast tolerant of cold and dark places. With a very strong desire to improve/continue on your path, wether that be gardening to the dark arts, you are very passionate! Friendly with ghosts, ghouls and gargoyles alike as they are everywhere in the dorm acting as both fellow residents and actual staff! The gargoyles only really come out at night though, which most of the dorm members are thankfully night owls!

Surprisingly, it’s not a rigid dorm. It’s very much a dorm with many rules and processes like everyone cleaning and tending to the statues and gardens, everyone making sure the dorms are clean and proper, acceptable offerings to the residents etc. but the dorm prided itself to being very much about the person and their goals more than being a true collective. In the times when there were dorm leaders that forced strict rules, they were quickly challenged and overthrown as the members would not quit and if you got in the way of progress you needed to go! And if you got rid of the fun you needed to go!

I have a few future ideas I’d love to expand on when I have the time but for now, I have an idea to make a Yuu oc that lived when Chernahyne wasn’t ramshackle yet/never was abandoned and became a dorm leader. They could have no magic but I like the idea of them having either a gorgon styled unique magic or a spirit rangler themed unique magic. Very focused on competition and furthering goals, with a love for all things rocky and spooky!

Also the idea of Yuu being Gargoyle themed with Malleus RIGHT THERE with a dorm basically surrounded by gargoyles??? Excuse me he’s secretly envious of that and also??? Yuu and Gargoyles?? Some of his favorite things into one this man is swooning so hard.

[liebgotts-lovergirl]

Fire On Fire: Chapter 25

(Ch. 24) ... (Ch. 1)

II Gallery II Symbol Guide II

Summary: "Friendship isn't a big thing– it's a million little things."

A/N: Here it is, y'all! 💖

Taglist: @latibvles @softguarnere @brassknucklespeirs @mccall-muffin @lieutenant-speirs @emmythespacecowgirl @holdingforgeneralhugs @parajumpboots @hxad-ovxr-hxart @sleepisforcowards @indigo-luvers @ax-elcfucker-blog @chaosklutz @mads-weasley @vibing-away @eightysix-baby @ithinkabouttzu

Contemporary: November 20th, 1944. Resistance Safehouse, Signy-l’Abbaye, France.

She had been told that her confinement in the dilapidated cabin was for her own protection but Alix was almost certain that the real purpose was to drive her mad enough that even if she were to be captured, she’d have nothing useful to say. 

And it was working, the agent thought as she flipped aimlessly through Wuthering Heights for the umpteenth time. 

She was going to go out of her mind.

No one in the OSS knew where the leak had come from meaning that everyone was now under suspicion, so the only conceivable solution had been to tuck Alix away somewhere verifiably secure until the source was discovered. 

Her sole contact with the outside world came in the form of visits from Captain Nixon, who was the very picture of maladaptive coping mechanisms as he collapsed into a beaten-in armchair by the fireplace with a drink in-hand. 

"Any word on Jen– I mean, Agent Perrault?" Alix inquired hopefully but her handler shook his head.

"Not since the last time you asked. Sorry to say but I wouldn't get your hopes up." 

He gave a sympathetic grimace before reminding her gently,

"MIA usually means captured or dead." 

"'Usually'," Alix insisted doggedly. 

"But not always. There's still a chance she's alive somewhere, waiting it out." 

Her case officer's expression was strained but he said nothing, opting to take a swig of his drink instead of discouraging her any further. 

There was a beat of comfortable silence between the pair and Alix picked at the shoddy couch-cushions beneath her leg with a chipped nail. 

She desperately wanted to ask about Joe but she knew better. 

She would play it cool.

"So what'd I miss? How is everyone?" she inquired casually but her handler let out a snort.  

"You mean, how's 'Joey' ?"

One of the many downsides of being friendly with an intelligence officer, Alix thought ruefully: They Know Too Much. 

 "A loose cannon, that's how he is," Nixon answered himself before taking a gulp of what was undoubtedly whiskey in his flask. 

"He's worried as Hell about you and he's taking it out on anybody within arm's reach. Not to mention, he keeps trying to weasel SITREPs out of me like your status and location aren't strictly Classified." 

The captain shook his head with a grudging, mirthless smirk.

"Have to say, I admire his tenacity but I swear to Christ, I'm half-tempted to put a rush on your paperwork just so I can get some goddamn sleep and Dick can have his best interrogator back. Liebgott's no good to anybody like this and don't we all know it."

Joe was worried about her? 

Alix didn't know what to say. 

Why should he be? 

Shouldn't he be relieved that he didn't have to tie up their inconvenient affair with a neat little bow?

But her conflicted musings were interrupted by the crinkling of cardboard. 

Nonchalantly fishing a small, rectangular snack box out of his pocket, Nixon tossed it over to her with an exaggerated sigh of reluctance. 

“From Muck again,” he elaborated as she caught it, as if she didn’t already know. 

Skip had made it a habit of saving his fruit bars for her. He had told her case officer that it was because he was bored of apricot but Alix knew for a fact that was a lie.

It had started long before that.

╔══ •🖤🖤•🖤🖤•🖤🖤• ══╗

9 Months Ago: February 5th, 1944. Aldbourne, England.

“Hey Doc, is it normal to lose feeling in your legs?" Alix wheezed as she and the rest of the company made the final trudge up the hill to their makeshift campsite. 

"Because I think mine have died." 

“Lucky you,” Don groaned from behind her as he plopped down onto the dirt.

“Mine feel like they're on fire.”

"Mais ya, Pyro," Roe answered as he settled across from her on the ground, swiping some sweat off his forward with his sleeve. 

"We jus' did an all-night hike an' on empty stomachs, no less. Perfectly normal to feel numb, I reckon." 

"Enjoy it," Penkala advised as he took a seat on the empty patch of grass next to Eugene. 

"After the Charley horse I got in Mile 9, I'd welcome some numbness right about now."

From a little ways away, Alix saw Skip Muck– their other best friend– shifting from foot to foot anxiously as he waited in line to speak to Captain Sobel.

As the only NCO in their friend group, it was Skip's job to report their times on each excursion. 

Alix was reasonably confident in their speed– especially on nighttime hikes which were a lot less grueling than in the blistering heat of the day– but Muck always did his best to pad their times anyway to avoid anyone getting in trouble. 

That was just the sort of person he was and Alix was eternally grateful.

The blond mimed dramatically shooting himself with his finger-gun as he waited for the unfortunately long-winded Mike Ranney to finish handing in his group's times and she let out a small giggle behind her hand.  

"Wonder if he'll be done by noon," Don snickered, voicing her own thoughts and Alix shrugged.

"We can dream," she joked as she began to unbox her breakfast unit. "But I'm too famished to wait any longer." 

"Agreed," Alex Penkala chimed in and the usual bartering began. 

"Hey Penk, I'll trade you my Pork & Eggs for your cereal bar," Alix piped up hopefully but the brown-haired trooper sat forward and squinted, his green eyes skeptically taking in Alix's offering.

"That's what that's s'posed to be?" he asked, seeming genuinely horrified. "Are you sure?" 

The Italian's weak nod was the only confirmation he needed to cement his decision.

"Nie, sorry," Penkala answered, partially in Polish and partially in English. 

Alix sighed but at least he had the decency to look somewhat apologetic. 

"Maybe another day?" he added as the spy turned to the friend seated on her left side. 

"What about you, Mal? Pork and eggs for half your biscuits?" she offered but Don jokingly shielded his crackers in response. 

"Fat chance," the redhead quipped. "These are getting drenched in coffee, soon as it's done."

"I'll remember this the next time you ask me for a Wrigley's," Alix teased before turning to the medic across the way, whose dark blue eyes were already fixed on her. 

"How about you, Gene? Up for a trade?"

She held up the tin with a hopeful smile so the medic could view the breakfast ration within but he shook his head apologetically. 

"Uh…'fraid I gotta pass on that," he responded, shooting her a sympathetic grimace as he eyed the tin. 

"It don' look fit for human consumption."

Roe wasn't wrong. 

The medic's prepackaged block of oatmeal had to be soaked in water from his canteen until it was an almost slop-like consistency the color of wet cement but it still looked better than the culinary monstrosity sitting before her in her own tin. 

Using her fork as a poking stick, Alix lightly prodded the chalky egg yolk, hoping to find an angle at which it might at least look a little bit appetizing but found none.

The blocks of pork were so solid that she could hardly get her fork through them and she found herself thinking wistfully of home. 

When she was home for breaks in Chestnut Hill, Penny would make the most incredible Irish breakfast known to man every morning – the fluffiest golden eggs, the most mouthwatering sausage accompanied by the scent of sizzling bacon and bread so fresh that you could hear the melodious crackle of the crust. 

Just the thought of it was making her stomach growl but her musings were interrupted when Doc Roe reached out from across the way and plunked 4 of his 8 biscuits onto her tray with a shy smile. 

"Ya can have 'em for free though, if ya want 'em, che– er, Pyro," he corrected quickly with an awkward cough before adding, "Hope they help." 

Alix beamed back at him. 

"Gene, you're a real peach, do you know that?" 

The tips of the medic's ears turned bright pink and he replied with a "De Rien" so soft that she barely heard it. 

Taking a bite of one of the biscuits, Alix let out a sudden yelp of pain as one of her molars connected with the rock-solid bread. 

"Cazzo! I think it chipped my tooth!"

"That's why you soak 'em first, genius," a familiar voice bubbled from behind her and Alix turned to greet her other best friend. 

"Well well, look what the cat finally dragged in," she remarked playfully as she scooted to make room for Skip in their little circle. 

"Christ, Skipper, did you get lost?" Don piped up in-between mouthfuls of soggy cracker.

"Nope, can't afford to," the blond replied with his trademark glowing grin and unflagging positivity, even as he settled cross-legged into the dirt. 

"Somebody's gotta keep you two outta the nuthouse." 

Eagerly pulling his breakfast unit onto his lap, Skip began sorting through the goods and Alix peeked over his shoulder.

It seemed like that day, only Skip had anything actually worth eating: a Dromedary Bar.

As he slowly peeled back the cellophane, the blond took a second to admire the tropical fruit concoction in his hands and Alix's stomach rumbled enviously. 

"Hungry?" he inquired as he began to worm the bar out of its packaging and Alix sighed wistfully. 

"Starving." 

Flicking out his pocketknife, the blond sawed the bar into two neat halves before scarfing his portion down and gallantly offering the second to his friend.

"You're a saint, Skipper," she proclaimed with a grateful grin as she eagerly wolfed down her half of the sweet treat. 

"Nah," he chuckled modestly, wiping his juice-stained hands off on his ODs. "Just looking out for family."  

“Bon Dieu,” Eugene had marveled from his seat across from them, shaking his head in quiet bemusement at the pair who had both already finished their sections of the bar. 

“Remind me not to let y���all near my mama’s beignets when she send 'em!”

That had been the moment when Joe passed by. 

It had started off innocuous enough, just another paratrooper admiring the scenery with his friends, those beautiful russet eyes roving the English landscape around them when they met hers and Alix’s heart thudded in her chest.

The electricity of the unspoken seemed to crackle in the air between them like a lightning storm, so much heat in one glance that it made her cheeks flush like a wild rose. 

For a brief second, a conflicted expression flashed across his face and Alix remembered the thought in her mind clear as day: 

Two months. 

It had been two months.

Joe looked as if he wanted to say something but before he could get it out, one of his best friends– Popeye, she remembered– had distracted him, babbling on and on about their future return to civilization in the coming days. 

Alix had never seen Joe appear less enthused. As he was being led away to where the rest of his friends were sitting, he took one last look over his shoulder at her, as if trying to commit her features to memory, as if gathering strength to stay away.

But why?

Two months, Alix remembered thinking sadly as she had watched the handsome paratrooper disappear. It had been two months since-

╚══ •🖤🖤•🖤🖤•🖤🖤• ══╝

The sound of snapping fingers dragged Alix from her memories like a vaudeville cane and when she looked up, she glimpsed a half-concerned, half-amused Lewis Nixon staring back at her from his spot in the armchair.

"Welcome back," he remarked and Alix let out a snort of derision, shrugging off his bemusement as she silently grappled with her thoughts.

Why did the memory of seeing Joe all those months ago make her brain burn? Why did that cryptic phrase echo in her mind: Two months. Two months since what?!

Shaking her head to clear it, the spy focused instead on lifting the ration box's lid and delicately unwrapping the cellophane in her lap.

“Jesus Christ, Nix, nice of you to save me some," she commented dryly, inspecting the remains of a crumbled chocolate bar with a cocked eyebrow.  

“Consider it repayment for making me your goddamn mailman,” Nixon deadpanned and Alix rolled her eyes. 

“Well if I was allowed outside, I wouldn’t have to have a mailman, now would I?”

“Not this again,” the intelligence officer groaned, holding up his hands in an exaggerated display of helplessness.

"I'm sorry I said anything!" 

But it was too late; the floodgates had opened and Alix was already launching into her spiel. 

“Nix, it’s been weeks,” she griped, slamming a free hand onto the moth-eaten sofa cushion beside her for emphasis. 

“I can’t take much more of this shit! I’m tired of twiddling my fucking thumbs while there’s a war going on out there!” 

“You’re preaching to the choir," her case officer said dryly, picking at a twig stuck to his fatigues. 

"As soon as your new cover's been backstopped, you'll be the second to know, I swear. So give it a rest, okay?" 

A beat of silence ensued and Alix wished fervently that she'd been allowed a radio so she could listen to music. 

But alas, a radio signal was too dangerous.

There was no swing jazz on Earth that was worth being found by the Gestapo.

"Have you heard anything about my next assignment?" she probed curiously and the flicker of recognition in his eyes told her he had. 

"That's 'Need To Know'," he replied evasively, casting a glance onto the worn-in floorboards. "And you don't, not yet." 

Alix huffed impatiently and strained to reach the knife set by her shoulder on the side-table.

Flexing her fingers around the grip, she gave it a leisurely throw just behind Nixon's shoulder at the faded red target on the wall with a THWACK causing him to duck in alarm.

"God, Runt, could you not do that please?" her handler snapped as Alix sent another sailing over his shoulder, the blade whizzing through the air and sinking into the target with another THWACK! 

"It's unsettling."

"Is it?" Alix cocked an eyebrow with a smirk, flinging her last knife at the target, the sharp metal sinking into the center with one final, satisfying THWACK! 

"My apologies." 

"You don't sound very sorry," Captain Nixon grumbled. "But you're going to be in a minute."

Digging into the canvas rucksack he'd placed on the floor earlier, the officer retrieved a hefty stack of paperwork and handed them over the coffee table to her.

"More notes, to be typed into complete reports by 8:00 tomorrow morning. And that's an order." 

"Enjoy it while it lasts, Nix," Alix commented sardonically over her shoulder, as she rose from the sofa and crossed to the faded black typewriter resting on the kitchen table.

"They can't keep me cooped up here forever. Soon, you'll have to type up your own fucking notes when I'm in the field again." 

"Well you're not there yet, hotshot," Nixon snorted derisively, the corners of his lips quirking up into a grudging smirk. 

"So get to work.

[nitrateglow]

Halloween marathon 2021:11-15

Coraline

I was in my mid-teens when Coraline came out, so I missed the pleasure of being traumatized by it as a child. As far as children’s movies go, Coraline is up there with Pinocchio in the nightmare fuel department: the alternate world of pleasures and hidden consequences had me thinking of Pleasure Island more than once, and the Other Mother has to be among cinema’s most terrifying villains with her forced smiles and arachnid nature.

I wish I had more to say about it, but all I really can say is that the movie is quite enjoyable and would serve as a great introduction for horror to young ones—though not all kids will take to the intensity of the subject matter.

Tokyo Gore Police

In a futuristic Tokyo, a sword-wielding, mini-skirt-wearing policewoman hunts down "engineers," genetically-modified humans whose hacked off limbs and appendages grow back as weapons (this gets wild when one character is castrated). As you can likely guess, many limbs get hacked off in this movie, which is less about narrative or drama and more about bizarre body horror and ultraviolent fight scenes.

The endless parade of carnage is grafted onto a wacky Verhoeven-style dystopia (commercials and propaganda are inserted between normal scenes, reminiscent of Robocop and Starship Troopers). While I'm not big into gore for the sake of gore, I thoroughly enjoyed this movie. It was just so over the top and did not give a damn. However, if you're squeamish, this definitely is not for you.

Willard

I had never heard of this movie until my grandma told me about it. Sold to me as "a weird movie about a reclusive guy with an army of rats," it sounded like the most glorious schlock one could imagine. My assumptions were thoroughly subverted by the actual film, which is less horror than it is character drama.

The story concerns Willard, a shy young man mistreated both by his domineering mother and avaricious boss. He finds his sole comfort in the companionship of the local rat population living in his basement. Soon, this alliance becomes an asset in vengeance against Willard's boss once the old man tries stealing his house from him, but will Willard's wavering loyalty to his rodent friends become his downfall?

I was surprised that this is billed as horror. If you have a rat phobia, then the very sight of the little critters will probably put you off even in the earlier scenes, but the movie never cultivates a sense of dread or even suspense for most of its runtime. The movie is largely just about how sucky Willard's life is and how his bitterness at his situation pushes him over the edge. In some ways, it reminded me of George Romero's Martin (Martin and Willard could easily coexist as roommates in some alternate universe) with its melancholy, dilapidated vibe and its loner anti-hero. I would recommend it, just know it’s only really a horror film in the last act.

The Creature from the Black Lagoon

Despite my love of Universal Horror, I’d only seen The Creature from the Black Lagoon once and that was probably a decade ago. I prefer the gothic atmosphere of 1930s horror to the more sci-fi oriented atomic age stuff, but Creature is a fantastic movie I’ve come to love on rewatch.

The Creature himself deserves his iconic status. That design is magnificent and the Creature’s underwater movements have this odd combination of uncanniness and grace. I can see why he’s such a cult horror icon.

And this movie always makes me think of my grandma. She saw it on first run as a kid and said it terrified the hell out of everyone in the audience! The crowd even screamed at points. I envy her the experience.

The Bat (1926)

If you're a silent movie fanatic, it's 95% guaranteed you'll have heard of The Bat. The source play was the hottest play on Broadway in the early 1920s. As with any hit property, Hollywood was quick to snap up the rights and get it flashed across screens across the country. An old dark house mystery with healthy heapings of comedy, the film version of The Bat was a huge hit in its day.

Unfortunately, I wasn't so impressed. Maybe I've been spoiled by more stylish old dark house movies, but The Bat feels plain and drawn-out in comparison. With the exception of the wealthy old woman and her skittish maid (played by character actress Emily Fitzroy and comedienne Louise Fazenda respectively), the characters were flat and uninteresting, even with luminaries like Jewel Carmen and Jack Pickford in the cast. By the midpoint, I had lost interest in the central mystery and could not have cared less who the Bat was.

This could a case of my being more familiar with the movies influenced by The Bat than anything. Maybe had I been a moviegoer in 1926, this would be more interesting. Maybe if I could watch a less fuzzy print, the visuals would be more striking. As it was, it was a bit of a chore and that makes me sad.

[bagginsfucker]

Major angsty Bagginshield vibes that I get from First Love/Late Spring... yes, I’m crying but lemme just explain ok

‘The black hole of the window where you sleep, The night breeze carries something sweet, A peach tree’ 

This is Bilbo wandering Erebor while Thorin makes the company search for the Arkenstone. He’s obviously all alone in this huge, dark and dilapidated palace (which he has major trouble navigating, internal compass goes out the window underground), feels guilty as hell for keeping the stone from Thorin, but he just knows something is not right with him, hence ‘the black hole of the window where you sleep’ - the dragon sickness is breeding greed in Thorin’s heart while he seems to not even notice the way it affects his own behaviour, like if he were asleep. Then in contrast to this very dour situation, we have the adorably sweet moments where Thorin is 100% himself, literally putting Mithril on Bilbo in front of the whole company is the ‘peach tree’ and ‘something sweet’. Despite not being himself he still trusts Bilbo too! He suspects the Company, his own people but not Bilbo.

‘Wild women don't get the blues, But I find that lately I've been crying like a tall child’

This verse shows how haunted Bilbo is: Thorin is alive and (relatively) well in his Mountain, Bilbo having effectively done exactly what he was hired for, but he turns the Hobbit away, he is cruel, paranoid, selfish and does not care for the well being of the Company. Bilbo is understandably sad, he’s practically followed a hot dwarf across the lands thinking he’s definitely not misinterpreting the ‘hey little burglar you could steal my heart while you’re at it’ vibes and now Thorin is acting like Bilbo is just any other burglar or stranger, and that they hadn’t become friends lovers through the journey. Also I think that ‘wild wom[a]n’ links to Bilbo!pre-adventure. Which seems a bit confusing but I’ll explain - before the adventure he’s a ‘wild wom[a]n’. A respectable Hobbit, the head of the Baggins family, he sticks to the status quo and he’s comfortable at home, has everything he needs and doesn’t want to change that, but that all changes because of Thorin and his Company. ‘Tall child’ is just a short joke at Bilbo’s expense cause I need it.

‘So please hurry leave me, I can't breathe, Please don't say you love me... One word from you and I would jump off of this ledge I'm on, baby. Tell me "don't" so I can crawl back in’

Ok this is where I want to sob my eyes out!!!! This part is where we get Thorin’s perspective. A part of Thorin is actually really aware of what’s happening, it’s like he is watching another person’s actions but he knows that it is himself. He can see what he’s doing but he can’t stop himself. Every time Bilbo approaches him he knows he’s hurting the Hobbit, he can see on Bilbo’s face just how tired and lonely and absolutely done he is, but every time he cannot stop himself from confessing his suspicions or simply turning the Hobbit away to look for the stone. The ‘please don’t say you love me’ just straight up hurts my soul - Thorin knows he’s losing Bilbo after the adventure, Thorin knows that Bilbo will return to the safe and sunny shire, but he also knows that he’s losing the Hobbit right now through every harsh word and order and every step closer to war with the Men and Elves. So he doesn’t want Bilbo to speak his feelings, he doesn’t want to have the Hobbit so close and almost have everything just to lose him when it’s all over. ‘One word from you and I would jump off of this ledge I’m on, baby.’ reminds me obviously of the battlements scene, but also when Thorin pulls Bilbo aside to confess his suspicions of the Company. His devotion and trust in Bilbo make me feel like the part of him that’s still Thorin really would follow Bilbo anywhere, and that instinct is strong enough to let that show through his sickness. 

‘And I was so young when I behaved twenty five, Yet now I find I've grown into a tall child.’

I think this is a little ‘what-if’ moment for Bilbo. He’s struggling so much between giving Thorin what he desperately wants, the Arkenstone, thus making him happy  - and what he desperately wants for Thorin -  Bilbo wants Thorin to prosper, to be free of his sickness, to be the King that Bilbo knows he is, to help him out of the war that he is  starting. But there is a second layer, the guilt that just taints both of these options. Thorin trusts Bilbo so much and yet Bilbo is completely betraying him every second. So of course, Bilbo is like about how things would be so much better if they were both younger, or if Smaug had never razed the mountain etc. basically your fav AU where Bilbo (essentially Hobbit royalty) is married off to Thorin (literal Dwarf royalty). And of course, another short joke because Bilbo is definitely a tall child.

‘And I don't wanna go home yet, Let me walk to the top of the big night sky.’

Once again referring to Bilbo returning to the Shire. He doesn’t want to return home even though he’s literally having the worst time in the mountain, wrestling between Thorin’s sickness and Bilbo’s own horrific conscience. ‘Let me walk to the top of the big night sky’ is such a beautiful image and this is what is says to me; Bilbo wants to replace the greed in Thorin’s heart. He wants to mean more to Thorin than the Arkenstone does. Thorin is the big night sky, Hobbits love walking - I don’t have the words but I hope you get it.

‘Please hurry leave me. I can't breathe …’

Both perspectives simultaneously. Thorin’s as he holds Bilbo above the battlements, he sees, he knows and he feels what he’s doing, he wants Bilbo to leave lest he hurt the Hobbit: ‘hurry leave me’. Thorin is also just so shocked though, possibly the part of him that is sick just wonders how could Bilbo betray him in this way??, ‘I can’t breathe’. I also think of Thorin as he lays dying. He wishes for Bilbo to be spared the heartbreak of living without him: ‘please hurry leave me’. We get Bilbo’s perspective at the same point, Thorin lays dying, his mind is finally clear, he’s taking back his words, finally speaking of his feelings... and then he is gone.

[leechonspeeddial]

Midnight Shift: Carry On, Citizen Fang

Summary: Something wicked this way comes. If only Resentment could figure out if it was the same thing that stunk up the Burger King. Chapters: 2/? Read on ao3

Straight Kevin had been very understanding about my family emergency – He was super duper cool with manning the restaurant all by his lonesome. Sadly, he wasn't understanding enough to let me get away with not telling Gay Kevin about it – which wasn't very super duper cool of him, now was it?

He didn't even have the decency to offer to call for me, the fucking coward.

"Are you certain it's an emergency?"

I rolled my eyes and skipped over the muddy snow pile blocking the sidewalk. I felt a sense of kinship with the season. Besides the cold and death, Winter went all out when it came to inconveniencing the population.

"Trust me, Kev. If I wanted to blow off work, I'd do it on location. I'm not exactly in a rush to get home, ya know?"

The line went quiet for exactly five seconds and I could picture him doing that breathing exercise he did whenever he was fed up with my shit. I took the opportunity to loudly slurp my mello yello.

Delicious.

"I don't know, you could be ditching to hang out with friends or something. Teens do that. I did that." I almost laughed, as if.

"I spend all of my free time at work and everyone my age thinks I'm pregnant with an incest baby. Bold of you to assume I even have friends."

"You would get friends if you felt like it would inconvenience me. And it would really inconvenience me right now"

"Ugh. Don't be so dramatic. I don't do things just to be a general nuisance," I heard a snort that didn't come from Gay Kevin. "Wait, did you put me on speaker?!"

"What's the word, Res" Not Kevin chimed in before being shushed by Gay Kevin.

"Relax, we're loading the rental. I don't exactly have a free hand."

"So? This only needed to be like two seconds. Take a five or something."

"I'm going to level with you, our new napkin guy gives me real sketch vibes. Any second where we're not loading, it's an additional second we have to spend here. I simply refuse to die in a dilapidated warehouse, Resentment. I refuse."

I crossed the street to take the park shortcut home. A couple of high schoolers were vaping by the swings; they stared at me and I ignored them.

"I think you'd survive. You exude final girl energy"

"Have you ever watched a horror movie? I'd literally die first"

"I watched Practical Magic once" I smirked when Not Kevin groaned.

My satisfaction didn't last long, because no more than a second later, a snowball hit the back of my head. I took a deep breath and reminded myself that I couldn't gloat to Edward about having the moral high ground if I murdered every minor annoyance that crossed my path.

It just sucked having to ignore my vampire senses because I had to play human. What was the point of knowing something was coming if you were unable to stop it because you had to keep up appearances? In my opinion, humans should just have to deal with the knowledge of the supernatural. They were big kids, we didn't need to coddle them anymore.

It was 2022, for God's sake.

I turned back scowling and flipped off the fuckers. I recognized High-Pony in the group and decided to give her the soggiest, saddest, AND smallest fries next time she dared enter my work.

Maybe even sprinkle some burnt ones for extra flavor.

"I know what you're doing and I'm begging you to stop. I'm the one who has to deal with him for the next two hours"

"Don't be rude. Not Kevin is a gift," I glared at the group and slowly walked away backwards. At least until they were out of my sight. The Cullens were insane for going back to high school as often as they did.

"Ha. It's nice to be appreciated"

"Truly. Short of a museum, where else are you going to find something so old?"

"Boo. Get new jokes, the material is stale," I rolled my eyes as I shook the snow from my hair. I was rapidly approaching home and I wasn't quite prepared to go in.

For one, how was I supposed to keep my new mystery to myself if that's what Alice saw? It wasn't fair. To think I had only been worried about Big Brother and his thought police...

Reflecting on it though, if Alice saw my mystery man, then wouldn't that mean he was either a vampire or a human? Ergo, something neither mysterious nor interesting.

Disappointing.

"Whatever, gramps"

"Ok, ok. Let's get back on topic –"

"You gotta start trying harder, Chucky. You're far from the only teen girl that calls me ancient on the regular."

"Why are you regularly taking to teenage girls, creep?"

"Guys –"

"That's not what–! I foster kids!"

"Yeah, sure, pervert"

"I'm NOT –"

"OK RESENTMENT, DEAL WITH YOUR FAMILY. HANGING UP NOW"

I stopped walking and stared at my phone. Despite the length of the call, there had been no new messages from my family. I was unsure if that was a good sign.

I took a sip from my drink and was disappointed to find I only had ice left. I wondered if that was thematically significant, or maybe even foreshadowing.

Sigh.

I picked up my pace and tried to empty my mind before arriving home. "No thoughts, head empty" was a good mantra when you lived with a mind reader.

The rest of the walk was fairly uneventful, save for some guy who got attacked by a flock of ducks for getting way too close without enough food. Beware, all amateur wildlife photographers, lest the same fate falls upon you, I guess.

Poor guy even lost his coat. I was happy to assume it was the first casualty under the duck assault.

I slowed down when I finally arrived across the street from my home.  The newest Cullen mansion stood foreboding before me. A concrete monument full of sharp lines and odd angles; despite all of Esme's soft touches, brutalism simply exuded hostility and soullessness. Try as she might, there was a limit to how much you could dress up a giant grey concrete block to make it look approachable – and if we were being honest, it wasn't working.

How's that for a metaphor?

Well. There was no use delaying the inevitable.

I entered the house.

[Scene Break]

Being a half-vampire meant that I always felt at a misstep with everyone around me. To me, humanity was more of a scientific field of study that I took interest in and less of a dearly held-on memento of a bygone era or something that I simply had.

From the vampire side of things, while I was clearly an abomination, my existence didn't require me to be a parasitic blood freak. That put me in a different head space from the rest of my family. For one, I didn't need to agonize over my monstrous nature; secondly, I wasn't a slave to my bloodlust if I kept myself full of human food; and thirdly, there just wasn't much precedent for me to measure up to.

For all we knew, everything I did was the best I could have done.

That was all to say, I always felt like there was something I was missing when interacting with anyone. My point of view was fundamentally a different one, and though some things I could make sense of theoretically, it wasn't the same as first-hand experience.

Standing in the living room, surrounded by my family as they continued to say nothing, I couldn't help but think that perhaps this time the context I was missing had nothing to do with my hybrid status.

Edward paced while looking constipated but everyone else stood motionless and rigidly like the statues they were. Not even Emmett tried to lighten the mood, and that's how you knew it was serious.

"So who's going to who's funeral? Please don't say any of my coworkers, I've grown quite attached to them"

"Renesmee," Edward warned. I ignore him like he ignored my preferred name.

"Is it you pops? Wanna crack open another high school girl and drink her up like grape soda?"

"For once in your life could you stop acting like a brat?" Edward snapped and I flinched.

"Takes one to know one. Maybe if you didn't raise one you wouldn't have to deal with one, dad"

"Enough!" We both turned to look at Carlisle and I could see how unsettled he was. My stomach churned.

"Maybe my vision was wrong. Maybe it wasn't him," Alice sounded desperate, almost like the time the truck transporting her latest Givenchy haul got into a freak accident and the customer service lady told her they couldn't replace her order until after whatever microtrend that had been happening at the time ended.

"No, Alice. I saw your vision. It was. No doubt about it, that face is burned in my memory"

"It just doesn't make any sense, Edward!"

"I know what I saw," he replied forcefully.

Carlisle rubbed at his eyes, and for the briefest of seconds, you could have mistaken him for human.

"What's going on? You guys are scaring me," nothing felt right and all I wanted to do was to get back to the Burger King. At least the Kevins kept me in the loop when potentially life-threatening stuff happened.

"James is back," Bella whispered and I looked at her. Out of all of the Cullens, she looked the least worried. While everyone else's expressions visibly darkened at hearing the name, Bella said the name like she would say any name that wasn't Edward's.

"Who the fuck is James?"

"He was a vampire," Jasper growled.

"So what's the big deal? I don't know if you have noticed, but all of you are vampires"

"Emphasis on the was, Nessie. We ripped apart the bastard a good 16 years ago," Emmet explained. I raised my eyebrow.

"You sure about that? Last I heard, once you killed the undead, they were dead for good. No such thing as an undead undead."

"Oh, damn sure. We tore into him like frenzied piranhas at lunchtime and then lit him like a firework on the Fourth of July," Rosalie lightly hit his arm.

"You don't have to be so graphic about it"

"So it's obviously not him," Edward made a noise filled with frustration.

"Renesmee, I know what I saw. It was him, I would bet my life on it"

"Would you bet Bella's?" was what I almost said but Edward's glare made me reconsider. Just this once.

"Dead people just don't walk around all over the place," I said instead.

"We do," Emmett chimed in.

"We're different!"

"So why not him?"

"Edward is right," Classic Carl Carlisle move. His Golden Child could never be wrong. "I might have heard of something like this happening before."

There was a brief moment of silence before everyone exploded.

"WHAT?!"

Carlisle sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose.

"You have to understand, I couldn't verify it at the time."

When he said nothing, Esme made a "well, go on" motion.

"It happened about a decade ago. I only came upon this information because of Eleazar – he had approached me about it because he thought I was involved," Carlisle walked towards a window and stared into the distance like the dramatic bitch he was.

Edward slapped the back of my head.

"He told me heard of rumors of a vampire that had died 50 years ago and who walked the Earth again. You all know about my passion for Theology and my desire to find out what waits for us on the other side, so I promised to look into it. It took a while, but eventually, I heard back from someone"

"Your trip to Carencro," Esme gasped. "You said it was a conference!"

"When was this, I don't remember this?" Carl was holding back no punches in his dramatic reveal.

"It was our semester abroad," that's what Edward like to call the half a year experiment we spent in France. He wanted to see if Bella, him, and I could be a family unit all on our own.

It failed pretty miserably, would never happen again.

"I didn't want to burden you, love. Not unless I knew for sure."

Rosalie rolled her eyes. "So what happened?"

Carlisle turned back to us and shrugged.

"I met my informant and they told me to go to this one cafe and ask for Roy. I went there and the manager told me no one with that name worked there"

"So you got pranked," Emmet said.

"I looked around town for a couple of days, and since nothing else came up after my trip to Lousiana, I felt comfortable labeling the whole thing a hoax."

Rosalie scoffed. "And you think that's what's happening here?"

"I think it could be a possibility. This is our only lead"

I thought over what Carlisle just said. Could there really be an afterlife vampires could come back from? And if that was the case, then what happened to Roy? Was Roy even the vampire Elezear heard about?

But most importantly, why now?

"Hey, Alice. Besides James, what else did you see?"

Everyone went quiet and I looked back at them confused.

"I saw us without you"

"I mean, you don't really see me in your visions," I chuckled nervously.

"When I don't see you, it's like I'm looking around something. What I saw...it felt like I would never have to deal with that interference again."

"...Oh"

That didn't sound good.

[mor-beck-more-problems]

Vibe Check || Morgan and Hina

TIMING: Current

PARTIES: @born-to-be-wildes& @mor-beck-more-problems

SUMMARY: One vibe, two vibes, witch vibe, dead vibe. 

CONTAINS: mentions of family death

Hina gave her Minnie Mouse watch a look. Another look. The arms of the mouse hadn’t moved at all. She approached the window, reaching on her tip toe, to get a better view of the street, as if the extra inch made a significant difference. Perhaps she hoped that the two extra seconds of awareness would help her feel more prepared with having a stranger in her home. How ridiculous were both this silliness and the fact that she considered the creaking, dilapidated house her home.

It did not feel like home. The place was cold, humid in some spots, unwelcoming, stained, tainted with awful events: a murder house. Had her students known where she lived, she would have been quickly branded her as the witch (ha!) living in the haunted house on Old Townhouse Road.

Her cat jumped on the window sill, startling her out of her thoughts. Her hand absentmindedly caressing the black feline, she kept her eyes on the sidewalk. A couple walked past her house, and inevitably, drawn by morbid curiosity, stared at it. Her back against the wall, Hina waited for them to go away to resume her street watching. A few kids passed by the place, or rather ran by it, as if they had been warned not to wander around the house for too long. The young witch wondered if a coat of paint would be enough for people to forget what this place once was.

One of her regrets was having no memory of what the house might have been when her family still lived here. It was only her now. With a heavy heart, she strayed away from the window. Nothing would or could prepare her to welcome someone as educated as her guest into this delabrated place. A mix of embarrassment and this desire to always control appearances had been troubling her the whole afternoon, and gotten worse as Morgan’s arrival approached. Perhaps the woman would turn on her heels the moment she figured that the address given to her was leading her to that house. Hina wanted to slap herself for being so pathetic.

This will be fine, she tried to reassure herself. Sure the whole place looks like a dumpster fire, but that certainly wasn’t something to worry about, right? The knocking on the door felt almost like a relief. 1. the house had not scared Morgan. 2. she was done waiting and making up stupid scenarios in her head. Her hand on the handle, she took one last deep breath and opened the door with a warm smile.

There was something eerie about driving up to Hina’s house. Morgan knew she wasn’t far from her East End gated development, but to look at the brittle, overgrown grass around the property, the dust and dread hanging from the peeling paint and broken porch, she might have been looking at the Bachman House’s younger, glowering sibling. As she pulled up the drive, Morgan squinted to the afternoon glare in search of ghosts patrolling their house, but there was nothing more haunting than the evidence of a house abandoned and left to fall into its own private depression. Morgan hadn’t spent a lot of time thinking about what kind of house Hina lived in, but it hadn’t been this. Most murder houses in White Crest didn’t advertise their status like this. No wonder her new friend needed help.

Morgan jogged up to the front door and knocked, ready to greet Hina with a smile. “Hey! Uh, you’re Hina, right? I’m not busting into someone else’s day, am I? I’m Morgan, I should probably say. We talked about me stopping by, doing some heavy lifting? I’m a lot tougher than I look and…” She trailed off, distracted. There was a protective sigil etched into the doorframe, or maybe just part of one. It was hard to tell by the state of the house, and it might have just been casual vandalism. Morgan shook herself out of her thought. “...And you look like you could use the help.”

“Hello !” She held out her hand to shake Morgan’s. Her smile growing bigger, she nodded at her. “You knocked on the right door,” although when it came to heavy lifting, Hina had her doubts about this. The woman looked healthy, but you would not have thought that she could be great at moving furniture around, even less so upstairs. Her eyes followed Morgan’s, to the sigil in the wood of the doorframe. It had not really done much to protect its inhabitants, although it might have been why the place had not been burned to the ground.  

She took a step back. Her dog in her legs, she caught her balance back on the stairs railway. “I hope you are not afraid of dogs, or allergic to cats,” Aristotle had vanished. He never had liked strangers, but Pompom, her corgi, was the opposite of shy, and already sniffing Morgan’s legs with curiosity. “I really hope you’re not scared of dogs,” she repeated with a small laugh.

She would try her best to be a good host, even if she barely had a kitchen, and had yet to find a way to get the best out of the furniture that littered the house. However, when it came to the place where she would sleep, she had chosen to get new things. She would not sleep in her parents bed, or her late sister’s. She could not. “We have one mattress and one bed still in its box to bring up the stairs,” she explained, heading to the fireplace to add some more wood in it. “I am really thankful for the help,” she nodded, rubbing her hands against her thigh to rid herself of the dirt on the wood. “Cosy, isn’t it?” Her joke came with a grimace. She knew that this all looked terrible, but she was not about to moan and complain about it all day. It would all get better, eventually. She had decided that it would, and it would.

Morgan laughed at the thought of being afraid of animals and picked up the corgi sniffing her legs. “Aren’t you a cutie!” She cooed. “Am I your new best friend? Are you my new best friend?” The dog yapped, licked, wriggled, beside itself with enthusiasm. Morgan laughed and set the small dog down before finally following Hina inside. “I have not one, not two, but three cats at home right now, so I am really okay with being around furry animals,” she said. “They’re the best company you can have sometime. What are all their names?” Her tone was confident as ever, but her eyes betrayed just how rough of a state Hina was living in. “...No heat?” She asked. She’d never been in danger of freezing to death in her own home before, but some rough August nights in Houston had brought her dangerously close to heat stroke. Maybe the cold was the same thing, just in reverse.

“Come on,” she said, clapping her hands. “We’ll work up a good sweat now, and then later, I am taking you somewhere to get a space heater to tide you over until you can get whatever permanent situation you want going here.” She went swiftly to the mattress and crouched to get it more or less on her back in one movement. “Uh, okay!” Remembering herself, Morgan panted. Panting was what you did when you were straining to carry, right? When you were tired? She wasn’t already forgetting that, was she? “Why don’t you lead the way?”

Hina’s worries faded with the shared laughter. With a thin, yet warm smile, she invited the woman to follow her inside. “Three cats?!” She exclaimed with envy and surprise. Clearly you had nothing to fear from someone who liked animals so much. It sounded like such a cliché, but Hina did believe that those who were kind to children and animals were usually just as pleasant with human beings. Picking up her cat from the fireplace’s mantle, she had him wave his paw at Morgan. “This is Aristotle,” she introduced him and searched for the corgi around. Hina added, “and you’ve just met Pompom.” She felt that the names were fit for their own personalities. Her cat always seemed to be looking right into her soul, to a point where she once wondered, late at night, whether it was possible that Aristotle was a human trapped inside a cat.  Pompom on the other hand, was a bundle of joy and reminded her of an excited cheerleader although she never ever wondered whether there was a cheerleader trapped inside of him.

“Oh, it’s not that bad,” she assured her. Hina knew that she would have to go to the junkyard soon, see if she could find materials that could be transformed into something valuable, something she could sell. This was how she meant to restore the house, slowly, piece by piece. But Morgan’s presence brought a variable she had not thought of: she did not have to do all of this on her own.

And the offer of shopping for a space heater came as a relief. She could always use it in her classroom later on. Schools had a way with either being a refrigerator or an oven depending on the season. It was true in Canada, and she was sure it would be true here as well. Lost in her thoughts, she reacted to Morgan’s feat only after she was done, her mouth as round as an O. “What the fu-dge,” she was always rushing to help her out when she asked that she led the way. “This way Wonder woman,” she wrinkled her nose. Wonder Woman was strong, right? Or was it Xena? She never knew.

Climbing the stairs, she turned her back on the corridor to look down at Morgan. Part of her worried that something would go wrong here, but at least it would not be because of the stairs: she had done a great job with it. It was perhaps a bit suspicious that it looked as good as new, but… Well she did not know enough about house flipping to know whether it was a normal thing or not.

“Don’t worry about it!” Morgan panted. “I got a real knack for this sort of thing! Moved in and out of a lot of apartments in my day, you learn how to uh, finagle things just right, you know?” She smiled, pleased with herself, and followed Hina slowly up the stairs. “I didn’t realize you were such a handy-woman. Flipping your family’s house? On top of everything else you’re doing? I feel like you might be the real Wonder Woman in this situation.” She tried her best not to walk too easily to the bedroom and propped the mattress against the wall while she waited for Hina to show her into the room. “Are you making it new, or to how you remember it before? Is that a weird question to ask?”

“Mmmh?” Hina rubbed at the back of her neck as she tried to think about whether she should reply, and about what she would say if she replied. She wondered if perhaps it would be weird : remaining silent for too long, especially when someone was speaking to you, was definitely awkward in her books, and the last thing she wanted, was to make someone she had just met, and who had clicked well enough with her to come here and help her out, feel weird. Hina had always been a social bird, but in this new town which required that she looked over her shoulder, finding good people would be more complicated. It was something that she had accepted the moment she decided to go search for her cousin.

Gillian had to be somewhere, here, in White Crest. Hina simply could not believe that the woman would have left her behind, abandoned her like that. She still expected to get a message from her cousin, or find something in the house that would give her a clue, just a hint of what might have happened, or where she was now. She had a lost look in her eyes for a furtive second. Her arms wrapped around her own chest, she looked down and led the way to her bedroom. “I really don’t feel like Wonder Woman, I’m just… well you know, I just love to make the best out of everything that’s handed out to me. Turning lead into gold kind of vibe,” if only she had known.

“There’s the bedroom. Please do not mind the state of the place, I’ve been meaning to go shopping for wallpaper and supplies, but… I don’t know, a bed seemed more urgent,” with a grimace, she pushed herself to the side. “But hey, now that we’re on flat ground, maybe I could help you with that mattress,” she offered.

Morgan laughed, understanding more than her new friend probably realized. “How very witchy of you,” she said.  “Using your agency in the world, working your will despite your circumstances. Who’s to say that doesn’t make you kind of super? And I’ve got this, really.” She gave a grunt just for show and waddled into the bedroom, sliding the mattress off her back and onto the frame and box spring.

Her work done, she stretched, making sure none of the bones in her spine had wriggled out of place, and took a look around the place. It was all very boho chic, dilapidated, but so well lit by the bright day that the dust motes floating through the air took on a romantic look. Boxes covered most of the corners, with day to day contents spilling out of them, and a few wall decorations, one that made Morgan wrinkle her brow with recognition. “Is that a casting--” circle, she almost said. Like an alchemic casting circle. “Tapestry?” She stammered. “After the um, wiccan traditions? I just uh, don’t see too many of those commissioned with, you know--” Magical efficacy. “--Historical accuracy. Or is just some pop culture reference I don’t know. I’m not as up on the new stuff lately.” She didn’t mean to, but she couldn’t help but keep staring. How could Hina, or anyone else for that matter, have come across something like this by accident? Who would dispose of something like this so recklessly in the first place?

Hina couldn't do anything but laugh with her. One hand on her hip, she watched Morgan finish the job. Although she seemed to have a little more difficulties at the end, Hina knew she would have been peony red if she had done the same with her mattress. She heaved a relieved sigh. Tonight she would sleep well. This relief, however, was short lived.

“I have not met a lot of people who were familiar with wiccan imagery,” most people would have qualified it as witchy feminist things. She told herself that Morgan being a literature teacher must have had read about it, as for feminists, Hina knew that she was in presence of a strong ally here. The witch adjusted her jumper on her shoulder. Her tattoo might have not been visible, she felt the need to hide the casting circle she had on her back from Morgan’s sight. “It’s …” She could not possibly tell her that this was a family heirloom, could she? Or that she had just found it in a garage sale ? And yet, she had to do something. Morgan was staring at the thing. Now she regretted making a reference to alchemy just a minute ago.

“Someone gave it to me,” she finally said. It was not much of an explanation, and that was the exact kind of explanation she needed right now.

“Yeah, well, I’m something of a hobbyist,” Morgan said shortly. It was well made, not a sigil out of place, and well taken care of. Was that because this nice lady really did have it wasting space on the wall, or because every alchemist worth their salt knew to keep the casting surface clean? “It’s a family interest, you could say. Brought up neo pagan and all that. I dedicated a portion of my thesis to appropriation, demonization, and reclamation of pre-christian religious iconography and ideas in literature.” And I was a witch. I was a fucking good witch, or I could’ve been if I hadn’t spent my life being so scared. The words were burning on her tongue but she couldn’t say them. Hina would never believe her, and she couldn’t give those words to someone like that. “Sorry,” she cleared her throat and tried to put on a kind face. “It’s just a big deal, to see a piece like this. I um...I have a few, actually. That I made or had commissioned. It’s not as easy as it looks to make one of these.” She cleared her throat again, coughing as if that would dislodge the grief stuck in her throat. “And you said someone gave this to you? Is it okay if I ask who? Because it’s really...that’s one heck of a gift. I hope you know that. You should, if you’re just gonna have it on your wall or something.”

“I see,” not really, no, she did not see. In this moment, she was still taken aback by the fact that Morgan seemed to know what this actually was. Hina’s stance relaxed with the explanation, although she had to wonder who would raise their kids Pagan. “I’ve never wanted to read academic work for fun, but this might be something I could manage to enjoy reading,” anything to be more instructed on her craft. The young witch glanced at the other woman and noticed that the look on her face was not the most serene, and her doubts crept back in as she apologized. What did she have to apologize for? “Are you alright?” She asked, rather than trying to make sense of this on her own. She knew that there was something that Morgan was not telling her, but you could not simply be too nosy around a stranger, especially when she had done her best not to share too many details with her. Perhaps this could be the key to this situation. Communication usually helped. Maybe she could at least tell a few things. “It belonged to my mother, and before that, it belonged to her father,” and yet it was her cousin that gave it to Hina, but she just didn’t want to speak about Gillian. She didn’t want Morgan to see the despair and terror in her as she imagined the worst about what might have happened. “Don’t worry, I know how to…” use it, “take care of it.”

“Your mother and her…” Morgan trailed off before she repeated everything Hina said. “So it’s a family heirloom.” Wonder what it’s like to have one of those. There was no keeping of valuables under a curse, only the false hope that you might get away with keeping something for one more year. “I’m fine.” But there was too much of an edge in her voice to be convincing. “I just didn’t expect to see one of these again. Most of mine are gone, so…” And this called to her so horribly. She could think of at least a dozen things she could make with it. And not just her stupid crystals, but repairs, art--stars, the things she could transmute with bones and soil!

Tears pricked the corners of Morgan’s eyes. She couldn’t stand to look at it any longer. “When you say take care of it, do you mean with cleaning product or with magic?” She asked flatly.

“Like I said,” she nodded as Morgan repeated her earlier words. Hina just wished that this had been handed to her by her mother. She wished she had gotten more time with her too. The only memories she had of the woman were fabricated through watching old cassettes, videos her father had filmed on his old Panasonic camera back then : Hina’s first Yule and Samhain, her first steps, her first day of preschool, holidays on the coast, … All were videos where she could catch a glimpse of her mother, and her sister : the happy moments, the blissful ignorance of what had yet to come, the picture perfect family. Hina stopped paying attention to her surroundings as she dove into this shallow pond of memories. She hated that she could not have more, that she had been deprived of more because of one person. And without any control on her face as she thought of it, she couldn’t dissimulate the cold scold in her eyes or the clenched jaw from Morgan. Both women were hurting, for things that were and no longer would be. Hina could tell as she heard her own voice. They sounded too alike now. “You had several of them? Did you use them for… “ Well what would you use them for?

If she was thankful that the other woman ended up being more blunt than her, her nature told her to remain careful and tread softly. She looked away to give the other woman space and nodded silently. “I would rather this stays between us.”

Morgan hissed through her teeth and paced away from Hina, the circle, all of it. “Oh, please, I’m older than you, I know what the rules are!” She snapped. Then flinched, hearing the echo of her mother’s harshness in her ears. “I’m sorry,” she said, hanging her head. “I--probably shouldn’t be here.” She pressed her hands over her eyes until they hurt, them pulled them back and tried to find something through the tiny black explosions in her vision that didn’t remind her of herself and everything she’d lost. “I know what it’s like,” she said quietly. “To have nothing left but what you can do. Your family, any kind of legacy that isn’t just hurt, to be so down on your luck, you’ll  bend the code for some extra cash or to bring your broken house up to standard. To be an alchemist. To have your best friend be a cat.” She sniffled and shoved her hands into her pockets. “And um… I can promise you that as shitty as all of this is for you right now--” And she knew it was. Hina was living her own version of Morgan’s life, only she got to have a family home to come back to. She had enough money to take care of more than one animal. She had enough stability to get hand-me-downs. She probably even had pictures and an old stuffed animal. “It is so much better than being dead and watching someone else wear it. So hold onto that, maybe.”

The words were as harsh as the tone, falling down Morgan’s mouth as if to hit Hina in the face. The young witch looked at the other woman, not exactly impressed by the outburst of anger, even if it surprised her. With a disapproving frown, she had taken a step back, standing on the other side of the casting circle. Silent, she watched the emotions flow backwards : a torrent turned to a quiet stream. But if the words had gotten close to a whisper, they had gained intensity, power, impact in return. Although she did not fully recognize herself in Morgan’s words, most of them were spot on. She led a lonely life, because she was an orphan, because her last connection to the magical word had disappeared, because she couldn’t bear losing more people. She took the few steps that separated her from the other side of the circle, to stand beside Morgan, who had in just a few sentences, just a couple seconds, unveiled a lot. “It’s not shitty,” she shook her head. It was not ideal, it was actually rather shitty, but she wanted to see the silver lining, hope that she would find out what had happened to her cousin, and refuse to consider her dead. That couldn’t be. She had lost too many people for this to happen again. She did not deserve it. Hina would have grabbed Morgan’s hands, had she not tucked them away. Instead, she put her hands on her arms, standing in front of her. “I’ll be okay, I just need some time, some help.” She paused. “There’s someone I need to find.��� With all the hope that she had, she could feel melancolia. A longing. “What happened to you ?” Hina did not need to say what had happened to her. It had made the papers, and she had already told Morgan about it.

“I was cursed. And then I was killed,” Morgan said. “I had everything taken from me every three years from the time I was born to the time I was skewered with a pole on the side of Main Street. My home. My school. My job. My family. Any objects I owned worth a damn. The ghost of the witch who cursed me left me to choke on my own blood. And a friend of mine, a zombie, bit me. And so after my heart stopped and the dark came...I woke up. No more life. No more alchemy. No more anything. There were all of...two people to mourn me? Because everyone else was dead. And now I am…” She scrubbed her hand over her eyes and tried to swallow down the lump that had formed in her throat. “Whatever the hell I am now.”

Morgan stepped away from Hina and headed out the room. “I’m glad you and your magic and your family heirlooms and your cats have each other and that there’s even a whole fucking building that carries your history and the energy of your dead. I really am. And I hope you keep it better than I did…” She slipped out the room and raced down the stairs as fast as she could.

“You-” She wanted to react, she did. But what were you supposed to say to someone who claimed that they had been killed. What could be dead and yet be alive? Hina’s paranoia rushing in, she urged herself not to step back or even show that this all was a bit too much for her. The word zombie was dropped, just like that, as easily as if they had been talking about the weather or the news. An alchemist was before her, one that was not from her family, one that was not dead, not really. Not to her. As selfish as it might have been, seeing her run off felt like a betrayal : if she was who she claimed to be, the least she could do was help her. Hina had no one anymore. Gillian gone, nowhere to be found, she had no one to train with her, no one to look up to, no one to impress either (Hina never had liked that about herself. She should have been more humble about what she could do).

Chasing after Morgan, she tried to think of something to say. She couldn’t say that she had liked those things she had just said. What the fuck was she supposed to build with a creaking shithole, two cats and heirlooms. “The energy of my dead?” As someone who had always been terrified by death, the idea of using it to her advantage seemed like asking for bad luck. “What the hell did you mean by that?” She caught herself on the railing before she could slip and fall down the stairs. Standing in the middle of them, she called Morgan out : “Stop. I don’t know what it is you’re running away from, but it feels like you’re running away from me. I don’t deserve that.” She let go of the railing, and making her way down the last steps, slowly, she tried to reduce the space between the two of them. “You said that the dead could help me, I don’t know about that. But maybe I can help you.” She had no idea why she said that, and she didn’t know if that would even have any impact. Yet, she knew that she’d never see Morgan ever again if they parted like that.

Morgan continued her swift march down the stairs, into the foyer. She yanked on the front door, jolting the handle loose with her strength. Then she stopped. Waited, clenching and unclenching her fist. Slowly she turned, just far enough to make sure she was heard. “Objects carry traces of the people they matter to. Any witch who’s ever tried a simple tracking charm should know that. Your family might be dead, Hina, but they’re still with you. Look at this place, this stuff, these gifts!” Morgan clenched herself tighter. “You’re not as alone as you feel. And if you ever actually want to find out what happened to them, there’s a whole lot of mediums you can get in touch with who can dial you in.” She started to go, finished with what burnt up crumbs of kindness she still had after looking at her old life through a shiny funhouse mirror. Then she stopped again. Hina’s kindness burned her like iron on a fae. She didn’t even seem mad. Morgan wondered how much she understood, if anyone living could even come close. She met Hina’s eyes one last time, her vision hazy with tears. “My personal White Crest Bullshit has nothing to do with what you deserve. And the universe doesn’t give a shit about deserve anyway. And my damage isn’t the kind you help.” She left and slammed the door before Hina could say another word. It rattled in its socket, maybe broken, but Morgan pushed the thought aside. Hina would be able to fix it with a press of her fingers. Hina, living, kind, magical Hina, could do just about anything she wanted, and that was more than Morgan would ever be able to say about herself.

[myhauntedsalem]

The Ghosts of Waverly Hills Sanatorium

The Waverly Hills Sanatorium looks like a gothic fortress plucked from the darkest recesses of horror. Visitors report encounters with a ghost girl playing hide and seek throughout the third floor. Balls bounce down stairs and vanish into thin air, and those with a psychic sensitivity feel an urge to leave the grounds immediately. Sometimes, ghostly rhymes like ‘ring around the rosy’ echo through the corridors. In Room 502, the supposed site of a nurse’s suicide, a deathly stillness hangs in the air.

Such tales are part of the charm of Waverly Hills; the site is a regular feature on ghost hunting shows and has been called one of the most haunted places in America. Its current owners frequently conduct paranormal tours and invite tour groups to experience the creepy grounds first-hand—or take in a holiday laser light show.

Yes, this is one haunted locale with official opening hours. Nevertheless, it’s hard to deny the sinister vibe emanating from the dilapidated medical facility in northern Kentucky. Smart marketing aside, the Waverly Hills Sanatorium still feels like it perches above a hellmouth.

The surrounding land of the sanatorium was originally owned by Thomas H. Hays, who purchased the property in 1883. Wanting to educate his children, Hays opened a schoolhouse on his isolated estate. Lizzie Harris, the teacher Hays hired, enjoyed Sir Walter Scott’s Waverley novels. She suggested they call the property Waverly Hills.

In the early twentieth century, Jefferson County, Kentucky was struck by an outbreak of tuberculosis; the Ohio River, which cuts through the area, produced a boggy wetland that helped spread the disease. In an effort to combat infection, locals proposed a sanatorium to house long-term medical patients. The location of this new facility? The recently acquired public lands of Waverly Hills.

The sanatorium officially opened in 1910. It soon transformed from a two-story wooden structure that housed 20 patients to a sprawling complex of several pavilions that slept, all told, 130 patients. Yet even this increased capacity could not keep up with the ravaging toll of tuberculosis in the Ohio River bottomlands. As more citizens succumbed to wracking coughs and respiratory failure, a new building was opened in 1926—a five story complex that could house 400 patients.

It was around this time that a secret tunnel was also constructed beneath Waverly. The 500-foot subterranean passage traveled from the first floor of the main building to the bottom of the hill. It provided employees with easy access to the facility. It also let workers dispose of the dead without alarming living patients. Eventually, the secret passage earned a morbid nickname: the body chute.

Taken in 2006 by Tom Halstead in the bowels of the sanatorium, it reportedly shows the wandering spirit of Mary Lee, a former patient at the facility. For all the growth and attention to infrastructure, the actual medical practices at Waverly Hills ranged from charmingly old-fashioned to outright dangerous. Tuberculosis was often treated with fresh air, bed rest, and convalescence. While this is decent enough medical advice, it has no medicinal component. In addition, the medical staff at the sanatorium took ‘fresh air’ to the extreme; there are pictures of patients wheeled outside to sit in drifts of snow. Heated blankets were partially invented to cater to patients receiving this kind of icy treatment.

Other questionable medical procedures included removing ribs to give healing lungs more room to expand, and operations that involved inflating and deflating the lungs via pumped balloons.

In fact, much of Waverly Hills Sanatorium’s reputation stems from the site’s rumored mortality rate. Some urban legends contend that over nine thousand patients died during Waverly Hills’ history. Reputable sources, such as the facility’s Assistant Medical Director Dr. J. Frank W. Stewart, place the greatest death toll in a single year at 152. Independent researchers at the Waverly Hills Sanatorium/Woodhaven Geriatric Center Memorial & Historical Resource place the highest possible total death toll at approximately 8,200.

In 1943, Streptomycin, a vital antibiotic treatment for tuberculosis, was released to the public. The number of tuberculosis cases in Kentucky and across the country dropped. Visitors to the sanatorium dwindled. In 1961, the facility closed its doors.

A year later, Waverly Hills re-opened as the Woodhaven Geriatric Center. The nursing home catered to the mentally disabled and elderly patients who suffered from dementia and mobility issues. It was closed after two decades due to allegations of patient abuse.

A number of revitalization efforts followed—including an attempt to construct the world’s tallest statue of Jesus Christ on the property. Such plans, however, fell through. For much of the 1980s and 1990s the site languished in abandonment. In 2001, Charlie and Tina Mattingly purchased the derelict structure. The couple embraced the site’s haunted history, promoting Waverly Hills as a paranormal hotspot. Today, Waverly Hills is a go-to destination for paranormal investigators and urban explorers with a taste for the otherworldly. In 2007, Waverly even hosted the extreme metal Sounds of the Underground festival.

According to their site, the Mattingly-led preservation organization is dedicated to restoring Waverly Hills to its grand and gothic splendor. Whether you visit for a light show or a ghost tour, Waverly Hills Sanatorium is an eerie site to behold.

[365days365movies]

March 13, 2021: Kwaidan: The Black Hair (1963)

Three hours of Japanese ghost stories. OK. How do I do?

Time is always a complicated mistress for me, so I really have to plan this accordingly. OK, let’s see, what do I know about Kwaidan? Well, it’s a Japanese anthology film...ahhhhhhhh, there it is!

OK, solution discovered! This film is broken up into four disparate short stories, so we’ll be tackling each one one at a time. Four shorter posts, one full movie! Nice. Now, normally, I’d go through a bit of an introduction, but I don’t know much about this film, or the short movies contained within. So, instead, let’s talk Japanese mythology.

Hate to admit it, but basically all of my knowledge of Japanese gods and folklore comes from anime. Which isn’t the worst source, necessarily...but it’s definitely not the actual source. I’ve seen Noragami Season One, I’ve watched a button of other slice-of-life and folklore-based anime, so I know a little bit. The GF is far more adept (she’s the one who got me into Noragami, amongst other things), and she’ll be watching this movie as well, when she can.

So, I’m a relative novice when it comes to these things. What makes this more interesting is the fact that these stories are based on somewhat more contemporary sources, which means that they may not borrow from Japanese mythology much at all, outside of shared themes and morality. Sound familiar?

Yeah, that basically describes Ugetsu Monogatari, which I covered a few days ago (here, here, and here, in that order). While it’s based off of a book, it shares elements seen in a lot of old Japanese folklore and traditional beliefs. Don’t needlessly pursue material goods and fame over happiness, and don’t fuck ghosts. Yeah, that’s mostly what I learned from that one.

Kwaidan, which literally means “ghost stories” in Japanese, came out over a decade later, is in color, as was directed by Masaki Kobayashi, and this is the only movie of his that I’ve ever heard of, so that’s something. In any case, I’m excited for this one! As excited as I am...worried. Because I have absolutely no idea what I’m in for. LET THE THREE HOURS COMMENCE (broken up into four palatable pieces).

The movie segments are as follows:

The Black Hair (黒髪, Kurokami)

The Woman of the Snow (雪女, Yukionna)

Hoichi the Earless (耳無し芳一の話, Miminashi Hōichi no Hanashi)

In A Cup of Tea (茶碗の中, Chawan no Naka)

We’ll start with The Black Hair, which is giving major “The Ring” vibes, just as a name. We’ll see if I’m right about that, I guess! SPOILERS AHEAD!!!

Recap (1/4)

We start it all off with the Criterion Collection logo, and then...ink.

Ink of black, red, and blue, dropped into water set against a white background, is seen cascading down the screen over the opening credits. The titles of the four short films are also introduced, as the ink colors are mixed over a mostly silent background. And once the end, we begin with our first story.

The Black Hair

There’s a dilapidated estate, and as we travel through it, all of the background noises are amplified, and a set of doors opens, seemingly with the breeze. We enter, and a narrator tells us that there was a samurai that lived in old Kyoto, brought to financial ruin by the workings of his former master. To regain financial and social status, he’s decided to leave his wife behind. We join them now.

The samurai (Rentarō Mikuni) leaves his sobbing wife (Michiyo Aratama), refusing to rot away in the estate, no longer dilapidated, as we’ve clearly gone back in time. Despite the desperate pleading of his wife, the samurai leaves Kyoto, and cruelly shoves his wife aside, hitting her with his sheathed sword at one point. So, yeah, he’s a dick. And his quest for fortune will almost certainly be his ruination. Like I said, certain shared themes.

That’s made even clearer by the next scene, in which the samurai is now married to a wealthy woman (Misako Watanabe) that looks very much like the woman from Ugetsu, smudgebrows and...impressively long hair, GODDAMN!

The wealthy family of said daughter welcomes the samurai into the family, and he provides for her while also enjoying a higher social status as a result of the marriage. One day, he brings her to his post, and we clearly see that she’s in love with material possessions, moreso than her husband. Which, yeah, sounds familiar.

Looks like the samurai’s also starting to realize this, and he reminisces about his first wife, presumably still Kyoto. Yeah, bud, ya fucked up, don’t be a dick. Also, I assume that it attracts ghosts, since...you know, this is a ghost story. But yeah, he realizes that he still loves his first wife, patient and loving, as opposed to his cold and selfish second wife.

And so, in his heart and mind, the samurai returns to see his first wife. Meanwhile, in his new life, the samurai is constantly haunted by memories of his first wife. It interferes with his archery on horseback during an exhibition with a competitor. Dude’s fucked up.

Meanwhile, the spoiled second wife is bored, coldly dismissing her handmaidens while waiting for her new husband to attend to her. She happens upon him, asleep next to a scroll. She tries to kiss him, but the great idiot turns her away. She slaps him, upset at both his own selfish ways, and his still-lasting devotion to his wife.

He gives up on pleasing her after this, and decides to officially return to his first wife to make amends for not appreciating her in the first place. However, despite this, his duty as a samurai in the region still lasts a few years, and he’s unable to return to his first wife until that point. And when he does, the place is mostly still OK, but somewhat wrecked on the outside.

Yet, despite this, there she is, working at her loom and spinning wheel. The two are happy to see each other, and the samurai notes that she hasn’t left his mind, and apologizes for being a dick. He also notes that she hasn’t aged a day. Yeah, she’s 100% a ghost, fuck.

Anyway, he begs his definitely ghost-wife for forgiveness, which she quickly and enthusiastically gives. She even says that she never felt worthy for being his wife, and that she doesn’t deserve love from someone of his station, as compared to her own. Goddamn, dude really is a dick for leaving this ACTUAL SAINT of a woman.

He pledges to make amends, and that nothing will ever separate them again. He notes that her hair smells the same as it did before. The same glossy black hair, he notes. He compliments her looks as they kiss. And yeah, real talk, she is a GORGEOUS woman. Again, dude’s a dick. But whatever, at least they’re together again.

And the samurai’s love QUICKLY gives way to horniness, as they make their bed in the room that they “first made love in”, according to him. They pledge to be together for the present and the future, and the swordsman falls asleep with his wide watching over him.

The sun rises the next day, and the samurai wakes up next to his wife, and sees her long black hair...

AAAAAAAAAND it’s a corpse. It’s her dead fuckin’ body, and the hair’s still attached. Saw that coming...although I didn’t think my whole “don’t fuck ghosts” joke would come true that quickly.

AND THEN THE HAIR FUCKING ATTACKS HIM AND DRAINS HIS LIFE FORCE, WHAT IN THE NINE FUCKS

Yeah, no, he’s rapidly aging, and he tries to escape the estate, now obviously completely dilapidated. The now elderly samurai does get out of the estate...but he doesn’t escape.

Damn. Story Number One concluded. 

Weird-ass story, in a way, but very well-shot. as it finishes, the GF begins to elucidate on the actual cultural relationship of this story. Here she is now, actually.

Iridescent. Anyway, she told me about onryō (怨霊), vengeful spirits that come to exact revenge on those who committed wrongs on them or in general, taking their spirits from their dying bodies. Apparently, husbands wronging their wives and getting fucked over by the spirits is a common occurrance. Neat.

It’s also possibly a reference to the yōkai called the futakuchi-onna (二口女). That one, I already knew about. She’s the two-faced woman with her second face hidden behind her long hair, draped and kept down. Said hair is also prehensile! And for the record, I only knew about her because of this:

Yup, Mawile is a Steel/Fairy type Pokémon based on the futakuchi-onna. Neat, huh?

Anyway, that’s the end of the first story...shall we move on to the second one? Next up, Kwaidan: The Snow Woman! See you there!

[ghostofviperwrites]

Phantom Dragons Motorcycle Club - Chapter 3

Word Count: 4200

Warnings: explicit language, implied criminal elements, implied cheating  

This is a re-write of two chapters combined into one with some new stuff.  All new chapters are just around the corner, but you should still reread these ones so you’re not lost with the changes.  

PDMC Pinterest Board= has pics of characters, girlfriends, bikes and more to e added

Chapter 3

In the two months since the behind closed doors meeting about Sanada, it seemed like the club had gotten on more sure footing. When Naito had revealed to the rest of the founding members Sanada’s feelings of isolation and how long they had allowed that feeling to persist it had been met with shock followed quickly by realization.  As he sat at the head of the table Naito watched as one by one they replayed the past year and a half and came to the same conclusions he had.  That they had neglected one of their own and it did had not set well with any one of them.   It was never intentional by any of them, but they had gotten into habits over the years that they hadn’t made the adjustment when Evil had gone away. By this point they were probably annoying the shit out of Sanada with the attention they were focusing on him.  

Now it was crunch time.   They were five months out from the deadline imposed by Naito for their move.  Four months out from Evil’s release from prison. Naito wanted a choice sooner than later so they could get finalize the details.  

The only good part of this process as far as Shingo was concerned was getting a lot of time on his bike where he was happiest.   At the moment they were on their way to a little town called Watford the fourth town on their three day tour.   The first three towns had been vetoed, either lacking the appropriate resources or Shingo finding something he didn’t care for.  They were due to arrive in Watford in about fifteen minutes and they were both hoping the fourth time was the charm.  

Naito was optimistic. Watford was a small town; with a population around 10,000 people, but not so miniscule that his boys would be miserable.  There was still the small town vibe, with a main street filled with mom and pop shops, while still having some of the amenities of a bigger city.  The biggest factor on its side was the small police force, at least in Naito’s eyes.    Another bonus was the city of Ecrin which was about twenty minutes south of Watford, close enough the boys could ride up for a taste of the big city life.  

In the distance the outskirts of Watford came into view, a peppering of houses spread throughout the forest trees, sharp contrasts of vibrant colors against the green landscape.   As they continued along the road the ranches and farm houses came into sharper focus, sprawling ranch lands, barbed wire fences holding the cattle in, the smell of manure strong in the air.  As they got closer to the main houses, goats and sheep began appearing with regularity, along with horses and chickens around the barns.  

Pulled out of his thoughts by Shingo motioning for him to pull over, Naito followed him off the road, pulling to a stop on the dirt lining the blacktop.  Naito raised his eyebrow as he pulled off his helmet, looking over the abandoned junkyard they were stopped in front of.  Long abandoned by the looks of it.  The sign proclaiming the location “John’s Junkyard” was half hanging, the paint faded and rust around the edges as it dangled over the broken wooden gate.  

“Not very secure. A strong wind could break in.” Naito called out to Shingo who had climbed off his bike and was examining the perimeter.  

“That can be fixed.”  Shingo responded pulling one of the dilapidated boards to the side to peer into the yard.   “It’s a good size.  Good location. Could work well as a headquarters. A couple of months could have it in shape.”

Naito looked doubtfully at the weed infested land with scattered hulls of junk cars long picked over interspersed throughout. He didn’t see it, but if Shingo saw something he would cede to the other man’s opinion.  This was his specialty.  

“Turn these shitty wood fences into concrete, reinforce it with rebar, and top it with barbwire, secure gate.”  Shingo thought aloud, speaking half to himself, half to Naito.  “Put a laydown in the middle, gym, garage, and a couple other buildings.  It’ll all fit.”  

“You know it’s your call.”  Naito said. “If you give the say so, we’re in.”  

“Let’s check out the rest of this place before we decide.”  Shingo said coming back to his bike.  Grabbing his helmet from the seat Shingo strapped it on before slipping his sunglasses back on.  Slinging his leg over the seat Shingo fired up his engine and followed Naito’s path back onto the street.    

The two continued on their tour of Watford, driving through the residential areas and along the main street pulling to the side occasionally to confer before ending up parked across the street from the police station.  The two men were cognizant of the stares they were getting as they sat on their bikes, Shingo smirking as he stared challengingly at the police officers walking into the building giving them wary glances.   Naito got a kick out of the people who shied away from them on the sidewalks, not knowing who they were, but instinctually reading the danger implied by their leather vests proudly proclaiming their status in the Phantom Dragons Motorcycle Club.  

“Let’s grab some lunch.”  Naito suggested after Shingo indicated he was satisfied with what they saw.   Climbing off their bikes the two men walked down the sidewalk towards the little corner café they had seen on their way through town; Mary’s Cafe.   “See if small town food is good as they say.”  

After they settled into a corner booth the men perused the menus handed to them by the teenage waitress, sending her on her way with their drink orders.  

“Anything catch your eye?”  Shingo asked as he considered his options.  

“Everything. I’m starving” Naito said with a grin. “But I think I’m going to try the meatloaf special.  What about you?”  

“Burger.”  Shingo said.

The waitress returned, setting their sodas down in front of them before cheerily taking their order, her wide eyes roaming over their leather vests and handsome faces with clear interest.

“You’re jailbait sweetheart.”  Naito said catching her looks.  “Not happening.  Ever. Move along.”  

Embarrassment flushed her cheeks and she scurried away, darting back into the kitchen.

“Nice to know things are the same even in small towns.”  Shingo said with a sardonic chuckle.   “Teenage girls still lusting after the bad boys.”  

“I hope you boys aren’t scaring off my wait staff.”  

Naito looked up, seeing an older woman approaching the table with a stern look on her face.   He glanced down at the menu still sitting on the table, recognizing her picture as the owner of the café.  

“You must be Mary.”  Naito said flashing a megawatt smile.  “I am Naito.  This is my friend Shingo.”

“It’s nice to meet you both.  Care to explain why Jenny is crying in my kitchen?”   Mary asked with sharp focus that made Naito want to squirm in his seat.  

“You’ve got that momma look down.”  Naito said with a laugh, grinning wider as he saw the slight softening around her eyes.  He liked her; and it never hurt to have a friend on your side.  

“We meant no disrespect ma’am.”  Shingo interjected.  “We were just trying to warn Ms. Jenny away.  We’re not the kind of men she should be flirting with. She’s underage and impressionable. We’re not good men.  She doesn’t need to think we are.”  

Mary stared at him shrewdly then turned the same look on Naito before nodding in satisfaction at what she saw and smiling kindly at the two men.

“I think you’re better men than you give yourself credit for.” Mary said.  “Bad men wouldn’t care that Jenny is only sixteen.  They would have taken advantage of her.”  

Naito’s grin turned into a frown as a police officer appeared at Mary’s shoulders interrupting their conversation.  

“Are these men bothering you Mary?”   The officer asked placing a protective arm around her shoulder.

“What?  Of course not.”  Mary said turning to frown at him as she shrugged off his arm.  “I hope you’re not going to harass my customers Officer Prembley. They’re just sitting here having a meal.”  

“Just making sure they aren’t causing any trouble on their way out of town.”  He said meaningfully.  

“Actually we were just about to ask sweet Mary if she could direct us to a realtor.  We’re going to be sticking around for a while.”  Naito said with a smirk as Shingo nodded in agreement.  He was glad Shingo was on board, because Naito would move here just to spite the asshole police officer.    

Officer Prembley frowned while Mary smiled in delight.

“Oh, it’s been so long since we had new residents. This is so exciting.”  She exclaimed.  “I know just the person to help you. Let me go get your meal and I’ll get her information for you.”  

“You aren’t wanted here.”  Officer Prembley said as soon as she was out of earshot. “We don’t want your kind in our town.”

“Our kind?” Naito retorted sharply.  “You mean foreigners?  Do we not fit your perfect mold?  Not white enough for you?”  

“You know what I’m talking about.  Mary may be naïve, but I know exactly what those patches on your vests stand for. My feelings have nothing to do with the color of your skin.”  He snapped. “Stay out of our town. We don’t need your kind of filth.”  

“Aren’t we the popular ones?”  Shingo snorted as they watched Officer Prembley storm out of the diner.  

“He’s not exactly wrong. We do have nefarious intentions.”  Naito chuckled the conversation dropping off as Mary reappeared with their meals, sliding into the booth next to Naito and fussing over them as she apologized for Officer Prembley’s rude behavior.  

By the time the meal was done, the two men were firmly under Mary’s wing, as she ate up their flowery compliments of her restaurant’s food and heard all about their makeshift family.  Mary filled them in on the story of the old junkyard Shingo had been interested in, as well as the available real estate that she was positive would make good homes for her new friends, and an appointment with her friend the real estate agent.  

“What about vacant lots Mary?” Shingo asked as the conversation wound down.  “Any empty lots for sale?   One of our friends is rather particular about his tastes.  I’m sure he would prefer to build his own home.”  

Mary pursed her lips as she thought of the land available in and around town before she brightened.  

“There’s a beautiful lot out by the lake that just came up for sale.  Death in the family.  I think they want to get rid of it quickly. Absolutely beautiful. I’m sure it would meet the most discerning standards.”   Mary said making Shingo snort.

“She doesn’t know Sanada.”  He laughed making Naito chuckle in agreement.   “I’m sure there’s nothing in this town that will meet his standards.”  

“Oh hush now,” Mary scolded.   “That’s no way to talk about your friend.  Especially when he’s not here to defend himself. You boys better be nice.”  

“Well Sanada will certainly appreciate your vehement defense of him.”  Naito said. “You may just win him over.”  

“I look forward to meeting him.  Now you boys better get going if you want to make your appointment with Lisa.”  Mary said sliding out of the booth to let Naito out as Shingo left a stack of cash in the middle to cover their meal and a tip for their long vanished waitress.  

“Mary, you have been an invaluable help.” Naito said lifting her hand and pressing a kiss to the top of it making Mary blush like a school girl.   “It won’t be forgotten.”  

As they walked out of the diner Shingo nudged Naito and nodded up the street where Officer Prembley was standing next to their bikes, glaring in their direction.  Naito grinned as they walked in his direction, watching him gear himself up for the confrontation; he could practically see the conversation the officer was having with himself.  Three doors down from their bikes Naito stopped and opened the door to the realtor’s office, waving cheerfully at the officer as they stepped inside.  

Naito’s eyes lit up as they were greeted by the real estate agent, Lisa Bloom.  He had been expecting an older woman like Mary, given she had talked about Lisa like they were old friends, but was pleasantly surprised by the beautiful woman who ushered them in.  She could be an entertaining way to pass the time while he was away from his old lady.

“Focus.”  Shingo teased in a whisper as Naito’s eyes were glued to her shapely behind as she led them towards her office.  “You can fuck her after our dealings are done.  Don’t need to piss off the only realtor in town.”  

Naito rolled his eyes but complied with Shingo’s demand.  He made sense. Would be hard to work with her if he pulled a fuck and run.  

“Unless I fuck her first.”  Shingo said with a wide grin as he turned his charm onto Lisa.

Two hours and a lot of flirting later, the two men left her office with folders full of the available offerings in Watford and an appointment for the next day to check out some properties.  During the meeting they had also extended an offer on the abandoned junkyard that had caught their eye on the way into town.   A few phone calls, faxed contracts and wired funds and the plot of land was on its way to being Phantom Dragons property.  

The two men found themselves back at Mary’s, taking up residence in the same booth from their earlier visit and spreading the listings out in front of them.  

“You becoming regulars already?”  Mary asked as she approached the table with a smile.

“Great food.  Better hostess. How can we stay away?”  Naito said.

“Oh stop it,” Mary fluttered.  “Is he always such a charmer?”  

“Yep.  That’s our Naito, the little charmer.”  Shingo said rolling his eyes as Naito ate up Mary’s praise with a smug smirk.  

Despite their insistence that they weren’t hungry and just wanted a milkshake while they borrowed her table, Mary brought them out a plate of corn fritters and hush puppies to nibble on carrying on about them being too skinny and needing some good food.    

As he flicked through the pile of papers Naito was surprised at the amount of properties available, mentioning such to Mary as she dropped plates at their table.

“Small towns are dying Naito.”  She said softly.  “People moving on to big cities.  Better jobs.  Better lives. At least according to them.”   Mary harrumphed; her opinion on that clear.  

Shingo pursed his lips, considering Mary as she walked away.

“There’s no jobs here.”  Shingo said.  “That’s why they’re leaving. No future.”

“And what does that have to do with us?” Naito asked taking a bite from a fritter.  

“Small towns aren’t very friendly to outsiders. Mary being the exception thus far.” Shingo said.   “Some goodwill on our part would go a long way in getting the townspeople on our side.”  

“What are you thinking?”  

“We have a lot of construction work that will need to be done.  I bet a lot of these out of work men are in that field.  They could make a lot of money helping us out.  I say we hire them instead.  A big company coming in for months at a time isn’t going to do anything but remind them we thought they weren’t good enough to handle our business. That’s just going to make us pariahs.”

“So you’re suggesting we play Robin Hood?” Naito asked skeptically.  

“Pay em good and get em on our side.”  Shingo said seriously.  “Given the reception we’ve gotten from the police so far we’re going to need it. We need allies; who better than the people who live here. Money goes a long way towards that.”  

Naito sat back, slinging his arm along the back of the booth and musing over Shingo’s idea.

“We can’t support the whole town indefinitely.” Naito said after a moment.  “We’re not a charity.”

“I know.”  Shingo acknowledged.  “But all they’re going to remember is their benefactors coming into town and saving them from poverty.   We need to open some legitimate fronts.   Hire townspeople to work them, money in their pockets and ours.”    

“Guess we better have Lisa get us some commercial lots together too. We can look at those when I come back in a few weeks. Just in case that’s the road we decide to take.” Naito said in resignation pulling out his phone to shoot a text to the agent.  Shingo’s plan was sound.  It wouldn’t hurt them to have some legitimate businesses running to cover the illicit activities.  It’s what they did now, no reason why they shouldn’t continue it just because it was a smaller base of operations.    Problem was the profit margin in a small town was much smaller than a big city.   “We’re going to need to sit down before you move up here and figure out exactly what the fuck we’re going to do. As a board.”  

Shingo nodded in agreement with Naito’s assessment. The club was planning their final move in about three months; however Shingo had volunteered to move immediately to oversee construction of their operations.  The others would make visits throughout, but Shingo would be the only permanent resident for the next couple of months.   They had a lot of details to hammer out before Shingo returned to Watford the following week.  

While Mary cleared their plates, Naito picked her brain for the names of some local contractors who she felt would be suitable for the construction work the club would need.  With some thought Mary came up with a few names, promising Shingo and Naito to have the men get in contact with them if they were interested in the jobs.  

As he had on their previous visits Shingo threw a stack of cash on the table, ignoring Mary’s protests as she chased after them complaining about leaving too much money.  Protests which fell on deaf ears as Naito waved her off with a lazy gesture.  

Stepping into the quickly cooling night air the two men made their way back to their long parked bikes, climbing on and making the short drive up the street to the town’s only motel which was located about half a block down from Mary’s.   It was a dilapidated building in desperate need of a fresh coat of paint and some TLC.   Along with a good deep cleaning.   They would probably be better off sleeping in the dirt at their newly acquired junkyard if the outside was any indication.  

“This wouldn’t be a bad business to step into.” Shingo commented noticing the for sale sign in the front window as Naito walked into the small lobby to secure them a room.   As Naito handled the registration Shingo ran a discerning eye over the property wondering just how much money they would have to sink into the place to make it half-way decent.  

“A motel?  Really? You gonna play maid Shingo?”  Naito asked as he came back out with their key a few moments later, picking up the conversation where it had been left off.  

“Hell no.  But I’m sure there’s plenty of women around here who would jump at the chance.”

“That’s a big expense Shingo.”  Naito said.  “Not a lot of upside.  This place is a piece of shit.  You’re going to have to convince the boys.  I’m not seeing it.”  

Shingo nodded.  He understood where Naito was coming from.  They had never undertaken a business like a motel before.  But as soon as he had seen that for sale sign, things had started running through his mind and he was pretty sure the club would see the benefit once he outlined it.  If they didn’t he would forget it and they would go for something else.  

“Here we are.”  Naito said stopping outside room 124.   “You better not snore.”  

“Not my fault you’re too cheap to get us two rooms. Please tell me there’s at least two beds.”  

--

The following morning found them back at Mary’s for a quick breakfast, quickly commandeering what they were now proclaiming their booth.  Mary wasn’t around this morning, a new waitress severely lacking in personality compared to Mary getting dismissed by a grumpy Naito who was the farthest thing from a morning person you could get.  

“I don’t like her.”  Naito grumbled into his coffee.  

“She’s fine.”  Shingo waved off his complaints. “Just cause she’s not falling all over your dick doesn’t mean there’s anything wrong with her.  Long as she gets my food right and keeps my coffee filled she’s alright in my books.”  

Finishing up their meal the two men left what was quickly becoming their regular haunt walking down to Lisa Bloom’s office to meet her for their viewing appointment.  

“I’ve got a few new properties I came across last night that I think will be what you two are looking for.” Lisa said as she led them into her office, gesturing for them to take a seat.  “If you want to take a quick look and see if any jump out as immediate no’s or must sees in addition to the ones I gave you last night.”

Shingo flipped through the stack Lisa handed them one-by-one, examining the pictures and specs of each listing and creating two piles while Naito did the same with his own stack.  Lisa arched an eyebrow as she looked through the final stacks of their selected homes.

“These are exactly the same.”  She said in disbelief waving the two piles.  “How did you two manage that?”  

“Jesus, I knew I’ve been hanging around you too much Shingo.” Naito groaned. “I’m turning into you.”

Shingo laughed and slapped Naito on the back, telling him it was only an improvement before passing over the properties from the previous listings they wanted to check out to Lisa.  

“Well, hopefully we can find something for each of you.  So long as you don’t both want the same house.”  Lisa interjected.

“That won’t happen.” Naito reassured her. “Shingo will be the easiest client you’ll ever have.  He ain’t picky.”  

Grabbing her jacket Lisa led the two out of her office towards her silver Honda Accord parked behind the building.  

“The first place is just up the street.”  Lisa said making small talk as she navigated through the streets before pulling into the driveway of a small white cottage style home with colorful flowers surrounding the porch.  

“I’ll take it.”  Shingo said before she even had the car in park.  He was sitting in the passenger’s seat of Lisa’s vehicle, the stack of home they were looking at sitting across his thigh.  A quick glance around the neighborhood satisfied him and he wasn’t going to waste time.  

The house was nice from the outside.  Enough space between the neighbor’s houses that he wouldn’t feel claustrophobic and it was close where he envisioned the compound.

“Excuse me?”  Lisa laughed in disbelief. “You haven’t even seen it.  What do you mean you’ll take it?”  

“Told ya in the office, Shingo will be the easiest client you’ll ever have.”  Naito chimed in from the back seat.  

“I don’t really care.  I need a place.  This will work.”  Shingo said with a shrug.  “Anything that needs to be done, I can do after I move in.”  

“Are you sure you don’t want to look at it?” Lisa asked skeptically.   “Buying a house is a big decision to make sight unseen.”  

“No I don’t need to. Neighborhood is fine.” Shingo said.  “If I can move in when I return next week I’ll take it. Otherwise I need whatever place can do that.”  

“It takes time to buy a house Shingo.” Lisa objected.  “There’s escrow.  We have to secure a mortgage for you. Inspections. Paperwork.”  

“I’m paying cash. Don’t want inspections.” Shingo said. “I just want it done. Now.”  

“Okay then.”   Lisa said huffing out a breath.  “What about you Naito? Are you picking from the driveway too?”  

“Nope.  I’m not as easy as Shingo. You’re going to have to put some effort into me.”  Naito teased.   “Though I will give you longer than a week to finalize everything.”

“And what about a mortgage for you?”

“Cash.” Naito said.  “Everything will be done in cash. For all of us.”  

“How on earth can do you have that much cash just lying around?”  Lisa asked in shock, paling as the smiles dropped from both Naito and Shingo’s faces.

“Don’t ask too many questions Lisa.”  Shingo said shortly.

Lisa swallowed hard, wondering what she was stepping into with these men coming into her town throwing around hundreds of thousands of dollars in cash like it was nothing.   Pasting on a fake smile Lisa backed out of the driveway and headed for the next property.   All she was doing was selling some houses.  She couldn’t possibly get into any trouble for that. 

@ghoulsister1 @dawnie39uk @littlebluespoon   @serenityfiretrash @earl-01 @paganbabe @willalwaysprotectyou @keltic-goddess

[dbphantom]

BACKSTORIES BACKSTORIES BACKSTORIES BACKS-

Amara layers on the bravado and 'wants a bigger fight' shit not just because she's confident but also because she feels bad about leaving Partali since she was basically the only thing protecting her friends/family there, but she believes if she succeeds at Vault Hunting that she'll be able to bring the wealth back and help the community in a bigger way than just punching bad guys. Its sort of a 'I'm incredibly strong physically, but clearly not enough because I can't even help with this simple little problem' situation.

- the art book confirmed Amara is wearing a vial of water from Partali around her neck- I like to imagine the city has some significant statue/fountain with water in/around it that she finds comforting/inspiring

- Amara got her Siren powers in grade school during a schoolyard fight (she won, obviously)

- Amara's family has been threatened more times than she can count. She's always ready and has defended them before but sometimes she worries, especially now that she's not there. She spends a lot of her free time getting in touch with them. I like to imagine she has kid brothers who look up to her. She gives me an older sister vibe, I dunno.

- Amara is lowkey glad her fame hasn't followed her to Pandora/beyond because she was getting tired of interrupting her fights to take selfies and sign posters. She stills likes seeing just how far her name has traveled tho. Is a good confidence buff.

- Amara is sorta like Axton with her bravado. She also believes she's the 'main character' of the four Vault Hunters. It makes her a very good leader, but it can get slightly overwhelming.

Moze runs away from the Vladof army and 'abandons' (they think she's dead) her responsibilities to live her life and do what she wants with IB and also lives with the crushing (ha! Oh no.) knowledge that her poor leadership skills are what killed the squad she had just become captain of and definitely was not the Vladof corporation trying to keep their IB mechs from leaving circulation. Definitely not. She gravitates to Amara because Amara is pretty much the group leader and a v good one at that, and Moze likes that Amara is a lot of things she isn't. Also nice arms. She needs the money from Vault Hunting to support her free lifestyle cuz she doesn't want to work.

- Moze will cook and eat literally anything. Her family grew up poor so her palette is pretty much open to anything at least twice. She sent the money she got working in the military back home to them. When she fakes her death she contemplates moving back but she knows they'd spend money they don't have to make her stay with them so she watches from afar, mailing them her most expensive loot anonymously to make sure they'll be okay

- Moze really enjoyed video games as a kid, like the free ECHOnet ones where you played against other people. She ends up joining the Vladof military a) for money and b) because she doesn't have a viable career path after playing video games all of her youth

- Moze is a really good liar. She can make up anything on the spot and get away with it. On a totally unrelated note, Moze was a little delinquent as a kid. Smoking (-> bubblegum to break the habit?), underage drinking. Wasn't doing anything bad, just breaking laws she thought were dumb- passive anarchy. She fit in great at Vladof.

- Moze is super protective of the other VHs, to the point she's willing to self-sacrifice to ensure they survive even the smallest squabble. Amara is always like 'no wtf stop'. But Moze still tries anyway, in spite of the group's blood pressure. Which I guess maybe she ought to be taking into consideration.

Fl4k slowly gains sentience over time and begins to realize they despise their job despite being programmed to enjoy it (their hardware had begun to malfunction as the biologist researchers were using them long after their expiry date- so replacing bits with more modern parts led to some unintended interactions. they were found in an abandoned factory on the planet that was so dilapidated/overgrown nobody knows which megacorporation it belonged to). They were working on a species preservation planet, basically a giant safari/zoo planet where a bunch of species were brought to ensure they didn't go fully extinct because the borderworlds are crazy. The planet has lots of history books to see how the animals were meant to behave/look/be cared for and it's how Fl4k gained their affinity for animals. Long story short, during a walk in the jungle where they contemplated their newly-gained sentience, Fl4k met what is essentially the personification of death (not the grim reaper- he's different, like uhhhh the Raven Queen and Kravitz from TAZ- literally death itself) watching them nurse a dying spiderant back to health and they became obsessed with The Hunt (TM) in order to win her affections (and also pay back their debt to her for keeping a soul from coming her way because Fl4k gaining sentience wasn't supposed to happen, so that spiderant is off schedule but whatever mannnn).

-Fl4k is the best healer on the team because they know so much about biology due to the hours of reciting scrolls and sorting books they had to do. They also have a lot of obscure, random history knowledge

-Fl4k can eat, they have taste receptors (given they know greeble snot is mild), they just prefer not to because it is inefficient and not worth anything to them. I'm also not sure how yet.

- Fl4k was allowed to choose three more animals out of the thousands dying on their home planet the day they met death and nurse them back to health in order to have four companions join them on the hunt. Because. Idk. Sounds cool to me. They chose a jabber, a skag, and a rakk hive. Death didn't vibe with the rakk hive, so she gifted Fl4k the ability to summon a couple rakk instead, just like the hive.

- Death doesn't want the Destroyer getting loose because that's a lot of paperwork ahead of schedule, and Fl4k is more than happy to oblige and go on the greatest hunt to stop it. Death gifts them with some powers (gamma burst, rakk summoning) to help them on their mission. Also just to keep things tidy Fl4k is unaware of their end goal until it's mentioned in the story. All they know is that Death wanted them to become a Vault Hunter and go to Pandora to go on The Hunt (TM).

- Fl4k can be fairly bossy/commanding and does tend to tell the other VHs what they should do like they are part of The Pack. They had tried to take the leadership role in the beginning, but it did not work and Amara naturally fell into that position. They're still commanding, but the others take those more as general suggestions now and everything works fine.

And you already know Zane's, is pretty much just: 'How to Develop Trust Issues: the 7th edition (Written by the LGBT+ Community, Anotated by Cryptids)'. He gave it to Zer0 once during a full moon and he's 90% sure it was used for assassination practice. He gave it to Hammerlock next because at least Hammylock can treat a book right, you fucking heathen.

[transgendermusic]

Sammy Heck: Egg Cracker

Sammy poses with an iridescent sword in front of a mossy concrete statue. 

Listen to Season 1, Episode 8 of the podcast below: 

iTunes - Spotify - Stitcher - Google Play Music - Bandcamp

This week's episode is an interview with Sammy Gagnon, an indie rocker from Baltimore. But first I want to talk about someone a little closer to home. About an hour’s drive south of where I live, in Lilington, North Carolina, there's a men's prison called Harnett Correctional. A trans woman named Kanautica Zayre-Brown is imprisoned there, and she wants to be transferred to a women's facility. Sharing a dorm with 38 cis men is really scary, but solitary confinement is worse, and there's no reason she should even have to be in the building. I thought that was pretty messed up, and if you do too, I need you to call the North Carolina Department of Public Safety, Prisons Division at 919-838-4000.

Let them know that you demand that they transfer Kaunautica Zayre Brown to a women’s facility to ensure her rights and safety.

If you can, see if you can talk to or leave a message for Kenneth Lassiter, the director of prisons in North Carolina. If you’re not totally sure what to say, I put a script at the bottom of this article, along with more information about Kanautica’s situation, and three more numbers to call. 

Back in October, I went on a little road trip to Washington DC. Whenever I travel now, I reach out to local trans musicians and see if they want to be interviewed for the podcast. Sammy Gagnon, who plays under the band name Sammy Heck and runs the DIY label Deep Sea Records, drove all the way down from Baltimore to meet me for this interview. We met up in a dilapidated strip mall in Greenbelt, Maryland, outside  of a vegan café where someone was protesting by eating slabs of meat. We talked about how she got into the DIY scene, what Guitar Center is like as a trans woman, and cracking eggs.

Riley: Thanks for being here with me. Thanks for coming down.

Sammy: Yeah, thank you for having me.

So you just were telling me you just wrapped up a 17-day tour?

Well, it was a whole year of touring. I think I toured 41 or 42 days in total this year, which is more than I've ever done. Five tours this year, across January to August.

Where all have you gone?

I went as far north as Boston, as far south as Tallahassee, Florida and Austin, Texas, and then towards the Midwest I went as far as Chicago.

And have you been doing it yourself?

Yeah. The first tour I did, I toured with another band, White Petals. I played bass for them, and then I did solo Sammy Heck stuff. Then I did a five-day tour in July where I was tour managing for a band called Phase Arcade. For the rest of the time, I drove totally alone.

Sammy Heck/White Petals Split by sammy heck

Your first Sammy Heck music was a split with White Petals, right?

With White Petals, yeah. We have been friends for a long time. I also run this label called Deep Sea Records, and White Petals is one of the first bands that I put out on that.

How long have you been running the label?

It'll be four years in February.

Okay, so the label is older than the Sammy Heck project?

Yeah, absolutely. Sammy Heck I just started in August of last year, after my old band, Samurai Tiger, broke up. But I started Deep Sea Records in February of my senior year of high school.

So was it hard to get people to take you seriously 'cause you were a high school senior? Or did they not know?

I think that all the people I was working with at the time were about the same age. I honestly find that people took me more seriously when I was a 17-year-old "boy" (I'm doing air quotes there) than now, when I'm a 21-year-old girl who's been on a dozen tours and has put out almost 50 records.

Valentine's Charity Compilation 2018 by Deep Sea Records

So it's just a gender thing?

Yeah, I definitely think so.

That really sucks. But I know what you mean, though.

Yeah. I think that the place that people treat me the most differently at is Guitar Center. Before, I'd walk into Guitar Center and I was practically invisible, and now every time I walk into Guitar Center and pick up an instrument, everybody wants to talk to me and ask me how long I've been playing an instrument for.

Do you think they're hitting on you?

I don't know.

Mansplaining?

There's definitely that male arrogance of "Oh, girl that plays guitar? What's up with that?"

"Gross!" 

Sammy lost a heel a couple times during the photoshoot

How'd you learn about and get into the DIY music scene?

In high school I had a Tumblr, and I found out about bands like The World Is a Beautiful Place and Empire! Empire! Stuff like that. Like, "Oh, this is cool!" And then I joined some Facebook groups that were about twinkle emo, and stuff like that. And from there, I was like, "Oh, everybody wants to play in bands like this." So, yeah.

Can you explain what twinkle emo is?

So there are different waves of emo music, but twinkle would be, like, Algernon Cadwallader, to an extent The World Is a Beautiful Place...

Parrot Flies by Algernon Cadwallader

What's the vibe?

So it's got that emo punk vibe that bands like Jawbreaker, Sunny Day Real Estate, stuff like that have. But they take it to an extra level of less punk, more indie rock. So there's more noodling and open tunings, and stuff like that.

What would be your genre classification for the Sammy Heck project?

Sammy Heck, I usually say it's, like, sparkly indie pop.

That's reasonable.

Yeah. Because I like a lot of the emo indie bands, like The World Is, or my friends in Commander Salamander coined the term "sparklepunk."

Sparklepunk?

Sparklepunk. So there was twinkle emo, but nobody likes to say the word "twinkle," so I guess they just pulled out a thesaurus and looked up synonyms for "twinkle," and were like, "Sparklepunk!" I was like, "Okay, that's cool. Well I'm gonna be sparklepop." So I feel like people compare me a lot to bands that are in that emo genre but on the more lighter, sensitive side, like Kississippi or Soccer Mommy, bands like that. But then I'm also really into late 2000s, early 10s indie pop, like MGMT, Foster the People, Matt and Kim, stuff like that.

Stop Wasting Time by sammy heck

I can definitely hear that. That makes sense to me.

Yeah? People say The Postal Service a lot.

Yeah. So on your recordings, you play most of the instruments except for bass, right?

Yeah. On the recordings that are out right now, it's me playing guitar and singing, and then my friend Josh, who recorded me, plays bass on it because he has a really nice bass rig. And then I programmed all the drums, and the synths, and the stuff like that, using... Logic? I think he had Logic on his computer, which is like GarageBand for big boys.

So you already knew how to do that?

Yeah, when I play live I use GarageBand for everything. So I have my phone mounted onto my guitar with one of those car mounts, and then I just run that through a mixing board on my pedalboard, and run both of those into my amp. So it plays the backing tracks, but since none of them are live instruments, it sounds more like kinda a chiptune, bedroom pop kinda thing, rather than like I'm playing along to a backing track of all live instruments.

Do people think it's weird that you have your phone taped to your guitar, and then are putting it all through one amp?

It depends. It really depends. Some people are like, "Whoa, that's the coolest thing ever!" And then other people are like, "So when are you getting a band?" Yeah.

All you need is one synth player, right?

I mean, I guess. I'm doing an upcoming tour in January where I'm having a band.

Oh, you're gonna have a full band?

Yeah, so that'll be interesting. And on the new record it's a whole band, so that's a whole thing.

A new record that you're planning to release soon?

Yeah. I'm finishing up the demos right now, and then we'll go ahead and record it.

That's awesome. So you've created a band in Baltimore? You've started practicing with people?

Yeah, I more of just stole another band. So it's this band Phase Arcade, except I'm putting their guitarist and singer on keyboards, and then their bassist and drummer are still their bassist and drummer, and then I'm just fronting it. So when I tour with them, it'll be with... There's a bee.

Was that a bee?

It's a wasp. Yeah, it's a wasp. Yeah, so when I tour with them, I'll play my set, and then I'll move all of my shit out of the way, and then - can I curse on here? Does it matter?

Yeah. It's going on SoundCloud.

Okay, I wasn't sure. Cool. I'm always paranoid that I'll do a radio session and I'll be like, "Oh, that's fucking stupid" or something like that. And then they'll get mad at me.

Gonna get some crazy fine?

And I'll be banned from the air, yeah. Do they fine you when you do that?

Oh yeah.

Really?

Yeah. Well the station does, not you. Yeah, the station gets a fine from the FCC, I think. Or FTC? No, that's the trade commission. I think it's the FCC.

That sucks. They get fined somewhere.

Yeah, they get fined. I think after 10:00 pm you can. There's like the watershed time... I don't really know what I'm talking about. But I do know that it costs money. That's why they care.

That's funny. Okay. But yeah, I'm basically borrowing their band.

That's cool. Are you also in that band?

No.

You just saw it, you liked it. It's your band now. So I wanna describe where we are right now, because I think it's really, really deeply funny. So in front of us is the Greenbelt Federal Credit Union. 

Next to us is a zombie-themed minimart. There are people here, but it's just got a very creepy vibe.

Yeah, this is kind of what every D.C. suburb I've ever been to has been like. Just really weird, kinda empty, but impeccably clean and put together.

Yeah, I'm used to one or the other. But this is creeping me out a lot.

It's a little weird.

Do you know what else it reminds me of? When I was in high school [Note: it was actually college]... We didn't break in. The door was unlocked. But we went to this megachurch apartment complex where these people in the late 90′s had built this giant mall-shaped place for all their followers to live, and it was so clean, but everyone had left the community by then. So the lights were on, and then there was a couple stores open. It was like a dead mall.

That's too cool.

There was, like, grand pianos everywhere, and there was an old abandoned play park, and half-finished construction.

Oh, that's my shit. And the power was still running?

The power was still on. There was people there. But I'm sure occupancy was like 2%.

Okay. 'Cause I was gonna say, if it's totally abandoned, you could have cool shows there, and stuff.

It wasn't abandoned. So I think it was still being administrated, but I think most people didn't wanna live in this weird megachurch commune.

Yeah, I can't imagine why.

Oh, the wasp is on you. There's a wasp just... It likes you, I think.

Yeah, there's cocoa powder in my contour, and bugs are really into it.

Uh-oh. Your makeup looks great!

Thank you!

I like the iridescent nails, lip, and sword that you brought. She brought a sword for our pictures that we wanted to take. 

Who wouldn’t want a piece of that contour? 

So what are your goals, musically and as an artist?

Whenever people ask me this question, I always think of that Vine of Riff Raff, and he was like, "The goal is to blow up, and then act like I don't know nobody." And then he has those really scary shark teeth grills, and he laughs, and it's really frightening. But that's not my goals, no. I feel like... This is gonna sound so cheesy. 

I wanna be the artist and the role model that me as a teen woulda needed. So I wanna write songs about being trans, and being sad, and dealing with that, and stuff. And I don't really want it to be a pity party thing, but it ends up being that a lot of the time. I definitely wanna be more like... Do you know what the term "cracking eggs" means, in terms of trans people? Yeah.

Yeah, you could explain it, though.

Okay. So an egg is a trans person who doesn't know that they're trans yet. I feel like I wanna inspire more trans people to be open about their transness, and be okay with being visibly trans, and stuff like that.

Yeah, we were talking earlier when we were taking pictures about how some people who I talk to for this website, sometimes there are trans people who don't wanna be on a trans website, or they don't want their trans identity to be part of their identity as musicians as artists. You don't choose that, right?

No, I don't. So, I understand that. I think that's super valid, because in a way, I feel like I have almost closed myself off, because now cis people are like, "Oh, her whole thing is that she's trans." Or even other trans people will be like, "Oh, your whole thing is that you're trans." But it's not. Not all my songs are about that. That doesn't consume every minute of my life. But I think that it's really valid to not wanna be open in today's climate, where you'll get harassed and murdered if you're trans.

Yeah. So you wanna be cracking eggs.

Cracking eggs, yes.

Have you ever had that experience? Has anyone ever said...

Yeah. That's definitely a weird thing, 'cause a friend of mine, actually, after seeing me play, a few months later texted me and was like, "Hey, because of seeing your performance, I decided to come out." I was like, "That's fucked." That's fucked up that that was something that I could do, if that makes sense. I'm trying not to sound really self-important. I don't wanna sound like that.

I don't think that you do. I think that we're raised in a culture where it's not seen as an option. Like, gender is seen as an immovable object, like you can't do anything about it. So any time you even see someone... There's that song based on the Alison Bechdel cartoon Ring of Keys, where she sees a butch and she's like, "Oh my god!" She's eight years old in a diner and she sees a butch, and she's just like, "Is that a thing that you can do?" 

The butch was not a messiah, the butch was just hanging out going to a diner, but you can do incredible things just by existing publicly. 

My only experience with trans people up until I was an upperclassman in high school was through porn. And that was the only way that I knew that trans people existed, which is really fucked up. 'Cause I never really knew that trans people existed outside of a fetish, if that makes sense.

Yeah. Is your friend doing okay?

Oh, yeah, she's doing great. She's awesome, yeah. I'll have to send her this interview. She'll geek out. I don't know if she wants me to name who she is, so I won't say anything. 

Probably not.

Yeah, I'm not gonna say anything. No, she's sweet.

Well, thanks for talking to me.

Yeah, thank you for having me. This is fun! 

Find Sammy online: Sammy Heck Bandcamp Deep Sea Records Sammy Heck on Facebook

Note: A little bit after our interview, Sammy moved to Philly, but while we’re talking about Baltimore, I actually travelled there a couple weeks ago and interviewed two awesome local musicians, so look forward to that in Season 2!

More information about Kanautica:

Kanautica Zayre Brown is a Black trans woman who has been denied transfer to a women’s facility. You can read more about her story on The Root. 

I know that most of the people reading this right now are trans, and trans people generally hate phone calls. It’s also scary if you don’t know who's going to be on the other end. But we’ve gotta stand up for each other y’all. If we don’t, who will? And if you want to send her some money, she and her husband Dionne’s cash app is $007db. 

Example script: 

"I'm calling to demand that you transfer Kanautica Zayre-Brown (inmate number 0618705) to a women's prison in accordance with her wishes, the Prison Rape Elimination Act, and The U.S. Federal Bureau of Prisons Transgender Offender Manual. Kanautica needs to be moved to a women's facility to affirm her identity and ensure her rights and safety" 

More numbers to call: 

Harnett County Sherriff’s Office: (910) 893 8111 

Harnett Correctional Institution: (910) 893 2751 

NC Department of Corrections: (919) 838 4000 

NC Department of Public Safety: (919) 733 2126