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prismatic-bell · 1 year

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Anti-Racism In Glass Onion: It's A Whole Thing, Part One

So I wasn't going to write this, because I'm white and it felt like veering very far out of my lane. But I also haven't seen anyone else talking about it, and finally I decided I'd rather make an ass of myself by doing something well-meaning than I would to uphold a status quo that zips right by one of the most important things in this film (that doesn't get explored enough in media or fandom), so here we are. Please keep in mind this is going to be FULL of spoilers so if you're not about that life, you'll want to give this a pass for now. (I also expected it to be much shorter than it is. It’s, uh, nine pages long. So it will be multiple posts long. Sorry.)

I don't think I've yet seen anyone really touch in-depth on the fact that this is a movie with a pretty strong theme calling out antiblack racism and the overturning thereof. Indeed, I’ve only seen one post mentioning it at all.

So let’s analyze, yes?

First, let's look at "the disrupters." They include:

--an alt-right streamer who's openly mentioned as being just about every -ism in the book

--his blonde-haired, blue-eyed girlfriend who's with him for status

--a white politician who objects to Klear not on the basis that it could cost lives, but that it will lose her the progressive vote

--an absolute idiot of a white supermodel who's had two serious antiblack race-based scandals, and is about to have another that's just generally racist

--a Black scientist who repeatedly tries to speak up and gets shot down

--a Black woman, the actual brains of this entire outfit, who created the original business plan and a multibillion-dollar company and got first fired, then financially ousted, then murdered

Now let's look at some other Black characters and Black imagery in the story. These include:

--a mural of Kanye West depicted as a messiah

--Serena Williams, as Miles' personal trainer

--the phrase "sucking on his titties," spoken by a Black woman

--a cameo by Kareem Abdul-Jabbar, as one of Benoit Blanc's friends

—a Beatles song (yes, really)

--the lower-middle-class sister of the Black woman who was the actual brains, etc.

Before we move on, I want to address the Kanye thing, because Glass Onion was filmed in 2021, probably written in 2020, and the point where Kanye went absolutely batshit deep-end off-the-fucking-rails was in 2022. I do not believe Rian Johnson was making any kind of "go Kanye" statement here--I think it was an unfortunate confluence of timing. As I discuss Kanye further, I want it to be clear we're discussing already-gross-but-not-yet-gone-full-Nazi Kanye.

So let's go ahead and get him out of the way first, because he's an incredibly important figure in Black music but as a Jew I just. Really do not want to be discussing Kanye West longer than I have to, I'm sorry. West is the kind of figure Miles Bron would absolutely want to have in his life as a status symbol. First, if we look at Bron's definition of being "a disrupter" (first you break a small thing, then very quickly you break the system itself), Kanye absolutely qualifies. He started out as a small artist mostly producing beats for other musicians, then did some work for Jay-Z that led to an album Rolling Stone considered one of the best hip-hop albums of all time, and then he dropped The College Dropout. I knew his work was considered influential before I started looking into this imagery deeper, but I had no idea how influential--this was his debut album and it hit #2 on the charts, produced a single that debuted at #1, included a song called "Jesus Walks" that hit the top 20 even though it was predicted a Christian song would never land in hip-hop, and the album is still considered one of "the greats" by other artists--twenty years later. I'd say that pretty neatly fits Miles' definition of "disruption." He did, indeed, first break something small and then turn the hip-hop world on its head.

Where there's a second layer to this that I think would also speak to Miles is that in 2018, Kanye declared the chattel slavery of West African people in the Americas was "a choice"--as in, they chose to be enslaved. He later claimed he was referring to "mental enslavement," but no matter how you cut it, regardless of his own race, that's a pretty fucking racist antiblack statement (in addition to being wildly historically revisionist). While I doubt Miles would be like “hell yeah, racism!,” he’d absolutely buy 100% into the idea of choosing to be in hellish circumstances, because He Got Out All On His Own (even though he didn’t), So You Can Too.

Moving on, we have Serena Williams. She's another person who'd fit Miles' description of "a disrupter," but where Kanye would probably revel in that idea, I honestly don't think she'd like it very much, and her attitude in the movie really underlines that. Yes, she's taking his money to be his "personal trainer," but really, he's frittering her life away. She's sitting there reading a book waiting for him to decide he wants to get off his ass and work out today. She's not a slave, but she has been explicitly put in a role as a paid servant. I don't think it's out of the question to say Miles specifically picked her over, say, Jillian Michaels, because she is Black. Do I think he sat down and went "who's a Black athlete I can subjugate?" No. I think if you asked Miles he'd be the kind of person who'd unironically say "I'm not racist! The head scientist at Alpha is Black!" What I think happened--or to be more accurate, what I think the kind of train of thought Rian Johnson would attribute to him would have caused to happen--is that he picked someone he'd be comfortable ignoring. Did he consciously decide he'd be more comfortable ignoring a Black woman and telling her to put up or shut up if she complained he was wasting her time? No. But do I think we should attribute unconscious biases and prejudices to him that aided him in the decision that he'd be comfortable ignoring her? Yes.

Incidentally, while we’re here, let’s discuss how the two of them stack up to Miles’ other “status symbol” name-drops. First, let’s discard Banksy. He’s a special case here and we’ll discuss him later. But now let’s look at the others. We’ve got Jeremy Renner, whose personal I-make-this-for-my-inner-circle food Miles proudly eats and hands out; Jared Leto, whose personal I-make-this-for-my-inner-circle drink Miles proudly offers to friends (although if memory serves me, he himself is drinking beer); Gillian Flynn, who he’s hired to write a mystery game for his own inner circle; Philip Glass, who he hired to write the music for the Glass Onion’s clock, which is there to impress guests; and Anderson Cooper, whose party he supposedly attended. Notice something about all the celebrities whose products he actively engages with? Yeah. They’re all white. Serena is relegated to a private room and not interacted with, while Kanye doesn’t even get a mention—and as I noted above, this movie would have gone through post far too late for Rian Johnson to have been able to say “let’s…remove praising the dude who’s declared himself a Nazi, please,” which means if Kanye was ever mentioned at all, it was cut long before real!Kanye’s final downward spiral. The Black “status symbols” have literally been relegated to being Miles’ props and “the help.”

Now let's talk about Helen's turn of phrase when she's reading "the disrupters" for absolute filth. She tells all of them what they want is Miles' (and, by extension, Andi's) money, and that they're "sucking on his titties." Putting the line in the mouth of a Black woman puts me instantly in mind of the "mammy" stereotype, where the Black woman is expected to nurture and nourish and care for all of the (implied or outright stated to be white) children and have no personality outside this. Technically it's Miles' money, but it's Miles' money specifically because of the shit he pulled with Andi--he sucked her dry and now is being fed upon in turn. The thing is, the way Black women are further treated throughout the narrative doesn't make this a faux-cutesy little image like those godawful racist vintage ads; it's horrifying. It is horrifying and it should be horrifying; it’s disgusting and the narrative wants you to be disgusted at this.

To continue, we have that cameo by Kareem Abdul-Jabbar. It's really only noteworthy because he's the one who's giving Blanc shit for failing at Among Us and refusing to get out of the bathtub. This is important for reasons I'll come back to (put a pin in this), but for now suffice it to say it's important because Blanc is white and Southern and we'll get back to that.

Next up, it’s “Blackbird,” the song Miles was playing on guitar when the ship lands. Other posts have noted that for all Blackbird sounds very pretty and impressive, it’s actually very simple to play, and that this reflects Miles’ relationship with the world in general—pretending he’s bigger, better, smarter, more, than he actually is. This is probably true. I’ve also seen it mentioned that it, like Glass Onion, is a Beatles song from the White Album, and this is also true. What you may not know if you’re not a Beatles nerd is that “Blackbird” isn’t about a bird at all. Paul McCartney has stated several times over the years that the song had a dual inspiration—the sound of blackbirds, but also news reports about the American Black civil rights movement, and that when he says “blackbird” you should be thinking “black girl.” Birdie is excited and immediately declares it’s “her song,” which in her mind probably has to do with her name, but I strongly suspect that for Rian Johnson, this was another way to tie in how absolutely wildly Birdie is willing to appropriate Black experiences and culture. This is particularly true because of the exact part of Black history the song references—Birdie tells us she’s done blackface to dress as Beyoncé (a modern Black feminist who strongly pushes for empowerment) and has compared herself to Harriet Tubman (an escaped slave who proceeded, during Reconstruction, to become part of the women’s suffrage movement). Blackbird links these two together, with our nameless 1960s Black civil rights protestor falling squarely between the two named women. Also worth noting here is that “Blackbird” was released in 1968; while the Black Power movement was getting underway and “Black” or “African-American” would become the accepted terms over the next decade, “Negro” and “colored” were still the polite ways to refer to a Black person in the US. McCartney has since gone on the record apologizing for some pretty serious racism during his time with the Beatles, and I’m choosing for simplicity’s sake here to assume he was sincere, but this makes the song itself another example of appropropriation—“Black” wasn’t really a word McCartney, as a white man, had the right to use when the song came out. That makes “Blackbird” an even more apt double-metaphor—Birdie the appropriator of Black culture calling it “her” song, and Miles “I steal everything not nailed down and say I did it” Bron using it to look like he’s more than he is.

The second half of this (admittedly extremely messy) essay is here.

#glass onion #racism #media analysis

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mizukagami-takamagahara · 5 months

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Makoto was present from the launch of BBDW as a 3⭐ character. While Noel and Tsubaki each received three different playable units in the game, Makoto's curse from the C-Series remained. By the time the game shut down, she still hadn't received any alts, or even her own 5⭐ Grimoire. Though, to be fair, the game didn't even last a full year. I wonder if she would have finally gotten her chance to shine if it had continued...

On the other hand, Makoto was one of the lucky characters who had all of her costumes made playable before the shut down! We'll be taking a look at them now. If you're interested, you can also see them in action through the links below.

[Costume I Gameplay] | [Costume II Gameplay] | [Costume III Gameplay]

When Makoto was released with the launch of the game, the only costume available was the orange battle outfit we see her wear in C-Series; it was her base outfit, despite being listed in the files as her third art/costume.

This seems to be Makoto's standard combat outfit. In her introductory animations for the C-Series, we see her change into this outfit from her NOL uniform and from her own matching overcoat. I was surprised and a little upset we never got a playable costume for the coat itself, though ultimately I do really like the outfits we got.

Her first two costumes were later released during the pre-shut down commemorative celebrations. This art depicts her in her NOL Intelligence Department Uniform, first without the overcoat, then with it on.

The costume with the coat, found in the files under 0016001, has been seen several times before. Above you can see it in her intro animation, but we also see it in some of her story introductions, such as her appearances in Alter Memory, her meeting with Noel in the Continuum Shift light novel, and the scene were she meets up with Tager in the museum in Continuum Shift.

Speaking of the museum as a locale, it also features as the background for her card art here! Her final ascension art instead seems to depict her Astral Heat.

Her 0016000 costume, the NOL Intelligence uniform without the coat, is one we've rarely seen that I was very excited to have playable! Honestly, it was probably my favorite costume in BBDW.

It was introduced to us all the way back in 2015, in a piece Mori drew for Comiket. The outfit would later be featured in BlazBlue: Chrono Phantasma Extend, which is where most people, including myself, saw it first. To my knowledge, it hasn't made another canon appearance since then, until Dark War!

#makoto nanaya #blazblue #blazblue alternative dark war #blazblue continuum shift #bbdw #ao no imakagami #novus orbis librarium #by mino taro #by 箕星太朗 #nol intelligence

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eyeballth3vampire · 11 months

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Ok so, since I keep seeing no one talk abt her uh… don’t mind me, I’mma just rant abt Cherri bomb and stuff bc why not >:]

Cherri Bomb imo, should’ve had A LOT more to her design and I mean A LOT

Now although Cherri’s design is not as bad as the others (well her Design is decent ‘ish but just rarely), ever since I first saw her design I always felt underwhelmed by her design especially now.

There isn’t really much to say other than the usual colors blend in problem and such

But imo I find this redesign to be quite lazy because this literally just her design in the Addict Video, and I just wonder, why? Could viv not think of anything creative when redesigning her after the addict video? I ask bc there is literally so many ways viv could’ve made Cherri’s design to look very cool and unique! Like yea, I know this is viv who we’re talking Abt and her creativity can only go oh so far BUT STILL!!!

“But Kat! What could viv add/change Cherri’s design to make her more ‘unique’?? After all you can’t change perfection-“

DON’T. TEST ME.

Like I said there are literally MANY GODDAMN WAYS viv could’ve made her design more unique! Infact, I can literally share some ideas I have / things that would’ve made her design better

1. Literally changing her Outfit.

Like do I even have to explain????? Her outfit is absolutely hideous and imo doesn’t suit her like AT ALL. Her Outfit is literally a bunch of ripped clothes with the most atrocious colors I’ve ever seen. Her outfit would’ve honestly been more cooler if she had Punk attire! It would Honestly fit with her personality really well! Like REALLY REALLY well! And if viv doesn’t know how to design characters with punk attire then there are LITERALLY endless amounts of references of punk outfits that viv could use when she was designing Cherri and these images are not just any references of punk fashion but rather punk fashion that was LITERALLY FROM THE 1980S!!! Y’know, THE ERA SHE DIED IN??

HECK, THIS OLD REDESIGN I DID OF CHERRI (that I plan on updating after I finish making this post with a bunch of other redesigns I’m doing) CAN LITERALLY BE AN EXAMPLE ON HOW PUNK CAN FIT CHERRI’S PERSONALITY REALLY WELL!!

LITERALLY THESE ALT OUTFITS SHE WORE IN HER LONG GONE INSTA ACCOUNT ARE ALSO GREAT EXAMPLES OF THAT TOO!

If viv used one of these outfits as her main one that would’ve been fine too! Like yea I would at first question why viv chose one of these outfits but other than that I wouldn’t be as pissy as I am with what we got bc it fits her character.

2. Make her have doll elements or som idk

Ok. I know what y’all are gonna say.

“Kat. Why do you want Cherri Bomb to be a doll? Velvet’s literally right here.”

Uh huh, I know that but like hear me out on this

I feel like Cherri being a literal doll could honestly work imo! Heck, if Cherri was a doll, the weird anatomy she has can literally go in viv’s favor! Since dolls most of the time don’t really have realistic bodies, like literally look at this thing if ya don’t believe me

But jokes aside, I do genuinely think it would be an awesome idea! I mean there are literally many dolls out there (even dolls from her era too), that viv can use as references if Cherri was gonna be a doll too! Cherri can literally be a punk rebellious version of Barbie for all I care (I mean like cmon are you gonna tell me that wouldn’t be so cool?)

She doesn’t even have to be specifically a doll either if viv didn’t want make her one, she can literally be an action figure too! (Unfortunately I can’t show anymore images bc I’m a the limit for adding photos in one post but hopefully you get idea)

3. GIVE HER A DIFFERENT FUCKING COLOR PALETTE FOR FUCKS SAKES!!11!1!

Blah blah blah Cherri’s palette as mentioned before in this post sucks!

But the thing that bugs me most in her color palette is literally the gradients in Cherri’s hair

Like every time I saw Cherri pop on screen in the hh pilot (and I do apologize if I sound dumb), the gradients on her hair would change ALOT to the point it kinda felt inconsistent…

The only time the gradients in Cherri’s hair felt consistent was in the addict video but that was only bc viv had to LITERALLY SIMPLIZE her hair so the animators wouldn’t have an hard time animating her god damn hair (kinda wished she did the same with the rest of the designs but oh well)

And that’s all I could think of (for now), if anything I can prob just make reblog to add on to this post, Uh Ty for reading this critical rant post thingy I have going on, I’mma go to bed it’s literally 3am for me rn at the time of making this and uh idk bye ig

#hazbin hotel #hazbin cherri bomb #hazbin hotel critical #hazbin critical #hazbin hotel criticism #vivziepop critical #spindlehorse critical #random rant #But like tbh tho the gradient for Cherri’s hair made the artist/designer part of me feel sm pain #like why????#why did you do that viv

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sanstropfremir · 9 days

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ok nana unsubtly kicked me in the ass about this and i realized they were mostly done anyways so here we go! only four months late!

best stylings 2023 - first half

runners' up

rising - triples

there are two good stages with funky athletic wear, but it wasn't enough to bump it up to the overall category. mcountdown 230216, the show 230221

abyss - woodz

didn't promote it which is a shame, but the variety in the costuming for the different versions of himself is well done and it's a beautifully shot bottle mv.

moody - superkind

you got a fake member you gotta make it spooky!!! he's not real that's inherently spooky!!! anyways this is what i wanted them to do right off the bat some i'm glad they finally got my psychic memo.

golden hour - mark

absolutely fucking crazy. fantastic imagery. i think i talked about it earlier in the year but it's such a stupid and hilarious idea to make a whole diss track mv about a several year old meme and then actually make it strange and weird art. obsessed with it still.

sos - kang daniel

i'm also including the wasteland music sequence here because holy shit when this dropped i lost my mind. i'm always surprised by what kang daniel does bc i can never predict it, which over the last few years i'm coming to enjoy. and i absolutely did not expect him to produce basically an entire wild west mad max movie with equal the production value???? literally how did he do this. how. and then everyone paid it dirt??? it's an amazing mv and one of my faves of the year, the only reason it's not bumped up categories is bc although the styling was actually one of the only times tactical gear has been thematically relevant to a cb, its been so overused that it has no punch anymore, which makes me sad bc the tactical gear was good! and a good choice! and i feel bad saying it has no punch bc it should have!

small talk - kim sungkyu

we love when sungkyu acknowledges that he's annoying and a loser. all these outfits were so losercore. i loved this deviation from form for him; he's normally king wailer supreme, but he does smooth upbeat rock very well and it's a nice contrast with the capital y yearning that's in the bsides. it's only here bc he didn't promote much and i'm mad at him for putting dancing in the mv and then not dancing in any of the stages. mcountdown 230629, music core 230708, inkigayo 230709

ay-yo - nct 127

this is just here for taeyong's urchin outfit. well i'm a bit of liar it is actually a really fun early 00s inspired mv, but we all know the urchin outfit stole the show.

stamp on it - got the beat

i will hear NO slander against got the beat in this house, this was a great mv i love hot women planning a heist.

tricky house - xikers

FANTASTIC debut. does a really great job of establishing a character for them as a group and it's got such unique flavour. kq has made great use of their ateez money and also the lessons that they learned with ateez. i'm excited to see where xikers goes in the future, and since i'm writing this section from the future i can say that i do like where they've gone with full confidence. the only reason it didn't make the top list is bc the styling is kinda average for this era of kpop.

best overall

rose blossom - h1 key

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i was aware of h1key before this but they hadn't really grabbed me, but damn this cb was so good. the mv is a nice mix of story and dance sections. plus a surreal section in the middle! and by virtue of being like the first cb of the year, they got the jump on this alt girl look that would be the dominating look for ggs this year. and i do think first did it best in this case, all the looks are smart with good group synergy and and a lot of creativity; when you do this type of alt-y punky style it's important that there's a diy element to it, which a lot of groups fail to grasp bc stylists are obsessed with luxury branding. h1key manages to avoid that mostly by being flops, but i'd like to believe its also bc their creative team cared about capturing the true spirit of the style.

stages: music bank 230106, mcountdown 230202, music bank 230203, mcountdown 230119, inkigayo 230108

tic tac - 8turn

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honestly i was kinda ready to not like these guys since mnh shat the bed with chungha, but then i remembered that the mnh creative team is very good at their jobs, so here we are. this is one of the few debuts/cbs this year where every single stage was a hit and it was very hard to narrow down to just a few for here; lots of good emphasis on shape and colour and accent pieces with repeated motifs, which was a big part of the fashion in the 00s that they are remixing here. very strong debut especially for so early in the year and i'm looking forward to more.

stages: show champion 230208, mcountdown 230202, music bank 230203, show champion 230222, music core 230211, mcountdown 230223, music core 230225, inkigayo 230226

bonus: this absolutely hysterical 4minute cover (they even got the name bucket hats! not in the stage, but they had them in photos)

sweet juice - purple kiss

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i'm not normally a fan of wes anderson or wes anderson inspired aesthetics because i find them too twee and perfect, but this wasn't too direct in it's inspirations and definitely had the spooky purki flavour. i really liked the uniformity of the costuming, both literally using uniform motifs and using the same fabrics; i really do miss the days when kpop costumes were design to actually be costumes with the group image in mind.

stages: mcountdown 230216, inkigayo 230219, music core 230225, music bank 230224, inkigayo 230226, music core 230304, inkigayo 230305

sour & sweet - bambam

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bambam again proving that he's one of the few idols that knows his shit in terms of interesting styling. also if anyone knows where he filmed the mv/performance vid please tell me i need to know bc its so beautiful.

stages: mcountdown 230330, music bank 230331, inkigayo 230402, music bank 230407, music core 230408, inkigayo 230409,

bsides: music bank 230331, inkigayo 230409,

macarena - blitzers

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i'm so so so glad blitzers got a bit more attention this year bc they deserve it and macarena was so good. perfect culmination of their goofy ass talents and the unusual creativity of their performance + creative directors. i'm even linking the mv teaser here bc its so goofy and offbeat and different. honestly i'd recommend watching as many of the stages as you can find bc they do different intros every time and it's very funny, but unfortunately tumblr has a link limit so i can't link them all.

stages: show champion 230426, music bank 230428, music core 230429, inkigayo 230430, inkigayo 230514, music core 230527

bouncy - ateez

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yea yea yea nobody is surprised so sue me. this was a crazy followup to halazia and proved that ateez can deftly switch between serious dramatic performance and comedic but no less dramatic. i'm very happy to see how much work has been going into the main ateez mvs in the last year because it has very clear and striking direction that fits both their performance style and their creative ambition, as well as their growth as a group. also yea i'm not immune to neon cowboy shit.

stages: inkigayo 230618, music bank 230616, the show 230620, mcountdown 230622, music bank 230623, mcountdown 230629, music core 230701, inkigayo 230702

kick it 4 now - tnx

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tnx had an absolutely banging 2023 and although kick it 4 now is has superior and more comprehensive production, love or die is also a very good cb, and both of them together have shown that they have a really good grasp on the genre of teen listlessness, from two different directions. kick it 4 now has been i think the most successful cb to actually capture the feel of first gen, and the creative team did a lot of extra work in order to pull that off. from all the graphic design to the goofy lil 90s style music show promos, to the styling, they had a clear goal and achieved it. i think it will be quite difficult for any other group to pull it off this thoroughly.

stages: music bank 230609 (the giant lyrics!!!), music core 230610, show champion 230614 (more giant lyrics!!), music core 230617, mcountdown 230622

shooting star + left right - xg

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we all already know that left right was my most listened song this year, but the fact that the mv was b movie sci fi star trek themed? it's like simon made everything about this specifically for me thank you. xg blew everyone out of the water this year on every front; music, styling, choreography, you name it. i said i wanted groups to commit to their bits and i got it. they were completely unafraid to actually commit to the y2k nostalgia AND to harajuku styling; a lot of groups have weakly pawed at it but always back away due to the fact that harajuku and y2k are not actually 'pretty' fashion trends, which leaves their attempts half assed with no real understanding of why and how those trends happened. xg came saw and conquered the current trend in a way that only a japanese gg can do. my only annoyance is that they tone down the stylings when they promote on music shows, and i know why they do it, so it's not an annoyance at them, it's an annoyance at everyone else.

stages: shooting star - mcountdown 230202, con-tour 230217, the show 230221, inkigayo 230212, inkigayo 230205, con-tour 230224

left right - the show 230228, show champion 230222

circle - onew

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absolute masterpiece. album of the year in every way. it's a profoundly beautiful unpacking of grief and the sadness that comes with acknowledging that things change, and the way that in that change life and humanity and story is eternal. a circle. the theatre imagery combined with the 60s style children's tv show use their similar but contrasting forms to illustrate the same point: something can be eternal and fleeting at the same time, and that heightens its value rather than diminishing it. the promo campaign was so thought out as well, i love the integration of the theatre imagery into the highlight medley and i highly recommend you watch it if you haven't. one of the best cbs from a solo artist in years.

stages: mcountdown 230309, music core 230311, music bank 230317, inkigayo 230319

ignore the fact this was almost five months late even though i started writing in like. november. i'm busy ok. it's planting season and i have to send so much post. the choreos post is the next most finished so that will probably be out before the styling second half one.

#is there even anyone left who wants to read these lmao. i mean other than nana since she was creeping my 2022 styling posts #kinda miss the pandemic days when we were all stuck on the internet but also no i do not #i'm trimming down on how much i do for these posts also since i dont have time to sift through all my saved links #just know there's a lot of one offs etc that are sitting in a mega playlist on my youtube.#im just focussing on the ones that made the biggest impact with me bc there's just so much its actually kinda crazy #text #kpop styling #what else did i even tag these as i dont even remember its been so long #kpop analysis #end of year posts #best of 2023

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pink-strawberry-kissess · 3 months

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Clown Anon is back with another question. Given that Capcom have been changing some characters' outfits to be more practical or realistic, do you think they will change Carla's outfit in a hypothetical RE6 remake?

I don't see them changing Ada's too much because it seems like an all-around good, practical outfit. She's not even wearing a dress in that game! But Carla's outfit...

It's interesting because I can think of a few directions to go in, obviously a more practical outfit for one, but I wonder if they would lean towards putting Carla in an outfit that is more similar to what Ada will wear. That could be even more confusing to players though, we already see how some people still believe Carla is Ada smh.

CLOWN ANON MY LOVE i have missed you

yeah im ngl re4 ada's dress was always the most impractical and i was never a huge fan of it. but im glad that her dress was still an alt outfit in the remake.

i think that carla's outfit was impractical but it wasn't like egregious like the re4 cheongsam dress for ada. like, carla's was still a mid length dress, the scarf is questionable and her booba out is a bit strange yeah.

i don't hate carla's outfit, but yeah. ada's shouldn't change imo.

yeaah i mean- people are dumb jskfbsdjkfs

the whole carla thing was def meant to deceive people so i wonder how they would approach it this time in a remake

also we do not shame carla in this house sjdfbsjkfs

#clown anon #carla radames #ada wong #ask heart #heart answers #re6

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excessive-vampires · 5 months

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Val in the AH Part 4: In Which Val is Auctioned

Setting and all characters except Val and Hector are from oliversrarebooks

Masterlist with CW

The next morning was full of activity, tired-looking vampires corralled the humans, some alone and some in a group, out of the cells. Val felt nervous, crowds and commotion had always put them on edge, it made it harder to focus on who they needed to and hear what they were being told to do. They were thankful that things had quieted down a bit by the time Lily walked up to their cell.

“Hello, Val,” Lily said. “I have a feeling you’re going to be one of our bestsellers this year so I arranged to be your handler for the auction.”

“Thank you, sir.” Val stood up as Lily unlocked the door to their cell.

“Let’s get you to the showers and cleaned up quick so we can get you dressed in something nicer than that old uniform.”

Val scrubbed themself clean quickly and was then led, wrapped in towels, to a dressing room. They looked around and saw elaborate and extravagant dresses hanging on clothes racks all around the room. Val had never worn something so fancy, and really didn’t think they’d be comfortable in a dress like that. But if this was what the auction entailed, they would endure it and hope they weren’t expected to dress up like this every day.

“Florence,” Lily called out, and an older woman emerged from behind a row of dresses. “I’ve brought Lot Twenty-Three, their name is Val.”

Florence looked Val over and unwrapped the towel around their hair. “Hmm, that’ll need a trim. Lily, did you have any particular plans for them?”

Lily yawned from the chair she’d found. “Nothing specific, but I think something striking to make them stand out will catch the eye of the right sort of vampire.”

“Well let’s get started then.” Florence led them to a stool in the center of the room and went to go grab a box of makeup and hair products.

Lily got up from the chair. “I’ll be back after Florence is done with you, Val.” She turned to Florence. “Their word is ‘safe’ but you’re not going to need it. They follow instructions beautifully and haven’t resisted anyone here even once.”

“Oh I do love it when the merchandise is smart enough to be well-behaved,” Florence replied. After Lily left, she turned back to Val. “Sit up straight and pay attention.”

Val obeyed as Florence picked out several dresses and brought them over to Val. “Something simple and more modern is going to make you seem more unique, it’ll be the accessories that make you truly memorable. Now, which dress can you see yourself in?”

“You want me to choose?” Val asked, slightly alarmed.

“Only the dress, dear child, then I’ll take whatever you pick and make you look as good as possible.”

Val scanned the dresses. Their eyes landed on a plain black one that looked fitted but not tight enough to restrict movement. There were no sleeves, only thin red ribbons acting as straps that stood out like a beacon against the other colors. The neck and bottom hem of the dress were adorned with small red jewels that would catch the light nicely. Val pointed to the dress. “I’ve been told that red is my color,” they said hesitantly.

“Excellent choice!” Florence exclaimed, returning the other dresses to the appropriate racks. She returned to Val and placed a hand on their face. “Now drop. Still and calm and docile.”

Florence’s commands felt a lot more blunt and abrupt than Lily’s did, but Val didn’t resist, allowing their mind to be utterly blank as Florence used tweezers and hot wax to shape their eyebrows. Then she trimmed their hair so it was no longer touching their neck, and styled it to have volume without looking frizzy or messy. Next makeup was put on them, and then the dress was slipped on over their shoulders. Florence then picked out several accessories to add to Val’s outfit. As the preparations continued, Val barely registered anything that Florence was doing until they were looking at themself in the mirror.

The dress had been quickly altered to fit them perfectly, and their now short hair was pulled back from their face with red and gold bejeweled clips. There was a thin layer of makeup on their face, a slight blush to their cheeks and ruby lipstick on their lips. A red sash had been tied around their waist and red strips of velvet were twisted around their lower arms. They looked truly striking.

Florence walked back over and held out a pair of gold handcuffs with red and black ribbons wrapped around them and braided through the connected chain. “Give me your hands, now. We don’t want someone trying to steal you away without paying.”

Val obeyed.

“There. You look absolutely perfect.” Florence said, studying them. A flicker of happiness and gratitude cut through the blankness in Val’s mind. Florence then led them through a bustling hallway and into a room where Lily was waiting. She was also dressed up, but not nearly as thoroughly as Val.

“Oh, Florence, this is amazing!” Lily exclaimed as she stood. “They’ll stand out like blood on a snowdrift.”

“Oh Lily, you flatter me.” Florence handed over the leash of Val’s handcuffs. “Now I need to go help with some last minute revisions to some of the other merchandise. Let me know how much this one goes for.”

“Of course.” Lily turned to Val as Florence left and looked deep into their eyes. “Show the other vampires how well you can obey and submit to them for me.”

Val nodded, absolutely mesmerized. They wanted nothing more than to show how good they were at doing what they were told. If they sold for a lot it would make Lily happy, and the more they made everyone happy the safer they would be.

A series of vampires filtered in and out of the room, looking Val over. Several seemed to be looking for a thrall to treat as a pet, which Val felt would be easy but probably a bit boring. Others were looking for someone to see to every household chore or other bit of work they didn’t want to do themselves, which Val felt a little anxious about. They hadn’t done very well at chores at home. They could maintain the house on a daily basis well enough but it often left Val tired enough to do a sloppy job cooking dinner afterwards. Despite Lily commanding them to believe they would be a good thrall, they couldn’t imagine doing well if they had to clean, cook for themself, and do whatever busy work was needed for however the vampire that owned them made money. What would be great was some sort of middle ground between a servant and a pet.

“Oh what an inspired look!” said the vampire that walked in next as he looked Val over. He was also dressed pretty strikingly. A suit with a royal blue vest, blue gemstone buttons and cufflinks, and a blue scarf around his neck. His fingernails were painted gold and flecks of gold shone in his wavy black hair and on his scarf. “Whoever chose this dress has excellent taste.”

Something about this man’s energy made Val feel happy. And more willing to take risks. “I could say the same about you, sir,” Val replied, sensing he would react well to compliments.

The man looked delighted. “Oh, you’ve let this one keep a good taste for fashion, at least.” He smiled wide. “What’s your name, then?”

“Val, sir.”

“Sweet valentine, you’ve been dressed up perfectly. But with your complexion and hair I doubt there’s much you look bad in. That’s an important factor for me. Anyone I’m seen with in public will be held to a certain standard of bold beauty.”

“Thank you, sir.” Val hadn’t heard any other vampire so much as imply they’d be permitted to leave their residence if purchased by them. Plus, he’d just, if indirectly, called them beautiful. “If I may ask, what is your name?”

“It’s Hector, dear,” Hector said, hooking a finger under their chin and lifting it. His eyes were bright and intoxicating, his subtle gold eyeshadow highlighting the lighter brown flecks and making them almost glow. Val felt like he was daring them to impress him. “And I am in desperate need of a suitable thrall. So many of the pretty ones have all the entertaining parts of their thoughts erased, but so far you’re still interesting, and seem perfectly capable of taking care of yourself. It’s so tedious taking care of a pet thrall that can do little more than stare at you lovingly. If I wanted a lap-dog I’d buy a beagle.”

Val was starting to understand. Hector did want a pretty obedient pet to flaunt, but he didn’t want blind adoration. He wanted someone he could engage with and show off to. “I can handle my own care, sir, and I believe I’m much more entertaining than a beagle.” Val mirrored Hector’s wicked smile.

Hector laughed heartily and turned to Lily. “Oh this one is excellent. But are you sure they’re conditioned enough to follow orders?”

“Oh absolutely,” Lily reassured. “They were so open to the enthrallment that their mind has been almost completely preserved, but they’ll do whatever is asked of them without resistance.”

“Hmm, someone that doesn’t fight the enthrallment might be fun. But I think I’ll need to test their obedience before making a decision.” Hector dropped Val’s chin and looked them in the eyes. “Keep looking into my eyes, and stay still.”

There was only a slight mental tug to obey, but Val did so nonetheless. Hector leaned in very close then put a hand on either side of Val’s face. He pressed a thumb to their mouth and dragged it across their face, smearing their lipstick up their cheek in a cartoonish half-grin. He then took out a handkerchief, spit on it, and roughly scrubbed the lipstick off of their face and mouth. Val did not outwardly react. Hector grinned.

“I’ll kindly ask you to stop manhandling the merchandise, Hector,” Lily scolded.

Hector put his hands up in surrender and then backed away. “As you wish.” He looked back at Val. “I’m a bit rusty on the etiquette for these things. I tend to avoid auction houses but I’ve found no suitable thrall candidates in the wild and it’s been quite some time since I was able to taste fresh blood. Especially from one who’s never been bitten before,” he said in a low voice. He lifted a hand to stroke the skin of Val’s neck where it met their shoulder. Val’s breath hitched at the barely-there but positively electric way his fingers ghosted over their pulse point. “Such pretty virgin flesh just begging to be torn into and marked. I could make constellations of punctures in your skin and trace the lines between them with my tongue. What do you think of that?”

Val didn’t know what they thought. Their heart was racing with a jumbled mix of emotions. Hector’s words sounded sadistic, cruel… intimate. They wanted to make him happy, to obey. So they should say something, what sort of response did he want? It didn’t matter because all Val could do was picture what he had described and a strange haze of desire was settling over their mind as Hector’s wide grin showed off his fangs. Then he laughed again and the spell was broken, leaving Val flustered and confused.

“I do believe you are just the spark my home needs, little valentine.” Hector abruptly began walking towards the door, but he stopped at the last second and turned back. “I’ll be seeing you soon.”

As soon as he was gone Lily went over to Val and reapplied their lipstick. “We’re lucky I keep an extra tube in my purse,” she said with a sigh. “There’s nothing I can do about the foundation and blush though. What an arrogant man.”

“I hope he’ll be the one to buy me,” Val said absentmindedly. His gleefulness around leaving holes in their skin aside, he was the only one they’d felt any kind of draw towards. He was easy to understand, he would value both their eagerness to please and their freedom of thought, he didn’t seem to expect much labor, and something in his eyes spoke of the sense of adventure Val had always secretly longed for. It seemed like a good match.

“He does seem to be in the market for a companion thrall.”

“I think I’ll be able to make him happy, sir.”

“Well then we’ll hope this stunt with your makeup was a tactic to drive away any other interested parties.”

Val tried to think more clearly for a moment. Despite their instant fondness for Hector, something was still nagging at the back of their mind. “Do you think he’d treat me well, sir?”

“I can’t see why not, he seemed to like you very much.”

“It’s just… the way he talked about tearing into my skin…”

“Relax and don’t worry, Val.” Lily said, and Val felt the warm secure feeling wash over them, sending them back into that familiar calm haziness. “I guess I forgot to mention since most thralls outright ask about it, but I’ve reinforced your instinctual reaction to vampiric auras during our sessions, you just weren’t awake for it. It’s very likely you won’t feel pain when fed on, and even if it does hurt a bit, you’ll be too enthralled to care.”

“Oh,” Val said. This was a significant relief. They had been trying not to think about the inevitability of being bitten by a vampire. They knew it wouldn’t kill them, since Colette and Lily both talked about a vampire wanting to keep them long-term, and they had figured any amount of pain was endurable in exchange for the feeling they got from following orders. But not having to worry about that made them feel lighter. And if Hector’s vivid imagery wasn’t about causing pain…

“In fact,” Lily continued. “For many thralls, the experience is immensely pleasurable. Think of it as the ultimate act of obedience.”

“O-Oh,” Val repeated. That certainly put his words in a new light.

“That got some color back in your cheeks,” Lily commented. She stepped aside as another vampire entered the room.

Val was still dazed from Lily’s command to relax and the new information they were processing, so they were glad that this was the last vampire to see them before the auction proper. After some time waiting Val was led by the chain on their handcuffs to the backstage of an auditorium. They tried to stand up straight and keep a neutral expression as they were led out onto the stage and the bidding started.

Val couldn’t see the crowd’s faces, they had no idea who was bidding on them. It felt like it took way too long and not nearly long enough for the auctioneer to say “Sold!”

The tension and anticipation was threatening to make Val freeze up. Everything felt far away and unreal. The rest of their life had just been decided and they had no idea what it would look like. It was all too uncertain.

“To the man with the shiny blue cufflinks!” the auctioneer added.

Val started to breathe again, and a relieved smile spread across their face. Lily led them to a small office.

“Well, it looks like you got what you wanted!” Lily said. “How do you feel?”

“Very happy, sir,” Val replied. “And very tired.” Now that the adrenaline of uncertainty was wearing off Val was starting to feel how sore their bare feet were and how very much they’d like to rest.

Just then the door opened and Hector was led in by Colette. Hector gave a little wave to Val. “Hello my valentine.”

His emphasis on the possessive made Val smile in further relief.

“Not yours until you sign and pay,” said Colette.

Hector briefly looked over the paperwork he was handed and signed each page. “There’s that. The money transfer should go through by tomorrow night, I assume I won’t get to take them home until then.”

“Correct,” Colette responded.

“A shame. The hustle and bustle of the auction has left me tired and hungry and I’d prefer something fresh.” Hector winked at Val and their breathing stuttered.

“Would you like any specific training or conditioning done while we still have them?” Colette asked.

Hector looked Val over thoughtfully. “How are you at laundry?”

Val took a breath to compose themself. “Decent, I believe. Average. I have a lot of practice.”

Hector nodded. “I don’t think anything additional is necessary.”

“Then make any final inspection of the merchandise you’d like and our business will be concluded.”

Hector looked over at Val again. “Take off the dress. I’d like to look for scars and other flaws so I know if I need to charge these people for damages when I get you home.”

After Lily helped Val out of their dress, Hector circled them, cataloging every freckle, every skin tag. He seemed a bit put off by the old cooking burn on their upper thigh. “How did this damage occur?”

“A hot oven,” Val answered.

“When?”

“More than ten years ago.”

“Why did it scar so badly?”

“I didn’t know how to treat it properly.”

“Hmm.” Hector stood and hooked a finger under Val’s chin. “If you are ever damaged in the future, I want to know about it as soon as possible. I know a lot about preventing scarring.”

“Yes, sir,” Val responded. They were happy Hector hadn’t changed his mind about them.

“I’ll see you tomorrow night,” Hector said to Val. He then said his goodbyes to Lily and Colette and Lily led Val back to the room with the cells.

“Now,” Lily said. “What would you like for dinner? You made me a nice little sum today so I’ll get you whatever you want.”

Val thought for a moment as they walked back into their cell. “Steak, sir?”

“Excellent choice!” Lily said, locking the door. “It’ll make your blood taste better.”

Val sat on their cot and thought about their future. A few days ago they had been dreading dealing with a family they’d probably never see again, and now they’d be spending the rest of their days in service to Hector. And thanks to Lily they didn’t have to worry constantly about making him angry. They knew that they should at the very least rationally consider themself worse off now but… Hector seemed fun. Before, in their old life, having to be around someone like that would be disheartening at best. They weren’t great at playing along with jokes or acting with the carefree vivaciousness that some people had. Their fear perceived as unenthusiasm lost them a significant number of potential friends back in school, and had made a lot of people angry with them. But now that they were confident in their safety they wanted that energy in their life. If Val was a spark in Hector’s home then he would be their fuel, and the two of them would get along like a house on fire.

#Val in the AH #Hector's not usually this flirty idk what happened

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lykaios2 · 6 months

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can we get a mm tmnt (all of them or just Donnie if you don’t wanna write all of them) with a super trad goth reader, like with super teased out hair, blatformes, lots of eyeliner. And maybe she has a weird hobby like taxidermy or bone collecting. I love you’re work btw💗💗💗

this request was interesting because the way you described the reader is like really similar to a friend I have except she's not exactly goth it's more like alt/indie rock aesthetic but she literally collects so many bones (I love her sm fr she is just a fragile little creature)

also I appreciate the compliments!! I almost always have a problem with my works, so it's nice to know people still like it

anyways hope you enjoy! 🧡

Leo:

Leo likes your outfits, but he’s more impressed with how well you pull it off. All that black, yet you still wear it so well. He’s curious about how you do your makeup, so if he gets the chance, he’ll sit next to you and watch you do it.

One time he asked if you dressed like this to make you feel better about yourself. You simply replied no, just saying that you liked the style for how it looked. He was confused for a second, but he took that to heart.

Although he wasn’t the biggest fan of what you collected, he sure loved hearing you tell him all about your collections. Showing him different bones, which animals they came from, all the stories behind it. It was just so interesting to hear you talk about it.

Raph:

Raph loves your style. He can’t get enough of it. You just look so cool and careless, and he’s absolutely here for it. He insisted that you take him shopping at all the stores that you go to, because he really wants to try this style out. But, his final selling point was when he found out that people put spikes on clothes. From that day onward, he never went out looking the same ever again.

However, as much as he may have admired your taste in fashion, he didn’t have the same fondness for your hobbies. Okay, collecting is one thing. It’s cool to see all the different things people collect…but come on, does it really have to be dead things? Like…what about comic books? Or video games? Even rocks! But you choose to collect dead animals. Gross.

Mikey:

Mikey likes your outfits, but he thinks they lack a bit of…color. And variation. And…okay, maybe he’s not the biggest fan of your style. He doesn’t hate it, but he could never see himself in your clothes. Inversely to Raph, he’s the one to take you shopping to try out some new clothes. You always go with him, but every time, you end up picking your style over anything Mikey suggests. No offense to Mikey.

When Mikey heard about your collecting hobby, he was very intrigued. But once he learned what it was…he was less intrigued. It was certainly an interesting selection of items to collect, but not so much for him. But living in the sewers, you kinda find a lot of that stuff lying around, so sometimes he picks up a few things to give to you the next time he sees you.

Donnie:

Donnie absolutely adores your style. One of the main reasons why is that one of his favorite bands in the world dresses very similarly to how you do, so he pretty much just becomes a fangirl for your outfits.

Oftentimes he will send you pictures of celebrities or fictional characters he likes, asking if you can dress up like them. He gets very happy and excited when you respond with a picture of yourself in the outfit that he asked for.

But he wouldn’t just ask you to do that without giving anything back. So in return, he helps you expand your collection of weird dead things. He looked online for how to taxidermize at home, and started helping you make your own taxidermied animals. He didn’t have too much interest in things like that, but the process of taxidermying the animal was super fascinating to him, so it was cool for the both of you.

#lykaios writes #tmnt mutant mayhem #mutant mayhem leo #mutant mayhem donnie #mutant mayhem raph #mutant mayhem #mutant mayhem mikey #teenage mutant ninja turtles

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shmorp-mcdurgen · 1 year

Text

Alternate AU: wellness check

Thatcher Davis gets a call requesting a checkup of the Torres household. He and his friend Ruth Weaver take the call, and discover why it had been abandoned.

TW: character death (both implied and shown), blood, body horror

Notes: this is around 5’000 words long, and is mainly about the origin of this au’s alt Thatcher. Hope you enjoy :)

________

October 2nd, 1992. 2:45 AM.

Quiet. That was the only word Thatcher could use to describe the empty police station he sat in. He was at his office, looking over the same files he had been staring at for a full hour, still not getting anything new to pop into his head. It was like he was waiting for the light bulb in his head to flick on, where everything would suddenly and perfectly fall into place. Though he knew that he wouldn’t get anywhere by just staring at the papers until his eyes dried out, he couldn’t help but wonder. He stared at the case number written on the orange folder, “#00432”, pondering to himself. A boy’s death; no body to speak of. As if he simply vanished into thin air—

“You look like death, Davis.”

Thatcher looked up through his messy, dirty blond bangs to see a friendly face standing in front of his desk; Ruth Weaver. She wore the same navy blue police uniform Thatcher had over his body, though her outfit was lacking a black tie unlike her coworker. Her dark brown, curly hair was tied into a low ponytail, and she wore gold hoop earrings, hanging beside her face. Her round eyes were so full of life, as if she hadn’t been sitting in the MCPD for hours deep into the night. She had a sly smile on her face as she placed a cup of coffee in front of Thatcher, holding another in her other hand for herself. “Looking through files again?”

“…Yeah.” Thatcher sighed, grabbing onto the cup and taking a sip of the piping hot coffee. Thatcher’s facial hair was a complete mess, scraggly and unkempt. His thin face was paler than usual, making the dark circles around his eyes even more visible. Ruth had a point; he did look like death.

“You know you just got promoted, right?” Ruth asked. “You don’t have to work on this case anymore.”

“I…I know, I just…” Thatcher said. “It just doesn’t make sense…I need to see it through…you know?”

“Well, that’s your choice.” Ruth said. She looked around the office, noticing the silence from the rest of the building. “…You know…I don’t get why we have to be here while the rest can just…fuck off and go home.”

“…I don’t know.” Thatcher took another sip of coffee.

“They act like they don’t have a job they need to do, too.” Ruth sighed heavily, shifting her weight onto one leg. She glanced towards the lieutenant, seeing the half lidded, exhausted glare he was giving to nothing in particular. “Hey, Thatcher?”

“Hmm?”

“You seem…not all there, you alright?”

“Yeah, I’m…just…tired.” Thatcher answered, rubbing his eyes with one of his hands. “I’ve been up for the past couple days.”

“Thatcher…” Ruth had the inflection of a disappointed mother. “…No wonder you look like shit.”

“…Thanks…for that.”

“Why don’t you take a break one of these days?” Ruth suggested. “Get out of the house, maybe go on vacation somewhere!”

“If I could, I would.” Thatcher closed the case file, standing from his desk before walking towards a filing cabinet next to the wall, file in hand. “But you just can’t catch a break around here. Not now…”

Ruth watched as Thatcher put away the file, sighing slightly. “…Okay, you big grump.” She scoffed. “But you do need to take some…you time. Otherwise you’d go insane.”

Thatcher fought of the urge to say he felt like he already was losing his mind, deciding it wasn’t very appropriate considering the…circumstances. There was silence for a moment before it was broken by the sound of the phone ringing, coming from the desk. Thatcher strode towards it, picking it up and holding it to his ear. “This is Lieutenant Thatcher Davis of the MCPD, how may I help you?”

Ruth watched as Thatcher occasionally spoke a few words, gaining a look of concern with every statement. After a short conversation, Thatcher put down the phone, sighing deeply. He brushed past Ruth, walking towards a coat hanger before taking off a police cap and placing it on his head.

“What’s the rush?” Ruth asked.

“It was a call from the Mandela County High School,” Thatcher explained. “One of their students, Cesar Torres, hadn’t been seen in over two weeks.”

“This late at night?” Ruth asked. “Also…Isn’t that the same kind of call we got for—”

“It’s the same reason we investigated the Heathcliff residence, yes,” Thatcher interrupted, slipping on a jacket. “Which is the reason I’m going to perform a wellness check; to see if everything is alright. You want to…tag along?”

“I don’t see why not.” Ruth shrugged. “Beats sitting in here, bored out of my mind.”

“Then get a coat on…” Thatcher said. “It’s supposed to be cold tonight.”

The long road to the Torres household was cloaked in darkness, with the moon barely peeking from behind the layer of clouds above. The leaves of the trees were beginning to die and fall to the ground, preparing for autumn. Normally nights like that would’ve been calming for Thatcher, though something was building within him as he turned into the small gravel lane leading to their destination. It was a sinking feeling in his chest; a feeling of dread. He began to think this visit wasn’t going to be any better than the last.

He pulled into the driveway, the headlights shining on the garage door as he parked. None of the lights were on inside of the home, though it could’ve been seen as typical, knowing how late at night it was. The blue and red lights of the police cruiser flashed, shining on Thatcher and Ruth’s backs as they exited the vehicle and walked towards the front door.

Thatcher knocked on the door hard, hoping to get the attention of anyone inside. “Sheriff’s department, open up!” Thatcher called. Silence was the only response he received, though he couldn’t help but notice the chill that crawled up his spine. He slammed his fist against the door harder, letting out a louder series of knocks than before. “This is the police, open the door!”

The silence felt odd; not the usual stillness of the night. It felt like a forced silence, as if all life was choked out. Everything for miles, snuffed out like a candles flame. Ruth looked behind her, glancing towards the front yard. The grass was dead in some spots, covered by patches of dry leaves. As Ruth stared into the darkness, she couldn’t help but feel like something was watching them. As Thatcher attempted to unlock the door from the outside, Ruth took a few steps off of the porch, looking up above the home, into the dark night sky. She couldn’t help but stare into nothingness, as if she felt a presence from above. When she was little, she used to think Angels watched from the sky, keeping everyone below safe in their attentive gaze. Though something in her gut didn’t think it was a guardian angel’s presence she was sensing.

“Can you help me with this?” Thatcher asked, snapping Ruth out of her thoughts.

“What’s up?” Ruth asked, quickly joining Thatcher’s side.

“The door’s jammed—” Thatcher was interrupted when the door abruptly opened, stumbling forward as he pushed the door out of the way. “Oh…uh…guess not.”

Thatcher walked inside, gazing into the dark living room as Ruth followed close behind. There was a strange feeling in the air, along with a faint, unidentifiable stench. It was chilly inside the home, the air stagnant. The dust was minimal, and everything was in place, clear that it was being lived in recently. Thatcher and Ruth wandered around the home, Thatcher walking into the kitchen and Ruth searching through the living room. She pointed her flashlight at the walls, seeing pictures of the Torres Family, being 18 year old Cesar Torres and his mother. Along with the familial photos, Ruth examined one with a familiar face to the police department; Mark Heathcliff.

Mark and Cesar were dressed in Halloween costumes; Cesar being a skeleton and Mark being dressed as the horror movie character “Jason Voorhees.” They had smiles on their faces, and judging by a messy signature at the bottom, it was taken October 31st, 1991. It was almost…bittersweet seeing the photo, knowing that Mark was listed as missing less than a year later, with Cesar’s location being unknown. “Poor boys…” Ruth muttered to herself, her brows furrowed up. “So young…hope you’re at peace wherever you are.”

As she stared at the photos hung on the wall, the clock neared 3:30 AM, ticking quietly. She felt a strange sensation in her chest, a sinking feeling. Though she was nearly startled out of her shoes when she heard the faint sound of a door opening. She swung around, her flashlight pointing towards the rest of the room. “…Is someone there—?”

“Weaver, I need some help over here!” Thatcher called from the other side of the house. As Ruth jogged through the kitchen and into the back hallway, where Thatcher’s voice originated, she failed to notice that the sliding glass doors leading outside were now wide open, the curtains in front of it swaying in the wind.

When Ruth finally made it to Thatcher, she was bombarded by horrid smells and sounds. Flies were beginning to make the bedroom they stood in front of their home, all congregating next to something hanging on the wall. Thatcher pointed his light at the figure, causing both of the officer’s to feel their hearts drop when they saw what it was.

It was the half-decomposed body of an adult woman, hung on the wall by her hands as dark blood stained the wall and floor below her. It smelled of death, strong enough to make Ruth feel as if she was about to vomit. It was beginning to be hard to tell, but it was recognizable as the mother of Cesar Torres. Ruth just wondered what she did to deserve such a fate. “Shit…do we have someone to take care of this?” Ruth asked quietly, following Thatcher into the room.

“No…no, we don’t, Weaver.” Thatcher responded with a hint of frustration. “No one is here…remember?”

“We need to report this…” Ruth trailed off when she heard footsteps from the other room.

Thatcher approached the body, examining it as Ruth slowly and silently walked out of the room, pulling out her pistol as she moved down the hallway. Her flashlight and firearm were pointed in front of her, prepared for whomever, or whatever was making noise. She walked past one of the rooms, glancing inside to see nothing but darkness, though she felt the wind from the open glass doors leading outside. She turned around, looking back towards the bedroom Thatcher was in, preparing to call out to him. However, she was interrupted when she felt thin tendrils wrap around her neck and cover her mouth, jerking her into the room.

Thatcher sighed deeply, turning on the small radio pinned to his shirt before talking into it. “This is Lieutenant Thatcher Davis of the MCPD; I’m requesting backup from available Mandela units.” He waited for a response, but was only greeted by faint, indistinguishable voices coming from the radio. “I am requesting backup, do you copy?” He furrowed his brows, trying to figure out why his radio was busted, before he noticed that Ruth wasn’t in the room with him. “…Weaver?” Thatcher asked, shutting off his radio as he felt a familiar sense of dread growing within him. “…Ruth?”

Thatcher quickly left the room, looking down the hallway, disheartened by the fact that no one was there. “…Oh god, Ruth, can you hear me?” Thatcher yelled, trying to cover the panic he felt was overtaking him. He cautiously inched down the hall, his hand pressed against the pistol on his hip. He could hear faint hums from the living room, along with the sound of uneven footsteps.

He walked through the kitchen, looking through the archway leading into the living room. His flashlight shone into the room, and almost on cue, the noises abruptly ceased. Thatcher paused as well, listening close to see if the noises would continue. “…Ruth?”

Soft footsteps grew louder, nearing the archway where the light was pointed. Thatcher backed away a step, his intense stare fixed on the opening as silence fell. Thatcher swallowed hard, taking two steps forward as he pulled his gun out of its holster, pointing his light towards the ground as he did it. When he pointed both the gun and the light towards the opening, he felt his heart sink. One wide, unblinking eye was staring at him from the doorway, the other half of the face concealed by the wall. As soon as the light hit it, the figure ducked away, letting out a few muffled hums.

Thatcher’s breath hitched, his body flinching as he backed up, hearing the footsteps return into the darkness. Despite the growing discomfort in his gut, Thatcher stormed into the living room, swinging his light and gun to the right, freezing when his light hit something. It was the back of Ruth, hunched over and leaning next to the wall. She was breathing deeply, freezing when the light hit her, as if she just turned into stone.

“Ruth…are…are you alright?” Thatcher questioned, lowering his gun slightly, though he couldn’t make himself return it to its holster.

Another hum was let out as she stood up straight, twitching as she lowered her arms to her sides. Thatcher glanced down at her arms, his eyes landing on her hands before they stopped. At the ends of Ruth’s forearms weren’t hands at all; they were thin, long, blackened nerves, vaguely shaped like human hands. They twitched, swaying slightly like a spider’s web in the wind. Thatcher quickly looked back up at Ruth’s face as she turned around, seeing that she was staring directly at him, her wide, heavily dilated pupils fixed on his fearful expression. Her right eye was slightly lower than the other, and her mouth was completely missing, being only smooth skin over where her lips would’ve been. As she let out a high-pitched, suppressed scream, Thatcher quickly realized that the thing staring back at him was not Ruth.

Thatcher bolted towards the front door, rushing past “Ruth” before she began to chase after him. His thin legs carried him all the way to the door, his shoulder slamming against it. Despite the force, the door was jammed shut, no matter how much Thatcher fumbled with the door handle. He swung around, immediately greeted by the alternate, who held out her “hands” towards him. She wrapped the nerves around Thatcher’s neck, flinching as they tightened around her victim’s neck as she slammed his back against the door. Thatcher kicked at her, his hands clasped on the alternate’s arms as he stared deep into her vaguely familiar round eyes. Thatcher could see her flinch and twitch, letting out pained hums as her nerves made contact with his skin. Strangling Thatcher seemed to be actively hurting her, her “hands” seeming sensitive enough to make the slightest pressure painful. Thatcher felt a light bulb go off in his head, and despite the idea making Thatcher want to gag, he had no other option.

He bit down hard on the nerves, hearing a muted scream emit from the false Ruth. She jerked her arms away, ripping the nerves away from Thatcher as she stared at them in horror. Thatcher slammed his foot against her chest, forcing her to slam against the ground as he fled. He sprinted back into the living room, grabbing onto the small end table sitting next to the couch. He lifted it above his head, yelling as he ran towards the window and hurled it through the glass.

Shards of glass exploded into the front yard as the table careened through it, landing on the dead grass as Thatcher vaulted through the window frame. He glanced back only once, hearing Ruth inside the house as he made his way to the cruiser, the red and blue flashing lights hitting his face. He stumbled over the driveway, nearly losing his footing before he grabbed onto the car door’s handle.

He glanced over the car’s roof, watching as Ruth’s alternate climbed through the shattered window, her wide eyes fixed on Thatcher. Thatcher swung the door open, slamming it shut just in time to see Ruth slam against the passenger side window. She slammed her arms against the window as Thatcher started the engine, every single hit adding more cracks in the glass. Thatcher shifted into reverse and slammed his foot on the gas, speeding out of the driveway. Ruth lost her balance when the car left, falling to the pavement as Thatcher made his getaway. She looked up, watching as the lieutenant disappeared into the night, the red and blue lights fading into the darkness.

She scrambled to her feet, standing with her legs cocked to the side as she trembled slightly. Her nerves were screaming out in agony from the bite wound, only being more stimulated by the cold wind. She stumbled forward slightly, her instincts telling her to chase after the car. However, as she walked to the edge of the driveway, she felt the wind cease and everything go completely silent. She stopped, slowly turning back towards the house before looking up. Her dilated eyes fixated on what was hovering above the house; the figure in the darkness observing from above.

Thatcher’s breathing was harsh as he sped down the road, feeling the cool air sting his nostrils. Faint music played over the radio, nearly covering up the rapid muttering from under his breath as he tried to hold back the urge to cry. “You fucking idiot, you absolute fucking moron—” He whispered to himself. “How will she get back; you took the fucking car.” He took in a deep, though shaky breath, rubbing his eyes with one of his trembling hands. “Fuck…FUCK!” He slammed his hand against the steering wheel in an act of frustration.

As Thatcher passed underneath one of the sparse streetlights on the sides of the road, he noticed that the voices on the radio began to slow down before devolving into nothing but static. He glanced at the radio, barely able to see it clearly through the tears in his eyes. The red and blue lights on the top of his car flickered, along with the headlights before shutting off completely.

“What the fuck?” Thatcher tried to turn the headlights back on, but was interrupted by the radio going silent. The car slowed down, rolling to a stop as everything went silent. Thatcher turned the keys in the ignition, but the engine failed to start, not even letting out a single sputter. “…Shit.” Thatcher sighed, leaning back in his seat. He pressed his hands against his face as he groaned in frustration. Just his luck; his car breaks down the second he reaches the edge of town. The police station was nearly two miles away, so Thatcher supposed he better start walking.

He looked through the windshield, seeing the warm lights emitting from the streetlights. However, they seemed to be flickering more than usual, plunging the road in darkness for seconds at a time. Thatcher’s brows furrowed as he tried to ignore the increasing dread he felt in his stomach. He slowly unbuckled his seat belt before opening the car door, feeling a wave of anxiety hit him like a strong gust of wind going up his spine. He felt vulnerable; feeling like he was in the presence of an unseen horror. It reminded him of a similar feeling he experienced when he investigated the Heathcliff household, though he couldn’t help but notice that it was much stronger than he remembered.

He began to walk into town before he stopped suddenly, hearing the wind cease. He glanced around the street, listening to the eerie silence that fell around him. He stood still as a few of the streetlights shut off abruptly, drowning the area in darkness. He looked towards the town, feeling a presence behind him before he finally heard the voice.

“You.”

It was a voice of pure hatred, partially cloaked by what sounded like hundreds of different voices speaking in unison. Thatcher turned around, his hand placed on his gun’s handle as he looked up above his police cruiser, seeing the figure above him. He may have looked different, but Thatcher recognized the young man, someone who he thought he’d never see again; Mark Heathcliff.

Mark’s pale grey sweatshirt was stained with a large blood splatter on his left shoulder, along with small stains from the blood seeping down from his head. His desaturated pink sweatpants were caked with grime, along with his socks. His face was nearly completely shattered, the right side of it cracked and broken like porcelain, leading to a black void with only his lower jaw and teeth left. His one working eye was fixed on Thatcher, full of hatred as his messy, unevenly cut chestnut hair swayed in an unfelt wind. A golden cross hung from his neck, hovering in front of his chest as if it was weightless.

Thatcher stumbled backwards a few steps, his wide eyes refusing to look away from Mark’s eerily still form. Any words he wanted to say were caught in his throat, and his mind was blank. He felt like his very soul was being judged by a malicious entity, pondering whether to spare him or end his life in an instant. After a few moments of unbearable silence, Thatcher finally found his voice, though not without difficulty. “…Who are you?” Thatcher questioned, concealing his fear through a fake sense of bravery. “…Really?”

“You…you left me to die…” Mark growled, his jaw moving with every word despite the lack of a mouth. “You didn’t answer my cries.”

“…What are you talking about…?” Thatcher muttered.

“DON’T ACT STUPID!” Mark shouted loudly, his other voices booming in a discordant fashion, causing Thatcher to stumble back with his hands clasped over his ears. “YOU NEVER FUCKING CARED; YOU’RE NOTHING BUT A FUCKING COWARD!”

“I…I never did anything!” Thatcher shouted back, staring at the ground, his hands still pressed against his head.

“You…how many…have you left to die, just because you were too scared?” Mark questioned. “I’m DEAD BECAUSE OF YOU!”

“I…I’m…” Thatcher could feel Mark’s words burning in his mind, unable to think straight as he stared at the pavement.

“And…now…you leave your own friend behind.”

Thatcher slowly looked up, his tear filled eyes staring at Mark as he felt his heart drop.

“She cared about you…and you LEAVE.” Mark continued. “YOU LEAVE HER TO DIE, JUST LIKE YOU DID TO ME!”

“I…I…” Thatcher wanted to snap at him; yell about how he was wrong, but he knew he wasn’t. He did leave Ruth behind, all because he was scared. He didn’t even check to see if she was still alive before leaving her behind with the monster that looked like her. It was his fault. It was always his fault. “What…WHAT DO YOU WANT?!”

“I want you…to know how awful you are…” Mark stated. “She was the only one who genuinely cared…but now she’s dead, ALL BECAUSE OF YOU.”

Thatcher felt frozen, silent tears running down his pale face as Mark continued. “You’re nothing…nothing but a pathetic, cowardly, DIRTY FUCKING ANIMAL!” Mark screeched, his voices piercing straight through Thatcher’s skull. Thatcher couldn’t take it anymore, stumbling backwards before falling to his knees. He clasped onto his head, feeling a pressure building in his skull as he cried.

Thatcher hunched over, feeling his headache slowly become unbearable. A wave of pain hit him at once, causing him to press his arms against his torso in an attempt to relieve the increasing discomfort within him. He felt physically ill, with no visible reason why, and it felt as if his insides were crawling within him.

Mark observed from a distance as Thatcher shakily pushed himself to his feet, groaning slightly with a grimace on his face. “You…you f-fucking…bitch.” He exhaled. His trembling hand reached towards his pistol, glaring at Mark with eyes full of fury. However, a sharp pain hit his hands as soon as his fingers touched the holster, forcing him to jerk it away. It was as if he was stabbed in both of his hands with a large knife, along with an almost burning sensation and a building pressure. He yelled, grabbing onto his wrist with the opposite hand, unable to stop them from shaking and twitching. He could hear the bones shifting, cracking as the palm of his hand elongated. His hands became thin and bony, making his veins and bones eerily visible. He yelled, staring at his shaking hands with horror.

He had no clue what was happening to him, but despite the increasing agony he felt coursing through his veins, he shakily pulled his pistol out of its holster with his newly deformed hands. He swung it up, shooting one bullet at Mark. Despite Thatcher wishing to hit the head, the bullet hit his shoulder, shattering the skin like glass and leaving behind a large hole, oozing blood. Mark let out a loud scream, and an invisible force pushed Thatcher back, throwing him a few feet down the road and making him drop his weapon to the ground.

Thatcher slammed against the asphalt, letting out a loud yell from the impact. His eyes were wide, his pupils dilating enough to cover his green irises with pure black. He felt something warm run down from his nose, and when he rubbed it with his sleeve, it left a streak of crimson behind. He could taste iron, and his jaw was clenched hard enough to make Thatcher worry he’d break his teeth. Blood was running out of the corners of his mouth, and even when he spat it out onto the pavement below him, his mouth only seemed to bleed more.

Mark stared at Thatcher with curiosity, hovering behind him as he forced himself to stand. Thatcher was trembling violently, jerking his head around as his crazed eyes stared at the ground. He wrapped his arms around himself, giving him the slightest reminder of a warm embrace. He took one last look at Mark, falling to his knees as his legs gave out underneath him.

He felt as if he was losing his god damn mind, all logical actions he could possibly take escaping him. He wanted to rip Mark apart with his bare hands like a wild animal, not caring anymore about the consequences. His body became thin, his spine and ribs visible through his skin, though Thatcher couldn’t see it through his uniform. With shifting tendons and bones, he was becoming something else, and despite his resistance, he couldn’t stop it.

Thatcher felt his jaws move, extending and forcing his teeth out of his mouth. He felt new teeth in his mouth, and they elongated and became jagged and crooked. Thatcher covered his mouth with one of his hands, shutting his eyes tight as he felt the other features of his face shift. His nose moved up on his face as his jaws extended from his face, and his eyes moved to the sides of his face. His screams became increasingly distorted, sounding as if they were being broadcasted through a broken police radio. He called for anyone to help him, even the one he left behind and betrayed. He wanted her help more than anything else, even though he knew he’d never receive it. It was too late for that.

It felt as if his skin was being pulled over an animal’s skull, bloody gums and teeth making a new “snout”. His eyes were bloodshot, tears streaming down his thin cheeks. His hair stuck to his face, partially covering up his new grotesque visage. He coughed up blood, snorting and twitching like a rabid animal. His long teeth clicked as he let out quiet, discordant grunts and groans. He hesitantly held up his hands, pressing them against his new face as if he was trying to conceal himself. His mind was too scrambled to be able to process his new appearance, though he was aware that he was no longer close to being human.

Mark hesitantly approached him, hovering in front of Thatcher as he looked down at him. Mark appeared…perturbed, his one eye giving a look of pensiveness. However, he couldn’t help but be curious on what he did exactly. He didn’t even mean to do anything other than kill Thatcher, tearing him apart from the inside out. However, he managed to do something even better. A fate worse than death, perhaps.

Thatcher’s wide eyes looked forward, seeing Mark’s feet from his limited view, which was partially blocked by his hands and his messy hair. “Y-You…” Thatcher growled, his voice accompanied with static and distorted radio frequencies. “What…what did you do…? What did you do to me?”

Mark didn’t answer, instead continuing to gaze at the new form Thatcher had been forced to take. He didn’t exactly have an answer either way, though it seemed like the lack of an answer gave a worse reaction than whatever Mark could come up with. Thatcher sprung to his feet, startling Mark as he began to let out nearly deafening, animalistic screams. He sprinted towards Mark, who out of surprise, held out his hands, making an invisible force fling Thatcher back. Thatcher slammed against the hood of his car, letting out a loud yell when he impacted with it.

He rolled onto the ground from the now dented hood, rolling into a ball on the ground as he held his hands over his face. He began to sob, blood, tears, and saliva streaming down from his face. Mark observed from a distance, taking one glance at his hands before disappearing into the dark sky. Thatcher remained on the ground, muttering rapidly to himself. “Ruth I’m sorry…” He cried. “I’m so, so sorry…”

As he laid on the cold street, he began to feel a different feeling in his stomach. It wasn’t pain like he expected, but it almost seemed to consume his thoughts more than the agony he was in. He gripped his stomach, curling up even further as he finally identified the feeling. It was hunger; he needed to eat.

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