#of course I'm my own worst critic so I keep seeing stuff I could fix

[nimbus-cloud]

It's really coming along and I'm so thrilled!!!

At this point all I really need to do is wire up the lights, add the jars on the shelves, make the ceiling piece, and add tiny drinks and food!

[dapperbasil]

Fangfest Day 14

Well, I didn't intend to do anything for the vtm tarot because of burnout but since @anarchswild did the lovely Thomas Slater for the Death arcana, it's only fitting to post a snippet from his final nights. Yes a few of you might be familiar with this.

Presenting, the inner thoughts of a Malkavian proxy Prince, to whom the world is a show and he is the star. Sparkle on, you funky little Malk.

My eyes open as day turns to dusk and finally to night, and there’s no time to waste. The next episode of “The Thomas Slater Show” is due to air in two hours, as much as I would like to get back in bed and sleep. The cameras aren’t rolling yet, a blessing in disguise. I love the attention, the applause, the ratings. But I’m so tired of it, all of it. My eyes take extra long to adjust, take in the room around me. That was one of the things the producers couldn’t fix, that and the damnable leg injury I took as a stupid teenager. I was dumb then, thinking I could be an athlete, a star. I guess I got that wish in a different sense, but you can only take stardom for so long.

This new haven is cold and foreboding, unlike my home in NYC. The city is quiet and calm, and it would be a relief if I wasn't in charge of the whole damn thing. This season's ratings have been low overall, and it does wear down on me. My heart's not in it and I think the producers are starting to notice. They sent down a rep, my sheriff. He says he's just here to keep an eye on me, to make sure the producers see what they want to see. Am I supposed to feel safe with that?

What am I even the prince of anyway? They said they're doing a trial run, and didn't want to send too many actors to the new stage, but there's so few of us. I don't think we stand a chance so close to the border. These thoughts begin to fade from my mind as I pull on a purple and red tie-dye blazer and head downstairs to start a pot of coffee. I can't drink the stuff anymore but Alex… it's the only way he'll feed.

For now, he's all that I live for. I messed up and I keep messing up. I messed up with Apollo and now I've messed up with Alex. I shouldn't have embraced even one, but now I've got two childer. Apollo hates me, that much is clear to me, given how our last few chats went. Maybe I won't make the same mistakes with Alex. Call me an empty nester if you must, when I was a kine I wanted to have a family and I guess I never grew out of it.

Alex knocks on the door frame when he comes into the kitchen, his way of getting my attention. I haven't heard him speak once since his embrace, I can only assume it must be part of his derangement. From what I can tell of his derangement, he takes after me in the worst of ways. Well, maybe not the worst. He's still bright and cheerful, smiling as wide as the day I offered a bright young film student an internship. He doesn't even seem to mind not understanding a word I say. We do talk of course, in different ways. Sign language wasn't too difficult for me to pick up, and the critics loved it. He can read lips well enough, and even though I can't, we still communicate fine.

I pour him a cup of coffee as he goes over what's scheduled for tonight. We look over the itinerary together as he sips the coffee deliberately spiked with blood. He still doesn't quite get it, even after all these months. He doesn't understand why he gets so angry once in a while, doesn't understand that he's not keeping food down because his body can't anymore. Blood is all that nourishes him, and I have to slip it into him where I can. Even when the lights overtake me and I have to put on a show, during commercials I make sure he's taken care of.

I'm careful with how much I tell him. I don't want him to grow like Apollo, to hate me yet. Not until he can stand on his own, or has friends to help him like I do. Maybe I'll get him a ghoul, someone who can help him when I'm not there any longer to do so. I don't have much longer.

Those golden eyes haunt me, the eyes of my own childe. Was embracing him a mistake? Perhaps but I was foolish thinking I could change things, I’m not even sure why I did it anymore. If anything I brought my doom closer at hand. I don't really even mind anymore, as I've grown tired from my years of performing. The nightmares have become more frequent as of late, being forced to my knees as an ominous voice speaks over me and Apollo looks down at me with hatred dripping from his eyes. The golden sparkle in his eyes is gone, dimmed and tired. I don't know what he's been through, but I know this is the face of the man who's going to be my death one day.

Hurry Apollo, but don't come too quickly. Not until Alex can stand on his own. For now we exit the haven as the stage lights begin to shine. The curtain will soon rise and all that will matter is the audience. Another night I hope to not see a golden sparkle staring back at me and I face it not with anticipation, but with a tired sigh. The producers will have their show, and soon, maybe not soon enough, their series finale.