#that is yet. in buffy it was that she burnt down the school gym because vampires were in there. but she couldn't tell people vampires were

[oveliagirlhaditright]

Trinity's parents in the Hello Neighbor cartoon treat her exactly like Joyce Summers treated Buffy at the beginning of Buffy the Vampire Slayer. Like exactly. And seeing as how that really didn't bode well for our poor Buffy, for her physical or mental health (though Joyce did get better), I'm already so worried for Trinity.

It may be too early to say... but Trinity's parents may even be worse than beginning!Joyce.

[lusciousvertigo]

As One Door Closes

… another one opens or so my Mother had always said but she’d also said that drinking several litres of Absolut would ensure that you forgot your failings and the loneliness after the waste of space my Dad was had fucked off and left her with a six month old squalling me. Those doors however? Seemed to stay permanently closed unless I worked myself into an early grave to achieve exactly what I want for me. The Kessler name had once been one to be respected at one point; my Dad had served in the military from the age of seventeen, honoring those who had served before on both sides of my family going back to the time of the Civil War and he had risen swiftly through the ranks becoming a Lieutenant General which apparently is really high and Mom still had a photograph of him in her room in his fancy uniform. SHe cries over it regularly and gets really pissed off when I tell her that maybe she would feel better if she wasn’t looking at the bastard who left us every day. Turns out that my Mom has a really vicious backhand when talking about dear ol’ Dad and I’ve learnt to keep my mouth shut over it all and embrace my distaste over them both by getting rid of my golden blonde curls with a bottle of dye and refusing to go lie out in the sunshine like the bitches of Hemery High School… Ah the place that spawn opinionated bitches out to be Valley girls who spent every waking moment looking perfect for their rich Father-figure boyfriends to marry. Just like my Mom had done… after all she got herself knocked up by a man twice her age and wondered why he did a fast one the moment he could so that he wasn’t shackled to a bimbo and a brat. His loss… my Mom may well drink herself into an early grave now? But there was a time when she was the epitome of a 1950s housewife ensuring I was well-fed and cared for (by well-fed read extremely strict diet so that I would be able to be a cheerleader and make her dreams come true so that I could become head cheerleader and come home with trophies galore…) I can now clarify that I despise protein shakes and the strict regimes she had me on that had me become a stick insect before I was thirteen. Hemery had been Hell ninety per cent of the time, as I became a misfit. Not because I was in a household made up of my Mom and I but because she was an addict and it got around the school within minutes thanks to.. Guess who? The cheerleaders and the jocks. I swore there and then that I wouldn’t end up like my Mom and worked hard through school earning good grades and pushing myself in the dance studio.. I had a dream and it was one that went against the look I had grown to love and embrace fully as my own now as Ariana Keller - child of drunk and a now deceased Dad. (Trust me, if I go there - I won’t stop and the irony of it is I found out before Mom did when I saw his photo in the obituaries section of the paper} I lost myself to music and the poise and grace found in the art of ballet. My Mom had been furious with me declaring that I was letting her down and had abandoned all her hopes and dreams.. But I had been training for years now, been offered a place in The Juilliard School - yes, the place to go if you had a true passion and talent for Dance, Drama, and/or Music.. It was there that I found peace and quiet because I was out the clutches of my Mother thanks to her decision that I was too much like my Dad and that meant I was to be cast aside and forgotten. Which had meant the last five years of my life had been relatively quiet and that of course meant I was in for a returning of the dead and that would ensure that the peace I had known would end. I’d earned my BFA with a diploma (Bachelor of Fine Arts) a year ago and had found work in various theatres throughout New York and had high hopes for what would happen.. My life was indeed in my own hands and I wanted to make the most of it before everything went wrong with the arrival of one Jennifer Mayfield also known as ‘Mom’... I mean life couldn’t be good forever right? Making my way to my apartment in the Village, I trolled through the fifty or so messages she had left each and everyone filled with what had to be the ravings of a mad woman. She swore that there were monsters in the Valley; I wonder if she’d switched vodka to something a little more interesting and illegal in the form of Charlie until I remembered just why I had learnt to admire the former cheerleader turned freak in Elizabeth ‘Buffy’ Summers and her rebel boytoy Oliver Pike.. the two of them had burnt down the gym of Hemery High to kill these freaks or what was it they had been accused of being? Oh that was it ‘an attack by a gang on PCP.’ Whoever came up with that excuse clearly hadn’t actually witnessed what a gang on PCP actually looked like and they certainly didn’t have faces that resembled wax masks under the sun.. But I didn’t believe in monsters either - not that kind anyway. Monsters were child molesters, absentee parents, abusers of the elderly. There’s a fucking long list let me tell you but not one of them came from an episode of Supernatural otherwise there would be a mass hunt throughout the country for the Winchesters to ‘assist’. Also known as women (and men) wanting to drag Sam and Dean under the sack to make mini-hunters. My internal thoughts are going to have me burning in the fiery pits because if my Mom was right, swearing was sinful as was me abandoning her (despite losing my sanity when I stayed there) and I would burn. Catholics… worse than any prison guard I tell ya. But if my Mom didn’t get a call back from me; given as there were ten missed calls within the last hour? She would presume I was dead and I had already had two cases of the police contacting me as my Mom believed I was missing presumed DOA in the nearest hospital. That had been embarrassing and on the last time the police had arrived at my apartment? I had sat with them and shared my dinner with them as they took their report down … and asked me if I was concerned that my Mom had mental issues or had been assessed for depression or other such conditions. I had wanted to disappear into the ground right there and then. But that was then and this is now and clearly my Mom was concerned and I had to become the adult dealing with a child. I would get her to talk to me and then try to persuade her to put her crutch down - the vodka treble she will have no doubt poured a few of so that she would go to bed and sleep it off. I just had to hope I wouldn’t have to go to the coach station and travel from Manhattan to LA because that would screw me up in my rehearsals for my part as Ophelia in the ballet performance of Hamlet at the Zeigfeld. I couldn’t promise I wouldn’t throttle her if that occurred. Again. Perhaps it was the stress of my life and need to be the best at my classes that I would find some way to unburden the weight of fear and failure. I would visit clubs pretty much nightly to drink and forget the pain of my various pairs of dance shoes. It would be on a crowded dance floor that I would embrace the feeling of feeling truly alone when music would flow through me like the very blood in my veins. I paid little attention to the dangers I was in; or rather refused to allowed my already beleaguered mind to process the several outcomes my behaviour could of perhaps more accurately; would induce. I saw dangers and discarded them both in the form of writhing bodies in a smoky and dark club; or along the sidewalks where any old vehicle to plough me down in the blink of an eye causing my Mother to finally lose control of the few marbles she still possessed. I was alone in the crowd; but there was always a sensation akin to the hairs on the back of my neck rising. I never spoke of it; never mentioned it to the few friends at Juilliard I had lest they think nights spent in a padded room with lovely white blinding lights would aid my recovery. After all; saying someone was watching you; even when you were undressing for bed was something that could be deemed as far-fetched. Even by those I entrusted my deepest secrets. And yet.. I swore I saw the same bleached white hair in each and every bar or club I frequented.. and then it would sneak up on me when I secured the curtains to my bedroom. Someone was indeed out there; I just had no way of proving it; or knowing just why someone would do such a thing without malignant intent for my person.. He was protecting me; I escaped muggings and threats to my life only for them to disappear once I was ordered to the room. He installed fear and yet security info my mindset and I was interlude lost wondering the simplest of questions? Why me?