A Werewolf Blog in Brooklyn

Thriller Vs Teen Wolf Part 1

July 19, 2012
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Welcome to a tv show called Teenwolf.  Where’s it’s premise is based on an 1985 movie by the same name. About a teenager who finds out the hard way, that he’s a werewolf.

Or is it?

Teen Wolf Season 2, Episode 5. Yeah, they made it this far. How is anyone’s guess.

I can’t help but begin to wonder now after the first opening sequence to Episode 5 of the second season.

Before I get into it I have to point out my BIGGEST and the MOST OBVIOUS annoyance of Episode 5.  Episode 4 Left us hanging with Scott getting very gruesomly stabbed by Allison’s grandfather. We were left to think he was actually bleeding out before hoping in the family car with his mum.

This is not acknoweldged, answered, followed up or anything in Episode 5. IT’S RIDICIOULUS THAT IT’S NOT!

The first story of the episode is about Jackson, lacrosse star player, werewolf wana be  and all around chiselled jaw sports jock.

He’s attempting to bench prench, way beyond his human capabilities. But of course, the thing Jackson doesn’t realise is he’s on this show to be emasculated and therefore frustration sets in when he can barely get through a heavy set of weights without his friend, spotting for him and lifting the weights off him.  We also discover Jackson has super enhanced hearing.

Whoppee!

Enter Erica, who grabs Jackson and takes him off to meet his would have been his maker, Alpha, Derek Hale.  Derek wants to know if anything happened to Jackson on the night of the full moon.

Or should that be fool moon? I prefer in this show to think of it as the later.

Jackson denies anything happening to him. But Derek, being the psycho scary ass that he is, refuses to believe Jackson and says very cryptically – “You know Jackson you’ve always been a kind of snake.  Every one knows that snakes can’t be poisioned by their own venom.”  And proceeds to ensure a drop of the reptilian monster’s venom falls in Jackson’s mouth.

By this stage, I’m thinking the reptilian monster from previous episodes is.

Perhaps It’s Lydia.  She was attacked first. And the reptile monster recognises Stiles.  Lydia hangs out with Stiles all the time now.  The mechanic at the auto shop was attacked and killed and he previously played on the Lacrosse team.

We don’t know this yet, but I’d take a wild guess and assume that he might be Lydia’s previous boyfriend.  As for why Issac’s dad was killed, random. He was an assehole he had it coming. No real reason other than that.

As Jackson lays paralysed on the floor, Derek looks at him and says “You’re still a snake Jackson, you’re just not the one we’re looking for.” Hello Jackson was Lydia’s boyfriend in season 1.

Are we making connections yet? Or am I just going down the path the writers want me to?

Before we hit opening credits of sexiness, Issac, hovers over Jackson and says “There’s one other thing you have to do for us.  Well, for me.”  Which means he has to recant his story that he told to the police officers about Issac and his father agruging before Issac’s father was murdered.

Why? Just so Issac can get back into highschool.

For those familiar with the TeenWolf movie. I know I’ve already lost you. And quite frankly, it was to be expected.  Here is a TV show that has literally nothing to do with the movie it was based on!

Other than taking the title name: Teen Wolf and some of the character names; Stiles, Scott. There is nothing else in common with the movie that this TV show was adapted from.  In the movie, Scott aka Teenwolf played basketball, his love interest was called Boof and he wasn’t bitten by a werewolf, it was family genetics.

But semantics aside, obviously a movie to tv adaption requires something to make a tv show get through a season. Like a plot, a story arch, and a world created around this character – Teen Wolf.

Or does it?

The opening sequence of this show, before the credits is all about another character on this show!

And you might be of the opinion that it’s a one of thing, or it’s okay to learn about other characters in this show, but the more this show progresses into season 2, the more there is of other characters and for me, less of Teen Wolf himself.

And the show is called TEEN WOLF.  Maybe it should be called Tease Wolf.

As we return from the credits into the obscurity of whatever the concept of this tv show is, Stiles and Scott become accosted by Jackson in class who plants my idea that Lydia is the reptilian monster in their heads. And that Derek’s beta wolves, now also highschool students again, are going out to kill Lydia later in the day.

Why they think they have to return to being highschool students to complete this mission is beyond me, since most of the action in Teen Wolf, happens at night when all the teenagers are freely running around woods and quite often, an unlocked school grounds.

Scott asks Stiles if he believes Lydia is the monster and Stiles, bless him replies that he does not think it’s her.  Because the monster looked at him and he saw pure evil.  Lydia looks at him and he only sees half evil, 40% on a good day.

My love for Stiles grows with every episode of this muddled up concept of a show.

During a classroom exercise we see Lydia go into a dream about herself and some very spiral writing on the black board that is being written by the Alpha werewolf who attacked her.

As Lydia freaks out, he comes up to her and blows some white powdery substance in her face.  This snaps us the viewer back into the present day classroom where Lydia has written all manner of words on the blackboard to a math question, backwards.

Stiles, ever the resourceful sidekick, snaps a photo on his phone of the writing and with the photo capabilities of his phone, reverses the image which shows us, Lydia has written “Someone help me.” repeatedly over the blackboard.

Already my review at this stage is at 1000 words and we’re not even half way through the episode.

Sigh.

Continued in Part 2.


How Werewolves say Happy Valentines Day :)

February 12, 2012
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Came across this  absolutely brilliant Valentines day card  –  How to say what you really feel, when you’re a werewolf.

Check it out at this website check it out at this website http://www.warrenellis.com/?p=13659


Crest the night

September 25, 2010
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There’s a Santana song playing somewhere near us, throughout the night, I recognize it, even as I’m distracted by Paris who’s just as eager as I am, that there’s no softness. No slow teasing and delaying now. Not tonight.

“I really thought you wanted Aaron’s blood.”

We’re under a moonlight night sky, the only place I feel I belong in this world without question, under a moonlight night and in Paris’s embrace.

“I did.” My hands slide up his chest. Committing the touch of him to memory.
“But I was practicing that thing, what’s the word for it…” I pretend to think about this as my lips race over his neck. “Control.”

Paris laughs lightly and my hands keep skimming over his chest. “When you asked me what I wanted to do to him, what I told you, was exactly what I wanted to do to him.” Paris flicks my hair out of the way and kisses me hard and breaks apart, panting heavily.

“I was letting you, you know.”

I know he was. I know that, but my wolf doesn’t. She wants out of me, has made me restless, angsty and frustrated since being denied the opportunity to let loose on Aaron. As much as my wolf side wanted the blood. I’d have hated myself afterwards. That guy was rude. It’d be like having a regretful one night stand I’d be unable to wash out of my mind. That was why I didn’t take the pass Paris was giving me.

Paris pulls me to him.

His mouth on mine and we’re shutting out the rest of the world. Whatever there is of it outside under the night sky. We belong here, together, with each other, for each other. We’re good together, real good. His arms lift me so he can guide me onto him.

That craving for blood and flesh is still there, I still flash back and recall the scent of it. With delightful ease. It’s like having a craving. Wanting candy and not acting on it, but wanting it all the same. I’ve been running an obsessive replay of it like play of the day in my head, over and over again. Lunar week and when a thought as erotic as allowing my true werewolf self to be out and about, doing primal stuff like licking up human blood is in there, it’s hard to think about much else. Kind of fuels my stupid restlessness.

Paris is helping me build a rhythm between us and all I want is harder, deeper and faster. As I try to eradicate that sensory overload of blood fuelling my brain’s memory. My wolf’s need. There’s a Feeling like I’m being turned inside out with sanity. Want to ride this night out, till I’m completely weak and sated of every bit of energy I’ve got coursing under my skin. To my mind grey’s out.

Paris’s hands move from my hips, to my ass and he groans deep in the back of his throat. We move with desperation, urgency. Driving need to touch, be touched, to enjoy and reach heights of passion that are there to be indulged in and not drawn out. Now is not the time for control. Time to let it go, give it up and forget about it, to really find the release this werewolf is craving as the moon heightens every fibrous being inside and out of me. Survival by any means necessary when the sensors are overloading me and my passion is swamping me.

Heat. Lust. Love. Blood. Sex. Moonlight. Rush, rush rush. Crest the night, hold tight.

I throw back my head, my hair flying out behind me and slapping down my back as I howl myself into the night air along with Paris’s underneath me. And the echo of our howling, lingers on the air before we relax, into each other.

Heated panting, heart beats drumming, as the temperature around us simmers from our body heat and I close my eyes, my mind preparing to shape shift so the werewolf in me, can come out and play.


All Kinds of Trouble (Got that) Pt 2.

September 24, 2010
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Blood, the air is tainted with the crisp scent of it and I lift my nose and inhale. Which of course, for a werewolf on a lunar night, is the wrong thing to do. It’s like tempting an addict or something. It makes my wolf senses want to really kick in to effect. Want me to shape shift to my tribal form so I could tear apart the prey before me that is down and bleeding.

Aaron, once a sweet boy, now a regular bitter asshole who thinks he can talk shit to me because we’d never eventuated when there’d been a chance of dating. Not my fault. But he seems to harbor somewhat of grudge to me.

He’s slightly dazed by the punch I’ve thrown so quickly. His head snapped back like whiplash with the impact from my stellar right hook.

I jump down on top of him, landing above him, on my hands and toes, my shoes pointed sharply into the floor, balancing me precariously, so I don’t actually touch him. But lay, above him, effectively trapping him.

“Do you have any idea, how turned on I am right now?” I mutter in a low, husky voice. Watching Aaron’s eyes widen as they dart across my own face. “Why I’m so turned on?”

His eyes kept staring back at me amazed. I dip my face towards his and inhale the scent of his blood filling my nostrils again. Stronger this time. My stomach gurgles, like it’s hungry. My pulse races, I feel the temples in my head throb, like I’m dizzy with exertion from moving to fast. I dig my fingers into the floor, arching them into a claw like position. Gripping at nothing and feeling them cramp up with the strain I’m putting on them.

“Uh, everyone’s looking at us.” Aaron says in a low voice, sounding once again like the nervous guy of old, I knew.

I glance to the side of us. Of course the crowd are staring at us. Half of them, the werewolf half can smell the blood as good as if they are where I am. The other half, the nons, are looking at us because I look like a woman, primed to fuck the brains out of the gun underneath me.

“No, they’re looking at you Aaron.” I reply, still holding my position above him. Resisting the urge to lick the blood smeared on his face. “They’re looking at you because you’re bleeding and they’re hungry.”
His eyes slide to the right of us again, looking at the crowd there, before looking back at me.

“You’re making them, hungry and horny. Bleeding so invitingly in the open for them.”

“You hit me!” He whines in a hushed whisper. I can hear the approaching footsteps of three people and know one of them isParis, coming towards me.

“You had it coming.”

A pair of shoes stop beside me and I recognize Paris’s shoes immediately. He squats down beside us. Looking from Aaron to me.

“What do we have here?”

“A bleeding non.” I reply simply as my arms start to twitch a little with the strain of holding myself off him so cautiously.

Paris looks at me. “And what do you want to do to him?” He asks me playfully. Werewolves, we’re just like any other animal, that wants to play with their food.

My mouth drops open and I look at Paris as my arms shake harder. “I want to lick that blood off him, maybe tear him apart a little, so my teeth can sink into soft flesh. Feel the blood flow up to my gums.”

Werewolf Speak, it’s not about conceding desire, it’s allowing yourself to be honest about it. Paris appears to think about this for a moment and looks back at Aaron, still laying on his back, trapped underneath me. His eyes wide, his expression one of puzzlement.

“You can lick the blood of him, but that’s it.”

I tilt my head back to look at Aaron like he’s an appetizer. Goody.

“Do you understand me?” Paris asks me, somewhat patiently.

“Yes.”

“Good.” Paris stands up.

“What?” Aaron looks back at me, not understanding at thing that is going on. Except that maybe, he might be in a bad situation, I can litterally feel the sense of fear in him.

I lower my body onto his. My breasts crushing into his chest, my hips against his, separated by a couple of layers of clothing. Sex and Blood, a werewolf favorite thing in life. Specially on a lunar night. It’s like tenfold. Better and better than anything you’d think of.

“What’s a matter Aaron, don’t you want me?” I ask as his hands automatically reached for my ass, gripping my skirt. I can feel him getting harder underneath me. His eyes dart about me quickly. A Feeling like white noise is filling my head, I can feel the sweat dripping down the back of my shoulder blades.

My wolf wants her fill.

I blink, relax my hands and pushed off to one side suddenly. Aaron lets out a huge sigh of relief.

“It’s not your kind of place.” I say squatting before standing and offering him a hand up. He hesitates, briefly, looking around at the crowd that has gathered around us. “You need to leave.” I pull him upright to his feet and drop his hand as Paris slides his arm around my waist.

“Can I at least ask,”

“No.” I cut him off. “You don’t want trouble Aaron, that includes this place, me and him.” I say pointing to Paris. “Stay away.”

“Got that.” Aaron mutters in a low voice, gingerly touching the blood underneath his nose again. Momentairly reminding me of the old Aaron.

“Jules, make sure he gets cleaned up and out of here safely.” Paris instructes the other Alpha male wolf. “Put him a cab.” Jules nods his head silently and steps forward towards Aaron. Who looks back over at me.

“You’re a weird one.” He says softly, glancing from me to Paris and back at me, shaking his head.

“Better than being a bitch whore.” I reply, as he starts to move towards Jules.

“About that, I shouldn’t have said that I’m sorry. I had no right.”

I nod my head at him.

“Got that.”


Werewolf vs Werewolf

May 20, 2010
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Paris’s eyes were dark and drilling into me. His face was taunt, and looked strained. Dare I say it, but I of course, was the cause of his distress. He’d made me sit down atop a table at Addison’s house in Alphabet City, where they’d taken me, because it was closest to the area the lycan bitch and I had been caught fighting in. I had a tissue to my constantly bleeding blood nose and my head slightly tilted back, trying to stop the flow.

So there I was, sitting still, my scrapped knees dangling over a table top, keeping my mouth shut, saying nothing, and looking grim, and coated in blood, namely my own, waiting for my reprimand from my boyfriend the Manhattan Pack leader, like I was under police investigation.

But it wasn’t coming, the reprimand.

He was holding my right hand, gently and wiping the blood off the broken skin on and around my knuckles and hand. Every now and then his eyes would wander up and down my arms, silently counting, I think, all the scratch marks along them. They went right up my arms. Pink lines of varying degrees of depth, colour, scaring and blood. She’d cut through my top, shredded the long sleeves.
Not that it bothered me. Nothing about what I’d done bothered me. I was lucky I figured, but didn’t care for lucky, the corner of my bottom lip was torn, slightly away from my mouth. But none of my injuries mattered.

Getting back into the fight with that lycan, that mattered to me.I was going numb to the pain, because my anger was keeping me warm inside.

Paris being silent towards me, bothered me. A lot. Still, I refused to break the silence. I was in no mood for talking anyway. I could barely bring myself to look at the Alpha male behind Paris in the kitchen, pacing away – Addison. As far as I was concerned, he was completely at fault.

What fucking werewolf interferes in a fight that isn’t their own?

The werewolf Addison, that’s who.

There’s no real politics or ruling on this type of thing, jumping in on a regular wolf street fight. It’s just not…wise, or appreciated and I guess you could say, that in terms of the fight I’d started with the lycan bitch, it undermined me in front of her. Again.

What fucking werewolf likes to look like a weakling in front of other werewolves or more insultingly, a lycan?

Not me. I have pride, in bucket loads.
Hence the staunchly silence of my unspoken anger.

“Wanna talk to me?” Paris finally asked, as he squeezed the red coated washer out in the warm bowl of water beside my hand. My eyes flicked past him and glared at Addison who’d decided to stop pacing long enough to lean against the kitchen bench top. He folded his arms over his chest and stared straight back at me.

“I did you a favor, that lycan was going to pummel you into a new existence.” Addison fired at me before I broke eye contact.

“Addison, why don’t you leave us in private.” Paris said half turning his head towards his second in command. We both watched as Addison marched out of the kitchen area loudly and unhappily.

“Now, wanna tell me what happened?” Paris said taking up my left hand and starting to wipe it with the warm liquid.

“He was going to break both my ankles you know.” I muttered. Knowing I was acting childishly and not caring.

Paris stopped cleaning my hand wound then and looked at me in earnest seriousness.

“I’d never let him get away with doing that to you. But you must’ve pushed him to his limit, Addison isn’t one to threaten violence easily. Kingsley on the other hand…” Paris said referring to another one of the Alpha warriors in the Manhattan Maen hierarchy.

“I got into a fight.”

Paris sighed heavily and started wiping down my hand again, gently. “Believe it or not, I can see the evidence of that. Believe me, from what Addison told me of what he and Jules saw of the fight, you’re lucky they intervened when they did.”

“I was holding my own.”

“You’re covered in your own blood. That lycan has scarred you all over.” He went on.“You’re going to have to shape shift to heal all this. Pretty soon too, I would think, as soon as your nose stops bleeding.”

I pulled the bright red soaked tissue away from my nose. It was practically falling apart in my hands it was so damp.

“I need to find that lycan.”

“Not gonna happen.” Paris replied firmly. “Jules is still out there, tracking her down. We’re on it. You’re not going anywhere until you shape shift and recover.”

I sighed heavily back at him.

“Don’t make me make you.”

I guess it was the only warning I was going to get. Alpha werewolves can force another werewolf in or out of a shape shift mode, as well as kind of interfering with the wolf’s will, if you want to call it that. We call it influencing. And if I didn’t do it myself, then Paris would do it to me. Which doesn’t necessarily mean it’s a smooth ride. Especially when you’ve got fresh injuries, like mine. He didn’t even need to be in animal form to do it to me, if I understood correctly.

He put my hand back down and moved the bowl of water, which was now all watered red, not pick, away from us.

“Talk to me.” He pleaded, putting my head in his hand and turning it to face it.

“You ever been hunted?” I asked.

He dropped his hand and stood up straighter in front of me.

“No.”

“Yeah, well, I never told you I was when I was fourteen and that bitch of a lycan your guys let get away from me, was the hunter responsible.” I replied sliding off the table top.

Paris looked wounded, pained and wounded. But my anger was just so much greater.

I pushed past him out of the room. Maybe I could get through a fast shape shift, fast enough to recover and get back on my feet again to find that lycan. Or maybe I’d just go out after her in werewolf form. That’d probably be my better shot.


The Werewolf Sermon

April 12, 2010
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I’d like to think that going to church and listening to sermons is more about life lessons and getting guidance than actually being told the evils of the world. T. Scott burgess is from the Madison Country Courier is going to preach as he tells us, at his church by asking the unlikeliest of questions – what do vampires, zombies, and werewolves have to do with our walk with God?

I say unlikely because, well, you really don’t see a preacher going on about these three categories of beings most Sundays do you?

But hey, if the bible can be believed unequivocally, given the mythos around the stories involved, then surely, too can a belief in other things, like other types of people.

Although, you might want to hold on to reserving your seat at the sermon in question. Since T. Scott Burgess claims “we are all monsters and we all need blood to survive.”

I’m not sure starting your sales pitch for this intriguing sermon to be was such a good idea by calling your faithful flock of church goers, monsters. Unless of course, you’re using the word monster like Lady Ga Ga does. In an endearing, teasing, cheeky way. But I’m not sure that’s really the case here.

He goes on to state “Werewolves, however, are not necessarily bad when they are human. Their problem is that they do not have any control over themselves when the monster comes out.”
Gee how very big of you to say we’re not bad when we’re in human form, just because we’re a little differently made up to the rest of the human population. Wow, considerate really. Although really, you need to broaden your mind beyond the Hollywood hype of werewolves being monsters who have no control when in werewolf form.
You’re talking about the dark ages here when you state this. Werewolves of today, have come along way, Me and my pack the Breukelen, are proof of this.

I think you would be incredibly naive to believe that the werewolf species can not evolve over time to be more than what it might have started out being. Or more than the limited imagination of Hollywood’s portrayl.

If a werewolf has no control over itself when it comes to after shape shifting to tribal form, then there’s usually a reason for that. It’s rarely if ever (now a days) random and based on a “just because” of what we are, assumption. It’s like saying an epileptic has no control over themselves when they have a seizure. Well duh. But there is a reason for the seizure occurring in the first place right? Something sets it off, maybe chemical imbalance.

Well with the werewolf, it’s more likely to be less biological than that and more outside interference like. If something has influenced the werewolf whilst in human form it can be carried over to wolf form. To contain it’s anger and rage, then yeah, when the shape shift is over, you’re going to be greeted with a raging angry wolf most likely. Or if the werewolf again, in human form is traumatized some how, and must endure an agonizing shape shift, that can affect them too. You see, whilst we are one form or the other, human or wolf, we are essentially still, the same being. Our body and brain carries everything like muscle memory and recognition through the shape shift. It just I guess you could say for lack of a better explanation, alters slightly to accommodate whatever form we are in.

Nobody’s really sure how the whole werewolf deal works. Just that it does and there is a balance in being both parts.

“a werewolf has little or no recognition of what is going on when the monster is out. Their circumstances are out of their control, yet they also crave blood.”
Wrong, wrong, wrong. When in werewolf form, we have the recognition of things, as our animal part would. So sure, we crave blood, it’s a predatory animal thing, an instinctual want. Although, an Alpha in werewolf form, I’m told can differentiate between animal thinking and human thinking. But I wouldn’t know first hand, I’m a beta wolf.

The Preacher continues on with “We are all dirty, filthy, creepy, disgusting monsters, but we do not have to stay that way. Instead, we have the ability to be made whole.”
again, I’d say insulting and belittling your intended human audience isn’t the way to draw an audience in. There is good in humans, as there is in werewolves. I guess the non-religious in me says, I don’t believe because you are born, you are automatically slighted to be born in sin. Which seems to be the tone of the above statement, to rectify yourself through God.

Although really, preacher, you really need to wrap your head around that whole monster concept. I know plenty of werewolves who would argue that being a werewolf, whether spending most of their life in a human skin and shape shifting for a week a month to an animal self, is being more whole than most humans could ever imagine.

We address our baser needs, we balance this. We partake in a sense, in evolution every month that I’d like to think broadens our minds to understanding in tolerance and other things, more than most narrow minded, tunnel vision focused, routine controlled, inexperienced, humans.

Being a werewolf is like being the best you can ever be.
And the best thing about being a werewolf?

Perfect hair.


Blood Lust

January 27, 2010
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Blood lust

the word rings through my brain.

Blood and Lust.

Combined together.

It doesn’t gross me out. It actually sounds….nice. Because the werewolf part of me knows blood, likes blood, understands blood and when the time is right, even, wants blood. The werewolf me, also understands and enjoys, lust.

More often than not.

I guess it could be another name for what us werewolves refer to as lunar lust. You know, when the lunar week is on us and we all but get consumed by sexual energy and need. Only I’m not sure that’s quite accurate enough. For one thing, our eyes don’t bleed, blood when we’re super horny.

I think blood lust has more to do with blood than sex but I’m sure it combines the two as well. At least, this is the case I’ve been given the impression of. Not that I know any that have this affliction.

From what I’ve been told about Blood lust, it’s somewhat of an affliction, condition that is not unlike having your own overwhelming obsession. Of the blood kind. So it creeps me out, somewhat, that a shape shifter I don’t know has unwittingly taken a likening to me.

All because he hates the Alpha werewolf of the Manhattan Pack, my boyfriend, Paris.

I’ve been told that werewolf blood lust, is like embracing the love of rage. You get swept up in it and you let it take you over, completely and you enjoy it. It’s like letting the werewolf you really, have it’s hunt and kill, fix, that it doesn’t really get these days. It’s passion at its most violent, was the term I remember being used to describe it’s essence. I mean, we have to live in a civilized world so that kind of behavior is off the cards and not allowed.

And whilst Black Dog isn’t a werewolf, he does carry wolf in him, so I’d assume he react the same way as a werewolf.

So those urges, on a normal day, to hunt prey and take sport in the kill, are minimal, tiny even. Because they’re suppressed, by us barely acknowledging them, or allowing them to exist within our hybrid psychological make up. The feeling only sort of stirs a bit when we get excited about meat, or you know, in lunar weeks. But it’s not like none of everyday werewolves, don’t know the art of control. Or of ourselves.

But I don’t know anything about Black Dog, he doesn’t sound all that stable from the brief comments Paris has shared about him. So to hear Paris speak about Black Dog having blood lust, for me, it just weirds me out.

I sip on my alcoholic vanilla milkshake. Another lunar week, another night out at Crescent. I turn around to head back over to Paris and his friends. When a figure bumps straight into me.

Almost causing me to spill my milkshake. Almost.

I look up at the guy. The hair on the back of neck is pulling at my skin, dragging it to attention.

I can smell lupine but it isn’t Breukelen lupine scent, not that’s a surprise since I’m spending another night in Manhattan. There are other scents mingled and mixed in there, but it’s really hard to differentiate what they are.

Because they’re like specks, tiny, tiny specks of this and that. I can make out something like licorice. Of course, that could just be the smell of the dry ice in the air of the club. Or someone else’s bad body odor. Or his base scent.

I’m not truly freaked out, until he smiles at me and his eyes bleed red.
Bleed.

Not all messy and smearing out of the corner of his eyes kind of thing. I mean, the red drips down from under his eyelids around the whites of his eyes, leaving the irises, untouched, until all around it is blood red.

Blood lust.

“Everybody here calls me Black Dog, what’s your name pretty wolf?”


The gothic nature of our beasts

November 9, 2009
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As the world gears up to handle the hysteria that will sweep teenagers everywhere with the release of the new Twilight movie, New Moon, I’m reminded again – in fact more and more these days, I see media and people asking why are people attracted to vampires, why are they so popular as opposed to werewolves.

One Twitter follower stated, that she thought women were attracted to the notion of vampires because they represented in a way, the knight in shining armour sweeping the woman away on a white horse, but with a hint of danger.

Sorry, but I don’t ever want to meet a dead guy on a white horse, especially if it puts my life in danger, or if his horses name is “Pestilence” and there are three other guys riding horses with him!

Hello end of the world is so much further than “hint of danger”!

I’ve read somewhere else that a journalist believes we all have a gothic side to us therefore gothic equals love and understanding of all things vampiric.

Yeah well, disputing that.

I don’t consider myself to be gothic. The online dictionary, says gothic is:

noting or pertaining to a style of architecture
I may have my bad body days where I might say I feel as bloated as a house, but I don’t think I resemble “architecture” when I say that or when I don’t, on my good days.

pertaining to or designating the style of painting, sculpture characterized by a tendency toward realism and interest in detail.
Well I am very much a REAL person and if by details they mean gossip, then we could be on to something with this one..

pertaining to Goths or their language
I have no idea what a “Goth” in this sense is – let me check the dictionary again. Okay it says A member of a Germanic people who invaded the Roman Empire in the early centuries of the Christian era.
Again, way before my time. Also, I don’t speak the Deutschland. I do however know a bit of French, Dutch and the odd Norwegian word or two.

pertaining to the music, esp. of northern Europe, of the period roughly from 1200 to 1450
– um, No.

pertaining to the Middle Ages; medieval
NO, wasn’t born then, and don’t consider myself to be any kind of evil, let alone medieval.

barbarous or crude
Only when drunk. So that’s what, barely ever?

noting or pertaining to a style of literature characterized by a gloomy setting, grotesque, mysterious, or violent events
hmm, sometimes my life might seem to be characterized by a few of these elements, but I don’t dwell in it.

noting or pertaining to the alphabetical script introduced for the writing of
Gothic by Ulfilas

No I do not write like this with that script – I use times new roman font.

being of a genre of contemporary fiction typically relating the experiences of an often ingenuous heroine imperiled, as at an old mansion

hmm, I have heard people call my place a mansion before. But no.

So I don’t think I fall into this love-fest everyone is having with the concept of Vampires.

Yes, I’ve watched the shows, Buffy and True Blood which are great. But I have never once, associated myself with the vampire characters, and I have never once, wanted to be with the vampire characters.

I’ve always seen myself with the human characters because that’s who I live around. Beause I embrace my human side, and enjoy that part of it. That’s the world I’m in.

I think mostly that people want to fall in romantic lust with the undead vampires because they’ve been portrayed by very pretty and charismatic people on TV and screen. Because ‘paranormal’ people, such as yours truly, have something to offer the nons. The fans of the paranormal. They first think of escapisim and some sort of happy little fantasy that measures up to their ideal in their head.

Because it looks like they come from a very exciting and different world. And it probably beats going to an office job five days a week.

Of course, our paranormal lives, might be very normal by nons standards if these so called fans of vampires and werewolves were to be a vampire/werewolf ALL the time. What would they then want to be? – A human?

Oh and aren’t I (and all paranormals for that matter) meant to believe that’s what paranormal beings are striving for thier whole lives? like it’s our ideal?

But it concerns me that people are attracted to blood drinkers, these ‘vampires’ only need blood to survive. And more often than not, as shown in these shows and movies, they get their blood from their loved one. Draining them a little bit more each time its needed of life.

I kind of see that like being in an oddly abusive relationship. “You must give me what I need to survive.” – if vampires are so immortal like, you’d have think they’d figure out a way to get the blood without demanding it of their loved ones after all this time and the time in the world to figure that out.

But again the portrayal of this notion leads us to believe it’s done as an act of love either self sacrificing or not.

I understand the attraction of blood too, because my werewolf, is attracted to it. It’s kind of like, you can take so much out of the evolution scale but blood will always be part of the werewolf.

Doesn’t mean I demand it of those around me, but the animal inside of me is aware of it, and attracted to it, because it’s a predatory thing. Part of the werewolf make up.

Oh and that’s another thing, why don’t people see vampires as predators that are a danger not something that can give you a ‘hint’ of dangerous excitement?

I mean, niave much?

I think the reason people seem to like vampires is because quite simply put, they resemble, according to most folklore and movies and tv shows, humans. Yes, that’s about it. So humans are seen as more attractive and on the level of attraction to other humans than an animal. They think bestiality when they shouldn’t.

Plus, werewolves have been getting a bad wrap for so long, they’ve always been portrayed as “monsters” while the PR machine has been working over time in turning the image of the vampire around into some sort of misunderstood, moody, romantic lead, worthy of its un dead life.

But really if that’s all it takes to make someone like you, then again, its just about how not far, humans have come.

How shallow to like vampires because of their looks and at the same time, use that against werewolves because they loose their human image. But it does not mean werewolves loose their humanity, unlike Vampires.

But as it turns out, Nons are a vain lot (no pun intended) and they’d rather believe in what they can see (looks) and be fooled by these things than true intention. Hence, vampire popularity.Which you would think, in the scale of morals, deep seeded truths, and need for emotional connection, that would count for more than it does, in the image and reputation of the werewolf.

Which seems a likely truth of the gothic nature of our own – vampire, werewolf, human – personal beasts.


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