The Lady is a Vamp

God, I LOVE this. :]

Confessions of a Dead Girl

[[ Vivacious Vamps - Assignment one - The story how how you were turned. ]]

Dear Diary,
I'm a vampire. I have no idea how this happened. I have no idea how this COULD have happened. Saturday was my birthday. I was alive, diary. It was my eightenth birthday and the world was big and full of possibility. Katelyn has snagged one of her older sister's friends ID's (who just so happens to look like me), and she and Mel were determined to sneak me into Club Seven. I had been DYING to go there, diary. It was one of the few clubs in Manhattan I had never managed to get into.
I spent all day getting ready - a silly little girl, fussing over my hair and makeup, trying desperately to look older. I spent hours obsessing over what shoes to wear with what dress, what bag I would carry, should I wear pink or black or silver or - it all seems so pointless now. Had I known it was the last day I'd be alive - truly alive - I'd have spent them doing something meaningful. If I'd known it was the last birthday where I'd get older in more than ceremony, I'd have spent more time thanking my mom for the beautiful pink cake rather than rushing to blow out the candles so I could shove down a few bites and get out the door. Had I known my heart would never beat again, I would have savored the love pouring through our brightly lit yellow kitchen... but I didn't. Because I didn't know it was the night I was going to die.


The bouncer barely glanced at my ID as he stepped aside and ushered us in. I stifled the urge to jump up and down and thrust my fist into the air in triumph. I GOT IN. Mel shot me a victorious glance as she pushed her blonde hair out of her face. The night was magic, pulsing all around me as I drank and danced, and drank and danced some more. The music throbbed in the dimly lit brick building. Looking back, that club was nothing special. Brick walls, dirty concrete floors, loud music - a bar just like any other bar. But I'd been turned away at the door so many times that those bricks could have been made of pure gold, the shot glasses exquisite diamonds.

I don't even know what time it was. All I remember is that I was craving a cigarette and fresh air like a drug. I don't know why I didn't ask one of my friends to go with me. I don't know why I stepped into that dark, dirty, New York City back alley by myself. But I did - a stupid girl making stupid decisions.
I leaned against the exterior brick, breathing in deep breaths and enjoying my cigarette; the dull, bass hum of the music from inside lulling me into a deep state of calm. I should have went back inside. I've replayed that memory in my head so many times that the edges are worn down, each and every time cursing myself for pulling out that second cigarette.


That's where everything get's fuzzy - like a part of my memory has been erased. Psychologists say the brain shuts down in order to protect us from things we'd be better off not remembering. Trust me, I'd be better off remembering. I can't say the same for him.

I don't know what he looks like. He was blonde. And beautiful. But it stops there. I know nothing else of him. I have vague memories, bits and pieces more like out of focus snapshots or split-second freeze frames.

I remember the concrete walls of his loft. The wet floors littered with trash and beer bottles. The blood-stained mattress where I died. His wrist in my mouth. My blood and his. Laying there in a dazed stupor, content to feel nothing for the rest of my life than the high that was his blood.



Then I woke up in the parking garage remembering NOTHING. My jaws hurt with a pressure I'd never felt before - throbbing, searing pain above my canine teeth, like something was trying to claw it's was out of my gum line. It was, but I didn't know that at the time.

Slowly, week by week, month by month, I'm piecing these snapshots together... and when I remember his face, I can promise one thing, diary. He'll meet the true death.

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AllStars - assignment one.

:::Assignment #1::: due 8/3o
for this assignment you will need TWO photos. The first photo is to be a high fashion shot. It will have to be in a bathing suit and you must pose with a male model.

For the second shot I would like a hot picture, very $exy! Same rules in a bathing suit with a male model.

Since you guys are so good at editing and creative I had to make this contest have harder assignments to work with.

TIPS:
Remember high fashion should be appealing to all sorts of people men and women to try and sell what you are modeling. In guys magazines they want to see something hot!

Photo 1:


Photo 2:

three new edits . . .

Miss Underworld:
Assignment 4

Round 1: In regards to your song, your pic must be a “scene” from the song, following the lyrics for a shot in a music video of that song. Except that Medusa had other ideas and sent you all, save one into a time machine, each of you ending up in a different era (your pick). For the one not Sabotaged, Medusa gives you a key. You may choose to open door number 1 or the door to the time machine and pull someone else out that will be free from Sabotage. If you pull a person free of the time machine, she will also get to open one of three doors for a prize. Will you take the risk?

Round 2: Medusa calls and tells you LE is out scouting for new talent, but had booked you all a swimwear photoshoot on a beautiful island beach. Too bad Medusa switched the tickets and you ended up some place where swimwear is not the best thing to wear, at all. For the one not sabotaged and Chama, you are at a beautiful beach.


****

I couldn't have been more excited when I found out what song Medusa had assigned to me - I mean, who DOESN'T love The Who? I mean, really. I was loving the concept of the video, until all of a sudden, a stagehand (who couldn't have been human, because, let's face it, no human could push me anywhere) pushed me into this ... well, I didn't exactly know what it was at first, it looked like Back to the Future meets old school stand up tanning bed meets broom closet. When the purple lights came on, I started feeling light headed and stifled the urge to call out for McFly.
Then it started. The low, resonating whir - and then the wind that felt like it separated my body, atom, by atom. It was excruciation, but it's all I remember. Yes. I can admit it. The third strongest shifter in the entire state of Louisiana passed out from the pain.

When I woke up, despite the headache and the pile of vomit next to me - it only took me a few moments to realize where I was. Before I even opened my eyes - I smelled pack. Strong. All around me... and trust me - when a Were is hurt - that's what you want to smell. Home. But I still wasn't prepared for what I saw.

I'd been here before - or better yet - i'd been to this exact site in the future. One of the oldest Panthera meeting places ... but the way it looked was something I'd only seen drawings of in secret texts my dad kept in a vault under his study. The trees were there, something I'd found terrifying until my father had explained their significance. The skulls of past leaders and the strongest alphas were hung from sacred trees to keep their knowledge and power close to the pack - and were honored every full moon...

Maybe you don't know a lot about our history - but we've been here as long as you have - and we are global. Google "Panther Sightings in England and the Americas." The actual animal is not native to the area, but some how sightings of enormous black cats go back as early as people kept record. Yep. It was us. And though, all through history, we'd be burned at the stake like witches if ever exposed - those of us who managed to stay hidden among humans (despite being ... lunarly-challenged) were vital to human existence. That incredible hunter that managed to always find food to bring home to his village? You can bet he was one of us. The shaman who healed your child of the sickness that was taking lives in record numbers all around you? He was one of us too.

And I'd somehow landed back in (what I guessed was) the 1300's - in the middle of the Somhain Lunar Hunt.


o u t . h e r e . i n . t h e . f i e l d s ; i . f i g h t. f o r . m y . m e a l s .
i . g e t. m y . b a c k . i n t o. m y . l i v i n g
i . d o n t . n e e d . t o . f i g h t . t o . p r o v e. i m . r i g h t.
i . d o n t . n e e d . t o . b e . f o r g i v e n.

The next morning, I woke up to a steel toed boot being jammed into my ribs; I growled - but only heard a laugh in response. It's not a laugh you ever forget once you've heard it - devoid of all joy, all humor.. full of pure contempt. Medusa.

"You were supposed to be at he airport this morning." She arranged her mouth into what she probably thought was a smile and pointed at her watch.

"Technically, I'm supposed to be at the airport in about..." I did a few calculations in my head, "...in a little over seven hundred years, Medusa. I've got time to sleep it off." I rolled over - even though I knew I wasn't getting to go back to sleep. I'd been allowed to hunt with the Bluestone pack the night before - to shift with the descendants of the LEGENDS who built Stonehenge (Yep. WerePanthers. I mean, seriously, do you actually think HUMANS could have lifted those stones?). The air felt different here - charged with electricity and magic.. and really - they'd hunted. I'd ran and jumped and rolled in the dirt like a kitten - batting leaves around in the air and climbing trees just to look out at the untainted, undeveloped English landscape as it had been centuries ago with my panther eyes, seeing farther into the distance than any human ever could.

Before I could even fake a snore, I was being pulled to my feet by my hair. Medusa whirled me around and that snarl she calls a smile was still in place.

"You have your swimwear shoot." And with that, we were time-traveling again - only worse. No time machine, no flux capacitor - just me in open space-time, hanging by my hair from Medusa's stony fingertips. At least I didn't pass out this time. I fell to my knees as soon as we hit land and proceeded to gag until I was dry heaving in the snow. ...Snow?

"I though you said swimwear." I managed to gasp out between convulsions.

"Hmm.." she murmured - amusement in her voice. "Traveling with out use of stones or a machine is ... tricky." She laughed. "I guess we'll just have to make due here."




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there is a house in New Orleans, they call The Rising Sun...

Okay; I've NEVER had this much trouble coming up with an idea for a photo. I couldn't think of anything - so i kept putting it off - but here it is:

There was havoc in the old cemetery outside of Twinbrook today - some wannabee voodoo "priestess" decided that for S100,000 she would raise her first zombie. Problem was, the corpse in question was over 100 years old, and to be honest, the dumb little girl just didn't have the juice to hold it in her power circle. Luckily, Emilie just happened to be in the right place at he right time. Having spent time in Haiti, the west Indies, and Africa, Emilie has a least a budding knowledge of all things Vodun (not to mention her mother's creole ancestry on her side). She finally managed to get through the frantic girl's (very weak - but still intact) power circle, and finally got the zombie under control - with a big old taste of her own blood. The girl's clients got their big show and Emile bound the zombie back to his grave with good, old-fashioned table salt. Afterward, she pulled the still-weeping wanna-be to the side; and let's just say, she won't be raising the dead again, any time soon.

she's miss california; hottest thing in west LA

Elite Modeling Agency
Assignment THREE:

Throw on those swimwear girls cause your next photoshoot is being hosted by LaMont Fashions. They have a new line of swimsuits and one of you lucky ladies will win the opportunity to model for them, on the runway and off! But first they want to see what you got.
Here's what you need to do:
★Scene can be anywhere OUTDOORS.
★LaMont Fashions is known for their skimpy wears and sexy clothing lines, so you don’t want to bring a plain suit to the shoot. Bring something that will make them say “WOW! She is the one we want in our swimwear!”
★No text on the photo please, and no extras, one photo.