Oh Death

WARNING: Religious views, mentions of death...crappy pictures, the works...



Song: Oh Death
Artist: Jen Titus
I own nothing except the pictures and the characters who are as follows: Atil, Agnus, and Theo (the Big Three). There is a story behind this one, but I don't feel so good right now. I might edit it in later if I don't forget.

Here's another short and unactionpacked (is that even a word? Spellcheck says no) video for you. This was also made out of boredom when I really should be studying for three tests tomorrow...or reading a book I want to get finished before Wednesday...or playing Prof. Layton...so many choice and only one of them responsible.

Hmm...anyway I really like this song, it makes me calm for some reason. I guess this could also be a tribute for Supernatural since it's coming on tonight (I think...) Yeah, that's where this song is from, Supernatural, but Jen Titus didn't write the song. It was orignally a bluegrass song or something like that.

Have and awesome filled day and don't cut anybody...it's rude.
:)

Craving for Hands...

Um...WARNINGS? Cannablism (maybe?), murder, Crappy pictures...the usual.



Audio used: Llamas With Hats.
Go check out the original video on YouTube. I own nothing except the pictures used...Mr. Stick, Mr. Figure, and Mr. Stick-Figure come and go as they please.

Wow, this is really short! I made this out of boredom and putting off reading the final chapter of The Scarlet Letter...I only have about five more pages left in that damn book. Maybe I should get on that...later.

I don't really have anything else to say, which is a first. Have a nice day :)

"This reminds me of a puzzle, Luke!"

"Right O, Professah!"

Oh Professor Layton, how I love you so! even when every living thing reminds you of a puzzle ("Oh look professah! Somebody littered!" - "Why, this reminds me of a puzzle Luke!" Oh how I hated that puzzle...it had such a simple answer too.) Mom just got the newest release to America and we've been double-teaming it hardcore...even though she hid it from me for two days...how dare you mom! You're evil! Apparently they go to the future, but I wouldn't know because I didn't get to see the beginning. But I know there's future Luke and he really hasn't changed much (and by much I mean at all. Sure he got taller, but that's about it) Ooooh I can't wait to play it alone and use trusty Trial and Error almost repeatedly before going to someone I know for help and then finally looking it up on the Internet (that goddamn apple puzzle nearly killed me!) Mom's playing it right now...it's a good thing it's a weekend and she doesn't have any homework for her tax class.

In other news, the Scarlet Letter is pissing me off. I can deal with the hypocrisy of Puritans and all of their self hate and sexual tension just fine. It's the needlessly extensive DESCRIPTIONS about pointless things that are driving me up the wall. If Hawthorne were alive today I would write him a very descriptive ten page letter of how I burned his book and how it made me feel completely and utterly satisfied to see all of those repetitive and pointless words go up in flame...and then I would complain about how he made me waste $4 and about 2 weeks of my life reading the damn thing. Don't get me wrong, I understand the book just fine and I supply plenty of conversations and meanings in class. I just hate Hawthorne's writing style. I hated Goodman Brown and The Minister's Black Veil too. I think the character I hate most is Pearl...I know I sound harsh and evil because she's just a kid, but I can't stand her. She acts like such a brat! and her mom just let's her push her around. The fact that she knows she can make her mom do whatever she wants annoys the crap out of me...that and Hester never disciplines her. I think I really started to know this hatred for her when she made Hester put the Scarlet Letter back on. I understand her reasons for it (she was unfamiliar with anything else, but her mom being gloomy), but that still doesn't mean she has to be a freaking brat. Oh, but she's a BEAUTIFUL, INTELLIGENT, child beyond her years...so that makes up for it? I don't think so.

Anyway enough of that rant. (HAWTHORNE!!!!! *shakes fist at sky*) I might be going to D.C. in October! I'm so excited!!! But I might miss Halloween back here...bummer...our plans aren't set yet, so we're not sure. It'll be awesome though! :D

Hellfire

WARNING: greatly implied LUST, Religious views, pedophilia (if you look at it from the actual movie), crappy drawings, MAJOR CREEPERNESS!!!! You have been warned!



Song: Hellfire
From: The Hunchback of Notre Dame
Characters used in this video: Theo, Mr. Stick-Figure, and a statue...they belong to me, although Mr. Stick-Figure comes and goes freely...

Gah! I told myself I wasn't going to make a video with this song because I would ruin it and yet I did it anyway! Ha ha! Take that self! In your face! Wait...damnit... Anyway I love this song to bits and pieces. It's probably my favorite Disney villain song. That's right! This beauty came from DISNEY!!! This was in a kid's movie...but no kid noticed it because of the pretty colors on the screen...at least that's what it was like for me, although I hated this movie when I was younger and now I love it. This song and The Bells of Notre Dame are my favorite.

Okay! On to the video! It's different than what I usually do (Repo!), and this whole thing was basically one big experiment to see what I could do with some symbolism and MovieMaker...crying statues is what popped into my head first...I hope somebody gets the symbolism in that. If not, I failed...oh well this was fun to make, so whatever...interpret it as you will~

I reeeeeaaaalllllyyyy want to do The Plagues from Prince of Egypt sometime because it's one of my favorite songs of all time...but I think I'm going to have the two roles switched so the good guy is the bad guy and vice versa. That should be fun.

P.S. If you want to know who he (Theo) is lusting after that's making him sin and stuff...it's his sister. I know...I'll explain eventually...maybe.

Zydrate Anatomy

WARNING: Drugs, violence, SURGERY, crappy pictures, all that good stuff...



Song: Zydrate Anatomy
From: Repo! The Genetic Opera

Characters used in this one: Atil, Agniatil, Andrea (hey they all start with A!) and all three belong to me. I only own the pictures...nothing else!

Anybody else notice the chair slowly dissapear? I suck with props...

About this: I've had this song stuck in my head for the past week thanks to Lauren. Gah! Lauren, WHY? This and a couple Disney villian songs have been floating around up there and I needed to get at least one of them out. I also did it because Lauren and I have been confusing several classmates when we suddenly burst into song about Repomen and Zydrate and we have to explain things...we need to find time to watch this movie together...it'd be like a sing-along!

I think I'm going to do Genterns and Bravi! next because they're pretty short (neither are even a minute long and Genterns is hilarious!)

Chapter 2

Proceed Right or Left

There are many types of people in this world. I won’t bother naming all of them. I’m sure you can name quite a few on your own without my help. As it were though, we will be focusing on a particular breed of male for now. Please prepare yourself…he can be a bit, what’s the word I’m looking for? Extreme.

Wilhelm, preferably pronounced Vilhelm, was, I’m sorry, is an unusual man. For one thing, he is an albino, which in itself is largely unseen. For another, he has a strange fascination with death.

Take that bit of information as you will.

Now, this first generation German is our first character in this jumbled mess of a story. Why? Well, as life would have it, Vilhelm had a habit of being first in everything. It is no surprise Violet would pick one of his tales first without even looking. But as he would say: “It was the sheer gravity of my absent presence that drew attention to me, of course!”

As I said: Be prepared.

1929

1930ish America is often depicted as gray or bleak, with the weight of the depression heavy on each inhabitant’s shoulders. Particularly in New York, where the soup lines are long and the sleeping figures lying on the streets are many.

Such was not the case with one Vilhelm Veilderschmit (I’m sorry, but I don’t know how to spell his last name, never having seen him write it or having to write it down myself. Veilderschmit is indeed how you pronounce it, I am certain of that). That man was full of life where all others were dead. But then again, that had always been the case.

Perhaps that was why he had two lovely ladies on each arm.

“…left ‘em at the cleaners!” Vilhelm laughed loudly at the punch line to his own joke as the two ladies threw their heads back and laughed, their short hair bouncing merrily. “And he never lived it down!”

This was a typical sight for those who knew Veilderschmit. Always telling crude jokes and loving up the ladies. Who knew where they even came from? It was quite possible that Vilhelm himself didn’t even remember where he picked them up.

It was too bad he couldn’t afford a car.

“Oh Willy!” One of the girls patted his arm as she laid her head down on his shoulder. “Where do you hear these jokes? They’re so funny I could die!”

He would have had so much fun with a car. He would paint it red, though not with paint. Never with paint. And he would show it off to the others. Show them he wasn’t losing his touch. Wilhelm Veilderschmit never lost his touch.

And odd smile spread across his face at the girl’s words. One could only describe it as a mixture of annoyance, malice, and…something else. His pink eyes glinted slightly in the gorgeous afternoon light. “Oh?” he quirked a pale brow and showed teeth as white as his hair.

In the end, no more was said and nothing was to be done. Vilhelm would not get the red he would need to paint his non-existent car. If he had had his way though, which he was often used to getting, there would have been plenty red to go around and maybe even some pleasure in between. That was how he functioned, how he lived, how he was raised. The man was built and bred for war long before the concept had been fully grasped. He knew no other way to live.

I feel that most, if not all of his war instincts will live with him forever. They were certainly with him then, as his record may have proven to those willing to search for it. I think it was those war instincts that didn’t make him freeze and scream when the explosion rocked the earth and plooms of black smoke and fire rose to mingle with the clouds above.

It must have been those instincts that sent him running, though not in the direction you would expect. While all others had frozen or run in the opposite direction, Vilhelm had run to meet the fire. A second explosion shook the earth when he finally stopped in front of the burning and collapsing building.

He stared into the flames, his eyes dancing at the sight while a huge smile stretched painfully on his lips. He was so captivated at the sight he didn’t seem to notice a young woman rushing from behind the building, her glasses crooked on her nose and thick braided hair singed along the ends. Their shoulders knocked together in her haste to retreat the scene, but neither made any move to acknowledge the other. They were both rather preoccupied at the moment.

Seconds later, Vilhelm had begun laughing as he continued to stare into the chaos and burning wreckage. It was just so incredibly glorious! This was what he lived for. This uncontrollable feeling, like the fire in front of him. This was what he had been born for.

It was not a minute later that he was tackled to the ground and shoved into a pair of handcuffs while someone read out his rights to him in a tight voice.

It seemed Wilhelm Veilderschmit was going to jail for a crime he wished he had committed.

1931

The train station was alive and active with the usual hustle and bustle of people coming and going and merely just standing there. We’re going to focus on a stationary subject for now.

Vladimir Kostov was early, he knew this. In fact he had planned on it. How early was he? Oh, about four hours.

He was standing in the exact middle of the exiting area of the trains, where all the incoming passengers would eventually come through to get to the exit of the station. A large bouquet of sunflowers was held gently in his arms so as not to rumple or crinkle any of the bright petals. Wrapped snugly around his neck was a pale pick scarf that contrasted greatly with his long dark coat. Gloved fingers absentmindedly stroked one of the sunflower petals. It appeared as if he was dressed for a mild winter, but the signs of late spring or early summer were visible through the doors of the station.

Vladimir didn’t mind though. He could barely feel the heat. He had decided long ago that he would make himself numb to all temperatures. Low and behold, he did. It was amazing what one could do when one merely put in the effort to succeed.

The man was smiling slightly, as he often did. It was when that smile suddenly widened or dropped that you need worry. But as of now that smile was at a safe level, matching his soft ice blue eyes which were shifting every ten minutes or so from the large clock on the wall to the large open doors in front of him. He had been like this for quite some time, merely standing and watching with those flowers held as if the bundle was a human child in his arms.

No one paid him any mind save for the staff, who occasionally threw worried or confused looks in his direction. They found it curious that a man could stand so still for so long seemingly without any purpose but to watch a clock and stare at passengers stepping off the latest train. Saying they found it unnerving would be a light way of putting it.

In the end the staff at the reception desk decided who would have to talk to the strange and somewhat intimidating man with the sunflowers. “Obviously, he’s a foreigner,” one man in a crisp uniform stated. “He probably doesn’t understand what any of the signs mean.”

“But why would he stand there for an hour instead of asking someone?” a fifteen year old staff member whispered back, shaking slightly as he stared across the floor at the man. The poor boy was new to the job and was quite shy. He didn’t want to get involved with any strange foreigners, especially large ones like the one in question.

The first man shrugged. “How am I supposed to know what’s going through his head right now?”—he had his suspicions of course, but they were far off the mark. Vladimir was thinking of gift he had recently given to a very dear friend of his—“All I know is, it’s our job to help people who may need help and that guy looks like he might need help.” He gave the fifteen year old a light nudge with his elbow. “Go get ‘em, Richie.”

“W-why me?”

“Because you need more experience in the field.”

“You’re just making me do it because you’re too scared to!”

“Get out there or I’ll tell the manager you’re not doing your job!” he hissed and shoved the young man from behind the desk, forcing him to leave his safe haven. The boy stumbled a bit and one of his hands latched onto the edge of the desk. He looked from Vladimir to his colleague, a pleading look on his face. He received nothing more than a finger jabbed in the direction of his new charge. Richie gulped quietly and dug his fingers into his uniform. He took short, jerky steps to the tall man in the middle of the exit platform.

Vladimir was staring at the clock and counting the seconds until he would switch his gaze to the platform when he heard a small broken voice somewhere near his right elbow. “C-Can I h-h-help you with s-something, s-sir?” He looked down to find a shivering boy a head and a half shorter than himself with dirty blonde hair and huge green eyes. Vladimir wondered idly in the poor boy was cold. His chattering teeth certainly indicated as such. Oh, but the child had asked him a question.

“Ah, yes.” He answered and was disheartened to see the boy’s shivering become worse. Was he sick? Surely if you were sick enough to shake then you shouldn’t come into work! Perhaps he would retire to his home after their talk. Yes, that would be best, Vladimir decided. “Do you perchance know when the train The Mayflower will be arriving? I find most time schedules somewhat tiring and needlessly confusing. What with the delays and rescheduling. I am never up to date on this information.” He asked kindly, hoping that he had been clear enough in his speech. English had never been one of his favorite languages, but recently he had been trying to improve.

The boy’s shaking seemed to improve slightly. Maybe this guy isn’t so scary, he thought to himself. He looked the tall foreigner up and down, taking in the sunflowers, pink scarf, and smile. He looked like a giant teddy bear…and yet there was something about him, Richie just couldn’t explain. That something prevented him from becoming still and being comfortable with the man.

“T-The Mayflower?” Richie wrinkled his brow slightly when the foreigner nodded his head happily. He had to think for a second. Remembering every train that came through here and at what time was a hard job, one that he thought he would never master. The name sparked a memory from that morning in the staff room. Something about a maiden voyage…the train’s first run. That’s right! The Mayflower was a new fancy deluxe train coming in from Chicago being run for the first time. It was supposed to be a new style of train built for luxury and comfort rather than just transport. You had to have some serious cash to be aboard that train and on its maiden voyage no less…

“U-um…” he thought back to the time tables for today and glanced at the clock on the wall. “I-it’s not due f-for at least another t-two hours.”

Two hours? Vladimir thought. That meant he wasn’t nearly as early as he had intended. The train schedule must have changed again. Oh well, now he wouldn’t have to wait as long for The Mayflower to arrive. This was good news! He smile became much more genuine as he looked down at the boy. He would have to give him something for his help. One of his sunflowers perhaps? Hmm…but they were for someone else. One couldn’t hurt though, right?

“Thank you, Comrade, for your help.” He pulled the smallest flower from his bouquet and handed it over to the boy. “You should go home to rest now. That shaking does not look good.”

Richie took the flower in confusion, wondering what the man was talking about. He was about to reply when a loud voice called across the room, effectively silencing any and all conversation taking place.

“All station personnel, report to the break room immediately!” both he and the foreigner turned to face the owner of that voice. Richie gulped when he saw it was the station manager. Something was wrong, he could just feel it. With one last glance at the man beside him, who smiled at him warmly, Richie hurriedly walked to the break room, finding that all of the others were already there looking at each other in confusion, trying to figure out what was going on.

The manager walked in one minute after him and began in a hard voice, “The station has just received a phone call from a conductor aboard The Mayflower. It appears the train has been hijacked. We have confirmed an explosion on board, before the line was cut. One of the engines may have been blown but we are not certain of this.”

“What!? How do you know?” a lone voice called out in the following silence.

The manager stared coolly at his colleagues. “The Senator’s wife and daughter are being held for a ransom of one hundred million dollars. If the perpetrators do not receive this ransom before twelve o’clock tonight, they will kill the other passengers one by one until they receive the money. The Senator has been notified of the situation and is making his decision as we speak.”

Richie stared at the manger in horror, the sunflower held loosely in his hand. He thought back to the foreigner on the platform. He had been waiting for someone on The Mayflower. Those sunflowers must have been for someone special.

“He’s going to pay them right?” he hadn’t realized he was speaking until the words were already out of his mouth. “H-he wouldn’t let them kill everyone else on the train…would he?”

The others in the room looked from Richie to the manager in silence. The manager was the very epitome of grim as he focused his stare at the boy.

“It is very likely,” he said, “that the ransom will not be paid.”

Back on the platform, Vladimir was humming to himself, thinking of sunflowers and presents, while the most wonderful feeling burned in his heart.

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What is going on!? Who are these new characters and why do they matter? Will we find out what's happening on the train? Tune in next time for some answers in next week's new episode of...I'm sorry, I've just always wanted to do that XD

*cough* Anyway, I'm not the best at staying focused when I research stuff, so some things are probably wrong, like I wasn't sure about the whole telephone on a train back then thing...so I went with it. Please correct me if I'm wrong.

Yes, TIME SKIPS...'cause everybody loves those *so much sarcasm it hurts* It jumps back and forth, but I'll label each one so it hopefully won't get too confusing.

Point out any spelling or grammar mistakes and I'll give you a cookie! :)

Cell Block Tango

Um, WARNING?: Implied murder, language?, probably inaccurate translations, crappy stick figure drawings, fail acrobatic poses...the works



Oh my! I cannot tell you how much fun I had making this (I'm a freakin' shut in)! It was hard though...I mean, SEVEN MINUTES!? you have got to be kidding me! I pity animators, I really do...but I love them so. Yeah, the girls are bald because I fail at drawing hair. At least their dresses are pretty!

On to other news...WEAR YOUR SEAT BELTS!!! they save lives!...And pinball...lots of pinball (there's something wrong with me)

I need to finish Zyrdate Anatomy so people can listen to the song to crappy pictures moving around in a white background. I love this hobby of mine. It's my friend.

Song: Cell Block Tango
From: Chicago

No Copyright intended...in case anyone wants to sue me or something.

:)