As a pre-conceived warning, this MTM will not be as good as last seasons. Due to my own mistake, I should’ve been more specific on it being more of a look description so I could have free range on the episode writing, however these girls and the other ones coming in the next part SLAYED for their first times, and honestly they’ll make this part good themselves. I apologise.
[START] “What did you see?”
The sudden opening of the first scene occurs, appearing with a booming lightning strike sound, the constant loud splatter of rain drops pouring from the pewter clouds above can also be heard within the storm. The camera panned from the near trees, outwards into the clearing, where a drenched woman small of stature huddles within a blanket next to a police officer, residing next to the camp fire which had clearly extinguished due to the weather; the relentless amount of opaque, thick smog rising and intoxicating the air. She trembles and shakes in the cold night, shook up from something she had seen. The police officer near her leans further in, patting her back, the tense music continuing to crescendo. “I saw Ev-evi-evita.”
A close up of a mixture of rain and tears rolling off her jawline happens, then the camera suddenly switching to the policeman's frowning face. “Ok, this girls clearly done drugs. Just take her somewhere, to her home, whatever.”
The man scratches the rubble upon his jaw, and then stares into the distance of the forest, thinking that he saw a dark silhouette moving around, shaking his head and getting into his car, slamming the door in disappointment. One more lightning strike occurs, the intense, blindening blue blast of lightning covering the screen, transitioning into the new scene. Las Vegas 11:00 PM “Back, back, back here again. Spinning the wheel one more time.”
The camera pans through the streams of posh, upper class people in formal attire, treading over the crimson velvet floors and leaving behind their footprints. Fantasia can be seen, back in the same spot of last season, before a casino table in which rests the same wheel used from last season, each quarter reading the name of a final four queen. She also wore the same dress from the last time she stood in the spot. Her large, talon-like, royal blue fake nails come into view as she grabs onto the spin wheel, spinning it and watching it slow down. Vibrations emit from her phone, Fantasia looking down as she sighs and reluctantly answering the call, disrupting her attention to the spinning wheel. Whatever it landed on was blurred out as she turned, and awaits to hear the unknown voice on the call. “Who died? Have I been sent home yet? Oh no what’s the twist? Wait, I don’t want to know, what is it?” She practically yells down the phone, eyeing up those who walked past her and gave her the evils.
The scene cuts to Fantasia rushing to her car, stumbling in her heels, gripping onto the cold handle and swinging the door open, throwing herself in. She ends the phone call, sighing, and then drives down the strip and out into the dessert. The roaring exhaust on the vintage car emitted vast sounds waves and smoke, whipping up the sand into whirlwinds and suffocating the air that lacked any moisture. The night sky was dawned upon her, with a slight red cast as the sun went down, continuing to drive faster as she looked at the time within her car. She eventually leaves the dessert scene, and finds herself pulling out of a police station, rushing into the doors whilst pushing past people and peering around for the sheriff's office. “What did you see?”
She drops heavily onto the chair next to the woman who was found earlier, rushing her on for an answer. “No, I don’t care about the cross dressing pedo, and yes you’re scarred by my stunning face, but a faster answer please. I don’t have all day, not all of us work on the same brain speed of… myself.”
“I saw a dark area, I’m not sure where it was. Almost like an empty room. And there were these monsters…”
The scene fades out, transitioning to another one which shows what she saw. A dark empty area, from what we can presume a room, was shown, only lit by a far flickering bulb in the distance, the only sound is of the faulty electrics and loose wires about the room, occasionally emitting sparks. Faint footsteps echoed off the wall, but coming from no sure direction, the camera spinning slowly until it focuses on a series of unknown figures. The room was, well, as bright as you could expect an abandoned warehouse-y place to be, with walls as dark as the minds of those that entered it, and a thin veil of dust and mist that intermingled as it fell from the damp, mold-encrusted ceiling. Ava Adore slowly stepped into the light, her platforms scraping against the cold concrete floor. Her outfit was fairly simple-she wore a short, neatly-cut bob wig that just scraped her chin, green face paint dripping down her mouth in some semblance of vomit. Her eyeshadow was an acid-bright yellow and her lips a shade of pink in a similar brightness. Her t-shirt was black with neon pink writing declaring the words "Vomit gore", and her skirt was a similar shade of yellow to her eyes, a skintight PVC material. Her leg attire was quite similar in its simplicity, black fishnets with fake blood dripping down from her thighs in a crude simulation of menstruation. She gave the camera a disinterested stare with her white contacts, as if she felt almost a disdain for her situation. The dark scene fades into a confessional. [AVA | archdukelidl]: Ugh, I'm Ava Adore, I'm, like, 22? and I'm from the west midlands. Or whichever trash bag you pull me out of after a night of partying. Seriously, I've ended up in some wild places. My drag style is best described in two words: Party filth. Like, acid neon, puke and death. As you can probably tell from my outfit. I don't think it fits into the typical conventions of filth drag but I'll go with it. I like to experiment with horror stuff occasionally too. I would say my drag is out-of-the-box but that just sounds cocky, right? Oh, wait, who gives a fuck? Yeah, it's out of the box. If you can even find a box big enough to fit my fat ass. I have high hopes for myself, like, I don't expect to win, but I expect to put up a damn fight and I will cut a bitch with my fake nails if I have to. But winning would be cool so I'm not gonna do that, because that's like a disqualifiable offence, yeah? I got my drag name from a song by the Smashing Pumpkins, even though their music isn't really what filth is about. I just thought it sounded like a classy name. And I am the absolute opposite of that shit! Anyway, laters! I gotta go find some shit to drink.
“How many others did you see?”
The scene of her vision continues, Fantasias voice heard in the background as she continues to question the girl for answers. The room was dark, thick smoke covers the room as a dark shadow appears through the smog. Anita walks in, one hand on her mask, the other stretched out in a claw-like fashion. She appears in a beaked mask, akin to those worn by the plague doctors during the black plague. The base of the full black mask is made of metal and the beak is made of hard leather, with clear glass on the eyeholes. She is wearing a red leather sex harness as a top with bare chest. The straps of the harness form a crisscross across her chest and the “straps” are thick enough to cover her nipples. She is wearing a pair of flare pants with feather ruffles on the sides that move beautifully with every step she takes. A rope belt with skulls is wrapped around her waist, with the excess dangling on her left side. She is also wearing an 8-inch black stiletto heel with a chunky front portion. Anita has on black leg warmers made of feathers on her forearms over a black latex wrist-length glove underneath. She accessorizes the look with a necklace with 5 skulls spaced out around it and dangling skull earrings. She is wearing a grey thick dread wig with smaller skulls in it. As Anita walks through the smoke, she takes off the mask, revealing red tribal markings on her forehead, with 2 pointed stripes painted downwards underneath her eyes, perpendicular to her lips. She has on a strong dark smokey eye and no brows, with a strong black lip. Her body and right arm also has matching red tribal markings. To complete the look, she is wearing blackout lenses to add intensity. On her back, she is wearing a rusty copper-colored cage, held by chains like a drawstring bag, with a mystery item in it. As she walks to the center, she twists and squirms as if being possessed by a demon. Once she hits the marking, she stands straight and silent, before turning around to release the black crow in her cage. She laughs maniacally as she watches her crow fly around the room, a symbol of her releasing her evil into the atmosphere. After the camera focuses on the individual, it slowly fades back into the confessional scene. [ANITA | passingpeaches ]: Sup whores. My name’s Anita Dragname and I am 25 years old from sunny Singapore. My drag is polished, wicked and gagworthy. I signed up to Reddit Dragula 3 cause I’ve had a taste of competing in RDR1 Remastered and thought I could give this a shot too. Some of my looks on that season have been said to be “very Dragula” by the other girls, so why not? I think out of the 3 elements of Dragula, I resemble Horror the most as I’m always turning spooks, stunting creepy.
The questioning continues to be heard, as another figure can be saw in the distance, beside Anita who had just appeared in the light. “The werent only two, there were lots. Have you ever just saw something and it’s scarred you?”
“Yeah, I saw RDR2.”
“They kept appearing, it was so odd.”
The dark figure moves closer and closer. Catheterina steps out covered in dirt, head to toe. She begins by standing with her feet far apart and her arms straight out by her sides so you can take in all of her filthy glory. Her dark auburn hair is large and in charge, extremely unkempt and poofy. The hair is waist length, with the top of the wig beginning six inches above her head. Upon closer inspection, you can see that there are dead roaches all throughout her hair. Her lipstick is chocolate brown, with a smudge on her upper lip to the left to give the impression that she’s been eating dirty ass. Her eye-shadow is bright green and each in the shape of a leaf, with a line coming out of each of her eye-lines to appear as a stem. To top it off, she has a roach pasted on her forehead with two worms coming out of each side to appear as a headband. On her extended arms is a brown garter snake, wrapped around her neck and both of her arms. On her left hand it’s rearing its’ ugly head, fully alive and well, with the snake’s body ending on Catheterina’s right hand. Her chest is covered with a tassel of leaves formed in the shape of a butterfly, with two brown leaves arranged vertically across the sternum, and crumpled up orange leaves to form the breasts. She has a belt that is also made of green leaves with two twigs sticking out at each side, holding up her knee-length, upside-down-cone-shaped skirt that is made of tiny twigs and sticks and slants downwards to the point that it sticks out five inches from her knees, still leaving see through areas. She steps forward with her arms still spread out, but then raises her right hand and begins pulling the dead roaches out of her hair, until she sticks out her right hand to show the handful of six roaches, and then eats them one by one like a bunch of M&M’s. The next handful she grabs, she smushes them on her right cheek, wiping the trails of their bodies across her face and then licking up the remnants. She pulls a worm off her forehead and it begins to swirl around. She lets it through one of the holes in her skirt to crawl up her urethra, with her mouth wide open in shock and pleasure at what she’d just done. For her finale, she unwraps the snake from her arms and allows it to hang around her neck for a bit, before bringing it up to her face and allowing it to lick her. She returns the favor by deep-throating its’ head before pulling it back out, still bobbing its’ head. [CATHETERINA | asiaoharasdragrace]: I’m Catheterina Dick, named after the hopes that my outfits will make you cringe harder than my drag name and like I tell all my male suitors, I’m 18. I’m from Louisiana. Considering no one would recognize the name of my actual town, I’ll just go with New Orleans. It’s like my home away from home because there’s smelly homeless people everywhere so I fit right in. If I had to describe my drag in 3 words, mental illness manifestation. Kidding, sort of, but really I’d say campy, grungy, and trashy. I signed up for this because I need the online validation I don’t get in real life. Jk, but in all honesty I’ve been following these interactive seasons for a while, and Dragula allows you more freedom to be crazy and nasty and shocking, so I figured this was my opportunity to take the nightmares I’ve been having as long as I can remember and bring them to life- on Reddit. I easily resemble filth the most. I’m literally down for anything. This look only scratched the surface of how gross I am. I will drink piss and swallow whole live frogs and chop off toes if that gets me the Reddit Dragula crown. Hell, I’ll still do it anyways.
“Ew, that one sounded gross. Let me guess, there was another one?”
As the exposed queens disappear, the continuation of the sound of footsteps occurs, getting closer and closer, the camera occasionally flickering off and on. Sue stepped out into the light with a pure air of elegance, embodying the jazz singers of days gone. When she looked in the lense you felt the whiff of whisky and regret hit you. When she twirled and the slit came up on that velvet gown it was as if she was sex herself. Candid, yet with ulterior motives behind it. She pulled a stiff cigar from her bodice, but rather than putting it to her mouth she put it to her neck, seemingly inhaled and then released the fumes through her mouth. The years of sin in the city and vice had made physical differences to her body. Rather than letting it be a catalyst for improvement she simply used it to show how little she cared. Her arm began to jitter, and she ripped off her glove revealing an IV bag of yellow liquid attached to her arm. Her hand began to contort into an assortment of glamorous poses, showing it to be in her nature to keep it beautiful. She pulled out a bottle of red wine from under her dress titled “Jesus juice, tastes like the end of the road”. She yanked out the cork and began drowning her arm in the juice, attempting to get it into where the IV had rested. She needed into her bloodstream, and the way she shook the bottle to get the liquid in was near visceral. Exhausted from the ordeal she fell to the ground, pulling her glove back up above her elbow in an attempt to be seductive, before giving up on this wish (as she likely did with many others in her life), and dragged her makeup while grabbing the cross laden below the throat cavity and saying some short prayers [SUE PERB | HashtagDeathSplat]: I am Sue Perb, short for Susan Perb and longer for Susanne Perb, I am from The United Kingdom and I’m whatever age you want me to be. Sue is unexpected, polished and pristine. She serves you glamour with a twist. She’ll give you always a simple silhouette but always with a trick up her sleeve. It’s always polished and neat before it all inevitably goes to shit when she destroys the floor. I always try to embody a glamour and a beauty in what I do, and I use that as my way to present the other aspects. I signed up to Dragula to win a motherfucking crown and do something creative with my vacation.
“I mean, they weren’t all females. There was one that appeared quite masculine too.”
“Not a straight right?”
“I don’t know.”
Another daunting silhouette can be seen, as the light flickers Sue disappears from view, whilst the unknown person walks towards the lens. The king emerged from the darkness of the room, a flash of light coming from the miners helmet he is wearing. Cobwebs cling to the yellow helmet as the dim headlamp flickers. His face is sunken in, the makeup creating deep dark circles under his eyes and sharp, jutting edges of his face. His chin has a smattering amount of dark brown stubble, which is contrasted by his intensely thick brown eyebrows. His face is an ashen gray color with short dirty blonde hair sweeping down to partially shade his eyes, which are blue. His overalls are a dark faded green color, they cling to his body, revealing a thin, wiry frame, and they are covered in dust and cobwebs. He is bare chested underneath the overalls, with the rest of his body painted similar to his face: gray and skeletal. There is a huge tear in the side of his overalls, caused by a large chunk of rock embedded into his side, with blood seeping through at a slow rate. His heavy, black combat boots drag and kick up dust as he shuffles forward deliberately, clutching a spray-painted gray sunflower close to his chest. [INDIGO CHILD | cloudess15]: Hey, I’m Indigo Child, also known as
cloudess15, and I’m 26, which means I’m past my biological prime and my cells are slowly dying. I’m a punk ghoul from the Twin Cities and my drag can best be described as undead, cynical, and comical. I definitely represent horror the best because there is nothing more terrifying than a butch who knows how to do makeup. I decided to do this competition to further develop my drag aesthetic. Let the Purple Reign begin!
The office scene returns, where Fantasia can be seen frowning at the girl whilst she describes what she saw. “Portia, girl, come on. Please don’t tell me you’re having a relapse from your drug look on the Coachella challenge.”
Suddenly the woman, now known as Portia, snaps out of her depressing mood, turning red as she watches Fantasia rub her head in disappointment. “It’s not my fault. It got me the win, so why wouldn’t I try again for the finale?”
“Just continue, tell me the others.”
It snaps back to the dark room. A very tall and very pale figure steps into the doorway. In the half light, all that is visible is the soaring swoop of a skyscraper pompadour, and the glowing ash of a lit cigarette. She exhales the smoke in a perfect circle and steps forward. Razor sharp cheekbones adorned with metallic silver contour draw your attention up to golden brown eyes framed with lengthy spiked lashes. There is a sparkling viscous substance smudged around the eye and delicately spilling down her cheeks. How much of it is silicone glitter versus actual blood is anybody's guess. Her nails are certainly long enough to have scratched somebody's eyes out. Her fur bomber coat is as blood red as her hair, but the artfully slashed sequined chiffon strands underneath it could only be called a shirt by the blind or the generous. The only thing keeping the top half of the outfit from disintegrating is an elaborately woven double wide obi style belt made from sex shop cock rings and bits of old denim. Silver latex high waisted leggings hug a booty that tests the limits of the concept of 4 way stretch, and the surprisingly long and slender legs that carry it are encased in a red latex thigh high boot that matches the hair and the coat. She takes the last drag of her cigarette (stained with remnants of lacquered red lipstick), and crushes it under her stiletto heel in a manner that borders on niche pornography. [ANGIE APATHY | msmonochrome]: Hello uglies! I'm Angie Apathy, old enough to know better, but young enough to still do it anyway. I'm born and bred in New York City, a place so dirty that my last subway ride was probably filthier that all of last season's runways put together. If I had to describe my drag in 3 words, they would be grungy grindhouse sexbot. I can switch from Fellini to Fulci at the drop of a hat, and bring a Dragula style celluloid cocktail of glamour and horror to the competition, with a dash of kink fueled filth thrown in. As a new face, these other girls might not give me much credit. That's fine, as I prefer to get the cash up front. Why Dragula Season 3? Apathy is nothing more than a fancy word for having not a single fuck left to give, and I am here to snatch the crown away from the tired masses of H.P Lovecraft fanfic and queens who still think blood capsule residue dribbling down their chin with some butcher shop entrails is super spooky.
The faulty light bulb flickers once again, Angie fading from view, replaced by one more dark silhouette that falters in the distance, stumbling towards the ambience of light. A diadem of black tendrils sat proudly upon her grey skin. The cords intertwined themselves in a complicated manner, tying into thick webs that formed a netting. Only two of the crown's cords were not fitting in this order, instead, hanging loosely upon each side of her face. Her skin was grey, the shadows battling each other upon her visage. Her lips were basked in a deep plum color, with a single drop of blood staining them. Her cheekbones were high, strangely and disgustingly high. Erathelle stares down with her white contact lenses. There was only white in her pupils, the tones of violet and grey that danced around her eyelids being the only drop of color present. Where her eyebrows should have been, another pair of eyes were drawn. They were angular, thin, sharp, staring directly at the camera. Her gown went up to her neck. The lace of it was black, delicate, and torn into several spots, leaving her skin exposed around the shoulders and collarbones. Her abdomen resembled an insectoid carapace, having a series of blunt spine-like structures erupting around her stomach and down to her hips, where the dress falls down into a mermaid cut that hugged her legs tightly, spinning about as she walked. There were long threads of linen that hanged from her hands and diadem, swathing in the wind as she walked. Erathelle brought up a single finger to her lips. Pressing hardly upon her skin with her dark, fake nail, she would cut down in a single swipe as a thin droplet of blood crashed down upon her chin. The goddess Arachne had been dormant for too long - and now, she grows hungry. [ERATHELLE | cuntaliefondant]: My drag name is Erathelle, but you can call me Era for short. It comes from my religious name. I am a Wiccan priest, and I go by "Erastis". So I took "Era", and added "thelle", because I love French sounding shit and there you have it. I am eighteen years of age. Fresh out the womb, right? I’m from Romania, where all the vampires and gypsies come from. Hide your drag from me, I'm gonna steal it. My drag in three words would be blasphemous, obscene, foul. A girl after your own heart. I think I embody horror the most. I think my purpose as a monster is to defile, and I really can't put it in better words. Everything I touch turns into a horrifying, ugly, repulsive mess.
Fading back to the scene in which Portia and Fantasia sat opposing one another, they both pause for a second and think. “So, you’ve basically cast S3 for me through a drug trip?” Fantasia quieries her, confused but also thankful at the same time.
“Well, if you want them monsters on the cast then yeah, I guess so. What about the other 6?”
“I’ll go to wherever you imagined, you must’ve been there in the past anyway and find the others. Thanks, you’ve finally been useful for once.” She pats Portia on the back as she rises, heading to the door. “Write that damn finale submission already too, whore.”
She hurries out of the police station, in disgust with the toxic fumes that arose from the severe amounts of men smoking cigarettes, coughing as she regains balance on the slippery steps and gets back into her car. Pulling out a raggedy map from the cabinet, she opens it up and looks down at where she’s meant to be driving. “I don’t even know how to work maps.”
She scans her finger over certain circled locations, such as one labelled ‘ancient chapel’, even one in Mexico, sighing. “I’ll just go north.”
Fantasia presses down onto the acceleration pedal, switching on the radio and Euthanasias rap begins to play as the car storms off into the distance, disappearing from view. [END] Yet again, I apologise for the quality of the episode. Episode one will make up for it, and just a thank you to each queen in this part and the upcoming one for doing so well and actually making this worth reading.
submitted by California Tribal Casinos: Questions and Answers. In 1987, a U.S. Supreme Court decision involving two California tribes set in motion a series of federal and state actions that dramatically expanded tribal casinos here and in other states. Now, California’s casino industry outranks all but Nevada’s in size. In Lewis, if the Supreme Court finds that tribal employees can be sued in state court, then any time a tribal employee leaves the reservation, they can be subject to lawsuits outside of tribal courts. OSB Professional Liability Fund - OSB PLF - Oregon Can I sue a tribe for money damages for death or bodily injury? In evaluating whether you or a family member may have a claim for injuries or wrongful death, it is important to understand how Native American tribes differ from non-tribal entities such as Cities, Counties, States, and the federal government. Tribal-owned casinos operate on Native American lands. You can enjoy the same amenities as any other casino, including luxury hotels, restaurants, pools, entertainment, and gambling. However, tribal lands are sovereign. If you’re injured in a casino on tribal land, the state’s personal injury laws may not apply. Tribal casinos may be sued in U.S. courts if they willingly waive their immunity. In short, Tribes need to consent to be sued. It seems clear how undesirable it would be to do so, yet some, like the Navajo, have done so in the past. Gambler Denied $1.37 Million Jackpot, Can’t Sue Tribal Casino Due to Sovereign Immunity. Posted on: October 2, 2017, 06:08h. Last updated on: August 20, 2018, 12:49h. The short answer is yes, you can. Lawsuits arising from injuries on tribal lands are handled in tribal courts. That is a separate bar for lawyers. Not every lawyer can handle this case, they need to be a personal injury lawyer that is admitted to practice before the tribal bar. Those contractors who from time to time contract with Indian tribes* might take notice of a case from the United States Supreme Court. In 1998 the U.S. Supreme Court issued a decision in Kiowa Tribe of Oklahoma v. Manufacturing Technologies, Inc. 523 U.S. 751 (1998). The facts are as follows: Manufacturing Technologies, Inc., entered into a stock purchase contract with the Kiowa Tribe. Casino customers must sue in tribal court, judge rules By Thomas Cole / Of the tribal courts have exclusive jurisdiction over lawsuits arising on Indian land against tribes or tribal members.
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