#i do hope she becomes warped beyond recognition though

[biteitwhenitssoft]

"I was born down here and I'll die down here. Happy?" Babygirl don't say that

[sparksinthenight]

Greek gods are so much more interesting once you know the secret history

Hermes: Originated from a nature god. (🐌 fam where you at?) Trickster. (🗳 fam where you at?) Journies and pathways and doors and exits and travellers and travelling and borders and roads. (❌🧊 fam this is for y’all.)

Dionysus: Y’all think he’s about wine but he’s literally OLDER than the presence of wine in Greece he wasn’t a wine god to begin with there was no wine to begin with when he first was worshipped. (Fuck you ✋🏼🧚🏽 I genuinely hope you get burned at the stake I will break into your house and set you on fire I swear to god.) GOD OF THE MARGINALIZED. LITERALLY. (This is for all of us. ❌🥛🍗🌾🍅❌) God of the marginalized. Literally. Also, god of breaking social norms and societal barriers. God of transgression. God of living authentically as who you are. God of embracing your true desires that hierarchy makes you repress. God of causing chaos against the status quo. Also, a nature god associated with wildlife, wild lands, wildness, and the retributive power of nature to fuck up anyone who disrespects Her. (🐌 fam. Hi.) God of madness. God of death and rebirth. God of the liberation that comes with death and the hope that comes with rebirth because the soul cannot die. (🗳 fam. Dukkra ba Dukkra child Dukkra is Dukkra but we can’t talk about that I am literally mentally ill I was in the hospital two months ago because I tried to off myself I am literally not going to therapy even though I should be 😂) ANYWAYS. Hi. So then, after all that, the RULING CLASS decided to mischaracterize the hell out of my poor sweet god with the chaos and insanity and horns and they made him into THEIR wine drunk extravagance party god and that’s how everyone sees him now wtf I’m so sad but TRUE Dionysus is still alive. And that’s the story there never trust the ruling class they will warp your equality god beyond recognition and turn him into an inequality god fuck them. Also, don’t trust society’s ideas about what gods represent society’s so wrong about Dionysus my heart breaks.

Aphrodite/Venus: I included the Roman name because that’s important. When the Trojans (precursor to the Romans) lost the war and everything was on fire, Venus, the mother of Rome, told the Trojans to get on some ships and sail away because the prophecy is that they would find, settle in, and being to greatness the Roman lands. So they sailed and they found Rome and they started a horrible war and fucked over the people that were already living there and then they eventually founded Rome and Rome obviously was a fucking shitshow. Yuck. But we can see that she’s not just the god of sex, she’s a fierce and devoted mother to her people and she is a nation builder who brings people together to collectively come together and create a nation. She also created Athens by helping the people there come together and create a nation. Athens, as we all know, eventually became a democracy and was the most famous democracy in Ancient Greece, though it was not the only democracy there or even the first one. She’s an interesting god but what with the whole being the mother of fucking Rome of all places I hate her. But I do really and genuinely like the first half of the Anead and like, if the Trojans actually respected the original inhabitants of what would become Rome and didn’t make Rome so racist and slave-holding and unequal and snooty and capitalist and horrible, then I would genuinely love Venus so much. Like, it’s a compelling story. A group of refugees who lost everything are trying to make a new life for themselves where they can keep their heritage and culture alive and that’s a really compelling story. It’s just that all hell broke loose once they actually landed.

Persephone: Y’all remember Hadestown? I know you remember Hadestown. But the first version of Persephone was an incredibly powerful eldritch death entity whose name was too terrifying and dangerous to even say. Spooky. I love death. Anyways, I’m probably going to get smited pretty soon considering how much I sing the Our Lady of the Underground song from Hadestown, which has her name in it many times. Very interesting god, I love her. But society also mis characterized the hell out of her, quite literally. She’s not a god of love and kindness and spring and flowers, she’s s god of death and destruction and devastation and I love her for it.

[rosecolouredmind]

Savior

Nicholas Scratch x Reader

The Chilling Adventures of Sabrina

Part Four:

The Angel of Mercy

First, it was his soul.

Nick never regretted the fact that he was born a warlock. He had powers, longevity, and led a lifestyle of envy. So, when he came of age, he signed on the dotted line in the Book of the Beast. Ever since then, the word ‘regret’ had never once entered his vocabulary.

There was a slim chance he’d ever be called upon to do something untoward, and if it did happen, well...what’s one sin in exchange for a life of frivolity and debauchery?

But next...it was his heart.

Lust, power, knowledge; dedicating his soul to the Dark Lord came with massive perks, and he wasn’t exactly complaining when one of them manifested in the appearance of Sabrina Spellman.

No...Sabrina Morningstar.

He couldn’t explain exactly how or why. His devotion, his loyalty; It had been stolen away by yet another Morningstar, his heart charmed and mind swayed. The powerful capabilities the young witch displayed did nothing but endear him to the demure, compassionate mor(t)ality she fought so hard to keep.

Sabrina Morningstar-Spellman was both the enticement and innocence of the flesh of the lamb... and it would have done Nick well to remember that the lamb is but the spawn of the Beast.

Suddenly, Nick found himself dancing a little too closely with the Devil; twin stars he pledged himself to ended up with him finally learning the word regret once the last pledge left his lips:

Nicholas Scratch, for the love of his life and the containment of it’s keeper, volunteered to be the flesh acheron.

And now, Nick found himself trapped in an everlasting Hell even the darkest of his nightmares couldn’t have begun to manifest.

The Baphomet and the lamb; the Degraded and the Pure. Both were sides of the same twisted fate he’d found himself a part of, desperate to escape. His mind had long since melted into a pool of chaos and intense fear. He’d tried countless ways to just end it all, if only Lucifer were so kind. He no longer had a life to speak of; just endless suffering and eternal doom. His life wasn’t supposed to be like this…

Not like this.

Nick thought himself a pretty gifted warlock, and had long since placed protection charms upon his mind and body should anything or anyone with malicious intention attempt to try him.

He doesn’t know what he was thinking at the time he convinced Sabrina, the coven, and himself that it was a good idea to use his own body as the flesh acheron, but he does admit that hubris and naivete played a part. And at the moment of that final “I love you” to Sabrina, he accepted his fate and was determined to face it no matter what happened to him.

Unfortunately for Nick, you can’t guard against the Devil.

Lucifer made quick work of him, and Nick soon found himself in a never-ending cycle of pain and torture he couldn’t have even fathomed beforehand. Suddenly, his life’s outlook was being eternally violated by the Dark Lord without reprieve. And from what it looked like, it was only a matter of time before he completely broke and the Dark Lord once again took up his mantle of dominating Hell and eventually Earth. All that would be left of Nick and his sacrifice would be any empty shell of a person who no longer knows how to exist as one.

So when the lamb arrived and saved Nick from the Baphomet, he supposed he should have been grateful. Happy, even. Nick had gone to Hell for Sabrina Spellman, and she’d gone to Hell to save him.

But as time still seemed to stretch on without end, he started to break.

Though it wasn’t exactly her fault, Sabrina could never understand what her father put him through because of her. Coupled with her lack of even really trying, her wish for him to just sweep everything under the rug and go back to how things were left him feeling more than a little resentful.

The resounding silence of his once scrambled mind did nothing but make for a much effective echochamber of his worst memories; memories which were exceedingly numerous and fresh. Nick looked for something, anything to fill up or dull that silence; most of which were methods not exactly healthy for him and definitely not healthy for his relationship.

It didn’t take long for the Morningstars to steal away Nicholas Scratch, and it was with resounding disgust that they spat back out all three parts of him they’d taken, broken beyond recognition.

Now stuck dealing with his many issues alone, the tortured boy clung to the only achingly fleeting memories that kept him grounded in rationality instead of spiraling into illusions of the dreadful abyss looming in his haunted mind. And as he replayed the images of the illuminating figure who reminded him that he was still human and that his heart was still beating, to his displeasure he’d found that he wished he had more.

She visited exactly 12 times.

Twelve blessed encounters, each one increasing his fervor more than the last; her presence was like a drug to Nick, a sustenance that he would easily admit to himself he couldn’t go without any longer.

While (Y/N) did explain to him that her powers were limited inside Hell and there wasn’t much of a chance she could directly free him, he couldn’t stop himself from pining after her whenever she was absent. At first, images of Sabrina had been what kept him going. He constantly reminded himself that she was probably doing all she could to save him, and when she actually did, he told himself that everything would finally be okay again.

Nick and Sabrina picked up exactly where they left off, eager to get back to each other again. He reminded himself, Satan be damned, he loved her; otherwise he’d have never sacrificed himself for her to begin with.

Nick had gone to Hell for Sabrina Spellman, was tortured by the Devil himself, and at the time, he had no regrets.

But things couldn’t go back to the way they used to be. He couldn’t go back.

That doesn’t mean that Sabrina didn’t try to help him in whatever way she could, but once she revealed her new royal status, Nick’s remaining feelings of responsibility towards the blonde Morningstar withered away along with the rest of the kinders of their relationship.

Nick was back amongst his coven, friends, lover; but he still felt so achingly alone and afraid all the time. He wanted to feel something, anything other than the despair Lucifer Morningstar so thoroughly imprinted into his being. Despite the love he told himself he felt for the little Morningstar, the literal spawn of his trauma, the only beacon he could rely on to keep him sane was the memory of you.

And as he reminisced on your serendipitous encounters, to his shame, he couldn’t help but compare.

After a while, it had become hard for Nick to separate the daughter from the father, the lamb from the Baphomet. In his intense resentment, he’d gotten to the point where his mind was becoming absolutely blank as it gave in to the invading presence of the sheer evil he’d been fighting against for so long…

And then an angel descended, and he’d nearly cried out in tears and praise for the false God.

It had taken him a while to realize that Lucifer’s presence couldn’t be felt anymore, and even longer to convince himself that it wasn’t a trick. He would close his eyes and see his demons warping beneath the surface, twisting his psyche into a weak, chaotic mess. He would open them and still see red, the color of a neverending hellscape created specifically to terrorize his soul and break him apart piece by piece, rebuilding and breaking again until nothing original was left. He saw despair, and he felt it as well. A gloom so deeply settled into his being that it would have been impossible to get rid of; a shell of the person he’d once been.

So no, Nick couldn’t tell you if his eyes were ever open or closed, because it made no difference to him at all. And one day in that eternity of Hell, Nick finally came to realize he regretted being all alone...

So, pray tell, when a lonely, broken boy suddenly feels someone wipe away his tears, what ever should he say?

He could only posture himself and pray.

The warmth and comfort his angel brought him blessed him with a near orgasmic experience, abruptly tugging him from the brink of despair. For a moment, he questioned if she, if he — was even real, or if Lucifer was really trying that hard to live up to his name as the harbinger of lost home and doom. But when the blessed hands caressed his face, and those saintly eyes pierced through the darkness forever in his view to meet his own, all he could feel was intense relief -- and shame.

Shame over who he was, where he’d gotten himself, and how he’d gotten there.

Surely someone who dedicated their life and soul to the Devil himself didn’t deserve the presence and grace of a literal angel in the darkest moment of his life?

So, with his eyes wide open once again, he cried. He cried at her grace, and at her mercy. Even after she coaxed him down from his delirium and explained who she really was, he wept at the sheer exuberance he felt that she even appeared -- let alone helped him -- just when he was forgetting what it felt to feel anything but pain and suffering. She was his angel, godly or not, and he thanked his lucky stars that it was his fate to be able to meet her in that moment.

Soon, between visits, it became her face, not Sabrina’s, that he’d found had kept him going. (Y/N) had become his symbol of hope, his new god, his only savior. Disillusioned with giving his life to people who only harmed him, (Y/N) became his new religion as he found himself praying to the stars and the Fates for her speedy return. Every time he was graced with her presence, he understood that whatever was written in the stars for him couldn’t have been so bad if he was able to meet her in between the lines.

And when Nick found himself finally out of Hell and in Sabrina’s arms again, he was fully prepared to keep his newfound faith close to his heart and out of the sight of others. Everything that had happened to him was incredibly personal, whether it be his time with you or with the Dark Lord. But when Sabrina revealed her new status as Queen of Hell to him and effectively admitted that everything he’d been through -- his sacrifice, his loss, his pain -- was all for nothing, Nick felt as if time had stopped and his heart had caved in.

He tried his hardest to be okay; with his life, with his coven, with Sabrina. He began coping in the only way he knew how, which admittedly did more harm than good. But without your presence to pull him from the brink, Nick found himself spiralling down the dark depths of his memories with no foreseeable end and without support. Eventually, the pent up resentment and mind games the Dark Lord still insisted on playing with him even after his escape got to him, and he lashed out. The Morningstars took everything from him; his heart, his body, his soul. The coven, Sabrina; no one actually understood him or the anguish he had experienced -- still experienced -- every second of his existence since that final pledge left his lips. The increased sense of isolation brought up his darkest thoughts and feelings, and soon he found himself not only cut off from Sabrina, but from the rest of the coven as well.

As the witches found themselves caught off guard by the arrival of the pagans, Nick instead would find himself staring up at the night sky, alone, searching for his hope.

And while the witches were more concerned with the moon, Nick was waiting for the stars.

As it was predestined, one very particular night Nick felt a very particular warmth bloom across his chest. He smiled, and smiled as wide as his face would allow at that. Because as he watched a very particular star fall from the sky, he knew finally:

The person he placed his faith in didn’t let him down.

*

Author’s Note: Here’s part 5! Next chapter should be out next Sunday.

Please ask to be tagged! Reblogs, comments and asks are appreciated as well but not required 🤠

Tag list:

@insomniac-nerd-posts-things

@jemandderkeinenusernamenfindet

@sophia-of-sass-gard

[marshmallowprotection]

You’ll be able to find all my MysticTober prompts here on Tumblr, or on AO3 daily @ lilacnightmares   !

Day Twenty-Two: Judge

JUDGE

Her breath caught in her throat as he stared down at her, that wild look in his eyes much like a caged animal that had finally jumped the fence to chase down his prey.

His hand gripping tight to her waist as the only thing that kept her from falling to the hard floor to a clatter; Saeran held within his hands the key to what he called salvation and protection, and to what she knew was endless darkness that simply smothered all those inside of him.

When he demanded she take his hand, Lila hesitated.

That hesitation was enough to make him hiss, and repeat his command louder before she could open her mouth to say anything in response. She had no choice but to listen to him. She took his hand and he relished in that submission to his desires. It was everything that he wanted and every time he got that, he only wanted more and more.

Greedy for everything that made up this girl and greedy to destroy all of it beyond recognition once he had proved to Ray that she could be broken into pieces, that she wasn’t some saint come to rescue him, **to rescue them.**

Saeran didn’t need saving.

He could take care of himself.

Warping her memories and making her focus on him, he would ensnare those eyes of hers and make her see him. She wouldn’t look at him with those pitiful eyes, no, he would make those eyes become fraught with fear and everything else he wanted. Lila could hardly keep him with him, and he made a point to make that a fact.

No matter how many times she nearly tripped over her feet, no matter how many times she stumbled, and no matter how many times she protested, she kept going. Perhaps, to spite him, or perhaps to say to him that she couldn’t be broken the way that he wanted. Saeran was offended that the princess had the audacity to push her luck. Yet, he let her do it.

If she wanted to toy with him, then he would let her push her limits until she cried and realized her mistakes.

Saeran would dare say there was something feverous in those eyes of hers as she gazed up at him, and as her hand gripped tightly to his shoulder. “You think you can handle it, don’t you?” he sneered, all too pleased by her attempt to be brave when they both knew she was not. It had all been a fluke from the start and he knew it.

“I don’t know what you mean,” she whispered underneath her breath, though her leg dangerously brushed a bit too deeply into his personal space, just as quickly as she stepped back, and as just as quickly as it took him to reclaim that space.

“Oh,” he countered. “But you do, you know exactly what you’re doing. You always have, and if you dare tell me a lie, I’ll make you pay for it. You think you’re cute by playing innocent all the time, that I haven’t noticed your attempts to deceive that airhead, and me. All you have are pretty words, princess, and what are those words to someone that doesn’t believe you?”

Her gaze remained on him no matter how much her head spun as he commanded the twirl of her body on his own. “Everything,” she responded. “It doesn’t matter whether you believe me or not. I’ve never lied to you, and I’ve never lied to Ray. The only person who lied to you is that woman—”

His grip on her wrist tightened, and she held back a wince that had started to brew from the sudden and hard pressure. Leaning forward so that she would know no reprieve from his presence as he lured her in, he chuckled, deeply. “I’m afraid that’s where you’re mistaken. She’s never lied to me, she’s only shown me my true potential. Something you’ll never understand, toy. All you know is sunshine, hope, and precious fairytales.”

Saeran smirked as she barely kept herself upright. “You think you can deceive me? Do you think you can take me down the same way that you did to that airhead? Do you think that I’m going to let you destroy me because you crave me? Hahaha… look at that depraved look in your eyes. That’s it, isn’t it? Why you didn’t stop me, why you pulled me in closer, why your heart hasn’t stopped racing since the moment I touched you.”

Lila gasped. Her eyes had widened impossibly so but there was no escape from Saeran, no escape from the way his forehead pressed against her own, nor the way he pinned her to him. That was what he had wanted, his lips couldn’t have gone any wider at that moment.

He laughed in her face, laughed at the way she *shivered*, and *trembled.*

“What was it that you told him? Oh, I remember now,” he paused, only to see her advert her eyes from him as if ashamed of herself. “Do you want me as much as I want you, Ray? What a twisted thing you are, huh, our little princess fancies herself in her fantasies. Well, guess what…”

Saeran let go of her wrist only to grip her face to force her to look back at him, there was no escape from him and she would look at him, she would if he demanded it. She wasn’t allowed to look away from him if he demanded it. She had no say anymore, and he was the one that controlled where it was going to go.

She was trembling now, like a frightened kitten. Yet, she never protested. It was proved his point. His judgment in her actions was only proof of everything that he had been told.

“Look at your face,” he chuckled. “You sincerely thought that I was going to give you this… what you wanted, didn’t you? Pathetic. You’re shivering but not in fear, I would say I’m surprised but I’m not, you’re always surprising me with how stupid you are. Go on, if you want it so badly, beg. Beg for what you want.”

There was no response.

He waited just to see what she would do. He was surprised, however, when she leaned forward and caught his lips in a kiss, so much so that he didn’t realize what was happening until he had started to *reciprocate* the action. Damned by his own actions, he shoved the toy away from him and watched as she stumbled back against the wall.

Her chest heaving, and eyes wide, nowhere to go but this room that she was trapped in by his own choice and design.

“You…” he spat, the rage souring everything that he had created to feel like he had control again. “I’m going to enjoy destroying every last trace of you until you’re nothing but a hollow doll for my amusement! You think you’re special? You think you deserve this?!”

She most certainly did not.

[childofsolace-write-ups]

[ARC ONE: REUNION]

INTRODUCTION

In the first year, thinking about it now, it was probably already starting then. There was no disaster, but I think it had been hinting on something, about an end that was to come. It was completely dark that night, we thought it was just some kind of an eclipse. But this one was a little strange. It was eerily quiet. I was scared. My baby sister was scared. Hell, my parents were scared. But then, they said it would be okay.

Like always, for every single day of our life, the sun would come up again, shine upon Gaea, and things will go back to normal.

Was I ever wrong.

You know what they say, right? Don't look at an eclipse straight in the eye. It could ruin your eyes? Well, when the sun came, it was so much worse. Anyone who walked out was burned... No, incinerated. Just like that, stepping outside and they spontaneously combust on the spot. The world thought it was just some new phenomenon. Scientists were trying to figure out why it happened. It took a whole year, but nothing came up for their trouble.

Then six more years followed, each one bringing forth a different kind of terror. The weather was unpredictable; countries that never experienced snow suddenly started experiencing hailstorms, leading up to terrible geo-storms. Insects invaded farms and destroyed their produce. Wildlife got infected with some unknown substance until them finally became creatures that look more like monsters we read only ever read about in stories, or watch about it movies.

And that was just the beginning of where everything went completely wrong...

/Trent Everhart/.Transmission over.//Year 70/

Once, people flourished and made a living above land. The resources were abundant. But then again, so were the humans who needed them.

Soon, 'Natural' lost its meaning, 'Artificial' replaced it. Machinery operations ran the daily lives of people, flowers and plants were faked serving as decorations, tall buildings took the place of tall trees in rain forests. Most factors considered natural can only be seen through microscopes.

But nature took its own course and returned with vengeance. Cosmic debris crash landed from above, causing an explosion that plagued the entire planet. It polluted the atmosphere and strange side effects started revealing themselves. Animals and vegetations alike were most susceptible to these changes. They attacked humans, nearly wiping out the entire species. Unable to thoroughly explain how this happened, scientists, without sufficient evidence, wrote it off as radioactive particles causing severe chemical changes to earth's living inhabitants.

But humans were smart, they were animals in their own way. They strive for survival.

Using the historical underground city of Derinkuyu as a reference they created a modernized type and with their latest state of the art technology they expanded it even further from two hundred feet to one thousand feet. For this purpose, unbeknown to the public, a life under the surface of the Earth was being prepared for them. Unlike the Derinkuyu however, they had the materials and technology to have metallic interiors and bunker units for dwelling. A large, nine hundred meter metallic ventilation shaft was constructed, filtering the carbon from above to be breathable oxygen air. The shaft also provided water to both the villagers above and, if the outside world was not accessible, to those in hiding.

Eventually, anyone not affected by the atmosphere were evacuated to underground cities right before the atmosphere could become too unpredictable and prove hazardous to their lives. A new system of governance was created. Since the underground cities in all part of the world were interconnected one way or another, they all decided to use a unified language starting then. 'Councillors' is the term referred to leaders chosen in each division, the word country becoming obsolete.

Guards who were obligated to inspect the surface level regularly were given Hi-tech contamination suits with advanced, state-of-the-art filters as to not be be affected by the atmosphere since anyone exposed to the atmosphere is banned from re-entering the cities. Some people died due to open wounds exposed to the atmosphere's strange particles.

Soon, humans engaged in a new form of living, but not without encountering troubles along the way.

The fear of being unable to distribute provisions without having shortages became prominent. This led the Councilors to convene altogether and come up with a radical solution. They decided to send back to the surface anyone they classify as worthless or a liability. More than a thousand orphaned, disabled, and jobless individuals were sent back up on the first release. It did not really matter to them if they survived or not, it was inconsequential as long as their survival was assured. In the years that followed, this became a normal routine. With the initial liabilities released, all the present releases were orphaned children. Then again, as one hero once stated in the History of the Surface, "The Youth is the hope of the nation", there came a generation of hope.

It was not planned, it wasn't an intention. It just happened.

Of the first batch of releases that only involved orphans, only eight had survived the harsh environment of the regressed and primitive state that the surface had been reduced to. Together, they survived and now thrive to make a living once more above ground, as humans were really meant to be.

Still, the Underground city was not to be ignored. And perhaps, it is to be reminded, who the true enemy really is.

::TREY::

The forest is quiet.

That's your first clue. Even on the surface, even given that most of the Earth's living creatures got wiped out within weeks of it happening, things should never be This quiet.

You'll never know; something dangerous could be trying to hide itself.

"I think this is where I found it."

I give a jolt when Lexie spoke behind me. I completely forgot she was there. With the silence, it was easy to think I was alone. "Keep your voice down," I whisper. "we don't know what might be out there."

"Trey," Kytes whispers back. "wouldn't it be better to just use telepathy? We wouldn't be making any sound."

I sigh, "Kyi that would be using our signature and if there is any bad Mana around here, that would set things off, like an open flame to gas leaks." I rub my forehead. "C'mon, we've been over this a thousand times. You're lucky it's not Rhys reminding you."

Kytes scratches his head. "Oh, yeah..."

"Been here for eight years, you would think you'd have that memorized by now." Lexie teases playfully. "It's survival 101."

Oh really? I think sarcastically. Like she's one to talk about survival 101. Half the time, Corrin's the ones reminding her of our protocols...

Kytes looks a little sheepish. "People can be forgetful, it happens..."

"Okay, shut it already you two." They weren't really making any real noise, but I knew Lexie's tendencies and once you got her talking, it might be harder to get her to stop. "Kytes's idea was good just too bad for that small detail. Now we should keep quiet." Like I was making any noise, though. "Let's get a move on, keep alert for anything that doesn't feel right."

"Heh, I forgot how uptight Trey can be..."

I huff in irritation but chose not to respond. She calls it being uptight, I call it instinct. It was very important after all, especially in terms of surviving the surface's unpredictability. We, the ones left, have gotten pretty good in relying on instincts. It's about the only warning you get up here.

The forest is very unusual even if it looks like any other forest. For one thing, I'm not even sure it can be called a forest, at least not a natural one, given that it's growing in the middle of what used to be a town. The road is cracked by numerous roots, and most of the buildings have trees growing out of them. Their walls could be hiding any number of things. The forest itself is the oddest thing. Many years ago, this was a thriving metropolis, full of people, tourists, machines—now it's home to trees that look like they've been there a good fifty years at least. This is one of the most immediate changes caused by the strange atmosphere when the phenomenon had first spread out through the entire globe. The landscape got warped beyond all recognition in the early days. That's why so many people died...

Like mom and dad.

"Oh!" Lexie cries and stops in her tracks.

I turn towards her. "Shh!" I snap. "Alexis, jeez."

"But Trey, this is where I found it. Only..."

Kytes scans the area. "Well, it's not here now."

"Quiet, the creature that pissed might still be around." I face Lexie. "And you're sure the piss was the non-absorbent type?"

We have to watch where or what we step into. Because if, for instance, you got an open wound and you stepped into a puddle with urine in it and that wound happens to get infected as well then it could mean something really bad. The Rabid animals up here are so messed up that even a slight contact with their shit may turn fatal for us. Luckily, only the Rabid Animals have urinal waste that have a touch of color so it's easy to figure which ones are the non-absorbent type. We try to get rid of those because prevention was better than cure.

"Well, it was a pool on the ground, all purpley and molted. I watched it for a while, it didn't seem like it was going away." Lexie combs strands of black hair away from her face. "So I thought..."

Kytes shrugs. "It's either something else absorbed it, or it really was absorbent after all and just needed more time to soak in."

"Maybe. So then, should we just—EWW, GROSS!"

"What is it—OH YUCK!"

I swat them both to remind them to be quiet and made a mental note to give them extra kitchen clean up duty. Really, do they want a death wish?

"It's just a skeleton—" an animal's. We don't see human skeletons since the earlier days, when we made it a point to try and bury the ones we still could out of respect. "you've seen them before."

"I know—but they're usually not THAT fresh." Lexie frowns.

I have to agree, it's isn't the prettiest thing I've seen. Even the other skeletons weren't as bad. It looked like someone's halfway eaten meal...

Wait.

"Quiet. See if you can hear anything."

Lexie leans back against a tree, Kytes crouches by a bush with me, and we stay still as possible listening out for anything unusual. I know there's something not right here. No animal noises, no birds. Then there's that heavy oppressive silence as though we're being watched very closely. A light breeze blows my fringe into my eyes and I bat it out of the way, frowning. The feeling something being wrong is stronger than ever.

Wait.

The breeze.

It should have rustled the leaves on the trees too. Yet there was no noise. I look up at the tree tops. They're perfectly still. Even as another breeze stirs the forest. Why would that be? Unless the trees are watching us?

I look around the Clearing.

Now that I think about it, the trees do seem slightly closed together than they were. As I watch, an oak sends a root trailing over! What could they be doing?

Unless... The Skeleton.

"RUN!" I grab Kytes and haul him after me, jumping over the oak root and out of the circle of trees.

"Woah now! Trey—what?"

Kytes doesn't have to finish his sentence. A large branch is suddenly in front of us and I'm unable to stop from tripping over it. A root winds itself around my ankle. Kytes is now full aware of the attack as more follow, breaking the surface of the ground to wrap themselves around us.

"I thought they only moved that fast with time lapse photography!"

Kytes takes his survival knife out. "I think this is a bit more serious than time lapse photography!"

Before I could bring out my own Cutlass, some vines grab hold of my forearm. The blond slashes off with precision he mastered, perfectly avoiding cutting my flesh. Lexie wields her double-edged Naginata to cut off vines stretching down from above. I'm still amazed how a girl like her who used to whine about missing cosmetics and other pointless stuff is now so skilled in combat. I think Lexie's weapon type came from some Asian country. I forgot which one. Actually, I even forgot what our own country was called. It seemed like such a long time ago that we used the term country.

I am once again forever grateful of Rhys's brilliant mind. Back then, we could count the weapons we had available to us with two hands. But once we got older, or more to the point, when Rhys got older and smarter, he made used of some books he found to create bladed weapons once we found a steel forging factory. And he had enough books to show him how to forge weapons of different origins. He taught us how to make our own, but most of the time they were poor attempts compared to what Rhys can craft. Now any weapons we need for ourselves and those who keeps coming can be easily accessed and made... Well, maybe not easily made since they still required a lot of effort, but at least we don't have to keep scavenging for usable weapons now. Sure, we could use all those guns and ammunition we got in storage, but we all agreed to save those for a time we might really need to them. Besides, at least with bladed weapons, there's no worries for a shortage of ammunition.

"Kytes, Trey! Do something, they keep coming!"

Kytes slashes his knife to an incoming vine before jumping back. "Uh, and you don't call what we're doing something?" He jumps over a root.

"Less talking, more attacking!" I snap, finishing off the hostile roots at my side and rush to aid Lexie. I make it in time to keep a giant flower bud from chomping her head clean off, barely missing the launch of purple goo it spat out. "Wah?!" I yelp, twirling my head around for a double take, seeing the goo boil through a bush as if it were acid or something, which explained the skeleton. "Okay. Rabid Vegetation's Gastric acid. Just as bad as a Rabid Animal's piss."

Lexie grunts, using her weapon as leverage to get up. "Noted. Next time, try saving my skin without pushing me. I twisted my ankle."

Okay, that was my bad. But it was that or being plant feed. At least she didn't break skin and bleed. Although uncertain, Corrin says fatality is possible if open wounds were exposed to loose Mana energy for more than ten minutes, and I forgot to make sure that we brought bandages with us. That's one strike of careless act for the day. I try to keep that to a minimum, the maximum being three. As the Leader, being extra cautious is an expectation.

"Trey! Help me out here!"

I spin around and saw vines lifting Kytes up, his knife lay useless on the ground. I rush towards him.

By duty, I was responsible for everyone up here as their leader.

As a friend, I was responsible for the blond, I was indebted to him.

When my sister was sick on the day we were going to be released to the surface, he took her place. I also owe it to his older brother, my best friend, who was now taking care of her back in the Underground city.

The vines were so thick that I couldn't slice through it with my Cutlass. I had to use the other way, but how can I with Kytes still in its clutches? A vine grips around my arm and I wince in pain as it tightens on my radius.

"TREY!"

Before I was fully aware of it there was fire flooding all my senses. I lashed out in rage, only vaguely aware of the beeping on my wrist that reminds me to take it easy. The vines holding up Kytes fall away in front of me. Luckily, the blond looked unharmed.

"Get out of the way!"

Thankfully, Kytes seemed to get what was about to happen. He grabs his knife and rolls out of the way. Good, I did not want to be misunderstood now. The two did not take their eyes off me as they back away. I concentrate where I want to have the flames to burst out and the results were no less effective. The Vegetable mutations draws back, leaving us unscathed except for Lexie's twisted ankle, which Corrin can heal no problem. I concentrate on pulling my power back. I look at the device fashioned like a watch that was strapped on my wrist, indicating my energy's exertion level. I see that it's stable and I join the two out of the clearing. Kytes helps her up and supports her weight.

"Code Red?"

I sigh, nodding. "Yes. We had far too many incidents this week alone, this being the twelfth. It's about that time again," It was a little frustrating. Rhys just got a filter working so we could fill a pool with clean water. I guess we have to make the most of it while we're still here. "I don't want anyone hunting till we move. We still have meat stocked so it's not like we have to settle for the vegetables and fruits in Kytes's gardens."

"Hey," The blond scowls. "My produce aren't that bad... are they?"

I smirk. "No Kytes, but if there's a chance to have meat, we want to have some too." I pat his back. "Let's head back."

"Oh, but Trey—" Lexie's eyes rolls up a bit. It signals her using her tracking ability. She's like a built-in GPS system with that. I don't really get it, but she can sense another person's or thing's Mana and Rhys has a theory that the ones who use Mana in their own way also has a unique trademark, like a fingerprint, so to speak. It was a bit unnerving the first time she used it since all you see were her cornea, but if you knew her as long as we have, you get used to it. "—yeah, I sense three guys out hunting nearby already."

I roll my eyes, "Three," I mutter knowingly, and the two share similar looks. "the only one who can get away with not following the group count rule is Meeko, and only if he has Lori and one other person watching his back."

Back then, with the whole idea of 'The rule of three' and it being an optimal number, maybe it would've made sense. But when playing video games and I would choose Party members, to challenge myself, I would pick three only; the MC would still get enough experience points and two characters would be enough to support him in battle. But this isn't a video game with a restart button. Normally when we send out groups for hunts, Five was the permitted number. It's too dangerous any less. Meeko can get away with it since his ability was multiplying himself. Usually, Meeko did most of the work to get it out of his system, being one of those always hyped-up types. Granted, he is one of our best hunters which we would all acknowledge often if he wasn't so rash and impulsive at times. This brings me to his better half, or more reasonable twin brother, Lori who normally didn't like fighting. Unless something or someone he cares for is in danger, he can be provoked to act though.

In our case, well, I thought the three of us would be enough for the Urinal extraction since we weren't really expecting a fight since this wasn't a hunt for food and we are still pretty much near the base, but I guess I didn't account for the fact that trouble would be the one hunting us. Even two persons used to be enough for extractions, but perhaps I neglected to take into consideration the level of experience. Previously, those two persons doing extractions had been either Rhys and myself or Leon and Jonah, the latter pair being eldest of our entire group. I only grabbed Kytes and Lexie this time because they were immediately available, and while I did not question their experience, Kytes was more adept to scouting, and that entailed evasive action, staying in a place only long enough to check its safety and avoiding combat as much as possible. Lexie was used to scavenging, which was gathering any useful items or materials after scouts deemed an area clear for occupying or searching. These two haven't seen combat as often as I have.

Damn, that's a second strike for me. "Where are they exactly?"

"A bit Northeast you'd get to that river, follow it downstream you'll make it to a clearing passed some thicket of bushes. Berry bushes, to be exact, not the good kind. They're at a glade of sorts..." Lexie smirks. "Well, at least the two not going crazy are. But I sense the third more crazier one of them is nearby."

Kytes laughs. "Just make it easier and call him who it most probably is. Even I can figure it's Meeko." he says.

"Okay, you two head back. I'll go fetch them. Kyi, after you take Lexie to the infirmary, go tell Rhys to prepare putting up some warning signs." I instruct. "Suggest Code 3." Carnivorous vegetation.

The blond nods. "Code 3, got it." He lifts Lexie, positioning her on his back in a way that can make him run faster. He takes off and I'm fairly impressed. He's fourteen carrying a sixteen year old while managing a running pace. I guess years of training does that.

I sheath my Cutlass and took off myself.

[anarchist-puppet-on-strings]

“You See Him Too, Right?”

SUMMARY: After his kids ask him to check for monsters under their bed, Chase begins to notice weird things.

Chase thought Stacy had been half kidding when she had warned him that the kids had been more skittish than usual. They’re abnormally quiet and their eyes are often drawn to the opposite sides of the room. It's only when bedtime comes when he realizes the extent of the problem.

Trey’s the one who asks.

“Daddy, can you check under our bed for monsters?”

“Kiddo, this is my room. I sleep here every night.” He shoots him an amused glance. “I can guarantee there's no monsters here.”

“He follows us,” Sam squeaks out.

That earns a raised eyebrow.

“He?”

Trey shrugs self consciously, picking at the threads of a cheap blanket. “We dun know his name.”

He pauses. It's odd Trey is telling him this. Trey is ten now. He's surprisingly mature and clever for his age. He seemed a bit old for the whole “monster under the bed” thing.

“Well, I’ll check anyways if that makes you happy.”

He could feel the two’s eyes on him as he knelt down and looked under the bed. As he expected, there was nothing there.

Chase gave a reassuring thumbs up from below. "Nothing down here, kiddos!"

"Can you check the closet too?"

The closet yielded the same result as underneath the bed. Both of his kids looked more at ease. Sam had latched onto Trey already, using him in lieu of a teddy bear. He had tried to push her away but eventually gave in and allowed it, appearing tired and disgruntled.

After the two had gotten their bedtime forehead kiss and the light had been flipped off was when Chase was able to relax on the couch with tv turned down low as background noise.

At one point, something out of the corner of his eye shifted in the darkness. He couldn't make out an exact shape but it moved quickly and silently. When he turned and looked out where the thing had been, there nothing but a small, dark kitchen.

It's nothing. He's tired and the dark plays tricks on the eyes.

He couldn't help the prickling unease that brought all his hairs on end from washing over him though.

Call Chase paranoid but he's been on edge the past few days after his kids left to return to their mother's house. There's nobody else in his apartment but the feeling of somebody's eyes on him wouldn't go away. It's infuriating!

It left sometimes—disappearing for anywhere from a few minutes to a few hours—but it always came back. It's hard to sleep under the impression you're being watched. He'd get drunk and ignore it but he's wary of getting drunk in case there actually was someone. But hey, that's the anxiety talking.

So instead of turning this into some big kinda thing, he talked to thin air. His hopes to dispel the tense atmosphere worked—kinda. He had to admit it's much funnier dealing with a problem when he didn't take it seriously.

It's easier talking and joking with an unseen presence than going to therapy and going on meds.

As much as he's convinced the anxiety is amping up his paranoia, he had an odd feeling someone else was hearing all the bullshit he talked about to himself.

It's been one of those weeks. The weeks where everything blurs together and his brain is mushy. Chase sleeps way too often because he's constantly tired no matter how much tea or coffee he drinks and how much sleep he gets. It's been the kind of week where he sleeps so much he forgets to eat and drink until he's forced to do it when it becomes unbearable. The one where he's holed up inside his house because he'd been calling in sick for the past few days. The kind where he isn't sure he'd been sleeping or just zoning out.

Basically, he wanted to die.

Chase squinted, eyebrows knit together in confusion as he struggled to remember whether he left the tv on or not. It's on a channel he didn't even have, loud static blaring from the speakers. It's entirely plausible he'd done it while intoxicated or just couldn’t remember it. He shrugged and muted it before switching it off.

When the power cut out with a dying hum, Chase couldn't help but groan.

This is stupid. It's so stupid and it's annoying. He hates it.

His power has been going out sporadically for the past week and apparently it's just his apartment. He's been paying his rent, so his landlord concluded there must be something wrong with the wiring, and they're sending over an electrician in a few days.

He blinked when the power flickered back to life.

Huh... that's faster than usual. Oh well.

The electrician found nothing wrong but the power had gone out while she was over. She's baffled.

He may not have the greatest memory (in fact, his is really shitty) but he's certain he's turning off lights. The whole point of turning off lights is to save power, but either he's sleepwalking or this is a part of the shitty power situation!

Every night it's the same. He flicks off all the lights and heads to bed. In the morning... or whenever he wakes up really, a light—or all of them—are turned on.

It’s confusing. He’s even started writing down that he turns them off before crashing. At this point, he’s given up turning the lights off before going to bed.

Now they’re turning themselves off.

When he hears the whistle, he nearly drops his glass of water. He spun around, met with nothing but the darkness around him. It had been brief and sharp with no tune or melody at all.

"What the fuck?" He breathed to himself.

Chase flips on the lights and walks around the kitchen, trying to find the source of the noise.

He scratched his head with a frown.

Trying to recreate the whistle had no success either. He simply couldn’t match the lack of tune it had. That rules out the possibility of him whistling without realizing it.

Besides… it came from a few feet behind him.

He'd been staring at his water stained ceiling for over two consecutive hours when one of the floorboards creaks out in the hall. Like the kind of creak when he walks down the hall. He stiffens up and his eyes flash over to the closed door. A shadow passes by the crack under his door.

He waits another minute or two, fully expecting whoever was waiting outside to barge in and kill him already. But nothing happened.

He’s not ashamed to say he nearly screamed when something brushed against the back of his neck. It’s featherlight and the touch zapped him like static electricity. Of course, when he whirled around, eyes wild, there’s nothing.

It's totally possible he could be hallucinating or something. His paranoia has been through the roof with every little thing that happens. But it just felt too... real. Like somebody had actually been there and reached out and brushed their fingers against his neck.

Chase can't help but wonder if he's going insane.

Sometimes when he’s teetering on the edge of consciousness and falling asleep, he hears things. Things like low hissing and heavy, wet breathing. Something tapping in an inane rhythm against the hardwood flooring as weight shifts outside in the hall. Scratching—like his ex’s cat used to do when he got bored but louder.

And… and a weird voice? A distorted one warped beyond recognition that jumps high and low. He’s never picked up on any words—it’s all just nearly inaudible whispers that barely reach his ears.

He isn’t sure why his brain chooses to latch onto these bits of information. Your brain makes up weird things when it isn’t fully working properly.

Maybe it’s because he’s staring at deep gouges in the floor out in the hallway. It looks like some angry cat from hell got bored and destroyed his floor in a fit of rage.

Chase gets closure when his kids come back to visit a month after their first visit.

Quiet noises from his room caught his attention and his parental instinct kicked in. He needed to make sure his kids were fast asleep and undisturbed. Cracking the door open to allow the hall light to spill in and then peering in, he’s met with a ghastly sight.

Trey and Samantha are both sitting up, staring at the same spot as their father.

Something that nearly reached the low ceiling of the apartment while hunched over with big teeth, lots of glowing neon eyes, and a second mouth on its neck.

Trey turns to him with wide eyes and whispers, “You see him too, right?”

(A/N) Wow... two in a day huh...

Tag list: @assbutt-of-the-readers, @stuck-in-a-l-o-o-p, @bloodsoakedheretic

[hushedwildtales]

File Not Found

The hope he had been fostering in him, that had kept him going in the two years of his search, withers painfully and dies.

He stops the video playback before he can actually see how it ends, something scared and wounded clawing up through his gut toward his throat. She'd been dying or dead in the wreckage of the helicopter, and all they had was a chip. It isn't hard to figure out what that means. But to see her already-mangled body further brutalized in a field retrieval of her drive is too much. He already feels sick.

All that's left of her is a degrading memory bank, forced to loop the job, her last hours--all that remains of her memories--until they, too, corrupt. Nothing but a glorified mission report.

They hadn't been keeping her prisoner. They'd been clinging to a ghost in the hopes that they could glean something from the data.

"Hello?"

Oh, god. Something in his chest twists. There she is, looking just like he remembers her, but also so different. She'd never been that tidy in her appearance, for a start. Her long mane of waves had always been untamed, with a life of their own. And she would never have worn the simulator's default blouse and pants in gentle creams and blues. But she's there. She isn't just a set of faded pictures and well-worn memories he keeps replaying to keep from going crazy. She's moving, she's there, and he doesn't have to imagine it.

"Hello? Is anyone there?"

"Hey," he croaks, taking a step into the room.

She turns with a smooth pivot on her heels. She almost looks startled--far more than he had ever seen her in… in--

(In life, something traitorously offers.)

Whatever had twisted before cracks at the faint, controlled tip of her head, smooth waves of dark brown hair that seem to glow a little in the simulated sunlight sliding over one shoulder. He's vaguely aware that he must be crying. He can't remember the last time he cried.

"Are you alright?" Though it's her voice, she no longer sounds like herself. If stuff like this weren't his area of expertise, he could pretend it's because she just doesn't remember. But he knows metered, regulated speech meant that the simulator has been forced to kick in with more subroutines. She doesn't know how to communicate, anymore. She probably doesn't even know that she ever knew how.

His knees give out beneath him. This time, she doesn't rush over to catch him like she had done so many times when injury or general exhaustion caught up to him after too long on his feet.

"Do I know you?" she asks, voice closer than before, but still from seemingly so high above him as he curls in on himself.

He hadn't thought it would hurt this much. He had hoped that there would be enough of her left that it didn't feel like watching her through a funhouse mirror, all but a few mannerisms warped beyond recognition.

He breaks as her fingers snag in his curls. He clings and clings and clings and sobs into her shoulder and his heart shatters in his chest. There are no soothing sounds or gentle words, and he's certain that any second now, his grief will swallow him whole.

All that remains of Emily is a simulator-run shell with a few memories that the program has already mostly twisted beyond recognition. And he doesn't know where he's supposed to go from there.

'Subject not found. Simulation terminated,' the computer reports from a disembodied voice overhead.

"Waters. What the fuck are you doing? Where is she?"

He won't cry out here. He's not sure he has it in him anymore. He can't even bring himself to rise to the harsh tone with any indignation or anger of his own. Everything is numb. He sits up, but it's like his body does it out of reflex, and he feels it with a delay. Like something is misfiring, feeding him inputs at the wrong rates. Like things don't sync up. Objectively, he knows it's a side effect of the tech. But it seems fitting, that it could be attributed to the loss. And maybe, at least in part, it can be.

"She's gone," he rasps. He had programmed the computer to keep them under until the chip corrupted beyond readability, but he knows that it wasn't as long as he feels it was. His mouth is dry and throat is tight because she's gone and that hurts.

Mann doesn't have anything to say to that. Or maybe he does, but he's keeping it to himself. That'd be a first.

Steady bootfalls carry down the hall and don't stop until just past the lab threshold. He doesn't look up from his view of his knees and the floor and Mann's boots to see who it is, but he doesn't have to.

"Waters? What happened?" the commander asks so gently. Much too gently to not already know the answer.

"She's gone," he repeats.

"The fuck does that even mean?" Mann demands.

"I heard the computer say something from down the hall, but I couldn't make it out," the commander cuts in. "What was it?"

Mann is probably taken aback by the question. He's never been very tech-savvy, so he doesn't understand what's going on and they all know it, and he rocks back on his heels the way he does when he isn't expecting someone to say or do something. "Uh- subject not found, simulation terminated."

"You did the right thing," the commander murmurs to him, a hand clasped around his shoulder. He leans close to be heard over the rumble of the transport without letting the others be privy to his words. "It's what she would have wanted. She'd been forced into getting it-"

"Stop." He can't listen to this. He's already not coping well with any of this, and they're not even back at base yet. His plan is to drown in her liquor stash and not have to be the one to explain what had happened to her. "Please. Just stop."

He feels more than sees the commander nod, and then the older man pulls away and rises to his feet, leaving Gabriel to his own thoughts.

When he becomes acutely aware of the fact that there's a vacancy where she should be, that he's still waiting for a hand on his back and fingers in his hair, he hunches over his knees, a cracking, pained sound forcing itself out of him.

She's gone.

She's gone.

He breaks. And for the first time in years, with his hands clasped together behind his neck, arms curled around his head, he sobs.

[introvertguide]

Cabaret (1972); AFI #63

Our most recent movie from the AFI list was our first musical from the list, Cabaret (1972) as directed by Bob Fosse. My mom and I have been discussing this film since we watched The Godfather as both movies came out the same year and went head to head during the awards season. Cabaret won 8 Oscars to only 3 for The Godfather, including the tightly contested Best Director for Bob Fosse  and Best Supporting Actor for Joel Grey. Both movies are rather dark and gritty in their own way, which is what was popular in the early 70s. So let us break down the tragic story of a cabaret called the Kit Kat Klub, set in 1930s Germany during the rise of the Nazi party, and see what movie audiences loved so much about this film.

SPOILER ALERT!!!! I actually am spoiling less than my previous article, but nevertheless...

The film starts with a welcome song that shows our main players coming together to the Kit Kat Klub (I have put a “C” on the word club in previous articles so the KKK reference would not be as obvious); Brian Rogers (Michael York) is an academic who is working on his doctorate and visiting Germany, Sally Bowles (Liza Minnelli) is a cabaret girl that dreams of being a Hollywood actress, and the Master of Ceremonies (Joel Grey) is a guide that shows the changing climate of German politics through musical numbers in the club. 

The MC explains that all troubles are left outside of the cabaret and there is only fun, music, and beauty inside. Warped glass is all around the inside of the cabaret to show the warped reality that is presented in the club. But this is exactly what the patrons are looking for in the rising fear that is the Nazi party, which is taking over Germany.

Brian moves into a boarding house with Sally and they become friends who hang out at the Kit Kat Klub, Sally singing and Brian presumably looking for light work to earn money. There are some initially ambiguous feelings of attraction between the two, but they eventually start up a physical relationship even though Sally has a reputation for sleeping with men in exchange for auditions and connections. Sally likes the steadiness of Brian and Brian likes the crazy and impetuous nature of Sally. 

In comes a very rich Baron named Max (Helmut Griem) to seduce the affections of both Brian and Sally with money. They both fall for it and they both end up having sex with Max, unbeknownst to the other. Around this time, the only song that is outside of the club, entitled Tomorrow Belongs to Me, shows that the Nazi party is taking over and the next decade will belong to Nazi Germany. 

There is a bit of a side story (not in the Broadway production) of one of Brian’s students who falls in love with a rich Jewish girl. It turns out that the student is actually also Jewish and hiding for safety. The student confesses he is Jewish and he and the girl are married. End of the side story. Not really the strongest side story, but it pushes the dangers of being Jewish in this new era of Germany to the forefront. 

Max leaves Sally and Brian without much of a word and it is revealed that Sally is pregnant and does not know who the father is. Brian decides that he will be the father and Sally seems happy with the choice to keep the child. Brian starts to show less interest and talks about returning to school and Sally decides she will have an abortion without telling Brian. He is upset that she did this without really talking to him and he makes the choice to leave and return to England to continue earning his doctorate. Sally sees him off briefly at the train because she has an audition. She returns and barely makes it through her performance of “Cabaret” without breaking into tears. The MC says goodbye with credits over silence.

There are a lot of topics in the film that would normally have been taboo for the time. I was born and raised in California and earned a couple of psych degrees in San Francisco (including Human Sexuality), so these topics are what I would consider light dinner conversation. However, as far as 1972 American popular culture, this film ran the gambit of hot button issues. The right for women to decide if they can legally abort during the first term of pregnancy was actively being contested in American courts under Roe v Wade. Government upheaval as far as President Nixon and Watergate, involvement in Vietnam, and the Tuskegee airman study (feel absolutely free to look up any and all of these things for a taste of American government deceiving the public) dominated the papers. Bisexuality was not even really considered a sexuality type to the general public so on-screen recognition was a big step for the LGBT community. Supremely progressive stances all piled into a single movie was a brave move which paid off in awards and recognition.

A note about Joel Grey and the part of the MC. He won the best supporting actor award, and deservedly so, over 3 actors from The Godfather. I think he had an almost unfair advantage over everyone else in the category. There was not a lot of screen time for any of the actors in The Godfather and the main player Al Pacino didn’t show up to the awards out of protest for not being in the Best Actor category. The representation from The Godfather camp was a total mess. The group from Cabaret, however, showed up in full regalia and gleefully stole most of the show. Grey had already earned a Best Actor Tony award for his portrayal of the MC, so he had years of practice to perfect his part in front of live audiences. Getting up and doing the same songs and part that he had already perfected with a director like Fosse seems like a foregone conclusion as far as awards. Advantage or no, he was definitely the best supporting actor that year.

On a personal note, I think that one issue that I had with the movie was the character of Sally Bowles. I am strongly introverted in my nature and every little thing that the character did made me angry. She constantly was trying to show off and gain attention. She was loud and obnoxious whether or not she new what she was doing. She made poor impetuous decisions without asking others or giving any thought or consideration first. And she did not really care about others, she was selfish and didn’t care beyond current superficial pleasures. She tried to make up for being ignorant or confused by being a loud spectacle. She is the embodiment of everything that I don’t like about extreme extroverts. And yet I was rooting for her in the end, and for that I give a nod to Liza Minelli and her superior acting skills. Well done, Liza.

I always end up with my recommendation and whether this belongs on the AFI top 100. This was is initially a little bit more difficult in the second aspect when looking back at the previous movies we have reviewed on the list. As far as if I would recommend somebody watch it, of course. It covers a lot of topical issues of the time metaphorically by viewing issues historically, and it will challenge a viewer not to be uncomfortable. Good. I like a movie that challenges me and I hope that my followers can feel that too. It is a musical tragedy and it is not always fun, but this movie has brought up the best talking points between me and my parents, who were alive and college age when this came out. Great movies give you something to talk about.

As far as deserving to be on the AFI, the answer is yes but for different reasons than prior movies. Not as many people seem to know Liza and Cabaret outside of California and New York. Of that group, not a lot have actually seen the film nor are they aware that it is presented like a tragedy. I think it was very overshadowed by the ever popular The Godfather and the controversial topics have made it less part of Americana. However, seeing how Fosse revolutionized the way that musicals were presented on film in a more realistic way changed my mind. Also, looking at pictures to lead for the week in Cabaret articles reminded me that the Liza profile with the top hat, giant eyelashes, and mutton chop looking curl where recognizable to my housemates who had never heard of Cabaret...that made me realize. This movie represents a change from hiding taboo topics to taking them head on using iconic characters like Sally Bowles and the Master of Ceremonies, and for that it should be remembered and celebrated. This film is completely deserving of its place and I invite anyone who is brave enough to watch. And with that I say auf wiedersehen, a bientot,... 

[lunacanis99]

Mantle of Flames summary

As promised! A summary of the story so far.

Enjoy!

The story so far:

Tharizdun was a deity hungry for power who once sought to rule over the astral planes and all the creatures in this. Driven to madness by creatures even more ancient than him they fed into his ideas and convinced him to plant a seed of evil in the astral sea. But even in his madness he knew his fellow gods would turn on him should he do that, so he reached and found an Ally in Tiamat, convincing her to act as a distraction to the other god’s while he took control. In return he promised her power and freedom. So she started a war with Bahumat, one that raged for many years. However none of the other gods were distracted by this so when Tharizdun did make his move they quickly moved against him and sealed him away before helping Bahumat and his strange assortment of many young dragons, the 5 purebreeds of which became famous but many more half breeds were involved, to seal away Tiamat in a slightly less powerful prison (as most of their ability had been spent sealing Tharizdun). Because of how many dragons fell in the war between the dragon gods the previously rare habit of dragons breeding with other species became more popular and countless types of dragons sprang forth.

Which brings us to our story today, thousands of years later on the continent of Obea when our four "heroes" (I use the word VERY loosely) are all kidnapped by the Cult of Lason, a cult of drow led by a drider queen called Haldriia and her general The Storm Sage, with the intent to sacrifice them to Lolth. The group escape the clutches of the cult after a narrow escape from an encounter with said general only to find themselves in the small town of Blackburn helping free a Druid girl from being hung. And next thing they know they're fighting a werewolf, then a displacer beast. Only then do they interrogate a drow named Tazd and get sent to talk to a member of the council of Alamoa named Inari. Inari confides in the group that she already suspected a traitor amongst the council and the group find themselves attending a banquet of the council and picking out Zeanna as the traitor. Only when they follow Zeanna with the help of new ally and quick friend Kyo do they come face to face with the real might of the cult: a young adult green dragon named Sondry. From this moment on the four friends are on the trail of the cult, first rescuing the emperor's daughter from their clutches, thus earning Bao Moonclaw's favor (his high guard Buck is less enthused, but eventually befriends the party as well) before following the trail of an escaped Tazd to an underground fortress right up to one of the captains of the cult Valefar: the Deceiver. Many misadventures are had as the group hone their skills and grow stronger, including an incident where they nearly get Kyofushin executed for being a fiend and finding Tazd has turned to the side of good, before they're called on by Mairon's uncle to help take down a wild dragon he'd raised. However, in the ensuing battle against the young white dragon, Alistair is slain and the group quickly decide to travel to his home town of Blue Harbor to revive him. After succeeding a resurrection ritual with the help of Bane's 3 angels and raising Alistair from the dead the group find themselves back on track, following leads of the cult to a town taken over by none other than Zeanna. But at that same time a split party discovered Alamoa under siege by Sondy and the Storm Sage and they had to make a decision, opting to abandon the town and let Zeanna escape in favor of defending the city. Many fall, including a council member, a friend, and Buck the high guard but most live before the party, along with Canary's brother Denico, set off to chase down and slay Sondry where he rests in the jungle. Only later, when they find Valefar still alive and captured by skyrates, do they realize Buck is in a similar situation: still alive and captured by the cult, and they use the deceiver to find and rescue him. It's not long after that they find themselves once again face to face with the Storm Sage, and through they have Tazd on their side, he has Valefar. And, after a long brutal fight, Valefar and The Storm Sage lie dead, but so does Mairon. Another revival ritual is attempted, this time cast by Mairon's boyfriend and cleric of Corellon Carric Vax, and another resurrection is successful, bringing Mairon not only back to the group, but to the service of Corellon as well. All's not well though as a corruption has been budding in Canary for months now and, at this moment, it starts to take full control, warping her mind impossibly further and making her dangerous. But the group make the decision: face the queen, then cure Canary. So, guided by Tazd's brother Kovu, they head to the underground city of Regalia and confront Queen Haldriia. But, instead of killing her, they heal her. Using a forged rite of remove curse to undo the curse having turned her into a drider and bring her back into the light, ending the cult of Lason for good.

However, when they get back they find Alistair's mate, a powerful witch named Maev waiting for them with Kyo and Inari, and they quickly go into to ritual to cure a suddenly unwilling Canary before they realize: someone has to give up their life to cure her, and Kyo already decided to be that someone. The party take time to recover in their new keep, but can't rest long before a new enemy comes to town. Canary's betrayer ex-fiancé Ryder, who has come for the powerful weapon of a god. And the worst part, he gets it and gets away. Canary decides she's had too much, that her mind isn't in the right place even after having the corruption removed, and decides to step out of the group, leaving her old friend: a blood angel named Jet, to take her place.

But a new threat is on the horizon. Althaea, the party's Druid, has been dying and coming back to life but losing a bit of herself each time. And she's not the only one, a group of people called proxies including a council member named Erabus all owe their lives and their selves to the creatures bringing them back, fallen angels of Tharizdun that have become corrupted beyond recognition calling themselves Vassals, bringing back these people to build up strength to free Tharizdun and Tiamat. But even an adventuring party like Church and State (yes that's what they called themselves) can tell when something is above them, and work on helping their friend in the background while helping others at the same time. First rescuing Neer, the captured half angel brother of skyrate captain Lynn and their gunslinger friend Sam from a cruel enemy captain and slaver named Captain Hunter. Only during the battle Althaea falls, and makes a deal to owe the Vassals in return for temporary power. Then they find themselves solving a murder in the home city of Mairon, relieving her uncle Melkor of the charges to pin it on JewlClaw, one of the leaders of the group following the Vassals called the Linked Society, who also turns out to be a beyond ancient green dragon plotting to free Tiamat, only to have Mairon make a deal with that same dragon in order to be freed of her mother's overprotection. Then they find themselves breaking into the fourth circle of hell, escaping from the prison of the Incendium with a newly freed Kyofushin and freeing another beyond ancient dragon, a black named Yuronoshi in the process of getting a spell scroll to heal him of a feeblemind.

And now we catch up to today, where the party has been tasked by Jet's Angel mother Shadow to take down a Litch in the name of the Raven Queen. They've gathered their allies and have set out after this Litch in the hopes of scaling his tower to success. But Althaea has little left to give the Vassals that bind her. The Linked Society grows stronger every day. And Church and State knows they're climbing to face death.

So who knows where this story will lead them in the next sessions of Mantle of Flames.

[intriguing-notion-blog]

“Is this what I get from treating you this well?!”

As I watch my dear cousin practice everyday, putting her all into the pieces she plays, I can’t help but feel the overwhelming yet mysterious sorrow yet tinged with a hopeful outlook seep from the music of Tchaikovsky’s June: Barcarolle. I remain entranced as I listen to her weave the disjointed notes of the piano into an enchanting piece of music. The beauty of the song, the relentless effort of the pianist and the purity of the piano cannot be truly appreciated through a simple studio recording; it simply does not do the music nor the pianist not the piano justice.

However, in my deep ruminations, I find myself wondering whether or not the captivating melancholy of the piece was what brought me out of my world of words, or was it this certain human nature that coloured the notes with the heartbreaking tears of a Chinese child. The sadness of a child who balances being just a child with the stresses of being the perfect puppet for her painfully stereotypical Asian parents, be it my imagination or my innate nature to embellish things, I couldn’t help speculate that beyond the sickening overdose of pink, frills, and overwhelming materialism, a world of emotional and mental agony lay hidden from me, that what I see is simply a façade of a perfect little Chinese that has been painstakingly built and maintained by my aunt.

Memories and stories plague my mind and I find myself wanting to not believe the stereotype of Asian children that I’ve read and that my once fellow classmates and I once mockingly perpetuated, however, when I see my dear cousin, my heart breaks. I remember the several hours of shouting, the lecturing and the tearing down of her spirit by her mother, my aunt, since I arrived in China, a nation that values an excellent and impressive reputation more than anything and I find myself forced to face the harsh reality of what having true Asian parents entailed.

Unlike my cousin, I never found myself enduring any of the same treatment from my own mother or father, despite themselves being Asians. Though, during my preschooling years, my mother did have me write out the English alphabet as beautifully as my five-year-old self could muster until my hands were sore and my eyes were dry of tears, however, soon after that, there wasn’t any hint of stereotypical Asian parenting from her or my father. Yet, I am my parents’ most studious child, achieving rather high results and who loves to learn. I suppose it was because by the time I was in grade one, I discovered I couldn’t rely on my parents to help me with homework. After all, my father’s education was cut short due to the Vietnam War and my mother never finished high school, and to top it off, neither enjoyed school nor studying anyways. Perhaps it was my fear of failure that prompted me to be the best I could be and coincidentally, nurture my love for learning…at least, when it came to certain subjects. However, sometimes I would resent my parents’ inability to further nurture my learning.

During my schooling years, I watched on as fellow classmates would express irritation and exhaustion from going to and from extracurricular and tutorials, from competitions to recitals, from annexes to stages. I often felt relieved that my parents more or less were completely hands off when it came to my education, especially when I saw the detrimental impacts of their minds slowly becoming warped with the motto, “Practice makes perfect,” “I must be perfect,” “I need to get an A,” and all the other terrifyingly similar phrases brainwash them into failure-fearing students. Nonetheless, I would simultaneously feel envious and ashamed when I see fellow classmates advance in life, earning awards, experience and recognition in and outside of school because of how strict and demanding their parents were while I did nothing worthwhile in my spare time other than contemplate and daydream.

Therefore, I find myself in a position where I both worry for my young cousin’s mental and emotional health from being regularly torn down by her mother whenever she gets a mark below of an A or 85% and somewhat agreeing with my aunt on the matter of an environment that enriches a child’s learning. I don’t, however, support her method of executing it - the forceful nature, the threatening of abandonment, the unnecessary fearmongering, the emotional manipulation. The tiresome and expensive hours of tutoring after a long day at school (mind you, that the standard school day in China is relatively longer than that in the West), the extracurricular such as hours of music lessons and dance classes, on top of English classes that, from my experience, don’t quite teach students how to use English effectively - and all this is relatively normal within the lands of China, however, in the case of my dear cousin, more is expected of her as she is one of a considerable amount of young Chinese being shipped off overseas to study by their parents.

If my young cousin was a university student, I suppose she wouldn’t find it too hard, well, that if she wasn’t too concerned of her own integrity. At least then, the option of hiring someone to do the course for her would be there. Though, personally, I would find it appalling if she were to choose that route when she is in university, but for now, she isn’t. Instead, next year, if all goes according to my aunt’s plans, my cousin will be attending the either the best or second-best high school in the state I live in, in Australia.

When I asked my aunt as to why she would go to such lengths for my cousin, she simply said that it was cheaper to send her to study in Australia because it’ll help my cousin live a better life in China when she grows up. I’m sure many will understand the linear thought pattern of my aunt; better school, better university, better job, better life. However, at what cost? I’m not talking about the financial cost here, but more so the invisible cost.

Call me an overly-sensitive leftist or whatever degrading term there is for people like me, but how would this impact a child mentally? How about emotionally? And even socially?

Now, to be clear, I’m not simply picking out on the idea of suddenly sending children off to another country to finish their high schooling years; I’m referring to the Chinese, if not, Asian method of raising children. (Though, I should point out this doesn’t mean there aren’t non-Asian parents who also practice this method of parenting - it’s just that, from my observations, majority of parents who do use this method are Asians, a fact most of the world acknowledges.)

Emotionally, children are raised to think that if they aren’t great, they are worthless and/or hopeless. Mentally, children have huge expectations weighing down on them at very young ages which they are to fulfil, most of which don’t line up with their own dreams and ambitions, that is if they even have their own dreams and ambitions. Socially, well, where is the time to socialise if your life revolves around getting good grades? Now, add that to the financial costs of schooling, tutoring and extracurricular. The cost is quite staggering, I find and I haven’t even begun to count the lack of life skills these children possess who are subjected to this sort of parenting. Also, as some may add, the children of such strict and demanding parents lose out on a childhood.

Bear with me, but such things as a childhood is a relatively recent invention. Prior to the Victorian Era, the idea of a childhood didn’t exist as we know today and by the time it did, it was a concept only among the rich and wealthy, and don’t quote me on this, living in the West. However, in East Asia (maybe even the whole of Asia), I speculate, this sort of thinking never quite flourished as much or took that much of a hold until the late 20th century, be it because of the World Wars that occurred earlier in the century or the difference of cultural values.

In my humble opinion, I theorise it’s more so the difference in cultural values. In the West, individualism is upheld and everyone is accountable for themselves whereas in the East, collectivism is the core of cultural values, where the actions of one person affects the many, for example, the generational imprisonment in North Korea should one member of the family executes a treasonous action. In the West, doting on the young/new generation and then not expecting anything in return as they age is the norm due to the culture that each is responsible for their own life - this in itself, is both good and bad. However, in the East, the young/new generation is doted on beyond comprehension and is expected to somehow pay back all the kindness they were shown as children, often in the means of a financial & emotional fashion. Why this is, is because of a concept of ‘filial piety’, a concept that most who grew up without an Asian background have never heard of. Essentially, 'filial piety’ is the younger generation respecting, perhaps even to the point of serving, the older generation. It’s an idea that the older generation is responsible of the younger generation until they can no longer, in which then the roles are swapped. However, do not quote me on that. This, I think, then drills an idea into the head of the parents that they can say to their children that because they’re treating them incredibly well, they can demand the equivalent back in the form of grand grades. Consequently, if their demands aren’t met, they feel as if their threats of abandonment and/or their greatly exaggerated predictions of a terrifying and catastrophic future is justified. So, I surmise that Asian parents see their children as an investment and therefore, they reason the more they put into the children, specifically their education, the more they’ll get in return later in life, such as better life.

Personally, as much as I find the method of Asian parenting both disturbing yet beneficial, I am intrigued by it. From a sociological and psychological perspective, it’s an example of human diversity expressed through culture that I find fascinating to explore and understand. Then, as the eldest daughter of two Vietnamese-born Chinese parents, I find it to be a personal matter worth looking into, as I never had to experience it. I have a hunch it may have partly been because of my parents adoption of a strict form of Christianity prior to me starting primary school, my own studious initiative and the fact I was born in and grew up in Australia, where he academic environment isn’t as competitive as it is in Asia.

Now, I admit I am over generalising all this, perhaps even exaggerating it, but in essence, I ask myself and the world this; just how much are we willing to pay, maybe even sacrifice, to allow our children a better future? And are we willing to deconstruct the social construct we call a 'childhood’? Or will we be the generation that will reconstruct what a 'childhood’ means, as the culture of the 21st century is rapidly changing and adapting?

My conjecture is that, with changing values of modern life, society’s approach towards raising children will change dramatically in order to accommodate higher educational demands and to tackle the challenges of raising children with ever advancing technology at their fingertips. In consequence to all of the aforementioned, the traditional idea of a 'childhood’ will radically evolve and I surmise that the possibility of a new parenting style where a hybrid of the Asian method and Western values will become the new norm. And that, I find, is an intriguing notion.

So, as my cousin plays Tchaikovsky’s June: Barcarolle, I stand back and marvel at her mastery of the piano; her hands gliding across the black and white keys, playing a magnificent melody of moving melancholy and hopeful happiness. I let my thoughts mellow as I let the notes paint a beach before me, the waves gently caressing my feet as I watch the setting sun make way for an array of brilliant stars, illuminating the vast darkness that is the night sky, hoping that when the sun rises once again, my dear cousin does indeed have a bright tomorrow.