#or the notes on closing the seventh gate performance notes

[theostrophywife]

kiss with a fist | chapter one.

masterlist 💋 chapters 💋 playlist

pairing: theodore nott x reader.

song inspiration: kiss with a fist - florence and the machine.

author's note: i'm so excited to share this series with everyone. this was literally meant to be a one shot fic but i have no self control therefore it spiraled into a whole series. without further ado, please enjoy the first chapter and let me know what you think 🤎

Wit beyond measure is a man’s greatest treasure. 

Intelligence, knowledge, wisdom. These were the traits that Ravenclaws valued most, but if the founder of your house could see you now, Rowena Ravenclaw would probably roll over in her grave. 

Because there was nothing smart about falling in love with Theodore Nott. 

In fact, it might be the most idiotic thing you’ve ever done in your entire life. 

So why did it feel so bloody exhilarating? 

To understand your descent into madness, it was prudent to trace the events back to point zero. 

It was a rainy September afternoon, unusually dreary even for the Scottish Highlands. The first week of your return to Hogwarts had been chaotic to say the least. Between performing your prefect duties by showing the first years around the castle and dealing with the clueless third year that accidentally set off Weasleys' Wildfire Whiz-bangs in the Great Hall, you were absolutely knackered by the time Friday rolled around. 

Unfortunately, you had no time to rest. Even though the term just started, you were already spending much of your nights studying until your eyes felt like they were going to fall out of your skull. Tonight, you were in the potions laboratory tackling a particularly stubborn advanced draught. No matter how hard you tried, you just couldn’t figure it out. 

You dropped a sprig of wormwood into the cauldron and stirred counterclockwise then clockwise, just like the recipe instructed. The concoction bubbled to the surface. Holding your breath, you peered into the mixture with hope that this try would finally turn out successful. The potion turned a vibrant magenta color before exploding all over the front of your uniform. 

Sadly, this was the closest you’d come to brewing the Angel’s Trumpet Draught. You sighed, wiping down your tie with a washcloth. It did nothing except make the mess worse. What you needed was a good old fashioned soak.

Luckily, you had access to the prefect’s bathroom on the fifth floor. During this time of night, it would be gloriously empty. Giving you the perfect opportunity to wallow in bubbles and self pity. 

The trek from the dungeons to the fifth floor was fortunately uneventful. The hallways were dark and quiet, allowing you to slink off to the bathroom in peace. With a whisper of pine fresh, the pearly gates opened.

You turned on the faucets, setting the temperature just below boiling and dispensing herbs and fragrances into the tub. When you were finally satisfied, you quickly discarded your soiled clothes and eagerly stepped into the warm bath. The scent of rosewater and pink himalayan salt instantly relaxed you. 

You sighed deeply, leaning against the marble tile and closing your eyes. This was definitely not the way you thought seventh year would go. Your last year at Hogwarts was supposed to be the highlight of your academic career. While your housemates fretted and fussed over quidditch games and blood moon balls, you refused to take your eyes off the prize.

Ever the diligent student, you had no interest in extracurriculars unless it brought you closer to your dream of becoming an accomplished potions master, which would hopefully catch the eye of the Most Extraordinary Society of Potioneers. Joining the prestigious group was a dream that you had been working towards since first year. Blood, sweat, and tears had gone towards achieving this goal, especially during your most recent break. 

You spent the entire holiday interning at the Brewery, attending lectures at the Magical Division of the University of Oxford, and you had not only completed the assigned reading for your Advanced Potions class, but Professor Slughorn’s personal recommendations as well. All of that hard work should have placed you ahead of the curve, but your class rank remained the same as always. 

Second. 

Not first.

Never first.

No, that spot belonged to that rich infuriating smartass pureblooded motherfu—

“Theodore Nott,” you said, lacing your voice with as much venom as you could muster. 

Between the pale moonstone pillars stood the source of your academic anguish. Theodore was dripping sweat, his green and silver quidditch jersey covered in mud and grime. The prefect badge pinned to his robe was barely visible, more brown than silver. His curly brown hair fell erratically across his cheekbones as he brushed a stray strand away to squint in the faint light. 

The side of his mouth quirked up into a smirk when he recognized you. “You know, most people just call me Theo.” His gaze lingered on your form, which was barely covered by pink suds. “Especially those who know me rather intimately.”

You flushed in response. Amusement danced in his watercolor eyes, which seemed brighter now thanks to his sun kissed complexion. Knowing Nott, he probably spent his summer laying out in the Italian sun while attractive witches fed him grapes by hand. You didn’t get a tan like that from holing up in the English countryside with nothing but a boiling cauldron and a dusty textbook for company. He didn’t even have the audacity to pretend like he was worried about his class ranking. The bastard. 

“Every rule has its exception, Theodore,” you gritted out. “Now get the fuck out.” 

He cocked his head, sending a mass of wavy brown locks to spill to one side. “You’re right. Most people don’t usually say my name like it’s an unforgivable, but I guess you’re special in that way, diavolina mia.”

Little devil, Nott's idea of a fond nickname, irritated you to no end. Your annoyance only made him use it more. Gods, what a wanker. 

“Are you deaf or just thick? This bathroom is occupied,” you huffed, sinking lower into the bubbles. “Leave before I scream bloody murder.” 

Theo smirked. “Oh, I guarantee you’ll be screaming.” He kicked his shoes off, leaving them in a messy pile beside your own neatly arranged boots. “Though the only thing I’ll be murdering is that pu—”

The glare you sent his way would have sent lesser men running for the Forbidden Forest. “I’m serious, Nott. I’ve had a terrible fucking day and I am not giving up the bath.” 

“Neither am I,” he countered. “Practice was brutal. I ate shit on the pitch and all I want to do is to reap my prefect benefits via bubble bath. I’m afraid you’re just going to have to learn how to share, sweetheart.”

You watched in stunned silence as he peeled off his jersey. The moonlight streamed through the glass stained windows, painting him in a surreal sort of light. There was no ounce of shame to be found in Theodore Nott as he stripped off his trousers and stood stark naked in the middle of the bathroom. 

Look away, you thought. Look the fuck away now.  

But like a moth to a flame, you found yourself horribly drawn to the cocky, arrogant, son of a bludger. His tall frame cut an imposing figure in the dark as slivers of moonlight danced across his ridiculously toned chest and well-defined abs. He was neither brawny nor scrawny, but somewhere in the middle, which unfortunately happened to be your sweet spot. 

To make matters worse, the smug prick seemed perfectly aware of your ogling. You could’ve sworn Theo flexed as he stalked towards you. Unlike most boys his age, he wasn’t awkward or bumbling. Theo was confident in his body. Too confident. 

You sighed. “Can you at least attempt to be decent?” 

“Why? It’s not like you haven’t seen it all before.”

As if you needed a reminder of this ongoing tryst between you. Theo waded to your side, leaning his head back as the warm water sloshed around him. His eyes fluttered close, those thick lashes of his kissing the top of his cheekbones. Water trickled down his collarbone and you had to fight the urge to lean over and lick it off. 

“I told you, last time was—“ 

“The last time,” Theo finished. “I’m perfectly aware, principessa. You say it every time.” 

“I mean it this time.” 

He cocked his head, flashing those hypnotizing eyes at you. “Oh?” Theo drawled slowly, reaching out to brush a wayward lock of hair that had escaped from your braid. “Did my poor little Ravenclaw finally find the courage to say no to the big bad Slytherin?” 

Your breath hitched as he pressed his lips against your throat. “Fuck,” you whispered. 

“Go on then, love,” Theo hummed against your skin. He kissed the sensitive spot beneath your earlobe, making you involuntarily arch into him. Slender fingers wrapped around the base of your throat, holding you in place. “Tell me what you want, diavolina.” 

You sighed in defeat. “Stop being an asshole and kiss me, Nott.” 

Theo grabbed the back of your head and crashed his lips against yours like a man starved. After months of going without, you came to the horrid realization that you craved this as much as he did. You crawled into his lap, straddling him as he gripped your hips hard enough to leave bruises. 

I am a stupid girl, you thought. A stupid, horny girl who had no business snogging Theodore Nott. 

One, you were bitter rivals. Two, Theo awakened a dangerous side of you that defied all logic. This whole fucked up situation started because of your lapse of judgment last winter. As always, Theo had said or done something to annoy you during class and in return you hexed his drink to taste like dragon dung. He retched for a week straight. Somehow Snape found out that you were to blame and placed both of you in detention.

One thing led to another in the potions classroom and you ended up with your skirt around your waist and Theo’s head between your legs. You quickly resolved that the only way to shut him up was to keep him occupied and occupied he was. Ever since then, the two of you had been at it like rabbits. 

You thought that you would leave all of it behind in sixth year, but barely a week into this term and you were already repeating the pattern. 

“I’ve been thinking about this all summer,” Theo groaned into your mouth. 

“That’s cute, Nott,” you responded sarcastically. “Miss me over the holidays, did you?”

Theo rolled his eyes. “Oh, please. Don’t act like you haven’t been thinking about this too. You’ve been testier than a Hungarian Horntail since the minute you got off the platform. I could tell that you haven’t been properly fucked since our little impromptu goodbye in the broom closet last spring.” 

“You’re absolutely repulsing.” 

He smirked. “Then why are you pulling me closer?” 

You rolled your eyes. “Shut up and fuck me before I change my mind.” 

“You could say please.” 

“I could,” you said with a shrug before gripping his cock and lining him up at your entrance. Theo groaned as you sank down into him with a satisfied little smirk. “But I won’t.” 

The moan that came out of his mouth barely sounded human. “Fuck,” he said, burying his head in the crook of your neck. “How do you always feel so fucking good?” 

You knew what he meant. As much as you hated to admit it, Theo was right. You hadn’t gotten properly laid since your last tryst. There had been other boys this summer, but none of them made you feel like this. Because sex with Theo wasn’t just sex. It was warfare. You fucked like you both had something to prove. 

Even now, as you grinded your hips against him, Theo thrusted upwards with equal force like you were competing for the bloody house cup. You ran your fingers through his hair, frowning a little. 

“What?” Theo asked. 

“Did you cut your hair?” 

He grinned as he trailed kisses along your jaw. “You don’t like it?”

“Less to hold onto.”

“Don’t worry dolcezza,” Theo chuckled darkly. He squeezed your thighs and pressed you against him roughly. “I’ll make sure to hold on tight for the both of us.”

You hummed in agreement before sinking down again, setting a steady rhythm as you rode him with reckless abandon. For someone who valued logic, every ounce of common sense you possessed went out the window when it came to this infuriating boy. 

Maybe you were a masochist. But as Theo thrust sharply into you, the stupid little voice in your head said that you didn’t really mind the pain. 

You moaned as Theo tilted your chin, capturing your lips with his. It was a clash of tongue and teeth as you fought for dominance, putting your bodies to the test. He knew exactly what buttons to press, which sensitive spots to hit, how to challenge you physically and mentally. 

“Gods, right there.” You whimpered, digging your fingernails into his back. Theo’s hypnotizing eyes snapped to yours, piercing through every layer until you felt even more bare than you already were. “Don’t fucking stop, please.”

He smirked. “So you do have bedside manner after all.” 

“Not for you,” you said as you grinded down hard, making Theo bite into your shoulder. 

“Salazar fucking save me,” he grunted. 

“Your founder can’t save you now, Nott.” 

“Cruel, ruthless woman.” Theo looked up at you like he was praying to the stars. His movements stilled as your gazes collided. “Tell me you missed this. Tell me that no one else makes you feel like this.” 

You whined at the loss of friction. “You’ve picked a shit time to get all sentimental on me, Nott.”

“It’s not sentiment, it’s the truth,” Theo declared, thrusting lazily. “And I want to hear you say it.” 

“Why?”

“Call it curiosity,” he said casually. “I want to know if I measure up to the boys back in Oxford.”

Not even close, you thought. But you were not about to admit that out loud. 

“Curiosity killed the cat, you know.” 

Theo chuckled before sinking his teeth into your neck. “But I’m not a cat, little bird. I’m a snake and I’m coiled around you ready to strike if you say the word.” 

You shivered slightly. This constant back and forth, all the bickering and banter, was just you and Theo’s sick and twisted version of foreplay. Gods, you fucking missed it. 

“Fine,” you grumbled. “Theodore Nott, you are an infuriating little shit but you fuck like an absolute demon. I missed sneaking around with you in the broom closet, the charms classroom, the astronomy tower, and wherever else we managed to defile in this bloody castle. Is that what you wanted to hear?” 

The shiteating grin on his face almost made you want to take it all back, but then he flipped you over, laying you down on the cold marble tile and staring at you with so much lust in his eyes that you felt the depths of his desire in your core. He crawled over you, water trickling down his tanned skin. 

“Close enough,” he remarked before hiking your leg over his shoulder and burying himself so deep that you clawed the edge of the tub to keep yourself from slipping. 

The rest of it was a blur of skin on skin as Theo unleashed himself on you. His mouth, his fingers, his cock were all just tools of seduction that he wielded with lethal precision. 

The pleasure washed over you in waves, crashing again and again as he made you cum not once, not twice, but a total of three times. By the time he reached his peak, you were so exhausted that the two of you collapsed in the dark. 

You laid side by side, staring up at the domed glass ceiling in stunned silence. After a moment, Theo turned over to face you.

“So?” 

“So what?”

“Did I manage to knock that stick out of your arse?”

You rolled your eyes, pushing off the tile. “And that’s my cue to leave.”

“I’m kidding. I’m good, but I’m not that good,” Theo teased, following closely behind as you put your clothes back on. He eyed the bright magenta stain on the front of your uniform. “What happened there? Did you murder some poor unsuspecting pygmy puff?” 

“No, but I did a number on the potions lab,” you lamented with a sigh. “That stupid Angel’s Trumpet Draught is bloody impossible to brew.” 

“That old thing?” Theo asked, pulling out a fresh set of clothes from his quidditch bag. “I finished it ages ago.” 

You gaped, nearly tumbling over your own skirt. “How? I followed the recipe word for word and this disastrous stain was all I managed to achieve.”

“Sometimes you have to go off the book,” he replied. “Experiment a little.” 

“No thanks, I’d rather keep all my limbs intact.”

“I think you’re doing a rather splendid job of endangering yourself all on your own,” Theo said sarcastically. He cocked his head as you slipped on your boots. “I’ll make you a deal. I’ll show you how to brew the draught in exchange for a favor.” 

You narrowed your eyes in suspicion. “What kind of favor?” 

“That’s for me to decide and for you to accept.” 

“I’d rather not give an egomaniac a nuclear advantage.” 

Theo rolled his eyes. “Do you want my help or not, diavolina?” 

“Fine,” you said with a sigh. “But only because I’m desperate.” 

“Words every bloke is dying to hear.” 

Without a word, he tossed a mass of balled up fabric in your direction. “What’s this?” 

“A jumper, an article of clothing generally worn to retain warmth in colder climates,” Theo deadpanned.

“I know what a jumper is, you tosser. Why are you giving it to me?” 

“Because, you’ll get a cold walking around like that,” Theo explained with a longsuffering sigh as though you were a clueless first year. The corners of his mouth quirked up. “Plus, I can see your nipples through your blouse and as much as I enjoy the view, I doubt that flashing Filch is at the top of your bucket list.” 

“You truly are appalling,” you replied, shrugging the slightly faded jumper on. The thing was so worn that you couldn’t even make out the inscription on the front. The fabric swallowed you whole, skimming the top of your thighs. It also smelled like sea salt and smoke and boy. One boy in particular. 

“You’re welcome, sweetheart.” He grinned, showing off those stupid little dimples of his. “Meet me in the potions lab tomorrow. Eight o’clock sharp, just like old times. And bring a muffin.” 

“For the draught?’ 

“No, for me.” Theo said, holding the door open. “I’ll need motivation if I’m spending my Saturday morning with you.” 

You slipped into the hallway and flipped him the bird. His laughter followed you in the dark like an annoying shadow.

“See you tomorrow, my little pygmy puff!”

Taglist: @annaisabookworm@marina468@yaraasthings @the0doreslover@bubybubsters@moony-artemis @natasha887@lucyysthings@criesinlies @bunnymallowo@niktwazny303@letmedownslows @siriuslyalovergirl@wordsarelife@clairesjointshurt @daydreamingabthar @mishtay @cherry-hoe  @littlebookbengal @maybefoxysouls @nomup  @aliensknowmyillusions

[talesofsymphoniac]

I Know What You Think Of Me, Tim Kreider

Kaguya-sama: Love is War, Chapter 150

Wicked, Defying Gravity

Death Gate Cycle, Performance Notes for "Closing The Seventh Gate"

" Heartbreak is what happens when love is lost. [...] Change in another person I love may be a good thing. It may be significant personal growth, and I may be happy about it and proud of it. It can also change our relationship and break my heart."

--Joe Reynolds, quoted in Atlas of the Heart by Brené Brown

Steven Universe, The Answer

"For all those things to not have happened, you would have had to not have been you, and I would have had to not have been me. And then it wouldn’t have mattered because it wouldn’t have been me meeting you. It was me meeting you. It was inevitable."

Letters, Resolved earlgreytea68

"Talk nonsense, but talk your own nonsense, and I'll kiss you for it. To go wrong in one's own way is better than to go right in someone else's. In the first case you are a man, in the second you're no better than a bird."

--Fyodor Dostoevsky, Crime and Punishment

~*~

I want you to be you more than I want you to be someone I like/I want to be me more than I want to be someone who you like

[kyndaris]

Who Else Will I Have Da-Chao Beans With?

With a brand-new PlayStation 5, lovingly dubbed Seto Kaiba, now in my grasp I was excited to try out Final Fantasy 7 Remake: Intergrade. In particular, the downloadable content (DLC) featuring everyone’s favourite materia hunter: Yuffie Kisaragi. Yes, you heard it right. I suffered through disappointment and numerous attempts of trying to put my name down on a PlayStation 5 waitlist just so that I could play a $30 add-on. I mean, it’s not the first time that I’ve willingly put down money to enjoy more of the story, but it’s a rare occurrence.

With that out of the way, please know that this impression of INTERmission will be filled with spoilers. I know this post won’t go up until August but considering how hard it is to still get consoles, well…you’ve been warned.

In contrast to Cloud’s stoic and no-nonsense attitude, Yuffie is a breath of fresh air. Right from the gates, her narration in a bid to impress the members of Avalanche that aren’t even present is a joy and delight. True, she’s younger than our main character, but she has seen a lot of things. The conflict between Wutai and Shinra back in the good old days of Crisis Core are very much part of the lore in the expanded Final Fantasy 7 universe.

In fact, our favourite puppy of the series, Zack Fair, also got to meet the rising ninja star of Wutai during the conflict.

But I’m getting off-topic. Back to INTERmission.

After traversing the wastelands around Sector 7, Yuffie finally reaches the slums before the plate has fallen. Once she has arrived, she meets up with the members of AVALANCHE. Except, of course, they’re not the ones that we know and love. Enter Zhijie, Nayo, Polk and Billy Bob.

As for Jessie, Biggs and Wedge? All three were located around the slums. Jessie was seated in front of Seventh Heaven (which Yuffie could not enter), Wedge enjoyed the company of many cats and Biggs was idling by not too far from the others. All of them were interactable but their dialogue essentially boiled down to: stop bothering me. I did like, however, being able to play the board game: Fort Condor with at least two of them. AND UTTERLY DESTROYED THEM WHILE I WAS AT IT.

Chadley too, made an appearance – this time offering a battle with Ramuh and also being the GRANDMASTER of the Fort Condor board games.

By the by, the Fort Condor minigame is probably quite reminiscent of the auto-battles that have gained popularity. Three towers to be defended, summonable units…

I’ve never played any of the auto-battles but it does seem fun. For a short while at least. And as a minigame within a game.

Once I had explored the slums to my heart’s content, it was back to the story missions. Enter Sonon. As soon as he appeared, I knew that things would not end well. After all, Yuffie did not have a companion when you met her as an optional side character. And in every other iteration: from Advent Children to Dirge of Cerberus, he was never present.

But though I knew his time would be limited, he brought excellent banter to the adventure and served as an excellent support to Yuffie. Even if the brother-sister connection was a little ham-fisted with Yuffie reminding the warrior of his own sister: Melphi. Still, despite the way the developers bungled the immediate connection, I didn’t mind. Yuffie, after all, was on a mission to nab the greatest and ultimate materia right from under Shinra’s nose.

It is important to know that while not much changes in the way of combat, Yuffie does play quite a bit different from the other main characters. In fact, she can fight both close-up and at range with her ninjutsu arts. Another change to the formula is that you cannot change to Sonon. Only Yuffie can be controlled – though you can give commands to Sonon and have him perform abilities and spells.

Then, of course, there’s also the synergy aspect wherein Sonon and Yuffie would combine their attacks to deal additional damage. It was fun experimenting with the system and showed how versatile the combat system could be.

Once they enjoyed a trip chasing Zhijie to obtain High-D cards that would allow them to slip into Shinra Headquarters, it was back to the slums to see Tifa and Barret return without SOLDIER-boy Cloud Strife. What I loved about this moment was that we also got to see a private conversation between Tifa and Barret that did not feature in the first game or in the Remake run. Seeing the aftermath of Cloud falling down into the slums below and how it had impacted both Tifa and Barret was a great character moment. And it also helped serve to explain the reason why Tifa ended up in Wall Market in the first place.

With that moment out of the way, our heroes Yuffie and Sonon head to Shinra headquarters. As they slip into the elevator, they are joined by Scarlet: Head of Weapons Development. From there, the game becomes a gauntlet of battles. It’s not the most thrilling chapter to experience but it does showcase how well the Wutaians fight and the innate teamwork between Yuffie and Sonon.

This new piece of downloadable content, however, is not satisfied to simply end matters here, however. When Scarlet is defeated (and even in defeat she’s assessing how best to finetune her machines of war), she activates DEEPGROUND. For the first time in a long while, I got to see Weiss the Immaculate and Nero the Sable.

While I may not have played Dirge of Cerberus, I did watch ALL the walkthroughs that I could find on YouTube back in my younger years. I watched Vincent Valentine grapple with his past and finally learn to control the power within.

That aside, the new threat that Nero presented was a challenge. With his arms strapped to his chest in a straitjacket, he reminded me of Anima Aeon from Final Fantasy X. But it was his darkness powerset that gave me all the Kingdom Hearts vibes. If I have to hear ‘Darkness’ again in anything, I think I might have to scream.

Beyond these few nitpick moments, I felt that Sonon’s death was a little overdone. Particularly for a character that had only been fighting beside us for only a few short moments. Don’t get me wrong, the developers tried their best to sell it: the swell in the orchestra, the use of copious flashbacks…

Still, the pain expressed by Yuffie (which was then followed by the Sector 7 plate falling) was enough to sell a bit of the horror.

My only question though is: WHAT IS NERO GOING TO DO WITH SONON’S BODY?

From there, the credits rolled and we caught a glimpse of Yuffie out in the wilds, on a chocobo and humming. As a side note, does everyone know the chocobo theme song? Is it a piece of canonical music within the game universe that is associated with chocobos? Like, is it used in advertisement for chocobos? I NEED TO KNOW!

We also get to see Barret, Tifa, Aerith and Cloud traipsing along on the road to Kalm. Better than that, we see Zack in his alternate dimension reaching the church in the Sector 5 slums, debating how best to reintroduce himself to his fair flower lady. Where is his version of Cloud in all this? Why are there so many people in the church? How does this whole dimension/ alternate timeline thing work?

Once again, the Final Fantasy 7 Remake left me with more questions than answers. Though I never played the original, over the years, I had scoured the wiki sites to learn as much as I could. And though I knew the plot beats, the creative directors and script writer have kept things close to the vest – tantalising me with the prospect of what is to come.

I still need a slap fight between Scarlet and Tifa, okay! It had better be in there!

[grailfinders]

Fate and Phantasms #95: Gilgamesh(Child)

Today on Fate and Phantasms, we’re continuing the pseudo-redo theme of the past couple builds with Kid Gilgamesh. First Nero, then Shiki, now Gil... We swear if there’s another alternate version of an existing character coming up we’re going to scream.

But yeah he’s Gilgamesh, but baby; that means he’s cute enough to charm enemies, has instant knowledge about said enemies thanks to Sha Naqba Imuru, and can weaponize anything in the Gate of Babylon.

Check out Kogil’s build breakdown below the cut, or his character sheet over here!

Next up: We’re watching, and we’re waiting. On the edge of our seat, anticipating.

Race and Background

Gilgamesh is definitely some kind of Aasimar, but we’re making a child here. Leaning into the whole rugrat experience, we’re going with a Lightfoot Halfling, but feel free to play a child Aasimar if you want. Or a bugbear-don’t let us stop you from having fun. Regardless, for the sake of this build you get +2 Dexterity and +1 Charisma. You’re also Lucky thanks to your clairvoyance, letting you re-roll 1′s on attacks, saves, and ability checks. You’re also pretty Brave, giving you advantage against being frightened, and Nimble, which lets you move through the spaces of larger creatures. Finally, you’re Naturally Stealthy, letting you hide when obscured by larger creatures. Kids probably shouldn’t be out adventuring, but at least you’re a smaller target than the other yous. You also only have a speed of 25′, but it’s not the end of the world.

You’re the same person as the other Gilgamesh, so it’s not too surprising that you have the same background. The Noble background gives you History proficiency because you’re one of, if not the, oldest servants around, and Persuasion proficiency as well. You’re a kid, kids are cute, you can get your way with some puppy dog eyes.

Ability Scores

Put your highest score into Charisma; like I said, you’re cute, and you also have an extremely powerful array of weaponry that you can summon at will. Both of those are charisma-based skills. Second is Dexterity; you’re a nimble lil munchkin, or at least you’ll have to be to run around a battle just wearing cargo shorts and a hoodie. Third is Wisdom, followed up by Intelligence. You have tons of knowledge of the world around you being pumped into your brain by one of your Noble Phantasms, and you’re also aware enough of social norms to know you shouldn’t constantly use it, unlike your older self. Your Constitution is a little low because you’re still growing, but dump Strength. You’re a kid, and you don’t have to swing any weapons around when you can just magically summon them instead.

Class Levels

1. Bard 1: You get by on your charms, wits, and weirdly diverse array of magical powers, and that’s saying bard to us. You get Dexterity and Charisma save proficiency, as well as three skills of your choice; Insight for a less magical explanation for your NP, Religion because you’re part god- you should know your family tree, and Perception because you’re going to have to pick your weapons out of literally everything that exists, so you’ll need a good eye.

You can give away Bardic Inspiration as a bonus action, giving another creature a bit of a boost to one of their attack rolls, saves, or checks in the next 10 minutes. You can use this feature a number of times per long rest equal to your charisma modifier. You can also cast Spells using your Charisma to cast them. 

Grab Prestidigitation so you can start taking small objects out of the gate, and Thunderclap for a simple use of your treasures in an AoE blast. You also get Charm Person and Command to really rub in how cute you are, as well as Detect Magic and Identify to pick up extra information with Sha Naqba Imuru. Both charm person and Command require their target to fail a wisdom save to work, that’ll have a DC of 8 + your proficiency bonus + your charisma modifier.

2. Bard 2: At second level you can leverage your NP to become a Jack of All Trades, beaming enough information into your head that you can add half your proficiency bonus to any check you’re not proficient with. You also learn a Song of Rest, adding an extra d6 to any healing done over a short rest. You also become more of a team player with some Magical Inspiration, letting creatures add your inspiration to healing or damage done by one instance of a spell. 

Speaking of healing done by spells, Heroism makes a creature immune to fear, and gain temporary HP each turn. You know what you’re doing, and knowledge is the antithesis of fear. Unless you’re facing a Beholder, then knowing what you’re getting into only makes things worse. But you’re level 2, so that probably won’t be an issue.

3. Bard 3: You’re a bit young for college, but you graduate from the College of Creation anyway! Now your inspiration comes prepackaged with extra effects thanks to your Note of Potential. When used on an ability check, your inspiration die is rolled twice and either result can be used. When used for an Attack Roll, each creature of choice within 5′ of the target must make a Constitution save or take Thunder damage equal to the amount rolled. If used on a Saving Throw, the user gains temporary HP equal to the amount rolled plus your charisma modifier. You can also make a Performance of Creation as an action, creating a nonmagical item on the ground/in a liquid within 10′ of you. It’s a powerful ability, but it comes with some caveats. It must be worth less than 20 times your level, and has to be medium or smaller. It’s also very clearly created by magic, so you can’t pass something off as the real deal for scams. Not like you’d need the money anyway. You can use this once per long rest, or by spending a 2nd level spell slot. 

Speaking of, you also get second level spells this level. You can now make a Cloud of Daggers for a more offensive use of your Gate of Babylon. This creates a 5′ cube of daggers floating in the air, and creatures that enter the cube take slashing damage when they enter the cube. Either stick it in a doorway for a decent trap, or team up with Spartacus for some harsh damage.

One last thing- you get a round of Expertise this level, doubling your proficiency in History and Persuasion.

4. Bard 4: Use your first Ability Score Improvement to boost your Charisma for stronger spells and more inspiration. You also pick up Friends for another charm point and Hold Person to use the Chains of Heaven like they were meant to be, forcing a wisdom save on a humanoid, and if they fail they’re paralyzed until the spell ends or they make another wisdom save on their turn.

5. Bard 5: Fifth level bards get a boost to their inspiration, turning their bardic inspiration dice to d8s. You also become a Font of Inspiration, regaining inspiration uses on short rests instead of long ones.

You also get third level spells, like Clairvoyance to mimic your usual... clairvoyance. You spend 10 minutes to spy on a location you’ve seen before for up to 10 minutes.

6. Bard 6: At this level you get Countercharm, but you’ve already got Heroism which is a better use of your time anyway, since the former uses up your action and only gives creatures advantage against being charmed or frightened. You also get Animating Performance, allowing you to weaponize a large or smaller item, turning it into a Dancing Item that you can command as a bonus action. You can also inspire a creature and command your item at the same time. You can only animate an item this way once per long rest, or by spending a third level spell slot. One interesting effect of the dancing item is its Irrepressible Dance; creatures that start their turn within 10′ of the item have their speed increased or decreased by 10′ for the turn. That’s your speed issue solved then.

You also get Daylight to help your dumb halfling eyes see in the dark and make your Gate of Babylon items more impressive. Swords are cool, glowing swords are cooler.

One last thing to mention is that your Performance of Creation can now make Large items as well.

7. Bard 7: Seventh level bards get fourth level spells, like Locate Creature, which helps you locate... a creature... not all spells are super complicated. You do have to have seen the creature up close before, and it has a range of 1000′. Also, running water has a tendency to block the spell up, so don’t expect this to work too well in an urban setting.

8. Sorcerer 1: You’re charismatic, but you don’t really sing that much, so let’s grab some magic from your Divine Soul while we’re here. You get another set of Spells that also use Charisma to cast, but you don’t have to worry about starting over with spell slots; both lists use the same slots, as defined by the multiclassing spell slots table. You also get Divine Magic, which gives you Cure Wounds, as a treat. This lets you pick up cantrips and spells from the cleric spell list as well. You’re also Favored by the Gods despite your later attitude towards them, letting you add 2d4 to a failed save or attack once per short rest. You shouldn’t need a Noble Phantasm to tell you to avoid the fireball, but every little bit helps.

For spells, Light gives you a less resource-intensive Daylight to work with. Sword Burst, Fire Bolt, Magic Missile, and Ice Knife help fill out some offensive uses of your Gate of Babylon, and Blade Ward blocks enemies from getting a clean hit on you with well timed gates, making you resistant to physical damage types for a turn.

9. Sorcerer 2: Your Font of Magic gives you a couple Sorcery Points that you can spend later to do cool stuff or right now to recharge spell slots. You can also burn slots for extra points, but that’s not very useful right now. They recharge on long rests.

Also grab Catapult to help weaponize weapons that already exist. It can only throw items of 5 lbs. or less at level 1, but you can force a dexterity save to deal some bludgeoning damage.

10. Sorcerer 3: Remember those points from last level? Now you can spend them on Metamagic, ways to customize your spells for added effects. A Quickened Spell reduces a spell’s casting time from 1 action to 1 bonus action, and a Twinned Spell casts a spell a second time, targeting another creature. You have a lot of stuff in your treasury, don’t be afraid to bring them out.

11. Sorcerer 4: Use this ASI to improve your Constitution. Trust me, you’ll need it. You also get Guidance for even more ways to cheat at ability checks, and Earthbind so you can use the Chains of Heaven even on annoying flying creatures.

12. Sorcerer 5: Fifth level sorcerers get third level spells, as well as Magical Guidance. If you fail an ability check, you can spend 1 sorcery point to re-roll the d20, and must use the new roll. Grab Melf’s Minute Meteors for even more things to throw at people.

13. Bard 8: Use this ASI to maximize your Charisma for the most inspiration and best charms. Speaking of, grab Charm Monster so your charms aren’t restricted to just humanoids. Your Fair Youth explicitly only works on humanoids in FGO, but even with these spells we’re probably downgrading your Gate of Babylon a lot, so let’s just call this even.

14. Bard 9: Your Song of Rest improves a bit, so you add 1d8 to healing now. You also get fifth level spells, like Animate Objects to more consistently weaponize your treasury and the world around you. You can turn up to 10 nonmagical objects into creatures that can fly, each size larger than small doubles the amount of objects one object counts as: medium objects count as two, large as four, etc. You can command any number of them with a bonus action, either deciding their exact move next turn or giving a general order. Throwing treasure around is nice, but treasure that throws itself around? Amazing.

15. Bard 10: Your Bardic Inspiration increases to 1d10, and you get another round of Expertise. Increase your Insight and Perception to make it even harder to lie to you.

You also get Magical Secrets, two spells you can use from any spell list, and a new cantrip. Grab Dancing Lights for the hell of it, Telekinesis to weaponize the larger items in your treasury, and Conjure Volley for when the need for quantity trumps quality. The former lets you move huge or smaller creatures that fail a contested strength check, or what we’re really after, the ability to move objects of up to 1000 pounds. You technically can’t throw stuff around with this, but 1000 pounds dropped on someone from 30′ up is probably going to hurt regardless. The latter lets you throw a weapon into the air and make hundreds of copies launch themselves back down at a target area, dealing the kind of damage that weapon would normally do.

16. Bard 11: Eleventh level bards get sixth level spells, like Find the Path, which helps you find the shortest path to a non-moving target. Note that this is the shortest path, not the safest.

17. Bard 12: Use your last ASI to improve your Dexterity for a better AC, and maybe better damage if you really have to use a weapon.

18. Bard 13: Your song of rest increases to a d10, and you learn seventh level spells like Prismatic Spray for a little variety. You fire various random treasures in a 60′ cone, and roll a d8 for each creature it hits. The spell can deal fire, acid, lightning, poison, or cold damage, petrify creatures, or send them to another plane. Look, you have a lot of treasures. If you spent the time picking the exact one you needed for the job you’d never get anything done.

19. Bard 14: Creation bards hit their Creative Crescendo at level 14, letting you create a number of items equal to your charisma modifier at once when you use your Performance of Creation. Only one item can between the sizes of Medium and Huge, the rest have to be Small or smaller. You can also ignore gp limits when making items, so you can dish out the solid gold everything you’re known for.

You also get one last round of Magical Secrets, picking up Blade Barrier to make a barrier of blades, and Crown of Stars for even more things to throw at people.

20. Bard 15: Your final level sees your Bardic Inspiration hit 1d12, and you gain access to 8th level spells, like Glibness. This spell effectively guarantees every charisma-based roll you make is at least a 15, and magical effects to determine if you’re lying always say you’re telling the truth. You’re adorable, the mongrels love you.

Pros:

You’re really good at anything that happens out of combat. Between your luck, magical guidance, and being a jack of all trades, you’ve got a pretty good shot at doing anything skill based that needs to be done. You’re also really charming, both in the sense that you’ve got a stupidly high charisma and expertise, and in the sense that you can literally charm people really well.

Despite that, you make a big presence in combat as well. ten animated objects flying around plus another one made with Animating Performance means you can cover a lot of ground and make it very hard to escape.

I don’t think I really emphasized this that much in the main breakdown, but you can literally make anything you want out of thin air. That’s pretty great, especially in a campaign where the DM rewards creativity. Not only can you make it, but you can manipulated them as well, with spells like conjure volley and telekinesis further expanding your options. You probably can’t make a plane, but there’s nothing stopping you from just building your own platform and carrying yourself wherever you need to go.

Cons:

Charms and item manipulation spells both require Concentration, so not only will you have to pick and choose, but in a firefight there’s a chance you can waste a spell slot as well. You also have pretty low HP, so it’s not much trouble to get you into Power Word Kill range.

That dip into sorcerer gives you a lot of versatility, but it also means you don’t get level 9 spells. Doubling up on magic is cool and all, but it doesn’t hold a candle to Wish.

Your bonus action is going to be pretty crowded by commanding both a Dancing Object and your Animated Objects, so your turns might not go as smoothly as you’d like.

[mellowcat-artist]

A Tale for Our Times

“Even with the utterly lost, to whom life and death are equally jests, there are matters of which no jest can be made.“

The Masque of the Red Death

by Edgar Allan Poe

The "Red Death" had long devastated the country.  No pestilence had ever been so fatal, or so hideous.  Blood was its Avatar and its seal—the redness and the horror of blood.  There were sharp pains, and sudden dizziness, and then profuse bleeding at the pores, with dissolution.  The scarlet stains upon the body and especially upon the face of the victim, were the pest ban which shut him out from the aid and from the sympathy of his fellow-men. And the whole seizure, progress and termination of the disease, were the incidents of half an hour.

But the Prince Prospero was happy and dauntless and sagacious. When his dominions were half depopulated, he summoned to his presence a thousand hale and light-hearted friends from among the knights and dames of his court, and with these retired to the deep seclusion of one of his castellated abbeys.  This was an extensive and magnificent structure, the creation of the prince's own eccentric yet august taste.  A strong and lofty wall girdled it in. This wall had gates of iron.  The courtiers, having entered, brought furnaces and massy hammers and welded the bolts.  They resolved to leave means neither of ingress nor egress to the sudden impulses of despair or of frenzy from within.  The abbey was amply provisioned.  With such precautions the courtiers might bid defiance to contagion.  The external world could take care of itself.  In the meantime it was folly to grieve, or to think.  The prince had provided all the appliances of pleasure.  There were buffoons, there were improvisatori, there were ballet-dancers, there were musicians, there was Beauty, there was wine.  All these and security were within.  Without was the "Red Death".

It was towards the close of the fifth or sixth month of his seclusion, and while the pestilence raged most furiously abroad, that the Prince Prospero entertained his thousand friends at a masked ball of the most unusual magnificence.

It was a voluptuous scene, that masquerade.  But first let me tell of the rooms in which it was held.  These were seven—an imperial suite. In many palaces, however, such suites form a long and straight vista, while the folding doors slide back nearly to the walls on either hand, so that the view of the whole extent is scarcely impeded.  Here the case was very different, as might have been expected from the duke's love of the bizarre.  The apartments were so irregularly disposed that the vision embraced but little more than one at a time.  There was a sharp turn at every twenty or thirty yards, and at each turn a novel effect.  To the right and left, in the middle of each wall, a tall and narrow Gothic window looked out upon a closed corridor which pursued the windings of the suite.  These windows were of stained glass whose colour varied in accordance with the prevailing hue of the decorations of the chamber into which it opened.  That at the eastern extremity was hung, for example in blue—and vividly blue were its windows.  The second chamber was purple in its ornaments and tapestries, and here the panes were purple.  The third was green throughout, and so were the casements.  The fourth was furnished and lighted with orange—the fifth with white—the sixth with violet.  The seventh apartment was closely shrouded in black velvet tapestries that hung all over the ceiling and down the walls, falling in heavy folds upon a carpet of the same material and hue.  But in this chamber only, the colour of the windows failed to correspond with the decorations.  The panes here were scarlet—a deep blood colour.  Now in no one of the seven apartments was there any lamp or candelabrum, amid the profusion of golden ornaments that lay scattered to and fro or depended from the roof. There was no light of any kind emanating from lamp or candle within the suite of chambers.  But in the corridors that followed the suite, there stood, opposite to each window, a heavy tripod, bearing a brazier of fire, that projected its rays through the tinted glass and so glaringly illumined the room.  And thus were produced a multitude of gaudy and fantastic appearances.  But in the western or black chamber the effect of the fire-light that streamed upon the dark hangings through the blood-tinted panes, was ghastly in the extreme, and produced so wild a look upon the countenances of those who entered, that there were few of the company bold enough to set foot within its precincts at all.

It was in this apartment, also, that there stood against the western wall, a gigantic clock of ebony.  Its pendulum swung to and fro with a dull, heavy, monotonous clang; and when the minute-hand made the circuit of the face, and the hour was to be stricken, there came from the brazen lungs of the clock a sound which was clear and loud and deep and exceedingly musical, but of so peculiar a note and emphasis that, at each lapse of an hour, the musicians of the orchestra were constrained to pause, momentarily, in their performance, to harken to the sound; and thus the waltzers perforce ceased their evolutions; and there was a brief disconcert of the whole gay company; and, while the chimes of the clock yet rang, it was observed that the giddiest grew pale, and the more aged and sedate passed their hands over their brows as if in confused revery or meditation.  But when the echoes had fully ceased, a light laughter at once pervaded the assembly; the musicians looked at each other and smiled as if at their own nervousness and folly, and made whispering vows, each to the other, that the next chiming of the clock should produce in them no similar emotion; and then, after the lapse of sixty minutes, (which embrace three thousand and six hundred seconds of the Time that flies,) there came yet another chiming of the clock, and then were the same disconcert and tremulousness and meditation as before.

But, in spite of these things, it was a gay and magnificent revel.  The tastes of the duke were peculiar.  He had a fine eye for colours and effects.  He disregarded the decora of mere fashion.  His plans were bold and fiery, and his conceptions glowed with barbaric lustre.  There are some who would have thought him mad.  His followers felt that he was not.  It was necessary to hear and see and touch him to be sure that he was not.

He had directed, in great part, the movable embellishments of the seven chambers, upon occasion of this great fête; and it was his own guiding taste which had given character to the masqueraders.  Be sure they were grotesque.  There were much glare and glitter and piquancy and phantasm—much of what has been since seen in "Hernani".  There were arabesque figures with unsuited limbs and appointments.  There were delirious fancies such as the madman fashions.  There were much of the beautiful, much of the wanton, much of the bizarre, something of the terrible, and not a little of that which might have excited disgust. To and fro in the seven chambers there stalked, in fact, a multitude of dreams.  And these—the dreams—writhed in and about taking hue from the rooms, and causing the wild music of the orchestra to seem as the echo of their steps.  And, anon, there strikes the ebony clock which stands in the hall of the velvet.  And then, for a moment, all is still, and all is silent save the voice of the clock.  The dreams are stiff-frozen as they stand.  But the echoes of the chime die away—they have endured but an instant—and a light, half-subdued laughter floats after them as they depart.  And now again the music swells, and the dreams live, and writhe to and fro more merrily than ever, taking hue from the many tinted windows through which stream the rays from the tripods.  But to the chamber which lies most westwardly of the seven, there are now none of the maskers who venture; for the night is waning away; and there flows a ruddier light through the blood-coloured panes; and the blackness of the sable drapery appals; and to him whose foot falls upon the sable carpet, there comes from the near clock of ebony a muffled peal more solemnly emphatic than any which reaches their ears who indulged in the more remote gaieties of the other apartments.

But these other apartments were densely crowded, and in them beat feverishly the heart of life.  And the revel went whirlingly on, until at length there commenced the sounding of midnight upon the clock.  And then the music ceased, as I have told; and the evolutions of the waltzers were quieted; and there was an uneasy cessation of all things as before.  But now there were twelve strokes to be sounded by the bell of the clock; and thus it happened, perhaps, that more of thought crept, with more of time, into the meditations of the thoughtful among those who revelled. And thus too, it happened, perhaps, that before the last echoes of the last chime had utterly sunk into silence, there were many individuals in the crowd who had found leisure to become aware of the presence of a masked figure which had arrested the attention of no single individual before.  And the rumour of this new presence having spread itself whisperingly around, there arose at length from the whole company a buzz, or murmur, expressive of disapprobation and surprise—then, finally, of terror, of horror, and of disgust.

In an assembly of phantasms such as I have painted, it may well be supposed that no ordinary appearance could have excited such sensation. In truth the masquerade licence of the night was nearly unlimited; but the figure in question had out-Heroded Herod, and gone beyond the bounds of even the prince's indefinite decorum. There are chords in the hearts of the most reckless which cannot be touched without emotion. Even with the utterly lost, to whom life and death are equally jests, there are matters of which no jest can be made.  The whole company, indeed, seemed now deeply to feel that in the costume and bearing of the stranger neither wit nor propriety existed.  The figure was tall and gaunt, and shrouded from head to foot in the habiliments of the grave.  The mask which concealed the visage was made so nearly to resemble the countenance of a stiffened corpse that the closest scrutiny must have had difficulty in detecting the cheat.  And yet all this might have been endured, if not approved, by the mad revellers around.  But the mummer had gone so far as to assume the type of the Red Death. His vesture was dabbled in blood—and his broad brow, with all the features of the face, was besprinkled with the scarlet horror.

When the eyes of the Prince Prospero fell upon this spectral image (which, with a slow and solemn movement, as if more fully to sustain its  role, stalked to and fro among the waltzers) he was seen to be convulsed, in the first moment with a strong shudder either of terror or distaste; but, in the next, his brow reddened with rage.

"Who dares,"—he demanded hoarsely of the courtiers who stood near him—"who dares insult us with this blasphemous mockery? Seize him and unmask him—that we may know whom we have to hang, at sunrise, from the battlements!"

It was in the eastern or blue chamber in which stood the Prince Prospero as he uttered these words.  They rang throughout the seven rooms loudly and clearly, for the prince was a bold and robust man, and the music had become hushed at the waving of his hand.

It was in the blue room where stood the prince, with a group of  pale courtiers by his side.  At first, as he spoke, there was a slight rushing movement of this group in the direction of the intruder, who at the moment was also near at hand, and now, with deliberate and stately step, made closer approach to the speaker.  But from a certain nameless awe with which the mad assumptions of the mummer had inspired the whole party, there were found none who put forth hand to seize him; so that, unimpeded, he passed within a yard of the prince's person; and, while the vast assembly, as if with one impulse, shrank from the centres of the rooms to the walls, he made his way uninterruptedly, but with the same solemn and measured step which had distinguished him from the first, through the blue chamber to the purple—through the purple to the green—through the green to the orange—through this again to the white—and even thence to the violet, ere a decided movement had been made to arrest him.  It was then, however, that the Prince Prospero, maddening with rage and the shame of his own momentary cowardice, rushed hurriedly through the six chambers, while none followed him on account of a deadly terror that had seized upon all.  He bore aloft a drawn dagger, and had approached, in rapid impetuosity, to within three or four feet of the retreating figure, when the latter, having attained the extremity of the velvet apartment, turned suddenly and confronted his pursuer.  There was a sharp cry—and the dagger dropped gleaming upon the sable carpet, upon which, instantly afterwards, fell prostrate in death the Prince Prospero.  Then, summoning the wild courage of despair, a throng of the revellers at once threw themselves into the black apartment, and, seizing the mummer, whose tall figure stood erect and motionless within the shadow of the ebony clock, gasped in unutterable horror at finding the grave cerements and corpse-like mask, which they handled with so violent a rudeness, untenanted by any tangible form.

And now was acknowledged the presence of the Red Death.  He had come like a thief in the night.  And one by one dropped the revellers in the blood-bedewed halls of their revel, and died each in the despairing posture of his fall.  And the life of the ebony clock went out with that of the last of the gay.  And the flames of the tripods expired. And Darkness and Decay and the Red Death held illimitable dominion over all.

“The Masque of the Red Death” by Edgar Allan Poe Published May, 1842 in Graham’s Magazine Reproduced here courtesy of The Gutenberg Project

[xfulldreamerx]

About SKAM PERÚ: Peru’s school system

The word “school” is used in a lot of places around the world to refer both to actual school and then college. Here, we just use it for actual school, as college is very different and we kind of separate the experiences.

School, in Spanish, is COLEGIO. We sometimes shorten it to “cole”.

College, in Spanish, is UNIVERSIDAD. We shorten it to “U”, that is just the first letter of the word, really. It’s like a slang.

Skam Perú will take place in the first year of college of the characters. I think this decision was made because we mostly enter college at 17, which is a year earlier than in a lot of places. That means the characters are still teenagers. Skam OG took place when the squads entered high school at 15, which here wouldn’t work because we start Secondary School a lot earlier. Plus, being a newbie at college serves the purpose of no friends to Eva, and I think they will play it this way: the Eva, Jonas, Isak, Ingrid and Sara characters went all to the same Secondary School and then chose to go to the same college, following their best interests. Same as the OG, just different stages of life. 

By the way, there’s a slang word here used for new students, “cachimbo”, which means newbie at college. This slang is said by older students and people in general, sometimes in a despective way. It applies to all students fresh out of school, or that are in their first year in their career. 

How does it work?

Officially, school starts when you’re 3 years old, and it’s obligatory until you’ve finished Secondary School. There are three stages in the obligatory school system of Peru:

Inicial (Kindergarten, preschool): From age 3 to 6

Age 3-4: Beginners

Age 4-5: Pre-kinder

Age 5-6: Kinder

Primaria (Primary School): From age 6 to 12

Age 6-7: First grade

Age 7-8: Second grade

Age 8-9: Third grade

Age 9-10: Fourth grade

Age 10-11: Fifth grade

Age 11-12: Sixth grade

Secundaria (Secondary School): From age 12 to 17

Age 12-13: First year (Seventh grade)

Age 13-14: Second year (Eighth grade)

Age 14-15: Third year (Ninth grade)

Age 15-16: Fourth year (Tenth grade)

Age 16-17: Fifth year (Eleventh grade)

Then we have, of course, college. La universidad. College lasts five years here, for most careers, at least. Majors are just that, careers. Minors don’t exist, just specializations. Sometimes, careers will last six or seven years (like Psychology or Human Medicine, respectively).

Due to centralization (around one particular city), all good colleges are considered to be located in Lima, the capital city of Peru. This statement is actually - and sadly - true. Let me make a comparison with the US: it’s true that there are some remarkable colleges there (the Ivy League ones, for example), but you don’t have to study in one of them in order to get proper and good education, an education who will be recognized and accepted everywhere in the world. However, centralization in Peru has made all the good colleges take a place in Lima, with some other venues in other cities that are also considered important. These other venues are very few, and colleges in small cities are mostly public ones.

Is there a difference between public and private schools?

Yes, there is, and a huge one.

The public school system straight-up sucks. Peru is one of the worst countries regarding education in all Latin America. We are one of the countries that invests the least in education, period. Public schools are old, have horrible infrastructure, few teachers and are generally bad managed - the little budget they have access to has all to do with it. For that reason, public schools are always the last options for families to put their children into. Just families who can’t afford to pay for private schools are the ones who send their children to public schools. An exception is perhaps when one of the parents went to a good public school (there are very few), and want to send their children there as well despite not knowing the current situation of said school.

Now, private schools here are for the middle and high classes. Informally, you could say that there are two types of private schools: 

First, the ones almost everyone in the middle-class spectrum can afford, which go from school chains to religious schools or independent schools.

Second, the exclusive ones, super expensive and elitist, afforded just by rich families. These private schools have an international level, but they mostly serve the high class. That is, almost any of the population access to them, because we’re mostly middle class or downright poor.

Private schools are the goal of every family for their children. There are lots of them, owned by huge companies or churches or some investor who sees in a school a good income.

The only good public schools in the country are the COARs, Colegios de Alto Rendimiento. High-Performance Schools, where only students with the best grades and low incomes can get into.

All that I just wrote applies to college. Public colleges have a little more of status, because of their history, but private colleges are a huge thing and usually more valued. If you get into a public college, you might be taken in a good account, if the college itself is prestigious. For example, here in Peru, we have Universidad Nacional Mayor de San Marcos. National University of San Marcos (Saint Mark). It is the most ancient university in all the continent of America (yes, including the US). This college is so prestigious that a lot of people want to get in it, so it’s very hard to do so, and you are very well considered once you make it there. The side effect is that San Marcos, as a public college, has often hiatuses in the middle of terms because of protests and inner conflicts due to bad managing and the teacher’s low salary. 

A private college that is considered one the bests here is Pontificia Universidad Católica del Perú. Pontifical Catholic University of Peru. If you manage to enter there, you are praised, because, again, it’s really difficult and very prestigious. The difference is in the quality of the education, the benefits you obtain as a student (in this college, a lot), and that, well, La Católica doesn’t really interrupt its classes all of a sudden. This college is known for its efficiency and is preferred over the public ones. Actually, a lot of private colleges are preferred over public ones. For example, just people who can’t afford a good private college would try to enter San Marcos, despite San Marcos being so renowned. Oh, and of course there are some very bad private colleges, as there also are very bad private schools. 

Side note: San Marcos has some careers, like Philosophy and Literature, that only La Católica has as well. If you can afford to go to La Católica, you will probably go there instead of San Marcos, because, again, getting into San Marcos is hard, despite those careers being well-taught there.

What is considered a school year in Peru?

First, this: Seasons in South America are different.

Summer: From December to March

Fall: From March to June

Winter: From June to September

Spring: From September to December

Based on that, a school and college year is also different. Here, classes start in March, which is near the end of the summer and the beginning of fall. Likewise, classes end no later than in December (unless there’s some extraordinary reason to drag them until January). This way, we have summer to enjoy, like all around the world.

School is divided into terms that depend on the schools themselves: they could use bimesters or trimesters. A lot of schools use bimesters now because they stick better to the national curriculum. These bimesters would be: 

March-May

May-July

August-October  

October-December

They don’t have to strictly last two months, just close to it. The reason the third bimester starts in August is because there’s an obligatory holiday period of two weeks at the end of July that, of course, finishes in August.

Colleges use “ciclos”, which literally means “cycles”, in English - they are translated better just to the word “terms”, which encapsulates a time period that goes from three months and a half to five. First term starts in March and ends in June/July. Second term starts in July/August and ends in December (this is really subjected to the college itself).  Each term is divided into halves:

The first half ends with mid-term exams, which in Spanish are “parciales”.

Second half ends with finals, which in Spanish are “finales”. 

IMPORTANT: Not all midterms and finals are actual exams - some of them are projects that depend on the subject. 

The school year begins and ends within the same actual year, so we are already free for Christmas and New Year. 

There’s a law that dictates what age you have to be to enter a grade/year. It gives you until March of the current year to reach that age, or you will have to enter the grade/year before the one you “should” be. For example, if I wanted to enter preschool, I would have to be already 3 years old by the time classes start in March, and if I’m not 3 yet, I have to be within that same month. If my birth day is in April or in a month past March, then I can’t enter preschool until the next year. Same aplies to Primary and Secondary School. That’s the reason you will find someone in, I don’t know, third year who enters with 14 years of age, but that finish that year with 15, because their birthday is on November. That’s also why a lot of sutdents finish fifth year with 17 and not 16 - you start with an age, and finish with another. People whose birthday are on summer don’t have this problem. 

How are the schedules?

Here, I’ll just talk about Primary and Secondary School, because both have the same schedule inside the school entity you belong to.

Classes begin no later than 8am. Gates open at seven, and you have to be in your classroom before the bell rings, which usually between 7:30am and 7:45am. If a student arrives at school after the bell rang, it is considered “late”, and you get admonished.

Classes end in the afternoon - usually, between 2pm and 4pm. Most of schools end in the range from 2:30pm to 3pm. This is really inconsistent, as all schools have different rules. 

IMPORTANT: Public schools begin and end at the same all around the country (There are special cases). It’s private schools who vary from one another.

Colleges’ schedules are the same as all over the world. Classes are dictated through the day, and you have to craft your schedule following your best interests. That said, some colleges make the schedules themselves, and students have to follow them. A special case in some colleges is when they give the new students the schedule for the first term they will have there, but then the students are responsible for their schedules for the rest of the other terms. 

What’s the big difference between school and college?

In the US and some European countries, obligatory school time includes high school. High schools are crafted like colleges. Yes, everyone goes to school at the same time, but you choose the classes you are into (according to your interests and possible future career), and you share each one of them with different people, besides the fact that every class takes place in a different classroom. Colleges have almost the same system.

In Peru, it’s not that way. Secondary School is done in five years, as stated previously in this post. Those five years, it is like this:

1. Everyone in your year takes the same classes. 

In private schools, the subjects vary: some of them can have just seven subjects, and some of them up to fourteen. 

In public schools, the subjects are the same in all the country (unless there are exceptions).

2. One year can be divided into sections, which depend on the maximum capacity per classroom. For example, if the capacity per classroom in a school is 30 students, and the Fifth Year has 58 students, the first 30 make a section, and the other 28, another one. Sections are often named by the letters of the alphabet, starting by the A. Public schools tend to have a lot of sections, meaning they are very crowded.

3. Classes happen all in the same classroom. Said class is your year and your section put together. For example, if you are a fifth year of section B, your class is 5to “B” (5th B). This is the only class and classroom you belong to, alongside all the classmates who are in the same year and section as you. All your classes will be dictated in said classroom.

4. Of course, this means the schedule is the same for everyone in your classroom, as you all share the same classes. 

5. There are different teachers for each subject (there are cases where a teacher can dictate more than one class, though). Teachers enter and leave the classroom according to the schedule of the class they dictate.

6. Your classmates are always the same. This is a bit duh. You reach Prom with them and share space and experiences with them every single day, which creates, involuntarily, a stronger bond. That said, not all classmates are friends. You have your group of friends, but you also know everyone else and will interact with them at some point while you’re in school.

7. Your class has a tutor. This role is performed by a teacher, who is specialized in a subject, and who will probably also teach you said subject. The tutor’s responsibility is to assure you’re doing good, that there is a good environment, and to guide you through it all by helping you when necessary. The tutor changes every year, though sometimes a class might keep its tutor if the school allows it. A tutor can become the worst nightmare of the class, or the most beloved teacher they’ll ever have.

8. You’re obligated to have one notebook per subject (sometimes this changes to a folder). When the teacher writes on the board, you have to write it in said notebook as well. Taking notes about what they say is optional, but all they write has to be in your notebook, and the same goes for everything they tell you to write apart from the stuff that is on the board.

All that I just explained applies from the third grade of Primary School and so on. First and second grade is almost the same, the difference being that just one teacher (usually a woman) teaches you all the subjects (and that you’re not allowed to write with a pen, just with a pencil). 

Colleges follow the “liberal path”, you could say. School obligates you to use uniforms, both public and private ones. College allows you to use normal clothes. I already explained that the schedule is mostly up to the student. 

Now, campuses are another thing. Almost none of the colleges in Lima have huge campuses that include shops and cafés and apartment buildings. Here, college campuses are in the middle of the city, and just have classrooms and other facilities that benefit the students. For example, I go to Universidad Peruana de Ciencias Aplicadas (UPC, Peruvian University of Applied Sciences). This college is located in a principal avenue in San Miguel district, in Lima. It consists of four buildings and some outdoor spaces, and is next to a market and an electro domestics store. The property is limited to the buildings and the outdoor spaces, nothing more. Some colleges are bigger, of course, but very few of them have property attached to them that is not strictly for study or related purposes. 

Also, college might have more than one campus in the same city, Lima. Each campus might hold different faculties, or the same ones if their sole purpose is to be near more students. Retaking my college example, UPC has four campuses in Lima, in different districts. My career is dictated in the four of them, but this is not always the case, like with Education, which is dictated in just one of the campuses. 

I will share more details about college life in a post dedicated to it, if you want me to. I’ve focused more in actual school because it will probably be a huge part of the background, mentioned a lot, and being so different from the rest of the world might make difficult to understand references and the characters adapting to it, which, as you’ve read, is a whole new world.

If you have doubts or you didn’t get something, tell me, and I’ll do my best to help!

[dweemeister]

2020 Movie Odyssey Award for Best Original Song (preliminary round)

Yup, it’s back (bullet indentations are not working, so this post will look very ugly on your dashboards)!

Tagging a few folks who have participated before in this annual tradition/folks who I would like to extend an open invitation to (please contact me if you’re interested so I can sort you in a group ASAP... you will also be tagged for the final unless you tell me you are not interested): @birdsongvelvet, @bitch-genius, @dog-of-ulthar, @idontknowmuchaboutmovies, @loveless422, @lvl9gay, @neverwasastoryofmorewhoa, @phendranaedge, @poncho-honcho, @sayaf, @shadesofhappy, @thethirdman8, @uncoolforelimb, and @wehadfacesthen.

Hello everybody. For my fellow Americans, I hope your Thanksgiving was a good one. For the non-Americans reading things, I hope you are doing well, as always! Many things have fallen to the wayside in this unforgettable year. So in hopes of providing some sense of continuity and normalcy, here - as you have agreed to - is the Preliminary Round for 2020's Movie Odyssey Award for Best Original Song (MOABOS). This is the eighth time it has been contested and the seventh consecutive year it has been open to involvement from family, friends, and tumblr followers.

For those new to this, my classic movie blog traditionally ends the year by honoring some of the best achievements from movies that I saw for the first time this calendar year (the "Movie Odyssey") with an Oscar-like ceremony. I choose all the nominees and winners from each category, save one: Best Original Song. It is the only category I can think of that does not require you to watch several movies in their entirety. I consider MOABOS as a sort of cinematic-musical thank-you for your moral support in various ways.

An unspecified number of songs have already advanced to the final round. 24 songs will contest this prelim in two groups - Group A and Group B. In a year when COVID-19 has closed theaters (and which I refused to go to an indoor theater even when they reopened), a year that I did not feel compelled to watch the newest releases on streaming services, there is not a single 2020 entry for 2020's MOABOS. That is, obviously, a MOABOS first - no other MOABOS edition has lacked a shortlisted song from a film released that same calendar year. And as of writing this sentence, I have not seen a single film released in 2020. Despite the lack of 1930s songs, this year's shortlisted songs might be the oldest on average. In other news, this year's field is a modest improvement from the record monolingual field of last year's (which contained only English and two Vietnamese-language entries). 2019's preliminary was the most chaotic we had ever seen, with shocking last-day stumbles and surges from certain songs ("I Dug a Ditch" from Thousands Cheer) that riled up a lot of participants. It's 2020 - will there be a repeat or even more drama at this stage?

INSTRUCTIONS Please rank (#1-12) at least six of your group's songs. Please consider to the best of your ability: how musically interesting the song is (incl. and not limited to musical phrasing and orchestration); its lyrics; context within the film (contextual blurbs provided for every entry for those who haven't seen the films); choreography/dance direction (if applicable); and the song's cultural impact/life outside the film (if applicable, and, in my opinion, least important factor). Imperfections in audio and video quality may not be used against any song. I encourage you to send in comments and reactions with your rankings - it makes the process more enjoyable for you and myself! The top five songs in each group automatically advance to the final round. I reserve the right to pick 0-2 songs from one or both groups that finished outside the top five in their respective groups to contest the final round.

The deadline for submission is Saturday, December 12 at 11 PM Pacific Time. That is 9 PM Hawaii/Aleutian Time. That deadline is also Sunday, December 13 at 1 AM Central Time / 2 AM Eastern Time / 7 AM GMT / 8 AM CET / 9 AM EET. This deadline - as we have seen in the last few years - may be pushed back if there are a large number of people who have not submitted in time. However, I very much do not wish to extend the deadline because the final round is more intensive and usually involves more participants. Tabulation details are in the “read more” below.

Please participate in the group you have been sorted into, if you have not yet been sorted into a group and would like to participate, please contact me. You can access most, not all, of your group’s songs in these YouTube playlists: (Group A) / (Group B). Again, please note that not all of your group's songs are in the playlist for various reasons.

Happy listening. Feel free to listen as many times as you need, and I hope you discover music and movies that strike your interest. The following is formatted... ("Song title", composer and lyricist, film title):

GROUP A

“Blue Shadows on the Trail”, music and lyrics by Eliot Daniel and Johnny Lange, Melody Time (1948)

Performed by Roy Rogers and the Sons of the Pioneers

This is the introductory song to the final segment of Melody Time. That segment is dedicated to the legend of Pecos Bill, and this atmospheric song leads into the telling of that story.

“Born Free”, music by John Barry, lyrics by Don Black, Born Free (1966)

Performed by Matt Munro

Winner of the Academy Award for Best Original Song

This version with lyrics appears in the end credits. The main theme in the song is introduced in the opening credits and is incorporated extensively in John Barry's score across the film. Born Free, based on the non-fiction book of the same name is about two white Kenyan conservationists who raise an orphaned lion cub and eventually release her into the wild.

“But the World Goes 'Round”, music by John Kander, lyrics by Fred Ebb, New York, New York (1977)

Performed by Liza Minnelli

In this musical, USO singer Francine Evans (Minnelli) has been performing in New York City nightclubs, hoping to someday become a major recording star. This song appears as she is recording that very hit that will propel her to stardom.

“Exsultate Justi”, music and lyrics by John Williams, Empire of the Sun (1987)

Performed by orchestra and chorus under the direction of Williams

Lyrics in Latin

In this historical epic, affluent British school boy Jamie Graham (a young Christian Bale) is living with his parents in Shanghai when the Japanese invade. Jamie is separated from his parents and placed in an internment camp. Soon before the end of WWII, the prisoners are moved elsewhere, but Jamie hides and stays put. This song plays as Jamie bikes around the empty camp and continues to play as he encounters liberating U.S. troops. Jamie is dirty and malnourished when found; one can argue that this song is used ironically. It plays once more over the end credits. "Exsultate Justi" is a variation on a theme John Williams develops over the course of the film and harkens back to Jamie's past, attending Anglican services with parents.

"Farewell to Storyville",  music by Louis Alter, lyrics by Edgar De Lange, New Orleans (1947)

Performed by Louis Armstrong and his band, Billie Holiday, and company

In New Orleans, the Storyville district was a den of drinking, gambling, jazz, and prostitution. The district was the home to a heavily black populace. The U.S. military, about to establish a Naval base nearby, forces the city to close the district for good. This song is a jazzy dirge to a center of jazz - a musical genre looked down upon by many of the city's upper-class whites due to its ties (real and imagined) to crime.

"Hawaiian Sunset", music and lyrics by Sid Tepper and Roy C. Bennett, Blue Hawaii (1961)

Performed by Elvis Presley

In a musical packed end-to-end with songs, Chadwick "Chad" Gates (Elvis) has taken a job with a tour guide agency - and this includes performing during a luau for tourists. "Hawaiian Sunset" appears as one of the dinner show's numbers.

"Is There Still Anything That Love Can Do?", music and lyrics by Yôjirô Noda, Weathering with You (2019, Japan)

Performed by RADWIMPS

Lyrics in Japanese (translation)

Weathering with You is a romantic fantasy anime about a high school boy who runs away from his rural home to Tokyo, where he meets a girl who can manipulate the weather. It has been inexplicably raining for weeks without interruption in Tokyo, so they form a business to help clear the inclement weather for special events. The melody of this song is heard throughout the film's score. It does not appear with lyrics until late in the film. The song is played under the boy's seemingly impossible attempt to save her from an unwilling human sacrifice.

There is so much plot in this damn film (it's all Makoto Shinkai's fault) - I can't explain the context of the song or this movie in a reasonable amount of space.

“Mad Monster Party”, music by Maury Laws, lyrics by Jules Bass, Mad Monster Party? (1967)

Performed by Ethel Ennis

(opening credits version) / (soundtrack version with no sound effects)

In this Rankin/Bass stop-motion animated film, Baron Boris von Frankenstein (Boris Karloff in his final Frankenstein-related role) has discovered a formula that can destroy matter. Dispatching his bats to send the news, he summons the various members of the Worldwide Organization of Monsters to inform them of his discovery. This song is performed over the film's opening credits and the various introductions for the monsters as they receive their summons.

“My Dream Is Yours”, music by Harry Warren, lyrics by Ralph Blane, My Dream Is Yours (1949)

Initially performed by Doris Day; later reprised by Hal Derwin

Singer Martha Gibson (Day) has abruptly left New York City for Los Angeles to become a star on the radio. In a film where personal sacrifice is central, she stresses over how to bring her son out west with her, the direction of her career, and her tumultuous love life. "My Dream Is Yours" is the song that makes Martha a star, laying out the film's themes in its lyrics. I was unable to find Derwin's reprise, but no matter as the reprise is rather inconsequential.

“Ride the Wild Surf”, music and lyrics by Jan Berry, Brian Wilson, and Roger Christian, Ride the Wild Surf (1964)

Performed by Jan and Dean

Ride the Wild Surf is a surfing film that, unlike most surfing films of this time, is a drama. It follows three surfers (Fabian, Tab Hunter, Peter Brown) who have come to Oahu at the end of December to ride the large waves of Waimea Bay (made famous internationally by this song, this movie, and the Beach Boys' "Surfin' USA"). This song appears in the film's closing credits. The video provided is a montage of surfing footage that appears in the film.

“That’ll Do”, music and lyrics by Randy Newman, Babe: Pig in the City (1998)

Performed by Peter Gabriel

Nominated for the Academy Award for Best Original Song

This song begins at the end (and through the end credits) of Babe: Pig in the City, the second and last film in this series about a sheep-herding pig who perseveres amidst other animals and humans with ulterior agendas. The title is derived from the famous quote said by Arthur Hoggett (James Cromwell) to reassure Babe: "That'll do, pig. That'll do."

“Waqt Ne Kiya Kya Hassen Sitam”, music and lyrics by S.D. Burman, Kaagaz Ke Phool (1959, India)

Performed by Geeta Dutt (dubbing Waheeda Rehman)

Lyrics in Hindi - roughly, "Time Has Inflicted Such Sweet Cruelty On Us"

Song begins at 1:03:31 and ends at 1:07:51

Make sure to turn on the video’s English captions

In this romantic tragedy told in flashback, Suresh Sinha (Guru Dutt) is a director looking back on his life. Suresh is unhappily married to a woman whose in-laws look down on him because, to them, working in films is contemptible to their social class. Suresh meets a woman, Shanti (Waheeda Rehman), on accident and she is soon cast as the lead for his next film. They fall in love, but it is never consummated for various reasons. This song is the most explicit statement of that love in this film. How much of the scene's set-up is observable by the characters is up to the viewer's interpretation.

Group A participants include: @addaellis, @introspectivemeltdown, @memetoilet, @myluckyerror, @plus-low-overthrow, @shootingstarvenator, @themusicmoviesportsguy, @theybecomestories, @umgeschrieben, @underblackwings, @yellanimal. Seven others - including myself and my sister - are currently slated to be voting in Group A.

GROUP B

“Angela”, music and lyrics by José Feliciano and Janna Merlyn Feliciano, Aaron Loves Angela (1975)

Performed by José Feliciano

(English-language version) / (Spanish single version)

Played over the opening credits to this teenage drama that is partly a blaxploitation film, partly an interracial coming-of-age romance. The movie wasn't a hit, but the Spanish-language version of this song was received well in Latin America.

“Aren’t You Kind of Glad We Did?”, music by George Gershwin, lyrics by Ira Gershwin, The Shocking Miss Pilgrim (1947)

Originally performed by Betty Grable and Dick Haymes

(soundtrack version with Judy Garland and Haymes) / (modern arrangement far more faithful to how song sounds in the film)

Cynthia Pilgrim (Grable) is the top typewriting student from a business college in this period piece where the typewriter is the newest invention to sweep the business world. This song appears as Pilgrim and her boss, John Pritchard (Haymes), are about to go out on a date for dinner after talking about how society looks down on women in public without a chaperone.

“The Blues are Brewin’”, music by Louis Alter, lyrics by Edgar De Lange, New Orleans (1947)

Performed by Louis Armstrong and his band and Billie Holiday

(in-film version) / (Billie Holiday single)

After being evicted by the U.S. military from the historic Storyville district of New Orleans (the Navy had just opened a base in the area, and would not tolerate places of gambling, jazz, and prostitution nearby), the characters played by Armstrong and Holiday tour the country with a jazz band in tow. This song appears within a montage showing the passage of time.

“Dekhi Zamaane Ki Yaari / Bichhde Sabhi Baari Baari”, music by S.D. Burman, lyrics by Kaifi Azmi, Kaagaz Ke Phool (1959, India)

Performed by Mohammad Rafi (dubbing Guru Dutt)

Lyrics in Hindi - roughly, "I Have Seen How Deeply Friendship Lies / I Have Seen People Abandon Me One by One"

Part 1 (3:44-8:27) / Part 2 (2:16:29-2:20:42)

Make sure to turn on the video’s English captions

In this romantic tragedy, Suresh Sinha (Dutt) is a washed-up director looking back on his life. In the first part, the song leads into the rest of the film - which is almost entirely a flashback. In brief, Suresh is unhappily married to a woman whose in-laws look down on him because, to them, working in films is contemptible to their social class. Suresh meets a woman, Shanti (Waheeda Rehman), on accident and she is soon cast as the lead for his next film. They fall in love, but it is never consummated for various reasons. Eventually, his career crashes after a box office bomb and her career is ascendant. Leading into the second part of the song, Suresh is penniless and working as an extra at the movie studio. Shanti recognizes him, wants to help, but he refuses to revive his career on the back of her success. Kaagaz Ke Phool has elements of autobiography, and Suresh's fate has parallels with what happened to Dutt after this film was released.

“End Theme from Lone Wolf and Cub: Baby Cart to Hades”, music by Eiken Sakurai, lyrics by Kazuko Koike, Lone Wolf and Cub: Baby Cart to Hades (1972, Japan)

Performed by Tomisaburo Wakayama

Lyrics in Japanese (translation)

Video provided is not safe for work (NSFW) due to stylized violence

Ogami Ittô (Wakayama) is a former, disgraced executioner for the Tokugawa shogunate who wanders the land with his young son. He is intent on exacting revenge on the clan that murdered his wife. This song is played non-diegetically after Ittô has slain dozens of a corrupt governor's bodyguards and walks onward, pushing his son in a babycart, away from the dead left in his wake. This is the third of six films in the Lone Wolf and Cub series.

"Happy Endings", music by John Kander, lyrics by Fred Ebb, New York, New York (1977)

Performed by Liza Minnelli and company (that's Jack Haley - who played the Tin Man and was, at the time, Minnelli's father-in-law - roughly seven minutes in)

(use in film) / (soundtrack version)

It is highly recommended one sees how this song is used in the film. Bear with me: this song is part of a movie within a movie. Within that movie within a movie, there is another movie. "Happy Endings" is the title end song to a film called Happy Endings within New York, New York. Singer Francine Evans (Liza Minnelli) has made it big as a recording artist and caps off her hit film, Happy Endings, with this song. We see Francine's ex, played by Robert De Niro, in the audience as the film ends. "Happy Endings" is a homage/deconstruction to midcentury Metro-Goldwyn-Mayer (MGM) musicals. It serves the film as "The Broadway Melody" does to Singin' in the Rain (1952) or the 17-minute ballet does to conclude An American in Paris (1951).

"Here They Come (From All Over the World)", music and lyrics by P.F. Sloan and Steve Barri, The T.A.M.I. Show (1964)

Performed by Jan and Dean

The link above provides the entire film. You only need to watch from 0:00-4:11. If you like music from this era or want to hear more, this film is highly, highly recommended.

This is the opening credits song to a concert film recorded over two days in Santa Monica, California on October 28 and 29, 1964. The Teenage Awards Music International (T.A.M.I. - yes, I know it's an awkward name) Show included many of the most popular musical stars of that time - almost all of them name-dropped in this song. Jan and Dean, a surf music duo, served as hosts (and performed during) the show. You folks are lucky that this is the only original song from this film!

“Moonlight Swim”, music by Ben Weisman, lyrics by Sylvia Dee, Blue Hawaii (1961)

Performed by Elvis Presley

In a musical packed end-to-end with songs, Chadwick "Chad" Gates (Elvis) has taken a job with a tour guide agency. On his first day, he drives his first clients - a school teacher (who not so secretly is attracted to Chad) and four teenagers (one of whom becomes smitten) - to their destination.

“On the Boardwalk (in Atlantic City)”, music by Josef Myrow, lyrics by Mack Gordon, Three Little Girls in Blue (1946)

Performed by Carol Stewart (dubbing for Vera-Ellen), June Haver, and Vivian Blaine

(original soundtrack) / (Dick Haymes single)

In this rarely-seen musical (20th Century Fox wasn't very good at promoting its back catalogue compared to some other studios, and the situation is worse now that they are owned by Disney), three chicken farmer sisters (Vera-Ellen, Haver, and Blaine) decide to travel to Atlantic City in hopes of marrying a rich husband after learning their aunt's inheritance is not nearly as much as they want. They sing this song as they arrive and check into their hotel suite - which they apparently have not looked up the rate for.

Those who listened to the soundtrack version... FYI, $9.25 in 1902 is $280 in 2020.

“Personality”, music by Jimmy Van Heusen, lyrics by Johnny Burke, Road to Utopia (1946)

Performed by Dorothy Lamour

(in-film performance) / (live radio performance)

In the fourth film of the Road to... comedy series, Bob Hope and Bing Crosby's characters have just overpowered two Alaskan thugs with a history of murderous violence. As they enter a saloon dressed up as those two thugs, all of the patrons - in a town that only knows the thugs by reputation - shut up in terror. They are treated to a performance by Sal (Lamour), who is trying to find a map of a gold mine that the real outlaws supposedly have. A visual narrator (Robert Benchley) interrupts the scene before the song briefly.

“Please Don’t Stop Loving Me”, music and lyrics by Joy Byers, Frankie and Johnny (1966)

Performed by Elvis Presley

(in-film performance) / (single version)

Johnny (Elvis) and girlfriend Frankie (Donna Douglas) work on a Mississippi River riverboat as performers. Johnny is addicted to gambling and believes that another woman is spurring on his recent run of good luck. During a fit of jealousy-as-acting, Frankie accidentally shoots Johnny during a bit of musical theater (someone switched out the blanks for real bullets). This song occurs after Johnny has recovered from the accident.

"Wichita", music by Hans Salter, lyrics by Ned Washington, Wichita (1955)

Performed by Tex Ritter

This is the opening title song to this Western. It is one of many Wyatt Earp movies set before the famous Gunfight at the O.K. Corral. Earp (Joel McCrea) arrives in an otherwise lawless town of Wichita, Kansas where gunplay is rampant. In a radical move, Earp orders to seize the firearms of anyone living in or entering town - which doesn't sit well with some outlaws. This song is incorporated throughout the film's score.

Group B participants include: @cokwong, @emilylime5, @halfwaythruthedark, @maximiliani, @thewolfofelectricavenue, and @voicetalentbrendan. Twelve others - including me and my sister - are slated to be voting in Group B.

Contact me however you wish if you have questions or comments regarding MOABOS' processes or something specific about a song or a few. Please let me know as soon as possible if you are having difficulty accessing one of the songs (especially if it is region-locked) or if there is an error in the playlist.

I thank you all for your support for the Movie Odyssey, the blog, and for me personally - no matter how long I’ve known you or in what capacity. You will be contacted for the final round regardless of your participation here. If turnout in one group is lagging behind compared to another, I will ask some of the more senior participants to participate in the other group, too. No pressure if you cannot get to this, although I will be checking in as the deadlines get close. Stay safe and socially distanced, everyone.

TABULATION This preliminary round uses a points-based, ranked choice method which has been used since the first time I asked friends, tumblr followers, and family to help out. A respondent’s first choice receives 10 points, the second choice receives 9, the third choice receives 8, etc. The winner is the song that ends up with the most total points. The tabulation method used in this preliminary is used only as a tiebreaker in the final round (more on how the final is tabulated when we get there).

This tiebreaker will look slightly different this year.  

Tiebreakers for above: 1) total points earned; 2) total #1 votes; 3) average placement on my and my sister's ballots; 4) tie declared

[larinah]

The Masque of the Red Death by Edgar Allen Poe

The red death had long devastated the country. No pestilence had ever been so fatal, or so hideous. Blood was its Avatar and its seal -- the madness and the horror of blood. There were sharp pains, and sudden dizziness, and then profuse bleeding at the pores, with dissolution. The scarlet stains upon the body and especially upon the face of the victim, were the pest ban which shut him out from the aid and from the sympathy of his fellow-men. And the whole seizure, progress, and termination of the disease, were incidents of half an hour.

But Prince Prospero was happy and dauntless and sagacious. When his dominions were half depopulated, he summoned to his presence a thousand hale and light-hearted friends from among the knights and dames of his court, and with these retired to the deep seclusion of one of his crenellated       abbeys. This was an extensive and magnificent structure, the creation of the prince's own eccentric yet august taste. A strong and lofty wall girdled it in. This wall had gates of iron. The courtiers, having entered, brought furnaces and massy hammers and welded the bolts.

They resolved to leave means neither of ingress nor egress to the sudden impulses of despair or of frenzy from within. The abbey was amply provisioned. With such precautions the courtiers might bid defiance to contagion. The external world could take care of itself. In the meantime it was folly to grieve or to think. The prince had provided all the appliances of pleasure. There were buffoons, there were improvisatori, there were ballet-dancers, there were musicians, there was Beauty, there was wine. All these and security were within. Without was the "Red Death."

It was toward the close of the fifth or sixth month of his seclusion that the Prince Prospero entertained his thousand friends at a masked ball of the most unusual magnificence.

It was a voluptuous scene, that masquerade. But first let me tell of the rooms in which it was held. There were seven -- an imperial suite, In many palaces, however, such suites form a long and straight vista, while the folding doors slide back nearly to the walls on either hand, so that the view of the whole extant is scarcely impeded. Here the case was very different; as might have been expected from the duke's love of the "bizarre." The apartments were so irregularly disposed that the vision embraced but little more than one at a time.   There was a sharp turn at the right and left, in the middle of each wall, a tall and narrow Gothic window looked out upon a closed corridor of which pursued the windings of the suite. These windows were of stained glass whose color varied in accordance with the prevailing hue of the decorations of the chamber into which it opened. That at the eastern extremity was hung, for example, in blue -- and vividly blue were its windows. The second chamber was purple in its ornaments and tapestries, and here the panes were purple. The third was green throughout, and so were the casements. The fourth was furnished and lighted with orange -- the fifth with white -- the sixth with violet. The seventh                apartment was closely shrouded in black velvet tapestries that hung all over the ceiling and down the walls, falling in heavy folds upon a carpet of the same material and hue. But in this chamber only, the color of the windows failed to correspond with the decorations. The panes were scarlet -- a deep blood color. Now in no one of any of the seven apartments was there any lamp or candelabrum, amid the profusion of golden ornaments that lay scattered to and fro and depended from the roof. There was no light of any kind emanating from lamp or candle within the suite of chambers. But in the corridors that followed the suite, there stood, opposite each window, a heavy tripod, bearing                a brazier of fire, that projected its rays through the tinted glass and so glaringly lit the room. And thus were produced a multitude of gaudy and fantastic appearances. But in the western or back chamber the effect of the fire-light that streamed upon the dark hangings through the blood-tinted panes was ghastly in the extreme, and produced so wild a look upon the countenances of those who entered, that there were few of the company bold enough to set foot within its precincts at all.

It was within this apartment, also, that there stood against the western wall, a gigantic clock of ebony. It pendulum swung to and fro with a dull, heavy, monotonous clang; and when the minute-hand made the circuit of the face, and the hour was to be stricken, there came from the brazen lungs of the clock a sound which was clear and loud and deep and exceedingly musical, but of so peculiar a note and emphasis that, at each lapse of an hour, the musicians of the orchestra were constrained to pause, momentarily, in their performance, to hearken to the sound; and thus the waltzers perforce ceased their evolutions; and there was a brief disconcert of the whole gay company; and while                the chimes of the clock yet rang. it was observed that the giddiest grew pale, and the more aged and sedate passed their hands over their brows as if in confused revery or meditation. But when the echoes had fully ceased, a light laughter at once pervaded the assembly; the musicians looked at each other and smiled as if at their own nervousness and folly, and made whispering vows, each to the other, that the next chiming of the clock should produce in them no similar emotion; and then, after the lapse of sixty minutes (which embrace three thousand and six hundred seconds of Time that flies), there came yet another chiming of the clock, and then were the same disconcert and tremulousness      and meditation as before.

But, in spite of these things, it was a gay and magnificent revel. The tastes of the duke were peculiar. He had a fine eye for color and effects.  He disregarded the "decora" of mere fashion. His plans were bold and fiery, and his conceptions glowed with barbaric lustre. There are some who would have thought him mad. His followers felt that he was not. It was necessary to hear and see and touch him to be sure he was not.

He had directed, in great part, the movable embellishments of the seven chambers, upon occasion of this great fete; and it was his own guiding                taste which had given character to the masqueraders. Be sure they were grotesque. There were much glare and glitter and piquancy and phantasm          -- much of what has been seen in "Hernani." There were arabesque figures with unsuited limbs and appointments. There were delirious fancies such as the madman fashions. There were much of the beautiful, much of the wanton, much of the bizarre, something of the terrible, and not a little of that which might have excited disgust. To and fro in the seven chambers stalked, in fact, a multitude of dreams. And these the dreams -- writhed in and about, taking hue from the rooms, and causing the wild music of the orchestra to seem as the echo of their steps. And, anon, there strikes the ebony clock which stands in the hall of the velvet. And then, for a moment, all is still, and all is silent save the voice of the clock. The dreams are stiff-frozen as they stand. But the echoes of the chime die away -- they have endured but an instant -- and a light half-subdued laughter floats after them as they depart. And now the music swells, and the dreams live, and writhe to and fro more merrily than ever, taking hue from the many-tinted windows through which stream the rays of the tripods. But to          the chamber which lies most westwardly of the seven there are now none of the maskers who venture, for the night is waning away; and there flows a ruddier light through the blood-colored panes; and the blackness of the sable drapery appalls; and to him whose foot falls on the sable carpet, there comes from the near clock of ebony a muffled peal more solemnly emphatic than any which reaches their ears who indulge in the more remote gaieties of the other apartments.

But these other apartments were densely crowded, and in them beat feverishly the heart of life. And the revel went whirlingly on, until at length there commenced the sounding of midnight upon the clock. And then the music ceased, as I have told; and the evolutions of the waltzers were quieted; and there was an uneasy cessation of all things as before. But now there were twelve strokes to be sounded by the bell of the clock; and thus it happened, perhaps that more of thought crept, with more of time into the meditations of the thoughtful among those  who revelled. And thus too, it happened, that before the last echoes of the last chime had utterly sunk into silence, there were many individuals in the crowd who had found leisure to become aware of the presence of a masked figure which had arrested the attention of no single individual before. And the rumor of this new presence having spread itself whisperingly around, there arose at length from the whole company a buzz,        or murmur, of horror, and of disgust.

In an assembly of phantasms such as I have painted, it may well be supposed that no ordinary appearance could have excited such sensation.  In truth the masquerade license of the night was nearly unlimited; but the figure in question had out-Heroded Herod, and gone beyond the bounds of even the prince's indefinite decorum. There are chords in the hearts of the most reckless which cannot be touched without emotion.  Even with the utterly lost, to whom life and death are equally jests, there are matters of which no jest can be made. The whole company, indeed, seemed now deeply to feel that in the costume and bearing of the stranger neither wit nor propriety existed. The figure was tall         and gaunt, and shrouded from head to foot in the habiliments of the grave. The mask which concealed the visage was made so nearly to resemble the countenance of a stiffened corpse that the closest scrutiny must have difficulty in detecting the cheat. And yet all this might have been endured, if not approved, by the mad revellers around. But the mummer had gone so far as to assume the type of the Red Death. His vesture was dabbled in blood -- and his broad brow, with all the features of his face, was besprinkled with the scarlet horror.

When the eyes of Prince Prospero fell on this spectral image (which, with a slow and solemn movement, as if more fully to sustain its role, stalked to and fro among the waltzers) he was seen to be convulsed, in the first moment with a strong shudder either of terror or distaste; but in the next, his brow reddened with rage.

"Who dares" -- he demanded hoarsely of the courtiers who stood near him -- "who dares insult us with this blasphemous mockery? Seize him                    and unmask him -- that we may know whom we have to hang, at sunrise, from the battlements!"

It was in the eastern or blue chamber in which stood Prince Prospero as he uttered these words. They rang throughout the seven rooms loudly                   and clearly, for the prince was a bold and robust man, and the music had become hushed at the waving of his hand.

It was in the blue room where stood the prince, with a group of pale courtiers by his side. At first, as he spoke, there was a slight rushing                    movement of this group in the direction of the intruder, who, at the moment was also near at hand, and now, with deliberate and stately  step, made closer approach to the speaker. But from a certain nameless awe with which the mad assumptions of the mummer had inspired the whole party, there were found none who put forth a hand to seize him; so that, unimpeded, he passed within a yard of the prince's person; and while the vast assembly, as with one impulse, shrank from the centers of the rooms to the walls, he made his way uninterruptedly, but with the same solemn and measured step which had distinguished him from the first, through the blue chamber to the purple -- to      the purple to the green -- through the green to the orange -- through this again to the white -- and even thence to the violet, ere a decided movement had been made to arrest him. It was then, however, that the Prince Prospero, maddened with rage and the shame of his own momentary cowardice, rushed hurriedly through the six chambers, while none followed him on account of a deadly terror that had seized upon all. He bore aloft a drawn dagger, and had approached, in rapid impetuosity, to within three or four feet of the retreating     figure, when the latter, having attained the extremity of the velvet apartment, turned suddenly and confronted his pursuer. There was a sharp cry -- and the dagger dropped gleaming upon the sable carpet, upon which most instantly afterward, fell prostrate in death the Prince Prospero. Then summoning the wild courage of despair, a throng of the revellers at once threw themselves into the black apartment, and seizing the mummer whose tall figure stood erect and motionless within the shadow of the ebony clock, gasped in unutterable horror at finding the grave cerements and corpse- like mask, which they handled with so violent a rudeness, untenanted by any tangible form.

And now was acknowledged the presence of the Red Death. He had come like a thief in the night. And one by one dropped the revellers in the blood-bedewed halls of their revel, and died each in the despairing posture of his fall. And the life of the ebony clock went out with that of the last of the day. And the flames of the tripods expired. And Darkness and Decay and the Red Death held illimitable dominion over all.

You know, just in case you were wondering what people are referring to.

[babylon-crashing]

helvin's principles of cemetery magic

(… from, Natasha Helvin's, Russian Black Magic, Destiny Books, 2019, pages 85-93)

Cemeteries are the strongest places of power and can be used for both good and evil. Black magic practitioners spend an enormous amount of time working in them. Even ordinary people can feel the power of a cemetery. No other place causes people’s moods to change so suddenly. Most people are afraid of cemeteries and are eager to leave. Some inexplicable fear haunts anyone who goes into a cemetery in the evening.

The soul leaves the body at the time of death but remains attached to the place where the body is buried. That is why cemeteries are believed to be inhabited by many spirits. Those spirits, if properly invoked, are able to fulfill any request or desire.

A cemetery is like a city of the dead, similar in size and population to a small town. It has both large and small portals or gates: the central entrance and additional entranceways. It is enclosed by a wall or fence that separates the world of the living from the world of the dead. In the churchyard itself are crossroads, both marked and unmarked graves, chapels, and other altars.

In recent times, there has been a change in the way cemeteries are perceived, both by ordinary people and by mages. They began to be perceived as a kind of portal to the afterlife, to a hell inhabited by all kinds of demons. When a mage works in a cemetery he plunges into dark waters, into another reality, the underworld, and completely changes his consciousness.

In fact, cemeteries themselves do not carry heavy energy. In the end, the whole of our planet is a great, big cemetery, where all the people and other life-forms who have lived and died now rest. But people no longer believe that death is a transition to another stage, a new level: according to the majority, death is the absolute end of existence. For this reason, every visitor to the cemetery goes there with heavy thoughts and leaves his negative energy behind.

Cemeteries are full of extraordinary power and energy that can be used to achieve sorcery, but to use this power and achieve your goals, you must know the principles of sorcery. You must observe the rules of work in cemeteries that come from the same principles. Mages going to work in the cemetery observe certain rules even on the way to the cemetery. Once they enter its territory they perform certain actions, say certain words, and make offerings. They also give certain greetings with explanations and offerings for the mistress of the cemeteries. These actions are also carried out on cemetery land. Over time, with experience, mages lose their fear of the cemetery and graves.

You must be very respectful to the cemetery and everything related to it. Not all graves are suitable for sorcery work. Only the active ones are ready for use. A mage, when he comes to the cemetery, usually seeks a grave of the same name given to him by someone asking for help or someone who wishes another ill. He establishes contact with the soul of the deceased. The heavy, depressive energy of the churchyard is used to achieve the goal. What he seeks to do, whether it is a love spell or a curse, is not so important. A cemetery can even work to reduce someone’s negative energy, as like attracts like. Some of the people buried in a cemetery are the forgotten or unmourned dead because they were laid to rest without funeral rites. These people can be anonymous corpses or mages buried as anyone else would be.

A variety of offerings are made at the cemetery, as they are in other places of power, such as coins, tobacco, liquor, and blood sacrifices. Contrary to popular belief, mages do not use food as an offering to the dead. The dead aren’t hungry. They do not make offerings of blood and meat because it’s just ridiculous! The forces are not dogs or wolves. The energy of the blood comes out when the offering is sacrificed. After this brief moment, the blood is just liquid and the meat is just meat.

Mages work not only at graves in the cemetery, but also at the cemetery crossroads, where they address the bloodthirsty demons. They placate them with various gifts. Like any other evil spirits, they respond best to blood sacrifices. Less often, mages conduct sorcery at cemetery fences and under cemetery trees. After mages finish their work in cemeteries, they leave and say certain sentences as they cross its boundaries. They also follow certain rules to the very threshold of their home, and upon returning they perform certain procedures for self-cleansing.

In order to begin working in a cemetery, you need to understand and know some features of the work. You need to know how to properly bring offerings and sacrifices to the cemetery. You need to know that demons live at the cemetery crossroads. As you leave, you need to leave a second offering. You also need to know to make offerings both at the grave and to the mistress of the cemeteries.

CHOOSING A GRAVE

In the tradition of black magic, not all graves are suitable for sorcery. Only the graves of those dead whose souls who await the Last Judgment and have not yet been swallowed up by either the Unclean Forces or God are suitable. While they await their fate, these souls are tied to the burial place of their bodies and periodically return to their gravesites at night.

An experienced mage will be able to select the necessary grave for work relying on his vision (clairvoyance, clairgnosis, and clairaudience). Novices usually choose active graves according to the following principles, but experienced mages also often use the following signs. An active grave attracts animals. If crows, ravens, magpies, or other birds are watching a grave or circling over it, this is a clear sign of activity. Cats, dogs, and other animals also like to wander near active graves. One of the best signs of a grave’s activeness is seeing a cat on it. Sometimes there are dead trees on or next to an active grave. Often, trees near or on a grave grow in curves and ugly shapes. If you feel an oppressive atmosphere or discomfort as you walk through the cemetery, this is also a sign of activity. In the summer, the graves will be covered in withered, yellow grass. Any vegetation that grows on them will do so with reluctance. In winter, the snow on an active grave will look crushed and gray. If there are feathers or cat, dog, or bird tracks, the grave is suitable for work. Watch for the movement of trees. The swaying of treetops and branches can indicate an active grave. On active graves, gravestones, even very large and new ones, have many cracks and natural wear. The images on such graves fade faster, lose brightness, and disappear (if there is an image). Crosses on active graves rot quickly and very often break. They may even fall to the ground. Harmful weeds usually grow on active graves.

The burial places of suicides, murderers, murder victims, and apostates (including defrocked priests) are admirably suited for sorcery. In the old days, suicides, murderers, and deceased mages were often not buried in common cemeteries. The custom was to bury them behind the cemetery fence or at the site of their death and to not remember or grieve for them. The graves of stillborn infants and unbaptized infants are also admirably suited for certain rituals, as are those of young people and children. Family graves are often good for sowing disagreement and madness in a home. In small village cemeteries, the seventh, ninth, and thirteenth unnamed graves in the far left corner of the cemetery are often very good for sorcery work. They can be used to cast severe, fatal curses.

In most cases, unmarked graves are used for serious curses (including death curses), and sometimes, for the destructive aspect of love magic (including breakup spells). Very often, these spirits show aggression, and working with them is difficult and energy intensive, especially for beginners. It is also worth noting that when it comes to an unmarked grave, you should use an old, poorly kept grave with a lopsided tombstone with no name, not a recently buried person. Working with the graves of suicides requires even greater caution. The work is complex and should be left to masters. As a rule, suicides are offered blood sacrifices.

At children’s graves, especially those of infants, you should only conduct rituals that specifically call for their use. If the rite does not indicate a child’s grave but simply mentions the use of a particular name, it should be carried out at the grave of an adult of the same name. Usually, child and infant graves are used for severe curses of sickness, death, insanity, and addiction.

Perhaps the most dangerous and complex grave is that of a mage. Only a very experienced and strong master can work with such a grave. The practitioner must first have experience holding various special rituals before attempting to work with a mage’s grave. An unskillful approach to such a grave can lead to hefty consequences, such as a swift death for the practitioner or his or her family.

When choosing a grave for a ritual, you must learn to sense whether the deceased wants to help or not. Keep in mind that there are graves protected against sorcery. Those who rest there will not help. Ask or sense their feelings like this: Stand at the head of the grave facing the tombstone. Close your eyes, stretch your palms forward, and ask in a whisper if the deceased would be willing to help you. If you feel warm and calm, then the deceased agrees. If you feel cold, anxious, or fearful, then the deceased does not agree. You must look for another grave for the ritual.

GREETING AND OFFERING GIFTS TO THE DEAD

The general rule when starting work with a grave, whether unnamed or not, is that you must greet and ask the permission of the deceased. As you enter a cemetery, you must raise your voice in greeting to the inhabitants of the kingdom of the dead. Bring several pennies and pour vodka on the ground in front of you three times.

When you perform a ritual on a grave, always bring the deceased an offering or gift. There are many types of offerings that you can make at graves, depending on the deceased in question. If a specific offering is not stipulated in a ritual, alcohol (usually vodka or rum, sometimes sweet wine or red wine, depending on the work the mage is doing) and sweets (sugar, honey, cookies, candies) can serve as universal offerings. The dead accept sweets willingly. Other offerings include coins (silver colored and pennies), tobacco (cigarettes, pipe, cigars), bread, and gold and other jewelry. For blood sacrifices, a black hen or rooster is preferable; less often white pigeons or doves and lambs are used.

When you perform a ritual at the crossroads, you must also always leave an offering in the form of coins, vodka, lit cigars, and the same types of food as enumerated above. Offerings are also left at a cemetery crossroads immediately after performing a ceremony at a grave. For those who died as adults, you can bring tobacco vodka or rum (the most important thing is the quality of alcohol and strength, do not bring weak liquor). For a child’s grave, you must offer different things: jam, sweets, toys. Children who leave their bodies early did not have a good time during life. You must show respect to all spirits, even to those who are small. A child’s spirit lives in a cemetery for centuries and sees a great deal.

Do not take anything from the cemetery and do not perform other works from the grave without an offering. Otherwise, the dead will become angry and draw you to where they are. Do not tempt fate.

HOW TO RECITE SPELLS

You should memorize the spell by heart. In extreme cases, you can rewrite the spell by hand and read it off a sheet of paper. You must pronounce the text without hesitation, pauses, or distortion. Unless otherwise instructed, read all spells while facing west. You need to know how many times to read the spell. If you’re not certain, read it an odd number of times: once, three times, seven times, or nine times (trust your senses in that case). Keep track of the number of repetitions in your mind. Don’t use your fingers to count them off! If the number of repetitions is large, you can keep track with matches and move them after each iteration. When mages perform any magical actions, including reciting spells, they often have a feeling that someone is watching them, but they must not turn around no matter what. They will not see anyone, and their actions will be less effective.

MATERIALS FOR RITUALS

You must always buy new materials for the ritual. Aside from magical instruments (such as a ritual knife), the material that you use for a ritual should not have a personal relationship with you and should not contain your energy. For example, you should not make dolls from your own clothing.

Use only candles made from beeswax or plants, the kind that are suitable for church, although church candles are not used in all rituals. Church candles need to be turned upside down for certain spells and rituals. You cannot blow out any candles! You must extinguish them with your fingers, or with a device meant for that purpose.

If a photograph is needed in the ritual, there should not be any other person in the photograph besides the one on which the work is done. It is strictly forbidden to use a photo with several people. The person should not have his or her arms crossed or be wearing sunglasses.

Certain objects are very powerful. You can work many marvelous deeds with the noose of a man who hanged himself. It has enough power for three spells and curses a day, including for wealth and career success. Waste water from bathing the deceased can be used in powerful rituals, both for ferocious curses and strong purifications. It can cure terrible disease.

If you take water from a cemetery puddle (so-called dead water), you must give the mistress of the cemeteries an offering. You must do the same if you take flowers from a grave (which can be used in curses). If you take a bone from the ground, you may keep it, but do not take any fabric. Leave a penny on the same spot.

DAYS OF REVERENCE AT THE CEMETERY

Regardless of your goal when performing magic, if you perform rituals in a cemetery, you must make an offering at the cemetery on certain days in order to ensure that the ritual will take effect on time and with maximum force. Days of reverence to the masters of the churchyard fall on January 7, February 19, April 8, May 24, June 3, July 1, September  21, October 28, and November 26.

In the modern day, you need to go to the cemetery and leave an offering. You must ask for patronage, protection, and help from the mistress of the cemeteries. It is better to leave offerings at the crossroads or at big, old cemetery trees. At the entrance to the cemetery, you must immediately appeal to the mistress of the cemeteries. Ask for her suggestion as to who will help you in your practice or ritual. Then try to sense what she tells you or look for her signs.

In addition to the mistress of the cemeteries, a mage will encounter many other forces. Offerings to the mistress include wine, chocolate, biscuits, flowers, candies, a candle, honey, jewelry, and scarves. If you stick to these days and give all that is listed, the mistress of the cemeteries will favor you and protect you against your enemies for the rest of your life.

If you do not cry or scream when you work with the dead, they will do everything you ask them to. If you do, they will punish you. Do your work and remain quiet. Do not be afraid of the dead. They live their own life after the grave, and if your sorcery is successful, none of them will touch you or cling to you. Do not tremble in the cemetery; do not show fear. Fear is weakness. Be confident in yourself and your power.

[buzzdixonwriter]

“The Masque of the Red Death” by Edgar Allan Poe

The "Red Death" had long devastated the country.  No pestilence had ever been so fatal, or so hideous.  Blood was its Avatar and its seal--the redness and the horror of blood.  There were sharp pains, and sudden dizziness, and then profuse bleeding at the pores, with dissolution.  The scarlet stains upon the body and especially upon the face of the victim, were the pest ban which shut him out from the aid and from the sympathy of his fellow-men. And the whole seizure, progress and termination of the disease, were the incidents of half an hour.

But the Prince Prospero was happy and dauntless and sagacious. When his dominions were half depopulated, he summoned to his presence a thousand hale and light-hearted friends from among the knights and dames of his court, and with these retired to the deep seclusion of one of his castellated abbeys.  This was an extensive and magnificent structure, the creation of the prince's own eccentric yet august taste.  A strong and lofty wall girdled it in. This wall had gates of iron.  The courtiers, having entered, brought furnaces and massy hammers and welded the bolts.  They resolved to leave means neither of ingress nor egress to the sudden impulses of despair or of frenzy from within.  The abbey was amply provisioned.  With such precautions the courtiers might bid defiance to contagion.  The external world could take care of itself.  In the meantime it was folly to grieve, or to think.  The prince had provided all the appliances of pleasure.  There were buffoons, there were improvisatori, there were ballet-dancers, there were musicians, there was Beauty, there was wine.  All these and security were within.  Without was the "Red Death".

It was towards the close of the fifth or sixth month of his seclusion, and while the pestilence raged most furiously abroad, that the Prince Prospero entertained his thousand friends at a masked ball of the most unusual magnificence.

It was a voluptuous scene, that masquerade.  But first let me tell of the rooms in which it was held.  These were seven--an imperial suite. In many palaces, however, such suites form a long and straight vista, while the folding doors slide back nearly to the walls on either hand, so that the view of the whole extent is scarcely impeded.  Here the case was very different, as might have been expected from the duke's love of the _bizarre_.  The apartments were so irregularly disposed that the vision embraced but little more than one at a time.  There was a sharp turn at every twenty or thirty yards, and at each turn a novel effect.  To the right and left, in the middle of each wall, a tall and narrow Gothic window looked out upon a closed corridor which pursued the windings of the suite.  These windows were of stained glass whose colour varied in accordance with the prevailing hue of the decorations of the chamber into which it opened.  That at the eastern extremity was hung, for example in blue--and vividly blue were its windows.  The second chamber was purple in its ornaments and tapestries, and here the panes were purple.  The third was green throughout, and so were the casements.  The fourth was furnished and lighted with orange--the fifth with white--the sixth with violet.  The seventh apartment was closely shrouded in black velvet tapestries that hung all over the ceiling and down the walls, falling in heavy folds upon a carpet of the same material and hue.  But in this chamber only, the colour of the windows failed to correspond with the decorations.  The panes here were scarlet--a deep blood colour.  Now in no one of the seven apartments was there any lamp or candelabrum, amid the profusion of golden ornaments that lay scattered to and fro or depended from the roof. There was no light of any kind emanating from lamp or candle within the suite of chambers.  But in the corridors that followed the suite, there stood, opposite to each window, a heavy tripod, bearing a brazier of fire, that projected its rays through the tinted glass and so glaringly illumined the room.  And thus were produced a multitude of gaudy and fantastic appearances.  But in the western or black chamber the effect of the fire-light that streamed upon the dark hangings through the blood-tinted panes, was ghastly in the extreme, and produced so wild a look upon the countenances of those who entered, that there were few of the company bold enough to set foot within its precincts at all.

It was in this apartment, also, that there stood against the western wall, a gigantic clock of ebony.  Its pendulum swung to and fro with a dull, heavy, monotonous clang; and when the minute-hand made the circuit of the face, and the hour was to be stricken, there came from the brazen lungs of the clock a sound which was clear and loud and deep and exceedingly musical, but of so peculiar a note and emphasis that, at each lapse of an hour, the musicians of the orchestra were constrained to pause, momentarily, in their performance, to harken to the sound; and thus the waltzers perforce ceased their evolutions; and there was a brief disconcert of the whole gay company; and, while the chimes of the clock yet rang, it was observed that the giddiest grew pale, and the more aged and sedate passed their hands over their brows as if in confused revery or meditation.  But when the echoes had fully ceased, a light laughter at once pervaded the assembly; the musicians looked at each other and smiled as if at their own nervousness and folly, and made whispering vows, each to the other, that the next chiming of the clock should produce in them no similar emotion; and then, after the lapse of sixty minutes, (which embrace three thousand and six hundred seconds of the Time that flies,) there came yet another chiming of the clock, and then were the same disconcert and tremulousness and meditation as before.

But, in spite of these things, it was a gay and magnificent revel.  The tastes of the duke were peculiar.  He had a fine eye for colours and effects.  He disregarded the _decora_ of mere fashion.  His plans were bold and fiery, and his conceptions glowed with barbaric lustre.  There are some who would have thought him mad.  His followers felt that he was not.  It was necessary to hear and see and touch him to be _sure_ that he was not.

He had directed, in great part, the movable embellishments of the seven chambers, upon occasion of this great _fête_; and it was his own guiding taste which had given character to the masqueraders.  Be sure they were grotesque.  There were much glare and glitter and piquancy and phantasm--much of what has been since seen in "Hernani".  There were arabesque figures with unsuited limbs and appointments.  There were delirious fancies such as the madman fashions.  There were much of the beautiful, much of the wanton, much of the _bizarre_, something of the terrible, and not a little of that which might have excited disgust.  To and fro in the seven chambers there stalked, in fact, a multitude of dreams.  And these--the dreams--writhed in and about taking hue from the rooms, and causing the wild music of the orchestra to seem as the echo of their steps.  And, anon, there strikes the ebony clock which stands in the hall of the velvet.  And then, for a moment, all is still, and all is silent save the voice of the clock.  The dreams are stiff-frozen as they stand.  But the echoes of the chime die away--they have endured but an instant--and a light, half-subdued laughter floats after them as they depart.  And now again the music swells, and the dreams live, and writhe to and fro more merrily than ever, taking hue from the many tinted windows through which stream the rays from the tripods.  But to the chamber which lies most westwardly of the seven, there are now none of the maskers who venture; for the night is waning away; and there flows a ruddier light through the blood-coloured panes; and the blackness of the sable drapery appals; and to him whose foot falls upon the sable carpet, there comes from the near clock of ebony a muffled peal more solemnly emphatic than any which reaches _their_ ears who indulged in the more remote gaieties of the other apartments.

But these other apartments were densely crowded, and in them beat feverishly the heart of life.  And the revel went whirlingly on, until at length there commenced the sounding of midnight upon the clock.  And then the music ceased, as I have told; and the evolutions of the waltzers were quieted; and there was an uneasy cessation of all things as before.  But now there were twelve strokes to be sounded by the bell of the clock; and thus it happened, perhaps, that more of thought crept, with more of time, into the meditations of the thoughtful among those who revelled. And thus too, it happened, perhaps, that before the last echoes of the last chime had utterly sunk into silence, there were many individuals in the crowd who had found leisure to become aware of the presence of a masked figure which had arrested the attention of no single individual before.  And the rumour of this new presence having spread itself whisperingly around, there arose at length from the whole company a buzz, or murmur, expressive of disapprobation and surprise--then, finally, of terror, of horror, and of disgust.

In an assembly of phantasms such as I have painted, it may well be supposed that no ordinary appearance could have excited such sensation. In truth the masquerade licence of the night was nearly unlimited; but the figure in question had out-Heroded Herod, and gone beyond the bounds of even the prince's indefinite decorum. There are chords in the hearts of the most reckless which cannot be touched without emotion.  Even with the utterly lost, to whom life and death are equally jests, there are matters of which no jest can be made.  The whole company, indeed, seemed now deeply to feel that in the costume and bearing of the stranger neither wit nor propriety existed.  The figure was tall and gaunt, and shrouded from head to foot in the habiliments of the grave.  The mask which concealed the visage was made so nearly to resemble the countenance of a stiffened corpse that the closest scrutiny must have had difficulty in detecting the cheat.  And yet all this might have been endured, if not approved, by the mad revellers around.  But the mummer had gone so far as to assume the type of the Red Death. His vesture was dabbled in _blood_--and his broad brow, with all the features of the face, was besprinkled with the scarlet horror.

 When the eyes of the Prince Prospero fell upon this spectral image (which, with a slow and solemn movement, as if more fully to sustain its role, stalked to and fro among the waltzers) he was seen to be convulsed, in the first moment with a strong shudder either of terror or distaste; but, in the next, his brow reddened with rage.

"Who dares,"--he demanded hoarsely of the courtiers who stood near him--"who dares insult us with this blasphemous mockery? Seize him and unmask him--that we may know whom we have to hang, at sunrise, from the battlements!"

It was in the eastern or blue chamber in which stood the Prince Prospero as he uttered these words.  They rang throughout the seven rooms loudly and clearly, for the prince was a bold and robust man, and the music had become hushed at the waving of his hand.

It was in the blue room where stood the prince, with a group of pale courtiers by his side.  At first, as he spoke, there was a slight rushing movement of this group in the direction of the intruder, who at the moment was also near at hand, and now, with deliberate and stately step, made closer approach to the speaker.  But from a certain nameless awe with which the mad assumptions of the mummer had inspired the whole party, there were found none who put forth hand to seize him; so that, unimpeded, he passed within a yard of the prince's person; and, while the vast assembly, as if with one impulse, shrank from the centres of the rooms to the walls, he made his way uninterruptedly, but with the same solemn and measured step which had distinguished him from the first, through the blue chamber to the purple--through the purple to the green--through the green to the orange--through this again to the white--and even thence to the violet, ere a decided movement had been made to arrest him.  It was then, however, that the Prince Prospero, maddening with rage and the shame of his own momentary cowardice, rushed hurriedly through the six chambers, while none followed him on account of a deadly terror that had seized upon all.  He bore aloft a drawn dagger, and had approached, in rapid impetuosity, to within three or four feet of the retreating figure, when the latter, having attained the extremity of the velvet apartment, turned suddenly and confronted his pursuer.  There was a sharp cry--and the dagger dropped gleaming upon the sable carpet, upon which, instantly afterwards, fell prostrate in death the Prince Prospero.  Then, summoning the wild courage of despair, a throng of the revellers at once threw themselves into the black apartment, and, seizing the mummer, whose tall figure stood erect and motionless within the shadow of the ebony clock, gasped in unutterable horror at finding the grave cerements and corpse-like mask, which they handled with so violent a rudeness, untenanted by any tangible form.

And now was acknowledged the presence of the Red Death.  He had come like a thief in the night.  And one by one dropped the revellers in the blood-bedewed halls of their revel, and died each in the despairing posture of his fall.  And the life of the ebony clock went out with that of the last of the gay.  And the flames of the tripods expired.  And Darkness and Decay and the Red Death held illimitable dominion over all. 

— “The Masque of the Red Death” by Edgar Allan Poe text provided by Project Gutenberg (give ‘em some support; they’re good people)

[deathgatesideblog]

Me, reading Seventh Gate for the first time: Holy SHIT they save the world by SINGING together and HOLDING HANDS? That’s.... kind of.... romantic...

Seventh Gate: You are like little baby. Watch this:

Performance notes for “Closing the Seventh Gate”

You may notice there is no key signature indicated in the music. Because Alfred and Haplo are so different, they are singing in two different (but related) keys. [...] Occasionally their voices hit a dissonance, just as their relationship does. They have, however, learned to work together despite their diverse natures; hence the fairly consistent harmonies they produce.

[aliveandfullofjoy]

Oscar Trivia 2019

My favorite mess of the year!

Highly acclaimed film Bohemian Rhapsody (62% on Rotten Tomatoes, 49% on Metacritic) is the first film to be nominated for Best Picture with a Metascore under 50 since Extremely Loud and Incredibly Close (2011).

The obvious one: Black Panther is the first superhero movie and the first movie based on a comic book to be nominated for Best Picture. Even still, The Dark Knight is the most nominated superhero movie in Oscar history, with eight to Panther’s seven.

Best Popular Oscar whom? Three of this year’s Best Picture nominees are currently in the top twenty highest grossing films of 2018: Black Panther, A Star is Born, and Bohemian Rhapsody. All have grossed over $200 million.

This is the first time since 1976 that more than one director is nominated in Best Director for a foreign-language film*. Last time, it was Ingmar Bergman (Face to Face) and Lina Wertmüller (Seven Beauties). This time, it’s Alfonso Cuarón (Roma) and Pawel Pawlikowski (Cold War). If either of them win, it will be the first time ever that a non-English language film wins Best Director. (*A note: it is possible to include 2006 in this distinction, as both Alejandro González Iñárritu [Babel] and Clint Eastwood [Letters from Iwo Jima] were nominated in Director, and both films featured significant stretches in languages that are not English. However, they both also feature significant portions in English; Roma and Cold War do not.)

Spike Lee and Barry Jenkins have become the first African-American artists to be nominated for writing more than once. 

Netflix had a major breakthrough year with the multiple nominations for Roma and The Ballad of Buster Scruggs. It goes without saying, but Roma is Netflix’s first Best Picture nomination.

Willem Dafoe (At Eternity’s Gate) and Olivia Colman (The Favourite) have become the third pair of actors to win the Volpi Cup at the Venice Film Festival and to go on to receive Oscar nominations. The other two were Fredric March (Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde) and Helen Hayes (The Sin of Madelon Claudet), both of whom won in 1932, and Sam Jaffe (The Asphalt Jungle) and Eleanor Parker (Caged) in 1950.  

This is the third time that costume designer Sandy Powell (The Favourite and Mary Poppins Returns) has been double-nominated in a single year. The other two times: 1998 (Shakespeare in Love, which won, and Velvet Goldmine) and 2015 (Carol and Cinderella).

Streisand weeps: Lady Gaga is now the second person in history to be nominated for acting and songwriting in the same year, both for A Star is Born. Last year, Mary J. Blige became the first person to receive this distinction. 

Hannah Beachler (Black Panther) has become the first black person nominated for Production Design.

Producer Dede Gardner (Vice) received her sixth Best Picture nomination this morning, tying Eric Fellner and Stanley Kramer as the fourth most nominated producer in Oscar history. She is the second most nominated woman, after Kathleen Kennedy with eight Best Picture nominations (though unlike Kennedy, Gardner has won before).

Roma has now tied with Crouching Tiger, Hidden Dragon (2000) as the most nominated foreign language movie in Oscar history -- they both received ten nominations. Crouching Tiger came awfully close to winning Best Picture only to falter at the last minute to a crowdpleaser (Gladiator); will history repeat itself this year? 

Roma producer Gabriela Rodríguez is the first Latina nominated in Best Picture. 

Peter Ramsey (Spider-Man: Into the Spider-Verse) is the first black person nominated in Animated Feature. 

“Shallow” (A Star is Born) and “All the Stars” (Black Panther) are the first songs since “Lose Yourself” (2002) to receive nominations from the Academy for Best Song and the Grammys for Song of the Year and Record of the Year. 

With his surprise nomination for At Eternity’s Gate, Willem Dafoe is the second person to be nominated for playing Vincent Van Gogh, following in the footsteps of Kirk Douglas in 1956′s Lust for Life. 

Mirai is the first Animated Feature nominee from Japan to not be produced by Studio Ghibli.

While 2018′s A Star is Born is the fourth remake of that particular story, it is only the second one to get a Best Picture nomination (the other was the very first, from 1937). Cooper’s Star also received the same number of nominations as Wellman’s 1937 film with a total of eight. The 1954 film received six, winning none, and the 1976 film received four, and won for Best Song (a good omen for Gaga?). Bad news for Bradley Cooper, Lady Gaga, and Sam Elliott, though: between the 26 total nominations for all four Star is Born films, they have only won three, and none have ever been for its actors. 

Yalitza Aparicio (Roma) is the second Mexican actress to receive a Best Actress nomination; the first was Salma Hayek (Frida, 2002). Aparicio is also the first ever indigenous actor to receive an acting nomination.

Marina de Tavira is now the first person nominated for Supporting Actress for an entirely foreign language film since Valentina Cortese in Day for Night (1974). She is only the second one ever.

Her power! Each time Emma Stone has been nominated for an Oscar, her film has led the nomination count: Birdman (9), La La Land (14), and now The Favourite (10).

Amy Adams received her sixth nomination for playing Lynne Cheney in Vice. With this nomination, she is now tied with Cate Blanchett as the second-most nominated actress of the 21st century so far. She is the second-most nominated living actress that has never won (trailing only behind Best Actress frontrunner Glenn Close, who received her seventh nomination today). If she loses this year (and if Close wins), she will join Thelma Ritter and Deborah Kerr as most nominated actresses in history without a win. Meanwhile, if Glenn Close (The Wife) loses Best Actress, she will be the most nominated actress in history without a win.

Christian Bale is the second actor to be nominated for playing a Vice President. The only other is James Whitmore, who was nominated for playing Harry S. Truman in Give ‘Em Hell, Harry! (1975). 

Similarly, Vice’s George W. Bush, Sam Rockwell, is the latest to be nominated for playing a U.S. President. He joins Whitmore’s Truman, Raymond Massey’s Lincoln (Abe Lincoln in Illinois, 1940), Anthony Hopkins’ John Quincy Adams (Amistad, 1997) and Nixon (Nixon, 1995), Alexander Knox’s Woodrow Wilson (Wilson, 1944), Frank Langella’s Nixon (Frost/Nixon, 2008), and Daniel Day-Lewis’s Lincoln (2012). Rockwell’s Bush and Hopkins’ Adams are the only presidents nominated in supporting. 

Amy Adams and Christian Bale have co-starred together three times and were both nominated for all three: Vice (2018), American Hustle (2013), and The Fighter (2010). 

Three of the nominated directors -- Cuarón, Pawlikowski, and Lanthimos -- directed previous nominees for Foreign Language Film: Cuarón’s Y Tu Mamá También (2002), Pawlikowski’s winner Ida (2014), and Lanthimos’s Dogtooth (2009). 

All eight of the Best Picture nominees come from different distributors: Black Panther from Disney, BlacKkKlansman from Focus Features, Bohemian Rhapsody from 20th Century Fox, The Favourite from Fox Searchlight, Green Book from Universal, Roma from Netflix, A Star is Born from Warner Bros., and Vice from Annapurna. 

Don’t quote me on this yet, but I think Kendrick Lamar (songwriter for “All the Stars” from Black Panther) has become the second person to receive a Pulitzer Prize and an Oscar nomination in the same year (Lamar won the Pulitzer Prize for Music for his album DAMN.). The only other, that I can tell, is Lin-Manuel Miranda in 2016, who was nominated for “How Far I’ll Go” from Moana and won the Pulitzer for the musical Hamilton. 

Pre-curse-ors: Bradley Cooper is the thirteenth director in the last twenty years to be snubbed by the Academy after winning the National Board of Review Award for Best Director.

Mary Poppins Returns marks the first time a Rob Marshall-directed movie musical failed to receive an acting nomination. Sorry, Emily.

The Favourite is now the most nominated Irish film of all-time.

While Green Book marks Viggo Mortensen’s third nomination, it’s the first time he’s not his film’s sole nomination: both Eastern Promises (2007) and Captain Fantastic (2016) were totally shut down outside of his performance. Coincidentally, it’s also the first time Mortensen is nominated for a performance in which he does not have to show his penis.

With its single nomination for Solo: A Star Wars Story, the Star Wars stat holds true: every single Star Wars film has gotten at least one nomination.

If you count the semi-biographical characters from Roma played by Yalitza Aparicio and Marina de Tavira, a staggering fifteen of the twenty roles nominated are based on real people.

Roma is the first foreign language Best Picture nominee since Amour in 2012. If it wins, it will be the first foreign language film to do so. It will also be Mexico’s first victory in the Foreign Language Film category.

Rami Malek is the second actor with Egyptian heritage to be nominated at the Oscars. The first was Omar Sharif in 1962 for Lawrence of Arabia.

Richard E. Grant is the fifth actor born in Africa to be nominated for an Oscar, following Basil Rathbone, Omar Sharif, Djimon Hounsou, and Barkhad Abdi. Grant is Swazi-British. 

This is the third year in a row to have at least one Best Picture nominee centered on an LGBTQ+ character: 2016 had Moonlight, 2017 had Call Me by Your Name, and 2018 has Bohemian Rhapsody and The Favourite.

[stone-man-warrior]

January 15, 2020: 4:32 pm:

I just returned from shopping experience in Socio-Terrific Dystopia, Grants Pass Oregon, where the terrorists are from Canada, and killed and replaced the entire population with Seventh Day Adventist Terror Cult of Christian Religious Crusaders of Death.

I went to Walgreens.

Upon leaving, one terror soldier approached my car as I was just about to drive away, in my front yard. The terror soldier was right there by my rear passenger door, and then, was gone. Presumably, the terrors soldier’s Nitrous Oxide gas tank ignited, and the terror soldier launched away due to nitrous gas ignition. Judging by what I saw and heard at the store, along the way, and on the return trip, that was a Sparacino, Li’l Pantry Market terror soldier.

Someone driving Joan Phillips Nissan Quest van drove passed my driveway towards Russell Road, as I was closing my driveway gate, and as I was leaving my driveway, a white “Crossover” vehicle went the other way, and pulled into the Nathan Phillips terror cell at 520 “MySytreet” for confusion services. Two completely different Phillips, and, I was going to a pharmacy for a “Refill”. That is “Two Solids and an intangible” for the “Trinity Crossing”.

Much symbolism today in the terror controlled Josephine County, where the Cult of the Christian Seventh Day Adventists, have taken over, by killing all of the inhabitants of the county.

Many familiar scenario’s played out at the Walgreen’s, and the same vehicles I see on the roads were present in groups of terror scouts who scout the roads for outsiders. One such vehicle is a white service truck that crosses Grants Pass Parkway from Red Wood Avenue to 7th Street in front of my vehicle as I wait for the light to change. That service truck always has a piece of plywood roped to the side, standing on edge, outside of the truck, sort of suspended out of the truck bed, and secured in place with a rope in the shape of a cross.

Another scout is the white Dodge pick-up that accelerates quickly, and extremely loud, indicating that a “loud mouth” has arrived at the Walgreen’s. Another announcement that a “Loud Mouth” arrived was by yet another terror scout, a white van in the parking lot at the Walgreen’s, is a regular, and has been there doing the same thing each time I go there, the driver of the van activates a very loud car alarm as I get out of my car after parking. “The Whistleblower Has Arrived” is the statement made by the white Dodge and the white van.

The parking lot at the Walgreen’s was nearly full, however, the inside of the store was nearly void of people, certainly not one driver for each car in the parking lot.

There is a “Cult Activity” that can be noted by those who monitor surveillance video from the Grants Pass area stores where people shop, such as Walgreen’s. Walmart, and Fred Myer, the same conditions at each store are present, and are performed by terror Cult members religiously. The activity of “Crossing The Path” of incoming shoppers is done as a religious ceremony at stores as a customer arrives there. The fake store employee’s, who are really part of a terror army that took over the stores, will walk across the isle at a moment just prior to when the customer is going to walk forward there. The “Crossing” is similar in importance to another ceremonial activity they do, they call it “Christening”, and Christening is the act of a “Mating Pair“ of terror soldiers having sex in a residential property at the time of taking that residence from the Americans that they attack, and kill. The terror soldiers “Christen” the house, by having sex, in the newly acquired residence. So, the activity of “Crossing the Path” is like that, it’s a act of comradery and alliance between non-mating pairs of terror soldiers, and it is a way to identify that everyone at the store is a member of the terror army. The “Crossing of the Path“ is done as the customer enters a store, at the nearest shopping isle to the entrance as they are able to do, by walking perpendicular to the path that the entering customer is walking. Simply put, someone walks across the isle in front you. It’s a terror cult ceremonial activity of alliance.

So, that happens every time I shop, at any place I shop.

For deception services to fool someone, the pharmacy technician did some manipulation of the debit machine at the checkout counter that I was at. Two parts to the deception:

One part is that a couple in a red Chevy Suburban are in the drive through part of the Walgreens, they can be seen clearly from the pharmacy counter, through the window at the drive through from within the store. The Pharmacy technician engages in some pre-arranged scripted verbiage with that terror soldiers in the drive through. A moment of confusion and disappointment occurs when the driver of the Suburban cannot find the insurance card that he is supposed to have, the pharmacy technician goes out of her way to dramatize the event, she walked away in a huff from the drive through window, then returned, and explained loud enough that everyone in the pharmacy area can hear, “I cannot bill the VA without the VA Card”.

That means: “Soldiers, get ready, we are about to begin the attack“

The other part of the deception at the Drive Through, that included me and my purchase, was the the debit machine was not working at the counter I was at inside of the Walgreen’s. The Pharmacy technician reached for, and took my debit card as I was about to put it into the debit machine that is right there at that service counter. I was reluctant to let go of it, and the technician then explained that “I have to ring you up over here” and took the card to the Drive Through Service debit machine, and rang up the amount of purchase.

That was done to deceive someone, someplace. I did not use the drive through, but they want someone to believe that I was the customer with the VA Insurance. That was done to cover two things: One is the three idiots that came to my house yesterday, you can read about on Twitter. The other is to cover the idea that #SAGClubMed terror is performed by people who go to the NAMM trade show which is happening now, and they attack people for their meds and health records, while en-route to and from the NAMM events. That VA Insurance causes a confusion for those who may be investigating, and they will confuse VA, with the NAMM Music Industry Trade Show. I know as well as anyone, that such a strange and obscure sounding detail does not make sense, but not making sense is part of the deception, and is what Confusion Service is made of. Screen Actor Guild Screen Writers come up with stories that are beyond explanation, and have been working to deceive investigative agents for five decades. Their bullshit is effective, and does not cost any money, it’s a bullshit story, and a “broken debit machine” that does the trick. That debit machine may show that it is located in the Philippines, Guam, Hawaii, or Alaska. Many of the local Oregon debit machines are programmed to look as though they are in a different area, the state of Hawaii is most popular.

No attack occurred though, unless the attacking soldiers launched away. That is very likely. I heard more than three times, the words “he launched”, and “They launched”.

The pharmacy technician that helped me at the drop-off time of my prescription said to me; “You are Sean”. I said no, I’m not. She asked for my Driver License, I put it on the counter, but she did not look at it.

On the way home, there was a series of cars with hazard lights flashing on the sides of the road, at about two mile intervals.

When I returned to “MyStreet”, Nicole “Nix” Sparacino was waiting at the corner of “MyStreet” and Russell Road. She was driving yet another new car, a aqua colored “Crossover” style vehicle, a big one, as far as “Cross-Over’s” go. Maybe that was the real Sean Sparacino that launched away when I was leaving my house.

(As I am writing this entry, the text in the lines above is changing. I have scrolled up to the top several times, made corrections, then wrote some more at the bottom, then had to correct the same text changes over again in the lines above. There is no privacy in writing terror reports on social media such as Tumblr and Twitter. The terror bastards are on the other side of my computer screen, at Tumblr, write now, changing the words I write, as I write them, in real time. if they cannot take the account down completely, they will make the account holding author to appear as a drunk, or make the entries look as though they are part of a book writing endeavor.)

These entries are real terror eye-witness accounts of things that happen, and are written at the time of the events, just moments after they occur.

You cannot purchase alcohol anywhere in the State of Oregon unless you make that purchase from a State Run Liquor Store. All liquor in Oregon is purchased from the State Governor, Kate Brown. She runs the State Run Liquor stores, the same as she runs the sale of lottery tickets, and Lottery gaming in the State of Oregon. No one ever wins a Oregon State Lottery, the payouts are a source of money laundering of revenue that feeds the terror army Cult, the Seventh Day Adventist Army.

End: 5:32 pm.

[squidpro-quo]

A/N: Here’s your gift for the @dcmkkaishinexchange @icarusdg! I tried to do some angst so I hope it turned out okay. After seeing the trailer for the new movie 23, I felt like Kaito was due for a banging up :P

With twelve hours left, Shinichi’s head is throbbing.  The puzzle and intrigue of it is maddening and every thought that finds a clue or a track to go down inevitably ends up derailed. Twenty-four hours ago, when it all started with a simple calling card embossed with a black logo it had been a chance, a trail for them to follow at the very least and if he had anything to say about it he’d have given anything to be further along it than he was now. The seconds tick by, drumming against his mind, a reminder of how he’s getting nowhere. He wants it all to be over, the mystery solved and the one responsible in custody somewhere far away from him. Most of all, he wants Kaito back.

~*~

At eleven hours left, an officer steps into the precinct’s chaotic mess of a reception area and Shinichi immediately sees the way her eyes shift across the room to Inspector Nakamori. He tails the woman as she heads into the foray of bustling task force agents and perpetually ringing phones. The scowl on Nakamori’s face twitches up a notch when he sees Shinichi standing at his shoulder again, but the brief moment before he’s ordered back to the mandatory rest area affords him a look at what the officer brought. Another calling card, this time with a note scrawled in neat letters across the back: It’s time to pay the pipers.

~*~

Shinichi’s halfway across town when melodious bells chime throughout the city, leaving him with ten scant hours before the deed is to be done. He doesn’t bear thinking about the other deed, the one that might already be done, and whether he’ll be too late even if he beats time in the end. How much time has he wasted trying to think through the details of the case without knowing the full picture?

For now, he’ll have to settle for simply doing something. The streets are washed with neon lights half a block away from his destination while the entrance is flooded with flashing signs and the glitter of jewels on the visitors’ every limb. Shinichi adjusts his bowtie, sidestepping the attendant at the front with a haughty wave, and enters the Leaping Lord’s Casino.

It aches to see a place where Kaito would have loved to come. Certainly not for a traditional visit, losing at the tables or flushing money down the cards, but rather to put his tricks to use, put on a performance in the most dazzling place for a mile just to see what he could pull out of his sleeves. Instead, Shinichi sees his absence in every dealer’s flick of the wrist.

~*~

It’s a few minutes into the ninth hour when he manages to slip past the guards outside a gilded pair of double doors. Closing his watchface, he doesn’t flinch at the blade pressed to his neck by a slim girl of fifteen. The only reason he’s still alive is because the Lady is sitting forward in her mink fur coat and regarding him with shrewd jade green eyes while the smoke from her Sobranie drifts between her lips.

“What do you want, boy?”

“Information. On where the Pipers have their base.”

“And why would I ever bother to give you that?” The Lady leans back in her chair, face set in a manner of one who likes to watch the faces of those who gamble their lives.

“I will leave without saying a word of what you do.” Shinichi’s heart doesn’t hammer any faster knowing of the threat that sits in the Lady’s gaze, it’s already heavy with the absence of what he’s trying to find.

“Very well.” She knows he’s put his chips on a losing number anyway. Anything she’ll try to do to him later is an afterthought, all that matters to him is how much closer he is to finding Kaito now.

~*~

He checks his watch for the fiftieth time and watches as the precious minutes of his eighth hour dwindle away. Taking a taxi had been the fastest way here, but it had still been far too long a ride for his taste. The cold bricks of the Milkmaid warehouse scrape his arms as he climbs the side to peek in through the shattered pane of a window. Tarry blackness stares back.

The door creaks with his entrance, but there’s no one to hear it in between the rows of stacked crates and rubbish piles building in the corners.

~*~

Just as the first seconds of his seventh hour beat a cruel, relentless march, he finds it under a pile of rubble, the corner peaking out still as white as a swan’s wing. Marred by streaks of ugly dark brown bleeding along the hem, the rest of the cape is torn and dirty, but none of it matters when his fingers poke through ragged holes around its center.

It was the illusion, as it always was with Kaito, that ended up blinding him to what was going on behind the trick and the glamour. The heists had been for some purpose, he’d figured that out early on, but the real reason —the real threat— that drove Kaito to keep pulling everyone’s gaze with his dazzling white was only made known when he’d seen the flash of a muzzle and the familiar shadowy shapes that he knew dogged his own footsteps.

Death and blood didn’t fit onto Kaito’s stage and with it pushed to the wings, that was where it struck from instead.

~*~

His sixth hour feels like a fruitless wild goose chase. Calling in the police was the right move, he knows it though it’s hard to believe when watching the squads of officers filling the warehouse with bright lights and incoherent shouting. He thinks of the cape buried in the dumpster a few blocks away, heavy with secrets and blood.

He leaves, avoiding Nakamori’s haggard figure at the epicenter of the bustling. The thought of what he’s missing, what fragment he lacks that makes the puzzle whole, drives him to keep moving, keeping still only makes him sink down. He’s solved so many cases before with a clear head and a sharp mind, but this one brings with it a cloudy haste that blankets his every action and idea.

~*~

The fifth hour rings out unexpectedly as he crosses the street, the tolling reverberating down from above him. He doesn’t know how or why he ended up here, but the rush of memories is a bittersweet tide as he tilts his head back to look at the clocktower. It had been a lot of firsts, the first time he’d seen KID, challenged him, crossed him, and, he knows it began then, admired him. It was the start of coming to see what Kaito did, really did, and why, because as much frustration and awe as he produced in everyone watching, because you couldn’t watch without being pulled into the energy of it all, there was always more to see behind every trick and smile.

Shinichi stands frozen on the sidewalk in the dead streets in the ethereal hour before dawn, considering the past, both distant and recent. All the events of the last day run through his mind again in disjointed fragments held together with barely a thread. He’d started spiraling as soon as he discovered Kaito gone and it has been pulling him apart ever since.

If he wants to find him, he needs to do his job.

Setting a faint hunch as his destination, Shinichi steps off the curb and starts to think. There had been small explosions set off in the subway stations of the outskirts of the city for the past few weeks. They had all been classified as the work of pipe bombs; each site was littered with small charred pieces of confetti: the remains of wrapping paper.

There were plenty of places to set the bomb that the Pipers had heralded as the finale the night before, but how would they decide where to put it?

Hit by a thought, Shinichi starts to run.

~*~

At the last minute of his fourth hour, he looks up to see the black shapes of the morning’s first birds circling in the sky above. The streets start to fill, commuters appearing from every apartment building and side alley in a growing rush towards the station entrance ahead.

~*~

The third hour’s first minute sees him come close to tripping down the steps of the colloquially known ‘French Hen’ Station, so named for the comically puffed up bird statue that sits atop the gate leading down. It’s a struggle to reach the platform without bowling anyone over, but as soon as he climbs down into the tunnel he shuts out any shouts of warning and delves into the dark.

A train speeds by after ten minutes, shrieking over the rails in dizzying flashes of light too close for comfort. It becomes a pattern, searching the enclosing darkness for any signs and waiting for the cold wind that blows as warning. It’s not long before the blackness reaching in on every side starts to swim before his eyes, playing with the shapes of things and creeping behind him. He doesn’t notice as he looks over his shoulder for the fifth time, but he rubs the bridge of his nose to ease the headache spreading behind his temples. He spent the entire time running from place to place, thinking he’d thought of something that would bring Kaito back but what he’s gained for his efforts is simply desperation and a sleepless night.

~*~

He walks into yet another sharp wire, feels the prick of it against his ankle, and moves to step over it without glancing down.

It pricks him again, this time on the other ankle, and lets out a soft coo. The meager beam of his watchlight falls on two pairs of beady black eyes, watching him with heads tilted and feathers fluffed.

Seeing his stillness, the two doves take flight in a rustle of wings and dive into a dark alcove set back from the track. Shinichi stumbles after them heedless of the gravel sliding under his feet as long as he can keep the birds in sight.

It’s soft cursing he hears first. The huddled shape that materializes out of the darkness is what finally makes Shinichi’s knees give out, dropping to Kaito’s side with hands already pulling him forward. Something hard shifts between them, poking into his shoulder.

“Shinichi, I’m great at many things but diffusing a bomb is not one of them.” Kaito buries his nose in Shinichi’s hair, letting out a ragged breath. “Not to mention two of them.”

“I know some people who can help,” Shinichi admits, not letting go until he’s run his hand along Kaito’s back. “You weren’t shot?” The thought alleviates a worry.

“They did their best, but only scored with more… short-range options.”

Shinichi finally pulls back, looking at Kaito’s haggard, if smiling face, and takes in the bruise blooming along his temple underneath the fringe of his hair. The vest he’s wearing is flashing red, the silent countdown inching lower and lower.

Shinichi doesn’t let go of Kaito until they’re safely above ground, policemen thronging the scene for the third time that day. Kaito’s doves nest on their shoulders, slumbering in the blanket covering them both. Their last hour never came, leaving them with all the time in the world instead.

[hazusreaderinserts]

Legacy [Naruto Reader-Insert]

You’re definitely a Yamanaka, aren’t you?

Family and Village secrets run rampant. All you wanna do is survive long enough to see Naruto become Hokage and to find out who you really are.

[Fem! Reader x Various]

Warnings: Long Plot, Slow-burn, the slowest of burns

Crossposted on Wattpad and Quotev Masterlist

Chapter 5

You quickly walk through the narrow roads to the Uchiha compound. The journey was long and winding but it didn't stop the enthusiasm that you had about the visit. Despite being one of the biggest clans in Konoha, their main residence was much more further away compared to the other big clans. 

But the strange thing is that their clan compound is close to the outer edges of Konoha. Normally all the big clan's would be stuck near the inner circle but not the Uchiha.

The Uchiha Clan is huge. Bigger than your own. You had heard of the stories that they tell of the clan, how it produces elite shinobi, generation after generation. The Hyuuga clan comes a close contender to the Uchiha, but they will insist that they're better. It's all subjective, really. The Byakugan makes it easier to track and figure out enemy weak spots while the Sharingan makes it easier to perceive your enemies' movements? You don't know. You'll check it out in depth later.

You feel jealous. You would have preferred being born in such a clan with a powerful kekkei-genkai. But you play with the cards you were dealt and you didn't get a good draw. You had read about Uchiha Shisui and Uchiha Itachi in a couple of the Intel reports (that were definitely not for you to read) and mission logs stored in your clan's private library. Relics of the Third Shinobi War. The reports, you mean, not the boys.

They are prodigies. One of the elite. Elite even among the elites. E with a capital letter.

Shisui is famous for his shunshin. A war vet. He is said to be so proficient in his technique that it became his title in the bingo books. The reports you read also mentions that his shunshin is so fast that he could produce solid afterimages that he used like shadow clones. He is almost as fast as the Fourth.

Itachi is a war vet too. Experienced war in the front lines at four. Proficient in almost all categories and graduated the first year of academy four months after enrollment at the top of his class. Intelligent and strong, with the experience to prove it.

How is that fair? Facts say Uchiha are genetically superior.

You have always wanted to learn Shunshin to that level of proficiency. And you do. Courtesy of Shisui.

You ambush him on your first visit. He was coincidentally at Itachi's house at the time, just a quick visit to drop off some equipment for him. You take advantage of his kind and trusting nature and he eventually agrees to train you in shunshin techniques, some genjutsu and the basics in kenjutsu. 

You didn't know that he only agreed to teach you because you were persistent. Persistent to the point of using petty manipulation tactics that he is sure is too advanced for a seven year old like you. He's taking a really big gamble, to train you like this.

 The both of you meet after your classes and if he was free for a couple of hours on a daily basis for training.

 Itachi joined the both of you once and you saw them spar against each other. It was safe to say that you were lucky that they were both shinobi of Konoha. You would have been obliterated in a couple of seconds. They moved faster than your eyes could follow and performed feats beyond your wildest imaginations.

This was your fourth-no, fifth time visiting them since these couple of weeks were really busy for Brother and Mother. 

Mother is attending a series of medical jutsu conventions where the heads of all the hospitals in the Land of Fire come together to compare notes about any recent findings or research and the such. They are held on a bi-annual basis.

Having Mother away from home was normal for you. She hasn't been home for longer than three months since your seventh birthday.

Brother is sent to many long missions consecutively. He gets back, rests for barely a day or so, then gets shipped off with Hound, the person that brought him back that time he was drunk. He doesn't tell you Hound's real name of course. ANBU protocol.

Brother doesn't seem to like him that much anymore after all those missions.

No rest for the wicked, Brother says. 

There seems to be some disturbance within the political powers of Konoha itself. Some whispers here and there from the adults in your clan, and you only had the vaguest of information.

But you know for sure that waves of unrest will hit Konoha soon. The Uchiha are starting to grow discontent.

The Uzumaki kid wasn't the the most talked about in town anymore.

Regarding Uzumaki Naruto. To you, he seems like a kid who is looking for attention in the worst ways possible. He pulled pranks on almost all the Sensei, pulled pranks on the Academy principal and you even heard about the time where he pranked the Hokage. You had doubts about the latter, but you don't put it past him to try.

You don't talk to him much but you knew that Shikamaru and Choji invites him to hang out and play ninja with them on occasion. The sight of the Uchiha gates breaks you out of your thoughts. Your lips curl into a smile. You are pretty excited to be here despite the fact that Sasuke hangs around and is generally being a pest. You know that he hates that his brother showed you courtesy since you were his senpai's kid sister. He has a pretty big brother-complex in your eyes, and nothing could change your perception of him.

 You have every intention of teasing him with it in class later.

Class ended pretty fast and you skipped Kunoichi lessons for like the nth time today. Ah well, you'll just tell Ino that you were at Sasuke's house and give her something to squeal about.

You put away your slippers by the porch and made your way further inside, past the dinner table and living room.

" ... A hazard to Konoha and her people.. "

You strain your ears at the sound of a voice but you only manage to catch some words. The doors were thin. Paper thin.

" Father, Hokage-sama let them in for a reason, " A more youthful voice protests. A boy. He continues, "They're in the care of Konoha's best. You shouldn't talk about them that way."

Your throat becomes drier than the dunes of Suna. Were they talking about what you think they were?

 You push closer to the shoji door, as close as you could get without creaking the floorboards that will alert them to your presence. You strain your ears, they don't seem to be talking as loudly anymore.

 " The sword is a wild card and should not be in here with us. The demon child is bad enou-"

 A hand clamps down hard on your shoulder, shocking you out of the focused state that you needed to be in to hear the rest of the conversation. You almost let out a scream. Your heart jumps and you had to will yourself not to make a sound. Both of your hands clamp over your mouth to not make a sound. The skin around the surface of your skin crackles with static as you feel your chakra coils twist and tighten within you.

 Please don't be Sasuke. Please don't be Sasuke. Sasuke will tell on you. Please, please don't be Sasuke.

 You pray to whatever god above that this wouldn't get you into trouble. An odd feeling in your stomach makes you feel like you need to throw up. You don't think you prayed for your life as much as this moment. The idea of being caught eavesdropping in the Uchiha house makes you feel very unsafe.

 The hallway is dark, but you recognize the eyeliner on his eyelids anywhere. A sigh of relief that you didn't know that you were holding escapes from between your lips.

 Bright red eyes stare back at you, his hand still firmly around your right shoulder. The smile dancing on his lips contrasts the hard look he has in his eyes. Hurt festers in your chest when you realize that he has his Sharingan out.

 He places a finger to his lips and single-handedly signs in a language that you didn't recognize. He signs again when you don't respond. The conversation happening behind the paper door dulls. The loud thumping in your heart drowns everything else down. You couldn't hear anything else between the sound of your heart beating against your rib cage and his slow breathing.

 He furrows his eyebrows in annoyance when you realize that you couldn't understand what he is saying and tries again. This time in a language that you do recognize. 

 Hostile? Objective? Shisui gestures with both of his hands faster than your eyes could see under the dim lighting, but you could deduce what he wants to ask you. A language that was developed in the Third War. Brother had taught this to you when you were young. Well, younger than now.

 He is suspicious of you.

 You don't blame him. A stranger enters your household with your best friend and demands you, a famous shinobi, to teach them your strongest non-kekkei-genkai jutsu and you catch them snooping around in said best friend's home. You yourself would be pissed.

 Area. Clear. Canvassing surroundings. Friendly. You fumble a bit with your fingers because of your nervousness but you hope that he can make out what you are trying to say. He searches your eyes for ill-will or anything other than fear but finds none.

 The shoji door shakes and slides open. Shisui drags your body into his arms and shunshin away.  The world melts before your eyes and the colours seem to blur together in a mishmash of blobs. The scenery stabilises and your feet touch the ground. Shisui lets go and you drop to your knees, clutching at the grassy greens beneath your palms. Your pupils were shaking, and it wasn't because of the speed.

 The killing intent that was coming off Shisui made your coils go out of whack. You couldn't get up.

 "You know there's a time and place for everything right, little mouse?" He kneels down on one knee and taps your forehead with his fingers.

 Your pupils were still shaking. Scared. Scared. So scared. Your body doesn't want to obey you. Your arms and back tenses up as you dry heave onto the grass. It was mostly bile, you haven't eaten for the day. Shisui lifts your chin up with a finger and looks into your eyes.

 You don't resist. You couldn't.

 He dispels the genjutsu that you are under and your body sends you a meter away. You reach for the kunai that you hid under your skirt and hold it in front of you in a defensive kata. It was an immediate reaction. Your legs react as soon as you regain control over your physique.

 Your eyes are trained to his figure and he doesn't seem to be following up with an attack.

 Shisui looks at you with a proud expression on his face. You blink twice to check that your eyes weren't playing tricks on you. He shunshins again, closing the gap between the both of you. This time you appreciate the hours and love he put into his famed technique. From the time he used his jutsu, you didn't see him move, only the after-image of his body was left behind. Before you close your eyes to blink. he is standing before you.

 If he were an enemy. Your life would have ended even before you saw him move.

 "You could've killed me." You admit.

 Shisui laughs and places an affectionate hand on your head, "It's good that you can discern your opponent's strength. But next time do something about your chakra when you wanna eavesdrop. It's different from everyone else's you see. Consider this your last lesson."

 You swallow and look towards your feet. What did he mean that your chakra is different? Was it a hint? A warning? But most importantly, what did he mean by last?

 Your chakra control is meager at this point, nobody had taught you how to use any jutsu yet so you didn't see the point of training. You lack knowledge about chakra. Did that mean sensors could sense you no matter where you are in the village? It would make sense. Nobody seemed to care when you didn't turn up for certain classes. Now you know why.

 The fact that you were lacking in so many ways burned bitterly into your brain.

 Both of Shisui's palms cup your cheeks and forces you to meet his gaze. "I'm going to tell you this only once, got it?" He says under his breath, like he was speaking to an accomplice about something that he is plotting. You nod as much as you can in his firm grip. He brings his lips to your right ear and whispers.

 "I'm going to die soon. Someone is going to take my life."

 You grip his wrists. No, you can't let it happen. You can't afford him dying. Was these few months that he had been training you, a waste?

 People don't just tell you that they were going to die out of nowhere. There has to be a reason. Was this a trick? A test? Was he testing you? Your will? Your abilities? To check if you could be trusted with his secrets?

 Someone, he says. Who is this someone? Someone from his clan? Someone close? Someone from higher up?

 "I know that look, little mouse. " Shisui murmurs your nickname dearly. He has never used this intimate tone before. "This can't be helped, I can't change my fate and the fate of my clan. " Emotion swims in his black, black eyes and you feel a knot forming in your throat. His tone is so soft. And so sad.

 "Don't go." You manage to choke out a few words from your uncooperative larynx. "Don't leave me." Your heart feels desolate. Desolate like an empty vessel in a large expanse of water, unable to be filled.

 Shisui shushes you with a finger to your lips. "I'm going to give you something as a farewell gift, okay?" He studies your features closely and adds, "I'll miss you." Like any gift could heal your heart of what was going to happen.

 You sense chakra flaring from him and you see pinwheels in his red eyes. He allows you a moment to take in the situation.

 "Goodbye."

 A gentle brush against your forehead and he is gone.

 The youngest Uchiha boy finds you staring into space with a vacant expression in one of the fields he and Itachi frequent. He furrows his eyebrows as he looks at your curled up form, squatting by the side of a particularly gravelly part of the road. You looked small. Even smaller than usual. Smaller than your nickname reminds him of.

 "Hey, what's wrong?" Sasuke says, after a long silence. He stuffs his arms in his pockets and adjusted his weight to his other leg. He doesn't really know what to do with a girl who seems like she is upset. 

 You wipe your face with the hem of your haori and turn around. Sasuke could see the puffiness of your eyes. He wasn't dumb. He knew you were crying.

 You bite your lower lip, contemplating whether to tell him or not. This is his clan business, he should have the right to know. But you don't think he will believe you. It was Shisui's word against yours and Shisui would win.

 Sasuke's eyes pierces into you. Something in you snaps, and you run. Run as fast as your stubby little legs could carry you. The Uchiha boy says nothing as he follows your figure into the distance with his eyes.

 The sun has set and the cawing crows are echoing in your ears. Like they were laughing at you.

 You go back to an empty home crying your eyes out, as much as your shinobi pride will let you. Regardless of what he said, Shisui has made it clear that he didn't want to see you anymore.

 That night, you dream of Shisui.

 His hair is dark and shaggy like you remember. It had only been less than a day but you want to forget. Forget everything. And just pretend like he never existed. Like he never taught you in the first place. It had been pure luck that he had agreed in the first place. Manipulation was not your forte but you like using it to get what you want.

 ForgetforgetIwanttoforgetgoawaygoawayyoudontmatter.

 The moon is bright and it lights up Konoha's dark streets and he is there by your wooden windowsill. Eyes, well, eye hard and red, red like the blood moon. His left eye is hollow and empty. Just darkness. The way he carries his left hand makes you think he is holding something.

 Shisui is by your bed now. His body looming over yours. His fingers dig deep into your left eye-socket and you let out a blood curdling scream.

 You wake up to nothing of course. Shisui isn't there. Nobody is. Your room is empty. No tracks. No sign of anybody being in here. It is just you, your futon and your sparsely decorated desk by your window. A bitter laugh escapes your lips. Of course you dream of him. You miss him. It's a given. You didn't expect it to be a nightmare though.

 You press your fingers to your cheeks. It's damp.