#I’m already considering a prequel of sorts from the beginning of the first book

[feyreswaterybowels]

⟡ Princess of Dreams ⟡

# 2 Lucien x Rhys!Sister

⟡ Part 1 ⟡ Part 2 ⟡ Part 3 ⟡

Word Count: 3k

Summary: Following the events of the Solstice ceremony.

Warnings/Tags: smut. implied past sexual assault. fluffy romance. feyre and Rhys’ sister being besties and wanting to destroy tamlin. possible grammatical errors.

Authors Note: All likes comments and reblogs are appreciated, welcome and encouraged! Let me know if you’d like to be added to the tag list for part 3! Bold italics are mental communication, regular italics are inner thoughts. (Mood Board)

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It’s hours later when the intensely bright sun had finally sunk back below the western horizon, giving me back my beautiful night sky.

There had been more countless hours of…well of not much really but it was still exhausting to be standing around all day surrounded by thousands of flowers and brightly colored streamers, watching Feyre and Tamlin greet and speak to everyone while Ianthe followed around trying to explain what happened.

The cauldron had blessed her chosen friend, she told anyone who would listen—how the sun had altered its very path to show how glad it was for her return. I would silently mock her every time she repeated those words.

There hadn’t been many interested in her tale, and the ones that were showed mild interest at best.

Feyre had stuck close to us for a majority of the time. I didn’t mind. I felt extremely protective over her. Not only as my High Lady but as my friend. I may not have access to my physical powers but I could still enter a mind in half a second and destroy someone if they dared harm her.

I’d enjoyed watching this new Feyre. How confident and sure she’d become. When the adoring fae wished to touch her hand, weep a bit over her, thank her for all she’d done she would have cringed away before. Now she openly accepted their thanks and gratitude. Thanking them and smiling as any High Lord would. Mostly genuine. Though for some, like courtiers and sentries, she put on a better show.

After six hours many retreat to freshen up.

“Tell my brother I love him.” I tell Feyre when she hugs me as she leaves. She promises to tell him for me.

Lucien and I stay, watching as lunch is cleared away and the band sets up. I would give anything to be spending this day with my family, but I was always grateful to have my mate at my side.

So when the band finally started playing and the fae around us took to the dance floor I dragged Lucien up. He hadn’t put up much of a fight—we loved dancing.

And dance we did for hours. I had even stolen Feyre away from Tamlin a few times much to his annoyance and my satisfaction.

We laughed together, spinning around the dance floor. It reminded me of myself and Mor—how we would get drunk on wine at Rita’s and dance the night away. I couldn’t wait to have nights like that with Feyre, too.

I spun her back into Tamlins arms as Lucien stole me away this time, practically begging me to come with him to eat and I realized why when I noticed Ianthe prowling around the tables.

Even she couldn’t put a damper on my mood right now. We fixed our plates and seated ourselves. More wine in our glasses as we sat tucked off away from the largest parts of the crowd—talking in hushed voices and feeding one another as if we hadn’t been mated for nearly two decades now.

Eventually I had shifted from my seat to stand behind Lucien, playing with his hair while we watched those on the dance floor become increasingly more drunk. I started braiding his hair, a taunt braid along either side of his head, curling behind his pointed ears.

“Your hair is getting so long,” I tell him, those auburn locks well past his shoulders now.

“I know,” He says, leaning back in his chair. “I’ve been thinking of cutting it—”

I gasp, drawing his attention up to me. “You better not!”

The laugh that leaves his mouth goes straight to my core. He reaches up and pulls me to bend over him so he can kiss me.

“Is that an order, Princess?” He asks against my lips and I grin.

“More like I’ll kick your ass if you do it,” I tease, kissing him again.

As I’m pulling away to go back to braiding his hair I feel eyes on us. Violet meeting teal and I bare my teeth in a wicked smile. I slide my fingers through his hair, gently pulling to tilt his head back, keeping eye contact with her as I lean down to kiss him again… stroking my tongue over his. He gasps in my mouth, reaching up to caress my head with a strong hand.

Anger lights in those eyes across the way and I grin as Lucien’s lips move to my throat, my free hand sliding around and down his chest—slipping under his shirt to feel heated skin.

I moan as he sucks on my skin, digging my nails into his chest and tightening my hand in his hair.

“Fuck,” Lucien growls, standing quickly from the chair, towering over me. “Come here.”

Then I’m being dragged away. I look over my shoulder smirking at Ianthe who is red in the face looking like she’s about to have a tantrum. She takes a step forward as if about to follow Lucien and I only to be stopped by Feyre, though I couldn’t hear what was being said before we disappeared into the thick woods.

“You’re nothing but trouble,” Lucien taunts, pushing me against a tree and attacking my mouth.

“You love it,” I gasp against his lips, reaching between us to work his pants open, ignoring the way the tree bark digs into my wings.

“Turn around,” he orders, but before I can move he’s got me spun around and pressed against the tree. “Hands.” Is his next order.

I present my wrists to him behind my back and his large hand wraps around them, pinning them to my lower back.

“I’m gonna fuck you right here, Princess,” Lucien says, the sound of his buckle coming undone making me shiver. “I want you to be loud enough that she hears you.”

I moan at that. Knowing exactly who he’s talking about without saying her name. Though it’s unlikely she’ll actually hear me from this distance over the music but the thought that she might? And probably had many times is something I love. She wants him so bad—not that I blame her. But to remind her he was mine over and over, that she would never get to have him made me feral.

I’m pulled from those thoughts when the skirt of my dress is being lifted, that hand of fire trailing between my thighs, rubbing at my wetness before ripping the stocking and panties I wore beneath.

“Tell me, sweet girl, are you turned on because of me? Or because you know she knows exactly what we’re doing out here?” Lucien asks, fingers sliding through my wetness, rubbing in that perfect spot until I was weak in the knees. Only held up by his weight pushing me against the tree.

“I asked a question,” He grunts, pulling that heat away from my center.

“Both,” I gasp out in a moan, needing his hand back. “Fuck, both.”

“That’s a good girl,” He praises, hand sliding back between my thighs, rubbing at me, two fingers sliding inside.

“Oh, fuck, Lu,” I moaned. His fingers weren’t as thick or long as his cock but they felt so good filling me up, curling perfectly to find that spot that had me seeing stars.

“I’m gonna make you cum on my fingers first,” He leaned over me to breathe in my ear, careful of my wings, fingers pumping faster, “then on my cock. Then I’m gonna take you back to that party filled up. We’re going to tell everyone goodbye then I’m gonna take you home, tie you to the bed and have my godsdamn way with you.”

“Yes, please!” I cry out, clenching around his fingers, cumming entirely too easy just from the way he rubs that spot inside of me, just from the way his voice rasped against my ear.

His fingers slide from me but before I can protest I feel him press against me, pushing in, in, in until he’s fully sheathed inside of me. He pressed a kiss to the back of my neck, the back of my shoulders between my wings. I wished he had ripped the damn dress from my body so I could feel his lips against my skin.

“That could be arranged,” He purrs, reaching around to grasp my breast, not realizing I had sent that through the bond.

“Lu, please,” I begged, pushing back against him. He hisses in pleasure, nipping at my neck before straightening his spine, still holding my wrist as he pulls his hips back, thrusting all the way back in. “Yesss.”

Then he fucks me. Hard and rough.

Bent over against a tree in the middle of the forest. I let every sound imaginable fall from my lips exactly the way he ordered me to. Between the events of the day, the flirting, the unwanted looks from another and the wine I was falling over the edge easily for the second time.

He slows his thrusts, giving me only a moment to catch my breath before he’s pulling out and spinning me back around. My knees buckle and I fall to the ground directly in front of him.

“Look at my pretty girl, so fucked out she can’t even stand,” Lucien coos, grasping my chin gently to tilt my head up, sliding his thumb into my mouth. I suck on the digit, batting my eyelashes at him, watching that fire burn in his eyes.

He reaches down, grabbing me around the waist and hauls me up, lifting me easily into his arms, my dress bunching between us. My arms and legs wrap around him and I kiss him. I can’t help it.

It only takes some slight maneuvering before he’s back inside of me, my calves over his forearms as he’s thrust into me. It was always such a turn on the way he could hold me like this, so easily, as he took me.

The bond suddenly lights up with warmth and my mind goes blank as I come again.

“Fill me up. Please, cum in me, I want it.”

I can feel how close he is without him saying anything. The sounds he’s making, the feelings through the bond. I know exactly when he’s about to cum and I moan as he fills me up

“So good, that was so good, Luc.”

He moans, eyes meeting mine and I smile at him. Pushing a few strands of hair from his sweaty forehead.

He takes a few gasping breaths, holding me in his arms still, basking in the high of his orgasm. I wrap my wings around us as we stand there, providing us with some form of privacy should anyone stumble upon us.

“We should get back,” I tell him, kissing the tip of his pointed ear. Wanting nothing more than to just skip out on the goodbyes and just go back to the house.

“Just another minute,” he said breathy, one of his hands reaching to grasp my ass cheek. “Just wanna be inside of you.”

“Mm. We could just go say our goodbyes like this,” I offer, playing with the braid I put in his hair earlier. “Unfortunately that means quite a few males would see me with your cock—”

Lucien growls at that and I giggle when his eyes meet mine. “I would kill someone.”

I hum in response, kissing him.

“The thought of you killing someone simply for seeing my body shouldn’t be so sexy.”

His hearty laugh vibrates through my body—my favorite sound.

“Come on, Princess. Let’s get this over with so I can get you in my bed,” He says, slipping from my body and setting me getting on my feet, making sure I was steady before tucking himself away.

We take a few moments to collect ourselves, kissing softly between straightening the other clothes and fixing disheveled hair. Of course no one was stupid. They would scent the smell of sex on us but that didn’t mean we had to make it any more obvious.

By the time we got back the sun had been long gone from the sky, dozens of blazing fires lit the area now. I didn’t spot Ianthe anywhere but Feyre finds us within moments of us taking up a spot by the fire.

We had meant to say our goodbyes but Feyre offered me a glass of wine. Which led to another. And another. We danced with one another around the fire—Lucien taking turns spinning us around. I had no idea where Tamlin was and I honestly didn’t care.

It was when Feyre asked Lucien and I to escort her back to the manor. Being ever the gentleman he agreed. I was much more drunk than Feyre but Lucien offered an elbow to each of us, letting us hang on him as he led us back to the house.

We left Feyre at her bedroom, I giggled out a goodnight, grabbing her face and kissing her cheek. As we were turning away I tripped over my foot and giggled again.

“Luc, I’m drunk,” I said, as he grabbed my arm, wrapping it around his neck.

“Yeah, Princess, I know,” Lucien chuckled, leading me to our bedroom.

I felt so light and blissful, letting him undress me and clean me up. He pulled the pins from my hair and cleaned the makeup from my face sliding a nightgown onto my naked body.

He laid me back, pulling his comforter over my body, tucking me in tightly. “Get some sleep, sweet girl,” He smiles down at me, kissing my forehead.

. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁ ⟡ ݁ . ⊹ ₊ ݁.

I woke up hours later to Lucien tossing and turning. Ever since the Mountain his sleep was more restless than not, dragging up traumas old and new.

My head pounded from all the wine I’d drunk but I watched his face, still peaceful despite the unease of his sleep. It was when a horrified grimace crossed his face that I took over. When I felt the bond run ice cold with fear, when I got a glimpse of that nightmare—one he’s had before, where it starts with Jesminda’s torture and right as she’s about to be executed she changes into me as Beron and Lucien’s brother’s force him to watch me be murdered.

I slip into his mind, caressing it gently, ending the dream easily before it gets to that horrid part. I crawl next to him, laying his head in my lap and carding my fingers through his hair, braiding and unbraiding pieces, scratching at his scalp gently.

Instead I show him Velaris, the life I want us to have there together, the life we always talked about.

Living in our home right on the river. Late night stroll under an endless diamond sky. A long and happy life with beautiful red headed, winged babies. All the adventures we could go on together when no longer stuck in the boundaries of the Spring Court. Having the bond declared in a ceremony, a proper wedding, going swimming in the Sidra, taking him to see Ramiel—there was so much I wanted to do with him.

We’ve had a good life together here in Spring. He had done everything to make it better for me once he realized who I was, that I was stuck here. Picnic dates by the pond, visits to farmers markets, naps under beautiful trees, drinking wine, horseback rides, festivals and gardening.

But we could have a better life. An amazing one instead of a good one and I wanted to spend it with him.

He shifts, arms wrapping around my legs, nuzzling against my thigh, pressing his lips to my tanned skin but he doesn’t wake. I lull him into a deeper sleep, thumbing away the crease between his eyebrows.

My head whips up at a sound across the hall, Feyres room. I listen carefully, hear her door open. Then there’s a gentle knock on our door. She must have had a nightmare too…maybe I should start checking in on her at night.

I gently untangle myself from Lucien’s embrace, pulling the bed sheet over his body before sliding from the bed. There’s a second knock just before I reach the door. I scanned her head to toe quick—sweaty and disheveled but not physically harmed.

“I heard you, are you okay?” I asked, stepping to the side to let her into the room, scanning the hall for any sign of trouble. There seemed to be nothing.

The room was lit mainly by the moon light and I watched her look around the room. The night gown she wore was above mid thigh but she turned around to look at me before I could question her motive.

“I had a dream about it,” she rasped thickly, “Under the Mountain. I couldn’t remember where I was.”

I nod my head in understanding. Lucien had similar dreams. I wanted to kill Amarantha all over again for what she had done. To Feyre. To Lucien. To my brother. To thousands and thousands of fae.

“What did you dream of tonight?” I asked, stepping closer to her.

“She had me spiked to the wall like Clare Beddor. And the Attor was—” She shuddered, running her hands over her face.

I walked closer to her, a frown on my face, wanting to provide her with some kind of comfort. There’s something in the house, a vibration, I feel it but before I can question it she’s thrown her arms around me. I don’t object as she buries her face against my neck, warm tears falling on my bare skin. I let out a small sigh, sliding an arm around her waist, the other caressing her head, stroking over her dark golden hair.

“I’m sorry, Feyre,” I breathed, kissing the crown of her head. “I’m so sorry you had to go through that.”

Her cries and tears eventually subside but I continued to hold her. Allowing her to take the comfort she needed from me. I pulled back slightly, caressed her face gently, wiping away the remaining tears. I looked at her, I knew she could see the concern in my eyes, but there was something else in hers, something not completely of the fear and sadness she was presenting.

“Why are you—”

“What’s going on?” Tamlin’s deep voice rumbles through the room. I turned my head slightly to look at him, he stood there face a mask of cold calm, the beginnings of claws glinting at his knuckles—looking as if he’d caught us in the middle of something naughty.

“I had a nightmare,” she explained, pulling, straightening her nightgown. I fought the urge to smile. “I-I didn’t want to wake the house.”

Tamlin knew I didn’t sleep in here most nights. Lucien either slept in my room or we slept separately, so in his eyes Feyre had to have been seeking out the comfort of Lucien after her nightmare.

He just stood there staring at us. Eyes glancing at Lucien before looking at me with narrowed eyes, a glare that I returned. His mouth tightened into a thin line and I nearly snarled at him—those claws still half drawn.

“I had a nightmare,” Feyre repeated sharply, walking forward to grip Tamlin’s arm, turning him but he looked back at me. I crossed my arms over my chest and smirked at him as she led him from the room closing the door.

“You little shit, your lucky Lucien wasn’t awake, Tamlin would’ve killed him,” I told her crawling back in bed with my mate.

“I wouldn’t let that happen. I needed to plant some kind of doubt in his mind. You seemed to do the trick though,” Feyre’s answer came five minutes later, laughter in her voice.

“You should have told me I would have kissed you right in front of him,” I teased back, sliding under the sheet, cuddling up to that warm body.

“Next time,” Is her response, a mental image of her winking and blowing me a kiss followed.

I laughed out loud.

“What’s going on?” Lucien asks, a slight frown on his face at being woken suddenly.

I grinned, kissing his chest.

“Nothing, my love. Go back to sleep,” I whispered, easily slipping into his mind to lull him back to sleep.

I grinned to myself.

“Burn it down, Feyre” I told her. “Burn it all down.”

Fuck Tamlin. And fuck the Spring Court.

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[hamliet]

The Crows Summon the Sun

Or, Hamliet’s review of Shadow & Bone, which gets a 4.5/5 for enjoyment and a 3.5/5 in terms of writing.

The true heroes of this story and the saviors of the show are the Crows. However, the problem is that the show then has an uneven feel, because the strength of the Crows plotline highlights the weaknesses of the trilogy storyline. But imo, overall, the strengths overshadow (#punintended) the weaknesses. 

I’ll divide the review into the narrative and the technical (show stuff, social commentary), starting with narrative.

Narrative: The Good 

It’s What The Crows Deserve

I went into the show watching it for the Crows; however, knowing that their storyline was intended to be a prequel, I wasn’t terribly optimistic. And while it is a prequel, the characters have complete and full arcs that perfectly set them up for the further development they will have in the books (which I think should be the next season?). Instead of retreading the arcs they’d have in the books, which is how prequels usually go, they had perfect set up for these arcs. It’s really excellent. 

Jesper, Inej, and Kaz are all allowed to be flawed, to have serious conflicts with one another, and yet to love each other. They feel like a found family in the best of ways. Kaz is the perfect selfish rogue; he’s a much more successfully executed Byronic hero than the Darkling, actually. Inej is heroic and her faith is not mocked, yet she too is flawed and her choices are not always entirely justified, but instead left to the audience to ponder (like killing the girl), which is a more mature writing choice that I appreciated. 

Jesper is charming, has a heart of gold despite being a murderer and on the surface fairly greedy, and MILO THE EMOTIONAL SUPPORT GOAT WAS THE BEST THING EVER. I also liked Jesper’s fling with Dima but I felt it could be better used rather than merely establishing his sexuality, like if Jesper and Dima had seen each other one more time or something had come of their tryst for the plot/themes/development of Jesper. 

Nina and Matthias’s backstory being in the first season, instead of in flashbacks, really works because it automatically erases any discomfort of the implications of Nina having falsely accused Matthias that the books start with. We know Nina, we know Matthias, we know their motivations, backgrounds, and why they feel the way we do. It’ll be easy for the audience to root for them without a lot of unnecessary hate springing from misunderstanding Nina (since she’s my favorite). Matthias’s arc was also really strongly executed and satisfyingly tragic. Their plotline was a bit unfortunately disconnected from the rest of the story, but Danielle Gallagan and Callahan Skogman have absolutely sizzling chemistry so I found myself looking forward to their scenes instead of feeling distracted. Also? It’s nice seeing a woman with Nina’s body type as a romantic and powerful character. 

Hamliet Likes Malina Now

Insofar as the trilogy storyline goes, the best change the show made was Mal. He still is the same character from the books, but much more likable. The pining was... a lot (too much in episode 4, I felt) but Malina is a ship I actually enjoyed in the show while I NOTP’d it in the books. Mal has complexity and layers to his motivations (somewhat) and a likable if awkward charm. Archie Renaux was fantastic. 

Ben Barnes is the perfect Aleksandr Kirigan, and 15 year old me, who had the biggest of big crushes on Ben Barnes (first celebrity crush over a decade ago lol), was pretty damn happy lol. He’s magnificantly acted--sympathetic and terrifying, sincerely caring and yet villainous in moments. Story-wise, I think it was smart to reveal his name earlier on than in the books, because it helps with the humanization especially in a visual medium like film. Luda was a fitting (if heartbreaking) backstory, but it is also hard for me to stomach knowing what the endgame of his character is. Like... I get the X-men fallacy thing, but I hope the show gives more kindness to his character than the books did, yet I’m afraid to hold my breath. Just saying that if you employ save the cat, if you directly say you added this part (Luda) to make the character more likable (as the director did) please do not punish the audience for feeling what you intended. 

I also liked the change that made Alina half-Shu. It adds well to her arc and fits with her character, actually giving her motivations (she kinda just wants to be ordinary in a lot of ways) a much more interesting foundation than in the books. Also it’s nice not to have another knock-off Daenerys (looking to you Celaena and book!Alina). Jessie Mei Li does a good job playing Alina’s insecurities and emotions, but... 

Narrative: The Ehhhhhhh

Alina the Lamp

Sigh. Here we go. Alina has little consistent characterization. She’s almost always passive when we see her, yet she apparently punches an officer for calling her a name and this seems to be normal for her, but it doesn’t fit at all with what we know about her thus far. Contradictions are a part of humanity, but it’s never given any focus, so it comes across as inconsistent instead of a flaw or repression. 

I have no idea what Alina wants, beside that she wants to be with Mal, which is fine except I have no idea what the basis of their bond is. Even with like, other childhood friends to lovers like Ren/Nora in RWBY or Eren/Mikasa in SnK, there’s an inciting moment, a reason, that we learn very early on in their story to show us what draws them together. Alina and Mal just don’t have that. There’s the meadow/running away thing, but they were already so close, and why?  Why, exactly? What brought them together? The term “bullies” is thrown around but it isn’t ever explored and it needed to be this season. If I have to deal with intense pining for so many episodes at least give me a foundation for their devotion. You need to put this in the beginning, in the first season. You just do.

A “lamp” character is a common metaphor to describe a bad character: essentially, you could replace the character with a lamp and nothing changes. Considering Alina’s gift is light, it’s a funnily apt metaphor, but it really does apply. Her choices just don’t... matter. She could be a special lamp everyone is fighting over and almost nothing would change. The ironic thing is that everyone treating her like a fancy lamp is exactly the conflict, but it’s never delved into. We’re never shown that Alina is more than a lamp. She never has to struggle because her choices are made for her and information is gifted to her when she needs it. Not making choices protects Alina from consequences and the story gives her little incentive to change that; in fact, things tend to turn out better when she doesn’t make choices (magic stags will arrive). 

Like... let’s look at a few occasions when Alina almost or does make choices. For example, she chooses to (it seems) sleep with Kirigan, but then there’s a convenient knock at the door and Bhagra arrives with key information that changes Alina’s mind instantly despite the fact that Bhagra’s been pretty terrible to her. If you want to write a woman realizing she’s been duped by a cruel man, show her discovering it instead of having the man’s abusive mother tell her when she had absolutely no such suspicions beforehand. There’s no emotional weight there because Alina doesn’t struggle. 

When she is actually allowed to carry out a bad choice, the consequences are handwaved away instead of built into a challenge for her. Like... Alina got her friends killed. More than once. I’m not saying she’s entirely to blame for these but could we show her reacting to it? Feeling any sort of grief? She never mentions Raisa or Alexei after they’re gone, just Mal, and I’m... okay. They were there because of you. Aren’t you feeling anything? Aren’t you sad? The only time Alina brings up her friends’ deaths is to tell Kirigan he killed her friends when they were only there because she burned the maps. She yells at Kirigan for “never” giving her a choice, but she almost never makes any, so why would he? Alina has the gall to lecture Genya about choices, but she herself almost never has to make any. 

Which brings me to another complaint in general: Alina’s lack of care for everyone around her when they’re not Mal, even if they care for her. Marie dies because of her (absolutely not her fault of course) but as far as we know she never even learns about Marie. She certainly doesn’t ever ask about her or Nadia. Alina seems apathetic at best to people, certainly not compassionate or kind. 

The frustrating thing is that there is potential here. Like, it actually makes a lot of psychological sense for an orphan who has grown up losing to be reluctant to care for people outside of her orbit and that she would struggle to believe she can have any say in her destiny (ie make choices). It’s also interesting that a girl who feels like an outsider views others outside her. But the show never offers examines Alina’s psychology with any depth; it simply tells us she’s compassionate when she is demonstrably not, it tells us she makes decisions when it takes magical intervention to do so. It’s a missed opportunity. This does not change between episodes 1 and 8, despite the episodes’ parallel structures and scenes, which unintentionally reinforces that Alina had little real development. 

Inej and ironically Jesper and Kaz embody the concept of “mercy” far better and with far more complexity than Alina does. The Crows have reactions to the loss of people who even betray them (Arken, etc), learn, and course-correct (or don’t) when they are even loosely involved in having strangers die. They’re good characters because they change and learn and have their choices matter. When they kill we see them wrestle with it and what this means even if they are accustomed to doing so. Jesper can’t kill in front of a child. Kaz wonders what his killings do to Inej’s idea of him.

Narrative: The Mixed Bag

Tropes, Themes, Telling vs. Showing

So the show’s themes in the Alina storyline are a mess, as they are in the trilogy too. Tropes are a very valuable way to show your audience what you’re trying to say. They’re utilized worldwide because they resonate with people and we know what to expect from them. The Crows' storyline shows us what it wants us to learn.

Preaching tells, and unfortunately, the trilogy relies on telling/preaching against fornicationBad Boys. It’s your right to write any trope or trample any trope you want--your story--but you should at least understand what/why you are doing so. The author clearly knows enough about Jungian shadows and dark/light yin/yang symbolism to use it in the story, but then just handwaves it away as “I don’t like this” but never does so in a narratively effective way: addressing the appeal in the first place. If you really wanna deconstruct a trope, you gotta empathize with the core of the reason these tropes appeal to people (it allays deep fears that we are ourselves unlovable, through loving another person despite how beastly they can be), and address this instead of ignoring it. Show us a better way through the Fold of your story. Don’t just go around it and ignore the issue.

The trilogy offers highly simplistic themes at best--bad boy bad and good boy good, which is fine-ish for kid lit but less fine for adult complexity, which the show (more so than the books) seems to try to push despite not actually having much of it.

Alina and Mal are intended to be good, we’re told they are, but I’m not sure why beyond just that we’re told so. Alina claims the stag chose her, but in the show it’s never explained why at all. Unlike with Kaz, Inej, Jesper, and hell even Matthias and Nina, we don’t see Alina or Mal’s complex choices and internal wrestling. 

Like, Inej’s half-episode where she almost killed the guy they needed was far more character exploration than Alina has the entire show, to say nothing of Inej’s later killing which not only makes her leaps and bounds more interesting, but ironically cements her as a far more compelling and yes, likable, heroine than Alina. We see Inej’s emotional and moral conflict. We can relate to her. We see Kaz struggling with his selfishness and regrets, with his understanding of himself through his interactions with and observations of Inej, Alina, the Darkling, Arken, and Jesper.

We don’t explore what makes Mal or Alina good and what makes them bad. We don’t know what Alina discovers about herself, what her power means for her. We are told they are good, we are told she knows her power is hers, but never shown what this means or what this costs them/her. Their opportunities to be good are handed to them (the stag, Bhagra) instead of given to them as a challenge in which they risk things, in which doing good or making a merciful choice costs them. Alina gets to preach about choices without ever making any; Inej risks going back to the Menagerie to trust Kaz. Her choices risk. They cost. They matter and direct her storyline and her arc, and those of the people around her.

Production Stuff:

The Good: 

The production overall is quite excellent. The costumes, pacing, acting, and cinematography (for example, one of the earliest scenes between the Darkling and Alina has Alina with her back to the light, face covered in his shadow, while the Darkling’s face is light up by her light even if he stands in the shadows) are top-notch. The soundtrack as well is incredible and emphasizes the scenes playing. The actors have great chemistry together, friend chemistry and romantic when necessary (Mal and Alina, the Darkling and Alina, Kaz and Inej, Nina and Matthias, David and Genya, etc.) All are perfectly cast. 

The Uncomfortable Technicalities Hamliet Wants to Bitch About:

The only characters from fantasy!Europe having any trace of an accent reminiscent of said fantasy country's real-world equivalent are antagonists like Druskelle (Scandinavia) and Pekka (Ireland). When the heroes mostly have British accents despite being from fantasy Russia and Holland, it is certainly A Choice to have the Irish accent emphasized. The actor is British by the way, so I presume he purposely put on an Irish accent. I'm sure no one even considered the potential implications of this but it is A Look nonetheless.

The Anachronisms Hamliet Has a Pet Peeve About: 

The worldbuilding is compelling, but the only blight on the worldbuilding within the story itself (ignoring context) was that there are some anachronisms that took me out of the story, particularly in the first episode where “would you like to share with the class” and “saved by the horn” are both used. Both are modern-day idioms in English that just don’t fit, especially the latter. The last episode uses “the friends we made along the way.” There are other modern idioms as well.

IT’S STARKOVA and Other Pet Peeves Around the Russian Portrayal 

Russian names are not hard, and Russian naming systems are very, very easy to learn. I could have waved “Starkov” not being “Starkova,” “Nazyalensky” not being “Nazyalenskaya,”  and “Safin” not being “Safina” as an American interpretation (since in America, the names do not femininize). However, “Mozorova” as a man is unfathomable and suggests to me the author just doesn’t understand how names work, which is a bit... uh okay considering a simple google search gets you to understand Russian names. They aren’t hard. I cannot understand why the show did not fix this. It is so simple to fix and would be a major way to help the story’s overall... caricature of Russia. 

Speaking of that... Ravka is supposedly Russian-based, but it is more accurately based on the stereotypes of what Americans think of Russia. Amerussia? Russica? Not great. 

The royals are exactly what Americans think of the Romanovs, right down to the “greasy” “spiritual advisor” who is clearly Rasputin and which ignores the Romanov history, very real tragedy, and the reason Rasputin was present in the court. The religion with all its saints is a vapid reflection of Russian Orthodoxy. The military portrayal with its lotteries and brutality and war is how the US views the Russian military. The emphasis on orphans, constant starvation, classification, and children being ripped from their homes to serve the government is a classic US understanding of USSR communism right down to the USSR having weapons of destruction the rest of the world fears (Grisha). Not trying to defend the Soviet Union here at all, but it is simplistic and reductive and probably done unconsciously but still ehhhh. 

However, I’m not Russian. I just studied Russian literature. I’ve seen very little by way of discussion of this topic online, but what I do see from Russian people has been mixed--some mind, some don’t. The reality is that I actually don’t really mind this because it’s fantasy, though I see why some do. I'm not like CANCEL THIS. So why am I talking about this beyond just having a pet peeve?

Well, because it is a valid critique, and because it doesn’t occur in a vacuum. The Grishaverse is heralded as an almost paragon for woke Young Adult literature, which underlines itself what so frustrates me about how literary circles discuss issues of diversity and culture. Such praise, while ignoring its quasi-caricature of Russia, reflects a very ethnocentric (specifically American) understanding of culture, appropriation, and representation. All stories are products of their culture to various extents, but it bothers me on principle what the lit community reacts (and overreacts sometimes?) to and what people give a pass to. The answer to what the community reacts to and what it gives a pass always pivots on how palatable the appropriation is to American understandings and sensibilities. There’s nuance here as well, though. 

I'm not cancelling the story or thinking it should be harshly attacked for this, but it is something that can be discussed and imo should be far more often--but with the nuance it begs, instead of black/white. But that’s a tall ask. 

[yumeka36]

The Frozen 2 prequel novel, “Dangerous Secrets: The Story of Iduna and Agnarr,” is scheduled to release on November 3rd. A preview excerpt was just released via this article from Insider.com. I pasted it below, with my thoughts following:

---

THE STORM IS GETTING WORSE.

Lightning slashes across an angry black sky, soon followed by the crash of thunder. Waves pound against the ship's hull as I grip the wooden rail with white knuckles. Fierce gusts of wind tug my hair free from its braid, and damp brown strands whip at my face. I don't dare let go to brush them away.

Instead, I keep my eyes on the sea. Looking for her.

In some ways, I've spent my entire life looking for her. And tonight, my journey may finally come to an end. Unfinished. Unfound.

Ahtohallan. Please! I need you!

Perhaps she never existed at all. Perhaps she was simply a myth. A silly song to lull children to sleep. To make them feel safe and secure in a world that's anything but. Perhaps I was a fool to think we could simply go and seek her out. Learn the mother's secrets.

I do know something about a mother's secrets.

Another wave sweeps in, bashing against the ship's hull, sending a spray of icy seawater splashing at my face. I stumble backward, momentarily blinded by the salt stinging my eyes. A strong pair of hands clamps down on my hips; a solid chest at my back keeps me upright.

I turn, already knowing whom I'll find standing tall behind me. The man who has been with me almost my entire life. The man who has made me laugh—and cry—more than anyone else in the world. My husband. The father of my daughters. My enemy. My friend.

My love.

Agnarr, king of Arendelle.

"Come, Iduna," he says, pulling me around to face him. He reaches out, clasping my hands in his. They are as warm and strong as mine are cold and trembling.

I look up, taking in the sharp line of his jaw. The fierceness in his leaf-green eyes. If he's frightened, he's not showing it. "We need to go below deck," he says, shouting to be heard over the furious wind. "Captain's orders. It's not safe up here. One rogue wave could knock you overboard."

I feel a sob rise to my throat. I want to lash out, protest the orders. I'm fine. I can take care of myself. I'm not some silly girl frightened by the elements.

But what I really want to say is, I can't leave. I haven't found her yet.

If I go below, I may never find her.

And if I don't . . .

Elsa. My sweet Elsa . . . My dear Anna . . .

Agnarr gives me a pointed look. I sigh, untangling my hands from his, and begin stumbling toward the stairs that lead to our cabin below, on legs unaccustomed to rough seas. I'm almost there when the ship suddenly pitches hard to the left and I lose my footing, grabbing on to the railing to save myself. I can feel a few of the crew watching me with concern, but I push forward, keeping my head held high. I am a queen, after all. There are certain expectations.

Once below, I push open our cabin door and move inside, letting it bang shut behind me. The captain has given us his cabin for the journey, which I insisted wasn't necessary, but I was overruled. It's the only cabin suited for a fine lady, he protested. Because that's how he sees me.

That's how they all see me now. A fine lady. A perfectly poised Arendellian queen.

But now, at last, Agnarr knows the truth.

I ease myself down on the bed, reaching to grab my knitting needles and my half-finished project. An inappropriate task under the circumstances, but perhaps the only thing that might steady my hands—my pounding heart. I can hear Agnarr push open the door, his strong, solid presence filling the room. But I don't look up. Instead, I start to knit as the ship rocks beneath my

feet. It's dark down below, too dark to really see the delicate yarn, but my hands are sure and true, the repetitive motions as natural and familiar to me as taking in air. Yelana would be proud.

Yelana. Is she still out there, in the Enchanted Forest, still locked in the mist?

Only Ahtohallan knows.

Suddenly, I want to throw my needles across the room. Or collapse on the bed in tears. But I do neither, keeping my attention on the unfinished shawl. Forcing myself to let each stitch lull me into something resembling comfort.

Agnarr pulls out a wooden stool from the captain's desk, sitting down across from me. He picks up a corner of the unfinished shawl, running his large fingers across the tiny stitches. I dare to sneak a peek at him, realizing his eyes have become soft and faraway.

"This is the same pattern," he says slowly. And I know what he means without asking. Because of course it is. I hadn't even realized it when I started, but of course it is.

The same pattern as the shawl my mother knitted me when I was a baby.

The shawl that saved his life.

"It's an old Northuldra pattern," I explain, surprised how easily the words leave my mouth now that the truth is known. "Belonging to my family." I pick up his hand and place it on each symbol in turn. "Earth, fire, water, wind." I pause on the wind symbol, thinking back to

Gale. "It was the Wind Spirit who helped me save your life that day in the forest."

He gives a low whistle. "A wind spirit! If only I'd known," he says, reaching up to brush his thumb gently across my cheek. Even after all these years, his touch still sparks a longing ache deep inside, and it's an imperative, not an option, to drop my needles to return the gesture. To run my fingers against the light stubble of his jaw. "It would have made my stories to the girls so much more interesting."

I smile at this. I can't help it. He has always found a way to help me find sunshine amidst the gloomiest of days. It's strange, though, to realize he knows everything now. After a lifetime overshadowed with secrets, it should feel freeing.

But in truth, it still scares me a little, and I find myself glancing at him when he doesn't know I'm looking. Trying to see, trying to know whether the truth has changed his feelings toward me. Does he resent me for keeping so much from him for so long? Or does he truly understand why I did it? If we survive this night, how will things change between us? Will the truth bring us closer together? Or tear us apart?

Only Ahtohallan knows. . . .

I reach out and take Agnarr's hands in mine, meeting his deep green eyes with my blue ones. I swallow down the lump in my throat that threatens to choke me, and force another smile.

"I will never forget that day," I start with a whisper, not sure he can even hear me over the tempest outside. "That horrible, wonderful day."

"Tell me," he whispers back, leaning in close. I can feel his breath on my lips. Our faces are inches away. "Tell me everything."

I swallow all the words that threaten to jump out of my throat in a hurried rush, throwing myself back on the bed, staring up at the wooden-beamed ceiling. After I breathe calmly, I say, "That might take all night."

He crawls onto the bed, lying down next to me. He reaches out and curls his hand into mine. "For you, I've got forever."

I swallow hard, tears welling in my eyes. I want to protest: we don't have forever. Or even all night. We may not have an hour, judging from the way the wooden beams of the ship are creaking and cracking. But at the same time, it doesn't matter. It's time. It's long past time. He deserves to know everything.

I swipe the tears away, rolling to my side and propping my head up with my elbow. "You have to tell your part, too," I say. "This story isn't only mine, you know."

His arm curls around my waist, his hand settling at the small of my back as he tugs me closer to him. He's so warm. How is it possible that he's still so warm? "I think I can manage that," he says with a small smile. "But you must start. It all began with you, after all."

"All right," I say, resting my head on his chest, his steady heartbeat against my ear. I close my eyes, trying to decide where to begin. So much has happened over the years. But there is that one day. One fateful day that changed the course of both our lives forever.

I open my eyes. "It all starts with the wind," I say. "My dear friend Gale."

As I speak, the words begin to course through me like the forbidding waters roiling outside. And like the waters, I will finally make myself heard.

Agnarr will listen.

He's always been the storyteller in our family. But not this time. Now it's my turn to tell the tale.

---

What stood out to me:

- It seems like Iduna revealed her past to Agnarr around the time they set sail for Ahtohallan, not the night of the accident with Elsa’s magic as Jennifer Lee, and I believe other sources, have implied. Of course, with “spin-off” content like this where the original creators aren’t involved, there’s bound to be inconsistencies. But Jen never stated that the time of Iduna’s reveal was definitely the night of the accident, only that she believes it’s that night though it could have been another night (I think this was part of the podcast interview she did several months ago). So yeah, the exact night it happened isn’t terribly relevant.

- This excerpt also reveals that Iduna revealed some of the truth to Agnarr early on, but then reveals everything in detail during their last moments before the ship goes down. So maybe she did reveal some of it the night of the accident but not all? We’ll see.

- Iduna knew Yelena. That makes sense considering Yelena’s age and the importance she seems to have in the Northuldra tribe.

- Iduna uses feminine pronouns for Ahtohallan, reinforcing the theory in my Frozen 2 book that Ahtohallan was viewed as a goddess of sorts in Northuldra culture

- Iduna also calls the wind spirit “Gale.” Obviously we all thought that was the name Olaf gave her but apparently Iduna did as well. Coincidence?

- The book is written in first-person perspective from Iduna’s point of view, unlike the previous adult-aimed Frozen books “A Frozen Heart” and “Forest of Shadows” which are written in second/third-person.

- Iduna was in the process of knitting another scarf while on the ship. I wonder why.

- The cover art for the book changed slightly from the original version, with the main image in the center being of Iduna and Agnarr when they’re younger instead of when they’re king and queen.

- I’m curious as to what kind of order the book will present the events of the timeline. Obviously this excerpt is from the end of Iduna and Agnarr’s lives, so will it start here and show everything else via flashbacks? Seems weird they’d choose the end of the book for this preview so my guess is that things will be revealed out of order.

[davidmann95]

So... Morrison’s 10 part interview on All-Star Superman, along with all other older Newsarama articles, just seem to have ceased to exist. One does not simply live without having those interviews available to reread... Can I find them anywhere else?

Rejoice! I finally borrowed a computer I could put my flash drive into, and emailed myself my copy of the Morrison interview. Here it is below the cut, copied and pasted direct from the source way back when, available again at last:

Three years, 12 issues, Eisners and countless accolades later, All Star Superman is finally finished. The out-of-continuity look at Superman’s struggle with his inevitable death was widely embraced by fans and pros as one of the best stories to feature the Man of Steel, and was a showcase for the talents of the creative team of Grant Morrison, Frank Quitely and Jamie Grant.

Now, Newsarama is proud to present an exclusive look back with Morrison at the series that took Superman to, pun intended, new heights. We had a lot of questions about the series...and Morrison delivered with an in-depth look into the themes, characters and ideas throughout the 12 issues. In fact, there was so much that we’re running this as an unprecedented 10-part series over the next two weeks – sort of an unofficial All Star Superman companion. It’s everything about All Star Superman you ever wanted to know, but were afraid to ask.

And of course there’s plenty of SPOILERS, so back away if you haven’t read the entire series.

Newsarama: Grant, tell us a little about the origin of the project.

Grant Morrison: Some of it has its roots in the DC One Million project from 1999. So much so, that some readers have come to consider this a prequel to DC One Million, which is fine if it shifts a few more copies! I’ve tried to give my own DC books an overarching continuity intended to make them all read as a more coherent body of work when I’m done.

Luthor’s “enlightenment” – when he peaks on super–senses and sees the world as it appears through Superman’s eyes – was an element I’d included in the Superman Now pitch I prepared along with Mark Millar, Tom Peyer and Mark Waid back in 1999. There were one or two of ideas of mine that I wanted to preserve from Superman Now and Luthor’s heart–stopping moment of understanding was a favorite part of the original ending for that story, so I decided to use it again here.

My specific take on Superman’s physicality was inspired by the “shamanic” meeting my JLA editor Dan Raspler and I had in the wee hours of the morning outside the San Diego comic book convention in whenever it was, ‘98 or ‘99.

I’ve told this story in more detail elsewhere but basically, we were trying to figure out how to “reboot” Superman without splitting up his marriage to Lois, which seemed like a cop–out. It was the beginning of the conversations which ultimately led to Superman Now, with Dan and I restlessly pacing around trying to figure out a new way into the character of Superman and coming up short...

Until we looked up to see a guy dressed as Superman crossing the train tracks. Not just any skinny convention guy in an ill–fitting suit, this guy actually looked like Superman. It was too good a moment to let pass, so I ran over to him, told him what we’d been trying to do and asked if he wouldn’t mind indulging us by answering some questions about Superman, which he did...in the persona and voice of Superman!

We talked for an hour and a half and he walked off into the night with his friend (no, it wasn’t Jimmy Olsen, sadly). I sat up the rest of the night, scribbling page after page of Superman notes as the sun came up over the naval yards.

My entire approach to Superman had come from the way that guy had been sitting; so easy, so confident, as if, invulnerable to all physical harm, he could relax completely and be spontaneous and warm. That pose, sitting hunched on the bollard, with one knee up, the cape just hanging there, talking to us seemed to me to be the opposite of the clenched, muscle-bound look the character sometimes sports and that was the key to Superman for me.

I met the same Superman a couple of times afterwards but he wasn’t Superman, just a nice guy dressed as Superman, whose name I didn’t save but who has entered into my own personal mythology (a picture has from that time has survived showing me and Mark Waid posing alongside this guy and a couple of young readers dressed as Superboy and Supergirl – it’s in the “Gallery” section at my website for anybody who can be bothered looking. This is the guy who lit the fuse that led to All Star Superman).

After the 1999 pitch was rejected, I didn’t expect to be doing any further work on Superman but sometime in 2002, while I was going into my last year on New X–Men, Dan DiDio called and asked if I wanted to come back to DC to work on a Superman book with Jim Lee.

Jim was flexing his artistic muscles again to great effect, and he wanted to do 12 issues on Superman to complement the work he was doing with Jeph Loeb on “Batman: Hush.” At the time, I wasn’t able to make my own commitments dovetail with Jim’s availability, but by then I’d become obsessed with the idea of doing a big Superman story and I’d already started working out the details.

Jim, of course, went on to do his 12 Superman issues as “For Tomorrow” with Brian Azzarello, so I found myself looking for an artist for what was rapidly turning into my own Man of Steel magnum opus, and I already knew the book had to be drawn by my friend and collaborator, Frank Quitely.

We were already talking about We3 and Superman seemed like a good meaty project to get our teeth into when that was done. I completely scaled up my expectations of what might be possible once Frank was on board and decided to make this thing as ambitious as possible.

Usually, I prefer to write poppy, throwaway “live performance” type superhero books, but this time, I felt compelled to make something for the ages – a big definitive statement about superheroes and life and all that, not only drawn by my favorite artist but starring the first and greatest superhero of them all.

The fact that it could be a non–continuity recreation made the idea even more attractive and more achievable. I also felt ready for it, in a way I don’t think I would have been in 1999; I finally felt “grown–up” enough to do Superman justice.

I plotted the whole story in 2002 and drew tiny colored sketches for all 12 covers. The entire book was very tightly constructed before we started – except that I’d left the ending open for the inevitable better and more focused ideas I knew would arise as the project grew into its own shape...and I left an empty space for issue 10. That one was intended from the start to be the single issue of the 12–issue run that would condense and amplify the themes of all the others. #10 was set aside to be the one–off story that would sum up anything anyone needed to know about Superman in 22 pages.

Not quite as concise an origin as Superman’s, but that’s how we got started.

NRAMA: When you were devising the series, what challenges did you have in building up this version of the Superman universe?

GM: I couldn’t say there were any particular challenges. It was fun. Nobody was telling me what I could or couldn’t do with the characters. I didn’t have to worry about upsetting continuity or annoying people who care about stuff like that.

I don’t have a lot of old comics, so my knowledge of Superman was based on memory, some tattered “70s books from the remains of my teenage collection, a bunch of DC “Best Of...” reprint editions and two brilliant little handbooks – “Superman in Action Comics” Volumes 1 and 2 – which reprint every single Action Comics cover from 1938 to 1988.

I read various accounts of Superman’s creation and development as a brand. I read every Superman story and watched every Superman movie I could lay my hands on, from the Golden Age to the present day. From the Socialist scrapper Superman of the Depression years, through the Super–Cop of the 40s, the mythic Hyper–Dad of the 50s and 60s, the questioning, liberal Superman of the early 70s, the bland “superhero” of the late 70s, the confident yuppie of the 80s, the over–compensating Chippendale Superman of the 90s etc. I read takes on Superman by Mark Waid, Mark Millar, Geoff Johns, Denny O’Neil, Jeph Loeb, Alan Moore, Paul Dini and Alex Ross, Joe Casey, Steve Seagle, Garth Ennis, Jim Steranko and many others.

I looked at the Fleischer cartoons, the Chris Reeve movies and the animated series, and read Alvin Schwartz’s (he wrote the first ever Bizarro story among many others) fascinating book – “An Unlikely Prophet” – where he talks about his notion of Superman as a tulpa, (a Tibetan word for a living thought form which has an independent existence beyond its creator) and claims he actually met the Man of Steel in the back of a taxi.

I immersed myself in Superman and I tried to find in all of these very diverse approaches the essential “Superman–ness” that powered the engine. I then extracted, purified and refined that essence and drained it into All Star’s tank, recreating characters as my own dream versions, without the baggage of strict continuity.

In the end, I saw Superman not as a superhero or even a science fiction character, but as a story of Everyman. We’re all Superman in our own adventures. We have our own Fortresses of Solitude we retreat to, with our own special collections of valued stuff, our own super–pets, our own “Bottle Cities” that we feel guilty for neglecting. We have our own peers and rivals and bizarre emotional or moral tangles to deal with.

I felt I’d really grasped the concept when I saw him as Everyman, or rather as the dreamself of Everyman. That “S” is the radiant emblem of divinity we reveal when we rip off our stuffy shirts, our social masks, our neuroses, our constructed selves, and become who we truly are.

Batman is obviously much cooler, but that’s because he’s a very energetic and adolescent fantasy character: a handsome billionaire playboy in black leather with a butler at this beck and call, better cars and gadgetry than James Bond, a horde of fetish femme fatales baying around his heels and no boss. That guy’s Superman day and night.

Superman grew up baling hay on a farm. He goes to work, for a boss, in an office. He pines after a hard–working gal. Only when he tears off his shirt does that heroic, ideal inner self come to life. That’s actually a much more adult fantasy than the one Batman’s peddling but it also makes Superman a little harder to sell. He’s much more of a working class superhero, which is why we ended the whole book with the image of a laboring Superman.

He’s Everyman operating on a sci–fi Paul Bunyan scale. His worries and emotional problems are the same as ours... except that when he falls out with his girlfriend, the world trembles.

Newsarama: Grant, what are some of your favorite moments from the 12 issues?

Grant Morrison: The first shot of Superman flying over the sun. The Cosmic Anvil. Samson and Atlas. The kiss on the moon. The first three pages of the Olsen story which, I think, add up to the best character intro I’ve ever written.

Everything Lex Luthor says in issue #5. Everything Clark does. The whole says/does Luthor/Superman dynamic as played out through Frank Quitely’s absolute mastery and understanding of how space, movement and expression combine to tell a story.

Superboy and his dog on the moon – that perfect teenage moment of infinite possibility, introspection and hope for the future. He’s every young man on the verge of adulthood, Krypto is every dog with his boy (it seemed a shame to us that Krypto’s most memorable moment prior to this was his death scene in “Whatever Happened To The Man of Tomorrow.” Quitely’s scampering, leaping, eager and alive little creature is how I’d prefer to imagine Krypto the Superdog and conjures finer and more subtle emotions).

Bizarro–Home, with all of Earth’s continental and ocean shapes but reversed. The page with the first appearance of Zibarro that Frank has designed so the eye is pulled down in a swirling motion into the drain at the heart of the image, to make us feel that we’re being flushed in a cloacal spiral down into a nihilistic, existential sink. Frank gave me that page as a gift, and it became weirdly emblematic of a strange, dark time in both our lives.

The story with Bar–El and Lilo has a genuine chill off ammonia and antiseptic off it, which makes it my least favorite issue of the series, although I know a lot of people who love it. It’s about dying relatives, obligations, the overlit overheated corridors between terminal wards, the thin metallic odors of chemicals, bad food and fear. Preparation for the Phantom Zone.

Superman hugging the poor, hopeless girl on the roof and telling us all we’re stronger than we think we are.

Joe Shuster drawing us all into the story forever and never–ending.

Nasthalthia Luthor. Frank and Jamie’s final tour of the Fortress, referencing every previous issue on the way, in two pages.

All of issue #10 (there’s a single typo in there where the time on the last page was screwed up – but when we fix that detail for the trade I’ll be able to regard this as the most perfectly composed superhero story I’ve ever written).

I don’t think I’ve ever had a smoother, more seamless collaborative process.

NRAMA: The story is very complete unto itself, but are there any new or classic characters you’d like to explore further? If so, which ones and why?

GM: I’d happily write more Atlas and Samson. I really like Krull, the Dino–Czar’s wayward son, and his Stalinist underground empire of “Subterranosauri.” I could write a Superman Squad comic forever. I’d love to write the “Son of Superman” sequel about Lois and Clark’s super test tube baby.

But...I think All Star is already complete, without sequels. You read that last issue and it works because you know you’re never going to see All Star Superman again. You’ll be able to pick up Superman books, but they won’t be about this guy and they won’t feel the same. He really is going away. Our Superman is actually “dying” in that sense, and that adds the whole series a deeper poignancy.

NRAMA: Aside from the Bizarro League, you never really introduce other DC superheroes into the story. Why did you make this choice?

GM: I wanted the story to be about the mythic Superman at the end of his time. It’s clear from the references that he has or more likely has had a few super–powered allies, but that they’re no longer around or relevant any more.

For the context of this story I wanted the super–friends to be peripheral, like they were in the old comics. The Flash? Green Lantern? They represent Superman’s “old army buddies,” or your dad’s school friends. Guys you’ve sort of heard of, who used to be more important in the old man’s life than they are now.

NRAMA: Some readers were confused as to how the “Twelve Labors” broke down, though others have pointed out that Superman’s actions are more reflective of the Stations of the Cross (I note there’s a “Station Café” in the background of issue #12). Could you break down the Twelve Labors, or, if the cross theory is true, how the storyline reflects the Stations?

GM: The 12 Labors of Superman were never intended as an isomorphic mapping onto the 12 Labors of Hercules, or for that matter, the specific Stations of the Cross, of which there are 14, I believe. I didn’t even want to do one Labor per issue, so it deliberately breaks down quite erratically through the series for reasons I’ll go into (later).

Yes, there are correspondences, but that’s mostly because we tried to create for our Superman the contemporary “superhero” version of an archetypal solar hero journey, which naturally echoes numerous myths, legends and religious parables.

At the same time, we didn’t want to do an update or a direct copy of any myth you’d seen before, so it won’t work if you try to find one specific mythological or religious “plan” to hang the series on; James Joyce’s honorable and heroic refutation of the rule aside, there’s nothing more dead and dull than an attempt to retell the Odyssey or the Norse sagas scene by scene, but in a modern and/or superhero setting.

For future historians and mythologizers, however, the 12 Labors of Superman may be enumerated as follows:

1. Superman saves the first manned mission to the sun.
2. Superman brews the Super–Elixir.
3. Superman answers the Unanswerable Question.
4. Superman chains the Chronovore. 
5. Superman saves Earth from Bizarro–Home.
6. Superman returns from the Underverse.
7. Superman creates Life.
8. Superman liberates Kandor/cures cancer.
9. Superman defeats Solaris.
10. Superman conquers Death.
11. Superman builds an artificial Heart for the Sun.
12.Superman leaves the recipe/formula to make Superman 2.

And one final feat, which typically no–one really notices, is that Lex Luthor delivers his own version of the unified field haiku – explaining the underlying principles of the universe in fourteen syllables – which the P.R.O.J.E.C.T. G–Type philosopher from issue 4 had dedicated his entire life to composing!

You may notice also that the Labors take place over a year – with the solar hero’s descent into the darkness and cold of the Underverse occurring at midwinter/Christmas time (that’s also the only point in the story where we ever see Metropolis at night).

It can also be seen as the sun’s journey over the course of a day – we open in blazing sunshine but halfway through the book, at the end of issue #5, in fact, the solar hero dips below the horizon and begins the night–journey through the hours of darkness and death, before his triumphant resurrection at dawn. That’s why issue 5 ends with the boat to the Underworld and 6 begins with the moon. Clark Kent is crossing the threshold into the subconscious world of memory, shadows, death and deep emotions.

Although they can often have bizarre resonances, specific elements, like the Station Café, are usually put there by Frank Quitely, and are not necessarily secret Dan Brown–style keys to unlocking the mysteries. I think there might be a Station Café opposite the studio where Frank Quitely works and the “SAPIEN” sign on another storefront is a reference to Frank’s studio mate, Dave Sapien. At least he’s not filling the background with dirty words like he used to, given any opportunity

NRAMA: For that matter, do the Twelve Labors matter at all? They seem so purposely ill–defined. They seem more like misdirection or a MacGuffin than anything that needs to be clearly delineated.

GM: They matter, of course, but the 12 Labors idea is there to show that, as with all myth, the systematic ordering of current events into stories, tales, or legends occurs after the fact.

I’m trying to suggest that only in the future will these particular 12 feats, out of all the others ever, be mythologized as 12 Labors. I suppose I was trying to say something about how people impose meaning upon events in retrospect, and that’s how myth is born. It’s hindsight that provides narrative, structure, meaning and significance to the simple unfolding of events. It’s the backward glance that adds all the capital letters to the list above.

Even Superman isn”t sure how many Labors he’s performed when we see him mulling it over in issue 10. 
When you watched it happening, it seemed to be Superman just doing his thing. In the future it’s become THE 12 LABORS OF SUPERMAN!

NRAMA: And on a completely ridiculous note: All–Star Superman is perhaps the most difficult–to–abbreviate comic title since Preacher: Tall in the Saddle. Did you realize this going in?

GM: Going into what? Going into ASS itself? In the sense of how did I feel as I slowly entered ASS for the first time?

It never crossed my mind...

Newsarama: I’d like to know a little more about Leo Quintum and his role in the story. He seems like a bit of an outgrowth of the likes of Project Cadmus and Emil Hamilton, but in a more fantastical, Willy Wonka sense.

Grant Morrison: Yeah, he was exactly as you say, my attempt to create an updated take on the character of “Superman’s scientist friend” – in the vein of Emil Hamilton from the animated show and the ‘90s stories. Science so often goes wrong in Superman stories, and I thought it was important to show the potential for science to go right or to be elevated by contact with Superman’s shining positive spirit.

I was thinking of Quintum as a kind of “Man Who Fell To Earth” character with a mysterious unearthly background. For a while I toyed with the notion that he was some kind of avatar of Lightray of the New Gods, but as All Star developed, that didn’t fit the tone, and he was allowed to simply be himself.

Eventually it just came down to simplicity. Leo Quintum represents the “good” scientific spirit – the rational, enlightened, progressive, utopian kind of scientist I figured Superman might inspire to greatness. It was interesting to me how so many people expected Quintum to turn out bad at the end. It shows how conditioned we are in our miserable, self–loathing, suspicious society to expect the worst of everyone, rather than hope for the best. Or maybe it’s just what we expect from stories.

Having said that, there is indeed a necessary whiff of Lucifer about Quintum. His name, Leo Quintum, conjures images of solar force, lions and lightbringers and he has elements of the classic Trickster figure about him. He even refers to himself as “The Devil Himself” in issue #10.

What he’s doing at the end of the story should, for all its gee–whiz futurity, feel slightly ambiguous, slightly fake, slightly “Hollywood.” Yes, he’s fulfilling Superman’s wishes by cloning an heir to Superman and Lois and inaugurating a Superman dynasty that will last until the end of time – but he’s also commodifying Superman, figuring out how it’s done, turning him into a brand, a franchise, a bigger–and–better “revamp,” the ultimate coming attraction, fresher than fresh, newer than new but familiar too. Quintum has figured out the “formula” for Superman and improved upon it.

And then you can go back to the start of All Star Superman issue #1 and read the “formula” for yourself, condensed into eight words on the first page and then expanded upon throughout the story! The solar journey is an endless circle naturally. A perfect puzzle that is its own solution.

In one way, Quintum could be seen to represent the creative team, simultaneously re–empowering a pure myth with the honest fire of Art...while at the same time shooting a jolt of juice through a concept that sells more “S” logo underpants and towels than it does comic books. All tastes catered!

I have to say that the Willy Wonka thing never crossed my mind until I saw people online make the comparison, which seems quite obvious now. Quintum dresses how I would dress if I was the world’s coolest super–scientist. What’s up with that?

NRAMA: Was Zibarro inspired by the Bizarro World story where the Bizarro–Neanderthal becomes this unappreciated Casanova–type?

GM: Don’t know that one, but it sounds like a scenario I could definitely endorse!

Zibarro started out as a daft name sicked–up by my subconscious mind, which flowered within moments into the must–write idea of an Imperfect Bizarro. What would an imperfect version of an already imperfect being be like?

Zibarro.

NRAMA: I’d like to know more about Zibarro – what’s the significance of his chronicling Bizarro World through poetry?

GM: It’s up to you. I see Zibarro partly as the sensitive teenager inside us all. He’s moody, horribly self–aware and uncomfortable, yet filled with thoughts of omnipotence and agency. He’s the absolute center of his tiny, disorganized universe. He’s playing the role of sensitive, empathic poet but at the same time, he’s completely self–absorbed.

When he says to Superman “Can you even imagine what it’s like to be so different. So unique. So unlike everyone else?” he doesn’t even wait for Superman’s reply. He doesn’t care about anyone’s feelings but his own, ultimately.

NRAMA: The character is very close to Superman, so what does it say that a nonpowered version on a savage world would focus his energy through that medium? Also, does Zibarro’s existence show how Superman is able to elevate even the backwards Bizarros through his very nature?

GM: All of the above. And maybe he writes his totally subjective poetry as a reflection of Clark Kent’s objective reporter role. The suppressed, lyrical, wounded side of Superman perhaps? The Super–Morrissey? Bizarro With The Thorn In His Side?

But he’s also Bizarro–Home’s “mistake” (or so it seems to him, even though he’s as natural an expression of the place as any of the other Bizarro creatures who grow like mold across the surface of their living planet). He feels excluded, a despised outsider, and yet that position is what defines his cherished self–image. He expresses himself through poetry because to him the regular Bizarro language is barbaric, barely articulate and guttural. And they all think he’s talking crap anyway.

It seemed to make sense that an interesting opposite of Bizarro speech might be flowery “woe is me” school Poetry Society odes to the sunset in a misunderstood heart. He’s still a Bizarro though, which makes him ineffectual. His tragedy is that he knows he’s fated to be useless and pointless but craves so much more.

NRAMA: Zibarro also represents a recurrent theme in the story, of Superman constantly facing alternate versions of himself – Bar–El, Samson and Atlas, the Superman Squad, even Luthor by the end. Notably, Hercules is absent, though Superman’s doing his Twelve Labors. With the mythological adventurers in particular, was this designed to equate Superman with their legend, to show how his character is greater than theirs, or both?

GM: In a way, I suppose. He did arm–wrestle them both, proving once and for all Superman’s stronger than anybody! And remember, these characters, along with Hercules, used to appear regularly in Superman books as his rivals. I thought they made better rivals than, say, Majestic or Ultraman because people who don’t read comics have heard of Hercules, Samson and Atlas and understand what they represent.

For that particular story, I wanted to see Superman doing tough guy shit again, like he did in the early days and then again in the 70s, when he was written as a supremely cocky macho bastard for a while. I thought a little bit of that would be an antidote to the slightly soppy, Super–Christ portrayal that was starting to gain ground.

Hence Samson’s broken arm, twisted in two directions beyond all repair. And Atlas in the hospital. And then Superman’s got his hot girlfriend dressed like a girl from Krypton and they’re making out on the moon (the original panel description was of something more like the famous shot of Burt Lancaster and Deborah Kerr kissing in the surf from “From Here To Eternity.” Frank’s final choice of composition is much more classically pulp–romantic and iconic than my down and dirty rumble in the moondirt would have been, I’m glad to say).

Newsarama: Tell us about some of the thinking behind the new antagonists you created for this series (at least the ones you want to talk about...): First up: Krull and the Subterranosaurs...

Grant Morrison: We wanted to create some throwaway new characters which would be designed to look as if they were convincing long–term elements of the Superman legend.

We were trying to create a few foes who had a classic feel and a solid backstory that could be explored again or in depth. Even if we never went back to these characters, we wanted them to seem rich enough to carry their own stories.

With Krull, we figured a superhuman character like Superman can always use a powerful “sub–human” opponent: a beast, a monster, a savage with the power to destroy civilization. For years I’ve had the idea that the familiar “gray aliens” might “actually” be evolved biped dinosaur descendants, the offspring of smart–thinking lizards which made their way to the warm regions at the Earth’s core.

I imagined these brutes developing their own technology, their own civilization, and then finally coming to the surface to declare bloody war on the mammalian usurpers! It seemed like we could develop this idea into the Krull backstory and suggest a whole epic conflict in a few panels.

Dom Regan, the Glasgow artist and DC colorist, saw the original green skin Jamie Grant had done for Krull, and suggested we make him red instead. Jamie reset his color filters and that was the moment Krull suddenly looked like a real Superman foe.

The red skin marked him out as unique, different and dangerous, even among his own species. It had echoes of Jack Kirby’s Devil Dinosaur that played right into the heart of the concept. A good design became a great design and the whole story of who Krull was – his twisted relationship with his father the Dino–Czar, his monstrous ambitions – came together in that first picture.

The society was fleshed out in the script even though we see only one panel of it – a gloomy, heavy, “Soviet” underworld of walled iron cities, cold blood and deadly intrigue. War–Barges that could sail on the oceans of heated steam at the center of the Earth. A Stalinist authoritarian lizard world where missing person cases were being taken to work and die as slaves in hellish underworld conditions.

NRAMA: Mechano–Man?

GM: An attempt to pre–imagine a classic, archetypal Superman foe, which started with another simple premise – how about a giant robot villain? But not just any giant robot – this is a rampaging machine with a raging little man inside.

Giving him a bitter, angry, scrawny loser as a pilot turned Mechano–Man into a much more extreme and pathological expression of the Man of Steel/Mild–Mannered Reporter dynamic, and added a few interesting layers onto an 8–panel appearance.

NRAMA: The Chronovore – a very disturbing creation, that one.

GM: The Chronovore was mentioned in passing in DC 1,000,000 and would have been the monster in my aborted Hypercrisis series idea. It took a long time to get the right design for the beast because it’s meant to be a 5–D being that we only ever see in 4–D sections. It had to work as a convincing representation of something much bigger that we’re seeing only where it interpenetrates our 4–D space-time continuum.

Imagine you’re walking along with a song in your teenage heart, then suddenly the Chronovore appears, takes bite out of your life, and you arrive at your girlfriend’s house aged 76, clutching a cell phone and a wilted bouquet.

NRAMA: One more obscure run that I was happy to see referenced in this was the use of Nasty from the old Mike Sekowsky Supergirl stories. What made you want to use this character?

GM: I remembered her from the old comics, and felt her fashion–y look could be updated very easily into the kind of fetish club thing I’ve always been partial to.

She seemed a cool and sexy addition to the Luthor plot. The set–up, where Lex has a fairly normal sister who hates how her wayward brother is such a bad influence on her brilliant daughter, is explosive with character potential.

They need to bring Nasty back to mainstream continuity. Geoff! They all want it and you know you never let them down!

NRAMA: Speaking of Mike Sekowsky, I’m curious about his influence on your work. I have an odd fascination with all the ideas and stories he was tossing around in the late 1960s and early 1970s – Jason’s Quest, Manhunter 2070, the I–Ching tales – and many of the characters he worked on, from the B”Wana Beast to the Inferior Five to Yankee Doodle (in Doom Patrol), have shown up in your work. The Bizarro Zoo in issue #10 is even slightly reminiscent of the Beast’s merged animals.

GM: Those were all comics that were around when I was a normal kid, prior to the obsessive collecting fan phase of my isolated teenage years. They clearly inspired me in some way, as you say, but certainly not consciously. I’d never have considered myself a particular fan of Mike Sekowsky’s work, but as you say, I’ve incorporated a lot of his ideas into the DC Universe work I’ve done. Hmm. Interesting.

While I’m at it, I should also say something about Samson and Atlas, halfway between old characters and new.

Samson, Atlas and Hercules were classical mainstays of old Superman covers, tangling with Superman in all those Silver Age stories that happened before he learned from his friends at Marvel that it was possible to fight other superheroes for fun and profit, so I decided to completely “re–vamp” the characters in the manner of superhero franchises. Marvel has the definitive Hercules for me, so I left him out of the mix and concentrated on Atlas and Samson.

Atlas was re–imagined as a mighty but restless and reckless young prince of the New Mythos – a society of mega–beings playing out their archetypal dramas between New Elysium and Hadia, with ordinary people caught in the middle – and Superman.

Essentially good–hearted, Atlas would have been the newbie in a “team” with Skyfather Xaoz!, Heroina, Marzak and the others. He has a bullish, adolescent approach to life. He drinks and plunges himself into ill–advised adventures to ease his naturally gloomy “weighed down by the world” temperament.

You can see it all now. The backstory suggested an unseen, Empyrean New Gods–type series from a parallel universe. What if, when Jack Kirby came to DC from Marvel in 1971, he’d followed up his sci–fi Viking Gods saga at Marvel, with a dimension–spanning epic rooted in Greek mythology? New Gods meets Eternals drawn by Curt Swan/Murphy Anderson? That was Atlas.

Samson, I decided would be a callback to the British newspaper strip “Garth.” Although you may already be imagining a daily strip about the exploits of time–tossed The Boys writer, Garth Ennis, it was actually about a blonde Adonis type who bounced around the ages having mildly horny, racy adventures.

(Go look him up then return the wiser before reading on, so I don’t have to explain anymore about this bastard – he’s often described as “the British Superman,” but oh...my arse! I hated meathead, personality–singularity Garth...but we all grew up with his meandering, inexplicable yet incredibly–drawn adventures and some of it was quite good when you were a little lad because he was always shagging ON PANEL with the likes of a bare–breasted cave girl or gauze–draped Helen of Troy.

(Unlike Superman, you see, the top British strongman liked to get naked. Lots naked. Naked in every time period he could get naked in, which was all of them thanks to the miracle of his bullshit powers.

(Imagine Doctor Who buff, dumb and naked all the time – Russell, I’ve had an idea!!!! – and that’s Garth in a nutshell.

(Sorry, I know I’m going on and the average attention span of anyone reading stuff on the Internet amounts to no more than a few paragraphs, but basically, Garth was always getting naked. In public, in family newspapers. Bollock naked. Let’s face it, patriotic Americans, have you ever seen Superman’s arse?

Newsarama Note: Well, there was Baby Kal-El in the 1978 film...

(Brits, hands up who still remember the man, and have you ever not seen Garth’s arse? Do you not, in fact, have a very clear image of it in your head, as drawn by Martin Asbury perhaps? In mine, Garth’s pulling aside a flimsy curtain to gaze at the pyramids with Cleopatra buck naked in foreground ogling his rock hard glutes...).

Anyway, Samson, I decided, was the Hebrew version of Garth and he would have his own mad comic that was like an American version of Garth. I saw the Bible hero plucked from the desert sands by time–travelling buffoons in search of a savior. Introduced to all the worst aspects of future culture and, using his stolen, erratic Chrono–Mobile, Samson became a time–(and space) traveling Soldier of Fortune, writing wrongs, humping princesses, accumulating and losing treasure etc. Like a science fiction Conan. Meets Garth.

Fortunately, you’ll never see any of these men ever again.

Newsarama: How have your perceptions of Superman and his supporting characters evolved since the Superman 2000 pitch you did with Mark Waid, Mark Millar and Tom Peyer? The Superman notions seem almost identical, but Luthor is very different here than in that pitch, and so is Clark Kent. Did you use some aspects of your original pitch, or have you just changed his mind on how to portray these characters since?

Grant Morrison: A little of both. I wanted to approach All Star Superman as something new, but there were a couple of specific aspects from the Superman 2000 pitch (as I mentioned earlier, it was actually called Superman Now, at least in my notebooks, which is where the bulk of the material came from) that I felt were definitely worth keeping and exploring.

I can’t remember much about Luthor from Superman Now, except for the ending. By the time I got to All Star Superman, I’d developed a few new insights into Luthor’s character that seemed to flesh him out more. Luthor’s really human and charismatic and hateful all the same time. He’s the brilliant, deluded egotist in all of us. The key for me was the idea that he draws his eyebrows on. The weird vanity of that told me everything I needed to know about Luthor.

I thought the real key to him was the fact that, brilliant as he is, Luthor is nowhere near as brilliant as he wants to be or thinks he is. For Luthor, no praise, no success, no achievement is ever enough, because there’s a big hungry hole in his soul. His need for acknowledgement and validation is superhuman in scale. Superman needs no thanks; he does what he does because he’s made that way. Luthor constantly rails against his own sense of failure and inadequacy...and Superman’s to blame, of course.

I’ve recently been re–thinking Luthor again for a different project, and there’s always a new aspect of the character to unearth and develop.

NRAMA: This story makes Superman and Lois’ relationship seem much more romantic and epic than usual, but this one also makes Superman more of the pursuer. Lois seems like more of an equal, but also more wary of his affections, particularly in the black–and–white sequence in issue #2.

She becomes this great beacon of support for him over the course of the series, but there is a sense that she’s a bit jaded from years of trickery and uncomfortable with letting him in now that he’s being honest. How, overall, do you see the relationship between Superman and Lois?

GM: The black-and-white panels shows Lois paranoid and under the influence of an alien chemical, but yes, she’s articulating many of her very real concerns in that scene.

I wanted her to finally respond to all those years of being tricked and duped and led to believe Superman and Clark Kent were two different people. I wanted her to get her revenge by finally refusing to accept the truth.

It also exposed that brilliant central paradox in the Superman/Lois relationship. The perfect man who never tells a lie has to lie to the woman he loves to keep her safe. And he lives with that every day. It’s that little human kink that really drives their relationship.

NRAMA: Jimmy Olsen is extremely cool in this series – it’s the old “Mr. Action” idea taken to a new level. It’s often easy to write Jimmy as a victim or sycophant, but in this series, he comes off as someone worthy of being “Superman’s Pal” – he implicitly trusts Superman, and will take any risk to get his story. Do you see this version of Jimmy as sort of a natural evolution of the version often seen in the comics?

GM: It was a total rethink based on the aspects of Olsen I liked, and playing down the whole wet–behind–the–ears “cub reporter” thing. I borrowed a little from the “Mr. Action” idea of a more daredevil, pro–active Jimmy, added a little bit of Nathan Barley, some Abercrombie & Fitch style, a bit of Tintin, and a cool Quitely haircut.

Jimmy was renowned for his “disguises” and bizarre transformations (my favorite is the transvestite Olsen epic “Miss Jimmy Olsen” from Jimmy Olsen #95, which gets a nod on the first page of our Jimmy story we did), so I wanted to take that aspect of his appeal and make it part of his job.

I don’t like victim Jimmy or dumb Jimmy, because those takes on the character don’t make any sense in their context. It seemed more interesting see what a young man would be like who could convincingly be Superman’s “pal.” Someone whose company a Superman might actually enjoy. That meant making Jimmy a much bigger character: swaggering but ingenuous. Innocent yet worldly. Enthusiastic but not stupid.

My favorite Jimmy moment is in issue #7 when he comes up with the way to defeat the Bizarro invasion by using the seas of the Bizarro planet itself as giant mirrors to reflect toxic – to Bizarros – sunlight onto the night side of the Earth. He knows Superman can actually take crazy lateral thinking like this and put it into practice.

NRAMA: Perry White has a few small–but–key scenes, particularly his address to his staff in issue #1 and standing up to Luthor in issue #12. I’d like to hear more about your thoughts on this character.

GM: As with the others, my feelings are there on the page. Perry is Clark’s boss and need only be that and not much more to play his role perfectly well within the stories. He’s a good reminder that Superman has a job and a boss, unlike that good–for–nothing work-shy bastard Batman. Perry’s another of the series’ older male role models of integrity and steadfastness, like Pa Kent.

NRAMA: There’s a sense in the Daily Planet scenes and with Lois’s spotlight issues that everyone knows Clark is Superman, but they play along to humor him. The Clark disguise comes off as very obvious in this story. Do you feel that the Planet staff knows the truth, or are just in a very deep case of denial, like Lex?

GM: If I had to say for sure, I think Jimmy Olsen worked it out a long time ago, and simply presumes that if Superman has a good reason for what he’s doing, that’s good enough for Jimmy.

Lois has guessed, but refuses to acknowledge it because it exposes her darkest flaw – she could never love Clark Kent the way she loves Superman.

NRAMA: Also, the Planet staff seems awfully nonchalant at Luthor’s threats. Are they simply used to being attacked by now?

GM: Yes. They’re a tough group. They also know that Superman makes a point of looking out for them, so they naturally try to keep Luthor talking. They know he loves to talk about himself and about Superman. In that scene, he’s almost forgotten he even has powers, he’s so busy arguing and making points. He keeps doing ordinary things instead of extraordinary things.

NRAMA: The running gag of Clark subtly using his powers to protect unknowing people is well done, but I have to admit I was confused by the sequence near the end of issue #1. Was that an el–train, and if so, why was it so close to the ground?

GM: It’s a MagLev hover–train. Look again, and you’ll see it’s not supported by anything. Hover–trains help ease congestion in busy city streets! Metropolis is the City of Tomorrow, after all.

NRAMA: And there’s the death of Pa Kent. Why do you feel it’s particularly important to have Pa and not both of the Kents pass away?

GM: I imagined they had both passed away fairly early in Superman’s career, but Ma went a few years after Pa. Also, because the book was about men or man, it seemed important to stress the father/son relationships. That circle of life, the king is dead, long live the king thing that Superman is ultimately too big and too timeless to succumb to.

NRAMA: There is a real touch of Elliott S! Maggin’s novels in your depiction of Luthor – someone who is just so obsessive–compulsive about showing up Superman that he accomplishes nothing in his own life. He comes across as a showman, from his rehearsed speech in issue #1 to his garish costume in the last two issues, and it becomes painfully apparent that he wants to usurp Superman because he just can’t be happy with himself. What defeats him is actually a beautiful gift, getting to see the world as Superman does, and finally understanding his enemy.

That’s all a lead–in to: What previous stories that defined Luthor for you, and how did you define his character? What appeals to you about writing him?

GM: The Marks Waid and Millar were big fans of the Maggin books, and may have persuaded me to read at least the first one but I’m ashamed to say can’t remember anything about it, other than the vague recollection of a very humane, humanist take on Superman that seemed in general accord with the pacifist, hedonistic, between–the–wars spirit of the ‘90s when I read it. It was the ‘90s; I had other things on my mind and in my mind.

I like Maggin’s “Must There Be A Superman?” from Superman #247, which ultimately poses questions traditional superhero comic books are not equipped to answer and is one of the first paving stones in the Yellow Brick Road that leads to Watchmen and beyond, to The Authority, The Ultimates etc. Everyone still awake, still reading this, should make themselves familiar with “Must There Be A Superman?” – it’s a milestone in the development of the superhero concept.

However, the story that most defines Luthor for me turns out to be, as usual, a Len Wein piece with Curt Swan/Murphy Anderson– Superman #248. This blew me away when I was a kid. Lex Luthor cares about humanity? He’s sorry we all got blown up? The villain loves us too? It’s only Superman he really hates? Genius. Big, cool adult stuff.

The divine Len makes Lex almost too human, but it was amazing to see this kind of depth in a character I’d taken for granted as a music hall villain.

I also love the brutish Satanic, Crowley–esque, Golden Age Luthor in the brilliant “Powerstone” Action Comics #47 (the opening of All Star #11 is a shameless lift from “Powerstone”, as I soon realised when I went back to look. Blame my...er...photographic memory...cough).

And I like the Silver Age Luthor who only hates Superman because he thinks it’s Superboy’s fault he went bald. That was the most genuinely human motivation for Luthor’s career of villainy of all; it was Superman’s fault he went bald! I can get behind that.

In the Silver Age, baldness, like obesity, old age and poverty, was seen quite rightly as a crippling disease and a challenge which Superman and his supporting cast would be compelled to overcome at every opportunity! Suburban “50s America versus Communist degeneracy? You tell me.

I like elements of the Marv Wolfman/John Byrne ultra–cruel and rapacious businessman, although he somewhat lacks the human dimension (ultimately there’s something brilliant about Luthor being a failed inventor, a product of Smallville/Dullsville – the genius who went unnoticed in his lifetime, and resorted to death robots in chilly basements and cellars. Luthor as geek versus world). I thought Alan Moore’s ruthlessly self–assured “consultant” Luthor in Swamp Thing was an inspired take on the character as was Mark Waid’s rage–driven prodigy from Birthright.

I tried to fold them all into one portrayal. I see him as a very human character – Superman is us at our best, Luthor is us when we’re being mean, vindictive, petty, deluded and angry. Among other things. It’s like a bipolar manic/depressive personality – with optimistic, loving Superman smiling at one end of the scale and paranoid, petty Luthor cringing on the other.

I think any writer of Superman has to love these two enemies equally. We have to recognize them both as potentials within ourselves. I think it’s important to find yourself agreeing with Luthor a bit about Superman’s “smug superiority” – we all of us, except for Superman, know what it’s like to have mean–spirited thoughts like that about someone else’s happiness. It’s essential to find yourself rooting for Lex, at least a little bit, when he goes up against a man–god armed only with his bloody–minded arrogance and cleverness.

Even if you just wish you could just give him a hug and help him channel his energies in the right direction, Luthor speaks for something in all of us, I like to think.

However he’s played, Luthor is the male power fantasy gone wrong and turned sour. You’ve got everything you want but it’s not enough because someone has more, someone is better, someone is cleverer or more handsome.

 Newsarama: Grant, a recurring theme throughout the book is the effect of small kindness – how even the likes of Steve Lombard are capable of decency. And Superman gets the key to saving himself by doing something that any human being could do, offering sympathy to a person about to end it all.

Grant Morrison: Completely...the person you help today could be the person who saves your life tomorrow.

NRAMA: The character actions that make the biggest difference, from Zibarro’s sacrifice to Pa’s influence on Superman, are really things that any normal, non-powered person could do if they embrace the best part of their humanity. The last page of issue #12 teases the idea that Superman’s powers could be given to all mankind, but it seems as though the greatest gift he has given them is his humanity. How do you view Superman’s fate in the context of where humanity could go as a species?

GM: I see Superman in this series as an Enlightenment figure, a Renaissance idea of the ideal man, perfect in mind, body and intention.

A key text in all of this is Pico’s ‘Oration On The Dignity of Man’ (15c), generally regarded as the ‘manifesto’ of Renaissance thought, in which Giovanni Pico Della Mirandola laid out the fundamentals of what we tend to refer to as ’Humanist’ thinking.

(The ‘Oratorio’ also turns up in my British superhero series Zenith from 1987, which may indicate how long I’ve been working towards a Pico/Superman team-up!)

At its most basic, the ‘Oratorio’ is telling us that human beings have the unique ability, even the responsibility, to live up to their ‘ideals’. It would be unusual for a dog to aspire to be a horse, a bird to bark like a dog, or a horse to want to wear a diving suit and explore the Barrier Reef, but people have a particular gift for and inclination towards imitation, mimicry and self-transformation. We fly by watching birds and then making metal carriers that can outdo birds, we travel underwater by imitating fish, we constantly look to role models and behavioral templates for guidance, even when those role models are fictional TV or, comic, novel or movie heroes, just like the soft, quick, shapeshifty little things we are. We can alter the clothes we wear, the temperature around us, and change even our own bodies, in order to colonize or occupy previously hostile environments. We are, in short, a distinctively malleable and adaptable bunch.

So, Pico is saying, if we live by imitation, does it not make sense that we might choose to imitate the angels, the gods, the very highest form of being that we can imagine? Instead of indulging the most brutish, vicious, greedy and ignorant aspects of the human experience, we can, with a little applied effort, elevate the better part of our natures and work to express those elements through our behavior. To do so would probably make us all feel a whole lot better too. Doing good deeds and making other people happy makes you feel totally brilliant, let’s face it.

So we can choose to the astronaut or the gangster. The superhero or the super villain. The angel or the devil. It’s entirely up to us, particularly in the privileged West, how we choose to imagine ourselves and conduct our lives.

We live in the stories we tell ourselves. It’s really simple. We can continue to tell ourselves and our children that the species we belong to is a crawling, diseased, viral cancer smear, only fit for extinction, and let’s see where that leads us.

We can continue to project our self-loathing and narcissistic terror of personal mortality onto our culture, our civilization, our planet, until we wreck the promise of the world for future generations in a fit of sheer self-induced panic...

...or we can own up to the scientific fact that we are all physically connected as parts of a single giant organism, imagine better ways to live and grow...and then put them into practice. We can stop pissing about, start building starships, and get on with the business of being adults.

The ’Oratorio’ is nothing less than the Shazam!, the Kimota! for Western Culture and we would do well to remember it in our currently trying times.

The key theme of the ‘Dark Age’ of comics was loss and recovery of wonder - McGregor’s Killraven trawling through the apocalyptic wreckage of culture in his search for poetry, meaning and fellowship, Captain Mantra, amnesiac in Robert Mayer’s Superfolks, Alan Moore’s Mike Maxwell trudging through the black and white streets of Thatcher’s Britain, with the magic word of transformation burning on the tip of his tongue.

My own work has been an ongoing attempt to repeat the magic word over and over until we all become the kind of superheroes we’d all like to be. Ha hah ha.

 Newsarama: The structure of the 12 issues involves both Superman’s 12 labors and his impending death. Do you feel the threat of his demise brings out the best in Superman’s already–high character, or did you intend it more as a window for the audience to understand how he sees the world?

Grant Morrison: In trying to do the “big,” ultimate Superman story, we wanted to hit on all the major beats that define the character – the “death of Superman” story has been told again and again and had to be incorporated into any definitive take. Superman’s death and rebirth fit the sun god myth we were establishing, and, as you say, it added a very terminal ticking clock to the story.

NRAMA: When we talked earlier this year, we discussed the neurotic quality of the Silver Age stories. Looking at the series as a whole, you consistently invert this formula. Superman is faced with all these crises that could be seen as personifying his neuroses, but for the most part he handles them with a level head and comes across as being very at peace with himself. You talked about your discussion with an in–character Superman fan at a convention years ago, but I am curious as to how you determined Superman’s mindset.

GM: I felt we had to live up to the big ideas behind Superman. I don’t take my daft job lightly. It’s all I’ve got.

As the project got going, I wasn’t thinking about Silver Ages or Dark Ages or anything about the comics I’d read, so much as the big shared idea of “Superman” and that “S” logo I see on T–shirts everywhere I go, on girls and boys. That communal Superman. I wanted us to get the precise energy of Platonic Superman down on the page.

The “S” hieroglyph, the super–sigil, stands for the very best kind of man we can imagine, so the subject dictated the methodical, perfectionist approach. As I’ve mentioned before, I keep this aspect of my job fresh for myself by changing my writing style to suit the project, the character or the artist.

With something like Batman R.I.P., I’m aiming for a frenzied Goth Pulp-Noir; punk-psych, expressionist shadows and jagged nightmare scene shifts, inspired by Batman’s roots and by the snapping, fluttering of his uncanny cape. Final Crisis was written, with the Norse Ragnarok and Biblical Revelations in mind, as a story about events more than characters. A doom-laden, Death Metal myth for the wonderful world of Fina(ncia)l Crisis/Eco-breakdown/Terror Trauma we all have to live in.

The subject matter drives the execution. And then, of course, the artists add their own vision and nuance. With All Star Superman, “Frank” and I were able to spend a lot of time together talking it through, and we agreed it had to be about grids, structure, storybook panel layouts, an elegance of form, a clarity of delivery. “Classical” in every sense of the word. The medium, the message, the story, the character, all working together as one simple equation.

Frank Quitely, a Glasgow Art School boy, completely understood without much explanation, the deep structural underpinnings of the series and how to embody them in his layouts. There’s a scene in issue # 8, set on the Bizarro world, where we see Le Roj handing Superman his rocket plans. Look at the arrangement of the figures of Zibarro, Le Roj, Superman and Bizaro–Superman and you’ll see one attempt to make us of Renaissance compositions.

The sense of sunlit Zen calm we tried to get into All Star is how I imagine it might feel to think the way Superman thinks all the time - a thought process that is direct, clean, precise, mathematical, ordered. A mind capable of fantastical imagination but grounded in the everyday of his farm upbringing with nice decent folks. Rich with humour and tears and deep human significance, yet tuned to a higher key. We tried to hum along for a little while, that’s all.

In honor of the character’s primal position in the development of the superhero narrative, I hoped we could create an “ultimate” hero story, starring the ultimate superhero.

Basically, I suppose I felt Superman deserved the utmost application of our craft and intelligence in order to truly do him justice.

Otherwise, I couldn’t have written this book if I hadn’t watched my big, brilliant dad decline into incoherence and death. I couldn’t have written it if I’d never had my heart broken, or mended. I couldn’t have written it if I hadn’t known what it felt like to be idolized, misunderstood, hated for no clear reason, loved for all my faults, forgotten, remembered...

Writing All Star Superman was, in retrospect, also a way of keeping my mind in the clean sunshine while plumbing the murkiest depths of the imagination with that old pair of c****s Darkseid and Doctor Hurt. Good riddance.

 Newsarama: This is touched on in other questions, but how much of the Silver/Bronze Age backstory matters here? What do you see as Superman's life prior to All-Star Superman? (What was going on with this Superman while the Byrne revamp took hold?)

Grant Morrison: When I introduced the series in an interview online, I suggested that All Star Superman could be read as the adventures of the ‘original’ Pre-Crisis on Infinite Earths Superman, returning after 20 plus years of adventures we never got to see because we were watching John Byrne‘s New Superman on the other channel. If ‘Whatever Happened To The Man of Tomorrow?’ and the Byrne reboot had never happened, where would that guy be now?

This was more to provide a sense, probably limited and ill-considered, of what the tone of the book might be like. I never intended All Star Superman as a direct continuation of the Weisinger or Julius Schwartz-era Superman stories. The idea was always to create another new version of Superman using all my favorite elements of past stories, not something ‘Age’ specific.

I didn’t collect Superman comics until the ‘70s and I’m not interested enough in pastiche or nostalgia to spend 6 years of my life playing post-modern games with Superman. All Star isn’t written, drawn or colored to look or read like a Silver Age comic book.

All Star Superman is not intended as arch commentary on continuity or how trends in storytelling have changed over the decades. It’s not retro or meta or anything other than its own simple self; a piece of drawing and writing that is intended by its makers to capture the spirit of its subject to the best of their capabilities, wisdom and talent.

Which is to say, we wanted our Superman story be about life, not about comics or superheroes, current events or politics. It’s about how it feels, specifically to be a man...in our dreams! Hopefully that means our 12 issues are also capable of wide interpretation.

So as much as we may have used a few recognizable Silver Age elements like Van-Zee and Sylv(i)a and the Bottle City of Kandor, the ensemble Daily Planet cast embodies all the generations of Superman. Perry White is from 1940, Steve Lombard is from the Schwartz-era ‘70s, Ron Troupe - the only black man in Metropolis - appeared in 1991. Cat Grant is from 1987 and so on.

P.R.O.J.E.C.T. refers back to Jack Kirby’s DNA Project from his ‘70s Jimmy Olsen stories, as well as to The Cadmus Project from ’90s Superboy and Superman stories. Doomsday is ‘90s. Kal Kent, Solaris and the Infant Universe of Qwewq all come from my own work on Superman in the same decade. Pa Kent’s heart attack is from ‘Superman the Movie‘. We didn’t use Brainiac because he’d been the big bad in Earth 2 but if we had, we’d have used Brainiac’s Kryptonian origin from the animated series and so on.

I also used quite a few elements of John Byrne’s approach. Byrne made a lot of good decisions when he rebooted the whole franchise in 1986 and I wanted to incorporate as much as I could of those too.

Our Superman in All Star was never Superboy, for instance. All Star Superman landed on Earth as a normal, if slightly stronger and fitter infant, and only began to manifest powers in adolescence when he’d finally soaked up enough yellow solar radiation to trigger his metamorphosis.

The Byrne logic seemed to me a better way to explain how his powers had developed across the decades, from the skyscraper leaps of the early days to the speed-of-light space flight of the high Silver Age. And more importantly, it made the Superman myth more poignant - the story of a farm boy who turned into an alien as he reached adolescence. I felt that was something that really enriched Superman. He grew away from his home, his family, his adopted species as he became Superman. His teenage years are a record of his transformation from normal boy to super-being.

As you say, there are more than just Silver Age influences in the book. Basically we tried to create a perfect synthesis of every Superman era. So much so, that it should just be taken as representative of an ‘age’ all its own.

In the end, however, I do think that the Silver Age type stories, with their focus on human problems and foibles, have a much wider appeal than a lot of the work which followed. They’re more like fables or folk tales than the later ‘comic book superhero’ stories of Superman when he became just another colorful costume in the crowd...and perhaps that’s why All Star seemed to resemble those books more than it does a typical modern Marvel or DC comic. It was our intention to present a more universal, mainstream Superman.

NRAMA: In your depiction of Krypton and the Kryptonians, you show the complexity of Superman’s relationship between humanity and Earth even further. Krypton has that scientific paradise quality to it, but the Kryptonians are also portrayed as slightly aloof and detached, even Jor-El. But from Bar-El to the people of Kandor, they’re touched by Superman’s goodness. What do you see as the fundamental difference between Kryptonians and Earthlings, and how has Superman’s character been shaped by each?

GM: My version of Krypton was, again, synthesized from a number of different approaches over the decades. 
In mythic terms, if Superman is the story of a young king, found and raised by common people, then Krypton is the far distant kingdom he lost. It’s the secret bloodline, the aristocratic heritage that makes him special, and a hero. At the same time, Krypton is something that must be left behind for Superman to become who he is - i.e. one of us. Krypton gives him his scientific clarity of mind, Earth makes his heart blaze.

I liked the very early Jerry Siegel descriptions where Krypton is a planet of advanced supermen and women (I already played with that a little in Marvel Boy where Noh-Varr was written to be the Marvel Superboy basically). To that, I added the rich, science fiction detailing of the Silver Age Krypton stories and the slightly detached coolness that characterized John Byrne’s Krypton, which I re-interpreted through the lens of Dzogchen Buddhist thought, probably the most pragmatic, chilly and rational philosophic system on the planet and the closest, I felt, to how Kryptonians might see things.

We also took some time to redesign the crazy, multicolored Kryptonian flag (you can see our version in Kandor in issue #10). The flag, as originally imagined, seemed like the last thing Kryptonians would endorse, so we took the multicolored-rays-around-a-circle design and recreated it - the central circle is now red, representing Krypton’s star, Rao, while the rays, rather than arbitrary colors, become representations of the spectrum of visible light pouring from Rao into the inky black of space. In this way, the flag, that bizarre emblem of nationalism becomes a scientific hieroglyph.

Showing Krypton and Kryptonians was also important as a way of stressing why Superman wears that costume and why it makes absolute sense that he looks the way he does. I don’t see the red and blue suit as a flag or as rewoven baby blankets. There’s no need for Superman to dress the way he does but it made sense to think of his outfit as his ‘national costume‘.

The way I see it, the standard superhero outfit, the familiar Superman suit with the pants on the outside, is what everyone wore on Krypton, give or take a few fashion accessories like hoods and headbands, chest crests and variant colors. In fact, all other superheroes are just copying the fashions on Krypton, lost planet of the super-people.

Superman wears his ’action-suit’ the way a patriotic Scotsman would wear a kilt. It’s a sign of his pride in his alien heritage.

 Newsarama: Although All–Star Superman ties in with DC One Million, you style of writing has changed dramatically since then.  How do you feel about One Million now?

Grant Morrison: I just read it again and liked it a lot. Comics were definitely happier, breezier and more confident in their own strengths before Hollywood and the Internet turned the business of writing superhero stories into the production of low budget storyboards or, worse, into conformist, fruitless attempts to impress or entertain a small group of people who appear to hate comics and their creators.

NRAMA: Obviously, this book is the most explicit SF–Christ story since Behold the Man, only...happy.  Superman/Christ parallels have existed for decades, but this story makes it absolutely explicit, from laying his hands on the sick and dying to...well, most of issue #12.  You’ve dealt with Christ themes before, particularly in The Mystery Play, but outside of the comics, how do you see Superman as a Christ figure for the “real” world?

GM: The “Superman as Christ” thing is a little too reductive for me, and tends to overlook the fact that Superman is by no means a pacifist in the Christ sense. Superman would never turn the other cheek; Superman punches out the bully. Superman is a fighter.

When did Christ ever batter the Devil through a mountain?

The thing I disliked about the Superman Returns movie was the American Christ angle, which reduced Superman to a sniveling, masochistic wreck, crawling around on the floor, taking a kicking from everyone. This approach had an odd and slightly disturbing S&M flavor, which didn’t play well to the character’s strengths at all and seemed to derive entirely from a kind of Catholic vision of the suffering, martyred Jesus.

It’s not that he’s based on Jesus, but simply that a lot of the mythical sun god elements that have been layered onto the Christ story also appear in the story of Superman. I suppose I see Superman more as pagan sci–fi. He’s a secular messiah, a science redeemer with tough guy muscles and a very direct and clear morality.

NRAMA: Continuing the religious themes, in issue #10, you have Superman literally giving birth to himself, both philosophically and as a character – a nice little meta–moment showing how Superman inspires a world where he is only fiction.  How did that idea come about?

GM: It came from the challenge we’d set ourselves: as I said, issue #10 had been left as a blank space into which the single most coherent condensation of all our ideas about Superman were destined to fit.

I wanted to do a “day in the life” story. So much of All Star had been about this threat to Superman himself, so we wanted to show him going about a typical day saving people and doing good.

Then came the title “Neverending,” which comes from the opening announcement – “Faster than a speeding bullet!...” of the Superman radio show from 1940, and seemed to me to be as good a title for a Superman story as any I could think of. It seemed to distil everything about Superman’s battle and his legend into a single word. And the story structure itself was designed to loop endlessly, so it went well with that.

 On top of that went the idea of the Last Will and Testament of Superman. A dying god writing his will seemed like an interesting structure to use. Then came the idea to fit all of human history into that single 24 hours. And then to show the development of the Superman idea through human culture from the earliest Australian Aboriginal notions of super–beings ‘descended” from the sky, through the complex philosophical system of Hinduism, onto the Renaissance concept of the ideal man, via the refinements of Nietzche and finally, down to that smiling, hopeful Joe Shuster sketch; the final embodiment of humanity’s glorious, uplifting notion of the superman become reduced to a drawing, a story for kids, a worthless comic book.

And also what that could mean in a holographic fractal universe, where the smallest part contains and reflects the whole.

Of course the next panel in that sequence is happening in the real world and would show you, the reader, sitting with the latest Superman issue in your hands, deep within the Infant Universe of Qwewq in the Fortress of Solitude, today, wherever you are. In “Neverending,” the reader becomes wrapped in a self–referential loop of story and reality. If you actually, seriously think about what is happening at this point in the story, if you meditate upon the curious entanglement of the real and the fictional, you will become enlightened in this life apparently. According to some texts.

NRAMA: On a personal level, you’ve explored all types of religions and philosophies in your work.  What is your take on religion and how it influences humanity, and the Christian take on Jesus Christ in particular?

GM: I think religion per se, is a ghastly blight on the progress of the human species towards the stars.  At the same time, it, or something like it, has been an undeniable source of comfort, meaning and hope for the majority of poor bastards who have ever lived on Earth, so I’m not trying to write it off completely. I just wish that more people were educated to a standard where they could understand what religion is and how it works. Yes, it got us through the night for a while, but ultimately, it’s one of those ugly, stupid arse–over–backwards things we could probably do without now, here on the Planet of the Apes.

Religion is to spirituality what porn is to sex. It’s what the Hollywood 3–act story template is to real creative writing.

Religion creates a structure which places “special,” privileged people (priests) between ordinary people and the divine, as if there could even be any separation: as if every moment, every thought, every action was not already an expression of dynamic ‘divinity” at work.

As I’ve said before, the solid world is just the part of heaven we’re privileged to touch and play with. You don’t need a priest or a holy man to talk to “god” on your behalf: just close your eyes and say hello. “God” is no more, no less, than the sum total of all matter, all energy, all consciousness, as experienced or conceptualized from a timeless perspective where everything ever seems to present all at once. “God” is in everything, all the time and can be found there by looking carefully. The entire universe, including the scary, evil bits, is a thought “God” is thinking, right now.

As far as I can figure it out from my own reading and my own experience of how the spiritual world works, Jesus was, as they say, way cool: a man who achieved a state of consciousness, which nowadays would get him a diagnosis of temporal lobe epilepsy (in the days of the Emperor Tiberius, he was crucified for his ideas, today he’d be laughed at, mocked or medicated).

This “holistic” mode of consciousness (which Luthor experiences briefly at the end of All Star Superman) announces itself as a heartbreaking connection, a oneness, with everything that exists...but you don’t have to be Superman to know what that feeling is like. There are a ton of meditation techniques which can take you to this place. I don’t see it as anything supernatural or religious, in fact, I think it’s nothing more than a developmental level of human consciousness, like the ability to see perspective – which children of 4 cannot do but children of 6 can.

Everyone who’s familiar with this upgrade will tell you the same thing: it feels as if “alien” or “angelic” voices – far more intelligent, coherent and kindly than the voices you normally hear in your head – are explaining the structure of time and space and your place in it. 
This identification with a timeless supermind containing and resolving within itself all possible thoughts and contradictions, is what many people, unsurprisingly, mistake for an encounter with “God.”  However, given that this totality must logically include and resolve all possible thoughts and concepts, it can also be interpreted as an actual encounter with God, so I’m not here to give anyone a hard time over interpretation.

Some people have the experience and believe the God of their particular culture has chosen them personally to have a chat with. These people may become born–again Christians, fundamentalist Muslims, devotees of Shiva, or misunderstood lunatics. Some “contactees” interpret the voices they hear erroneously as communications from an otherworldly, alien intelligence, hence the proliferation of “abduction” accounts in recent decades, which share most of their basic details with similar accounts, from earlier centuries, of people being taken away by “fairies” or “little people”.

Some, who like to describe themselves as magicians, will recognize the “alien” voice as the “Holy Guardian Angel”.

In timeless, spaceless consciousness, the singular human mind blurs into a direct experience of the totality of all consciousness that has ever been or will ever be. It feels like talking with God but I see that as an aspect of science, not religion.

As Peter Barnes wrote in “The Ruling Class”, “I know I must be God because when I pray to Him, I find I’m talking to myself.”

 Newsarama: When we spoke earlier this year, you talked about some of your ideas for future All Star stories. Are you moving forward on those, or have you started working on different ideas since then?

Grant Morrison: I haven’t had time to think about them for a while. I did have the stories worked out, and I’d like to do more, but right now it feels like Frank and Jamie and I have said all there is to be said. I don’t know if I’m ready to do All Star Superman with anyone else right now. I have other plans.

NRAMA: You end the book with Superman having uplifted humanity – having inspired them through his sacrifice and great deeds, and with the potential to pass his powers on to humanity still there. Do you plan to explore this concept further, or would you prefer to leave it open–ended?

GM: I may go back to the Son of Superman in some way. At the same time, it’s best left open–ended. I like the idea that Superman gets to have his cake and eat it; he becomes golden and mythical and lives forever as a dream. Yet, he also is able to sire a child who will carry his legacy into the future. He kicks ass in both the spiritual and the temporal spheres!

 NRAMA: The notion of transcendence – always a big part of your work. But the debate about All Star Superman is whether or not it "transcends its genre." Superman becomes transcendent within the series itself, and inspires the beings on Qwewq, but does the work aspire to more than that? Is it simply the greatest version of a Superman story, and that’s enough?

GM: That would certainly be enough if it were true.

It’s a pretty high–level attempt by some smart people to do the Superman concept some justice, is all I can say. It’s intended to work as a set of sci–fi fables that can be read by children and adults alike. I’d like to think you can go to it if you’re feeling suicidal, if you miss your dad, if you’ve had to take care of a difficult, ailing relative, if you’ve ever lost control and needed a good friend to put you straight, if you love your pets, if you wish your partner could see the real you...All Star is about how Superman deals with all of that.

It’s a big old Paul Bunyan style mythologizing of human - and in particular male - experience. In that sense I’d like to think All Star Superman does transcend genre in that it’s intended to be read on its own terms and needs absolutely no understanding of genre conventions or history around it to grasp what’s going on.

In today’s world, in today’s media climate designed to foster the fear our leaders like us to feel because it makes us easier to push around. In a world where limp, wimpy men are forced to talk tough and act ‘badass’ even though we all know they’re shitting it inside. In a world where the measure of our moral strength has come to lie in the extremity of the images we’re able to look at and stomach. In a world, I’m reliably told, that’s going to the dogs, the real mischief, the real punk rock rebellion, is a snarling, ‘fuck you’ positivity and optimism. Violent optimism in the face of all evidence to the contrary is the Alpha form of outrage these days. It really freaks people out.

I have a desire not to see my culture and my fellow human beings fall helplessly into step with a middle class media narrative that promises only planetary catastrophe, as engineered by an intrinsically evil and corrupt species which, in fact, deserves everything it gets.

Is this relentless, downbeat insistence that the future has been cancelled really the best we can come up with? Are we so fucked up we get off on terrifying our children? It’s not funny or ironic anymore and that’s why we wrote All Star Superman the way we did. Everything has changed. ‘Dark’ entertainment now looks like hysterical, adolescent, ‘Zibarro’ crap. That’s what my Final Crisis series is about too.

NRAMA (aka Tim Callahan): Continuing with the theme of transcendence: The words "ineffectual" and "surrender" are repeated throughout the book. Discuss.

GM: Discuss yourself, Callahan! I know you have the facilities and I should think it’s all rather obvious. 


NRAMA: What was the inspiration for the image of Superman in the sun at the end? (I confess this question comes as the result of much unsuccessful Googling)

GM: I didn’t have any specific reference in mind - just that one we‘ve all sort of got in our heads. I drew the figure as a sketch, intended to be reminiscent of William Blake’s cosmic figures, Russian Constructivist Soviet Socialist Worker type posters, and Leonardo’s ‘Proportions of the Human Figure‘. The position of the legs hints at the Buddhist swastika, the clockwise sun symbol. It was to me, the essence of that working class superheroic ideal I mentioned, condensed into a final image of mythic Superman, - our eternal, internal, guiding, selfless, tireless, loving superstar. The daft All Star Superman title of the comic is literalized in this last picture. It’s the ‘fearful symmetry’ of the Enlightenment project - an image of genius, toil, and our need to make things, to fashion art and artifacts, as a form of superhuman, divine imitation.

It was Superman as this fusion of Renaissance/Enlightenment ideas about Man and Cosmos, an impossible union of Blake and Newton. A Pop Art ‘Vitruvian Man‘. The inspiration for the first letter of the new future alphabet!

As you can see, we spent a lot of time thinking about all this and purifying it down to our own version of the gold. I’m glad it’s over.

NRAMA: Finally: What, above all else, would you like people to take away from All Star Superman?

GM: That we spent a lot of time thinking about this!

No. What I hope is that people take from it the unlikelihood that a piece of paper, with little ink drawings of figures, with little written words, can make you cry, can make your heart soar, can make you scared, sad, or thrilled. How mental is that?

That piece of paper is inert material, the corpse of some tree, pulped and poured, then given new meaning and new life when the real hours and real emotions that the writer and the artist, the colorist, the letter the editor translated onto the physical page, meet with the real hours and emotions of a reader, of all readers at once, across time, generations and distance.

And think about how that experience, the simple experience of interacting with a paper comic book, along with hundreds of thousands of others across time and space, is an actual doorway onto the beating heart of the imminent, timeless world of “Myth” as defined above. Not just a drawing of it but an actual doorway into timelessness and the immortal world where we are all one together.

My grief over the loss of my dad can be Superman’s grief, can trigger your own grief, for your own dad, for all our dads. The timeless grief that’s felt by Muslims and Christians and Agnostics alike. My personal moments of great and romantic love, untainted by the everyday, can become Superman’s and may resonate with your own experience of these simple human feelings.

In the one Mythic moment we’re all united, kissing our Lover for the First time, the Last time, the Only time, honoring our dear Dad under a blood red sky, against a darkening backdrop, with Mum telling us it’ll all be okay in the end.

If we were able to capture even a hint of that place and share it with our readers, that would be good enough for me.

[lovelybunny08]

Let Me Down Slowly

♡ Pairing- Jungkook X Reader

♡ Genre- Smut and Heartbreak

♡Description- Based of Alec Benjamin song "Let me down slowly". You have notice Jungkook has changed.

♡ Thank you @artofediting for editing this story for me. Seriously love you I dont know what I will do without you.😭😭 There will be a prequel to this story 😊😊 ♡

<Prequel                                                                                                 Part 2>

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It’s been four years now. In the beginning, everything was fresh and exciting. You can still recall every detail of the day your life changed entirely. You were relaxing by the Han river one day; reading a book and soaking in the last few rays of the sun. As you stretched your arms over the back of the bench you sat on, your eye caught onto his movements. There he was, digitally capturing small glimpses of the vibrant life surrounding the river. As your eyes adjusted to take him in, you nearly fell off the bench out of shock. He looked otherworldly with the glow of sun around him. Your eyes latched onto the camera, grasped by his deft fingers with skin leading up to a blue and white striped sort-sleeve. Your eyes drifted farther north only to be struck by the softest bunny smile gracing his features. You still aren’t entirely positive what motivated you to leap outside your comfort zone and approach him, but not a day has gone by where you regretted that burst of irregularity.

A montage of the following four years included regular texting, late night phone calls, and awkward first dates which eventually melded into a feeling so natural it seemed as being with him was second nature. You became an official couple after a sure year of talking and dating. Both of you had been in toxic relationships in the past and were weary to commit until enough time passed. The next landmark occurred after two years of dating. It was a late night at Jungkook’s apartment, and you mentioned how difficult it was to stay awake on the drive back to your place. Without missing a beat, he suggested that you two move in together to remedy your achy eyes, and the rest was history.

Everything was easier with him, and you slowly fell into the idea that this bliss was truly how the right relationships ought to be. You guys barely fought, you confided with each other like best friends, and to top it off, the sex was the amazing. You never had anyone in your life before that could take you to new heights like Jungkook could. Everything was perfect. . .

Too perfect.

It’s been a few months since you started noticing slight changes in him. He comes home late from work, barely talks to you, and even the idea of him touching you is far from imagination. At first, you chalked it up to exhaustion. You were well aware about the daily pressure he was under at work, and so you continued to silently be there for him in hopes of this phase passing by quickly. Even though you spent several nights curled up on your side of the bed and him on his side, you always tried to keep in mind that at least he was there.

That thought you held onto came crashing down recently when he was given a day off. Usually, these rare days were a cause for celebration between you two. You would spend the morning wrapped up in the sheets together only to later go out for a peaceful drive and wonder the cityscape. Yet, this time you simply woke up alone. You clutched your phone as you read a text from him saying to not wait up for him later because he would be spending the day with his friends. Tears threatened to pour down your cheeks, but you held them at bay.

It’s okay. You thought.

He’s just really stressed and needs to relieve some of the tension with his friends. He doesn’t always have to spend his day off with me.

You buried your sinking heart beneath these words, hoping to dull the aches and the signs. It went on like this for a couple of months, and you knew your heart couldn’t take it much longer.

One night, well past the time you would normally be asleep, you heard Jungkook come in from work. He scuffled through the kitchen at first, most likely getting something to eat as he was never home anymore when you would make dinner.

A weight on your chest pressed down further at this thought, making it harder to breathe. These past few months you barely slept or ate. You forced yourself out of your solidary bed each morning as Jungkook always left before the sun came up. While you were still meeting all your deadlines at work, your coworkers had begun to worry about you. Your sadness had brought a lackluster to your appearance, and the bags under your eyes only increased the deprivation look you were sporting most days. You were gradually withering away along with your relationship.

You lay there listening to the refrigerator doors close when you decide to finally confront the distance between you two. You were too physically and mentally weak to keep pretending. You hear him placing the dishes in the sink and padding to the bathroom in the hallway across from the bedroom you shared. As the shower begins to run, you feebly climb out of bed in your night gown and into the kitchen to finish cleaning and putting away his dishes. You turn off all the lights except for the one hanging above the kitchen table.

Soon, you hear the running water come to a stop, and Jungkook emerges from the bathroom. He runs a hand through his wet strands as he looks up to see your cowering form by the table.

“What are you doing still awake? You’re normally asleep by now.” He questions. At least you were able to fool someone that you were sleeping well. Your eyes climb from the floor to meet his. You draw in a deep breath; it was too late to back out of this now.

“I think we need to talk about whatever is going on. We—well at least I—can’t pretend any longer that things between us are okay.”

He sighs and shakes his hair before responding, “I wanted to wait until this weekend. . . but you’re right. We need to talk.” The expression on his face would be similar to those at a funeral home.

“You want to break up?” You mutter, barely holding eye contact. When a look of relief instead of surprise crosses his face, you know you had guessed correctly. You watch him shift uncomfortably, mulling over the best way to respond. You take this moment to scan his form. In your eyes stands the love of your life, still as beautiful as the day you first met. He quickly interrupts your train of thought,

“Look, I just—I think it’s for the best.”

“Do you still love me?” you wonder.

“Of course, I still love you. . .but no longer in the way you need me to.” His graze drops to the floor almost as fast as your heart does into your stomach. You felt the tears in your eyes but fought against them because in the end you knew this had to be the conclusion. Nonetheless, his words pierce your heart.

“When—” your voice came out hoarse. “When did you realize this?” You ask. Immediately a thousand thoughts flood your mind. Did he grow bored of you? Of your relationship? Did he meet someone else? Who was she? Did you know her? Is she prettier than you?

“N-No!” he’s quick to respond. As if reading your mind, he replies, “I haven’t meet anyone else if that’s what you’re wondering. I had been denying this for a while, but it finally settled in a month ago. I’m sorry I’ve waited for so long... I ah, I didn’t have the heart to say anything. I really did try to see if I could get over the feeling!”

His hands are flying around wildly at this point trying to collect an explanation for his bottled emotions.

“—but I’m sorry I can’t.”

I can’t.

The same words when you fall off your bike as a child. The same expression when you give up on understanding math in high school. The same feeling when you weren’t hired for your first job… and the last words of your four-year relationship.

The two of you sit in complete silence as you both accept the chasm in between. You don’t know what to say. You still love him, you’re still in love with him. He’s still the man you see in your future. How is one supposed to respond when the legs holding you up walk away? Your thoughts continue to stumble into chaos as you stare at old scuff marks on the wall. Unbeknownst to you, you’ve been shaking since the beginning of the conversation. You do know; however, that if you meet his once-loving doe eyes, you won’t be able to hold yourself together. With this in mind, you proceed to study the marks more intently, focusing on anything other than the cracking in your chest. He breaks the silence first,

“… I really was going to tell you this weekend. I’m planning on moving out, so you don’t have to worry about finding somewhere else to stay.”

Your eyes immediately flip upwards, “Where are you going to stay then?” You inquire.

“Oh, uh, I’ll be crashing with some friends for now. They have a spare room they said I could use until I find my own place.”

After examining his face, you can see your pain reflected in his expression as well. His shoulders sag, and you can guess that this hurts him almost as much as it hurts you. Almost. Your heart wishes that he had let you down slower, maybe giving you some time to slowly let go. You consider that if you had a few more weeks then you could adjust to his absence… but hadn’t he already done that for you? The past few months it was like living with the ghost of him. But this—this was different. This was final. Although you would always wish for one more day, you know that it’s not reality. You’ll both need to move on. Your thoughts tune back to the present in time to hear him confess,

“—I think it’s best if I leave sooner rather than later. I don’t want to—I can’t hurt you anymore. I think I’ll just grab a bag and head to my friends. I’ll come get the rest of my stuff this weekend.”

Jungkook begins to turn towards the bedroom when you rush across the living room. You grab him by the shoulder and turn him to meet him eye to eye.

“Please,” your voice broke, filling with desperation. “Please, j-just one more night. Hold me l-like you used to.”

Your fingers dig into his shoulder as a single tear slips down your cheek. His face softens as his eyes trace the journey of your tear. He raises his hand and cups your face gently, as if the slightest movement will tear you apart.

“We shouldn’t…” he mumbles. “It won’t make things any easier.”

“Please,” you cup his hand on your face. “Please, Jungkook.” More tears begin to make their arduous journey down your face. The desperation in your voice is humiliating, but at this point you only care about being in his arms one more time.

“I-If you're going to let me go, then give me this last night. Give me yourself for the last time. Love me until it’s over.” Your breath catches when his hold on your face tightens. You blink to clear away the tears as he gives a relenting sigh. Whether he was weary from fighting you or himself is a mystery that will forever remain trapped in the night. His gaze deepens as leans down to press his forehead against yours. You can feel his breath across your lips when he mutters,

“One last night. One last time because I still love you. I want you to remember this forever, but after tonight, you have to forget.”

He pulls away and slides his hand down your arm to intertwine your fingers. His hand dwarfs yours as he leads you to the bedroom. While you have been in this situation with him countless times, you cannot help but feel as if it is all new territory. It carries the air of the night the two of you first made love. The gravity weighing on you, however, floods your senses as you come to terms that this will be the last time. As soon as you cross the doorway of the bedroom, he turns you around and cups your jaw with both hands. He leans in close and walks you backwards until the backs of your knees hit the bed. He slowly lays you down onto your back, never breaking eye contact. He hovers over you, his face only centimeters from yours, gazing deeply into your eyes. You see the indecision in his eyes, so you gather the courage and close the gap. At first, he doesn’t reciprocate the kiss. You slowly separate to gauge his reaction, but before you can, he grabs your waist to pull himself into you. His lips are soft and warm, filled with unspoken emotion. Not soon after, you trace your tongue across his bottom lip, asking a silent question. He answers immediately with a soft groan, granting access into his mouth. The feeling is disguised with the emotion of your first kiss, layered with the passionate love of four years, and revealed to be the burning out of the greatest star in your life.

He places his knee between your legs, pressing himself further into you. Your hands tease at the hem of his shirt to which he eagerly removes the clothing. Your small hands slowly trace his abs, retaining the memory of how he feels in your palms. At this action, his gaze suddenly darkens. He fists the end of your night gown and pulls it off your body. You lay bare except for your lace panties. He growls lowly at the sight and kisses you deeply like never before. With the passion between the two of you, it almost feels as if he is yours again. Almost. It is sweet, but it is absent of the love and longing he used to hold for you.

His lips descend across your jaw and down your neck, sucking small bruises in all the most sensitive parts. After four years, he knows your body as well as you do. His hands slide down across your curves to the delicate lace designs of your panties. He sucks a nipple into his mouth, and bites down on your delicate nub a little harshly, but you don’t have the time to think about it because he immediately follows this action by pushing your panties aside and rubbing circles onto your clit, drawing forth an involuntary moan. You close your eyes, once again trying to memorize every touch he gives you before it’s over. He releases your nipple with a pop and instantly diverts his attention to your other breast, all while his fingers continue to toy with your clit. You moan and grip his arms in response, but at this action, he withdraws his hand from where you need him most.

His mouth works his way off your breast, kissing down your stomach until he reaches your panties. His teeth grip onto the sheer fabric, and he pulls them down all the way until he throws them on the floor. He then returns and looks you in the eye as he caresses your thighs with his gentle lips.

“Please, Jungkook,” You moan out.

Without a second to lose, he begins to eat you out like a man starved. His tongue giving soft kitten licks, treating you like a bowl of milk. You can barely handle the sensation when he inserts two fingers into you, delivering a pleasant burn from the stretch. He doesn’t give you time to adjust as he begins pumping it in and out so aggressively you know you won’t last much longer.

“God, Jungkook” you gasp, lifting your hips to meet the thrust of his fingers. Not long after, the combination between his tongue and fingers brings you to finally snap. You moan his name like a prayer as he continues to eat you out through your orgasm. He finally ceases once he feels your body relax. Sweat rolls down your chest, heaving from the rapid breaths. He crawls upward, and kisses you hard, giving you a taste of yourself. You feel him hard against your thigh, so you grab his shoulders and flip him onto his back.

“My turn” you growl, meeting his hungry eyes and licking your lips.

You kiss his lips gently and deeply, savoring the feel of the man you love beneath you. You break away quickly as it only reminds you of what’s slipping from your grasp. You instead start trailing your lips down his neck, chest, and abs. On this you take your time, committing his body to memory. You stop kissing him when you reach the hem of his pants. He quickly resolves your pause by unzipping his pants and pulling them down along with his boxers. His dick bobs against his abdomen as you lick your lips, seeing the red, angry tip from how hard he is. You wrap your hand around him and stroke him a few times before the need to taste him became too great. You lick the pre-cum collecting across the head before gradually sucking his dick into the warm cavern of your mouth. You set a fast rhythm, bobbing your head up and down, each time taking more of him into your throat. You glance up to see his head thrown back, sweat rolling down the expanse of his chest. From the curses and groans falling from his lips, you know you’re doing well. You resume your attention to pleasuring him when, growing impatient, he grabs your hair and forces you to take more. With the sudden force, you begin to gag around his dig. Jungkook looks down through heavy lids and almost finishes right then and there. With your hair through his fingers, saliva dripping down your chest, and throat closing around his cock, he can barely contain himself.

“Fuck" Jungkook moans. “I’m about to cum.”

At this, you immediately pull your mouth off his dick. You climb up his body until your hips are centered above his. You align himself with your entrance, gaze flicking up to his.

“I want you in me for the last time,” you confess as you slowly slide onto his cock. Your eyes squeezed tight, and you bit your lip to hold back a moan. You focus instead on the feel of him entering you. His hands grip your hips, creating small bruises into your sides. After adjusting to his large size, you begin to roll your hips across his, pressing your hands down on his chest for support. Your pace is too slow, and it is torturous to your dire need for him.

“Jungkook, please help" you moan. His grip on you tightens even more as he begins pounding up into you harder and faster. The pace he sets has you quivering above him shortly after. He continues ravaging you like a mad man, bringing you closer and closer to the edge. Both of your grunts and moans fill the night as you truly love each other for the last time. You push your knees tighter around his hip, so you can feel him deeper inside of you.

Jungkook grabs your neck and pulls you down for a messy kiss. You clutch onto his shoulder as he impossibly increases the speed at which he pumps into you. Jungkook feels the change of pace bringing you tighter and tighter around him until you tumble over the ledge with him quickly following after. You scratch down his chest throwing your head back as you ride out your orgasms together. You close your eyes to hold back the tears as heavy breathing fills the silence of the apartment. As your high subsided, you had remembered that as soon as this is over, he will be gone.

You lay down beside him, feeling his lips as he gently lays a kiss to your forehead. Jungkook slides out of you and pads to the bathroom coming back with a towel to clean the both of you. After throwing the towel into the laundry, he picks his clothes off the floor and pulls them back onto his body. To your surprise, he turns to lay down beside you.

Jungkook examines your tear-stained features. You hold your breath, thinking maybe he changed his mind. Maybe this night reminded him of everything you are so desperately holding onto. He centers his gaze on yours, faces inches apart, as he softly whispers,

“You stole my heart four years ago, and I want you to know that it’ll always be in your possession. I will always love you…” He presses a soft kiss to the tip of your nose.

“…but I can’t love you the way you deserve. I hope you remember us, but soon forget me. I’m sorry.” Jungkook brushes your hair behind your ear while tears stream down your cheeks. You close your eyes as he rises and walks out of room; as he walks out of your life.

You wait until you hear the click of your front door to truly let go. You wrap yourself within your sheets, breathing in his lingering scent. Tears rubbed your skin raw as you finally confronted reality. Once your breathing leveled out, you were left with a single thought. He said you would always have his heart, always a piece of him. Why couldn’t he see that when he left, he took away yours as well?

[erinhime83]

Since it’s been a day and my muse has shifted back into being interested in this story again (seriously, yesterday it did not want anything to do with WfS, which was annoying, because all I could think about Friday was potential details about the third, fourth, and fifth books. Nothing concrete – I have a plot for the third, and possibly for the fourth, but the fifth is just minor stuff right now), I figure it’s about time I do some sort of reflection on this damn thing. It’s not going to be very long (I think), because I’ve forgotten most of what I wanted to say about this because of course I have.

I had realized that I needed to do with story back when I was redoing ISoF, since this is the only story I’ve ever not won a NaNo with. Even though I didn’t finish the first version of ISoF, I still managed to get my 50,000 words in.  Here, I got something like 17,000 or 26,000, not sure. I had attempted to work on it right after I found out I was pregnant, and I got all depressed because I thought I couldn’t be creative anymore.  But in all honesty, this was actually a good thing, because the story I had was all shades of not going to work very well.  Which is sort of why I struggled with it to begin with.

I’m not sure why I didn’t think to try it sooner, other than my muse was on different stories before this. So when it somehow shifted to WfS to the point where I decided to tweek the first book a little, I instantly knew I had to attempt July camp with it.  And seriously, attempt.  Like, I got it in my head earlier that I should try to go back to how I used to be with writing, popping out book after book, and I wanted to see if I could do it in a NaNo month, since the schedule I had used for November with the girls was still in place.  And it worked!  It really worked!

RIiighht up until Covid decided to shut everything down and I absolutely panicked to the point where I couldn’t write anymore.  It didn’t help that I was plantsing the book, using the basic outline I had but also making it up as I went along.  I, like, lost steam right at the end there, so yeah.  I might have been able to continue with it if I had an idea of what I was doing.

And the same could be said about my April Camp attempt.  Sure, I had my tooth issue that made it impossible to write and then, since I had lost a couple of days, I just couldn’t continue.  Because I had no idea where I wanted to go with it (I have since figured it out potentially, and considering I do really want to get into the new Cosmic Dreamers, I may finish that one soonish). So even though I could have finished it later, I haven’t yet.

I did go into this one nervous as hell that something would happen and I wouldn’t be able to finish again.  Except this time, I did have a full outline, I wasn’t plantsing it, so I might have been able to finish it regardless.  But no. This time it went to @callistochan87.  So…I guess we gotta keep an eye on @anijeltaventry in November. Or if I want to write again.  (I feel bad being grateful that it was her and not me this time, and I feel like I might be able to since it was a crazy easy fix, she wasn’t in immense pain, and it sounds like her vision might not be completely damaged?  I hope).

In any case, its sort of funny how tweeking just a couple of thing from my original idea completely changed what I had planned, but also changed my view on this one.  Like I said, the original idea I had was garbage, and I never fully finished the outline because I couldn’t make it work very well.  I was bound and determined to bring the other Volturnians from the crossover story into this one, and once I determined it was simply not possible, everything fell into place.  I mean, just like the whole thing with Techna.  I want Techna to be a thing, but she doesn’t do much.  She’s really not useful in the story.  So when I did away from her, again, everything just fell into place.  More so than taking out the Volturnians.

And taking out the Volturnians was made possibly simply by creating Alan.  See, one of the reasons why my muse was on WfS in the first place was because I wanted to watch a couple DC films.  Death of Superman and Reign of the Supermen are my favorite, since they focus on the Lois/Superman relationship, and obviously I am all about that.  And one of my favorite aspects of the new animate universes is that they always have Hal Jordan and Barry Allen be, like, BFFs IRL before the Justice League is formed.  So I was like, I should do that.  I should create a speedster character, and then have him be BFFs with Specter.

Except originally, Specter was an alien.  That’s actually why he looks so opposite of Greg, with the pale skin, pale hair, and pale eyes.  His species was supposed to be the anti-Volturnians.  Also, the idea behind Spectrum was that they were all blind, and were able to ‘see’ thanks to the bracelets, but they could only ‘see’ basic colors.  So if something was kinda red, they’d see it as straight red, that’s sort of thing.  Oh, and Specter was supposed to be the villain. 

Yep, what was supposed to happen was that he himself was going to arrest Greg for being a Volturnian on Earth.  And then Lane would convince Roselyn to take her to Volturnas to get him back.  And Miles was supposed to end up with Roselyn’s half-brother.  Yep. 

But giving Jordan a human BFF made me decide to make him human as well, and I think it works out so much better!  I mean, I didn’t know anything about Spectrum until I was literally writing about it, but now I had this world-building thing that I can expand on for the next book, so yay!  I was actually going to make it so he was blinded by the accident, but I sort of liked the idea of him being born blind, so the suddenly seeing thing would be more of a shock.  Plus, if he had been blinded, then really, he could just always use his powers and never tell anyone he was blind.  So...yeah.

(Also, I still love their names.  Like, literally, I named Jordan what I did because Green Lantern’s last name could be a first name.  Which is why it’s Jordan Halstrom.  So I had to do the same with Alan.  Alan Barnett instead of Barry Allen.  Also, the name Speedy comes from Green Arrow’s sidekick, which I always thought was a better name for Kid Flash then, you know, Kid Flash.)

Looking at what I had originally planned and how much I ended up like Livianus, I realize that I could have had Miles end up with him instead of Jordan.  I mean, I’m sort of mad at myself for deciding to make the rainbow superhero gay, but I randomly picked him instead of Alan. Which I think makes more sense. Alan is fricking nineteen.  Miles might be only twenty-three, but I think the press would have an absolute field day with that. At least with Jordan, there’s only a three year age gap there. >.<

Let’s see, I’m not sure if there’s really anything else to mention.  I mean, I sort of had fun at the beginning of the book, because it really looks like it’s going in a completely different direction than it took. But the thing is, when I was first planning WfS, I had two storylines I could have one with.  The first one is the one I wrote, where Greg is a superhero and blah blah blah.  The second storyline involved Greg being taken back to Volturnas when he was a teenager, and returning when they invade, and reuniting with Lane then.  And then he and Lane attempting to stop the invasion and stuff.

And I guess after doing WfS, I realized I could still use some of the ideas of the second storyline. Like where Greg is taken back to Volturnas and Lane sneaks on the ship to go back with him, and her becoming one of his concubines.  Sort of. So that’s where the whole plot of WCBH came into play.  But as a result of the first act, I know what I want to do with the third yet-to-be-named book. 

And also a Specter and Speedy prequel, and I’m like, damn, am I going to have time for all these books? Yeesh.  Like, the prequel will be weird because Lane and Greg wouldn’t be in it, Miles will be mentioned, and, oh yeah, it’ll be told from a guy perspective. >.<  But I still want to do it someday!  *cries*

I did like how there was only one day where I had to play catch up, which is actually unusual for me.  I always look at my days off when I’m not feeling writing a chapter and go ‘well, it’s easy to write a twofer or a chapter and a half those days!’, like I give myself an easy out.  BUT thanks to convincing @callistochan87 to review the chapter after she read it, it motivated me to not only put a chapter out, but having it done before she got on so she could have a chance to read it.  Which I severely miss.  I was seriously sad on Friday night knowing that was the last time she was going to do it. Unless she, like, decides not to write in November.  Then I could look forward to that then.  But I doubt it.  ;_;

I think the worst thing that came out of all this was, despite not thinking about it ALL DAY YESTERDAY, my muse decided last night to give me breakthrough with my idea of rewriting WfS where Greg didn’t ghost everyone when he decided to become Ultro.  Like, I love the idea, and I was struggling to make certain parts make sense, but now I really want to do it.  And the even worst bit is the back that my breakthrough makes it really stupidly easy just to go back, rewrite the first couple of chapters, and then just edit the rest of it.  So, like, now I really, really want to do it!  And I might! Because it means I don’t have to rewrite the series and be really annoyed that I can’t have Miles and Jordan together already.  :D

So yeah, that’s where I’m at at the moment.  Fun times with the muse.  Bleh.

Still, I know I’ll look back on this book and be happy with it (except for the fact that I’d have to go back and tweek some things thanks to the rewrite of WfS).  There were some things I struggled with, some ideas that I thought were stupid but had to use to move the plot forward.  But that’s the best thing about first drafts!  I can rework it all later to make more sense.  I’m so happy that I’ve gotten this one under wraps! It only took over three years to do. XD

Thank you so much, @callistochan87, not for taking one for the team, but rather motivating me to write this and keep going with it.  I know you think you didn’t do much, but just the fact that you were reading it helped so, so much, and that’s pretty true for all my stories!  So I’ll always thank you for that.  :D

I probably missed some things I wanted to say.  I always do, it seems.  ^^;

[searchingwardrobes]

Right now over on my website, melanietillman.com , I’ve been reviewing my favorite YA lit series, focusing in particular on series that are classified as “clean reads.” (Some of us want that, okay?) The first two I had already posted here on tumblr, but today’s review is brand new.

And if you want, you can click on the link above and subscribe to my website. Then you can get content, from book reviews to outtakes from my original novels, sent right to your inbox.

So far in this series, I haven’t reviewed a faith-based series. That isn’t for lack of content, however. There are plenty of Christian YA authors. However, to be honest, there aren’t many contemporary YA novels written by Christian authors that I would recommend. Now that I think of it, I don’t really have any YA series to recommend that don’t have an element of fantasy to them. If you think about it, Ally Carter’s teenage spies and thieves are more fantasy than reality. I haven’t given this much thought before, but I think I have avoided realistic YA lit because it tends to be so incredibly depressing, even faith-based content. I get that, believe me I do. Being a teenager isn’t easy, and these books address the struggles teens go through. They definitely have their place, but in this series of reviews I’m leaning more towards reading that’s fun. Call it an escape if you want, but at the end of the day, I’m a firm believer that reading should be fun.

Having said all of that, the two faith-based YA series I will be reviewing are set in medieval times. I know, that isn’t fantasy, but the books are still a way to escape to another time and place. And because of the ancient ideas of chivalry and modesty, they are clean reads.

First up is Jody Hedlund’s Noble Knights series. There are five novels in the series: An Uncertain Choice, A Daring Sacrifice, For Love & Honor, A Loyal Heart, and A Worthy Rebel. There is also a prequel novella called The Vow, which I have not read (I’ll explain why in a bit).

These novels are written in first person going back and forth between the female lead and the male lead. I mention this right off the bat because it has come to my attention that some people don’t like to read books in first person. This floors me, to be honest, especially since first person narrative is extremely common in YA lit (Hunger Games and Percy Jackson, just to name two extremely popular ones). Ally Carter’s books are also written in first person, now that I think about it. Yet on Amazon, I noticed review after review pointing out Hedlund writing in first person and complaining about it. Maybe it's not as common in faith based lit? Maybe these books have more adult readers? At any rate, you have two characters in the Noble Knights series telling the story in their own voice. Two different fonts are used for each character. I actually liked this because it let you know right away what each character was thinking.

I actually didn’t know this was a series when I started, so I read For Love & Honor first. While it’s not confusing reading them out of order, characters do appear in multiple books, and I think you get more out of it if you read them in order. I also wouldn’t read the prequel first. It would just be depressing, in my opinion. I downloaded it on my e-reader because it was on sale for 99 cents, but then never read it. It’s about Rosemarie from book one, and since I already knew it would have an unhappy ending, I couldn’t bring myself to read it.

Speaking of the characters, that was my favorite thing about these books. Each one was so different from the last. You have traditionally handsome heroes like Sir Bennet and Cole Warwick, you have heroes who we are told aren’t obviously attractive like Sir Derrick and Sir Aldric, and then finally you have Sir Colin who uses humor and charm. The women are just as varied. There are the strong and courageous Julianna and Olivia, the intelligent Sabine, the devout Rosemarie, and then the tender-hearted Izzy. I especially loved that not all of these women were running around swinging swords and shooting arrows. I feel like our culture is so obsessed with “bad-ass women,” that we women who are more quiet and reserved wonder if we are weak. There are so many ways to be strong, however, and I nearly wept as I read about Izzy’s insecurities. She thought her tender heart made her weak, but over the course of the story, she realized what kind of strength it actually gave her. For that reason, I related to her, Rosemarie, and Sabine the most.

Since I read Sabine and Sir Bennet’s story first, I want to take a minute to sing its praises. Lady Sabine was born with a skin blemish that she hides with long gloves. If this blemish is ever discovered, she would be branded as a witch, and her chances of marriage forever dashed. Lady Sabine is also unattractive. The entire premise of the story is so rare in fiction, that it moved me deeply. The belief that birthmarks were “marks of the devil” was also a real thing in the middle ages, so it was fascinating to read about Sabine’s struggles.

Speaking of the historical setting, Hedlund portrays it accurately with its arranged marriages, rigid social structures, and faith mixed with ancient superstition. As such, there is violence in these books that sort of reminded me of Kevin Costners’s version of Robin Hood - Prince of Thieves. You know that cage thing that they hung his dad in at the beginning of the movie? The little boy being sent to the gallows? Well, that kind of stuff happens in these books too. So if you’re considering these for a teen in your life, take into account their personality. If they're incredibly tender-hearted (like Izzy!) these books may not be right for them. On the other hand, it could be a wonderful way for your teen to learn more about this historical period.

And speaking of the middle ages, next time I’ll be reviewing an author who takes more of a fairy tale approach to things. Until then, happy reading!

[perspective-series]

Exposed Perspective (10)

By: @arc852 and @hiddendreamer67

Warnings: Slight fear, and talk of erasing memories

THIS IS THE THIRD STORY IN A TRILOGY. READ “A Third Perspective” AND “Switched Perspectives” FOR THIS TO MAKE SENSE!

(Check the reblog for the links to the previous chapters and the TWO prequels!)

———————————————————————————————

 Virgil woke up the next morning, bright and early. He grabbed the bag he had packed the night before, a small bag that didn’t have much in it. He then climbed out of his room and sent one last look down at it. He sighed. He would miss his home but at least he didn’t have to leave his friends behind. 

 Speaking of, he heard a bit of shuffling in Logan’s room and waited patiently in the hall, near the wall, for Logan to come out.

“Good morning, Virgil.” Logan greeted, hiding a yawn behind one hand as he emerged, having not slept long. Logan knelt down, offering Virgil a hand. “Breakfast?”

 “Sounds great,” Virgil said, climbing onto the offered hand. 

Logan stood up, stepping carefully over the hole in the floorboards. His landlord wouldn’t thank him for that, but at this point, it felt as though trying to repair it himself would just be foolhardy. Logan made his way to the kitchen, setting Virgil down on the counter. 

“Coffee?” Logan offered, already starting up the pot.

 Virgil tilted his head, looking at the strange thing Logan was setting up. Of course, he had seen it many times before but never when it was on. He had no idea what it did or what coffee even was. “What’s coffee?”

“Oh, right.” Sometimes Logan forgot just how different Virgil was from himself. “Well, it’s a caffeinated beverage that can provide energy to the drinker. Quite addicting, but very useful for staying awake.”

 “Oh, then um, yeah, I guess I’ll try it,” Virgil said with a shrug. He could use the extra energy for the move.

Logan nodded, popping in some toast as well for a more filling breakfast. Once the pot beeped, Logan took it out and poured a mug for himself, setting it down next to Virgil so that the borrower could get some as well.

 Virgil took out his tinfoil cup and scooped a bit out. He blew on it before taking a taste. The bitterness was unlike anything he had ever tasted before and it was almost too much. But Virgil found that he almost sort of liked it? Kind of? “It’s...interesting.”

“It’s bitter, but it’s more for a specific function than necessary pleasure.” Logan lifted the mug to his lips, taking a sip of his own. The toaster dinged, and Logan put the two pieces of toast on a plate. He pulled a jar of crofter’s jam from the fridge, beginning to spread it on one slice. “Do you want jam on yours? Or another condiment?”

 “Jam’s fine,” Virgil said, taking another sip of the coffee. He was already starting to get used to is. And he could feel himself being more awake than before. Weird, but cool.

Logan put Jam on the second slice as well, taking his own piece in hand before sliding the whole plate closer to Virgil.

“I found a few possibilities for a new residency,” Logan explained, taking a bite. “I suggested to Roman via text the four of us go scope them out today.”

 Virgil nodded as he ripped a piece of toast off and took a bite. He hummed at the flavor of the jam. No wonder Logan liked it so much. 

 “...I wish we didn’t have to do this.” He said after a few moments of silence.

Logan glanced at his smaller companion, then at the apartment around them. “It certainly is not ideal.” Logan agreed quietly. “But, certainly preferable to any other outcomes.”

 “I can agree with you on that,” Virgil said, taking another bite of his food. He wanted to be as far away from Dee and any other humans that now knew about him.

“How are you feeling, by the way?” Logan asked, having never fully gotten a rundown of Virgil’s injuries. He certainly looked different, if only due to his new haircut.

 Feeling Logan’s eyes on it, he ran a hand through his hair. “I’m fine. I didn’t get much other than this haircut and a few bruises from his grip.” Virgil shivered as he remembered being wrapped in those fingers. “I think Patton got it worse. Dee...Dee seemed to take a lot of blood out of him.” Virgil couldn’t help but feel guilty about that since it should have been him that had blood drawn from.

“I see.” Logan frowned, noting this in the back of his brain. He would have to help keep an eye on Patton for any abnormal behavior and suggest methods to ease Patton’s recovery. 

As Logan pondered this, there was a knocking at the front door.

 Virgil snapped his head over to the door. “You think that’s Roman and Patton or…?” Virgil bit his lip, worried that it could be Dee or another human looking for them.

“I’m not sure.” Logan set his mug on the counter, approaching the door cautiously. He peeked through the peephole, eyes widening when he saw an unfamiliar figure. Turning back to the kitchen, Logan gave a motion for Virgil to hide.

 Virgil tensed and quickly hid behind the coffee pot, heart racing. He barely dared to breathe as he listened.

“Can I help you?” Logan asked, quite on edge and barely opening the door. With the door open, Logan could see there was actually three individuals on his doorstep. One was Thomas, who looked almost as confused as himself. The next was a suited individual with colorful hair, standing to Thomas’ right. The final individual was right in front of Logan, wearing a bright orange beanie and the same suit as the other.

“The name’s Joan, Special Victims Unit Officer.” The individual leaned closer, grinning and sticking out their hand. “Hi, how ya doin’?”

Logan slowly reached out his own hand. “Logan Sanders.”

“Oh, we know who you are.” Joan shook his hand eagerly. “You’re harboring a borrower, aren’t ‘cha?”

 Virgil tensed, shaking as the unfamiliar voice confirmed they knew he was there. And did he say something about an officer? Had Virgil been right? Had the government gotten involved and was looking for them? Virgil felt panic start to seize at his heart and mind.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Logan quickly pulled his hand back, ready to shut the door, but Thomas’ voice stopped him.

“They saw the tapes, Logan.” Thomas shifted on his feet. “I...I think they’re here to help.”

“What?” Logan frowned. 

“We’re a very special Special Victims Task unit,” Joan explained. “We deal with any crimes involving borrowers.”

“Including covering up whenever someone screws up and tries to expose them to the world.” The other suited member finally spoke up.

“Oh, that’s Talyn by the way,” Joan explained, pointing to their partner who gave a wave.

“I think we can trust them.” Thomas insisted.

“I like this guy, he gets it.” Joan nodded, jabbing a thumb at Thomas. 

“How do I know this isn’t some elaborate ruse?” Logan squinted at them.

“Well, if we really wanted to get in there, we could just wipe your memory and push right past.” Talyn got closer, standing on their tiptoes to look Logan in the eye. “But we’re trying to be civil here, so do the right thing and let us in.”

 Virgil shook as he fell to a seated position up against the pot. He didn’t care if they were here to ‘help’ or not, he didn’t want any other humans around him. But he had a feeling this encounter was going to happen whether he liked it or not.

“Wiping a memory is not actually possible,” Logan observed. Talyn frowned at him, pulling out some sort of rod and holding it in front of his face.

“Wanna bet?” They threatened.

“Okay, let’s not do that,” Joan advised, pushing the rod back down. “Not at least until we’ve found Virgil.” Joan now pushed back Logan, into the apartment. Talyn walked inside with a glare at Logan, and Thomas followed. 

“They came to my apartment first,” Thomas explained. “They asked where you guys were.”

“And why did you tell them?” Logan spoke out of the corner of his mouth, looking peeved.

“I couldn’t lie to a federal officer!” Thomas insisted. “Besides, I really think they can help us. They’re the ones that took down Remy’s video.”

“...what?” Logan looked at the agents in a new light.

“Yup, that was my doing.” Talyn looked proud of themselves. 

Joan cupped their hands around their mouth. “Virgil! Where are ya, buddy?”

 They knew his name?! Like hell Virgil was going to come out to their calling. He stayed where he was, hoping Logan or even Thomas would get to him first. Anyone but these other humans.

“...he’s in the kitchen,” Logan admitted, and immediately Talyn whirled on him.

“How dare you.” Talyn hissed. “What, you think you can help us just because you’re human?”

“I, ah, yes?” Logan took a step back, thoroughly confused. 

“It’s all part of borrowing etiquette 101,” Joan explained, pulling out a book. “It’s considered an act of disrespect to out a borrower. A borrower should be in control of when and to whom they are revealed.”

“Oh.” Logan glanced at the book, feeling both sheepish and intrigued. “May I see that?” 

“Sure thing!” Joan nodded, handing it over. Logan began to leaf through the pages.

“...I’ll go get Virgil.” Thomas offered, heading towards the kitchen. 

“No grabbing.” Talyn insisted.

“Yup, already knew that one.” Thomas nodded, giving them a brief look before leaving the room. He looked around the counter, not spotting the borrower.

“Virgil?” Thomas whispered, coming closer to it.

 “Thomas?” Virgil stood up on shaky legs, revealing himself as he walked out into the open. He had been listening the entire time and while he was slightly mad at Logan for revealing where he was, what the agents said only confused him. Were they actually here to help? It couldn’t be that though, right?

“It’s me.” Thomas smiled, laying down his palm for Virgil. “Uh, there’s some people here who want to see you but um, I think they might actually want to help?”

 Virgil bit his lip and after several moments of hesitation, he got onto the offered hand. “...Just don’t let them take me.”

“Don’t worry, I’ve got you,” Thomas promised, bringing Virgil close to his chest. He held the borrower there protectively, putting his extra hand up as well.

“Ah, there you are.” Joan’s volume decreased slightly but their tone did not, a sure sign they were trying to be easy but not condescending on Virgil’s ears. “Virgil, it is an honor to meet you. My name is agent Joan, and this is my partner agent Talyn. We are here to help you.”

 Virgil shifted more into Thomas, looking at the new humans warily. “...How?” He asked hesitantly.

“We help relocate borrowers whose identity has been compromised,” Talyn explained, coming over as well. “We wipe human’s memory of you and find a new suitable borrowing home far away from the incident for an extra layer of precaution. Of course, if you prefer there’s also a borrower base back home in Area 51 where some of our old borrower friends have built a community.”

 Virgil blinked. “There...is? H-How many times has this happened?” 

“Quite often.” Joan nodded sadly. “Modern surveillance systems aren’t exactly borrower-friendly.”

 “Oh.” Virgil looked down. The thought was sad but if these humans actually helped them… “And why do you help borrowers? Why haven’t you revealed our existence and made us pets or science experiments or whatnot...unless you do perform tests on my kind and this is some sort of ruse to get me to come back with you so you can do that to me!” Virgil’s breath became erratic as the thought sent him into a panic.

“Okay, y’know? Perfectly valid questions.” Joan put up their hands in surrender, taking a step back. “It may sound strange, but not all humans are actually evil. Talyn and I actually found borrowers ourselves when we were younger, but unlike what’s going on here we actually treat borrowers as people.”

“Wait a second.” Thomas frowned. “We treat Virgil like a person.” 

“Sure you do.” Talyn squinted suspiciously at him.

“Rule number 33.” Logan recited, still diligently reading. “Prolonged hand-holding is to be kept to a minimum, and only for as long as necessary. Lingering is considered an offense as you are limiting the borrower’s freedom through manipulation of an act of kindness.”

“...oh.” Thomas glanced down at his hands, realizing how long he had been holding Virgil. He moved over to the coffee table, setting Virgil down on it sheepishly. “I’m sorry Virgil, I didn’t mean to.”

 Virgil blinked. “No, Thomas, you’re fine.” He glanced at the book Logan was reading. It was a great rule, of course, but not at this moment. Virgil was perfectly comfortable with his human friends holding him for a while. As long as they put him down when he wanted to be put down, of course. Which they were usually good at doing. He turned towards the agents. 

 “I do know that not all humans are bad, just most of them,” Virgil explained. “Because Thomas is right. He, Logan and Roman all treat us like people.” Well, of course, not at first. But they were in a good place now. 

Talyn sat down next to the coffee table, leaning in and speaking in a hushed tone. “Are you just saying that?” They asked. “We know it can feel like you have no escape, but that’s why we’re here. You don’t have to stay captured by these humans any longer.”

“Hey, we wouldn’t do that!” Thomas exclaimed, before remembering the time Logan had indeed put them in a cage. He winced, looking at Logan. “Er, anymore that is.” 

Logan’s fingers tightened around the pages slightly, clearly overhearing their conversation.

“We can erase their memories as well,” Joan explained, coming over to sit next to Talyn. “If you think you will ever have any trouble with them, even just in the future, say the word and we zap ‘em.”

 Virgil’s eyes widened. “No!” He yelled, hating the thought. His friends had come so far, especially Logan! All that learning going down the drain would just be awful. “They’re my friends and I won’t let you erase their memories! Or take me away from them!” Virgil yelled, taking a step away from the two agents.

Talyn and Joan blinked, looking at each other briefly.

“Oh, so this is one of those cases.” Joan nodded in understanding.

“We’re not gonna take you away from your friends,” Talyn said earnestly. “We just wanted to make sure you were actually alright.”

“And, y’know, not being held against your will.” Joan shrugged. 

 “...Oh,” Virgil said, a little embarrassed by his outburst now. “Well, thank you for that.” He supposed these agents really were doing some good and helpful things for borrowers. They were even listening to him.

“Also thank you for not erasing our minds,” Thomas said feebly.

“Indeed.” Logan nodded in agreement, looking perturbed as he closed the book. The idea of losing any of his memories was quite troubling.

“Well, then, in that case, we’ll just get to work rehousing all of you,” Joan said, standing up.

“We were actually already planning on moving out to the next town over,” Logan explained.

“You were?” Thomas furrowed his eyebrows, having not been informed of this.

“...we meant to tell you.” Logan gave a half-hearted shrug.

“Where’s Patton?” Talyn asked, looking around.

 “He should be with Roman,” Virgil said, not feeling bad about revealing that information now that he knew they were here to help.

“Alright, let’s go get them then.” Talyn stood up. 

“Rule 72.” Logan recited. “All borrowers should be involved in discussions pertaining to life-changing events such as a move or a reveal, so as to give every borrower a voice.” 

“You catch on fast,” Joan noted. 

“Can I see the book?” Thomas asked, looking eager. 

“By all means.” Logan gave it to Thomas, then set his palm down for Virgil.

 Virgil got onto the hand without hesitation, once again looking up at the book Thomas now held. “Who made that?” He asked to Joan and Talyn.

“A couple of agents back in the 50’s made the original,” Joan explained as the group migrated upstairs. “But the newest copy was compiled by yours truly.”

“With yours truly helping.” Talyn piped up, looking proud.

 “Huh. Well...it seems like a really helpful book.” Virgil complimented.

“It comes in handy.” Talyn nodded.

Joan paused once they had reached the front door, knocking on it.

[swpoliticsandmemes]

Imperialism as explored by Star Wars. Sorry in advance.

I think it’s neat how ever since the good guy/American revolutionary vs bad guy/British empire set up in ANH, the Galactic Empire has been increasingly been grounded in more lucid and descript forms of violence, oppression and exploitation so that now we have one of the most monopolistic and soulless corporations (and in some ways the face of modern American capitalism), Disney, ironically owning a property that gives a competent account of what Empire looks like that doesn’t shy away from the political implications (many of which even go against Disney’s interests.)

First off we have the very shape galactic civilisation: densely populated Ecumenopolises such as Coruscant as well as other advanced and politically influential worlds like Alderaan and Chandrila are focused towards the Galactic core, while groupings of planets with decreasing levels of political and economic significant fall to further and further outskirts. It almost seems to be an intentional allusion to the core-periphery model that plays a central foundation to both Marxist and non-Marxist analyses of Imperialism. Although I’m resigned to accept it was more likely a natural tendency for the creators to put the centre of galactic civilisation in, well, the centre of the galaxy, although any look at the galactic map would possibly put this into question as most of the known space is heavily skewed to the Galactic east, and the deep core actually ends up being on one side of civilisation than in the centre. 

Either way, the nature of the relationship between the core and the periphery ends up fitting the real-world model, and this is the case for not just the Empire but for the Republic too. In Phantom it’s just a matter of seeing a contrast between the criminally-run Tattooine to the vast wealth of the capital. I should say now that two key facets of this analysis is that 1. republics, even self-professed anti-imperialist ones (America, USSR, Iran come to mind), can and do engage in imperialism, and 2. there is, at least for some people, a sense of continuity between the Republic and the Empire. This latter point sort of reflects how the early Roman Empire claimed to be a continuation of the Roman Republic, as evidenced by the style of the address for the Emperor being ‘princeps’ or first-citizen, as opposed to the later ‘dominus’ or lord. While Mon Mothma and others would see the Republic as having been destroyed by Palpatine’s coup, men like Yularen and Tarkin smoothly transitioning between high-ranking positions in both governments, would disagree, although by the time of ANH the old systems had been so firmly eroded that even Tarkin gloats that the “last vestiges of the old republic have been swept away.” Nonetheless, the Core-periphery system remains and in fact is intensified during this time, with the Core cultural elite being emphasised in Thrawn and Princess of Alderaan (and reinforced on-screen with the constant overindulgence in English accents) and with assignments for Imperial officials being considered more worthy if being closer to the core.

With the core-periphery model being the basis assumption, there are three predominant models of imperialism. One is based off international realism, which we can dismiss out of hand because it depends on multiple independent states playing a zero-sum game on an anarchic chess board, but in the GFFA, with a few exceptions like the distant Chiss, there is an assumed universal (or in this case, galactic) governance. However, we will come back to IR realism in a bit. The other two models are in direct opposition with one another, although they are not mutually exclusive as most modern theorists try to adapt aspects from both. 

One is the metrocentric view, based off the works of rabid antisemite J.A Hobson and general scumbag  V.I. Lenin. The nub of their theories was that imperialism was an extension of surplus capital from industrialised nations, as the faster rate of growth in productivity outpaced demand in the home country/metropole (or core) it became more profitable to invest in less developed countries as lower wage-bases would help maintain a high rate of return. However, so many of these places had strong religious or cultural institutions or were even based on non-monetary sharing economies, which necessitated political intervention for a capitalist incursion to work, and so financial interests prompted national governments to dominate these countries, destroy said institutions and build physical infrastructure based around hard resource extraction. 

In the sense that the Empire is centrally driven, this theory applies, although the motivation is different. As far as I’m aware, none of the major colonial empires were run by an evil cult centred around the totalitarian authority of one single individual and his acolytes (in this regard the Empire is more like Nazi Germany than anything else.) However, the Empire does clearly work on extracting value from peripheral planets to fund the opulence of the core, and with the clear distinction from the Republic where this process also happened, the Empire wields its military power to protect and accelerate that process, with Imperial Star Destroyers deploying to investigate a slave revolt on Kessel in Solo and a permanent military presence between the resource-depleted Gorse and Thorilide-rich Cynda in A New Dawn.

It’s difficult to ascribe the motivation for expansion in the Empire since it begins already controlling the Galaxy, although picking up on my earlier point about republics engaging in forms of Imperialism, we have something from Tarkin, when it’s revealed that the Republic expanded from the Core, “ravenous for new resources and not above exploiting to enhance the quality of their lives.” The book goes on to explains how competing financial interests propelled expansion, which is interesting because it possibly clues us into the instability underlying the Republic in the prequels, with unchecked financial interests causing corruption and unrest (just short of suggesting class conflict) and feelings of resentment from predominantly Outer Rim and non-human planets who join the CIS. Although the CIS was mostly just a project for those same opportunistic financial interests (such as slavers and interplanetary banking cartels), it’s interesting to note that the regular citizens genuinely thought they were fighting against the corruption of the Republic, with one Parliamentarian in The Clone Wars suggesting that unlike the Galactic Senate, the Raxus Parliament is not influenced by corporations. 

But for the faults of both the Republic and the CIS, the Empire outstripped them both; bringing back slavery, coercing entire races such as the Geonotians to work before eradicating them, and with the word ‘stripmining’ becoming a very popular word among various OT media. However, a counterargument to this being a form of metrocentric Imperialism could be the relative non-presence of financial interests during the Empire era. Indeed, while most callous resource-extraction in Africa during the late 19th century was geared towards creating products to dump into world markets, most of the resource extraction we see in the Empire is about directly supplying the military (tibanna in Thrawn, thorilide in A New Dawn) and even the presence of people profiteering seems lacking. Even the villain most clearly associated with profit-seeking capitalism, Denetrius Vidian from A New Dawn, is a member of the Emperor’s inner circle. This alignment of industrial and state interests is probably why the Empire is described as being fascist by Wookiepedia. While I don’t contest the definition, I still think we can accurately compare it with late 19th century colonial Empires, which also had large military-industrial complexes to supply, and whose alignment with private joint-stock companies such as the East India Company is not too unlike the Empire’s close ties with the Mining Guild. 

The opposing view is the pericentric model, which argues that the nature of Imperialism is more determined by local conditions, and that colonial empires preferred to rule with a light touch when necessary. The view was supported by the fact that different Imperial territories would have different arrangements. For example, Britain was content just taking a concession from Qing China and dumping Opium into its markets, while it became more direct involved with various African lands which didn’t have a relatively stable system of governance for which to work with. Meanwhile, Britain found itself entangled into occupation of Egypt after the local situation deteriorated after an anti-colonial rebellion, even under the generally anti-empire prime minister William E. Gladstone. 

I feel this model applies less to the Empire, since we’ve seen that it pursues imperialism with an almost perverse fervour, but there are examples which fit. Although with less power, the Queen of Naboo remained as an institution, and Clan Saxon collaborated with the Empire and became a pro-Imperial client regime. Meanwhile, the King of Mon Cala resisted the Empire and so was deposed, with it being implicit that had he cooperated, he could have remained as ruler. In Rebels, we see how increasing insurgency leads to greater and greater direct control by the Imperial Navy. Ultimately, however, it’s clear that the Empire, contrary to the pericentric, has a greater inclination towards greater direct rule, with Tarkin saying in ANH that more power will be handed to the regional governors. 

Finally, we return to realism, but not to investigate the Core-Periphery model any further but rather to look at another aspect of the Empire, it’s overextension. Part of this is probably to the do with the last point, its desire to control as much as possible, leading to Leia saying in ANH, “the more you tighten your grip, the more systems will slip through your fingers.” This form of realism, offensive realism, plays right into this. This theory comes from Jack Snyder’s The Myth of Empire, and it postulates that late 19th and early 20th century empires became fixated on constant expansion, to deter any incursion into their own hinterland and to break up opposing alliances. This policy, in fact, led to the opposite happening, with empires becoming too stretched thing to properly defend its hinterland, an being so aggressive as to prompt fearful opposing nations to band together to take them down. 

In the Star Wars, we can see this in the Tarkin doctrine and the Death Star. The belief that total aggression will be necessary to deter even the slightest thought of resistance leads to an ungodly amount of resources being devoted to this one superweapon, at the expense of other projects getting less than they need (as explored in Thrawn: Treason with both protagonist and antagonist feeling rather miffed by the lack of funding for their own projects). The destruction of Alderaan (among countless other cruelties and war crimes) does more to spur on the Rebellion than anything else, especially once the superweapon they spent so much of their resources on gets taken right from under them. And in a way perhaps that’s the good thing about any empire, that it sows the seeds of its own destruction half the time. 

So yeah, sorry about this ungodly and incomprehensible overanalysis of an IP for children. It ended up being way longer than I thought it would, and this was just about imperialism (empire on a grand scale, as opposed to colonialism which would be the specific practices employed by empire in a territory.) I might make another one of these if I get the time.

[kuriquinn]

How They Met [AU]

Disclaimer

Pairing: Itachi/Shisui

Summary:  The man in the waiting area is watching him, and Itachi pointedly meets his gaze. He expects the stranger to look away, embarrassed at having been caught staring, but instead, the man smiles at him, crooked and warm and only a bit apologetic.

Author’s Note: I’ve had this idea for a while and just never got around to writing it. Takes place in the Babysitter’s universe. Which I never intended to become a universe, but it took on a life of its own. Oops. (sorrynotsorry!) Anyway, it’s sort of a prequel.

Dedication: This is dedicated to @birkastan2018, whose barrage of Itachi and Shisui posts the past month or so started making me feel nostalgic. And since I haven’t been in the position to write lately, I want to give a big thank you for prompting me to produce something for the first time in a while. Thanks, luv!

Beta: None. This was basically a writing exercise and I just randomly decided to share it, so not edited. I’ll get to it. Eventually

Itachi slides into his desk late on a Tuesday morning, concentrating all his self-control on not bounding across the precinct and drowning himself in a pot of coffee. The precinct is alive with its usual controlled chaos, his fellow officers working at their desks or heading to their various patrol routes.

People normally crowd the waiting area near Itachi’s desk, but this morning there’s only one man. Tall and muscular, wearing a suit like he’d rather be wearing jeans, and reading an actual book instead of his mobile phone.

Itachi tries to think of the last time he saw that, but his partner Hoshigaki Kisame’s interrupts his musing.

“You look like shit,” he pronounces bluntly.

“Lack of sleep will do that,” he replies, returning his attention to where his partner leans against his desk.

Kisame’s pale eyes narrow, a gesture which unnerves most people who don’t know him; Itachi, though, detects concern behind it. The other man doesn’t remark on it, though. Itachi’s had more sleepless nights than just last night in the past six months—all for the same reason. Instead of asking him a useless question about it, however, the other man simply nods at Itachi’s hands.

“What’s with the nails?”

He blinks, gaze flitting to the glossy purple polish and back, before saying, “Solidarity.”

“What now?”

“Sarada painted Itaru’s nails this weekend,” Itachi explains, rubbing the palm of his hands against his eyes until he sees starbursts. Maybe it will wake him up. “Yesterday he came home from school upset because the other children made fun of him for it. It was important to show him it was perfectly alright for men to wear nail polish.”

Kisame appears bemused.

“You sure that’s a good idea?”

Itachi tenses.

“Izumi…” he begins, pausing for a breath against the automatic pain of saying her name. It’s a beat before he can continue, “Izumi and I have always encouraged Itaru to be himself and not fold to the pressure of others. It never did either of us any good, and if you have a problem with this—” Itachi brandishes his fingers warningly, “—you can take your opinion and—”

“Whoa, there, mother hen, calm down,” Kisame interrupts, mouth twitching in something like amusement. “I could not care less how you or your kid let your freak flags fly. You could show up here tomorrow in a skirt and heels and it wouldn’t make you any less terrifying.”

Itachi purses his lips, feeling his metaphorical hackles relax.

Ever since Izumi died, Itachi’s normally calm and unruffled manner has shifted into a kind of obsessive protectiveness. He hasn’t felt the like since Sasuke was a child. Itachi relaxed more about that as his brother grew older, and later when he met Sakura—who is a terrifying force in her own right. Itachi is confident she would kill a man for looking at her husband the wrong way.

But since losing Izumi, Itachi’s protectiveness over Itaru has become almost superfluous. More troubling is the fact that his formerly independent son has become reliant on it, almost reluctant to stray too far outside his comfort zone. Itachi wonders how much of that is a fear of losing another parent.

“I just meant, kids his age are little sociopaths,” his partner continues with a shrug. “They pounce on anything that’s different. Hell, I spent my childhood being made fun of because my skin was a different colour. Outright telling him to stand out won’t make his life very easy.”

“Life is rarely easy,” Itachi replies in a flat tone. “He already knows that.”

Kisame inclines his head at that, knowing what Itachi is referring to.

Izumi’s death is still all-too recent for both Itachi and his son. The past six months have been a dragging, empty struggle to figure out how to continue on with only each other. Izumi was so bright and lively in contrast to Itachi and Itaru’s quiet nature; she bound them together with her bright smiles and affection and warmth.

This past weekend while he babysat his niece, it was the first time he saw his son smile since Izumi’s death.

Izumi’s smile.

It must be protected at all costs.

“I don’t remember children being so mean,” Itachi murmurs, tiredly running a hand through his long hair.

“To be fair, do you even remember any other kids from school? The way your brother tells it, you were kind of off in your own little genius world. Not exactly tuned in to lesser mortals.”

“Since when do you believe anything my brother says?”

“Since what he’s saying fits with what I know of you,” Kisame retorts, and stands. “I’m going to grab some coffee. You look dead on your feet, and the Captain wants to see us a nine. Can’t have you passing out on me, making me look bad…”

“Of course not,” Itachi agrees.

He doesn’t thank Kisame or make any acknowledgement of the idea his partner worries about him. That would upset their dynamic. Instead, he settles back at his desk and taps his computer keyboard, preparing to log in.

Barely a minute later, he senses eyes on him, and pauses to look up.

The man in the waiting area is watching him, and Itachi pointedly meets his gaze. He expects the stranger to lower his eyes, embarrassed at being caught staring, but instead, the man smiles at him, crooked and warm and only somewhat apologetic.

“Sorry, I couldn’t help overhear your conversation,” he says, and Itachi detects a hint of an accent; not quite American, but close. “What you did for your kid, with the nail polish? It’s kind of awesome. I wish my father had done something like that for me. Maybe if he had, I’d still have been talking to him before he died.”

Itachi is not entirely sure how to respond to that.

He’s not used to people randomly starting a conversation with him; in fact, most people actively avoid it. Kisame says it’s because he has a ‘resting bitch face’, whatever that is. It usually discourages people from approaching him, but this stranger doesn’t seem at all perturbed.

Itachi studies him a little more.

Out of habit he looks at hands and hips first for signs of a weapon, noting calloused knuckles. This guy is someone who’s no stranger to fights, but there are no corresponding misshapen or badly healed facial bones—so someone who wins fights. The only thing that suggests a past injury is a scar just near his hairline, which causes the hair to grow out in a strand of white. The rest of his hair is thick and wavy and looks as if it resists any and all attempts to put it in place.

But the most arresting thing about him is his eyes.

They’re dark and warm, black but with flecks of brown that remind him of coal that could burst into flame at any moment. For some reason, Itachi’s cheeks warm just looking into them.

To cover his discomfort, he stands and approaches the man.

“I don’t think we’ve been introduced. I am Uchiha Itachi.”

“Golden boy of the precinct,” the man agrees with a smile. “I’ve heard of you. It’s nice to meet you. I’m Kagami Shisui.”

He holds his hand out, then suddenly looks embarrassed, and pulls back, dipping into a polite bow. Itachi echoes this and then considers him.

“Are you American, Kagami-san?”

“Call me Shisui,” he says instantly, and there’s a flash in his eyes there, like a long-buried wound. Itachi remains carefully blank-faced at the casual nature of the invitation on such a brief acquaintance. “And your guess isn’t that far off. Canadian—I’m from Vancouver, but I spent a good half of my life here visiting my grandparents.”

It also doesn’t escape Itachi’s notice the man hasn’t explained his reason for being here at the precinct.

“I see,” he says after a moment, and holds out a hand, the way non-Japanese greet one another. He’s not sure what prompts him to do it, but he switches to English. “In that case, perhaps this is the more preferable greeting.”

Shisui laughs—low and rich—and replies in the same language, “Much obliged.”

Strong fingers close around Itachi’s, and he expects a short, perfunctory handshake and for them to separate. But almost from the moment their skin touches, it’s as if a current of electricity surges through Itachi’s body. The hairs on the back of his neck stand at attention and something in his stomach lurches.

His eyes flick from Shisui’s face to their joined hands and back again, and Shisui’s eyes reflect his surprise back to him. That surprise turns into something else, something considering, which makes the man’s warm eyes almost smoulder now, and Itachi’s cheeks fill with more uncharacteristic heat.

What is going on?

“Uchiha! Kagami!”

Both men jump, releasing their hold on each other, and glance up as Uchiha Obito—Itachi’s cousin and the captain of the precinct—strides forward with Kisame in his wake.

“Good. You two have met. It saves me time.” He gestures at Shisui. “Kagami’s an agent for CSIS.

Canadian Security Intelligence Service, Itachi mentally translates and frowns at the newcomer, who looks sheepish.

“I was getting to that,” he murmurs under his breath, almost in an aside to Itachi.

“He will be working with you two on the serial kidnapping case,” Obito continues.

“You mean he’ll be sitting back while we do all the work and collect all the evidence, then close the case and take the credit himself,” Kisame points out.

Never one to beat around the bush, he’s glaring at the man with undisguised distrust.

Shisui makes a pacifying gesture.

“I’m just here to assist the investigation and share resources. It doesn’t matter who closes this case, as long as it happens.”

“Bullshit. I’ve heard of you, Kagami,” Kisame replies. Itachi tilts his head to one side, both surprised and not; his partner has been in the business longer than him. “They brought you in on the domestic terrorism case that the Anbu precinct got embroiled in five years ago. Shushin no Shisui, they call you. You show up on matters that interest you and then disappear like you were never there. Usually, leaving behind the prime suspect in an investigation dead and of no use to us.”

Something changes in Shisui’s face; his smile now is cold and dangerous.

“All the documentation related to those cases has been meticulously catalogued and shows no unnecessary force or action was taken,” he replies smoothly. “In fact, I could even make an argument that all of those instances were for people who would never have seen the inside of a courtroom. Their fates were…fortuitous even.”

A loaded silence follows that.

This man is dangerous.

Itachi isn’t known for being intimidated or feeling threatened by others, but his heartbeat suddenly picks up and he finds himself inexplicably breathless. Shisui meets his gaze, an unreadable glint in his eyes, and somehow, it feels like something between them just clicks.

Not wanting to dwell on whatever it is, though, Itachi quickly gets back on topic.

“So, your involvement in this investigation suggests our primary suspect is more than just a serial kidnapper.”

Shisui considers him for a moment, as if evaluating how honest he intends to be about his intentions regarding the investigation, and then gives a grim smile.

“Have you ever heard of Yakushi Kabuto?”

Both Kisame and Itachi tense in surprise.

“He was in the news a few years back,” Obito says. “We don’t hear much from Canada regarding violent crimes that become international sensations. I think the last big one was the Pickton case in 2002.”

“This one’s right up there,” Shisui says seriously. “Yakushi was born in Tochigi, but both parents died in an accident. He was put in the system, ended up being adopted by a Canadian couple—Shin and Nono Yakushi, and led a pretty good life in Vancouver. He was a genius, consistently amazing marks throughout his career, skipped two grades and was on track to enter medical school at sixteen.”

“Until it was discovered he had kidnapped several boys in the area and performed terrible experiments on them,” Itachi says, remembering the case. “Afterward, he dismembered their bodies and disposed of them in the sea.”

“And he gave you guys the slip before you could catch him,” Kisame adds. “You never found him again. That was over ten years ago.”

“He’s still on our Most Wanted list,” Shisui agrees. “We’re confident he spent most of that time up in the northern communities. But recent intel suggests he’s made it over here. A few of your kidnapping cases in the past year too closely resemble the MO for his previous victims.”

“You think he’s starting up again here,” Itachi realises.

“Yes. Between this precinct and two others, we suspect he’s operating around the Chiyoda area. I’ve been tasked with tracking this bastard down and stopping him.”

Itachi’s entire body has gone still at these words.

Chiyoda is where Itaru and Sarada attend school.

That irrational surge of violent protectiveness flares up once more, and he meets Shisui’s gaze.

“If this is the case, we welcome your help in locating this individual,” he says quietly, ignoring the grunt of surprise and irritation from his partner. “Such a monster needs to be taken off our streets immediately.”

“My thoughts exactly,” Obito says with a wintry smile. “I take it this little collaboration won’t be a problem then.”

Kisame forces a smile, one with too many teeth, his eyes remaining cold and suspicious on Shisui.

“Of course not.”

Obito nods.

“Then get to it. I want this solved as soon as possible. And Kisame—come back to my office. We need to have a conversation about how not to greet international guests.”

Kisame rolls his eyes behind his back but follows the captain; not before shooting Itachi a glare that promises words later about how quick he was to welcome Shisui onto their case.

The latter watches them both go and then turns back to Itachi. His amiable smile is back as he meets Itachi’s gaze.

“Looking forward to working with you, Detective.”

“Yes, me too,” Itachi replies, and unsure why his voice comes out in a lower murmur than he intended.

“Also, you look like you could use a cup of coffee. I found a shop two blocks away that serves much better than the sludge here. We could discuss the cases—catch each other up on what both our offices have been doing?”

Itachi’s having trouble catching his breath and doesn’t know why.

“That…would be a good idea,” he says cautiously.

Somehow, Shisui’s smile becomes wider in genuine delight.

“Excellent! I’ll let Captain Uchiha know I’m kidnapping you and meet you out front in five minutes.”

“Perhaps don’t use that particular phrasing, considering the nature of our investigation,” Itachi says faintly.

Shisui laughs, and Itachi shifts in confused discomfort at the warmth that suddenly spreads across his entire body.

“You may have a point there.” He turns away, and then pauses, nodding at Itachi’s hands. “By the way…purple is definitely your colour.”

This time, there’s no denying the flustered blush that overtakes Itachi’s cheeks.

________________________________________________________________

________________________________________________________________

And thus...the meet-cute of our favourite Sarada uncles. 

I don’t know if I’ll continue this, simply because writing a case-fic story involves a lot of planning for things to make sense. Either way, I wrote this so it could be all open-ended on its own.

Thanks for reading!

栗

[nekojitachan]

I'm absolutely late to the party, but I adored last week's armies prompt from Stuart's POV. That poor man is trying his best given the circumstances! It would be so interesting to see him try and support Abram after the Popescu nightmare, and the whole "you were an eight, some days a nine" in the 1 to 10 fucked up scale. I just love Stuart in this AU for trying so hard! And I'm sure it teared him up to see his sister's only child go through all these things

I do try to work through old prompts!!

Anyway, before I resume working on the reverse big bang fic, I decided to tackle an outstanding prompt (will keep working on these while work is so busy). Not sure this shows Abram at his most fucked up (that would be a bit later), but it does show Stuart trying to get Abram back on his feet after the Popescu nightmare. I probably will do more at a later point when Abram is a ‘proper’ Hatford family member (and more on that 8 or 9 out of 10 scale).

So… Armies snippet, prequel to the fic, deals with the whole ‘Popescu nightmare’ so references to bad things/non-con but nothing specific or graphic, and references to violence.

*******

Stuart stood to his feet when Miriam came out of Abram’sroom, her expression thoughtful and the tray in her left hand containing a half-eatensandwich and a partially empty bowl of soup. He didn’t say anything until theyreached the kitchen, where she wrapped the sandwich to put it in the fridgethen placed the dishes in the sink.

“Well?” He reached for the bottle of whisky while she beganto prepare a pot of tea. “He ate something, yeah?”

“Yes,” Miriam agreed as she frowned slightly over thealcohol but didn’t say anything, not after everything that had happened in thelast couple of weeks; he felt terrible to ask her to come with Henry fresh inthe grave, but she had a way with Abram, didn’t set off the poor kid likealmost everyone else did.

Probably because she was the closest thing to Mary that Abramhad, because she wasn’t a man.Because Abram had learned the hard way over and over just how little he couldtrust men.

Stuart’s mouth flooded with bile at the thought of what thoseRomanian bastards had done to his nephew – upon Moriyama orders – and did hisbest to wash the taste away with whisky.

Miriam made a tsk’ing sound as she rinsed the teapot outwith hot water. “He ate a little,” she clarified. “It’s a beginning, at least, andhe kept the tea.” She stepped closer to Stuart and gave his left arm a gentlesqueeze. “Things like this take time,” she assured him. “What he went through…it’s terrible and he needs to recover. The important thing is we’re here for him.”

“It shouldn’t have happened to him.” Stuart nearly slammedthe glass onto the counter before he remembered about Abram, about how hisnephew flinched at any loud noises or voices. “Dammit, he was supposed to be safe.” They’d only let him go off to theboarding school because they’d been so certain that the new identity would holdup to scrutiny, that Abram would be able to lead some sort of normal life foronce.

Then everything had blown up in their faces, with theMoriyamas arranging for Abram to be kidnapped and Henry being killed.

“Yes, he should have,” Miriam agreed. “He’s still a child,he shouldn’t have been touched by any of this.” For a moment her lovely face wasaged by grief as she had to be thinking about Henry, about the child she’dnever dreamed of burying, and then she drew in a deep, shuddering breath as herback grew ramrod straight. “But he has been his entire life, hasn’t he?”Something akin to anger made her jaw tight and voice brittle. “I loved Mary,but she should have sent him to us the day after he was born so he’d be safe.But there’s no changing the past as dearly as I would pay anything to do thatright now, so all we can do is move forward and give Abram whatever he needs torecover.” She fixed Stuart with a look that was pure determination, with that ‘you’lllisten to me or else’ which had quelled the doubters who thought that WilliamHatford had married ‘beneath’ him. “I’m not losing another child, Stu.”

“Fuck no,” Stuart said, his voice rough at the possibilityof something else happening to Abram, to him breaking down anymore than healready had. “I’d round up all the damn Cojocaru people I can find and handthem over to Ram in pretty bows if it’ll make him feel better.” The most alivehe’d seen Abram since breaking into that cesspool of an apartment in NorthTottenham was when he’d taken his nephew, bandaged and barely able to stand, tothe one warehouse in Harringay where Vasile Popescu was strung up like apresent for Abram to finish off.

It hadn’t undone what those fuckers had done to the kid andit hadn’t brought back Henry, but Abram had gotten some sleep that nightwithout waking up screaming.

Still, Miriam shook her head. “I refuse to let Ram turn intothat monster.” Once again her facetwisted with bitterness. “No, we’ll help him through this, you’ll see.” Shepoured the tea and handed him one of the mugs. “Time and patience, that’s whatit takes.”

Stuart reminded himself of those words in the following daysas he did what he could to get Abram to eat, to do something other than lie inbed, buried in blankets. He was used to his nephew being a nervous bundle ofenergy, was used to Mary, the tinyspitfire who’d never met an argument she wouldn’t wear down to the bone… ithurt to see Abram so listless, his pale eyes (no longer hidden by contacts)full of shadows and pain, his wrists wrapped in bandages and slight body hiddenby layers of clothes.

“Come on, kiddo, there’s grilled cheese,” Stuart cajoled ashe set a tray on the night stand near the bed; it looked as if Abram hadshowered at least, his hair damp and face bare of the faint stubble it hadsported that morning.

Abram was still for a moment then slowly pushed back the thickduvet and blankets which covered him as if a protective shield; it was cold inthe room due to Abram leaving the windows open – Stuart had tried to close themthe first day but had been told that Abram preferred the fresh air and breeze.

(It had stunk in the cesspool apartment, where the windowshad been boarded up to prevent any of the women from escaping (from trying tojump to their deaths).)

“I… can you get some things for me?” Abram asked, his voicequiet and raspy.

Stuart started at the question since Abram rarely spokeother than to say he wasn’t hungry. “What do you need?” he asked, aftercatching himself and almost agreeing right away. Abram pointed to a notepad onthe desk across the room.

Quick to snatch up the pad, somehow Stuart wasn’t surprisedto notice that the top two items were ‘hair dye, dark’ and ‘contacts, dark’; Abramhad always been so careful about hiding his natural hair and eye color to helpkeep up with his ‘Kyle Morrison’ identity at the boarding school, to preventthe Moriyamas from realizing that he’d fled to the family for sanctuary, but…. “Why?”Stuart asked. “They know you’re here now.”

Abram was quiet as he sat up on the bed, hunched over andwith his hands folded on his lap; the bruises had faded from his face and thebandages were gone from his wrists, which left exposed the healing scar tissue.He stared at his hands for a couple of seconds before he looked up at Stuart,who found himself flinching at the sight of so much pain in those pale eyes,flinching from the fact that he’d failed to protect Mary’s only child, the boywho’d come to him for protection months ago and who’d he let down.

“Can you get me them or what?” Abram asked, his voice evenraspier than before.

Stuart let out a shaky breath as he ran his hand through hishair and read the rest of the list – a laptop and some books on foreignlanguages and mathematics.  “Eat your lunchand I’ll get everything,” he promised, and felt something twist inside of himwhen a hint of a smile tipped the corners of Abram’s lips, the bottom one stillbearing a slight scab on the left side.

He stood there watching while Abram fumbled for the plateand picked up a slice of grilled cheese sandwich then slowly ate it as if reacquaintinghimself with the whole ‘food’ process. After half of the sandwich was gone,Stuart reached for his phone and started texting the list to Davis. “Why thebooks?” He figured his nephew could use the laptop as a diversion, but therewere more entertaining topics than foreign languages and numbers.

Abram was quiet as he finished the sandwich then reached forthe bowl of leek soup. “Uhm… it gives me something to do, learning that stuff.”He had a spoonful then shrugged. “And I’m good at it.” He glanced up at Stuartthrough the thick fringe of his hair (the red of his roots stark against thedyed brown), his gaze intent. “I can help the family by translating and stuff.”

Fuck. Stuart set his phone on the desk and crossed his armsover his chest. “You’re supposed to be in school, Ram.” He was supposed to beworking on his A-levels, dammit, on figuring out what he wanted to do with hislife – something other than the family business. Mary hadn’t wanted himinvolved in it, dammit.

But she was the one to marry Nathan Wesninski, he couldn’thelp but think, to marry the fucking Butcher of Baltimore who’d traded theironly child to the damn Moriyamas like a piece of meat, was the one who’d raisedAbram on the run so he had no fucking clue how to be ‘normal’.

The one time he was given a shot at normalcy? Stuart wipedat his face and put an abrupt stop to that thought.

Abram seemed to guess his train of thought, though, judgingfrom the sardonic smile on his face. “But I’m not, and don’t think it’s a goodidea for me to go back there, considering the mess the Popescu cousins left.”Hatred shaded his voice when he mentioned those pricks. “What else is there forme to do?”

Something twisted in Stuart’s chest at that plaintivequestion. “Anything, kiddo, you know the family will support you, will-“

“I don’t want thefamily’s support,” Abram snapped with the first bit of heat he’d shown since he’dtaken Vasile Popescu apart with several knives and a wealth of pain-drivenrage. “I know how to support myself,” he continued as his pale blue eyesflashed with ire and his chin jutted out with determination, so much like Marywhenever something set her off. “If I left here today, I could pickpocketenough money in a day to rent a room for a week, then figure out how to reach oneof the remaining stashes we have in Europe. I could do it.”

It was as much a threat as a statement, Stuart realized,well familiar with Mary’s moods – and despite those eyes and that hair, withthe shape of that face… Abram was Mary’schild, was a Hatford. “I know you can, kiddo, but we both know that once youleave here that the Moriyamas will be after you.” That seemed to take some ofthe piss out of the kid, whose shoulders slumped as he set the bowl of soupaside. “So let’s work together, okay? You don’t run off and… yeah, we can findsome translating stuff for you to do.” Fuck, Will better not kill him foragreeing to that, but if it got Abram out of bed and kept the kid out oftrouble, what could go wrong?

The faint smile was back on Abram’s face as he nodded inagreement. “Okay. I was doing really well with Russian, and I’d… I’d startedJapanese on my own,” he admitted with a faint blush. “If I don’t have to worryabout stuff like literature and history, I can learn even faster.”

“Promise me you’ll think about going back to school, kiddo,”Stuart asked as he picked up his phone again. “And finish your soup.”

“All right.” Abram leaned back against the pillows as he grabbedthe bowl of soup, a spot of color on his cheeks as he focused on eating; Stuartmade sure he had more than a few spoonfuls before he left, aware that hisnephew didn’t like it when people ‘hovered’ around him.

Will wasn’t happy about the deal, much preferring that Abramresumed his studies (was out of danger), but he wasn’t there to see the kidwithdraw more and more from people each day, was he. “I’ll assign a couple ofpeople to watch over him and keep him out danger,” Stuart assured his brother. “It’sjust translating, he’ll be fine.”

“He’s Mary’schild, those are famous last words,” Will scoffed. “Dammit, Stu… he’s been hurtenough.”

“And what’s to say they won’t find him again if we stash himin an even more posh boarding school, eh?” Stuart asked through gritted teethas he poured himself a large glass of whisky. “That’s if he doesn’t run awayfirst – like you said, he’s Mary’s child all right.” And she wouldn’t put upthis shit, would she? “Which is why we give him something to do, have Cal and Rogerand Mick watch over him with orders to blow the brains out of anyone who daresto get within two meters of him who isn’t family, and hope he decides it’sboring enough that maybe school wasn’t a bad idea after all.”

Will was quiet as he thought it over. “Two meters?”

“Don’t want to seem too excessive,” Stuart drawled, whichearned a faint chuckle from his brother, one of the few he’d heard since Henry’sdeath.

Besides, Abram had proven that he wasn’t too bad at lookingafter himself, after what he’d done to the Popescu cousins. Stuart rememberedthe mess in that North Tottenham apartment and at the warehouse then shivered alittle.

“You’ll take care of everything?”

“Yeah,” he assured his brother. “It shouldn’t be toodifficult, just setting the kid up to play with documents, right?”

“Famous last words,” Will repeated before wishing him a goodnight.

Stuart huffed at that before he had a drink of whisky; whatcould go wrong with having Abram join the family business?

********

[0poole]

Harry Potter!

Finished rewatching all of the movies. I must confess, I am a movie plebian. I haven’t read any of the books yet. Call me when the solar flare that destroys and erases all electronics and data finally comes. I’ll probably be reading it then. Probably.

Anyways, I love what I’ve experienced of the franchise so far regardless. The whole story is so fantastical and fun, interspersed with pretty real dangers that come about through magic. That, I think, is the one thing all kinds of fiction should adhere to: If your world has weird logic, the conflict should be somehow based in that weird logic, instead of being somehow parallel to something more normal/real. That’s probably why people hate the Star Wars prequels; too much politics, not enough lightsabers. 

Seriously, though. Practically all things derived from Harry Potter are great. The movies, the music, ESPECIALLY the video games (or the first three, to be exact.) Also, the one perk of living in Florida is being able to go to the theme park. It’s nice and all seeing a made up setting presented to you on a screen, but to actually be there, walking around the world? It’s nuts. Even the Fantastic Beast series isn’t perfect, but still very alright at worst. I’m really just going to have to piece together my thoughts to organize them all.

The Movies:

They say dumbing down an experience and presenting it to an audience in a neat little package is a bad thing, but really... The movies are extremely good. I do prefer the style of the first two, where everything seemed more light and charming. Of course, it was about the third movie when Harry realized that the world wasn’t as bright and shiny as the first two years led him to believe, so it’s fair his take on things would be altered. I just wish it wasn’t so consistently, you know... dark blue and cloudy. I mean, I get that it’s England and all, but it’s fantasy.

Either way, I guess I’ll have to put all of the emotions that I probably would’ve experienced anyway if I read the books first here. The absolute best part about the series is the characters. I’ve already gushed about how Hagrid is the absolute most wholesome character in all of fiction. Another seriously good one is Mrs. McGonagall, who comes off as the serious, “do your homework!” type at the beginning, but by the end becomes a super charming and genuine person. In the last movie, her line “I’ve always wanted to use that spell!” Is so cute. I mean, you really can’t name a non-charming character in the whole series. The entire Wealsey family is insanely lovable. The Malfoys are supreme assholes at the beginning, but seem to slowly turn for the better as things get super dark. 

Obviously the major deaths are so major because of how much you loved the characters. Dumbledore was definitely the type to realize when he must die, but seeing the serious amount of respect people had for him it just makes you choke up. Dobby’s death destroys anyone with a heart, because he died swinging. Snape as a whole is such an amazing and fun character to just watch exist, despite being so dark and brooding all the time. I’m sure his death the first time around was sort of confusing, until we got to see his memories, at whichpoint you’d be dried up in your seat due to dehydration. I wasn’t exactly emotionally mature when I first saw it so I have no major memory of how I felt, although I definitely feel it now. Considering how pure the Weasley family was, Fred’s death was also super heartbreaking, mainly because the twins were nothing but joy even in the worst of times. Even the brief cut-away to Lupin’s body got you. And, that’s only in the Deathly Hallows movies... What about Sirius? Hell, even seeing Hagrid caring so much for Aragog makes you feel bad. It’s a serious testament to how good these characters are. 

The music has become so impossibly iconic too. That’s what you get when you get John Williams. I’ll tell ya, I couldn’t sing you any non-soundtrack song from the past few years of movies I watched. Sure, the music did them good I guess, but they never felt like actual songs you wanted to listen to. If you played anyone the soundtracks to the first two movies, they could identify what they’re from in the first two notes minimum. It’s so great. I’d kill to have movies do this again. I mean, you can always go for more good music. 

The Games:

The year is, I dunno... any year before like 2010. A kid’s movie comes out, and BANG there’s a game for it. “Oh, I like the movie. Maybe I’ll like the game?” No. No you won’t. That’s not how it works. If you’re lucky you’ll have some nostalgic memories from it, and hell maybe that’s the reason why I think the Harry Potter games are so damn GOOD. 

Seriously, how did this happen? The games (or, as I said, mainly the first three and that Quidditch one) are so fun on their own, regardless of the movies. I have fond memories of the first, but the Chamber of Secrets on PC is where most of my love lies. God, I’ve been listening to the music the whole time while writing this and it’s so perfectly ingrained into my mind. Like the movie, the themes are so wild and singable. Even the fucking GBA game planted its seed into my memory, despite me only getting like 10% of the way through it. It had its own soundtrack apart from the PC games too, and didn’t even try to recreate the music from them. They literally wrote new music for their shitty cashgrab game. It’s so good.

Plus, the games seem to include stuff that wasn’t even hinted at in the movies. Remember when Harry used Spongify to bounce up to different parts of the castle in the movies? Or used Skurge to remove some stray ghostly ectoplasm? No. That’s only in the games. More importantly, can we talk about Quidditch? The game, but also as a whole?

Harry Potter really made me realize that I LOVE fictional sports. Like what I said with the conflict of a fictional story, having a sport built upon the weird logic of a world is just as, if not more, interesting. Even though the rules of Quidditch are absolute BS (seems like nothing but the Snitch matters) just watching it is so fun and interesting. You’d think that brooms would exclusively be transport, but OF COURSE they’d use them for sport at some point. Toss in a few magical balls, and boom--- you’ve got something some wizards would love to watch. The verticality of the field is easily what makes it so much cooler, since it would obviously require so much more space, and to any unaware observer, just seeing the field would show that nothing normal is played there. If they ever release a movie that’s just another generic sports movie with all the expected twists and turns, except the sport in question is Quidditch, I’d watch the shit out of that.

In the meantime, we have a Qudditch video game. Again, another original soundtrack, and apparently an anthem for each world team? God, really? You did all that? Anyway, from what I remember, the game isn’t too hard, but I’ll have to find it again and try to shoot for the big leagues to see if they step it up. About the world teams, though: they’re the absolute best part. You play basically college-level Qudditch against the houses for a while, but then you see how big the game actually is around the world, not only being able to play as a worldly team, but in a worldly stadium as well. Someone had to design a stadium, style, animations... for each team. That’s nuts. 

So much effort was put into the first few Harry Potter games, it’s shocking. Sucks that, as far as I remember, they basically slowly turned into wizard FPSs after that. I kind of remember liking the fourth one a bit, but I’ll need to find it again. I lost that stupid little disc holder thing with all the nostalgia-filled games I loved on it. The day I find it is going to be one hell of a day.

The Wizarding World:

The curse of being so damn amazing is people swarming to it and ruining the experience just by overcrowding. Either way, the place was actually amazing. I’m a sucker for any real-life place that tries to mimic a very fantastical setting. That’s really the reason why I prefer Universal as a whole to Disney, since it feels much more like you’re stepping into a different world. Kind of helps to distract you from the BS prices and tourist pandering. 

I mean, There’s not much to say apart from it looking cool. The rides are good, I guess. It’s weird, when we got there my mom was like “We HAVE to try Butterbeer” and, to be honest, I’m struggling to think of an actual drink more disgusting sounding than “Butterbeer” that isn’t just insect guts or something. I’ve never had the slightest inclination to try normal beer at any point, and I can sure as hell say that suggesting that someone putting butter in it makes it so much worse. I don’t know why, butter and beer just feel like they shouldn’t go together. Hell, maybe they don’t even use butter. I know at Universal, at least, it’s not actual beer, since kids would surely want to try it, but the concept just feels really disgusting.

That rant aside, here’s the valuable knowledge: I’d have to say that I’d be a Hufflepuff. In my more Incel-ular days I thought I’d be a Ravenclaw, since they smart and all, but really I feel more of a Hufflepuff. That’s not even decided by a web quiz. I just think that I’d chose to be a background character above all else. I pretty much am, anyway. Not that that’s bad, I’m just, you know... in the background. Plus, I’m assuming they’re the more artsy of the four houses. Really, I don’t know exactly what it stands for. “Talent?” What the hell is that supposed to mean? 

[theguardiansseries]

From the Beginning Chapter 9

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Summary: Danny Fenton was a simple, sixteen-year-old teenager who loved fast food, video games, and getting a B on surprise pop quizzes. He’s also the half-ghost teenage hero Danny Phantom who defends Amity Park from ghost attacks on a daily basis. Somehow, the ghost attacks make a lot more sense than crushes, friendships, and falling in love with someone he is definitely not supposed to be falling in love with. It was a lot easier to separate Phantom and Fenton before, but now it’s getting harder the more he learns about himself. Just who was he? The dorky son of scientists who loved the stars or the hero that protected the town. He’s starting to feel like he won’t like the answer. (Iambic Prose) (Prequel to Guardians and Partial Show Rewrite)

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                                                       Chapter Eight

“I can feel your rage from here, Danny,” Jazz, as usual, was sounding annoyingly calm as she sorted out piles of wrinkled clothes into neatly folded, color coded piles. Danny had been fighting the urge for the past hour to kick them over. “Having to clean the attic isn’t that bad.”

“Speak for yourself. We’ve already taken out five trash bags full of junk and trash and I’m pretty sure some of it was glowing.” Danny kicked his foot out at one of the boxes he had been sorting through, pleased when there was the sound of something inside breaking. He didn’t worry much about it being important - if it was in the attic, it was either useless or too old to function. “I think I’d rather be grounded for missing curfew.”

“From their perspective, it seems grounding is a punishment that has yet to work on you since you always have to sneak out for more ghost fighting.” Jazz held up a wrinkled, orange dress that looked like it had come straight from one of his parents’ old eighties movies. Jazz seemed to be trying to decide what pile to put in it. “Cleaning the attic, however, is a punishment that works on everyone.”

“Yeah, well, you don’t even have to be here.” Danny grabbed their most recent trash bag, holding it open and giving it a little shake to get Jazz’s attention. Once she looked over, Danny opened it wider, nodding at the dress that was still being held up. “You could have just told them you came out before curfew to drag me back in.”

“Hey, big sisters are supposed to watch out for their stupid little brothers.” Jazz wadded up the dress into a ball and threw it at the trash bag, nailing it right in the center. Danny had to work at not laughing when Jazz threw her arms up with a cheer. “Besides, this isn’t so bad.”

“Of course you think it isn’t that bad. You organize stuff for fun,” Danny laughed, dropping the bag and going back to moving the boxes around. “You know, this is really Technus’ fault. We should do something to get back at him. I mean, who honestly wants to take over the world? That’s so much work! My sleep schedule is suffering here, you know!”

“I have a feeling some of that suffering comes from your constant late nights that have nothing to do with ghosts.” Did Jazz really have to be so mean to him when he was already suffering?

“I beat that game fair and square and the sleepless nights were worth it. Can we get back to the real subject, here? I mean- We have to do something. He keeps trying to take over the world!”

“I don’t think there’s much you can do to get back at a ghost like Technus, Danny.” Jazz went back to her clothes folding, humming and cooing at whatever she was finding. Danny decided to just focus on his own task - or at least try to. “I wonder why Mom stopped wearing all of these. Some of these dresses are cute!”

“When was the last time you saw Mom outside of a hazmat suit or lab coat?” Danny counted out five seconds of silence before he heard Jazz make that irritated little humming noise that proved he was right, but she didn’t want to admit to it. “Face the facts, Jazz, everything in here is either useless or some leftover experiment.”

“Do you think forcing Technus to work at a call help center for the day would be enough of a punishment?” Jazz sounded as if she was honestly considering it, Danny stifling his laughter as he pulled over a decaying box that was messily taped and started going through it. “Maybe we should consider getting things together to donate them.”

“Pretty sure that’d be a health hazard considering where we live. You know, all that radiation.” Digging through the book, Danny found himself mildly curious when he saw it seemed to all date back to his parents’ college years. “Hey, think there are any embarrassing college photos in here?”

“They would have to have the ability to feel embarrassment in order for their college photos to be embarrassing.” Jazz was vicious when she wasn’t trying to ‘be the adult.’ Sometimes, Danny loved his sister. “Alright, move over. Let’s see what we can find.”

“You’re just as nosy as I am.” Laughing and sitting down, Danny upended the box, photo albums, textbooks, and a million other little things scattering across the wooden floors. Danny wouldn’t be surprised if the floor broke from how much was in that box.

“How heavy was that box?” Jazz dropped down to sit beside Danny, stacking the various textbooks and albums into separate piles.

“Dunno, the weight of regret in here probably added a few pounds, though.” Grinning at Jazz’s little snort of laughter, Danny picked out the newspapers articles that were ragged and faded at the edges. Some of them still seemed in pretty good shape since the picture of his parents and Vlad was still crisp and clear in the one he was looking at. Wait.

Carefully smoothing out the article that looked as if it had been cut out from a school newspaper, Danny glanced over the words quickly. It was a piece on the new ghost hunting club that had been formed by Maddie Walker, Jack Fenton, and Vlad Masters. The three were standing in front of a table in what looked like a science lab, the picture in black and white. All three were wearing lab coats and were… smiling.

Danny knew that Vlad had been changed into a half ghost due to an accident that happened when he was a college student alongside with his parents, but he supposed he hadn’t realized they were really friends. Maddie was smiling and looking like a proper scientist while Jack and Vlad had their arms around each other’s shoulders and were beaming.

“Is that… Vlad?” Jazz leaned against Danny’s shoulder, Danny tilting the paper so Jazz could see what he couldn’t believe. “They look happy.”

“I mean… I knew they were friends, but I guess I never really believed it, you know? I mean, he’s always trying to kill Dad and marry Mom and stuff!”

“Evil is never really born, Danny.” Jazz took the clipping from him carefully, studying it with a calm, almost blank expression. “What really happened between the three of them? I mean, they don’t know Vlad is half-ghost, right?”

“No, they don’t. That’s how I won our first fight at the reunion, I threatened to expose us both.” Just the thought of exposing himself to his parents terrified him. It wasn’t a surprise that Vlad, who had been hiding the secret for twenty years, felt even worse about it. “I think he said something about how they abandoned him?”

“I can’t believe that.” Really? Their parents weren’t the most conscious of people, sometimes. “Look at some of these photo albums.”

“What about them?” Danny jolted as one was dropped in his lap, staring at it before sighing and opening it to a random page. He almost wished he hadn’t. “Oh.”

Every picture had some mix of their parents and Vlad, all of them looking happy and like they were having the time of their lives. There was one picture, however, that made him feel as if ice had been poured down his shirt.

The picture was warped a little at the edges, but the bottom corner had part of Maddie’s grinning, laughing face. The cause of her laughter was the center of the picture where Jack and Vlad were curled up on a picnic blanket under a tree, textbooks and notebooks scattered around them as they slept curled up to each other.

It was almost a perfect copy for a picture Sam had of him and Tucker after they had fallen asleep near each other.

“They were like us.” The words were quiet, but the realization was deafening. “Mom and Dad and Vlad? They were like me, Sam, and Tuck.” Right down to the fact that Sam had been the cause of his ghost powers, in a way.

“That doesn’t mean the same thing will happen to you.” Jazz was quick to go into her reassuring parent voice, Danny almost laughing at the quick change.

“I wasn’t thinking that it would.” No, it was more the fact that now he understood. “Something had to have happened so that they never visited him in the hospital.” 

Because if they were that close, they wouldn’t have left without an act from God or something equally as worse. Danny hadn’t ended up in the hospital, but if he had, he was certain that Sam and Tucker would have been curled up on either side of his hospital bed with him.

“What did happen though?” Jazz shook her head, looking frustrated that this was a puzzle she couldn’t figure out. “I mean, why didn’t they show up?”

“I don’t know, but Vlad makes a lot more sense.” It made perfect sense. Danny had never understood Vlad, but now he did perfectly. If Tucker and Sam hadn’t been there after he had become Phantom… And then if he was still crushing on Sam and Tucker ended up getting together with her while he suffered through ghost powers alone? Vlad made a hell of a lot more sense.

“Hey, uh, Jazz.” Danny closed the album, giving Jazz his best sad eyes. “So, you know you’re my favorite sister in the whole wide world, and that I really love you-”

“Don’t bother,” Jazz said, standing up with a dramatic, heavy sigh that Danny had stolen from her years ago. “Go on ahead, then. I’ll finish up here.” Letting his powers wash over him, Danny blinked away a few spots of light as he floated into the air, clutching onto the photo album.

“You really are the best big sister. You know that, right?” Because this all had been a lot harder when he didn’t have Jazz by his side. Shit. He’d have to admit Ghostwriter was right about the whole fighting alongside your sibling thing next time he saw him. “I just… I think he needs someone to talk to who actually gets what he’s going through.”

“Someone who understands and who he’ll listen to,” Jazz nodded, pulling Danny over into a, thankfully, brief hug. “Be safe.”

“I’ll be back before you know it.” Ghostwriter had been right those few weeks ago in the library. He did fondly believe in second chances.

                                                            ::

“Oh, jeez… Have you never heard of a spring cleaning?” Danny had gone through the Ghost Zone to get to Vlad’s lab, but he was starting to regret it considering what a wreck the place was. It looked like the Fenton lab during the whole Pariah Dark mess. Actually, Danny was almost sure that this was worse.

“Right. Focus, Fenton.” Danny took a breath, floating through the lab. It was bigger than their own, but it was also so much creepier when the lights were off, and the only light source was the ghost portal behind him. The fact there were thick power cables and glowing substances in the distance did not help.

“Keep calm. You’re a Fenton and half-ghost. You’re fine. You’re not allowed to be scared about this.” It was bad enough that his friends still mocked him for being so scared of horror movies. “Just… gotta find Vlad.”

Besides the hum of the portal and electricity through the cords, it was rather quiet, though. It was possible Vlad was at one of his businesses, since he was technically CEO of a lot of different places. Hard to remember, though, when he was so petty over some things.

Jeez, what was Vlad even working on? The whole place was a mess of torn apart machinery and wires and Danny would have thought some monster had torn the lab apart if it wasn’t for the precision of where everything was placed. The weirdest part, though, were the large vats around the room - except they weren’t quite vats. A closer look made Danny think of those sensory deprivation tubs, but honestly, they looked like those body jars in every sci-fi movie ever.

“Whatever you’re doing must be big,” Danny muttered, bending over some exposed wires. He wasn’t exactly a science genius, but he knew enough to know that didn’t look quite right. Prodding it with his foot, Danny startled as a wall of transparent pink was separating him from the sudden arc of static that looked more like lightning. “Uh, heh, hey, Vlad. Um, thanks for the save, there.”

Vlad’s shield flickered out and Danny looked to where Vlad was lurking in the shadows like the vampire he claimed he wasn’t. It was creepy. “Daniel… What are you doing here.” It wasn’t much of a question, and it wasn’t until after he asked that Danny realized Vlad had just kept him from getting hurt.

“Oh, uh, well, I actually kind of wanted to talk to you about something, I guess.” Danny dug his fingers into the edges of the photo album, taking a steady breath. Vlad was talking before he could work up the courage to continue, though.

“Whatever inane problem of the week you’ve managed to wrap yourself up in, I want nothing to do with it. Your misplaced blame can leave, as well, since my plans have no concern towards you.” Ah, right… Vlad had a more pretentious way of talking than even Ghostwriter.

“Oh, no, I, uh, I didn’t want to fight or argue or blame you for anything. It’s actually sort of good news, I guess?” Danny tried for a smile, hoping Vlad was in a good enough mood to hear him out.

“Leave, Daniel.” Vlad’s order was more of a hissing snarl, Danny trying not to show his flinch. While there were a few times where he saw Vlad wanting to get better, there were moments like this where the other man felt… dangerous. “You’ve made it quite clear that you have no business with me.”

“Well, not business, no.” Right. Phantom. Cocky hero. He could do that. “Come on, Fruitloop, I’m trying not to start a fight, this time. At least hear me out before you go all doom and gloom mad scientist, here.”

Instead of Vlad throwing back with his own sass, Danny heard a low, menacing growl. Before he could figure out what the hell horror movie monster was about to kill him, he grunted as a sudden force slammed into him, the photo album dropping out of his hands as he scrambled to stop whatever was pushing at him. 

When he righted himself and grabbed at his power to form an ectoblast, Danny could only blink as he saw that he was back in the Ghost Zone, Vlad’s ghost portal gone from in front of him. It took a long moment for Danny to realize that he had just been shoved out of Vlad’s lab before the man had shut down his portal. It was the same thing as pushing him out the door and then slamming it shut in his face.

“Right. Not a good day for talking, then.” He had lost the album, too. He had been planning to use it to show how close Vlad and his parents had been, though, so maybe Vlad would find it and realize it on his own. It could even end up jogging some happy memories, so this was for the best, kind of! “Right. Okay.”

Trying to gather his thoughts, Danny could only stare at where the portal had been because that really had been weird. Vlad was always kind of a douche, but he had never been so aggressive before. Loud, and forceful, and not afraid to get what he wanted, but Vlad had never been outright aggressive like… a ghost. 

As he flew back home, Danny couldn’t help but have a bad feeling about whatever it was Vlad was planning next.

[afoolsingenuity]

Shift Series: Bearly Married & Trust the Wolf // I Started Nervous And Ended Wanting More

So… there’s an author I had on my radar whose books I was dead excited for… but was also hella nervous about I feel like I got to know Zoe pretty well back in her blogging days so when she announced she’d disappeared in the blogosphere to write a book I was excited. And then when she emailed over a copy of them I suddenly got all kinds of nervous because what I about if I didn’t like it? Can there be anything worse than trying to break that news to someone? And then it was agreed that if I didn’t like it I’d read and we’d never speak of it again. I’ve probably got her all twisted about it actually because I got these books ages ago and I’ve said no words to her… well, these are all my thoughts. Good and bad. I am not going to avoid any negatives but I am so totally invested in reading the next book in the series so you know it’s not all bad.

Bearly Married (Shift #0.5) – Zoe Ashwood

Source: Author/Newsletter Genre: Paranormal romance My Rating:

Love is a great reason to marry someone, but so is desperation.

Alexandre Thibault needs to marry an heiress: his clan’s finances are decimated, and his cousin is challenging him for leadership. He has even found the perfect woman—a pure-blood bear shifter with a hefty dowry—though he never expected the attraction between them.

Christine Bergeron will do anything to escape her family home, though exchanging the city for the Canadian wilderness isn’t as easy as she’d imagined. Especially when she’s in danger of losing her heart to a man who might never love her back.

But as enemies threaten their family, Alexandre and Christine will risk everything to keep their safe haven.

Bearly Married is a prequel novella and it was released as a freebie for joining her newsletter but she sent a copy across in case I hadn’t grabbed it already. It was such an easy novella to read and whilst it had that annoying problem of leaving me wanting more it was in no way unsatisfying as a novella. It was a great introduction to the characters of Alexandre and Christine who play a more significant role in Trust the Wolf (although you have to wait for them so patience is a virtue).

This novella was the first time I’d read any of Zoe’s writing and like I said at the start, I was all kinds of nervous but I want in with an open mind and the writing style I liked. I didn’t instantly love either Alexandre or Christine. I was trying to figure out their world and everything which was happening and so whilst that was happening I wasn’t certain what to think of them. Especially as they come together in some weird archaic arranged marriage. But as I began to figure out their world and how things worked in this shifter realm I began to like them. Especially as you caught glimpses of how Christine is badass and will not take things lying down when her new husband she barely knows tries to stick in a role without any consultation and expects her to be happy with it. And when Alexandre accepts her push back without blinking an eye and actually praises her for it I figured I was going to like these guys.

They were a cute couple who had some crazy stuff going on considering the shortness of this novella. I lot of story was packed within its pages. I think my biggest grumble is I felt like a lot of the secondary characters didn’t get developed enough and I found myself needing more. I didn’t mind shifter culture wasn’t explained too in depth as this was just a prequel and that was to come, but I would have liked more… but that’s a grumble I have with all novellas. It was enjoyable and it did get me excited to continue with the series.

Trust the Wolf (Shift #1) – Zoe Ashwood

Published: 24th January 2019

Source: Author

Genre: Paranormal Romance

My Rating:

You never forget your first wolf.

Emilia’s first encounter with Jason is memorable: it’s not every day you see a stranger change into a wolf. Her attraction to him is undeniable, but the secret he shares shakes the foundations of her life.

Jason’s need for Emilia unnerves him. It’s his job to report shifters without proper ID, yet he can’t make himself do it this time. The decision bites him in the tail when he discovers exactly who she is. He must keep his distance—or there will be hell to pay.

Their fates entwine when rogue shifters learn of Emilia’s identity and will stop at nothing to get to her. Emilia and Jason will have to fight together or risk losing everything.

But most of all? Emilia must learn to trust the wolf.

I’d enjoyed Bearly Married and I was intrigued by where Trust the Wolf would be going but I was still a touch nervous because a full-blown novel is a different kettle of fish to a novella. I thoroughly enjoyed this book, though. There are no doubts to be had about that. I mean, I am eager for the next book to be in my hands because of the little snippet at the end of the first book… it was nowhere near enough to satisfy my cravings.

I will begin with my grumbles to get them out of the way. They are minor things of the grand scheme of things but it did affect my enjoyment.

First off, I struggled to get a clear idea of what I felt like the main characters would look like. Now, I am not saying I have a specific person cast in a role every time I read a book, but I tend to have some kind of fuzzy image in my head as I’m reading. My fizzy image for this book was fuzzier than usual. Now, this is partially the way I read. I have a habit of unintentionally skimming as I read and so skip things without realising (this is especially confusing in sex scenes when you’re like how did they get in that position?) and so I often find myself going back and rereading a scene and this was something which did happen here. There was a description of characters but my brain did not process it and I skipped bits without realising but other books my fuzzy image still develops... I didn’t get that as much here and it bothered me as I read.

I also had some issues with the pacing, but this again a me thing. I didn’t get totally invested in the book until like 20% of the way and I could see some interesting storyline developing, but before that, I honestly didn’t know where the book was going. But then at 50%, it seemed to have stalled a little and I was like where’s my action? And then action happened, but it hit 80% and I was questioning where the action had gone again and wouldn’t if there would be a book that sort of fizzled out. But then I felt like I was on a bit of a rollercoaster to the end so I suppose I shouldn’t complain. I think I would have liked a more constant pace of story… but then I’ve probably complained in reviews before that the book was moving too fast and couldn’t keep up. I guess I can sometimes be fussy. This one didn’t hinder my enjoyment, but since I was never sure what path the book was going to take I was very aware of the pace of the book and it took me out of the story at times.

Like I said, it wasn’t all bad because I am making grabby hands at the second book and there was plenty which kept me reading.

First off, I liked Emilia. I admit, when I first started reading I thought she knew she was a shifter so it was fun to see her reactions to this whole new world which was revealed to her. And I loved that even when this whole other world was revealed there was never any doubt that she would still want her old life. There seemed to be a constant assumption in the shifter world that once you’re a shifter the human world would be forgotten and shifters would be #1 which grated. It was good to see Emilia speaking some sense and putting folks in their place. I have to say, because I read the novella first I was constantly trying to figure out how it connected with this book and so I sort of called it with Emilia’s heritage (why yes, I did high five myself) but I still wasn’t spot on so I really enjoyed seeing her heritage revealed and how that affected both her but also how other characters (namely Jason) saw her.

I was frustrated by Jason in the book, though. I was there enjoying Emilia’s shock and reactions to shifter society whilst wanting to shake Jason. The man was all kinds of hot and cold (and occasionally arctic) with how he was with Emilia and I just so did not have time for that. It was explained pretty well why he was bouncing back and forth with how he felt for Emilia but damn did I want to give the boy a shake and tell him to sort his head out or get lost because I do not have patience for folks being messed about and there was a touch of that at the start. Thankfully, he figured himself out sharpish before I got genuinely annoyed with him otherwise we would be having a very different discussion about my feelings for this book. It was written well his struggle with himself and you couldn’t hate him too much for it because there were reasons!

I have to say the best part of this book was the relationship between Emilia and Jason but especially the sexy times (without being weird). The romance was so strong, though! Like, I knew Zoe could write good romance from the novella but damn did it shine brightest in this book when she had more time to develop the relationship. From the sexual tension building between the pair in a shifter club to a mutual masturbation scene during their road trip right up to when they actually have their bow-chicka-wow-wow moment later on. All were written well and I may not have been fanning myself, but it was close guys. The romance and sex were written so well and there was no cringing (seriously, I’ve had folks use decidedly unsexy language which throws me right out of a book so this is important to note). One moment which clearly stood out for me was when Jason backed all the way off during a heated make-out session towards the start and the couple had banged into a wall or something and Emilia let out a sound which he interpreted as him hurting her as he was being too full on and she then reassured him that it was good and more would be appreciated. I love little moments like that because they feel genuine, but also I like to see couples in romance discuss their boundaries. I don’t need an alpha male dominating with his whips and chains, I want mutual respect and a demonstration that it’s a partnership. I think that moment both set the tone for their romance together but also demonstrated what kind of romance author Zoe is. She will not be writing overbearing alpha males and unbalanced sexual relationships where the male dominates and the meek woman is just along for the ride. She wrote a woman who knew her sexual pleasure and was not afraid to grasp it with both hands and so what she wants. Why is there not more of that in romance?

Now is it a romance review if I am not complaining about folks not using their words? Yeah, there were moments of miscommunication and withholding of information which was annoying because you just know that’ll blow up in their face later on, but instead of falling into the trap of using that as a plot device to push Emilia and Jason apart it actually brought them together. It made them both question what they wanted from the other but it didn’t break them! And another time Emilia had shifted into a bear and was wondering around and you questioned if the designated bad guys were going to get her because woman wondering around alone, feels like a plot device to get her captured and in need to rescuing (boring, because why would want another example of how women need rescuing when we totally don’t) but nope. She gets told she’s leaving shifter territory and to get her ass back in the opposite direction to stay safe. And she even does some rescuing of her own later on, because Emilia's a badass like that. I just felt like this book was refreshing in not falling into the usual plot device traps which can be boring and have you rolling your eyes.

Look, I enjoyed this book. I do still have unanswered questions, but the kind of unanswered questions you expect to see explored in later books. I enjoyed this book a whole lot, far more than I think even I realised when reading because I write this up into more coherent words (you guys did not see my original word vomit take on this book, it was 2000 words long and I wrote it in like half an hour). I am eager for more, especially from the small glimpse I got of Truth or Bear. I am hoping as I continue on my questions about shifter politics and the story behind the bad guys (called the Guard) and I’m hoping we get to see more of the characters I’ve grown to love in this book. Look, it’s a debut, I am not claiming there is perfection, but it’s showing strong potential for some good stuff. I still need to learn more about the shifter world because from what I saw I do not get why Emilia would want to join (they’re a touch controlling in their government) but I do think there is a really interesting world to explore and I can’t wait to return and see this world from a new perspective.

Have you ever read a book by someone you sort of knew and felt nervous about it? And have I convinced you this a series to check out and give a chance?

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[arachnrd]

ABOUT :

- My interpretation is primarily based on the first Insomniac Spider-Man game and its DLCs, along with the prequel book Hostile Takeover and heavily featuring my own headcanons. Personally,  I don't agree with the takes in the Insomniac verse based comics, nor what they've done to Peter's character in the Miles Morales game ( including the change they made to his appearance they can completely miss me on that ), so we're just not gonna touch that here. No judgment or hate at all if you like any of that, or any of the other interpretations to Peter's character,  this is just my personal preference and my portrayal. If you don't agree, feel free to move along.

- I wont accept hate over my takes on Peter's / Spider-Mans character, or theft of my headcanons, graphics, or anything I definitively create myself. And while I dont condone cancel culture or anything of the sort, I will not hesitate to bring that behavior to light if it's consistent. Im here to have fun, not deal with nonsense over a fictional character.

- Im not a huge fan of the MCU. Im fine with interactions with other MCU based muses, but may be selective about it and will want to talk things out before hand.

- I dont associate with the Marvel fandom, particularly here on tumblr. The original reason I left this blog back in 2019 was due to the community being heavily toxic and drama mongering, and as a result will not only not tolerate any drama or toxicity, but will be a bit selective and cautious on who I interact with from that side of the rpc.

- Unless it's established in the source material, or plotted out with me, your muse will not know Peter is Spider-Man. Im not touching giving muses ex - machina knowledge of others without it being discussed or signed off on by both parties, period.

- I will NOT interact with blogs that use youtubers, social media influencers, or anime / drawn characters for their Fcs [ Comic centered blogs I'll be selective about ] . Nothing against you, it’s just not my thing.

- I will NOT follow OC's with no bios or abouts up; Hard to know if our character's can interact if there's no info.

- I will block personal blogs that reblog or follow, as I like to keep interactions here between fellow rp mutuals.

- I may want to explore more adult aspects to Peter's character, so that, along with being an adult myself, means Im simply more comfortable interacting with those of age and will not follow or interact with minors, please respect this.

- Unless it's something applicable to our muses collectively, Please reblog memes or posts in general from the source. I'm not a resource blog and if treated as one, especially by blogs who never interact, I will soft block.

- As stated this blog is MUTUALS ONLY, meaning i will only write with mutuals. if i dont follow back there’s genuinely no hard feelings, I just get very overwhelmed with an overly busy dash and need to be a bit selective to prevent my anxiety from going nuts. you’re more than welcome to unfollow. though its very much a mutual thing; if you want to interact but dont follow me, chances are I’ll say no as I take following as a sign of interest. I may take a while to follow back as my notifications on here are the worst. If I don’t follow back within a weeks time, feel free to unfollow.

- This blog is multi-verse. Despite being set within the narrative of the game, I can incorporate elements from the movies and comics ( Mostly from the Ultimate comics since thats what I'm most familiar with and have actually read), such as dynamics between characters, etc if your muse isnt in the game. Not to mention love creating verses with writing partners. BUT, my Peter will still be played as the ps4 version of his character.

- I dont pretend to know every Marvel character. Or even ALL the characters from the Spider-man comics to their finest detail. For that my knowledge is going to be straight from whatever info you give and wikis.

SHIPPING / RELATIONSHIPS

- I ship based on chemistry between muses, but Im also very okay with pre established dynamics (whether that be romantic, enemies, platonic, familial ( though this Ill be a bit selective about ), whatever!) Considering that can be a bit easier thread wise for some people instead of starting from the very beginning. As with most things, I like to talk through it beforehand. If you have anything in mind, you're more than welcome to approach me! But I also reserve the right to respectfully turn things down or offer alternate options if things dont mesh.

SMUT

- I will not write smut on tumblr. So for the most part any if it all suggestive scenes will lead to a fade to black or time skip.

M U N

- i am a-okay with questions, especially about my muse! if you have any about anything at all i will be more than happy to answer them the best i can! Also totally fine with random IMs even if we havent talked before so hmu.

- I write under the alias Nox! ( She/Her ) and I am of age.

R U L E S / O T H E R

THREADS / PLOTTING:

- I love plotting. If given my way I'd be plot exclusive but I know that's not everyone's cup of tea. If you're ever interested in plotting, know I am already onboard.

- If you want to turn a meme or ask into a thread, I’d prefer to be asked before hand. Simply because sometimes its nice to have memes just be stand alone things or for fun.

- Additionally I take the memes I send in to others as just memes for memes sake as well, so if you want a thread to continue off one you'll have to let me know , otherwise I'm clueless.

RESPONSE TIME/ ACTIVITY:

- My activity may be a bit sparse. As it is I have a hard time keeping muse, just the way I am sadly. i know this is something a lot of people, myself included, can find frustrating (especially when you’re really into a thread) but a fair amount of the time i may take a while to respond. As much as I love this, aside from being a hobby, and having a very unreliable laptop, I have a chronic illness that makes me exhausted most days or just not in the mood to write and not in any kind of state to type out a response you lovely people would deserve. though i will always try to quickly reply when i can. Please be patient. If you ttry to harass or guilt me into a response, I wont hesitate to soft block for my own sanity. Im here to have fun and write when the mood strikes.

MEMES:

- Yes. please. send as many as you want, as often as you want. Even if we haven’t interacted, you’re free to send one my way; They can be a great place to start things off.

POST LENGTH:

- You don’t have to match my length in posts! sometimes i can write far too much when i get really into writing (and alternatively not write enough), so don’t feel obligated or pressured to follow suit by any means! whatever you are comfortable with is totally okay! it’s not a contest, this is all for fun.

GRAPHICS:

- ALL icons will be from the game/ with the exception of live icons of Peter's first ingame face model that I managed to scrape together. Comic icons will not be used.

- all icons and graphics are created by me unless stated otherwise

- PSD by plutocomissions

[bellesbookshelf]

BOOK REVIEWS | GOODREADS

Book: Heartless by Marissa Meyer | My Rating:  ★ ★ ★ ★ 

Synopsis: Catherine may be one of the most desired girls in Wonderland and a favorite of the unmarried King, but her interests lie elsewhere. A talented baker, she wants to open a shop and create delectable pastries. But for her mother, such a goal is unthinkable for a woman who could be a queen.

At a royal ball where Cath is expected to receive the King's marriage proposal, she meets handsome and mysterious Jest. For the first time, she feels the pull of true attraction. At the risk of offending the King and infuriating her parents, she and Jest enter into a secret courtship.

Cath is determined to choose her own destiny. But in a land thriving with magic, madness, and monsters, fate has other plans.

My Review: As someone who has always loved Alice in Wonderland since they were young, I thought Marissa Meyer did a really good job writing this. Heartless acts as a sort of prequel to Alice in Wonderland about how the Queen of Hearts became the way she is.

Cath is brave, kind, and hopeful. Cath loves baking, she wants to become more independent and run a bakery with her maid, Mary Ann, creating wonderful desserts for the entire kingdom to enjoy. Unfortunately for her, the king has a fondness for her and wishes for her to become his Queen, which is the last thing she wants. All she wants is to move forward with her bakery and to spend more time with the mysterious and swoon-worthy Jest- the King's new Court Jester. "Ah- I almost forgot!" Releasing her hand, Jest removed his hat, bells clinking, and reached inside. He produced a bundle of long white cording. "These belong to you." Cath uncertainly took the ropes. "What are-" She gasped. Her hand flew to her back, feeling around the fabric of her dress, detecting the boning of the corset, yes, but... not it's laces. The back of the corset was split open the full width of her hand. Heat rushed into her cheeks. "How?" Cath and Mary Ann's friendship was so sweet in this book, I loved that even though Mary Ann was her family's maid, Cath never cared or even thought about the fact that Mary Ann wasn't in the same social/economic class as her- she was always considered her her best friend no matter what, even if her mother didn't fully approve of it and their friendship was beautiful. Cath and Jest's relationship was adorable and I loved them together. I loved the scene with the two of them by the well, it was so sweet. These two gave me all the fuzzy feelings and their relationship just made me really happy. I think Jest was a great character and I loved all his scenes, whenever he wasn't there I was just impatiently waiting for him to show up. Something about him was just very sexy, whenever he appeared on the page I didn't want him to leave. Also can more men, fictional and real life, wear eyeliner please?! "I can't stop thinking about you, Lady Catherine Pinkerton of Rock Turtle Cove. I've been trying, but it's useless. You've had me mesmerized from the moment I saw you in that red dress, and I don't know what to do about it, other than to use every skill at my disposal to try and mesmerize you back." I've seen people saying that Meyer relied too much on Lewis Carroll's original story, but I have to disagree entirely. She does a great job of creating a clear retelling, but keeping it her own at the same time. The setting is clearly Wonderland and there are many characters (including the Mad Hatter, the White Rabbit, and my personal favourite the Cheshire Cat) and references to the world we already know, but the story stands on it's own and I believe that even if someone who didn't care for the story of Alice in Wonderland read this, they could still enjoy it- in fact, this is exactly the case with my best friend. Cheshire had started to purr, already ignoring her. Cath cupped her chin with her free hand while Cheshire flopped deliriously onto one side and her strokes moved down to his belly. "Besides, if you ever did eat some bad food, I could still find use for you. I've always wanted a cat-drawn carriage." Cheshire opened one eye, his pupil stilted and unamused. "I would dangle balls of yarn and fish bones out in front of you to keep you moving." He stopped purring long enough to say, "You are not as cute as you think you are, Lady Pinkerton." I re-read Alice in Wonderland shortly after reading this book, and reading it while having the events of this book in my mind made it so interesting, and a little heartbreaking. Seeing the Queen of Hearts so angry about the roses being white and about treacle broke my heart! I think she did a great job of taking ideas from the original story and creating her own twist on them or making them an important, intricate part of her own story when in the original they were just something mentioned in passing, such as the Lobster Quadrille and the Mock Turtle's origins. After reading this, reading certain parts of the original have some more meaning to them, even if it obviously is not an official prequel as it is not written by Lewis Carroll. The reason I gave this four stars rather than five was due to the beginning being rather slow- do not get me wrong, it did not bore me, however had it not be set in a world I knew and loved it may have. Also, there was a predictable event that occurred, though it didn't really bother me that it was predictable and I didn't know exactly how it would go down, just that it would happen. If you've already read this, you'll know exactly what I'm talking about. Overall though, this was a really enjoyable read and one that I'm sure that I will be reading again in the future!