#if i can have my own voice available Whenever then i can essentially make myself 'sing' basically anything. including anything new i cook up

[roseverdict]

it is 4 AM which means it's Desperately Claw At Hobbies In An Attempt To Make Some Form Of Money To Set Aside So I Can Go Be An Adult Instead Of The Parentals' Puppet time!

[em-dash-press]

Free Resources Every Writer Needs

There are so many fantastic website and apps I've picked up over the years. Some I found on my own, some through friends, and some through college.

No one should have to wait that long to boost their writing!

Here are the top resources every writer needs:

Google Drive

I used to write all of my stories by hand. Then I moved exclusively to Word. Now I exclusively use Google Drive (with the occasional scribbled ideas and scenes in my favorite journal).

It has 15 gigs of free storage, which I've never even come close to using. All of your files can be color coded and you'll have access to Google's version of every type of file you could need—word docs, spreadsheets, powerpoints, etc.

Keep pictures of your characters! Copies of your worldbuilding maps! Your stories! All in the same place and all easily downloadable as any file type you need.

Canva

I didn't learn about Canva until well in to college. My professor asked us to use it for a design assignment and I've used it ever since.

Canva is where I create stuff for my vision boards like characters, scenes, and general settings. It's the place I make book covers to procrastinate my writing for fun. (Canva also helped me make my wedding invitations and signage, but that's another story!)

It's totally free, with optional one-off purchases if you want to use a special font, emblem, or layout. I've only had to buy from Canva once and it was a special symbol I wanted on my wedding cards.

Pexels

Ever have a hard time remembering specific details about characters you've created? I've felt that way when writing long projects that takes months or a year+ to finish. There's just no way a bullet point list can substitute for a picture, so I go to Pexels to look for character inspiration.

All of the photos are free and span endless tags. I always go here to find someone who's close to my character and save it to my Characters folder in whatever file has my book notes. Such a lifesaver.

FocusWriter (Windows and Linux)

If the potential of an open tab and social media feeds is too much to bear, try FocusWriter. It's a free tool that clears away everything except the document you're typing within. Get lost in your story after selecting a background like:

or

or

It's great when you're close to a deadline or really want to finish a chapter that's been waiting too long for your attention (looking at myself here).

NOTE: as of April 2022, FocusWriter is only available to Windows and Linux computers. Mac users will have to go to...

Calmly Writer (Mac, Windows, and Linux)

Calmly Writer is a free, downloadable desktop app that essentially does the same thing as FocusWriter. You'll only see your chosen background and your work, like this:

However, you can also display your word count, modify your text formatting, and autosave. There are pros and cons to both sites, so try them out if your computer can handle both to see which one you like better. You're in good virtual hands either way.

Grammarly

I have a love/hate relationship with Grammarly, but it's never enough to make me stop using it altogether. It's a free site with a Chrome widget that actively highlights any spelling or grammar issues as you write.

When you copy and paste your work into the Grammarly website after making an account, you'll see something like this:

And if you get the Chrome widget and have it actively edit your Google doc, it'll look like this:

Now why do I not love it with reckless abandon? Because it's not 100% accurate all the time.

There's nuance in writing. Your sentence structure forms your writer's voice, so you're allowed to break rules sometimes if it doesn't make your work unreadable. Grammarly doesn't always get that.

It can also suggest edits that make your work less understandable, but it's usually only a word or two. You can always ignore the suggestions as shown in the screenshots above.

I still use Grammarly whenever I write creatively or professionally because it's generally good and also catches when my beloved Oxford comma is missing. Standard spell check doesn't do that, so Grammarly is above built-in spelling tools for me.

WordCounter

It's easy to get pulled into The Zone and unknowingly repeat specific words or phrases in your work. Unless you're one of the lucky writers who has beta readers, you might submit work to a contest or give it to a loved one before realizing how many words you accidentally repeated.

WordCounter is here to help. It's another free website that's super great when you're ready to edit. Copy and paste your work into the homepage and it will tally your most common words.

When it analyzes a random selection of Elvis Presley lyrics, it first forms a word cloud (most common words are biggest):

Then it lists the words below in columns:

You can then Control+F or Command+F to find and replace those words as needed while you edit!

Repetition Detector

Repetition Detector does the same thing as WordCounter, except in more of a data-collection-type layout. It's straightforward and may be better for people who are more analytically minded!

WordHippo

WordHippo is basically a virtual word magician. It's a one-stop shop for things like synonyms, antonyms, "words that rhyme with," definitions, translations, and even automatically generates sentences demonstrating how to use a particular word.

I have this treasure of a website bookmarked, although my autofill always knows that when I hit "w," I need some word-smithing help from this cute little hippo.

TTS Reader

People always say that you'll edit your work best if you read it out loud, but that's embarrassing/impossible if you write at a library, coffee shop, or another shared public space.

Copy and paste your work into TTS Reader to accomplish the same feat! It will read your work back to you at the speed and voice of your choosing.

Cliche Finder

Cliche Finder has never been a pretty website, but it gets the job done. It analyzes your copy and pasted text for cliches, which is super helpful. Any overused phrases or descriptions will get highlighted red when you click "Find Cliches." Super easy, super simple.

---

Happy writing adventures, and feel free to reblog or comment with your favorite online tools too! Everyone deserves to feel empowered and supported in their journey as a writer.

[mimik-u]

Archive

Summary: As a part of the extensive process for documenting the war, Pearl and Blue Diamond prepare to have a conversation about Pink.

Prompt: One of the Diamonds interacts with a Pearl (either “our” Pearl, our “their” Pearl) post-CYM

Note: My gift to @runrundoyourstuff​ for our holiday gift exchange. Dani, your writing always inspires me—I’m always looking to it for your complex understanding of characters, your depth, and the beautiful way you have with words (always so thoughtful, even to the syllable). Thank you for all the wonderful conversations that we have. I’m so lucky to have you in my life!! And please check out her gift to me—Seasons! I’m so excited to read it, too!!!!

AO3 Link

—

“You don’t have to do this, you know,” Steven reminds her for the fifteenth time since he woke up this morning and bounded down from the loft to interrupt her daily newspaper reading. He’s sitting on the corner of her desk in Little Homeschool now, one of his jacket sleeves scrunched up at the elbow and the other rolled down, leveling her a serious look beneath his bushy brow, mouth pressed into a thin line.

It strikes Pearl suddenly, and for no readily available reason, that her little boy has grown up somewhere in the space and span of two measly years.

Soon, if he keeps growing, he’ll be even taller than she is.

“Yes, you’ve made sure I’m aware of that,” she returns wryly, absently reshuffling her notes again. They’re half-English, half-gem glyph in a shorthand that only she understands, alternating languages from line to line depending on when glyphs were not sufficient enough to capture all those once-foreign concepts to gemkind: love, romance, the depths of sacrifice. Gems didn’t need symbols to encode for these complex sensations, even if they felt them, and perhaps especially if they did.

It was scary to love someone on Homeworld.

It was terrifying to love them so powerfully that you would risk your very gem for them.

Traitors were duly punished.

Survivors were rare in Era One.

(Garnet can attest to that.)

“I’m just sayin’,” he protests playfully, sounding rather like Amethyst, and even resembling her when he raises both of his palms in mock surrender. “I know this project is important and all, but it’s not as important as me knowing that you’re comfortable…”

Pearl places her papers down and straightens them neatly, all the while feeling the force of Steven’s expectant gaze.

The strength of his love.

It warms her all over.

It colors her pale face.

But when she finally glances up at him, even though her cheeks are assuredly pink, she keeps her voice and resolve firm.

(Though she’ll never say this to him, not now, not anymore—never again—he reminds her so much of his mother sometimes.)

(His kindness, his warmth, his goodness.)

(Because Rose wasn’t all bad—not really. Not to her, at least.)

“I’m fine, Steven,” she reassures him. “I promise. I wouldn’t have agreed in the first place if I wasn’t. This isn’t the first time I’ve done one of these recordings, and it won’t be the last either.”

“But never about… this, you know”—he makes a vague pointing gesture with his hand, struggling for the right words—“and never with a Diamond.”

He says the word Diamond nervously, like it’s one of the expletives that Amethyst has gotten more comfortable in dropping now that Steven is a bonafide teenager, and he’s simply waiting to see Pearl’s response, how she’ll react.

She certainly did give Amethyst one hell of a scolding the other day.

“This is history,” she returns quietly. “It’s painful history, yes… but that can’t be helped.”

“But it can!” He argues pointedly, his eyes wide and incredulous, his voice scratched around its strained edges. “You don’t have to share the things that have hurt you for the entire galaxy to see, Pearl. That isn’t what this is all about.”

“But I want to.” And there’s a sense of finality in her tone that closes a mouth that had already been half-wrenched open in preemptive protest. Pearl takes the opportunity to reach over then and place a hand on Steven’s jean-enclosed knee, smiling gently. “Of course, there are a couple of details I’ll keep to myself—keep between you and me—but for the most part, I’m ready to tell this part of the story. Indeed, I think it’s essential that I do.”

“For archival purposes?” Steven asks dryly, resignation in his voice, a little teenage petulance, too.

Pearl pats his knee once, laughs lightly, and then withdraws her hand.

“For closure,” she says simply, but then, because she knows it’s not enough for him, and she wants it to be enough for him, elaborates. Explains. (It isn’t quite justification, though.) “Two years ago, I was bound by your mother’s final command to never talk about what we did. And most of the time, I didn’t want to… I don’t think I could have forced myself to even if I tried. As you got older, though, as you learned more about your mother and all of her many… complexities…  as you began to have questions—so many important questions—I knew I needed to but couldn’t. And now…”

“You have a choice,” Steven finishes for her, realization washing across his face, unbending the protective sharpness in it.

“Exactly,” she nods approvingly, “and so I’ve thought about it… I’ve weighed everything out carefully… and I’ve come to the conclusion that this is what I want—to claim our history… even  though it’s painful, even if it still hurts. I’ve had trouble doing that before, even with secrets in my own volition, and I don’t want… I refuse to let that be me anymore, Steven. I don’t want to live with thousands-year old ghosts anymore.”

Though his brow remains furrowed, though there’s something in the dark of his eyes that remains a little unsure, Steven nonetheless blinks to show that he’s heard her and nods solemnly to indicate that he understands.

It’s a simple gesture.

It means a lot.

And she smiles at him in radiant, weary relief.

A few months ago, Homeworld and Little Homeschool scholars had a conference to determine how best to record, preserve, and proliferate the history of the war, and all the events that resulted in Era Three. There are extensive gaps in Homeworld’s own archives, which had been scrubbed free of mentions of it in obedience to Yellow Diamond’s commands, and Little Homeschool, of course, being relatively new, doesn’t have an archive so much as it has a file cabinet in Pearl’s office that’s at the very least meticulously alphabetized. And so, they decided upon creating a universally accessible Archive, a series of recordings and documents and interviews delivered by gems and humans from both sides of the war, giving accounts of all that has happened in six thousand elapsed years.

Most of the Crystal Gems have done several recordings.

Garnet, Bismuth, and Pearl did one just last week on the Battle of the Ziggurat.

Biggs and a few other defected Homeworld soldiers have covered some of the minor battles.

Yellow and Blue Pearl have recorded a few on what it was like to be in the palace during the war.

And even the Diamonds themselves have proffered their perspectives whenever they’ve had the time.

Because the scholars emphasized early on that it was essential for all sides of the story to be brought to the table in order for the universe to get the fullest canvas of what it meant that Pink Diamond started a war that her half-human son would one day finish.

The minutiae of Homeworld politics.

All of the many battles.

The rebellion.

The beauty of Earth.

The aching desolation of Homeworld after the faked shattering.

Gems’ encounters with humans.

Humans’ encounters with gems.

The casualties.

The grief.

And what that does to a gem—to hold her comrade’s shards in her hands.

What it does to people.

The various townies have given their accounts of what it was like to live through alien invasion after alien invasion, to see their beloved Beach City upended so many times, right before their eyes.

War.

“When does it start?” Steven asks in a would-be-casual voice, straightening up from her desk and stretching his arms over his head before pulling them back down again. With a meticulousness she fancies he inherited from her, he finally fixes his sleeves, dragging the cuff of his left arm to perfectly match the length of the other.

“In ten minutes,” she replies.

“Do you want me to stay?” Lines crease his eyes even as he offers it. “I can if you need me to.”

He glances at the still dormant Holo-Crystal on the desk and just as quickly glances away, finding her face.

Searching her own gaze, even at the very moment she searches his, the both of them looking for something to be concerned about and unfailingly finding love.

Pearl knows for a fact that he doesn’t want to listen, that he’d rather not hear the sordid story all over again.

He’s seen it.

Goodness, he’s half-lived it through the mire of her own head.

But she also knows that if she asked him to, he would do it.

Just for her.

He’s selfless like that.

He’s Steven.

“Go,” she smiles softly at him, leaning back in her chair. “Get out of here. If you and Amethyst will grab the stuff from the store, I’ll make cookies for dessert tonight.”

Steven returns the gesture crookedly, and the relief in his eyes is almost mistakable for excitement.

“Chocolate chip?” His voice young, almost childlike.

“Do you even need to ask?” Her voice fond, always motherly.

“Thanks, Pearl!” He chuckles. He half-skips. He snatches his car keys from the desk and all but slaps the door handle. “Love you.”

“Love you too.”

He winks his final goodbye, twists the knob and in a brief flash of golden sunlight, disappears into the day. The door clicks to a merry close behind the shuffle and haste of his heels.

And Pearl is left alone, hands templed delicately in her lap, staring at a deadened Holo-Crystal that’s lying almost forlornly on its side. 

Her smile slips away from her mouth like falling sand the moment she thinks she’s safe.

She shuffles her papers again.

She stares, very quietly, at the crystal.

She looks, just as pointedly, away.

Occupies herself by touching her notes again, raking her fingers over all the words that give a form to the one secret she had kept to herself for thousands upon thousands of years—not entirely out of her own will.

She wasn’t lying to Steven when she said that she wanted to do this.

She was lying about the fact that she was fine to do it.

Somehow, in the tangle of her own head, it makes sense to her that these sensations are not mutually exclusive. It’s perfectly compatible to want to do something that’s scary and still feel intensely scared about doing it.

Fear doesn’t stop at the threshold of a made decision. 

After all, if fear had ever stopped her from doing what she wanted, then she would have never loved Rose Quartz.

So she stares at the Holo-Crystal, and then she emphatically doesn’t.

Tries to distract herself.

(Eight minutes til…. seven.)

Fails. 

Abruptly gets out of her chair, a sudden restlessness in her lanky limbs, and begins to pace the floor, sunlight from the nearby window dusting her skin gold in square patches, in slivers. When only one minute remains, and the Holo-Crystal suddenly glows a bright, electric blue as a warning alert to a scheduled call, she throws herself back into the chair as forcibly as possible and tries to arrange her face into an expression that’s just as equally cool.

Focused.

Put together.

Fifty seconds…

She pushes a hand through her hair and hates herself for doing so; assuredly, she just ruffled it, and now her hair will be a rumpled mess on a hologram for time immemorial.

Thirty seconds…

What in stars’ name does she do with her hands? Arrange them on the desk? Temple them on her lap? Place them stiffly by her sides? She settles for some awkward combination of the three—templing them on the smooth surface of her desk with her elbows at stiff angles.

It’s highly uncomfortable.

Twenty seconds…

She could bail now, and Steven wouldn’t think the worse of her for it. She’d join him at the beach house after he returned from the grocery store, and he’d help her make the cookie dough and never say a word as to her cowardice. Perhaps he would even be relieved that she decided not to go through with her intentions in the first place. After all, they weren’t strictly necessary… that was one of his arguments even… someone else could do it… could tell her story… and it would all be the same.

Ten seconds…

But she wouldn’t be relieved.

She wouldn’t be proud of herself.

She could live with herself, yes, but she wouldn’t be able to forget that when the opportunity came to speak her truth freely, she refused to, denying a voice that had already been long denied.

So many times over.

From the very first moment she emerged into the world as a gem whose highest and only pleasure was to serve.

Five seconds… the Holo-Crystal begins to blink rapidly, throwing its frenetic hues in quick pulses across her desk.

And so she has to do this then.

Four seconds…

She wants to.

Three seconds…

It’s her narrative and no one else’s.

Two seconds…

Not even Rose’s.

One second…

Maybe especially not hers, even if she isn’t ready to admit that yet, to face that raw fact.

In a diamond shaped burst of energy, the Holo-Crystal throws its projection upwards with a series of gem glyphs that she reads with both trepidation and ease: ACCEPT FEED? YES OR NO?

Breaking the solemn temple of her fingers, swallowing her electric, jangling nerves, Pearl, against all her better judgment, presses yes, and the glyphs fall away, replaced by a live portrait of a gem who somehow looks exactly like Pearl feels. 

Arctic eyes wide.

Charcoaled beneath with thousands of years worth of shadows.

Brow furrowed with indecision.

With hesitancy.

With all the indelicate trappings of fear.

“Blue Diamond,” Pearl greets coolly, jerking her head in a stiff nod. Somewhere deep in her gem, an odd impulse to salute pulls at her facets.

“Pearl,” the Diamond returns softly, almost wonderingly—as though the name is unfamiliar on her tongue. In a way, it likely is. The Diamonds once viewed the Pearls as objects as opposed to gems and referred to them in such a way.

The Pearls.

Our Pearls.

They were interchangeable.

They were possessions.

In the Reef, they even came with accessories: staffs and wands and batons.

“Thank you for consenting to do this,” Pearl continues in that same clipped but professional tone. “I think this will be an important entry in the Archive.”

“Aye,” comes the quiet reply, thoughtful. “Yellow and White don’t quite understand it entirely yet, but there is rationality in this—in proffering the fullest account of our history for anyone to access it if they so choose. It’s about preserving her… all of our legacies—the good, the bad, and the ugly.”

Pearl is suddenly reminded that of the three remaining Diamonds, Blue was the one who upheld the human zoo, who perceived it as a relic and immortalized it as such.

Steven had told her about all of those bubbled Rose Quartzes.

Dozens of them.

Hundreds.

Made to cover the illusion of Rose’s identity.

Punished for a crime that they didn’t perpetrate. 

Perfectly preserved in stasis and purgatory for thousands of aching years.

“And so often the ugly,” Pearl emphasizes scathingly, and it’s a condemnation of them all—of Rose for making the Quartzes, of Pearl for being complicit, of Blue Diamond for imprisoning them and calling it mercy.

“Yes,” Blue agrees faintly, new lines forming beneath her eyes. “We did some terrible things…”

Her demureness and her honesty irritate Pearl for some reason—perhaps because she didn’t expect them, or perhaps because she very well did and still finds that they ring false, insincere, affected. How could they not in the face of millennia worth of cruelty and injustice? How can two years of positive growth overturn the effects of two hundred thousand?

Perhaps it’s simply that she believes in action as correctives and atonements.

Perhaps she doesn’t trust mere words, even though this is what this entire event is all about in the end—mere words. 

Perhaps she wants to see it in Blue Diamond’s eyes for herself—the change in them, the repentance.

And perhaps, at the very same time, she doesn’t want to look too closely in case she finds precisely what she’s looking for.

“Yes,” she repeats primly. “You did, and today is about looking backwards to that, about assessing all the things we did and didn’t do—on both sides of the war.”

Blue Diamond absorbs this all quietly, looking downwards, strands of silvery-blue hair falling from her neat parting and across her tall forehead.

“How exactly do we do that?” She asks. “Where do we even begin?”

Admittedly, they’re both excellent questions, and now it’s Pearl’s turn to glance down, to recognize the scrawl of all her neatly organized notes and suddenly realize that they feel insufficient for the task at hand, bare.

The word love crops up so many times, but nothing is said about the overwhelming force of that love—the all-consuming dimensions of it.

How Pearl would have been content to stay in Rose’s presence forever, and that alone would have been enough.

And how complicated that same love was.

How it was sometimes tangled in programming and servitude.

And how at other times, it was dangerous, bold, revolutionary, transcendent.

And how it hurt sometimes.

Perhaps even all the time.

Love so deep that it felt like pain.

Even English doesn’t have the capacity to describe those complexities of emotion.

Even language itself.

“Well,” she begins hesitantly, before she has all of her words in order, “when I press record… we simply have to… you know… talk about it, about everything that led up to the Corruption Song, sparing no detail.”

“Simple, is it?” Blue Diamond asks quietly, and there is slight admonishment in the question, ancient sadness in her geometric eyes, in all the lines and shadows beneath them.

“No,” Pearl replies, glancing away from the screen. “Not at all.”

Loving Pink Diamond was so many things.

It was not, in fact, simple.

“But it’s important,” she continues, her voice gaining strength, “maybe even necessary for us to at least try to tell our stories as fully as we can because she never felt like she could tell her own.”

“That must have been so lonely for her,” Blue whispers, anguished, the words half-caught in her throat.

Pearl forces herself to look at the diamond portrait again.

To search the other’s expression.

To acknowledge the truth in it.

The love.

The pain.

The love that feels so much like pain.

“It was, I think,” Pearl murmurs. “She wanted to be everyone else but herself—on that day. On all the days afterwards as we recovered the shards of our companions, as we had to fight their corrupted selves. Maybe even until the very end when she became Steven.”

And this, she thinks, is the fundamental truth of Rose Quartz above all, one she doesn’t think she’ll share with the rest of the universe, one she thinks will keep between herself and Steven and now… Blue Diamond.

Rose loved the entire world.

She was moved by it. Endlessly.

She loathed herself.

And seemingly the entire world—Pearl included—pedestalized her.

“We did that to her,” Blue says, and there’s venom in her voice, an air of admission. She brings her tall hands upwards and spiders them across her face. “We… I… never told her that she was good enough. I required her facets to be perfect and scolded her—punished her—every time she so much as toed our harsh lines.”

“You never told her that you loved her,” Pearl says, and there’s solemnity in her voice, an air of accusation. She clenches her own hands on top of the surface of her notes.

Glyphs interspersed with words.

Pain.

Love.

Grief.

“And when you finally showed that you did,” Pearl continues, closing her eyes at the memory of a world being swallowed in white light, of a sky being rent by the echoes of so many thousands of gems screaming to the same tune of the Diamonds’ feral, wailing song, “you destroyed nearly an entire population to do it… all of you… together.”

“Yes,” Blue Diamond can only utter between the gaps in her fingertips.

There is nothing else she can really say.

No defense against the indefensible.

“This is the story we have to tell,” Pearl finishes unsparingly, and yet, at the very moment she does, she leans backwards in her chair, suddenly exhausted, completely drained, as though she’s already done all the telling and the reckoning and the processing and the labor.

But she’s only scarcely begun.

They both have.

“Not only for this project… but for ourselves, too. We owe ourselves that, at least—the ability to claim everything that we’ve done.”

“Or”—Blue finally lets her hands fall away from her face, leaving only the carnage of overbright eyes behind—“that has been done to you.”

She’s talking about her own atrocities—this Pearl immediately intuits—but Pearl thinks about a different Diamond instead.

A covered mouth.

A hibiscus flower.

And command to never speak of this again.

Because no one can know.

“Yes,” Pearl can only utter.

There is nothing else she can really say.

No defense against the indefensible.

They lapse into silence then, the static from the hologram’s particles humming in the still air.

“It’s a tragic story,” Blue Diamond says, “but I believe you're correct… we have to tell it anyway. For that very reason—so other gems will know the truth… and remember it… remember her.”

Pearl slowly reaches forward to grab the Holo-Crystal, her fingers hovering just above the recording mechanism.

“It’s a story about love,” she quietly asserts, renegade defiance in her voice. “About all different kinds of it, really.”

“The good, the bad, and the ugly.”

And so often the ugly.

“It was complicated,” Pearl only says and presses record.

It’s not an admission here; she's already admitted to this fact—several times over.

To anyone who will listen.

(No one really does.)

Rather, it's a tiny kindness.

Maybe to Blue Diamond.

Maybe to herself.

And maybe even to the memory of the long dead ghost who sits in the space of the thousands of lightyears between them, hands beneath her chin, smiling gently at some beautiful thing that she just saw.

A flower, perhaps.

A human.

An infinite, changing sky.

A world where she could perhaps learn to love herself in the same way that she loved others.

Entirely.

[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.

[austarus]

Harry Wells x Reader Crisis of Infinite Wells (Part 4 of 5)

**A/N: The picture/edit/gif does not belong to me. It belongs to @moonymartell​ and @countlesswells​

** *Insert angel face emoji*

Word Count: 7267

Part 1    Part 2    Part 3    Part 5

‘Systems Online,’ a pop-up signal had indicated on the tablet you held with flashing red and white lettered lights. But the adrenaline in your veins would not subside. Taking in a breath of rushed air, you walked towards the monitors on jittery feet with the notion of checking on Nash. Looking back up at him, his eyes were shut, and his lithe body was reclined in the chair with machinery hooked up to him. You dread ball up in the pit of your stomach as silence hung in the air.

“Did it work?” Ralph questioned, glancing to everyone then back to you; confusion written on his face.

“Is there something that should have happened?” Barry followed up beside Ralph.

“Well if there was a big bang sound, followed by multiple spontaneous sparks flying everywhere and the room’s electricity short-circuiting along with small fires combusting from the machinery then we’d be in trouble.” You watched Nash’s neurological and physiological vitals rise and fall within homeostatic values on the monitors. Normal. Stable. “I- According to my theoretical calculations- yes, I’m getting science-y right now-,” you exhaled while you gestured with your hands as you spoke, “each psyche that had manifested itself into Nash’s being should have effectively split from his psyche and returned to their respective bodies in each dimension harboring a Harrison Wells doppelganger. Harry and the others hypothesized that their bodies must be unconscious, but alive in order for their psyches to remain intact within Nash’s mind.” The others looked unsure. You rubbed your exhausted eyes. “It’s just like how when you and Iris used the Mindscape Machine to enter into Nora’s mindscape when she went into Grace’s mind. Sherloque said you both would enter with your psyche’s and they had to be intact in Nora’s head in order to ensure you’d be able to return to your bodies unharmed. If the psyche is harmed and killed in any way, then the body essentially dies,” You took a step towards them away from the monitors with the tablet held close to you. “The reverse should be correct as well. If the psyche is absent from the body, the body must be preserved at stable levels in order for the psyche to return and realign itself in its proper body. That’s what we’re relying on. Hopefully they all made it back to their respective bodies.”

“In this case, it’s the multidimension of Wells,” Chester interjected, lowering his voice to a whisper. “So freaking cool.” Allegra rolled her eyes as she continued to cross her arms.

“Nash would have felt the absence of a Wells in his psyche if another doppelganger’s psyche had deteriorated due to its unconscious body not surviving. Wolfgang would be able to pinpoint who it is because he has a neurological roster of the Council of Wells that he had implemented into his own mind, therefore his own psyche.”

Iris spoke up after you finished, running a hand over her forearm as she resisted the urge to itch the patch of skin. Side effects from remaining in the Mirrorverse for too long. “So, they get back to their bodies. Then what? How are they going to get here?”

“Each Wells should be able to use their intelligence as well as tapping into their own resources on their Earth and use the dimensional coordinates they have to get relay their dimensional coordinates and the states of their Earth’s back to Earth-Prime,” You answered in a heartbeat with a snap of a finger. “Sherloque, Harry, and Wolfgang should be coming as soon as they wake up. They work fast and everything.”

“Ugh,” Cisco groaned in irritation, throwing his head back, “not Herr ‘off-you-go’ Wells.” The rest of us giggled at impending misery. “I swear if he makes one snide remark.”

“Wait, how do you know if we’ve got all the Wells and their dimensions? Is there some sort of algorithm the satellites are tracking?” Kamila added from beside Cisco. You watched his eyes melt a bit at the fact that she takes interest in understanding his areas of expertise like how he does to her photography and artistic nature.

You gave Cisco the honors of explaining that one. He turned to his lovely girlfriend. “My babies up in the heavens, god bless my mechanical genius, are calibrated with the finest technology to identify any molecular or subatomic shifts produced by any wave of dark matter or antimatter.” Kamila grinned at him as he continued. “But we won’t know for certain until Grumpy Cat, Tea Leaves, and Herr Prim-Posh Pants summon themselves through to correctly calibrate the DCP (Dimensional Communications Projector) to the actual dimensional values. You know, the Wells touch and all. God, but I swear if they break anything-”

“-They’re not,” you giggled as you cut off your annoyed friend, “I already told Harry that this area would be a ‘No Throw’ zone. The guys know better than to throw things that aren’t theirs too.”

“What about Nash?” Cecile pointed at the unconscious man.

Right, this part. “I will stay here to monitor any changes to his vitals until he wakes up. I already have a universal blood sample from our very own speedster in case Nash’s body were to start entering a state of flux. Barry’s cells should be able to repair any damage in Nash’s body if that were to happen. Just like he did to Ralph.”

“But Ralph’s body is pure elastic. It can bend and readjust itself to anything. Nash’s human.” You make a very excellent point, Cecile.

“Don’t worry, I’ve already run tests on myself and Cisco in order to ensure that the small blood transfusion would work on non-metas.” You fist-bumped your bro, who nodded approvingly. “Tiny increments should be able to do the trick.” Cecile nodded at you, giving you a motherly proud look before it contorted into a pointed one. You knew what she was going to say, but before she had a chance to say it the meta alarm went off.

“I guess that’s our cue to leave things to you,” Barry smiled at you, before nodding everyone to the direction of the door.

“Don’t die out there,” you teasingly yelled at their retreating figure.

“We’ll try not to.”

“And Barry, you need to do a prognosis physiological and biochemical report on your body from using the artificial Speed-force. Can’t have you losing your speed halfway through the day.”

“Yes, mother, I’ll be home before dinner to do homework,” Barry snickered, as he waved you off as he left with the others.

You rolled your eyes playfully at your antics with him and the others. Taking a seat in front of the monitors, you gave Nash another look. No matter how many times I can joke around with the others, I still feel the weight of their lives on my shoulder. You chewed on the inside of your cheek as your eyes flickered onto the screens. You need to wake up soon Nash. Running a hand through your hair as you set your head against your arm which leaned on the metal table. I need to know I didn’t kill you.

***

An hour had passed, and you felt your head was down to its last brain cell. You blinked slowly as you laid it against the cool metal. Nash was still unconscious, and you were starting to get worried. His vitals were still substantially at equilibrium. You shut your eyes for a moment. Allegra strode in with an annoyed look on her face as her eyes landed on Nash then to you.

“I don’t get why you care about him,” her rushed voice caused you to lift your head up. She continued while you quirked an eyebrow at her. “Why you’re wasting time watching over him. I mean after everything he’s done to me and the rest of us. Hell, he took your boyfriend away from you for some shit myth-busting. How is it that you still try to make yourself available to help someone like him?” It pisses me off and so does his existence!

“Allegra, Nash’s a human being too.”

“Ugh, whatever.” The young adult padded over to where some tech lied in attempts to obtain the thing that Cisco had described he needed.

“Ok, no. I can’t do this today.”

“Excuse me?” she narrowed her eyes at your change in tone. What’s got her panties all in a sudden twist?

“I’m am so tired of your bullshit attitude towards him,” You threw out, standing up from your chair with flared nostrils. “Your incessant whining when we don’t tell you every little detail about us, and how you treated the rest of us like dirt as if we haven’t been trying to stay by your side.”

“I haven’t-”

“Do you honestly not remember the way you treated Joe and Cecile? With rudeness and hostility and utter venom? When they had tried to get you to trust them to keep you safe from your cousin? How you were so pissy at Iris for not telling you about Team Flash? How you sneered and lashed out at Frost for trying to help you with your boy problems? We’re just going to sweep all that under the rug and call it a day?” You rhetorically asked with utter frustration. “And Nash, what is your problem with him? That he didn’t tell you that his adopted daughter who died right in front of him is your doppelganger? That’s your reason to emotional and mentally abuse him?! Boohoo, he didn’t tell me the truth. I’m a journalist I have to know the truth.”

“I don’t know wh-”

How can one person be so selfish? “Yes, you do. I’m a family practitioner, I know the signs of abuse even if it isn’t physical. 1) The silent treatment you give him whenever he tried to approach you to see if you were alright or if you needed help. 2) Not taking any responsibility for your toxic behavior towards him. 3) Pushing him to the point where he questions himself and his sanity because of how much you openly despise him. 4) Leading him to believe almost everything that goes wrong around you is his fault when it’s not. That’s gaslighting. 5) Using shame and his guilt to make him feel worse about himself regarding problems he already deeply regrets and works every day to make up for it. 6) Appearing indifferent when he’s clearly hurt/sad/upset. That’s called lack of empathy. And 7) ignoring him when he’s trying to express his feelings or trying to explain himself to you, but obviously because of all of the above you never gave him the fucking chance.” I get that her upbringing was rough but isn’t it hypocritical of you to pry at everyone’s hidden secrets when you have some of your own. We barely know anything about you other than the CCPD records and your meta abilities.

You had taken a few steps closer to her, seething and seeing red. Allegra struggled to retaliate, “I didn’t know-“

“No, you clearly didn’t because every time he tried to talk to you, you always shot him down harshly. Nash tried to give you time and space, always hoping that you would be ready and one day just listen to him. Do you not know how hard it is to wake up every morning to see the doppelganger of your dead child? Do you not understand how hard it is for him to relive the memory of her death over and over again? How much grief he’s carried in his heart and all of a sudden, by a stroke of chance his daughter’s doppelganger is part of Team Flash on this Earth?”

“…”

“You call yourself a journalist, but only when you don’t get what you want. You used that card so many times against Iris, especially when you snooped on her computer and found out about the crisis.” You took in a breath from your heated speech to calm down. Your headed started to pound even more Never in your life have you gotten this ballistic. You counted to 10 and regained control of your breathing and your tongue. Allegra was downright speechless, stunned in her spot at your ebullient words. “I’m not sorry for everything that I’ve said. You needed to hear it to wake up from that closed off and childish world you live in. Because whether you like it or not, he’s family too. And he’s here to stay, just like you. That’s the truth. You have trust issues, even when you’re with us. All of us. You doubt yourself and hesitate. That’s another truth. And you just use him as a punching bag to let out your frustration and pent-up annoyance on someone who only wants to protect you. Penance for not being able to protect his own daughter.”

“I didn’t ask for him to protect me. I’m not helpless.”

“We don’t ask for a lot of things in life to happen, but they do so anyway. Barry got struck by lightning. Frost and Caitlin watched their father die. We’ve lost so many precious souls. But life goes on. Is Iris helpless when Barry saves her? Is it true when vice versa happens? Frost distracts the baddie in time for Cisco to work his tech magic. Is he helpless? Is Ralph helpless when Sue took down those assassins even though she knew he was Elongated Man who is more than capable of handling a few bullets?”

“I- No?”

“Having another person around isn’t a sign of weakness, but strength. Surrounding yourself with people who love you, who you can call family isn’t an exhibition of helplessness. Allegra, you have a home now. A family that will always want the best for you whether you choose to trust us or not. And no matter what happens, Nash’s resolve is to ensure your safety even though he knows you are your own person. For his dead daughter’s sake. That’s how he believes he can redeem all that he’s done. Is that wrong?”

“But he manipulated me and then basically started the crisis.”

“Then I guess you don’t know the full story about that either,” you mocked her. Some reporter, huh. “First off, Nash told you about Team Flash before Team Flash told you about Team Flash. Why? I can only assume that he wanted you to know before you found out the hard way. Meaning if something where to happen to you unexpectedly like Blackhole targeting you because of your affiliation with Iris. He wanted you to already be aware of them and to know who to go to in case things got rough. Secondly, he gave you the push you needed to not fear your powers. To trust yourself. He foresaw that you’d need your powers and so would the others. So, where in all of that does Nash win and leave you for ruin like Eobard Thawne has done to the others? Was it wrong for Nash to indirectly help you in his own awkward bargain-y kind of way?”

Allegra ran a hand through her hair as you spoke, wanting desperately to prove you wrong that Nash was just using her. “It’s just… weird. I’m her doppelganger, I’m my own person. I’m not… her. I don’t even know her name.”

“Her name is Maya and if you asked Nash, he’d be more than willing to tell you about her, and you’d see for yourself that you and she are not the same.”

Allegra nodded at your words, looking as if she would contemplate it. You hoped anyway. The man didn’t need to be broken further. “How do you know all this?”

“It’s honestly pretty simple to push his buttons a bit before he spilled his pent-up feelings to me after we exorcised Eobard out of him. And I’m pretty sure Harry’s been giving him hell for Nash’s unsuccessful attempts with talking to you.

“Who’s he again?”

“An evil murderous speedster that has a thing for ruining Barry’s life and ensuring his existence in the timeline. Not the first time that’s happened, but the crisis allowed for us to do an exorcism was very… eye-opening.” You grinned mirthlessly to yourself causing her to smile a bit. You sighed and took a seat, gesturing for her to take it. Rubbing your eyes, you spoke up, “Nash isn’t the only one.”

“I don’t understand”

“4 years ago, Zoom was terrorizing Earth-1 and Earth-2. A speedster that could breach back and forth if all 52 breach-points weren’t sealed. It was terrifying to say the least. Barry, Cisco, Harry, and I breached over to Earth-2 with a 24-hour time limit in saving Jesse. She’s Harry’s daughter. His pride and joy, his one weakness but his true.”

“You sound like she’s yours too.”

In a way, she kinda would be if- “She’s a brilliant young soul who rivaled her father in intelligence and had a high-spirited personality. Later on, she was accidentally gifted with speedster abilities when Harry and the others tried to regain Barry’s speed. Abilities that Harry still dreads to this day because he’s an overprotective grouch. You’d like Jesse if you met her. Any who, I’m going off topic-” You laughed to yourself. “We had a strict time limit to find her before Zoom and his meta-minions expunged us off the multiverse. And Barry, he went undercover after kidnapping his nerdy doppelganger- “

“-so, Barry basically kidnapped himself- “

“-Yeah. A lot of weird shit goes on with us, but those are all stories for another time.” You waved the thought off before continuing. “So, he was undercover, and he met up with Joe and Iris’ doppelgangers on Earth-2’s Jitters. Barry couldn’t help himself when it came to protecting them when Earth-2 Killer Frost and her boyfriend crashed the little party in search for Barry and us. In the name of Zoom, they were sent out to kill of the breachers. Barry got involved when we were supposed to be incognito getting in and getting out. He sped E-2 Joe to the hospital and E-2 Iris away before she could shoot at E-2 Killer Frost. Even though, Harry told him that these doppelgangers were not his Iris and Joe, that he shouldn’t get involved with the people there. Barry saw the differences and, I kid you not, yelled at Harry that even if they were doppelgangers, they were still his Joe and Iris. He had a sense to protect them, just like Nash does for you.”

“That’s…”

 “It’s a lot, I know. We’ve all been through a lot in these past 6 years. Just… just think about it. Give Nash a chance to talk to you. To explain everything to you from his point of view. Because deep down, he knows you are your own person, but that you’re special just like Maya. Just as what Barry saw on Earth-2 with Joe and Iris’ doppelgangers. Lives worth risking for.”

You watched as Allegra took in a breath, really letting everything sink in before nodding at you. The gem that Nash had given her was still in her jacket pocket. It amplified her UV powers into mentally confusing the person in front of her. She fiddled with the tech in her hands. “I need to go give this to Cisco. He’s probably wondering if I drowned or not.” You nodded at her with an understanding smile as she retreated out the speed lab. Sighing harshly, you allowed the tension to leave your body as you reclined back in your seat. You shut your eyes. I hope I made the right decision to speak my mind to her.

“Didn’t think you thought that highly of me.” Your eyes fluttered open as you took a sharp intake of breath. Nash chuckled to himself at your dismay. His head felt incredibly murky as he blinked the dark spots away. He remained reclined as he rolled his head to the side, the feeling of his limbs returning to him as he urged his fingers to twitch and curl.

“Nash?! You were awake the entire time?!” Nash just smirked languidly at your embarrassed outburst, ignoring the slight throbbing sensation in his head. “Why didn’t you chime in?”

He watched you slowly sit up with worriment. Nash noted your continued exhaustion. “I was intrigued on what you had to say on my behalf.”

“Worried I’d tell her to UV your existence off the planet?”

“No, you wouldn’t do that.”

“And how do you know that? I can be pretty mean.”

And pretty bossy when you berate me for running into danger. But in either case, still pretty. “I understand. But then the question begs, why would you go to such great lengths to defend me?”

“I didn’t defend just you, Nash.”

“But almost the entirety of the conversation revolved around me and how I felt. My regrets and intentional self-punishment. You could have told her that you didn’t care and that she could continue to give me the cold shoulder… but you didn’t. Isn’t that right, little lady?” Nash coyly mocked you, causing you to roll your eyes at the Wells doppelganger. “Like you said, I’m a human being as well.”

“And a dumbass,” you muttered in a hushed voice to yourself as the taller man moved to stand up, he swayed not quite oriented yet. You were on your feet at once to steady him back into his seat. “Let’s do a couple of tests before you do any gallivanting across the city.” You checked over the monitors, noting that some vitals had dropped below normal which could be due to him waking up from the psyche-neural mental surgery.

“Do you want to take Barry’s blood?” You held up the syringe of speedster blood O-.

“Pass. I’m not a vampire.”

“I know you’re not a vampire, you idiot! This should speed up your body’s biochemical processes for you to retain homeostatic levels and for your mind to reorient itself to the psyche-neural splicing.” Nash stubbornly agreed to the blood administration. He rolled up his sleeve while you pulled out the necessary equipment to work your medical magic. You were just about finished when the geological myth-buster spoke up.

“Thank you… I owe you a favor.”

“Huh?”

“I said, thank you.”

“Sorry, just one more time. I don’t- I don’t think I… caught that correctly.”

“How does Harry even put up with you?”

“You can ask him yourself when he gets here,” you responded cheekily with a huge toothy grin on your face. You won’t lie and say that your heart didn’t jump that Harry would be coming soon. “Now what’s this about owing me a favor?”

Geez don’t smile like that at me. Nash pushed away those pesky thoughts. “I honestly really hoped you wouldn’t catch that, but,” He paused for a moment to collect his words as he sat up, now not taking for granted the silence within his own mind. “After you put the Psyche Segregator on me, I realized something. The favor you owed me, protecting Allegra, it’s… a favor without an expiration date.”

“So?”

“It wouldn’t be fair if I did not do the same.”

“I’m not following.”

“Gods! What I’m saying is, that I owe you a lifelong favor. But only one.”

He owes me a favor. A lifelong favor. A favor that’s lifelong. A favor that doesn’t expire. An expirationless favor. I get a lifelong favor. A dumbass owes me a favor. “…”

“What’s it going to be?”

“… I can’t think of anything right now.”

Nash only blinked at you. “Seriously, you can’t come up with something in that ditzy head of yours?”

“Hey, I take great offense to that!”

“Good, it’s the truth.”

You put away the medical equipment and disconnected the screens that held his vitals. While you were up, you gave him a water bottle and some food to help with the dizziness. Nash felt his strength return to him as the blood transfusion allowed his body to work faster in restoring itself. “You never told me; did it work? Are they…?” You trailed off pointing to your head as he stood up.

“No mo-”

Swouush, swooush

The crackling sounds of atoms and the fabric of this dimension cut you off. You turned around to see two breach-like holes open up in the middle of the speed lab, familiar and friendly faces exiting safely. They pocketed their newly synthesized dimensional extrapolators.

“Vhy don’t you take ein gut look, schatz?”

“Oui, we’d be more zhan ‘appy to answer zhat for Nash.”

You greeted them cheerily with a hand wave as they approached you and Nash. Wolfgang nodded at you before making a beeline to where the DCM remained. Sherloque tipped his hat to you before nodding at Nash.

“You guys made it safely.” :D

“Zhat we did, petit fluer. A few bumps on zhe way, but nozhing eizher of us could not ‘andle,” Sherloque piqued up,

“Then that means-,” You pulled out caramel vanilla flavored chap stick out of your pocket and applied it to your lips. Your heart waited in anticipation not even wanting to waste time to even fix your hair. Harry will be here soon. The boys just watched you carry on with a dumbstruck smile on your face as you stood in place and waited for a breach to open up. Wolfgang resumed working on recalibrating the DCM for the others.

“Did you just put on chap stick?” Nash asked with quirked eyebrows and an incredulous look.

“Well, yeah? When I see Harry, I’m going to wanna kiss him, duh.”

“You didn’t get enough from-”

“-Sherloque, don’t-”

“-when you were making out wizh ‘arry in Nash’s ‘ead?”

You shut your eyes and groaned, blood rushing up to your face as you covered it with your hands. “They did what?? Seriously, in my mindscape?” Nash’s flare-up caused Sherloque to snicker as he smirked at your bashfulness.

“Ja, zhey did zhat.” Wolfgang sighed, pulling up new schematics one the computer screen. He worked diligently with any piece of technology at his fingertips. “Alzhough, Sherloque vas zhe unfortunate one to valk in on zhem. Gott sei Dank bin ich es nicht.”

“Oui, zhey were getting very ‘ot and ‘eavy zhat it took Wolfgang and moi to interrupt zhem from what people on zhis Earth would say ‘rounding zhe bases like deux ‘ormonal teenagers.”

“Sherloque, stop! Please!”

Your cheeks were on fire and you know they could see the colored hues. Sherloque and Nash continued to tease you while you attempted to ignore their playful jabs. No Harry yet. It’s been… 15 minutes. Don’t panic. He’s ok. Probably held up or something at his Labs. He’s ok and he’s with Jesse. Just breathe. “I-I should probably run some small physiological diagnostics on you guys since you just crossed over and we don’t know if the dimensional travel will negatively impact you or not.”

“Great, she gets nervous and all of a sudden to distract herself, the little lady wants to run tests.” Nash facepalmed while Sherloque just gave you a look.

“Hey, I’m not nervous! How many times are you going to offend me today?”

“As many times as necessary.”

“Everyzhing zhat you’re doing right now are common gestures of being nervous. You keep playing wizh your fingers and biting on your bottom lip. You did zhat last year whenever we were discussing Cicada.” Sherloque added much to your chagrin.

You pouted with crossed arms. “I don’t do it often.”

“Yes, you do.” Both Nash and Sherloque responded simultaneously and you felt yourself shrink a bit under their combined blue gazes. Before you could say anything, Wolfgang let out low whistle. The three of you turned to him as he began to speak.

“Systems are all online und fully functional. Zhe ozhers should be sending us zheir dimensional coordinates und ve can commence vizh zhe cataloging soon.” The German man continued speaking as he finished typing up a few more algorithms on the computer. “I’ve already uploaded ein copy of zhe roster from my mind zhat vay ve could check zhe ozher Vells off Stück für Stück.

You nodded at Wolfgang’s words, but felt your stomach squeeze in your lower abdomen. “What about Harry?”

“Ve vill just have to vait until he shows up, schatz.” Wolfgang adjusted his glasses as he gave you a brief glance. You weren’t the only one to notice that since arriving on Earth-Prime that Wolfgang wouldn’t meet your eyes. “Do no vorry, Harry vill come.” Your shoulders sagged at the idea, an action Sherloque picked up on which prompted him to give his two cents.

Mh, une distraction semble être de mise. “(Y/N), Wolfgang ‘ere told me an interesting story about ‘is Earzh and a particular person ‘e ‘ad come across. Say, your doppelganger for instance.” The Frenchman took off his fedora to card his fingers through his dark locks whilst Wolfgang momentarily froze. Nash stretched fully before retreating out of the room, knowing he wouldn’t be needed and wouldn’t allow himself to be psychoanalyzed by the one and only Sherloque Wells. Sherloque smirked as Nash left and Wolfgang’s reaction. Il n’y a pas de mal à partager des histoires.

“Nein, halt- Ich-”

“-He told you or did you deduce it from him like you do to everyone else?” You questioned your friend slyly before turning your head back to the German Wells. “Wolfgang, you knew my doppelganger?”

“Ja, ve… ve used to be close in university.” His cheeks dusted pink as he fumbled about with the wiring of your Earth’s extrapolators. “She vas zhe one zhing zhat remained constant zhrough zhe years.”

“What happened to her? You’re talking as if-”

“She passed avay. Ja, she did. She vas terminally ill… Multiple Sclerozis.”

So that’s probably why he doesn’t like to look at me for too long. “I’m sorry. My brother- he died a few years ago from Multiple Sclerosis too. I guess the apple doesn’t fall too far from the family tree even across the multiverse, huh?”

“Ja.”

Ok (Y/N), way to make it super awkward. “I should- leave you to your sciencing. Sorry about that.”

Wolfgang just nodded his head in thanks before sending a glare to the detective while Sherloque advised the both of you to venture out to the breakroom for to make drinks. With a smug look on his face, obviously. Qu’est ce qui retarde ‘arry? The same thought echoed hauntingly in your mind as well. You allowed the French detective to pull you down the corridor for some coffee and tea, but your mind could not for the life of it let go of Harry.

***

You waited. Patiently, if I might add. It’s been 2 days since Wolfgang and Sherloque had popped over. Obviously you had gone home to shower and change before coming back with some snacks. The cataloging was running smoothly. Wells one by one projected themselves over via the DCM and recounted their dimensional coordinates as well as establishing the state of their Earth in this new dimension. But you grew uninterested in the different variations of your boyfriend. Each second ticked away at your heart. Like a fool you’d look up at the different sounds that would come from the center of the Speed Labs only to be met with disappointment. Sherloque eyed you as you waited around like a lost puppy for the Earth-2 man, even at points getting up and pacing. The detective saw the anxiety ooze from you at the fact that Harry hadn’t arrived yet, so he did his best to distract you from your worries and thoughts. But he was running out of stories of Earth-221, interesting cases, and discussion topics to tell.

Barry had sped in a couch for you and Sherloque to sit in as you waited for Harry to make an appearance. The detective calmly sipped at his new flavored tea, one that you had provided. Wild Raspberry Hibiscus. You blinked the sleep from your eyes, willing yourself to be alert. You had already consumed 4 cups of coffee with espresso yesterday, but those sleepless nights were slowly pushing against you. The two of you sat in silence with only the hums of working electricity and noises from the DCM.

“I zhink,” Wolfgang took a step back from the computer monitor, “I should retire for zhe nacht.” The German took off his glasses and rubbing his closed eyes. Es war eine mühsame Aufgabe, aber sie musste erledigt werden. “I’ve reprogrammed zhe system in order for it to catalog incoming Vells automatically.”

“I’ll keep my eye on it,” Sherloque piqued up, gesturing with his porcelain teacup to the DCM and subtly side glancing at you. Wolfgang only nodded at his doppelganger.

“Yeah, you should go rest. Sorry if it seemed like I was keeping you here,” you stood up and stretched, walking over to the German Wells.

“Nonsense, zhink of it as a favor to Harry,” Wolfgang waved off your statement. You offered your hand to the platinum-haired Wells which he shook gently before bidding your goodbyes to each other as he strode through the dimensional breach. Which reminds me. You scrunched your face and blinked a few times over then turned back to the seated detective.

“Sherloque, you don’t have to say here. You should go back home to Renee.”

“I- Comment puis-je lui dire? … Renee and I didn’t exactly work out. Encore.” You observed him as he set his teacup down, Sherloque chuckled sadly to himself. Je ne sais même pas pourquoi j’ai voulu recommencé ca va faire 8 fois.

“You deserve better. You really do, Sherloque. Love will find you.”

“Easy for you to say.”

“Hey, head up,” You found yourself sitting beside the now cynical man as you wrapped your arms around him in a comforting hug. “It could even literally run right into you one day when you least expect it. But it doesn’t mean you can run yourself ragged from sleep loss.” He sighed, shaking his head slightly and reciprocating the gesture of affection. You knew he had no problem with loving, it was the fact of having that love fully reciprocated without it becoming superficial.

“I cannot, I promised ‘arry I would not leave your side in zhe case zhat zhere would be some sort of delay on ‘is end.”

“He asked you to do that for me?”

“Oui”

“Do you think… something happened to him?”

“I wouldn’t worry. ‘e’s a capable and determined man, plus ‘e ‘as ‘is daughter wizh ‘im. Now come on, I believe zhe bozh of us deserve a change of scenery.”

“I’m feeling the need for Jitters coffee actually.”

You pulled said man off the couch and moved towards the direction of the door. Sherloque raised an eyebrow at you incredulously as he scrunched his nose in disgust at the prospect of coffee. “Coffee at zhis hour? Its 10 PM.”

“WHAT?”

“Well you’ve been on zhe Netflix entire time, peeping up every once and awhile to see if ‘arry come or not. I’m not surprised you lost track of time.”

“I guess I can drink some hot chocolate from the breakroom.”

“No need to get up,” Nash’s voice caused your head to snap up as he stepped into the Speed lab with a cup of hot chocolate in hand, “I figured you’ve had too much coffee in your clumsy existence within the past 12 hours.” In truth, Nash had made, dumped, and re-made hot chocolate 7 times in the past 2 hours because he had no idea on how you’d react when he’d make it. He had no idea why he impulsively decided to make one of your favorite drinks instead of letting you waste away at the prospect of coffee. The adventurer talked and scolded himself because you clearly don’t need him to help you out. You’re a capable, independent ditz after all with a war veteran of a boyfriend on the way. Although, Harry’s delay did ease the unsettling feeling in the pit of Nash’s stomach. Finally, the myth-buster had made a decision and added some peppermint extract to give it more flavor with some marshmallows. Fuck it, I’m going to do it anyway because… I secretly want to see her smile at me while it lasts. FuCk.

“I resent that statement, but I do thank you for the hot cocoa,” you hummed in contentment of the fresh brew. Nash saw the weight momentarily leave your shoulders and your body visibly relaxed. You saw him eye you oddly but chose to shake it off as you took another long sip. “Mm, I never got to ask, but have you met any vampires?”

“What?”

“Vampires. You said you weren’t one and I obviously know that, but I’m intrigued if you’ve encountered any on your travels through the multiverse. Cisco accidentally met one when he saved Breacher a year ago.”

“Do you always come up with bizarre questions to ask?” Nash poked your cheek as the three of you moved back to the couch. You batted his hand away. Sherloque baby blue eyes followed the banter between

“I don’t know if I should take it as a compliment or a criticism.”

“Take it as you will. I honestly don’t care.”

“Well?” You asked with furrowed eyebrows as you were seated in between Sherloque and Nash on the couch. You blinked a few times and shook your head a bit.

“Well, what?”

“Have you caused any trouble with any vampire?”

“Why is it that you think that I always cause trouble?” Nash countered your question with his own. He ignored the mockingly smug look on Sherloque’s face.

You shot Nash a look before retorting and Sherloque held in a laugh. “I’m not even going to answer that, Nash.” Nash stammered a bit before succumbing to that determined look on your face, the sparkles hidden in your eyes as they twinkled with curiosity.

“There was this one time-”

“-I knew it!-”

“-Would you let me finish before judging?” He lightly scolded you as you took another sip of your hot cocoa, your head started to throb against the hardness of your skull. “Anyway, before I was so rudely interrupted,” but you did not look in the least regretful, “this was before I met Maya. I had… overheard in a tavern on a dark Earth rumors of the Alexandrite Crown or better known in the dark legends as the Queen’s Crown. A crown thistled with alexandrite gems but infused with Thallium and Platinum. Poisonous according to the naturally occurring substances on that Earth.”

Nash continued painting the pictures to his adventure and his encounter with a Vampire Clan in a clash over the Alexandrite Crown and the mystical way of obtaining Chrysolite in order to cleanse it from the noxious spirit that’s locked away within. You hung onto each word as you pushed away the blurriness in your vision and the hazy state of your mind. With each second your head got heavier, feeling like lead and your eyes threatened to droop, but you needed this distraction from worrying about Harry’s wellbeing. Taking one deep breath, you shut your eyes as your body went out of commission. The geological adventurer breathed a sigh of relief, lowering his voice to a stop as your head gently lolled to the side, resting against Sherloque’s shoulder. Both men observed your breathing pattern relax to soft puffs of air.

“Sleeping powder, impressive and you even stalled until it took effect. Maybe zhere’s hope for you just yet,” Sherloque smugly spoke up as he readjusted you to rest your head onto his lap.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Nash narrowed his blue irises at the detective.

“Non, nozhing. What else did you bring?”

“Huh? What-I didn’t-”

“I’m a detective Nash, I notice zhe most miniscule of things. Bring over zhe pillow and blanket you ‘ave ‘idden in zhe vacant room beside zhe corridor.”

“How did you…?”

“Skill, mon ami. Skill. Just because I’m not in your ‘ead does not mean zhat I cannot see zhrough your pure intentions.”

Nash sighed in defeat as he pulled up the blanket and pillow. He first covered you with a fluffy blanket, ensuring that he would not meet Sherloque’s eyes. “She gets cold when she falls asleep.”

“And zhe pillow?”

Nash handed his doppelganger the pillow, who placed it on his lap before setting your head on it to sleep comfortably. “You already know so I’m not going to even say anything.”

The detective quirked a teasing, but knowing eyebrow at the explorer, “Be honest wizh yourself, what prompted you to essentially drug her?”

“Okay, with the way you’re saying it, you’re sounding as if I’m going to do vile things to her. And you know what? I’m not going to even pretend to not be offended by that.”

“Well in reality you technically did drug her, but zhat’s beside zhe point.”

“She hasn’t been sleeping well. You know it. I know it. Hell, everyone on Team Flash noticed, but no one had the will to reprimand her to take a day to rest.”

“You mean ‘zhe ‘eart’ to.”

“Whatever!-”

“-Shh!-”

“-The little lady needed to sleep. She can’t be running herself ragged while making sure everyone around her stays safe and healthy.”

“Zhat’s very noble of you, Nash. C’est ironique, non? Elle ne peut pas être tienne mais tu ne peux pas t’empêcher de désirer quelque chose que tu ne peux pas avoir.” Ta logique t’a réprimandé pour avoir préféré profiter d’un instant avec tes amis. Tu vas devoir apprendre à t’en contenter.

“What did you just say?”

“Nozhing!” Sherloque just gave the other man a mysterious smile as he took off his fedora and tossed it onto a spare and vacant table on the side. “You know it’s nozhing to be ashamed of, right? Caring about ‘er and ‘er safety, zhat’s what zhis team does to a person. It doesn’t make you weak. You should know zhat by now.”

“…”

“You just need to know not to tip over zhe line.” Sherloque knew his doppelganger didn’t like being deduced, didn’t like his actions thoroughly analyzed to told what and how he was feeling. But sometimes, he needed a little push in the right direction by the detective in order to fully face the intentions behind his actions. That was one of Nash’s flaws. The ability to push aside all the pain and emotions behind current actions in a little box and thrown out the window in order to press on with the adventures that he lived on. Sherloque had discretely gone through some of his recent memories and noticed it occur with not just you and Allegra, but with the members of Team Flash as well.

“I know what I’m doing,”

“Zhen I believe you have some… patching up to do wizh a certain teenager.”

“She’s not a teenager, she’s a young adult.”

“All in zhe same wizh ‘ow she was acting.”

Nash left with a slight huff as he had every intention of turning in for the night, mentally contemplating a few things. Rubbing his eyes, the explorer took one glance back from where he stood in the corridor. He dismissed the skilled detective’s words, but yours had echoed in his mind. The detective reclined back on the couch, his own mind wandering in the depths of his own nightmares and regrets. He took one look at you before shaking his head. Sherloque smirked as his ears perked up to familiar sounds causing the detective to tilt his head back.

“Eh bien il était temps”

German and French Translation:

Deux - Two

Mh, une distraction semble être de mise - Hm, a distraction seems to be necessary right now

Il n’y a pas de mal à partager des histoires – There’s no harm in sharing some stories.

Qu’est ce qui retarde Harry? - What is taking Harry so long?

Comment puis-je lui dire? – How do I say this?

Encore – Again

Je ne sais même pas pourquoi j’ai voulu recommencé ca va faire 8 fois – I don’t know why I tried an 8th time.

C’est ironique, non? Elle ne peut pas être tienne mais tu ne peux pas t’empêcher de désirer quelque chose que tu ne peux pas avoir – It is ironic, no? Even though she cannot be yours your heart can’t help but to secretly desire something dangerous

Ta logique t’a réprimandé pour avoir préféré profiter d’un instant avec tes amis. Tu vas devoir apprendre à t’en contenter. – Your logical mind scolded you to relish with your friendship instead. Something you will have to learn to become content with.

Eh bien il était temps - Well it’s about time.

Mon Ami – My friend

Stück für Stück – Bit by bit

Es war eine mühsame Aufgabe, aber sie musste erledigt warden - It was a tedious task, but it needed to be done

Gott sei Dank bin ich es nicht – Thank God I didn’t

Schatz – sweetheart

Petit Fleur – Little Flower

[romace-tea-cup]

imagine being the daughter of bella and edward and your coven finds out about your relationship with felix part two

************************************

I got woken up by the beautiful sun shining on my window , i was in a happy mood for a second when i remembered what needed to be done for today . I then let out a heavy sigh and i got up , i did my bed and cleaned any left over mess i made the night before and i got in the shower and i took a quick but hygienic shower that left me smelling like baked christmas cookies and mint candy canes . I then got dressed for my outfit of the day , i made sure i was comfortable enough because i knew felix would be taking me to volterra in a private jet . After i was done getting dressed and did my hair and make up the last thing i needed to do is to pack my bathroom essentials and bring my phone and my phone charger , after i was done i looked around and noticed how empty the room felt with only my bed and my tv and some furniture left in my room . At this point some of my tears started to drip , i was afraid this was gonna end up bad , what if felix would fight them and he killed my dad like last time in italy ? What if my dad would kill felix ? What if my coven would disown me ? I started to shake out of it , i then grew enough balls and esme had prepared me some eggs and bacon , i smiled at her and pulled her into a tight hug and she just chuckled .

" Thank you esme , i love you so much you are the best of the best no one can top your cooking "

" oh sweetheart , i love seeing you in a good mood , you are never this sweet any special occasion ? "

" N-no , i just thought id show my gratitude towards you and thank you for being there since i was born esme , thank you for taking care of me , thank you for the love you have given me since birth , you really are like a second mom and i would never trade it for anything in the entire world and im thankful i have hou by my side no matter what "

" Oh sweet heart , i love you as if you were my own , i love watching you grow into the amazing lady you are now , and im sure you will keep being the lovable lady you are "

I then nodded and we were talking while i was eating , after i was done i gave her a kiss on the cheek and she gave me one as well it felt like i was saying my goodbye to her which was true because i don't know when ill see her again or if ill even see her , i then did the rest with my family . I saw nessie and she was trying to braid her hair but she was unable , so i stepped in and i braided it for her .

" Let me see "

" Thank you y/n "

" It's no problem nessie , so how is your life with jacob ? Any problems ? "

" My life is amazing , Jacob is the sweetest to me and he cares for me allot , im grateful i have him "

" Well im glad he is treating you like the little princess you are . I hope you know ill always be your sister no matter what , ill always be available when you need me , and no matter what happens ill still love you and i hope you will to little sister . "

" I love you more big sis , and we will always have the same bond because we were in mommies belly , even though you are full vampire and you grew up faster than me and i still look 8 we will never be separated no matter what "

" Well im glad you think so , like it ? "

" i love it ! , thanks sis ! "

" No problem nugget "

We hugged each other and i placed a kiss in her forehead and now i headed to spend time with uncle jasper , he was watching tv and i just sat down next to him .

" Hey uncle jasper "

" What's up ? "

" Nothing much , just thought i would spend some quality time with my favorite historian person "

" Psh im more than a historian "

" Yeah ? Like what ? "

" a great uncle , you can't deny it "

" Yeah of course not , So how are you and aunt alice ? "

" We are doing great , i keep falling in love with her more after each day that passes "

" Well im glad to hear that heh "

" I was meaning to ask you , about what jacob said yesterday , you know you can trust me , did it really happen y/n ? "

I knew i could trust him

" Well yes it did , with another vampire uncle , just don't tell anyone or jacob "

" I won't , so who is the guy ? Do we know him ? "

" I guess you will have to wait and see "

YES YOU DO KNOW HIM IN FACT YOU ARE ABOUT TO MEET HIM AND YOU WILL PROBABLY DISOWN ME BUT ITS LOVE WHAT CAN I SAY !

We spent time together with him telling me his battle stories and i hugged him and headed out to spend time with uncle emmett , he was as usual working out so i changed into my sport clothes and headed out to see him and give him one last work out buddy bonding before i headed out .

" Hey uncle em you ready for a race "

" psh game on "

We ran three miles around the woods and he ended up beating me as usual .

" I won "

" Yeah Yeah stop showing off it was luck "

" Wanna lift next ? "

" Oh you are on ! "

We started lifting and i won this time and he started chuckling , we then went out hunting as usual and he catches a bear while i ate a deer and we headed back to the house honestly im thankful vampires don't sweat . Next up i went to spend time with aunt rosalie and aunt alice , they are usually together but first i gave uncle emmett a hug and then headed off , they were in Rosalie's room .

" Hey aunties , can i come in "

" Sure y/n me and alice were discussing what we are gonna wear for the upcoming ball "

" Ball ? What ball ? "

" The volturi will be hosting a ball in new years eve , we are invited and we were gonna go shopping for dresses next Friday ? "

" Oh um ill go some time another day aunt rosie , in fact i came here to spend time together with both of yall "

" Well why dint you say so !? I just learned new make up tips i wanna show you ! "

" And ill show you how to style your hair y/n "

" sure guys feel free to show me "

They showed me new make up tips and how to style my hair and honestly i appreciate it because i learned how to style my hair better and how to glam myself up for this upcoming ball i never even hared off yet . Now i headed to spend time with mom and dad , he was playing the piano while my mom was reading a book in her room in the couch , my dad purchased him a piano in his room .

" Hey mom and dad , can i come in ? "

" Hey y/n yeah sure "

" Thanks mom , so what are you guy's doing ?

" Im practicing a new song i learned wanna hear it ? "

" Sure thing dad "

He started playing a song and i honestly loved it and i gave him a hug after he ended the song , then me and my mom were talking and we bonded real good . i hugged them both before i confronted jacob about what happened yesterday .

" Hey jake um do you have a moment ? "

" Sure "

" I wanted to apologize over um yesterday , i know i can be a bitch sometimes but i just get annoyed quickly "

" You and apologies ? You feeling well y/n ? "

" Yes jake , i just thought it was right if i apologized to you "

" Well apology accepted "

" Thanks , and thank you for making my little sister happy , i hope you continue to love her as much as you love her right now "

" I will of course , now im heading out to have a meeting with sam , but thanks for the apology , ill be back before 6 "

" Thanks and good luck "

Now it was time to spend time with the last cullen carlisle , he was in his doctors office in the house and i just knocked .

" Hey Carlisle , can i come in ? "

" Of course y/n you are always welcomed "

" So what are you doing huh ? "

" Just doing some research for the upcoming ball "

" So you and aro were friends huh ? How was that ? "

" He can be a bit power hungry but i know he is a great guy "

" What about the guards ? "

" They were fine , i got along with everyone , alec and jane were just chilling but the guards i spent time with were Jane , Alec , Demetri , and Felix . "

" and how was felix ? "

He then looked at me and i started to panic

SHIT ! SHIT ! WHY DID I ASK THAT ?

" He was a great guy , he is the most strong vampire in the world and everyone fears him , im sure you are dreaded to meet him , you and felix were meant to be you know ? "

Wait a second ... He knows about us ?

" Wha- what do you mean ? "

" Well i know you both are mates and you have been seeing each other and that today is your last day here before you head to volterra with him "

" How did you - "

" know? Aro told me , but the rest of the coven does not know because its not my place to tell them , its yours . I have spotted yall both hugging and kissing , i also noticed that you packed your bags yesterday and today , not to mention i knew thag whatever jacob was talking about was true "

I then started to have a faint blush .

" Yeah uh about that i can explain ! "

" No need to , that is a natural thing with mates , and felix will do anything in his power to see you happy , trust me i know him longer than you "

" I guess you are right "

Then a loud voice caught me and Carlisle attention

" WHY ARE YOU HERE !? "

We both rushed to the living room and then i saw him , well all of them exactly ! I thought it was only gonna be felix but i was wrong ! It was the four guards !

" We came here to collect y/n "

Jane spoke and the tension was high as fuck

" My daughter will not be collected without a reason ! "

" y/n is felix' s mate , they have been seeing each other for quite a while , now it is set for her to leave this coven and join us "

Alec spoke and i felt like i was about to have a panic attack .

" Y/n what is he talking about ?! "

" Mom i ... "

" So what jacob said last night was correct ? You slept with this murderer ! "

My dad shouted and then felix growled and speed next to My side protecting me and he stepped infront of my dad .

" And if we had sex what is the problem ? She is my mate and i have every right to please her in bed and have the right to touch her if i wanted to and whenever i want to "

" So that's why you been acting all weird huh ? You knew this was gonna happen "

My aunt rosalie stated and carlisle put a hand over her and let out a sigh and my dad then knew then and there that he knew .

" So you knew all along !? You were her partner in crime and you backed her up with this relationship ! "

" It was not my place to say something edward , this is y/n's and felix's business "

" Mia tesoro please grab your bags , its time to head out "

I just simply nod but alice and my mom hold my wrists

" No ! You can't go ! You cant be part of there coven y/n ! "

Jane then uses her power on alice and she falls in pain but bella uses her shield on her so she is able to get over it and i quickly head for my bags and i have my mini back pack .

" Jasper you also knew about this and you dis not bother to say one word about it !? "

My dad shouted

" I just found out today edward "

" So what i smelled was true , you guys were riding like it was the best time of your life and if your life depended on it y/n "

Felix and demetri then chuckled but my dad and mom shouted at him .

" Jake ! Stop ! "

" As much as i am delighted to see this controversy we need to go master caius would be very upset if we arrived late "

Jane said and i just headed out and felix put a hand over me while my family watched me leave with sadness in their face , i let a few tears slip here and there but felix grabbed my face in his huge ones and wiped my tears away with his thumb .

" Amore mio, per favore non piangere, non sopporto di vedere quei tuoi bellissimi occhi piangere. Ti amano e lo supereranno amore mio, per favore sorridi perché quando piangi mi sento come se stessi crollando. "

Translation

" My love , please do not cry , i cant stand to see those beautiful eyes of yours cry . They love you and will get over it my love , please smile because when you cry i feel like i am crumbeling down. "

" Vorrei solo che questo potesse essere diverso amore mio, spero davvero che trovino nel loro cuore per rinunciare a me e per essere felici per noi.

Translation

" I just wish this could have been different my love , I really hope they find it in their heart to foregive me and to be happy for us . "

" They will my love they love you and they will accept us if it means they see you happy "

" Thank you my love , your everything i need right now "

We hugged and he placed a kiss on my mouth and i kisses back with gratitude .

***********************************************

Hoped yall liked it ! Ill be posting the next one tommorow ! Question of the day ! ( If u can answer ) what was your favorite bonding experience with a cullen ? Follow me on wattpad and give it a like and follow if you wanna see more ff of felix ! 💞

*************************************************

Username : yunnoitwasshorty

Name : romacetea

[anangelicday-mrwolf]

Wolfsbane : Noblesse Fanfic (post-ending)

(previous chapter)

Chapter 38 – Something None of Them Wanted or Expected

“Care to explain why I have to refresh my sore eyes with that face of yours? What a way to start a morning.”

<You know, you tend to turn more talkative and annoyingly eloquent whenever you see me. Did you modify your tongue by any chance? Does it run evolution on your linguistic ability whenever you spot me?>

“I’ve never done that, but that doesn’t sound like a bad idea. I’ll see what I can do with it.”

<Geez, looks like joking is not an option any more in your presence.>

Despite his manners, Frankenstein aimed for more than vexing the werewolf lord.

“Please tell me you have a good reason why you requested a conversation with me so early. I’d thought I told you we must for the time being be cautious of every word we share, including those exchanged through transmission. And I couldn’t possibly be the only one who told you so.”

<Uh, the thing is, my kid will be busy for the next few days. So Adne and I decided to lend a claw or two.>

My kid?

Frankenstein was about to snap at him that he should be more specific with his term, when there are dozens of werewolves under his care.

But he held his voice, upon reminding himself that there is only one werewolf aside from Adne that Muzaka would ever mention to him at a time like this.

<Lunark found something lately from a facility in Crombel’s ownership. And she claimed she must take them outside to have them audited by an expert. So she won’t get to deliver you the data that Adne unlocked most recently.>

Audited by an expert?

Who could this expert be?

Whatever it is that she discovered, I doubt she can find the best expert other than me, in anything related to Union or Crombel.

But how come she didn’t come to me and......

Frankenstein sealed his lips tighter, albeit already zipped, in the middle of his cognitive complaints.

‘You shouldn’t be missing her, Frankenstein.’

He told himself a number of times that she is off-limits, especially since they had ended up exploring each other’s lips.

Nevertheless, here he was, painfully savoring how his heart was sailing towards her. He had to struggle to anchor his heart back to his chest.

<But Lunark did examine this data before she left it with me. And she said it’d be best to relay it to you as soon as possible. Let’s see what it...>

Muzaka began to fidget with something, unavailable for witness at Frankenstein’s angle of vision.

“Stop it. We didn’t get to diagnose the exact cause of the failure in activating QuadraNet. It’s not safe to disclose such an important resource on transmission, lest there be loss or leak.”

<Then what? Lunark is not available. How am I supposed to send this to...>

“I’ll fetch it myself.”

Muzaka made a peculiar face; it appeared as if he honestly wanted to slap his ears to see if they are functional.

<What do you mean, you’ll fetch it yourself?>

“There’s no other way, is there? Oh, no need to be concerned that other werewolves would be curious or suspicious of my visit. I’ll make sure no one else can see me.”

Frankenstein exhibited not the slightest hint of hesitation. If it was guaranteed that he will not get to see the certain gray-haired werewolf, there was no reason for him to stay away from wolfkind’s realm.

“So make sure I can receive it upon arrival. I’ll leave as soon as I get it; I’m a busy man myself.”

<Uh... Okay. Okay! G-great! I’ll see you soon.>

Frankenstein headed to 3rd Elder as soon as Muzaka’s face flashed off from the monitor, to let him know that once again he will be absent for a while.

“There is this jer... I mean, there is this someone I must see. So stay tucked. I won’t take long.”

Frankenstein did not even wait for a reply from the white-haired man.

The moment he was surely gone, 3rd Elder’s eyes were caught on fire.

Though he wished Frankenstein would have revealed where he was off to, he knew he should not wait to determine his destination.

So he drew out the plastic bag containing the sample of Frankenstein’s tonic, kept hidden all this time for this moment – the moment to let his old lab techniques shine.

Simultaneously, he prayed that Helga and their accomplice assistant would be ready.

*****

A few days later, in the werewolf realm

“Man – even the Kertias would flush in shame at your skills in stealth. How did you get here without sounding the alarm?”

“There is always a way, but don’t expect me to tell you. That’s not what I’m here for, after all.”

“Well, you’ve got a point.”

Muzaka stepped down from his thrown to lead his guest to one of werewolf labs, to present him with a pile of documents.

Frankenstein scanned the contents, before his eyes glinted.

“Huh...”

“What? Is it really that important?”

“...Pretty much.”

That was when he emitted an exasperated sigh, as if he could not believe he was saying this.

“I’d hate to admit it, but the Union and Ignes were not too shabby. The former actually devised such a genius weapon, and the latter sought to make it better.”

“A genius weapon?”

Now inquisitive, Muzaka peeked over Frankenstein’s shoulder.

“Genetic... Calibrator... Chip... GC chip? A weapon based on biochip technology? What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Biochip. It’s a trick I’d often make use of. It’s no longer a stranger to the civilians, either. It requires human genetic information – DNA or protein – to work as a conductor on an electronic device or parts, to be connected to a computer, thereby allowing calculations and data interpretations of rate and accuracy beyond any human imagination or preexistent semiconductor. It’s a dreamlike technique that...”

“Speak human, will ya?”

“......Simply put, a biochip enables your computer to deal with data and information at a rate that only a biological brain can conduct. Consider it an essential element in shaping a computer into a fine mechanical mimicry of human brain.”

Muzaka did not withdraw the puzzled look on his face, but he did not ask for further explanation.

“Okay, if you say so. So what does this GC chip do?”

“It was to be used for weapons developed or manufactured by the Union. And for the computers that would control such weapons. They would download the DNA data laid inside the chip to target only the designated foe for assault.”

“So it makes a weapon capable of telling its targets on its own? I have no idea how that’s possible, but you’re right. Those rascals are not too shabby.”

Frankenstein continued with his ardent inspection of the document, wondering why Union had never flaunted such weapon. However, he could soon presume why.

‘Those monsters had long been standing as the summit of the world, thanks to their modified humans, technology in human modification, and the derivative profit. I doubt they could find a threat fearsome enough to take on with such weapon. And even though we later served as their great adversary, they wouldn’t have had samples to use against us, nobles, or werewolves.’

His assumption was proven by the note on the document, specifying how the GC chip never made it out of the list of weapons on a hold.

And obviously Ignes did not agree with such course of action.

“She was hoping to refine this weapon, to make it work exclusively on modified humans loyal to those that oppose her.”

“So they laugh and chit-chat under the chandelier but seek for a chance to bite at each other’s head on their carriages back from the ball. That’s so much like the Union, though I shouldn’t be saying this as an ex-tenant of Crombel’s lab.”

Frankenstein retorted with a snort and an expression that he is not completely brainless.

“Speaking of which, is the reconstruction all over now?”

“Sort of. This isn’t the first time, so there was no need for me to give orders.”

Muzaka grinned, despite the fact that having to rebuild his land on multiple basis is nothing to be proud about.

“But I couldn’t help getting scared during the process. I mean, we’ve already experienced destruction and construction several times. So I even came to think that maybe we should just leave things the way they are, since there’s a good chance they’d be dismantled again.”

“You know you can’t do that.”

“Oh, of course I do. But I’m scared as I speak. I wouldn’t be surprised to witness another facility breaking down to dust. Or hear something exploding.”

“No need to make yourself sound so ominous. The odds feel too high whenever you offer them.”

Muzaka snickered, as if telling his audience that he is worrying for nothing.

And just then resonated a CRASH, something none of them wanted or expected.

“...What was that?”

“H-how should I know? But it came from the biggest lab in our...”

“You mean the main lab? Where Mr. Jang worked?”

“Uh... Yeah. What about it?”

Then why are you still here?

Frankenstein glared at the werewolf lord briefly before he bolted. Muzaka soon caught up to him and outran him.

They soon got to see how the lab was already teeming with werewolf researchers and warriors.

“What was that all about?”

“Something just blew up, right?”

“Ugh, what’s the smell? This is the foulest, thickest smoke I’ve ever smelled!”

The atmosphere was close to chaotic, but werewolves did not fail in noticing Muzaka and letting him through the unbearably malodorous stench of smolder, followed by Frankenstein, whose presence nobody questioned due to the magnitude of the situation.

Once he reached the center of the commotion, Frankenstein could see why no one kept much interest in him.

“...What happened?”

Muzaka murmured at the sight of a hunched, terribly quivering werewolf, his tone no longer merry, now steeled with utmost rigidity and coldness.

Frankenstein’s heart seized as well upon identifying who he was.

“M-my lord......”

Adne was holding onto something with hands just as quivery.

Muzaka closed their distance, and Adne stepped back as he shook his arms like they were on fire.

“...This must be the network transmission modem. The one that human researcher installed for the QuadraNet. How come it’s in pieces? He told us never to touch it. You told me an urgent business came up before you left; is this what you were talking about?”

Adne’s lips mumbled something inaudible in a hurry, but with skittish eyes he surveyed the faces looking down at him before trembling once again.

“We gotta talk, Adne. We have a lot to talk about.”

Muzaka sternly announced, as Frankenstein narrowed his lips.

(next chapter)

The ideology and terminology for “biochip” and “biological computers” are not fictional. My original plan was to get into more details regarding the current research and commercial progress that has been made regarding these technologies. However, I decided to include only the most basic concepts about them, for I believe including something that requires professional comprehension would prove as hindrance in readers’ appreciation of a work.

Also, it’s about time to bring out the star of the show so far hidden - the apparent traitor in QuadraNet project. I’ve been providing hints about this traitor over the several past chapters; I’m not sure if you caught every single one of them, and I’ll definitely get into details about them in future chapters! Hopefully you’ll stay tuned until then!

[morethanaprincess-a]

@madamhatter​ said:  If you could “borrow” one aspect of your muse and apply it to yourself or your own life, what would you borrow? / Do you listen to music when you write? If yes, what kind of music? / Do you think you’d survive a zombie apocalypse?

Munday! (Accepting)

If you could “borrow” one aspect of your muse and apply it to yourself or your own life, what would you borrow?

There’s plenty of ways I could answer this. I could focus on the superficial things and ask for her body shape, her looks, or her vast amounts of money. I’ve never been thin, conventionally attractive, or Sonia’s level of wealthy. I would not say no to any of these experiences. 

I could also say her overarching sense of kindness and patience, I guess. But I try to be good to people whenever I can and I happen to like my ability to snark when needed.

So I think I’ll go with her mastery of languages, plenty of them foreign. Sonia can write and read 30+ languages and is getting close to speaking that many! Can you imagine that sort of flexibility in the job market and the various opportunities available? I could basically check off most languages businesses and recruiters are looking for, or just go into business for myself with translation services! There’s a limit to how well machines can effectively translate right now, not to mention the personal side of interpreting for clients face-to-face.

Do you listen to music when you write? If yes, what kind of music?

Oh, yes. Though the more I write over here though, the more I’ve figured out I have two different music categories: music that inspires me (setting, dialogue, where I want my starter or reply to go) and music that I actually write to. And I listen to them in that order.

The music that inspires me can come from a lot of places: pop, rock, musicals, oldies, etc. But the music I actually write to? Almost exclusively instrumental, because trying to write while listening to lyrics tends to distract me from either the voice or mindset I need to take, or I just start singing along.

So I take instrumental inspiration from movie and TV trailers and soundtracks, mostly, followed by a lot of classical covers of songs, primarily rock  and  pop (It’s a lot of Bridgerton and Vitamin String Quartet right now and I’m not ashamed to admit it). 

The links in the above sentence are all to YouTube if you’d like to check out some of the music I write to!

Do you think you’d survive a zombie apocalypse?

Maybe? I think I have a fair amount of resources or people who can help, provided they don’t get eaten first. Though if I die it’ll likely be saving my cat: she’s my baby and when I have to take essentials and run, it’s part living essentials, part pretty things I can’t live without, and part my sweet girl. And then I’d have to make sure she didn’t escape (She’d be on her harness and leash for awhile) and make sure no one tried to eat her. She hasn’t had to ‘rough it’ in a long, long time but I think she’d be all right.

[wormtrain80]

60+ Tarot Card Analysis Ideas

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Out of the 78 cards, there are 22 significant Arcana cards that stand for the karmic as well as spiritual lessons of a person's life. The 56 Minor Arcana cards represent the tribulations and also trials that we, as people, face in our day-to-days live. Among the Minor Arcana cards, there are 16 Tarot Court Cards which represent 16 various personality type that we reveal at various times.

[nadineeb]

Hey, it’s Nadine and this is my first blog!

Welcome my dear readers to my first blog post! I want to extend my arms to all of you for reading this blog and the future ones. I’m delighted that I found this platform on the internet which makes me give a stand and voice on things that matters to me and the people around me. All the blogs that I will post here at Tumblr are only my thoughts and opinions. If we don’t have the same stand regarding a matter, feel free to exit. I believe that we all have the right to express ourselves with utmost freedom we can have. I hope we all vibe together. -XOXO, Nads <3

Allow me to introduce myself to the blogging world!

I’m Bernadine Bayangos, a teen from a small town in Isabela, Philippines.

A LOT of people I met outside Region 2 and in the upper part of Luzon, they always tell me “Where is that place?” or sometimes, “Isa - what?? I haven’t heard of it before! It really is a place huh?”. Hearing these things I don’t know how to react to be honest.

Most of the time I try to explain where it is but sometimes, I just shrugged them off because some of the people especially those I met who came from well-known cities offend me. They ask me if we got a mall here or just the random, common sense questions.

Let me tell you, yes, we’ve got malls here where we get our stuff from our day to day living. I felt so lucky that we still have to shop at the farmers’ market. It’s available and open anytime of the day. We can find cheap-priced things and foods that are essential to our daily lives. Some grocery store-bought vegetables cost a fortune unlike in the farmers’ markets.

Well as for clothes, I usually go to Manila every month but since it’s locked down, I order online. The Internet + my love for clothes really make a huge difference especially now that we’re locked down in our areas and can’t travel that far.

I grew up with my family and some extended relatives which are way older than me - my grandparents. I learn my instincts from them - self-defense, way of life, how to be smart, and most importantly, my virtues. That’s also explains why I’m a bit talkative.

I want my Tumblr to be my avenue to express things to others which I cannot do since face to face chatting with your dear friends is not really advisable at this moment.

One of my favorite things to do back then and now, is to read books. I can remember when I was like 6 to 12 years old, when we go to Manila, I could never go back here in the province without the 4 big bags of books and school supplies that I bought from a famous bookstore. Thinking of it now, I quite made my dad go broke. Yikes!

Feeding my love for learning, I’m always a girl that is curious about a lot of things. If I’m not satisfied, I will surely ask about it. Though now, that I’ve grown so much, I refrain myself from asking now that I can solve issues that affects me.

I also love travelling! When I’m somewhere near the ocean or the mountains, I feel that I’m at peace. Not much of a city girl, that I’m tired of being it since then. My favorite place to visit here in the Ph is Cagayan de Oro and its nearby towns. The Dahilayan Adventure Park which has the longest zipline in Asia. You can also visit the Del Monte pineapple plantations and see acres of pineapples while eating a medium-rare steak at their restaurant. If you’re also fond of adventures in line with having to see the beauty of nature, I highly suggest to visit this place!

The people, they are heartwarmingly hospitable. In the hotel we stayed, Limketkai Luxe hotel, the accommodation was amazing. Also, I love to stay there every time because when mom and dad leave me for meetings, there’s a backdoor and an overpass which leads to the entrance of the shopping mall. How I miss!

Cagayan de Oro also holds a special place in my heart because as what I’ve said earlier, I’m fond of reading books whether it is online or a hard copy one. I’ve read the Montefalco Series on Wattpad by Jonaxx, the author, I’ve fallen in love with the place immediately. I feel like one of the main characters whenever I go to CDO.

When I travel I always tend to adapt to the cultures of the place I’m going. It’s a sign of respect to the. Being able to mix in with the crowd is a great advantage for me in the future especially that after I finish my studies, I want to go abroad to master my skills. That’s why I’m always day-dreaming at things that may be going on for the next few years of my life.

After 10 years, I will be 26 by then, I suppose I’m with my family in Australia by then. I’m working as a business associate while studying law at one of the prestigious schools in Victoria.  From then, I can continue to work at the Parliament of Australia in Melbourne. I may still be single by that time, busy building my career, and play with my cats at home after a stressful day.

This is me at the Parliament.

Let’s talk about the 2019 Corona Virus disease that had struck our world last months. I can say that it’s getting a lot worse that I had imagined. I know that our scientists have done great work in finding solutions to this. Money isn’t everything once you’ve get a hit by this virus. I myself can prove that.

I have this auntie who is a doctor and she’s very successful in her field. She even had one of the biggest shares at a hospital but then things got out of hand, she had the disease. There’s nothing she can do except to lie down her bed, get better, fight for it so that once she gets better, she can continue curing her patients.

My grandfather’s cousin, a former senator of the Philippines, also died from this virus. I’m proud to think that he had served our country well, but I’m devastated that he had to die this way, I didn’t even saw his last moments nor his dead body. He is immediately cremated and left the hospital bill with millions of pesos.

This shows that even the strongest person, the most kind, the rich, the nobody – can’t get away if we all are not taking care of our own health. We should love our body more! Think about ourselves more!

Before this pandemic, I did not have this realizations yet. I realized that more than taking care of our body, we should express to our loved ones how we care and love them dearly. We never know when death comes our way. Yes, we do know that we can’t escape it but the thing is, we know that it’ll happen and we can’t accept the fact the God will take them soon. I think that’s the problem, we, people, tend to just shrug it off and don’t make the best out of someone that we love because they will stay, what we can’t accept is that they will stay but not forever. That is why we have regrets.

(one of my best times before this outbreak)

Indeed, life is short as they say. If you’re dealing with your what ifs’ I recommend you don’t. Just make it happen. If you don’t, you’ll spend your life thinking about that `what if’s’ it’ll only make your life nonsense. So for me, I’d rather do it. If it fails, stand up again, fix yourself, and go on. Instead of letting yourself not doing it because of what might happen on the way. Your happiness depends on you. Choose it. Don’t wait for the things  to happen right before your eyes. Act on it and make it happen.

My first blog is a bit long now and I’m getting emotional, I’ll have to say goodbye for now. I’ll see you on my next one. Ciao!

[swingmexico80]

60+ Tarot Analysis Concepts

On this occasion, they offer 3 minutes completely free, regardless of the selected solution. In other words, you can pick a tarot card analysis for love, a psychic chat, and even a fortune-telling session if thats what you desire. Although they request your credit card info, they just charge you after your session ends. The most important tarot pattern used in these 2 nations was the Tarot card of Marseilles of Milanese beginning. The earliest surviving tarot cards are the 15 approximately Visconti-Sforza tarot decks repainted in the mid-15th century for the leaders of the Duchy of Milan. He explained a 60-card deck with 16 cards having photos of the Roman gods as well as suits portraying 4 type of birds. Other very early decks that additionally showcased classical motifs consist of the Sola-Busca and also Boiardo-Viti decks of the 1490s. 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[onedirectionfanfics]

Love Always, Harry by @gucciwoodnymph​

Holmes Chapel, 1985 - Best friends since childhood, you and Harry have grown up to lead lives on opposite ends of the spectrum. He travels the world as a journalist for Rolling Stone. You’re stuck in your hometown, waitressing at a diner. You and Harry keep in touch through letters and postcards until the day he returns home and flips your world upside-down. 

This month’s featured story, Love Always, Harry, takes us back to the 80s when we raid record stores with our best friends and send letters to each other as we travel! This fic tells a beautiful love story that blossoms between two best friends who are so different, yet similar in many aspects. Read below to learn more about it from our interview with the lovely author!

***

How long have you been writing for?

I had always been coming up with little stories in my head, but the first time I actually wrote a story down was when I was ten years old. My class had just finished reading Old Yeller and I was really upset about the ending, so I wrote my own version of the story where the wolf bite ends up giving Yeller superpowers instead of rabies, and Yeller uses those powers to fight crime in the town (very highbrow stuff). I haven’t stopped writing since then!

Do you have certain habits or rituals you have to do while writing?

So before I start writing, I have to clean my room or whatever area I’m in. I tend to talk aloud to myself and pace around a lot if I’m trying to work through any snarls in the fic so I need plenty of clean space for that. The first things I pull up on my laptop when I’m starting out are my fic outline and thesaurus.com. I read through the outline a few times to smooth over the scene and get a clear picture of it in my head. Also, I turn into a bit of a hermit when I’m really ready to write. I have to be alone and I need complete silence because I have a goldfish’s attention span and get sidetracked very easily.

The ever famous question: how did you come up with this idea?

I really like the whole “opposites attract” trope and I think showing that dynamic within a close friendship is really interesting because (most) friendships have a stronger, more enduring bond than (most) romantic relationships. So I knew I wanted the story to revolve around two best friends – one who is really confident and more of a free-spirit, and the other who is very reserved and a bit cautious – who fall in love. I also wanted the characters to write letters to each other because I just love the idea of them. I think it’s so sweet when someone takes time to sit down and write out a letter; it adds a nice personal touch.

When does a story go from an idea in your mind to paper? Is there a process you go through before writing it out, or do you just get straight in it?

Some of my writer friends can just dive in and write absolutely beautiful pieces without planning and it makes me so jealous because for me, it takes a loooong time for an idea to go from my mind to paper. I usually have a few different AUs brewing at a time, and I cycle through them until one idea starts to branch off on its own and grow into a Thing that takes up 95% of my daydream capacity. Once I’ve decided on the basic story, I write everything out in an extremely detailed outline that describes the characters and their personalities, and breaks the story down into parts, what events happen in each part, etc.

Your fic is set in the late 1980’s, was there a specific reason for it?

When I decided I wanted to write a fic based around the idea of sending letters, I knew I would have to set it in an earlier decade. It wouldn’t have been realistic to set it in 2019 and have Harry and MC send letters back and forth when they could easily text, call, FaceTime, or stay in touch through social media.

I chose the 80s on a whim. I really love the aesthetic of that era, and after I had an 80s movie marathon I could see Harry fitting perfectly in that time with his cuffed jeans, and Vans, and high-waisted pants.

As a young adult in 2019, how did you find writing a story set in a different time period?

I had a TON of fun writing it, but it involved significantly more research than a fic set in present day. I had to do a lot of research for the little things that make an appearance in the story and make sure that they were actually around in 1985/1986 (i.e., the books on Harry’s nightstand in his room, the candy Harry and MC share when they’re smoking, the VHS tapes, the magazine that the MC interviews for).

I also had to be cognizant of not overdoing the pop culture references in that time. Sometimes after reading over first drafts of the installments, I would find sentences that essentially sounded like, “MC threw on her neon leg warmers before she grabbed her Walkman and listened to a mixtape.” So I edited a lot more to have a balance where I could create an 80s atmosphere, but avoid making it sound contrived.

What made you want to write about a girl who sacrificed the things she loved for a secure future? Is this something you’ve ever had to do?

I wanted to write about it because it’s a trend I see so frequently among my friends and my age group. One of my friends is such a talented artist, but she gave that up to study engineering (which she hates); another one of my friends decided not to pursue his passion for music and instead go to pharmacy school (which he hates), solely because it provides a secure future. I think I had to do it to a lesser degree – I wanted a job that involved lots of reading and writing, and I’m pursuing law which has a ton of that but it’s not the publishing or journalism career I had in mind when I was in high school.

Harry and Y/N have a very special bond. Without Harry, would Y/N have married a controlling man like William?

No, she wouldn’t have. I think eventually she would have realized how stifled she was and how she wouldn’t be happy with someone like her fiance. Harry just expedited that realization for her. Without him, she might have called off the wedding five minutes before she was going to walk down the aisle as opposed to months before, but she would never have actually married William.

Y/N’s self-discovery and growth can all be credited to her (for pursuing her dreams and aspirations) but her decision was heavily influenced by Harry. Would a woman like Y/N have gotten to this position without someone like Harry in her life?

Everyone has someone in their life who pushes them to be the best version of themselves, who calls them out whenever they’re falling short of their potential, and essentially tries to get them into gear whether that’s a friend, family member, mentor, or whoever. In the MC’s case, that someone for her is Harry. Without Harry in her life, I think the MC would still have gotten to her position because she has that drive and desire to do so, but it certainly would have taken her a longer time.

There are a lot of artists and bands from the 80s being referenced in this fic, did you have to do research for it or is old music something you have an interest in?

I really love 70s and 80s music because it reminds me of the stuff my parents used to play while I was growing up, but I did still have to do a lot of research for this fic to make sure it was historically accurate. For example, in Part I the MC gets a letter from Harry dated December 7, 1984. I originally wanted Harry to tell her about how he was reviewing a Fleetwood Mac show, but it turns out FM didn’t tour at all in 1984. So a lot of the time I had to research to make sure the dates, the locations, the artists, and the events all matched up with what actually happened.

I also looked up the actual Rolling Stone UK covers from the 80s to see which artists were featured and what year they were featured in to see if it could fit into the storyline. The actual RS archives are available online for a fee and only for the US editions, so I ended up combing through really obscure websites to find the UK versions, and spent hours on that just for the information to feature in like, one or two lines of the fic.

You wrote a very inspirational and powerful piece about self-growth and knowing your worth, did you hope to influence anyone with it?

Honestly, I treat writing as a form of therapy so when I started writing this fic, my intent was just to vent out my own feelings of inadequacy or frustration, and my fear of failure. When I started this, I wrote the characters to mirror the two “voices” I always have in my mind. The MC is the irrational half of me who’s afraid to even attempt new things out of fear of failing and Harry is the more rational half saying I’ll never get anywhere if I don’t at least try. So not to sound like a narcissist, but I think I mainly hoped to influence myself to grow as a person.

That being said, I have received a few messages from readers about how this fic has influenced them to grow, or recognize their self-worth, or make a change in their lives and it absolutely blows me away that anything I’ve written can do that. I cannot explain how honored I am to have played an iota of a role in helping someone decide to improve their lives. It’s been absolutely the most rewarding facet of sharing my writing.

Anything you’d like to say to anyone who read your fic?

Thank you very much for reading my writing! And thank you for taking the time to send in your comments, questions, rants, and key smashes. It really means more than I can ever articulate, that I’m able to share my writing and have such an amazing response from readers. Thank you a million times.

***

Thank you Tans for the wonderful interview! Check out more of her writing here! 

***If you would like to send in recommendations for next months featured story, please do so here.

[kuntrabida]

2. the axon snaps and thoughts can’t travel (a rant abt COVID-19, senior year spring, and college in the fall)

12 may 2020

the gap year. the fall sem. the jump cut. the FUTURE. much on my mind right now folks lmao (prob folk in singular since like one (1) person’s gonna read this ashvcxjkv)

okay so let’s break this DOWN ig. yea LET’S unpack my inner psyche and my mental baggage at this point because i’m sure that i can’t be the only one feeling this way and even if i am, i’d like to get it off my chest and not rant to the same five people who’ve heard me talk about the same sad subject throughout the entire duration of quarantine asdjfkvcxufdsw

let’s start with senior year haHA :) still haven’t gotten over that xoxo even tho i’ve tricked myself into thinking that i have! gonna refer to it as ye olde Jump Cut because that’s exactly what all this feels like... like mother nature just threw the video file of my high school experience into a fuckinn Premiere timeline or smth and slammed her fist on the W key (an esoteric reference, i know, i know, my bad, but iykyk). 

THE JUMP CUT – senior year’s over and i know it’s a stupid fucking thing to be upset about during a LITERAL GLOBAL PANDEMIC where people are losing and risking their lives and entire livelihoods are being upended but i still... can’t help but feel upset and terrified and devastated about what i’ve always viewed as this buffer period in my life between high school and college to just VIBE and figure myself out a little bit more being cut short. especially when, for once, things were going so well.  

god, the last thing i wanna do is sound dramatic and utterly tone deaf because I RECOGNIZE my privilege and how incredibly fortunate i am to have a roof over my head and food in my fridge and a bed with a damn duvet cover to sleep in at night but i’m... so fucking sad. i’ve BEEN so fucking sad, and i think what’s even worse is the fact that i’ve been DENYING how fucking sad i’ve been feeling because i don’t think i’m... allowed to be sad in this situation? but at the same time i consciously understand that my feelings are valid and everything... it just feels like legitimately everything else in the world right now dwarfs all my concerns combined. but alas. here i am, making a blog post about my feelings to finally try and sort them out...

i just aghsdfhxhzjlk i wasn’t finished. that really is the best way to put it. i wasn’t finished with any of it. and i suppose a lot of that is my own fault for taking all the good times for granted (but also lowkey the fault of idek who... american society? for romanticizing and commodifying the culmination of high school oop)/

i feel like so many people focus on those big milestone events associated with senior year: prom, graduation, senior awards, etc. but to me personally, and to nearly every one of the friends i’ve talked to, it’s the little things that matter most — the absence of which we feel the deepest. i miss spilling coffee on myself in the cafeteria and burning frozen pastries in the toasters and complimenting people’s outfits in the hallways and staying in the building from dawn till dusk and eating takeout on the floor and hastily texting my friends at the end of the school day asking if they wanted to hang out or if they could give me a ride home and i MISS spontaneous sushi and starbucks excursions and quiet heart to hearts in coffee shops and last minute target runs and stressing out about music events and belting in the practice rooms and learning choreography in parking lots where confused drivers would momentarily glance over and just KEEP ON DRIVING and lying on the ground in one of the school’s hallways facing the sun when the light would hit JUST RIGHT through the glass and i could close my eyes and pretend i was at the beach or on an island or in a canyon somewhere or SOMETHING, anywhere, anywhere but there. and i feel this chasm in my throat whenever i think about it because looking back at those moments, i realize that there’s literally no place i’d rather be right now than inside my high school building on a normal ass day dealing with normal ass problems with exceptional, radiant, life-giving souls there to have my back and support me and hug me wow, GOD, hug me. wow how i miss hugs. and I miss my friends. shit. 

hell bro i even miss the days where everything would become a little too much for me and i’d have to find recluse in a digital media classroom and the scent of old lemon-laced coffee grounds as they brewed into dingy styrofoam cups and wandered through the halls with me during the period, into the music room where i literally grew UP and found my voice and discovered validity in my own identity and all that JAZZ and into the bathrooms where i’d spend such subtle, unsuspecting mornings with friends still practically sleepwalking and FUCK bro. frankly i’m just not ready to jump into a life where all the things i hold dear are “remember when”s. i can’t imagine this entire world that i’ve built for myself being a thing of the past, a thing that i’ll look back on as one of the best fucking times of my life even though i never realized it when it mattered, a thing i still want so so so much more of, that i am not and may not ever be ready to let go. i want it all back. but i know getting upset over it is a futile pursuit, because there’s nothing i can do, and that just fuels this feedback cycle of anger and hopelessness and denial and back again. 

i do think of that good ol’ winnie the pooh quote, though. “how lucky I am to have something that makes saying goodbye so hard.” but it doesn’t really make anything hurt any less. and i guess i’m just tired of hurting lol. 

THE FUTURE – dawg what the fuck is happening with colleges in the United States right now bro what is the protocol what do i DO¿

pretty damn self explanatory. my defense mechanism has ALWAYS been, “at least things will be better a couple months from now!!!!” and yeah, with university and the reality of getting to attend my dream college fast approaching i did believe that for a hot second but CORONA DAWG CORONA just plunges everything into the sea of uncertainty. i know i’m not the only one frustrated by this damn virus and i should be comforted by the unity we all have in our confusion but lmao i do not feel any better! no! one! has! any! answers! asdjfkvlcxvjl being a graduating high school and incoming college student right now is so FUCKING confusing and frightening and once again i want to acknowledge what an incredible privilege it is to even have the option of a higher education open to me but it’s such a multifaceted and unpredictable issue this year and thinking about the future — again my go-to defense mechanism and at the very least a worthy consideration since i’ll be putting down hella dollars for it — has been the cause of so much stress... 

THE FALL SEM – i! don’t! know! if! it’s! gonna! be! on!line! and i am not planning on staying in my house any longer for a goddamn variety of reasons soo i have no clue how to plan for this! no one does right now! 

our administration keeps affirming that we’re planning for a return to normalcy in the fall semester but a considerable amount of students and experts alike are saying that it’s essentially a cover so no one’ll panic and decline or defer their acceptances. SO MANY OTHER COLLEGES are revealing their contingency plans to have an online semester and ahaHA if i have to STAY in this HOUSE for ANOTHER 4 MONTHS that would FRICKIN SUCK DAWG lmaO i’ll leave it at that! so i’m: very much panicking! 

i know that things are so uncertain right now and there’s really no point in trying to predict what’s going to happen in the next couple of months because so many unknowns remain. i know that a lot of universities are gonna be in deep shit if they don’t open in the fall but at the same time, if it’s a damn public health risk it’s definitely better to keep as many people home as possible. but i have no CLUE what institutions are gonna end up doing and again, literally no one does either! i was listening to a podcast yesterday about university plans for the upcoming academic year and i got asdhvjckxv so stressed when they said that we could be one week away from the start of the school year and things could still be drastically different the next week... there’s just no way of knowing much of anything and god i hate that. it’s making me so goddamn anxious. 

i really doubt things are going to be back to normal in New York in the fall sooo...? i don’t know man again it comes down to asking people questions they don’t have the answers to and that’s just incredibly frustrating because i just want to know ONE THING for certain right now. ONE THING! idk i just wish that my college would be a little more transparent about their plans as they move along and figure things out but i know that’s not feasible. at the very least i hope things will be safe enough for them to make dorming on campus an option — freshmen have a pretty ample amount of singles available anyway. but if i have to spend the first semester of college onLINE in THIS HOUSE that’s... gonna suck. especially because i’m still probably going to be paying thousands of dollars for it which is, as my grandmother says, foul! 

THE GAP YEAR – to defer or not to defer? that is the question. 

so naturally in preparation for a potentially wonky ass academic year i’m considering deferring enrollment. but lmao... the deadline to do so is in uh *checks watch* three (3) literal days so. don’t know about that chief! 

like, i know i’m PROBABLY NOT gonna end up taking a gap year. but i guess it’s just the fact that i have so much more canvas space to daydream about it that makes it so appealing... there are so many more possibilities that i can think of that are more likely to be open to me. then again, nothing’s guaranteed. not even my own health in the fall. which is also pretty fuckin scary as hell.

y’all wanna know where i get my gap year daydream fuel? UNJADED JADE. bruh i’ve been binging her videos like MAD especially the ones where she interrails Europe during her gap year and UGH. it seems incredible. and that makes things even more confusing because i really don’t know what the right decision to make is right now. to defer or not to defer... 

again it’s all so heavily influenced by unknowns. of all the things that could happen, i’d much prefer to have a regular freshman year fall with the people in my class whom i’ve already been getting to know pretty well through groupchats and social media and the like. they’re a pretty dope bunch and i think college with them is gonna be a hoot and a goddamn half. but if i’ll end up just staying home and watching zoom lectures in my basement anyway... i’d much rather be taking a gap year. 

and i’ve been brainstorming what i’d do during this gap year (again, thanks Unjaded Jade for the god-tier content agh) and there’s just like... so many options. i could get a goddamn JOB and start saving up for tuition instead of paying tens of thousands for online school. hell with the money i make working full time i could probably save up enough to afford an apartment so at the very least i could move out of my house into a place where i feel more comfortable. and lmao I: s a l i v a t e at the thought of using that time to focus on my writing, too. the amount of writing i could get done in a year of empty calendar space... glorious. what an utterly glorious prospect. 

and of course, i’d love to fucking travel, volunteer (with a reputable and well-intentioned organization) in a foreign country, do a workstay abroad, take a train across america, but again, i don’t even know if any of that’s going to be feasible in the fall. it’s so FRUSTRATING because i’ll think of a possibility and then another one comes in and completely shuts the former down. 

and it’s not like i can ask anyone for advice right now because we’re ALL none the wiser. plus, i’ve realized that frankly, even if it’s unreasonable, i don’t want anyone to tell me that my plans for a gap year aren’t feasible. it’s such a petulant thing to say... but i don’t want anyone to add to my sense of there being a limited amount of options that i can take advantage of because everything’s already so goddamn stifling as is. i guess the prospect of a gap year excites me so much because it seems like a year where i don’t have to be defined by anyone or anything but myself. and that’s so fucking liberating. 

i just want the freedom to imagine right now because that’s when i feel happiest, but at the same time i’m afraid to get my hopes up for anything because i have this sinking feeling that the absolute worst case scenario is going to become reality. lmao. people in my state aren’t even fucking social distancing correctly so i’m damn sure that we’re in for a second and a third wave and that’s gonna suck but people are stupid as hell :)  

lol on that positive note, thanks for reading this... increasingly depressing and chaotic rant. don’t really think i’m doing this “blog” stuff right but if you got this far, i love you. leave a note if you so please, comment your thoughts, reblog if you’d like (still don’t really understand the difference between reblogging and reposting on this app but lmao feel free to click the boxy arrow thing), and stay safe and healthy and all that jazz <3

[southeastasianists]

Shahiran Shahrani’s voice wavers as he describes the serene beauty of Borneo’s tropical rainforests, knowing that he’ll never see them up close again.

‘Despite everything, [Brunei] is a beautiful country,’ Shahiran says, reflecting on the journey he’s been on, culminating with him fleeing his home country of Brunei to seek refuge in Canada.

Speaking to Gay Star News over the phone in early April, Shahiran talked about life in his new home in Vancouver, a city where he says feels safe and secure.

The 40-year-old asylum seeker — who fled Brunei after being charged with sedition — had suddenly found himself in high demand.

Just days before his interview with GSN, it was reported that his home country was pushing through with its implementation of the Sharia Penal Code (SPC), a controversial piece of legislation that specifies brutal punishments for declared offenses such as male homosexual sex, apostasy, and adultery. Brunei, usually ignored by the international press, suddenly found itself at the center of the world’s attention. Shahiran, a gay Bruneian, received an influx of requests for interviews or to appear on news channels.

Freedom of expression is lacking in the country, and many LGBTI Bruneians do not speak openly about their experiences. Being outside of the country, Shahiran and a handful of other LGBTI Bruneians living in self-imposed exile formed the minority who were able to speak freely on the topic of homosexuality in Brunei.

The irony of an exile becoming a de facto spokesperson for the situation at home hasn’t been lost on him. ‘We’re the ones the world press are coming to to ask our opinions,’ he says. ‘So in effect, we’re the ones speaking for Brunei.’

Shahiran lending his voice to commentary on Brunei has not gone unnoticed in his home country, and, in many cases, has not been welcomed. Shahiran remains a divisive figure in Brunei, where many have accused him of using the media as an opportunity to lash out against Brunei’s government and society.

Aside from the predictable threats and curses commonplace on social media, a number of Bruneians have expressed concerns that relying on the voice of a gay Malay man with vested interest in portraying Brunei in a negative light not only loses nuance of a complex matter, but also privileges certain perspectives over other affected groups, such as women, who will also be affected by the harsh penalties of the SPC.

In turn, Shahiran’s response to the online backlash has been far from diplomatic. In an Instagram video, he goads people into more reactions, claiming that the more negativity he courts online, the better it will be for his asylum application in Canada.

It is safe to say that the distance between Shahiran and Brunei is an emotional one, as well as geographic.

‘Feelings of loneliness and isolation are commonplace’

While the implementation of the SPC has focused the world’s attention on the tiny Southeast Asian nation, the law is essentially the latest manifestation of the stigma and marginalization the Bruneian LGBTI community has experienced for decades.

A former colony, Brunei still retains a sodomy law introduced by the British. Although no one has been convicted under that law, its continued existence helps to legitimize prejudice and discrimination. With highly restricted options to organize and advocate for their rights, the LGBTI Bruneian community has been effectively forced underground.

‘Feelings of loneliness and isolation are commonplace [in Brunei],’ says Matthew Woolfe, founder of the LGBTI rights group The Brunei Project. ‘The lack of information and support services available to LGBTI Bruneians is something that The Brunei Project has been concerned about since its formation.’

‘These feelings can really damage their relationships with their friends and families,’ Woolfe adds. ‘In many instances, LGBTI Bruneians are not out to their families and friends or have only confided in a select few that they know they can trust.  They may feel that there is no one they can turn to for advice or to share their feelings.’

This is the world Shahiran grew up in while trying to come to terms with his sexuality. ‘If I really think about it, I first realized I was gay at six-years-old,’ he says. ‘But I was always in denial.’

He says it was only when he went to study abroad that he had a breakthrough. ‘When I was sent to the UK at 17 I still wouldn’t come out to myself. So when I went to Northern Ireland, to Belfast, to [study] medicine, it took like a year or so before I said to myself “You know what? I like guys!”’

Shahiran moved back to Brunei in his late-20s and found work in the health sector. During his 10 years living in the country he had two serious relationships, neither of which lasted.

Unlike heterosexual relationships, same-sex couples in Brunei face high levels of prejudice and social stigma. This necessitated sneaking around and ‘looking over each other’s shoulders’, trying to hide his relationship from the prying eyes of family and neighbors. The pressure became too much for the Shahiran and his boyfriend, who eventually parted ways.

Shahiran’s next (long-distance) relationship with a man in Malaysia did not come with the same scrutiny, but the distance and prolonged periods apart began to take their toll. As a means to intensify their time together, Shahiran and his boyfriend began indulging in harmful behaviors such as drug abuse and chemsex. ‘It was to numb the pain,’ Shahiran says. ‘Because I was very much in love with him, and couldn’t see him much. And then whenever he was around I wanted to enhance that meeting because we would only see each other once a month.’

‘I think Shahiran’s experience is a pretty accurate reflection of the circumstances facing LGBTI in Brunei and their coping mechanisms for dealing with them,’ says Woolfe.

‘When society shuns you for who you love or because of how you identify as a person and your own government goes so far as to implement laws that effectively say that you deserve to be jailed, tortured or killed for those same reasons, how do you deal with that level of hate and how that makes you feel about yourself, especially when you are feeling so isolated and alone? It pushes people to take extreme measures.  

‘I am aware of instances in which this desperation and feelings of loneliness and self-loathing have been major contributors in LGBTI Bruneians turning to illegal substances or attempting suicide.’

Over the years, Shahiran had also built up a small, close-knit group of friends, all of whom were gay. While none expressed their sexualities openly, they became a de-facto support network who could confide in one another, share feelings, and open up in ways they were unable to with to anyone outside of the group.

But everything would soon change.

‘I would’ve been in jail for more than ten years’

One weekend in mid-2017, Shahiran returned to Brunei after a chemsex-filled weekend in Kuala Lumpur. He logged onto Facebook and read news about Brunei’s health ministry announcing that they would be employing staff in all kitchens to ensure food was being prepared in a halal way. The move was rationalized as a way to boost recruitment and ensure food is prepared in accordance with Islamic standards.

Shahiran thought it was ridiculous. He posted a short rant about issues with the move, criticizing the ministry in the process. He then went to sleep; when he woke up, he found that the post had gone viral. It didn’t take long for the authorities to come after him.

Because he had complained about the ministry, state prosecutors claimed that he had posted ‘inflammatory comments’ about the government and their policy and charged him with sedition.

There was more: ‘I was charged with a further three charges under Sharia law,’ he says. ‘If I was found guilty for all of them, including sedition, I would’ve been in jail for more than ten years — over that Facebook post.’

It’s still a sensitive topic for Shahiran to discuss: ‘I never said anything against the Brunei government; I never said anything against the monarchy. I said something against a bloody department that I wasn’t happy about.’

Once slapped with charges, Shahiran’s world began to fall apart.

He says his group of friends steadily began to drop off. He says they ‘didn’t want anything to do’ with him, worrying that the authorities were following him and that they too would come under scrutiny. With the state determined to prosecute, Shahiran’s close friends and support network began to distance themselves from the beleaguered health worker.

‘When I was charged with sedition, all of them didn’t want anything to do with me […] They perceived that I was being followed — this guy, who’s being charged with sedition, obviously the security service is now going to follow him.’

He believes that the stakes were higher because they were a group of queer friends. ‘There’s less of a suspicion of each other among straight friends. They can’t betray each other, really — what is there to betray?

‘At the end, there were only two guys left. Even my best friend from the very very beginning disappeared. He was nowhere to be seen.’

Socially isolated, Shahiran fell into self-harming, usually with toenail clippers that left marks he could pass off as careless, accidental cuts. The stress of his trial meant he began lashing out at those closest to him — including the only friends he had left. He also occasionally began binging on methamphetamines to escape the solitude he found himself in.

‘It all went so fast. Because I didn’t have anyone to talk to. I just went in on myself,’ he says. ‘Losing friends… I didn’t want to think about it. I just wanted to get drugs to forget about it. And when I didn’t have drugs, I was just an annoying person to be around.

‘When I was on meth, I couldn’t give a shit about anyone. Because those binges, they were few and far between, but they would last for a week. And I wouldn’t sleep the whole time.’

Eventually, the pressure and paranoia became too much. He fled Brunei by taking an illegal taxi across the border into Sarawak, a region of Borneo under the Federation of Malaysia. He then flew to Kuala Lumpur and holed up in a hotel room.

After a year and a half of non-stop anxiety mixed with self-destructive behavior, Shahiran thought of taking his own life. ‘It’s really hard to talk about,’ he says. ‘I did try to attempt suicide because I’d just had enough.’

He says that his life was saved by a local drug dealer he knew and a friend from Brunei who came to his aid. The two began looking at countries Shahiran could seek asylum in. ‘[They] both kind of nursed me back to health and put me on the first flight to Vancouver,’ he says. He claimed asylum upon arriving in Canada.

A new life outside of Brunei

Living as an asylum seeker in Canada is a tough life. ‘My living situation is much worse in Vancouver than it was in Brunei,’ Shahiran says. He is barely supporting himself, constantly moving from one accommodation to another, often relying on food banks, and sometimes having to go whole days without eating.

But Shahiran also says that he’s found a happiness and a sense of belonging in his new home which he never experienced in Brunei.

‘I don’t scream at night [in my sleep] like I used to. I don’t wake up in a sweat, scared… Here I don’t bite my fingers until they start bleeding. I’ve never felt the need to start hurting myself, or never felt the desire for everything to end. In Brunei it was almost every fucking day — I was like “I wish this shit would end; I wish I would end.”’

He spends his time volunteering and getting to know the place he now calls home. ‘Here it’s such a diverse community,’ he says. ‘There are so many things to do.’ But despite his online bravado and animosity towards the Bruneian authorities, there’s still a part of Shahiran that continues to yearn for his homeland.

‘There’s nothing more majestic than the natural beauty of the rainforest of Brunei,’ Shahiran says. ‘Because they’re ancient rainforests. They’re among the oldest rainforests in the world […] The beaches are the most beautiful I’ve ever seen in almost all of Asia.’

‘That connection to the land that I have, that I will miss the most,’ he continues, his voice wavering. ‘Because I’ll never see that land again.’

[eyesaremosaics]

Got a very sad phone call yesterday. My first love (who remained one of my best friends for a decade after our connection ceased to be romantc) phoned me to say he is very ill. He was born with a disease, which has now gotten past the point of no return. He is deeply depressed, listless, and tired of fighting. This was the first time we have spoken in a year— after a falling out we had a few years back... he called to tell me that he is dying. Essentially he has only one option left available, and it’s very risky and experimental, if he misses a dose—then there really is nothing they can do. He has decided to stop taking his medicine, which means he has maximum four years left to live.

A series of complex emotions have been plaguing me ever since yesterday. Numb disbelief, shock, anger, confusion, understanding, and deep unconditional love. This is devastating news. I wonder why when faced with our own mortality... only then so we realize just how much people have meant to us in our lives.

He was one of my best friends for over 15 years... that is more than half my life. He was the first boy I ever fell in love with... there is always something special about the first time you feel that emotion, because it is all so new and consuming. I gave my virginity to him, we survived so much together, and he was the only one of my old flames that I was able to reconcile my differences with and salvage a friendship with... a really... important friendship.

I feel heartbroken and devastated that he is choosing death over life, but it is his life, and I won’t invalidate his pain. Who am I to tell him he shouldn’t feel the way he does? After all he has suffered? With all that was denied him. All that he can never have. He needs someone to hear him, and understand him, and I do. I always have. That’s why I fell in love with him all those years ago in the first place.

I know he could get better if he wanted, but he doesn’t want to. “I’m tired of feeling like an accessory in other people’s lives.” He feels like he has lived for other people since he was thirteen years old... when he first discovered he was sick. After being adopted... to inherit a life sentence like that... it’s enough to make anyone bitter to say the least. It’s just sad. There is nothing I can do now, except love him, and let him go.

We always want people to stay with us, because of our selfish feelings of wanting to experience them. Yet we don’t have to live their life, and if someone is really ill, and in a lot of pain, they shouldn’t have to stay just because we aren’t ready to let go of them. It has been hard for me to make peace with his decision, but it is his choice to make. Going through the stages of grief right now, and a lot of memories are coming up strong. Memories I locked away, and forced myself to forget.

Thinking about all my failed relationships in general today, and trying to find the gift I got from each of them. This person took me under their wing when I was a freshmen in high school. After being bullied so mercilessly in middle school, I was petrified of high school. He saw my value immediately, and went out of his way to greet and include me. He was so popular, that being his kid sister offered me some measure of protection. He saw my worth, when I didn’t, and went out of his way to spend quality time with me, he was genuinely interested in who I was as a person, and would sit and listen to me for countless hours on the phone, sharing every thought in our heads. He was brutally honest, wether I wanted to hear it or not, and so I believed him when he let me know that he saw me... and that He was glad I existed.

He understood me, better than any other boyfriend I’ve had. My deep pain and alienation, he secretly always felt that way too. As an Aries, he is my opposite sign, but no other sign understands the deep loneliness Libra’s feel like Aries does. It’s an unspoken, deep rooted commonality between them, different as they are in all other areas. In fact that was what endeared us to one another I think. We shared the same pain, and it created a kinship.

He could see and feel my pain, and often we were able to comfort each other without having to say anything. The romantic connection was a tragic one, because of his illness it was very “Edward Scissorhands”, we could never really be together. He was always pushing me away, and he had so many others girls in his web it made me feel inadequate and insecure. Truthfully, I chose to devalue myself and let his rejection crush my self esteem over time. but the truth is, he inspired me so much as an artist. He encouraged me to go out and create. He is so talented at so many things, with so many gifts, and truly... he has a good heart.

Even when things were bad between us, he never raised his voice to me, never called me a name, always spoke to me with respect and kindness. Never once hung up on me, he is far too noble to ever do that to anyone. I often kept him on the phone for ages because I knew he would never hang up. He has strong morals and principles, and he lives rigidly by them. We both have strong characters, with high morals and expectations of others, so we were always disappointed in people. My love went unrequited it seemed, as he outright refused to commit to me, but I do know that He really cared about and respected me. Whenever he got a girlfriend who was jealous of our connection, he would always put them in their place and say: “she’s my friend. She’s very important to me, and she’s not going anywhere, so you will just have to deal with that if you want to be with me.”

He never abandoned me when I needed him. He dropped everything to come and be with me at two in the morning on more than one occasion. The romance may not have gone well, but he was always a good and loyal friend. When I went through my abortion, the Capricorn I was dating at the time took off to party while I was home crying and clutching my belly in agony, but the other person called, and was there for me. “Megan, where is your boyfriend during all of this?”

“I dunno. Out with his friends,”

“Then you need to leave him. No man will not stick by his woman through this.”

I began to cry softly at these words. Feeling at that time, so alone and unloved. His voice grew soft with sorrow as he said: “i’m sorry Megan, you always deserved better than anyone was able to give you.”

I think the feelings were mutual once. We grew very close when he was away at film school on the east coast, and I was still a junior in high school. He always had excuses for why he didn’t want to be with me, because there was clearly intense physical attractions those days, but his true feelings betrayed him. When I went to visit him at his apartment in Pennsylvania... he had photos of me...all over his house. In every room almost, (more than any other girl friend of his). I remember being in shock. In those days, I loathed relationships, the idea of getting married. I had no desire to want to have children or what have you. Granted I was only 13-14, but as soon as I met him, I saw myself wanting to be his wife. I just got him, and he got me, but his infidelity with other girls was always what crushed me. That was where the seed of taking drugs was planted, in the wake of not feeling good enough for this person I was so in love with. It was my choice, no one else is responsible for my actions, but these events influenced my choices for sure. He was very popular with women, and had a ton of female friends he very obviously had flirtations/relationships with. Some people are just not meant to commit to monogamy I guess, I often wondered if he was one of those.

But as we got older, and the romance dwindled away. The only way I got over him, after six years of pining and crying myself to sleep every night... was falling in love with the narcissist. Soon as they painted the picture of the ideal partner, I let go of the unrequited relationship I had prior. He noticed too, and soon as I was gone, I think he realized what he lost. Though... it was always complicated. When I wanted to give my life up to be with him, he couldn’t go through with it, and before anything could really happen, he ran away into the bathroom, locking himself in to cry where I couldn’t see him. He said to me: “I can’t do it. I can’t ruin your life.”

He used to look at me sadly sometimes. I could see this longing in him for connection. He would brush my hair out of my face, and have this moment of silence where he would look at me very intently.

It was a toxic connection to be sure. We were both suicidally depressed teens, wallowing together, but he really did know me. I think he knows me better than anyone, even Jeanne. He trusted me, and I trusted him. He never hid the other girls from me, and he was always very clear with me about us not being together, at least at first. He thought I was too young. He was a senior when I was a freshmen, and he kept me at bay because it made him feel uncomfortable, but once I was older, I got caught in a love triangle with him and a Pisces girl. I knew she was all talk and wouldn’t last, and she didn’t. I know he loved her though, and she fucked him over, just like I knew she would. He still chose her over me, and that was the first time I tried to kill myself.

Again, I realize now, how incredibly toxic and unhealthy I was myself... I wish I had been strong enough to take it in stride, but I had no skills or coping mechanisms for pain back then. All I had was substance abuse. I do remember, I never took drugs, not until he rejected me, that was the turning point where this whole nightmare began. Well, actually it Began with my father and was reinforced by that.

My point is, he vaguely brought up how much damage he realized he did to people. I know he always felt guilty about me. His care for me was deep, and genuine, though never the same as mine. He saw me as a sister, but later when I was older her saw me differently for a moment, then I realized our connection was familial, like he was an older brother. Maybe we were meant to love each other in that way, not romantically. So I let it go, and after many talks, we cleared the air and were able to be friends. He was very considerate of my feelings though. He never spoke about girls he was involved with, he knew that would crush me, and only after years of friendship, when my feelings subsided, were we able to talk freely about people we were dating with no hurt feelings. It was liberating to reach that place with someone. To go from being madly in love, to being like family.

He was there through it all. My miscarriages, my abortion, the sociopath, the abuse, allmy different houses etc. after a while I became like his mom, nagging him to go to his dr. Appointments and to eat a carrot once in a while. He would always roll his eyes and say: “yeah yeah”. Our dynamic was playfully argumentative, like one of those witty screwball comedies in the 1930s. He was a riot, boy he could make me laugh.

We talked everyday for ten years, and then something changed. I barely survived the connection with the sociopath, and he got out of a bad situation too, but I fell in love again, with another Scorpio, who was 7 years older... someone who actually wanted to commit to me, to get married and start a life... I hardly knew how to take it, I had always been “the other woman” before... no one ever wanted to commit fully to me before. I was so starved for love and attention of this kind, that I would do anything to keep it. This new person... I may have tested their boundaries with my substance abuse, but I knew his infidelity issues were REALLY deep, and he felt threatened by my friend, and do I cut him out to save my relationship.

I felt guilty about it the whole time. This other person had always been there for me no matter what, and may not have been a good lover, but was a true, blue friend, and I abandoned him. He felt very hurt and betrayed obviously. For he had stood up to other girls for me, and I did not do the same for him. I just wanted my relationship to work so bad, I thought it would be worth the sacrifice.

Rhstvrelstionship was very volatile, and it was really good in some ways, and really bad in others. As our relationship wore on. I felt guilty for leaving this person behind me, and I finally worked up the courage to tell my partner, and ask if I could reach out and apologize and try to rebuild my friendship. That was the beginning of the end I think. He was on his way out anyway. I did reach out to my friend, and he was really hurt and unwilling to patch things up. We talked it out, and he said he would try, but he felt really unsure about it. He felt I abandoned him, when he needed a friend most. He had some serious shit going on at the time, but we were in one of our many dumb fights, and he never reaches out, so I just stopped.

It doesn’t matter. We patched things up, he had this new girlfriend who was clearly jealous of me. She went out of her way to be cruel. He must have thought she was his last chance, but he only half liked her on the first place. She was awful to me on this road trip from hell with the three of us... long story short, we got in a huge fight because I refused to be around her ever again, and he felt I was being completely unreasonable. I felt betrayed, like I got my karma back for ditching him before. We fell out the last few years, and I was spiraling out of control after my longest relationship ended.

He called me about a year ago, apologizing for how he acted. Saying he was wrong. I never thought he would apologize, I was stunned. In the past, even if he was wrong, I always came back and made up. This time I held out, and he unfollowed me on FB, said he couldn’t rely on me, that I wasn’t a good friend. Now he was admitting he was wrong, and I knew I forgave him a long time ago. He told me he lost some loved ones, and was in therapy, yet was very cryptic, and stopped responding to my messages after that initial conversation.

Then to get this call yesterday, after all we have been through...there are so many layers, and chapters to the story, I could write a book...someday, I just miss him. I miss being able to call him whenever. I miss the way he would always give me shit, all the play arguments. I miss making him laugh, or seeingvthat smirk on his face when he pulled a prank. He is very like Fred and George Weasley from Harry Potter (personality wise). He’s like Oscar the grouch popping out of his trash can to add his two cents.

I sincerely miss our friendship, and I hope he gives us the opportunity to reconnect, especially if the days are numbered.

[witchbitchpolemic-blog]

First Magic - heal theyself

Peoplegenerally want to do witchcraft  to change what is around them. ‘Make him love me’, ‘make me rich’, ‘save my friend from dying’. These are things outside your transmission range when you start. If you commit enough of your consciousness to the path, your range may extend to these things. But before that is possible you need to bring your own being into your power. A leaky bucket cannot carry water to fill a well.

The leaky bucket

I’m porous. Specifically, I kinaesthetically receive the feelings in both the environment and the feelings of people I am connected to. Crowds make me feel jittery and unstable. I literally can’t breath around passive-aggressive people because while the talk is pleasant talk it feels like I am breathing in a heavy dark fog. Effectively, I am an extreme empath.

I have spent many years thinking this was a ‘gift’, something of great value, if only I could harness it. That was an egotistical delusion.

What is the leaky bucket?

It is not a gift, it is the product of deliberate psychic wounding by others. And it makes me a leaky bucket.  Only when I can choose what energy I receive is it a gift.

To understand, think about babies. They scream when parents are tense or angry, even when the parent is ‘putting away’ their feelings to ‘comfort’ the child. In fact, the more the parent ‘comforts’ the screaming child, the more they scream. This is because the child has a soft energy barrier. The child has become a radio receiving and is broadcasting the parent’s transmission - their silent screams. Normally, as babies grow their energy body seals and hardens. They stop screaming. 

Toddlers and very young children will still cry spontaneously when anyone else cries (I still have small child memories of the intense waves of grief that arrived from nowhere when another kid started to cry), but their boundaries become progressively firm.

The feeling wave

Think of feelings as a form of wave, like a radio wave. It has an effective range and a frequency you have to tune to. People whose energy boundaries have firmed generally don’t pick up these waves so intensely as the disrupt their lives. But for those of us whose boundary has been breached, these feelings can be so central that they disrupt our capacity to act - we have become the radio trying to be human.

How do boundaries get breached?

Boundaries are breached by others. Psychic attacks by the living send an unseen knife, or blade, pins or blunt object directly at our energy barrier. Sent hard enough, or for long enough and the barrier weakens and is broken. If the onslaught is continuous, part of a persons soul may flee, leaving a space for other things (undead and spirit entities) to occupy. Parents are a huge source of boundary damage. From hysteria, to repressed feelings to imposing their own identity on the child. Sometimes it is deliberate. We generally attribute this to mental illness, but it may also be that the parent (themselves damaged) has been infected by another entity.

What happens when boundaries are damaged?

This can manifest in mental imbalance (exhaustion, depression, confusion, indecision, voices) – this is where we expect to see it. 

But it can also be seen in physical manifestations. Just because we are no longer in contact with a toxic person doesn’t mean we aren’t still picking up their frequency.

I had a friend who went through an ugly divorce. His partner had torn the relationship apart for reasons he couldn’t fathom. He blamed drugs connected to an illness she had been experienced, but really he had no idea. Emotionally he hadn’t resolved the breakdown, and while they never saw each other, he remained intensely connected. He developed a bad case of psoriasis. Psoriasis if you don’t know is a condition where, among other things, the skin breaks randomly, leaving sores. Once you have psoriasis it is normally a life sentence.  About a year later he went on a holiday to the other side of the world.  During the 1st week of his holiday the psoriasis miraculously disappeared. It wasn’t a miracle at all. He had moved himself out of his ex’s psychic transmission range.

Range

The range is very similar to a radio range. Within 200 meters you may well experience someone’s emotions intensely – even as if they were your own. Within 5 kilometers it will be clear. Within 20 kilometers it will be reliable. Within 60 kilometers it will fade in and out, like the annoying radio reception on a long country drive. Just as you are getting the groove it fades out and then cackles and fades in and then something else over-rides it.

Frequency

Frequency tuning involves connection with others. That can be anyone from your sister to the work colleague to the lover to the barman that you had a chat with last night as he was cleaning glasses (you are very likely to loose your tuning to his frequency very quickly).  So for people with damaged barriers, now multiply the irritating country drive reception by the X number of people they have any connection with.

How do we fix porousness?

It is surprisingly simple.

Magical tools

The basic and essential tools of ‘magic’ are all made in the mind. Yes, there are advanced tools (dolls etc.) but they are  useless without the skills. So for now all you need is the magic equivalent of hand tools. The mind contains the entire hand-tool set – and makes up new tools whenever it needs to.

Getting to the magical workshop

To start doing magic you need to enter into a space of spirit (an in-between space). This requires being fully focused.

My spirit workshop (my in-between space) is the place between waking and sleeping – the place where I can think consciously, see in spirit, see tools when I decide what I need to use, and critically, remember later.

But be aware, I didn’t look for this path. At some point I was given it, but even then it took a long time to understand what I had been given. Everyone is different. 

If this road is not open to you, don’t waste time practicing to try using this route – there are others and none is more or less valuable than an other. If you are meant to have it,  you will be given it when you are ready.

Meditation as a path

Meditation is the other way to reach a place where you can enter your spirit environment. Lay down, ensure you are relaxed and your clothes are loose, make sure it is quiet and there will be no interruptions. Look towards your third eye. Allow thoughts to wash across your mind rather than grabbing for them as they float past. When your mind feels still, look towards yourself. When you can see your body, think about what needs to be done.  

Finding the concentration you need, can take a lot of practice. You can also use rhythmic drumming tapes if this helps. If it doesn’t work hang in there. At some stage it will just click into place. Until then, the true relaxation of your mind that comes with the mediation will in itself will make the rest of your life easier.  So win/win and no time wasted.

How to heal your boundaries (this is actually really simple)

One morning I found myself in-between, and I looked down and saw deep slashes all over my body. I knew immediately that they were injuries to my energy body that allowed psychic attack and invasion. I immediately thought - ‘sew them up.’ I’m a practical sort of witch. It was an obvious solution.

So I took a needle and thread and I stitched the wounds together.  As I was stitching another image superimposed. A lady in white rose from a laying position underneath the image, to sit upright on a horse (a medieval princess, but you may be someone else).  She faded and I continued stitching until I could see that all the wounds had been closed – and then I immediately woke up.

How did I feel when I woke up? More balanced. Not perfect but better than I had been.

How did I feel the next day? Life threw a lot at me and I wasn’t able to completely deflect the sharp energy shards that were sent my way. Hey. That is life.

Did that work ‘magically’ fix my damaged energy body? No. Magic doesn’t equal immediate. Deep injuries need to be tended. I needed to go back there and stitch the wounds again, many times.

So what will you see when you go to that place?

Do you see wounds at all? If you do, are they infected? What  sort of instrument do they look like they were made by?

Look for the appropriate removal/cleaning fixing tools. Tools are always available in spirit, you just have to imagine them and they are in your hands. So for an infection, look around for disinfectant.

You might see something entirely different.

Do you see people? If you want them to move away from you, do so in spirit.  Damage them in the material world and you have damaged your Karma. But if you push them away in spirit, the material world will gently follow you - they just won’t matter so much.

Do you see some lost place that needs to be reclaimed? Is it a place or is an eternal place? An eternal place is home. A physical place may be a metaphor. Sometimes the two collide.

Whatever you see, if it is good let it be.

If you want to do magic that changes the material world, firstly heal theyself.

Blessings.