the spectrum heart cathedral system

I'm not sure how to write coherent entries at the moment, so forgive me if this is awkward starting out.
My thought processes have been 'rewiring' lately, as has my moral code and overall demeanor. It's exhilarating, sometimes a little unnerving, and incredibly exhausting. To make it worse, I've been ludicrously busy as of late and I've been neglecting my meditation practices (bad move son!!). So I've been a little ungrounded as well, and it's hard to focus. Even so, my mind is clearer than ever. It's quiet most of the time now, and my discernment keeps improving (I can hear my boss again, thank God!). I'm very aware of my impulses and thoughts now, to the point where it's becoming easier and easier to stay completely focused even in situations that would previously throw me completely off-center. I still have slipups, true, but now I can treat them as stepping stones and move on with a lesson instead of beating myself up over them.

Speaking of slipups. I am still starving, still scraped-out. Now I've put it on the backburner, where I don't feel it unless I give it my direct attention. When I do, though... it's almost existentially frightening, now. It's that deep, that strong. But I haven't moved to fix it, and I keep shaking my head at the opportunities I'm given to do so. Why? Am I really that scared of such a bright thing, on some level I haven't recognized entirely? That's a question I need to answer, soon, as it may just be the most important task I can undertake right now...
I keep wandering closer and closer to the water, though. I've been in this desert for so long, but somehow, I've acquired a fear of drowning. Maybe I've been in this devastating heat for too long. I've become so used to the burns and cuts and blisters that I've forgotten the bliss of healing. But I'm perfectly aware of it! That's what's so difficult about this. I'm aware that this is a problem, but it's so unsettling that part of me refuses to fully accept it... part of me can't even understand WHY this is a problem. It's so ridiculous. Why hold on to pain? And yet here we are... and still I keep letting the tide wash the blood away, just a little bit, like the edges of a dream in the morning sunlight. Part of me is still perfectly aware of that, too...

Unconsciously, I keep feeling that I have to be everything for everyone. It's an old childhood compulsion I never really overcame. I'm afraid that if I'm not 'perfect' at everything, if I don't excel at everything, I will let someone down and fail them as a compassionate human being, as a "guardian." Why do I feel that the world is relying on me? Isn't that selfish?
And that's the other half of it, the conflict it has with my void drive. When I am passively ignored, it feels blissful, like I'm a ghost. When I am actively ignored, it is terrifying, a perceived "confirmation" that I have failed at loving others. You weren't good enough, you didn't try hard enough, and you failed to help your fellow man. Your punishment is for your very existence to be invalidated, belittled, denied.
Part of me is so terrified of doing things "wrong." Attachment is the main concern. 'You're not allowed to have possessions, or opinions, or feelings! That's all attachment! It's wrong!' And so I deaden my mind and heart, sell everything I own, and push away the people I love because on some level, I'm afraid that not doing so is the real sin here.

What the heck is this? Those thoughts are ridiculous. They make no sense. Why are they still here, then?
Then again, these are ancient fears. It's both exciting and terrifying, to realize that now is the time to conquer them. The ancient things fight back the hardest.
Don't forget what it was like against the tar though... the harder you fight, the more immobile you become, until you're suddenly frozen by suffocating black threads. But if you let it run over you without resisting, simply standing true, it doesn't stick.
And yet the fear itself is what's compelling me to try so hard. Fighting fire with fire, talk about symbolism. Forget this starving feeling, I know what I really need, here in this desert.
Geez. I feel like Vezerai, what irony. "I'm out of my mind," remember? Fear living for love alone, and denying it almost until death. We have the exact same problem.
It's the most ancient fear of all, the problem all of humanity is struggling with right now.
Somehow, we're afraid that we don't deserve love... even if nothing could be further than the truth.
Maybe it just takes time, for our eyes to adjust to the light.


I want to remind myself of one last thing before I check in for the night, and maybe dive into this headfirst (God willing).
Last night, there were virtually no pictures. I wondered if it was because I had given him virtually no attention. The voice said yes.
Then it reminded me. Have you forgotten what we told you? How significant this truly is? You doubt all these beautiful things, no matter how many times they are proven to you.
I wondered, afraid to hope, somewhere deep inside where I didn't dare to look. Around 1AM I talked to Laurie about it.
I missed her so much... and the feeling was apparently mutual, because although I was still holding back, the look she gave me was so heartbreaking, my mind actually stopped dead from the impact. Total silence, a bullet to the heart. She was clearer than ever, too, pushing me through headspace as always, weaving the reality around her fingers as if she were throwing curtains open to sunlight. Maybe she was.
I miss her. I miss my daughter. I haven't seen Genesis in almost a month, dear God how did I not realize that until now? Where have I been?
And Chaos, it hurts even to say his name, I can't stop thinking about the 23rd, why am I back in this place again, where did these walls come from, didn't we solve this?
But I thought about him last night, truly and honestly, and today it was reflected in the world around me.
For a moment I almost didn't believe it. Almost.
Don't ignore what you know to be true, I keep hearing, echoing in the background.
And I can't. Even if right now I'm too confounded to actively acknowledge it, I can't ignore it, even for a second.

Mel said that orange and green may be opposites.
I'm so confused by headspace colors right now, but those two always seem to float. No one really holds them, not even now. It's intriguing.
But if that idea is true, it might just be the foothold I need to pull myself out of this abyss. I'm still being haunted by blue eyes. I'm tired.

I'll talk about this more tomorrow. As of right now I'm going to get some sleep and clear my head from all the work I've been doing lately.
Maybe all I need to do is be quiet and listen.


It's like a violin string, a slingshot, a firework, a heartbeat.
There's infinite light in this. There always is.

bland

The room was the color of a sugarless milkshake, one that had sat out in the sun too long. In the stark light pouring from its single window, a cream-skinned girl fidgeted as the lurid glare soured her complexion. She ran her hands across the papery folds of her dress, longing for texture, for color. It was all so bland, so vapid. She licked her lips and tried to remember what sweetness tasted like.

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sparkling

I looked up, surprised, as the sound of the radio swiftly degenerated into a rushing hum, like an electronic riverbank on a crystal shore. Sure enough, he hovered there before me, eyes wondering but unaware, the firefly-bright motes around his head clear as ever. I sighed and flicked the radio off, feeling static jump to my fingers as the sound finally died. “You really have to stop showing up when I’m trying to hear the news,” I told him, meeting his questioning gaze with dry amusement. It wasn’t his fault. How was he supposed to know that radio waves didn’t take well to sparkling specters?

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conceal

“I’m tellin’ you Dave,” Joe whispered loudly between the two desks, “Miss Gheram’s got an eye on the back of her head!”
“Don’t you mean she’s got ‘eyes?’” Dave replied, unfazed.
Joe shook his head. “No no no, she’s just got one, like a cyclops. Right in the back. She’s got all that big hair to– to conceal it,” he concluded with emphasis.
“Stop using big words, Joe.”
“Conceal isn’t a big word! It means she hides it!”
“Whatever. I still wanna see this eye.”
Outside the classroom door, Molly Gheram made a mental note to start buying hats.

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bench

A sterling-haired man sauntered into the park, humming tunelessly, and sat down on a faded bench by the old willow tree. The wood creaked as if to greet an old friend.
“Lovely day, isn’t it?”
He turned and spoke to no one in particular, carefully shaking the jacket from his thin shoulders. Something like dust spilled from its faded folds, distracting the butterflies in the air. Sunlight glinted through the particles.
“It’s a little too warm for this. Would you mind?”
There was no objection as he held out the coat, summer winds swirling voicelessly about him. For a moment it seemed as if the man had forgotten that he was alone, his arms held out expectantly, his eyes bright.
Then his hands were as empty as the seat beside him, and he smiled.

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accordion

Accordions are ridiculous. That was an axiom I refused to reconsider, soldered into place from a childhood tainted by bad polka music. But that was self-evident, too. You couldn’t make that instrument sound tuneful if you tried.
These are the thoughts I entertained from the city sidewalk, before I was stopped in my tracks by the bellows of that same irksome contraption. It was impossible, I protested, but there he was, idling at the junction of Washington and Main, an infernal squeezebox between his liver-spotted hands.
I was vexed. Who plays an accordion on a street corner? Even worse, who plays an accordion where I can hear it? It was offensive, and I strongly considered letting the old man know, when my bitter glare caught sight of his fingers.
It was… astounding. For a moment my thoughts were silenced by the deft motions of his hands, dancing over the tiny keys with unexpected grace. For a moment I was transfixed, and in spite of my youthful enmity I found myself feeling genuine admiration for not only the man, but also for the accordion– the accordion!– as its lilting melody sang warmly in the smog-bitten air.
That’s when I realized the air was now quiet, the instrument still, kind eyes fixed on my face. I coughed, feeling sheepish, and tossed a tenner into his hat as I slid away.
His grateful thank-you reached my reddened ears without affront and I couldn’t help but smile.
Look who's talking, old man.
I guess accordions weren’t so stupid after all.

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hinge

The hinges of his jaw creaked as he grinned, his sallow skin twisting into that same dead expression my nightmares loved to remind me of. A row of unnaturally gray teeth glinted from between his wooden lips, shining like frog eggs. I shivered.
“What’s the matter?” Even his speech sounded like rusty nails. “Afraid of dolls?”
Yeah, I thought, swallowing hard. Yeah I’m afraid of dolls, no thanks to you.
Beady eyes glinted back at me in the dark, all-seeing, more aware than I dared contemplate. He didn’t stop smiling.

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racket

His feet slammed into the bronze-slick floor as he ran, breath quick with hopes and terrors, through the clamorous house of bells.
He had an absurd mental image of a box of fireworks, dropped into the middle of a pantry, sending pots and pans screaming in blinding flares of red and gold. The thought faded quickly, however– no thoughts could survive in this racket.
It was unbearable. His ribcage was vibrating, his teeth jarring together with every resonating clang. He was trapped in an absolute disaster of sound.

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switching

The colors of his irises were switching rapidly, like schizophrenic christmas lights. Brown, green, blue, gray… now deep black, now albino pink. His eyelids fluttered in time to their shifting hues.
From across the subway aisle, a girl in a knitted scarf watched intently. His pupils were wide and hazy, and seemed to be gazing straight through her into another realm. But she stared into them from across the subway aisle, just as ignorant to the din around her as he was.
Whatever realm he was viewing, she mused, it was reflected in his eyes.

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brief

Living in this blighted world was hell, he thought. On every street corner there was death, despair, devastation. Families he had known in his youth were rapidly fading from the earth, swallowed up by the insatiable maw of the plague.
Raven-dark death danced about his footsteps, jeering at his face, so like its own. He couldn’t get the stench out of his lungs.
And this child, this poor child, couldn’t get the oozing tar out of his body.
The plague doctor readjusted his ornithic mask, the scent of lavender and clove reminding him of better days, when he didn’t have to watch innocent children bleed.
“Let’s make this brief,” he rasped, and prayed that it would be true.

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straw

I looked up from the daily news at the sudden sound of jingling, a cheery metallic twinkle that cut through the din like a shooting star. I was surprised to find it radiating from the keychain-weighted hips of a young woman, bouncing on her heels as she swirled past my table.
For a moment I simply stared, caught off guard by this sudden burst of color. Striped tights, slim figure, wearing more pink than a rose garden in June… geez, she looked like something you’d drink a strawberry milkshake through. Even that swirl of vanilla-colored hair looked unusually perfect, and that’s from a guy who prefers brunettes. She was cute. Like a cupcake, I decided, and stifled a laugh.
That got her attention. The keychains jingled sharply then, and two ice-blue eyes (look at the size of those lashes!) focused on my own. The gaze she shot at me was strikingly incongruous with her cheery getup, and accusatory enough to summon a twinge of guilt. I cleared my throat, suddenly all too aware of my dress shirt and slacks.
“S’cute,” was all I said, nodding politely at her soda-straw figure.
For a second she looked at me like I was on a sugar high, then simply twirled on her feet and continued on her way, bright as a cherry against the monotonous crowd.
A moment later I put down the newspaper and decided to buy myself a milkshake.

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cathedral

Melancholy rainbows danced across the crystal floors of the Cathedral, great streaks of ethereal blood spilled by the moon. The Prince tread across them like a war hero, proud of the fallen spectrums splashing across his gold-rimmed feet.
This was his stronghold, his sanctuary: a house of worship dedicated to his own name. He was the angel that watched over it, and he was the deity that walked within it. In this hall of mirrors, he was everything; limitless, transcendent, omnipresent.
He paused, his pale face awash with color, at the largest stained glass window, where an elegantly twisted image of his father beamed down upon him. Devotion blazed to life in his chest, filling his amber-blue eyes with sparks.
I will make you proud, the gilded Prince promised wordlessly, ignorant of the creeping shadows beneath the bleeding light. I promise. I will become the god you created me to be.

Behind him, the devil waited with infinite patience, a single splinter of color scarring his darkened face. Soon the kingdom of light would fall, and his hands would have cut the first throat.
He did not smile as he swept forwards, the void about him reaching out to swallow his prey. This death would be just, he swore; this blasphemous act would be a secret saving grace.
For the devil knew, as the Prince turned to him in fear, that an illegitimate Son was no savior at all.

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chills

The glass of shocking-pink liquid spun once, like a soporific lunatic, before fatally crashing to the floor. Simultaneously, a moonlight-colored figure collapsed to his knees, staining them with technicolor liquid. His arms and legs were screaming mutely now, shivering up and down with nauseating chills that he unfortunately recognized all too well. He bit his lip, cursing his own optimism. Roseate refreshments were never safe, no matter how intoxicatingly they shimmered. Yet here he was again, crumpled on the unfeeling marble, his entire nervous system a frozen mess of crushed glass.
He fumbled for the edge of the counter, fingers numb to the icy smoothness above his head, and tried to stand, but his feet were floating and he succeeded only in soaking his silver sleeves as well as they took the brunt of his fall.
By now his body was too shocked to move any more, and his consciousness was quickly dissolving into that nightmarish static void. But even now, he could hear candy-pink heels echoing from the adjacent hallway, tapping out his fate in morse code.
God damn it, the snow king swore, as shooting stars swallowed his world alive.

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trap

The evening sky glimmered far above, bruised violet and starlit red, wrapped tightly with fishing-line threads of cloud. He thought it looked like a dying god; some great, magnificent thing, bleeding to death in the twilight of the world.
Kind of like me, was his next thought, as he weakly shrugged a pair of bony shoulders. The wires pulled tighter in response, scattering another layer of bloodied scales to the dirt floor. They lay in a pitiful mosaic around his feet, glittering like dying stars.
He did not look at them. He was trying not to show the pain that seared along his freakish spine, burying itself between his temples like a parasite.
Still, a being like him could bear the pain, the solitude, the shadows. The humiliation of being trapped was but a splinter. Yes, it would have been useless to keep him here, bound in the bowels of the earth, under any other circumstances.
But his eyes were locked on the wounded sky.
This, indeed, was the cruelest torture.
His shoulders moved again, in the memory of stolen wings, and the wires cut deeper.

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camera

I’d often wondered what I would sacrifice, just to experience immortality at her hands. She was a goddess of creation, terrible and wonderful; she was a sunbeam, turning the dust of the world into gold, and everything she gazed upon was transformed.
She made it look so simple, so elegant… but I knew better. I had tried to imitate her magic once and the beauty had nearly killed me.
And yet I knew, with absolute certainty, that she could take my broken bones and weave them into a masterpiece.
It would only take a moment, and my soul would be forever illuminated.
A smile turned the corners of her mouth ever so lightly, and she raised her camera once more, preparing to bring beauty into the world anew.

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secret

A few seagulls careened past my window, casting fluttering shadows across my perpetually catastrophic work desk. I sat alone on my bedsheets, rumpled from another restless nights sleep, and listened intently. I wasn't quite sure why I was suddenly struck by the typical silence surrounding my life, as I usually put great effort into shifting my attention away from it. Still, I guess you can only go so long before the understated gravity of such things broadsides you.
The sudden sound of birdwings was oddly comforting in light of those resurfacing thoughts, reminding me that benevolent life still existed outside of this lonely place I called home... outside and close enough to touch, which was more than I could say for the few other lives I treasured. I was at least close enough for the birds to seek solace in. As for my source of hope, well...
I let out a sigh, trying to sound nonchalant about it, but the sudden ache in my ribs spited me, too sharp and real to stay hidden in there. For a moment I frustratedly considered running to the window and telling those damn seagulls about it, but that would've been criminally uncool. True, the puppets scattered around my lonely room had heard about this a hundred times before, but I didn't feel like repeating myself, even for the sake of alleviating this recurring melancholy.
See, shouting into the void wasn't an issue. The ocean depths beyond these four walls couldn't respond, and didn't seem to care all that much anyway. The real problem was that I stored my secrets in my fingertips, and maybe I was secretly too used to this silence to risk forever shattering it, even if I'd never admit that, not even to the gulls.
The problem was that you can only live under such pressure for so long, and I knew that my heart had already started to crack.
What irony.
Sometimes it really sucked to be the last man on earth.

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event

It was one in the morning, and yet time had ceased to exist.
True, the reality of space still lingered within my worn-out bones, but even that was tenuous now, slipping away in the morning hours like blood into a drain.
My eyelids fluttered under the weight of exhaustion, adamant in their refusal to welcome sleep. I had been surviving as a mote in the threads of society for the past twelve hours– an eternity now, a tick of the dying second-hand now– and I had no intention of escaping this transient state of being. This freedom from existence itself was all that mattered.
The sparse few souls around me slept, sprawled out across hard carpets, collapsing into unfeeling chairs. I sat alone beneath a symphonic fractal and breathed, forgetting what it was like to be somebody, and smiled.
Time had ceased to exist, and so had I.
And within that impossible cosmic event, I was infinite.

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comfort

I was told that there would be blood; there would be tears, and sweat, and disaster beyond knowing. I was assured of our total failure, of catastrophe, of defeat.
I did not doubt this, when I saw the blade pressed against your throat, burning cold with inexorable sacrifice. I did not question this, as you screamed into the unfeeling night with an anguish no mortal soul could fathom.
I prayed for sleep as the shadows danced about my feet, dripping tar-pink fever dreams and bile. You never tired as you pursued them, hands stained dark beneath old bandages and scars, every last thread seared with bitter fury.
The years dragged on, and we followed suit, white and red and violet rage beneath a sunless sky. Our death had been guaranteed, but in spite of eternity, an impossible life dripped from my arms, leaving breadcrumb hopes in the soulless dust. You watched them wordlessly, as great black stains crept across your body, hidden by the void pulled tight about your shoulders.
It was a strange comfort, to know that I could gaze unafraid into your blazing eyes.
Whatever wars we may still have to fight, whatever wounds we will wear anew, whatever anguish and horror must come, in this anomalous life of ours... if only you remain by my side, I shall never despair. 

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half

Something was wrong.
Those three words, unsettling as they were, could never describe the way his very presence sent spasms of dread through my veins. And yet there he was, sitting across the room from me even now, sepulchral eyes staring into an inner world no one else could perceive. I wondered if he even knew I was there.
He was indisputably, irreparably divided, that was evident. Not conflicted, disorganized, or alienated, although those were indeed true as well: no, he was split in half to a depth I could not fathom. His heart had been dimidiated, and he had been left with nothing but sinister scars, memories of wounds suffered for the sake of a love not forgotten, but denied in agony.
The algorithms of his existence were all wrong, I decided. No matter how many times his shattered mind was plugged into the system, an answer could not be found. There were no solutions to his madness, only a sole hope of restoration, the impossible dream of a long-dead counterpart and the ashes of tortured faith.
He stared on, seeing nothing. It was all he had left.

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begin

I stood at the threshold of the Cathedral and watched in serene silence as tar-blade shadows wound about my feet. I did not resist, nor would I fight back when its imminent onslaught crashed into my bones. Its seething rage sunk metaphorical teeth into my veins but I stood fast, ignoring my trembling hands. I had survived our first encounter, had I not?
Two months had passed since then and my blood still beat within these walls, silent but strong, deep red within white, an invincible truth that this tainted shade could never defile. This atrium had not ruptured, despite the scars that lined my arms… indeed, it was only by virtue of their agony that I could now breathe, clear and faithful, in the shadow of death itself. Its devotion to my ruin had instead brought about a rebirth… a miracle manifested in the small child now entering the Cathedral behind me.
The tar rose up then, frenzied and screaming, utter destruction its only thought, but its loss was already guaranteed. In that moment, as the first blow rushed towards me, I knew that we could not lose. No one would die here tonight, not in this holy twilight. This was our atonement; we would not be forsaken.
And now, it was time to begin…

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determined

Flashes of red and pink were dancing in the corners of her eyes, filling her with a strange and impossible hope. For too long, she had simply stood and watched like this. How many years had she spent, praying and wishing and trying until her bones ached, looking to the skies for an answer? But now that the moment was here, was it worth taking a chance? Or was she really going to spend another lifetime waiting?
No… she refused to wait any longer. If there were going to be any miracles today, they would be wrought by her hands, clenched in determined fists.
I do belong here, she told herself. I am worth something. I can do this.
And this time, as diamonds sparked to life within her, she believed it.

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So I found an interesting meme online, and figured I'd fill it out.


1. Tell us about your favorite writing project/universe that you’ve worked with and why.
Dream World, hands down. It's not only been the biggest positive influence on my life in everything from psychology to religion, but it's made me a better person and has opened my mind and heart to so freaking much it's amazing.
It's impossible for me to assign second place to any one series, because they all hold equal importance to me.

2. How many characters do you have? Do you prefer males or females?

The last time I checked, I had 708 characters (it's probably increased slightly since then), 622 of whom are nonhuman. As for the gender ratio, I have 343 girls and 372 guys, which is no surprise to me. As a kid, there was an absolutely huge male majority, and my female characters were virtually all tomboys (although the ladies held the major roles). As I grew older it became hard for me to write females at all and so I began to switch all my focuses to the guys. This played major havoc on the development for some series where the main characters were female (LG*Girls, Mage Angels), as I wasn't able to put myself in their perspective as well as I once could.
Honestly, though, I've only recently been able to come to terms with my own gender identity-- no thanks to family, religion, therapists, and socially inflicted roles-- so that was probably a major reason as to why it was so hard for me to write for others in that respect. I'll definitely be putting my all into fixing what I unwillingly neglected as a result of that.

3. How do you come up with names for characters (and for places if you’re writing about fictional places)?

As a kid, I'd quite literally get the names either from thin air, or by making clever references or puns. Nowadays I still have thin-air namers here and there, but I'm infamous for often taking hours to name characters because I consider the name to be an incredibly important aspect of an individual. I also try to give all of my characters one-of-a-kind names if possible, which can be very difficult, especially when working with family histories.
Places really haven't been a concern yet, as I either write about preexisting places or places that really have no 'professional' names (i.e. most locations in the DW as of now). This will likely skyrocket as a priority once I get further into development for series like vo!t@ge.

4. Tell us about one of your first stories/characters!
I've had characters in my mind since I was first able to think, no kidding. The oldest ones showed up around 1993-1994, and were a ragtag bunch of musically inclined animals who I never wrote a story for, but who always hung out in my head... Cobra, Fans, Unisalia, and Batty. Man but I loved 'em.
Zimbo the alien showed up around '95, and in 1st grade I drew and wrote about him constantly. He was my first 'random storyline' character, in that he never had a solid plot assigned to him, but was always having spontaneous adventures not unlike those in old cartoons. He's still very dear to my heart so I plan on giving him a worthy storyline as soon as I can.
Preludove, my main muse, showed up in '98, and with her both my life and storytelling methods changed drastically.

5. By age, who is your youngest character? Oldest? How about “youngest” and “oldest” in terms of when you created them?
Concerning biological ages, the oldest (and currently alive in their storyline) are Opal and Sage, who are both about 83 years old in the current timeline. The youngest is heavily debatable, as my series have individual time progressions and characters do age in real time within them... but I suppose Anu comes close? I'm not sure. I know that if I step out of the current timeframe I can definitely name some very young characters, but I don't want to drop any spoilers, so.
As for creation times, Cobra is by far the oldest-- he's at least 17. The youngest is debatable; my 'newest' characters are actually 'realized' individuals that have played major roles in their canon up to this point without being defined... and there are several 'shade' characters (completely 'unseen' and undeveloped) lurking around as we speak, so you never know.

6. Where are you most comfortable writing? At what time of day? Computer or good ol’ pen and paper?
I'm the most comfortable writing at the local Borders, and if I'm there I can quite literally sit and type for 8 hours straight. I made incredible progress on my storylines last year thanks to my constant access to the place. My home atmosphere is poison and so it is virtually impossible for me to make any progress here whatsoever. Ideally I start typing early in the morning and go straight on until at least 5PM. I type better in the mornings, as it's quiet.
I started typing my stories when I was 10, and have done so ever since. I have a problem handwriting correctly sometimes, just as I have a problem speaking, but when that gets converted to a keyboard it oddly becomes much easier (it slices the time in half too). Up until age 10 I wrote stuff in notebooks, but never got much done due to the written accuracy problem.

7. Do you listen to music while you write? What kind? Are there any songs you like to relate/apply to your characters?

I can only listen to emotionally-relevant instrumental music when I write, if anything (At Borders I just let the background noise work as 'static'). Otherwise I get deeply distracted and lose my train of thought.
If I'm not actively typing, but do need to 'identify' with a certain mood or character, I will also listen to fitting music (Hokthai = disco, LG*Girls = JPop, etc). My Last.fm listening charts are often a dead giveaway of this, especially when I have one song by Masashi Hamauzu on loop for 5 hours or something. That, children, means I am working like a maniac.
So yes, I have many songs assigned to both characters and stories, for various reasons. For example, I've always associated Keane's "Black Burning Heart" with Justice & Revenge, and Imogen Heap's music has some very deep ties to the Oneircia storyline.

8. What’s your favorite genre to write? To read?
Concerning reading, I tend to only read books that I feel will have relevance to me, and so far I've known how to pick them. My favorite books include Catch-22, 1984, The Green Mile, A Wrinkle In Time, Fahrenheit 451, Damned If You Do, The Giver... basically, if it makes me think for a very long time afterwards, I will like it.
I also have a heavy weakness for unusual fantasy/sci-fi series, especially those with supernatural and/or 'monster' elements: Young Wizards, The Seventh Tower, Deltora Quest and Animorphs are all favorites. I actually cannot stomach certain genres (western, medieval, victorian, etc.) due to odd phobias on my part. As for comics, JTHM, Captain Estar Goes To Heaven, and Watchmen hold the top spots.
Lastly, I will not hesitate to research something if I feel I must. Heck, throughout my entire school career I've been known to read through entire textbooks within the first few weeks of a semester. I'm a bit of a knowledge addict.
As for writing, I am frequently thrown in with the 'fantasy' genre because, although I stick to modern and realistic settings, I always keep a serious touch of the unusual in my work (Dream World is by far the most striking example of this). Hokthai has cyborgs, Halcyon Days has aliens, Puppetstrings has magic, LG*Girls has superheroines... you get the picture. Whether it be a weakness or a strength, I am unable to take that element out of my writing, and honestly do not wish to do so. However, I do try to ground all of my concepts and theories in reality, or at least explain them in a very plausible manner.
Subject-wise, I avoid horror and romance, but have a deep fascination with psychology, philosophy, and religion/ spirituality, and so frequently write such topics into my work, in both subtle and direct ways. If a controversial subject comes up, I will deal with it. I also enjoy writing redemption/damnation themes as I am fascinated with emotional development, as well as how individual moralities and world perspectives impact ones personality.
Overall, I mostly deal with taking the mundane and lifting it above that drivel into something deeply affective.

9. How do you get ideas for your characters? Describe the process of creating them.

I don't, actually. They are born and grow on their own, and if I try to have any say in that, it can potentially damage them permanently. Seriously, if I need a character for a storyline (LG*Girls being a major example), I will focus on what qualities they may or may not need, but then I just have to wait for them to show up. This can be frustrating concerning time constraints but it is ultimately worth it. If I'm in an inspired state of mind, though, people can show up all at once, which I love.
I will admit to seeing individuals in places such as floor patterns and inkblots (the Halcyon aliens and many J-Monsters, respectively), but although this defines their appearances, their personalities invariably follow with little to no effort on my part to construct them whatsoever.
Lastly, it is not unusual for characters to literally be stuck in 'development limbo' until I verify a certain aspect of them. Names and appearance details are huge; if a certain individual does not yet have a full name, I often cannot write for them whatsoever, and if I am unsure of their visual details, this becomes downright impossible. Hosea was the first example of this I encountered, as I had no awareness of his story at all until he was named, after which it hit me like a tidal wave.

10. What are some really weird situations your characters have been in? Every thing from serious canon scenes to meme questions counts!

As I previously mentioned, I am virtually incapable of writing 'everyday life for an average joe' stories, so 'weird' is relative. I would give you some examples here if I wasn't absolutely paranoid about giving away spoilers.
Concerning memes, though, there was that one time Tox had to marry Sapphire, and Delphi ended up with far too many chainsaws than should be legally allowed... fun stuff.

11. Who is your favorite character to write? Least favorite?

This varies wildly, depending on which characters I can connect to at what times-- I do write from a first-person perspective in some storylines. Still, I truly enjoy writing for 'extreme' characters, such as Justice & Revenge (morally conflicted), Hosea (manic-depressive), Volt (incredibly naive), and Vezerai (psychologically damaged). I also love writing for the entire cast of Halcyon Days, and I will always have a special spot in my heart for M, as she was the only character I really wrote for as a kid.
I can't say I dislike writing anyone, but it is incredibly difficult for me to write 'typical' relationships (thanks to being an asexual schizoid), so whenever that comes up my job becomes highly frustrating, haha.

12. In what story did you feel you did the best job of world building? Any side-notes on it you’d like to share?

Dream World, no contest whatsoever. It is quite literally my life's work. Second place would be Roses, thanks to the absolutely insane ideas I am currently developing for it... and third place is Oneircia, due to half of it taking place in a literal dream world.
Most of my stories do take place here on Earth so there's not much world-building to do there, but Halcyon Days, Event Horizon and vo!t@ge all have very heavy connections to alien cultures, so I know I'll be doing some more heavy construction with them in the future... and series like Puppetstrings and Hokthai involve some heavy variations on modern culture (magic and cyborgs, oh my), so I'm probably seriously underestimating the amount of work I have there!

13. What’s your favorite culture to write, fictional or not?
I adore writing the Jewel Monster culture. Although it is based on human culture (long story), it still has several huge differences that I have not only spent years researching and refining, but that I relate to much more strongly than I do anything here.

14. How do you map out locations, if needed? Do you have any to show us?

Unfortunately, I haven't done this yet, as it is an absolutely daunting task and I don't have the entirety of my locations planned out the way it is, although I do have vague mental maps. That will likely be my next big project.

15. Mid way question! Tell us about a writer you admire, whether professional or not!

I can't say I admire any specific writers as a whole (well, maybe Stephen King and Alfred Bester). I can read one book by a person and love it, then read another by them and be absolutely repelled. As a result of this I don't feel I can give any honest answers.
Writing styles, however, are a bit of a different story. I'm a big fan of symbolism, abstract writing, and 'first person' perspectives (in which the character themselves narrates). More than anything, I love being able to see into the minds of characters. On this note, I also enjoy when personality shines through in dialogue (altered spelling, grammar, etc. to show vocal style and mood) and described actions. I'm a very visual person-- if I can't clearly 'see' who I'm reading about, I'm going to be highly confused and likely frustrated. Lastly, I do get bored easily by long paragraphs of unnecessary information, especially if it is delivered in a very flat manner that seems detached from the story itself.
So yeah, I got a little off-topic there but I hope that answers the question.

16. Do you write romantic relationships? How do you do with those, and how “far” are you willing to go in your writing? 

I've mentioned this before; I really despise 'normal' relationships and am psychologically unable to write them.
However, I do have quite a few couples across the board despite this. The most important aspect of this fact is that they are virtually all 'abnormal' in some sense-- there is an overwhelming trend for interspecies relationships in my stories, as well as non-romantic and/or asexual individuals.
I do NOT go 'far' with my writing, ever, for both the above reasons and also the fact that I am a severe and highly traumatized genophobe. Ironically, Dream World is the huge exception to this rule, as their 'relationships' are drastically different than the human sort (on both emotional and biological levels), and as such I can deal with those without too much trouble.

17. Favorite protagonist and why!

I have to say M takes this spot. I LOVE her, but I will admit, I haven't given her anywhere near as much attention as she deserves lately (mostly thanks to the chronology-jumping I've been doing in her series). Regardless, her role in her story is absolutely huge and she is a beautiful individual. I really can't express how much she means to me.

18. Favorite antagonist and why!

This is a tough one... especially since I love twisting roles and keeping people in morally gray areas. I can't rightly answer this without ruining plotlines, so you'll have to deal with it.

19. Favorite minor that decided to shove themselves into the spotlight and why!
I'm tempted to say Vezerai. Seriously, when I first 'met' him I assumed he was little more than a fleeting side character, and so I didn't bother with him... but about a year after that, his importance literally skyrocketed, and now he is one of my dearest characters. However, as he is far from a minor character now, listing him would be cheating.
My problem, though, is that I don't consider any of my characters to be 'minor.' Even if their role is small, it's still a role, and it's vital. So I honestly have no idea who else to list.

20. What are your favorite character interactions to write?
I like writing interactions in general, seriously. Still, if something comes up where two characters have a higher sort of emotional attachment, I'll likely obsess over it. This is because these interactions involve a great deal of mental communication as well as verbal, especially if motives are being hidden or disguised. As I mentioned earlier, Justice & Revenge are incredibly interesting to write because of the conflicting emotions that are constantly present between them.

21. Do any of your characters have children? How well do you write them?
A great deal of my main characters are children in the age sense, so by virtue of their parents existing I would have to answer yes to this. As for the children of main characters, there are several of those as well, although with chronological progression most of them are adults in the current canon. I have written for these individuals in their childhoods, though, and it is incredibly interesting to see how their lives progress.

22. How long does it usually take you to complete an entire story—from planning to writing to posting (if you post your work)?

Complete? What is this strange concept you speak of?
Seriously, I'm like freaking George Lucas here. Even if I did manage to get the main stories written and completed in that sense, the 'extended universe' information would not stop, ever. Finding a happy medium between the two in terms of what I should be writing into the 'main' story is my biggest problem.

23. How willing are you to kill your characters if the plot so demands it? What’s the most interesting way you’ve killed someone?

I don't kill my characters. I have neither the desire nor the power to do so. However... if someone does die, I can't do anything about that either. So I have lost children to that before.
The most interesting death had to be... well, I can't tell you anything specific, but I'll just say it was a murder and leave it at that.

24. Do any of your characters have pets? Tell us about them.

I've never liked or been able to identify with having pets myself, so at the moment I'm unaware of any in my stories. I'm sure some of the human families I write do own some, though, so I'll have to check that eventually.

25. Let’s talk art! Do you draw your characters? Do others draw them? Pick one of your OCs and post your favorite picture of them!

I taught myself how to draw BECAUSE of my characters. Seriously, that's the only reason. I'm still incredibly unskilled at art, but I do draw whenever I can find the nerve to.
I have received a modest amount of giftart on dA for my Parnassus series, which is the only one I openly publicized as it was originally a NiGHTS fanseries. Other than that, I have received a few pictures for Dream World, Hokthai and Puppetstrings, one for LG*Girls, and one for vo!t@ge.
Aaaand now I'm just going to link you over here.


26. Along similar lines, do appearances play a big role in your stories? Tell us about them, or if not, how you go about designing your characters.

I am an aesthetics maniac. Honestly, even when I try to make characters look 'ugly' in a non-appealing sense, I cannot do it. I need to work on this.
On a more general note, appearances are very important to me. Not only am I very visually oriented, but most of my characters are also inhuman. As a result there is triple the amount of work in trying to accurately represent them in writing.
In terms of the actual design process, I put my heart and soul into that. I can 'see' characters in my mind at any given moment, but my mental sight is so vague that it may take me years to figure out how to get an individual's likeness down on paper. This is highly frustrating.

27. Have you ever written a character with physical or mental disabilities? Describe them, and if there’s nothing major to speak of, tell us a few smaller ones.

Oh geez, I have several. The most well-known ones (in terms of publicity) are Cherie, Vezerai, and Tox-- Cherie is crippled in her left leg, Vezerai has PTSD as well as some other mental disorder that I am still trying to pinpoint, and Tox's immune system is completely shot, which causes him some serious issues.

28. Final question! Tag some one! And tell us what you like about that person as a writer and/or about one of his/her characters!

I don't really know who to tag, so feel free to do this if you want.

 

SESSION PARTICIPANTS
LAURIE UBERICH JEWEL LIGHTRAYE  LYNNE STABELLE  CHAOS ZERO  VEZERAI


 

 

Well, Laurie, here we are.

Heck yes! Let's get this done so you can finish that crazy work of yours.

It might take a while, though. I'm talking to Mel right now and praying that they're doing better.

Wait wait wait, this is about Mel? Is that what you meant? What the hell is going on?

They're... seeing bloody things. They said they feel 'toxic' and are hearing voices like me.

...Geez. That's... not good. The last thing they need is a Laurie in their head.

That's what I said. I mean-- wait, you're not a bad thing.

Only because you got to know me, boy. You remember what it was like after I got out of that mirror... I hated you. I bloody well hated you, and nothing was going to change that. Thank God I was wrong.

Do you think maybe Mel's voices are like you in that way, then?

What, in that they might actually hate Mel? There's a good chance they might. Most voices I know are like that.

Lynne's not.

Lynne and Natalie are different; they're not voices. They're fragments. Lynne is the 'adult lifestyle' and Natalie is childhood naivete; two parts of yourself you don't understand anymore. You formed them; they didn't just shove an axe through the door frame like I did.

Lynne did just show up.

Because you completely dissociated yourself from your age back then, remember? You were standing in the back of that church and you were scared out of your fractured mind. For all technical purposes you were nothing but a frightened child, faced with some unknown horror that was about to slice your stomach open.

You.

Inevitably. And that's when your lost confidence stood up to me.

That I did.

Aha, and wouldn't you know it! How are you, my old friend?

Confused, for one. I'm not sure why you want me in here.

We need help. Thought maybe you could give some.

Well, I'll do my best. Jewel, are you okay? You don't look well.

In the grand scheme of things, I'm alright. It's not me I'm worried about.

You're always like that, Jewel.

Pfhahah! She got you good!

Eh, maybe, but the point still stands. We're here because my good friend Mel might be falling into a destructive headvoice situation or the like. I want to prevent that, so I'm gathering up you guys for insight.

Ahem.

Oh, yeah. Sorry. Hold on one moment...

What you listening to?

Fat Jon. Good thinking music. I, uh... hope you don't mind.

Hello.

Hey. Nah, I've gotten used to her.

Seriously? Hah, that's a shocker!

It is!

And, um, we have a new guy.

...

Ohoho, dude. Hello there.

You're not--?

Nah, we're not here to pick your brain, boy. We just need your... expertise, how you say.

On what? I don't even know you.

Heh, lucky. Name's Laurie. I'm Jewel's superego; kind of like a chronically censorious conscience.

But I thought superegos were just psychological concepts.

Yeah, most are. I'm just a lucky concept that became personified.

Vez, I thought you were terrified of psychology?

Only when it applies to analyzing me. It's better to know what I'm up against regardless.

Good point.

Well guys, let's get to work. As you may or may not know, a beloved friend of mine is having some trouble with disturbing hallucinations and headvoices. The last thing I want is for them to go through something like my 2008, so I hoped that we could work out a plan of action, or even just some advice as to what they or I should do.

What are you hoping for though, love? We can't exactly quiet their own voices.

No, but maybe we can help them manage them. You all know what Laurie was like before I befriended her.

I do indeed.

Heh...

Laurie's the... purple one, right?

Yeah, that's me. I used to be a throat-slicing, skull-splitting scourge.

Oh.

She still is sometimes.

True, but at least she's not inherently malicious now. She used to function purely on violent vengeance and hate. I don't know what's driving Mel's voices, if anything, but if it's as negative as that then I need to help them face those voices.

Can you, though? There's not much we can do outside of their own mind.

It's better to try than to just stand around helplessly.

Jewel's right. I would have never, ever stabilized if I didn't have others helping me.

You think Mel needs a Dev or a Prelude to help?

Well, I daresay Q's their peace-bringer already... I don't know if I'd fit Dev's role though.

That person's not like me; that's not going to work. They need their own people. Not mine.

Vez, don't panic. I'm just using it as an example. I apologize.

You don't know what Mel needs.

I'm trying to figure that out, Lynne.

Can you? Should you?

Please, Lynne, don't shoot me down here. I'm desperate already.

I'm not shooting you down, Jewel. I'm just trying to be logical. Your solutions may not be their solutions by a long shot.

Alright, excuse me Lynne, but shut up.

What?

Just shut up, okay? My boy's breaking his heart over this and all you can say is 'this might not work at all!' We bloody KNOW that, alright? We're just trying our best in spite of it, because hell, we might succeed after all. If you're going to drag us down, you can just as easily get up and leave.

I'm not trying to offend anyone, but I'm sorry if you took it that way.

Ffh.

Guys, let's back this up. Jewel, just be there for Mel if nothing else.

I am, I am... but after I almost lost Dori TWICE when I could have done something, I am not going to risk losing Mel to a hell I've barely survived myself, so help me God.

I don't blame you.

I understand. I just want you to realize that this may be entirely out of our hands.

I'm still going to take a shot. I have to. I care too much.

Mm... In that case, I'll support you without further comment. I have to admire your determination.

Geez Lynne, when did you get so... I don't know, Vulcan-esque?

I have to be the voice of reason. Jewel and Laurie are both incredibly volatile.

Doesn't mean you have to be so bloody emotionless about it.

Laurie, I-- I'm just speaking the truth.

Whatever.

Lynne, don't let her bug you. I appreciate your warning and I know it's true, but Laurie's being just as honest. We're taking this chance.

What are we doing first then? What do you need my 'expertise' for?

Well Vez, you've been through more than all of us combined, and personally I find that you and I are creepily alike sometimes.

Uh-huh.

So maybe you'd understand the hallucinating and hearing voices.

I don't hear voices, Jewel, you do. And I only hallucinate because of my PTSD.

Yeah, but I have no idea what that's like.

It's awful.

I imagine it would be..

You know what? You were saying something about Mel seeing 'bloody things.' The hell does that mean?

From what I gather, they're hitting edges of a 'Johnny phase' here and there.

Oh geez. In that case, Jewel, I don't think any of us are going to be much help. You're the only one of us with doughboys and nailbunnies.

What's a 'Johnny phase?'

It's my term for a phase when one becomes uncharacteristically violent or 'unhinged.' You remember I was in one of those for a long time in 2008.

Is that when you started absorbing Laurie?

It sure is. That was a living hell. I swear, if you do that again--

Cross my heart, Laur, I won't. I'm over the phases... I just don't want Mel to fall into one.

How do we stop that though? Like I said, Jewel, you're the only one who knows what that's like.

I have... 'phases.'

Oh dude, he's right. Heck, I AM a 'phase'! And Chaos--

I get it, I get it.

So all your 'Johnny phases' are caused by personalities other than yourself?

That seems to be the gist of it, yes.

Is that what you think Mel is dealing with?

I don't know. Maybe. Even if they don't have any 'personalities' in their mind, they could have something on the verge of turning into one. They said so themself, that the voices they hear are becoming 'more than voices' now. Maybe we can stop that, like we stopped that weird red voice that attacked me with a razor that one time, thanks to those being huge triggers.

I remember that.
 
I bloody HATED her.

What was she supposed to represent, anyway?

I think mania, like Jessica used to be depression. They're both dead now though.

So are Brianne and Missy.

Brittany, Bridget, whatever the hell she decided her name was at the moment. Haven't seen the queen bitch very often lately either, thank GOD.

I'm fighting her nonstop, Laur.

I don't understand why you still need to fight her. I thought she had nothing left to fight you with?

Oh, she finds ways. She's trying to use my kids now.

What?

Yeah, she stopped the doppelganger thing and is now creating awful false scenarios with my kids. I ignore her but I can't ignore what she's doing.

All right, that is way out of line.

It's straight-up demonic. Next time I see her she is losing her whorish face.

Calm down about that for now guys, please. I'm winning against her now and the Care Bear army is helping too. She's still my #1 problem, but this isn't about me. This is about keeping a friend from being trapped in something like this.

True... I'm still shaking, though.

Sweetheart, I'll stop her. Don't lose it.

I'll try.

Give me something else to think about, please. I'm absolutely seething right now.

Well, I figure I should currently focus on helping Mel keep those voices quiet, however that's possible. I don't know. Lynne, I know this isn't completely out of my hands, but it's tough.

I understand.

That's kind of why I called you all here. I don't know what to do, and I'm desperate. I just want to help Mel.

If you need me for anything you can always ask.

Thanks, Vez.

I heard something about a fox?

...Yeah, Mel's seeing this fox with a top hat. I think he might be the key to this, especially because he apparently hasn't quit even when Mel said the other hallucinations/etc. have died down.

Why, do you think he's the 'headvoice' behind the phases?

I have no idea. It scares me, though, because Mel said that he "knows how to solve this, but he enjoys seeing my pain." That made me think of the old Laurie.

...Yeah, you're right.

If Mel knows the fox can solve this, maybe they just need to talk to him.

It's not that easy, though. He's constantly running from them and mocking them. They haven't been able to even come near to catching him.

That's not good at all.

I know... Laurie was at least right there, close enough to touch if she wasn't busy burying an axe in my face.

That fox is definitely one of us, though. How do you catch a fox?

You set traps.

But how do you trap a fox you can't even get close to?

Send something faster after it?

Maybe. Just maybe.

That could potentially make things much worse.

That's why we need to be careful. Mel isn't me; we may be similar but their situation here is still different in it's own important ways.

But Mel still needs to catch that bloody fox.

You think so?

Lynne, it's the only option I can think of. If it knows the answers, hunt it down and make it talk.

Resorting to violence might not be the best plan of action, Laurie..

Oh, shut up. You know what I mean.

What do you think it knows?

Only Mel knows that.

Geez this is frustrating. We're going in freakin' loops.

I think we should leave it be for now, Jewel. Tell Mel what we think and let them make the decisions for themself. Ultimately, they're the only one who can conquer their problems.

True, but remember how Q helped me, and how Dev helped Vez. Without a major force of beneficial interest standing by, the fight's going to be a heck of a lot harder, maybe even impossible.

Mel doesn't have to worry about that, then.

No, thank God. They have Q and I, and hopefully others that they may not have even realized are there yet.

Guess that's all we can do for today, then.

I'm sorry I couldn't help much.

Vez, don't say that. You were a huge help.

Yeah man, you hit on some serious points. Jewel knew what he was doing bringing you here.

...Thank you.

Speaking of, thank you too, Lynne. I apologize for that mess that went on earlier.

Don't be sorry; it was my fault as well. I should have been more considerate.

Hey, at least it all worked out okay in the end.

You are such a crazy optimist.

I try.

This conversation over then?

I suppose so, why?

You have work to do, boy!

Oh geez you're right I do.

Haha, what in the world is on your to-do list now?

Jewel Monster element/attribute cataloguing. It's a LOT of work but it's awesome.

And if you don't get the hell to it I swear I will hire Revenge to do my job.

Don't hire him, he's evil.

You're being unusually pushy about Jewel's work today, Laurie. Any reasons?

Yeah, it's my bloody job to make him feel guilty for slacking off HIS job. Get to work!

I have to admit, Laurie is right. You do need to make a lot of progress on your series yet.

Part Twelve.

Pfhahahaha!

All right, all right, I'll get off and get to work. Thanks for helping, you guys.

You're welcome.

I'm glad I was able to help. I admit I miss being part of this group.

You know you do!

I, um... I love you, Chaos.

I love you too, you crazy kid. Get some sleep tonight, alright?

Yeah, you rocked out enough yesterday. Screwed up my entire freaking schedule.

Sorry.

Weren't we supposed to finish this way back there...?

Yes.

Sorry.

You guys are the worst at finishing conversations.

Okay then, you close this one up.

Already did!

 

 

 

I had a counselling appointment this morning.

I managed to keep a lot secret.

I didn't mention Selph. I didn't mention Chaos Zero. I didn't mention Vezerai.


But I told her about Laurie.




I am scared to death.
Dear Lord, I don't want her to die.
Psychologists always treat headvoices like they're a problem if they're formed from something negative-- like self-abuse-- but I need Laurie. I need her desperately. She knows that, I know that.
No one else does.

And now I might lose her.

I feel like such a heartless bastard.



We figured out that Julie is most likely a "waste-lock." You know, like Johnny C.? We theorized that she actually acts as a sort of living container for all this vice and anger and animosity and all that, but what we're really worried about is what would happen if she died.
I don't want that vice becoming part of me, and I don't want it becoming part of Laurie.
Laurie said that I might be able to annihilate all that negativity if Julie ever was murdered, but the problem is I don't know how I'd do that, let alone if.
All humans have a shadow, unfortunately. I was just lucky enough to be able to give mine a face and hide her away the best I can.
If this psychologist wants to kill her, I might lose who I am.
Julie's been in my head since I was eight years old, damn it! Tell me, when did I realize my true personality? When I was eight years old!

Those therapists don't know what the heck they're talking about.

I'm honestly terrified, though. I don't want Julie to die because I'm afraid of the aftershock (can't I just lock her in a back room with her dirty magazines and call it a day?), and I don't want Laurie to die because I love her dearly and let's face it-- she keeps me under control.



I'm kind of upset that I didn't say I was an antisexual neutrois celibate (I did mention that I was asexual, haha!), but I have to thank God that I was smart enough not to say anything about my pain addiction or my xenophilia.
Wow. Can you imagine that?

"You're a pain addict?"
"Um... yeah."
"What do you mean by that?"
"Well, you know Laurie?"
"Yes."
"That's the second reason I keep her around."

They would have shipped me off to the funny farm for good with that one! Geez!
Oh, but completely coming out of the closet without warning would have been priceless just for her reaction.

"By the way-- I literally have hundreds of monsters living in my head, I don't consider myself male or female and I'm only attracted to biologically asexual humanoids. Oh-- see this ring, this onyx ring here? I'm also celibate. Yeah. Never getting married. Religious vows, you know. That and I'm madly in love with a energy-based alien from God knows where so marrying anyone in this reality would really be a mistake on my part. Oh, I'm sorry, you didn't know that?"

Man oh man. Good times, theoretically.
But honestly... I bet she'd throw the infamous hateline right back at me-- "Everything in your mind is simply a figment of your imagination. You can do whatever you want with it."
Yeah, yeah, yeah.
You know, if I put you in my head, ma'am-- because I can do that-- I could do whatever I want to you, too! I could cut your hair short and dye it blue and make you a half-human-half-pirahna crossbreed if that was what I wanted. But, the point is-- here, in your reality, you would not change.
Just because something is strange or abnormal or fantastic doesn't mean it isn't real.
Also... with murdering my headvoices? You think that's all fine and dandy just because they were born from my mind?
You know, for the sake of argument, I could easily take that pirahna version of you and put a bullet through her head, sure. But do I have the right to do that? No. And why not? Because it's not my life. Whether or not you formed from my personality has no bearing on the matter. You are not me. I have no right to take your life, no matter what someone else might say. Plus, if you had been a huge influence to me for some reason-- maybe you became a personification of my eccentricities-- then killing you would literally be killing a major part of me, and that would essentially be-- you guessed it!-- suicide.
Just because Laurie originated from my self-abuse (I think; I honestly don't know where she came from other than out of a mirror one night) doesn't mean that she's all pure evil and something to get rid of.
Laurie is not evil.
She's vicious if she wants to be, sure, but aren't we all?
I know Laurie. I know her so much better than you ever will.
What the hell gives you the right to sign her death warrant?
Why the hell do you think I would be better off without her?
"Oh, you're just used to her being around."
Sure, that's going to be true, but I'm also used to having Devonexx and Julie around and I wouldn't mind if they were both gone.
Laurie means so much to me.
I don't want her to die.

And there is no bloody way that I will ever let you touch her.

Especially not with murderous hands.






I don't mince words, I spit 'em out.
I won't leave room for any doubt.
Get to the point, stop splitting hairs
That ain't getting either of us anywhere!
Sometimes it's better to be blunt
But is this some kind of publicity stunt?
So far you've whet my appetite,
Do you wanna grind with me tonight?

Axegrinder- I'm not famous for my tact.
Axegrinder- I've gotta sharpen up my act.
Axegrinder- try and see things through my eyes.
Everything and everyone gets cut back down to size.



On the brink of who knows what?