lightning earrings

This looks like one of those sequin looks where if you flip them they show different colors!

Also LOVE LIB for letting us do things like walk around with a water bottle of whisky. 

Lightning in a Bottle, 2017

Malec ficlet: Grounding Technique

Summary: Hyperacusis: An increased sensitivity to certain frequency and volume ranges of sound, a collapsed tolerance to usual environmental sound.

Set immediately after 2x15. Magnus’ PTSD is still acting up. Alec is there to ground him.

Notes: I really like how the show dealt with Magnus’ PTSD. As a PTSD sufferer myself, it was very relatable. Hyperacusis is one of the symptoms of PTSD. After it decided to pay me a visit yesterday, I decided to exorcise the experience through this little story. The technique Alec uses here is a grounding technique PTSD sufferers (or anyone who’s experiencing an anxious episode) can turn to in order to bring themselves back.

(ArchiveOfOurOwn link:


Magnus isn’t sure what the trigger was. Maybe it was nothing. Maybe it was everything—the sleep deprivation, the taut muscles and jumbled nerves, the rawness of an overworked brain and a naked heart. All he knows is that the sounds are driving him crazy.

The noise of traffic is muffled up here, but it somehow sounds like distant thunder to him, announcing a storm that he really should have seen coming, because gods and angels and devils know he’s been dealing with this for enough of a long time. A garbage truck screeches and crunches somewhere in the street below. The sound of trashcans being upturned and cans and bottles falling into the truck’s bed is like the sound of armies fighting. A honk horns, and it sounds like war sirens.

Magnus wishes magicking the whole loft to be soundproof for one night was the answer, but it isn’t. Because the sounds from within the apartment are also getting to him. Alec shifts in his sleep next to him, long limbs stretching out, and the rustling of silk sheets sounds like monsoon winds blowing through palm trees.

Magnus gets out of bed and makes a beeline for the living room—away from Alec, before he can take it out on him. Before he can wake him up only to stare at him in silence, with no clue whatsoever as to what the correct words are to ask for help.

He just stands there in the dark, the lights of the city as the only source of illumination making shadows jump out at him. He longs for a drink to burn his throat and numb his ears, but he doesn’t dare pour it; he probably wouldn’t be able to deal with the clinking of glasses anyway. On the coffee table, the potion he left to simmer overnight is bubbling away diligently in its little pot. It sounds like lava boiling.

Magnus clenches his fists at his sides and digs his fingernails deep into his palms, hoping against hope that the sting will bring him back and dim his senses into average, tolerable sharpness. His brain feels heavy inside his skull—leaden and sluggish and yet too eager, too hungry for stimuli to blow out of proportion.

Another truck drives by outside, transporting something metal that makes a racket that can be heard even from this height as the cargo clangs and rattles during transport. To Magnus, it sounds like a stampede of galloping steel horses, and he can’t take it. He just can’t. Everything is too loud and is hurting his ears and his brain and his nerves. Sounds scrape against his body like sandpaper. He’d tear off his skin if he could, fling the sounds away from him. And the potion is bubbling, bubbling, and it sounds like lava and Magnus can’

Red magic slams into the offending object. The pot explodes with a spectacular boom, and Magnus barely has the time to realize he did not think this through, before that blare assaults his ears like lightning cracking in his very skull and the magic takes over.

There are clangs and snaps and crashes and minor explosions, but Magnus doesn’t hear any of it. He doesn’t hear anything past the whooshing sound of magic rushing through his ears like blood, and that’s a sound he welcomes—because it’s his sound, and it drowns out everything else. It burns his veins and numbs his ears, and Magnus lets it take him away, lets it scoop him up and whisk him off into a high he never wants to come down from.


Until Alec’s voice comes. By the time Magnus registers it, it’s rough and scratchy and overused, and he knows Alec must have been calling his name for a while.

“Magnus, stop!”

There’s something in Alec’s voice that somehow manages to reach him, to touch the edge of his consciousness in a way that’s not strident or intrusive and actually makes him want to reach out, but he doesn’t know how to. He’s not even sure he should; there’s sound where Alec is, and Magnus thinks he’s probably better off here, with only the roar of magic in his ears.


There’s a pained grunt, and something in Magnus’ perfect, raucous, noise-drowning mechanism jams. Because so help him, if he’s hurt Alexander. So help him, if his demons have finally made a monster out of him.

“Magnus, enough. Come back to me.”

Alec sounds somewhat calmer now, but his voice still snaps Magnus out of it like a whip crack.


Magnus’ eyes are wide and wild. Everything around him is both spinning and standing still. He feels feral and disconnected, and he just doesn’t know how to get back, doesn’t know if he wants to.

“Magnus, breathe.”

Breathe? Is he not breathing?

There’s fire in his veins, and his ears are still roaring with magic, and… He’s right. Alec’s right. Magnus can’t breathe.

“Hey.” There’s a cool, firm touch on the back of his neck. Like iron. Like an anchor. “Look at me. Magnus, look at me.”

Magnus does. Or tries to. He sees Alec’s face, but he can’t focus on it. It’s like he’s staring at the figure of his boyfriend standing in front of him through someone else’s eyes.

“Hey,” Alec says again, and he tightens his hold on Magnus’ nape. “Focus. Breathe with me.”

“I can’t…”

Yes, you can.” Alec spits the words out like he’s daring the world to say otherwise. “Listen to me. Look around you. Tell me five things you see.”


“Just do it, Magnus,” Alec says, and Magnus realizes he must have spoken out loud. “Five things.”

Magnus looks around wildly.

“Cauldron…” he says. Crunched-up, burned cauldron, but still…

“Okay. What else?”


“What else?”

“Flowers.” In a blue vase on the side table by the couch. White flowers which Alec brought him.

“What else?”

“Window.” Magnus’ eyes widen. Shattered window, glass everywhere.

Alec must have noticed him panicking, because he gives his neck a firm squeeze and drags him back to the present. “What else?”

Magnus swallows hard. “You.”

Alec smiles. “Tell me four things you feel.”

Magnus’ stomach clenches. He does not want to go there.

Physical things,” Alec says immediately, as if reading his mind. “Tell me four physical things you feel.”

Oh. Magnus can do that.

“Hot,” he says. “My skin’s hot.”

Alec takes in a deep breath, like the revelation pains him. “What else?”

“My fingers are tingling with magic.”

Alec keeps a hold of Magnus’ neck, but he takes his hand with his free one. He rubs Magnus’ fingertips gently, as if he could contain the magic and stop it from going off again with touch alone. “What else?”

“My head hurts.” Magnus blinks in surprise. He hadn’t even realized.

“What else?”

“You,” Magnus says. “You’re stroking my neck.”

Alec’s thumb is indeed tracing soothing circles on his nape, and Magnus can’t believe he hasn’t noticed before.

Alec smiles again. “Good. Now tell me three things you hear.”


“Magnus,” Alec cuts him off, gentle but adamant. “Just humor me.”

Magnus huffs. “Fine.” He’s a little terrified, but as he forces himself to focus once more on the sounds from the outside world, he’s surprised to discover that the noises are no longer assaulting him. “I hear traffic,” he says. “And…someone’s playing music somewhere.”

Alec steps closer, gives his still-tingling fingers a squeeze. “What else?”

“You,” Magnus says. “Your voice.”

Alec nods. “Tell me two things you smell.”

That one’s easy.

“The potion,” Magnus says. The contents are splashed everywhere and are sending off a pungent smell that’s hard to miss.

Alec makes a face; clearly, he can smell it too, and he’s not happy about it. “What else?”

“You,” Magnus says. Sandalwood shampoo from Magnus’ bathroom and soap and Alexander, underneath.

Alec steps all the way into his space. He lets go of his hand and cups his cheek, and he leans in and kisses him, breathing in relief because Magnus is back, he’s back and they both know it.

“Tell me one thing you taste,” Alec says when he pulls back.

That one is the easiest.

“You,” Magnus says, and he kisses him again, because Alec grounds him. “It’s always you, Alexander.”


Rather than a gift, Personas are a disease of the mind.  They represent the deepest and most restrained desires we carry every day in our hearts that are never meant to be released.

This was not the life with your boyfriend that you dreamed of, but Arsene was a part of Akira and you were determined to not abandon him.

[Arsene x Reader (x Akira)]

WARNING: Nsfw, dubious consent.  If you are not comfortable with this matter please do not read.

An AU in which Personas are like a split personality and Akira’s Joker side is actually Arsene who goes around killing criminals for his own sense of justice.  This is what I think of in the middle of class.  Anyways, this is my first real attempt at nsfw so I hope it turned out okay!!

Blades clashed and sparks flitted in the darkness of the night.  A growl ripped from the male in onyx robes and raven cloth as he landed on the slats of a nearby roof.  The glint of his white mask stood out against his ink-black hair and porcelain skin, but most startling was the rose red of his irises.  His crimson gaze was trained and glared hatefully at his opponent.  A simple cloak of midnight blue silk concealed their form and they hid their face behind a theatre mask.  Every night that the two of them battled, it seemed his opponent’s mask always changed expression and he had long since lost count of how many faces they wore.  A snarl pulled at Joker’s lips once more as the identity of his opponent continued to evade him.  For months now they had been continuously intercepting his hunt for criminals and preventing him from carrying out justice.  He was Joker, the great Phantom Thief who stole the hearts of the wicked in order to right their wrongs.  The bloody red that stained his once white gloves were proof of that.  Tonight, however, was another failed hunt and the office man he had been tailing escaped his grasp.

“Why do you continue to deter me?” Joker barked at the other figure. “That man has been stalking a high school girl and has even stolen her personal belongings for who knows what lecherous uses.  I need to stamp out evil before it gets out of hand.  I will steal his heart!”

Keep reading

kayyeh1  asked:

Can you give us the lowdown on the altered backgrounds and personalities if everyone in your reverse realm au? Like what about the villains too? Also why are their elemental powers switched?

First off, I’d like to say “Wow, I’m super psyched that people are interested in RR!” (no, seriously– I can’t say that enough ;u;)
Secondly, I’m gonna admit that I was struggling to figure out how exactly to answer this ask because to explain everything would make for a really long answer and I know when I see long text posts I breeze right by…

With that said, let me start out by sort of explaining what RR actually is: the “Reverse Realm” is the name given to one of the 16 realms in Ninjago. Unlike a lot of the realms we see in the show, the Reverse Realm is more like a parallel universe. Certain events happen differently than canon but the main storyline is the same. Some notable differences include: different elements, Wu being the one to go evil, Morro not dying until the events of season 5, Nia is the older sibling, they went back for echo, ect. Small discrepancies that have a greater effect on the story as time wears on.

As far as the personalities of the characters, this is where its kind of confusing(?)– the personalities of each character is the same as their canon counterparts but their demeanor is reflective of their Element and circumstances (this goes for most of the characters at least).

Notable differences in characters~

-Total dad. Like, ok, he was never evil so he’s just been dad all his adult life. He knows how to deal with all the emotional stuff (which is good because the reverse ninja are very emotional pff) and give the Good Dad Talks™.

-Angsty still, but has the Love™ from his Garmadad. He raised Morro as his own.
-Would die for Lloyd.

-Still a good bean, but not quite as mature as canon. He hasn’t gone through much trauma so he can be a bit selfish and self-pitying sometimes.
-Actually needs super thick glasses that he hates.

-He has a lot of self-confidence and embraces his artsy heritage. He loves song and dance even though he’d rather be a ninja. He doesn’t put himself down or hold himself to super high standards like Cole does. “Try your best and be happy with that.” is his perspective.

-Tortured Soul™. Take Jay and give him the burden of knowing people’s thoughts and emotions all his life. As a child, he was “the weird kid” who would stare off blankly into the distance and say random crap like “why do you do this to me…” to nobody. He’s still Jay just constantly stressed and a lot more sensitive (both physically and mentally).
-Worries about the outcome of everything. This is due to the fact he can sort of see into the future– but only what’s most likely based on current events and past precedents (basically like Saphire from Steven Universe? just not as accurate).
-Would die for Nia

-Oh boy. He is a good boy ok, but he basically hates himself. He blames himself for everything and feels totally undeserving of anyone’s love. He hates the fact that he hurts so many people around him; the people he loves. It’s not on purpose, of course, but his toxic powers are hard to control so he ends up burning/poisening his teammates sometimes (nothing too serious, but it makes Xayn upset).
-Because of this, he can have a tendency to be a bit cold/distant if he cares a lot about someone.

-Still cocky and cringy in the best way possible. However he’s a lot more emotional than Kai and cries a lot. Like a LOT. Cries when he’s sad, angry, happy, in pain, ect. He brushes it off saying it has to do with his Element and it’s just his powers acting up.
-Overall a softer, smaller, emotional version of Kai.
-Would also die for Lloyd.

-Big Buff Lady™
-“Shut up, we both know I could bench you.”
-Mom Friend™
-Take Nya and make her the older one who’s actually allowed to be in charge.
-Makes decisions more easily than Nya.
-Sometimes she forgets to look out for herself since she’s so focused on making sure her team has everything they need.
-A little more hot headed, she is Fire after all.
-Would die for Kye.

-he has his own answer already

-Sweet and sassy just like canon. She has her own body tho as I have mentioned previously. She is actually stored on a removable disk-type thing and can be moved from Xayn’s head to her body and back easily. Just hit eject!
-Does a good job of taking care of Xayn and helping him to love himself. She’s there for him when he’s at his worst times.

Dareth and his family-

-Lloyd’s best friend.
-He went through all of elementary school with Lloyd and still stayed friends with him after his “Tea of Tomorrow Incident”. He occasionally visits the ninja during their downtime.
-He sees all the ninja as older siblings since has none of his own.

-Bully to Lloyd (and pretty much everyone) during his childhood.
-Not very important to the story but I thought I’d mention him anyway.

-The Royal Blacksmiths are actually a hip hop group.
-This man amazing ok
-he has a lightning bolt earring and wears a black camo headband.
-he still put a lot of pressure on Kole when he was a child to be a great dancer/singer.
-Still rocks that mustach 👌

Ed and Edna-
-Rich Actors
-That kind of rich where you’re so rich you look like you live under a bridge.
-Basically spend all their time doing weird crap like hanging an obstacle course from their tall ceilings or collecting art from Cliff.

Cliff Gordon-
-Walker’s biological father. He gave him to Ed and Edna in hopes he’ll grow up kind like them and have a good life.
-Actual Hipster
-Lives in a scrap yard because “it’s secluded but not as mainstream as a cabin in the woods”.
-Makes money selling scrap but “the true glory is in the art”.
-Basically Dean from The Iron Giant.

Ray and Maya-
-The same? Just elements swapped.
-Maya is more aggressive than Ray I guess… That fire power does it to ya.
-Would also die for Kye
-Would also die for Nia

Pythor and the Serpentine-
-This would probably be best explained in a post about Lloyd’s story…

Chen and Clouse-
-Chen is so over it ok. Basically, take Chen and Clouse’s demeanors and switch them. Clouse is a total butt-kiss and overly excited to serve Chen’s every whim.
Chen: “Oh my god Clouse just stop. Your mouth runs and runs… Open and close all day long– you go on and on about nothing!!”
Clouse: “Oh, yes right away master, I apologize… Would you like me to stop now? Or later? I can stop now if you’d like but I can also stop later or at a predetermined time if you so choose…”

-Kinda chubby
-Ships everything
-Ships herself with Kye but secretly
-Is a real soft sweetheart but taught to be tough and unfeeling by her father.
-Was always nice to Clouse
-Runs the restaurant post S4
-Would go down with all of her ships and you cannot convince her they’re not canon.

-Pretty much the same just sassier.

Krux and Acronix-

-Always bitter
-Thinks he knows everything
-Tries but can’t
-He did sacrifice himself for the good of everyone else do I guess that’s some redemption points…

-He’s all talk tbh. He’s like the lame wannabe version of canon Ronin.
-If he met canon Ronin, he’d be his shadow and idolize him. (PFFF I JUST REALIZED HE’D BECOME THE SHADOW OF RONIN IM DYING)
-Would die for no one.

-Only wants to play mom when it’s convenient.
-Garmadon pays her to stay away.

-Like Nadakhan but female
-For some reason that’s scarier
-Looking for her lost fiance Delaren who happens to look like Kye

Well this is already well over 1k words so I’m gonna have to end it :0 I hope this feeds your curiousity despite the info being so minimal :U

They Long To Be Close To You [a Barry Allen imagine]

Originally posted by fairymmystical

Request: CAn you do a Barry Allen x reader fluff where reader was his girlfriend before the particle accelerator and everyone thought she drowned that night but she actually became a mermaid and he finds her and its all happiness please! Love your writing❤️😉

a/n: I LOVE THIS IDEA….. Sorry, I just love mermaids

“Guys, I don’t see anyone here.” Barry breathes into his com, squinting out at the waves of the ocean. His red boots shift the pale sand, kicking it into the air slightly. “Are you sure this is the spot- Wait, hang on.” he pants, walking up to the edge of the sea; chest heaving up and down, sucking in air.

Ever so slowly, you poke your head above the water, nose just barely visible, seeing a man in a skintight superhero suit. You lock eyes with his and tilt your head up, hearing him gasp. The man removes his coil, smiling at you. “Barry!” you shout, swimming up to the edge of the water in record time. “It’s you…” you cry, tears shining in your Y/C/E eyes.

Squatting down, Barry shakes his head, mouth ajar as he cups your face in his gloved hand. This is surreal. “Y/N… I thought you were dead…” His lips quiver when he speaks; vibrant hazel eyes searching your face. “Oh god, I thought you were dead…” he repeats, kissing your lips for a moment before pressing his forehead to yours, thumb rubbing across your cheek.

A small laugh escapes you and you peer at the sea water. “Not dead…”’ you hum, shaking your head. “But Barr,” you gulp, mapping out the specs of brown in his eyes, “When the particle accelerator exploded… instead of drowning, I- something happened to me.” you try to explain in a tiny voice.

His eyes squint faintly, shaking his head, not totally following what you’re saying. With a sigh, you flop your teal and dark blue tail above the sea water. “Woah!” Barry jumps back, landing on his ass; you cringe, splashing it around bashfully. “Holy crap, you’re a mermaid!” he beams, scrambling to sit on his knees, hands reaching to touch your scales.

“Can you not leave the water?” he asks; you shake your head sadly. He bites his lip, pulling his coil back on his face. “Hold on, baby.” he reassures, patting your tail, making you giggle. Barry grins; he missed that so much. “Hey, Cisco? Cait?” he calls out, tapping his lightning bolt on his ear. “I have a favor to ask you…” he mumbles, gazing at you. “A really big favor…”


Barry leans against the tall glass case, still in his suit, arms folded on the black ledge, mocking your position; face inches from yours. “I missed you so much… We all thought you drowned! But… you’re a mermaid!” he grins, booping the strap of your teal shell bra. “I can’t believe this!” he squeals, pecking your lips tenderly.

You giggle, rubbing noses with him. “I can’t believe you’re a speedster either…” you hum, flapping your tail in the tank. Water splashes, causing you to cringe; Barry laughs, placing his chin on his arms, repositioning his footing. “There’s one tiensy wiensy problem though…” you sigh, frowning at your boyfriend.

Matching your frown, Barry picks his head up, crinkling his eyebrows together, creating a little crease. Problem? What could be the problem? You’re back with him! “What are you talking about, sweetheart?” he questions, cupping your cheeks.

“I’m a mermaid, Barr. I can’t leave the water… “ you explain, flashing your tail for emphasis. “How is this ever going to work out?”

The speedster shh’s you, shaking his head, nose touching yours. “We’ll figure it out, baby. It’s going to work, I swear.” he promises, leaning on the glass, pecking your lips. “I’m going to figure this out…” he whispers, placing his palm to the tank.

anonymous asked:

god I want so much of about 17 or 7 KakaYama? whichever strikes you better

He feels it for the first time with Kakashi hovering above him, Chidori a shrill screech in his ears. The lightning casts shifting shadows over the abandoned laboratory he had hoped never to enter again, and Kinoe closes his eyes even though he shouldn’t. He’s resigned to this, to everything—the Foundation is all he knows, and he won’t-can’t betray it.

The flicker of painful desperation that races through him is not his own.

Behind the mask, Kinoe’s eyes fly open, and it takes all of his many years of training not to jerk, not to give it away. Hard enough to bury the surprise even as it rises, to push it down before it’s fully formed and could be felt across a bond. Not point in risking things, Danzō always says, but this—

This isn’t just a theory anymore, and Kinoe is so stunned by the realization that he doesn’t even put up a fight as Kakashi drags him to his knees and ties his hands behind his back.

“I hear Foundation agents are able to completely suppress their emotions,” he says, even as his hand shoves Kinoe lightly forward.

Kinoe’s heart falters, falls out of rhythm in a way it hasn’t in years. He takes a breath, keeps his head bowed, and answers, “Not just our emotions. Shinobi of the Foundation have no name, no past or future, no soulmate. We exist only for our mission.”

He doesn’t let himself feel anything, because if Kakashi feels it too—

(Deep down, buried under so many layers of darkness and orders and we are not Konoha shinobi, we are of the Foundation, something inside him does not belong to Kinoe. At the very core of him is one small seed, curled up and waiting for the light, and despite all Danzō has done to drive it out of him that seed still calls itself Tenzō.)

After the snakes, after the fight, after Kinoe saves the life of the man he’s supposed to kill, as he’s hovering over Kakashi’s unconscious body with a kunai drawn, he just—stops. Maybe it’s that seed. Maybe it’s the memory of Kakashi cutting his hands free and telling him If you don’t want to die, then be grateful you’re alive. Maybe it’s the fact that Kakashi never stopped calling him a friend, even as Kinoe tried so hard to kill him.

Maybe, just maybe, it’s the fact that he can tell from here that Kakashi is having a nightmare, even though his expression hasn’t changed. The fear flickers through him the same way as Kakashi’s lightning, just other enough that Kinoe is certain it isn’t his own, and he can feel Kakashi’s regret crest like a wave.

I couldn’t protect her, Kakashi said, and Kinoe wonders if he’s dreaming of Nohara Rin right now.

Shinobi of the Foundation have no name, no past or future, no soulmate. We exist only for our mission.

That’s been all he’s known since he was a child. He can’t disobey orders. Danzō wants Kakashi’s eye to replace his own, and Kinoe is to bring it to him, and kill Kakashi to hide the evidence.

Fear spikes into awful, wrenching terror, washed with grief, and Kinoe takes a breath. He sets the kunai down, and for the first time in his life, he lets himself feel.

“It’s all right,” he whispers, reaching out, and without Kakashi’s mask in the way his fingers touch skin so easily. Another pause, and Kinoe—


Tenzō drags his mask up, lets it fall carelessly to the side. He leans in, presses his forehead to Kakashi’s, and somehow he can feel more like this than through a simple press of fingers. More skin, more presence, even the shaky brush of Kakashi’s breath against his cheek. It’s gentle, and it rouses something in Tenzō that he’s never quite felt before. That he’s never let himself feel, but this time instead of pushing it down he embraces it, feeds the emotions through the fledgling bond and into Kakashi’s poison-trapped mind. Comfort, protectiveness, devotion, friendship, and the aching, bittersweet tenderness that Tenzō harbors for this ridiculous, inscrutable shinobi who’s managed to teach him everything worth knowing in the few brief times they’ve met.

My name is Tenzō, he tells himself, and lets his eyes open, stares at Kakashi from so close that his face is pale skin and scar and shaggy white hair. I am—I am a shinobi of Konoha, and I have a soulmate.

It sounds too beautiful to ever be even close to true, but it is.

In that moment, the decision to betray Danzō comes as easily as his next breath.

Lived outside the camera

Have seen the film twice now, I can be sure there are some great set pieces that never made to the big screen. 

So there’re an exhibition called London Justice League Experience, where they recreated the some sets (one for each hero) with actual pops. I spent my good time there week ago, hunting for eastern eggs, chatting with the stuff (shout-out for all of them, great great people I’ve ever met in an exhibition).

Clark’s Glasses in Flying Fox

Yay I had a laugh when I saw it. So the guy oversaw the set told me that it’s a actual pop and they decided to put it here. Sadly we didn’t see this in the film, and in fact, the whole setup inside the flying fox was quite different from what we saw, no idea, probably editing’s shame.

Barry’s Workstation

Either BAT. (British American Tobacco oh my) is short for some god forsaken tech terms, or we have our Batman secret little admirer here. Please Please Please tell me he got to keep the Batarangs in the end, I would be nice and watch three more times.

Aquaman’s Welsh Pub

I think it should be the pub where he dropped the guy rescued by him, it’s a beautiful set and very colourful really, detailed everything from a note to flowers-print shot glasses, and they just ruined it in the finished film. (We were joking about Welsh Aquaman and it’s worse than a Welsh Batman, sorry no sorry Chris.)

Kent’s Daily Planet Staff Card in Star Lab?

So this is the BIG GUN! The heck they put these here, and I was confirmed that these were on the actual set of the Star Lab. Apologise for the terrible quality of the photo, it a Daily Planet visitor pass, two Stuff cards belong to Clark and Lois, and Lois’s press ID. It feels like there’s at least half an hour good story we will never ever get, for this scene alone.

These are beautiful sets and with so much effort that put in, just such a waste the film came out like this, such a shame. But, still, I gonna to get a lightning bolt earring and set my third watching on Monday, and hope I can hate myself less.

The Madman. Have you ever heard of the madman who on a bright morning lighted a lantern and ran to the market-place calling out unceasingly: “I seek God! I seek God!” - As there were many people standing about who did not believe in God, he caused a great deal of amusement. Why! is he lost? said one. Has he strayed away like a child? said another. Or does he keep himself hidden? Is he afraid of us? Has he taken a sea-voyage? Has he emigrated? - the people cried out laughingly, all in a hubbub. The insane man jumped into their midst and transfixed them with his glances. “ Where is God gone?” he called out. “I mean to tell you! We have killed him, - you and I! We are all his murderers! But how have we done it? How were we able to drink up the sea? Who gave us the sponge to wipe away the whole horizon? What did we do when we loosened this earth from its sun? Whither does it now move? Whither do we move? Away from all suns? Do we not dash on unceasingly? Backwards, sideways, forewards, in all directions? Is there still an above and below? Do we not stray, as through infinite nothingness? Does not empty space breathe upon us? Has it not become colder? Does not night come on continually, darker and darker? Shall we not have to light lanterns in the morning? Do we not hear the noise of the grave-diggers who are burying God? Do we not smell the divine putrefaction? - for even Gods putrefy! God is dead! God remains dead! And we have killed him! How shall we console ourselves, the most murderous of all murderers? The holiest and the mightiest that the world has hitherto possessed, has bled to death under our knife, - who will wipe the blood from us? With what water could we cleanse ourselves? What lustrums, what sacred games shall we have to devise? Is not the magnitude of this deed too great for us? Shall we not ourselves have to become Gods, merely to seem worthy of it? There never was a greater event, - and on account of it, all who are born after us belong to a higher history than any history hitherto!” - Here the madman was silent and looked again at his hearers; they also were silent and looked at him in surprise. At last he threw his lantern on the ground, so that it broke in pieces and was extinguished. “I come too early,” he then said, “I am not yet at the right time. This prodigious event is still on its way, and is travelling, - it has not yet reached men’s ears. Lightning and thunder need time, the light of the stars needs time, deeds need time, even after they are done, to be seen and heard. This deed is as yet further from them than the furthest star, - and yet they have done it!” It is further stated that the madman made his way into different churches on the same day, and there intoned his Requiem aeternam deo. When led out and called to account, he always gave the reply: “What are these churches now, if they are not the tombs and monuments of God?”

L’uomo folle. – Avete sentito di quel folle uomo che accese una lanterna alla chiara luce del mattino, corse al mercato e si mise a gridare incessantemente: “Cerco Dio! Cerco Dio!”. E poiché proprio là si trovavano raccolti molti di quelli che non credevano in Dio, suscitò grandi risa. “È forse perduto?” disse uno. “Si è perduto come un bambino?” fece un altro. “0ppure sta ben nascosto? Ha paura di noi? Si è imbarcato? È emigrato?” – gridavano e ridevano in una gran confusione. Il folle uomo balzò in mezzo a loro e li trapassò con i suoi sguardi: “Dove se n’è andato Dio? – gridò – ve lo voglio dire! Siamo stati noi ad ucciderlo: voi e io! Siamo noi tutti i suoi assassini! Ma come abbiamo fatto questo? Come potemmo vuotare il mare bevendolo fino all’ultima goccia? Chi ci dètte la spugna per strusciar via l’intero orizzonte? Che mai facemmo, a sciogliere questa terra dalla catena del suo sole? Dov’è che si muove ora? Dov’è che ci moviamo noi? Via da tutti i soli? Non è il nostro un eterno precipitare? E all’indietro, di fianco, in avanti, da tutti i lati? Esiste ancora un alto e un basso? Non stiamo forse vagando come attraverso un infinito nulla? Non alita su di noi lo spazio vuoto? Non si è fatto piú freddo? Non seguita a venire notte, sempre piú notte? Non dobbiamo accendere lanterne la mattina? Dello strepito che fanno i becchini mentre seppelliscono Dio, non udiamo dunque nulla? Non fiutiamo ancora il lezzo della divina putrefazione? Anche gli dèi si decompongono! Dio è morto! Dio resta morto! E noi lo abbiamo ucciso! Come ci consoleremo noi, gli assassini di tutti gli assassini? Quanto di piú sacro e di piú possente il mondo possedeva fino ad oggi, si è dissanguato sotto i nostri coltelli; chi detergerà da noi questo sangue? Con quale acqua potremmo noi lavarci? Quali riti espiatòri, quali giochi sacri dovremo noi inventare? Non è troppo grande, per noi, la grandezza di questa azione? Non dobbiamo noi stessi diventare dèi, per apparire almeno degni di essa? Non ci fu mai un’azione piú grande: tutti coloro che verranno dopo di noi apparterranno, in virtú di questa azione, ad una storia piú alta di quanto mai siano state tutte le storie fino ad oggi!”. A questo punto il folle uomo tacque, e rivolse di nuovo lo sguardo sui suoi ascoltatori: anch’essi tacevano e lo guardavano stupiti. Finalmente gettò a terra la sua lanterna che andò in frantumi e si spense. “Vengo troppo presto – proseguí – non è ancora il mio tempo. Questo enorme avvenimento è ancora per strada e sta facendo il suo cammino: non è ancora arrivato fino alle orecchie degli uomini. Fulmine e tuono vogliono tempo, il lume delle costellazioni vuole tempo, le azioni vogliono tempo, anche dopo essere state compiute, perché siano vedute e ascoltate. Quest’azione è ancora sempre piú lontana da loro delle piú lontane costellazioni: eppure son loro che l’hanno compiuta!”. Si racconta ancora che l’uomo folle abbia fatto irruzione, quello stesso giorno, in diverse chiese e quivi abbia intonato il suo Requiem aeternam Deo. Cacciatone fuori e interrogato, si dice che si fosse limitato a rispondere invariabilmente in questo modo: “Che altro sono ancora queste chiese, se non le fosse e i sepolcri di Dio?”.

Friedrich Wilhelm Nietzsche (1844 – 1900)