#I don't like that it's been hundreds (thousands?) of years though I wish it had been a few decades at most

[whybedennydifferent]

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[despairsphantomwrites]

Healed Scars (Part II) - Wanda Maximoff x Stark!Reader

A/N: It's been a thousand close to three years now I think? Two probably? Without writing so please excuse the obviously rusty skills 😭 Apologies as well for any mistranslation, as I'm not particularly fluent in Russian either.

Disclamer: None of the characters on this piece are mine, they belong to Marvel.

Healed Scars (Pt. I)

Part 2 of 2.

A soft knock on the glass doors of the lab snapped you back into reality, glancing up and away from the hundreds of blueprints and notes scattered along the table.

"Something wrong?" You hum, confused as you find Wanda silently staring.

"No, just wondering if you're going to join for movie night."

"Sorry, don't share Steve's passion for classics." Chuckling, you focus back on the notes scribbled almost haphazardly.

"Mind if I stay with you?"

You motioned for her to come inside, and she obliged with a murmured 'thank you', eyes roaming freely around the area.

A pleasant silence had enveloped the room, save from the rustling of papers and the whirring of machines in the background. Every now and then, she could also hear you quietly humming to yourself, pausing only to correct some of the notes before resuming the gentle tune.

She couldn't help but freeze as her gaze landed on a familiar, dreadful sight.

"You can get rid of it if you so wish." You mused, taking notice of her not so subtle glare towards an old picture of the Stark Industries factory. "I'm not sure why dad kept it around, but I doubt he'd care if it suddenly went missing."

Wanda didn't reply, fingers twitching as her hands rested on the table. It would be oh so satisfying, to indulge in your offer and tear the image apart, along with some of the memories that would forever haunt her and her brother.

"…No."

Your eyes snapped up to meet hers, a silent question swirling openly in them, waiting for the brunette to continue.

"It would be like wasting all the effort we put into starting from scratch."

"The self-restraint is truly admirable."

If she had anything else to add, it was soon forgotten as a blur entered the lab, threatening to send the papers flying as it stopped just beside the young witch.

"Sorry."

"No harm done Speedy." Rearranging the notes that had scattered, you look up at him. "What brings you here?"

"I was looking for my dear twin sister, but seems like she found good company already." He teased, ruffling her hair slightly. You couldn't help but chuckle yet again when Wanda smacked his shoulder, blushing from embarrassment.

“вести себя (Behave.)” Wanda muttered, eyes flashing red playfully towards the speedster.

“вы не хотите, чтобы они знали? (You don’t want them to know?)”

“Заткнись (Shut up.)” She mumbled, not missing the smirk on his face. The moment was quite short-lived though as another knock interrupts the scene.

"Suit up kid, last minute mission."

"On it, Cap." You called out to the retreating soldier, reaching out to grab a small device and attaching it to your chest. "See you two around."

It had been close to a full day already.

The mission was a success, giving Tony an excuse (much to everyone's dismay) to throw yet another party.

Wanda glanced around, green eyes dancing along the crowd as she nursed another drink. It felt so foreign to her, abnormal even. She almost missed the relative peacefulness of your lab, silently cursing whoever was currently in charge of the operation for assigning you last minute.

She took a sip, attempting to drown out the barrage of thoughts intruding her mind, gasping as she focused on a new presence.

"Not enjoying the party?"

You barely had time to react before the air got knocked out of your lungs along with a pained groan, feeling her arms snaking around your frame in a bonecrushing hug.

"Looks like someone really missed me."

"Are you alright? Steve said comms were gone for a good while."

"Just a couple bruises, suit's seen better days though."

Wanda nodded absentmindedly, only now noticing the few cuts visible along your hands and face. One of her hands moved to gently caress a bruise forming around your eye.

"Now, what's gotten you into such a sour mood?"

"I just… feel out of place."

"Not one for crowds?"

"Not really, no." She sighed, observing across the room as her twin laughed and mingled with the guests. "Too loud for me."

"Physically or mentally?" You mused, earning a wince from the sokovian girl. "I'll take that as both."

"Can't we just go somewhere else? Please."

You debated the request for a moment, eyes drifting around in search for any familiar faces, finally landing on Natasha. As soon as the russian met your gaze you pointed up, earning a subtle nod from the spy.

"Let's go then, little witch."

As soon as you reached the rooftop, Wanda let out a sigh of relief. She leaned against the railing, allowing the soft breeze to soothe her even further.

"So you do have good ideas every now and then." The brunette quipped, knowing this area would be off-limits.

"I'm starting to believe that I'm a terrible influence on you, Maximoff."

The laugh that fell from her lips left you awestruck. It warmed your heart seeing the amount of progress in such a short time.

"Thank you."

"Anytime, Wan-"

"No, I mean it." At your puzzled expression, she continued. "For helping me and Pietro adjust. We weren't exactly welcome at first, and the way we treated you all wasn't ideal either."

You hum in acknowledgement, settling by her side. You couldn't help but wonder if they'd have adapted faster if someone else had stepped up. Someone who wasn't a constant reminder of their past struggles.

"Stop that." Your eyes shift to meet her stern gaze. "You're thinking too loud. You're not-"

"-responsible for what happened, I know. And yet I can't imagine how it must have felt relying on someone whose name was engraved on the very same thing that ruined your life, your childhood."

"Stubborn as your father." The young witch huffed as she tenderly grasped your face, tugging you closer.

Wanda smirked as soon as her lips touched yours, effectively silencing your spiraling mind. The brief contact left you breathless, heart pounding wildly as you stared dumbfounded.

"Stop ripping open already healed scars." She murmured, thumbs gently caressing your skin. "I couldn't have asked for a better person to help us."

"There's people far more approachable than me." The glare you received was downright terrifying, head tilting ever so slightly. "Okay okay, I'm shutting up."

"You're incorrigible. But… I suppose that's part of your charm."

"Suppose?"

"Don't push it, Stark."

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

I may or may not have lost the file where I kept all the users from the taglist, so feel free to let me know if you'd like to be added to the new one 🙏

[writingquestionsanswered]

Hey! How do I advertise my writing, as a beginner? I want to build a platform. :)

Building a Platform as a Beginner

If you're still at the beginning of your writing journey, I would suggest waiting to share/advertise your writing, and instead focus more on sharing content related to your writing journey. For example, you can share motivation and tips that you found helpful, you can log the work you put in ("Wrote 900 words today!") and share your triumphs ("Finished the first draft!") and struggles ("Having a rough week so no writing this week.") If you're working on a particular WIP, you can share mood boards and inspiration photos--though I would avoid sharing snippets until you've had more experience and your writing is more polished.

The keys to building a platform:

1 - Find your community. Whichever social media platform/s you choose, look around for the people who read and write what you write, and follow them.

2 - Learn proper hashtags. See what hashtags they're using with their posts and figure out which ones apply to your various posts.

3 - Post consistently but not excessively. It's pretty important to post daily if you can, maybe even a few times a day, but just don't bombard your followers with posts so that they unfollow or mute you.

4 - Post a variety of content - Try to vary what you post. Maybe every day you do one "writer's life/writer's log" type post, and then one other post such as a mood board, motivational post, or tip. As time goes on and you get more followers, see which posts do best and post more of that type of content.

5 - ENGAGE WITH OTHERS - This is the secret key that many people miss... you've got to engage with others regularly. If people like your posts, go like their posts. Comment on their posts. Support them by sharing the content they want to have shared. There are community challenges that would be fun to do, do them. Look for ways to get involved when you can.

And most of all... the even MORE IMPORTANT secret...

BE PATIENT. Seriously. This is the place where most people fail. Don't expect to have thousands or even hundreds of followers overnight, or within a few months, even. It takes months and even years to build up a following. If you can build up a few hundred followers in your first year, you're doing great.

Best wishes!

•••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

I’ve been writing seriously for over 30 years and love to share what I’ve learned. Have a writing question? My inbox is always open!

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[hannahbarberra162]

hOrnithology for Beginners, Chapter 5

The jig is up. This is the angsty chapter, so skip to the next one if you don't wanna read some hurt feelings. It'll end well though, it's HEA.

18+ MDNI on Ao3

Link to all chapters

Marco POV

Marco had kissed many, many people over the course of his life. After all, he was over 40 and had been traveling the seas for most of his life. He’d met and left hundreds if not thousands of lovers over the years. But he’d never had to work so hard for one little kiss. And that made it all the sweeter. He put his arm behind your back, bringing you closer to deepen the kiss. He could tell you were less experienced but no less enthusiastic than he was. He gently bit your lower lip, which made you moan softly. You tried to wind your arms around his neck but were too short. That wasn’t unusual, Marco was exceptionally tall. Marco broke the kiss and pulled you along to a nearby rock, trying to even out your heights. He sat down and you straddled his lap facing him. He was a little surprised at your forwardness - you were blushing, which was a cute look for you. Marco was already hard, and he was sure you could feel it through his thin pants. 

“More,” was all you said to him, cupping his face in your hands. As demanding as always, he thought amusedly. You leaned in to him, he felt your soft breaths on his face. He licked the seam of your lips and you opened up for him, greedy to continue kissing. As your tongues entwined, you ground your hips onto his, giving you both needed friction. You were moaning as Marco held your head in one hand, biting and kissing your neck. You were sensitive, needy, and open, nothing like you were when he’d first met you. 

You were riding Marco like a lazy cowboy and he felt like he was going to burst in his pants, like a teenager. Marco put his hands under the hem of your shirt, touching your lower back. He started to ruck up your shirt from the bottom when you stopped him by putting your hands on his forearms. 

“Nah, that’s enough for now.” 

“Are you sure yoi?” Marco wasn’t trying to persuade you if the answer was no, so he kissed your jaw as his last kiss.

“Yeah, I think that’s far enough for today. Or did you think I was going to have sex with you on a rock ?” 

“I’ve done it in worse places yoi.” You huffed at him, but your lips quirked up a little. He pressed one final kiss, really the last one this time, to the corner of your mouth.

“I have to work tomorrow, but if you’re still around the island after my shift, you can come over to my place.” You weren’t looking at his face as you invited him over, shifting your gaze to the ground near you. 

“I’ll meet you at your restaurant yoi. What time?” Marco made plans with you as you hopped off his lap. Yes, he was still hard, but that wasn’t his fault. He noticed you make eye contact with his tented pants and your expression was priceless. He wished he was the artist so he could capture your perfectly surprised, turned on, and nervous face. You flushed again as you noticed him watching you. You bade your goodbyes and made your hasty retreat into the forest. Marco had never seen anything more adorable.

Your POV

Just as all good things had to come to an end, so too your little excursion into the woods was over. After two days off, you felt relaxed and refreshed, which would continue up until the moment you set foot into the restaurant tomorrow. You’d tried camping out the night before work before but it wasn’t a great idea. You needed to shower and sleep on a bed to prepare yourself for the mental drain of serving customers.

You were still riding the high from kissing Marco as you packed up your campsite. It wasn’t fair that pirates could be so attractive and sexy, you thought to yourself. As you were putting your things away, you caught the sight of blue flames out of the corner of your eye. You perked up a little, eager to see your friend. You waved as the phoenix made swooping circles in the sky. You were excited to see him, but something in you was pulling at your heart. You realized you felt guilty . You felt like you’d betrayed your phoenix for some quick kisses. You didn’t feel guilty for kissing Marco himself - once you made your choices you stuck with them without regret. It was more that you were always so adamant in your hatred for pirates, so dedicated to your goals of conservation, and yet you threw them away for one ( very ) good looking, smart, bird-oriented pirate.

The phoenix landed softly in front of you, extending and ruffling its feathers. You wondered about the mechanics of having fire feathers, but the phoenix hadn’t been interested in answering your questions previously and you didn’t want to ask again. You couldn’t help but stare with adoration at the bird, no matter how low you felt in the moment. 

“Hello, you,” you said, sitting down near the legendary bird. You weren’t sure what it would do, but you suddenly felt drained. It had been a long day for you and you were tired. Watching the phoenix was like watching the most beautiful fire in the world, relaxing and mesmerizing. You hugged your knees, thinking over your day. It had been fun and exciting, you hadn’t felt like that in a long time. For whatever reason, it had always been hard for you to make connections with other people. Etta was the exception, not the rule. Your attitude had evolved from constant social rejection, not the other way around. But being with Marco was so easy and entertaining, you’d lost sight of what you thought you held dear. The phoenix tilted its head, looking at you closely.

“I’m sorry, I’m just feeling a little guilty. I…met up with that pirate again. And I had a great time. I just - I don’t know. I feel like I betrayed you. Lost sight of what’s important.” Even you weren’t going to tell a bird that you’d made out with a pirate like a horny teenager. The bird walked over to you while you watched cautiously. You lowered you knees as it got closer and sat with your legs crossed. When the phoenix was about a foot away, it perched next to you. You opened your eyes as wide as they would go. This was the closest it had ever been to you in its entirety. Before it had extended an enormous wing from a few feet away. You didn’t dare move for fear that it would fly away. It slowly extended its neck, laying its head in your lap and closing its eyes. Maybe you had died and went to heaven? You weren’t sure what you’d done to deserve such a wonderful turn of events, but you weren’t going to look a gift bird in the mouth. 

“Can I pat your head?” you whispered. The phoenix opened one eye and trilled. You extended two fingers and ran them over the soft downy feathers on the top of its head. While you marveled at the softness, small blue flames flickered on your own hand. It didn’t hurt, so you just watched intently. As the blue flames receded, you noticed that all the small scrapes and cuts on your hands that you’d gotten over the course of the last week had been healed. You wanted to cry - it was the nicest thing anyone had ever done for you. And it had come from a bird. 

“Can I, um..hug you?” you asked tentatively. The phoenix nodded and wound its long neck over your shoulder, allowing you to hug it. You felt like it was healing your soul, not just your body. You hugged it for a long time, reveling in its power and warm flickering flames. It felt like the sun itself had given you a personal hug. You felt a shiver of recognition through your body as you embraced the bird, though you couldn’t say why. 

“Thank you, for everything.” You weren’t sure if you’d see the phoenix tomorrow, or ever again. So you wanted to say goodbye, just in case. You’d never forget it and all the incredible experiences it gave you even if you never saw it again. The phoenix nodded and put its beak on your cheek. With that, it moved backward and flew away. You looked with unrestrained longing as it fled from your vision in the sky.

~~~

Marco POV

Marco rushed to his cabin to finish himself off from thinking about you. He practically mowed down his siblings in his haste to get to privacy. The way you’d been astride him and rocking your hips, your complete devotion to enjoying the moment had been playing on a non stop loop in his mind. His Phoenix side had been just as delighted with you, taking the sexual offering somewhere between supplication and surrender. The Phoenix didn’t always make its opinions known, but with all your fawning and ornithological knowledge, you’d quickly become a favorite.  Both man and Zoan had been turned on, which hadn’t happened in a very long time. He stroked himself thinking of you riding him without clothes between you, your head thrown back in passion. In his fantasies, you were loud, moaning and saying his name, crude language spilling from your lips.

“Oh god, Marco! Right there, ugh, oh fuck Marco please, more…Marco…” He spilled himself over his stomach with a groan. Marco was hoping for the best tonight on his third date with you, but would be content with just kissing if you didn't want to go further. He cleaned himself up and laid back on his bed, arms resting behind his head. 

Now through the rush of coming to the thought of you riding his cock, Marco thought about the last conversation you’d had with him. It was so honest and direct, so sweet and affectionate, that you thought you’d betrayed the Phoenix. Now he felt even more guilty for continuing his deceit. You’d let both him and the Phoenix into your confidence in different ways, and he couldn’t see a way out of it without betraying one or the other. He sighed and hoped he’d be able to keep it up for just a few more days until they set sail.

~~~

The next day, as you said, you were working. You had an afternoon shift, ending in the early evening. After working in the morning, Marco and his siblings decided to go to your restaurant for lunch. All the restaurants on the island were shitty, but yours was the best of the worst. Ace was back to normal and wanted to see Etta again, so between the two of them the choice was made easily. Thatch, Izou, Vista, Ace, and Marco all made their way into town, with Marco walking alongside them.

“Brother, why aren’t you flying there? I haven’t seen you walk so far in years,” asked Vista. Ace glanced at Marco with a smile but didn’t say anything. 

“Feel like walking with my brothers is all,” Marco replied with a smile. Ace’s smile got wider. Marco shot him a warning look. Izou clocked the interaction with a raised eyebrow. Making their way to the restaurant, they were seated in Etta’s section. Marco watched you shuffle around the busy restaurant, taking orders and bringing plates of food from the kitchen. It was kind of depressing. Now that Marco had seen the real you, watching you stuff yourself into the box you needed to in order to make money was kind of sad. He knew you needed freedom, intellectual stimulation, and creative liberty. Someone who drew and studied like you needed to be outside, exploring and learning. Not telling people that the orange juice was made from oranges and getting yelled at for forgetting a lemon wedge. When you saw Marco in the restaurant, you gave him a small smile.

“Whoa, what magic did you work there? Did you see that? She smiled at you.” Thatch was impressed. And he should be, Marco had spent a lot of effort trying to get on your good side. He hadn’t told his brothers that you’d kissed, he didn’t think you’d want them to know. 

“I’m telling you, she’s nice yoi. Leave her alone and let her work.” Etta had been by to take their orders, her normal flirty self. She and Ace had enjoyed each other’s company a lot over the past few days. Ace had introduced her to the other Commanders when they came to pick him up from her house. She was chatting as much as she could while still on the clock, evidently still charmed by Ace and his antics. 

“Alright, boys, I gotta keep working. Making that money to replace all the food Ace ate at my house.” Etta grinned at Ace, who seemed slightly embarrassed. 

“I was hungry! And besides, you’re a good cook, I liked those skewers.”

“Oi, you wanna break my heart? Just stab me in the back?” Thatch was pretending to be dramatic, making Etta giggle. Marco watched them with his usual calm demeanor, enjoying the banter. Etta picked up her tray of drinks, carrying it to the bussing station. On her way, she turned her head to laugh at something Ace said and tripped, spilling the load onto the tiled floor. Ace got up to check on her, but she waved him off.

“I’m ok, I’m ok. Nothing hurt but my pride.” Etta got up, picking up the glasses and some of the ice and putting them on the tray. “I’ll get a mop to clean the mess.” While she was gone, you made your way towards the pirates, looking at Marco. As your foot stepped on the tile Marco saw what would shortly happen but wasn’t fast enough to stop it. You slipped on the spilled drinks, falling to the floor. And unlike Etta, you did get hurt. Marco was up in an instant and by your side, helping you off the ground. Etta heard the commotion and came back hurriedly to your side, mop in hand.

“Oh my god, I’m so sorry! I was on my way to clean it up, I swear. Are you ok?” Etta was fretting over you while Marco helped you to your feet. You leaned on him for physical support and he picked you up and put you on a chair. Bending down to inspect it, Marco elevated your ankle on his knee, moving it around while you winced. Marco had to use a considerable amount of concentration to restrain his Phoenix from instantly healing the injury. The Phoenix was clamoring to heal its dear friend, angry at Marco for stopping it. Etta was still talking to you, asking how you felt. 

“Ow,” was all you said. But being a doctor, Marco knew this was more than an “ow.” You’d either sprained your ankle or fractured it. 

“What’s taking you so long? Why aren’t you just healing it for her?” Thatch asked loudly from the table. You looked at Marco’s face with confusion, biting your lip. Marco didn’t have time to answer - with his concentration broken by Thatch’s yelling, the Phoenix took the opportunity to heal your fractured ankle in a blaze of healing flames. You watched the flames engulf your lower leg. Marco could see you finally putting everything together. You noted his tattooed chest, the flames, the glasses. He could almost feel you shuttering him out of your life. He looked at you apologetically, but for once didn’t know what to say. It felt like the restaurant had gone silent, watching the scene unfold.

Your POV

How could you be so stupid? So blind? So desperate? You’d finally understood - Marco was the phoenix you’d been seeing. Or The Phoenix, you supposed. He’d told you he was a devil fruit user, but you’d never asked which one. Now that you saw the same healing flames that had healed your hands the previous day were the ones that had healed your ankle. It all made sense - how he knew where the waterfall was, how he made all those bird calls, why he was the crew’s doctor. And everyone else already knew, clearly. Even Etta was looking at you with pity. 

‘Don’t touch me,” you hissed, taking your foot off his knee. You felt completely, utterly, and totally humiliated. You knew you were flushed and could feel your eyes filling with tears. This wasn’t even the first time someone had pulled something like this on you. The same thing had happened once when you were a child. Asked on a date, only to be told it was all a joke as the boy’s friends laughed, joining in on the joke. This felt even worse than before since Marco had clearly orchestrated this and you'd fallen for it. He wasn’t laughing in your face, but that didn’t matter. He had all his friends behind him, watching you. The more things changed, the more they stayed the same.

“Did you get what you wanted? Was I amusing enough for you?” You were enunciating every word, wanting to make sure he knew how you felt. You weren’t loud, but you didn’t have to be. Everyone was listening. You wanted to kick him in his stupid face, but he was a pirate on Whitebeard’s crew. 

“No, it’s not like that yoi, I -” He stood up and tried talking to you. You didn’t want to hear whatever it was that got his rocks off.

“It’s exactly like that. Or is there something I’m missing?  When were you gonna say something? You let me swim in front of you naked - did you all laugh about that afterwards, too?” you looked at his crew mates. They were looking at each other with uncomfortable looks on their faces. 

“Did he tell you I fucking bowed to him? Or that we kissed? Or that I invited him over tonight? How many laughs did you get out of that?” You laughed humorlessly. 

“Wait I-”

“No. And you even got my friend in on it! Amazing, you’ve actually lowered my opinions on pirates, which I didn’t think possible. Hope you fucking drown.” You got off the chair, able to walk on your healed foot, and started taking off your apron. Fuck this job, fuck this island, fuck all these people. Etta reached for you, and your lip started to wobble. You didn’t want to confront her in front of these pirates. 

“Don’t, Etta,” you whispered. Her betrayal was the most painful part of it all. If you talked to her here, you’d be bawling your eyes out. You thought you’d had a true friend but she abandoned you for some pirate who’d be gone in a few days. You put your apron down on the table and walked out of the restaurant. No one stopped you. 

[schweizercomics]

(turns out McKay's DIDN'T have Mad Max cars lying in wait on the last leg of the trip to protect their prize money by taking out anyone who made it that far)

The family and I did the Ultimate McKay's Road Trip Challenge and had a great time. McKays had clearly prepared, and probably to the capacity that they could've, but the sheer volume of folks participating far outstripped what they were capable of handling according to their original plan and they were working like crazy to pivot as conditions changed from store to store, lines and parking situations became unsafe or unmanageable, and supplies ran out (ink for the stamps, paper for the forms, etc, in addition to the prizes).

Despite all this, and despite the chaos, almost everyone we encountered (and we encountered a lot of folks) was excited to be there, grateful for the store's generosity, and, for those that made it all the way across, elated to have completed it and received the wildly large grand prize.

The grand prize, BTW, was $800 in credit to be used at any of the stores. I've bought hundreds of books over the years from McKays, mostly priced between 75 cents and four dollars; At their prices, $800 is essentially a lifetime supply of used books.

And they didn't have a cap on the number of winners; if you did it, you got it.

The challenge was to celebrate their 50th anniversary, and I hope that the logistical challenges, which were many & staggering (though far moreso for the stores than the participants, save for the heat for those susceptible to it), don't cast a negative light on a branch of bookstores for whom so many thousands and thousands of people have such enthusiasm and affection as to prompt their participation in a 500+ mile cannonball run in the middle of a july worksweek.

I'm sure that the customers wish some things had been done differently and planned for differently, but not nearly as much as do the McKays folks. But this wasn't a Fyre Festival, this was a Woodstock.

Anyway, it was stressful at times, and we fretted over the possibility of its completion, but McKays bent over backwards to try and make it to where if folks were committed to making the whole trek, they got the whole prize. They made tons of allowances as situations changed.

If you haven't been to a McKays, and are ever passing along I-40, I hope that the mania surrounding this event gives makes clear how beloved this shop is to folks who live in Tennessee and North Carolina, and outsiders (like me) who pass, and stop at, it frequently, and makes you wanna see why.

It's the best used bookstore I've ever been to (no individual McKay's store has the scale and scope that does Powell's or the Strand, but their prices are DRAMATICALLY lower than either). I'm incredibly grateful for their prompting and hosting such a great adventure with my fellow readers, and their generosity in prizes in celebration of fifty years.

[epicfroggz]

Might be unpopular opinion?: I love Messmer as a character but ngl i am disappointed with the route they've took with his character and his potential was wasted, like instead of expanding on the themes of blasphemy/the serpent they've already established in the game, or actually giving him any meaningful arc, they let him sit in a dark room coping & seething for hundreds of years? And they made him the 100000th Marika's glazer. Like if Ranni or Rykard or etc.. are allowed to feel hatred towards Marika and work against her for her fucks up why all Messmer is allowed to do is just glazing her for thousands of years? Like that's feel they wanted him to be blasphemous figure but then forced the Marika's stuff with, hence why his lore is a kind of mess. Like don't get me wrong, i love my pathetic wet mommy's boys but that isn't remotely interesting compared to what they could have done.

Hi, thanks for the ask!

I somewhat agree with his potential being wasted, but not for the reasons you state. I feel as though you have not completely understood him as a character if you feel that he is just a “pathetic momma’s boy” that hasn’t been doing anything for the last age, that has no ideas of his own, so forth. He forsakes and curses Marika, after all, for an ideal that is his and his alone. Would you rather have him be a Rykard copy? They could have done that, and they could have made him exactly the blasphemous villain he appears to be on the outside. But they didn’t. Instead, they made him the most compassionate demigod we’ve known, one whose warm heart has been smothered by a never-ending war fought for his mother, who he loved, but over time, was not loved in return. Yet unlike Morgott, he accepts that, and is willing to cross the line into the dark—stepping out of his mother’s shadow and into his own.

I find him immensely compelling the way he is written as is. I just wish the ending of the DLC had more to do with him—I feel like there was a turn in development where the Radahn idea was explored instead, and Messmer’s kindling was relegated to just burning a little tree instead of the Scadutree itself. That’s just a hunch, though.

- Froggo

[fountainpenguin]

Riddle watches New Wish - Post #8

"The Wellsington Hotellsington"

I'm glad Hazel's parents seem chill. They're not strict about "No sleepovers" or anything. They seem more involved than Timmy's (and holy cow, they're better at interactions with their daughter than Chloe's were with her).

Yeah, it's not like I ever doubted (because I loved Chloe's mental breakdown drama), but this and the dino episode are really cementing just how bad Clark and Connie were with parenting, sdkfj.

If Chloe tried to play with her parents at the museum, they'd totally shut down her giddiness and drag her into a lesson on naming or drawing dinosaurs. She'd seem hyped, but... Timmy would know. Timmy always knew.

I miss Timmy "will stay with you for an hour while you have a total breakdown" Turner... I miss the fairy step-siblings. Where's my boy?

... That is actually really interesting that I can't give Hazel a 50-years-of-frozen-time backstory. With Chloe, she blatantly raised herself on Fair Bears and I had a lot of other characters who got their lives screwed up by failing to emotionally mature or physically progress... but Hazel missed all that, so she's got Regular Childhood. And barring what I just said, I'm usually writing Fae in 'fics that span hundreds of thousands of years. Having such a limited timeframe to work with is... a new experience for me here.

Whyyyyy did Hazel and Jasmine not know who Wynn (sp?) is if they've been in the same class for weeks? (Hazel's over 100 wishes and mentioned weeks had passed during "Teacher's Pal"). Does this kid not talk to them? I thought they sat near Hazel, by the door? I'm pretty sure if I go back and look, this kid is 1 or 2 desks to her right.

Dev, don't you have better things to do than stalk Hazel and eavesdrop? This kid has issues. Tell me more.

I'm really glad we have a Dimmadome bully and not a Buxaplenty bully. Fingers crossed that Remy broke the abuse cycle, and also... the Dimmadomes are 100% known for butting into everything. I complained that he shouldn't stalk, but... he's a Dimmadome. Of course he's wandering around waiting for his chance to jump in for a line and brag about stuff.

"Hazard" is a very funny nickname for Hazel. Dev should keep calling her that.

This kid has insecurity issues about... his house? And/or being outclassed, but it's the house that seems to ruffle his feathers. The one thing Dimmadomes are known for is their big buildings. Hmm. Something's going on here...

I was going to make a joke about how Jasmine apparently didn't come over to Hazel's house despite their plans to play together, but Jasmine made it for me. Apparently she HAS been over and is sus. sdflkj.

Wynn is super nice. Hazel is being a creep sdkf.

Whoops, so much for the roof garden. Also, I like how the founder picture for the hotel is just Hazel in disguise.

His parents aren't at his party, huh? I see where this is going...

Either this kid's got a fairy - but he doesn't have brightly colored items or pets we've seen - or something is keeping him riding the border without tipping into miserable. We never got a canon reason why Tootie didn't have a fairy, though it's implied she can't keep her mouth shut and would endanger Fairy World. I wonder if those recording devices following him around are getting in the way, although that's probably not likely.

OR he's lost a fairy (similar to Remy gambling Juandissimo away), which would be hilarious. Imagine him getting a fairy and he's like "I don't want this. I have money."

I'm thinking he's got enough of his heart set in his pride and his things that he's finding enough joy to keep afloat, but I'm keeping an eye on him. Now that I'm thinking about it, Kevin Crocker with a fairy would've been funny. Then again, I kind of gave him Foop as a buddy... and even though he's the deadest kid inside, he was still pretty cheery.

Dev, however, does NOT give me cheery vibes. I'm sus.

Actually, I do not trust Fairy World to be functioning the same way it did in the old days, considering that enough time has passed for Cosmo and Wanda to retire and Jorgen to notably age. There WAS a fairy shortage in Season 10 - and so few Fairies left by Season 7 that they couldn't even fill the stadium when Timmy summoned them - so... hmm. Is he getting Cookie, who was actively looking for a godkid a few episodes ago?

If Fairy World's still under the same protocol it used to be, Jorgen's the only Temporary Fairy on-call, and we HAVE seen him introduced. Hmm...

I'm wondering if this is gonna be a Juandissimo comeback? He's got experience with rich kids, he IS a notable fairy from the early seasons (all the seasons), and he even loves bratty kids who don't listen to him to the point that he couldn't hold a job after losing Remy (because he was crying too much) and ended up defying Da Rules to return Remy's memories. Now that Wanda and Cosmo are so friendly in this portrayal, it could be really interesting to throw him in the mix again.

I liked when Cosmo showed him the "guest room" in "Jerk of All Trades" and then threw him in the freezer. Give me more of that.

This would be very unlikely since it's literally a deleted part of an early script, but... do I dare dream we see the return of "Juandissimo is terrified of only one person and it's Cosmo, whom he refers to as Wanda's cunning and calculating warrior husband?" That would be great! My dream. :)

I like how Cosmo in the OG series tolerated Juandissimo, claiming that he would tell him to stop flirting with Wanda, but he won't because he likes eating Juandissimo's food too much. 10/10 dynamic. It's so underrated; Cosmo's hilarious.

I'm loving early-vibe Cosmo and Wanda... do I DARE dream of a return with early-vibe Juandissimo? My super kind and polite boy who gets invited to at least 4 parties at Timmy's house, makes a point of letting Wanda talk to Cosmo before she makes decisions involving them alone in a room, and runs away at top speed when he clocks Wanda as not being able to consent to hanging out with him (because Cupid's love arrow?) Seasons 1-7 Juandissimo, my beloved... :')

I miss him.

My vague understanding is that this show is ongoing, probably multiple seasons if it does well, so I don't think they're wrapping it up at the end of Season 1... but if they did, I could definitely see a "Hazel gives her blessing for Cosmo and Wanda to go to Dev" plot, which would be an interesting direction (since we never got that kind of closure with Timmy and I doubt they'd do a share program plot twice).

It's kind of a shame we didn't get a separate reboot with the share program- That might've been better received than Season 10. Sparky could've been a shared fairy. Alas.

Okay, the chandelier in the helicopter being an inconvenience is a nice touch.

I'm dead (So are the animals).

Mmmm, the classmates are dunking on Dev for being "not cool." He's not even liked? Seriously, someone call Juandissimo- This kid is catnip for him.

[shepherds-of-haven]

Sorry if this has already been asked before, but have you ever thought about writing a sequel to SoH? I know you said it would be a stand-alone book, but I think a sequel where we explore different continents would be extremely cool. I just love these character so much and idk if I’m ready to say goodbye. I know we still have a bit left but still…

Hi there, this message has been sitting in a long queue of messages I've fallen behind on answering for a while now, but I just wanted to say thank you for taking the time to send it! It ended up being extremely thought-provoking for me, and you may have single-handedly made me reconsider my stance on a Shepherds sequel! XD

I always planned on this entry being a standalone game, though I was toying with the idea of eventually writing a sequel that follows a separate cast of characters (aka different protagonist and companions, though with room for potential cameos with the old characters). Pretty much like how Dragon Age does it! I won't go into the potential plot details now, but I was thinking it might take place sometime between 10-15 years in the future, and it would follow "a new generation" of Shepherds in a different locale. I've sort of hazily cobbled together ideas for the story/main premise, but companions outside of the main protagonist have eluded me at the moment--I really need to focus on this game, its DLC, and my next book first, so I haven't given it too much thought!

However, your comment has unearthed some feelings I've been having about a potential sequel, too! It's hard for me to feel like I'd be ready to say goodbye to the cast, as well... It's so easy for me to write them because they've been in my head for so many years, and starting an adventure in the world of Blest with different and new characters admittedly feels a bit strange. It's like having to hang back a grade while all of your friends graduate high school and then looking around at the incoming freshman class like "welp, I guess you guys are my friends now! 😒" lol. I'm torn on the issue: I don't want to not challenge myself or refuse to move out of my comfort zone as a writer--in short, I don't want to be the kind of writer who recycles the same characters and material because doing something new is daunting to me, and I don't want you all to feel like I'm making endless sequels/trying to recapture old magic and should just move on to something new, either--but I do love my cast and I'm not sure yet if I should definitively say, "No, their chapter is done with this game and it's on to the next!", because I can see so many adventures happening to them even after this story is over!

The problem lies with endings--there are so many different endings planned for this game that I hesitate in treating any of them as the true or canonical one, but otherwise trying to account for all of them in a sequel feels quite impossible to accomplish when I wasn't planning on a continuation--along with other logistical concerns that I can't get into at the moment. Like, what if you end the game with all of the Shepherds except Halek dead? What if your friend ends the game with all of them alive, but the MC is dead? This game alone is already 1 million words, but a direct sequel would probably wrack up hundreds of thousands of variations based on all of these choices in its first chapter alone! 🤔

That's why I figure DLC is the happy medium here: you can expand on or create new content and adventures for the characters, but slot them into the timeline wherever you wish, like in between Chapter 7 and 8, etc. And episodic adventures might keep things small and streamlined enough that I can update them more consistently, rather than hacking away at one giant sequel game!

Aaaaaanyway... All this is to say: I have a lot to think about! Absolutely nothing has been decided yet (not even close), but these are just some of the things I've had rattling around in my head. Thank you again for your sweet and honest words: I'm glad you're so fond of these characters and would miss them. I would, too! But whatever ends up happening, I know this game won't be the last time we see them. :)

Thanks again!

[sirfrogsworth]

The Pretty Average Trump Trauma

I really picked the wrong week to have a controversial post go viral.

The appeal deadline for my disability case is very soon and we just recently got the last of the medical records. My lawyer can get very busy and hard to reach. And I have been freaking out trying to get a hold of him to make sure everything is ready to be submitted. Thankfully he just emailed and said everything is on track and will be sent in for the appeal.

But having this weighing on me behind the scenes while also dealing with the blowback from my "vote for Biden" post caused me to enter into some unhealthy arguments and lose my temper on several occasions.

I didn't actually think about what would happen if that post went viral. Sometimes I write things and a hundred people see it, and it serves as a catharsis because I was able to get my thoughts and fears out of my brain.

And sometimes it gets reblogged 6000 times and I can forget I have a platform where that happens from time to time.

I wish I had written a better initial post. I think my thoughts in subsequent posts, along with the inclusion of what I think is a better strategy, would have gone a long way to help people understand my point of view. Looking back, that original post feels incomplete.

The post that ended up going viral was not inspired by reason or logic and it was never really meant to convince anyone of anything.

I thought I was preaching to the choir.

It was a representation of my fears. It was the result of two years of panic and trauma from the pandemic which ended in my mother's horrible death.

Let me explain...

On November 9th, Shaun, a YouTuber I respect, posted this.

And it scared the hell out of me.

A very popular leftist with a huge platform wrote this to 5 million people and I freaked out.

Shaun wasn't necessarily saying not to vote for Biden at the time. But he thinks people should all say they won't vote for him unless he calls for a ceasefire. I get the strategy. But I feared that nuance would be lost on many people and they would only see it as "don't vote for Biden... no matter what." Which was an accurate prediction on my part. The guy from Eve 6 has been going nuance-free for weeks now.

The one thing I greatly disagree with Shaun about is this...

Before the pandemic, I might have understood his argument. For the first two years, Trump was mostly an ineffectual goof. He had trouble getting a lot of his worst ideas to manifest. Most of the border wall he built ended up being repairs of existing barriers. And Obama droned civilians and kept kids in cages too—though Trump kept them in cages indefinitely and made up a rule that we can't actually know how many civilians he was droning.

So, a lot of the same, but turned up to 11.

But nothing about the pandemic response was pretty average.

There is something I have been choosing not to say during all of these discussions. I felt like saying it would be poor timing. I was worried people wouldn't actually agree with me. I worried it would make people think I was turning suffering into a competition. I didn't want to make it look like I valued certain lives over others. But then people accused me of all of that anyway. I was called evil and a collaborator and a supporter of genocide.

So I'm going to talk about it. Because the fact that few have mentioned it in these discussions has been bothering me. And the fact that the majority of society does not mention it makes me feel very alone in this belief.

I have long believed Trump and the majority of US conservatives committed a genocide of the disabled and elderly. I was never really comfortable calling it that word. I wasn't really sure how a genocide got classified as such. So I would just say things like, "40% of people who died during COVID should still be alive" and "Trump is responsible for hundreds of thousands of COVID deaths" and "Trump killed my mom" and hoping people would make the connection or at least see it as mass murder. I mean, this country judges everything by how many "9/11s" something is, but not the pandemic?

Donald Trump was the leader of the Republican party. When he refused to wear a mask due to vanity, his followers looked for something to excuse him. And I feel that directly birthed the "masks don't work" movement among conservatives. Donald Trump, having enormous influence among his acolytes, refused to correct this dangerous rhetoric. And he probably welcomed the cover so he could continue going maskless and not smear his makeup—even after he nearly died.

It is my belief this was the beginning of a genocide of apathy, deliberate and accidental incompetence, and non-compliance. And the reason for that non-compliance was not freedom as many claimed.

Conservatives did not like being inconvenienced.

They didn't like having to consider others.

And if competence requires effort and vigilance, they'd prefer doing the bare minimum.

Trump was famous for not filling vital administrative positions in the executive branch. Not only that, his turnover rate was 5 times higher than previous administrations. People were asked to do the job of several people because they didn't staff properly, and so those people quit. Thus creating a cycle of inexperienced new-hires that were out of their depth and asked to do much more than they bargained for. There is no way they could succeed in their jobs.

I think people forget that part of the role of the executive is the day-to-day boring administrative shit that is required to run a country. And when this day-to-day work isn't valued, it creates a crisis of incompetence. Which then creates things like not enough tests, not enough testing, Trump saying "if you don't test, it doesn't count", botched vaccine rollouts, rampant misinformation, poor education of the populace, and abysmal improvised press conferences where the President does a quick riff on injecting bleach.

This competence aspect is one of the hugest reliefs I had with the Biden administration. Not Biden. Not his policies. I'm talking about the regular workers getting shit done. This is the reason I am desperate to get my shit worked out with Social Security before the election. I once called Social Security during the pandemic and I literally got a recording saying to try calling back the next month.

Trump didn't care. People criticized him for not hiring people. He was aware of the problem. He just did nothing about it. And many conservatives praised him for "trimming the fat" or whatever. This idea that all of these government workers were useless burdens on the taxpayer fell apart during the pandemic.

There is incompetence caused by ignorance but it can also be a deliberate act. Trump was extraordinary in all forms of incompetence. He wasn't qualified to manage a pandemic. But he could have easily appointed experts and then gotten out of the way. But his narcissism would not let him cede power to anyone. He has always been convinced "only Trump can save you" and so his ego helped kill nearly half a million people.

Once the incompetence ball got rolling, that's when malicious apathy reared its ugly head. It was time to choose who they cared least about dying—who they felt was most useless. Conservatives decided it was time to devalue lives and start making sacrifices to save politicians' money laundering fronts small businesses.

Popular conservatives were going on TV and saying it was okay if Grandma died. It would be a worthy sacrifice to protect our freedoms.

The Lt. Governor of Texas, Dan Patrick, basically offered up the elderly for sacrifice all while claiming that he spoke for them and was also willing to die. Though I don't take his personal willingness very seriously, since he has the money and resources to get the best medical care and probably had no expectation he was in any danger.

“No one reached out to me and said, ‘As a senior citizen, are you willing to take a chance on your survival in exchange for keeping the America that all America loves for your children and grandchildren?’ But if they had? If that is the exchange, I’m all in. So my message is let’s get back to work. Those of us who are 70-plus, we’ll take care of ourselves.”

But you cannot just sacrifice the elderly. You may justify it by saying they have lived a long life, but many of the same health risks were shared by the disabled. Many of whom still had normal lifespans, but just needed extra care and protection.

There are countless elderly who cannot "take care of themselves" but they are still of value to our society. They are still loved. They watch and teach their grandchildren. They are the keepers of the family stories. They bake cookies and give you two dollar bills. They have random bowls of butterscotch all throughout their house.

But some need help. Some are sick. Some can't drive. Some can't walk. I guarantee not all of them were prepared to die for the cause.

And none deserved to die for a sports bar.

Oh, didn't I mention?

Dan Patrick owned a chain of sports bars that were losing money from the lockdowns. Did you really think he was sacrificing old folks "for the children"?

Thankfully Dan's sports bars are gonna be okay. He ended up receiving a $179,000 PPP loan... that was forgiven.

Then they started saying COVID deaths weren't COVID deaths.

"Well, they had a bad heart." "They were obese." "They had cancer."

They dropped the elderly excuse and began to openly devalue the disabled as well. If you were sick, what good were you? They considered us the next sacrifices for their convenience. If we wanted to survive, we shouldn't have gotten sick. It didn't matter that we could survive for years or even have a normal lifespan as long as we were protected by our communities.

And then began the non-compliance.

Trump's followers ignored masks and lockdowns and eventually vaccines. They were unwilling to protect the vulnerable and so many of us just... died.

Again, 40% of the US COVID deaths could have been prevented. Hundreds of thousands of people should still be here. Malicious apathy, incompetence, and non-compliance were the direct cause of this genocide.

The United Nations Genocide Convention identified 5 acts that typically constitute genocide. Only one act is required and in the pandemic 3 of the 5 acts happened.

Killing members of a group. Causing members of a group serious bodily harm. Imposing living conditions on that group that would destroy them.

I'm looking at that third one just now and realizing why we have advocates to remind us of vulnerable groups that need protection. I was thinking about how the elderly and disabled were trapped in hyper-contagious nursing homes and care facilities, but I completely forgot about prisons and the concentration camps at the borders.

I am not trying to diminish the awful things happening in Palestine right now. This is not a comparison of suffering—but a reminder. When a current terrible thing is happening, it can be hard to focus on anything else. But I do wish more people recognized what happened as a genocide and that the leader of that genocide, the one with the power to stop it, was Donald Trump. If we are going to base this voting decision entirely on acts of genocide, why is this not part of the consideration?

It is an awful moral calculus we have to figure out. One president is supporting and asking for funding for a genocide and I feel the other was the direct cause of another genocide. That's why I said both choices sucked. And the only way I could resolve this moral calculation was by asking what path would cause the least harm for everyone involved.

And the most disappointing aspect of all of these debates was the ableism. People told me if Trump was elected and I lost my benefits I should grow my own food and learn about medicine. They said I valued disabled lives above those in Gaza. They told me to imagine myself in Nazi Germany as a collaborator despite the fact I would have been euthanized.

But I felt like they weren't considering the disabled at all.

I am a disability advocate. So of course I am going to remind people to consider us in their voting decisions. But I'm tired of hearing I value lives differently just because I speak on behalf of a vulnerable group more often. I'm tired of continually having to justify my existence. And I'm tired of people dismissing the very real trauma caused by Trump.

It was not pretty average.

I'd like to tell you the full story of my mother's passing. All of the details. Even the ones I can't bear to type. But this isn't just my story. This is the story of countless others who had to watch their loved ones slowly die behind glass or over the phone or on an iPad.

I spent two years in constant anxiety trying to protect my two very sick parents. It was always assumed that my father was the most at risk. And that he was probably going to die long before my mother. But she had started a treatment for her psoriatic arthritis that turned the volume down on her immune system. Something that would normally not be a huge risk... but a pandemic changed that. A vaccine needs a functioning immune system to protect someone.

She could either accept the agony of stopping treatment or risk getting COVID. If people would have been willing to protect her, it would have been an easier choice. And she would still be around today. And I wouldn't have to worry about being homeless right now.

I don't know for sure when she was infected. I kept her inside as much as possible. But she needed those treatments and we had to pile into a crowded waiting room every time. And I remember a man in his fifties who seemed preoccupied with having to wear a mask. And when he thought no one was looking, he'd pull it down below his nose. A few days later she was being taken away in an ambulance.

A few weeks before my mother died, she called me on the phone. She was heavily medicated and they had two different breathing devices assisting her. The nurse was holding the phone up to her ear and she was trying to speak over the volume of the air rushing into her face from the masks. I could not hear her no matter how loud she yelled. So she asked the nurse to take the masks off for just a second so we could talk.

Her only concern was for my father. We all contracted COVID and she was so worried he would end up just like her. Thankfully the vaccine worked for him and he was okay at that moment. But she kept yelling, "Is Dad okay? Is Dad okay?" And I kept trying to tell her he was fine, but she was hard of hearing and the phone could not be held very close to her ear.

Unfortunately, the yelling made it harder and harder for her to breathe. She started gasping for air. The nurse kept insisting she put the breathing equipment back on, but my mom refused. "I want to talk to my son! I need to talk to my son!"

I knew there wasn't much we could do to communicate. And so I kept trying to yell "I love you, Mom. Everyone is fine. I love you!" I then asked the nurse to tell her that. And when she finally understood what I was saying, she burst into tears.

Her oxygen levels were getting dangerously low and she was fighting the nurse. And she just yelled out, "I'm so scared! I think I'm going to die! Tell Dad I'm sorry I can't take care of him! I don't want to die!" She kept repeating that over and over. The nurse had no choice and had to put the masks back on. My mom screamed and shouted "No! Please no! That's my son!"

And those were the last words I ever heard from my mother.

Gasping for air. Scared of dying. Worried about her family.

This moment has intrusively popped into my brain on a regular basis since it happened. It happens when I'm awake. It happens in my dreams. I have no control over it. I just have to keep experiencing it like it is happening for the first time.

After I saw that tweet from Shaun and then many others expressing the same thing (without the strategic aspect), my dread and trauma resurfaced with a vengeance. I've been reliving my mom's final words in my dreams. That moment keeps popping into my head. I feared the man I feel is most responsible for my mother's death may regain power and kill me and the last of the family I have left.

I keep asking myself the same questions over and over. What if there is another public health emergency? What happens to my trans friends if he turns the US into Florida and Texas? What will happen to the migrants at the border?

All I have is my two best friends. Katrina is gay and Delling is trans and disabled. All of us are vulnerable.

I wrote that post to help deal with the nightmares. Writing is part of my coping process. I didn't really expect it to go super viral. I just needed to get that out of my brain. But when people pushed back and started calling me evil and a collaborator and that I was valuing my life above those in Palestine, all with a huge heap of ableism, I found myself unable to let it go and not respond. I couldn't choose the healthy thing and step away.

While I feel I made some good arguments and put forth some solid ideas for other ways to handle this, I also got angry and lost my temper and stayed in arguments for way too long—all to my mental detriment.

My little world felt like it was collapsing and the world at large also felt like it was collapsing. I had personal horrors in my mind mixing with the horrors of this global conflict.

It was too much.

I don't regret what I posted. Many felt the same as I do. And I think my subsequent posts did a good job of expanding on my thoughts while also offering hope for alternate solutions.

But I do regret the timing and I wish I hadn't lost my temper. Especially in a reply I left with a lot of cussing.

People might disagree but I am hoping that people can understand the fear and trauma that influences my point of view.

I am actually willing to risk quite a lot to protect other people. Even people in faraway lands I don't know.

But I refuse to offer up the vulnerable to be sacrificed if it won't actually help anyone. That's what a Texas Lt. Governor would do.

[sarascamander]

If you love Kit and Ty, you HAVE to read the Adventure of Holloway Holmes — it gives the EXACT VIBE of KitTy. I'm not even kidding. We have two wannabe sleuths absolutely pining for each other, crimes to solve, amazing banters, and just so much more! One of the similarities:

1. The main character is Jack Moreno who Kit wished he was. I LOVE KIT but Jack stole my heart in a way he didn't lmao. They both are sarcastic, hilarious, independent and undeniably in love with their partner in crime. Honestly, being in Jack's head is one of the best experiences of my love. It's so fun!

I wanted to close my eyes. I wanted to smack my head against the steering wheel. Off the top of my head, I could make a list: some fairly good weed, a lot of addies, condoms (not that those were illegal), unopened vapes (those were), this rare tentacle porn manga that Ty Bryce had paid me for but asked me to hold on to. After I got out of prison in thirty years, I already knew, Dad was going to make me have a super awkward sex talk.

2. And Holmes aka H (as Jack fondly nicknamed because Holloway Holmes is such a posh name in his humble opinion) is so precious!!!! I want to wrap him in a blanket burrito even though he is actually capable of breaking my arm without blinking. But god! Someone needs to take care of him. Although it's never been specified in the book, I'm 80% sure he's autistic. Either that or he was badly abused (which he was). He reminded me of Ty by the way he speaks and acts.

I examined his face. Then I gave him a smile. He was doing a Holmes thing, not looking me in the eye, so I moved my head until he was. This was something we’d been working on.

3. You know how Kit will suddenly drift to a paragraph of how beautiful Ty is? Well, Jack Moreno might give Kit a run for his money (he's so obsessed with H's knuckles and the thousands of shades of gold in his hair, it's embarrassing)

He made a frustrated noise. Then he smiled. The expression was a little stiff; he wasn’t used to doing it, and it was another of those things that he was self-conscious about. I’d read about people who get up at two or three in the morning—on vacation, no less, when they’re in Hawaii—and then they drive hours and hours, and all of it is to see the sunrise from this one specific spot, and I thought, Come to Utah if you want something worth your time

Context: they're in Utah. Jack basically said that Holmes' smile is prettier than the sunrise!! 😩

4. Their relationship is literally so pure and one of the things that get me insane about them is their communication!! They always worked hard to communicate with each other and sort things out it's so satisfying to read!!

“I lied,” Holmes said, but he still wasn’t looking me in the eye. “I am angry with you.” “I guessed.” “I don’t want to do this right now.” “It’s good practice."

5. Their banter is *chef kiss*

“I’ll tell him it’s a sex thing.” “Good,” Holmes said. “He’ll be pleased that all your hours of mindless pornography are finally paying dividends.” My jaw legit dropped. “H!” “Desk, please.” “That was so amazingly bitchy.” “Desk.” “And, like, also kind of evil. Which I loved.”

And there are literally hundreds of reasons to read this trilogy if you are craving for Kit and Ty. And although their vibes are similar, they are also their own people. And words can't say how much I adore them. The story and relationship is really beautifully written. I honestly don't care much about the crime but I'm obsessed with these two

Some of my favourites quotes:

He sat there in silhouette, head down. I knew the curve of his spine. I knew the span of his shoulders. Anywhere, I thought. I could be anywhere and know you

“You are my soul, Jack Moreno. I do not know why John Watson wrote his stories that way, why he wrote himself so small, when he was so much more. I do not think I will ever understand. But I do not want to know what I would be without you.”

I knew that he was something more than me, something vast and wonderful that I could only touch the edges of. But for someone like me, the edge was enough—just a glimpse was enough. And, more importantly for right now, I knew what he sounded like when he’d been hurt, the quality of his breathing, because I’d hurt him in a way few people ever had. Which was why, in those rare midnight hours when I could be honest with myself, I knew it was better this way, as friends. Because I didn’t deserve him

“But he was so much more. Sherlock Holmes was a brilliant detective, Jack. He would have been that regardless of other circumstances. But he was a good man—he was a happy man—because of John Watson.”

“What do you say to that, I wanted to know. What am I supposed to say? What do you want me to say? But what I was really asking was, How am I supposed to do this again? I barely survived the first time; what am I supposed to do when you leave me again?”

I had seen, this spring, jacaranda blossoms so pale they were almost blue, trembling with the breath of the mountains. I had seen, when I'd been twelve, a foil of goldfinches flocking against the crushed dusk. I had seen a shooting star once, thinning across the sky like combed silver. And I had seen Holloway Holmes smile.

There's so much but I don't want to spam so I really hope you give it a try!!

[kittensartswriting]

Happy STS! I hope you’ve had a good week :) What is something about your WIP that’s either on your mind lately or that you wish more people would ask you about?

Hi! Happy STS!

I haven't been writing in several months (I've needed to focus on uni), so I have been mainly thinking about worldbuilding. For a while now I've been quite obsessed with figuring out the fashion in far too much detail. It's honestly not that important for the story, but I love dress history so it's just extremely fun for me to come up with a hundreds if not thousands of year of fashion evolution for almost a whole continent. Figuring out Ahinian fashion has been most interesting and hardest part too, because I'm trying to base it less on anything historical and more trying to come up with something different.

I can best figure visual things like fashion out by drawing it, so I started with the royal siblings, Agrippa and Manoheahpi. Here they are showing of court fashions. Black, dark blue, white and yellow are colors of the moon cult and their clan, which is the head of the moon cult. Agrippa is wearing a formal gown and a headdress of the heiress. The extreme sleeves and the ribbon skirt are part of the formal court dress. Manoheahpi is dressed in a casual outdoorsy aristocratic men's dress. He is a sage, hence the tattoos.

I think it's very interesting to figure out gendered clothing because it reveals so much about the gender construction and gender roles of a society. Ahinians have technically five genders, voasin - a woman, deavin - a man, vašáin - a third and separate gender category, voasdár - afab or intersex person, who lives as a man (-dár is masculine suffix), and deavnei - amab or intersex person, who lives as a woman (-nei is correspondingly a feminine suffix). In their culture gender is less defined by the body and more defined by the spirit. Their society is not entirely egalitarian though (even if more egalitarian than your typical patriarchal binary society), since their society is theocratic and gender essentialist, not in biological way but spiritual way. Therefore magic is very gendered. They are matriarchal so women hold most of the political power. This is reflected in dress - upper class fashions are more feminine coded, lower class fashions more masculine coded, and religious attires are vašáin coded because they are traditionally sages. In more formal setting aristocratic men too wear long gowns, and lower class women also wear shorter gowns.

I'm still figuring out the details of vašáin dress, clothing of lower classes and ceremonial dress. But I do know that very warm layered clothing is considered finer and more upper class, since the climate is very cold and the upper classes live in large castles, which can't be warmed to very comfortable temperatures. On the other hand lower classes live in small log cottages that are filled with hot smoke that even in very low temperatures keep the cottages in near 30C temperatures, so their indoors clothing are basically one layer, which they see as underwear. So even in hot summer upper classes dress in a lot of layers for formal occasions, the layers are then just thin and made of silk, linen and/or nettle. They don't wear crowns, but they wear elaborate hair jewelry indoors (with caps when it's cold indoors too) and elaborate hats outdoors. Lower classes also wear more toned down and more practical hair jewelry, but mostly caps and hats.

Also this all applies only in the agricultural area, which is along the Vuolhú river (the area marked in the map). The societal structures are very different outside it (so most of the country) where agriculture is not possible and people are herders and hunter-gatherers and quite nomadic. Population density is quite expectedly much higher in the agricultural area, so people wise, it's most of the country.

[happyhauntt]

haunted — alina starkov

writing masterlist | askbox

─── summary: alina starkov is dead, except she isn't, and the memory of her haunts you constantly.

─── pairing: alina starkov x reader.

─── warnings: angst, hurt/no comfort, references to mourning. reader is gender neutral. honestly i just wanted to write something about falling in love with alina but letting her go after ruin & rising because making her stay would be unfair when she's earned her peace, but that doesn't make it fair to you, either. i take requests though so please feel free to send stuff in!

─── word count: 1.1k.

It is a very odd feeling, you think. To long for a place that doesn't exist anymore. To dream of a life spent with someone you'll never see again. To wish for home, and a girl whose arms were the last place you felt safe, and know that it is hopeless.

It feels like a knife between your ribs. Something sharp and jagged, something that tears on its way in, the way it saws through your flesh like the teeth on a hunting dagger. Every breath hurts. You used to fear you'd never get used to feeling this way.

You used to fear that you would.

A year has passed since you last saw her. Fingers curled into the rough wool of her travelling cloak, tight enough that you swear you can still feel the stitches against your skin. She'd held you so tightly. As if she could press you into the cavity between her lungs and keep you there forever, right next to her heart. With your face between her hands, she had kissed you in the kind of way that makes poets weep and stars fall from the heavens, and you can still taste the salt of your tears in your mouth, but it hadn't been enough to make her stay.

It wasn't a choice. You know that if it was, she would have chosen you.

Alina, Alina, Alina...

The scratch of the quill against parchment sends a shiver down your spine, but you cannot bring yourself to stop. How many times have you tried to write this letter? The bottom drawer of your desk holds all the secrets of your past, kept locked away from prying eyes. There must be a hundred unfinished letters hidden there. A thousand things left unsaid. A love that you've had to bury, a future that will never come to pass.

Alina, Alina, Alina...

You set the quill down for a moment, flexing your hand as a cramp knots in your palm. Her name stares back at you. The black ink is stark against the paper, vicious and mocking. Her name is all you're able to write today. The sharp scratch of your handwriting is wrong, so wrong. Her name shouldn't look like that. Your Alina was looping script and curling edges, nothing like the jagged way you've scribbled her name onto the page.

She isn't dead, but it feels that way. There is a ghost haunting the edges of your life, in the shape of the girl you love, and though it never says a word, you can feel the gaze of it burning into you. Her absence is a brand upon your soul. There is not a corner of you that does not ache when you see a flash of blue in the training yard, or a familiar laugh rattles across the table at dinner.

Sometimes, the very worst part of you wishes she had died. You wonder if it would be easier than this.

With the quill back between your fingers, you try to write something. Anything. Her name in your mind and on your tongue and in every letter you've written this past year. This is what it’s like to be haunted, you think, except your ghost is still alive and breathing, and still as unreachable as the dead.

Alina, I hope you are happy.

I need you to be happy.

You don't doubt that, really. With all that she sacrificed, of course Alina Starkov had to die. The Sun Summoner perished in the Shadow Fold destroying the Darkling, and a white-haired girl walked into obscurity with a peace that was hard-won. A peace she deserved. A quiet life and an orphanage she rebuilt, and a heart full of love to give.

I need one of us to be happy.

She had to leave, and you had to stay. It wasn't a choice, but you think it might have hurt less if it had been. But Alina could not live, and the girl she became could not stay in Os Alta, and there are some things that love cannot change.

Genya writes to her sometimes. Keeps her up-to-date on life in the Grand Palace. She never mentions anything about politics — Alina has earned her peace — but there are anecdotes about Nikolai's newest invention, and bets on how long it will take Zoya to murder him in his sleep, and whether the performance troupe at this year's Winter Fête were any good. You don't know if she mentions you in those letters. You've never asked.

Zoya has plans to visit Alina in the spring. She has a list of gifts she wants to bring with her, certain that life out in the countryside must be dreadfully dull and uncivilised, and you'd wanted to laugh when she told you. The comforts of the Little Palace are nothing in comparison to the greatest gift of all; Alina's freedom. But you know Zoya understands, really. That she misses Alina, too, in her own way.

A hundred letters gathering dust in your desk drawer, but you've never sent one. You keep trying to write something that doesn't hurt, but none of that feels true or right or real. If you could open your veins and let the words spill out of you, then you would. They might tell a better story. There has to be somewhere else for all this hurt to go.

Are you happy?

Scratch scratch scratch. The tip of your quill rips through parchment, stains the desk below with ink. Your hand is trembling. If you close your eyes, the ghost of her drifts forward. You can still smell her perfume.

With shaking fingers, you discard the quill and fold the letter along uneven edges. You hide that in the drawer, too. It rests in a pile with all your other heartbreak. It disappears from sight as you lock the drawer again.

A deep breath in, out, and your heartbeat begins to settle again. The ghost of her retreats to the corner again, settled on the edges of your vision like a battle wound that won't quite heal. Genya's voice carries down the corridor, calling your name.

There are things to do, a country to run. You push that feeling down, that old ache of longing, until it sits back between your ribs. All pain starts to dull when you live with it long enough. That jagged edge keeps digging, digging, cutting at your heart one breath at a time, but you'll live. You will.

You put the quill back in its box and stand up. You'll try again tomorrow.

[wonlouvre]

I don't know if you take requests, but it doesn't hurt asking. Can we possibly get a continuation to this 🥰🥰

can’t wait for forever | h. js.

pairing: joshua x g.n. reader genre: fluff warnings: mentions of food and eating, joshua is drunk but baby drunk (if that makes any sense lol) word count: 660+

💌: this has been in my inbox for over a year and i sincerely apologize for responding to this request so late :( i only realized that the account has been deactivated when i finished writing this short request :(( i’m really sorry. i hope that someday in someway, you still get to read this :(

---

Joshua was red all over when he arrived at your apartment. The security guard of your building was kind enough to bring him up to your unit, treating him like a son as he assisted him back to you. They gave you a kind smile as they greeted you with your boyfriend sleepy, head hanging low and just wanting to fall face flat on the bed.

You received a message from one of his friends that they’re on their way home and you were expecting Joshua. That's why you prepared your coat before going down the entrance of your apartment. You just didn’t expect that he would arrive so soon.

You said your thanks and advanced a happy new year before draping your boyfriend’s arm around your shoulder and taking it from there. The security guard smiles again before walking back to the elevator and their duty.

Joshua is not a terrible drunk, but when he drinks with his friends, he really drinks. You don’t mind taking care of him because before coming back to you, his friends together with their managers do their best to make sure that they’re sober enough to not do anything stupid in public. And to be honest, that helps you in the best way possible.

Just like now, Joshua is just tired and sleepy. He just wants to take his thick coat off and get naked because again, he is red and uncomfortably burning hot. But you won’t let him just yet.

You gently lay your boyfriend down on the couch before walking to the kitchen and fetch him some water. You can hear him groan and whine, typical drunk Joshua. You fix him a glass then return as quick as you can.

“Josh, sit up for a second, hmm?” You asked softly. He tries opening his eyes at the sound of your voice and you could laugh with how hard he is trying. But you control yourself because you don’t want him upset over your teasing.

When he finally gets to open his eyes wide open, he sees you and smiles the goofiest smile he has ever smiled.

“Baby,” he says. “You’re here.”

You nod, still holding the glass and waiting for him to drink. “I am. Can you be a good boy and sit up for me and drink some water? Please?”

He giggles and it’s adorable. He sits up slowly, afraid to get dizzy. You sit in the space beside him and let his head fall on your shoulder. His nose nestles on your skin affectionately like a cat asking for some love. You did, kissing the side of his head and waiting patiently for him.

“It’s my birthday,” he murmurs and you just smile.

“You’re right,” you reaffirm even though it’s already the 31st, your lips ghosting against his hair as you spoke.

“We had some drinks then some good food,” he continues and you listen. “Wished you were there though.”

Your heart lurches and you apologize a hundred times.

“I’m here now,” you whisper like a promise and that makes your Joshua sigh in content.

He finally drinks the water and you go to sleep together without forgetting to change clothes and say your “I love yous.”

The next morning, Joshua woke up earlier than you expected from someone who has a hangover. He surprised you with a simple breakfast, as a form of thank you and of course, an extension of his birthday celebration. 

It will sound unbelievable, but this man never failed to make you smile. It makes you a thousand times grateful that you get to celebrate his birthday with him. Having him here, his entire existence, is also special for you. 

You reward your boyfriend with a long kiss before thanking him and joining him in fixing up the table. His lips lifts upward against yours and gives you one more kiss on the forehead before finally digging in. 

You can’t wait for next year, and the one after that, and forever.

---

a/n 2: happy birthday joshua! <3 (i managed to borrow a laptop and snuck some writing down. thank you guys for patiently waiting and understanding<3)

[lestatslestits]

Hey! I don't mean to be rude, but I was wondering what your take on the allegations against Neil Gaiman is? (Especially considering more women came out about their experiences recently, including on a less controversial podcast) You still post good omens stuff and I haven't seen you say anything about them...(at least upon searching his name, though the Tumblr search function IS broken) Tbh it's none of my business and I should probably just silently unfollow you but I wanted to hear what you think because it's hard not to assume things and I'd rather not. So like. Feel free to ignore this if you want

Hi, Anon

My take is fuck him. My take is that it sucks that the news was originally broken by journalists whose clear conservative ties obscured the conversation. To be clear, I believe the victims and, once more, fuck Gaiman. But the conservative tendency to associate trans people and the people who publicly support them with predatory behavior did impact the credibility of the journalists involved, which sucks. I think the situation becomes clearer as more allegations pop up, but the news cycle being what it is, some people are going to miss even seeing that update. The only reason I even know about them is because the conversation popped up on a horror literature subreddit I follow.

With all of that said, my relationship with Good Omens is my own. I’ve been a fan of the book for something like 12 years, and it’s a book with two authors, one of which is not alive to see these allegations or make a statement. It was a part of my journey to deconstructing my fundamentalist upbringing. It was a part of how I met my incredible partner. I myself am still unpacking my relationship with it in light of this news—kind of like I had to unpack my relationship with it when it had the fingerprints of the most toxic and emotionally damaging relationship I’ve ever been a part of all over it in my mind. If I come up with the perfect solution to having a complex relationship with media made by fucked up human beings I will publish my results and make a gazillion dollars. Until then, I’ll work it out as best I can on my own. As will you, as will everyone.

I could list out all of my triggers and traumas and day-to-day struggles to explain why I may or may not have commented at the time (look, I’ve slept since then, I don’t remember if I did or not). But I’m not gonna do that. I could explain that talking about it would have been triggering to me at the time (and, coincidentally, is potentially triggering to me now, but I’m addressing it anyways). I could point out that my queue is hundreds of posts long, that a lot (not all, but a lot) of the posts you’re seeing are queued, and I don’t have the time or energy to weed through everything I queued months and months ago back when it was a thousand posts long.

But ultimately I can’t actually stop you from making assumptions you’re going to make or not make, I can just speak to you honestly. Fuck Gaiman. Fuck Joss Whedon (whose Buffy series I’m a fan of). Fuck Anne Rice for a list of things that would be longer than your ask. Fuck people who use money, fame, or a position of power to hurt others. That’s my take.

For your own peace, anon, I recommend curating your space in a way that makes you feel comfortable. If that means unfollowing me or not, I wish you the best.

[tymime]

I'm very alarmed by how many people are dismissive of the lost media community, even going so far as to spread misinformation about them. I've seen them characterize lost media seekers as ignorant whiners and brats, and that they're wasting their efforts. Do these people have any idea how difficult it actually is to find this stuff? It can take years, if copies even exist. Don't they value art preservation?

You'd be astonished by how many shows that are barely twenty years old that have simply vanished, with no clear indication of whether or not the copyright holders kept a record of it. When fans try to contact the people involved in the show, they often refuse to answer emails. These aren't old, aging shows from fifty years ago, decaying in some film can. These are shows from as recent as the 2000s and 2010s.

There's been a toxic attitude going around big media companies for a couple decades now, treating their IPs (and their customers) as disposable, moving on to the next thing as soon as profits dry up. This is a big part of the reason media becomes lost in the first place. Old show not getting enough ratings? Need to make room for a new show? Just get rid of it! Now, some of these examples aren't lost media, admittedly- but they definitely could have been, if not for an on-the-ball internet pirate downloading and backing them up. There's a series from 2002 called Whatever Happened to... Robot Jones? which hasn't been on the air in about twenty years. The original audio track was missing for many years, and had to be pieced together from several sources, with the video elements coming from a foreign dub. There was a music track heard in an episode of SpongeBob called "Humpback Hop" with several minutes cut from it, unheard of for two decades, and even the composer had lost all of his copies of it. It seemed like even Nickelodeon didn't have it in their archives, because they rerecorded it for a DVD menu. It's a miracle somebody finally tracked it down. There's a series from 2007 called Out of Jimmy's Head, whose original English version is still half missing. Even though by all accounts it's a crappy show, I still want to see it. (update: This show has been found, thank goodness.) And even though I'm not a fan, there are dozens of 2010s Cartoon Network shows that were once on HBO Max, that are simply gone. They're not in reruns, they're not officially streaming. You have to resort to piracy to view them. I wouldn't wish this fate on anybody. The Willow series from 2022 was taken off Disney+ mere weeks after its debut, just because not enough people watched it. It's stuck in the middle of a storyline.

Nintendo has been notoriously bad about this. They don't want you to play any NES, SNES, GB, or N64 games that aren't the most iconic best-sellers. They take down ROM websites, even if most of the games there aren't first party or being sold in any way. The only way to legally play a game that isn't available on the Switch is to pay hundreds or even thousands of dollars for a working console and cartridges. Most people can't afford to do that.

If it hadn't been for the efforts of unofficial programs like Ruffle and Flashpoint, thousands of flash games and cartoons would be unplayable and unwatchable.

Even if the cartoon is safe and sound locked away in some vault, instead of missing entirely, it still winds up unseen that way. The public has a right to see a show they used to be able to see and enjoyed, instead of it being unviewable for all eternity. "Oh, but they have a right to not let us see it! They own the rights to it, after all, and can do whatever they want!" some might say. What if WB went out of their way to destroy every DVD, Blu-ray, and video tape of Looney Tunes, and locked away all their copies? Would you feel the same way then? Would we not have a right to see them? Would you just roll over and take it, and let corporate overlords tell what you can or can't watch? Just shrug it off and say "Oh well, guess I'll never see it again"? How would it not irritate you? TV and movies aren't the same as some painting or statue where usually only one version of it exists in some museum or private collection. Media is meant to be distributed and seen worldwide, for everyone to enjoy in their homes. If they're stuck in some warehouse on some hard drive, they may as well not exist.

It extends out into other aspects of our lives- old buildings get torn down instead of getting restored, vintage interiors get torn out or covered up by something modern or ugly. There was a time when films and video tapes were routinely destroyed to make room for new ones, because nobody thought anybody would want to see them again. We need to get past this destructive pattern.

Am I grateful for streaming services and the content they make available? Of course I am. But as many have said before, they could take it all away, and a show can simply vanish, leaving fans to resort to piracy just to see it, if anyone even bothered to save it beforehand.

Being dismissive of these efforts is the sort of attitude that's part of the reason media gets lost in the first place.

[book-girl4evaaa]

OK SO I DO THESE ALL THE TIME IN MY HEAD SO IM GOING TO OVER ANALYSE THIS SONG!

Who lives, who dies, who tells your story, Hamilton

Let me tell you what I wish I'd known/ When I was young and dreamed of glory

- awesome reference to other parts of the show

You have no control/ Who lives, who dies, who tells your story?

- sung by the character President Washington, who has had his story told many times over, with no control of it. Basically the embodiment of this quote

President Jefferson/ I'll give him this, his financial system is a work of genius/ I couldn't undo it if I tried/ And I've tried

- this is talking about what Hamilton did, so Im not a fan really

Who lives, who dies, who tells your story?

- we still don't know who tells Hamiltons story

President Madison/ He took our country from bankruptcy to prosperity/ I hate to admit it/ But he doesn't get enough credit for all the credit he gave us

- he isn't talked about much, despite what he did to America

Who lives, who dies, who tells your story

- who does?

Every other founding fathers' story gets told/ Every other founding father gets to grow old

- his story is hardly ever mentioned

And when you're gone, who remembers your name?/ Who keeps your flame?/ Who tells your story?/ Who tells your story?/ Who tells your story?/ I put myself back in the narrative

- that's the question. When you're gone who will keep your memory alive. When you have no control, who will get to choose how you will be remembered?

(Eliza)

- and now I'm crying. Despite everything that happened, his wife told the world who he was. She needs her own musical imo

I stop wasting time on tears/ I live another 50 years/ It's not enough (Eliza)

- she had a long life and she used it for good, even though she had massive heartbreak throughout.

I interview every soldier who fought by your side/(She tells our story)

- She made everyone's history known! I love Eliza sm I swear

I try to make sense of your thousands of pages of writings/ You really do write like you're running out of time

- cheeky lil reference here, I see you lin Manuel

I rely on Angelica/ While she's alive, we tell your story/ She is buried in Trinity Church near you/ When I needed her most, she was right on time

- they had their differences, but when they needed eachother they were there.

And I'm still not through/ I ask myself, what would you do if you had more time The Lord, in his kindness/ He gives me what you always wanted/ He gives me more time

- reminder, Eliza lost her husband at 40 and lived for 50 more years. She had a lot of time for memories.

I raise funds in D.C. for the Washington Monument/(She tells my story)/ I speak out against slavery

- I cannot express how much of a girlboss she is

You could have done so much more if you only had time

- Hamilton was always moving, always on the go.

And when my time is up, have I done enough?/ Will they tell your story?

- despite everything, she doesn't know if it was good enough

Oh, can I show you what I'm proudest of?/ (The orphanage)/ I established the first private orphanage in New York City/ (The orphanage)/ I help to raise hundreds of children/ I get to see them growing up/ (The orphanage)

- she is so awesome, I can't

In their eyes I see you, Alexander/ I see you every time

- Hamilton's childhood was difficult, and Eliza setting up the orphanage is a way of fixing a problem that he had to go through.

And when my time is up/Have I done enough?/Will they tell your story?

- they didn't, until recently

Oh, I can't wait to see you again/It's only a matter of time

- *breaks into tears again*

Will they tell your story? (Time)/Who lives, who dies, who tells your story? (Time)/Will they tell your story? (Time)/Who lives, who dies, who tells your story?

- The question we all deal with. Does anything outlive us, really, truly outlive us, beyond tears?

Thank you very much! This has been Bea rambling about a song!