#But this one was so egregiously long it gave me time to reflect and think about it

[kabukeo]

does anyone else deal with ads like this

[hardly-an-escape]

Hope, Actually | Buck/Tommy | 2100 words | rated T

on the last day of Christmas, this writer gave to you... some BuckTommy holiday fluff! Buck watches Love Actually and gets an idea. tags: makeup fic, christmas, love actually, tooth rotting fluff, egregious overuse of italics

Buck gets the idea three days before Christmas.

He and Tommy have been talking again, is the thing. Trying to be friends. It's tentative and a little stilted sometimes and it's… fine. Talking only makes Buck want to jump Tommy's bones about 20% of the time, and peel his own skin off an additional 30% of the time. So that leaves 50% normal conversation, which is fine.

The fact that he's still painfully in love with Tommy is maybe a little less fine, but whatever. Can you even still be in love with a person if you never said you love them in the first place? Can you love them more? Because that's what it feels like. Every time he grabs a beer with Tommy and Chim and laughs for an evening over their latest ridiculous call, he loves him a little more. Every time they text, every time they end up at the same scene or the same bar, he falls a little harder.

But they're trying to be friends, trying to be cool; so Buck takes all that love and puts it away, smashes it down and swallows it and pushes it deep into his belly, and when he feels like it's going to overflow and turn into words he takes the excess and puts it in an imaginary box and shoves it deep inside an imaginary closet. There's probably some kind of irony there, a man taking these feelings he has for another man and putting them in a closet. Buck doesn't want to think too closely about it, to be honest.

And then three days before Christmas he's over at Maddie and Chimney's house. Jee-Yun has finally gone to bed, and they're flipping back and forth between random Christmas movies and drinking wine. Well, Buck and Chim are drinking wine, and Maddie is drinking sparkling grape juice and making a face after every other sip.

"Ooh, Love Actually!" she says excitedly as Chimney channel surfs. "Buck, have you ever seen this one?"

"No… Tommy and I were going to watch it together. I guess it doesn't matter now. He said he wanted to wait until after Thanksgiving, that's why we didn't. Before," Buck says heavily.

"I remember he told me once that it was his favorite movie," Chimney says neutrally. "That was a long time ago, though."

"Yeah, he said… he said it comes across as pretty dated. He said he probably wouldn't see it the same way if he watched for the first time now," Buck says, the words suddenly tripping over themselves to get out of his mouth. He can feel the glance his sister and her husband exchange over his head. "It's like junk food, you know, like… you don't eat a Big Mac because it's a good burger, you eat it because it's what you want, because it's the same every time and there's something comforting in that, even if it's objectively not great. Tommy said… he said he thought there are better Christmas movies, and way better rom coms, but there'll always be something kind of perfect and comforting about this one…" he trails off.

"Do you wanna skip it tonight?" Chimney asks, surprisingly gently.

"No. No, it's okay, we can watch it. I don't mind," Buck says. "But I'm going to open another bottle of wine."

"God, now that you mention it, I could kinda go for a Big Mac right now," Maddie says reflectively.

Later, a little too drunk to drive home, Buck curls up in the middle of the guest bed and lets the movie swirl aimlessly through his thoughts. Tommy was right, he thinks, about it being pretty dated – he can see how some of the stories, which might have hit romantic beats in the mid-2000s, just come off as clunky, or even creepy, 20 years later.

But Buck can also see how it got under people's skin – can guess how it got under Tommy's skin. Even in the clunky stories there's a thread running through, a bigger idea about the diversity of love, about all its imperfections, about the way it can grab hold of you and surprise you whether you're at the beginning, the middle, or the end of your own story.

There's an idea there, tipsy and unformed, about him and Tommy and about what he can do with all the love he's been packing up and hiding away like the hoodie buried at the back of his drawer that only barely smells like Tommy's sweat now. By the time he wakes up and finishes making everybody breakfast, the idea has solidified into a plan.

He has to visit two different office supply stores to get what he needs, and it takes him most of that afternoon to figure out what he wants to write, saving draft after draft in the notes app of his phone before he ever puts marker to paper. At some point he remembers to text Lucy to ask whether Tommy's on duty Christmas Eve or whether he'll be at home.

He's not on the duty roster but I don't know if he has plans, she texts back. Want I should find out?

yes please, he sends. I'm gonna do sthg stupid and i need him to be home for it.

Thank God, one of you idiots needs to figure your shit out before I'm subjected to his sad breakup playlist one more time.

he has a breakup playlist???

An hour later Lucy texts again to let Buck know that she told Tommy she had some stuff to drop off for him, and he said he wasn't planning to leave the house. So the plan is a go.

On Christmas Eve, Buck waits until after dark to drive over to Tommy's house. He's got three dozen thumbprint cookies in tins, a carefully ordered stack of poster board, and about a thousand butterflies in his stomach. This is either going to go really well, or really poorly, and he's honestly not sure which outcome to expect. But he has to do something – he has to try.

He wishes it were snowing. It's barely cool enough to need a jacket. But that's Los Angeles in the winter for you.

Tommy has this particular smile. Buck saw it pretty often when they were first together. It's not his favorite of Tommy's smiles; it's too restrained, starts out wide and then gets reined in, tamped down, as if he suddenly remembered that he's not supposed to be that happy, or not allowed to show it if he is. Buck is pretty sure it's the smile of someone who'd spent a long time being more or less punished for joy, and whatever else happens between them, he's glad that he saw it less and less over their months together.

But Buck sees that smile again when the front door swings open, when Tommy reflexively smiles big, the one that reaches his eyes, when he sees Buck on the porch – and immediately schools his face into something more reserved, more professional. Friendly, but not too friendly.

"Hey. What's up? What –" he trails off as Buck hits play on his phone and Christmas music comes from the Bluetooth speaker at his feet. He picks up his stack of poster board cards and shows Tommy the first one.

Say it's carol singers, it reads in Buck's uneven chicken scratch handwriting.

"Buck, nobody else is here," Tommy says.

Buck frowns and brandishes the sign again. Tommy's smile softens into something wistful, almost sad. "It's carol singers," he calls exaggeratedly over his shoulder to the empty house and turns back to Buck with an expectant look.

Buck flips to the next sign. I watched this movie the other day, it says. I didn't think it was that good TBH.

Sign number three: But I think I understand why people still like it so much.

Tommy crosses his arms over his chest and raises an eyebrow.

Buck flips to the fourth sign. I think it's a movie about hope. That no matter how much you fuck up there will still be a way for love to find you.

He had to write pretty small to fit all that on one sign, so he holds it up a little longer and watches something flash across Tommy's face as he reads. He waits until Tommy looks up again to go to the next card.

And now it's Christmas, it says. And at Christmas you tell the truth.

The playlist is on a rendition of "Joy to the World" that couldn't possibly be performed by anything less than a professional eight-part a cappella group. Buck flips to the next card.

You're not perfect, it reads in big letters. The "not" is underlined multiple times. Tommy laughs a little bit, and Buck doesn't think he's imagining the fact that it sounds a little wet, like maybe Tommy is choking up a little.

The next sign: (And neither am I.) We've both fucked up + I'm sure we will again. He's not happy with how this one looks. He'd tried about seventeen times on various pieces of scrap paper to get the damn ampersand right and eventually had to settle for the stupid little plus sign like a middle schooler.

But I still have hope. I have hope for love. I have hope for us. Almost to the end now.

The second-to-last card is a simple one. And… I'm hoping you have hope too. Merry Christmas Tommy.

Buck bends down and takes his time stopping the music and turning off the Bluetooth speaker; straightens up slowly, poster board clutched to his chest. He can't quite meet Tommy's eyes, too afraid of what he might see there, so he looks down at his own shoes until the toes of Tommy's house slippers shuffle into view.

Two gentle fingers tip his chin up. It's so familiar, Buck almost expects a kiss, but instead Tommy just looks at him, soft and tender and achingly open.

"Thank you, Evan," he says, and it doesn't escape Buck's notice that he was Buck when Tommy first opened the door, and he's back to being Evan now.

"It's really not a great movie, Tommy," he says, a little helplessly. "I liked the story about the dad and the kid, and the one with the naked people was pretty good, but this guy?" He shakes a sheet of poster board and it makes that little wooby wooby sound. "Total creeper. And the prime minister is an HR violation waiting to happen, and I don't know if they even have HR in England…"

He trails off, because Tommy is chuckling. Tommy is laughing at him, and his smile is big again, spreading over his face from the corners of his eyes all the way down to the cleft in his chin, and it's one of the more beautiful things Buck has ever seen.

"You're not wrong, Evan," he's saying. "I think I told you, you know, it's like junk food, you don't eat it because it's good, you eat it because it's –"

"It's what you want." They're standing close together, now. Almost close enough that Buck can feel Tommy's breath against his cheek. He can still feel the ghost of his fingertips under his chin.

He's really not sure what to do now. His plan hadn't developed this far, beyond a kind of half-baked daydream of Tommy immediately falling into his arms and passionately declaring his love, although actually neither of them is quite that kind of guy. But luckily, Tommy seems to have an idea where to go.

"Do you want to stay for a bit?" he asks. "Maybe watch a better Christmas movie? Maybe… maybe talk some things over?"

"Yes," Buck is saying before the last sentence finishes emerging from Tommy's mouth. "Yes, please. I brought you cookies. They're in the car, I couldn't – I couldn't carry them and hold the signs at the same time."

"How about I take these," Tommy says, taking the stack of posters from Buck's suddenly nerveless fingers, "and you go get the cookies, and you come inside for a while?"

"Okay," Buck says, and does that.

Just under a year later, when they're decorating for their second Christmas together, Tommy unearths the signs from a plastic tub of fake garland. Evan laughs at himself while they hang ornaments on the tree, still a little embarrassed. I can't believe I thought that would work, he says. I can't believe it did work.

I can, Tommy says, and holds up a plastic sprig of mistletoe, and reels him in for a kiss.

read on AO3 >>>

[presidenthades]

Thoughts on HOtD s2 ep 1 🎤?

Oh boy do I! Thanks for asking, I love having an opportunity to shout into the void on the internet.

I might do a rewatch later this week to try to pick up on additional details, but I’ll start with my initial reactions from last night.

Spoilers for S2E1, obviously.

Love the new intro. The bloodline intro was important in S1 which was setting up the different claims/factions, but there won’t be much more of that in S2. The tapestry is very medieval, and I’m here for it. I suspect they’ll change the intro every episode to reflect events as they occur. Makes me wonder if the E2 intro will have Blood and Cheese. 😬

The scenes at Winterfell/the Wall not only introduce Cregan, but also offer some fan-service for OG Stark fans. It also reminds us of the prophecy aspect that the show is taking. Cregan and Jace had a great dynamic, but I wonder if they’ll have any opportunity to get together again. In F&B, Jace never returns North again, and Cregan doesn’t come south until the fighting is over. But the show might have Cregan participate in battles earlier so they don’t waste his actor.

Speaking of Jace: I’m really impressed with Harry so far! His scene with Rhaenyra made me want to cry, because you can sense how hard Jace was trying to hold it together. ���� On a more lighthearted note, I like that Harry listened to the feedback about his bad posture in S1. 😅 He was holding himself really tall and regally this episode.

Omigod, Rhaenyra. Emma only had four words of dialogue this episode and they KILLED all their scenes. The scene where Rhaenyra finds the wing and cloak made me want to cry too. And that look she gave Jace when he returned to Dragonstone, like she wanted to comfort him while she’s trying not to break down… 😭

The Daemon and Rhaenys argument foreshadows how Daemon chafes against 100% listening to Rhaenyra as his queen. Spoilers, leaks, and trailers indicate that he and Rhaenyra are going to have a lot of friction, and soon. As a fic writer, I appreciate this scene for validating my headcanon that Rhaenys is the older cousin who does not let Daemon brattily boss her around.

Corlys and Alyn. I’m not entirely sure what the show is doing with the Hull boys. Their interaction was ambiguous: is Corlys their father or not? Or is Alyn just a random sailor who saved Corlys? He’s definitely too old to pass for Laenor’s supposed son.

I was very touched by how deeply Corlys cared for Luke. It contrasts with Rhaenys, who didn’t treat the boys as her grandkids; Corlys seems to have actually adopted them in his heart. I wonder if Corlys will turn his attention toward Joffrey, or if his affection was for Luke specifically. In the book, Corlys passes over Joffrey as heir in favor of the Hull boys, but show!Corlys is very different from book!Corlys.

Speaking of Joffrey, I miss S1 Joffrey’s adorable curls. But S2 Joffrey is also very cute, and he might actually get speaking lines this season. But the moment when he threw the toy (which might have been Luke’s) into the pyre… 😭

Alicole is…interesting. There was setup in S1 implying they had underlying feelings, and I don’t think it’s crazy they eventually acted on those feelings. But I question the writing/directing decision to insert the Alicole scenes for what seems to be comedic effect. The second scene, during B&C, is the more egregious one. The first scene felt very sudden.

I’m also side-eyeing the director’s commentary in the “House that Dragons Built” documentary where he described Alicent’s marriage as “loving but not romantic or physical for a long time.”

LOVING? 🤨 Really not the best word. Sure, there was some kind of affection between Alicent and Viserys, and she took her caretaking duties seriously. But “loving”? Nah.

Aegon got a huge character/writing upgrade from S1. “Good dad Aegon” girlies win (so far). I loved TGC’s BTS commentary about how Aegon enables his kids and competes with them to cause mischief. Again, the fic writer in me feels validated. I just wish we actually got to see Tyland give Jaehaerys a pony ride. 🤭

The brief glimpse of Aegon and Helaena’s marriage is interesting. He cares about her (tries to reassure her about the dragons) but there’s no romantic spark at all. And like everyone else, Aegon doesn’t really know what to do about Helaena’s prophecies, which sound like insane mutterings to people in-universe. We the audience are shouting for him to listen to her, but TBH most of us wouldn’t listen to an IRL Helaena either.

Aegon on the throne was a surprisingly comedic scene with more character development. He’s not very good at politicking (I would’ve told him to give the blacksmiths partial payment upfront, not the whole thing), but he’s trying, and he is willing to stand up to Otto. Again, I feel validated with my depiction of Lavender!Aegon.

Also…HUGH? 👀👀👀 Sympathetic Hugh Hammer will be interesting.

Oh boy, Larys is going to be fun this season. He’s already starting to try digging his claws into Aegon, but based on cast interviews, he might not be as successful as he hopes. And even though people are joking about it, I don’t think he’s going the feet route with Aegon.

Mysaria is getting much less culpability in B&C than in the book, but I’m fine with it. It’s consistent with her S1 character. She’s fed up with the royals (mostly Daemon, now Otto too) and just wants to do her own thing with social justice while making some money.

Alright, now for the B&C analysis.

They don’t have Daemon explicitly say it, but it’s strongly implied he wants B&C to kill “a son” even if they can’t get Aemond. It’s a departure from the book where B&C explicitly target Helaena’s kids and have a more methodical plan where they watch her routine for several days so they can set a trap. In the show, I think B&C repeat the phrase “a son for a son,” so that was probably part of Daemon’s orders. But the only sons that are possible targets are Aemond, Aegon, and Jaehaerys. Aemond is explicitly the primary target. B&C walk past Aegon without even discussing or trying anything, though to be fair he has friends and guards. So by process of elimination, it seems B&C’s backup plan/directive was always to kill Jaehaerys if they can’t kill Aemond.

(Speaking of Aemond, he didn’t leave a huge impression on me this episode. 🙁 He just didn’t get that much screentime, I guess. But I did like that Aegon advocated for Aemond having a seat at Small Council. #Targbros)

B&C have a comedic bit going on while they sneak through the castle, which seems not entirely appropriate. I also think they could’ve cut down a lot of their sneaking sequence in favor of more Helaena & kids screentime, which would’ve made the scene more impactful.

The bit with the dog was totally unnecessary. Someone who kicks a dog is automatically evil, but we would’ve gotten that message anyway when B&C kill Jaehaerys. Again, the dog seems to have been inserted for a sort of comedic effect, which doesn’t really belong here.

I read an article where Ryan Condal said they cut Maelor (for now?) because all the little kids have to be younger in this timeline. TBH they could’ve made it work with an infant Maelor who was offscreen in S1 because, you know, he’s a baby busy napping and stuff. They could’ve adapted B&C much closer to the book with a baby Maelor.

The choice Helaena makes in the show just doesn’t feel high stakes like in the book. I think Phia did a great job acting with what she was given—my quibble is what she was given. I think she was given direction to make Helaena dissociate and suppress her reaction, which contributes to the scene not feeling as impactful as it could have been. Helaena has been characterized as “spacey” and “not there” so far, so I think they were continuing that route. But having her suddenly erupt with emotion in B&C, to contrast with her previous seeming lack of emotion, would have elevated the scene to another level.

The ending Alicole scene really deflates a lot of the emotional heft that did build up during B&C. Again, it feels like it was inserted for comedy. It reminded me of when Jaime’s hand was cut off in GOT, and it immediately cut to the end credits with a heavy metal song that felt inappropriate next to the scene that just happened.

Helaena’s final line, “They killed the boy,” was odd wording. It feels very distant and passive. Even if they insisted on having Helaena dissociate during B&C, this moment when she escaped with Jaehaera and was “safe” could’ve been an opportunity for her to break down and show what she’s really feeling inside.

Overall, 90% of the episode was great. B&C, gruesome as it was, was kind of disappointing. But the teasers and leaks tell us Aegon will at least have a very strong reaction next episode, which should be wondrous to watch.

[twig-tea]

Final Thoughts on To Be Continued

Ok, I know I was loudly still mad at this show last week in @respectthepetty's notes, who was very kind (and even encouraging) about it. @happypotato48 talked me down a bit by suggesting there was more in the novel that might still come, and he was right! This week we got an explanation that helped me find the through-thread that was missing between the flashbacks and the start of the show, so I can let that go. I was pretty satisfied with that part of this week's finale overall, and was really glad that they added that connecting piece for me.

Short non-spoilery version of where I landed: I was skeptical it was going to land the core storyline, but for me it did. I liked it in the end, but there are a number of hurdles to enjoying this show so I wouldn't recommend this without caveats (mostly related to pacing).

With all of that being said, it's one of the better pulps this year so far, and worth a watch if you love mutual pining, don't mind slow episodes, and enjoy when a show lets its characters make mistakes. I'm glad I watched it.

For anyone curious about this show, here's where this show worked for me, and where it didn't. Spoilers under the cut!

What I Liked

I really enjoyed Ji getting to be petty to Achi at the beginning of the series, and the way the show made clear that Ji knew exactly how conflicted he was about Achi showing up in his life again.

I love yearning, and the yearning in this series was top-notch. The way Ji could not help himself when it came to accepting Achi's overtures, and the way Achi used his overtures to say over and over again "I know you; I know us; I am willing to put in effort to prove I mean it" was delicious.

I did like the flashbacks and how they were doled out through the series to add context and explain what was happening. The timing of the flashbacks in the story was well done and gave us the info we needed when we needed it.

I liked how clear consent was in this show, and how consent alone did not result in a perfect scenario, especially as kids. I did appreciate how the main conflict from the past was essentially teenage boys did not know how to communicate and blew everything out of proportion/did not understand how to think about things from the others' perspective.

And from this last episode, I liked how the show let us see that years of reflection helped Achi realize what things must have felt like from Ji's perspective, and once he had confirmation that Ji was devastated when he left, it makes sense that he would be able to meet up with Ji again with both confidence and contrition in order to get the reconciliation he wants. I also really liked the contrast in the sex scenes between their first time when they didn't kiss for most of the scene and their first time as boyfriends where they can't seem to stop kissing.

Finally, I love competence, and I really enjoyed getting to see Ji be a competent surgeon and Achi be good at his job managing fan expectations of his personal life. Achi handled the relationship reveal with confidence knowing he'd be able to manage the fallout, and his manager was supportive once he was sure Achi actually had a plan.

What I Didn't Like

I seriously considered dropping this show after episode 4 because for the first little while, every other episode really dragged. It wasn't the order in which the story was doled out that was the issue, but there was so much unnecessary footage and scenes lingered too long within each episode. In short, there were moments when this show draaaaaaagged. So in terms of who it works/doesn't work for, having patience for really slow pacing within an episode is critical. It does pick up a bit after ep4, but never fully gets over this problem.

Egregiously in a show where some episodes felt too long, the show also didn't use the time it had to fully close off all the threads it started and some of the plots felt rushed. There was a redemption arc for Ji's father that felt incomplete/sudden to me (not to say people can't snap out of a 10-year depression but I wasn't really given any chance to feel much about this because we didn't really sit with him or his kids after it happened); the side characters' romance felt like it barely got off the ground (they honestly had the time, they just didn't use it), and Poppy's romance and career trajectory also barely got any time (this one is more forgivable as a third and het couple).

Beyond the multiple pacing issues, the acting was also shaky, and while the sex scenes are well staged and cut to hide this, they were a little awkward together during some of the moments of physical intimacy.

For my taste, I would have wanted to see more of the characters working on things and changing their behaviour; a lot of the push-pull in the middle of the series felt circular rather than progressive. Some of it was necessary: Achi did demonstrate he will stick around no matter how hard Ji makes it this time, and Ji did show that he can open up and be vulnerable with Achi eventually, and trust him when there are external threats. But I would have liked to have seen more of the parts that led to the change in them happen. They also spend a lot of time falling into old habits when they started hanging out together again, which was charming and realistic, but I would have loved to see more incorporation of their new lives. Achi basically takes a break from stardom to woo Ji, so we don't get a real sense of what their relationship will be like except in the finale which is quite brief.

I already gave my high-level summary above the fold: TL; DR I'm glad I watched but not everyone will enjoy this one.

[whoredmode]

If you don't mind answering, what do you like and dislike about Johnny/Aisha? I always love your takes!!

no problem! to be absolutely clear i fucking love johnny/aisha and it’s one of my favorite ships of the series. aisha’s one of my absolute favorite characters from the games period so like. ofc i’m gonna love it. it’s not a problem w the ship itself, it’s about how some things were handled, and it ultimately just comes down to the general writing and writing choices of the games themselves.

overall i wish the games would just allow themselves to have slower moments to put some spotlight on other characters. yes this is playa/boss’ story, but what good is that if we don’t get to know their friends/enemies/acquaintances better? especially in the later games, we sacrifice character- or world-building moments for the sake of big set pieces—or worse, we get the most surface level observations or just insultingly bad moments of reflection that offer and say nothing about the character. i actually went into depth somewhat related to this w my big review of the reboot, talking about how sr1 did a great job w showing us side characters’ personalities. and i want more of that. if the games ever leaned a lil more into the RPG aspect and gave us activities w homies or affinity/support conversations or something along those lines, it would go such a long way. and this may seem like a whole side tangent but this all comes back to johnny and aisha.

(and ofc not to say the games never do have moments to understand the side characters better, bc they do, but not as much as i would personally like).

i do not like how the games treat johnny and aisha as they go on. especially aisha. this is an issue lots of pieces of media have and so it’s not just a sr issue but i find it egregious nonetheless: the dead wife trope. now, to be clear, this is something that can be done well, but the trap it always falls into is that the woman in question becomes less a person and more an object. she has no agency. she relinquishes all character for the sake of developing her husband instead. she becomes a plot device. to sr’s credit, at least we get to know aisha before she dies, which is way more than i can say for most proponents of this trope. but it remains that i do feel like the later games somewhat lean into this trope regarding her death. and to be fair, i genuinely like a lot of the scenes that come out of her death. the funeral scene gives me chills every time. it’s a fantastic moment for johnny, punctuated beautifully by the fact that the boss themselves is completely silent. but on the topic of johnny, i don’t think his character is treated any better afterwards either. i mean, they literally killed him off too (and again. to cover my own ass. i know this was a decision they didn’t really have much of a choice in). but even moving on to sriv, they still did an awful job w johnny’s character. it’s still surface level retrospection. it’s still obnoxious characterization of someone who’s been there from the first game written only to have bathetic quips and conflicts that get resolved in one cutscene. like at that point just let him stay dead😭

NOW all that to say. the things i love about them. johnny and aisha complement each other so perfectly well. they have some fantastic banter, they talk like an actual couple, they argue like one, they very clearly have their own language that only the two of them understand. they can look at each other and know what they mean. i look at johnny and aisha i know that aisha was the first person to ever look at johnny and ask if that fight he was just in, that bullet graze he got, those bloody knuckles—did it hurt? aisha sees johnny as johnny, and similarly johnny sees aisha as aisha. he knew her before the fame, before the money, before she had her career taken out of her hands. he was willing to fight for her when it felt like no one else would. she was obviously fine retiring if it meant they could be together. and clearly johnny was alright w a semi-retirement too, even if it meant being in the fucking suburbs. he had her. she made things bearable.

you get the sense that johnny and aisha actually loved each other. we get to see how they interact and play into each other’s characters. not as much as we should, imo, but enough that it leaves an impact. it is, for what it’s worth—even if i just spent a few paragraphs being upset about it—what makes her death as emotional as it is. it’s still a very important moment even if i believe it could’ve been handled better.

anyway. to bring this back to the post that started it all: compare them to the other “official” non-boss ships the game introduced and it’s like night and day. johnny and aisha actually had something valuable to bring to the table. and at least kikidane is funny and just two terrible people being terrible together. the other ones?? idk. johnny and aisha outsold.

[antiloreolympus]

10 Anti LO Asks

1. i seriously cannot get over how RS tried to make Apollo and Artemis being Zeus' children be a shock

like how was that surprising

how was that a twist

was she running out of ideas for more "drama" or something

2. This is more of a rant about all modern retellings of the taking of Persephone, but LO is the most egregious example to me. I despise how much the story has been warped and twisted to make Hades seem like a good guy and Demeter as a bad guy. Persephone’s story was meant to represent the strong bond between mothers and daughters, and the grief of a mother when her daughter is married off and separated from her. It always pisses me off when it’s portrayed as a love story, which unfortunately, is how it’s always shown nowadays. The way Demeter is treated by the LO fanbase and RS herself angers me to no end. It’s so disheartening to see misogyny win yet again with the modern demonization of Persephone’s grieving mother. 

3. What really bothers me is that new born infant Persephone has full done eye brows and teeth. Like holy fuck babies don't look like that did RS just really draw P's normal adult face on baby her???

4. I don't think Rachel is even reading the mythology right. It's not supposed to be a morality tale with clearly defined villains and heroes Even Zeus could be outsmarted, knocked down, and made to reflect on his bad choices, and he's the Top God. Rachel instead boiling down mythology to "good vs bad" with no shades of grey and needing the good guys to always be right with the bad guys always being wrong is just bad from a writing and interpretation standpoint. Even Disney gave them more nuance.

5. The de-twinkification of Thanatos and Eros should forever be a crime 

6. I love when LO fans realize Amphitrite is also a nymph and they realize the world building makes no sense because surely if every other nymph is hated shouldn't she be too? Or is she just one of the "good ones"? Truly give it up for a white woman to think the gods needed divine racism to seem more ~real~, with their racism being framed as a good thing because all the marginalized nymphs are all bad and uppity save for the few "I have a nymph friend" excuses.

7. I just find it so creepy Hades' first look of Persephone is her being humiliated and then him lusting after her body before even glancing at her face. Like what is that telling us exactly? 99% of the time we only get his POV too. We get Hades' POV looking at her, his internal dialogue, his thoughts, his memories, more focus on his life and relationships, meanwhile the only time we ever got her POV was her being r//ped and murdering a village. She seems like an afterthought most of the time.

8. What I find frustrating is RS has removed any sort of meaning or symbolism in P's design. The red eyes used to symbolize her inner darkness, only to now show up at random and go away just as fast. the long hair used to be tied to her strong emotions but now come up whenever it fitS better with her outfit, and now claiming her pink tone is from "a million perfect roses" is a laughable attempt to make her unique when the flower nymphs are the same color. She can't even keep her own lore in line.

9. IDK how we're supposed to buy Persephone has any guilt or even cares about her nymph "sisters" when she purposely ran away from the law instead of turning herself in, tried to sob story her way out of punishment, and tried to distract from her crimes with Elysium plans, and more so never once showed she remembered the nymphs or even tried to see them in the Underworld despite working and living there for weeks and having direct access with the King of the Dead. She's all talk and no reflection.

10. What I don't get with so many HxP retellings (and LO is the most egregious example) is they think the romance can ONLY come about with the destruction of Demeter and Persephone's relationship to prop her relationship up with Hades, which seems so reductive to me. A half-way decent writer should allow for Persephone to love them both, yet no one seems to even try. Their idea of the "reclaimed" myth is that Persephone's world starts and ends at Hades, and Demeter is to be vilified.

[shatouto]

hi i was wondering if you had any opinions on how the clone wars tv show butchered anakin's characterization and made him this big macho man and completely erased our soft, sweet, shy boy who just wants to help from the movies

oh boy

i do, anon. i agree with you 100% and i am going to explode in three... two... one...

I AM MAD THEY WENT OUT OF THEIR WAY TO MAKE ANAKIN STRAIGHT UP UGLY.

cw2003 can slightly be excused because they have a very particular stylization and everybody looks nearly equally as cartoony. but even then, there is a clear focus on amplifying the most Typically Manly features on hayden/anakin's face. for example they zoomed in on the divot on his chin yet made his face all square instead of giving a shit about hayden's delicate jawline. (i personally don't think that kind of chin is a man thing! i love it on ladies, you're all beautiful)

tcw2008, on the other hand, has no excuse. their stylization is light and unequal amongst characters. they completely fucking nuked anakin's pretty golden-bronze curls and his long lush lashes both upper AND lower, they BUTCHERED his beautiful delicate face shape. ok curls i can understand, because animation, but THEY DIDN'T EVEN GIVE HIM EYE SPARKLES, and they consistently gave OBI-WAN eye sparkles and lashes so it's not like they didn't know how to do it. they just didn't want to give that to anakin.

tcw anakin also looks so fucking OLD because they insisted on putting SO MANY LINES on his face. again, this would've been acceptable if it's a consistent thing across characters (of the same species), but you don't see this happening to obi-wan or even mace! they made him needlessly animalistic, which is especially egregious because they had hayden christensen's phenomenal performance of an unhinged but still extremely pretty anakin skywalker towards the end of RoTS for reference. somehow, they still fucked up.

oh ALSO, voice. listen, i have nothing against matt lanter, i love the guy, but who the fuck casted him? hayden/anakin's voice is a lovely lilting tenor with a fine timber; matt's voice is straight up a thick baritone. i like a velvety baritone as much as the next person, but that's NOT ANAKIN! WHY THIS??

this is why i go out of my way to study hayden christensen's face and stylize anakin MYSELF, because ALL clone wars character artists (2003 and 2008) are fucking COWARDS. they seem to think just because he has a canon wife that now he has to be The Beacon of Heteronormativity, The Most Heterosexual Hetero who Has Ever Hetero'ed, The Ultimate Manliest Manly Man in the Manly Universe of Men and i am so angry.

this is particularly disheartening because anakin skywalker of the prequel movies is a rather atypical Hero Protagonist. he's sensitive, vulnerable, prone to emotional outbursts, and the things that make him "annoying" are the things that make him sweet and human too. his heartthrob soft boy appearance reflects all of that. tcw anakin is a cookie cutter Boys Favorite hero, appearance-wise (his characterization is a whole different thing, it's actually okay, i won't touch on it here). the idea that some ppl in the creative decision making department though they had to "fix" anakin skywalker to make him "more marketable" just makes me gag, really.

im not even sorry for ranting this time. thank u for coming to my ted talk.

[kingofhearts709]

Prompt: bill and ted give each other haircuts

hello yes im sorry this is late but this is adorable and im happy to write this excellent prompt ❤️

A/N: SO! this came out SO MUCH LONGER than i expected. like i was just gonna cute-drabble it but then my brain was like "NO PERFECT CONCEPT MUST EAT IT." snd I'm very happy to have written it all. im setting this at like pre-excellent adventure.

anyways i hope you have a lovely day and to please enjoy this little thing 💓"

---

Ted blew his bangs out of his face for the fifth time since he'd sat down on Bill's bed, trying to focus on his comic and finding the ultimate difficulty in reading between the long strands. His hair almost reached past his shoulders, and Missy's abandoned scrunchies were starting to look most intriguing.

Bill was no better. Every time he ran his fingers through his hair, they wound up tangled. There was no way he'd be able to handle brushing it every single morning, but the habit of messing with his hair was too ingrained.

"Dude, we need haircuts," Bill grumbled as his forefinger caught on a twisty piece of fringe. "I'm gonna look like a seventies disco dude." Ted snickered at that, and Bill thwacked his chest lightly. "Shut up, Ted, I'm serious."

"Well, my dad won't even pay for a good haircut," Ted huffed, dropping his comic book and blowing his bangs away once more. "If he did, it'd be a buzz." He paused for a moment before suggesting, "You don't suppose Missy could cut our hair?" Bill let out a laugh.

"I would be most doubtful of her skills."

"Okay, well... How much do haircuts cost?"

"More than we can afford." Ted frowned and looked down. "My dad would probably just tell me to cut my hair myself if I asked." It went silent for a moment before a lightbulb lit up in Ted's brain, and he bounced on the bed with enthusiasm.

"...Well, why don't we?"

"Why don't we what, dude?"

"Cut our own hair!"

The idea thrown out to the wind sounded more than insane. Neither of them knew the first thing about cutting each other's hair, let alone their own.

But the thing about Bill and Ted was that, as long as they did it together, it was more than enough reason to say why not?

"Ted, my friend, your idea is definitely most forward-thinking!" Bill complimented, jumping up. "We both know what each other's hair looks like, so we'll totally be able to replicate it!"

The wide grin on Ted's face was enough to break it, jumping up with Bill and looking around.

"I'll go get hair stuff," Bill said as he rushed towards the door. "You get a chair set up." Ted nodded as Bill bolted from the room, going to the corner to grab an old twisty chair that they never used. It still twisted, and was just about the right height for cutting hair, it seemed.

Ted was testing the chair by spinning in fast circles when Bill came back in with a pair of kitchen scissors and two huge towels. He swayed a little as he regained his normal vision from spinning, seeing that Bill was also carrying a spray bottle filled with water, a brush and comb, and a tube of hair product.

"I grabbed some other stuff from Missy's counter, too," Bill said as he dropped it all down on the bed. He picked up the tube and read it, "Something called...'Gar-near Fruck-tiss.' The instructions say it makes your hair smooth." Ted gave an intrigued head tilt before giving a nod and a smile.

"Well, dude, smooth me!" Ted joked, and Bill gave him a look before they found themselves air-guitaring.

Bill wrapped one of the towels around Ted's neck and shoulders, making sure he pulled his hair out from underneath. Bill leant down to assess it, squinting to see if it would help him decide on a course of correct action.

"How short should I cut it, dude?" Bill finally asked. Ted brought up a hand and hovered it palm down before holding it right where his chin ended as reference, and Bill nodded, picking up the spray bottle and spraying Ted's entire head all over until his hair went damp through.

"Bill, you are most concentrated," Ted hummed as Bill ran the comb through his hair to measure it down. It was already frayed from whenever his last haircut had been, it seemed. "Do you actually know what you're doing?"

"Uh...," Bill hummed, shrugging. "I used to watch my mom get her hair cut before when I was a little kid, I guess. They always wet your hair and then do this trippy snippy thing."

Ted snorted as Bill snipped the scissors a couple of times in the air before diving into Ted's hair, holding the length to cut off between his fingers and slowly scissoring away.

It was quiet while Bill worked on his hair, Ted doing his best to keep still, even if he really wanted to turn his head and see exactly what was happening. The only sounds filling the room were Bill walking around him and the snip of the scissors.

As soon as Bill cut off the last edge of Ted's hair, he stepped back and studied his work, furrowing his brows before grinning.

"Dude, I totally nailed you!" he exclaimed, and the redness to Ted's cheeks caused him to add on, "Uh- Your hair, I mean. It looks most bodacious." Ted looked around the room frantically for any reflection, and jumped when Bill held up a mirror in front of his face.

Bill really had done an excellent job. His hair was back to its regular length, hanging right around his chin. His bangs were still a problem, though, and he looked over at Bill and gestured to them.

"Oh, dude, yeah," Bill huffed as he dropped the mirror back where he'd grabbed it and picked up the scissors again. "Sorry, Ted, I forgot your main problem is your egregiously long bangs."

"They're like curtains for my face, duder," Ted hummed as Bill began to separate the bangs from the rest of his hair. He cursed when he grabbed too much of Ted's already-trimmed sections before Ted spoke up, "Oh, dude, grab one of Missy's scrunchies!" Bill raised a brow before following Ted's gaze to the bedside table, where about four of Missy's scrunchies were sitting. How they got there, Bill personally didn't want to think about it. Regardless, he went over to grab one and handed it over to Ted so he could pull his hair back and let Bill have full reign on his bangs.

"Where do they usually end?" he asked as he eyeballed possible measurements with his fingers. His face wasn't unreasonably close to Ted's, considering the circumstances, but it still made Ted nervous.

"Just, like, enough so I can see okay, I guess," Ted said, and Bill nodded as he took the comb and brushed his bangs even before sticking the handle in between his teeth and bringing the scissors up.

At this angle, Ted could see Bill's entire process as he watched his hair being snipped off. The way his face was scrunched in concentration, his gentle movements to make sure he wasn't tugging Ted's head any direction.

He didn't realise Bill was finished until he saw his reflection in the mirror when it was held up.

He looked good, if not better than before, with Bill's handiwork.

"How'd I do, dude?" Bill asked, and Ted reached up to touch his already drying hair. "Want me to put the Fruck-tiss in it?"

"Uh- Yeah, dude, sure." Ted looked over to see Bill grabbing the tube and opening it up, squirting a generous amount into his palm. "Do I have to wash it out?"

"Uh...," Bill turned the tube in his hand and scrunched his nose, shaking his head. "It says to leave in for fifteen minutes and your hair will be, 'smooth and sleek.'" He looked up. "Ready?"

"Yeah, Bill."

After a moment, Ted felt Bill's hands and fingers running right through his hair, keeping away from his scalp as per the instructions on the tube. It was smooth and gentle and overall intimate the way Bill paid careful attention to Ted's hair, running his fingers through. He might've put too much product in, but they could always wash it out if needed.

"Alright!" Bill said when the product was more or less incorporated. "You have been fully transformed into your most authentic self, my friend!"

"Dude, excellent!" Ted said as Bill took the towel off of him, trying not to get the hair everywhere (it already was, but that was beside the point). "My turn, Bill!" Ted stood up and took an exaggerated bow towards the twisty chair, gesturing for Bill to take a seat. Bill bowed back before dropping down and smiling.

Ted mimicked his actions from earlier, draping the towel around his neck and grabbing the spray bottle. However, Bill's hair was curly and almost like a jewfro, and he briefly wondered how he was going to cut it down.

"Dude, I don't think water is going to help," Ted said as he looked around at Bill's head. "You do have one stellar mullet now, but the rest is growing up." Hesitantly, he ran his fingers gently through Bill's curly hair, feeling just how insanely tangled it was. Bill briefly shivered at the motion, telling himself internally to just relax.

He'd already cut Ted's hair, so he should know what to expect, but still, the shock of actually feeling Ted's hands and fingers gave him the most unusual of feelings in his chest. He wasn't necessarily sure if they were nerves or emotions, but either way, it sent a shiver down his spine every time Ted's skin connected to him.

Bill bit the inside of his cheek as Ted stuck his tongue out and tested a single lock of hair, snipping off the end before grinning, nodding as he started to continue.

"Dude, it's like trimming a bush!" he laughed as he went all around, mimicking Bill once more by holding each lock between his fingers. Bill's blond hair fell and separated with each snip that the scissors gave. Ted's movements were slow and calculated, his genuine care for making sure he cut Bill's hair in the most correct way making Bill feel a little more than special.

It took Ted longer than it took Bill to finish up, giving a lock one last cut before jumping back and grinning as he crossed his arms.

"Dude, how is it?" Bill asked, gesturing. "Gimme that mirror!" Ted straightened up as he remembered, turning in a couple of circles before picking it up off the the bed and holding it up.

Ted hadn't done a terrible job, he had to admit. He turned his head back and forth, his smile growing as he saw Ted show up behind him in the reflection. He took a hand and ran it through his hair front to back.

It took Bill a second before he concluded that Ted forgot to cut off his mullet, and he grinned with a scoff.

"Dude, you totally missed the back," Bill said, his hand flipping the hair in Ted's view. Ted frowned as he stood up straight and tilted his head.

"Did I, dude?" he raised his eyebrows, reaching down to move Bill's away and examine it. "Bill, if I might be totally honest, you have always had this mullet, though I will admit it's much longer than normal..."

"No way, dude," Bill rolled his eyes in response. "Gimme those scissors." He reached back to grab the utensil from Bill's hand, a most dangerous risk. Ted, however, held back the pair with a grin.

"Dude, you'll be a total mullet-head!" Ted laughed as he turned and jumped up on the bed, knocking a couple of the items onto the floor. Bill spun around in his seat and looked at the scissors clasped wrong-way-up in Ted's fist.

Bill eyed him for a long moment before bolting up from the chair in a lunge, a total disregard for all those 'safety with scissors' rules from grade school. Ted leaped off the bed for the corner, Bill chasing him there. They could only run around in the small confines of Bill's room, so there weren't many places for Ted to go, nor space to make between himself and Bill.

It became apparent when Ted got onto the bed again and Bill fully tackled him so he had him trapped underneath.

Ted was still laughing even when Bill had him pinned by the wrists and was currently looking down on him with the most fondest of looks, a huge smile gracing his entire face.

"Dude," Ted said through chuckles as he flipped his newly cut bangs away from his eyes, "you look definitively bodacious with your mullet. I think you should keep it." Bill tilted his head.

"Ted, my friend, there is nothing in your head that could ever convince me." Ted let out a laugh before he looked at it over Bill's shoulder, comtemplating.

"I like it on you, dude."

It didn't take long for Bill's brain to immediately agree with that statement.

"You think so, dude?" Bill found himself asking, and Ted looked back to Bill's face, smiling with a nod.

"Most triumphantly." The words put a smile on his own lips, and the warm, butterfly-feeling in his chest was new but most definitely welcome as he squeezed Ted's wrists.

"Well, then, Ted, my most excellent and esteemed partner, I suppose I must keep it just for you."

[audacityofhugefics]

Hysto journal #2

Long overdue for this, but as I’m sitting here watching this egregious, horrific stuff going down in Kyiv I thought, “Why not pull my mental real estate away from this and focus on something a little less rage-inducing.” And I do mean A LITTLE. The hysto is indeed ALSO causing me rage. But we’ll get to that.

First I guess I should talk a little bit about what all went down with the surgery. My dad went with me to the hospital. I love my dad more than I can ever really adequately express. I mentioned in my last post that I found my old journal and that I could see how my grief colored a lot of my personality, and my relationship with my dad is a really good reflection of that. I was an absolute monster to my dad after my mom died. He could never do anything right, as far as I was concerned. I thought of him as this old, bumbling idiot. With the wisdom of hindsight I can see that this was related to grief. I missed my mother. I wanted my mother, and he was not my mother. And that was a PROBLEM. So I lashed out. Irrationally, emotionally, and illogically. 

This was on my mind when we went to the hospital on the morning of my hysto, because he was taking a day off work to support me in my voluntary sterilization (even though I know he would LOVE biological grandkids), and is willing to help me with this whole phallo thing later in the year. So I apologized to him about how mean I was as a teenager, just in case I died on the operating table. He said that all his kids have been mean to him over the years, and he’s used to it, and he doesn’t hold it against us. But still, I’m real fuckin’ sorry about it. The dude is my fucking hero. I would never be so mean to him now.

But I digress. We arrived at the hospital and were very quickly separated so I could prep for surgery. They made me take a damn pregnancy test. LOL. As an ace forever alone asshole, that amused me. I’m not exactly sure how long it’s been since I’ve had sex with a biological male, but it’s definitely double digits. But protocol is protocol. I told the nurse, “Even if I am pregnant somehow, go ahead and take the uterus anyway.”

Next I had to get naked and cozied up on the stretcher after wiping off with some pre-surgical wipes. They put in my IV and, weirdly, gave me a whole bunch of drugs to swallow orally, including some narcotics. They said it was to help the pain when I woke up, which, like.... Sure. But the other effect was that I was completely blissed out by the time all these people involved with the surgery came by to meet the person they were cutting open. I was cracking jokes and making everyone laugh. They put that shower cap on me and I was like “Oh I think I saw this on Project Runway.”

I had been waffling back and forth on whether or not to keep one my ovaries. Taking both out essentially means that I have no risk for cancer or cysts down there, but I am committing to taking hormones for the rest of my life, because bad things happen when there are no hormones in the human body. I told the doc I wanted both out just so I’d never have to think about it again, and I do intend to continue with testosterone until I eventually die in a motorcycle crash. So who cares. But a part of me was like, “What if you get old?” But you know what? Fuck it. Taking them out will keep me accountable. And they have those nifty T pellets now, maybe in another five years those will be more readily available and I can get those put in for E-Z hormones. So when the doc came by before the surgery I said, “OK we’re good, get these things out of me.”

Anyway. I went under, they did the thing, and I woke up. I had a lot of nausea after I woke up, way more than I remember having after my top surgery in 2007, or when I had my wisdom teeth taken out, which are the only other times I’ve ever gone under general anesthesia. I didn’t have a lot of pain, I just felt nauseous and tired and bloated from the gas they inject so they can maneuver in your abdomen. But pretty much as soon as I woke up I was slurring jokes to the nurses, although sadly I cannot remember what I said. They had one nurse who watched you while you were still in that phase where you can’t quite stay awake, and then another who takes over when you can sit upright in a recliner. The sleepy-time nurse was sad to see me go, I could tell. I can’t even remember her damn name, but she was very kind and always seemed to be around whenever I needed something. 

The next nurse also loved me, although I think she was annoyed when I banished her from the bathroom when I tried to pee. I was like “I have trouble peeing under the best of circumstances.” Which is true. I’m not a good pee-er. Peeing is actually one of my main and only sources of gender dysphoria. I don’t like having to sit to pee. Unfortunately, peeing is like the entire focus of the recovery room after anesthesia, because they need to make sure you can do it before you can leave. I was able to get a few drops out, but then I started to REALLY feel like I needed to barf so I pulled the cord and they brought me back to the recliner. I had the barf tray in front of my mouth, that’s how close I was to barfing, but then the nurse waved this PEPPERMINT STICK thing in front of my NOSE and I NO LONGER HAD TO BARF. Has anyone else ever heard of this before??? It was a fucking miracle!! All urge to barf, gone immediately. I’m keeping some of those peppermint things in my bathroom from now on.

I should mention that by this point my dad had been sitting out in the waiting room for about 8 hours. Which is WAY longer than I thought we’d be there. It was all my fault, the nurses thought I was ready to go but I was so worried about not being able to pee. I was apologizing to my dad over text and to the nurses constantly, and they were all like “Dude literally shut up.” In a nice way of course, but still. Heartwarming.

This hospital where I had the hysto is working on getting a whole trans health program up and running, and I believe I was possibly the very first trans patient this OBGYN (who will be associated with the program) had done a hysto for. Eventually this facility will be doing other surgeries for trans patients too, like phalloplasty and vaginoplasty, which is rad. Unfortunately they won’t be offering the type of phallo I’m looking for (which is abdominal), but it’s nice to know there are doctors literally right down the road from me that are offering the other kinds (RFF and ALT) if I change my mind. All the nurses know that this is something that’s being set up for their hospital and they were very curious to hear about phallo in general. I ended up being the last patient in the unit for the night, so the nurse spent a long time chatting with me about it until I felt ready to go. She wheeled me downstairs, asked if she could give me a hug, and then my dad took me to his house.

I don’t live with my parents anymore but I stayed with them for the first few days. I was up and walking pretty much immediately. Really, I felt fine. The worst part was the gas, just like everyone says. It basically felt like I always needed to fart, but I could never, EVER fart. Farting would have involved strain, and strain hurt. Luckily that phase passed after a few days and basically as soon as I was pooping again, I was ready to go home. So my dad took me back to my apartment and I’ve been here ever since.

On the Friday after the surgery “Horizon: Forbidden West” came out, so I basically played that every waking moment. In case you’re curious, I liked it but I had some big issues with it. Where are the cubes on the minimap that point you to datapoints??? Why do I have to scroll through so many damn things to find my potions??? Where’s the whistle command??? But I loved the story a LOT. Overall, 7/10.

Now let’s talk about the infuriating part: The insurance is denying all my claims!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! You have to understand, I work in medical insurance. I know how this works. I know how the game is played. I KNOW these services are covered. I KNOW the insurance company is making a mistake in my benefits administration. But it doesn’t make it any less stressful. I called them a few times trying to get a straight answer about why these things were being denied, finally I talked to a supervisor (who was also trans!) who confirmed that they are being denied because the diagnosis (F64.9 if you’re curious) is excluded. So this is not something I can fix by calling the insurance anymore. I went right to HR. So the benefits team at my HR department is looking in to it as an urgent matter, considering they’re going to end up denying about $40,000 worth of eligible expenses for me.

I’m trying not to be worried about it. If anyone is equipped with the tools to fix this, it’s me. But if HR comes back and says the claims are denied correctly, I don’t know what I’m going to do. I wouldn’t trust them with my phallo, that’s for sure. Most likely I’d go looking for another job. Shit, maybe I’ll go back to Starbucks. They definitely cover phallo.

The thing is, “Transgender surgery” is SPECIFICALLY listed as a covered benefit. I think what the insurance company wants is for the providers to bill with the diagnosis F64.0 instead of F64.9, and if that’s the problem then that means I have to wait to be billed by ALL these providers so I can call their billing department and ask for supervisors until I can find someone who understand that they need to change the diagnosis codes on their claims. It would be ridiculously time consuming and difficult, for essentially no reason. Here’s what these codes stand for:

F64.0: Transsexualism F64.9: Gender identity disorder, unspecified

Excuse me, WHAT? Are you trying to say that gender identity disorder is not a valid reason to have transgender surgery? Do I need to call the insurance company and explain that the nomenclature of the word “transsexual” is steeped in history and debate among the trans community and there’s nothing that makes it more valid or medically legitimate than “gender identity disorder,” and that to claim otherwise is disingenuous? Am I supposed to call up an outsourced customer service department in India and say “Your insurance company is truscum?”

Anyway, I’ve rambled long enough. 

TL;DR: The hysto was very easy, but now my insurance company is being a butthead.

[prurientpuddlejumper]

A Lipless Face That I Want to Marry, Ch. 5

<- Chapter 4 | Chapter 6 ->

Summary: You get a call. Dr. Chilton’s recovery has taken a turn for the worse, and he might not survive. 

CW: hospitals, medical procedures, angst

1,583 words

Fifteen days. Seven surgeries. Seventeen blood transfusions.

You rushed to his hospital room straight after work, not even stopping at home to change or get something to eat. After the call you’d gotten, you were too nauseous to eat, anyway.

Glowing orange heat lamps hung over his bed, like the ones they use for hatchling chicks at the farm when they’re too young to regulate their own temperature. He had all but vanished under a thick pile of blankets.

You remembered how much of a baby he could be in the winter when his feet were cold. How he’d make you shriek by tucking his icy extremities under your warm pajamas, and how you’d squirm and swear at him and laugh until you finally settled back against his chest. His hands were always freezing, but his body was like a steam engine pumping out heat. Under the blankets with him, trapping each other’s glowing warmth between your entwined bodies, the coldest nights were always so cozy.

There was nothing cozy about this.

Frederick’s temperature kept dropping despite the doctors’ efforts to stabilize it, and it had dipped dangerously low. He was barely moving. It tore up your heart to see him so helpless. If his temperature didn’t come up soon, he could die.

You knew that. The rational part of your brain knew that he wasn’t out of danger yet, that this wasn’t a surprise. He told you he needed to write that article right away because he might not have much time left. But you didn’t think it would really happen—that he could fade so fast.

“Hey, Frederick… I’m here,” you said softly, sitting beside him. There was no indication he was aware of you being in the room. The only signs of consciousness were feeble, rasping, wet moans.

He coughed weakly under the pile of white sheets.

They had already increased his antibiotics regimen at the first warning signs, but his cough was developing into a respiratory infection, and getting worse. All the smoke and water he’d inhaled and the tubes forced down his throat were taking their toll on top of everything else collectively beating his immune system into submission. He was so sick.

You wanted to crawl under the covers, wrap yourself around him, and keep him warm. He could slip his icy fingertips under your shirt, and you wouldn’t complain.

All you could do was sit beside him, talking to him about your day, and hope that, if he could hear you, your voice was comforting. That he even wanted your company. You listened to the monitors, reassured by their continued steady beeps, terrified they might suddenly stutter and fall, and tried not to cry.

You hated being so helpless.

***

Sixteen days.

For the second time, you walked into the hospital doors in the morning to find he was gone. Over night, his condition went critical. The infection had turned into full-blown pneumonia. He was still alive, thank god, but he was intubated again, and put on a ventilator with paralytic drugs keeping him unconscious.

He was, effectively, in a coma.

Every time you thought he was getting better, he slipped away again. Two days ago he was fine. He was dictating notes and being the cranky asshole you loved. Now a doctor had to thread endoscopic instruments down into his lungs to clear the secretions, because he couldn’t even cough.

A nurse gently patted your shoulder to get your attention. You weren’t sure how long they’d been standing there.

“I’m sorry to have to ask this, but do you know if your fiance has any family, anyone who might like a chance to say goodbye?” Your face drained of color and the nurse quickly worked to reassure you, “He may still recover. Nobody here is giving up, but…”

But his chances weren’t good.

“I don’t know. I… I can try to call his mother, but...” For someone you were about to marry, you didn’t know much about Frederick’s family. All you knew was that he had a sister who died a long time ago, his parents were egregiously wealthy, and they almost never spoke. His mother sent a card, which had earned nothing but hostile silence from Frederick. That was all.

He had always been lonely, your Dr. Chilton. Before you, anyway. He was charming, but an expert at keeping people at arm’s length. Desperate for connection, but always looking for it in the wrong places. You still weren’t sure how you’d manage to slip past his defenses. But his family wasn’t coming.

You were the only one by his bedside, waiting to see if he woke up. Alone in your terror that you might never hear his voice again.

***

Twenty-five days. Eight surgeries. Eighteen blood transfusions.

Chilton was out for over a week. Days crept by as you tortured yourself reading statistics like “pneumonia acquired in the hospital can be fatal as often as 33 percent of the time,” and “pneumonia increases mortality rate in burn patients by 25 percent.”

You were a mess at work, sobbing in the bathroom until they told you to go home. But you couldn’t stand being in that giant, empty house without him.

You had dinner with your old boss, Jack Crawford, to take your mind off things. The last time you saw him you screamed your throat raw, but he had always been a friend and mentor, and right now he was the one person who understood what you were going through.

He talked about Bella, and how hard it is to watch a loved one fading away. About the darkness he failed to see in Will Graham—skirting just shy of accepting responsibility for Frederick’s fate. You distinctly did not take back calling him negligent and incompetent. Still, despite everything, you knew Frederick held him in high regard. It was what got him in so much trouble. You encouraged Crawford to visit when Frederick was feeling better. If he got better.

Then dinner was over as quickly as it began, and you were alone again.

Every day that a ventilator kept him breathing, you wondered if that was the day you were going to get the phone call. You couldn’t bear it. You lived in the hospital waiting room, making meals out of vending machine Pop Tarts and the latest scraps of information the nurses could give you.

Surgery was risky on a patient already in critical condition, but the doctors decided to perform a bronchoscopy to drain a lung abscess. After that, his pneumonia began to improve. A few more days, and he was off ventilation, and in the hyperbaric chamber.

The moment you heard he was awake, you sprang up from your chair the waiting area (swayed with dizziness for a moment) and shambled to the oxygen therapy room.

***

“You look terrible,” he joked. His voice was quiet and hoarse, but you laughed a little too hard, sniffing and rubbing your eyes as your body shook. It was good to see a week unconscious had restored his cheery mood.

Ducking and weaving your head, you tried to get a good look at your reflection in the curved glass. When you caught a glimpse, the depth of dark circles made you recoil back from yourself.

“I couldn’t go home until I knew you were OK,” you explained. “I guess I could use a shower. And some sleep.”

Frederick observed you sympathetically. He was still bandaged head to toe, and what bits of skin did show were as red and inflamed as ever. He hummed in agreement. “All this beauty rest has done wonders for me.”

You laughed again, and it brought a smile to his cheeks and a sparkle of humor to his one good eye. At least he still entertained you.

“It is flattering that you would destroy yourself on my behalf, but you really ought to go home and take care of yourself.” He rolled his eyes upward cheekily, “I cannot have my adoring public discover I am marrying such a slob.”

Your heart missed a beat at the mention of marriage.

Leaning close until your forehead bumped the clear barrier, you pressed your palm to the glass. He lifted his hand off the bed, reaching toward yours, but could only make it a few trembling inches before he winced, and his arm fell back down, limp. He swore. Then he gave a self-deprecating chuckle to hide the frustrated wetness building in his eyes.

“Really,” he said without malice. “You should go home.”

“I can’t. You just woke up.”

“How long has it been since you slept?”

A few self-conscious mumbles were all you managed in response. He huffed knowingly.

“I promise not to die. You need rest.”

Your head did feel heavy, and it was difficult to keep your eyelids from drooping. “But it’s so empty. The house is so empty without you,” you sobbed.

“I know,” he said quietly, after a pause. He hated to see you like this, hated that you were suffering because of him.

“Just a few more minutes? I want to stay with you for a little while.”

“That would be nice.” His voice welled with such sincerity your heart broke. “Thank you.”

Soon, you thought. Soon you’d be taking him home with you, and your lives could be normal again.

[wide-eyedscottishlass]

Scarlett and the Professor

moodboard by @strangelock221b​

[continued from] 

Following her watery lesson in the bathtub—in which her insatiable lover had proven his endurance matched perfectly with his dedication to their mutual pleasure—the rest of the afternoon passed in a haze of quiet happiness for Scarlett. Once dried and dressed, he had headed back to his study to grade the last of his papers, having instructed her to get herself dressed and promising he would come back to collect her in no longer than twenty minutes. “I think a tour of the manse is in order once I return,” he’d promised, pressing a few lighthearted kisses to the back of her neck as she stood before the bathroom mirror, towel-clad and about to brush out her hair. “And then perhaps we’ll take a little drive to see what other adventures we can get up to.”

And as good as his word, Hennessy had squired her about his home both inside and out, quietly delighting Scarlett with his apparent need to maintain at least some small physical contact with her most of the time. Splaying one hand on the small of her back or draping an arm across her shoulders, and even stealing occasional kisses from her when she least expected it. How heavenly it felt to know by these simple gestures how thoroughly he now considered her to be his own! His surprisingly tender affections proved distracting enough that if asked, Scarlett would not have been rightly able to answer questions about the layout of his home.

Beneath a cloudless, cerulean sky, they strolled through the wild-grown garden that bordered the pool and jacuzzi behind Hennessy’s house. A riot of indigenous plants and flowers grew thick around them; despite her several months on the island, they still struck Scarlett as breathtakingly exotic. Bougainville and anthurium flourished unchecked, along with several species of lily, banana flowers, and hibiscus; the vibrant reds and pinks, golds and oranges, vied for dominance amidst the deep green of the leaves and vines, with splashes of light and dark blues throughout. The center of the garden held an old, marble bench beside a small ornamental pool filled with lotus blossoms. Beyond this private little piece of Eden lay a wide, grassy slope that ended at a hedgerow which ran the length of the property. But for all its tranquil charm, it was clear from his commentary that Hennessy preferred the shingle of white sand beach which she had viewed from his balcony. Scarlett hoped that in time he’d take her there as well.

“Feeling peckish yet?” They were sitting beneath the umbrella of a wrought iron table on the patio near the pool. “I’m famished…how about we grab a bite to eat?”

“I’d like that,” she agreed, game for whatever he had in mind. Hennessy held out his hand to her as she stood up and whisked her along with him to his garage. He continued to play the gentleman, seating her in his sleek, midnight blue convertible and advising her well. “Buckle up, little lamb—I’m feeling the need for speed,” he grinned, slamming shut her door and then taking his place behind the wheel.

Scarlett was shocked to discover that despite being a man who held nearly absolute and steadfast control over every aspect of his life (that she’d observed thus far, anyway), Hennessy drove like a maniac. Though he must’ve known well the curves and dips and swells of the two-lane road from his home and beyond, he took them with an incautious speed and virtual abandon that were quite harrowing. She did her best to keep her eyes set on the road in front of them, making involuntary sounds of distress at his most egregious transgressions, and feeling him sneak peeks her way while chortling at her obvious distress. “Almost there, m’dear,” he laughed as the tires squealed through yet another reckless curve and played havoc with her loose, fishtail braid—so that once they’d reached the little roadside, seafood shack that was their destination, Scarlett had to loose it from it’s binding and run her shaky hands through her hair to set it right.  

Once her nerves and stomach had settled, she discovered she was hungry enough to put that harrowing experience behind her–for the time being–and indulge in the bounty which Hennessy has ordered for them, and then laid out on one of the weathered picnic tables behind the small, brightly shingled building. “The best and freshest catches on the island,” he bragged, “Prepared with all the culinary magic only a native chef could provide!” Scarlett found greater pleasure than she might ever have imagined in watching him indulge his ravenous appetite. They feasted upon cornmeal battered shrimp, a crab and curry stew, conch fritters served with a spicy brown rice, pickled mackerel in a thick coconut milk sauce beside fried plantains. At Hennessy’s insistence, she even tried the Bake and Shark with Citrus Chutney, surprising herself that she actually enjoyed it. He was larger than life in everything he did, and she felt a swell of simple affection for him fill her heart, and unabashed gratitude that she was along for this glorious, albeit unpredictable, ride with him.

Afterwards, he surprised her yet again, offering to drive to her flat so she could grab a bathing suit and another change of clothes—indicating that he expected her to stay with him a second night. Even another nerve-wracking drive back to his estate couldn’t dampen her joy at that.   

          ____________________________________________________

The sun glinted off the ripples and waves lapping at the warm, white sand of Hennessy’s beach as he spread out a thick blanket for them to recline upon. Curious gulls flew low, checking for food scraps that so often accompanied the presence of humans in their domain. Scarlett stood where the water just kissed her toes, breathing deep the salty tang of the Atlantic, a scent that often awoke a quiet longing in her heart for home---though she wouldn’t dream of being anywhere in the world right now but at her lover’s side.

A sudden updraft swept through her hair, and the squawks of protest from the sea gulls caught in the rising air current drew her attention away from the ocean and back behind her. Hennessy had one arm crooked and was drawing swirls in the air, that same determined focus on his face as when he’d worked that mysterious water magic as she bathed. He’s clearing the birds away, was her immediate thought; he’s literally stirring the air to send them away! How in hell is this possible? Suddenly, the ground beneath her feet didn’t feel as solid as it should. 

He flashed her his ever-charming sideways smile, and held out his free arm to her and he lowered the other and the ‘breeze’ died away. “Come sit with me, Scarlett.” Hennessy’s tone of command was undeniable, and her knees went weak with her need to obey. She took his proffered hand and then settled onto the blanket, not allowing the certainty that she wasn’t the first woman to share it with him here, to dull the pleasant anticipation that he would inevitably be taking here soon in whatever way pleased him best. 

Hennessy made their small talk easy for a time, skirting the edges of the questions which he had to know were weighing on her mind, while drawing from her the details of what he certainly must think of as her quaint, little life. He lay on his side, propped up on one elbow while Scarlett sat cross-legged and continued to watch the waves lap at the warm sand. As relaxed as she was feeling, she could also feel him watching her as though everything she told him was of great interest---and as if he was in no rush to pursue his pleasure just yet. 

The blazing orange disk of the sun had sunk lower on the horizon by the time that conversation lapsed, and he finally saw fit to broach the topic that remained foremost in her thoughts. “You’re quite a patient woman, Scarlett. Especially for one so green.” The husk of his voice was as soothing as the rhythm of the waves, and drew her eyes his way. “I’m impressed. You’ve held your tongue all these hours about something I know you must be bursting to ask about.”

Scarlett shrugged and gave a wee smile. “My Mam always taught me that patience was a virtue—but before he lit out into the wider world to make his fortune, my Da taught me a simpler wisdom…”

“Which was?”

“That I should take a lesson from the Sea, whose patience endures forever. And who always gets want she wants, in the end.”

“Hmmm…wise man, your Da,” Hennessy reflected, “Though he’d have done better by you not to father you in absentia.”

“I suppose so,” she sighed, resolving to keep that quiet pain from tainting this precious time with her teacher, “Though it’s all water under the bridge now, isn’t it?”

He smiled at her winningly, “You have an apt way of looking at things, m’dear.” He took to his feet as he told her, “And your patience has earned you the answer to the mystery of the afternoon.” Hennessy held out his hand to help her rise up, guided her forward to stand with her toes tucked just beneath the edge of the water again, and then stood behind her, “But first a little demonstration more.”

The sun had dipped almost completely beneath the waves; the air was warm and soft, rife with the night’s possibilities. Scarlet felt, as much as heard, Hennessy draw a deep breath, and in moments saw the seafoam suddenly part around her feet, wetting the sand in a widening circle that left her skin untouched. The circle soon grew to encompass them both, closing behind him.

Scarlett licked her lips, barely able to speak. “It’s real…it really happened. Part of me kept insisting that I dreamed the whole thing, but…but it’s real…”

Hennessy stepped into her and spoke against he ear, making her shiver with his truth, “Very, very real, my sweet. As real as the Sun at it’s zenith. As real as the pull of the Moon upon the tides.”

Though her mouth had gone dry, Scarlett remained undaunted in her need for the full truth. She turned to face him, clear-eyed and ready for whatever he might reveal. “Then how, my jo…tell me how it’s even possible. Please.”

“Oh my dear,” he tutted, “My sweet, innocent girl. Hennessy’s eyes gleamed softly in the dying light. “There is so very much you have left to learn.”

(to be continued)

tagging: @strangelock221b @ravencatart @doctor-stephenstrange @splunge4me2art @ben-locked @ben-c-group-therapy @letterstosherlock @humanbornarchangel @aeterna-auroral-avenger @frowerssx-world @tsukuyomi011 @emilyinnj4real @losille2000 @macgyvershe (as I have a hunch this is just up your alley!)

[ayankun]

WandaVision episode 6

FIRST OFF

Whenever I go back to pause things for clues, and find exactly what I’m looking for, I don’t feel justified, I feel that much more insane:

It’s really hard to make out, but I had an alright look at it on my folks’ QLED, and it’s definitely a flying saucer doing an alien abduction on what looks to be a person inside an old CRT TV (with some kind of robot head/boombox on top???)  There are secret aliens in this show, you guys, the facts don’t lie.

HmmmMMMM I wonder if Agnes is as innocent as she looks:

Also, I didn’t see that she was wearing the brooch in this ep, and I was majorly disappointed in that.

Two things here:

No, that’s not a twins joke.

Another Moonmen Confirmed

I know green is his color or whatever, but that hat is literally 10 years ahead of its time

Also, I took the playing-DDR-at-home scenario at face value, and only on the first rewatch did I realize it was a very pointed turn-of-the-century reference.  I am an Old.

There’s a good, subtle Rule of Threes in this ep.  The Setup:

The Sokovian Halloween flashback works on so many levels.  It’s so funny:

The fact that they went trick-or-treating at all

The “speaking Sokovian”

The treat being a fish

They have to share the fish

The concept that this event gave them an infectious disease

“You probably suppressed a lot of the trauma” -- it’s a good sitcom joke but.  the trauma is the joke.  The joke IS THE TRAUMA!!!

Elizabeth Olson is a dream with all her wonderful faces she has this ep.

Vision’s unsettling passive-aggression-sitcom-cooperation whiplash is WOW, consider me unsettled!!!!!!  “Be. Good.”  UGH.

(Just noticed one here, but there are a number of continuity errors in this episode, enough to be distracting later on, and is this a deliberate choice?  Please let it be deliberate.  I didn’t watch a whole lot of Malcolm in the Middle, is it known for its continuity errors?

)

“It’s their first Halloween.” LOLOLOL they are TEN YEARS OLD and this is their FIRST halloween I LOVE IT

DOUBLE RED HERRING CONFIRRRRRRRRMED!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Agent Jimmy Woo accidentally identifying himself as the sassy best friend added 20 years to my life.

Found.  FOUND.  Not “created,” “manifested,” “willed into being using my insane witch powers.”  Third Party Confirmed.

I like that it’s the 90s and we can swear on TV now.  “Hell” “kick-ass” “damn it” “fu---dge”

I think the most biting part of Vision finding the whacked out folks is that the soundtrack just kind of ... ignores that anything’s wrong.  Yeah, it’s kinda-spooky Halloween music, but it’s still 100% in-world kinda-spooky-sitcom-Halloween-episode music. 

OKAY LET’S TALK ABOUT THE AD:

As a 90s child, let me tell you, this is a blisteringly accurate representation of children’s marketing from the period.  The shark is wearing sunglasses AND he has a surfboard!!!  And he’s selling you yogurt of all things!!!!!  This is the supreme distillation of what being a child in the 90s was like.

How disappointed I am that they went with crab instead of lobster.

Heard it through the grapevine that this is a representative of Wanda’s imprisonment on the Raft.  That happened in Civil War, right?  So the next ad is The Snap?  We’re running out of iconic decades, too. so, hold on, new thought.

90s: Civil War

00s: Infinity War

10s?????: Endgame???? or?????????

??: Whatever happened between Endgame and WandaVision, given that the ads are stepping forward through Wanda’s IRL life events!!

I don’t want to know how many episodes are planned/announced, but I don’t know what to expect from the format after they run out of decades from which to draw.  Maybe there are only one or possibly two “sitcom” episodes left.  Maybe after that it just breaks down and they can pick and choose from the worlds/styles we’ve already established.  That’d be p neat.  A very unique kind of chaos.

god she’s so cute

Okay, somebody explain to me Pietro.  I honestly walked away from last week thinking he was just some townsperson chump, but then I was reminded that this is the Quicksilver actor from all those X-Mans movies I never watched, soooo people are saying Multiverse Confirmed?  But, if this is X-Mans’ Pietro, then why did he die the same as MCU Pietro?  Or is he literally MCU!Pietro’s corpse, given that he looked all dead same as when she saw Vision’s corpse?  If MCU!Pietro, then why different face???

????????????????

Also I found him highly suspicious, what with all the questions he was asking.  But the only sort of person who would truly want to know the answers to those questions would be someone who already had them ... so I think he was just asking on behalf of the audience, and the delivery was all wonked out.

Rule of Threes - The Reference:

Ok, real talk, whenever computers/networks/data/encryption/servers/mainframes et al come up in mainstream media, I just look away.  I don’t need the kind of psychic damage that comes with such egregious mishandling of the topic.

That being said, does Hayward having eyes through the barrier mean that he could possibly be involved in getting it set up?  Because look.  If Hayward-after-Hayward’s-Villianous-Ends is one antagonizing force, then is there really room for the Third Party (Confirmed) antagonizing force that’s lurking in the negative space silhouette of the Inciting Incident?  With Wanda as the Red Herring antagonizing force, that’s just.  There’s just too many villains, alright?  We gotta start merging these plotlines.

(then again, when I just said “eyes” I realize probably understanding the true nature of his new secret “CATARACT” project will clear a lot of things up.  I’ll wait for enlightenment)

Agnes’ license plate in this episode is 0A1-B2C, which I think is a reference to the way reality is getting pared down to bare bones at the edge of town.  Note that this is not the same license plate number as seen last ep.

ALSO, I drove home behind a NJ plate just an hour ago, and was staring at it for a long time, trying to fit it into the puzzle before A) realizing that this was Real Life and not part of the show and B) WTF is a NJ plate doing in front of me in California.  In any case, I can confirm that NJ plates do not appear to have this number-letter repeating format.

So let’s talk Agnes.

Demonstrated knowledge of the situation in ways others haven’t (”There’s the star of the show” “kids, you can’t control ‘em”)

Shows up when needed most (explained as being Wanda’s doing, but is it)

When Wanda was having her babies, though, who was trustworthy enough to be summoned?  Was it Agnes?

Wanted to babysit REAL BAD

Was in the opening credits framed possessively with the twins

Doesn’t appear to have an IRL identity according to Jimmy’s crime board

Keeps talking about her husband but we’ve never seen him.  Highly unlikely that he’s real

Was the one to find Sparky “dead” - internet thinks she was lying to Wanda about how or possibly if he was dead (I’m trying not to read the theories, so idk exactly what the angle is there)

In an episode where everyone is wearing their original comic outfits, Agnes is dressed as (and laughs like!) a witch

She name-drops Wanda as the one controlling everyone; Norm (or the guy playing Norm) only said “she” and “her” -- meaning Agnes?

Naughty

So we’re 99% sure Agnes is Agatha Harkness, right?  I never read no comics, so I’m taking the internet’s word for it, but from what I can tell, I think we must be right.  If that’s the case, then I’m thinking it’s not impossible for her to be pulling some strings around here (giving Wanda a justification for her “that wasn’t me” doorbell ring, for example, and pulling a double red herring on the fact that she shows up whenever the narrative Wanda her nefarious scheme calls for it).

To devil’s advocate myself, though, we also have Monica’s word that it was Wanda in her mind, lessening the impact of Agnes falsely confirming what Norm only implied.  Also she’d have to be acting for Vision’s sake (and ours) and, if so, then what did Vision’s brain-touch really do, and how did she know he’d find her there, and what did she intend as the result of that interaction etc etc.

If Wanda’s (or Wanda + Third Party Confirmed (Agnes??)’s) powers aren’t enough to sustain the simulation of life on the edges of town, how much worse is it going to be now that there is even more area to try to control???

I don’t know if this is strictly an intended read, but the idea of Halloween as a fun, scares-for-entertainment’s sake type holiday, the rounding off the edges of concepts like “skeletons and ghosts are what people are after they die, let’s decorate the town with them and have a good time” kind of is a haunting parallel to the nature of Wanda (et al) covering up the horrible truth of the situation with this happy-go-lucky sitcom glamour.

How much does one hate seeing Vision giving his life for the greater good (the greater good) for the second time?  In other news, I think I’m seeing some specifically Mind Stone type energy-colors coming off of him, and very little Wanda type energy-colors.  Third Party Confirmed.

Also, I was thinking from last week that perhaps Hayward’s Villainous Ends included capturing the reanimated Vision to be one of those Sentient Weapons his organization is all about, but I Do Not Think his reaction to seeing that sought-after prize disintegrate in front of his eyes really matches up with that theory.  Again, will be patiently waiting for Jimmy to check his email to see what CATARACT is all about!

Rule of Threes - The Payoff:

Also, anyone ID the movie playing in the background?

Ok, final thought.  I watched this about four times today, and on the big-ass TV at my parents’ house finally paused and got up close to see what that white shape is in the reflection.  Thought it might be a skull, but, it’s worse.

These caps do not contain enough data to verify my claim, but I PROMISE YOU it’s a TV

A square old thing with a round screen and antenna on top. 

I SWEAR to you, when I looked into the TV, into Wanda’s eyes, only to see the reflection of a TV, of her looking at me looking at her I had a visceral fear reaction.  Like.  LEGIT nauseous skin crawl.

(All the other episodes have ended with our POV as the fourth wall, from the general (or exact!!!) position their household TV is known to be.)

This is my favorite show Of All Time.

[theliterateape]

The Tragic Genius of Dustin “Screech” Diamond

By David Himmel

The most intense and realistically human scene in Saved by the Bell came in season 4, episode 20, “Snow White and the Seven Dorks.” It’s where Zack and Lisa discover feelings or raw horniness for each other and kiss. Screech, who has loved Lisa since the days of Good Morning, Miss Bliss, finds out about it and with understandable anger, calls Zack out for it, rips his preppy clothes, and challenges him to fisticuffs. Here, the most put-upon best friend in television history is finally taking a stand putting his megalomanic of a best pal on blast for his egregious betrayal. Zack was never to be trusted. But Screech did trust Zack. He was loyal to a to his own detriment. But not this time.

It’s heavy television. It’s a heavier moment than when the gang confronts drug use at the party in season 3, episode 21, “No Hope with Dope” and initially in season 2, episode 9, “Jessie’s Song”—the one where Jessie gets so excited. Heavier than when the duck dies following the oil spil when crude is found under the Bayside football field in season 3, episode 11, “Pipe Dreams.” And it’s more emotional than Zack and Kelly’s wedding in the 1994 TV movie, Saved by the Bell: Wedding in Las Vegas.

That was the power of Samuel “Screech” Powers, played lovingly and long by Dustin Diamond who died on Monday following a short battle with cancer. He was forty-four.

✶

I always wanted to be Zack Morris. I envisioned myself as Zack Morris—confident, handsome, clever. My friends even called me Preppy for a time. But let’s be honest; I was always Screech. Skinny, a little odd looking, goofy, and full of love that was often unrequited. More than that, Screech was not just a gag character or a McGuffin for Zack’s shenanigans. Screech was a progressive television character before we knew what that was supposed to be.

Screech and Lisa’s relationship, though never consummated romantically, was an interracial one. And not once did any of us think it was weird for a white guy to pine for a Black girl. The show never really acknowledged Lisa’s race, though, maybe it should have considering she was one of like, two Black characters on the show: Lisa and Ollie the Nerd. Still, we were all rooting for Screech and Lisa to finally get together and win Prom King and Queen, proving that love is not bound by racial divisiveness. A bigger television couples’ win than even Ross and Rachel. Lisa and Screech never happened, of course, which is part of what made Zack’s betrayal so intense. Bros before Lisas, Morris.

And then there was that Lisa Frank folder Screech carried around. The one with the illustration of a woman tilting her sun glasses down to get a better view at the hunk we see in her glasses’ reflection. A conversation bubble says, “Check him out!” I knew that folder in real life. A handful of girls in my junior high school had it. It was a girls’ folder. Or, it was a folder for those who thought that guy was hot. So, did Screech like guys? Was Screech gay? Bisexual, perhaps. Bi-curious at the least?

We knew he loved Lisa. Then he had a healthy relationship with Violet Anne Bickerstaff. But that folder. It was an odd choice. But Screech was odd. So perhaps that’s why props and wardrobe gave it to him. Maybe it was some meta attempt to show Screech’s level of obsession with all things Lisa.

Or, perhaps, they were telling us more about this intelligent, complicated, and interesting character.

Either way, I dug it. Screech always had me thinking… That wasn’t the character’s intended purpose—Screech was no Jessie Pinkman or Skylar White—but that’s what he did for me. And that onus was all on Dustin Diamond.

His post Saved by the Bell years aside—the sex tape, rumors of him being an insufferable prick, stabbing that guy, etc.—Diamond spent thirteen years as Screech Powers. Screech was the clown, but Diamond gave the clown heart, humanity. We never laughed at Screech, we laughed with him. We rooted for him. And when he was shoved in a locker or was attacked by ants while wearing a mascot costume or when he had his heart broken by his best friend, we ached with him.

Screech was always the good guy. His exploits at the behest of his buddy Zack were not of malice or selfishness or greed. He fell in line as a way to bring joy to his friends. Loyalty, laughter, and love. That was Screech. Heh… Screech’s character description belongs written in a script font on faux distressed wood and sold at Target.

We all wanted to be Zack and Kelly. Maybe some of us wanted to be Slater or even Jessie. But we should have wanted to be Screech. Screech was the best of them all. They best of all of us. And that is solely because of Dustin Diamond.

He died too young. Too soon. A comeback may have been in the future. An opportunity for him to do more of what he loved doing—acting. And maybe not as Screech, but as another character that would no doubt be bursting at the seams with compassion, hilarity, and a humanity. Dustin Diamond was due a third act. Or, at the very least, an encore.

[idkhow-you-found-me-writing]

The Most Bodacious Proposal

ao3 link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27589744

missing scene before bnt proposing to the princesses

It was well past midnight and Bill was still working with Ted on their proposal speeches for princesses. Well, that wasn’t necessarily true. Not exactly. To be more precise- Bill was the one who was working on their proposal speeches for the princesses. Ted, on the other hand, had been staring at the rings  with the oddest intensivity in his eyes. Ten minutes passed by and there was no sign indicating that Ted would wake up from his totally atypical state. 

It was not only the staring thing either. Ted's whole body was completely frozen, his posture fixated in the ways that could only be described as the most uncomfortable. Comparing this to Ted's usual fidgety self, the contrast was jarring to say the least. Quite frankly, Bill was getting more and more worried about what was happening with his most esteemed colleague. 

Ted had to be going through some odious battles of the mental kind and there was an one only way for Bill to find out the source of it all. He had to ask a prized colleague of his what was wrong. After waving hands and saying Ted’s name turned out to be the most unsuccessful in catching his attention, Bill restored to gently tugging his arm. That seemed to do the trick. Ted virgiously shook his head, his hair creating a black halo around his head. Then he smiled sheepishly at Billn as to indicate that he entered again the same dimension everyone else occupied. 

“Sorry for zoning out on you, dude. That was totally unbecoming of me to do.” Ted tried to laugh to show how trivial the matter at hand was. If anything, it made Bill more concerned. It was the most unusual of Ted to hide his worries from Bill like this. Maybe from the others but not from him. The thought that Ted might not know how he could always count on him was nothing but heartbreaking. 

“No need to worry about that, Ted. Just say what non-non-heinous concepts are plaguing you, dude. It’s totally bogus to see you like this.” 

A beat of silence. Ted exhaled deeply, like he was trying to dispose a great weight from his shoulders with this action alone. It must have worked, though. The very next second Ted was ready to share the cause of his recently developed behaviour. Neither of them never could keep anything secret from each other. He should be well aware of that, with the amount of surprise birthday presents that turned out to be totally not a surprise.

“Bill, my lifelong companion, I must tell you something. The whole proposing to the princesses idea is making me feel the most heinous anxiety.” Ted confessed in a hushed tone, not once glancing in his friend's direction. Instead, he made himself busy by playing with his sleeves and looking at where he was touched just a moment before. Everything about this screamed “uncomfortable” to Bill. 

“No way, dude. We already have the rings and almost finished creating our stellar speeches. Jo and Liz are going to be totally enamored by us.”

“Yes way. What if I forget what to say? I don’t think I can do this, dude.”

Bill thoughtfully considered that. To blow a bodacious occasion like this would be the most non-non-non-resplendent thing to do. He could only imagine princesses hating them after this. If only there was a way to make sure everything will go exactly how they planned. 

“Dude, I have an excellent idea!!! We should practise with each other! That way there is no possibility something will go wrong later.” Bill grinned wildly, clearly proud of himself. Now Ted had no reason to be so stressed and they could get back to writing together. 

“You’re totally a genius, dude!” Ted shouted with excitement, weirdly flushed across his whole face but how was Bill to ask what that was about that. They had more important things to ponder about than Ted’s blush or the butterflies in Bill’s stomach at the sight of it. Yes, better to ignore that. 

***

Three air-guitars, two coffee breaks and one hour later, they were ready for the practice part. Ted was first to go as he had been the more worried one. Emphasis on the “had been” as now Bill suddenly was caught in a wave of uncertainty mixed with anticipation so strong he was starting to get a little light-headed. Nevertheless, before he could utter a word about maybe Ted was right about calling the whole thing off, the boy in question was already on one knee before him and Bill found himself unable to say anything. 

Ted unfolded a piece of paper and Bill couldn’t help but think of that one time the executioner was about to tell everyone he was sentenced to death. But that wasn’t exactly right as even then Ted was still by his side.

“As I swim through this dark and fearful sea of existence, surrounded by various creatures: sharks, eels, yellowtail, not to mention tiny barnacles and algae, man-o-wars, starfish, blowfish, catfish. Oh, no, that's freshwater.” 

Ted paused for felt like a second and an eternity at the same time. Their eyes were locked on each other. Bill took Ted’s unoccupied hand in his, pushed by desire he didn’t understand fully, too scared to think what it could mean. He could see the same kind of fear reflected in the eyes of his companion. Ironically, that was what gave him the strength to get prepared to hear the upcoming question.

“What I mean to say is: babe, will you take this promise ring and wear it always?”

They didn’t plan as far as to establish what the answer should be. If Bill should respond at all while Ted was looking for the said ring. There was no need for that. Bill couldn’t fathom the idea that there was a possibility of him not saying “yes”. Before he even knew that, he was already nodding eagerly. 

“Fuck yeah, dude. You should totally kiss me right now.”

Oh shit. Oh fuck. Shit. Time froze. Ted along with it. His one hand trying to fit the ring on Bill’s finger. The other one still held by Bill. That. That wasn’t something Bill wanted to say. That. That wasn’t something Bill should have said. Ever. They both have their princesses. They were doing all of this for the princesses. It wasn't real. None of it was. Why did he say that? Why-. Everything was screaming at Bill but Ted’s silence was still the loudest thing in the room. 

Bill opened his mouth. He didn’t know what he wanted to say. He just had to break this stillness. Its presence was the most oppressing and both of them were barely able to breathe properly. Bill could feel his hands were shaking. It was barely visible however Ted had to feel the sensation in his own hands. It was probably that what made Ted finally react to Bill's statement.

"I-." Ted started, hesitant of every word he was about to say. "I think you're right, dude. We should do it. Kiss, I mean."

"You're serious, dude?" Bill asked, not sure which answer he was dreading more. His face was on fire. Ted palms were starting to get a little sweaty but the last thing on Bill's mind was letting go of them. 

"The most serious, dude. For practice. Just on the cheek." The last part sounded more like a plea for mercy than a try at reasoning. Ted squeezed Bill's hands as he was waiting for the verdict. Everything about this felt fragile like nothing else before. Bill really doubted anything ever will.

"For practice." Bill repeated. A reminder, unclear for which one of them. Perhaps for both. Perhaps Bill would forever be left guessing if he was the only one. Tomorrow evening they will propose to their princesses. Tomorrow Elizabeth will be the one wearing the ring that’s now resting on Bill’s finger. Tomorrow-

Bill’s rather egregious train of thoughts was cut short by Ted kissing him on the cheek, just as he said he would. It still somehow managed to take Bill by surprise. They lived though the most peculiar adventures like time travel but the sensation of Ted’s lips brushing against his skin was still very much a novelty for Bill. It was such a simple action however none of them thought something like this could happen. It was a strange night, full of the most bizzare turns of events. Akin to a dream you forget the minute you wake up. Not remembering what happened here sounded totally odious.

“So what now, Bill? You wanna try saying it too?” Ted stopped kneeling, now standing before him. Ready to do whatever Bill suggested. His voice was once again cheerful and his smile as wide as the one sewn on his jacket. 

"Thanks dude but I'm way too exhausted to do anything more today. I think I'm just gonna go to sleep now." Bill lied. The truth was, he was a coward. To do anything other than decline this offer felt too dangerous to even consider. So he didn't. He couldn’t.

Instead, he laid on his bed. Thinking about the proposal that didn’t happen and his heart longing for the wrong person to say yes.

[risingsouls]

Recruited: Chapter 6

[I love these dorks and I’m glad I finally got to write them having a fairly proper conversation in this verse. Two dumbasses “bonding” the best way they know how.]

VEGETA

"I don't need an escort. You know I'm perfectly capable of handling myself," Nabooru informed him for the fifth time in an hour. She leaned down and plucked a gold tube from a lower shelf, turning it over between her fingers and examining it. Vegeta glanced at the tag: lip color. If this trip accomplished anything, it would end her whining about running out of makeup. "Epecially if I have to listen to you sigh or see you roll your eyes every time I enter a new shop. Why don't you go enjoy yourself? These are your days off, too."

He crossed his arms over his chest and leaned against the nearby wall. One of the few in the cramped store devoid of product. At least the other patrons knew to give them a wide berth, and if they didn't, a displeased glare sent them on their way. "Quit saying that. For the last time, it's not a matter of your ability to take care of yourself. The worst that will happen to you on one of these resort planets is you'll go broke from gambling and wasting your money or drink yourself to death, and I couldn't care less if you do either of those things." He huffed. "I'm here to make sure you don't get lost or do something stupid."

It wasn't a complete lie. More commonly referred to as pleasure planets, these particular prospects in the Cold Empire were set aside specifically for commerce, recreation, and leisure, especially for soldiers and others employed by the Cold family. Cut into sprawling districts--business, recreation, lodging, and headquarters--it was easy for even those familiar with the ins and outs of the hubs to wind up turned around and in a less than optimal situation. Protocol for who could set up shop was loose, the vetting process quick and simple with few questions asked for lack of time. While he had surmised Nabooru was intelligent, strong, and savvy enough to avoid too much trouble on her own, inexperience in navigating the finer and more nuanced aspects of resort planets would be her downfall. The last thing he wanted was to clean up her messes on top of the trouble Nappa and Raditz would no doubt cause in the next three days.

"Mm, so you just have nothing better to do, huh?" She popped the lid off the tube and observed the blood red shade revealed. "Three days of endless liquor and sex isn't your thing?"

Vegeta grimaced. "Tch. Obviously not. I have standards unlike the other two."

"Following me around while I shop is a better option?" she asked, hint of a smirk on her lips.

"Yes," he replied bluntly. She tossed the tube into her basket resting over her forearm and moved on to the next shelf. He followed. "You've seen how they get. It's deplorable."

Nabooru lifted a bottle of what he guessed to be a perfume of sorts and lifted the nozzle to her nose. She sniffed and it immediately crinkled at the bridge, her expression one of disgust. He mentally thanked her for not spraying to test it; if she looked about to retch, his sensitive nose would have him seeking refuge in the crowded streets. 

"Mm, they remind me of my best friend back home. She liked to spend her free time similarly, and tried to drag me along with her more than a few times." 

She blinked and realization flashed across her features, followed by a frown and a hint of regret in her golden eyes. Her attachment to her home world was still far too fresh, he noted. The wound had yet to scar over. Memories still made her long for what she could no longer have. Vegeta could relate to some degree, and the pesky what if thoughts still plagued him from time to time concerning his planet and race. He pushed them away as quickly as they spawned; he had no room for such sentimentality, and the sooner she realized the same, the better off she would be.

"What do you like to do for fun, anyway?"

Vegeta's gaze shifted over to the woman when addressed once more. She had moved to the next section, the action escaping his notice while he considered how her emotions would hinder her performance. "Fun," he repeated with a snort. "As if I have time for fun. At least not by most people's definition of it."

"Try me. And I did ask for your definition of it. It's not embarrassing or something, is it?"

"Of course not," he growled. "The only fun I have typically is in training or finding some poor sap on base to spar, and even then I can only fit in a few hours at best between missions and preparing for them."

Nabooru laughed softly and added another item to her basket. "I never thought I'd say it, but we actually have something in common, Vegeta." She winked from behind the orange glass of her scouter and sauntered up to the counter, unperturbed by the grunt the four-armed cashier gave her. "I hardly ever wanted to do anything that wasn't related to my training or combat. It's where I thrived and felt most alive. Even when I was injured, I was reading about other styles or strategies, observing the others while they trained, or trying to sneak a session or two in without anyone noticing. Like you, I wish I had more time for it…you guys weren't kidding when you said we stay busy."

"Hmpt…" Vegeta watched her complete the transaction with the clerk, the process of paying with her credits sticking after he impatiently taught her in the last store. He kept it to himself, but he could respect that in her. If it stuck in a new environment, she could prove more useful to him than he imagined. And with a perhaps similar soreness toward Frieza and the empire as his that could potentially grow with time…

The pair left the shop and returned to the streets, squeezing past milling passerbys and other shoppers hurrying to find the best deals. Distracted by hoots and hollers meant for the Gerudo and discouraging the annoyance with a snarl, the Saiyan nearly collided with Nabooru's back when she halted suddenly, a display in the window catching her eye. 

He cursed under his breath and followed her gaze to understand what she found so interesting as to nearly cause a collision. On the other side of the glass was a hodgepodge of weapons on display, some he recognized from conquered planets and others foreign and strange. He snorted when he realized where her focus lay: a pair of curved blades resting at the hips of a gaudily dressed mannequin. 

"Swords, woman? You don't need them."

He didn't miss the twitch of her fingers at her side. The tense of her jaw and fire in her eyes. "I know that. Before I learned to use ki, swords like this were my weapon of choice, and--" She cut herself off, shooting him a glare. His smirk widened. "I didn't expect to see something like them here, that's all."

Despite her ill temper, she returned her gaze to the swords. Likely considering purchasing them just to spite him, if Vegeta had to guess. Or lost in memories of her past. Perhaps he would have enjoyed time with Nappa and Raditz if she was going to be bogged down by her damn emotions.

"You can create those with ki."

"What?"

The words left his mouth before he realized he vocalized them, and her confusion proved contagious for a moment. "Ki swords. I've seen it done." He folded his arms. "Why don't you try to figure it out? They would be far more effective than those."

She observed him with narrowed gaze for several seconds before humming and returning her attention to the blades. "It would take quite a bit of control to make them hold their shape. I would want it to look right and not just be shapeless," she mused, raising her hands and flexing her fingers and curling them back into her palms. He saw her eyes shift back to him in the reflection of the glass, suspicion apparent in her pursed lips and hooded eyes. "Why would you suggest it if you think weapons like that are stupid?"

Vegeta scowled, his tail tightening around his waist. "Anything to get your mind off a home you'll likely never see again. It's a waste of your time and energy. A weakness you can't afford," he hissed, ignoring her flinch and the glare that followed. "Besides, if it's a style you're used to, it will only make you more effective in battle." A smirk curled his lips. "And watching you slice people in half might be entertaining. If you're up for the challenge of mastering it, that is."

Nabooru remained silent for a beat longer, chewing her lower lip in thought or perhaps as a measure to keep her from picking a fight with him in such a crowded area. Not that he wouldn't welcome a brawl. Finally, she turned on her heel and began her procession up the street again, spine rigid and chin aloft in stubborn defiance. "Maybe I will. And I'll do it better than anyone else has before me."

"Right. I'll believe it when I see it," he said with a snort.

Nabooru shifted the bags on her arm, but kept her back to him. "I'm going back to my room." She tossed her hair over her shoulder and twisted her head to the side to meet his gaze. "I don't need an escort for a nap, do I? Unless you know some soothing lullabies to sing for me."

Vegeta rolled his eyes. "Go. You're beginning to annoy me anyway."

"We're on the same page then."

He didn't get a chance to sling any clever retorts back at her as orange energy enveloped her as she took off into the sky, leaving the Saiyan amongst the rabble and agitated. And, even as he headed off himself and locked himself away in his own temporary quarters, he couldn't shake it with any amount of pacing or idle research on his scouter. With Nappa and Raditz, he decompressed within moments when they pushed his buttons. But Nabooru seemed to possess a particular knack for getting under her skin. But why? Was it that her power was similar to his own? Him being unused to his subordinates speaking to him as she did? Should he teach her a lesson? Would that do much unless he outright killed her? Was it worth the effort when, deep down, he knew she hadn't done anything especially egregious to warrant the harshest of punishments? Not that he needed a reason to kill anyone. Frieza would likely shrug it off himself. But she had proven herself an asset, powerful and efficient. Capable of completing whatever task she was given despite her moral hang ups to them. Was his agitation worth ridding himself of her, then, when she could aid him in killing Frieza?

His grip on the windowsill tightened and he grit his teeth. The fur on his tail stood on end. Damn her. She danced on the fine line between insubordination and compliance, being a nuisance and a competent warrior, too well.  Flawed, but too valuable for him to kill. If he could find some reason that she deserved it…

Vegeta shook his head and scrubbed a hand over his face. He crossed the room to his bed and stretched out on it, closing his eyes. He hated it, but wasting his time searching for reasons to off the damnable woman was counterproductive. If they existed, they would show up on their own. Or she'd wind up dead on some mission or incur Frieza's or some other general's wrath. For now, he would take advantage of the extra firepower in his arsenal. The decent conversation and wit she offered when he humored her or bothered to listen in on conversations with the other two. The break from staring at eye sores like Nappa and Raditz day in and day out…

------------

His nap lasted little more than a few hours, a call from Nappa checking in waking him from his fitful slumber. After reprimanding the general for it and listening to his drunken attempt to assure him that he and Raditz were doing just fine and had caused "absolutely no trouble whatsoever, not even a single brawl that definitely didn't end in at least two casualties and several injured," Vegeta ended the call and buried his face in his pillow. Sleep had done nothing for his mood. If anything, it left him more sour than when he drifted off. 

The prince growled and punched the mattress next to his head, springing from the bed when he surmised sleep would only continue to evade him. A glance out the window as he tugged his armor violently back on over his head revealed a darkening sky, meaning most would be shifting from the commerce and resort districts to seek out more lively entertainment. He considered joining the rabble or tracking down Nappa and Raditz for a split second before deciding against it, the thought of large crowds a less than stellar situation to be in in his mind. Though, remaining cloistered in his room sounded just as unappealing. 

Deciding a physical check on the other two Saiyans would at least occupy him for a time, he refit his scouter to his face and tapped the button to perform a scan. Sure enough, he pinpointed their scouter models in the entertainment district and, just as he was about to pin the location in his tracker, the scouter pinged a third location in one of the few unincorporated areas of the planet just outside the resort district. Nabooru's. His eyes narrowed, and his tail lashed against the mattress behind him. In the time he slept, she had left her room down the hall to venture off on her own. For what, he couldn't fathom. But finding out sounded better than dealing with the crowds and his drunken cohorts attempting to secure a bed mate for the night.

Vegeta exited the hotel and traced the signal of her scouter and power level to an island in the only prominent body of water left on the planet. He slowed his flight and descended, finding her seated along the shoreline with her back to him. Orange light flickered in front of her and held her focus, masking his landing and approach. As he strode closer, he noted how the sphere of ki at the tip of her index finger wavered as it shifted shape, elongating before sinking back to its original shape. He smirked to himself.

“I see you took my advice.”

Nabooru straightened her spine in a jolt and twisted around, the energy dissipating with the inward curl of her finger. "And I see you followed me again. Couldn't stay away from me, huh?" She turned back toward the water, an unsettlingly still reflection of the sky above. She rested her palms behind her and leaned back into them. "Are you that bored or did you need something? I was kind of hoping to be alone if I'm being honest."

He observed her back and his usual glower settled back into place, the fleeting thought of drowning her momentarily appealing. With her ponytail tossed over her shoulder to the front, he noted she had removed her armor and found it lying in a pile with her boots, leggings, gloves, and scouter off near a rock jutting out of the island’s surface. Vulnerable he couldn’t help but think. He found it odd that, even now, she didn't’ scramble to pull it back on and remedy that in the face of a potential threat. That she could stand to appear even remotely weak in the presence of another, friend or foe.

To spite her, Vegeta shifted to stand beside her, planting himself firmly in place at her side. He was in no hurry to locate the other two, and he hoped she might pick a fight with him if he remained. Physical or verbal, it didn't matter to him. He unfurled his tail from his waist, allowing it to stretch and sway contentedly behind him.

Time passed at a crawl, the sky above them and its reflection in the water a smattering of twinkling stars on black canvas and the planet's two moons now visible in crescent phases. Nabooru remained silent and near unmoving save for a change in position to extending one leg outward and bringing the other knee toward her chest despite his obvious refusal to leave her alone. He chanced a glance over and found her staring out at the water once more, gaze distant and mind obviously elsewhere. He might as well not exist to her from the look of it. His patience waning, his tail exemplifying such with more aggressive and punctuated arcs near his calves, he opened his mouth to degrade her, only for her to finally speak up.

"It's funny, you know," she began, gold eyes never leaving the overly still surface of the lake. Vegeta closed his mouth, lips set in a tight line and gaze narrowing. "I never cared too much for rank or my titles back home. Outside of wanting to be part of the Elite, I wasn't looking for a more formal leadership position. But...outside of missing my home, my people, I think I almost miss them more."

The Saiyan remained silent, uncertain if she addressed him at all, of what to say in general, or if he wanted to entertain a conversation like this with her at all. It edged toward too personal, blurring the lines of leader and subordinate that he was already struggling to keep clear with her. Still, he couldn't deny the curiosity he had concerning her. Nappa had clued him in on bits and pieces of her background, what little bit she shared with him while they trained. But, unless Nappa held out on him, Nabooru had proven scrupulous, smart about what she did and didn't reveal. The months of servitude to Frieza apparently wore her down and made her careless, as she seemed keen on continuing. He did, however, discreetly switch off his scouter and hoped her voice was low enough that her own couldn't pick it up. Habit, he surmised.

"I was second in command of my people and if I had been born in a different time where we didn't have a king, I might have been leader. I was engaged to our king and set to be queen someday, even if it really was just a title and wouldn't have changed much in the way of my duties. I was the best warrior we had produced in decades or longer. And I had worked hard to earn all of it. But now…" A slight twinge of pain twisted her features and she pulled her other knee up to join the other. She draped her arms around them. The pain dissolved and her brows lowered, frown deepening and the initial sparks of anger flared in her eyes. "All of that was stripped from me. My name, my titles, even my race known for being powerful warriors...It all means nothing. I'm nobody here. I have no identity any more. It's something I never knew I would miss since it never felt all that important to me..."

That he understood. Better than homesickness. Definitely more than her moral hang ups. He still clung to his title of Saiyan Prince despite the lack of power it held. How those above him used it to mock him rather than a sign of respect of his station. The prince of two meant nothing in the grand scheme of things, but it was his title. With little left, he refused to dispose of it or let anyone else forget it. Saiyan still meant something among their peers. Most soldiers understood the might of the Saiyan race, how powerful and ruthless a single warrior could be. But Gerudo warrior, elite, leader, whatever...she was right to say it meant nothing there. Her home planet had only been recently discovered. Her people, while he could give her the benefit of the doubt in their skills as warriors, did not have the notoriety of his race. She was utterly alone and truly a nobody, forced to start over and prove herself once more to likely never advance higher than she stood now.

Nabooru suddenly twisted, face tilted upward to meet his gaze. "How do you do it?" She asked. He couldn't miss the hint of desperation in her voice. "How do you...how do you keep going? You've lost so much too, and yet--"

He cut her off with a raised hand and a stern glare. He aimed his index finger at her scouter. Energy shot from his fingertip, and the device exploded in a burst of glass and plastic. He rolled his eyes in light of her protests. "You'll get a new one back at base. Accidents happen. You never know who could be listening, and I'd hate for you to incriminate yourself so soon."

He removed his own scouter and crushed it in his fist. Paranoia, perhaps, since he had cut its power at the beginning of her rant, but he knew Frieza and his goons had higher access to scouter feeds. He didn't know if that extended to ones powered down somehow, but he didn't trust that they didn't.

"I was young when my planet was destroyed. I hadn't built up quite the…attachments to it in the same way as you, I suppose," Vegeta responded, folding his arms over his chest. For him, he never got the chance to fall in love with his planet or form bonds with his people as a whole or even individuals. A prince of seven, he knew little past the walls of the palace personally, save for what his parents, Nappa, or other tutors told him. It did not free him from longing for it, for what could have and should have been, but such thoughts angered him more than saddened him. Rage simmered over the injustice of it, of everything he endured over the years, and all that came to matter to him was revenge. For the abuses, the disrespect, for robbing him of everything he was promised. Placing him in such a position where he felt powerless. Weak and a slave to a tyrants whim. The tyrant he knew destroyed his home and people. Meteor his ass.

"I focus on my goals." He eyed her, unsure of how much he wanted to divulge to her. What pieces he could chance slipping her without sending her running to Frieza, hoping for some sort of promotion if she rat him out for his dream of treason. She had shown her power, a modicum of usefulness that could prove useful in an alliance. But her loyalty had yet to be truly tested, his hard won trust yet to be earned. Thus, he settled on a vague truth: "You've no doubt seen how myself and my cohorts are treated for our race. I focus on showing them how grave a mistake they make underestimating Saiyans. Of underestimating me. I want them all to fear me the way they feared our entire race for generations."

"Not exactly concrete but...a commendable goal, considering. I don't blame you." She snorted. "You know, Zarbon told me to stay away from you three on my first day if I knew what was good for me. Like it would tarnish my nonexistent reputation or something."

"Tch, of course he did. And now you have no choice. How ironic," he drawled, teeth clenched and tail lashing twice behind him.

Nabooru extended her long legs out in front of her and rested her hands on her knees. She gazed out at the water in silence, watched some small, aquatic creature break the surface of the lake, spin in midair, and disappear once more. Finally, she looked back up at him, the ghost of a smile on her full lips. "For what it's worth, I am glad for that. I've met some of the others, seen how their squadrons operate, how ugly they are, inside and out, and even on the worst days of dealing with you three I'm glad for it. Maybe it's just our similar warrior spirits, but you three feel...familiar in some ways. It's a small comfort."

"I didn't realize you were such a suck up." While too emotional for his tastes, at least that perhaps meant she would continue to mesh well enough with them. Cause little more drama than the usual shenanigans Nappa and Raditz got up to. "Are you done being sappy? It's making me sick."

She laughed and rose to her feet, stretching her arms skyward and lengthening her body. "Honestly, I only said any of that because I figured you wouldn't listen anyway." She strode over to the pile of her belongings and picked up her armor. She pulled it on over her head and adjusted it for comfort. "I wanted to let that out, and at least with you standing there I would feel slightly less insane than talking to the water."

"Hmpt. I shouldn't have. All your whining gave me indigestion." His tail swayed with docile calm behind him, despite his words. 

"Aw, your poor thing. Want me to make it up to you?" She pulled a burgundy stocking up the length of her leg to her thigh, and his mind betrayed him with more lewd insinuations behind the suggestion. He turned his attention back to the water, glad another creature hopped out of itto mask the sudden movement. The cursed warmth in his cheeks. 

He chanced a glance back to find her tugging her gloves on. "You said you like sparring. How about it? I'm not really tired enough to go back to my room yet."

A spar. He berated his perverted notions. He unfolded his arms and cracked his knuckles, tail returning to its position at his waistline. "Fine. It's the least you can offer for making me suffer." His smirk returned. "Just don't cry when I kick your ass again since you want to be so emotional."

It was Nabooru’s turn to roll her eyes. “Same goes to you. Nappa says you’re a sore loser.”

“I don’t know how he would know when I never lose.”

“Oh? So I get to take your loss virginity, huh?”

Vegeta growled, but he couldn’t deny his excitement in the wake of a spar. The adrenaline beginning to surge through his veins as he remembered their first. How she had only improved since then. 

“Shut up.” He hovered over the surface of the lake, arms folded. “Let’s see if you can back up all your talk.”

[translations-by-aiimee]

The Husky and His White Cat Shizun - Chapter 16

Original Title:  二哈和他的白猫师尊

Genres: Drama, Romance, Tragedy, Xianxia, Yaoi

This translation is based on multiple MTLs and my own limited knowledge of Chinese characters. If I have made any egregious mistakes, please let me know.

Chapter Index

Chapter 16 - This Venerable One is Stunned

This really couldn't be blamed on the beast-like Mo Ran. Anyone in such a claustrophobic space, trapped with someone he'd slept with countless times - regardless of whether the sex meant anything, whether it was out of revenge or out of love - smelling the familiar smell on the other person, he could never help the lurching feeling in his heart.

Besides, Mo Ran himself was a bastard.

Shi Mei was his white moonlight. He absolutely couldn't bear to touch it, and he doesn't want to destroy it.

He patronized Chu Wanning and only Chu Wanning. All of his darkness, bestial-lust, and bone-crushing rage could be vented with no fear of repercussion.

He crushed him, tore him up underneath him, forcing him to take part in all the tricks he would never try with Shi Mei.

In his previous life, every time he saw Chu Waning tilting his neck and moving his throat, he felt he was about to degenerate into a vicious beast that only knew how to drink blood. He wanted to bite the man's throat open, grind his teeth, suck out his blood, chew through his flesh and bones.

He didn't care about Chu Wanning. He could defile him as much as he wanted.

At the end of it all, his body had developed a habit. Every time he smelled the scent of Chu Wanning's body, his stomach would feel like it's on fire, his heart would itch, and he wanted to tie him down to a bed and fuck him senseless.

There was a moment of silence in the coffin and Mo Ran's racing heart could be heard.

He knows that Chu Wanning's face was very close. He could feel the other's breathing. If he bit it right now, Chu Wanning wouldn't be able to break free, but. . .

Better to forget it.

Mo Ran leaned back and distanced himself from Chu Wanning. It wasn't really easy considering there wasn't really much room in the coffin.

"I'm sorry, Shizun." Mo Ran snorted and pretended to be meek. "I didn't expect the coffin to - shake!"

As soon as he spoke, the coffin slanted again. Mo Ran rolled into Chu Wanning's arms again with a grunt.

Chu Wanning: ". . ."

Mo Ran retreated again, the coffin shook again, and the cycle continued several more times.

"Un-fucking-believable." Mo Ran leaned back again.

The golden boy and girl were probably walking on a slope, and the inside of the coffin wall was slippery. He didn't hold on for too long, Mo Ran helplessly rolled on top of Chu Wanning.

"Shizun. . ." He bit his lip, feeling aggravated.

This guy originally looked kind of cute as a young man. If he deliberately hid his wolf tail and act like a puppy, he could actually pretend to be similar.

Chu Wanning didn't say a word.

Mo Ran really didn't want to roll around again, so he simply gave up the struggle: "I didn't mean to."

Chu Wanning: ". . ."

Mo Ran whispered: "But the wound on my back still hurts so much. . ."

In the darkness, Chu Wanning seemed to sigh gently. The gongs and drums outside were a bit noisy and Mo Ran wasn't sure whether he had really heard it.

But the next moment, Mo Ran smelled a clearer fragrance of begonia flowers, and Chu Wanning's hand wrapped behind his back, blocking the gap that he might have crashed into.

However, it wasn't a hug. Chu Wanning's arms were empty, deliberately avoiding physical contact with Mo Ran. Only the clothes and Mo Ran were touching each other, but this posture was still somewhat intimate.

"Be careful, don't hit it again." The voice was heavy, like porcelain soaked in a stream, with a kind of ancient demure. If he listened to it without hatred in mind, it was actually very nice.

". . . Alright."

Suddenly no one spoke anymore.

At this point, Mo Ran was still a young teenager who wasn't as tall as an adult, so he leaned in Chu Wanning's arms, his forehead fitting underneath Chu Wanning's chin.

This feeling was both familiar and unfamiliar.

What was familiar was the person lying next to him.

What was unfamiliar was the position they were in.

Once upon a time, the past events all transpired in Wushan Hall where he was lying on Life-Death Peak. The Immortal Emperor, who had become a lonely man, held Chu Waning in his arms for dear life in the long, breathless darkness.

At that time, he was already higher than Chu Wanning, and his strength was greater than that of his shizun's. His arms were like iron bars of a cage, locking the little remaining warmth in his arms, like holding the last fire burning in the world.

He bowed his head and kissed Chu Wanning's long black hair, and then greedily attached himself to his face, burying deep into the neck of the other, biting and nibbling without pity.

"I hate you, Chu Wanning. I hate you so much."

There was some hoarseness in his voice.

"But you're all I have left."

A violent smash shattered Mo Ran's memories. The sound of gongs and drums suddenly stopped, and there was dead silence surrounding them.

"Shizun. . ."

Chu Wanning stretched out his hand. He touched his lips, and said solemnly: "Don't talk, we're here."

Sure enough, there was no sound of footsteps outside, and there was only dead silence.

Chu Wanning's fingertips ignited in a cluster of pale golden flames and stroked the wall of the coffin to make a narrow opening, just large enough for two people to see through.

Sure enough, they were carried to the outskirts of Caidie Town. The earth temple dedicated to the Master of Ceremonies Ghost was already densely packed with coffins. The fragrance of the butterfly powder in the air became even denser, floating into the coffin through the wood.

Mo Ran suddenly felt something was wrong: "Shizun, do you think that the scent here, as well as the scent in the illusion, seems to be a bit different from the smell in Young Master Chen's coffin?"

". . . What do you mean?"

Mo Ran was more sensitive to the smell. He said: "When we were on the north mountain, the moment the coffin opened, the smell that floated out was very good. Considering it was the butterfly fragrance incense, there was nothing to make me dislike it. But since entering the illusion, I always felt that the smell was similar, but there were some subtle differences. I couldn't figure out what was different, but now. . . I think I probably know."

Chu Wanning looked at him sideways: "You don't like the smell?"

Mo Ran stuck against the gap, still staring outside, and then said: "Yeah. I haven't liked the smell of incense since I was a child. The smell here, and in the illusion, isn't the hundred butterfly fragrance poweder at all, but a special high fragrance used by the people of Caidie Town to burn when worshiping the Master of Ceremonies Ghost. Look there—"

Chu Wanning followed his line of sight and looked at the clay incense burner in front of the earth temple. Sure enough, three arm-thick vertical incense sticks were burning, and they were passing a sweet smell into the wind.

The people in Caidie Town were good at making all kinds of powders from various flowers, so all the fragrances that are used to pray to the gods were made in their own town, and they don't buy them from other places. Since the flowers used are all planted in the outskirts of the town, the smell that turned out wasn't that different from something made by an amateur.

Chu Wanning pondered: "Could it be that the fragrance in the coffin of Young Master Chen had nothing to do with the smell in the illusionary realm?"

Before he could ponder the details of this new discovery, a dazzling red light from the earth temple interrupted his thoughts. The two people hiding in the coffin looked together and saw that the temple was shining brightly, reflecting its brilliant surroundings. There was a row of iron shelves on the side of the temple with red lotus lanterns for making wishes. Those lotus lanterns had originally been extinguished, but now they were all being lit up, one by one.

The boys and girls guarding all the coffins knelt down one after another, chanting: "The Master of Ceremonies has come down to earth to guide us wild ghosts and lonely souls to be free from eternal suffering, to meet a good man, to lie in the same coffin, and to be companions in the Underworld."

Through the sound of chanting, the Master of Ceremonies Ghost in the temple radiated golden immortal light. Then, she lowered her eyelids, slowly moved the corners of her mouth, and leapt off the offering platform.

Her movements were quite elegant and graceful, her appearance a million times more elegant

It's a pity that the body was made of mud and she was too heavy. The girl's house, with a bang, was smashed into a big hole in the ground.

Mo Ran: "Pfft."

Chu Wanning: ". . ."

The Master of Ceremonies Ghost also seemed dissatisfied with the placement of her feet. She stared at the big pit in the ground for a while before pacing out of the pit and straightening her clothes.

She looked like a woman wearing heavy makeup, dressed in red and green, quite cheerful. In the dark night, it turned its neck and came to the hundred people buried in coffins. The night breeze was full of the stench of corpses. She seemed to be in a better mood. She slowly opened her arms and let out a few giggles.

"If you believe in me and make offerings to me, you will be able to meet a good destiny and complete the lifelong event that you weren't able to complete during your life." The tender voice drifted in the night, and the ghosts kowtowed in excitement.

"Blessings of the Master of Ceremonies--"

"Please let the Master of Ceremonies bless this marriage--"

The pleadings were coming from all around her and the Master of Ceremonies seemed to be enjoying herself. She slowly moved among the rows of coffins, and her long nails scraped against the bright red vermilion lacquered coffin boards, making a sharp and ear-piercing sound.

Mo Ran was curious: "Shizun, I remember you said that demons, immortals, ghosts, gods, humans and the devil belong to the six realms, but this immortal doesn't like in heaven. How come she's with these ghosts in the underground instead?"

"Because it cares about ghost marriages, and her main food source is the offerings of the ghosts." Chu Wanning said. "Ghosts can greatly increase her power, otherwise she wouldn't be able to cultivate her immortal body in only a hundred years. With such benefits, she's happy to stay with her 'friends' in the underworld."

The Master of Ceremonies Ghost walked around the group of coffins and returned to the front. The empty and tender voice rang again: "Open a coffin and I'll bless the marriage. Starting from the left."

Following its order, the first coffin on the left slowly opened, and the golden boy and girl were greeted by the two corpses inside staggeringly crawled out, and the gorgeous flaming red dress made the face of the dead look pale and lifeless.

The married couple slowly approached the Master of Ceremonies Ghost and knelt down.

The Master of Ceremonies Ghost put her hand between them and said: "In the name of the master of ceremonies, I grant you this marriage after death. From now on, you will be husband and wife, man and woman together in joy."

Mo Ran rolled his eyes and muttered: "If you can't write a poem, don't do it. It should be a good marriage vow, so why does it sound so lewd?"

Chu Wanning said coldly: "You have a dirty mind."

Mo Ran shut up.

But it didn't take long for the Master of Ceremonies Ghost to personally prove that it wasn't Mo Ran who was dirty-minded, but the god in charge of the marriage who was the lewd one.

He saw that the married corpses seemed to have swallowed some kind of aphrodisiac. They were already two dead ghosts, but suddenly they began to tear each other’s clothes, feverishly kissing and embracing each other passionately. They were entangled so shamelessly in public.

Chu Wanning: ". . ."

Mo Ran: ". . ."

"In the name of the Master of Ceremonies, I give you the joys of heaven. If Yin and Yang can intermingle, what's the harm with life and death!"

The cry of the Master of Ceremonies Ghost became more shrill and much louder.

The movements of the two corpses became more and more exaggerated. After removing the clothes, the male corpse was actually full of passion, full of energy, and no different from a living person.

Mo Ran was stunned: ". . . Is this. . . fucking. . . okay???"

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