#fucking hell misnamed the show

[thestalwartheart]

DANIEL CRAIG laughing on The Late Show with Stephen Colbert.

[sepublic]

It’s been two weeks so let me get this off my chest;

Why the fuck did they include Maggie in All In. Why did they include the racist white girl whose only purpose is to be racist towards Anne. For a show that’s mean to uplift Thai people and make them feel comfortable in their own skin by telling their story, it’s EXTREMELY tone-deaf.

And for what?! Because I guess Maggie is ‘popular’ amongst people who completely missed the point and the writers wanted to reward that? They STILL had Maggie get Anne’s name wrong, too! Matt Braly why the fuck did you allow this. Why did you let this happen and have Maggie STILL get Anne’s name wrong; Something clearly meant to be seen as a racist move. This show is meant to make Thai, as well as asian kids in general, feel welcome.

It’d be one thing if Maggie was an actual fleshed out character who unlearned her prejudices and truly apologized, who had other aspects to her character besides being racist. But she’s not. She literally had no personality nor role beyond bigotry, and fans latched onto that for same damn reason and I GUESS the crew rewarded that antithetical type of move that goes against the very show’s message. Hell they even reinforced it because I guess Maggie calling Anne “Boobchuy” isn’t meant to be viewed as negatively anymore; It’s not a funny quirky detail it’s blatant racism, or was at least HEAVILY IMPLIED to be, which I then question the decision to reframe Maggie’s misnaming by All In.

I also find it questionable how our protagonist of color ‘gains the approval’ of her racist bully by saving the world, because it reminds me too much of centrist morals where minorities and the oppressed have to justify their reason for existing to their oppressors. Maggie’s fans don’t have to worry about being called out over her character’s racism because she suddenly likes Anne now, they’re validated because the racist white girl fans have been thrown a racist white girl bone by the crew, Maggie is less problematic now!

In interviews, Matt made a BIG deal about the alienation aspect of being Thai in America, and Anne learning to appreciate what her parents struggled with after being the only human in Wartwood. There was the implication that Anne didn’t recognize Maggie’s racism as such, and it’s by Season 3 when Anne finally listens to her mother’s discussion of being Thai in an unfamiliar world, that she really understands. 

Maggie’s stupid-ass cameo just feels like an appeal to the lowest common denominator, a legit betrayal of the show’s message that is meant to combat such xenophobia by celebrating Thai heritage, and I hate it. Matt said he was baffled by Maggie’s popularity and I felt bad for him because I thought he clearly had stronger words than that but didn’t want to come across as ‘mean’, but then he allows this to happen?! Did his own crew somehow override Matt on this already tasteless cameo made even worse by its execution or what!? What kind of message does this send?

[woodsfae]

Babylon 5 S01E07: The War Prayer

First

Previous

ToC

That is an ominous episode name if ever I’ve seen one. Gonna be pretty funny if this is a light, filler episode.

I hope this is Delenn-heavy because I’m ready to feel the hype this website has for her. And her friend is a poet! I want to hear this poem they’re talking about.

Do the Minbari all have fake ears as part of their makeup? Or do they only cast actors with tiny, low-set ears with attached earlobes?

Hate crimes. Sad days.

“Than make them give a damn,” yeah you need a good social media person.

That’s a badass decision by Mayan the poet - keeping the hate crime brand.

Not the coffee plants! C’mon Garibaldi.

I don’t like Susan’s ex. And am going to go ahead and predict that he’s involved in the hate crimes.

Not sure I’ll ever be able to stop immediately thinking “they have manes and tails, oh my god,” whenever I see Centauri. It’s etched into my neurons.

The Centauri not only have slavery but also have forced marriage. Lovely. “Yeah forced marriage is miserable, but we were all miserable in our marriages so you should be too,” one of my favorite justifications for continuing awful traditions.

Kosh is kinda hilarious. Just chillin and watching the highlights and lowlifes of human history and refusing to talk to the other ambassadors unless explicitly officially necessary.

Hope the Centauri lovebirds run away before they’re sent back. Seriously, if arranged marriages are to keep power and influence within the right families and build alliances - there’s no reason they can’t marry each other! They’re both aristocrats! But our own history shows us that people aren’t that sensible.

“Do you ever regret leaving me?” HELL NO SHE DOESN’T. Calling it harder. this “I shouldn’t have let you go,” dick is one of the home guard. And just assuming they’ll be together since he moved here? jayzus. That’s some entitled behavior.

Tensions are at a boil, and seem to be about to boil the fuck over.

“If he dies she will experience enormous grief. But every moment together will make her grief a little less.”

I agree. Missing moments and wishing for more time are some of the main hallmarks of my grief.

Incitement is happening on all sides. Everyone’s riling their people. Including this asshat ex. And Sinclair is going straight for them. I knew Susan’s asshat ex was up to no good.

Why don’t fin-headed people have an ambassador on Babylon 5? I’m a little baffled as to why each species doesn’t have an ambassador. And Sinclair, “he’ll recover,” is not at all reassuring to people worried they’re going to be attacked and murdered, even if you’re saying it to get asshat to think you’re on his side.

This exchange of looks. I choose to interpret them thusly:

Sinclair: How’m I doing? Ivanova: Fuckin’ terrible but he seems to be buying it, and I’m increasingly baffled as to what I ever saw in him if you’re fooling him with this hamfisted dialogue. Sinclair: Fuck yea

OH the Centauri kids are literally children, at least legally so. Aww, Londo is on the side of love now. And probably assuming their infatuation will end sooner or later anyway. And in any case, this fosterage gets everyone off his back to Do Something About the Kids!

Secret military prototypes. Of course they’re in fascist hands. Ambassadors Down. The berries on this asshat demanding a loyalty test from the most powerful person on Babylon 5. 

Whew! So this was not a lighthearted filler episode misnamed amusingly. It was a good episode, just pretty heavy. I am bummed that this wasn’t actually all that Delenn-heavy, but it did have slightly higher Delenn content than the last few, so I am content for now. It was also sadly bereft of Talia/Susan but so have they all lately. I’ll be content with quietly meaning-laden glances and tension thick enough to cut, but it hasn’t even been giving me that yet!

Next Episode

[neighbourskid]

Dave? Dave.

It's been quite a bit since I've written anything here, huh? Well, I guess as it has been for pretty much everyone, life has been kinda strange for a while now. Despite vaccine roll-outs and continually changing safety regulations, there's still a global pandemic on, and everyone is trying to navigate this reality the best they can. For once, we are all, generally speaking, in the same boat now (sure, there are huge differences between countries because capitalism fucking sucks and rich greedy humans are once again proof that things need to change asap, but overall, we all have to deal with this pandemic).

But I don't actually want to talk about the pandemic, it just exists as a frame of what I do wanna talk about.

As I have mentioned before, when the pandemic hit, I was in the last semester of my undergrad studies and writing my Bachelor thesis. Or that's what I was supposed to do, anyway. I did do a lot of reading for it, early in the first lockdown after university closed and we were all attending from home. I was lucky, I had no classes, I only had like three scheduled meetings to check in on progress of the thesis, but otherwise I was free of zoom calls and attempting to attend university digitally. So I read.

After a while, reading became taking a book with me into the sun, glancing at one or two pages, and then just napping for most of the day, and spending my evenings either playing video games or watching some tv show or movie. At some point, I felt like now was the perfect time to rewatch all fifteen seasons of CRIMINAL MINDS, so I did that, instead of writing my thesis. I still occasionally read, but most of the days I just felt exhausted and unmotivated so I stayed in bed and binged my crime show.

As the deadline for the thesis started approaching, and the time I had left fell under a month, a switch in my brain seemed to be activated and, oh, hello, suddenly there was a certain drive there for that thesis again. Which lasted exactly until an email from university dinged into my inbox a few days later, informing me that I would get another month for my thesis, due to the pandemic. And away that motivation and drive went, immediately.

Not much later I had a session with the therapist I was seeing at the time, because of the hormone treatment I had started early that same year. I had talked to him about my concern that I might have ADHD before because I didn't feel like there was anything we needed to talk about related to my transition, so I brought it up again here. I told him how my thesis was going -- or rather, how it wasn't going at all -- and finally, as I told him about some of the issues I experienced while trying to do work for it, he acknowledged that I may indeed have some attention regulation issues. He prescribed me medication to try out, and -- wonder oh wonder -- suddenly I was writing my thesis. I ended up finishing it on time (even though a week before I had a moment of "all of this is garbage, I will never pass, I should start the whole thing from scratch") and got a decent grade for it, too. I've been on those meds since.

Over the last, I don't know how many years, I've always known that there was something a bit wonky about my brain. There were always these things that seemed to come so easy to other people, and try as I might, I just couldn't make them happen. I, presumably, had a lot of neurotypical friends. I also have friends with depression, BPD, anxiety disorders and other neurodivergencies. I have family members with autism. I know my mom suspected I might be on that spectrum as well.

Reading up on many of those things I never felt like any of them described what I was experiencing. There were certain traits, sure, but mostly there was a lack of what I actually did experience in most of them. Even ADHD, when reading about the "required" issues and traits, doing those self-diagnosing questionnaires, I just never saw what I felt represented. And then I started reading about what people with diagnosed ADHD had to say about how they experience things. I ignored the more medical or clinical information, and just looked for people talking about how they navigate their lives with ADHD. And then all of a sudden it was, oh, yeah this, this is relatable. This is where my brain's at.

Suddenly it made sense that caffeine didn't do nothing for me, that a nice, warm cup of coffee put me right to sleep. It made sense how, after only a month, suddenly a well beloved hobby or tv show was suddenly of no interest whatsoever. Staring at the wall for three hours instead of doing a simple task. Drawing in class so that I could pay attention to what is being said. The inability to remember much of my life before 6th grade. Having to bounce my leg so I could read a simple text. Needing to visually break a book down into chapters with colourful post-its to keep me from being overwhelmed by the length of the book. And so many other things. Suddenly, there was a reason for that.

I've always liked doing personality quizzes. Or doing stuff related to my zodiac sign even if I don't believe in astrology per se. Finding out what my Enneagram number is. Or my Myers-Briggs type. Not because I think those things define me or describe me to a T, but because they give me a vocabulary. They give me options. I love answering a bunch of questions and then getting a wall of text telling me This Is Who You Are and then I get to pick out what is accurate and what isn't. It gives me words to describe who I am that I didn't have before.

And it is the same thing with posts or videos of people with ADHD. It gives me a vocabulary for the things I experience and it lets me express those things in a way I wasn't able to before. Before, I was like, doing things that my brain doesn't want to do, feels like running headfirst into a wall because there is no way above, around, or underneath it. There is no door, no ladder, no tunnel, no nothing. There is only running headfirst into it until maybe, hopefully, it cracks. Preferably before my head does. But that is exhausting and most of the time, I prefer to not get through the wall at all, if what it takes is going headfirst through it. Now, I know that what that is, is a dopamine deficiency. The task that needs doing, the task that this wall is, doesn't give my brain enough dopamine. There is no satisfaction, there is nothing to gain from that task, so the brain isn't interested.

One of the things that I recently discovered and helps me a lot in this quest of figuring out how my brain works, is this guy Connor on tiktok, who also has ADHD. His videos are both hilarious and informative. And also incredibly relatable. They might be silly haha funny videos on the dear old internet, but I walk away from most of them going, oh! oh that makes sense, good to know.

He occasionally talks about how ADHD is completely misnamed and how Attention Deficit Hyperactivity Disorder does not actually accurately describe what exactly people with ADHD lack. In one of his videos, he calls it DAVE instead. It's silly, and sounds a bit dumb, but I kinda like it. Dave. Dopamine Attention Variability Executive-Disfunction. Dave. I like Dave.

Y'know, I don't mind having ADHD. Presumably, I've lived with it my whole life so far. And it's annoying as shit some of the time. Especially when things need to get done and they just won't. But I don't mind that, especially now that I know that this is what it is. I've always feared that if I finally do go to a therapist and try to figure out what my brain is up to, they'll just tell me that I'm fine and there's nothing to worry about. And at first, my therapist did say I was psychologically unremarkable. But I guess if you've lived like this your whole life and nobody has really picked up on it, even a therapist doesn't notice (it's called masking, I've learned, thanks Connor).

But knowing is good. Knowing means I can learn things that help. I can take medication when needed. And, looking at the grades I'm currently getting in my graduate studies? Hells yeah, taking that medication and knowing how to deal with certain aspects of my brain helps a lot. It is incredibly funny to me that the best grades I have gotten in my entire academic career have been achieved in my Master's studies during a global pandemic. There is currently an actual real possibility that I may graduate summa cum laude. In my MA. That is insane!

Anyway, I am avoiding tasks by writing this right now. Oh, the irony. I'm gonna try and do those tasks now. Y'all take care. Cheers!

[catsvrsdogscatswin]

Higurashi Gou Liveblog: Episode 14:

Okay so apparently this arc might be based off of that weird ghost-hunting quarry episode that's between the first and second seasons and never shows up on any of the DVDs, not even the official ones, and the events of which aren't mentioned to my knowledge in any of the other arcs. Hmm. Spooky. But I haven't seen it at all, so for the first time I'm kinda going into an episode blind. And if it's not based on that, I still have absolutely no idea where we're going with this, unless it's a misnamed interpretation of one of the arcs I know. On the other hand, if this is entirely new territory and they're leaning towards the whole Bernkastel thing, since Bernkastel is both Featherine's miko AND her cat, and Bernkastel is cat-themed with cat familiars…PLEASE DON'T. Also, apparently this might be a new section? Like they're changing directions again?

THE THUMBNAIL IS OF RIKA LOOKING SAD I'M SCARED.

We're STARTING at Watanagashi WHAT?!

Okay we're starting from an alternate perspective for the last arc?

WHAT?! WHAT WHAT WHAT WHAT IS ALL THIS WHAT?!

So Oishi's definitely infected all to hell. Why does he think Rika's responsible, though?

Okay so Mio and Shion doing as they do, sacrificing themselves for the rest of the club?

Rika really said "Die mad, I'm not telling you anything."

And now she's having an understandable mental breakdown.

WAIT A MINUTE SHE SHOULDN'T REMEMBER.

Hanyuu's only a remnant of herself? Is that Featherine's fault?

Featherine's horns are a memory device and Hanyuu's horns were focused on when they talked about memory and I do NOT like where this is going.

"Live as one who lives in loops" THAT'S A WITCH THOUGH.

So even Rika doesn't know what the heck happened in the arc with the Sonozakis. Mood.

OH NO.

THIS IS GOING IN WITCHY DIRECTIONS I HATE THIS.

Hey that's the sword that killed Hanyuu when she first reincarnated as a human.

I don't know why Hanyuu left or why Hanyuu is apparently an echo of herself and I hate how this is tending towards Umineko.

Hey Rika's doing that thing where she begs off club to do something important. Boy oh boy I hope that doesn't go in the direction it does for everyone else.

Rika's going to hide from everyone in the club and that feels so deeply ominous. Is this gonna be a one-episode arc? Rika just goes straight home and stabs herself with the magic sword? Is Satoko going to find her body?

On the one hand I'm stoked that they're still searching for her, on the other I'm 90% certain they'll find Rika's dead body.

OH the sword is MISSING.

TAKANO! Takano took it when she was fucking around in the shrine before! And that's why she ran off with Tomitake during the festival.

[m-oana-archive]

A Love Too Heavy (For Just One to Hold) pt. 3

catch up on pt. 1 | pt 2. 

Pairing: Sirius Black x Reader x Remus Lupin

Words: 3629 

Summary: After pining after Y/N for years, Sirius finally gets the girl: the happy ending the story is supposed to end with.  The only problem is the fact Sirius’ feelings for Remus still haven’t seemed to go away.  But he isn’t the only one starting to question their ability to love two people at the same time.

A/N: This is the last part, and includes too many italicized words and usages of “oh” (which are almost always italicized). 

requestor: @shinysilverunicorn-blog  | read on AO3 | Masterlist

Y/N’s POV 

How to describe Sirius and Remus?  Y/N could do so simply, stating they were her closest friends, easily the two most important people in her life.  But that wouldn’t include the whole of it.  The way each of them were so different that both were essential to the functions of her heart. 

Sirius was like a catchy tune: people got drawn to him.  Even if he got annoying and overbearing, there was something that made him impossible to distance yourself from fully.  And like a catchy tune, you wouldn’t expect there to be more than one layer to him, but that was wrong entirely.  He wore leather and confidence, but only because he knew what it did for him, not because it matched what was held underneath.  He knew about himself—his fears, hopes, failures, self-destructive tendencies—well enough to know how to look like he had none of them.  Then there was Remus.  The opposite.  There was nothing about him that didn’t suggest introspection, from books to sweaters to tea to somehow swerving away from the Marauder reputation by being difficult to associate with petty pranks.  But, while it seemed to be easy for him to dive deep into the depths of his soul, he always stood shivering at the shore before turning away, afraid of what he’d find under cold water.  But with terror came beauty, and Remus couldn’t see past the first part to understand how gorgeous he was. 

They were both wonderful in different ways: if Sirius was the sun, Remus was the shade that protected you.  If Remus was a cup of tea, Sirius was the sugar that made it palatable.  It was hard not to love one and not the other because it seemed as if both were necessary to survive.  

Or, at least, that was the problem Y/N was facing. 

Y/N remembered the first time she saw both.  It was hard to look away from Sirius; sometimes, Y/N swore that his purpose was to be admired.  But, in a similar vein, it was hard to ignore Remus.  While, out of the rest of them, James was too earnest to be captivating and Peter too unsure of himself to be found attractive, Remus was quiet in the way he knew he didn’t have to give himself up to gain attention.  Remus was identical to the pages he read: once you finished one, you couldn’t help flipping to the next.  

She hadn’t meant, or expected, either adorations to turn into crushes.  Instantly, she had wanted to be friends with the whole lot of them.  Not even the cold blood was enough to turn her away; in fact, with her Slytherin ambition, showing her ability to make friendships despite the rivalry became part of the appeal.  But, unbeknownst to her, feelings had started.  With Remus, they were the moments he was loud and obnoxious and so bloody smart it was hard to be anything except amazed.  Similarly, Sirius was at his easiest to fall in love with when he was without facades, wearing some torn-up jumper that belonged to one of “his lads”—almost always Remus—and speaking very quietly of whatever came to his mind first.  They were two sides of the same coin, one that Y/N wished she could hold between her fingers, that Y/N wished she could keep. 

At first, because of her platonic intention, Sirius’ obvious interest was overwhelming, like lights being flashed on in a room right after darkness, not giving eyes time to adjust.  But once her eyes had adjusted, they could barely look at anyone else, envision anyone else kissing her; holding her hand; laying on her bed with her, bodies forming shapes that fit one another perfectly.  

Remus was chillingly indifferent.  When Y/N stated her wishes that someone would ask her to Hogsmeade—subconsciously, this was a complaint that Remus wasn’t doing so—Remus brushed it off casually, saying that someday someone would come along who would treat her right.  The heartbreak of it made her realize how deep her emotions were for him; she was willing to waste her life trying to catch an unreachable moon just so Remus wouldn’t have to endure being transformed by it every month.  And, when she inevitably failed, at least he’d know he was worth a whole lifetime. 

So she picked Sirius, not through a choice, but through a lack of one.  Because, if Y/N truly had her way, she would choose both. 

But apparently, Remus wouldn’t.  Not based on what he had just said to her, moments after some stupid, hopeful part of Y/N thought they might have kissed.   

The sounds of the words Remus had said were gone, but the weight pulled the room down, including everything inside of Y/N.  Her soul felt like the library: all the brightness was sucked out except for two small lights that weren’t enough to make her feel alive anymore. 

“Oh.”  She meant to say it, but she whispered it instead.  Or sighed it.  

For the first time in a long time since meeting and getting to know Remus, her eyes did not want to meet his face.

Silence followed.  A long one; so long that it transcended tension and peace to turn into an overwhelming shallowness, the same kind Y/N felt inside of her chest as she stood waiting.  She knew instinctively that Remus’ mouth was opening and closing above her, trying sentences in his head before realizing he didn’t want to say them out loud.  Y/N wished he would have planned the sentence he had said before with that kind of carefulness.  Since when was Remus so spontaneous, anyway?  When did he make the decision to abandon so much of what made him him, even if it was in the name of honesty? 

The first sound was Remus’ swallow.  Then, his hand brushing through his hair.  Then, his voice, saying, “I didn’t mean that to say I don’t want you to be with him.  I’ve never seen him happier.”  There was such sadness in the admission, the kind of sadness that is made of happiness.  The  kind of sadness that is made of love.

Instantly, something within Y/N shifted.  Anger disappeared.  She looked up to Remus and she could see it on his face, on the purse of his lips and twisting of his eyes and lock of his jaw: Remus really was in love with Sirius.  Or at least could love him.  If given the chance. 

“I can’t just…” Y/N started, drifting, struggling to say anything because words felt so loud.  “You’re… you’re my best friend.  How am I supposed to just sit around dating him in front of you in good conscience?  You’ve put me in quite a position here.  Either I hurt you until you get over him, or I hurt him to spare you.” 

“Please, don’t do anything for me,” Remus automatically replied.  “Really, that wasn’t a cry for pity—” 

“Then why the hell did you tell me that?” 

Remus tugged on his hair.  “I don’t know!  I just couldn’t bear lying to you anymore!” 

“Then want to know something else true?” Y?N said, despite her stomach telling her to stop talking, saying that this was a terrible idea, one rooted out of nothing except anger and childishness.  “I fucking, I fucking had feelings for you, Remus.  But you were so fucking indifferent, always brushing me aside, making me feel like I was just another person to you, no one special.  I stayed in.  I stayed for you.  Struggled silently, hurting every damn day, just because I knew you didn’t mean it.  Why couldn’t you have just waited until… until…” 

Her words faded into a tense silence.  Remus lifted an eyebrow at her.  “Until what?  Until I got over him?” 

“Yeah.” 

“Why didn’t you just say it?  I don’t…” 

Remus was looking at her, and she was doing everything to collapse into herself, to not let her red cheeks be noticed, to make them disappear.  “Oh.”  He paused.  A single moment encapsulating a thousand different ones.  “Y/N, do you still have feelings for me?” 

Y/N laid her hands out in front of her, her body ready to express a logical counter argument her mind could not provide.  Her stature sunk.

“What does it matter?” 

“It matters because…” Remus hesitated, hands still in his hair, running through it desperately.  “Okay, if we’re being very honest here, which we are, I need you to know that, um, a lot of the reason I’m not dating Sirius is because I’m conflicted between him and someone else, someone else who is also in a relationship… and it could work, but I… I’m not sure…” 

“How to politely ask me to remove myself from my own relationship?” Y/N offered. 

Remus’ face hardened.  “No,” he said.  It was stern, absolute.  All at once, Y/N understood.  

Just as suddenly, there was a gasp of wood from the side.  Y/N turned to the door, finding Sirius there.  He had a look of confusion nearing pain on his face and Remus’ jumper on. 

Oh, Y/N realized.  Oh.

If the rumors and legends were true, this could have been the last moment of her life: everything was coming back in flashes.  There were fuzzy, alcohol-smudged scenes of parties, where, in something she misnamed as drunken dumbfuckery, Remus and Sirius were dancing with bodies close together, laughter taking up every part of their mouths.  Times that she would see Sirius leaning in close to whisper something in Remus’ ear, Remus’ ears turning pink regardless of how many times it must have been done before.  There were all the times that Y/N turned around in class to meet Remus’ eyes, just to find they were already on her.  When she would borrow Remus’ jumper from Sirius and Remus wouldn’t protest; “It fits you,” he had said, which she had taken far too literally.  The fact that Sirius wore that jumper more than Remus, yet Remus would never protest.  The late nights of crying herself to sleep, afraid that she had made the wrong choice, because she wanted not one, but both of them. 

She looked back to Remus first.  He was already looking at her.  “Wait here,” she whispered, fighting the urge to kiss him on the cheek nonchalantly before turning and walking towards Sirius. 

This was it.  This had to be it.  

Y/N got to Sirius faster than she had meant too, but had no time to feel self-conscious about it.  “I need you alone for a second,” she said.  Her hands were on his arm, redirecting him out into the corridor before he had time to protest. 

Once they were alone, door closed, Sirius’ body instinctively adjusted into an argument stance: there was a rolling back of his shoulders, a cocking of his chin, a tense spot in his jaw, a crossing of his arms.  “You were real fucking close in there, Y/N.  In dim light, after six hours together… he’s not your boyfriend!  I am!  I barely even see you today and when I finally find you you’re almost kissing him.” 

Y/N waited, trying to cover the ache in her chest with an unbothered expression.  She knew she needed  to apologize, but had to wait: they didn’t have time for this argument right then.  They might never have to have it again, too, if she was right.  She hoped she was right. 

“You have a right to be jealous of him,” she admitted.  “But, let me ask you something: are you jealous of me?” 

Sirius’ muscles softened, or, maybe, they buckled under the pressure of him having been uncovered.  It was too soon to know, too similar to tell.  He opened his mouth, then closed it.  The anger in his eyes was transformed into pain.

Y/N reached to touch his face.  The way he melted into her touch was enough to break her heart, again.  “Sirius.  I’m not asking about what this means for us right now.  I just need to know, honestly, how you feel about Remus.” 

“It’s complicated,” he frowned. 

“It might complicate, but it’s not complicated.  Even if things change because of how you feel, I will always love you so much.  It would be unfair to ask you to tell me the truth and then get mad at you for doing it.” 

With a deep exhale underneath Remus’ jumper and his lips, warm, against the side of Y/N’s hand, Sirius said, “I have feelings for him.  So many.  It’s painful.”   

I know.  God, I know, Y/N thought to herself.  How could anyone meet Remus and not be madly, irresistibly, unforgivably in love with him?  It was foolish of her to think she could not love him; it was nice to know that someone else had also been equally mindless.  Perhaps this was something that made Sirius and Y/N so compatible. 

“It’s okay,” Y/N decided upon saying.  She brushed her thumb against his stubbled cheek.  “I just need to know, does this change how you feel about me?  What dating me means?” 

Sirius’ eyes met hers instantly.  “Merlin, no.  I’m still so ridiculously into you, too, which is why I never told you about Remus—because I usually tell you about everything—because I didn’t know what it meant.  I was so confused.  I still am.” 

“Sirius.”  She stepped closer to him, feeling her eyes fill with tears, either from understanding his sadness or from realizing both of them were helping create it for so long.  “I know.” 

His eyes were angry again, despite the fact hers were wet. 

“I know.  I understand.  God, Sirius, I have feelings for him too!  And I hid it for so long, because I thought he didn’t feel the same, and I liked you so much, and I didn’t know I didn’t have to choose between the two of you.” 

“You didn’t?  You don’t?”  Sirius asked with such shock, it came out as a scream. 

A relief, golden as sunlight, filled Y/N so deeply that she could only shake her head in response, too overwhelmed to do anything else.  The tension that was held inside of her for so long was finally undone and all she could see was how possible everything was now.

“He told me he feels like we do about him.  It’s been so simple!  All of this time, Sirius.  It’s absolutely ridiculous.” 

Sirius layered his hand on top of Y/N’s, tracing the curvature of her knuckles.  “I want to barge in there and kiss that fucker right now,” he admitted, a laugh blossoming out of Y/N’s mouth.  “But I want to ask: are you 100 percent on this?  I know we just started dating, and I always felt like I was so much more eager than you, but you met me there.  But this seems a lot… bigger.   I don’t want you to go beyond what you can handle for me.  You can still have me.  No matter what you say.  I promised I’d stick by you.” 

Y/N pulled herself up to Sirius, kissing him, mouth absorbing the weight of the words he just said, but knowing this was something good.  She pulled away sooner than she wanted to.  Sirius looked both more rooted and more disheveled.  “I know, Sirius.  That’s why I’m okay with this.  I trust you.  I know you won’t push me aside.  And I won’t leave you, either.  I love you, and this is about all three of us, not any two of us.” 

“As long as Remus is comfortable,” Sirius piped up. 

“As long as Remus is comfortable,” Y/N agreed. 

They both looked over at the closed library door.  Something that was keeping Remus outside all of this.  A threshold he’d have to be invited to cross, and would want to.  

Sirius was the first to ask the looming question.  “How do we…” 

“You go,” Y/N offered, automatically getting his eyes on her for the demand of it.  “This has been forever for you, hasn’t it?  Since you met.” 

“Yeah.”  It was soft.  He was flustered, a blush creeping up his neck, as if Y/N hadn’t seen him do much more embarrassing things.  Loving Remus Lupin was not something to be embarrassed about. 

“Then you deserve to be the one.  Plus, he’s your best mate.  And I’ve had to deal with him for six bloody hours.” 

Sirius laughed, and everything felt better.  “Okay,” he breathed.  “Wish me luck?” 

Y/N wanted to yell at him, knock some sense into him.  He’s bloody in love with you! she wanted to shout.  But it was too true to be cocky.  Something struck her here: the fact that, while deeply in love with the both of them and utterly confused, Remus had to hear Sirius say this before asking Y/N out.  Sadness kept finding its way in, as much as it felt wrong, as much as Y/N refused it. 

“Good luck, love,” Y/N said.  He released her hand, slid away from her, slipped between the doors, and was gone. 

It was difficult, those minutes that felt like years, spent waiting for Sirius to explain himself to Remus.  But it felt right.  She had so much time with both of them separately that it was their time to come to terms for what this meant for them.  There was also something so private in the intimacy of a first kiss; if they wanted to share theirs now, Y/N felt as though they should have the room to do so.  And what place is better than a dark, musty library, as secret in the night as their love for one another, filled with as much logic as Remus and as much mystery as Sirius?  

When the door finally opened, only one body emerged.  It was Remus.  He looked different, like something that was knocked over and finally set upright.  He was smiling in a devilish way.  Y/N knew instantly that they had kissed; it was the implantation of Sirius’ lips on his that had left his mouth hanging in the same crooked way that Sirius�� always does. 

“Hi,” she offered, lamely.  The result was rather surprising: Remus' smile straightened and softened.  It was so true she almost had to look away from him.  Again. 

Remus came up to her, close enough to do so much—her mind was raking through possibilities—but failing to; she knew from six years of knowing him that this wasn’t due to anything except respect for her.  She loved him more for it.  Somehow. 

“Sirius told me everything,” he said.  “And I’d be the happiest person in the entire world if I got to have both of you.” 

Y/N understood Sirius’ earlier sudden shyness: hearing Remus say that made her knees weaken and the words she had planned to say jumbled up inside of her head.  The only thing she could think to respond with was, “How was the kiss?” 

Remus’ smirk was back.  “How’d you know?” 

“You looked triumphant and cocky.  It was obvious.”  Remus laughed, hand finding the back of his neck to rub it.  She felt the need to add, “It makes sense, considering how long you waited for that kiss.” 

“Well…” he took a step in, close enough his mouth was almost touching Y/N’s, but still failing to.  “There’s still one more I’m waiting for.  If you’ll have me.”

“Yeah,” she said, already breathless.  “Of course I will.” 

Y/N’s heart was beating impossibly fast as Remus stepped close, cupped her cheek, and led his mouth onto hers.  She thought she’d have the ability to compare his kiss to Sirius’.  She thought wrong; it was too consuming—not in the intensity but the depth of it, the realness of it—it was impossible for her to think about anything except the fact she was kissing Remus Lupin.  She was kissing Remus Lupin.  It had worked.  It had all worked out.  She had Remus’ right hand on her cheek, the left trailing up the back of her head.  She had his sweater in the clutches of her fists, a silent ask for more.  She had Remus’ tongue in her mouth—she had Remus’ goddamned tongue in her mouth—turning her stomach into a night sky riddled with fireworks.  It was too surreal to be real.  But it was. 

When they parted, they were both breathless.  Y/N released her fists to allow her fingers to instead draw random shapes across Remus’ sturdy chest.  She felt happy, at peace.  Yet there was still something missing. 

“Sirius,” she called from over Remus’ shoulder.  “Open that damn door and get over here!” 

He appeared instantaneously.  Without explanation, he spelled the lights off inside of the library, and produced a key from his pocket which he then used to lock the door. 

Sirius came up to them, attaching himself to Remus’ side in the same way he always had, but leaning into him more than usual, as if to say this is how I always have felt, but now I can show it.  Y/N scanned both of their faces, two beautiful boys, scarred and wonderful in their own ways, and hers. 

“Walk me home?” she asked.  They both nodded, starting off into the night.  A natural formation befell the three of them: Remus standing in the center, Sirius leaning into him in a way that demanded Remus to wrap his arm around his waist, and Y/N holding Remus’ hand, his thumb stroking her palm.  All around them, evening was whispering, with cricket chirps, light breezes, and clouds shifting the moonlight from above.  It was soft and calm and real, real, real.  Somehow.  It was real.  

⬥  ⬥  ⬥  ⬥  ⬥  ⬥  ⬥  ⬥

Taglist (let me know if you want to be added): @astertist @beskarjedi @bluemadcnna @boring-viola @carolinesbookworld @finnofamerica @fortisfiliae @gabriel-r3ap3r-reyes @gryffndor @jamcspotters @just-some-nerd @lonelyheart-jadedsoul @neewtmas @portkeys-and-prose @siriusement @siriuslyimmoony @sly-vixen-up2nogood @swellwriting @the-apple-princess @theboywhocriedlupin @who-cares-unknown @woakiees @wzardings @samcycle @luckygirl144

[no-other-words]

let’s take this offline - ch2

synergy is the key to success [read on ao3] kageyama needs to burn that sweater-vest and hinata needs to not get turned on by kageyama’s voice.

---

“Hi, I’m Hinata!”

It feels like he’s repeated this at least ten times now, but the conversation that comes after is never the same. Hinata has met pretty much all the people joining their team and he’s already liking this new bunch.

A meet-and-greet was called forth by Daichi where Kuroo’s team can meet the rest of the Marketing Division, a chance for new faces to introduce themselves and get to know one another. He adds in his memo that breakfast will be included and where there is free food, there is Hinata.

Seeing so many unfamiliar faces causes slight unease in Hinata so after loading up two full plates of fruits and muffins, he sets off to make some new acquaintances.

Oikawa seems like a total douche but the passionate way he talks about his line of work is admirable and Hinata goes starry-eyed. Akaashi is the complete opposite with his calm and collected demeanour and Hinata thinks that Kenma would get along with him. Aone is a tough one to crack but once Hinata mentions animal documentaries, an instant connection is built and he knows it will be a lasting one.

Then there’s the guy sulking in the corner of the room, staring relentlessly at Hinata. Eyes narrowed, brows scrunched, and lips pulled into small pout, he has not moved since Hinata got here. Everything about him is intense—the way he eats his fruits, the way he holds his coffee cup, the way he drinks from his cup.

The only thing that makes him slightly more approachable is the puke-green sweater vest he’s unfortunately wearing. Brave is the man who steps out into society in that.

He’s been avoiding to introduce himself but one can only be so rude for so long. Hinata musters up the courage, summons his biggest smile, and marches right up to the man.

“Good morning! I see you’re enjoying that coffee a lot.” He starts off. “I’m Hi—”

“I know. Your picture doesn’t do you justice.”

Now it’s his turn to stare. The next few seconds was a wild train ride as Hinata witnesses a rainbow of emotions running across the man’s face—shock, dismay, humiliation, and a final colour of cooled restraint. Or at least, as restrained as he can be with that growing flush of his.

Hinata hears the impact of an arrow shooting through his heart.

Then the guy blurts out, “I mean, you’re even harder to look at in person.”

That figurative arrow is then unforgivingly ripped out.

“What did you say?” Hinata growls.

“You just…” He appears to be struggling to find words. “You have that same stupid look—”

“Just give me your name so I know not to work with you in the future.”

“Too late, you already are.” The man takes his hand out for a handshake. “Kageyama Tobio.”

Hinata hisses in responses, slapping his hand away. “I knew there was something sinister about you.”

“Sinister? What the fuck do you mean?!”

Taking a step forward, Hinata says, “You were giving me angry looks the whole time I was here!”

“That’s because all I could see is that dumb picture you have on your Skype profile,” Kageyama says, putting his foot forward. “Take a better one by the way, it hurts my eyes and I don’t appreciate it.”

“Well I don’t appreciate your attitude.”

“You already said that, genius. Try to be original for once.”

Before Hinata can reply, both of them gets a hard pat on the back and they turn to see Kuroo, standing uncomfortably close and wearing an uncomfortably wide smile.

“Well well, we sure are getting acquainted here,” says Kuroo. “It’s always nice to see our staff get along. Makes for good team morale, don’t you think?”

The silent challenge in his eyes makes both Hinata and Kageyama nod. His towering figure looming over Hinata makes it all the more intimidating.

“And Daichi will be especially happy to see us working and flourishing together as one big family, wouldn’t you agree?”

The two men couldn’t nod faster.

“Good.” Kuroo pats their back again. “Play nice.”

Waiting until the manager walks out of hearing range, Kageyama gives Hinata a pointed look. “Listen up moron, I'm not going to throw my reputation down the drain in front of my boss and Daichi just because some dimwit doesn't know how to do his job correctly."

Hinata grits his teeth. The two-faced, no-good, jer—

“Grab your laptop and come to my desk. I’ll take a look at your dumb report.”

A truce.

Okay, he takes it all back. Maybe this guy’s not all that bad.

Wait.

"Why don’t you come to my desk?" Hinata asks.

Kageyama gives him an incredulous look. "Because we're already on my floor so why the hell do I need to go to the 23rd? This is your problem anyway."

"Caused by your data!"

"Just…" Kageyama takes a deep breath and closes his eyes. He rubs the bridge of his nose before brushing back his bangs, revealing a weirdly alluring forehead. "Just, come. Okay? Let me see what I can do."

Maybe it’s the way Kageyama finally pulls back. Not giving in, but receding for now to let things cool before both their hotheads steam up again. Maybe it’s also how he decides to lower his voice, as an attempt for cease-fire. It sounds smoother, low and solid, and eases Hinata’s defenses down.

Realizing that he still hasn’t replied, Hinata clears his throat. "Fine, give me fifteen minutes."

Kageyama raises his eyebrows. "It takes you that long to get up there?”

His personality is as horrid as that sweater-vest of his.

---

In all honesty, if it wasn't for his serious lack of charm, Hinata would've thought Kageyama as a slightly-above-average looking guy. He's decently-built, no doubt smart, and has a pretty face to boot (when it's not scrunched in negativity). Brown eyes are so common here so it's refreshing to see a person with blue ones.

Hinata first discovers them when they sit together to look at his broken report. Kageyama’s focusing on the screen in front of him, concentration level up 110%. He’s seated tightly against his desk, hands on mouse and keyboard moving ever so swiftly to navigate around the computer. Like a machine, he processes the report methodically and Hinata…well Hinata’s eyes explore the office setting.

And then at Kageyama. He’s currently addressing him about something, but Hinata doesn’t really listen because he realises that Kageyama’s eyes are not black but in fact a dark shade of blue. It’s hard to tell, what with the man glaring at you half the time.

“Are you even listening?”

“Your eyes are blue.”

This puts a stop to Kageyama’s scowling. He straightens up and looks back to the screen, muttering, “What of it?”

Hinata shakes his head in defence. “No I mean, I just think that’s cool. They’re so dark and…” He leans in closer to get a better look. The colour is so deep that Hinata’s mistaken them for black, to his shame, and Hinata finds Kageyama’s eyes are so intense that—

“It’s nice,” he says.

Kageyama visibly swallows. “Nice.”

Hinata nods with a smile. “They’re a nice colour.”

They find out what went wrong with the report that day. It’s neither Kageyama’s data nor Hinata’s report that is that the cause but some data-transfer issue that becomes too technical for them to solve. Surprisingly, Kageyama offers to help Hinata find the right contact and email them.

And that’s how Kageyama stumbles across the 400+ unread emails buried in Hinata’s inbox. He calls it a wrongdoing, uncivilized, an absolute abomination, and Hinata should be ashamed of himself for letting the situation get this far. Hinata in turn has no idea what’s so wrong about it until he seems Kageyama’s pristine clean mailbox.

That day is when Hinata learns of how diligent Kageyama is. How he makes sure to meticulously file his emails into folders structured in a hierarchal fashion, how he has 0 draft emails while Hinata has more than 10 because he isn’t all that great at finishing emails and he often forgets.

Kageyama’s desktop is a mirror of his inbox—clear and simple with only three icons to select on. His folders are neatly organized and easy to navigate around. His sticky notes line perfectly against each other, same width same height, and not a pixel disproportionate.

It’s all kind of endearing, really.

That and the fact Kageyama goes nuts over Hinata’s own desktop, filled with documents and software—some misnamed, some just having the default Untitled, and some with the asdf name. That one particular text file with the name asdfdsasdfasdafdasd is certainly one that drives Kageyama insane. He calls it a calamity waiting to happen.

Hinata likes to call it organized chaos.

Kageyama refuses to let it go, even a few days later, when Hinata emails him again with some work-related questions, and he lords over Hinata’s improper use of the signature block. Until this point of time, Hinata wasn’t even aware that it was actually a thing—isn’t your name enough to let someone know who sent the message?

Kageyama, Tobio [11:39 AM] It’s to show which team you’re in and your credibility.

Hinata, Shouyou [11:40 AM] ok fine team i get the credibility part i don’t what i work on reflects that

Kageyama, Tobio [11:43 AM] It’s also just corporate etiquette. It’s good to let people know who they’re speaking to.

Hinata, Shouyou [11:44 AM] ha u know im way past corp etiquette and they can find out who i am when they talk to me why give them something to put a box around me?

Kageyama doesn’t reply after that. Nevertheless Hinata takes what is advised and constructs an email signature. He might as well be half-civilized in the corporate world. Kageyama better be happy.

Their interactions are sporadic. Even though Kuroo’s team is now an extension of Daichi’s crew, it’s decided that it’s best not relocate everyone. At first, Hinata reaches out when he needs help, for purely work-things. Eventually, he gets used to the idea of bothering the snappy man because no matter how annoying he knows he’s being, Kageyama always answers.

Kenma is a victim of Hinata’s scattered attention. He tolerates Hinata with the Skype chats and over-the-desk conversations and by tolerate, it means half-listening and sometimes entertaining a response if he feels like it. The other guys on the team is more willing to join in, Nishinoya throwing in words of wisdom while Tanaka writes a book about it.

But Kageyama—Kageyama listens. He yells and questions and replies in way that makes Hinata want to talk with him more. His perfect grammar and formal wordings is as infuriating as it is charming. Never is a chat-window more of a juxtaposition than seen before. Kageyama is a big nerd and he can’t deny it.

Especially with that atrocious sweater-vest.

Hinata tells him what he needs to hear.

Kageyama, Tobio [3:11 PM] What’s wrong with it? Does it have a hole in the back?

Hinata, Shouyou [3:12 PM] r u joking it’s something my great granddad would’ve worn doesn’t go well with your skin

Kageyama, Tobio [3:14 PM] i don’t say anything about your bowtie

Hinata, Shouyou [3:15 PM] whats wrong with my bowtie?!?!!

Kageyama, Tobio [3:23 PM] It’s distracting.

He doesn’t elaborate afterwards. In fact, Kageyama goes offline for the next hour. Worried, Hinata goes to the restroom to check on his bowtie. Is it crooked? Tied unevenly? Does it clash with his shirt? He’s had the idea of developing a statement about his person in the office and his statement is his bowties.

He plans to ask just what about them offends Kageyama on a call they’d setup to talk over some project. Shimizu informs Hinata of an upcoming proposal that Daichi wants to explore next year. Apparently this project will heavily involve Kuroo’s team, Kageyama’s area of expertise in particular. They might as well start that conversation early so Hinata books a meeting call.

When he hears the beep of someone joining the line, Hinata opens his mouth to greet the person until he’s stopped short.

“Hello, it’s Kageyama.”

Oh.

Oh no.

A warm shiver runs down his back before rising up to the top of his head. Smooth, sultry, and rich is all he hears. It’s like creamy milk chocolate running smoothly down your throat, warming the rest of your body. It’s the afternoon sun on a calm autumn day, the quiet hum of a fire, the lullaby sung gently into your ears.

The sound of Kageyama’s husky voice is a surprise and it does things to Hinata’s heart.

“Hello?”

“Oh, hi yes!” He hopes Kageyama cannot hear the breathlessness in his voice.

Hinata grips the phone hard during the entire call. He attentively listens to Kageyama’s lull, finding a rhythm to his voice. He sounds so different over the phone—calmer, at ease. Definitely doesn’t have that same bite when he’s in your face all the time. There’s a solidity to his tone, confident and so sure of himself in the best way. It mirrors the way he writes.

He likes that solidity.

Kageyama starts sharing his screen with Hinata, something about wanting to share a PowerPoint deck. Kageyama can share any sort of deck with h—

Hinata stops. He stops right there before it goes any farther.

He clears his throat long and hard, puffing out a harsh breath as if to expel all wicked thoughts. Kageyama is a decent-looking guy, but just that. Just your regular, average-built man with a less-than-average fashion sense.

“Something wrong?”

“Nothing,” squeaks Hinata.

“Can you send me the file again? I want to have a comparison.”

Look at him, sweating over some man’s voice while said man is working hard and serious on the other side of the phone. Hinata needs to pull it together.

He sends the file over Skype, watching as his profile picture pop up on Kageyama’s desktop and grimacing.

“I really need to change my photo,” he says.

Kageyama clicks his tongue over the phone, casually adding, “I think you’re fine.”

Hinata’s heart skips a beat.

Oh no.

---

a/n: if you think those last 2 lines said over the phone was made up, think again. :)

[omegaling]

Allez Cuisine! ~Chapter Fourteen

There’s so much negativity and discourse on my dash right now.  Here, have an update.  At least it’s something positive for a change. -omegaling

Chapter Fourteen: Bone and Bread

  Kylo turned the television remote in his hand.  It felt far more like a bomb detonator than a harmless household appliance.

  Kylo hated television and everything that went into making it.  A vast portion of his childhood memories were of blazing hot lights, great snarls of cords covering the floor like fat snakes, and too many bodies in too small a space, shouting orders and directions and constantly snapping at him for not being where he was supposed to be.  He remembered headaches and panic attacks and more broken promises than he could count.  Most accurately, he remembered crouching in a forest of audio and video equipment, watching his mother being interviewed.  It always felt like something out of a bad dream.  The woman sitting across from the TV show host looked and sounded like his mother, but the heavy makeup, harsh lighting and artificial environment made him think that she had been replaced by a robot, or one of the aliens from Invasion of the Body Snatchers.   While most children were glued to their TV for an obscene amount of time day in and day out, Kylo learned at an early age that it only served to warp people and reality into something nightmarish and barely recognizable.

That, or it snatched people away altogether, coercing them with money and fame in exchange for leaving their families for months on end so millions of strangers could be entertained for an hour a week.  Kylo swore, even before he finished losing all his baby teeth, that he would never succumb to the media’s evil clutches the way his parents had.

That same vow was broken nearly fifteen years later, undone by a signature at the end of a three hundred page contract.  It was a small price to pay in return for the full realization of all his visions and dreams.  Still, he couldn’t help but wonder if people who sold their souls to the devil thought the same thing in the beginning.

Working in television as an adult made him - if possible - loath it even more.  It was only a combination of his intense dislike of social media and post 9/11 anxiety that compelled him to keep a flat screen TV and Xfinity connection in his bedroom, and even then he only turned it on during an emergency so he could be kept up-to-date with all announcements and developments (the last time being Hurricane Sandy).  Everything else was just nonsensical noise: meaningless sporting events and screaming advertisements, over-produced and overrated serial shows, and of course, the steaming cesspool of the criminally misnamed “reality TV.”  He even went as far as to ban any discussion of television while his chefs were on the clock.  They were at Vader to cook, not to discuss the events of the previous night’s episode of American Idol (and what in the everlasting fuck as a “Honey Boo Boo?”).

The digital clock on his nightstand pinged the hour: it was now or never.  Kylo hit the power button on the remote and braced himself for the worst.

For Kylo, the only thing worse than making TV was having to watch himself on it.  It brought back too many hurtful memories of his few television debuts with his mother, when the makeup department loudly fretted about the number of moles and acne scars on his face they had to conceal, or how to best cover his ears so they weren’t his most prominent feature and how it was too bad they couldn’t do the same for his nose.  Once that was done there were still the cameramen, who complained about not being able to fit his gangle frame in the same shots as his mother.  Not matter how old he got, Kylo would only ever see the too-tall awkward teenager with disproportionate features in a too-long face, and know that people always wondered how the regal Leia Organa and the devilishly charming Han Solo failed to pass down even a single attractive gene to their only child.  Kylo would turn thirty two that year, and the memory still cut him as deep as the sharpest knife in his kitchen.

Thankfully, his attention was quickly diverted elsewhere.  Not more than a second after the Chairman called out his signature line Rey came barreling onto the screen, nearly colliding with the altar as she scooped up armfulls of the secret ingredients before bolting back to her station.

Although they were growing more comfortable around each other, Rey was still mindful about what she said and did when she was with him.  Every now and then he would catch a glimpse of that fiery spirit that first got his attention, like sunlight peeking through a crack in the wall.  It was bright and warm, and called to him like a moth to a flame.  But then she realized what she was doing and seal it away again, as though she was worried that his opinion of her would change in an instant if she slipped up. He wanted to reassure her that she didn’t have to worry about that, that he wanted her to be open with him instead of feeling like she had to hide a part of herself away, but he always refrained.  Anything that could potentially disrupt their delicate status quo was not worth the risk, so he’d just have to learn to settle with what he had.  And what he had right now was Iron Chef America.

For the next half our Kylo perched on the end of his bed, elbows on his knees and chin resting on his interlaced fingers, a small but undeniably tender smile on his face as he watch Rey tear through Kitchen Stadium like a miniaturized tornado.  He even allowed himself a chuckle at the flabbergasted look on his own face when she fixed the ice cream machine.  Her lack of experience was painfully obvious, but where he once found it aggravating he now saw her for what she truly was: a rare, precious jewel freshly unearthed, ready to be crafted into something of incalculable worth. Dameron may have gotten her started down the road to being a great chef, but it would take a certain kind of teacher to unlock her full potential.

Kylo had intended to turn off his TV before the judging began since the sous chefs had nothing to do with it, but he suddenly found himself unwilling to do so.  He would never forget how that bolt of inspiration felt when she shot him that positively wicked grin after the ice cream machine was fixed.  All of the remaining preconceptions he had of her were abolished in that instant when he recognized in her the ability to thrive off of stress and chaos rather than be beaten down by it, to accept any challenge with claws out and teeth bared.  He could practically see it unfurl in her eyes like a dark flower, ready to ensnare anyone in its thorns who dared underestimate her, and before he could fully think it through he had to - just had to - make sure everyone else knew it too.

He was not disappointed; as the sphere of dark chocolate melted away to reveal the heart of pomegranate sorbet on the inside, he knew that the judges were not looking at food, but reliving the myth of Hades and his queen and understand through that first bite why Persephone returned to her husband in the underworld year after year.

Then the camera cut away from him to train directly on Rey’s face, remaining there long enough so her bewildered expression became ingrained on the backs of his eyes.

Kylo’s blood ran cold, turning his heart into a lump of ice in his chest.  He fumbled with the remote and turned off the TV, as if doing so would erase what just happened.  The first thing he felt after the numbness abated was rage. What the hell were the post-production editors thinking?  What was the fucking point?  He was ready to seize the phone and demand the whole department be fired until a rare moment of clarity pierced through the fury and yanked him back from the edge.  No, this was his fault; he was the one who called attention to her in the first place.  The post-production team did nothing but recognize an opportunity to boost the episode’s ratings and took full advantage of it.  The damage had been done long before the footage was ever given to them.

Kylo sat shock still on his bed, breathing deeply and trying to recall the meditation techniques his uncle attempted to teach him to better control his temper.  The unique design of Walker Tower made it so no outside sounds penetrate his loft, whether it be from the busy streets below or from the other residents, wrapping him in a cocoon of silence that helped him collect his thoughts.  For when the phone call came - and come it would - he needed to be ready.

His phone buzzed on the nightstand.  The sound it made against the wood sounded like a death rattle.

He wasn’t ready.

Kylo let his phone ring twice more before he reached over to retrieve it. He already let it go for too long; Snoke detested waiting, and the last thing Kylo needed was to make this situation any worse than it already was.

Because “worse” meant dragging Rey into it.

Kylo hit the “call accept” button and brought the phone up to his ear.

“Sir.”

“Quite an interesting episode, Ren,” Snoke’s deep voice filled his head, pushing out all other thoughts.  “But I have some questions.  Perhaps you’d care to clarify them for me…”

---

“Rey, there’s someone up front who wants to…”

“Tell them to fuck right the fuck off!” Rey snarled.  

The host was sent running for cover, the rest of the message left hanging in the kitchen’s steamy air.  The rest of the cooks quickly averted their eyes and returned to their individual tasks, pretending they didn’t hear her latest outburst.  Even Finn wouldn’t look at her.

Good fucking riddance, Rey thought savagely, returning to de-boning the leg of lamb on her cutting board.  I swear if one more person comes in asking about that goddamned episode I’ll chuck them into the oven and serve them as tonight’s special.  Roast of It’s-None-Of-Your-Bloody-Business.  I’ll even have Poe translate it to Spanish so it sounds fancy.

Half of Finn’s post-episode premier prediction came true: reservations for BB8 spiked, and by the following Friday they were booked solid through the first of the year.  What he had been wrong about was they didn’t create waves on social media: they created a tsunami.  The day after the episode aired, “#kylorenmysterygirl” and “#whoisrenspersephone” were trending topics. Poe’s accountant, who also ran BB8’s website and social networking pages, reported that their Twitter feed exploded with hundreds of tweets that largely consisted of people analyzing and making theories of the real connection between Rey and Kylo Ren’s sensual final course: he was a jilted lover, it was an on-air declaration of love, or Ren was taking a shot at Poe through his sous were just a few.  Other people commented on the more direct interactions between her and Kylo during the course of the episode.  A lot of the tweets unanimously agreed that they were “totally flirting,” and one user unabashedly declared “Kylo Ren can bend me over his cutting board any time.”  Still more wondered what other parts of him were made of iron.

It was not until she walked into one of the line chefs reading “Kylo Ren looks like he wants to stuff Poe’s cute little sous chef like a Christmas goose” aloud to the rest of the kitchen staff that Rey completely lost her shit.  She grabbed the object closest to her - in this case, a large femur bone ready to be split for its marrow - and flung it clear across the kitchen.  The projectile hit the offending chef’s phone and knocked it clean out of his hand, shattering the screen in the process.  Finn and Poe were barely able to keep her from storming out of her shift.  From that moment on, Poe forbade the reading or discussing of any tweets relating to the episode while his staff was in the restaurant, which Rey was eternally grateful for (she did end up paying to replace her co-worker’s screen, and Poe did have to warn her that he’d have to write her up if he caught her throwing dangerous food items again instead of coming to talk to him first.  She saw it as a fair trade.)

But the nightmare did not end there.  Soon people actually started calling and coming in to BB8 and asking for her directly, hoping to get the first hot insight for their Kylo Ren fan sites or gossip rags from the source.  Rey sent each one of them packing as soon as she learned they were in the restaurant, restraining herself only because she didn’t want Poe’s reputation damaged because people overheard that his prep cook was crazy.  After almost a whole week of that bullshit, though, her self-control was starting to wear thin.

On top of it all was the looming inevitability of having to see Kylo again for the first time following the episode’s premiere.  They had to cancel their lesson the following week, which bummed Rey out since Monday evenings was one of the highlights of her week.  With the holidays just around the corner, Vader would be booked for private parties, charity events and high-roller fundraisers from Thanksgiving to the New Year, preparation needed to start as soon as possible, making it one long six-week headache for Kylo.  But now, after seeing the episode in its final, disastrous form, Rey was glad for the break...at least for the first twenty four hours before the Twitter shitstorm hit.  Now she had to face him with her head full of all the gross things people were saying about them on the Internet.  At first she hoped that he wouldn’t have heard any of it, what with his disdain of social media, but she knew she was only fooling herself.  He was right in the middle of the beating heart of the culinary world.  It was only a matter of time before he heard of it, one way or another.

Then what?

“Rey?”

Rey rounded on the new voice, her boning knife still clutched in her fist.  Poe jumped about two feet back, hands held in front of him defensively. “Whoa there, Jakken!  The dinner rush is starting soon, so let’s not send anyone to the ER right now, yeah?”

Rey lowered the knife, blowing out a huge sigh.  “Sorry, Poe.  Someone up front is asking for me again and I am just so fucking over it.”

“See, funny thing is, that’s what I’m here to talk to you about.  She said she knew you!” he exclaimed, taking another step back from the murderous glare she gave him.  “I’m pretty sure she said her name was Maz…”

Rey was washing her hands before Poe could finish, and did not even bother to dry them before she bolted from the kitchen.

The main dining room of BB8 was only minimally occupied, so Rey spotted the tiny old woman right away.  Other than the new webs of wrinkles on her face and the steel-gray hue of her hair, Rey’s former foster mother was exactly as she remembered her; she could almost taste the graham crackers and cold milk that were always waiting for her on the kitchen table when she got home from school.  Tears flooded Rey’s eyes as her feet moved on their own accord, not stopping until she was folded in the thin arms of the only mother figure she’d ever known.

---

Poe gave Rey and extended lunch, and for the next two hours she and Maz sat on BB8’s patio beneath one of its heat lamps, eating slices of Finn’s rustic bread directly from the oven and topped with slices of lardo while they caught up on the past ten or so years they’d been separated.  

As it turned out, Maz’s visit to New York City was entirely coincidental. Breaking her hip had been a wake-up call that she was not as young as she used to be and she sure as hell was not going to be getting any younger.  As soon as her doctor gave her the okay to travel Maz made it her mission to spend her golden years seeing the world as it was meant to be seen.  In the last five years she had climbed to the summit of Machu Piccu and strolled along the Great Wall of China, watched the changing of the guard at Buckingham Palace and volunteered to help care for orphaned children in Ghana.  Just in the past year or so she decided to visit the most famous cities and landmarks in the United States, and it was while she was in her hotel room en route to New York that she happened to catch Poe’s debut on Iron Chef America.  While the rest of her tour group headed to Ellis Island for the day, Maz sought out BB8 and her long-lost ward, who was now cooking alongside one of the most revered chefs in the country.

Thankfully, Maz didn’t want to talk about the years between when Rey was taken from her home and when she aged out of the system other than to express her regret that she was not able to keep in touch with her.  Rey was perfectly okay with pretending like those years didn’t exist, and instead told Maz all about her time at NYU, the amazing friends she made, then her cooking lessons with Poe and how it lead to her being hired at BB8.  While Finn was dropping off more bread at their table he couldn’t help but resist telling Maz about the Shrimp Incident before Rey finally chased him off.

Eventually they got around to talking about their episode of Iron Chef America.  It was one of Maz’s favorite shows, so she wanted all of the details.  At first Rey was more than happy to oblige, especially with Maz beaming at her like a proud parent, but then the conversation turned to the topic that Rey had hoped to avoid, even though she knew it wasn’t a possibility.

“Never in my life did I think that boy would turn out to be the walking mountain he is.  Han was convinced he was doomed to be a beanpole forever.”

“Who?” Rey asked half-heartedly, laying a slice of mahon cheese on some more bread.

“Han Solo’s boy, Ben.”

Rey froze, the bread halfway to her mouth.  “I didn’t know Han Solo had any kids.”

“Just the one, and no, I can’t imagine you would since he hasn’t gone by that name for maybe ten years now.  You do know him, though.”  Maz’s dark eyes sparkled mischievously behind the coke-bottle lenses of her glasses.  “He was giving you some pretty heavy-duty bedroom eyes while you were in Kitchen Stadium.”

Rey gasped so sharply she inhaled some bread crumbs, sending her into a coughing fit.  When she could finally breathe again, she choked out, “Kylo Ren’s dad is Han Solo?  The Han Solo, from Going Solo?”

“The one and the same,” Maz said, as though they were discussing nothing more interesting than the weather.

Rey remembered the time she and Kylo met at the coffee shop with the amazing croissants.  Kylo had casually mentioned that his father did a traveling TV show, but never in a million years would she ever link him to her childhood hero.  She told Maz as much, leaving out the part of it being a one-on-one meeting no one was supposed to know about.

“Did he mention his mother?”

“Kind of.  He said she was wrote food columns and is a restaurant critic…” The realization hit Rey so hard she swayed in her seat a little.  “Leia Organa is his mother.  That makes his uncle…”

“That one’s a little tougher: Luke Skywalker.”

The laugh that escaped Rey’s mouth was one of half-disbelief, half-incredulity.  “And here I was beginning to think Luke Skywalker was a myth based on how I’ve heard other chefs talk about him.”

“Man.  Myth.  Call him what you will, but no self-respecting restaurateur can deny his contribution to the hospitality culture before he retired and went into hiding.  The only other chef in the world who could possibly outdo him was his father, Anakin, and now maybe his nephew.”

Rey had not heard of Anakin Skywalker - meaning he would be Kylo Ren’s grandfather - but her head was so full of new information she did not think she was capable of taking in any more, save one.

“You said Han was worried that Ky… Ben would be scrawny his whole life.  Did he say that on one of his episodes?”

“No.  He told me himself.  Han and I go way, way back.”

As if the universe isn’t small enough already, Rey thought, slumping back in her chair.  She did not know which of the revelations was harder to process: that Kylo Ren née Ben Solo was the son of Han Solo and Leia Organa and the nephew of Luke Skywalker: that Maz was a long-time friend of Han Solo and never thought to bring it up to her: or that Kylo worked for a man who had a vendetta against his mother and attempted to undermine her credibility in every way possible, and Kylo was helping him do it.  Overshadowing all these thoughts was one much larger, all-encompassing question: what had happened between Ben and his family that made him cut all ties with them and throw in with Snoke’s lot? Suddenly a handful of stupid tweets felt like a very silly and insignificant thing to worry about for the next time she saw Kylo.

Who ever thought that being a cook would be this complicated?

[reactionjournal]

Shadow and Bone 6

too bad he didn’t have a tack in his shoe he couldn’t Alina polygraph cheat the heartrender

BURN THE LOCK! CLEVER!

I was pretty sure that was Matthais but I didn’t pay close attention to casting

THIS EPISODE IS CALLED THE HEART IS AN ARROW!

Wow this is so harrowing. 

Wow Jessie Mei Li is so pretty

OH this is why Zoya is mad, yeah got it. I mean I also think she’s racist, but.

OH YEAH SHE CAN USE THAT POWER TO ATTACK HUH. 

MAL! OMG???? Wow. Tracked the hell out of her, bud.

Me, blushing: Oh Nina is SO hot

NINA, blushing: oh no he’s hot

me: YEAH BUD

ah, the third man who has been so upset to be near a woman who thinks he’s hot

“Would you stop your wiggling” I love this fic. (I know it’s canon but like...)

they’re both so hot. he’s not technically my type but it’s more of a guideline than a rule

I would write fic but I don’t know if the actors ages are their canonical ages. In my heart they are but I know the books disagree. 

LOVE that the Kaz loves Inej angle is coming out. This accelerated path is REALLY working for me.

“They taught you how to control it?” The stand in for a dozen emotions playing across his face. “Don’t be scared.” More a plea than a comfort.

Oops! I’m in love with them both!

[huge explosion] JESPER: Our alarm

I love them

“That barrel rat killed my brother. I will reduce her to ash.” Is a good line but it’s about my love, so.....Also thanks for saying barrel rat and not a slur

NICE SHOT. WOW THE DOUBLE RICOCHET INTO THE SAME EXACT SPOT

WOW That steam hit was clever. These are some good fights

OH I FORGOT JESPER HAD MAGIC I FORGOT I FORGOT I FORGOT I LOVE HIM SO MUCH. Fabrikator? Is he a fabrikator? Jesper 😭my love

Imagine chasing Kaz Brekker. I would sooner chase a bear. 

...scratch what I said about the slur thing

Inej I’m sorry you had to do that honey, but you were rig- OH MY GOD THAT’S TH EFUCKING DARKLING

KAZ VS DARKLING I DIDN’T THINK THAT WAS GOING TO HAPPEN 

DID HE BREAK THE DARKBLADE WITH A FUCKING FLASHBANG? KAZ FUCKING BREKKER, EVERYBODY!!!! 

Wow sucks to suck huh Krigane. Aleksander? I’m not misnaming him on purpose it’s the only one I think I can spell.

WOW THAT WENT FROM THEY’RE SO CUTE TO OH THAT’S A BIG HOLE SO FAST

Is that a version of shadow and bone?

Yeah. I don’t know why I spotted that I just glanced at it and was like: that’s the motif of the cover I’ve seen once in my life and two big words... is it Shadow and Bone in the book’s language?

is...durast a type of power....or was that a racist statement

Kirigan: I will directly insult the plot of this television show.

[thesummonerofaskr]

Salt 1: The Gauntlet

Rant under the read more.

I was going to make this post regardless of who won. I could swear that up and down the fucking block, but as I’ve made it clear my opinions of our winner, I’m sure many of you reading this won’t believe me and will just say “fuck off, you’re only saying this because Tharja won, you woman-hating prick.” And while it is true I hate that specifc woman, the general gist of my first post is going to tackle that exact issue. My opinions on Tharja will be for another post, if I even decide to tackle the issue. That said, I stated it before when the characters were announced and I will say it again.

THIS WAS THE WORST FUCKING GAUNTLET IN THE ENTIRETY OF THE GAME MODE’S EXISTENCE!!!

Though it’s true that anger levels didn’t get nearly as high as during Choose Your Legends, mainly because most popular female character didn’t get beaten since she wasn’t in it (and thank all the deities for that), it still continued a trend that has honestly been in this game since Princes vs. Princesses, intensified during Battle of the Mages, and has utterly ignited into a full blown “cultural phenomenon” as of Choose Your Legends, namely that being the “Thot-Slayer” meme that continues to disgust the sane and inflame the passions of the misogynists ever since Male Robin vs. Tharja back in Round 3. It would’ve been fine had the gauntlet been all females, but this gauntlet was the worst because of how it was presented and how it ultimately turned out.

First off, Rhajat as the second coming of Ayra. No, she’s not as broken as Ayra and she wasn’t paired with another Green unit like Ayra was with Eldigan, but it’s still the new precedent for Heroes continued. More people let it slide because “it was announced ahead of time this go around,” but that still doesn’t change the fact that it is a shameless cash-grab from the company to make you buy more orbs so that you can try to get this new unit who comes prepacked with the new upgraded Gronnwolf tome, as well as Distant Defense which a lot of people love, and roll on this banner alongside the new Children of Fate one even though you might get pity broken by three other units you don’t want because you either already have them or just straight up don’t want them, which leads into-

Secondly, the first half revealed early. Block A was called the problematic block and surprise surprise, every character in it was female. Three out of the four are known for being obsessive with Tharja pining for Robin, Rhajat desiring Corrin, and Faye running herself ragged wanting Alm. Tharja and Rhajat are outright portrayed as stalkers and Faye, for what little writing she has (poor girl), comes off as a bit loony. The block was so lop-sided that poor Priscilla had people pining to find a reason to hate her, dragging up her support with Raven in an attempt to paint her as problematic, “look at how incestuous she is, shame her, SHAME HER,” even though that was from her childhood and children are stupid. But the damage was still done (hell even I fell for it since I don’t Elibe) and now we had the precendent set up for the worst and most misnamed gauntlet ever. After all, when Enduring Love was first announced, we figured it was going to involve canon couples. Marth and Caeda, Alm and Celica, Sigurd and Deirdre, maybe Eliwood and Ninian? Then we get hit with three problematically obsessed women and poor Priscilla who gets hit with the hate stick just for being there and then we have to wonder who else could be on the banner.

Third ended up being that Block B was in fact filled with people whose love was proper and wasn’t (seemingly in Priscilla’s case) unhealthy. Then again, two of those suffer from unrequited love anyways. And guess what? It’s the girls again! Catria is the original to have been denied by her love interest because he loved another and Katarina, from what I remember reading, doesn’t get to ever truly be with Kris. The other two were basically the ingredients needed to bring about the rebirth of the disgusting Thot-Slayer meme and sure enough they were the ones to progress to the second round, guaranteeing that no matter who won in Block A, their reputation would be dragged through mud. Sigurd and Dorcas are both men who absolutely love their wives. To claim otherwise would be idiocy. But hey, if I want to be fair, I should bring up how their love makes them stupid, right? After all, the misogynists shit on the women in Block A for being obsessive (Priscilla did nothing wrong) and they shit on the women in Block B for daring to love someone that doesn’t love them back. So fuck it, Dorcas is a dick because he’ll shit over the world and help the bad guys if it’s “for his wife” and Sigurd’s a dumb idiotic motherfucker because he dooms the world over a girl he only talked to a few times before deciding “this is the woman I want to bear my children.” The latter especially is bad because that’s basically Genealogy’s plot as a whole. If Sigurd had listened to the villagers and left Deirdre in the forest, Manfroy’s plan would’ve been ruined. But NOPE! Gotta let that dick do some banging man! I love Sigurd, I think he’s the best lord in the series (actual lord because Ike is best protag) because of how compassionate and courageous and justice-seeking he is despite his flaws… but fuck the idea that he’s flawless.

Fourth is that the fucking company should realize at this point that the Gauntlet divides people more then it brings them together. And it ruins the characters that win. This has been the case since Princes vs. Princesses. Remember that people loved Chrom vs. Ephraim. That was considered the best match of the round and spawned some amazing friendships and fanart. Then Lucina curbstomps Ephraim and the gauntlet ended with Lucina taking the title, but losing a lot of support. Sure she’s still incredibly popular, but a lot of people who did like her now find all sorts of reasons to hate her and drag her through the dirt. This has become the fate of every gauntlet character to win from my observations save one. And of course it’s THE ONLY MALE WINNER! Now I want to make something clear. I love Ike. And I love him for who he is in Path of Radiance and Radiant Dawn, not “I fight for my friends” or “You’ll get no sympathy from me” or “GREEEEEAT! AETHAAAAAAAAAAA!” But nobody complained when he won. Then again, he was going up against Camilla, a Fates character, and we know how the old fanbase and even some Awakening fans feel about Fates and Camilla especially. But isn’t it just a little bit perplexing that Ike was the only gauntlet winner that escaped criticism? I mean criticism can be small or big, but I saw people who were salty about Lucina, Camilla, Tharja, Elise, and Corrin and figured it was just because of Fates/Awakening. But then I saw people upset that Ninian and Shanna won. And some of them would parrot the same thing. “When will another man win?” And there’s the rub.

The conclusion is that this gauntlet is the worst thing to happen to the game and this round’s theme is the biggest slap in the face to those of us who were hoping it was actually changing after last round, with the theme being something silly and light-hearted despite the assholes who shit on Shanna because “she’s another waifu after all.” The divide is no longer between fans of the old and new games, or rather that isn’t the most disgusting one anymore. Now it’s a battle of the sexes, men and women up in arms against female characters simply for being female because “they want their fellow men/precious husbandos to win” while others stubbornly pick even the most disgusting of women to support because “this is to prove I respect women!” It’s a clusterfuck of a former popularity system turned into a political game of subterfuge, sabotage, and sexism. And this theme, this fucking disgusting presentation, was the biggest showing of that! Ike vs. Camilla may always be the most disgusting and fan-damaging match, but the theming of this round made Tharja vs. Sigurd an intentional summoning of the “Thot-Slayer” preachers! It is abhorrent, grotesque, and I damn Intelligent Systems and anyone else involved for enticing us to even minimally participate in it for the sake of Orbs, Sacred Coins, and Refining Stones! Damn you all to Hell!

-Michele

[ghostofmoriarty]

I've seen a lot of fans call Ubbe and Ivar "Ubbe Lothbrok" and "Ivar Lothbrok" etc. hell, I've even seen "Rollo Lothbrok" which okay fine not everyone knows how the norse named themselves but the show fucking it up? Viking women canonically misnaming people by their own culture's standards?? I can't get behind that

The most confusing scene in Vikings is when Lagartha calls Ivar “Ivar Lothbrok” because that’s literally not his name??? I’m not saying he has to be called Ivar the Boneless all the time but if he (or ANY) of the sons of Ragnar were to use a proper last name it would be Ragnarsson and Lagartha of all people should know this??? Why did she mess up her own culture’s naming convention?