#on a serious note does anyone wanna introduce these dishes

[leopardom]

…i’m not even gonna ask

[e-of-west-glendia]

This is a very very very late birthday present for the amazing @moonscarsandstars. I love you so so much babe (except for that thing yesterday you little shit) and I hope you enjoy this thing I wrote!

“I’m not doing it.”

“But whyyy?”

“Because it’s creepy as hell, James. That’s why.”

Sirius shoulders open the door to James’ room and flops down onto his bed.

“It’s not creepy!” James protests, flinging his backpack into a corner.

“It’s just unconventional.”

“Read ‘creepy and stalker-ish’,” Sirius mutters.

James plops down on the bed next to Sirius. “You,” he says, poking his friend in the ribs. “Are no fun.”

Sirius snorts. “I’m plenty of fun. I just don’t write random people letters and put them in their mailbox.”

“At least not yet,” James teases.

“Not ever.”

James rolls his eyes, toeing his shoes off. “You’ll cave, eventually.”

“Unlikely,” Sirius says firmly, folding his legs up onto the bed. Only to be shoved roughly off not a moment later.

“Prongs!”

“No shoes on the bed!” James gestures to his own recently departed shoes. “This is the one rule that I have.”

Sirius picks himself up off the floor. “You sound like your mother.”

“Do not.”

Sirius kicks his shoes off but doesn’t return to the bed. Instead, he takes a seat at James’ desk. In favor of silently spinning in the swivel chair.

They’d been having the same back and forth debate for days now. Should Sirius send a letter to that boy who lived down the street? Or no.

James, of course, voted yes. As did many of Sirius’ friends. Sirius, for the life of him, couldn’t figure out why.

His friends seemed to be under the impression that this was some sort of young adult novel. It wasn’t.

You couldn’t just send random people letters. What if they called the police? Then what? Not to mention the fact that Sirius didn’t even know his name. That certainly would complicate things.

That’s not to say they were complete strangers though, Sirius and the mystery boy. Quite the contrary, actually.

The two had met before, when Peter’s mother pointed out the fact that that house was the one she grew up in.

The current occupants of Mrs. Pettigrew’s childhood home had insisted on giving her a tour. A sort of them versus now type thing, Sirius supposed.

As it happened, James and Sirius were there the day of the tour. And that was when Sirius had first run into mystery kid.

They’d been briefly introduced, but Sirius was too busy considering how awkward it was to be walking through someone’s house to pay attention to his name.

Now, nearly seven months later, Sirius, James, and Peter had seen the boy again. And for some ridiculous reason, James was under the impression that sticking a letter with his number on it in that boys mailbox was the best idea ever.

Ok technically it was Sirius’ own fault that the idea even came to mind. But he was absolutely joking when he’d said, “what do you want me to do, stick a letter in his mailbox?”

In response to James’ telling him to go socialize. That didn’t mean he was serious (all jokes aside, of course.)

“Yo,” James says, and Sirius stops spinning.

“Mm?”

“Peters asking if we want to come over. His mom's baking cookies.”

Sirius halts his spinning and stands. “Really all you had to say was ‘cookies’ and I would’ve been on board.”

James laughs. “Fair enough.”

James scoops up his backpack and slings it onto his shoulder while Sirius pulls his shoes back on.

“What are you bringing that for,” Sirius asks, curiously.

James shrugs. “You never know.”

Sirius rolls his eyes but doesn’t say anything else about it, he just leads the way out of James’ room.

The two of them run into Euphemia at the foot of the stairs.

“Leaving so soon?”

“Peter invited us over,” James explains.

“His mom is making cookies,” Sirius adds.

Euphemia nods solemnly. “I don’t blame you, Peggy’s baking is amazing.”

“That it is!” James agrees, starting for the front door. Sirius follows him.

“Sirius,” Euphemia says, voice slightly sing-songy.

Sirius stops in his tracks.

“Those aren’t shoes are they?”

“Nope,” Sirius says. “They absolutely are not.”

“Hmm, that’s what I thought,” she says with a laugh. “You boys have fun now.”

“We will,” James calls, opening the door and then shutting it firmly behind them.

“I told you you sound like your mother,” Sirius snickers.

“Oh, fuck off,” James says. “That was a joke and you know it.”

Sirius very much does know it, but he chooses to ignore it.

A little while into their walk, Sirius feels a buzz at his side, buoyed by the familiar Apple ringtone.

“Who is it?” James asks.

“Lemme get the phone out first,” Sirius responds. Then, “Marlene.”

“Aren’t you going to answer that?”

“I’m getting there.”

A moment later Marlene’s face pops onto the screen. Her blonde hair splayed across the pillows around her.

“What’s up?” Sirius asks.

“Did you do it?” She asks, and Sirius groans.

James plucks the phone out of his hand before he can respond.

“No, he absolutely did not. I’ve been trying for hours!”

“Give Sirius his phone back,” Marlene commands.

Sirius take his phone back, eyebrow raised.

“What?”

“Pussy,” Marlene says, and then eats what appears to be a handful of gummy worms.

Sirius throws his hands up, exasperated. “What is it with you all and your stupid letter!”

Marlene shrugs. “Dunno, just need some gay drama in our lives I suppose.”

Sirius glares at her. “Marlene,” he says slowly. “You. Are. A. Lesbian.”

“And you’re gay as a maypole,” Marlene retorts. “Go get the guy, Black.”

“It is not that easy,” Sirius sighs.

“Can you write?”

“Yes.”

“Do you have a phone?”

“No, I’m calling from a toaster.”

“That would explain the poor video quality.”

“Bullshit.”

Marlene ignores this. “Seems to me like you’re perfectly capable of writing that letter.”

“Yes, but I’m not social,” Sirius says.

Both Marlene and James laugh at that.

“Sirius Black you are the most social person I know aside from myself and your haired idiot over there.”

“Hey!” James says, indignant.

“You can write that letter,” Marlene continues. “I know you can.”

“The problem isn’t I can’t do it,” Sirius says, handing the phone to Marlene so that he can tie up his hair, which has decided for whatever reason to fall in his eyes and be irritating. “I just don’t want to because it’s stupid,” Sirius finishes.

“I see,” Marlene says.

She’s silent for a bit. Which is slightly alarming to Sirius. Marlene is only this quiet on the phone when she’s thinking or playing Subway Surfers, her designated FaceTime Game.

“Well then,” She says, and Sirius releases a sigh of relief. “I guess I can’t make you.”

“Nope,” Sirius says cheerfully, a girl starting to spread across his face.

“Unless of course I dare you to,” Marlene says, and Sirius’ grin drops.

It’s Marlene’s turn to smile now. “Gotcha.”

“You’re the devil.”

It’s quite the well known fact that Sirius will take basically any dare, so long as it doesn’t hurt someone else. And as far as he can tell, this dare isn’t hurting anyone. Not even himself, save for some minor embarrassment.

“How did you know what my Halloween costume was,” Marlene asks, she’s still grinning at him.

“Well, you certainly aren’t an angel,” Sirius grumbles.

Marlene waves a gummy worm at him. “Ain’t that the truth. Well then, I dare you to write that random guy a letter.”

James whistles. “Gosh why didn’t I think of that?”

“You’re afraid of being murdered, maybe?” Sirius suggests.

“And Marlene isn’t?”

“I’m the devil, remember? Already dead.”

“Right, of course, my bad,” James says.

Marlene turns her attention back towards Sirius. “You’re near Peter’s, right? You should send the letter now.”

“With what?” Sirius asks. “I’m short on paper if you can’t tell.”

Marlene gestures to James who is holding up his backpack triumphantly.

“Told you we’d need it!”

“I hate you both,” Sirius mutters, snatching a pen and paper from James.

“What the hell am I even supposed to write?”

“You number,” Marlene says unhelpfully.

“No shit Sherlock.”

Sirius decides not to ask anymore questions. He just scribbles out a quick note and folds the paper.

“What’d you say?” James asks.

“Wouldn’t you like to know,” Sirius retorts.

They’re right in front of the house now, and Sirius is wondering if he should just back out of it.

“Don’t be shy,” Marlene says from her end of the phone. Sirius has the vague idea that she’d be shoving him forward if she were here right now.

As it happens he doesn’t need the shove. He walked up the drive himself, ignoring Marlene’s, “Wait flip the camera James. I wanna see him do it.”

He’s at the front porch now, and he thinks he can hear something in the kitchen. There’s the sound of rushing water, dishes maybe?

Without giving it much more thought, Sirius shoves the letter inside the mailbox, wincing at the slight creak it makes.

Then he jogs back down the drive and continues towards Peter’s house.

James runs after him.

“Don’t you feel liberated now?” Marlene asks.

“If by ‘liberated’ you mean like a fucking fairytale charcater then, yes. Sure.”

“I don’t know of any fairyta—“

“Goodbye Marlene,” Sirius says, he takes the phone from James and promptly hangs up on her.

“Rude,” James says jokingly.

“Oh, please, she’s done worse,” Sirius snorts.

“But don’t you feel excited?” James asks.

“I feel anxiety.”

“You’ll thank us later.”

Even thought Sirius rolls his eyes and shoves James into a nearby plant, he can’t help but wonder if James and Marlene are right. And if this’ll actually go somewhere.

Ah, well, that’s another problem for another day. At present moment he should probably be running right about now before James comes to exact his revenge. And that, is exactly what he does.

[bqstqnbruin]

Meet the Hughes’

Ok, this was requested over two weeks ago and I have another request that is the same premies with a different boy so it might take me a while to do this.

But hey, as y’all probably know, I’m on track to be a high school chem teacher and even though Pride Month just ended it would be really cool for you to look into charties like GLSEN, which addresses issues surrounding LGBTQ+ students in the K-12 education system. 

I hope you like this! Here is the original request! ________________________

“Ok, but what if they don’t like me?” you say, running around the apartment looking for your bag. You know you put it somewhere in the living room so that you could grab it and just leave when Quinn came to pick you up. 

“They like Jack and you’re better than him.” He leans back further into the couch cushions, figuring the two of you would be here for a while. He had to admit, watching you run around in that dress of yours was not something he was about to complain about. 

“But they have to like him, that’s your brother.” You start to bend down to see if one of your roommates slipped it under the coffee table; they had a habit of taking anything in the room and shoving it down there with the rest of the candles, miscellaneous remotes that you had no idea how to use but wouldn’t get rid of, and other random shit. 

“Babe, relax.”

You shoot up and look at him. “Has there ever been a woman in your life who has responded well when you told them to ‘relax?’ And can you please get up and help me find my bag, I don’t want to be late! That’s an awful first impression!” 

He gets up, pulling you off the floor and grabbing you into a hug. Out of stubbornness and sheer anxiety you leave your arms by your side. “Point taken.” He pushes his upper body away from you so he can see the pout you have on your face. “But, trust me. I wouldn’t even think of letting you meet them if I didn’t think they would love you more than they love any of the three of us.” You finally pull him back in for a hug. You’ve never been in a serious enough relationship where you had introduced him to your parents or he had introduced you to his. Knowing that they could literally tell him they don’t like you was stressing you out more than anything. 

“I just want them to like me.” 

“They will love you. But I think you put your bag in the kitchen.” 

“Why didn’t you tell me that!” you screech, pulling away from him to go find it. 

“Because you look so damn good that I just wanted an excuse to look at you.” 

You look up at him, debating if you should be mad or flattered. “You’re lucky I like you or I would have to kill you,” you deadpan, knowing he would burst out laughing like he does. He lets you go to find that your bag was sitting on the kitchen table, not where you remember leaving it, but who cares as long as you found it? “Ok, should we go?” you ask, taking his hand as he leads you out the door. 

The entire ride to the restaurant where you were meeting Quinn’s family, he did everything he could to try to calm you down. First, he put on your favorite radio station. When that didn’t work, he let you take control of the aux, which he almost never lets you do because he doesn’t like the nostalgic 2010s teenage girl pop that occupies your playlist. When that didn’t work, he had you find a song you both love, Dream On by Aerosmith, for you to blast and sing poorly and loud until you get to the restaurant. You couldn’t help but laugh as Quinn tried and failed to hit Steven Tyler’s high notes at the end of the song, the veins in his neck popping out as he tried to hit the note but ended up sounding like a screeching cat. 

“Feeling better?” he asks, smiling as he pulls into the first parking spot he can find. 

“Still nervous, but at least I’m not jittery.” 

“I promise, you’ll be fine. Just be yourself,” he reassures you, taking your hand and leading you in. His parents and youngest brother were already at their table, all in town to see Quinn play, Jack playing and traveling throughout the weekend unable to make it. “Hi,” he says, kissing his mom on the cheek, hugging his dad and Luke, “This is Y/N, my girlfriend.” 

You smile as his parents get up to greet you, “Hi, it’s so nice to meet you!” you say, trying not to let the nervousness get the best of you as his mom wraps you into a hug. You weren’t ready for it, but it was weirdly calming for you as she gushed about how happy she was that she could finally meet you while his dad stood behind her to just shake your hand. 

Everyone sits down, you, Quinn, and Luke on one side with Jim, and Ellen facing you. Your leg starts shaking out of nervousness, Quinn’s hand finding your thigh under the table to try to get it to stop. His parents start talking to Quinn about his season so far, all the nerves melting away as his hand stays where it is. They finally turn the conversation to you as the food arrives, asking you about what you do, your family, all the basic stuff you would ask someone to get to know them. 

“Do you have any siblings?” his father asks you between bites of food. 

“I have an older brother, but I also grew up surrounded by a lot of cousins on my dad’s side.”

“Sometimes I wish I had a girl,” Ellen says, her eyes fixed on her pasta.

“Wow, thanks, mom,” Luke says, you and Quinn bursting out laughing. 

“What she really means is that she wishes you were a girl. You were her last chance,” Quinn says, playfully shoving his brother in the arm.

“You’re only saying that because you’re such a mama’s boy.” 

“I’d rather be a mama’s boy than have her wish I was a girl.”

“What’s wrong with being a girl?” you ask. Quinn turns back to you, looking between you and his mom. His eyes are wide open, his face turning bright red. He keeps opening and closing his mouth like a fish trying to figure out what to say while his dad and brother can’t stop laughing at the hole he just dug himself into. 

“Go ahead, Q. I wanna hear this too,” Ellen eggs him on.

“Uh, well. I believe there are pros and cons to, uh, either gender,” Quinn stammers. He keeps babbling for a few minutes, trying to find a good enough reason for you not to be mad at him.

“I would just stop while you’re behind. It doesn’t look like you’re going to get ahead,” you say, patting his leg. 

His dad can’t stop laughing, “She’s a good one, Quinn.” Quinn looks at you and smiles, taking your hand on the table and kissing you on the cheek as his mother gushes over the two of you, causing both of you to blush. 

“Please tell me you have some sort of embarrassing story about him,” Luke begs, practically bouncing in his seat.

“I don’t think he could be any more embarrassed than Jack posting the picture from Easter where Quinn is wearing his Crocs,” his dad says.

“Oh, my god. Those Crocs. When he invites me over I won’t go into his place unless those Crocs are away. I have such bad memories with crocs that I can’t stand them now. But -”

“Wait what happened to you?” Luke interrupts you.

“No, we’re embarrassing Quinn right now, not me.” 

Luke’s eyes go wide, his mouth open, “Do you know the story?” he asks Quinn. 

“No, this is supposed to embarrass Quinn, not me,” you say again, holding back laughing. 

“Dad, how much trouble would I be in if I told this story?” Quinn asks.

“If you lived together, you would be sleeping on the couch tonight,” he shrugs. 

“Then this is the only time I’ll be saying that I’m happy we don’t live together,” Quinn says, turning towards his brother, “When she was little, she was running through a parking lot one night and tripped and tore her knee open.”

“Ok no, it’s worse than that. I was with my mom for some meeting she had to go to, and I tripped over a curb that was painted black and unlit. I had to have surgery for my knee!” 

“Yes, but. You tripped because you were wearing Crocs.” 

“Which is why I hate them. If I had on a better shoe, that never would have happened. But,” you say, Quinn knowing exactly where you’re going, “I still get to embarrass you.” 

“Please, no,” he begs, his hand back on your thigh.

“The pasta incident?” 

“I already know that I raised you better than whatever it is she’s about to say,” Ellen says, her eyes closed as she shakes her head in premature disappointment.

“So he was over my place for dinner one night when he didn’t have a game. My roommates and I had some friends over so we were all making some food, I was making a pasta dish. I’m in my room, finishing getting ready and I asked him if he could start the water boiling so the food would be ready when everyone got there.

“I’m just finishing up getting dressed and I hear him calling my name, so I go and check on him right?” you tell them, Quinns face getting red with embarrassment, “He goes, ‘should I smell gas when I turn the stove on?’ And I just look at him and I go, ‘It’s a gas stove. If you smell a little gas when you turn it on, that’s fine.’” Luke has already lost it, Quinn still has his hand on your thigh, knowing that he had this coming, while his parents just look at him and try not to laugh. 

“But, it gets better. I tell him once the water starts to boil to put the Angel Hair pasta into the pot and then cover it and I can take care of the rest. I finish getting ready and I’m assuming that if he hasn’t called me then that means that everything is going fine, which I should not have. I finally get back into the kitchen and he’s standing there with a try piece of pasta that is on fire,” you finish as his parents finally give in and start laughing. Even though he hates that story, he can’t help but smile at you, you reciprocating. “And what did you say to me when I asked why you did that?”

“I wanted to see if it would catch on fire,” he admits in a small voice, his family erupting in laughter. 

“It was something thin and frail in an open flame, babe. What else did you think would happen?” you say, placing your hand on top of his. He leans over and kisses your cheek again. He already knows his parents love you. Anyone who can make them laugh is someone they love, even if it does involve embarrassing their son. 

You look at Quinn’s parents who are beaming at the two of you. “She’s probably the only girlfriend of yours that I’ve liked, Q,” Luke says into his food, his parents nodding along in agreement.

“I’ve liked the other ones, but I like her the best,” Quinn says, taking your hand in his and kissing it . You can’t help but blush as all the worry that you had about meeting his family has melted away. 

The rest of the dinner went great. It felt like they liked you; any time you tried to make them laugh, they did, they didn’t seem to mind Quinn showing affection towards you, they shared stories about Quinn and Luke growing up that you loved. You just hope they actually liked you. What if they were faking everything? Judging by what you know about Quinn, you didn’t think they actually would, but there’s also a chance they’re really good actors. 

At the end of the dinner, you’re back to being a little nervous, but at least you had fun, right? Once you’re in the car, Quinn starts gushing, “Oh, my god, they loved you!” 

“You sound a little shocked considering you’re the one you who was saying they would from the start.” 

“Well, yeah, but I think they like you more than they like me?” he says as his phone starts buzzing with a text from Luke, “Wanna read that for me?” 

‘She’s great, Q. We all love her.’ You can’t help but blush as you read it out loud to him, the smile on his face as big as it can be.

“I told you! They love you. I love you.”

“I love you, too.” 

[rhabakoli]

Infinite White - 8

The text Fenja translates is the letter Gandalf writes about Aragorn (i think to Frodo? not sure rn), per @finnickfoxes request. And since I am a true dumbass, I actually translated it myself, instead of just look it up. But I like my version better anyway. 

Previous chapters here.

Trigger warning: space talk. Anyone disagreeing with me will be blocked. 

Taglist:@dreamwritesimagines @i-am-always-famished @marauderskeeper @superwolfchild-fan @thescarsweleave @cgn-99 @alicedopey @alwaysadreamingoptimist @atlas-of-the-world @finnickfoxes @rmwest9 (i’m just gonna tag u now, scream if you don’t want to) 

**

“So, how’s his family? Did they suspect anything?”, Maeve asked. They were carrying their trays to their usual table, finally catching up with each others lifes. 

“They are nice. A bit touchy. His uncle asked me if I know UNO, and then he kinda… welcomed me to the family?”, Fenja answered and then shrugged. 

“They have quite a low standard to meet. They’d love you.” Maeve gave her a sour look, kicking at her. “You’re lucky my hands are full.” Her friend just grinned cheekily and dodged her half-assed attack. The mensa was filled with chatter, the sounds of dishes clattering and the occasional discussion escalating. “And did they say anything about your breakdown?” Maeve sat across her, cracking open her coke and taking a sip. “No, I don’t think they know.” Fenja halted, then looked up at her roommate. “Well, I think his mom might know. But she didn’t say anything.” Mave nodded and took a bite from her lunch. “That’s good, isn’t it?” Fenja shrugged, gaze focused on her plate. “As long as I don’t have to explain it to everyone, I’m fine.” “I think your man will be glad to do it for you, if you asked.” Fenja carefully tasted her soup, trying not to burn her tongue. Then, as she processed the words, she raised an eyebrow at Maeve. “Who?” “Ragnar.” “Ah.” She smacked her lips together, blissed out expression on her face. “Goddamn, that soup is delicious.” Suddenly, her spoon came up, pointing across the table, almost threatening. “Also, he’s not ‘my man’, where even did you get that from?” “He’s not?” “Nah.” Maeve shrugged, then ogled the bread on Fenja’s tray. “Can I have some?”

**

The lecture hall was packed, every single seat taken. Some poor souls were even sitting on the stairs, eager to listen in and maybe find some validation, and inspiration - who are we kidding, mainly they just wanted to hear that it would be worth it all and it’d get better. Fenja was sitting all the way up, last row, glad to even have found a seat. Half the literature department was here, some journalism majors too. “I heard she’s only doing this, because her husband is a Ragnarsson. Otherwise she’d never have gotten the spot.” Fenja scoffed, as she pulled out pen and paper, ready to take notes. Unfortunately, her neighbours heard her and turned. “You have something to say, honey?” Her eyes grew round, she twisted in her seat and shook her head. “No, sorry, I just misheard. I thought you said she only got the lecture because her husband’s a Ragnasson.” “Well, I did.” The guy leaned his forearm onto the back of his seat, his body angled towards her, chest puffed like a bird ready to dance. His friend mirrored him, twirling her thick long hair around her finger, smirking. “Which doesn’t make sense, to be honest. She’s been holding lectures and seminars even before she’d met him, so implying she’d need the help of a rich man is not only wrong, but also degrading to her, her achievements and other authors and writers that have made it by themselves.” He wanted to throw another comment in, probably just as entitled and ignorant as his first, when Fenja raised a hand to stop him. “I’m not interested in fumbled comebacks dragged from your misogynistic fathers mouth, so, let’s leave it be, yes?” “Listen, bitch-” “You better think of a new beginning for that sentence, because I can promise you this is not going to end well for you. I know for a fact that the dean is quite the feminist, and he does not tolerate such behaviour at all. I’d pull my head out of my bum, if I were you, because your view on the world is growing a bit old, don’t you think?” He opened and closed his mouth, looked like a fish on the dry, skin flushing. His friend was looking on with big eyes, absolutely shocked anyone would talk to him like that. “You will regret this-” He finally found his voice, anger radiating off him. Fenja sighed. “Listen, you educationally handicapped amoeba. I am not going to regret this, even if it gets me into trouble. Because I know for a fact, while I will have to sit through a serious conversation on properly handling my anger, you’ll have to face an angry dean about the way you view women and I bet you’ll get to go to a couple very educating lectures, which I doubt you’ll get credit for.” They now had enough, they were storming off, the girl tutting over him, while he almost rammed into Ragnar, who took a step to the side and watched them go. “Hey.” He gestured over his shoulder, into the direction the two asshats were fleeing. “What was that?” Fenja shrugged and sat properly, facing forward. Some of the professors were gathered by the podium, talking. She tried to get a good view, but a rather tall professor was in the way. Wait. She knew that back from somewhere. Also, that manbun beat her in UNO just last week. Ragnar sat next to her, typing away on his phone, when she poked him violently. He really felt that, even through the fluffy sweater he wore. Gods, did she have pointy fingers. He hastily grabbed her wrist, holding it so she couldn’t attack him again. “What?” “Is that your Uncle?” He followed her line of sight, chuckling. “Yep.” “What’s he doing here?” “He’s teaching, princess. He’s specialized on Viking history and Nordic religions.” He laughed at her face. Her mouth stood open, eyebrows raised and her breath left her with a silent “oh.” “By the way. Auntie asked me to tell you, that she’s in town all week, and I am supposed to drag you to dinner, so you can meet her.” Now, that really got her attention. “What?” She pointed down to the podium, where a small, dainty woman assumed position and straightened her papers. “You mean that auntie? The amazing, famous author/Journalist?” “Yep.” He’d really get himself bitch-slapped one day, if he continued to play down such important, impactful events. Fenja flailed in her seat, almost falling out of it. “You can’t just - what, I -” Ragnar caught her arm, pulling her back up like it was nothing. “Calm down. How about dinner this friday. Whole family will be there.” “Is that supposed to help me? In any way?”, she asked, her tone suggesting how it definitely did not help. “Bear too.” He grinned at her, chuckling at the speed at which her expression - her whole demeanor, really - shifted. “Okay.”

Down at the podium, Gala cleared her throat and welcomed them, introduced herself and explained why she was holding his lecture. Ragnar knew all of this, he had only come up here to deliver his aunts message. But Fenja was so cute, all attentive, eager to soak up whatever knowledge his aunt decided to share. How she sat there, focused, scribbling down notes and questions for later. She did it on seperate sheets, organized and thought-out. He watched her profile, let his eyes roam over her figure, how she was wrapped into a hoodie at least two sizes too big, how she had a foot up on the seat, and an arm wrapped around her knee, leaning into it. How she ran the flat of her thumb’s nail over her lower lip, - left, right, left again - lips slightly parted. He licked his lips, swallowing and then promptly snapped himself out of it. Shaking his head over his creepy staring and suddenly, uh… not-friendly mood, he turned to watch Gala talk about the struggles of writing, writer’s block and solutions that helped in her experience. The lecture took about an hour, with a Q&A session added. Here too, Fenja listened closely, checking questions already answered and noting them down. Ragnar caught himself staring again. He always had felt the need to kinda protect her, keep her close, in his arms, but- oh boy. Oooooh. He leaned back against the chair, crossed his arms and stubbornly stared ahead, until his aunt excused them and everyone was leaving. He’d have to talk to someone about this. Crap. Someone help him. He must have made a sound, because Fenja looked over, concern on her face. “Is everything okay?” “Yeah, I’m good.”

** “Okay, so, I’ve got some examples I need you to translate, please.”  Ingrid laid down papers in front of Fenja and sat. “We’re gonna implement this in the program, we need to get clear on pronunciation and grammar and stuff.”  Fenja looked down at the paper, then back at Ingrid. “That’s your example?”  “Yep.” This whole family, for real.   “Uh, you’re not gonna get accurate, actually used German that way, right?” It’s from Lord Of The Rings. The hell.  “It’s not about that, it’s just an example, a start. It’s about the words, not what it means in context.”  She nodded, then held her hand out for a pen. “You want me to do it on paper?”” Now it was Ingrids turn to shrug. “However you’d like, doesn’t make a big difference.”

It didn’t take Fenja too long to translate it, even when using old German, plush and polished words, to keep the feeling of the original. She caught Ingrid’s attention, as she put her pen down and leaned back in her chair. They were seated in the Ragnarsson library, spread all over the place with school stuff, research, Fenja’s papers for her essays and Ingrid’s paperwork for the Linguae Populi. “You wanna read it?”, the girl asked, and promptly put her chin into her hands, abandoning her work.  “Sure.” Fenja cleared her throat and took a deep breath.   In a sure, but soft tone, she read aloud:

“Nicht alles das Gold, funkelt; Nicht alle die wandern, verloren; Alt und stark nicht verdunkelt; Wurzeln in Tiefe nicht erfroren; Feuer aus Asche entsteht, wie Licht entspringt dem Schatten; Soll zerbarste Klinge nun heilen, Krone wieder auf Königs Haupte weilen.”

Fenja felt slightly uncomfortable under Ingrid's attentive gaze; she raked her fingers through her hair and looked down at the paper. “It's probably not perfect, and certainly not even close to the original translation, but I tried.” The girl stopped her immediately, waving a hand through the air and shaking her head adamantly. “no I'm sure it's absolutely fine.” “Sounded fine to me.”, Came from the door. “Dad!” Ingrid uncurled her legs, bound over to her father like a puppy and dove into his arms for a big old hug. “I didn't know you'd be home today! I thought you had a work trip to Ontario?” Ivar stroked his daughter's head as he looked down at her. “I sent your Uncle instead. Gala has some business there, so he'd have gone there anyway.” Piercing blue eyes fixed Fenja ij her seat, while Ingrid took her fathers free arm and pulled him over. “You speak german?” Fenja nodded, intimidated and shy. “My family came over during the war, and they never let anyone lose touch to their roots. They expect you to be fluent in german.” Ingrid pulled the paper with the translation over and showed him. “That's from Lord of the rings. She's a nerd.” “Then you must like her, no? Two peas in a pod?” He grinned playfully, his calm exterior and the way he bantered with his kid, put her at ease. He wasn't bad, in any way. He was just so… tall, and broad, and had this very hard and cold aura, if he wanted to. They talked for a while. Ivar asked her more about her family, if they came before the war, or if they lived through the harsh times there. Fenja tried to answer, even taught him a couple of words and phrases when he asked for it. Turns out, the big bad Ivar Ragnarsson was a very curious and eager-to-please puppy dog. Now it was obvious, where this part of Ragnar came from. Those two were so much alike.

**

Ragnar was minding his own business, concentrating on his work, as a body fell into the spot next to his and a phone was shoved into his face. “LOOK AT THIS!” He did. “What am I looking at?” Fenja grinned, eyes alight with excitement, her whole body vibrating with restless energy. “That's a photograph of a black hole!” She sounded so proud, you'd think she made it. Without having to prompt her, she started into an extended rant, explaining how and when, how big it was (very), and how she really wanted to go visit it (so damn much), and how it looked like Sauron’s eye (It really did, wow), and ‘what if there is some kind of alternate universe where hobbits exist and the black hole is actually a way to go there, or to look into other universes?!’ “You want to visit a black hole.” “Yep.” “You think it’s a way to an alternate Hobbit universe?” “Yep.” Ragnars eyes were skipping over her face, taking in the scrunched nose as she smiled, the tousled hair from her run over, the healthy color of her face, the twinkle in her eyes. She was so cute, this excited. So open, so warm. It was a glimpse of how she could have been, if her parents had survived; she'd be way less inclined to shut others out. He also noticed how close she was. Her arm was wrapped around his biceps, her front pressed into his side as she leaned against him, essentially hugging his arm, while she was still holding the phone up, her elbow on the desk in front of him, his forearm trapped under hers. “You’re crazy.”, he shook his head.  “That’s my best personality trait, that are you talking about?” “But I’m coming with you. No way you’re gonna survive there. Either you’ll eat yourself to death, or you set one foot there and collide with some monster.”  “It’s settled then.” She let go of his arm, laid her own arms and head on the table, face towards him. “Now the only things left are contact with aliens and society’s realization regarding Pluto’s wrong degradation from planet status.”  Ragnar knew better than to dive into that discussion. She was very passionate about space. Instead, he plucked a hair hanging from her lashes.  “But what if there are no aliens?”  Okay, he was weak. Don’t judge.  Fenja groaned, but didn’t move much. “People who honestly believe that we are the only ones out there, are either very stupid, ignorant, or just plain scared. I can respect scared cucumbers, because that means on some level at least they agree that we can’t be alone, that’s just not logical.”

They fell into a comfortable pattern, Fenja ranting, Ragnar working. Sometimes it was the other way around, sometimes it was almost completely silent between the two of them. It was like a bubble, a safe haven on campus. Other students usually tended to avoid the two of them, because rants could happen just about any time, and those two got really passionate, including flailing arms and sometimes even thrown pens. So, their table was a corner-table, but other than them, there were no others in close vicinity. 

No one wanted to be part of… whatever they had.

**

Part 9

[scarlettlawyer]

Part 9 of my reaction/commentary to the Phantoms & Mirages fanfic series by @renegadewangs

(Chasing Phantoms): Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3

(Haunted Specters): Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6

(Vanquishing Mirages): Part 7 | Part 8

Welp. This is gonna be very painful for me on sooo many levels.

Hooo I kinda feel like I’m playing directly with fire in this post.

Now, it’s worth calling attention to the fact that these reaction/commentary posts are, first and foremost, built on my reactions to the source material. They are recounting the journey I, personally, went through as I read this series – that’s why I focus so much on my feelings and what I thought. There is more objective analysis at times, but it’s not the primary focus. Just in case you’re wondering why I’m focusing on myself so much and might get a little “omg can u shut up about urself and just get back to the story already???” pff. (And besides, more objective analysis is always inevitably filtered through the individual’s thoughts/mindset/perspective/preferences/etc anyway. So I’m basically just not even trying to tune any of that stuff out, as one would inevitably have to for a more proper series of reviews.) Ah… I hope reading in such depth about my personal rollercoaster journey is at least somewhat interesting. And not too boring.

…Yes, at the very least, I hope this post makes for a SOMEWHAT entertaining read.

That was part of my goal. Other than honesty to the point of self-sabotage.

Vanquishing Mirages, Chapter 18

There’s a whole bunch of small things I could comment on in this chapter but I’m going to gloss over them instead. I… can’t bring myself to dwell too much on the “side-things” in this post, really.

So. The image of the phantom, sitting with his head in his hands as Bobby and Palaeno dote over him while the phantom just irritably tries to wave them off is just, everything to me. xDDDD One of my faaaaavourite things. And then the phantom just leaping to his feet like that… The entire scene I could just go on and on about it at length… But I won’t. xDDDD The best game of “how much of an uncomfortable situation and awkwardness can we possibly apply to our dear spy – having other characters dote to the point of it being outright patronising – and how will this near-emotionless man respond to such outside forces?”

Okay actually, I will ramble just a Little. “Bobby and phantom = mother and child” is one of my favourite dynamics in this whole series. Bobby in this scene is just No. 1 Mum and it’s aaaall of my yes. So the phantom is forced to play the role of the child once more at this point in the chapter. The reality is that he’s a convicted criminal and therefore cannot be trusted on his own, hence requiring a bathroom escort. But he might as well be a helpless little child who requires adult supervision, as is the norm with children – this is the other amusing lens through which you can joke about Blackquill needing to lead the way there for him.

With that, Simon turned and led the way towards the door. The Phantom followed, as obedient as could be, and Fulbright looked like he was about to do the same. 

The “as obedient as could be” gets me every damn time, ahahaha. Because it really feels to slot him firmly into that “child” role. Being a good little child. For now. His major modes seem to be “obedient child” (e.g. “Sam Specter” doing the dishes in Haunted Specters if you wanted to push it) and of course the classic “petulant child”.

“Am I still meant to thank you for saving my life?” “Would it have even the slightest shred of sincerity to it?” Simon questioned. “Of course not.” “Then, no.”

THIS IS RIGHT UP THERE WITH SOME OF MY FAVOURITE PHANTOM EXCHANGES IN THIS SERIES.

“A fool, but not worthy of the title Fool Bright. Isn’t that right?” The Phantom managed some sort of failed echo of a smile. A smile that wouldn’t convince anyone who saw it. The words struck Simon as odd. Before the Phantom regained his memories, he would choose Fulbright’s side and use an almost defensive attitude to protect the man. Now that the lost year had returned to him, things seemed different.

Just. Shoot me. Please.

So I guess. Maybe he’s still trying to determine if Simon might be hurt the same way he’s sure Bobby will be?? I guess??? Perhaps… his words aren’t so much about how the name “Fool Bright” impacts him personally, but from his perspective… Simon calling him “Fool Bright” could imply that capacity for him to get deeply hurt by the phantom’s death, that Simon might also have some kind of attachment to him like Bobby does but is less obvious about it, and the phantom obviously doesn’t want that. So I guess his goal here… is possibly trying to determine if Simon has any sentimentality towards him that also needs to be stomped out for Simon’s own sake??

“You need to watch your tongue, Phantom. One might almost accuse you of being jealous.”

Me: um dude did he just. Go there? Did Simon really just- nah that can’t be right, I’m just reading things into his words that aren’t there you know-

“Your relationship? You believe I hold romantic or even sexual interest in you?”

Me: OH. OH OKAY. SO I GUESS WE’RE JUST? I GUESS SIMON REALLY WENT THERE HUH AND THE BOTH OF THEM ARE JUST NOT SHYING AWAY FROM THIS TOPIC OF CONVERSATION. THEY’RE JUST MEETING THIS TOPIC HEAD-ON. WELL. OKAY THEN!

The sheer level of whiplash that this turn in their conversation had on me- I had literally only just been joking with my friend about the parent-child dynamics present among the trio from EARLIER ON IN THE SAME CHAPTER as I’d been reading through it.

The scene just. Ends on that line. Wild enough on its own.

And then it. Bobby. The next scene. H. And then the ffffffffffffff

Chapter end.

Me:

“DOES ANYBODY WANNA TELL ME WHAT THE HELL JUST HAPPENED???????”

And on that absolutely wild note, Vanquishing Mirages draws to a firm close. It was a little bit strange that this scene never gets revisited or expanded upon moving forward, but that’s no matter. I’m sure it was an innocent writing oversight. At least this fic managed to go out with a huge bang! Turns out that thanks to Simon, the phantom had been saddled with unnecessary feelings! Hahaha, what do you know! Sooo, that about wraps it up for me and my reaction/commentary/review for this post folks, I wish anyone reading this all the best! So next up, we have Lifting Spirits! Going into Lifting Spirits, the title already has a positive touch to it, and well, we’ll just have to see what else it has in store. Cya!

      Ah… I guess this post is a little short to just leave it at that then, isn’t it? Very well. Continuing on with the very next chapter that happens immediately after this one, as we begin the new fic:

Lifting Spirits, Chapter 1

He was just watching a documentary on the Tasmanian masked owl when the doorbell rang.

Hahaha omg that is such a Simon thing to do

A bit irksome, but then again, he was fairly sure he’d already seen this footage before.

Dfkjsfjksdf BIG NERD. BIRD NERD.

THE WHIPPED CREAM AND CHOCOLATE SAUCE COMMENT FROM BOBBY djdjnk GOODNESS ME. I wonder if we’ll get any further allusions to what his relationship with Domestique was, ahem, possibly like in future!

And there’s also th

     OKAY FINE.

     [sigh] FIIIIINE.

Finishing the Chapter 18 review then.

Well my first incredulous reaction was something like, “Are you… serious. Did we not just spend like… Two entire fics playing around with the notion that “Blackquill is Basically the phantom’s dad”???? And then you turn around and do this? HOW IS THE READER SUPPOSED TO FEEL ABOUT THIS? NARRATIVE CAN YOU MAKE UP YOUR MIIIIND? ARE YA REALLY GONNA MAKE A PLAY AT THIS AFTER ALL THE PARENTAL DYNAMICS THAT WERE INTRODUCED?

It’s… Oh my god.

But then again.

It wasn’t like these themes hadn’t been introduced before. The first fic in the series felt so far away, out of reach, and from so long ago (and I’ve already gone over how separated it felt from the rest of the story on first readthrough so I needn’t do so again)… But I had some vague recollections you know. The main thing that stood out to me was Blackquill’s confrontation with the phantom before the phantom allowed himself to fall from the apartment window. Where Blackquill basically Trump Cards the phantom with “Ha! You’re totally into me!” and the phantom went “oh god you’re right” and was soooo ruined over the idea that he was apparently ATTRACTED TO SOMEONE that he was like whew! Think I’ll be taking my leave now and never seeing or needing to speak to you or anyone else again, so great is my mortification! And then he went BYE BYE out the window, the end. That’s Totally what happened, right? And even if that’s not exactly how the scene went, I knew, for some reason(s) that I couldn’t quite remember at the time, that the phantom having a Thing for Simon during the first fic was indisputable. (WE WILL GET TO THAT).

And the thing that’s been preventing this being brought up this entire time? The memory loss. And what’s no longer an issue? The memory loss. It was paaaaainfully obvious that things were different once the phantom regained those memories. The entire parental dynamic wherein the phantom was positioned as being Simon’s son was all set up purely in Haunted Specters, during the memory loss phase. But if I looked at it this way, I took it as “fact” that phantom was into Simon in some way or another prior to the memory loss. All of the weird parental projection stuff seemed to only come after that, while the memories of the missing year were gone. And IF THOSE MEMORIES HAD NOW RETURNED… It makes sense that……………………………

There would be some kind of reversion back to…………

So could this fic compartmentalise it like that, then? And we are to leap from the parental realm now that the memories are returned, and straight into… this? Hmm. But this alone was not enough. There were a couple of other things, too.

See, I’ve already alluded to/essentially stated this previously, but… That scene just before the phantom allows himself to fall from the window? On first readthrough, at the time, I didn’t even particularly like it or truly appreciate it. And then, we come full circle, back to when I had all my pesky little “doubts” about how the phantom’s character was handled in the first fic, finally catching up to me for my full re-evaluation.

I hadn’t really bought the one-sided phantomquill during fic 1. It was one of those doubts from back then. It just hadn’t stuck at the time.

Would it stick now?

Let’s talk a bit about phantomquill.

Well, phantomquill has never been my primary focus. My primary focus has always been the phantom (in Dual Destinies content, anyway). If given the choice, I’d prefer to just have content that has the phantom in it. Not really phantomquill stuff, although phantomquill can certainly be interesting to think about, it was never really a priority or a preference for me.

Except… Almost all phantom-focused content usually seems to be inherently phantomquill in nature. Which is fine! It would be nice to just have some neutral phantom stuff, but it looked like phantomquill was the default. The prerequisite, almost, if someone was gonna have a focus on the phantom in their story. And I didn’t mind. But I’d probably equally enjoy said stories regardless of whether the phantomquill was there or not.

So I guess I’m always kinda inclined to just shrug and go “I GUESS?” when phantomquill comes along. But I had, however, become waaay more fond of phantomquill over the years. It still wasn’t much of a preference but I’d certainly gained an appreciation for it and quite enjoyed thinking about it at times.

And obviously, obviously, from how the last two scenes are set-up – the suspiciously sudden jumpcut between them, I knew there had to be more to what was going on. I knew there probably had to be missing lines that got exchanged that the audience hadn’t seen yet, leading up to/into what Bobby walks in on.

But regardless of what those lines were… The outcome would be the same, wouldn’t it? So what difference could the conversation’s direction possibly make? Things, in one way or another, from how their conversation continues, must have gotten out of h- well. Spiralled into what Bobby sees the phantom doing!!

And I was also amused because HMM… THIS WHOLE SCENARIO… WHEREIN A BLOND PHANTOM… KISSES SIMON, COMMITTING A TERRIBLE MISTAKE IN THE PROCESS OF DOING SO… ALMOST SEEMS FAMILIAR, SOMEHOW.

But actually, there’s really no harm in that. There’s absolutely nothing wrong with fanfics containing similar scenarios playing out with their own differences added into the mix. It’s FUN and EXCITING to see different authors handle somewhat similar situations in their own ways. If anything, it should be encouraged.

So could I really accept this scene playing out in THIS fic in all its terrific absurdity? One of the important questions for that was, did it feel “earned” in any way?

I found myself thinking back to previous Vanquishing Mirages chapters, as covered in the last post. About how, back then, I was thinking how this was “peak phantomquill” and how if there’s any way phantomquill should be, it was this. Even back then, I inadvertently found myself glancing at the fic’s tags. “No phantomquill tag? No phantomquill tag? Huh… well okay then. I guess the author doesn’t think it’s phantomquill if it’s not “romantic” in nature and/or only remains subtext. That’s fair enough.” To look at those scenes… To think back to the first fic… And look at it all through a phantomquill lens…… It did feel kinda earned to me.

And you even warned me, in your own way. “Originally planned to have one-sided phantomquill.” ORIGINALLY. That’s essentially what you told me, isn’t it? Aaaand that confused me for the longest time. Honestly. I read through Chasing Phantoms like “???? “Originally” how? This one-sided phantomquill is uh, PRETTY SOLIDLY CANON IMO.” I just figured you meant “one-sided phantomquill that wasn’t just subtext” or “way more obvious”. Figured that in your opinion, if it only ever remained subtext yet still clearly there, well it wasn’t proper phantomquill then was it?

And then when I read this chapter, I was just like… (AND EVEN MESSAGED MY FRIEND BASICALLY SAYING THIS):

“THIS FIC ISN’T EVEN TAGGED AS PHANTOMQUILL W H A T”

(HOOTY HOOO PAST ME THERE’S A REASON FOR THAT).

But it just made me think, “Oh, well. I guess the only reason the author would tag something as “phantomquill” ever is if the pairing becomes canon then? Which it obviously never will here. Therefore there’s no tag for it.”

Now, I’d like to draw your attention to something I wrote in a recent reply of mine to you:

“Not to mention that I loved the courtroom jokes bit so much that, once I decided to let myself enjoy it and accept it, my Willing Suspension of Disbelief was strengthened tenfold and was ready to take just about anything you would throw at it. (And you sure were ready to throw stuff at me and had more up your sleeve!). I gave the story even more leeway to work with willingly, because everything was so perfect and I wanted my suspension of disbelief to have plenty of leeway to fully enjoy EVERYTHING. NO MORE INNER KILLJOY. I knew I could trust in the narrative because it was so strong.”

I guess this was a huge part of my downfall.

I looked at this set-up the chapter left us with – one-sided, inevitably angsty phantomquill, thought back on everything and what it came down to was… couldn’t I just accept it, just like I’d accepted things like the joke-telling? Did I want to? Did I enjoy this scenario?

…Yeah. Yeah, I realised with a bit of surprise that I did. I REALLY, REALLY DID, ACTUALLY. And I wanted to accept it. My inner killjoy was cast aside. It was tiiiime to just enjoy this perfect “angst” or whatever youd call it.

It didn’t matter how ridiculous it may be. When it comes to fanfiction… the sky tends to be the limit. It’s precisely where you can see little fantasies like this one played out. It’s… It’s… If there’s any place this kind of scenario could happen, for sure. This was it. The best thing to do is just… enjoy it for what it is.

Almost everything had primed me to thinking that… This was indisputable one-sided phantomquill, was it not? And if just about every phantom-heavy fic out there seems to have some phantomquill in it, it’s only natural that this one would too, right? There was nothing driving me to question it. And accepting it just made me ridiculously happy and excited. Yeah, it’s “angsty” and one-sided, but it made me so dang happy nonetheless.

And if this wasn’t bad enough.

I went on to make a number of other mistakes that proved to be very, very fatal.

I read this chapter after midnight. And it was sooo much to process, and I wanted to be fully awake to process whatever was coming next… And it was just way too late at night. I figured, I wouldn’t be able to handle whatever was coming next… I needed to sleep. I needed to… save it for tomorrow. And it was too late to read another chapter anyway.

…Oh, if only I had read on… I could have spared myself so much. If I had just gone straight from this chapter into the next one… I would’ve been mostly fine. Nothing would have truly had a chance to sink in and my misconception would have been quickly cleared up. I would’ve been pretty much fine, I’m sure. I would have likely suspended judgement and saved myself…

It really is the kiss itself that was the killing blow, too. If the chapter had only, if it had only ended at the phantom’s last line, and Bobby’s segment saved for the next chapter, I would have EASILY maintained plausible deniability and would have been spared. Even when Blackquill and phantom’s conversation turned in that direction, I had NOT made ANY concrete assumptions.

But what actually happened was.

I turned my computer off,

And went to sleep.

And ohhhhhh boy.

I was very excited to find out how the narrative would continue in the next chapter. Especially how the prose of the text itself would approach it. Naturally, there was going to be immediate fallout.

But the narrative patterns of this series so far also fooled me. One thing was clear: the audience was to find out what happened during the jumpcut from Blackquill’s to Bobby’s POV in the next chapter.

And WHOSE perspective is missing, that is normally left until last? Was it not evident…?

So it seems like my mind couldn’t help brainstorming, and seems my dreams were like, “Oh, what if the prose was like this, starting with this sentence, and then…”

Haah.

So you see, when I woke up the next morning, I had these lines of prose fresh in my mind! And I really liked them, actually! I couldn’t let them go to waste! I had to write them down…!

Yep. It’s terribly embarrassing to admit. But I wrote my own little snippet of a sequel before reading the next chapter. “I can compare, see how the next chapter actually goes…!” I thought to myself naively.

Which brings us to…

Vanquishing Mirages, Chapter 19

Finally, I eagerly open the next chapter to read and it was just…

I don’t think I’ve ever been more thoroughly played by a piece of fiction in my entire life.

There was that time I was reading a book and one of the beloved characters that I was deeply attached to was very clearly dying. Their death had been one of the possibilities I had been DREADING even before starting the book. It’s a little bit hard to stay alive when there’s a sword lodged in you like that, you know? Their consciousness was slipping away by the moment. I couldn’t read on through my tears. I had to pause reading and pull myself together to push on.

…And when I did? The character suddenly, recovered on the next page. And was fine. Because here’s the thing: said character was a zombie. But like, a weird kind of “alive” zombie which could still die I guess. Had the sword remained firmly lodged in him, chances are he would have actually died. But another character – devastated over this character’s impending death, 100% sure it was about to happen, pulled the sword out. And then, what do you know? The character sat up again and was like “lol wait I’m actually feeling a lot better now lol… well I guess that’s being a zombie for you huh.”

Hah. Well. That’s one example that comes to mind and at least, in this case… the bait and switch was actually going from one thing I desperately didn’t want – to something I actually desperately wanted. For the character to live, or “live” as a perfectly conscious zombie.

There is another example that comes to mind, a little bit closer to home, which involves… ship baiting.

I like to think that it is very hard to make me fall for ship baiting. Sure, I ship things that aren’t canon in media. And I do so with the full knowledge that they aren’t canon and will most likely never be canon. I keep those two realms nice and separate and therefore my feelings never get hurt. I never get too invested to the point of becoming upset… And I can tell, usually, what is sheer shipbaiting and what constitutes actual, canon evidence.

So there was one piece of media I was into, where two male characters were shipped with each other from the very start by the fandom, even before they ever interacted with each other. Then they actually started interacting and their dynamic was awesome, they cared for and were looking out for each other. So the shipping of the two characters only heightened dramatically in the fandom, naturally. Now, everyone was getting invested, but I looked at these two characters and went… “yeah, sure, I would love to see them get together, so I ship it.” But I figured, you know, it was never gonna actually happen, so I didn’t get too invested. I thought, yeah… the writers are deeefinitely throwing in some intentional bait with those two that they will never actually follow through on. So I didn’t get invested.

But then something happened that changed everything for me… One of those two characters got 100% confirmed, beyond a shadow of any doubt, to be canonically in love with the other, in the media itself, undeniably. I always usually look for plausible deniability to cover my bases. That’s what ship baiting relies on. But there was no way around the concrete fact that this character was in love with the other.

And in that piece of media, there was no canon reason, absolutely none, why those two characters couldn’t get together. And if Character A’s canonically in love with Character B… there were MOUNTAINS of evidence that Character B felt the same way. If anything, if I had to take a blind guess at who was in love with who, I would have figured it was Character B way more than Character A.

Well, the writers messed up and stuffed around and played with its audience. They wanted to keep baiting this ship, they introduced very transparent & pointless roadblocks as to why they couldn’t be together only after the fact of one of the character’s feelings revealed, and yeah, turns out the other character doesn’t feel the same way back. They employed just plain bad writing to introduce pointless drama and turned the previously inseparable pair against each other.

Nooow that hurt a lot because I was shipping something that, for all intents and purposes canonically speaking, could've been on the verge of becoming a reality. Before the writers decided to add unnecessary complications and reveal that the other character never felt that way. I got really invested and it turned out to be blatant baiting and, yeah.

Well the example in your fic is obviously very different from that one on a number of fronts. The example just provided was baiting the ship becoming canon. The example in your series is merely baiting the notion that a character had a specific type of feeling(s) for another. In some ways that made it all the more crushing.

Suffice it to say, I felt like the BIGGEST, STUPIDEST idiot EVER when I read the next chapter. I still do. The pain never truly went away sdklsd;madl;dfkj

Well, let’s start on the chapter itself, shall we?

With the chapter summary:

The Phantom’s crazy way of thinking turns the situation into a bit of a soap opera. How does he really feel about Simon Blackquill, as far as feeling goes with him?

Stupid, stupid me, leaning into a microphone: um. Do you even have to ask. This chapter summary alone was one of my favourite things in the world… before reading on.

”My actions were Bobby Fulbright’s actions, not a reflection of my own desires.”

Okay so. I had not actually remembered this line until this second readthrough, and I absolutely have to call bull on this. We know that prior to the phantom stealing Bobby’s life, Bobby never acted on his sexuality. FURTHERMORE, EVEN IF HE HAD, I’m calling bull once AGAIN and am gonna say that the real Bobby Fulbright would never have abused his role as parole officer to cross a line that should not have been crossed WITH A PRISONER THAT HE IS PERSONALLY RESPONSIBLE FOR. Unavoidable power balance. The Bobby I know would not, end of story. Even if the real Bobby was attracted to Simon. He wouldn’t have acted on it if he was Simon’s parole officer. AND THIS ENTIRE SPIEL IS MOOT ANYWAY BECAUSE THE PHANTOM WOULD HAVE NO WAY TO TELL WHO BOBBY WOULD BE ATTRACTED TO AND I SOMEHOW DOUBT HE GETS THAT INVESTED IN HIS ROLES TO FOLLOW THROUGH TO THIS EXTENT. I guess what it comes down to is how he later basically says “seeking acknowledgement is one thing, seeking a relationship is entirely another”. So part of the driving force was the seeking acknowledgement…? BUT IN A WEIRD NON-PHANTOMQUILL WAY…? And there’s also the fact that the identity of “Bobby Fulbright” and the nameless spy known as the phantom were blurring together. But IF the identity blurring actually played a role, that would make it phantomquill, so I kind of doubt that’s part of the explanation.

And like, sure, I get it. Pretty sure “Bobby Fulbright” behaved that way immediately after Simon mentioned “the phantom” to him. So his goal was to manipulate Simon, a little bit of that “seeking acknowledgement” in there too (BUT NOT ACTUAL PHANTOMQUILL-STYLE “SEEKING ACKNOWLEDGEMENT” APPARENTLY????) and who knows. Maybe he was searching for the damn profile. Maybe he thought it might be hidden in Simon’s clothes. WHO KNOWS. But like, I get it, it was “not a reflection of his own desires”, APPARENTLY.

fffffffffffffff

”I am what one might call aromantic and asexual,”

So as a quick aside, worth noting that on the first readthrough… Like… I knew the kiss was still coming so at the start when he’s saying this stuff, it felt more like him denying it, only for ya know… the kiss to happen and all. It was only after it fully played out that I came back to this line all like “Oh my god… he was right… he wasn’t kidding…” BUT WE’LL GET TO THERE. WITH THAT OUT OF THE WAY THOUGH-

My goodness. Reading this sent me into another realm. It just like? Astral projected me to some other planet because heLLOOOO I WOULD LIKE TO DISSECT THIS A LITTLE BIT:

Firstly, the word “asexual”? Okay, that’s commonly used outside of the context of people being ace. So it would not be too surprising for him to say something about being asexual because, that’s already a commonly-used English word, even if that “common definition” (see: plants and whatever) is not the definition he is using here, he could easily use this word in this context without knowing that plenty of people actually do use it in this context as a label for themselves.

BUT “AROMANTIC” … NOW THAT’S INTERESTING. “Aromantic” is a very specific word with a specific definition! It is not a commonly-known English word in day-to-day life among the average person and it is not used outside of people using it as a label to identify themselves with!

ALL OF THIS TO SAY… FOR HIM TO USE BOTH WORDS? IMPLIES HE KNOWS HIS STUFF.

IF the phantom had been randomly pulling out the word “asexual” because it would be “obvious what it means in this context” without knowing that asexuality is A Fairly Common Thing, he would have just called himself asexual and nothing else. Because for people who aren’t particularly knowledgeable on the subject, they often conflate asexuality and aromanticism together!

With that being said, there is still the possibility that he isn’t aware of the communities that have been formed around those labels. That he was doing a simple equation here and putting “a-“ in front of “sexuality” and “romantic” to demonstrate that he’s “none” in both.

BUT I’M STILL INCLINED TO SAY THAT THE FACT THAT HE SPECIFICALLY SAYS “AROMANTIC” MEANS HE’S KINDA KNOWLEDGEABLE ABT IT…

And I just CANNOT get over this and the implications attached to it. The phantom knows about asexuality and aromanticism and self-identifies as aroace? THE PHANTOM KNOWS ABOUT THE SPLIT ATTRACTION MODEL? DSDFKLMLKDF;LDSL;-

Ohhh my god.

And yes, in this year 2019 these terms and communities are becoming more and more widespread, but they’re still not particularly mainstream. I know also that this fic is set in 2028, but… I’m more primed to think about when this fic was written – a few years back – when these terms and communities would have been a little bit more obscure. That’s the primary background I think of RE: the phantom actually knowing this stuff.

Also, hah, it’s so many layers because WOW… Talk about absolutely awful aroace representation in a sense right here. You get this character in your canon calling themselves aroace and they’re… the despicable, emotionless murderer & VILLAIN. Feels like it falls directly into the “bad representation” trap, HOWEVER. I do feel that the situation is much more nuanced in this case.

Like yeah, he might be an emotionless murderer, and on the surface that looks bad, BUT! He’s also a major protagonist that we have come to sympathise with at times and feel bad for… The story has followed and focused on him so much. It has shown him in so many different lights, somehow managing to make him such an extremely well-rounded character with depth. Therefore, at least to me… It doesn’t necessarily feel like bad representation at all. He’s not limited to being the bad guy. He’s so much more than that. This is nothing but another aspect to his character. And being aroace is not necessarily directly linked to his villainy. So much about him has been broken down and deconstructed. So somehow… by some miracle… In the context of this fic, the fact that the emotionless murderer is aroace could almost circle back around into being almost good representation, amazingly enough. Or… well, that’s the thing. Whether it’s “good” or “bad” representation most likely ultimately isn’t your primary concern anyway. Neither is “representation”, for that matter. What matters is a good story with good characters that make sense. So there may be no point talking about the representation angle anyway: it’s not necessarily “representation”. It’s just a character with a certain identity that happens to neutrally exist in the plot, whoever that character may be and whatever that character may happen to be.

And I also have happened to see you mention that you yourself are ace!

But I’m merely analysing the text as I would with any piece of fiction – and will continue to do so. Being aware that you’re ace yourself gives me a little bit more perspective on things, but I wouldn’t have necessarily been aware of that in different circumstances and therefore wish to look at the text as its own entity and how it comes across to me as the reader.

As for the rest of what he says…

Ohhh geez. Now it’s time to talk about something else. Another little fatal mistake I made in my approach to reading this series. We must once again return ourselves to when I read Chasing Phantoms.

Now I myself am asexual, of the repulsed kind… xD

So when I came across That phantomquill scene in Chasing Phantoms, my response was basically just, “oh GEEZ that is NOT a mental image I want thankyouverymuch nope nope nope nope.” And just – kept reading on and did my best to forget about that scene. Juuust bury it away and not think about it. :P Ignore it! Pretend it didn’t happen. And this alone created some “distance” between myself and the narrative at the time, that my instinct already was to reject something connected back to that version of the phantom.

Looks like I did a little too good of a job forgetting about it. And with it out of mind, well, I’d become sooo heavily entrenched in the series by this point and really was clinging to everything that was canon.

I read this chapter and it was just like… oh dear. Oh DEAR. That was a thing. That happened in this series!!!

It was just SHOVED in my face undeniably in this chapter, as if I could not have possibly received a nastier slap in the face with the reminder of that incident’s existence. xDDDD

My distance when reading Chasing Phantoms had just come back to bite me in the biggest way… I’d gotten so heavily attached to the canon of this series by this point. But I’d conveniently forgotten the canon that I didn’t want to acknowledge, and hadn’t fully acknowledged back then. Suddenly! I was well and truly being forced to acknowledge EVERYTHING! Ahaha.

The spy pushed away from the sink to take a few steps towards Simon. The look on his face was harder than it’d ever been before. The closest thing to fierce determination the man could muster, perhaps.

THIS must be when he gets the STUPID idea to, I DON’T KNOW, SHIPBAIT ME INTO OBLIVION? AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA

There was nothing heartfelt or affectionate about it.

NOTHING????? NOTHING?????????

“Awww… Busted.” The Phantom ran a hand past his mouth, but he was still grinning. It was a grin that Simon remembered from those first visits to solitary confinement. A grin that’d been coupled with purposeful jabs below the belt. “Isn’t that a damn shame?”

In spite of everything…………. I love this line. I just love the “aw busted” it’s sdjdfnkljdlnk I LOVE IT. HE IS THE WORRRRRRRST.

“Don’t be like that. I was only attempting to relive that pleasant night we had last year before it’s too late.”

Me: OH MY GOD SOMEONE SHUT HIM UP SOMEONE SHUT HIM UP RIGHT NOW I DO NOT WANT TO HEAR ANY OF THIS SHUT IT DOWN.

Phantom: [opens mouth to speak]

Me:

Oh I can’t. I cannot.

Me: “I am BEGGING you to shut up. For once in your miserable life, in your whole pathetic existence… SHUT UP.”

This narrative had given me so much Suffering & Sympathetic Phantom and a whole manner of like… “Nice” Phantom and this is just…………… W O W. The narrative primed me so much on things like Sympathetic Phantom and “hahahaaaa he’s a child just look at him!” and this is just like! A harsh, merciless jolt! -OH ONE LIKE HE’S ABOUT TO RECEIVE ACTUALLY, WASN’T THINKING OF THAT WHEN I TYPED THAT BUT HAHAA…

BUT HIM SAYING THESE THINGS HAD SUCH ENTERTAINING SHOCK VALUE TOO. THE FLIPPANCY!

The Phantom stirred and pushed himself into a sitting position. He was still trembling, though at the very least that detestable grin had been washed off his face. “You’re welcome.”

Goooo to hell. Go to hell.

He briefly considered retrieving his feather from the ground as well, then thought better of himself. Five second rule aside, the fact that it was lying on the bathroom floor of a hospital instantly rendered it trash for the janitors to do away with.

SDKJBSDKJB SIMON.

“Understood.” The Phantom pushed himself to his feet, though he seemed to be having some trouble keeping his balance. Perhaps the electric currents had left a stronger impact on his body than was evident. To think this incident took place right before a jarring surgery…

HE IS SUCH A MORON. YOU IDIOT.

Perhaps this would be their final conversation, Simon realized with a sudden jolt. …No, the surgery would be harmless. It was an easy procedure. That was what the doctor had claimed.

This I had a small bit of trouble with, because something like brain surgery hardly seems like an “easy” and “harmless” procedure, but the dangers were actually touched on as I pointed out in my previous post… I just guess I would have emphasised the dangers a little more. But perhaps you did research and were able to determine that such a hypothetical procedure… would be “harmless”…?

The Phantom closed his eyes for a few seconds and Simon could see the corners of his mouth twitch. “I am… glad that we got to be partners one last time. Trust or no trust, I think that we make a favorable team.”

Look my soul had already well and truly left my body by this point of the chapter so I did not remember this line at all. I don’t really know what the hell’s it ‘sposed to mean or what’s going on. I guess it doesn’t matter. I have already been DESTROYED.

Dear Phantom,

Yours Sincerely,

-One of your biggest fans.

Sooo I was devastated. And felt deeply humiliated. And then that devastation turned to pure desperation. Even if things turned out this way… There had to still be hidden actual one-sided phantomquill nonetheless, right? I needed this. I needed this so badly, I’d staked everything on one-sided phantomquill’s reality here, something I had never truly done in any other phantom fic I’d ever read – fics that would willingly offer up phantomquill to me on a silver platter.

But every last bit of “phantomquill” that I’d been assuming and hadn’t even cared for prior to this point turned out not to be phantomquill at all…? It faded away, just when I needed it most. At which point, a second wave of devastation hit me. At the fact that not only had the chapter gone horribly, horribly awry from what my fantasies had played out in my mind, but that there had apparently never been any one-sided phantomquill. Heightening my sense of my own idiocy tenfold.

And this second wave was exacerbated by another realisation: Even if there were traces of genuine phantomquill to be found in other parts of the series, it hardly made any difference in the end. My feelings were hurt by chapter 19. Everything had been banked on that. And nothing could change how it actually played out.

And I thought it over countless times, because I usually like to pride myself on understanding and siding with authorial intent, you know? Or at least striving to most of the time. Was I truly just unbelievably stupid? What was I supposed to expect from the chapter? What about the other “phantomquill” scenes and implications that took place, dotted all throughout the series, that can be viewed through different lenses? It was clear that some baiting had been at play, but how much of it had been intentional and how much was me just an idiot reading the text incorrectly? (The fact that you were gunning for it in the beginning makes it seem like such a deep-rooted, ridiculously long-running con-job… my goodness… Even if it wasn’t intended to be a con from the start… That means the audience… Can you really say the audience is not being conned way back in Chasing Phantoms? How else were they supposed to interpret the phantom’s characterisation back then…?! How were they supposed to know…! And if actual phantomquill had been what you intended at the time of writing it…!) Oh I was ruined and driven into doubting myself so much and KICKING myself over this.

There was… No justice in any of this, it seemed. And I could not even feel “righteous” in any way. I just felt pathetic.

Because I’d only been asking for something one-sided… I’d wanted to see my favourite character suffer even more. It’s not the “normal” “I just want character to be happy” type angle. So it felt like such a weird thing to beg for. But beeeeeg for it I did anyway, huh.

I just! Wanted! To see some more Vulnerable Phantom! Maybe with just a little bit of genuine emotions leaking through! What would have made it so wonderful… Is that it takes place JUST before the surgery! Therefore it would demonstrate that even with his severely limited emotional state! He still…! THAT’S WHAT I WANTED OK IS THAT SO WRONG?!

No it isn’t and meet me out back I’ve got sources come prepared I’ll present my ten page essay on why you wrote your own fic wrong and sjsdjsdkj

^Me, in all-out confrontation & idiot mode, arguing at you over this, well and truly willing to go down with this one-sided ship

And when some of the devastation subsided, I went into Bitter Mode. Ohhhhhhh the saltiness. Ohhhhhhh I got salty, veeeeery salty. STILL not entirely sure if I’m done being salty. Or will ever be done being salty & bitter over this, played up intentionally to my friend to reap all of its comedic potential. :P I’d been burrrrrrrrrned.

So there you have it. Since you like irony so damn much…

I took the “phantomquill” in this series for granted at first. “Phantomquill” that I later practically begged for.

I didn’t care a whole lot for the initial scene where the phantom lets himself fall from that window in Chasing Phantoms (of course, I later realised how good it was on its own). A scene that was directly tied to and paralleled one of the extreme heights of my enjoyment in Vanquishing Mirages, also helping me to gain a far deeper appreciation of said earlier scene.

And the one time where I got super invested in phantomquill and wanted it, really wanted it, was with one of the very few fics that would flatly refuse to provide it.

Oh wait, one more thing too. The aro ace thing. Lol if he was agender too in this, he’d be triple-A hahaha

That was another thing when I came across the phantomquill in Chasing Phantoms initially. I was just like, “mmmm, no, nah. If anything, going by the “canon” of the game, if you absolutely had to put a label on the phantom, he’d be aro ace.”

Well. Turns out…

And, under just about any other circumstance, it would make me pleased to see the phantom call himself aro ace, and yet… The circumstances couldn’t be more… :T

So when it finally sunk in that, yea he is?

I was just like…

“No… no no no no no no… This is not happening… This cannot be happening…! MY OWN LOGIC IS BEING USED AGAINST MEEEEEE……………………”

: (

But yes. The ironies that can be listed of this situation do go on and on.

That was it. The last Simon saw or heard of the entity known as the Phantom.

Me, who in spite of everything, actually does still love the phantom very much and does not want to see him now promptly vanish from this really well-written series in his really well-written form, and has noooo idea how this is gonna go and what the result of this surgery is gonna be and is therefore very nervous about how “the phantom” will transform after this point:

If the doctors were successful, an intangible spirit would take the form of a true human, rather like a phoenix being reborn from its own ashes.

“I’ve literally just been brutally left in the dust I am hardly in any state to appreciate the beauty of sentences like this one. GO AHEAD, SHOW ME YOUR PRETTY PROSE, BUT IT’S A LITTLE LATE NOW ISN’T IT. IT WON’T WORRRRRRK I’M TOO BUSY HAVING BEEN SO THOROUGHLY OWNED BY A BAIT AND SWITCH THAT I’M LYING ON THE GROUND IN TINY PIECES”

To prove once and for all whether or not there was a true identity hidden inside him.

That’s nice but I literally just could not bring myself to care anymore. I was done. The fic ended in the last chapter. It was finished. “My version’s canon to me now.” That’s one way I could try to cope and pretend my heart & dignity can remain intact. Whatever is going on now it’s just an interesting au. My little self-indulgent version is what obviously happened.

This fic could do whatever the hell it wanted because nothing about it mattered anymore, I didn’t care, it’d lost me. I pettily decided at the time that Anything after Chapter 18 is the Wrong Timeline so It’s all meaningless as far as I was concerned!

Fulbright… Was he truly so angry that he would miss the moment of the Phantom’s awakening?

It’s kinda funny because in a sense, I was Bobby at this point of the chapter. Absent : ) Yeah, ok, I was reading on through my pain… But I was very. Emotionally absent, disconnected, or whatever you’d like to call it. In Chasing Phantoms I wasn’t particularly invested because of all the doubts I’d had. And here, my investment in however the series would continue dropped DRAMATICALLY because I’d been too invested in it. It was just like… “Ok. Might as well see whatever the hell happens. But nothing in this series can ever truly make me happy again as it did before. The line’s been crossed. Sayonara.”

…Yeah, rather bold words to utter just prior to Lifting Spirits.

But you baked the most perfect, beautiful and tantalising-looking phantomquill cake to me… and then you just… IMMEDIATELY destroyed it. You took a hammer to that cake. Threw it in the bin, leaving me desperately, brokenly reaching for the icing still smeared messily on the table, and when I did, YOU SLAPPED MY HAND AWAY. No siree I could not even have some of that icing. Ya blew it. I was done. UNFORGIVABLE. Line crossed. Your rights to the work were forfeit as far as I was concerned. It was all mine now.

Was he consulting with his trusted therapist, perhaps?

HOHOOH what if he did though. I can’t remember if that gets confirmed either way. PFFF WELL YOU CAN ADD THIS MESS TO THE LIST OF THINGS BENNY MIGHT KNOW ABOUT THEN???? HOW… INTERESTING!

Ok but also:

I SWEAR TO GOOOOOOOD THIS LINE ACTUALLY MADE ME SO? CONFUSED AND BORDERLINE, IF NOT OUTRIGHT SUSPICIOUS ON FIRST READ BECAUSE LIKE.

Okay, there was another much more direct Benny reference earlier this same fic. He’s actually NAMEDROPPED. I didn’t point it out at the time because I didn’t want to be too tedious about it and waited until the next reference like this, which I figured there would be, so that I could comment on MY THOUGHTS.

So waaay back earlier in the fic, when Benny actually gets namedropped for the first time:

What sort of advice would his therapist offer? He wished he could call the man and explain his situation, because Benny always had just the right answer to any problem.

Me at the time: wow, even the offscreen therapist gets a name? What a series! Is this series fleshed out or what?!

But even back then.

There’d just been. Such a handful of references to this guy.

Like, when the therapist first started being referenced it was all like “oh I’m so glad Bobby’s getting the counselling and help that he needs”.

And then he just

Kept being referenced after that

And with each iteration I just got a tiny bit more and more like

“O-okay…? We know Bobby is getting help… We are aware of it. And that’s great. I’m really glad. Not sure why the therapist matters though… weird focus on the therapist since it’s Bobby’s recovery that is paramount here, not the therapist helping him. Just not relevant.”

Like I was deeply impressed that such an unimportant character got named, yet at the same time it was like. Aaaaalright. He’s really not warranting this much focus. But okay then.

And now it’s Blackquill bringing him up, not Bobby. And SURE I guess the mention KINDA makes sense from him but the focus felt so fishy to me… “TRUSTED therapist”… why the emphasis on how great this guy supposedly is. C’mooon. It REALLY made me go HMMMM. I was just like… who cares though. There’s literally no reason to bring the therapist up he’s not connected to any of this or the plot at ALLL… He serves ONE purpose and that is to be the unseen background force helping Bobby to work through his issues. That’s it!

Vanquishing Mirages, Chapter 20

Oh… This chapter… is so good. Wow… Wow. Not much else I can say rn.

He’d never appreciated her. Now it was too late.

Simon saw no need to keep the truth from him. This plan had been the Phantom’s, not his own. He’d merely been roped into it as an unwilling accomplice, yet he refused to cover the spy’s tracks.

Ffffffffffffff

Yeah I was gonna go off about “idiot spy” again at this point but I’ve tired myself out from all the salt I’ve overloaded into this post so that my past pain can serve at least some kind of fun… But god. God. The phantom’s plan was PAPER thin just, ridiculously flimsy, yeah sure he came up with it on the fly whatever I guess but it like. Depends on Blackquill playing along and ffffffffffffff. Alright I guess maybe he figured Simon would play along if Simon was interested in shielding Bobby from grief as the phantom explained was his intent but god. Ghhhhhh. It just feels like insult to injury too cause he has this Grand Plan to protect Bobby which immediately proceeds to fail.

And it was enough to fuel his loathing further. He shook his head so violently that it made him dizzy, yet he managed to stop himself from raising his voice again. Shouting wouldn’t make his point any clearer. Instead, he stepped forward and crouched down before Fulbright’s chair. He grabbed the man’s nearest hand with both of his own. He was lousy with words and he knew that much, but he needed to at least try to communicate his thoughts- his feelings- before this misunderstanding was allowed to spread any more. “Do you truly not remember what I’ve told you from the day I first met you?” he demanded, his tone of voice more fierce than he’d intended but lacking in volume nonetheless. “You are nothing like the man who played the part of my chaperone. I would sooner take my own life than return to those days. You, on the other hand, give me another reason to live. I can tell the difference between the two of you and that makes all the difference in the world.”

[…]

“I love you, Bobby Fulbright, not the fallacy that pretended to be you. However, if you dare to call my feelings into question again, I will not hesitate to tear you to shreds myself.”

This is a Crowning Moment of Heartwarming for Blackbright right here. This is SOO good. I really admired and appreciated this shining Blackbright moment even amidst the whirl of everything else I was busy reacting to.

And… On that uplifting note, I’ll finish this otherwise ridiculously salty mess of a post. XD I’ll tackle the rest of this chapter & more beyond next time. This is already waaaaay too long anyway. But I knew that this post would inevitably be a massive one, and I had to essentially say Stuff You to the very notion of any self-imposed word-limits.

[writeyourownname]

At Home: Welcome

M’Baku x Reader

Summary: The reader gets lost on her run from home and manages to find her way into the home of the Jabari tribe. How will they receive her? Will she be welcomed, or thrown out?

You are from Anolia, because I’m not choosing a place that’s real. 

Word Count: 1432

Note: I saw Black Panther and WOWOW. I love these characters, the plot, can I see the original 4 hour version???? Well developed, beautiful people. And nobody asked for this, but Oh Well. 

As an outsider to the Jabari tribe, you had no idea how they would receive you because - well, you frankly had no idea they existed. You had fled from your own country, sneaking through the Wakanda natural landscapes. You climbed and climbed forward into the mountains, not expecting to find anything but a rabbit or two and a possible cave to sleep in. Instead, you saw great buildings on the mountainsides. You slowed your steps as you neared it, and suddenly heard a deep chant from all around you. You froze in fear with wide eyes. 

Large men surrounded you and tears welled up in your eyes. You had no idea what was going on and they were closing in on you. 

They all stopped in synch. One of the men stepped forward in front of you and spoke to you in a language you didn’t understand. 

“I don’t - I don’t understand.”

“What are you doing here?” His low voice boomed. His eyes locked on you in an intimidating glare.

“I’m lost,” Tears threatened to fall as your voice wavered.

The man nodded, and the formation turned to the direction of the largest building.

“Follow,”

The congregation marched forward and you went with them, still stuck in the middle of the group. At the entrance to the building, the majority of the men fell behind. 

Your nerves increased as you got closer to whatever they had in store for you; your thoughts racing wildly. You entered into a room open to the mountains behind the man whom you had begun calling in your head ‘The General’. 

The was a large chair in the middle, one you assumed to be a throne. There sat a man who watched with curiosity as his men lead you in. You knew that you were blocked completely by them, so he wouldn’t be able to see you. 

“My king,” The General bowed. 

“Ampah, what have you come for?” His voice surprised you in its velvety flow.

“An outsider, sir.”

“Well, move aside. Let me see,” He waved his hand at the men.

The men parted and you were front and center next to Ampah, The General. Something in your mind told you that it was most appropriate to bow, and you did so slowly. 

“I did not expect a woman.” He eyed you suspiciously.

“Sir, she said she was lost.” 

“Is that so? What do you call yourself?” He directed at you. 

You stood from your bow. “Y/n, sir.”

“Y/n, where are you from?” 

“Anolia, sir.”

“Ah, then do you know who I am? Where you are?” 

“I do not know you, sir. I apologize. I only know that I am somewhere in Wakanda.” 

He sat in contemplation, studying you. “Yet you bowed.” 

You only inclined your head. 

“Ampah, she shows me respect.. And she is pretty. Take her to my sister.” 

“Do you have directions to pass on to Gyasi, sir?”

He tilted his head to the side. “Show our guest hospitality.” 

Ampah nodded and lead you away. The other men went back to their earlier duties. 

“I am surprised that our king did not introduce himself. He is called M’Baku, and he leads our tribe. We are the Jabari, and we worship the Gorilla. We are an outside tribe to Wakanda, and M’Baku is the second strongest warrior in all of Wakanda, second only to King T’Challa.” 

You nodded along, taking in the information and trying to compute it enough to not come off as rude for not knowing anything. 

“Gyasi is M’Baku’s older sister. She oversees many medical units we have and is an expert herbalist. She also sits on council in meetings. She will host you kindly, if you are honest and respectful.” 

“Yes, sir,”

“Very good.” You both stood in front of a sort of hut or cabin, mint wafted through the air from an open window, making you inhale deeply. 

Ampah knocked in a crisp pattern and put his hands behind his back while he waited. The door was opened quickly by a beautiful woman. She was tall and strong-looking with a strong jaw. 

“Ampah,” She greets. 

“Gyasi.” He nods. “King M’Baku has asked you to look after our guest and show her much hospitality.”

‘Guest?” She glances curiously at you. 

“Guest Y/n of Anolia. She will be staying for an undetermined time.” 

“Very well, come in,” She smiled warmly at you and lead you inside. 

It was incredibly cozy, with warm lighting and plants everywhere, a cluttered table of herbs and mixing tools in the middle of the first room. 

“Y/n, is it?”

“Yes, ma’am.” 

“I am Gyasi, sister to M’Baku. Tell me, why are you here?” She gestured for you to sit on a stool at the table and she leaned against the opposite counter. She crossed her arms and her face became serious as she awaited your response.

“In short, I ran from home. My family is in debt to our neighbors, and to repay it my father planned to sell me as a slave to them. They are horrible people, and I know what terrible things they would do to me, so I left. I packed a few things during the night and fled. I have been traveling for three nights, and found myself here.” 

“Did you bring anyone with you? Does anyone know where you are?”

“No ma’am,” You weren’t sure if that answer would serve as a gift or a curse for you.

She smiled then, warm and wide. “Lost girl, welcome.”

She pulled you off of your stool and hugged you tightly. You returned it, glad to feel nothing but a sense of home and security in her arms. When she let go, she kept her hands on your arms.

“You will have no worries about being sold or found out while you’re here.” 

You let out a gasp of relief as it filled you like a river. “How can I ever thank you enough?”

She pulled away and looked comically pensive. “How about you let me teach you some of my medicine in return? I’m growing old and I need some help,” She laughed merrily and you chuckled. 

“Old? Only if my eyes have decided to deceive me!” 

For the next two hours you helped Gyasi work her herbs into salves and the like. She was extremely knowledgeable, and you struggled to keep up. She found it hilarious, and joked that the elders and the children could work faster than you. 

She was actually quite impressed with your natural skills though, and told you as much when you had finished the last batch of the night. 

The sun was setting by then, and she had started dinner while you finished. With the smell of dinner cooking came social hour. She explained to you that there would be a welcoming feast that evening to honor you, as is done with all welcome visitors. 

Although it was a long standing tradition, it was one rarely entertained because so few people wandered up the mountains to them. The last one happened decades ago, when she was a child and M’Baku had yet to be born. 

The women would be informed and spend the time they had preparing their best dishes, while the men would gather the children and the drums. There would be music and dance indigenous to their tribe, and the guest would be expected to learn the Agba Egwú. Many of the kings teach this dance, but when Gyasi was a child, she and the other children taught the ceremonial dance. 

“It was delightful. The laughter and horrible skills of the stranger still rest in my mind.” 

“Oh, I’m sure they weren’t that bad.”

She gave you the, ‘You wanna bet?’ look and imitated him, consequently knocking over an empty basic that had sat on the table from her flailing arms. You laughed boisterously with her, and even the knock at the door couldn’t stop your laughter. 

Gyasi opened it to her brother, who immediately hugged her as a greeting. Upon seeing him, your laughter ceased, but you couldn’t keep the smile from your face. 

M’Baku scooped you into a bear-hug immediately after he let go of his sister, much to your surprise. You were engulfed by him and felt tiny compared to his size. 

“Y/n, I am glad to see that Gyasi has received you well. She has told you about the feast?”

“Yes, sir.” M’Baku laughed and Gyasi came around to his side. 

“I am M’Baku, please, only warriors call me ‘sir’.” 

“Yes sss-M’Baku.” 

“Much better. Now, are you ready to feast?”

[queercapwriting]

Are you going to write a fic about NB!Alex meeting Adrian? Because that is something I need in my life.

Maggie’s never used the term partner before, with anyone she’s dated.

Not that she’s introduced any of them to Adrian – none of them have been special enough, kind enough, open enough.

Until Alex.

But he’s always grilled her about her love life like it was going out of style, so he knows all the stories; the girlfriend who loved zip lining, which was great, but ultimately left Maggie for another woman; the girlfriend who was verbally abusive and the one time it got physical, she tried to not talk about it with him and he just stared at her gently until she did, because how many times had she been there for him; the girlfriend who Maggie constantly fought with about race, but the sex was amazing and after the last relationship, she was just about broken enough to stay until she was dumped.

Adrian hadn’t met any of them, but he’d heard all the stories. All of Maggie’s girlfriends.

She never used the term partner.

Too close to work – she had a cop partner, after all – and it had always felt too clinical for her.

Until there was Alex.

Adrian’s ears perked because now when she said the word – partner, my partner – it wasn’t about the guy she spent her days driving around with in an NCPD car.

The word, now, is laced with adoration, laced with love, laced with intensity that Adrian has never heard Maggie have for anyone before.

“So, when do I meet them?”

Maggie beams at his automatic use of Alex’s pronouns, at his intuition, at his heart. But then she blinks.

“You’ve never asked me that before.”

“And you’ve never swooned like that before.”

She tilts her head and glares slightly, but denies nothing, and the quirk to her lips gives her away.

“Please, Alex does not make me swoon.”

Adrian just stares, and Maggie’s phone buzzes. “Hey babe,” she answers eagerly, her voice rising an octave or two, and Adrian chuckles to himself.

“Sure you don’t swoon,” he mouths, and Maggie sticks her tongue out at him.

The three of them decide – through a series of gestures and mouthing and suppressed giggling between Maggie and Adrian – that Alex should come for dinner that night.

Maggie paces while Adrian does most of the cooking.

“They’ve never met anyone really, from my life. And you’ve never met anyone really, from my life. What if you two don’t get along, what if – “

“Hey. Hey hey hey, Maggie.” He wipes his hands on the “Kiss the Cook, He’s Hot, Just Look at Him” apron Maggie keeps in the cabinet for him, and rests them on her shoulders. “It’s gonna be fine. I promise.”

She sighs and she nods and she grabs a spoon and pokes at the simmering rice.

“Hey, get outta there, it’s not ready!”

She scowls and sighs again and surrenders the spoon.

“Was I like this before you met my friends when I was in high school?”

“Please, you were so much wors – “

The sharp but somehow also gentle knock at the door interrupts her, and Adrian kisses her cheek as she heads to the door.

“Hi babe,” she greets, and Adrian watches carefully from the kitchen as this new person in Maggie’s life presents her with flowers – red roses, so they’re serious, he observes – and kisses her cheek and holds up a small paper bag and says something softly.

They’re in loose fitting jeans, a spectacular belt, and a henley over a pretty flat chest that makes him grin – it’s always nice to not be the only one binding in a space – and their hair is a short, almost red mess of post-motorcycle emotions.

“Hey there,” he calls from the kitchen. “Sorry I’m not coming to you, I don’t wanna burn the plátanos – “

“No, you’re fine,” Alex says with an easy grin, and he observes their confident stride, their low voice, the way they casually kiss Maggie’s hand before letting it go to walk toward him, with a deep-seated joy.

“I’ve heard a lot of about you from Maggie,” they smile as they lean on the counter next to Adrian, offering their hand and smiling deeper as Adrian rushes to dry his own before taking it.

Alex’s handshake is firm and confident and Adrian hopes his matches up – from the nod Alex gives him, he’s pretty sure it does.

“So, I hope this isn’t weird – I mean, it might be totally weird, and you can tell me if it is – “ Adrian glances at Maggie as Alex’s swagger melts into adorable prattling, and Maggie is beaming and Adrian makes a note to tell her later that yes, Alex Danvers definitely makes her swoon.

“But I know how much you mean to Maggie, and I wanted to get her flowers, but I didn’t want to not bring something for you – I mean, not that I think you’re a child and wouldn’t be okay with it or anything, but – I wanted to bring you something. Anyway, I hope you like it.”

They slide the paper bag they brought close to him, and he lowers the stove’s flames under his various dishes before diving eagerly into the bag.

“I always like presents! But you didn’t have to bring me anything, I – whoa, cool!”

He digs out a pair of astronomical binoculars and turns them over and over in his hands, his eyes wide and his smile even wider as he presses them to his eyes.

Maggie shifts to stand behind Alex, wraps her arms around their waist, and stands up on her tip toes to kiss the back of their neck, their cheek. Alex melts into the touch, but Adrian isn’t watching to be able to note that Maggie also makes Alex swoon, because he’s too busy with his new toy.

“Maggie said you were taking astronomy in Star City, and I figured you might as well be able to see the places you’re studying. They’ve got really great resolution, you can see the – “

“Do you like hugs from people you don’t know?” Adrian is interrupting, something he generally tries not to do, but his eyes are flooded with tears and his heart is moved beyond telling.

“I – no, not usually, but if you’re asking if you can hug me right now, then yeah, I’d like that.”

Maggie beams and steps back from Alex so Adrian can slip into their arms, and Maggie notes with both a full and broken heart that Adrian is almost as tall as Alex, and given another growth spurt, he’ll probably wind up taller.

He meets her eyes over Alex’s shoulder and winks.

“This one’s a keeper, Maggie,” he says softly, but intentionally loudly enough for Alex to hear him, and they hug him closer.

“You take care of her, okay?” he tells them as he pulls back from the hug.

“Always.”

“And fortunately, you have all of dinner to give them the shovel talk, but for now, can we eat, is everything ready?”

Adrian and Alex laugh.

“You sound like my sister, babe” Alex comments, and Maggie flinches with a lopsided grin on her face.

“I’m pretty sure I didn’t sound like your sister last night – “

“Innocent child is present, please don’t corrupt innocent child!”

Maggie laughs because she knows he’ll be grilling her for details about their sex life later, but for now, his interest is in feeding his queer mom and her partner, in making them laugh, in feeling like the kid in the… family.

Family. Family.

She stands on tip toes and kisses Alex’s cheek again. They turn to her and beam down at her. “You and his parents have raised a beautiful son,” they tell her, and Maggie burrows into Alex’s chest as they watch Adrian taste-testing the rice.

“I mean he can cook like a god, so he’s worth keeping around.”

“Oh my god, he should meet Kara! Adrian, you should meet my sister, she exists to eat!“

“Sounds like my kinda woman! Now sit down, you two, I will accept no help from any mere mortals in my kitchen.”

“Technically, it’s my kitchen, Ade.”

“Technically, now I will make you help, so go set the table with your partner, Mags.”

“Yes sir.”

“Thank you ma’am.”

Alex laughs. “Are you two always like this?”

“Yes.”

“No.”

“Oh please, Maggie, tell them the truth!”

Maggie looks up into Alex’s shining eyes. “He brings out the worst in me.”

“Really? Because you look like the best to me.”

“There will be no making out in my kitchen! No – it – okay, fine, just don’t knock over the – okay. I’ll clean it up, I… oh well, they’ll come up for air eventually.”

And when they do, it’s to grab onto each other and gasp with laughter.

Between the three of them, it doesn’t stop all night long.

[kat-disturbed]

Started From the Top by Pennatus

Words: 1855 Pairing: None Tags: Lance & Katie Holt, older sister Pidge (Katie in this case), younger brother Lance, pre-canon, humor, Voltron Secret Valentine 2017 Summary: Katie didn't like the little brother that was introduced to her life, but he's family, and no one messes with her family. (Except her.) A series of stories about growing up in the Holt household.

For my Voltron Secret Valentine @mettamitch​! Hope you like it!

Read on A03 (http://archiveofourown.org/works/9836345) or below!

Katie wrinkled her nose at the toddler, who giggled in response.

“What is this,” she asked in a flat voice.

Matt hoisted the child further up in his arms. “This is Lance. You knew he was coming home today,” he reminded her gently, smiling down at the brunette in his arms.

Katie crossed her arms tightly and scowled at the floor. Of course she knew. They’d been working on the room for weeks now, and weird people had been coming in and out of the house for longer, asking her all sorts of questions. She’d hated it all and now she hated the squirming child that was going to actually be in that room.

“Well I don’t like him,” she informed her older brother, tipping her head up defiantly. “I don’t see why we need him.”

Her father, coming up from the car with a box in his arms and catching the tail end of the conversation, sighed. He put the box down and turned Katie toward him with a hand on her shoulder.

“We’ve talked about this, Katie,” he reprimanded, the gentle look in his eyes preventing his words from being cutting. “He needs us. And do you think it’s right to not help someone in need?”

“No…” Katie mumbled.

He drew her in for a hug. “I know it’s hard, sweetie. It’s a big change to our family. But there’s plenty of love to go around, and you will always be our little girl.” He kissed her on the forehead. “You’re going to be Lance’s big sister, you know. Just like Matt looks over you, you have to look over Lance. That’s part of being a big sibling.”

“Does that mean I get to boss him around them?” Katie asked primly and both Matt and her father laughed.

“Someday, maybe,” her father said fondly, ruffling her hair.

--

“Why do you like him so much,” Katie complained as her brother settled the toddler down in his crib.

“Well…” Matt took a moment to think as he tucked the blankets in closer around Lance. “I guess he reminds me of you, when you were younger.”

“I’m not even that old!” Katie pointed out, crossing her arms.

“Yes, yes,” Matt chuckled as her knelt next to her. “Just old enough to be annoying, right?”

“You’re annoying!” Katie informed him and got trapped in a headlock for her trouble.

“Maybe it’s older sibling instinct,” Matt reflected as Katie gnawed ineffectually at his arm. “I see a troublesome little kid and I immediately like them.”

She paused in her actions to pout. “I don’t feel like that about him,” she mumbled.

He ruffled her hair. “I’m not saying you have to like him right away, or even ever really, although I hope you will. I’m just saying that he’s family and families protect each other. Maybe you’ll understand when you’re older.”

“Whatever!” Katie finally broke free and turned to face her brother with her hands on her hips. “I get it! I’m not saying I’d let anything happen to him or something. I’m just saying I don’t like him like you do!”

Matt chuckled. “Got it.”

--

Katie was used to Lance sitting beside her, chattering away at a rate that still amazed her or begging for her help with his super easy homework. But this time he sat on her bed, curled up in a ball away from her view.

She was still reading the textbook in front of her, but to her surprise, the silence was beginning to get to her. Maybe you really could get used to anything. Sighing, she snapped it shut and turned to the bed.

“Are you sick?” Katie asked without preamble. “You know you have to talk to mom or dad if you’re sick. If you get all of us sick again I’ll never forgive you.”

“You said that last time,” Lance said to her bedsheets.

“Well, that’s because I still haven’t forgiven you, obviously.” She rolled her eyes. “You think I can’t hold multiple grudges?”

Surprisingly, Lance didn’t respond, just made a noncommittal sound. Katie sighed, tapping her finger on the textbook.

“Ok, seriously, if you are gonna sulk go to Matt’s room.”

That got Lance to stir and roll around, putting his hands in front of his eyes. “…I don’t want to talk to Matt.”

That got her attention. “Why not?”

Lance was quiet for a long moment. Katie found her foot tapping impatiently on the floor, unused to long silences from her little brother.

“What is it?” she finally asked.

Lance rolled further, once again putting his face into her bed. “I’m…I’m your little brother, right?”

She snorted. “Unfortunately.”

“Because…someone said that…I didn’t look like you, or Matt, so I couldn’t be related to you.”

Katie absorbed that, blinking in surprise. “Who said that?” was her automatic question.

Lance shrugged, still not looking up.

She sighed. “You know, it’s still better to talk to Matt about this…”

When she didn’t get an answer, she scratched her arm, feeling awkward. “That’s a stupid question, anyways. It’s not that you have to look like someone to be – to be family to them.”

Lance finally peaked over at her and she looked into his bloodshot eyes. “…really?”

She took this as a queue to walk over to her bed and sit squarely on his back. As he squirmed underneath her she said, “Let’s be real, do you think I’d put up with you if I didn’t have to? It doesn’t matter what you look like, all that matters is that you’re family. Don’t listen to what other idiots have to say.” She shoved his face into the blanket. “All right?”

“Ugh, fine!” came Lance’s response, muffled by the fabric. “Let me up!”

“I don’t know if I should. I still haven’t forgiven you for getting me sick.”

“That was like two weeks ago!”

Katie was proud of how far her evil cackle had come. “Revenge is a dish best served cold.”

Lance struggled for a moment, the side of his face looking up at her. “Um, Katie…thanks.” He smiled.

She shoved his face back down. “Yeah, whatever.”

--

"Why exactly are we doing this," Katie asked, shivering in the cold.

The sun was disappearing into the horizon, leaving the snow around them sparkling in the golden light. Snow was piled around the house, in strategic hills next to the driveway and sidewalk.

"Because," Lance replied, crossing his arms and pretending he wasn't shaking, "this is the way to have an epic adventure. And," he added at Katie's suspicious eyebrow, "John dared me."

"Oh my god, seriously?”

“Unlike you I take dares very seriously,” Lance announced haughtily.

“Yeah because you’re an idiot.”

“Whatever, I’ll be the coolest once I pull this off.”

“That’s for sure, not only from the snow but dad will ground you for life.”

“Worth it,” Lance declared vehemently, edging towards the lip of the roof.

Katie pulled out her phone. She couldn’t feel her fingertips, but that wasn’t about to stop her from recording the best ten seconds of her life. “Ready when you are.”

Lance jumped. He missed the snow drift.

Their dad grounded both of them.

When she uploaded the video to youtube, it got over 10000 views. She considered it all worth it.

--

L-rizzle >> KATIE I NEED HELP

pidgeon >> I am not doing your homework

pidgeon >> or your chores

pidgeon >> or covering for you with mom and dad

pidgeon >> or buying you food

pidgeon >> or candy

pidgeon >> or video games

pidgeon >> or doing anything for you ever again since you ruined my project

L-rizzle >> I told u that was a ACIDENT >:(

L-rizzle >> y u always gotten hold this stuff over me :'(

L-rizzle >> anyways thats not what I wanna ask

L-rizzle >> I have this super crush on a girl and I need your help

pidgeon >> what? Good for you?

L-rizzle >> KATIE!!!! How do I woo her????

pidgeon >> first of all what century do you live in

pidgeon >> second of all why are you coming to me for advice?

L-rizzle >> you're like the only girl I know!

pidgeon >> whatever you have tons of female friends

pidgeon >> note I didn't say girlfriend

pidgeon >> because you don't have any of those

L-rizzle >> OMG stop being so mean!!!!

L-rizzle >> besides I feel weird asking anyone else

L-rizzle >> you're like my go 2 gurl

pidgeon >> that does not in any way make me feel better

pidgeon >> in fact that's kind of gross

L-rizzle >> what! It's a sign of faith

L-rizzle >> I'm complimenting you

pidgeon >> buttering me up isn't helping your cause, it's just making me suspicious

L-rizzle >> y!!! I already told u what I need c'mon

pidgeon >> you haven't even asked politely

L-rizzle >> please!!!!! C'moooooooooon

pidgeon >> now we know you can be polite

pidgeon >> also I'm still not helping you

pidgeon >> I'm not even sure what you think I can do

L-rizzle >> tell me about girl stuff

L-rizzle >> like what do they like

pidgeon >> are you serious

L-rizzle >> yes!!! Help me

pidgeon >> oh my god you are such a loser

L-rizzle >> y u gotta be so mean :(

pidgeon >> it's not like all girls are the same idiot

pidgeon >> they all like different things

pidgeon >> you can't just ask one and expect them all to be the same

pidgeon >> do you like the same thing all guys like?

L-rizzle >> ok I get it!!! I was just asking for advice sheesh

pidgeon >> well try being less sexist

pidgeon >> and maybe just talking to them like a human being

L-rizzle >> what do I say

pidgeon >> try saying hello that usually is pretty accepted

pidgeon >> then ask them what they like

pidgeon >> then go ask Matt for advice because I'm done with this conversation

L-rizzle >> hey wait we're finally getting somewhere don't bail on me

L-rizzle >> Katie

L-rizzle >> Katie???

L-rizzle >> you suck

L-rizzle >> I hate you

L-rizzle >> if I never get a girlfriend you're totally to blame

--

“He’s…” Lance’s voice broke, his eyes filling with tears. Even over the distortion and low quality of the video call, he looked miserable, cheeks sallow and bags underneath his eyes even though it couldn’t have been more than a week. “He’s gone.”

Katie swallowed thickly. “I – I know. I saw the news…why didn’t you call me earlier?”

Lance rubbed at his eyes. “They wouldn’t let me. They didn’t want anyone to know until they released it. So I just…I’m sorry, I can’t…” He pressed he hands into his eyes.

Katie stared at the screen, watched as Lance’s shoulders shook, watched as he tried and failed to rub the tears out of his eyes. Watched as Lance clutched his face in his hands and blabbed on about why, and how, and that he didn’t know any more details than what the Garrison had released to the public. Watched as Lance looked up, stared into Katie’s eyes, and asked with despair in his tone, “What do we do, Katie?”

She looked back at him, at the exhaustion and sadness in his eyes, and something in her hardened. She took a long, slow breath in, and said, “We find out what happened, Lance. And we find Matt.”