#for what was meant to just be me writing different character interactions to fuel my own personal whumpish needs this has gotten very plott

[rafebaby]

Don't you want me - Rafe x reader

Part One

(enemies to lovers)

Writer's note: Hey cuties, this is my first time writing/starting something like this. I'm currently struggling through a tough time and found solace in the wonderful world of fanfiction again. I'm sure y'all understand. Feel free to let me know what you think, to ask questions or to just talk to me. And feel absolutely free to reblog 🤭 Also, I kind of took the freedom to not lean on the OBX verse, I just really wanted to let my imagination run wild (if you will). The characters in this story, including Rafe, are around the age of 22 or something. Like around university age. Mind you, I'm European so that might influence the writing and the scenarios to not be typically American. Idk I just felt like I wanted to clear that out. Love you 🌸

Warning ⚠️: brief mention of substance abuse, mentions of alcohol use

Enjoy ❤️

_______________________________________

Another night had played out at the same old bar, weaving through the well-worn tapestry of laughter, clinking glasses, and the reassuring predictability of familiar faces. That was until Rafe Cameron, kook prince and the epitome of entitlement had joined the party. From the moment he walked in, it was clear he was already under the influence of whatever concoction he managed to get his hands on. His dominant presence, fueled by the cocktail of confidence, sends ripples through the equilibrium of an otherwise normal night out.

Rafe's impulsive and destructive character, combined with his short temper and penchant for testing limits, stood in stark contrast to your cautious, analytical, and reserved nature. His mere presence easily triggered your sensibilities, and you couldn't understand how others effortlessly got along with him.Over the past few months, you reluctantly observed him becoming more integrated into your friend group, prompting you to accept the situation and attempt to minimize your interactions with him. After all, you weren’t the type to stir things up. Tonight was no different; so far, you had succeeded in limiting your exchanges with him to a simple gaze of acknowledgement when he joined the scene.

After two hours of laughter and chatter with your girlfriends, you felt the urge for another drink. Standing at the bar, waiting for your turn to order and hoping the bartender would soon notice you, you suddenly sensed someone standing closely behind you. Ignoring it, as the bartender finally walked in your direction, you prepared to speak up, but the voice from behind beat you to it. "One beer," it's Rafe! "And whatever she wants." A hand landed on your shoulder. Quickly turning to him, looking him straight in the eye, you were shocked but just as quickly turned back to the bartender, realizing it was better to make it quick. "Uhm," Shit! "Just red wine is fine, please." You smiled awkwardly. With a little nod of acknowledgment, the bartender disappeared to get the order. Your heart is racing. Your gaze is fixed straight in front of you. Hoping he doesn't have the need to interact any more.

“Always so polite,” Rafe says lowly into your ear, closing the proximity even more. What does he want you to react to that remark? You feel like he’s mocking you, belittling you, which is always his preferred tone for you. “Wish you’d be that polite to me too. Could at least thank me for the drink.” He adds, seeking to provoke you. “You don’t have to pay for my drink.” You manage to get out hastily. You don’t want anything from him, don’t want to owe anything to him. Your mind is rushing, looking for the fastest way out so you can go back to your friends, further ignoring Rafe. Chances of him interacting with you with the group around were significantly lower.

He lowers himself to your ear again, his dense body hovering over yours.”Can’t I be nice to you?” You hear the annoyance growing in his voice. You’re annoyed too, but nervous even more so. “That’s not what I meant,” You reply as you straighten your body to distance it more from his. “What do you mean than, (y/n)?” Your name sounds heavy in his mouth. “It’s almost as if you don’t like me.” Your breath hitches a second from his remark. Your eyes desperately follow the bartender’s moves. He’s finishing the order calmly and you want to yell at him to do it faster. “You know, (y/n),” You once read somewhere that using someone’s name when you talk to them is a sign of dominance and you wish he stopped using it that way. “I don’t even know what I’ve ever done to you?” The annoyance in his tone has made place for an insincere hint of sadness. He’s playing a game, you think to yourself. All he wants is to get to you and you remind yourself over and over again not to play along. But to Rafe, everything is a game. Especially people like you. Even without seeing his face, you know it has a dark amused look all over it. Your loss for words only feeds it, you’re aware. “Nothing.” You stammer out in a quick response. The fewer words you waste on him, the faster this will be over. That's the only tactic you have right now.

As you inhale through your nose, a heavy waft of his cologne envelops you. It's smooth and woody, honestly way too pleasant for you to remain unaffected. You dislike it. You dislike him. Rafe is a good-looking man, and he has all the girls wrapped around his finger. You knew that. Allowing yourself to view him in that light would be downright stupid. What could you possibly see in a guy who only brings bad news?

"See, that's what I thought too. And yet, you keep acting as if I did," he says, taking a dramatic pause. "Have you ever thought about how that might hurt my feelings, (y/n)?" He says a bit more quietly, coming even closer to your ear. To be fair, Rafe never did anything to you; he isn't wrong, but he is mistaken to think his reputation and name haven't always preceded him. Then again, you know well enough he isn’t actually that mistaken. Therefore, you know for a fact that what he aimed to do was merely torment you. He had the answers to his own questions.

As if by providence, the bartender finally returns to you. There is no more reason for you to stay at the bar any longer. But Rafe is pleased. He knows well enough the effect he has on you. Your drinks are placed next to each other on the bar, and you can't be fast enough to pick yours up and escape this trap the Cameron boy had ensnared you in. As he busily grabs some cash from his pocket, you turn around, pushing yourself past him, leaving him behind with a small "Thank you, Rafe..."

To be continued...

[girl4music]

DOC: “You had no right!”

WYNONNA: “I did what was right!”

DOC: “Right woulda been shooting that thing and us running for it.”

WYNONNA: “He wasn’t always a thing, Doc. And if I’m gonna keep killing them and not go crazy, I need more than revenge…”

DOC: “Goddammit, Wynonna! They’re bad people.”

WYNONNA: “So I just ignore they’re people at all?”

DOC: “I spent over 100 years in the dark, at the bottom of a dried-up old well. Do you know what thought I turned over and over in my head? What I lived on? The sheer knowledge that I would pay back the bitch that made me what I am. This monster.”

WYNONNA: “You’re not a monster.”

DOC: “But a lesser man than Fish. I saw her today. At least I think I did. And she… her power… I couldn’t.”

WYNONNA: “That’s why you stayed. Not to help us.”

DOC: “I staked that man out there. I knew what would happen to him and I staked him still. Even worse, I would stake every revenant in this world and most of the humans too if that’s what it takes to destroy Constance Clootie.”

WYNONNA: “Well, I need rules, Doc. A code. Otherwise I’ll end up just like you.”

DOC: “Oh, stop kidding yourself, Wynonna. You’re exactly like me.”

This whole conversation. Damn it’s deep. It’s probably one of my favourite character interactions in the entire show. And the fact that this is the interaction between Wynonna and Doc that makes them kiss and fuck for the first time. Oh,… it’s all so good and so well done!

There’s some very good writing in this show that really justifies the motivations and choices and actions of the characters. It’s like soap opera levels of drama but it’s like it gives you higher stakes and consequences.

That’s another reason why I love supernatural/fantasy so much. Because the melodrama just hits differently.

Here the attraction and desire between Wynonna and Doc is amped up because they’ve admitted they’re just like each other. They both have deep jagged edges that cut and saw and the pain is mutual.

Unhealthy, sure. But it is a way of finding a deeper connection beyond that attraction and desire and so it fuels the heat they feel for each other in the moment. You know, that sudden recognition of “You’re dark - just like me”, “You’re in pain - just like me”, “You’re lost - just like me”, “You’re an outsider - just like me.”

They’re very Spuffy-like actually. Except Buffy would have never offered Spike this much faith when he was soulless. And Wynonna and Doc are not exactly enemies-to-lovers but they have the same passionate but rocky rollercoaster of a journey to navigate through and overcome based on the type of people they are. And they’re virtually mirror reflections of each other. Anti-matter equivalents. That push-and-pullness to them where they’re so toxic to each other they shouldn’t be good for each other. But that’s exactly what makes them work. The fact that they shouldn’t because they’re naturally opposed. Now Doc was always supposed to be on the same side but due to the brutality and cruelty he was dealt by Bulshar and Constance, and the rejection by Wyatt, it made sense that he chose to stand on the other side initially but then grew to love his crazy found family once again. They always were meant to stand together as heroes rather than against each other as enemies.

And how you know that’s 100% true is because they do a 180 at the end of the show and it really hits because by that point it was Wynonna that was shut off and shut down to the power of love and forgiveness. That was driven by vengeance and violence and that had to open her heart to Doc.

I’m so SO glad Andras chose to play it that way. To have her chase after him instead of the other way around even if that does seem like she’s desperate. Because she had already proven that her vulnerability didn’t outweigh her power or make it seem less than. If anything - it did the opposite. Made her even more. And I loved that so much. I really fucking loved that!

She’s always been the black sheep of society and of her family. So has he. And that’s why they worked. Something that you would think would not work at all because it’s contradictory is what makes those jagged little pieces not only fit - but also function together. When you find that deeper connection - as mad or bizarre as it might be - it’s still a deeper connection and it will still tell a deep and beautiful TV love story.

[imperiuswrecked]

you mentioned in one of your asks about the issues in previous scarlet witch solo. I get we got 100th parental reveal in that(and that to with problematic black story), but what were the other issues?

If you want a better take on this then I think this post might help you out because I don't want to speak over Roma fans when it comes to how the series handles Romani heritage.

I personally feel that Robinson went too far into this "magical g*psy witch" writing and reinforced that by giving Wanda a whole new mother and made it so that the Scarlet Witch title was something Natalya also had when the title of Scarlet Witch was given to Wanda by Magneto. Also I feel that his take on Pietro and Wanda's relationship actively harmed both characters.

Under the cut because it's a bit long~

There's a thing that writers do that drive me absolutely insane, they take a female character and in order to show her as this "strong independent woman" they have the closest male character (or sometimes just any male character) say something ooc; something to oppress them/gross them out/try to overpower their choice and then have the female character slap them back either physically or verbally. The use this moment as a defining moment for the female character, "see? she totally stood up for herself and isn't some meek woman! girl power! girl power!" Except Wanda was never a meek character, and Pietro isn't some controlling sociopath of a brother who can't stand the thought of Wanda being this independent woman who doesn't listen to her brother. I just feel the series is racist in different ways including making Pietro out to be this MoC who controls the women in his family. So issue #9 is one of the worst written things I've ever seen for the Maximoff Twins relationship and I hate it with all my heart. Robinson didn't care that Pietro and Wanda made choices together, he didn't care that Pietro listens to Wanda, he doesn't care about what really happened with House of M, how Pietro wasn't using Wanda for his own gain. I understand that as a fan of both characters Pietro is often used to uplift Wanda's character, but this was just terrible.

Also I personally hate the 2015 solo because a lot of mcu wendy fans latched onto it and used it to fuel their racism against 616 Wanda and her fans, wanting only to focus on her being a "white witch". The solo starts off with Wanda going around trying to heal magic, she travels to and interacts with other forms of magic/magical beings such as Hecate from Greece or to Ireland etc. As she goes on her travels she deals with issues of magic going bad and her own issues and she worries if she's the one causing the magic to go bad because of her past, and I'm just really sick of Wanda constantly atoning for House of M and everything. So it's not just the 100th parent reveal but the fact that a white male writer is obviously writing about stuff he has no experience or place to write about and it perpetuates more stereotypes, and unlike in Quicksilver: No Surrender, Saladin using Pietro's history as a way to explain/draw readers into caring for the character and give us his backstory about his past/heritage, Robinson's take feels so hollow.

Like, it's a personal issue and I understand that the Maximoff Twins were being retconned because of the MCU, but the way the writer just dismisses Marya and Django like "oh they were just the people who raised me" like it meant nothing always annoyed me, compared to how Saladin speaks of their parents/their past. Like it's obvious one writer understood the characters and the other just didn't care to expand on them, just swept them aside for an oc.

To conclude I will say the only good thing about the Scarlet Witch solo was how beautiful the art was, and that was the only upside to the series imo.

[neerons]

(Anon here who asked the previous question)

I definitely should've worded the platonic poly relationship better. When I said that, I meant from Yuzuru's perspective. I've seen some people say that it's a polyamorous relationship but Yuzu made is clear that he cares for them in a platonic familial way, not in a romantic way with either of them. Which if that's a headcanon to some people, more power to them but as you said, Kei and MC are a couple and Yuzu is there because he cares for them as if they were family, not romantic partners. I think it has more to do with the writing and how advertised it was for Kei's story because I did not see them as a love triangle/poly relationship when it's clear how Yuzu feels about them. Hope that clears that up.

Ooh okay I get it now! Of course I agree with what you said. I don’t see their relationship as a polyamorous one at all either, so it can’t even be platonic in my opinion. I don’t understand how people could interpret it as such after reading the stories. Although I could understand if it was said as a joke considering Kei often teases Yuzuru and makes his interactions sound romantic which grosses Yuzu out haha. I always thought their sort of weirdly romantic moments were funny, but I didn’t take them seriously. I think if people do take this seriously, it could be due to the fact that polyamorous relationships are becoming more known, especially they’re being talked about more in Western countries (sort of) so people tend to rename things according to new definitions, which in this case doesn’t work at all. Yuzuru is friends with them, and Kei and MC are in love. Yuzu and MC have different roles in Kei’s life. I’ve actually never even thought about a polyamorous relationship happening between these three, it’s just not how it was supposed to be interpreted I think. I actually think defining it as polyamorous makes it incorrect or more complicated than how it actually is.

This is only my own speculation, but being around multiple fandoms made me realize that fans also really like to assume characters’ sexuality, identity, etc… when these things are not clearly stated canonically, often to fit their own desires or to relate more to the characters. I think this could be what’s happening there too, if it’s an actual serious idea from the fandom. There’s nothing wrong with them having a good old familial/friendship bond and I definitely prefer that idea. It just sounds more right to me to be honest. I can’t picture any of them accepting to be part of a polyamorous relationship, but it could be possible maybe in an otona love story.

Since this story is also made in Japan and by Japanese writers, I don’t think they would explore the same themes as, let’s say, European writers. I don’t think themes such as polyamorous relationships would be explored in L365, or at least in MK. They like love triangles and reverse harem plots with the jealousy that fuels the story because the point of these otome games is to make the MC, as in the reader, feel special and desired (romantically and/or sexually). I know there are a lot of people now who are in a polyamorous relationship, but who knows if that’s what Japanese people are into? I personally don’t think so, in general at least. They need to make sure their stories sell well, so I don’t think writing about a relationship like that would be beneficial to them if it won’t appeal to their primary, most influencial audience. And considering Yuzu’s, Kei’s, Kazuomi’s and the MC’s moments in the stories, I thought it was pretty clear they were very close, like a family, even without Yuzuru having to actually mention it

Thank you again ❤️

[captain-hawks]

Hello and happy weekend!

I love how someone asked for some extra details on the Bokuto and Kuroo threesome fic and you were able to give extra background on it. I was the nonnie who asked for it and the answer you gave had me giggling and kicking my feet! I’m very grateful that you wrote it, thank you!

I absolutely love your work. Thank you for being awesome 🖤 I’m trying to get back into writing and your fics have been helping fuel the fire. It’s hard to get the creative flow going with a stressful 9-5 but things are slowly happening lol.

But while I’m here (lol) if you do happen to have some tips as to how to make reader inserts less… repetitive and flow more naturally, I’d love to hear whatever helps you! That’s probably my biggest challenge so far.

Okay I’m done loitering for now lol. But thanks again for being as sweet as you are and for your amazing fics 🖤🖤🖤🖤

i had such a fun time writing that duo, so thank you for requesting it and for being so so sweet<3!!!!!

reader inserts are tricky! i've been writing fic for a really long time, but it was always OCs or character x character, and it was definitely an adjustment. there are different levels of preferences for how defined an insert should be, some people want a totally completely blank slate with zero anything. for me, that's a no-go, because then i can't achieve the emotional connection i'm looking to establish with x character if reader is a flat board. i don't do physical characteristics, but each of my inserts has a (loosely or otherwise) defined life and personality.

any time i write a fic, even if it's just a drabble, i'm asking myself who the reader is. i might only be writing a scene, but i'm sketching out mental blueprints of what came before and what comes after, too. the best way i can describe this is like if you have a drawing and an image that's the focal point dead center, but you still colour in the lines and background all the way to the edge of the canvas just in case any of it peeks out.

sometimes it will take me hours or days to get started on a basic idea because i have to be able to justify what's going to happen in the fic. even if it's meant to be pwp. before i write, i need to know what brought reader here and how they're going to react to things, that way they feel consistent throughout. and this will also affect how x character interacts with the reader. also ask yourself questions about how reader might react differently if x, y, z happened.

i hope this is at least a little insightful. i'm always happy to talk writing, so don't hesitate to ask!

i know the 9-5 grind struggle all too well. manifesting productive creative nights for you to get back into writing soon, you've got this<3!!!

[whumpiary]

[update: this drabble used to be two posts but has since been edited to be one coherent piece!]

content warning: referenced past drugging, implied/discussed drug abuse, paranoid thoughts.

-

Cass is sitting in J’s bedroom, trying to sleep despite the daylight creeping in through the blinds. He’d been confused at first when Josiah had shepherded him in and peeled the sheets back from the bed. When he hadn’t moved to lie down Josiah had said that he needed to put the house back together and Cass needed sleep and that neither would happen if Cass was lying on the couch. Cass felt a pang of guilt through his fog and hadn’t argued. He’d done enough arguing today.

He’s not sure if he sleeps but he’s certainly awake when there’s a gentle knock on the door, followed by a man with long blonde hair and a neatly trimmed beard letting himself him. Whatever Cass was expecting when Josiah said his friend was a doctor, this is not it.

“Hey there,” he says with an easy smile “Wasn’t sure you’d be awake”

Cass tenses, sitting up against the headboard and trying to look less vulnerable, less weak. He hates doctors. Hates them even more when they’re so casual. Trying to act like your friend. They weren’t friends.

“I take it you’re Mal,” he grunts.

“I take it your Cassius”

“Cass”

“Cass. Right,” Mal corrects. He’s got a relaxed grip on eye contact, holding Cass’ gaze a few seconds longer than should’ve been comfortable. There’s something vaguely familiar about the way this man hold his gaze and it settles in Cass’ gut with a rocking sort of unease. Despite himself, Cass looks away.

Mal sets his bag down on the desk with a thud. It’s one of those old leather ones that border on the line between outdated and cool depending on who’s carrying it. Cass rolls his eyes. Wanker.

“How’re you feeling, Cass?”

“What, what do you think?” Cass spits. The other man doesn’t miss a beat.

“I literally do not know, mate. I met you about thirty seconds ago.”

Mal sits down on the chair by the desk, a careful distance from Cass, and begins rolling up the sleeves of his henley, revealing a litany of old-school tattoos that wouldn’t have looked out of place on a Sailor Jerry’s bottle.

“What?” Mal asks, smiling at Cass’ obvious stare. “Did Josiah fail to mention my rugged good looks?”

J had, in fact, failed to mention his doctor-friend’s rugged good looks. He’d failed to mention anything at all about Mal, actually. Cass had half expected a half-dead, half-deaf 67 year old racist who’d scribble a prescription for Valium without looking at him and head off again. Instead he was staring at a 30-something Adonis who looked like he oughta be on the cover of an alternative home-goods magazine selling kombucha.

“You just don’t, don’t really look like a, like a doctor.”

Mal nods like he’s used to that assesment.

“Well, if it makes you feel any better, I’m technically a nurse.”

Cass coughs a laugh, “It, it, it does, actually.”

“Thought it might,” he says, smile dancing back on his face “Now. Josiah said you took something?”

Any amount of warming Cass had been feeling toward Mal turned ice cold in an instant.

“I didn’t take shit.”

Mal shrugs, “Alright, well did someone else give you something?”

Cass’ head jerks up and he squints at Mal, trying to figure out the trick.

“You believe, believe me?“

"Well are you lying?”

“No.”

“Then I believe you,” Mal says, like it’s the simplest thing in the world. He puts on a pair of blue-rimmed glasses, smiles like this is the only thing he’d prefer to do right now.

Cass stares at him. Right. Definitely not what he was expecting.

“So. If you didn’t take anything, did someone else give you something? Josiah, maybe?”

Cass’ heart falters and his eyes flit to the door. This is a trick. A trap. They’re tricking him into saying something against J so he can be thrown out or hurt or- he takes a deep breath and stops that particular train of thought. It was stupid. It was Josi- J - for God’s sake. And Cass’d named him, anyway, made him tell the truth. He knew J hadn’t given him anything.

He looks back at Mal, suspicious all over again. Why would he plant a thought like that?

“Wouldn’t he… wouldn’t he have told, told you if he gave me something?”

“Well, see, Josiah knows I’m not a huge fan of roofies, so I doubt it,” Mal says, rolling the desk chair closer. “Alright if I take your blood pressure?”

Cass nods blankly and shoves the sleeve of his shirt up to his shoulder, offers his arm. 

“Do you, you, you think he gave me something?” he asks.

“Seems a little out of character but you’re the one that knows what’s going on here, so I figured I’d ask,” Mal straps the blood pressure cuff around Cass’ upper arm “This might be a little uncomfortable, but it’ll just be a minute.”

They’re silent for a moment as Mal pumps air into the tourniquet. He’s right, it is uncomfortable. Maybe not in the way that Mal thinks. The cuff tightens slowly with each pump, cutting the blood circulation in a way that feels far too much like a rough hand gripping too tight. What did you think was gonna happen, Ace?

Cass takes a deep breath, tries to remind himself where he is, who he’s with. “Is Mal short for, short for something?“ 

“Unfortunately, yes,” says Mal and smiles as he makes quick eye contact. “Malory.”

Hipster with a medical degree. ‘Course his name is Malory.

The cuff constricts a little more and so does Cass’ chest. What did you think was gonna happen, Ace? Deep breath. 

“It’s not that bad,” he shrugs.

“It is when you’re middle name is Valerie.”

Cass snorts a laugh. He doesn’t care if it’s true or not. The distraction is welcome.

The fact Mal’s not actually touching him helps. The tattoos even more so.

Classic American sailor tattoos, thick dark outlines coloured with red and yellow, a little blue. Sparrows, an anchor, a swashbuckling lady, a dagger, a heart. Then the less conventional ones. An astronaut, a small cat, an umbrella, a tea cup. Cass’ eyes catch on a trio of roses on Mal’s left arm, warped slightly. Or rather, the skin is. Bubbled scar tissue sits uneven under the ink, spreading neatly along his inner arm, starting at the wrist, stopping before the crease of the elbow. You’d barely notice it if you weren’t this close. Cass leans a little closer.

“You admiring the artwork or the scar?” Mal asks in an even tone, his attention on the blood pressure gage. Cass pulls back away, quickly, cheeks burning hot with the shame of being caught staring.

“Sorry,” he mutters. 

“It’s alright, I don’t mind. It’s a good scar,” he says removing the cuff. Cass flexes his fingers as blood rushes back into them in a hot flush. Mal rolls his chair back to dig something else out of the bag. “It’s from when they cut me open to hardwire in this here biometric, fully automated, life-like mechanical hand”

Mal flexes his fingers, as if to show off the dexterity of each digit. Cass stares. Mal’s face splits in a stupid grin. 

“I’m kidding,” he assures quickly “Hand’s real. It’s the foot that’s fake” And he knocks on his shin, the full thud of hollow plastic helping pitch the punchline. 

Cass frowns, looks back down at the bed sheets. He feels like an idiot for nearly falling for it. But he’s tired and he doesn’t feel right and wasn’t this asshole meant to be helping? Not just fucking around? He feels even more like an idiot because everything Mal does makes him feel small and young and stupid. Like some kid, doe-eyed and staring, about to be tricked by Dad jokes and an easy smile.

“That’s a stupid, a stupid joke,” Cass mumbles. Like a fucking kid. God. There’s something about Mal that Cass can’t place, can’t pick and it keeps sending him off-kilter. Something familiar-but-not that he doesn’t want to think about. 

“Yeah I know. Bad habit,” Mal is picking something else out of the bag now. “He holds up a stethoscope. “Give your chest a listen?”

“Do I have to take, take my shirt off?”

“Yeah,” Mal says with a deep sigh, apology etched into his face. “Unfortunately, while medical science has advanced far enough for me to hear through several inches of muscle, blood, and bone, we have not yet cracked the ability to also hear through a thin stretch of cotton, so…”

He gestures with his hand. There’s a beat. Cass remains thoroughly unimpressed. Mal sighs again, with another smile.

"Yeah I know, stupid joke. Leave your shirt on. I’ll get you to lean forward though, if you can”

Cass obliges silently. He fucking hates this guy, he decides. He hates the jokes and the hair and the tattoos and the one fucking foot. The painfully ‘not your average doctor’ vibe of him.

Complete wanker.

“I know, know what you’re doing,” he spits after a few moments of quiet. The other man hums an acknowledgement, moving the stethoscope to his back “With the, the, the jokes and the stories. Tryna be friend- be friendly.  Just tryna get me, get me more comfortable so I’ll tell, I’ll tell you shit”

Mal sits back, taking the stethoscope from out of his ears. He��s got an impassive sort of look on his face that’s kind of annoying. “Is it working?”

“No. You’re not my, not my friend.”

“I’m not trying to be, mate, I’m just trying to figure out what’s going on,” Mal holds his gaze as he says it. Piercing and ice blue, Cass is overcome with a feeling that he’s being looked into, gently inspected. That he doesn’t need to tell Mal anything. He already knows.

There’s a fear that grips Cass for a moment. J wouldn’t send a reader in without telling him, right? His eyes flit to the warped skin on Mal’s wrist. Hiding a mark?

Then the moments gone. Snapped in two like glass as Mal breaks his gaze to throw the stethoscope back in the bag. 

“The stammer normal for you?” he asks, suddenly.

Cass blinks. “The what?”

“The stammer. You keep repeating, keep repeating yourself every few, every few words, like this, like this,” Mal demonstrates. The not-a-mechanical hand turns in the rhythm of his voice, like a conductor keeping time for an orchestra  “That how you usually talk or is it new?”

Cass frowns, tries to think about how he’s been talking. 

“Uhh… new, it’s new I guess,” he says. Mal hums low, produces a small pen light.

“Follow this with your eyes,” he says “What about the tremor? That new too?”

The flip between conversation and consultation is dizzying, but Cass does his best to oblige. There’s a faint feeling of nervous dread creeping over him. Something’s wrong.

“Um, it… It happens when I’m, when I’m, when I’m tired. Or when I’m stressed, stressed I guess. Been pretty norm, pretty normal for a while,” he says. He’s overly aware of the tripping of his tongue, now, embarrassment and frustration eating at him with every word he snags on.

“Push through’d do it too, I guess?” Mal asks, pocketing the light again.

Cass stares at him, gaping a little.

“You know, push through?” Mal tries again “When you’re spent but you keep using your-”

“I know what, know what push through means,” Cass snaps.

The other man puts his hands up in a hasty surrender. “I didn’t mean anything by it, mate.”

“I’m not your mate.”

Cass knows exactly what push through means. If he spent too much time in someone’s head, if he named too many people one after the other, he’d start to feel the tug of it. Tingling in the hands and feet, faint ache in the chest or the head. But a blood rush, your heart pulsing with something other than blood. Like you could do anything.

So then you’d push through, keep going. Full splitting headache, churning stomach, dizziness, aching joints. But your brain felt electric, so much bigger and faster and you could see so much more than anyone else. So many connections and vibrations.

So you push through, go a bit further, just a little more. Breathlessness, slamming heart, bones like glass, thoughts like fog. And it’s burning now, a little, but the spark is still just in reach. So you push through.

Just a little further, knowing you’ll get it back if you just keep reaching. Memory loss, delirium, pain like your body was going to kill you. Or floating, unhooked, free. 

Cass knew what fucking push through was. Intimately. The question was how the fuck did Mal?

"Josiah didn’t give me anything,” Cass says suddenly. It feels like a confession. Mal doesn’t say anything. “There was... The... The, the, the people I was, people I was staying with. I think they, they… I think…”

“Do you know what it was they gave you?” Mal asks gently. He does everything so fucking gently. Cass squeezes his eyes shut, shakes his head.

“I don’t even, even know for sure that they, they, they did,” he admits. His voice isn’t shaking. It’s not. “I’d just… wake up and I would feel, would feel wrong. Like I’d gone on a bend, a bender or something”

“Like a hangover?”

“More like withdrawal. Then push through on top.”

“Is that why you took the oxy? It felt like withdrawal?”

“It wasn’t an oxy, just a-” Cass stops abruptly, biting down on his tongue. Idiot. “I thought you said you believed me.”

“I thought you said you didn’t take anything.”

Mal’s eyes glint. This isn’t right. What did you think was gonna happen, Ace?

Cass can feel his breath ducking shallow in his chest and he hastens to control it, shove it down, stave off the black spots that are suddenly flickering in his vision.

This isn’t right. He leans forward where he sits, gripping the edge of the sheet. He barely has anything in him but he needs to get this guy away because something isn’t right, none of this is right.

He barely has enough in him but he has enough: “Mᴀʟᴏʀʏ, ʟᴇᴀᴠᴇ ʀɪɢʜᴛ ɴᴏᴡ”

But Mal doesn’t flinch, doesn’t change his face, doesn’t move to go. He just tilts his head slowly, looks Cass in the eye. His voice is so gentle when he speaks.

“That one’s not gonna work on me, mate.”

Cass feels his heart miss a beat, like skipping a step on the stairs, foot sliding through free fall. He thinks about bolting, but Mal is blocking the door. He thinks about trying to name him again but he has nothing left, he was nothing left and it doesn’t matter because it didn’t fucking work.

“I knew, knew it. I fuck, fucking knew it,” he spits. He tries to lean forward, but the dizziness hits him too fast and he sits back “You’re a reader, aren’t, aren’t, aren’t you?”

Mal laughs softly like the accusation is surprising.

“No, not quite,” he says, quietly. 

“Well what are, what are you, then?”

“I’m honestly just a nurse, mate,” Mal leans back in his chair, pushing that long mane back with one hand “And, unfortunately for you, Josiah’s friend.”

He almost looks sad. Cass isn’t fucking falling for it.

“I don’t believe you.”

Mal shrugs, taking his glasses off, “You don’t have to.”

There’s a long moment between them, quiet and still. It’s so silent that Cass can feel the air around them pulsing. Maybe that’s why the yell from the other room is so loud. Something like a crash. More yelling. An argument, a fight. Mal, who has been seemingly unphased the entire time Cass has been talking to him, suddenly seems very, very phased.

Someone is here. Someone has J.

Cass is moving before he has time to register the pain that swoops in at the rush in his head.

“Who’s, who’s here? What’s happening?”

Mal tries to stand in front of him but Cass is already pushing passed. He can barely feel the juttering of his legs. Mal grabs for his arm-

“Everything’s fine, it’s jus-”

Cass doesn’t notice way his heart is suddenly not beating but fluttering, surging, buzzing. He shoves Mal backwards, reaching for the door.

“Everything’s not fine, fuckhead. Who, who did you bring here? What, what what have you done to Josiah?”

Cass doesn’t notice that his lungs are straining to grab oxygen, straining to do anything other than squeeze mercilessly.

“Nothing, mate. Cass, you need to-”

Cass doesn’t notice the blood rush in his ears, drowning out Mal’s words.

He opens the bedroom door, prepared to see anything; prepared to see a bloodbath, prepared to see a gun to Josiah’s head, to see an armed fucking militia. Prepared to see them. The them he’s running from, the them he should know better than to have run towards, the them who could find him and drag him back, and drag Josiah along too if they wanted to.

But that’s not what he sees.

He sees Josiah, standing with his back to the hallway, completely fine. Angry, sure, but when wasn’t Josiah angry? His voice is still echoing sharp across the room but his body language is open and loose. He almost looks relaxed. Comfortable in a way Cass hasn’t seen him since coming back. He’s fine.

And then he sees her. Small and leather-clad and familiar and furious.

Oh.

Cass feels the fear fall off him like a cloak, which maybe was stupid considering who he’s looking at. He wishes he hadn’t opened the damn door.

Lou.

“I assume you’ve met my wife?” Mal says from behind him.

Right. Fuck.

And then.

And then Cass realises someone’s squeezed all the breath from his chest, and that his legs are shaking so hard they shouldn’t be holding him up and that his heart has somehow turned into a wasp’s nest, and that his brain is a brick of dynamite about to explode.

Cass looks at the woman in front of him, looks at Josiah, looks at Mal.

Lou. Here. Right.

Fuck.

And then he faints.

[tooruluv]

Katsuki Bakugou x F!Reader ( part 1 )

❝ ...and then there’s you. ❞

description: you and bakugou have hated each other since childhood. through the constant bickering, fighting, and actual fist fights... you had no idea that you had been writing to him.

genre: angst, soulmate au where you have a notebook that you can write to your soulmate in

word count: 3.8k

warnings/notes: strong language, lots of angst, aged up characters, bakugou being bakugou, reader has an air manipulation quirk created as part 1 of 3 for my winner of my tooruluv2kparty contest @katsulovee​ <33

teaser | part 2

| masterlist

“ ‘cause when the sun goes down, someone’s talking back ” - talking to the moon, bruno mars

┏━━━━━⋇⋆⋆⋇❦⋇⋆⋆⋇━━━━━┓

The storm only escalated, casting the sky in deep blues and greys. Loud rain clattered against the roof of your apartment building, the ceiling of your top floor apartment being the only thing that separated you from the pour. 

The rain may be cold, but you were on fire.

You had been livid all day, positively outraged by the man who seemed to always be in your way. He was the most arrogant, most opinionated, and most… loud-mouthed person you ever met. You were screaming from the inside out, burning with rage.

Groaning, you sprawled out on your bed.

Katsuki Bakugou was the biggest fucking issue on the planet. His absurd need to be the best at everything he did, his cold demeanor and venom that spews from his mouth -- you wanted nothing more than to punch him directly in the throat. 

With a deep breath, you flipped open your Soulmate Journal. 

The world was such a strange place, full of quirks and criminals and heroes and villains. To add on top of that, when you turn thirteen a journal just… appears. And whoever is your soulmate can read everything you write. Once they read it, they can reply or talk to you that way and the ink disappears. There are plenty of rules that go along with it, like if you turn thirteen before your soulmate does, the ink is red until they receive their own journal. Or how the journal itself is indestructible. Or the biggest rule: you cannot write any given name. 

When you’re thirteen, your life is full of hope and wishful thinking. Almost everyone at that age is excited to start writing to their Person, the one who they were supposed to be created to be with. You were surprised when you opened yours to find nothing written.

You assumed that you were a bit older than your soulmate, but that was quickly shut down as you wrote in black ink. Your soulmate hadn’t written anything. 

It took two months for him to write back. Two months of your excessive writing and nearly diary-like entries. Two months of you wondering if they would ever write back. Until he did.

Today sucked.

That was all you wrote, your past two months of writing still ever present and glaring at you with smudges and hinted annoyance. The ink started to fade like Harry talking to Tom Riddle, reappearing with new handwriting.

It was scrawled across the page with terrible handwriting, very much one of a middle school boy. 

Life sucks. Deal with it.

You were now twenty two, an adult and that once hope and love has turned into pessimism and indifference. And life still sucked. 

You were pretty famous, your air manipulation quirk one that catches a lot of attention. That, alongside your rivalry with the second most famous hero Bakugou, brought an abundance of recognition. Bakugou completely steals your thunder every chance he has, stealing your light and victories. 

You hated him. With the utmost disrespect, you hated him. Since your days in the hero academy, the two of you were at each other’s throats. He would even stop in the middle of antagonizing Deku to make some horrendous comment towards you instead. 

You ended up scribbling along the Soulmate Pages, heated rage boiling with each word.

Hey Honey! I need to vent if that’s okay.

Of course.

You would not believe the shit I have to endure in real life. I wish I could describe the hatred I have for this man I work with, he’s a real piece of shit. Anyway, how was your day?

My day was about the same as yours, living with the idiots of real life. If we could write names I would because there’s this bitch I work with that I fucking hate.

Maybe we need new jobs (insert laughing face even though I’m livid right now)

Yeah. Maybe. But we’ll get through it.

It took years for your soulmate to warm up to you. The first interactions were hesitant, slow, and barely considered conversations. But now you can discuss your day as if you were texting a friend, talk about your likes and dislikes. 

He was your soulmate after all.

You learned that he was a boy and an only kid, he had a strong quirk, and that he liked ramen. He was a rule follower and his handwriting always used proper punctuation. You told him all about your life and how you wanted to travel away from everything.

You wanted to know who he was, more than anything. 

You wished you could tell him your name and quirk, where you lived and who you were. You wished he could do the same. 

You’ve tried, of course, to write out your name and location. But the second the words were written onto the page, they turned into a random assortment of letters. Gibberish. Never to be written, never to be known.

“Dude, fucking relax!” You rubbed your temple at your desk, voice spitting venom against Bakugou’s loud vocals. “Not everything is about you, just sit down and wait to be sent on a mission.”

“What did you say to me?”

Katsuki Bakugou had been going on and on about how Deku got assigned to a mission in upper Japan, sent to work with a separate force for a bit to expand his horizon. He was outraged, yelling and standing tall and broad to pretend to be bigger than he was. 

You were doing paperwork, trying to concentrate despite his yelling and complaining and bitching. You were hovering above your seat with your legs crossed, papers scattered (it was a habit of yours, to just kind of hover a couple of inches off the surface of things; air manipulation and all that). 

“I said,” You turned to look into his ablaze eyes. “Sit down and wait. Not everything is about you.”

You only threw fuel into his fire, you could hear the sparking between his fingers. You turned back to your paperwork. 

“You don’t get to tell me what to do, you’re not even in the top five heroes.” Bakugou barked in your direction. You could feel his heat as he approached your desk. “You can sit and do your own paperwork all you want! I need to be put on serious cases, just like stupid Deku is always placed on.”

“You can argue with me all you want.” You moved to continue your work, pretending to be unbothered. You could feel the anger boil in your chest. “But you still are and will always be measly little number two. Now shut the fuck up, you’re interrupting those who are actually working.”

He was going to hit you, you knew he was. You two ended up fist fighting all the time, oxygen and explosions ending in destruction. Before he could, your boss walked in with a bellowing, “Bakugou! Get over here, I have something for your loud ass!”

You decided to give him a bored middle finger as he walked away.

They say that words are the way of life. You could say an infinite amount of words and sentences in your lifespan, you could say a word and only ever say it one time. Each assortment of words are different each time, something new every day. 

You figured that’s why you hated the soulmate thing. 

Finding your soulmate should be one of chance, of pure coincidence and meeting of strangers. With the journal, you are starting something you only hope to find. You could go your whole life without finding your soulmate.

And that is terrifying.

There are horror stories of writing to an endless notebook, sad movies created where the lettering turns back to red before they’ve found each other. You wanted nothing more than to meet and just… be with the man you’ve been writing to since you were thirteen.

It seemed to be some sick joke, a tease in the palm of your hands.

When you were young, you attended UA High. It was meant to be the best school for heroes, grooming them into the best of the best. Both of your parents had been heroes themselves, your mom with a cloud quirk and your dad with wings. You took after a bit of both, no wings and no clouds but could create air currents and manipulate the air surrounding you within a certain radius. It has something to do with your breath and lungs, but you never looked too much into the actual DNA aspect. 

When you arrived in the hero program, you passed the tests with ease. You tried to focus mainly on yourself and gaining your own points, alongside a couple of students with the same idea. 

You were pissed when you were placed in 1-B instead of 1-A. It was the start of your rivalry with the explosion boy. 

Luckily, you quickly gained friends. You actually seemed to have a soft spot for Hitoshi Shinsou, and you and Itsuka Kendou seemed to be the only two with brains (this led to many conversations resulting in shit talking and giggling). So in the end, you weren’t too upset to be placed in the second best class. 

And you did get to fight with Bakugou a lot more without punishment, your professor wanting to be number one as much as anyone else. 

One particular day that you remember to this day, one that really labeled your hatred for Bakuogu, was just a normal day at first. You were finished with your normal morning classes and just beginning the hero portion of the day, the training and fighting. 

Your class was working with Class 1-A for the day, teaming up with one of their students and seeing how your quirks would act both against and with each other.

You were, of course, teamed with Bakugou.

The fucker was already set in his ways, loud and in need of attention at all times. You were well aware of his… loud personality… at that point, being beside Shinsou when he called your class “extras”. He was already someone you wanted nothing to do with. 

“Good luck.” Kendou muttered to you when your names were announced as partners. “See ya.”

The second you headed to him, you could feel his apprehension. He wanted nothing to do with you. And you wanted nothing to do with him. In fact, you were hoping for Uraraka as your partner, wanting to see how your air manipulation would work with her gravity. 

Apparently the professors wanted to see the oxygen working with the burst of flames. Which, honestly, is cool yes — but it was the person behind the explosions that you did not want to be a part of.

Bakugou was not one to mumble under his breath. 

“Why am I paired with you?” He rolled his eyes, crossing his arms across his chest. “I could at least be with someone interesting like Mind Control over there.”

You already wanted to punch him. “You’ve obviously never seen my quirk.”

“Clearly it hasn’t been interesting enough to be worth my attention.”

“Say that again when I remove the oxygen straight from your lungs.” You threatened, knowing damn well you didn’t know how to do that yet. “Let’s just get this over with.”

He let out a long exhale, moving into position. You were already flying by the time he let off his first explosion.

His utter disrespect for you and your quirk not only irritated you, but only was the start of a long term competition on Who Can Be Better Than Who that lasted the rest of your time at UA.

Through the constant loud arguments, the yelling in the cafeteria and the comments just loud enough for the other to hear, the fist fights and the swearing that was reserved only for each other, you found comfort in talking to your soulmate. It was relaxing after a long day of pure annoyance and shit talking to finally just get to have normal conversations with someone you enjoy. 

Are we allowed to ask about school in this thing?

I don’t think so.

I’m sighing. Pretend that you could hear my sigh.

Wow, that was a loud sigh.

YOU’RE FUNNY! Anyway, I really want to know if we go to school together :(((

I don’t even think we can talk about JRTPD or BO::SOMD. See, they turn into gibberish.

 I mean… we can say school. So we can ask ABOUT school just not… specific schools. 

That’s true. I go to a special school and am the best in my class. You’re getting lucky by having me as a soulmate.

Well I would only hope so. Need a smart soulmate for fun facts.

Fun fact: you’re pretty cool. I guess.

Ah, the admission of your love for me.

Not love. I don’t hate talking to you if that does anything for you.

The one person you don’t hate. I’ll take it, Soulmate.

Don’t push it.

We should give each other nicknames. Since we can’t call each other by our real names.

Does the book allow it?

My parents did it before they found each other.

Okay. Like what?

I can call you Hot Head, because you’re hot and because you are always writing about how mad you are.

No.

I can always go with something cute like Honey.

This is gross. I was thinking like gamer tag nicknames.

Okay, Honey.

I take back what I said, asshole.

Honey and Asshole. The perfect pair. We could solve crimes!

I’m going to bed now.

Goodnight Honey ♡ I know that you aren’t reading these but you will in the morning. Dork.

“Do you know who your soulmate is?” You asked.

You were hanging out with Kendou, Monoma, and Shinsou in Kendou’s bedroom. The dorm rooms were all set up the exact same way, but for some reason Kendou’s always seemed to be bigger. 

“No idea.” Monoma shrugged. “I don’t think I want to know until I’m older, we’re too young and I want to focus on graduating first.”

“He’s right.” Kendou twisted in her position on her bed. “Why? Do you want to know who yours is?”

“I want to know more than anything.” You sighed. Your head was laid across Shinsou’s lap on the floor. “We get along so well and I try to talk to him every day.”

“How do you know it’s a he?”

“He told me.” You laughed. “We tried really hard to narrow it down as much as possible.”

“It sounds like he wants to know you too.” Kendou said. She giggled. “I should ask my soulmate their gender.”

“What about you, Shinsou?”

“I barely write to mine.” He shrugged, making your head tilt a little. “I’m sure they understand.”

“I’m sure they do, they were made to be yours.” You looked up at him with a smile. “Of everyone, I thought you would write the most.”

“And why’s that?”

“Because most people are scared to talk to you in real life.”

He flicked your forehead. “You aren’t scared to talk to me.”

“I’m not scared to talk to anyone.”

“I’ve noticed.”

You sighed and closed your Soulmate Journal, the rain now casting a dark shadow across the entirety of the sky. Your face was flushed in red, hair disheveled and you were still in your hero uniform, dirty and kind of burnt. 

Katsuki Bakugou had not only interrupted your victory, but he had claimed it as his own. His desperation to be the number one hero hadn’t stopped. It’s been years, you’ve grown past his stupid desire and he simply… hasn’t.

You fought the villain yourself, using your quirk to it’s full capabilities and trapping them in a circle of air. You fought for over an hour by yourself, taking up the mission while out and witnessing it first hand. Your freshly bought coffee was long forgotten as you raced after the thief.

The second you landed the thief, the ball of air dissipating as you grew tired, Bakugou arrived in a fiery feat and handcuffed the villain. Of course, the main photos were of him with the handcuffs, standing proud as if he hadn’t stolen your fight. 

His argument was that he did help. Yeah, he did ‒ for three seconds.

Katsuki Bakugou was a piss stain upon himself, truly the worst of the worst who’s own personal interest outweighs anything else in his life. He will never be anything but second best because he never thinks of anyone but himself. 

If only he could read thoughts instead of turning his sweat to ignition. Then you wouldn’t have to put your harsh thoughts into tone.

Your Soulmate was one of two people you genuinely enjoyed talking to, he always seemed to be on the same page as you. The other is Shinsou, from your high school. He was the only one you really kept in contact with.

Sometimes you like to convince yourself that Shinsou is your soulmate, since he hasn’t found his either. But you compared the handwriting and it didn’t match at all. Shinsou’s handwriting was much smaller and neater than the man you would eventually call yours.

“This is so fucking stupid!” You screamed, your rage reaching its max.

You threw your journal across your bedroom, the storm masking the sound of it banging against the wall by your bed. You were pissed, you wanted nothing more than to see Bakugou’s downfall. It’s been years. You were over it.

You were over it all. You were over him, you were over not knowing your soulmate, you were over being alone in your stupid apartment. It all reached it’s apex. Maybe you needed a shower, or maybe you needed to move from your job.

Your fit was interrupted by a loud crash on the roof of your apartment building. You nearly jumped at the sound, the sound not even close to the crashes of thunder. 

You rushed to the roof, your hero senses kicking in more than your regular carefulness. Once you were outside, you were almost instantly drenched in the rain. Only a couple of yards ahead of you was a man crumbled to the ground; they must’ve hit the roof harder than you thought.

When they turned, clutching their side, you knew instantly who it was.

“Deku?” You rushed towards him. “I thought you were in Hirosaki for some serious villain.”

He moved to stand, much taller and broad than he was back in high school. Yet still with the fluffy green hair and bright eyes with hope always seemingly sewed in. 

“I was. I just… I need your help.”

“Why do you need my help?” You helped him stand fully, taking his hand from his side to check for an injury. He wasn’t bleeding. “Doesn’t Uraraka live around here?”

“I don’t… want to involve her in this.” He stood straight. His healing must’ve started. “I… this is something I need you for.”

“Okay…” You crossed your arms. “What do you need?”

“I know what you’re going to say.” Deku started, and you didn’t move. “But it’s Bakugou.”

“No.”

“C’mon, Aero, I know that you two…”

“No.”

“Please, I…”

“Deku, you know more than anyone how and who he is. Whatever it is, he can deal with it himself.” You started back towards the stairs. “I appreciate you coming to me, for whatever reason, but this is something that you have to find someone else for.”

“Don’t think of this as us doing something for him.” Deku rushed to stand in front of you. “Think of it as a favor for me. You owe me one.”

“Don’t do this now.” 

“I’m officially cashing in my favor.”

You sighed, “Fine. Can you at least tell me what we need to do for the asshole?”

“I’ll tell you on the way.” He nearly jumped in joy. “But you cannot tell anyone. Not Shinsou, not the police, and not our boss. This is under the radar.”

“Oh, shit.” You followed him as you flew next to him. “What are you getting me into?”

tag list: @katsulovee @paradisebabey @seaofemptygold @zhaixiaowen @daylghits @haikyuusimp91 @darknessyournewfriend @samwise-though @liaxxx109

[sohin-ace]

Jotaro - Kakyoin's Notebook

I'm sorry, I clickbaited y'all. The pairing in this story is not official.

...unless?

As you were all about to check out of the hotel, You decided to go back to everyone's respective rooms to make sure none of you forgot anything.

The crusaders were downstairs and you came up, checking every room. Everything seemed okay, you only needed to check Kakyoin and Jotaro's room last and then go back down.

You entered their room and looked everywhere. You stumbled onto a little notebook that was halfway underneath one of the pillows right as you were about to leave.

"Huh? Oops, I nearly didn't see that!" You bent down and took the notebook in your hands. It was just about pocket-sized. "Oh I do remember Jotaro having something like that, better get it back to him!"

Out of fateful clumsiness, the notebook slipped out of your hands and fell on the ground, opening on a random page. You crouched to pick it up, but then, your gaze fell upon what was on the page.

Your breath hitched in speechless confusion at what you saw, written at the top, in big font.

'Y/NxJotaro'

Why was your name and Jotaro's on that page? Was that some kind of memo? You knew Jotaro had the habit of taking notes to remember things, but why was your name in there?

Your curiosity got the best of you and you continued to look down the page, swiping through the others. You knew it was terribly wrong and you were invading his privacy but you were just so lost. It concerned you, there was your name on it.

" 'One-shot Draft... WIP', What does that even mean? J-... Jotaro did this?" You mumbled out loud, face scrunching up in confusion and slight fear as you looked through words you couldn't understand.

" 'Soulmate AU', 'Drabble', 'NSFW'? Are those some kind of codes?"

Pages long of stories decorated the sheets, so many you couldn't read everything. There were even some sketches and drawings that you didn't have the heart to look at. You managed to read some pieces of stories that left you even more confused. You read to yourself.

' "W-wait!" Y/N said as tears prickled in her eyes, her face flushed with innocent shyness. "I-It's my first time..."

"Don't worry," Jotaro spoke, hovering above her, his voice deep and soothing. "I'll be gentle." '

...What? You don't remember ever saying anything of the sort? You couldn't comprehend what you were reading. Whatever was written in there never happened and was fictional or somesuch to you.

When it was just too much for you to handle, you closed the notebook, your face still strained with mixed feelings.

Only then did you notice that there was a cherry sticker on the back of the notebook. After looking at the first page, you saw the name of the owner.

Noriaki Kakyoin.

"K-kakyo-... Oh my gosh..."

You were shocked, but somehow relieved. It made more sense than the author being Jotaro, but it still blew you away, the fact that Kakyoin would write such things on your and Jotaro's behalf.

Suddenly, Polnareff walked by and noticed you through the open door. You flinched when he called out to you and entered the room.

"Ah there you are Y/N! We started to worry!" He approached you and he noticed what you were holding. "Oh that's Kakyoin's notebook! He can't live without it, good thing you found it! Okay, let's go now, the others are waiting. Allez, on y va!"

He guided you out of the room and you followed, clutching the notebook. Polnareff didn't have to know the weird things written on it about you and Jotaro. You had to discover what it all meant.

"That's bullshit. You don't make any sense, Y/N." Jotaro scoffed at you, a few hours after the little hotel room occurence.

"I swear on my future husband's life! I'll prove it to you, look." You turned around and looked for your red haired friend. "Kakyoin! Can I doodle something on your notebook please~?"

"Huh?" He looked at you questioningly. "Why all of a sudden?"

"Well, Mr. Joestar will take a while to come back, so might as well kill some time. I'll write a cute message for you to read on the last train home!"

The red head smiled at your goofiness and thought 'why not?'. He took out his notebook along with a pen, but instead of giving it to you, he opened it on a specific empty page.

"Here," He handed you the items. "Only draw on this page. Don't draw on the other pages."

You nodded. "Got it! Thank you Kakyoin~!"

You smiled innocently and as soon as the male turned his back to you, your expression turned dark and you instantly looked for Jotaro who was sitting nearby.

"Jojo! Here, I have it, let's do this!" You stood in front of him with the notebook in your hands and he sighed.

"Yare yare daze, I'm not betraying his trust because of your shadiness."

"It's not like that! There's-..." You cut yourself off to look behind you and check if Kakyoin was looking.

You leaned down, inching towards Jotaro's face and whispered quietly. "There are things about us in here. Last time I saw it on accident, but if Kakyoin writes stuff about us, it's our legitimate right to know!"

"Says who? Are you a lawyer or something?"

"Jojo please!!" You pleaded while gripping on the collar of his gakuran, moving the chains on it and making them clang loudly.

The sudden noise alerted the cherry-haired fellow who turned his head to look at you both from afar. His eyes instantly widened and sparkled with vicious yet happy stars.

He loved to see his two best friends interract and, he knew damn well he took half of your interractions out of context, but that's what made them so good. His imagination started running wild at the scene before him.

The way you desperately held onto Jotaro, your faces, so close to each other, your begging eyes looking at him, yearning for his lips, waiting for one thing only.

'Jojo, please!' Kakyoin muttered what he imagined you would say. 'Say yes... I've been dying to kiss you!'

Back to you two, Jotaro clicked his tongue and looked away, closing his eyes in frustration. He hated the fact that he just couldn't refuse you anything.

"Tch! You're so fucking annoying. Fine, I get it, give it to me." Jotaro grumbled and moved your hands away from him, snatching the notebook from your hand.

'Tch! You know I can't resist you. Fine, don't beg for me to stop when I start messing you up.' Kakyoin continued, imitating his friend's deep voice under his breath and being surprisingly in character, for the inappropriate things he was imagining.

Kakyoin tensed up with anticipation when Jotaro suddenly grabbed your wrists, his big strong hands overpowering your fragile ones easily. You may have made the first move, but he would take the lead.

If it wasn't for the public surrounding you, Kakyoin was sure his friend would have gotten up and slammed you against the wall, pinning your hands at your side while you whimpered his name cutely. But he had to hold back, at least for now, or so Kakyoin daydreamed.

"Hey Kakyoin, what're you looking at? Come here for a bit!"

Before Kakyoin could even see the rest of the scene, which happened to be the most interesting part, he was interrupted by Polnareff who was in dire need for help with a nearby vending machine that seemed to have eaten his money.

Kakyoin sighed a bit annoyed, but joined his French comrade, not even glancing back at you. He'd have to remember to write everything down as soon as you gave him back his notebook.

Kakyoin Noriaki was an average boy that loved action and adventures, but he secretely wasn't immune to a good sweet romance story.

When you joined the crusaders, your interactions with Jotaro seemed as platonic as with the rest of the men. But for some reason, the boy started to feel some kind of connection between you two.

He didn't know when or how it started, but he felt like something was different at a certain point.

Why was it so cute when, one day, you removed Jotaro's hat to fix the pins that were moved out of place after a fight, and he let you put it back on him, even though he never lets anybody touch it?

Or maybe it was that other time in a restaurant where, after Jotaro eyed your dessert for a while, you exchanged your cakes to let him have a taste, stealing a bite from his own in the process.

Or that day when you struggled put your earrings back on and he had to help you out, only to struggle even more, his fingers too big and clumsy to be accurate. He had to call out Star Platinum to do it while he held your hair out of the way.

Even the simplest of gestures seemed romantic and adorable to him. He was sure something was going on between you two, and yet, you were too dense to realize it. All of this fueled his inner fanboy and it prevented him from sleeping at night.

He shipped you two so goddamn much.

He was guilty, but he loved every single bit of it. Of course, no one could know. If someone knew, especially you two, that'd be the end of him.

You were all waiting for the next train to arrive, which was a big 40 minutes. Joseph and Abdul went to buy something to snack on while you waited and Polnareff went to the restroom.

Kakyoin was sitting next to you, his back resting against the wall and his eyes were closed. As you thought he had fallen asleep, you took this moment to turn the other way to talk to your nonchalant friend.

"You see?" You spoke softly, careful to not wake Kakyoin up. "I told you there were stuff about us in that notebook!"

"Shut up, there were only messages on that page, I'm sure the others were the same." He grumbled with the same low intensity as you. "And you know damn well he can be a weirdo sometimes."

"But still, I want to understand... And also, what does 'smut' even mean?"

He pretended to be asleep, but his mind was racing.

Kakyoin who wasn't quite sleeping and very much listening to whatever he could hear through the background noise of the station, flinched and started blushing.

Just, when and where did you heard that term?

" 'Smut'?" Jotaro looked at you with confused furrowed eyebrows. "Hell if I know. You speak better english than I do, shouldn't you know?"

"Well I..."

Before the conversation could go down even further, Kakyoin feigned waking up and got up from his slouched position.

You noticed and turned around, staring at him, scared that he would ask what you were talking about, as you didn't want to confront him about the weird things you saw in his notes. If he ever knew, he would finish you. But something worse happened.

Jotaro nudged you and tilted his head towards Kakyoin, but you quite didn't get the message.

"Oi Kakyoin, do you know what 'smut' means? You know a lot of languages, right?" Jotaro asked like it was nothing and you gasped, secretly wanting to slap Jotaro for his indiscretion.

Kakyoin looked over at him, unfazed as ever. "Smut? Hmmm I guess I can look it up later. Where did you hear that?"

Jotaro innocently signed your death warrant. "Y/N just told me."

"JOTARO!!!" You shot up from your seat and stared at him in pure disbelief and betrayal. "OH MY- ARE YOU SERIOUS?! YOU TRAITOR!!!"

"Oh really?" Kakyoin teased, sending you a knowing look. "What's going on with you two? Are you keeping secrets from me?"

You blushed and flinched as Kakyoin's amethyst eyes stared through your soul. Before Jotaro could say anything else, you slapped a hand over his big mouth and Kakyoin's eye glinted.

"I-I mean... No! Wait. There's something I need to tell Jojo, excuse us for a sec."

You then leaned in and cupped Jotaro's ear as you whispered. Kakyoin looked at you in pure satisfaction, trying his best to not start smiling and giggling like a goofy schoolgirl.

Oh no, he didn't need to hear the sweet nothings you were deliciously breathing on Jotaro's now tingling skin. Imagining it was more than enough.

You leaned back and softly spoke to him. "Don't ruin this for us. I'm trusting you."

"Yare Yare daze. You put me into this in the first place. Don't complain."

Kakyoin's eyes widened and he turned his head around, trying to hide his expression and pretended he totally didn't hear that. Oh how sweet the lack of context was for his little fanboy mind. He wouldn't ask too many questions since you were offering him such a good show.

On the train, you waited until Kakyoin was completely out and asleep to subdue his notebook. That would make a good reading on the 4 hours long travel.

"Yes that's it! Right on the left pocket, yeah that one!"

You guided Jotaro who was hiding not too far from Kakyoin's seat as your delinquent friend used Star Platinum to steal your cherry loving friend's notebook.

When he finally had it, Star Platinum brought it back and both you and Jotaro proceeded to read through the many drafts and stories about you two.

Getting ready for one hell of a joy ride.

Bonus:

Kakyoin stretched and took a deep breath of fresh air as he got off the train.

"Aah~! I slept like a log. Huh? What's wrong, why are you two so red? Did you get motion sick, maybe?"

Kakyoin commented upon seeing your and Jotaro's flushed face as you got off. Your shoulders were slumped in shame and Jotaro was hiding behind his hat like a wanted criminal.

"Uh yeah... Here Kakyoin, you dropped this..." you groaned and handed him his notebook.

He thanked you and took his due. When he was gone, you glanced at Jotaro and you both shared intense empathy and regret.

Don't steal Kakyoin's notebook.

Oh man, wouldn't it be fun and also a bit sad if after Dio was defeated, Y/N and Jotaro became a couple?

You walked by the river, holding hands with Jotaro after a long week of finals. You suddenly stopped in your tracks and looked at the water reflecting the orange sunset.

Jotaro looked at you confused, but followed your gaze, until both of you laid eyes on a young girl painting the scenery on a canvas.

"You know... He would have loved this..." You started softly, a melancholic look cast on the girl as her Stand posed on the grass like a model, thinking herself only could see it. "To see us together, I mean..."

Jotaro inspected the girl, her red curls and green uniform moving messily in the wind. "Did he ever write something about us watching him paint?"

You chuckled sadly. "Why didn't he think of that? His stories were great, but he was in none of them..."

Jotaro noticed you biting your lip as your voice wavered slightly and he squeezed your hand in reassurance. You laid your head on his arm and he responded by bringing you closer to him.

"But now he is."

OKAY AUTHOR OUT

[bonesbuckleup]

Lord, this answer got long. I’m a little embarrassed about it, but I wrote it, so it’s getting posted. It’s a literal essay. Sorry but also not?

TLDR: Yes, the show is arguably unfair to Sokka about Kya, but it also follows a pattern where Sokka stays quiet about Bad Feelings and plays by the rules established for his character. Katara, meanwhile, grieves loudly and often, and appears to be under the impression that because Sokka’s grief is silent it doesn’t exist, which also fits her character/interactions completely. Neither of them are right or wrong, but it sets them up on inevitable collisions.

Now. If you want to join me on a cactus-juice fueled descent into madness, proceed below the cut.

Number one. We’re referring to this exchange in “The Southern Raiders,” where the Gaang is talking about Zuko and Katara going after the man who killed Kya, which is vicious and brutal and never reflected on:

Aang: You sound like Jet. Katara: It's not the same! Jet attacked the innocent. This man, he's a monster. Sokka: Katara, she was my mother, too, but I think Aang might be right. Katara (angry, yelling): Then you didn't love her the way I did! Sokka (visibly hurt, softly): Katara.

And that’s it. Upon returning, Katara apologizes to Aang and not, as Anon is absolutely correct in pointing out, to Sokka, who is 100% the more injured party. Now. Is it possible this is one of the rare missteps from the atla writers? Yes. Absolutely. Is that the answer I’m about to write a literal fucking essay about? No. Because it’s more painful fun to take it as face value and talk subtext.

First, a reminder that this show is fucking good at what it does. It teaches you how each character grieves as we go: Aang explodes, often triggering the Avatar state, usually crying or angry, and when he does try to repress his Bad Feelings it rarely lasts longer than a day; Toph either shuts down or gets mad, but either way she doesn’t like people seeing her having Bad Feelings and often storms away, knowing that she can’t control it no matter how much she might want to; Zuko yells at the sky in a rainstorm or yells at his dad in an underground tunnel or challenges Zhao to an Agni Kai or yells at his uncle in a jail cell and generally is an emotive nuclear bomb because the boy has feelings and if he keeps them inside for more than three seconds he might explode okay.

Then we have Katara and Sokka.

Let’s start with Katara, since she has the most textual and straightforward displays of grief. She’s really the only one to talk about Kya’s death in Book 1. If Sokka mentions it, it’s barely in passing. I don’t think we hear Hakoda address her death at all (which I’ll return to in a moment.) Katara’s grief is loud. It’s angry. It’s still very much a living thing for her. She thinks she sees Kya in the swamp and breaks down crying, and tells Aang and Sokka about it with no hesitation. When she’s angry and sad at Hakoda for leaving, she acts out and is visibly upset with him, yells at him, cries at him. She out-loud hates Zuko when she comes to the conclusion that he told her about Ursa and got her to talk about Kya to manipulate her. It isn’t that her grief is performative, because it’s a very real and terrible thing, but it’s a grief that’s to be witnessed.

Then, Sokka. Sokka’s grief is more complicated because it exists almost entirely in subtext, especially in regard to Kya. We really only hear him talk about Kya twice, both in Book 3. First, to Toph, when he tells her that he can’t remember what Kya looks like. Worth noting, however, that even though it is Sokka talking, this is still centered on Katara and Katara’s grief. The next time is when Zuko asks what happened to Kya, and Sokka tells the story that leads into the initial flashback. Sokka doesn’t talk about his mom. This is a fact of the show. It’s such a fact of the show that, in “Southern Raiders,” after the exchange at the start of this post, while Katara and Zuko are on the hunt, Sokka doesn’t bring up Kya again and is messing around with Aang. Like nothing has happened or is currently happening--which I’ll come back to in a moment.

So while we can use Kya as a perfect example of how Katara grieves, we can’t really use her for Sokka. So let’s use Yue instead. Moments we see (or don’t see) Sokka grieving Yue:

In the opening to Book 2, we briefly have a shot of Sokka with the moon imposed behind him.

“The Swamp,” where Sokka’s vision is of Yue accusing him of not protecting her. This one is one of the more textual moments of grief--”I think about Yue all the time”--but what’s awful great about it is how Sokka tells Aang and Katara. Aang, obviously, has no qualms about sharing his vision. Katara openly talks about seeing Kya. Sokka only tells them about Yue when explicitly asked. Even then, he doesn’t mention what she said to him. From this, we can assume that Sokka is still holding onto a lot of guilt over her death--guilt that he won’t let Aang and Katara see. Anyway. Moving on.

“The Serpent’s Pass.” After spending all day panic protecting Suki, he tells her that he lost someone, but doesn’t go much further into detail, just saying that he can’t when she tries to kiss him. Of course, this is all happening in front of the moon. Again, though, Sokka stays vague. He doesn’t tell her any details.

“The Puppetmaster,” Toph posits that maybe the moon spirit has gone mean and is kidnapping people. Sokka snaps at her, in a moment definitely meant for laughs, saying, “The Moon Spirit is a gentle, loving lady. She rules the sky with compassion and ... lunar goodness!” It is a funny moment, but here’s what we can take from it: Toph doesn’t know about Yue. Toph is a Feral Bastard a lot of the time, but she also knows where the line is, and I don’t think she’d’ve said that if she’d known.

“Boiling Rock,” in arguably the most quoted (and well deservedly so!) line in the entire show. “My first girlfriend turned into the moon.” “...that’s rough, buddy.” COMEDIC GOLD. Also, weirdly, the literal only time that Sokka explicitly tells someone about Yue in the course of the show.

“Ember Island Players” which I haven’t hit in my rewatch yet, but I definitely remember a moment where Suki asks Sokka when he was gonna tell her he made out with the moon, and he tearfully shushes her. Again, played for laughs, but the implication is that he still hasn’t told Suki about what happened.

This plays perfectly into the same way that Sokka (doesn’t) talks about his mom. When the Bad Feelings come, Sokka either avoids them and finds a distraction (Goofs with Aang--see, told ya we’d come back to that) or stays silent. When someone explicitly asks him about the Bad Feelings--what he saw in the swamp, what’s eating at him in “Sokka’s Master,” why he’s panic-protecting Suki--he’ll answer, but often talks around the actual issue. (Interestingly, it’s in regard to Suki we see the most explicit manifestation of Sokka grieving as Azula taunts him during the invasion: he cries, he attacks Azula, he yells and questions her despite the fact he knows she’s wasting their time. I think this one hits him because, as this beautiful post points out, Suki’s the protector in the relationship, and Sokka can actually chill out for 2 seconds. But he let his guard down, and Azula got Suki. Anyway. That’s probably a different essay: back to the matter at hand.) We even see this in “Boiling Rock.” There’s a moment where they think Hakoda is not with the other political prisoners. Sokka’s tense, drawn tight, but the only thing he says is, “No.”

Basically, we’ve got Katara, who grieves loudly and rages and is kinda like white-water rapids that churn and churn and churn. And we’ve got Sokka, who, to quote John Mulaney, looks at his grief and says, “I’ll just keep all my emotions right here and then one day I’ll die.” Iceberg grief, to keep the water metaphor going.

And where did these come from? Yup! Water Tribe gender roles! What we know from the show is that, while the South is typically more progressive (women can train as benders and marry who they want, at least) than the North, it’s still very rigid: the men are warriors/hunters/protectors, the women stay home to cook/clean/child-rear.

Now: subtext! And why I think they are this way!

We’ll start with Katara. The last waterbender in the South Pole. She no doubt grew up doted on. If I say she’s most likely a little spoiled, I don’t mean it in a bad way--I mean it in a she’s the last living remnant of this aspect of their culture kind of way. When raiders come, she’s probably the first priority to protect. Kya dies to keep her safe. Her needs are generally put before the community as a whole. (This isn’t to say that Katara doesn’t contribute or care about her community, because she 100% does). But! Especially in Book 1, we see Katara often considering her opinions as facts (trusting Jet, the waterbending scroll) and doesn’t always pause to consider the larger impact that her actions will have (scroll and Jet again, challenging Pakku, dressing up as the Painted Lady despite the fact the factory will hold the village responsible). And many of these actions are good! But we see a lot of Katara being pretty self-centered--what can I do, how does this impact me, how do I feel about this? And this isn’t a bad thing! This aspect of her character makes her complicated and complex! Katara loves her family and protecting people and caring for them! She’s extremely empathetic! But she also struggles to meet people where they’re at when they emote in a different way than she does (see: her clashes with Toph, her initial problems with Zuko joining the group, the above interaction with Sokka). It’s also worth talking about how Katara witnessed her mother’s death, which no doubt makes her grief about it a sharper thing.

Then, again, Sokka. Also loved in his community! But a normal kind of love, I’d assume. He probably was raised on stories of the Fire Nation dragging waterbenders away. No one exemplifies the Water Tribe ride-or-die mentality quite as well as Sokka, or the gender roles of the man as the warrior/protector, so you gotta believe Hakoda raised that kid to look after his sister at all costs, which we see throughout the show (already preparing to go after Aang in the South Pole because he know Katara’s going anyway, “You burned my sister!”) And he isn’t there when his mom dies. He finds out later. He goes from feeling like a victor who helped chased the raiders away to the worst realization of his life. I have to imagine he’s ashamed by the fact that he thought everything was going to be okay, which leads into his worldview of assuming that nothing is okay ever in any circumstance.

Finally, Hakoda. Who never, unless I’ve forgotten something, talks about Kya. All we know is that their family fell apart after her death (per Sokka in “The Runaway,” learning how Katara stepped up to hold everything together) and sometime after he took the warriors and straight up left. He apologizes for leaving but doesn’t address the fact that he left Katara and Sokka with no parents at all, only the war. This is, uh, not exactly echoing a healthy coping mechanism?

My theory: Kya dies. Since the Water Tribe is so embedded in gender roles, Hakoda probably shut down and/or checked out emotionally for a while. This leaves his kids on their own to deal with their shit, and we learn Katara does everything she can to keep her family going. As the most protected individual in the South, Katara’s probably been taught that emotions equal attention, and uses her temper/caring/sadness to help bring her community closer. Meanwhile, Sokka, who hero worships his dad, watches Hakoda go stoic and learns that “real men” shove their shit down. Additionally, Katara’s grief is deafeningly loud, and Sokka’s number 1 role is to keep Katara safe. He’s taught that the Bad Feelings only get in the way and make things worse, and so he learns to be fine no matter what kind of terrible is going down around him.  Basically, Katara learns to use grief as a needle and thread, and Sokka learns to bury it as deep as he can and avoid it at all costs. Opposite reactions to the same trauma. Katara gets mad and demands to be heard and listened to and seen, and Sokka gets sarcastic and prepares himself for the day the Fire Nation ships come back for his sister.

So. Back to those above lines from “Southern Raiders.”

From a writing standpoint, I do wish the final moment was between Katara and Sokka versus Katara and Aang. They could’ve had an almost identical interaction, but it would’ve been more nuanced. I don’t think that Katara needed to apologize, but I think we needed some acknowledgement from both of them: Katara continuing the lesson she’s learned about how her pain doesn’t entitle her to hurt other people (including Sokka, who is there no matter what she says or does), and Sokka that Katara’s process of grieving had to involve this catharsis.

Or. Maybe not. Because again--subtext. Their grief works in such different ways that I have to imagine this isn’t a new fight. It was probably brutal and vicious for a very long time. Maybe that’s part of what made Sokka try and go with the warriors. Maybe that’s part of why Katara gets mad so quickly in the first episode of the show. But eventually, unable to find an answer, they just...stop talking about it. Because the two of them don’t talk about it. Katara only talks about her mom with people who aren’t Sokka, and Sokka does exclusively to Toph and Zuko.

The only time I can think of Katara and Sokka talking about it together is the exchange at the top of this post, and it gets ugly fast, and it isn’t brought up again. It’s a fight that will never be resolved, because they fundamentally can’t react to one another in a way that can be universally understood.

“You didn’t love her the way I did!” Katara yells, loudly, because if Sokka loved her then why isn’t he raging? Why isn’t he getting his sword and coming to help her? Why doesn’t Sokka want to burn this firebender to the ground and make him see and hear and look at what he’s done to the world? To their family? He must not understand. He must not care as much or he’d be screaming with her.

“Katara,” Sokka says, much quieter, and adds nothing else. Not because there isn’t anything else to say, but because Sokka can’t talk about this kind of thing. Not doesn’t want to, but can’t, because it’s his job to protect people, protect Katara, and if he lets all those old hurts come boiling up he can’t do that, because that ends with losing focus and losing control and people getting hurt or going away. Why can’t she understand that?

And then they do what they always do. They don’t bring it up again.

[fantasyinvader]

To be honest, I haven’t felt the most comfortable with all the attention on Cap’n lately. It’s one thing to talk about a stanbase in general, but the idea about talking about them here feels like it would just be giving the Stans ammunition to claim they are being victimized. Like, I’ve spent my time talking about internet weirdos with others and I know that’s what happens once it’s discovered and their victim complex kicks in.

But on the other hand, it’s not like we’re not a part of the Fire Emblem fandom. Through our blogs, we do interact with other fans. It’s just a case of us talking about certain bad apples from a different section of our fandom, and in this case the sheer scope of what this individual has done. How they have completely twisted the story and messages of Three Houses, and through their platform has only fueled the toxicity within the community.

This is an individual who claims that people are sexist because they don’t like Edelgard. However, I count myself as an Edelgard fan. She’s one of the best aspects of the game, tying into the stories and themes it presents. I wouldn’t say I like her for who she is, but rather what she is. I wouldn’t say Cap’n likes her either way though. He’s always out there, trying to reframe the events of the game in such a way that Edelgard is the heroine rather than the villain. And a chief part of this is how he changes her character into what she wants him to be.

It really says something to me how much he projects onto her. Rather than the idiot charging ahead without considering the consequences of her actions and instead turning a blind eye when she can rather than deal with reality, someone who has no idea how to actually reform Fodlan and instead has only focused on how to obtain power and wage this war, a social Darwinist, someone who lies to her closest allies while spitting venom at Thales, someone childish but still able to make others dance as her puppets, rather than all of that they turn Edelgard into a mess. Cap’n writes Edelgard, first and foremost, as the victim of everyone trying to manipulate her, including sexually. He doesn’t just try to absolve her of her sins, he tries to claim they weren’t sins at all and instead part of some insane master plan. But at the same time, he’s trying to claim she has no agency in anything, because that would mean she’s responsible in some capacity. He tries to make her seem maternal, opening up to her allies and...

No. Just no. He’s trying to turn Edelgard into his ideal waifu. That, how he keeps trying to add sexual abuse or characters really being lesbians but have internalized homophobia, and how he’s willing to maim Hilda because she doesn’t join Edelgard’s glorious crusade, all of that makes me feel he has some deep seated issues with women. He wants to come across as progressive and all that jazz, but in reality he’s comes across more as a phony. He even admits his fanfic is him being self-indulgent aka he’s writing it for his own gratification.

The second is something a bit more worrying for me. He glorifies violence, saying that the point of Crimson Flower is meant to make us reconsider it’s usage. He wants violence against the system to be good, but at the same time when it’s demonstrated that Edelgard’s system requires violence against the people in order to be maintained, being the most basic idea of the Hadou/Hegemon concept he thinks is so romantic, he thinks it’s cool. He demonizes the people Edelgard commits violence against while at the same time attempting to whitewash her actions, showing a clear sign he’s uncomfortable with what she canonically does, but in this case Cap’n is all for civies being killed by the secret police? Not to mention how he denies the facts of Ferdinand/Lysithea’s paralogue as lying to the player, despite the devs claiming that the game was written to support Silver Snow, because “Edelgard would never conscript her citizens under the threat of being executed. She also let Duke Aegir live, which shows how forgiving she is, so she wouldn’t blame him for things he never did.”

He wants to argue violence is good, yet he does this. He’s made it clear he’s rejecting the reality of what the game is actually trying to say, instead cherry-picking information he likes while ignoring the bigger picture. He’s desperate to maintain that he’s not wrong in supporting her, and that’s something I feel fuels people parroting his takes like they do. They do so because they’re desperate themselves, and don’t want to admit they’ve been played like a fiddle.

The guy legitimately worries me, and I really think the fandom needs to take a good, hard look at what he’s really saying if it has any hope of recovering. That we have to actually see the game for what it is, rather than what people want it to be (though considering some of the complaints against Fates and Echoes, this isn’t a problem exclusive to Three Houses). I feel like a lot of this should have been shut down a long time ago, but at the same time the game left things kinda vague and a lot of symbolism went unnoticed for the longest time. Not to mention how it definitely feels like the Japanese developers had different ideas for what the game was about than the English translation team.

Anyway, I just wanted to get that off my chest. Thanks guys for listening. Cheers.

[thewritingstar]

Beautiful Revelations

Pairing: Gruvia (I know its been a hot ass min)

Fandom: Fairy Tail 

tags: @shellielyzabeth @be-dazzled @nostalgicxslumber @unvalley @tigerfire54

Note: It has happened. I have written 200 fanfics and idk if I should be proud or slightly scared. (feel free to skip this omg why is it so long) 

I want to say thank you to everyone who has read, liked, reblogged or interacted with me in any way. I have always had a feeling that no matter what I write, I wouldn’t matter. But every comment and sweet note left made me realize that even if its just a smile or enough to make someone hit the like button, I made a small difference or added something to the fandom. Most of my fics are quick drabbles full of spelling mistakes, random thoughts and love for the characters. I know I don’t write very long stories or finish my wips (why are we surprised) but even though Im not someone people look to as a big author, each of you have made me feel special. There have been many times, this year especially that I had decided to give up writing. “Im not good enough and no one will even notice” Thats what I told myself if I decided to just back away. But every so often I would look and see that someone new or old had read my work. Every time someone reads something I wrote, I go back and read it too. I look at all the tags and see every comment and I stop and smile and remember how much joy it brought me when I first posted. 

When I first started writing, I thought that I wouldn’t have a place. Yet in a very short span of time, I was welcomed with open arms and people started to tune in regularly for my fics. I had been given many nicknames such as Gruvia goddess, angst queen, satan (yes I know the fic0 and well even Star. 

During my darkest moments, my mind lingered to my writing and to my internet friends. without hesitation I could message someone and feel better and be given the reassure I need. I can't even begin to say how much it means to me that people actually enjoy my writing and even me as a person. 

I thank each of you for giving me a joy that was considered a luxury at one point and allowing me to write whatever I wanted and you took it with love and made me happier than I have been in years. To all the people who made art or wrote me something, it means so much to me. 

Im not saying that this fic is my greatest but I think it has a special place because It shows the growth over time. 200 fics is a lot and whether or not they were all good, it doesn't matter because I did that and I can say that im proud. Im sorry for all that sappy shit but I wouldn't be where I am without you all. 

-Star <3 

ps: im not dying or stop writing fics im just happy lol 

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  “There is never a time or place for true love. It happens accidentally, in a               heartbeat, in a single flashing, throbbing moment.”

― Sarah Dessen, The Truth About Forever

---

It was the nights like these that she hated most. The cold would creep through the blankets and make her shiver as her eyelids hung heavy. She could be ready to rest, let the sweet dreams guide her but instead those dark intrusive thoughts toyed with her like a fly on a freshly woven web. They would sprout out of nowhere, tangled with thorns and hold her mind hostage as it injected its sickly venomized thoughts for the night.

She always wondered how she got this far. She was one of the highest members of Phantom Lord, her abilities had rarely been matched. If she desperately craved, she could walk down the hallways and strike fear into the other members, no one could touch her. Hierarchies became a custom here. Once you made it to the top after clawing your way with blood, sweat and probably more blood, you were a god. Yet she walked in and in the next few minutes she was at the table with the master, already receiving a promise that she was special, a delicate and useful ally for the guild.

Special. What a swollen lie that turned out to be.

Maybe that's why she never bothered to search for a light, something to cure the rain. For every life she had bruised or ended, she wanted to feel the pain that followed. She needed to know the consequence of her actions, to be held accountable for ruining another family or taking something from the innocent. Instead she was celebrated.

The days turned to months and she found herself years later not knowing what anything meant anymore. Life used to be black and white. She would walk the side of the kind and good and now she was treading through a swarm of a morally gray compound.

These restless nights, she loathed them but then again, suffering was something that came naturally to her. The only person to ever knock her down was herself.

She climbed out of bed, fuzzy slippers over her feet as she walked to the bathroom. Her headache had worsened and she stared into the mirror. She had looked at herself a thousand times but… have her eyes always been that blue? No, she was tired and her vision was fuzzy, she was fine. Cold water came to her hands as she turned on the facet and splashed her face. Everything was the same as it always was. Expect for today.

Her order was simple. Defeat whoever stood in her way and make sure the Phantom Lord got Lucy Heratfilia. Why did they want some mage? She didn’t know but she was never one to second guess her orders. To go against what she was told was a waste of time, she would have been dead by the end of the day if she did. She had once believed that they accepted her with open arms, that Phantom Lord truly cared about her well being. It was a lie. A bitter sweet lie she allowed to remain in her head.

Hundreds of opponents had come before her. She was accustomed to the way of a battle and had harnessed her skill at a young age. The pure power of the rain pushed her further. She had an unlimited amount of power around her, unlike others, they would run out of fuel. She began to crave that god-like power. Allow the storm to rage on, all she had was herself and the droplets that followed. She understood she was an outcast. Love was never an option, not for someone who brought gloom everywhere.

But this afternoon, fate was a funny thing. She walked onto that rooftop, winning was the only thing on her mind, but he was there. A man who didn’t back down, a man who saw her as an equal.

Her heart began to race. It was forgien and she wasn’t sure if she liked it. She had felt attraction before but this, this was different. Something as small as a single glance had already spun her mind into a muddled mess. It would have been better if she turned around, if he didn’t engage in the fight. Then maybe she wouldn’t be thinking of him like this.

Love at first sight. That wasn’t real. No one could possibly have that happen. What could drive someone's emotion so wild that they become attached to a person in such a short time? And yet it happened. He stood there waiting for the next move and she could only gaze at him with rose colored glasses.

An enemy. A traitor. That's what she would be if she dared to let him escape. She couldn’t hestatite, she never did and now she was frozen in her spot as ice magic danced around her. Peoples magic and abilities never intrigued her, but this, this was beyond anything she had seen.

The light reflecting off of the ice as her droplets froze before her eyes was breathtaking and she hardly noticed that she was losing the battle. She never thought rain could look, dare she say, beautiful? But in this state of its frozen glory, it was all she could think about. She envied those who never had to stay in the rain, a jealousy she didn’t want to admit had festered over the years and she gave up trying to despise the element. But before her was something much more than the state she was accustomed to. Ice. The solid purity of her own and she had wondered what it would be like to hold it in her hands.

She had water locked him, pulled out all of the stops and even with that, he stood again and again. He had screamed that the water was boiling, burning his skin but never before had the water gone above warm. It was usually ice cold on the tipping point of freezing but she could feel the warmth surrounding her.

It shocked her just the same. She had heard people talk about feeling the sun kiss their skin, the warmth spreading as they walked, this was the closest she had felt to that. This warm rush of water was beyond what she had known and yet even as it tinged her hands it felt good, it felt freeing, it felt right.

It burned in a way she had craved for so long. Something other than the fridgeness she had grown used too.

She stared at her reflection in her mirror, tears brimming her eyes. How could one person she just met bring her something she had never felt before? She shut the light out in the bathroom and walked back to her bed, passing her window, she stopped and turned.

Above in the sky was the moon. A soft white glow surrounded the orb that she had never seen before. It was breathtaking. A cosmic power the normal people of the world didn’t dare to worship now became a luxury. The sky was clear and she could see the stars, she could sense them all. How could she have lived her entire life never once seeing the moon and the sun? She had been cursed to live in the rain forever.

But he-he made it stop.

When he grabbed her arm, it was like time had stopped. As if everything she had ever known was washed away and all she could see was a bright light encasing him. She was content knowing her death was coming, there was hardly a reason for her to live. Perhaps she wasn't even living, just surviving day after gloomy day.

He pulled her to safety, her back against the roof as she panted heavily. Those clouds above her moved like a curtain for a show, parting just so that she could see the enchanting mystery she had always craved.  

She had never known a blue sky till then. The brightness was almost unbearable as she stared into a sky she had never known. So many emotions flooded her head but it was clear as those ice crystals that her heart was beating for him. She was his enemy, they made that clear from the start but he hadn’t hesitated to save her. He showed a mercy she had never come across.

Another tear fell as she sat on her bed.

“He saved Juvia.” She whispered to herself. A horrific thought came to her. Would she have saved him? She didn’t want to know the outcome because deep down she believed she was good. Beneath the surface of unremosle power, there was that scared little girl who never had anyone to care for her.

The amount of days she sat in that orphanage alone sewing her dolls and praying that the rain stopped one way or another, it was as if she couldn’t remember it. He had done the impossible. He showed her the sky she hadn’t seen. He had shown her kindness.

A thought came to mind as she stood and packed her things. No more would she be known as “the rain woman”. No more would gloom be her only trait. She was determined to find something much more appealing than those bowing by fear. She wanted love. She wanted that warmth of the water constantly and the feeling of the sun on her skin. She understood it now. There was a power strong than her, stronger than any wizard that surrounded the other guild.

She had vowed to be done with love. Promised herself that no man could hurt her again. She was trembling at the thought of being vulnerable once more. The only time she felt warmth was the scorching burn of a fiery rejection and words that burned like lava. It was too much for someone to handle. So she pushed it down, locked the key and threw it as far as she could. The temptation though. The idea of letting her guard down for someone, someone she barely knew? How she fantasized of that moment. She had once believed that someone of her past had done that, but they were all the same. Ashamed of the rain, the rain she caused, the pain she brought.

And after their fight when she collected herself and tried to run back towards her guild, he stopped her.

“For what it's worth I think you’re an incredible wizard. You may not want to believe that your guild is dark and bad but, Fairy Tail is always open.” He had said it with such sincerity that she wasn’t sure if it were true.

“Juvia thinks your magic is just as powerful.” She had said before he gave her a smile and turned away to go back to his other guild mates.

And here she stood, a suitcases packed in the night and a note left on the desk. This guild didn’t deserve any words. Not when they feasted on her ability. Harvested those negative emotions and almost made her fall into the deep end.

She knew what they would say. They would call her a coward. A traitor and a worthless wizard, at first it was enough to stop her. Make her stay and perhaps bring back the clouds. However what he said stuck in her mind.

“I would rather die fighting than let your guild have Lucy! She is one of us and we don’t leave anyone behind.”

Without hesitation he made it clear that every member of the guild was valued no matter how long they had been there, they were a family. If something like that would have happened, if she were threatened, her guild would let her die without a second thought.

Never again would she allow someone to have a hold over her. She spent too many years sheltered by pain and deviation to go on like that.

She grabbed her bag and closed her door.

--

Juvia stood in front of the door. The morning would be better to do this but it was beyond dark outside and she didn’t want her intrusive thoughts pulling her back to her old guild. Softly she knocked, maybe hoping that he wouldn’t hear it and force her back to the isolation of fear.

The open clicked open and her eyes widened slightly as a sleepy Gray leaned against the door frame, shirtless and rubbing his eyes.

“Juvia?” He blinked and watched as her cheek puffed out in red. He looked down to see that he was only in his underwear and let out a yelp as he grabbed a blanket off the chair. “What are you doing here?”

“Um Juvia thought.” She paused and looked towards the ground. “Actually Juvia apologies for disturbing you.” Her back was to him and she began to walk away.

“Wait!” His hand caught hers and he pulled slightly. A jolt of warmth spread through her, burning her like a thousand suns as well as the chill of ice from his own temperature. She looked back at him, eyes wide and lips parted. “Juvia, please just tell me.”

“Such kindness.” She whispered to herself. Her heart rate sped up just like it did earlier and she swallowed a breath. “Juvia was wondering…why did you save her?”

His hand dropped her as if he were shocked that she would dare question his action.

“I wasn’t going to let you die. Enemies or not, I don’t think you deserved that fate. I don’t believe that you are this evil person your guild made you out to be. To be honest when you fell, you look like you didn’t care what happened and I guess I saw myself in you.”

“You saved Juvia because you know what it's like?”

“To feel lost and hopeless I guess.” He scratched the back of his neck nervously. “Sometimes it's hard thinking you deserve to live, that it would be better to harbor all the pain of your past. I don’t know everything about you but that look in your eyes. I couldn’t let you go knowing that there was a brighter future ahead.”

A tear dripped from her eye. Her smile was soft as hugged her arms to her body. “You knew Juvia would join the guild.”

“Well I wouldn’t say I knew, but I was hoping that you would. If you still want to, that is.”

“Juvia would be honored.” She bowed respectfully towards him.

Gray smiled and bowed back. His eyes faced the sky looking towards the moon. “Have you ever seen it?”

“Tonight would be the first. Juvia thinks the stars are remarkable.”

“Lucy knows alot about them, I think you two would be good friends.”

Juvia shook her head as regret twisted in her stomach. “Juvia accepts your kindness and compassion but she doesn’t know if the rest will. Juvia was her rival, she understands if everyone doesn’t see her as a friend.” She frowned slightly.

A laugh came from the ice mage's mouth. “That's the thing about Fairy Tail, no matter where you come from or what your past may have held, there's always going to be a friend waiting.”

Juvia nodded. “Thank you Gray. Juvia will talk to your guild master tomorrow.”

“Like I said before. You’re an incredible wizard, you’ll be just fine.” He winked.

“Have a nice night.”

“You too.”

She watched as he entered his house before turning around and walking towards her hotel. Her shoulders felt lighter and she held her head high for the first time. This was her step in the right direction, this was where her new life began.

Time had slowed and allowed her to pause. A beautiful revelation she never knew could exist came to mind as she just realized that she was in love.

---

She looked down at her leg in the mirror. The voices behind her had faded to the background as she became entranced with the mark of Fairy Tail.

“The blue suits you.” She turned to see Gray standing there with a smile as he was focused on her guild mark.

To say that she was grateful was an understatement. Her mask she wore like a crown had shattered. It unravels in his hands as the months went on and all that was left was the person she wanted to be. She could finally let go of her ghosts, her darkness and begin to forgive herself.  

---

“What do you think?” He asked her as the white sky fell with snow.

Gray had told her of a special spot he used to go to when the first snow came. Past the forest was a clearing of grassy hills that would soon become a winter wonderland. Laid out on one of the hills was a blanket and a few lanterns.

She held her hand out and felt the tiny snowflakes collect on her hand. He sat behind her, one arm snaked around her waist while the other hand rose above hers and created a small flurry of snowflakes.

“Breathtaking.” She gushed. This was the first time she had seen snow fall. Her eyes followed the ice magic as it formed a heart and blew into the sky joining the other flurries. She turned so she could meet his eyes and his normal content face was replaced with a smile.

He leaned forward until their noses touched briefly. “Have I ever told you how beautiful you are?” He said and she only had a moment to process his words as his lips landed on hers and her eyes fluttered close.

Her hand went to his cheek as she leaned towards him, her energy matching his and all she could hear was the thumping of her heart. She would be embarrassed to say that she might have dreamt of this moment a little too much but it didn’t matter now. All she knew was that her beloved felt the same.

---

For once she was happy to hear a cry. That little whimper bubbling from the baby's mouth, her baby, she was in disbelief. Perfection was a rarity. No one was perfect, but the being with a tuft of dark blue hair and grey eyes would beg to differ. A child was never in her future. The thought came up randomly but the idea of raising a family wasn’t even a question.

During her missions in her old guild, she would walk past a family. She would see happy faces on everyone and would only be filled with envy and hatred. Disgusting was what it was. How could you love someone else when there was no love for you?

But times change. She would see others holding their child's hand and feel a warmth in her heart at how the children beamed up at their parents. She could sense the love all around them and would smile herself, hoping that it might become a reality for herself.

She would wake in the middle of the night, not from her demons but for her new reason to live. He would babble and tug at the locks of her hair and giggle when water magic danced before his young eyes.

---

It was nights like these that loved the most. The soft rays of moonlight casting shadows through her window as silk sheets wrapped around her bare form. She used to spend nights alone, only her pillow to catch her tears and now delicate fingers trail her backside as she listens to the thumping of his heart. His chest rises and falls as her own follows the rhythm. Her eyes flutter close as her tiredness grows untils it's interrupted by a cool press of lips under her ear.

A peaceful sigh leaves her lips as she tilts her head up to meet dark eyes gazing at her. Flushed cheeks was something she wore often and she lifted off of him to move further up and meet his lips with hers. He pulls her back to him, hating the emptiness between them and adores the way she shivers when his thumb traces her guild mark.

Their love was honest and raw. She had learned that nights like those in the past would haunt him as well. They would keep him up and plague his thoughts with images of death and destruction. But now, they lingered in the shadows, always there but something brighter and beautiful guarded them to peace and she focused on the way he breathed her name then the tears that dropped.

There was an overwhelming amount of happiness that she had gathered after all the years she spent in Fairy Tail. She found friendship and family bonds. Love in all forms that she cherished deeply. Her powers were seen as a gift to help others and lend a hand, not twisted into medled lies that she had spent so long untangling.

Her lips pulled from his slowly and their breaths settled between them. When she looked at Gray she found something more. She had freedom and rebirth. Forgiveness and lust wrapped into something more than love. Their bond was stronger than she could have ever dreamed and when he left kisses over her skin she wanted nothing more in life than to stay frozen in this moment.

He did the impossible. He opened a door, shined a light through her darkness and allowed her to accept the fact that she did deserve to live. She could cherish moments and keep them as her own without the threat of corruption. Her life was now her own to command and she did it with such grace and beauty that Gray couldn’t imagine her being any different. 

“I love you.” He promised and there was no doubt in her mind that he meant it.

“I love you too.” She responded.

The beautiful truth was that she was finally at peace and loved herself. 

---

I hope that you all enjoyed and thank you for being so lovely <3

[kitkatopinions]

Seeing how this pairing is usually in Freezerburn fanfics, what are your thoughts on Ladybug? Is it as bad as Bumblebee?

I feel like Blake x Ruby is better in some ways than Bumblebee, around the same level in others, and worse in some. PLEASE NOTE: This post is meant to compare one ship I don't really like to another ship I don't really like. And while I'll be talking about merits to both ships, I'll also be talking about things I don't like in both ships. So if you don't want to see that, this post isn't for you. I'm not trying to ruin these ships for anyone, just giving my opinion on them.

Pro: Ruby was clearly drawn to and interested in Blake during their first meeting, laughing when Blake called out Weiss's company, saying "that girl..." in nearly a whisper when she spots Blake again later, acting nervous, but also nice, and is interested in hearing about Blake's book. You can compare that to Yang and Blake, where Yang talks to Blake for Ruby's sake, quickly dismisses her as a lost cause, and then winds up paired with her later out of a coincidence. In terms of 'interest from the start,' Ruby and Blake as a ship wins this.

Con: I complain that there isn't enough development for Blake and Yang in the early seasons, and that gets so much more prevalent in the relationship between Blake and Ruby. They barely talk after introducing themselves. They mostly interact with the team at large, or other people, with their emotional conversations and connections being formed with others. This carried on to the point where it's a meme that Ruby doesn't really know Blake, and when they did have an emotional moment in volume eight, it felt really out of place and shallow. Compare that to Yang and Blake, who have had significant and meaningful interactions a couple different times, who spend time together due to the fact that they're teammates, who spend a lot of time together in volumes six, seven, and eight, and started having more casual interactions with each other during that time despite it generally feeling a bit forced.

Pro: They share interests and have similarities despite being very different people, both things that can fuel an interesting ship. They're book lovers, they're action driven, they're both more introverted, they're justice driven, they both came to Beacon for similar reasons... And yet Ruby is meant to be the optimistic opposite of Blake's more pessimistic tendencies, she's vocal and out there while Blake is more pragmatic and contained, she's openly affectionate and trusting (for the first five seasons,) while Blake is hesitant and takes a while to open up to others. While Blake and Yang also have a lot of similarities and differences, they don't have a lot of interests in common. Ruby and Blake could probably talk about morals for ages, or they could talk about their favorite movie adaptions of books... Idk, they don't have a lot in common, but it's still more than nothing. Compare that to Yang and Blake, who are very different people who don't share many similarities.

Con: Blake has seriously conformed to Ruby's wants and desires and morals more than she's conformed to Yang's. Yes, Blake and Yang's relationship is unhealthy and co-dependent, but Blake hasn't conformed to Yang's morality and her leadership. In fact, she's disagreed with and argued with Yang, specifically to go with Ruby and do the things Ruby wants to do. the doylist reason for this; Blake's character has been hugely altered, she's barely recognizable to the character she was for the first five seasons, and she's now being used as one half of a ship and Ruby's cheerleader. But trying to look at things in a watsonian way, it feels like Blake is over-reliant on Ruby, depending on her to tell her what she wants and even what she believes in. She's willing to go against and argue with Yang, but not because she believes in something; because she's following Ruby's lead. Add onto that that Blake was specifically written to be fine with a lack of action in the face of a literal warzone because she thought Ruby would eventually decide what they should do and she also can't defend herself anymore and must beg Ruby to save her. To add onto that, Ruby clearly doesn't need more pressure on her shoulders and having her friends reliant on her every step of the way is clearly helping to wreck her mental health. Canon Blake and Ruby are a recipe for co-dependency and unhealthiness too, it's just of a different sort than Bumblebee and... I might consider it worse. Idk, it's a toss up.

Pro: Ruby is consistently upset when Blake isn't around or is hurt or self-destructing. She's literally, visibly angry at Weiss and snapping at her after Weiss's behavior and fighting caused Blake to run away.

During this exact time, Yang did challenge Weiss, but seems more casual about the entire situation. Ruby also explicitly says she's not mad at Blake, though she's clearly sad that Blake didn't talk to her about what was going on. She's also very concerned about Blake in the dance arc, to the point where she's clearly not interested in what her other teammates are doing or about the dance at all.

And yes, Yang is confident and casual because she thinks she can convince Blake to go to the dance, and is clearly bothered too in her conversation with Blake, but she still does seem to be a bit less personally impacted? And also, I'm having trouble finding a screen grab of the exact moments, but Ruby is clearly distraught and really missing Blake in volume five. And again, Yang has a reason for acting dismissive and cold, and her circumstances are different than Ruby's, but it's still worth noting that Blake and Yang have these big conflicts that don't get addressed that give roadblocks - like Yang having tried to force herself to not care about Blake - whereas Ruby has always cared about Blake and wanted her around and never tried to convince herself otherwise.

Con: Ruby feels significantly less mature than Blake. Ruby feels naïve, untested, and younger than her age, whereas Blake feels more adult, weathered, and older than her age. There's not anything wrong with shipping them, obviously, but it does make a romantic relationship between them a little bit harder for me to like personally. Yang and Blake feel like they're more on each other's level.

Pro: Ruby has made microaggression statements about Blake's faunus traits before ("She does like tuna a lot," "She has kitty ears and they're actually really cute,") but her statements feel less mocking and less pointed than Yang trying to lure Blake around with a laser pointer. It doesn't feel as mean spirited. It's still hard to get past as a ship and I prefer shipping Blake with people that haven't been anti-faunus without an apology, but I still consider it better than Bumblebee and less of a hurdle to get past.

Con: They didn't have anything going for them as a ship if I remember correctly for season three, season four, season six, and season seven, and the shipping moments in volume two, five, and eight were few and far between. They were at their prime as a ship in volume one, and that was eight years ago. Blake and Yang's first significant moment was in volume two, they had a bit in volume three, volumes four and five heavily included them dealing with being apart, they started being easily read as romantic in volume six, and that's continued up to volume eight. I know I've already touched on Ruby and Blake’s lack of content outstripping the lack of Bumblebee content, but Blake and Yang as a potential couple has just been more consistently included as well.

Pro: Ruby has not canonically reminded Blake of her abuser. No, I'm not trying to say that Yang is the new Adam and I do think that Ruby and Blake's dynamic in the current canon is also unhealthy. But Blake would be hard pressed to not be reminded of Adam when standing next to the explosive, passionate, aggressive, anger issues ridden Yang who's eyes turn Adam's central color when she lets her temper overtake her - which is often. And the show writing did not fully address the problems there, by having Blake swear to never leave and Yang being happy with that and then them disregarding the growth Yang had gone through in terms of working on her anger issues and had her explode for very little reason and snap at everyone in the recent seasons. Ruby - despite being rose themed and sharing Adam's color scheme - still doesn't get close to being the temperament of Adam.

In short... It's a really big toss up. Because I think that I find Bumblebee much better in terms of concept and potential, but Ladybug - while still having major problems - might be better currently as far as canon goes, yet that might be because of their lack of content, and they're... Boring for me personally. XD So yeah, both ships have major flaws, but also upsides.

[sometimesiwrite]

Essi Daven: Character Reference

Aside from my own Headcanons and Theories concerning Essi Daven, I wanted to compile a character reference sheet for those of you who may want to write her or think about her independently from my own creative perspectives. This is, of course, still subjective, but I’ve linked my conclusions directly back to the source text and kept strictly to canon information for this. There is still conjecture, but that is largely where the role of fanfiction steps in. I hope you enjoy. Physicality

Right away, we see Essi as a blonde-haired, fine-featured, petite young woman. Nothing remarkable or extraordinary about her appearance aside from her eyes. As we come to know her more and more, it’s her behaviour and physical mannerisms rather than her appearance that make her more alluring as a  side character. Throughout this story, we see her “smile oddly”, “snear”, and on more than one occasion, she’s seen “defiantly” tossing her head (usually accompanied by blowing her lock out of her face).

On more than one occasion, she’s seen drawing her head to her shoulders. To me, this is not shyness or desire to hide. It is a turtling at times if she’s feeling particularly vulnerable or overwhelmed, but it’s also a very casual pose. On the terrace during the banquet, Geralt finds her leaning on her elbows with her shoulders hunched up looking at the water. She’s capable of poise and all the social graces required of a banquet, but when she has time to herself, she slouches, reverts to what’s comfortable, is a dork when she’s in her own head. Yet she “daintily” steps onto the pier to join Geralt the following morning. Based on this information, I put to you that she is someone whose eccentricity cannot be fully tamed by “refinement”.

We see more evidence of this in her handling of her “birthday present”:

At first, her reaction to the stinky mollusk is, “Yuk!” and she responds in a “typically dainty” way, holding the shell at arm’s length. That is, until she's given permission to like the shell. No longer socially “required” to find the smelly slimy ocean thing disgusting, Essi lets her more relaxed side out, pulling a knife from her belt (!), and dumping the insides out the window with the practical announcement that “the cats can eat it.” Her ability to turn 180° from “Ewwww” to “Oh, here, let me just shuck this with my casual waist-knife and chuck it out the window” makes for a high likelihood that she wasn’t that grossed out to begin with, but was rather performing societal expectations. 

This brings us to: 

Personality 

We’ve already touched on this a little, but I want to focus now on Essi’s personality, which is rather complex. One of the most general details about her personality, however, is in her speaking: she’s direct. Oftentimes blunt. Even if she’s feeling unsure, she’s not unsure of her words. She often says or asks things seemingly out of the blue, and doesn’t shy away from Depth in her conversation. Rather, it seems to be her comfort-zone, since she defaults to asking Geralt what he associates with the sea rather than making smalltalk. 

That last statement, that she’s neither calm nor composed, to me says a lot. She speaks what she feels, often more easily than what she thinks. And I suspect that she often experiences her thoughts as feelings—something that comes from her gut rather than her head which is reserved for biting wit and incisive observation. 

Essi knows people. Knows them well enough to push their buttons, either jokingly or politically. She’s not afraid of authority, and even though her emotions fill her entirely—to the point her hands will shake—they do not render her helpless to them; rather, it seems, her emotions fuel her rhetorical capacity. Being a bard, this makes sense since the language of song and poetry are driven by the dialogue between emotion and intellect. 

Moreover, she speaks what she feels to be the truth of her experience, whether it’s her experience of someone else, or her experience of herself. What she believes to be true (however subjectively) she speaks. And if she doesn’t know something, she asks and bluntly: 

The fact that she “blanches” yet doesn’t stumble over her words here tells me she’s an excellent performer, and reinforces my previous comment that while her emotions fill her, they don’t rule over her. And yet, we also know she is impulsive and impetuous from her conversation with Geralt on the terrace: 

In this exchange, we see one of Essi’s most fascinating self-contradictions at play. She claims not to know how to control herself, says she is impetuous, reactive (the next morning she bluntly admits to being “nosey” and owns it). And yet her ability to recognize and acknowledge her lack of self-control indicates a depth and a level of self-awareness that reinforces my previous statement that she experiences life as a series of feelings—impulses, emotions, “vibes”—more than what we would categorize as “thoughts”. Essi doesn’t have an internal monologue; she has an external monologue of whatever internal experiences make their way into a verbal headspace. She’s not one to prattle on, talk for the sake of talking (like some Other Bards we know) because even though she has a lot going on internally, only some of it will ever make its way into words.  

As demure, dainty, and fragile as Essi seems to be, she also has, as Dandelion puts it, “a dark side”. 

Exactly what that is, we never really learn, but we get a glimpse of it from Geralt’s perspective at the banquet:

What did she say? While we may not be meant to ever know the answer, we know that a) Essi was smug about it; and b) whatever it was was cutting and more than likely sexually demoralizing in nature. 

Which brings us to…

Sexuality and Romance

There are several instances throughout A Little Sacrifice that indicate a level of sexual maturity and confidence in Essi that contrast interestingly with her emotional naivety (which I’ll get to in a moment). 

It’s possible, in this instance, that Essi simply doesn’t not abide by the same “rules” about physical boundaries and various social meanings behind physical touch. This moment is certainly not enough to draw any conclusions one way or another. However, the description of her kiss with Geralt on the terrace is less ambiguous in this way, more ambiguous in another.

I first want to fully acknowledge that this scene is a mess of different signals, and I believe the lack of further insight on the part of the author is not intriguing, but lazy. But I digress. She kisses him eagerly and expertly, which suggests that she, mechanically at least, knows what she’s doing with her face and someone else’s. The fact that she distances the rest of her body from Geralt suggests a few things: a) she wants to kiss Geralt but doesn’t know whether he feels the same way, so doesn’t want to commit fully; b) she knows that Geralt doesn’t know why he’s kissing her, and so is trying to distance herself from him so that neither of them makes a mistake; c) she’s caught off-guard and doesn’t mind having a good smooch but doesn’t want him to get the wrong idea about her wanting anything else; d) all of the above. 

I would include the possibility that she feels threatened by him and is merely going through the motions, but there’s enough evidence before and after to refute that as a forefront possibility. That’s not to say it isn’t in the background, but the use of “eagerly” would suggest that she’s enthusiastic about a little lip action. We do know that she’s not “looking for a man for the night” from the end of their conversation before going back inside. 

I have a few headcanons about Essi’s sexuality and I shuffle back and forth between them depending on the day. There’s enough evidence to support a halfhearted claim that Essi is a virgin (which doesn’t inherently negate the evidence for sexual confidence), but I lean more toward the notion that Essi is sexually experienced (thought likely far less than Dandelion), picky (hence the red-eared young man at the banquet), and romantically inexperienced. There is, I will say, a level of modesty, vulnerability, and hesitation in her interactions with Geralt that lead me to believe she has had minimal directly-sexual encounters. 

Is it projecting to say she reminds me a lot of myself in my early-20s? Yes. But to say this character resonates very strongly with my personal experiences, I think, gives some character insight where information and road signs are lacking from the author. And I will say, it is very in-keeping with Essi’s ongoing self-contradictions to be both bawdy and sexually inexperienced. Her canon story arc, unfortunately, doesn’t allow us to imagine her a few years older, but the idea of a more confident, self-assured Essi at 23/24 makes me very happy. 

Now, I’m not going to slog through the dialogue disaster that is Essi’s emotional outpouring to Geralt, but suffice it to say, it’s clear she’s never been infatuated/in love before, though she is clearly a romantic. She hates the feeling of being in love, hates that it turns her needy, hates the way it makes her skin crawl and her stomach churn. But there’s something appealing about it as well, and I think there’s a part of her that is desperate to make love. Regardless of whether or not she’s sexually active, to me it’s clear that she wants an emotional-physical connection of some kind; she seeks out comfort from Geralt, seeks out affection, tenderness, but she is also seeking an emotional return—the little sacrifice that Geralt cannot find within himself to give. If she’s had bedmates in the past, it would be remiss to call them lovers. 

That’s it, folks! That’s all I’ve got for the time being. As always, questions and observations are welcome (as well as disagreements as long as you’re willing to do it nice and polite like). 

[natsubeatsrock]

Should Hiro Mashima die?

My answer is no. 

Though, this isn't about actually killing Hiro Mashima. Kinda got you with the title, though, huh? (This was originally going to be titled “Is Hiro Mashima dead?” and released on his birthday. You’re welcome.)

This post is about a widely debated topic of analysis known as the "death of the author." I've talked about this a few different times in passing in a few posts over the years. You could argue that this belongs in my series rewriting Fairy Tail and I considered placing it there. However, I feel that it's better that I keep this detached from that series. This topic concerns criticism of any series. Naturally, being a Fairy Tail blog, I plan on engaging this with the context of Fairy Tail's author being dead or not, hence the title. Still, this is helpful to think about for analysis of plenty of other series.

Again, though, my answer is still no.

Let's start with the origin of this term. The term comes from an essay by Roland Barthes called "La mort de l'auteur". Use your best guess as to what that translates to. I highly encourage you to read the essay as it's pretty short. It's about six or seven pages, depending on the version. There are three main points to his essay.

Creative works are products of the culture they come from and less original than people expect. 

The idea of the author as the sole creator and authority of creative works is fairly modern. 

The author's interpretation of a work shouldn't be considered the main or only interpretation of a work.

Of these three points, I'm sure you recognize the last point. But first, I want to talk about the other points. I believe it is important to understand the arguments being made as a whole.

The first point should be fairly uncontroversial. The vast majority of creative works use established language, tropes, and elements to create a new thing. I wouldn't go as far as Barthes does in this regard. Not to mention, this is somewhat weird to know considering his third point. However, I agree that creative works should be considered products of the culture and genre they come from.

The second point is a bit trickier for me. To be clear, the point is true. You only have to look at various cultural mythologies as an example. There isn't a single version of the Greek myths. There are several versions and interpretations of the various stories and myths. 

Even recent popular fictional characters have had several different interpretations. This is especially true with comics. There have been multiple different Batman interpretations, Spiderman runs, and X-Men teams that fans love. Fans even love and appreciate numerous forms of established characters like Frankenstein's monster and Sherlock Holmes. So, as a consumer and critic of art, I can understand this.

My problem is as a creator of art. I understand this being contentious when it comes to something like religious myths. But, if I create something, I want to get the credit for it. I want people to love my music or writing. But I also want people to recognize me for my skill in crafting it.

This is true even if you hold to the first point Barthes made.  Even if you believe that no art is truly unique, isn't the skill of synthesizing the various tropes and influences around a person worthy of credit in and of itself?

Then again, I am not without bias in this. Barthes says that the modern interpretation of the author is a product of the Protestant Reformation. As a Protestant myself, I get that my background plays no part in my view of this. Barthes also blames English empiricism and French rationalism, but personal faith is the biggest influence on me that Barthes lists.

That being said, there's also something Barthes completely misses in his essay. In the past, stories were passed down by oral tradition. As the stories were passed down from generation to generation, they slowly evolved and became what they are known today. Scholars today can gather a general consensus of what a story was meant to be and some traditions were more faithful about passing traditions down than others. However, you can't always tell the original author of a mythological story the same way we know who gave us stuff like the Quran or the Bible. 

As time passed, stories were written down. With this, it was easy to share single versions of a story and identify its creator. We know who made certain writing of works even before the 1500s. For example, we have the Travels of Marco Polo and Dante's Inferno and know their authors. We could tell the authors of works were before the Protestant Reformation. 

By the way, the Reformation happened to coincide with one of the most important inventions in human history: the printing press. Now you can easily make copies of an individual's works and you don't have to rely on word of mouth to share stories.

I can't stress how important an omission this is. The printing press changed the way we interact with media as a whole and might be the most important invention on this side of the wheel. And yet Barthes doesn't even mention as even a potential factor in "the modern concept of the author"? In his essay about understanding written media? That’s like ignoring Jim Crow in your essay about Birth of a Nation bringing back the KKK.

Now, we get to the final point. The author's original intentions of their works are not the main interpretation. This is understood as being the case after they create the series. Once the work is written and sent into the public, they cease to be an authority on it.

It's worth recognizing how this flows from the other two points. Barthes argued that works of fiction are products of their culture and our current understanding of an author is fairly modern. Therefore, the interpretation of the reader is just as valuable as that of the author. As Barthes himself wrote, "the birth of the reader must be at cost of the death of the author." 

At best, this means that a reader can come away with an interpretation of a work that isn't the one intended. With Fairy Tail, my mind goes to the final moments of the Grand Magic Games. My view of Gray's line "I've got to smile for her sake" has to do with romantic feelings for Ultear. I don't know of a single person who agrees with this. Mashima certainly hasn't come out and affirmed this as the right view.

It's good to recognize that a work can have more meanings behind it than the ones intended by its creator. Part of the performing process is coming to a personal interpretation of a work. In many cases, two different performances will have different interpretations of the same work, neither of which went through the creator's mind. At the same time, both work and are valid.

That being said, there is an obvious problem with this: readers are idiots. Not all readers are necessarily idiots. But enough of them are idiots. The views of idiots should have as much weight as that of the creator. Full stop. Frankly, I maintain that idiots are the worst possible sources to gauge anything of note. (At the very least, policy decisions.)

I know this as a reader who has not been alone in misunderstanding a work. I know this as an analyst who has had to sift through all kinds of cold takes on Fairy Tail. (Takes that are proven wrong simply by going through it a second time. Or a first.) And I definitely know this as a creator who has to see people butcher my works through nonsensical "interpretations."

At the same time, the argument Barthes made comes with an important caveat. He also argued that works are the products of the culture and surroundings of the author. Barthes isn’t making the argument that author’s arguments don’t matter.

As far as I can tell, Barthes doesn't take this to mean that those influences are worth analyzing. Doing so would be giving life to the author. However, there should be some recognition that a creative work didn't come to exist out of nowhere. There's a sense in which Fairy Tail didn't just wash up on the shore chapter by chapter or episode by episode. It came to be as part of the culture it came from.

Now, you'll never guess what happened. Over the years, the concept of "death of the author" lost its original intent. Nowadays, people usually only care about the third point. "Death of the author" is only brought up to dismiss "word of God" explanations of work, after its release. I'd venture to guess that most people using the term casually don't know anything about its roots. I honestly don't know how Barthes would feel about this.

I can understand what might fuel this view. A writer should do their best to write their intended meanings in a work. It would be wrong of a writer to make up for their poor writing after the fact. I don't love Mashima's "Lucy's dreams" explanation for omakes. I know Harry Potter fans don't love the stuff J.K. Rowling has said over the years.

At the same time, my (admittedly Protestant) understanding of "word of God" and "canon" is that they have the same authority. After all, the canon IS the word of God. It is a small section of what God has said, but it isn't less than that.

Of course, it's worth recognizing that nearly every writer we're talking about isn't even remotely divinely inspired or incapable of contradiction. This understanding should cut two ways. An author should never contradict their work in talking about it. Write what you want and make clear what you want to. On the other hand, writers can't fit everything they want to in a work. I'll get to this soon, but their interpretation should be treated with some value.

By the way, people will do this while throwing out the other arguments made by Barthes in the same essay. People will outright ignore the culture and context that a work comes from in order to justify their views. Creators are worshiped and praised for their works or seen as the sole problem for the bad views on works.

What worries me most about this modern interpretation of "the death of the author" is its use in fan analysis. People seem to outright not care about the author's intent in writing a story. They only care about their own interpretation of the work. Worse still, people will insist that any explanation an author gives is them covering up their mistakes. Naturally, this often leads to negative views of the work in question.

This is just something I'll never fully understand. It's one thing if you don't like something. If you don't get why something happened, shouldn't your first move be to figure out what the author was thinking? Instead, people move to the idea that it makes no sense and the writer's a hack.

If all of this seems too heady, let's try to bring this down to earth. Should Hiro Mashima die so that his readers can be born?

Hiro Mashima is one of many mangakas who were influenced by Akira and Dragon Ball. He considers J.R.R. Tolkien to be one of his favorite writers. Monster Hunter is one of his favorite game series. He's even written a manga series with the world in mind. 

It would make sense to look at Fairy Tail purely through this lens. You could see Fairy Tail as a shonen action guild story. Rather than seeing the guild as a hub for its members, Fairy Tail's members treat those within it as family. Rather than focusing on one overarching quest, the story is about how various smaller quests relating to its main characters threaten their guild. Adopting this view wouldn't necessarily be an incorrect way to engage with the series. (Mind you, I haven’t seen this view shared by many people who “kill Mashima”.)

Though, there's more to Fairy Tail than the various tropes that make it up. If you were to divorce Fairy Tail entirely from its creator, you'd miss out on understanding them. There are ways Mashima has written bits of himself into the series. Things that go farther than Rave Master cameos and references.

My favorite example is motion sickness. I often think back to Craftsdwarf mocking motion sickness as a useless quirk Dragon Slayers have. It turns out that its origin comes from his personal life. Apparently, one of his friends gets motion sickness. He decided to write this as part of his world.

This gets to the biggest reason I don't love "death of the author" as a framework for analysis. I believe the biggest question analysts should answer is why. Why did an author make certain decisions? You can't do this kind of thing well if you shut out the author's interpretation of their own work. Maybe that can work for some things, but not everything.

I've had tons of fun going through Fairy Tail and talking about it over the past seven years. More recently, I've been going through the series with the intent to rewrite the series. I've made it clear multiple times in that series that I'm trying to understand and explain Mashima's decisions in the series. I don't always agree with what I find. However, trying to understand what happened in Fairy Tail is very important to me.

It's gotten to the point that I love interacting with Mashima's writing. I talk about EZ on my main blog. I can't tell you how much fun I've been having. I'll see things and go "man, that's so Mashima" or "wow, I didn't expect that from him." HERO'S was one of my favorite things of last year and I regularly revisit it for fun. It's the simplest microcosm of what makes each series which Mashima has made both similar and distinct.

Barthes was on to something with his essay. I think there should be a sense where people should feel that their views of the media they consume are valid. This should be true even if we disagree with the author's views on the series. But I don't know that the solution is to treat the author's word on their own work as irrelevant.

There's a sense where I think we should mesh the understandings of media engagement. We recognize that Mashima wrote Fairy Tail. There are reasons that he wrote the series as we got it and they're worth knowing and understanding. However, our own interpretation of the series doesn't have to be exactly what Mashima intended. We can even disagree with how Mashima did things. 

I know fans who do this all the time. They love whatever series they follow, but wish things happened differently. Fans of Your Lie in April will joke about [situation redacted] as well as write stories where it never happens. You love a series, warts and all, but wish for the series to get cosmetic surgery, or take matters into your own hands.

And who knows? It's not as if fans haven't affected an author's writing of a series. Mashima's the perfect example. I've said this a few times before, but Fairy Tail has gone well past its original end at Phantom Lord (or Daphne for the anime fans). Levy rose to importance as fans wanted to see more of her.

Could Mashima have done that if we killed him?

Before the conclusion, I should mention another way “death of the author“ comes up. People will invoke “death of the author“ to encourage people to enjoy works they love made by messed up people. Given everything we’ve said up to this point, that’s obviously not what should be intended by its use. For now, though, I do think that we can admit that we like the works of someone even if we don’t agree with everything they did as a person. (Another rant for another day.)

In Conclusion:

“Death of the Author” is an imperfect concept, but it’s not without its points. I don’t think we should throw out the author’s intent behind a work. However, we should be able to have our disagreements with the author’s views without killing them.

[afairytalestray]

The Dawn of the Age of Skimblegus

One of the most underrated ships in all of Cats.

Part 9 of my Cats pre-canon headcanon series (masterpost here), coming at you after delay caused by me taking forever to write this rather long instalment basically from scratch! But anyway it’s here now, and we’re back on character backstories, this time: Skimbleshanks, Asparagus, and a wee bit of Tumblebrutus being a mischievous sunshine smol. This one is maybe the longest one I’ve done yet; this was entirely unintentional and unplanned - it literally came to me as I was writing it. There is far too little Skimblegus content out there so I am creating the content I want to see! Just a content warning to start with: this one gets a bit dark - there’s a character death. Nothing too gruesome, but it is there. However, due to who I am as a person, it does have a happy ending. Without further ado, please enjoy!

Skimbleshanks, despite having god-tier dad skills, never actually has any biological kittens of his own. He’s something of an uncle figure to many of the Cats in the Junkyard (and the future adopted father of Mungojerrie and Rumpleteazer - coming in a future post), and is perfectly happy with his lot. In his youth, he was very much a free spirit. He had itchy paws, and when he discovered the trains he became obsessed with travelling up and down the country on them. His time on the trains became a delight to the human rail workers and regular passengers, and he became quite well-known as the Railway Cat - the workers even set him up his own little office (like Tama!). At first, he split his time fairly evenly between the trains and the Junkyard - as much as he loved to travel, there was one thing he loved more: his best friend Asparagus (Jr.).

Skimbleshanks and Asparagus grew up together and were nigh inseparable from each other for most of their kittenhood. Skimble couldn’t tell you when exactly his feelings shifted from platonic to romantic, it was a very gradual thing. Asparagus can - the first time Skimble went away on the trains for more than a day, he realised he missed him more than a normal amount and it quickly clicked into place. It was normal for Skimble to set off in the morning and bounce back in the evening, but this time felt like forever. Never being a shy one, Asparagus resolves to tell Skimble when he returns. Even though he doubts Skimble feels the same way (Y’ALL), he hates keeping secrets from his best pal, and he’s confident their friendship is strong enough to survive it.

But when Skimble came back the next day, he just couldn’t do it. Skimble was high as a kite; he went on for an age about all the things he saw, how amazing the trip was, how amazing all the trips were, how the longer ones were so exciting, how he wants to go here, there, and everywhere etc…. And all Asparagus can think about is that they seem fundamentally incompatible. Asparagus has always been a homebody. He’s quiet, likes the comfort of his own den, always being close to his family, and has never had that adventurous streak that fuels Skimble’s every move. And the thought that even if Skimble did feel the same it wouldn’t work, that is far too painful to entertain. He would want to be close to Skimble, but knows he could never be happy constantly flitting from place to place. He also could never ask Skimble to give it up knowing how happy it makes him. So, Asparagus makes the call to swallow it all down for now, and then let it go. This choice, unfortunately and unintentionally, causes a bit of a gap to grow between them, as Asparagus struggles to act normal around him and needs a bit of space to get over the feelings.

At this point, Skimbleshanks is aware of his own feelings, but for the life of him can’t work out how to express them. He desperately wants to, and is constantly thinking of new ways to do it, but keeps binning them when they’re not totally perfect. It has to be perfect! He also notices that Asparagus has been acting weird around him, but can’t get him to talk about it. It worries him, but he doesn’t want to push the issue, and he has his trains to distract him after all. A week or so later, he sets off on a multi-day trip, resolving that if Asparagus is still off when he gets back, he’s going to trap them both in the old wardrobe so they can hash it out properly, Skimble can confess and then they’ll all live happily ever after. 

There was nothing that could’ve prepared him for what he came back to.

Asparagus was right back to normal, albeit with the small caveat that he had met someone. A queen, a pretty ragdoll queen who was calm, clever and cautious, a little shy and reserved. When Asparagus excitedly introduced them Skimble felt his heart break, but he plastered a smile on his face and let Asparagus tell him all about how they met and how crazy their instant connection was. Asparagus had never meant to meet someone else, but he thought the best way to get over Skimble was to try and make some new friends, so despite his dislike of interacting with the general public and talking to strangers, he trotted on over to one of Bustopher’s clubs where he met Caorann. They both had a lot in common and hit it off right away, both of them bonding over trying to hide in the same corner since neither of them were comfortable in a room full of unknowns. Genuinely, the only other Cat Asparagus had had such a fast and strong connection with was Skimble, and since he had resolved to let his feelings for him go, he thought it would be a good thing to see where this might lead. The two of them fell in love quickly.

Skimble wanted to be furious, he really did, but he couldn’t. Caorann was nervous around him but always very sweet. Although she never knew about Skimbleshanks’ old feelings for Asparagus, she knew he was very important to him, and always strived to make a good impression. He was miserable and wanted to hate her, and at first couldn’t see how the two were a good match. But he could never bring himself to even dislike her, because it became very obvious very quickly that the two were more than a good match. Skimble, bless him, had never really considered the long term ramifications of being in a relationship with Asparagus, and was abruptly slapped in the face by all the same things that had occurred to Asparagus before: that the two were very different, and that their lifestyles just weren’t all that compatible. Caorann was a good match for Asparagus: neither of them were particularly adventurous, their idea of a perfect day involved little more than basking in a quiet patch of sunlight, and they shared the same lack of concern for the bustle and goings on of life outside their little happy bubble and the same desire to be comfortably settled. Fundamentally, at that time, Caorann was the better choice. Despite that, Skimble can’t help but think he might have given it all up for a chance to be with Asparagus.

But that hurt too much to think about, so Skimble went back to his trains, unable and unwilling to break Asparagus out of a happy relationship with someone else, but it never quite brought him the same joy as before. But it was a whole lot better than constantly seeing the Cat he loved in love with someone else, so he spent more and more time away from the Junkyard. The hurt lessened, after a while. It never really went away, but he found he was able to genuinely be happy when Caorann became pregnant, and vowed through joyful tears to be the best uncle in the world for little kitten Tumblebrutus when he was born.

On the day it happened, Skimbleshanks had recently gotten back to the Junkyard when a loud screech and a wail shattered the calm of the evening. Running towards the sound, the source was a sight that still gives him nightmares to the present day: baby Tumble screaming and crying as he lay trapped under the motionless bodies of his parents. It came out later that the three of them had gone on a family walk together, and on their way back as they crossed the road to the Junkyard, a car suddenly skidded round the corner and hurtled towards them as fast as lightning. Without thinking, Caorann and Asparagus threw themselves in front of their son. It worked. Little Tumble was almost completely unharmed, but Caorann was killed instantly, and they thought Asparagus had been too. However, as they were moved off of the road, they noticed Asparagus was breathing. It was extremely weak and laboured, but he was breathing.

Skimble can barely remember the weeks that followed. He only has flashes of burying Caorann, mostly remembering how it was wrong that Asparagus wasn’t there. All he can really remember was that everything hurt and was awful, and that he did whatever he could to help Jennyanydots, who took sole charge of Asparagus’ care (she and Jellylorum were already fully trained healers then, but Asparagus is Jelly’s little brother, and it was very difficult for her). He also tried to help look after Tumblebrutus, who was too young to understand what was going on. It took Asparagus a fortnight to wake up properly, and several more weeks to be able to move about independently again. When he woke up, he was deeply altered. He was in terrible physical pain, but also became emotionally despondent when he learned about Caorann. Skimble stayed by his side the whole time, trying to coax him into talking, maybe even smiling, and very gradually they made progress. Asparagus mourned his partner deeply, and was only able to pull himself out of it when he realised that Tumble needed him. It took a long time, but eventually Asparagus came back to himself.

To most other Cats, at least. Skimble was probably the only one who saw that Asparagus still had moments of deep sadness. To the others it just looked like he had zoned out for a moment, but Skimble knew those were the times when he was thinking about Caorann. These moments got easier for Asparagus to deal with over time, and although at times he missed her, it became pleasant for him to talk about her with Tumble, and he could remember their time with happiness instead of sadness, and eventually even realised that he was ready to try being with someone else.

The problem with that though, was that the accident had greatly damaged his body. He has chronic pain; he can no longer really dance like he used to, and can’t move around very far - leaving the Junkyard is no longer really an option for him. To his surprise, his old feelings for Skimble started to resurface. Although, he shouldn’t really have been surprised. Skimble had hardly left his side at all since the accident happened (the trains are in CHAOS), he’d been there through all the setbacks and progress, his meticulous nature shining through in his diligent care. He was such a constant in his life to the extent that Tumblebrutus was genuinely shocked when he learned that Skimble actually wasn’t related to him in any way (he basically sees Skimble as a second dad). However, Asparagus is more decided than ever that they wouldn’t work as a couple, seeing as how now he couldn’t join Skimble’s journeys even if he did want to. Skimble, though, is the deepest romantic at heart. He never stopped loving Asparagus, but knew he was needed as a friend first and foremost, so that’s what he was. He always says to himself that if they were ever to be more, he would never want to replace Caorann, so it would only be when Asparagus asked. So naturally, nothing ever happens.

Until Tumble puts his paw down. As he gets older, he struggles to understand why his two dads aren’t together. He knows about his mother, of course, but believes with his whole heart (correctly) that she would want them to be happy. He begins to plot ways to get them together, but doesn’t make much progress with the two stubbornly resistant Cats until Mistoffelees helps him. 

When Misto arrives in the Junkyard he’s looked after by Skimble, who introduces him to Tumble. Misto is painfully shy and quiet, but with Asparagus as his dad Tumble is very used to quiet Cats, and Misto becomes a tentative friend. By the time Misto is mated, more confident and moving out from Skimble’s care, he wants to thank him for everything he’s done and how kind he’s been, and asks Tumble for help. Tumble immediately tells all about how grossly in love his dads are, but that they aren’t together for some reason despite his best efforts. The two of them decide that the dawn of the age of Skimblegus is nigh, and come up with a plan.

The next day the two of them separately lure Skimble and Asparagus to a secret location under the guise of “it’s a surprise”, which works despite its simplicity as Skimble is very fond of Misto and Asparagus is Tumble’s loving father. The secret location is revealed to be a nice picnic setup, and the boys each leave their respective parent figure with the cryptic message of “do yourself a favour and tell him.” Skimble and Asparagus decide to play along, but all mystery is very quickly dropped, as the picnic is very clearly romantic and intended to be a date. Things are a bit awkward at first, but the two soon fall into their usual easy rhythm. That is, until Asparagus jokes about this being Tumble’s idea of a date (“I mean, it’s not like it’s bad or anything, but like, yeah…” “Haha, yeah, as far as romantic gestures go it’s pretty good.” “It is kinda romantic, isn’t it?” “It is a bit, but like, that’s not a bad thing of course!” “Of course! I can think of far worse dates to be on!” “And Cats to be with!” “Is this… I mean, are we, you know, on a date right now?” and so on).

And then finally, finally, it all comes out. Skimble finally reveals that he’s been in love with Asparagus his whole life, but never got the chance to tell him before, then didn’t know if he could or should after everything; and Asparagus says that he loved him before and again now, but just doesn’t know that it would work. It all gets very sappy and mushy, but they ultimately decide to give it a go. And it works! The two of them have always gotten along like a house on fire, but now it’s more, and better! Tumble is ecstatic, and of course takes all the credit for himself (with the exception of the 20% he grants Misto). Skimble does go back to the trains, he’s missed them, but now he spends maybe only ⅓ of his time there, and the other ⅔ in the Junkyard with his beloved Asparagus. They’re both extremely happy with the balance, and always spend hours catching each other up when Skimble returns. Although Skimble is very much still an adventure-seeker, now that he’s a bit older and more mature he definitely enjoys a long nap curled up with his partner! They’re a happy, healthy couple who support each other, make each other laugh, and make the worst dad jokes you can possibly imagine.

[princess-havok]

Love Fast Los Angeles Read-Through: Chapters 1-6 (pg 18-56)

I meant to write this up last night to post today but then I ended up busier than anticipated and didn't actually finish reading the section til like 11:30 and then I couldn't be bothered. Whatever, I don't have a schedule, you're not my real dad!

Anyway, the first 6 chapters of this wild fucking book: let's talk about them.

We pick up in chapter 1 with Al having been in Hollywood for almost a year, first working as a paparazzo and then starting his own gossip site fueled by his insider access to the Effs, the cast of a reality show called All Fs: Fierce, Fearless and Fucked-Up Females, aka Stella et al. I gotta say I am wildly uncomfortable when anyone uses "female" when they mean "woman" and I know it's technically correct but it activates my fight or flight response. But also I would watch the shit out of that show, I watched like every season of Jersey Shore, trashy reality is my jam.

Anyway, we pick up with Al at a party DJed by one of the Effs, The Barbie, which he's shooting. He's also absolutely enamored with another celebrity (?), Sky Monroe. It's not entirely clear what Sky does, but I think she might be internet famous, and Al is in love but also a terrible flirt. Like the third thing he says to her in his entire life is a marriage proposal and then offers to consummate that marriage at her leisure and it's truly awkward but also, way more charming coming from Al than it would be from, say, Score. I know I mentioned how deeply I love Al while reading Pop Kids and that hasn't changed. He's the best. His characterization is actually really in line with the pacing in this bit. I still think the Preface was insane with everything that happened in like 8 pages but here the fast pacing, the number of people he interacts with at this party, and everyone else is perfectly in sync with a) the fast pace of Hollywood and celebrity life and b) Al being really, really hyper and stoked on life.

Anyway, Sky is interested in being on Al's site (which is AlThisAndMore.com because of course it is, but also not a real domain and that bums me out, someone buy that up) to raise her profile since she's going to be in a movie. In the first piece of excellent satire in this book, it's a remake of a Japanese horror film -- and the original only came out last week. Beautiful touch. Love it.

Because Al can't shut the fuck up he reveals his plan to destroy James Shannon's life, and Sky is absolutely about to reveal something when they're interrupted by The Barbie shooting a pellet gun at Al and then everyone else in the club, because she's just Like That, and it's a Thing.

So Sky and Al make a quick exit to the ladies' room with Sky's entourage (two I presume drag queens Al calls 'The Trueblood' and 'The Unicorn,' or 'The Mythicals' collectively. They talk about featuring Sky in his site, nothing scandalous, and all the while the Mythicals are cutting lines of coke on the counter.

Al keeps trying to flirt as one of the Mythicals writes a note and Sky's number on a gum wrapper, and when Al makes a comment to Sky about what the gum (that she's chewing) tastes like, so The Unicorn kisses him, hands him the note and says "Follow us and be fast" and like, who was this all for? What's with the covert spy shit? They're the only people in the bathroom. Just... give him your number and say follow us. This is so weird.

On the way out of the club, one of the paps outside asks Al if he's seen James Shannon, who supposedly came to the club to meet Sky. Taking a page right out of the Score Massi 'My Dream Girl Has Done Nothing Wrong Ever In Her Life' playbook, Al denies it, saying she wouldn't be caught dead with him.

We'll see how that turns out for him.

Speaking of Score, it's briefly mentioned but he was at the party, and now Al goes to meet him at a diner. I'm not sure when this plan to meet up happened since I thought he was about to go follow Sky somewhere, but... alright.

Seeing Score through someone's eyes other than his own is...a trip. 17-year-old Score in Pop Kids thought he was the absolute shit. I'm sure 20-something Score does too, but seen through Al's eyes, he's just kinda sad, y'know? He's got like 4 different phones to keep up with lord knows what, everywhere he goes it's to be seen, and he's broke as fuck but just gets expensive shit for free because he has a large following online. He's absolutely an influencer who thinks he's the shit, but he's kind of just a nobody. He's still with Stella, but she is also seeing other people so he's effectively homeless when she has another guy over. He's still as obsessed with fame as ever. Also he isn't vegan anymore, even though he's the reason Al became vegan. Al looked up to him in high school, but it's very clear here: Al grew up (kinda), Score didn't.

They talk about Sky for a bit, and then about James Shannon, and we learn more about him: he was on a teen soap opera and then started a band, Drop Dead Gorgeous. At this point my money is on Jared Leto for inspiration behind this character, but also, Drop Dead Gorgeous is actually a band so this part tripped me up. I never listened to them but they were 100% part of that Warped Tour scene in the mid-00s during the height of AFI's popularity in that same scene and I feel like they must've crossed paths at some point, though to be fair it's impossible to give your fake band a name that has 100% guaranteed never been used by a real band ever. Anyway, the real Drop Dead Gorgeous had 6 members and four of them were named Daniel, and we just kinda let them.

Anyway, the last three chapters of this section are dedicated to the fact that Al apparently has a sugar daddy? We don't learn his real name, but it's an eccentric older man who helped Al out when his motorcycle broke down, bought him his car, and lets him stay in his poolhouse whenever he wants (and according to Score, gets off on Al watching him jerk off, so... yeah). Al calls him Uncle Noah and calls his house The Ark because of all the exotic animals he has living, there, including several kinkajous -- one of whom dies of a coke overdose while Al is there, because that's the kind of house Uncle Noah has. Also he's insane, and Al is constantly rebuffing his advances but he still gives him money. It's very well written as being a really creepy situation but one that Al goes along with because he needs the money. When in the shit is someone gonna help my boy Alvin???

The next morning Uncle Noah insists on taking Al to brunch, where he runs into Sky again, and bails on Uncle Noah to go hang out with her. And thus ends chapter 6....