#i need to stop putting so much effort into rarepair art

[mysterionrisez]

colorado is NOT supposed to be this hot!!!

[heartfulselkie]

Look

If you see a post that is clearly for a certain ship and decide to reblog it - it is completely unnecessary for you to add tags along the lines of "I know this is for X ship but..." / "wow you can just tell they don't have chemistry" / "you can totally tell character A is thinking about their true love character Z instead of the one they're with here!"

Why?

Because its just plain rude!

How many times do we need to have this discussion? Someone put their time and effort into making a post/fic/art/whatever for a ship they enjoy! So what if its a rarepair or pairing that deviates from the main ship? If it's not to your taste then don't talk shit in the tags!

Or better yet just don't reblog it if you don't like it that much!

There's plenty of content available for the mainstream/canon ships for you to enjoy. So stop stomping over and making fun of the ships other people like. It's rude to the person who created something for a ship they like only to get someone saying "yeah I know this is about X ship but I'm going to talk about the real ship instead!"

Why does this continue to be a problem?

Some of you need to grow up.

[thatgirlwithasquid]

tag game: stranger things edition 👻

tagged by @ratbastardbilly and @intothedysphoria (ty guys xx)

1. ride or die ship (your otp): CUNNINGWAY!!! They’re my girls. Chrissy and Heather my beloveds. I have never been so hyped for a ship before and this is the first time I’ve put this much effort into one, but if I don’t advocate for this rarepair then who will? (the answer is bambi. bambi will. but whatever, you get the point)

2. most annoying ship: there isn’t really a ship i find WHOLLY annoying. stancy maybe. i also think jancy and mileven have ran their course and jopper gives me a lil bit of the ick. obvi no hate to the ships or those that ship it!!

3. second favourite ship: ima have to say harringrove, but there are others i like a lot too!!

4. favourite platonic relationship: heather, chrissy & billy. the chaos trio. more should be done with them <3

5. underrated ship: there are so many!! argyle/chrissy (which i am lovingly referring to as pompompinapple, just try and stop me)? byergrove (billy/jonathan)? calicheer (billy/chrissy)??? how can i possibly choose????

6. overrated ship: uhhhh this feels dangerous. but steddie. dont get me wrong, i love this ship, but the boom in works for them was INSANE cause i dont think they have TOO MUCH chemistry in canon (tho there 100% is a good bit and it makes sense)

7. one thing i would change in canon: the blatant lack of care the main cast have for characters outside their group. no empathy for billy, barely anyone looking into heather, characters dying that no one mentions again…

8. something canon did right: I really liked steve and dustin’s dynamic. like, a LOT. they cocked it up a bit in s4 for the sake of ‘haha, dumb steve’ but yeah. theyre sweet :)

9. a thing i’m proud of creating for the fandom: my sideblog @poolsidepanic . i know that its a niche ship but i hope i help other people who love them as much as me actually be able to enjoy their ship and not just… be disappointed when they come up empty handed. the art and little fics and such i make over there make me so happy <3

10. a character who is perfect to me (wouldnt change a thing): heather. sassy, bitchy, yet kindhearted lifeguard? yes. the only thing id change is the DISSERVICE THE DUFFERS GAVE HER WHEN THEY KILLED HER AND IGNORED HER EXISTENCE.

11. the character i relate most to the most and why: steve. just how he responds to the offhanded comments the people he cares about make to him, that they never seem to realise hurt.

12. character i hate most and why: neil, karen, brenner. no explanation needed

13. something ive learned from the fandom: idk. ive always wanted to be a positive person but seeing some of the toxicity in the fandom has made me really want to keep my little blog as positive and safe as i can for everyone. some things we see SUCK but if i can make someones day a lil better id like to? so not really a learn but an encouragement to be nicer wherever i can

14. three tags i seek out on ao3: i dont read a lot of st fanfiction, actually. i havent been in the mood for it for AGES!! but in general im a slow burn, hurt/comfort, angst kind of person. i love the occasional, agonising right person not enough time or some character bashing for the sake of compelling suffering (if done right!!!)

15. a song i strongly associate with my otp/favourite character: ooooh fun!!! ‘Groan’, ‘Wet’ and ‘Maggot’ by Dazey and the Scouts are so Billy. ‘Drunk Walk Home’ by Mitski gives me Chrissy vibes, and ‘Maggot’ again for her tbh (billy and chrissy, my sad beloved blorbos). there arent any songs i associate with cunningway yet tho 😔

tagging: @bigdumbbambieyes @hargrove-mayfields @billyhargrovesupsidedownshadow @every-dayiwakeup and anyone else interested in sharing :)

[avenger-hawk]

I was kinda of surprised when you said people come at your rare pairing fics to demand more of the pairing they liked (mostly itasasu)

Honestly more than anything i was reading for your writing not the pairing (there are bunch of fics if you’re just gonna read it for the pairing, i mean what’s the point then reading stuff from you instead of an different author since they don’t care much about characterization than the pairing itself), i don’t know if it’s offensive or anything but personally i never cared about the pairing. Whatever you wrote and however you wrote it and set it up always intrigued me and felt realistic, so idk what the hell people are complaining about tbh

PS: i’m an artist and a lot of people say they like the drawings I whatever I felt like to draw more instead of the ones i drew on requests. Writing and drawing at the end of the day is art, they are even sometimes complementary to each other and both took the inspiration it needs to create from the person itself (so usually making an artist something they don’t want to wouldn’t result in something good). That’s what makes its special I think, everyone can draw an apple but not everyone can make it in a form of an art (that’s why I think it’s shallow reading for the pairing than the writing itself that would be just like how you say every apple drawing in the world is the same, if art loses its uniqueness is it really even art anymore).

Wow...thanks Anon. I don’t have words for this tbh.

First of all, it’s not offensive at all! In fact it’s amazing if a reader likes my writing so much that they read everything, regardless of the characters and pairings. It’s the reason I’m more proud of my rarepair fics than my itasasu ones, especially of my ShisuixSasuke fics, since there was no one considering them,. so I’m very proud that my longfic and the world I build for them to happen, was appreciated.

So ofc I feel disappointed when in fics where Itachi exists but the pairing is another, ppl want Itasasu anyway. Partly it’s my fault, because I’m a slow author and when I started writing certain fics I put more Itasasu vibes than I should have, I guess, and ppl took the hint, partly because between the moment I planned the fic and the moment every chapter was written, characters developed their relationship in a stronger way, leaving Itachi out of the picture. This is my fault as well, because I always thought that Sasuke would always have Itachi in his mind more than anyone else, and in a way it’s true, but it doesn’t have to be shippy any time.

I am very very happy that you read my stuff for my writing, my world building, my description of characters...for me these are the most important things. The pairings exist ofc, but without a proper setting for them to happen, and without a realistic characterization, it will feel ooc and boring imo. So thank you.

Most people are lazy and they don't care about how much effort a writer puts in their writing. Most just want the smut tbh. And in a small niche of the fandom such as itasasu and/or darkfic fans, there is little content so they always want more, it's annoying for them to see some other pairing taking content away from them. And some rarepairs gain a little popularity for a short while then they disappear, replaced by something else, like my ShisuixSasuke, so when I started posting some new fic for them no one cared anymore lol

I admit I’m guilty of only reading fics for the pairings I want to read...I wasn’t always like this though. For a long time I enjoyed reading fics, and I read general fics, character studies, plot oriented fics without pairings, and pairings I didn’t care about, like I mentioned a Shikamaru/Neji one I saw recommended and I felt like trying, and it was really good, despite me not caring about either of them. Then I started dedicating less time to fic reading so I only looked for pairings I wanted to read about, but ofc I found stuff I didn’t like and with time I stopped reading fics because of the general disappointment.

I totally agree with people enjoying art no matter that character and pairing cause I’m like this. You’re an artist, you have all my respect and admiration...you have no idea how much I love drawings and how jealous I am of those who are gifted at it...drawings, illustrations, fanarts, they are so different from writing. And ofc the public’s reaction is different.

Writing takes patience, the reader has to get into it, spend time on it, and they don’t always have the attention and motivation to continue, if they stumble on smth they aren’t convinced of. the writer gotta gain their attention, some do it writing short shippy stuff without much depth, some don’t, it’s their choice. The reader should be ‘open’ to read smth they are not initially interested by, it’s not automatic.

On the other hand art kinda forces the person open with its magic. The person who sees a fanart is instantly flooded by what the artist did, the beauty, the hotness, everything conveyed in the image, and if they keep on looking at it they’ll see more and more amazing details, but in truth they were captured by the fanart the moment they saw it. It’s a different kind of magic that I love very much. So it’s almost natural, imo, to fall in love with an artist’s style and to like everything they draw.

You’re right, writing and drawing are sometimes complementary, they also inspire each other, and that’s amazing. Art is amazing. Creating beautiful things is amazing~

[prettywordsyouwrite]

How do you deal with other writers? A writer I looked up to had been leaving positive comments on my fics but eventually stopped commenting altogether and basically told me they were trying to be supportive, but my writing isn't really their thing.

My fics are niche as it is (a rarepair in an already very tiny fandom), so I don't get a ton of kudos and comments to begin with. They write for a popular pairing and have the most popular fic in the fandom.

I am absolutely heartbroken and I'm doubting myself. I'm in a discord that includes this writer and now I just feel bad and want to leave the server, but I would miss the other friends I've made there. I just feel like my writing sucks and I don't fit in with all the great writers on the discord and I don't have anything to add to conversations anymore. I also feel like I don't want to read and comment on their fic anymore, because it just reminds me that mine aren't good enough.

First off, I just want to say that your feeling of heartbreak is validated. This writer shouldn’t have told you the reason why they read your stories. Writing is hard enough, let alone getting any feedback for it! And I truly feel there are ways to approach things where honest feedback can help (if requested by the writer for such feedback!), but most of the time, people post online in these communities for validation of what they’ve worked hard on. As a fellow writer, I’m ashamed to read someone knocked you for your writing, knowing full well how much effort each individual puts into writing. 

Writing is a form of art and expression and not showing the respect it deserves even if it’s not your cup of tea really grates me. I personally don’t like some genres of writing and have read some stories that aren’t my thing. We all have in our journey as a reader! However, I would never go around telling another writer anything less than “good job”... your work doesn’t deserve to be diminished all because they feel they are in a position of power to do so. 

However, I think a lot of us all have doubts about our work, and how we fare in the writing communities that we belong to. So you’re definitely not alone in this! 

For me, I will admit that whilst I’ve loved immersing myself around other writers, getting to know how they approach certain topics and how they enjoy writing and sharing that joy with them, there’s a whole other side fuelled on by my insecurities, that I find myself struggling with the concept of being an active member of any writing community. I have had moments during my time here where my writing has truly been impacted by these communities and my desire to be accepted and feeling like I’m not. I understand your current mindset of not wanting to contribute or feeling your input would not be worthy in this Discord server. I’ve been there before myself!

It’s damn hard to be a writer and maintain an audience. It’s two different worlds. We write for the enjoyment of the process (well, I hope that’s what you write for), and we post for the feedback of said work. If we don’t get interaction, we’re less motivated to continue. But allowing your writing journey to be dictated by others isn’t fair to you, or the words bursting to be written either. As hard as it is, if you’re happy writing in the genre that you do and it brings you joy, then that’s the main thing. 

Right now, I feel the impact of others is causing your self-doubt to go beyond the level it should. You have been given “evidence” from this writer, who you’ve respected and now you carry that around on your shoulders. I think you need to step back, or leave the Discord server temporarily, and focus on how to navigate the “evidence” this person has given you. How can you remove the baggage this careless person has thrown at you? You don’t have to carry their problems around. Because as hurtful as this is, and cruel as this person was knowing full well that you no doubt have supported them a great deal in return, you aren’t the one with the problem. They are. And they simply made it your problem by voicing it. Their voice matters and they don’t seem to realise this or care enough, given their status in the community. Which isn’t uncommon, sadly.

But you also matter. And I truly hope this ramble of an answer allows you to feel so. You’re not alone and you are worthy. Your work has no doubt touched someone out there. It’s so easy to focus on the negative comments but I bet you’ve had some really kind ones as well. Go back and reread them. You might find some healing in knowing you matter from this exercise.

I truly hope you can rediscover your confidence as you are good enough.

[chaoskatya]

unfinished brooke x katya hatefuck fic

hi yall :^) so ive had this sitting in my drafts for a WHILE and ive barely dented the actual planned plot but still i felt like it was kind of a waste of what i did write to not ?? idk do something with it? this was originally written for AQ’s rarepair event but irl stuff got in the way so it never got finished, and i kinda lost the inspo to finish it (for now? idk) so here it is, posted unedited in however it was when i last touched it

brooke x katya hatefuck, (well, planned, i obv hadnt written that far) inspired by pics of trixie and brooke together that one time they were weirdly hanging out a lot irl and that one outfit brooke has that looks like that one outfit katya has the polkadot one u know it

“Ugh, I swear, Vi! She really has something against me! I think she hates me!”

Katya punctuates her sentence with a flail of her arms for emphasis before flopping back onto her bed. Violet just rolls her eyes at her roommate’s dramatics, as per usual. This is the third time they’ve had this conversation this week.

“So she’s a little icy, what of it? It’s not like you’re not used to having a mega bitch around, you live with me,” Violet responds plainly, not even bothering to look up from her laptop, “and I don’t think anybody could hate you, Kat.”

Katya huffs at that. “No, I swear, she hates me.”

Katya Zamolodchikova is absolutely sure of three things in her university life: One, Trixie Mattel is her best friend. Two, nothing gets in between her and Trixie. Three, Brooke Lynn Hytes is absolutely making her best fucking attempt.

Katya and Trixie had met last year, Katya being a sophomore in visual arts and Trixie a freshman in musical theater, when Katya had accidentally crashed Ginger’s (kind of pathetic) attempt at being a tour guide for the freshmen of her course. They’ve only known each other for a year, but ever since then the two quickly became inseparable and a year had felt like a lifetime. All of their friends knew, and Katya held it close to her heart, that nothing could possibly stand in their way. That is, until the beginning of this semester.

Trixie had been elected as class representative at the start of their sophomore year, which did not surprise Katya one bit. But that meant that when Canadian exchange student Brooke Lynn Hytes had arrived for the semester, it was Trixie’s job to show her around and make her feel welcomed. And being that Brooke’s degree in classical dance meant her and Trixie had quite a few overlapping classes, the two hit it off and had gotten closer and closer since. It’s only half way through the semester, yet Katya feels as though she’s slowly becoming more and more of a background character in Trixie’s life. They still text each other when they can, but hangout times have slowly grown increasingly thin and so has Katya’s sanity. Not that it’s Trixie’s fault, of course…

“I can’t explain it. But I promise, it’s almost like she’s purposefully occupying Trixie from me! Every time it looks like we might get a chance to even just talk, she’s there coming round the corner asking Trixie for help in one of their classes or for show recs or whatever. And she always looks me dead in the eye, with her stupid fucking smirk, like she knows what she just did! I can’t explain the feeling I get when I see her!”

Katya’s hit full ranting steam now, half hanging off her bed still flailing as animated as ever.

Violet shuts her laptop and turns to face her. “Mama, sounds like you hate her. Sure it’s not just in your head because you’re jealous the amazon’s occupying your barbie?”

There’s a beat of silence. “Jealous? I guess?” Katya scrunches up her face and sits up. “I mean, how could I not be? With her stupid long legs and her flowing blonde hair, like god, Vi, she’s practically perfect! And have you seen her dance?”

Katya turns to pose her question, but Violet is just staring, giving her a look she can’t decipher. She continues,

“So then, fine, of course I’m jealous, but that’s because Trix is my best friend. I barely see her anymore, and when I do she’s always there and I just get so riled up! And I’m sure Trix has started to notice because god I just can’t stand it when she’s near, it just sets me alight in an awful way. I’ve never felt this way about anybody before!” And it’s true, Katya really does not think of herself as someone capable of fully hating someone else. But by god, is Brooke really testing that.

Violet scoffs, turning away to open her laptop once more. “Look Mary, all I gotta say is that that’s an awful lot of emotion for some best friend jealousy. Also, you have a lecture starting in ten minutes.”

Fuck! Katya checks her watch and immediately jumps up to scramble for her belongings, deeply thankful for her roommate’s type A tendencies yet internally chastising herself for allowing her ranting to consume her time like that. She quickly kisses Violet on the cheek and bids her farewell before putting on her boots and heading out of their dorm room to make her best effort to speed walk to class.

But as luck would have it, not that Katya has a lot of it, she quite literally walks right into the subject of their prior conversation. Well, speak of the devils…

“Oh! Trixie, hi!” Katya laughs, immediately reacting to steady Trixie from where Katya had almost knocked her over with the door. From the way she was standing, she figured she had opened the door just as Trixie was about knock.

“Katya! Thank god, I was worried you wouldn’t be in,” Trixie smiles back brightly, smoothing her fluffy golden hair back into place. (Not that it’s ever really out of place, Katya thinks to herself.) 

Katya smiles at her, a sight for sore eyes she thinks, but when she realizes Brooke is standing at the end of the hall waiting for Trixie, her smile doesn’t quite reach her eyes. Whether Trixie noticed Katya’s tension or not, she didn’t let on. At least Brooke had the decency to wait at a reasonable distance.

“Uh, yeah, I was just heading out though,” Katya replies, trying her best to look sympathetic. She doesn’t mind that she’s running late anymore, just feels bad she even has to go. “But did you need something?”

Trixie looks equally as sympathetic. “Yeah, uh, listen, I’m really sorry. I know we haven’t been able to hang recently and I’m really sorry for that, midterms and all…”

“Hey, it’s alright, I knew you were busy. It’s no problem, really.” That’s a lie.

“But now that it’s over, let’s celebrate! Let me make it up to you? Be my date to the Edwards party tonight?”

Katya’s smile softens. As much as she was planning to trade in the party for a well-deserved movie night in with Violet and Pearl, she finds she really can’t say no to Trixie, especially not when she’s looking at her like an apologetic puppy. Whipped.

“Down for anything with you, Barbie. Meet you at the dorm hall at 8?”

Trixie squeals and picks Katya up by the middle, “AAAAAAAH yes!! See you bitch!!”

Katya squirms violently to be put down but laughs it off anyway. She really can’t be too mad at her best friend.

“Anyway, I gotta run, see you later Trix!” She rushes to hug Trixie quickly once more before escaping as briskly yet casually as she can out the door. This fails her when all semblance of casualty is lost as she passes the point where Brooke is, all tall and blonde and beautiful even just standing around. As she passes, her gaze quite obviously steels ahead to avoid looking Brooke in the eye, but she can’t fail to catch the quite obvious smug smirk the Canadian has posed on her painted lips.

----

Katya managed to make it to class with only 5 minutes late, thankfully just as her professor was entering the other door. She plops down into her usual seat with an audible groan and immediately drops her head in her hands.

Brooke. Stupid fucking Brooke Lynn Hytes. Lately, Katya’s wandering thoughts always go back to her. There hasn’t been a time where her idle time hasn’t been haunted by a certain ballerina chipping away at her precious concentration. She sees perfect long blonde hair, icy blue eyes, and tone legs that go all the way up. 

If she’s being completely honest with herself, she is just a bit jealous of Brooke but not for the reasons Violet insinuates. I mean, sure, she misses Trixie to bits. But that’s only one of the many straws on the camel that is Katya’s completely rational anger. 

It’s not that she’s perfect, either, but that sure adds another straw. Seemingly introverted, but able to capture the hearts of anyone in her path through quick and honest charm. Graceful and poised, where Katya is not, and tall and curvy, where Katya is not. Katya really doesn’t understand how someone can attend 7am dance classes with a flawless mug and still leave rehearsals with not an eyelash out of place, it’s inhuman.

No, it’s that no matter how much others testify on her behalf, Katya does not understand it. She doesn’t know what she did, but she has somehow done something to aggravate Brooke against her, and it bothers her endlessly that she doesn’t even know what she did to incur such spite. Katya doesn’t see any of the charm or kindness that others profess, only smug smirks and cocky passive-aggressive jabs and a seemingly passionate desire to find any way she can to poke Katya’s buttons and prompt some kind of response. She’s lucky Katya has a lot more self control than most, and she’s restrained herself from biting back thus far.

She thinks back to the first time she spotted Brooke, on the first day of the semester when Katya had gotten bored and decided to drop in on Trixie’s representative duties despite explicit instructions not to intrude. She had found her in one of the gardens of the student commons, and instinctively made her way to run up and tackle her before realizing Trixie wasn’t alone and stopping dead in her tracks.

Trixie was sitting next to someone Katya didn’t recognize, which was a surprise in itself because Katya knew next to everybody personally in their modestly sized arts college.  The girl was sitting next to Trixie on a bench, both hands holding one of Trixie’s own as Trixie appeared to animatedly be telling some story. Trixie then finally noticed Katya frozen standing awkwardly at some distance and paused in the middle of her speech to yell at Katya and becon her over. 

“Katya! This is Brooke Lynn, a Canadian exchange student for the semester. Brooke, this is Katya, my best friend!”

Brooke lazily shifted her gaze from Trixie to give Katya the once over, glancing her up and down. Whatever she saw, she suddenly stood up and crowded into Katya’s space, gazing down at her intensely directly from the advantage their clear height difference gave her.

“Well, it’s certainly nice to meet you… Katya.” 

And on her lips, the same painted red smirk. The same stupid smirk that would continuously haunt her until…

“Kat, you with us girl?” Hissed Pearl in her ear, jabbing her hard in the side.

[indigowallbreaker]

“Approval”

HEY @moeblob! Here’s the rarepair fic I hinted at! ;)

Moeblob had made some really fun art for Ingrid/Hubert and I daydreamed about this fic to the point where I figured I should just write it down. Enjoy some interaction between two people with zero support conversations!

(you can also find this on my ao3)

--

Sometimes Ingrid wondered if her father would approve of her interest in Hubert. He was a noble, powerful, intelligent, and had total access to the von Vestra finances. Residing in a warmer part of Fódlan, Vestra territory also had a better yield than Galatea. The only thing working against Hubert was that he was Emperor Edelgard’s right hand man and therefore an enemy of the Kingdom. But Ingrid tried not to think about that too much.

Walking with him now, so close their sleeves brushed against each other, Ingrid’s mind was on other things. Like how badly this could go or if she should have taken Annette’s advice and put on a slight bit of makeup or—

“Where are we going, exactly?” Hubert’s question interrupted her spiraling thoughts.

Ingrid straightened her spine. This was fine. This was a good idea. “You’ll find out soon,” she said brightly as she led them around a corner. Luckily the day she had set aside for this was bright and warm. Garreg Mach still had its fair share of ruined buildings but somehow everything looked optimistic in the sunlight.

As Ingrid had expected, it only took Hubert a few minutes of walking to figure out their destination. “The stables? Was this your way of asking for help with chores?”

“Oh, no.” Ingrid shook her head. “No, if I wanted help with chores I would just twist Sylvain’s arm. I wouldn’t bother you over something so trivial when you have more important duties.”

Hubert looked down at her, eyebrow raised. “If you needed my assistance, I would not consider it trivial.”

It was sentences like those that made Ingrid’s face pink and she had to make an effort not to let loose a goofy smile. She wished she knew if Hubert did it on purpose or if it was just the kind of stuff he said to everyone.

Once Ingrid had expressed that thought to Annette, who just gave Ingrid a long look before shaking her head.

“Here we are,” Ingrid announced once they reached the correct stall. She held out a hand to indicate Hubert stay where he was, approached the gate, and opened it. Immediately her Pegasus trotted out. She turned to Ingrid expectantly and Ingrid held out a sugar cube, smiling when the Pegasus lowered her regal white head and ate it.

Ingrid stroked the Pegasus’ mane. When she looked over at Hubert, she saw his furrowed brow and knew he was trying to puzzle out her intentions. “Hubert, this is Judith.”

Cautiously, Hubert stepped forward. “Hello,” he greeted formally. Judith sniffed him and then looked away dismissively when it was clear he had no treats for her. Hubert turned to Ingrid. “You named your Pegasus?”

Ingrid giggled. “Of course! She’s my partner, on and off the battlefield. I couldn’t just call her “hey, you”, could I?”

Hubert hummed, looking back up at Judith. “I know Ferdinand has stopped naming his horses, as he has lost many during these five years of fighting. He does not like getting emotionally attached to them anymore.”

A heavy dread fell in Ingrid stomach. The image of Judith lying dead on a battlefield was a sobering one. Ingrid tightened her hold on Judith’s mane to ground herself. Poor Ferdinand. She had no idea…

Once again, Hubert’s voice brought Ingrid out of her own mind. “I doubt you brought me here just to introduce me to your Pegasus.”

Ingrid smiled. “Indeed. I brought you here to work on your fear of heights.”

There was a pause.

“You said you wanted to overcome it,” Ingrid went on.

“I did, didn’t I,” Hubert stated more than asked. He reached out a hand towards Judith. “And how is getting to know Judith going to help?”

Judith shied away, shaking her head with a huff. Hubert froze with his hand still outstretched. Ingrid gently took the hand, turned it over, and dropped a few sugar cubes into his palm. Immediately, Judith was interested. She sniffed forward as he brought his hand up to meet her mouth. Ingrid smiled when Judith began eating.

“The first step,” she explained, “is trust. If you trust Judith not to drop you, if you trust that she knows how to fly, then you will be less scared when you’re up there.”

Judith finished eating and nosed Hubert’s hand in search of more treats. Hubert stroked her forehead with his fingertips. “That is sound logic,” he said, voice slightly distant and eyes on Judith.

Ingrid began instructing. They spent over an hour caring for Judith together. Hubert had some experience caring for horses, but not much in the way of Pegasi. They were bigger than horses for one thing, though slighter. And of course the wings were new to him.

“I can’t believe you’ve never helped them preen before!”

“I was under the impression their wings were… sensitive territory.”

“Once you make it clear you’re just trying to fix their feathers, they settle down. Here— stand next to me.”

At one point, Hubert discarded his black cape and hung it almost carelessly over Judith’s stall gate. For a guy who specialized in ‘working in the shadows’, he took to outdoor work rather well. It helped that Judith was used to different people caring for her. Now that everyone was living together at the Monastery again, there was a larger pool of caretakers for the stables.

Over time, Hubert was able to smooth unruly feathers and strap on a Pegasus’ saddle like a pro.  Once he had it down, Ingrid stepped back to allow him one on one time with Judith. Hubert seemed a lot more at ease now, Ingrid observed with a smile. He led Judith around the yard and occasionally patted her head or spoke to her in low tones.

“Well?” She prompted after a while. “You look pretty relaxed.”

Hubert scratched Judith behind her ear. “I thought Pegasi would be more temperamental than horses. I am pleased to see I was incorrect.”

“It helps that I taught you well,” Ingrid said. “They don’t allow much room for trial and error.” She watched Hubert feed Judith a bit of carrot when the Pegasus nosed his shoulder. “Ready to sit in the saddle?”

“You mean, take flight?”

“No, not yet. Just to get used to having Judith under you. Have her get used to you more, too. It’s all part of trusting her.”

Hubert looked Judith in her large, dark eyes. Ingrid had to hold in a chuckle at Hubert’s intense expression verses Judith’s “I wonder if he has more treats” face.

Apparently Hubert found whatever he was looking for because he nodded and said, “Yes. Let’s do it.”  

Ingrid had not expected merely sitting atop a Pegasus to be a great challenge. Though taller than horses, mounting a Pegasus was not all that different, once you got over the wings. Perhaps it was the implication that made Hubert strangely quiet once they were on Judith’s back; the idea that she could take to the air at any moment. He was behind Ingrid so she couldn’t see his face. In fact, Ingrid couldn’t even imagine his face at the moment. What did apprehension look like on Hubert?

“Everything alright back there?” Ingrid asked.

“… Yes. I’m alright.” Ingrid didn’t yelp when his arms wound around her waist but it was a very near thing. “Let’s go up a few feet.”

“What? No. There’s no need to push yourself. I said we would take this one step at a time.”

“I think I have a better sense of when I’m ready to take the next step than you do,” Hubert said firmly. “I know for a fact that Judith will not let me fall. Nor will you.”

That was true. Ingrid tightened her grip on the reigns. “Fine. If you insist.”

With practiced motions, she commanded Judith to take flight. Judith took a running start before leaping up and pumping her wings. The familiar sensation of feathers against Ingrid’s shins, the unfamiliar sensation of Hubert clinging to her; and they were off.

Ingrid didn’t let Judith fly any higher than the gazebo in the courtyard. They did smooth loops with Judith’s hooves just above the hedges. Ingrid looked over her shoulder where she could just see Hubert staring around them.

“Look up,” she advised. “I’m always tempted to fly right through clouds like that.” She pointed up, indicating a large fluffy white puff. It was hard to tell if Hubert followed her suggestions just watching him from the corner of her eye, but his hold on her did loosen slightly.

After a few more laps he said, “We can go a bit higher.”

“Are you certain?”

“Just do it. Please.”

Wind whistled around them as Judith took them above the entrance hall. From here Ingrid could see the marks in the roof tile from the Empire’s arrows five years ago. Someone really ought to repair it before winter.

Without warning, Hubert buried his face between her shoulder blades, his breath tickling the back of her neck, arms tight around her torso. Only years of practice stopped her from jerking the reigns. “Hubert?”

“Give me a moment.”

Ingrid nodded, concentrating on Judith in case Hubert’s distress panicked her. Far below them no one noticed their little exercise. The Professor was fishing in the pond, Felix and Ferdinand were sparing on the landing outside the dining hall, Sylvain was camped outside Bernadetta’s door, and everyone seemed to be in high spirits.  

Gradually, Hubert’s breathing evened out. If he was shaking slightly as he pulled away, Ingrid didn’t point it out. Instead she said, “Ready to get down?”

“No. Let’s go a little higher.”

She sighed. “Hubert—”

“I already told you, I am perfectly capable of deciding when—”

“You do not have to pretend with me!” She snapped, turning as much as possible to glare at him. “I am aware of your fears. I know how hard this must be for you. You do not have to put up a tough act for my sake!” Color, curse it, rose in her cheeks. “I have seen you these past years. You are far from weak. But pushing yourself like this is doing no one any favors.”

Her outburst was met with silence. Ingrid waited for him to speak. No matter what Hubert said, she was going to take them back down. He had clearly overestimated himself, loathe as he might be to admit it.

Then, in a small voice, Hubert spoke. “You’re right.” It was barely above a whisper. “Please get us down, Ingrid.”

Ingrid nodded and leaned back against him in wordless permission. He held her waist once again and, with a gentle tap with her heels, she directed Judith around towards the stables.

Hubert all but leapt off when they touched ground. Ingrid jumped down and grabbed his arm, for his legs were shaking pretty badly. He was paler than normal. Once again she waited while he took in large breaths to calm himself.

“I apologize,” Hubert finally said. “I should not have insisted. I was foolish to think I could conquer this issue in one day.”

She couldn’t hold in a stern tone. “It was foolish. A frantic rider cannot commander their Pegasus. If we had gone higher, it’s possible you would have panicked Judith.”

Hubert gave a half-hearted chuckle. “I had been meaning to ask— you truly named your Pegasus after the Hero of Daphnel?”

Ingrid turned scarlet. “W-What’s wrong with that?”

“Nothing at all,” Hubert assured her. Though his lip was quirked up in a smirk. She let go of his arm and huffed in annoyance. This only caused Hubert to chuckle once more. At least he had calmed down, Ingrid decided. Progress.

Hubert retrieved his cape and then turned to stroke Judith’s feathers. “Thank you for ride, Judith. I hope I caused you no discomfort.”

Judith’s only response was to shake out her wings and trot over to the trough for water. Ingrid smiled. “At least you are not traumatized.”

“Indeed. Though I would like to wait before we attempt this again.”

“That’s understandable. And next time, we can fly over the pond in case the worst should happen.” Ingrid outright laughed as Hubert’s face lost all the color it had gained back in the past few minutes. He covered his eyes with one hand as though to block the mental image Ingrid has just created. “It was a jest!” She managed to say. But, as she was still giggling, perhaps she didn’t sound completely genuine.  

Hubert sighed heavily as he lowered his hand, eyes still shut. “Yes, I know. I think I shall take my leave. Some coffee is in order to settle my nerves.”

Controlling herself, Ingrid nodded. “We’ll take it more slowly from now on, I promise.”

Hubert’s eyes opened and the sudden burst of topaz made Ingrid stare a beat longer than polite. She felt herself flush again, and it didn’t get better when Hubert picked up her left hand and bowed to kiss the back of it. “Thank you, Ingrid, for your instruction and care.”

Ingrid gulped. “You’re welcome.” She mentally thanked the Goddess her voice was so steady. Hubert smiled before straightening. Ingrid watched him leave the stables and head toward the dining hall.

Running her fingers over the back of her left hand, Ingrid strode over to Judith and buried her face in the Pegasus’ familiar neck. “What do you think?” She murmured into the short hair. “Would Father approve?”

Judith continued to drink.

“Do you approve?”

Judith lifted her head to nicker before returning to the trough.

“Good. That’s more important anyway.”

[animeniac]

Title: Cup of Joy Fandom: BNHA Pairing: Katsucha; Kacchako; Bakuraka Genre: Fluff Word count: 2k or something Summary: Uraraka works at a coffee shop, and Bakugou can’t stand to watch her fail so hard. A/N: @kacchanwrites , a fellow writer, has been working on a lot of rarepair stuff this week. I'm inspired, and so, I'm gonna throw this kacchako trash into the world wide web for you readers. This was definitely a spur of the moment thing.Time will only tell why I picked this prompt when I know next to nothing about coffee.

That day when Kirishima invited Bakugou to a coffee shop to study, he would have said no. As reckless and wild as people said he was, the straight-A student hardly enjoyed stepping out his daily routine of high school, gym, and food. His classmate and friend knew he could not resist a quality cup of coffee, but he also knew that he often opted for the solitude that store-bought coffee grounds allotted to him. Bakugou hardly enjoyed going to fast food restaurants let alone a coffee shop.

Plus Ultra Cafe happened to be the closest place to their school. That morning, the blond recalled tossing the bag of his favorite Dark Roast blend into the trash can. Even before then, he had to suffer through a watered down version of his favorite drink because his stupid coffee maker couldn't keep up. For whatever reason, Kirishima was trying to sell this place like the funds fed his family.

Bakugou decided to go if for any reason but the fact that he had been caffeine-deprived that entire day. His throbbing headache plagued him.

"So, Sero is gonna meet us a little later," Kirishima explained as he hustled in the direction of the cafe's entrance. He noticed how Bakugou lead the way. Perhaps, he was a bit more eager than he let on.

The smooth, earthy scent certainly lured him. When he pulled the door open, a bell chimed and the tune of new age easy listening music assaulted him as soon as he stepped onto the rug-topped wood floors. He had never been to an establishment of its kind, but he already hated the pretentious atmosphere of Apple laptops and over-the-top pop art on the walls. Earthy colors like bark and rose coordinated the couches and walls in a way that made Bakugou's eyebrow twitch.

He would have turned around and gone to the nearest convenience store instead, but the particularly round face of the sole barista caught his eye. She jumped and turned around like she feared his intimidating glower. How amusing. As he shuffled his feet and gravitated towards the counter, a malicious grin grew on his face. She certainly differed from most of the people in the shop.

While he could not name the contrasting traits, she piqued his interest enough for him to stick around and find out. Kirishima went off to claim their table and Bakugou stalked his prey. Slamming a hand onto the counter, he ordered, "Okay, round face, I want a venti dark roast blend - black." Odd. She failed to jump when he hit the wood surface. Most people would have.

She nodded before glancing over her shoulder to read the chalkboard menu on the wall behind her. "Um," she stammered. "So how many creams and sugars do you want?"

"I said black!"

"Sorry, I'm new," she apologized with a giant smile as she turned back to him. "Is that all?"

Bakugou grumbled and barked, "Even an idiot knows what black coffee means."

Pulling her long, brunette bangs back, she sheepishly smiled as she scratched her temple, "Yeah, I guess I'm not much of a coffee drinker. I do like tea. I'm learning, though!"

Such cutting honesty. She had the audacity and strength to admit to her faults and ignorance. Since Bakugou avoided other flavorings, he too had remained ignorant of much of the coffee world. But he would never admit that.

"Okay!" she declared as she raised a black sharpie in the air. "One large dark black coffee coming right up! You're Bakugou, right?"

How did she know his name? He took a double take of her name tag.

"Oh, hey, Uraraka. When did you start working here?" asked Kirishima as he folded his arms behind his head.

Uraraka squinted her eyes to concentrate on spelling her customer's name. "Today, actually. Did you want anything, Kirishima?" she greeted with an equally pleasant smile from before.

Bakugou muttered, "Uraraka." The winds of her name skated through his teeth. Her coffee brown hair and her almond colored eyes and round, pink cheeks all chimed a series of bells in Bakugou's mind. They went to the same school and had the same classes.

He mused over that as he stomped back to his seat and waited for her to finish his drink. From his chair, he had a clear view of her across the room. And he kept it clear by shifting in his seat as people crowded his line of vision. Analyzing her behavior, he twirled the coffee straw he picked up from the counter.

Sero had apparently joined Kirishima along with Kaminari. For whatever reason, they didn't order but of course, that didn't matter to Bakugou. A few times they tried to break his concentration, but to no avail, he stayed fixated on the pathetic barista.

Several people entered the shop and bombarded her with their arbitrary orders and specific requests because the guy that usually works there does such a good job. He watched as she spilled scorching hot water on the floor and nearly dodged to avoid a severe burn. All the while she kept that offensively white smile on her face with a focused glint of determination in her eyes.

Someone shouted at her for the blunder. Bakugou bent the straw in half and slammed it on the table before marching back over the counter. He cut past several people in line. "What's going on? Where's my drink?" he demanded to know the obvious - she got caught up with other customers. He didn't like that. If anyone would snatch her attention with their scathing demands, he wanted it to be him.

Bakugou smirked at the tiny furrow in her brow as she glared up at him. Chills washed down his back as he continued to leer down into those deep, earthy eyes of hers. Not only was he amused by her confidence, he was impressed.

"You interrupted my order," complained a young, irrelevant man from behind.

Jumping up and sliding over an empty space on the counter, he grabbed a cup and labeled it "hipster jackass number 1." With dry, crimson eyes he made eye contact and asked, "I'll take your order since this barista doesn't know a cup of coffee from a cup of shit." After he noticed the wavering fervor in the trembling man's disposition, he noticed a cheat sheet plastered that dictated the combination of all the drinks they showed. "Tall Macchiato, you said? Sit your ass down, and it'll be ready in a second."

Watching her struggle like she had annoyed him to no end.

Sweat cascaded down Uraraka's forehead as she trembled. "Y-You're gonna help me? I don't know if you can do that," she weakly protested.

What happened to all that insolent spunk she had moments prior? Regardless, he would not have listened to her. "Shut up and get the foam shit ready!" Bakugou ordered. "You, lady with the stupid wig, what do you want?" He pointed to a middle age woman with a bright red wig.

"Okay," reluctantly agreed Uraraka as she slouched her shoulders and sighed.

Somehow, they made it through the crowd of customers that had gathered and even more impatient coffee addicts that entered, and everyone had either left or taken their spot in a corner of the quiet cafe. By the end of the line, the sun had set and nearly an hour had passed.

Uraraka bowed and smiled, "Thanks a lot, Bakugou. I really needed help. Hopefully, they hire another person soon. I guess it's kind of hard for just two people to trade shifts all the time, but I gotta do this no matter what." For her family. The coffee pot caught her attention, and she maneuvered to prepare another cup. Fortunately, it was hot enough. When she tilted the pot, a chocolatey, dark stream ribboned down into the cup she held a considerable distance below. Not a single drop spilled.

Quick learner. "Where was that skill earlier?" chided Bakugou as he pointed an accusatory finger at his temporary co-worker.

"Oh? I'm getting better or somethin'?" she chirped without carelessly averting her attention. Placing a lid on the top, she rotated the cup to reveal Bakugou's name written in simple, hiragana characters. She raised the cup a few inches in front of her and took a long whiff of the earthy scent of pure coffee. "One big, black and dark coffee for Bakugou."

Now, Bakugou recalled the sensation of a racing heart that often accompanied his hot cup of morning coffee, but he had never experienced it before taking a sip. By some anomaly, he noticed a peculiar boost of energy that caused small tremors in his knees and a twitch in his cheek. Bringing the edge of the lid to his mouth, he huffed away the steam before allowing the perfectly hot, artisan coffee cascade down his throat.

Simple. Strong. Flawless. Just like he liked it.

Her eyes widened as she gawked at Bakugou chugging the drink like it was iced tea. "Is that okay for you to drink like that?"

"Yeah, it was the best damn coff-," he began but then he immediately stopped as he caught sight of the ecstatic grin that swept across her face. Like a bolt of radiant energy shot through her body, she perked up her posture and widened her shimmering brown eyes. Did that almost compliment excite her to that degree? He wiped his mouth on his sleeve and damned the thought from his mind. After all, he could surely make a cup for her that would put every ounce of effort of hers to shame.

However, her sharp and quick gasp settled into a flustered sigh as she held her pink cheeks with her hands. "Deku," she sang in a sweet and calm tone.

Deku? As in his childhood dork of a friend? Sure enough, when he turned around, he saw the timid and awkward classmate at the counter directly behind him. She had been looking at him.

"Hey, Uraraka and Kacchan. I didn't know you worked here, too," noted Midoriya.

Bakugou immediately felt a shock of pain shoot through his chest - quick yet remarkable. His eyes never left her back as she moved past him, and he resented the fact that she had her back towards him in the first place.

Uraraka ran up to Midoriya like a helpless puppy and leaned over the counter for small talk. She put up her cream, white apron and washed her hands. "I guess we're going back to the dorms for the day. I'll see you at school tomorrow," she waved.

"Wait, you're not gonna leave me here, are you? I don't even work here!" he shouted. There's an idea. He could work there. Then, he'd be able to pick up where they left off and repeatedly overshadow her with his coffee-making expertise. Week after week he'd work by her side and watch her fumble over herself. He couldn't wait.

"Oh, Aizawa said I could leave at the end of my shift. He's in the back."

Bakugou tensed every muscle in his body as he looked back at the ominous brown door where an orange tabby cat scratched at the surface. Was that bastard in the back the entire damn time? Well, that was his door of opportunity - literally.

His ears twitched at the chiming of the bell near the door as Uraraka exited the cafe. A frown dropped on his face as he recalled the sensations of working next to her in the coffee shop. He felt the loss and hurried towards the door of the manager to remedy it.

The next day, Uraraka opened the door to her second day at work and slipped in. A slight sense of dread hung over her head. Sure, she had improved, but she wasn't confident that she would be as efficient on her own.

"Oi, round face, you need to start showing up earlier than that."

Her eyes dilated before recognizing that caustic, masculine voice. Turning around, a bright smile sparkled on her face as she gasped, "Eh? Bakugou?" Her heart floated before picking up speed, for, she had gotten a taste of the contact high of working in a coffee shop. Something new that accompanied the arrival of her new coworker.

Wonderful and promising euphoria.

[giraffles]

Peace

This was written for a rarepair/small fandom fic exchange a few years ago, but never made it to tumblr. Black Jack is a hardcore love of mine and I need to write more of these terrible doctors. 

Peace (Black Jack/Kiriko)

For once, they seem to get along. That doesn't mean they're at peace.

You can also read it on AO3!

“You know,” Black Jack’s voice broke over the sound of waves and the shrieking of seagulls. “We should really stop taking jobs like this.”

His statement is so matter of fact, so innocent and obvious and true that it makes his shoulders shake in an effort not to snicker at the irony of it all. It didn’t work, and instead led them both into nigh hysterical laughter. The refugees and rebels in the makeshift hospital and bombed out town below have probably assumed they’ve lost it; Kiriko couldn’t bring himself to give a damn. They’re all lucky to be alive and in mostly one piece. As bad as it had been, it could have ended on a much worse note.

They’re laying out on the decaying roof of one of the seaside buildings, the one that’s been haphazardly repurposed as a medical facility. The town has been abandoned for years amidst the brutal civil war the little country has been embroiled in. It’s not anywhere near ideal, but it’s better than nothing. Better than the hellhole they had crawled their way out of.

Black Jack shouldn’t even be up there with him, considering it was a scant few days ago that he had gotten stitched back together. He should really tell him to get back in bed. But for now he won’t fight him on it.

“I suppose that’s a good idea.” Kiriko rummaged around in the pockets of his discarded coat, looking for the half empty pack of cigarettes that he knew where hiding somewhere. “But it’s not likely we’ll follow that advice.”

Black Jack huffed out another laugh, attempted to sit up, and fell back with a wince. In a way he deserved that vicious stab wound; maybe in the future he wouldn’t put himself in between and fanatical psychopath and their intended target. As if that would happen. “You’re one to talk.”

Kiriko ignored him at first, focusing on finding the crumpled pack and trying not to think about how close the man beside him had come to being stone cold dead. Contrary to popular belief he did know the value life, and as much as he wanted to strangle Black Jack most of the time, he didn’t deserve to perish at the hands of some fractured, radical government. Ah, there where the smokes, buried deep to keep the tobacco dry and with a battered lighter keeping it company.

“You can be the pot and I’ll be the kettle, then.”

“You’d better be sharing those.”

“I should probably tell you no,” Kiriko was fishing out a second one for him anyway. “Some doctor you are.”

“You’re an ass.” His words held less heat than they normally did. Or maybe he’d gotten so used to his abrasive personality that this was normalcy, where reading between the harsh words had become an art. Maybe he was just in a good mood.

The next half hour passed in relative silence, save for the noisy seabirds and vague whispers of commotion coming from other rundown buildings. It should have been awkward instead of a comfortable sort of peace. Kiriko tried to remember when it had changed, when things had shifted from being constantly at each other’s throats and stabbing each other in the back to something that could grudgingly be called friendship. To be fair, they seemed to get into an unseemly number of dangerous incidents with each other. Most people would say it was coincidence; He was beginning to think some deity had a personal vendetta against them.

At least this round hadn’t been the worst thing to have ever happened to them collectively. It had been a messy business, with Black Jack hired to save the refugees from the mysterious plague sweeping through their ranks and him asked to relieve those who couldn’t be saved. What the bumbling government hadn’t told them was they had infected their own people, using them as human test subjects for biological weapons. They’d been stupid enough to think that him and Black Jack wouldn’t have noticed what they were doing. They had been awfully surprised when they started helping people get out of the danger zone.

It was one thing to end suffering when there was no hope. There was no shame in death, in ending pain. But it was a very different thing to be brought in as an accomplice to attempted genocide. He had morals, even if some people didn’t agree with them.

“So.”

“Hmm?”

“Any idea how we’re going to get out of here?”

Black Jack shrugged at his question. “They’ll probably be looking for us at the borders, and at the airports. We’re officially wanted men after that little stunt.”

“And by ‘stunt’ you mean ‘organizing one of the largest rebellions this place has ever seen’ and ‘exposing grievous human rights violations’.” Really, they should get this to the international media. They’d have a field day with it. “I think they’re a little pissed about that.”

“Good thing they already paid me.” He grinned at Kiriko, and he suddenly wanted to be anywhere but there. There was simultaneously too much history and too little common ground all buried in one moment. This was ridiculous. And he was too old for this.

He lit another cigarette, hoping the distraction would help. It didn’t. Black Jack fell silent again and this time he didn’t dare break it. How many more times could they do this, getting dragged into the dark underworld, gambling on life and luck? He wasn’t concerned for himself; he knew better than anyone that when death came for him that he wouldn’t fight it. Considering he’d been borrowing the name for so long, he really didn’t have the right to. At this point he was cold and lost and had gone too far to ever hope for a semblance of what people might call a normal life.

Yet there where some fires that deserved to burn, to raze everything in their path and unapologetically leave ash on the tongue and a hole where ones heart used to be. It was hard to admit it.

“…think they’ll ever figure it out?”

“Figure what out?”

“That killing each other doesn’t fix much of anything.” Black Jack sighed. “I guess it’s hopelessly romantic to wish for peace.”

Yes. Yes, it was.

“Maybe someday.” He mumbled back.

“Maybe.”

Maybe someday they’d all figure it out, and the answers would fall into their laps like they’ve always prayed. Today wasn’t that day, and tomorrow wouldn’t be it either. But maybe someday.

Someday they’d have the courage.