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janekfan · 4 years

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I'm a little hesitant about this prompt, because it might need a longer story to fill it, but based on reading your fics it may be to your taste for h/c? I've seen a few Geraskier stories where Geralt is cursed to lose his sight and hearing, but I'd be interested to read one where it's Jaskier who's cursed instead. You seem to like exploring growth in stories, and I could see Geralt having to step outside his comfort zone, learning to help and support Jask while they try to break the curse.

I was inspired by this prompt because in my youth, when families go to water parks and things, my mother insisted on holding my glasses so I wouldn't lose them, not realizing I cannot see hardly ANYTHING without them, just colors. She left me like half a dozen times in a throng of people and it was scary. And even though I kept telling her I couldn't SEE HER, she wouldn't listen. I felt scared and stupid because I couldn't keep track of my family.

So I hope you enjoy :D

Thank you for the prompt! @obscurebookwyrm

Sankofa

https://archiveofourown.org/works/25965268/chapters/63119659

“Geralt.”

“Hm.”

“I. What do you want me to say?” Jaskier’s grip on his lute tightened and he had to forcibly relax himself so as not to snap it in twain. “That you should have gotten hit with it instead? That you should be the one waiting for the effects of a curse to take hold so that I? The mighty bard can be the one to protect us both?”

“Hm.”

“Need I remind you that had you not pissed her off, we wouldn’t even be here?”

“Hm.”

“Fine. Leave me at the next village and I’ll just succumb to whatever this ends up being while you continue witchering or whatever.”

“Hm.” Roach picked up her pace and he could hear Jaskier curse Geralt’s stubbornness as he loped after them.

Geralt was angry. Angrier than usual with the musician and definitely not impressed with his self sacrifice because now, if anything, he would be an even bigger liability. It was bad enough he fumbled along behind him, constantly jabbering, writing the most ridiculous songs. But now, Geralt had to wait and see what would become of him now that he’d been hit with some unnamed affliction. Geralt refused to admit that Jaskier was right. That it was better that the stronger of them was curse free and able to continue on unimpaired.

But he was now an even larger inconvenience and Geralt hadn’t thought that was possible.

And yet.

As brave a face as he was putting on, he could smell the sour scent of anxiousness as Jaskier filled up the silence with more talk about inane things, stray lyrics, random observations, all because he was nervous.

Nothing happened yet. Maybe nothing would happen at all.

“Geralt.” Even and steady, Jaskier’s voice hovered somewhere to the left of him. There was something strange about the quality of it and it immediately set Geralt on edge.

“What?” He couldn’t help the exasperation, it had been a long few days, and he felt Jaskier tense beside him on his bed roll.

“There.” He paused and Geralt knew if he turned to look at him he’d be worrying his lip between his teeth.

“What?” They were late as it is, the sun three fingers above the horizon already.

“There are no stars.” His whispering was shaky and trembling. Fear. It was flooding Geralt’s sensitive nose. What was this lunatic on about? Of course there weren’t any stars.

“It’s late morning. Of course there aren’t.” He rolled his eyes and began packing up camp. They’d eat on the move to make up for lost time. He nudged Jaskier with the toe of his boot. “Get up. You’re wasting daylight.”

“Daylight.” His hand was hovering over his face and he kicked him a little harder.

“Yes. Daylight. Move or stay here, but I’m leaving.” Instead of following his directions, Jaskier swallowed a few times, blinking hard and staring at his palm in between. “Jaskier.” Growling, grabbing the collar of his chemise and slinging him to his feet himself, confused when his arms shot out for balance and he nearly fell. “What are you--are you drunk?” No. He’d smell it. But it was all becoming a little too clear and Geralt didn’t want to be the one to say it aloud.

“No.” A weak exhale, a disbelieving laugh. “I’m. I’m blind.”

Blind.

The curse.

“Are you sure?” Geralt was a hair's breadth away from his face, examining his eyes, blank and vacant and staring off into the distance despite their proximity. There was nothing wrong that he could tell. Still the same cornflower blue he was so familiar with.

“I think I’d know.” He scoffed.

“Then we’d better get moving.” Geralt couldn’t help it, the thread of anger twisting around his words just happened. All Jaskier seemed to do was slow him down and get in the way. “Find a way to break this thing.” It took the bard three times longer to pack his belongings and Geralt became more impatient every time he dropped something or stubbed his toe or lost his balance. He knew it wasn’t fair. But this was all the bard’s fault in the first place and he’d have to deal with the consequences.

Jaskier played his lute even more and was even slower, not yet sure on his feet without the advantage of sight. Geralt saw that he kept his ear canted towards Roach’s hooves crunching on the stones, using her as a guide and he wondered if maybe Jaskier should be riding her instead. The music he was picking out on his strings was simpler and felt more like practice than anything new and he realized that he was comforting himself with easy exercises and wondered how long he’d insist on doing it.

All day, it turned out, and Geralt was just about on his last nerve, turning his irritability into action by setting up camp and batting Jaskier out of his way, finally just sitting him in the dirt. He stoked up the fire, tossed down Jaskier’s bedroll and stalked off to find dinner and clear his head before he started yelling.

When he returned with a brace of rabbits, Jaskier was gone and Geralt swallowed down the spike of panic in his throat, dropping his catch and looking for signs of a struggle and instead finding odd marks that looked like Jaskier had crawled across the ground. And he found him, cowering amid Roach’s legs, a dangerous spot for probably anyone else, but she was as calm as ever, letting him stroke the length of her forelimb. There were drying tear tracks on his face.

“G’Geralt?” His voice was small and wavering, barely above his shaking breath.

“Who else would it be?”

“I didn’t know where you’d gone.” He didn’t leave the horse. “I, I called out. But. And then. There’s a lot of noises in the woods at night.” This laugh was self deprecating, as though he knew how ridiculous he was being, like a child hiding from shadows.

But his whole world was in shadow.

“You’ve camped before. It’s foolish to be afraid.”

“Y’yeah. Of course it is.” He extricated himself from his position beneath Roach, petting her neck, and Geralt let it be. “Thank you for your protection, good lady.” She lipped the collar of his doublet and he rested his cheek on her velvet nose for just a moment before stumbling back to his bedroll.

“Here.” Jaskier looked confused. “The rabbit. Dinner?”

“Oh, uh.” He reached out, drawing his hand quickly back when he burned the tips of his fingers and slipping them into his mouth for a second. “Ha, it’s hot.” Geralt yanked his wrist and pressed the stick he’d roasted the meat on against his palm and watched Jaskier’s fingers wrap around it reflexively.

“Just eat. We’ll figure this out tomorrow.”

They didn’t. Not the next day, nor the day after that, but Jaskier was trying to adjust more and more each day despite how he seemed to be withdrawing. It was easy to forget he was blind and Geralt was easily frustrated by his sense of direction, or rather the awful lack of it. More than once, he’d misjudged the path and toppled into the bushes. Twice, Geralt had come back from a hunt to find him trapped in the corner of their rented room. He’d gotten turned around and hadn’t been able to figure out how he was boxed in by the bed, the small table, a chair. Jaskier laughed it off.

He’d been upset each time.

At the market the next day, Geralt told him off handedly that he was heading to the blacksmith, and to catch up when he was ready, because usually he wanted to dither about at the stalls looking at some trinket or another. When he’d finally realized, tapping his foot and waiting for a blind man who didn’t know his way around this village to somehow find him, he followed his scent, laced with terror, to an alley where he’d pressed himself up tight to the wall, protecting his back. They didn’t speak, Geralt just grabbed his wrist and dragged him back to the room. Told him to stay there if he couldn’t figure out how to find his way around.

The hurt on his face cut like a blade.

“Get down and stay down.” Geralt shoved Jaskier’s face into the dirt, both of them narrowly avoiding decapitation when the beast attacked out of nowhere. Caught flat footed, Geralt found himself pinned to the ground, struggling under the weight of it and hooking his thumbs in the corners of its maw to keep the teeth from closing around his head. Fetid breath came closer and closer and he thought for a moment this might be it when the resounding crack of a tree limb colliding with the side of its skull stunned it enough for Geralt to kick it off him. He used the momentum to roll and draw his steel sword, cutting off its head with a wet and sickening squelch.

“Geralt?” Jaskier, covered in black ichor and mud, stood swaying in the road, clinging to a length of splintered wood, blind eyes wide with shock. And then, panting with horror, Jaskier fainted dead away.

He’d lost him again.

“Fuck.” Geralt didn’t know where or how long ago and began retracing his steps, scenting the air and picking up the faintest traces of the oils he’d used last night in the bath. It was tainted by the smell of fear, acrid and sharp, and he ran.

Saw Jaskier pinned up against a wall by a larger man than he, a broad, ugly hand clasped over his mouth and a knee between his thighs. He was struggling to breathe, high pitched whimpering slipped from behind his attacker’s palm and he grabbed a fistful of hair to slam the back of Jaskier’s head into the wall behind him.

The brute didn’t notice the knife slipped between his ribs until it was too late. He’d die in this place and Geralt wasn’t going to lose any sleep over it.

“Who--” He sobbed, choked. “Geralt?” Tears cascaded down his cheeks, slipped off his chin.

“Who was that?” Why couldn’t he be kind to Jaskier when he needed it most? Why did he let his own fear of the situation manifest as blame?

“He’d. Solicited me in the tavern and I told him no.” He shuddered. “I thought he might be following but.” He swallowed with a wet click. “You were walking so fast, I lost the sound of your steps.” Drawing a sharp intake of breath he swept a hand through his tousled hair, trying to calm himself down. Geralt could hear his heartbeat hammering madly away behind his breastbone.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” Jaskier flinched at his volume, hugging himself around his middle and casting his face to the ground, and if Geralt was a stronger man he would tell his bard that this was not his fault. That he was scared of what he almost let happen.

“I. You were angry.”

“What?” With the heel of his hand, Jaskier scrubbed at his face. His bruised face, the imprints from where he was held darkening around his mouth and neck.

“You said I needed to figure this out and. I.” Had been snatched off the street by a predator and very nearly badly hurt. “I forgot my dagger back at the inn.” He took a deep breath, and then another. “I’m sorry, that was. That was stupid.”

“Hm.” It wasn’t. He should have been safe with Geralt in broad daylight. This time he took his hand, laced their fingers together and squeezed. “Let’s go.”

Exhausted from his earlier panic, Jaskier could barely stand when they reached the room, and Geralt helped him the last few steps to the bed, divesting him of doublet and chemise to expose even more bruising. He should have killed the guy slower. Much slower.

“Sorry. I’m sorry you have to do this.” Barely above a whisper. “I shouldn’t have. This curse.”

“Hush.” Geralt wrung out a cloth in the wash basin, touched it to his face and caught him when he jerked away in fear and surprise. “It’s alright. Just me. I’m going to get you cleaned up, Jaskier.”

“You don’t have to do that.” Muttering, he reached for the flannel.

“I know. Just. Relax, alright?” He swept it up his arm, lingered at the space between his neck and shoulder. “I’ve got you. I’m. Going to do better, Jaskier.”

“What do you mean?” This time, he allowed the touch and Geralt dabbed at a cut on his lip before rinsing and wringing again.

“You’ll ride Roach. In towns, I won’t let you out of my sight.” Jaskier was relaxing, blinking sleepily.

“You can’t babysit me all the time, Geralt.” Though he detected the hope that he wouldn’t have to keep doing this alone beneath his voice.

“No. But I can take care of you until we find a way to break this. Like I should have been doing from the start.” Jaskier’s head was nodding as he fought to stay awake. “We’ll talk more tomorrow.”

Geralt let Jaskier sleep in. The man was dead to the world, bruises stark on his pale skin, and no doubt exhausted from the day before and trying to manage as a newly blind being basically traveling alone. They had to get moving. Maybe Yennefer would understand how to break this curse or at least point them in a direction. But they had to find her first.

“Jaskier.” There was no response, not even a twitch, and Geralt spoke his name louder, and louder still before shaking him awake and dodging his flying fist. “Jaskier!” Nothing but panic in his face and Geralt was tired of seeing that there. He settled his hands over his shoulders, cupped his neck on either side. “Jaskier, what is it? A bad dream?” That wasn’t uncommon after an experience like he’d had.

“Geralt?” His breathing picked up, tears lined his dark lashes. “I.” The witcher snapped his fingers on either side of his head and watched his stricken face stay the same. “Geralt?” This time he drew Jaskier into an embrace, hugging him tightly and allowing him to do the same.

Because he couldn’t hear.

#prompt #the witcher #the witcher fanfiction #geraskier #Jaskier #Geralt #Blindness #Deaf #Curse #hurt comfort

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maliaroux · 5 years

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HELLO, ALL YOU BEAUTIFUL PEOPLE! first of all I just wanna say I am so fucking stoked for Starlit, and to get to write with you all! Anywho back to the task at hand, under the cut is a little bit about my hot garbage child Malia Roux, she’s an old muse but a goodie and I can’t wait to develop her more with you all! If you want to plot just like this or hmu via direct message and I will eagerly respond, i’ll be sure to include any trigger warnings below! Oh also, I am Mon, love me.

TW: domestic abuse, statutory rape, abandonment, prostitution, drug abuse, alcoholism, car accident, implied murder, death.

AESTHETICS:

lipstick-stained menthol cigarettes, empty spray cans, fake smiles, and humorless laughs, glassy dull eyes, dirty knees and whispered secrets, acrylic paint and empty canvases, unwavering loyalty and bruised knuckles, paint-speckled backpack full of clothes, tight dresses and high heels, hushed compliments and chipped nail polish, night terrors, and paranoia.

( her actual aesthetic board on pintrest here !!! )

BACKGROUND:

malia’s always been a lost soul. she grew up in phoenix, arizona, living in a tiny little suburban community, raised in one of the copycat cookie cutter homes just the same as the rest of the kids she went to high school with. when she was about five-years-old her dad walked out on her mom ( an aggressive & unloving woman who preferred her wine bottles to sippy cups ), leaving malia alone with her and her older sister ( who was eight years older than her ).

after her father left her mother got worse, now full of resentment and alcohol, she took everything out on malia. malia was too young to understand why, it wasn’t until years later she figured out the truth, that the reason her father had walked out on her mother was that he had found out that Malia, his pride, and joy, wasn’t even his daughter, but that’s neither here nor there.

as her mother’s rage grew, the more malia got in trouble, the more malia was ignored. by age ten the girl felt like a ghost in her own home, living in the shadow of her perfect, beautiful, older sister alice. no matter what malia did, what sport she joined, what trophy she won, what prize she brought back home to her mother, she still treated her like an invader, like a pest she had to put up with until the girl was finally 18 and she could kick her out.

eventually, malia stopped trying, stopped caring, shut off every emotion, every feeling she ever had towards her mother and turned it all into an apathetic gaze. she hated her mother, she hated her sister, and rather than try to be perfect, rather than rebel, she put herself into the role her mother wanted. she was a guest.

by the time malia was fourteen she was hardly home, spending most of her time at friends’ places, out partying, hanging out with boys way too old for her, doing things with them that were meant for people way too old for her. she didn’t care anymore. she played her role as the ghost in her own home, but she was tired of feeling sad... of feeling numb, and at least they helped her feel.

she figured she’d go through the rest of her life filling the void until she could finally leave… that is until her mom remarried. her step-father was an interesting man, loud and charismatic. boastful, charming, demanding. he took malia and her mother in. he was a man who put her mother in her place for being cruel, for being uncaring… and that was something malia liked… something malia exploited.

it truly didn’t take long for malia to tempt her step-father into sleeping with her, he wasn’t a good man after all… and rather than hide their dirty secret, malia rubbed it in her mother’s face. let her call her a whore. let her call her disgusting. she didn’t care because at least it got her mother noticing her finally.

malia didn’t really care for her step-father, she never really cared about anyone romantically, they were a means to an end, just like he was. but he didn’t like that… he didn’t like malia being with other boys, other girls, and after a while things began to get violent. he was controlling, and abusive, and malia wasn’t the type of girl to put up with it, even with all the traumatic reminders she had to. and her mother? didn’t care to help… even told her she deserved it.

so rather than stay in her cookie cutter home, with her resentful mother and her abusive, disgusting step-father, she decided to leave. she had packed her bags and stolen the keys to her step-fathers range rover, planning to sneak off in the dead of the night without a trace. but of course, things didn’t go as planned.

she had managed to get in the car when her step-father caught her, she can’t completely recall what happened, but she remembered locking the door, she can remember putting the car into reverse, swinging out into the road as he chased after it, and the next thing she remembered was a loud crash, and the sound of the engine revving and the spider web cracks forming on the bloodied windshield as she sped off.

that was two years ago, two years and she still hasn’t even attempted to return home, to call, to figure out if her step-father was okay or not… she’s been living in starlit semi-happily, spending her nights partying and sleeping around just like she had back in arizona, making easy cash by selling herself and selling her art.

she’s the usual culprit for all the graffiti around starlit, an avid fan of street art and a struggling artist, she’s constantly walking around in paint covered clothes with spray cans in tote.

TLDR: so basically malia is a spray can toting sarcastic little smart ass who is an insanely good friend and self-deprecating human being. she sleeps around for fun and for money, spends her nights drunk or high, works off nights at the fremont street experience doing street art. while loyal she can still be selfish, something she doesn’t really mean to be.

WANTED CONNECTIONS:

THE CONFIDANT: the sole person malia trusts. though trust is used lightly. she trusts them enough to talk freely, to share how she feels more than she does with anyone else, the one person she finds herself actively searching for, her only true friend... she’s loyal to them above all else, and she tries not to spoil it, though she figures knowing her it’ll get fucked up in the end.

THE EX: There was a period of time where Malia attempted to love another. though she couldn’t find herself falling into place like they wanted, they were perfect, better than she could’ve asked for, and yet she still found her eyes wandering and after a few mishaps, they found out she was sleeping around, they don’t speak much now but when they do it’s never good.

THE FREQUENT FLYER: Malia tries to keep work from following her home, but after a drunken desperate night for this starlit resident and her, she found herself making an easy twenty bucks for practically nothing, and they’re not bothersome, most of the time the poor soul just wants someone to listen to them talk.

that’s really all I can think of in detail but any sort of plot connection can work with malia, friendships or enemies, people who hate her because she slept with their boyfriend or girlfriend, people she fucked over because they liked her and thought they had something and she just ghosted, whatever your heart wants I am honestly down for.

#starlit:intro #domestic abuse tw #statutory rape tw #abandonment tw #prostitution tw #drug abuse tw #alcoholism tw #car accident tw #implied murder tw #death tw #now i need to go do dylan's cause i am trash

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frederator-studios · 6 years

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Kate Leth: The Frederator Interview

One of our top-most frequently asked Qs is: “Do I need to study art or animation to become a creator”? Our long-winded answer could really be replaced with: “Look up Kate Leth”. For many of you, this intro itself will be redundant. Since she began posting her personal Kate or Die! comics in 2011, the growth of Kate’s now-ginormous online following - as well as heaps of talent and hard work - opened doors for her to become one of the most exciting comic book creators and animation writers working today. It was awesome talking with Kate about her adoration for Plum, the rising tide of female and non-binary voices in animation, and witches - lots ‘n lots of witches.

Kate: So now, where are these being posted?

Cooper: On our Tumblr! We have a long-running Studios blog. Do you know the Frederator // Tumblr origin story?

K: Maybe??

C: David Karp launched Tumblr from his desk at Frederator when he was an intern! Fred Seibert was one of its first bloggers and investors.

K: Oh that’s funny! I still use Tumblr sometimes, as like a less stressful platform than Twitter. Which it used to be much more so?

Yeah, Twitter’s really taken over, huh? Do you like Twitter or does it feel like a chore?

Half and half! I like the fun side of Twitter but it is also pretty depressing. I’m starting to use Instagram more, cause it’s just happier. It’s like a nice break, scrolling through pictures of my cute friends!

Has social media been very important to your career?

Oh yeah - all of the work I’ve ever gotten has pretty much been through social media. I come from a super small town in Canada, which makes it harder to network and connect with people. It used to be you’d meet people at Cons, but now you meet everybody online. So many of the connections I’ve made and so many of the jobs I’ve gotten have been through Twitter and Tumblr. I don’t know where my career would be without those platforms!

That’s amazing. Did you know those opportunities were out there when you started posting?

I got into Tumblr just to follow people. I worked at a comic book store at the time, and my boss knew that I was drawing and encouraged me to put my stuff online. So I did, and slowly started to amass a small following. It got bigger, and that was how I got discovered by BOOM!, which is how I did my first published comics—including the Bravest Warriors comics, which is kinda funny!

Whoa, cool! From comic book store employee to comic book writer - how was that transition?

I started working there in like... 2009 or 2010? It was part time; I was also working at a dress shop. But I got fired from the dress shop (laughs) so I became full time at the comic book store. My boss, Calum Johnston, was a really engaged member of the arts community. He pushed people to make comics and share them, and that’s how I got started.

He must be so stoked to see where your career is now.

It’s really wild to look back on. When I wanted to self-publish my first zine, I had no money. I was a super broke art student. Cal sold his original art of the cover of the first volume of Scott Pilgrim and used the money to help me and a bunch of other people self-publish our comics. He’s a really good dude.

That’s so generous! Do you stay in touch with people there?

Yeah, I try to! His daughter is in animation school now. I’ve known her since she was like 14. It’s cool cause now I can promote her work and help her get a foot in the industry, so it comes full circle!

When you got the job at the store, were you just a fan? Or did you know you wanted to be a creator?

Just a fan! I was really big into autobio and self-published comics. Kate Beaton, Lucy Knisley, Erica Moen, and Jess Fink were all creators I was following at the time. Kate Beaton is from Nova Scotia like me, and I watched her get successful on LiveJournal and things as a comic artist—and yet she had studied history! She had no formal arts training; she’d just started making comics for fun. I had always thought that if you didn’t go to art school, that wasn’t an avenue for you. Seeing what she was doing made me realize, “Oh, people can do that!? Maybe I could too!” I’d been reading web comics since junior high, but it was never something that I thought I could do, until I started doing it. Being on Tumblr was also really encouraging; seeing so many other people just starting out and at a similar skill level with their art.

How did the path from self-publishing to BOOM! go?

It was sort of accidental. An editor came across Kate or Die!, and I was offered a backup strip in one of the Adventure Time comics. Only like 2 pages - super short. And then they came back with an offer to write a whole graphic novel? I’d never written anything longer than 4 pages in my life. But I was like, “Sure, I can do that!”. So I wrote Seeing Red, my first Adventure Time comic. And it did well, so they asked me to write another one. And all of a sudden that was my job! I was like, “Oh, okay, I better get good at this.”

Wow, so you taught yourself how to write comics? And to screenwrite?

Oh yeah, I didn’t go to school for any of this. I went to school for makeup and photography. I was a professional makeup artist for a couple years. Then I studied photography for two years. Then I dropped out. A college dropout made good! At first, I didn’t feel like I knew what I was doing. I’ve been writing comics for 6 or 7 years, and I only now feel like I’m good at them (laughing) I know people will disagree! I’m very self-deprecating. But I definitely feel like I understand what you need to craft a story now. When I started, I didn’t think about stories as a whole: knowing where you’re going, how you’ll get there, the themes you’ll touch along the way. I did a lot of improv in high school, so I felt fine sitting down and just starting! I'd make stuff up as I went. But that doesn’t make for as good of stories. So over time I’ve learned to sit down and really figure out the world, the arcs, the timing for big moments. I fill books with outlines!

Do you have a favorite project you’ve worked on?

Spell on Wheels, which just came out from Dark Horse last year, is something I’m really proud of. It’s about witches on a road trip. Megan Levens and Marissa Louise, the artist and colorist I’m working with are so awesome; I’m really happy that we’re gonna do more of it. And it’s nice to have an original series out there, because I’ve worked on so many other people’s properties.

What are the biggest differences there?

It’s very freeing to write an original. You’re not beholden to any corporate standards or licensers, so it’s easier to tell the kind of stories that you want to tell. Especially in terms of things like diversity and queerness, there’s nobody saying, “Oh, we can’t do that because it’s not in the TV show”. It’s nice to not have to worry about things like that. Dark Horse has been very supportive of it, which is cool.

Is Spell on Wheels your main project right now, or what else is goin’ on?

I work in animation primarily now, so I’m working for Hasbro and some other places that I can’t talk about yet, as is always the way. But I’ve been with Hasbro for about a year and a half, as a sort of jack of all trades writer. I’ve worked on My Little Pony: Equestria Girls, Littlest Pet Shop, and a bunch of other things that haven’t been announced yet. As for comics, I’m currently working on the Mysticons graphic novels - the first one comes out in August.

What do you like best about being a writer?

I love it. I think it’s amazing to create worlds and characters and stories and see them brought to life by so many different kinds of people, with so many different artistic styles and talents and specialties. It’s just like magic. Animation is so exciting. You write a script and then you wait... like a year... and then it’s animated! And there are voices saying your jokes! I feel like the thrill of that might wear off at some point, but it definitely hasn’t yet.

What are your favorite cartoons?

Sailor Moon is top of the list. And Cardcaptor Sakura - any magical girl anime I would just eat up as a kid. I watched Disney’s One Saturday Morning religiously, Doug and all of those shows. And now Steven Universe is a big favorite. I got to write an episode for Craig of the Creek, which is great, and I’m really excited about that. And I’m a huge fan of Bob’s Burgers!

What is your episode of Craig of the Creek about?

Witches. I’m very into witches! I grew up on Buffy, Charmed - every YA book I could get my hands on. Practical Magic is my favorite movie. I feel like there were so many movies and TV shows about witches in the 90s. I’m ready for that genre to loop back, in a BIG way. And for the episode of Craig of the Creek, I created characters that ended up becoming part of the recurring cast! So it was neat to contribute to that world a little bit.

What is your favorite thing about Bravest Warriors?

Plum. Just Plum, in general. She’s my favorite character to write - she’s just so fun. She’s silly and weird, and once you get her voice right, she’s such a laugh. She's so blunt and harsh, but in this innocent, unintentional way.

Your episode “Chained to Your Side” has the Scaley Williams Dance - what inspired your play on Sadie Hawkins?

We don’t actually have Sadie Hawkins dances in Canada, which is funny. But I’ve always been kind of fascinated by the concept: “Oooh it’s so rebellious cause the girls ask the boys.” Which is so outdated! So I thought, what’s the futuristic version of that… and got: ‘the girls ‘dart’ the boys’. And we had this conversation, like, “Okay, they dart the boys - but it has to be consensual! They have to say yes!” That was very important (laughing) I could only take that joke to a certain point. But I knew the dance idea would let me do a lot with Beth and Plum. And I love beating up Danny. Like that’s my favorite thing to do in the comics. Just let terrible things happen to Danny. He’s such a goofball.

What are the themes that recur in your characters and stories the most?

Surface level, the obvious: witches and gay stuff. In a deeper sense, things I come back to a lot… there are a lot of characters I’ve written that work retail or minimum wage jobs. Because that’s what I grew up with—I moved out when I was 17 and started working, and did that up until 4 or 5 years ago. So that’s a huge part of my experience. Definitely characters who aren’t borne of privilege and are struggling to prove themselves. Like Hellcat especially, is very much about someone in their 20s just trying to get by. And I talk about self-acceptance a lot. I like genuine moments between people. Amid the comedy, I like there to be something real - especially if it’s something difficult to talk about. Hellcat is this really upbeat superhero, Saturday Morning Cartoon vibe—but I did an entire arc about how people misinterpret and mistreat men who are bisexual, and how that’s different from how bisexual women are treated. So it’s this funny comic, but still touching on real topics. I like to try to say something. But not, you know, hit people over the head with it.

Do you have a cartoon project that’s your favorite?

Yeah, but I’m not allowed to talk about it yet! I have had a lot of fun working on Equestria Girls. It’s so exciting to write stuff for kids. Since I started in animation I’ve actually tried to shoehorn myself: I want to write action-adventure for girls. That’s what I want to do. I’ve managed to get to a place where that’s everything I’m working on now, and that’s really exciting. A lot of people don’t want to be pegged like that, but I’m like, “Oh, you want me to write girls punching and having feelings? Good, I’m here for it!”

It’s funny to pigeon-hole yourself! Most writers seem to want the opposite.

I doubt I’ll want to do the same thing forever! But I definitely don’t think there’s anything wrong with wanting to tell stories for girls. For a long time I think there was an onus to make sure your show could appeal to boys, and that led to a lot of female characters getting side-lined, because executives would say, “Boys need someone to relate to!” And I agree with that—but I really don’t believe there’s any reason boys can’t relate to or look up to girls. And I think perpetuating the idea that they can’t is pretty harmful.

In your time in the industry, have you noticed animation becoming more inclusive and diverse?

I’m lucky in what I’ve worked on. Hasbro has a huge female staff and a lot of the executives are women, so they’re very supportive of that. There’s always room for more diversity, but it’s been good. I know there are parts of the industry that are still very much a boys club, but I’ve stayed pretty far away from those, and would prefer to keep it that way. There are so many women coming into animation now. I know so many women and non-binary folks working in the field that are just going to keep rising. It’s definitely a rising tide.

That’s awesome.

Well, I have to believe that, or else I get depressed! (laughing). My boyfriend and I play a game where at the end of movies, we count how many title cards we get through before seeing a woman’s name. (I groan) Yeah, it’s wild. Usually it ends up being a producer, or the casting director, or a costume designer. It’s rarely someone on the creative end. And when you start looking for it, you really start noticing it. But it’s heartening when you see a movie that defies that. Like at the end of Black Panther, there were a ton of women’s names early on in those credits! That’s my goal, is to like (laughing), be the early in the credits female name. And then fill the rest of those credits with people I know.

Oh cool, so you would want to make a feature film?

Yeah. I have lofty goals. We’ll see what happens, but I don’t want to close myself off to any opportunities.

Do you know what that movie would be about?

Probably witches. But I guess we’ll see! ❀

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Follow Kate on Twitter, Instagram, and Tumblr: @kateordie

Thank you so much for the interview Kate! I’m excited for your upcoming projects, especially the ones about Girl Magic. Soo... all of them :D

- Cooper

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