Katsuki misses when his daughter was younger, and he could fix her boo-boos with a bandage and a kiss. He could carry her in his arms, clean the scrapes she received while playing at the playground, smack on a cute Hello Kitty bandage, kiss it and get her to giggle. But now that she was older, she did not have scratches and scrapes to worry about. Her boo-boos came in other forms- Boys and heartbreaks, to be specific.
He'd just come home from work to find his daughter cuddled into you, the teenager bawling her eyes out because some stupid guy she was seeing dumped her for no apparent reason. His heart shattered, watching her wipe her eyes with hiccups leaving her chest. He didn't enter the room. He just stood there, and his daughter caught his eye, quickly looking away and burying her head in her mother's hair.
You shot him a pointed look, reminding him not to say something that would make her cry even more. Bakugo's fists clenched on his sides, crimson eyes bubbling with anger. His daughter peeked at him, wondering if he was mad at her. Her heart sank when he turned around and left.
"Now Papa's mad at me too," She sniffled.
"No, he's not," You stroke her hair, trying to calm her down. "Just give him some time, alright?"
"Mhm..." She lets you comfort her some more before you leave.
She buried herself under the blanket and scrolled through her socials, blocking that dumb ex of hers from everywhere. Maybe Papa did know best after all. Maybe she should've listened when her father said the guy didn't give him good vibes. She sighed and pushed the phone under her pillow, trying to go to sleep to escape all the tears.
Just as she started to drift off, she heard the door open a creak and poked her head out of the blanket to see her father standing in the doorway with a plastic bag in hand, still in full hero gear.
"Can I come inside?" He asked. She sat up and wrapped the blanket around her shoulders, nodding.
Katsuki shuffled to her bed and cleared his throat, taking out all his daughter's favourite snacks from the plastic bag, "Erm- thought you'd like some... saw your favourite chocolate, so I bought that too. There's some of that crappy ramen you like. It's shit, but I'll allow it for now."
His daughter can't help but smile at him. So that's why he left without a word. To get her snacks and try to cheer her up. Or so she thinks, "Thank you, papa."
"'S nothin'" He stared at her awkwardly, not sure what to do next. He knew just snacks wouldn't fix a broken heart. He opened his arms for her, and she shifted closer to him, resting her head on his shoulder. Bakugo can't remember the last time he held her like this. It's been a while. This reminded him that no matter how old she was, he'd always be able to hold her like his little girl. He kissed her forehead and wiped tears from her eyes.
"Don't waste yer tears, squirt," He said, "That asshole ain't worth yer pretty tears. Now open the snacks. I wanna try some."
Bakugo grins when she breaks into a goofy smile and opens a packet of spicy chips. He doesn't really eat this stuff, especially before dinner, but he'll make an exception for his little girl. He takes a chip and pops it into his mouth, glad she is smiling now. He held back a smirk when he thought of how she'd be rolling on the floor laughing when she saw her ex come to school with a bandage on his nose and a bruise on his cheek.
Sure, he did not know how to fix her boo-boos anymore, but he sure did know how to beat the shit out of people who gave her the boo-boos. Even if it was a teenage boy far younger than him.
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𝗚𝗮𝗹𝗲 𝗼𝗳𝘁𝗲𝗻 𝘃𝗶𝗲𝘄𝘀 𝗹𝗼𝘃𝗲 𝗮𝗻𝗱 𝗰𝗼𝗺𝗺𝗶𝘁𝗺𝗲𝗻𝘁 𝗶𝗻 𝘁𝗵𝗲 𝗹𝗲𝗻𝘀 𝗼𝗳 𝗳𝗮𝗶𝘁𝗵. That said, when speaking of his paramour with the mention of Mystra, it is not a slight. After all, Mystra, the goddess, wasn't just his lover; she, as she'll remain, controls the Weave.
As a scholar of magic for all his life, Gale is thoroughly enamored with it. He's always had the Weave, casting spells and enchantments for as far as his long memory goes, and there's no power on earth that can pale that devotion. When Gale says Mystra's name, in love, it is never with yearning. When he tells his lover that he forgets his goddess when he stands beside them, he means quite literally that he foregoes his faith. He doesn't mention her like a quality benchmark with which they've somehow surpassed, but to punctuate how wholly he has fallen for them. With a new, honest love, he is turned entirely from Mystra. In fact, so utterly bewitched, he's like a born again man. He isn't besotted by his goddess, held stalwart in her sway and seemingly, abundantly, and frustratingly stubborn. After that disastrous relationship, I promise you, Gale spares not a single thought toward her. She might have control of the Weave, and as such, stands still his only patron deity, but his new, doting lover? They become something of a new religion for him; he is most devoted, taken by, and so loyal to them.
He does not see Mystra. Do not assume he still feels for her.
He's a man of one love, and they will have all of him.
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Building off of what I wrote in my fic "Sparks," I'm really compelled by the idea of Ford genuinely no longer being interested in sailing around in a boat with Stan by the time they were seniors in high school.
I like the idea of it not being just a symptom of the resentment that had been building between them, nor it being a dream of Ford's that only paled in comparison to west coast tech, but it being a genuine loss of interest on Ford's end. I think it complicates things even further in some really juicy ways.
Like, imagine going through high school slowly losing more and more interest in the dream you've shared with your twin and only friend ever since you were little kids. How do you break it to him? How do you explain it to him without making it sound like a rejection of him? Without it making him hate you?
How do you explain it without it feeling like a spit in the face to all the hard work he's put into a plan that started out as a way of him comforting you by telling you "it doesn't matter what people say about you, you're going to be an adventurer who sails away into the sunset and never has to hear their mockery ever again, and there will be babes and treasure and heroism, and then they'll all see how cool you really are!"
And all through high school you think to yourself, "he's going to move on to more realistic dreams any day now, and then I won't have to say anything about it!" But no matter how many times you mention something else he could do with his life that he seems interested in, or bring up the challenging logistics of traveling around long-term in a boat, he sounds just as committed to the childhood dream as ever, and completely oblivious to how apprehensive you sound.
So resentment grows, little by little. Because that's easier than confronting the soul-crushing levels of guilt that are building up inside of you, every time you don't take an opportunity to tell him you don't want to do the plan anymore. You don't have a single person in your life who modeled how to have difficult conversations for you. As far as you know, having this conversation with Stan would crush him into tiny little pieces and then he would hate you forever, and you can't stand the idea of losing the only friend you've ever had.
So tensions grow. A lack of interest turns into a bitter resentment that, if you were really being honest with yourself, is directed more at yourself than it is at Stan.
And then the falling-out happens, and it seems like you were proven right. Stan hates you now, and he's never going to forgive you for giving up on his dream. But two can play that game, so you try to hate him too. Because if you hate him too, then maybe it won't hurt as much that he never came back. That he never even turned up at school, or by the boat, or in through your bedroom window in the middle of the night. He knows what dad's like, and how he says impulsive exaggerated things when he's angry, and haven't you both dealt with his harsh words countless times before and been able to dust yourselves off and joke about it later? So why isn't he back at home, joking with you about how absurd your dad acted that night, being impossible and belligerent about ruining your dream, but at least now you're even, because you've ruined his dream too.
-
And now imagine you find out he risked the lives of everyone in existence to bring you back, right after you had accepted your fate was to die killing Bill. It would be terrifying and confusing and infuriating. If he cared so much, why didn't he do something to reconnect with you sooner? Why did he ignore you in favor of trying to make it big without you? Why didn't he take the infinitely safer and simpler action of reaching out to you without you having to track down his address and send a desperate plea for help? You were convinced that he didn't care enough to bother with you unless you had an important enough reason for him to come. But even then, he thought your plans were stupid. He didn't want anything to do with you, not even with the world at stake.
Did he save your life out of guilt? Does he pity you that much? It doesn't add up with what he did in the decade leading up to shoving you into the portal. And the dissonance between the version of him in your head that hates you, and the man who held out his arms to welcome you back to your home dimension, is so strong that you feel like you're being lied to again, like you're back in the depths of gaslighting and manipulation that Bill put you through, even though there's no way that's what Stan is trying to do... right? You can't figure it out, so you run away from it. You don't want to know the answer to whether or not Stan hates you, because you don't know which answer would hurt more, so you try to make him hate you more than ever, because at least then you would know for sure how he feels.
And in the end, after he sacrifices his memories for you, and for the world, things seem clearer. The layers upon layers of confusion and anger and hurt seem to have washed away like drawings in the sand, leaving behind the simple truth: that you two had an argument, and didn't move past it for forty years, and despite everything you put each other through, you both still want to re-connect.
So you sail away in a boat together.
And at first, it's wonderful. It's exactly what you want. It feels like an apology to Stan, and a thank-you for saving the world, and a once-in-a-lifetime chance to heal the rift between you two, and it's good to be back on earth, and you wonder why you ever doubted the dream you two once had.
But then, after the first long journey you spend on the sea together, when you get back home to dry land, Stan is already talking about planning your next adventure out on the open sea. He recaps every adventure you had on the first trip, over and over again, and he wants to chat with you all through the morning and long into the night, and you don't have the words to explain to yourself that you don't have enough social battery for this, and suddenly you're slipping back into the horrifyingly familiar feeling of Stan being overbearing and needing space from him and how could you think that? How could you think that about him after everything he's done for you and everything he's forgiven you for? But the longer this goes on, the more you realize that you still don't want to spend the rest of your life sailing around with Stan. It's great fun in moderation, but the idea of your whole life revolving around Stan and going on adventures with Stan and being in a boat with Stan with no time to be by yourself thinking about your own things and figuring out your own dreams makes your skin crawl with a claustrophobic kind of panic that you still don't know how to put into words forty years after the first time this feeling grabbed you by the throat and ruined your friendship with Stanley.
But the first time this happened, it nearly ruined his life forever. You can't let yourself feel this. You don't feel this. You're happy to spend the rest of your life fulfilling Stan's lifelong dream, and making up for the time you crushed his dream, and sure, maybe he crushed your dream once too, and maybe it would be nice for him to support your dreams like you're now doing for him, but you can't say that. He saved the universe, and it would be horrible and ungrateful and cruel for you to try to voice these feelings, especially when you don't know how to voice your feelings without it making other people feel like you twisted a knife into their gut. So you try to pretend the feeling isn't there.
You go out on a boat with Stan again. You planned out another incredible journey together, and this should be fun, and you should be happy about this, but the unspoken feeling you shoved as far down in yourself as it could possibly go is eating you alive. The worst part? Stan is starting to notice. You have never been good at hiding your emotions. The trick to it has always been to convince yourself you don't feel it at all, and not think about it, and that has always worked like a charm. But whenever the emotion claws its way back up to the forefront of your mind, you can tell Stan knows something is wrong. So you can't even give him the happy ending he deserves. You can't even convince him that you want to be here on the open seas forever with him, like he deserves. And you keep trying and trying to hide it, but Stan keeps asking in roundabout ways, like "You're being awfully quiet, sixer," and "whats that look on your face?" and eventually it comes exploding out of you like a shaken-up soda bottle dropped on its cap.
And then it's like you're back at home in New Jersey again, standing in the living room while dad grabs Stanley by the shirt. It all comes pouring out of you, in the worst possible way, with the worst possible phrasing, like a pandora's box of monstrousness, and Stan tries to fight back against the sting of your words, but you're made out of acid and you're burning through him and you can see it on his face, and there's never any coming back from this, not this time, you'll just have to either jump into the ocean or become a monster forever, so Stan can hate you more easily again, and-
-and at the end of the outburst, you're still on a boat in the middle of nowhere in the ocean with your brother, in dangerous waters, and you have things to do to keep the boat running smoothly.
You can't run away from him. He can't run away from you. You're stuck here for at least a couple more weeks, even if you turned around and sailed back towards shore right away.
-
And the thing that compels me so much here, despite how unbelievably angsty it all is, is that it sets up a situation wherein the Stans might end up forced to actually address the decades of resentment and confusion and wanting-to-reconnect-throughout-it-all that they thought they could gloss over and heal with enough time spent adventuring together on a boat. They might end up forced to actually address the crux of the issue that drove them apart in the first place: Ford wanting a little more space to feel like his own person, and to feel like he's able to have his own dreams, too.
It wouldn't happen easily, nor right away, but if they were stuck together on a little boat in the middle of nowhere surrounded by magical creatures they have to protect each other from in order to make it back home alive, then after they had one fight where they brought up all the things they silently agreed to never bring up again, it would probably happen many more times, and each time it would leave them both angrier at each other than ever, until eventually something honest slipped through amidst all the saying-anything-except-what-they-mean bickering. And once enough of these honest moments slipped through, then they would have a thread to tug on to start to unravel the gargantuan knot of their decades of unresolved conflicts.
And then, eventually, maybe Stan could learn that he can have a good friendship with his brother without needing to be glued to him at the hip, and Ford needing a certain amount of alone time doesn't mean he dislikes him or wants to abandon him, and Ford could learn that he can be honest and have a meaningful connection with someone without it driving them away and making them hate him.
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EVIILLL (i love that) BUT do they still make out WAYYYY longer then needed even if they're broken up?
oh, Certainly, darling. ;)
here’s the reference post for context.
and actually, that whole music video scene/side plot lives so rent free in my head, that i…started writing it out as a little mini para? i just miss writing stuff and wanted to do something fun and dramatic and spicy with legit crazy amounts of emotional/sexual tension in it.
because…oooough my god, i just know jersey was annoying and extra as FUCK that whole time. which, while diabolical, is also a very bold move bc stan was not speaking to him, like, At All and had no intentions to but kyle, conversely was extremely desperate speak to him so…he saw his opportunity and he took it, baby!
my man was Working! It! every angle, throwing his head back, his jawline could cut glass, his hair was so luxurious i bet it smelled so good, his like billowy tunic thing was falling over his shoulder, which has so many freckles on it…all while he was winking and waving his pretty long ass fingers at stan, smiling evilly.
— and when kyle does the things he did to him as raven back to him, it’s so funny to me because stan had to be blackout drunk and try really hard to exert that level of sex appeal as the biggest boyfailure on planet earth, but jersey quite literally is just That Bitch, does not need to try at all, can do it ten times better and it’s one hundred times more effective on ravenstan —
who is probably in hair in makeup, gripping the table so hard, trying to be unbothered when he’s SO bothered, hot and otherwise, shaking so much the hair and makeup team are like “you need to stay still.”
like stay still???? STAY STILL??? bitch! could you stay still if literally your ex super best boyfriend and the hottest person on planet earth is trying to eye!fuck! you! during the shoot for YOUR MUSIC VIDEO??? which i know that was extra stressful bc it was stan’s music video so it was his concept so he designed his own hell and built it around kyle and wanting to see kyle do it, so he literally played himself, rip bestie.
a mess…a MEEESSS.
and after all that happens which, whEw! a lot was happening, it was Very Ungentlemanly And Depraved, there were a lot of hands…in places that polite young man’s hands should not be…but when they pulled off i Swear kyle was smirking lookin sooo smug and satisfied, absolutely shameless, abt to try and go in for another one like literally tucking stan’s hair behind his ear, like skating his nail down his jaw line slowly and stan was SEETHING. i mean mad mad MAD!!! and stan never gets mad. like he stormed the hell out of there slammed the door And Everything before screaming into his hands.
free ravenstan, stop the violence jersey!!! you know my man is a pacifist and can’t fight back. :/
p.s. pls note that ravenstan looks like a slutty punk rock crimson dawn virgin sacrifice version of victor van dort in corpse bride but like more red than blue bc of raven stans angst divorce hair…do we…do we see the vision? there’s a vision and in it stan looks extremely pretty, wide eyed, easily corrupted & biteable. <3
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