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ironunderstands · 21 hours

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Yapping about why I love Aventio and what I feel makes it a great ship

(If you hate it I urge you to read this, because you don’t have to agree with me, but I want you to get where Aventio shippers are coming from at least)

I’ve just really wanted to talk about why I love Aventio because the people do not get it like I do and GODDD ITS SO GOOD WHEN DONE CORRECTLY UGHHHHH

Also this is gonna be VERY stream of consciousness I do not have a plan besides dragging you through my brain so enjoy the ride.

I guess the best place to start is the fact that Aventurine and Ratio are my two favorite characters in the game. Like even if they have no interactions with each other ever and might as well be from different pieces of media I would ship them, because I like seeing characters I like interact and the fun police cannot catch me. That’s a really shallow personal reason though and I feel like the rest I have will be able to be appreciated by others.

GOD THE DYNAMIC IS SO GOOD RAAAAAA

Two emotional constipated dumbasses circling around each other like black holes trying desperately to deny and run from their feelings when they have both fallen hard. The lack of acknowledgement of feelings on both ends is TRAGIC and it makes me want to rip my eyes out in a good way, let’s start with Ratio.

Unfortunately my glorious king Ratio has been mischaracterized to hell and back but we will get to that (and the Incorrect Reasons Why People Hate Aventio) later. Instead I will go over his actual character; a deeply insecure, intelligent man who desperately wants the rest of the galaxy to come to the realizations he has long since stumbled upon, but has been so isolated from his peers from such a young age that he’s doomed to fail in literally every social interaction he has and be misunderstood by both the audience in universe and irl (the autistic coding isn’t helping him either).

Ratio is tragically misunderstood again, both in universe and by the audience, which is why it means so much that Aventurine Gets Him. Aventurine pushes his buttons, tears down that literal cold marble facade masking the deeply silly and caring man beneath (this man bathes with rubber duckies in the privacy of his own home 😭), and that scares the shit out of Ratio. People aren’t meant to see through him, Ratio acts rude not just because he believes it’s the best way to help people, and because he believes he himself is mundane and the conclusions they come to should be their own, not his.

No, it’s also because on some level Ratio is afraid to be vulnerable around people. As much as he pretends like it doesn’t affect him, Nous’s rejection has hurt and haunted Ratio for his entire life. And I do mean his entire life, even in high school he had already set up a strict routine for himself, something commented on by his teacher, Ratio has quite literally always been striving for some sort of perfection and the fact that he cannot achieve it kills him.

Moreover, the guy just grew up way too fast, he didn’t have time to develop social skills. We see it in that afformentioned relationship with his teacher, in which they recommend Ratio (who is again in high school) to be moved up to college level stuff and transferred due to his success. He has quite literally never been able to just relax in a environment of his peers, Ratio for some reason we don’t yet know has always been dedicated to constant improvement and that leaves no room for dealing with failure.

On some level, he knows this too, that he can never be perfect. Ratio is part of the Mundanites in the Intelligenica Guild for a reason, he doesn’t just see himself as mediocre because he believes everyone is and that’s ok, but also because he looks down on himself for being too mediocre for the Genius Society, being too mediocre for Nous’s acknowledgement, being too mediocre for anything.

Which is tragic because Ratio is very accomplished and he is very smart, and his character stories aren’t even told from his pov, but rather in the style of documentaries and letters (his professor) and other works on his well acclaimed life. We don’t ever get to see how Ratio really sees himself, just the tiny cracks in his marble facade that let the real man behind the character shine through.

Because that’s what he’s playing 90% of the time, a character. Whether it be at the Herta Space Station in which his real goal was to uproot the researchers blind worship of the Genius Society, or in Penacony in which he plays up the arrogant, narcissistic scholar both people in universe and irl make him out to be, both to serve a goal bigger than himself.

Sincere moments from Ratio are RARE but god are they beautiful, his conversation from Screwllum in 1.6 and his note to Aventurine in 2.1 will forever haunt me in the best way possible. If you want to understand Ratio as a character, yes read his character stories, but just watch that damn scene with Screwllum it is phenomenal. He cares so much and is so, so bad at expressing it, he drives me nuts, Veritas Ratio the man you are.

And the thing is, it seems like he’s always been playing a character and doesn’t know where the real him ends anymore so he just sticks to the way people perceive him a lot of the time. Like as a kid he was constantly striving to be the best so he missed a lot of necessary developmental shit, and as an adult he’s a celebrity so it’s hard for him to attach himself to others anyways because society and his students will hound him for it.

And then you throw Aventurine into the mix, and oh boy does shit get interesting.

Veritas Ratio, perfect “unfeeling” Veritas Ratio and the one person who gets him well enough to push all his buttons and expose the vulnerable underbelly he thought he hid so well. On a fundamental level, Ratio understands this, which is why he doesn’t bother with the alabaster head, as pretending the real him is just as unfeeling and uncaring is easier.

So he brushes off Aventurine’s jests as if they are an insult to his very existence, he can’t look in Aventurine’s eyes when he “betrays” him because his poker face would break, he leaves as soon as he’s done talking because lingering would allow the weight of their conversations to sink in. Part of it is because for pretty much all of Penacony, up until the note Ratio gives him, Ratio is acting, trying to play up the role of the arrogant, unfeeling scholar to make Sunday buy the betrayal plan, because to Sunday this behavior is signs of a bad relationship between the two (honestly the fact that the audience also interpreted it this way makes me mad like did yall seriously not pay attention, but also happy because if even the players were fooled that means Sunday buying it is believable).

However, even if it feeds into his insecurities, Aventurine knows that false facade and loves tearing it down. It’s very telling that the second time we see Ratio really freak out (the first being at Herta Space Station) is at the suggestion that he came to narrate Aventurine’s demo not because of knowledge or respect for the show or whatever, but because he genuinely likes the guy. What makes it even better is that Aventurine is the one who suggested it, and already figured out the excuses Ratio was going to use to deny it. Ratio can fool everyone else in the galaxy, but he cannot fool Aventurine, and on a fundamental level that is what makes their dynamic work, because Ratio knows Aventurine in the exact same way.

Aventurine can shove away people who care about him, out of distrust and fear that they will leave him like his family did. He can believe he’s unloveable and a person so detestable that even the actions he performs in order to stay alive condemn him to hate himself as much as the rest of the galaxy hates him. But, Ratio doesn’t see him that way.

Aventurine doubts his intelligence, if he has really earned anything he’s done and in his voiceline about Ratio, doubting if Ratio even sees him as smart or worthy. However, Ratios voiceline about Aventurine is about how he believes Aventurine is smart and worthy, and that his doubt will be his downfall if he doesn’t come to the realization that he isn’t worthless.

Ratio knows Aventurine’s one weakness, the one thing that could stop him; himself. That’s why he gives him the note urging him to stay alive and keep on living because ultimately Aventurine will only ever fail if he gives up. And The Note Is Enough, Aventurine walks into the event horizon of a black hole, confident he can return alive on the other side because someone cares about him, BECAUSE RATIO CARES ABOUT HIM, and wants him to live on even if Aventurine doesn’t feel that way towards himself.

In the metaphorical and literal manifestation of the meaningless of the universe, in the face of overwhelming nihility, Aventurine survives because someone loves him, and with that love he’s strong enough to brave even that.

Even if they can’t admit it out loud, these two deeply, deeply care for one another and trust each other perhaps more than anyone else in the narrative. The betrayal plan would have never worked if there was not mutual trust, Ratio wouldn’t have gone to Penacony in the first place if he didn’t trust Aventurine, and Aventurine wouldn’t have asked him to come if he did not trust him. We don’t just see this trust between Aventurine and Ratio either, and Jade and Topaz both trust him with their cornerstones, but ultimately it’s Ratio who’s physically with him the whole time, risking his life alongside him for the sake of their plan.

As much as people like to ignore it, lying to the Family members, to Sunday, is extremely dangerous and puts Ratio’s life in danger as much as it does Aventurine’s. Ratio is not an irrational person, he wouldn’t have done that if he didn’t have faith Aventurine would succeed, he would not have done if he didn’t think he would return. They have absolutely faith in one another and it’s beautiful.

Aventurine’s first constellation is named “Prisoner’s Dilemma” for a reason. A social experiment in which two prisoners are captured and separated, if they sell the other one out and remain silent, they go free but the other remains in jail for 20 years. If they both sell each other out, they get a sentence of 5 years.

But if they both remain silent, trust the other, they even if they physically can’t communicate and don’t know what the other says, they get the best possible outcome, only one year in jail each. It requires a sacrifice on both ends, they both still have to go to jail, but only for a year, and only if they trust each other completely, as if the other sells them out they will be in jail for 20.

The prisoners dilemma relies completely on trust, and it’s the exact situation Aventurine and Ratio face in the Penacony quests. Aventurines doubts if Ratio’s betrayal was real or not, even if he set it up himself, and Ratio worries about Aventurines survival, if continuing this plan will end well. “You can’t expect a featherless bird to take flight” isn’t just Ratio chastising Sunday, he’s genuinely worried that this plan will put Aventurine at too much of a disadvantage to continue on.

But they both trust each other, and if just like in the Dilemma neither come out completely unscathed (although it’s much worse on Aventurine’s end), they ultimately achieve their goal.

God is it sweet and corny in the best way possible

I want to kill this fandoms perception of stoic, emotionless Ratio because once people realize he’s actually the corniest mf ever is the day I sleep easy. He makes statues of himself doing Jojo poses, he plays chess versus himself, he named himself Veritas (truth), he loves rubber duckies, he literally sits in a bathtub couch, and Aventurine breaths and he gets flustered.

Ratio so deeply silly, chronically corny, it’s a crime he needs to be locked up someone stop him.

And Aven brings that out of him. His teasing reveals the goofball trying so desperately to disguise himself as a serious scholar. Ratio is very smart of course, but that only makes his silliness better, as you watch this absolute genius of a man behave like a tsundere schoolgirl.

It’s not like Aventurine is some paragon of seriousness either, he’s the one teasing Ratio, fucking around even in a serious mission. Yeah it’s partly because he wants Sunday to think he’s incompetent, but it’s also because Aventurine genuinely is having fun, enjoying himself before the serious part of the plan kicks in, and the meantime he does that by messing with Ratio.

Their dynamic of Aventurine messing with Ratio, and Ratio trying desperately to pretend like it doesn’t affect him is as hilarious and heartwarming as it is tragic, and that dichotomy is why I love them so much. It’s fun and it hurts so so much because their interactions being this flavor of silly leaves almost no room for the sincerity they both desperately need from one another.

AND GOD I NEED IT TO HAPPEN. RATIO MENTAL BREAKDOWN SCENE PLEAASEEE LET HIS WALLS CRUMBLE PLEEEEAASEE PLEASE PELADE PLEASEEEE EPLES DOLS AAAAAAAAAAAAAAA

They’ve gotten closer and closer and closer and soon something’s gonna snap because they are so close yet so distant and if something doesn’t change the tension is just gonna boil over AND I NEED IT TO HAPPEN. I need more Ratio scenes I need more interactions with him I need him with his guard down I need him to profess out loud that he cares about Aventurine I need him to break please he needs it, it would be so good for him. It doesn’t even have to be from Aventurine, just Ratio snapping and revealing the fucking mess he is under his facade and not being rejected by the people he cares about for it is enough.

I honestly doubt it will happen in the story though, as much as I want it to. Although Aventurine’s character demo somewhat changed my mind against this, I feel like hoyo is like “ok they get the vibe between these two we can move on” and the shippers are left to extrapolate how this relationship would go beyond what it is now. As much as I want a breakdown scene for Ratio in general, it probably wouldn’t happen in a while but devs if you are reading this PLEASEEEE.

The only time Ratio ever gets slightly out of his element is with Aventurine but I need it to go further because god it would be interesting.

Well I’ve deemed that enough yapping about why I love Aventio (for now 😈) so let’s talk about why people hate the ship and why most of the reasons behind it a fucking stupid. (Massive disclaimer of course you can dislike it it’s just a lot of the “oh it’s a horrible ship and anyone who likes it sucks” shit isn’t grounded in reality in the slightest and I’m tired of the slander)

“Ratio was racist to Aventurine”

Now this is a spicy one because if this post was made in 2.0 I would 100% agree with you (during that time I shipped a non canon version of them in which that did not happen because how dare u do my boy like that hoyo). However 2.1 changed a lot and I mean a lot, and basically reframed the 2.0 quests for everyone.

Essentially, Ratio and Aventurine were both acting in that argument scene, making the things Ratio said to Aventurine not how he really sees him, and actively something Aventurine wanted him to say, so you cannot blame him for what he said. I’m not even joking or exaggerating, retrospectively it quite literally does not make sense if you view it in any other way, and honestly even with just the knowledge of 2.0 the scene doesn’t make sense if played straight, so let’s get to why.

a) Ratio and Racism do not mix fundamentally. Ratio is a person who believes that everyone deserves and education regardless of background, that it is a scholars duty to help others achieve that, and no matter who you are, you are capable of intelligence, learning and becoming the best version of yourself, and that those qualities are just limited to geniuses.

THIS AND RACISM DO NOT MIX. “Oh yeah education and improvement is possible for everyone except this specific group of people for some fucking reason!!” Like not only would this scene being serious contradict Ratios entire character, the man who believes people should not be judged for their educational background judging Aventurine for his educational background (that’s actually what the Sigonian upbringing line meant, it was mistranslated in the EN version)??!?!! Make it make sense.

Moreover, half this perception also come from the fact that hoyo made the incredible writing decision of naming Aventurines planet after a slur for Romani people, so unfortunately literally anytime its name, Sigonia, is brought up you’re essentially saying a slur. It’s much worse in the CN version, in EN it’s not obvious at all, because our version of the slur (it starts with a g and ends with a y that’s all the hints you’re getting), doesn’t look like the version of the slur that the name for Sigonia was derived from, which is partly the source of this misconception as I’m pretty certain most people assumed Ratio (and by extension Sparkle) said a slur elsewhere in the conversation when in reality them referring to Avens ethnicity/background/planet IS the slur.

Anyways terrible writing decisions aside, Ratio supposedly being racist doesn’t just contradict his core motivation, it contradicts his job. He’s a scholar, for fucks sake, and racism is inherently illogical. Mmm yes I’m gonna base my identity around finding truth for myself and I will believe government and social propaganda about specific groups of people! Very logical, very scholarly, we all clapped.

So yeah, doesn’t make sense on a character level, to the point that in 2.0 I concluded that they must be using Ratio as a plot device in that scene to deliver some of Aven’s backstory to the audience due to how OOC it was for him 😭. However I wasn’t necessarily wrong, Ratio was delivering some of Aventurines backstory to AN audience (not just us), and he was behaving OOC in the 2.0 scene, but it was on purpose.

b) The betrayal plan

Aventurine forms a plan in which him and Ratio pretend to betray one another in order to sneak the Aventurine cornerstone into the dreamscape by replacing it with the Topaz stone (red herring + black hole scene dialogue implies she and Jade are there for other reasons) and the Jade stone (perfect dupe).

Now this betrayal hinges on Sunday, their main antagonist buying it, actually believing that Ratio would betray Aventurine on a mission as important as Penacony, and it requires Sunday also buying that he is winning the whole time, that the loss of the cornerstones was somehow a fumble on Aventurine’s end rather than something he planned all along.

So, they stage the 2.0 conversation. Ratio yells at Aventurine for losing the cornerstones, something which was part of their plan the whole time. He then insults Aventurine’s background allowing Aventurine to reveal key details of his past that Sunday would not have learned otherwise, which he uses in the trial against Aventurine. Seriously, Aventurine only found out he was the last Avgin when he became a Stoneheart, do y’all think Sunday summoned that info with his mind or something during the trial (like do you guys genuinely think Sunday read his wiki or something)

Moreover, Ratio not only insults him, but portrays Aventurine as useless, disposable to the IPC because he is apparently already sentenced to death. Why does he do this? Well, so Sunday feels confident enough to do the same to Aventurine. Seriously, sentencing an IPC member, especially a high ranking one to death is a risky move, even for someone as convicted as Sunday, he would need the confidence to do so and learning Aven might already die would give him that ability.

Because well, it doesn’t matter that much if he’s already going to get disposed of in the near future. I also think the IPC plans to use Aventurine’s “death” as leverage against the family because they were pleased to hear of his death sentence according to Dr. Ratio, meaning a) he likely did not have one from them at the time, although in the past he was sentenced to death and b) even if Aventurine succeeded in getting the cornerstone his seeming loss in the rest of the conversation wasn’t actually a loss at all, getting sentenced to death/“dying” at the very least was part of the plan all along as the IPC could still use it as leverage if things went south.

Continually, Ratio treating Aventurine in the exact same sh1tty way the rest of the galaxy does perfectly slots him into the arrogant, uncaring scholar role, which Sunday knows are some of the most easily manipulated people in the galaxy, considering he tries to bribe Ratio with knowledge about Stellarons it seems he bought this idea hook line and sinker. Sunday isn’t even subtle about it either “I heard you and your companion haven’t been getting along lately” where did he hear that from? Ratio didn’t tell him, and even though we know Sunday was 100% watching the two of them on their little adventure pre-meeting him (the bird and hound statues) that scene hasn’t happened yet so where did he get that from?

Some other interesting proof for it is that the Final Victor lightcone likely depicts Aventurine trying to convince Ratio of this plan of his, the events of which must occur pre-Penacony for several reasons, the least of which being that we just never see it happen on Penacony which if you think it did we would see it. Moreover lightcones are canonically condensed memories and the Final Victor lightcone released in 2.0, meaning it’s the memory of something that happened before then.

All signs point to the 2.0 scene, the one people use to paint Aventio as toxic being staged. And I have so much more evidence for this, (Ratio would never agree to go without a plan, Aven clearly formed his pre-Penaocny, so much of the plan like Ratio opening the cornerstone box, which he can’t do up until the betrayal as it’s in Sundays possession, rely on him arriving knowing how to do so, the time discrepancies, the complete 180 in personality Ratio would have to do to go from distrusting Aventurine to putting his whole faith in him, etc), but I will reupload one of my old slideshows to elaborate more on it. Basically the one thing that people use to say it’s toxic is not true and is in fact a greater show of the trust between those two.

“The shippers are all weird and racist”

Now this one actually has some truth to it because yes there are some incredibly fucking weird Aventio shippers and I do not blame yall for disliking them.

HOWEVER, most Aventio shippers are normal and hate that shit just as much as you guys do. Like do you realize most shippers also really like these characters and have something insane called morals so they don’t automatically excuse racist fujoshi goobers just because they are making content for their favorite ship. Trust me someone doing that pisses me (and most other Aventio shippers) off significantly more than people who hate the ship. Also free Ratio from this shit man poor guy is getting mischaracterized as a slaveowner by his fans and haters 😭

And like guys, have you ever been in a fandom before, like ever? Weirdos are always gonna be weird and it’s not Aventio’s fault they are this months victims. For a fun little example of how gross other fanbases can be, one of the most popular Overwatch ships on ao3 is Genji Shimada X Hanzo Shimada WHO ARE BLOOD RELATED BROTHERS. THERES LIKE 300+ FICS OF IT, SHIMADACEST IS LITERALLY A TAG ON THERE. I WAS IN THE TRENCHES SEARCHING FOR GENJI HANZO ANGST FICS (Hanzo killed Genji it’s complicated doomed siblings will always get me) AND HAVING TO COMB THROUGH THOSE ABOMINATIONS IN THE PROCESS.

Like please I’m relatively new to fandom culture but yall cannot be acting like this is weird for fans to do, it’s weirdo behavior but it is not unique to the HSR fandom or even Aventio. And even if understandably this makes you not like the ship, don’t paint the people who enjoy it as being the people who do this kinda sh1t. It’s not our fault peak gets tainted by miserable creatures ok, let normal ppl have their harmless fun and stop lumping people together into a monolith.

?????

Well that’s it that’s all the “valid” reasons people have for hating Aventio, at least the ones I can remember. Everything else is just personal opinion and not at all an objective reason.

“They’re so sibling coded!”

Anyways again obviously you can still dislike it not everything is for everyone, I really just wanted to make this post to demonstrate why I and many others like it, and why the reasons people use to say it’s problematic are incorrect. Feel free to call it mid, block it whatever I don’t care, just don’t harass shippers for having some harmless fun, because the characters aren’t real but the people who like them are and in doing so you are really just being a jerk for no reason. If you somehow hate Aventio and read this the whole way through I congratulate you on your ability to actually listen to other people, and regardless of whether you changed your mind or not I respect you for doing so anyways. Thanks for reading and I would love to hear your thoughts.

#Hsr #honkai star rail #dr ratio #aventurine #aventio #raturine #ratiorine #golden ratio #tags for reach bc I need ppl to read this sorry #Also apologies to the Genji/Hanzo shippers for catching strays yall tend to mind your business and tag ur shit #So I can’t blame you that much for it even if I find it gross bc if I don’t wanna see it it’s very easy to not see it #I just wanted to give an example of how the hsr fandom is not unique in its weirdness #Ppl are horrible at tagging shit in this fandom #The next time I read an Aventio fic w surprise dubcon I’m gonna die #Anyways I hope you enjoyed reading bc this was sm fun to write #Aventio is peak we all cheered #aventurine hsr #dr ratio hsr

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thewertsearch · 3 days

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GG: i think you are projecting your own attitude on to others […] GG: rose just sent me a code for a crystal ball, shes my friend and is basically the best! […] CA: its probably a trap i wwouldnt trust her CA: she is a cunnin and treacherous sort trust me i knoww her type GG: wait do you have a thing for her too??? GG: did she reject you or something?

Annihilate him, Jade. This would be a good time to unleash that rage you've been cultivating.

CA: all of her FRAUDULENT MAGICS cannot come close to posin threat to my mastery ovver the TRUEST SCIENCES CA: an wwith my empiricists wwand i servve as the righteous hope that wwill incinerate delusion and the deluded alike

This dude's on some Methods of Rationality type shit.

I'm not sure why Eridan is on a crusade against magic. He's been insisting it was fake since his original introduction page, and it's pretty clear he has some sort of complex about it. Is there some unseen history here that we're not yet privy to?

GG: wow what are you talking about CA: so really you should be honored to inherit my old callin CA: both my armaments and my feud

To be fair to Eridan, he is accomplishing something useful here, even if it's by accident. Jade needs to get that rifle in her pen-pal's hands in order to fulfil the Endgame Bunny's time loop.

Recalling Eridan’s introduction reminds me that this is one of the most powerful riflekind weapons in existence. This should imply that top-tier weapons cost tens of millions of grist...

...but we just saw a weapon that costs much, much more.

Maybe the Proton Cannon has the same damage as the Crosshairs, but it also has an incredibly broken non-combat use.

GG: i have seen this before […] GG: i am very sure its the same rifle included with johns present […] CA: probably a cheap imitation of the original […] GG: i did not provide the weapons! GG: my penpal did […] GG: we worked on it together but he supplied the bunnys weapons GG: im pretty sure hes from the future! CA: wwhy GG: because he said hes my grandson

Really?

I suppose being raised by a Sburb veteran would explain why he uses terms like 'boonbuck' in casual speech - but almost nothing else makes sense when viewed through this lens.

If Pen-Pal is Jade's grandson, then he should be from decades in the future - presumably long after the game has ended. This doesn't sound like a problem, until you remember some of the references he made.

As much as it pains me to admit it, the Earth is probably gone for good - which means that any descendants of our Players will be raised somewhere else. Why would someone presumably raised in a completely different universe be so familiar with Earth's culture?

You could argue that he picked up his love of Earth movies from one of the surviving Earthlings, such as adult John - although that raises its own issues, because PP talks to John like he's never met him before. Maybe he died young, and passed his love of movies to PP posthumously - but as you can see, we're really having to stretch things to make this make sense.

Plus, there's an even bigger problem - namely, his 1920s 'accent'. None of the surviving Earthlings have it, and it's not like he just developed it spontaneously. If he was raised by Jade or her child, why does he talk like her grandfather would?

See, I'm still sure that PP is connected directly to Grandpa, and may well be the man himself - which means either PP is lying, or there's something more complicated going on here.

We don't know anything about Grandpa's life after he fled the Crocker household. If he was somehow raised by an adult, post-Sburb Jade, then he could consider her his grandmother, while still talking and acting like the Grandpa Harley we know. Plus, it would explain why he acts like he's from the past, but knows about the future. He already has a history of time travelling - maybe he's been doing it since he was a kid.

Similar to my old theory about Spades Slick, this one is a little too convoluted to be 100% true - but still I think there's something to this idea. Being raised by Jade would neatly explain where he got the bunny's weapons...

Ugh, I don't know! This Pen-Pal really is the biggest curveball this comic has thrown at me. I need to think it over some more.

#homestuck liveblog #full liveblog #act 5.2 #s106 #3175 #theories

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loveyourownsmiilee · 15 hours

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Like honestly as a Buddie shipper, what the fuck are we supposed to focus on??? What does all of this mean if not Buddie canon???

We get closer than ever this season. There’s a lot of changes in the relationship and how we interact. We’re trying to give the audience what they want.

Well, there’s something brand new for both of us. I can only say that much.

Outside of Christopher, Buck would be the second closest thing that he can have as a relationship.

And then go to Buck and say, 'I trust you with my child, and I see how much you put in for my son; this goes beyond friendship, and I love you to the core. To have that sense of vulnerability is a sense of strength that has been shown.

And the way Eddie navigates that is just kind of a no, that's just who he is. And nothing ruffles my feathers. Even if you break my ankle or maim me, it's fine. That's who he is, and I love him either way. And there's no competition for Eddie.

I don't think that the Buddie fans are wrong.

There is a chemistry there that exists just naturally, so we don't have to try and lean into that or lean away from that. We just let it flow.

Oh, 100%. 100%. I watch certain edits and I think 'Am I Team Buddie?' because there are really talented editors out there. And you know how it is.

Obviously Eddie and Ryan who plays him is obviously an attractive man.

I think with this season 7, we got a lot in store for the audience. You give them what they’ve known and a lot of what they don’t.

There’s a scene in the first episode, where Eddie reveals that he's going — or he mentions a first date, and it in fact ends up being Christopher's first date. And Buck has this moment of "Oh. I thought things were going great with Marisol...' So little moments where I felt like, 'Is there scope to play with Buck?'

They've both become quite embedded in each other's lives. "I think they've kind of bonded and connected on so many levels, whether it be work, their personal lives and then add in that kind of fun dynamic where they clearly do just get on well. I think it's just a nice recipe for a good relationship, however you choose to see it.

There's some really beautiful stuff between him and Eddie and kind of them being open and sharing things with each other that they may have been reluctant to share with—I know how that's going to be taken. But it's true. [They're] there for each other in a very kind of open and nonjudgmental way.

They get to show up for each other in different ways. Moving forward there’s almost like potential for things to come up in a not so great light. But we get to see their friendship persevering, and them being there in ways they didn’t necessarily expect for each other. And I just, it’s a really lovely journey for them this season.

Eddie doesn't really have a sense of direction, so he reaches out for the closest person, and that closest person is Buck.

And Eddie was a mess. I think at that moment, the friendship had a turning point and now has allowed Buck and Eddie to really share as much or whatever they'd want, the scariest things in the world they could share with each other. And we're going to be seeing more of that this season.

As far as [Eddie's] sexuality, I think it's pretty clear that he's tried to fill in this motherly, this wife type role—that's all he knows…"And he's a man [that] first off, he's Catholic. Second off, he's from the military. So those are very straight-edge kind of lifestyles that don't offer too much of exploring. But through the 118, he's had this epiphany each year, like, 'Well, maybe I don't know as much as I thought I did. And maybe I should be exploring a little bit more and maybe I should understand myself a little bit more and even seek a therapist, which is something new for Eddie.

He is actually starting to figure out who he is outside of 'I am an Army man who has a silver badge! ... He's way more than that. He's starting to live in that [feeling] a little bit more, and I think that's freeing to him.

At this point we can’t be reading between the lines or coming to random conclusions when every thing said is so blatantly obvious.

#buddie #ryan guzman #oliver stark #ryliver #LIKE WHAT DOES ALL THIS MEAN #HOW IS IT ALL NOT LEADING TO BUDDIE #yes I’m back with another compilation sue me #thank you for coming to my ted talk

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morganacorp · 2 days

Text

"Everything okay?" Lena asked as she came out of Kara's bathroom, finding Alex and Kara with their arms crossed and worried looks on their faces. As soon as she was in front of them, she saw Alex's face harden and Kara's eyes became accusatory.

"Have you been working with Kryptonite?" Alex asked with a cold voice, the same one Lena knows is reserved for criminals.

"I- what's happening?" She chuckled, confused and feeling exposed. One moment she had been hanging out with Kara, some romantic vibes between them, and then the next moment she was being questioned by the Director of the DEO.

"Answer the question, Lena." Kara said barely above a whisper.

"Have you been working with Kryptonite, Lena?" Alex asked again.

"I have." She frowned and Alex rolled her eyes while Kara looked down. "But it's not-"

"You said you wouldn't make any more kryptonite, Lena. You said you'd let Kara know if you made more." Alex said, obviously angry.

"how do you know I'm-"

"We caught the radiation signature in your apartment." Alex said and Kara simply stood behind her, unable to look at Lena.

"That's impossible, I've been working on it in my lab, and I've taken all the-"

"How could you?" Kara finally broke her silence, looking up at her with that self righteous disappointment that was so typical of Supergirl.

"Kara, I'd never do anything to hurt you-" Lena frowned.

"You made kryptonite again." Kara said with bitterness, a heavy tear dripping down her cheek.

"And you just jump to the conclusion that it was to hurt you." Lena scoffed, a bitter smile on her face. "I'm a Luthor, right? You've never trusted me and never will." She whispered and walked to get her coat before her own tears made an appearance.

"You can't leave. Where are you going?" Alex said with an authoritarian voice.

"You're welcome to arrest me if that's what you think you should do, Director Danvers." Lena said simply, walking out the door of Kara's apartment.

Years of effort pulling her walls down gone in an instant, all of her alarms and protections coming back to wrap her heart in barbwire to protect it, even if it was already bleeding.

"Director Danvers." A DEO agent told Alex, bringing a heavy looking briefcase to her while she worked with Brainy and Kara in her lab. "A messenger brought this for you, it's from Miss Luthor."

"Did Lena bring it?" Alex asked worriedly, looking over at her sister.

"No, ma'am."

"Thank you." She said and the agent walked away.

"Can you see inside?" Brainy asked and Kara shook her head.

"It's lined with lead."

"Kara, you should step back in case this is-"

"she wouldn't, Alex."

"You said the same about her making kryptonite." She mumbled and moved the briefcase away from Kara. She opened it slowly and looked at the contents confused.

"What's in there?" Kara asked curiously.

"it's-"

"it's brilliant." Brainy said, grabbing the tiny red box that wasn't bigger than a bar of soap and looking at it curiously.

"What is it?" Kara asked and walked closer to inspect the artifact too.

"It's- Lena has perfected the nano suit I created for you by teaching the nano technology how to filter Kryptonite. This should be sufficient in case of mild exposure." Brainy smiled, fascinated by Lena's work. "This is basically her combining the armor suit with the one we made, making it the best of both worlds, so to speak."

"Oh..." Kara sighed.

"Oh... Shit." Alex whispered sadly, watching something on the computer.

"what is that?"

"her lab logs." She said sadly, showing her the screen.

"Lab Log for a personal project. Video for my personal reference only, and for DEO registration as Kryptonite will be used. Day 1 on the project to develop filtering nanotechnology for Supergirl. I will create a suit that will keep Supergirl safe from kryptonite exposure, eliminating the limited mobility on the armor suit." Lena's voice said and the camera footage showed her arranging different kinds of chemicals and other stuff she'd need. "Step one will be creating supercharged kryptonite to ensure the maximum protection of the suit. A safe decontamination protocol has been established in case of emergency." Lena explained and started the process.

"This is dated... This was the week after you were attacked by kryptonite at the museum."

"She wanted to protect me." Kara whispered, feeling her heart breaking in her chest. She had been caught by surprise and barely made it out alive thanks to J'onn and Nia, but she had to spend two days under the sun lamps to recover from the horrible beating she took. Lena stayed by her side every minute.

"What's in that box, Alex?" Brainy asked and pointed at the larger box in the briefcase.

"The kryptonite Lena made... It's a lead box." She said, swallowing hard.

"I have to fix this." Kara shook her head and flew out of the DEO as fast as she could, making her way straight to LCorp.

Lena was sitting on her white couch, looking defeated and exhausted with a drink in her hand. She didn't notice Kara at first, but when she did her face hardened, becoming a perfect angry mask made of marble to protect her.

"Lena."

"Please leave." She said with a cold voice loaded with emotion.

"We need to-"

"I'm moving back to Metropolis." She said coldly. "I made a mistake by moving here. The first of many mistakes, in fact." She said bitterly. "I will send all the devices and prototypes I've created for Supergirl and the rest of your super friends to the DEO for you to dispose of them accordingly. You'll realize that some of them are finished and others aren't, but what you do with the technology is up to you." She said and Kara stepped closer.

"Lena, let me talk to you-"

"There's nothing to talk about, Kara. You have never trusted me, and it's obvious that the shadow of my name and my brother will always be present between us. I can save the world by your side ten times, and yet there will always be a black stain on the white sheet: my family." She rationalized, walking to pour herself another drink.

"I trust you with my life, Lena. You know it."

"As soon as you learned about the kryptonite you assumed I wanted to hurt you." She scoffed. "That's not trust, it's the opposite." She said looking coldly into her eyes. "I'll always wake that sentiment of suspicion on you, Kara. It will always be there with you and your sister, and even your friends-"

"they're your friends too! They're-"

"they have always been your friends. I was just one more who got to tag along." She said and cursed herself for allowing a tear to escape.

"Lena, you know I love-" Kara whispered, stepping close to Lena and wiping the tear away with her thumb.

"don't you dare finish that." Lena warned her coldly with a quivering lip, the raw hurt in her voice making Kara realize how badly she hurt her. "Please go and stop hurting me." She whispered. "I'll disappear from your life and everything will go back to normal." She said, full on crying now. Kara always knew how to unlock her emotions.

"I don't want you to disappear from my life." She sighed, cupping Lena's face like it was a fragile thing. "You are my life."

"Miss Luthor, the helicopter is ready to take you to the airport." Lena's assistant said from the door, a little shocked to find Supergirl wiping her boss' tears.

"I have to go." Lena said, closing her eyes for two seconds to enjoy the warmth that Kara's hands brought to her face, the same warmth she brought to her life.

"Stay." Kara asked her softly. "Stay with me."

"Goodbye, Kara." She whispered and walked way using every ounce of strength in her body. She sobbed in the elevator ride and tried to look put together enough while getting on the helicopter, ignoring the red cape waving in the wind while Kara watched the love of her life leave her behind.

#lena luthor #kara danvers #supercorp #fanfic

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banquetwriter · 3 days

Note

hellooo! can i request johnnie x reader, where his tweets are about a song but the fans think they broke up because y/n also had a suspicious tweet like him!! thank you i hope you have a wonderful day!

୨୧ Assumptions ୨୧

pairing: Johnnie Guilbert ♡︎ Reader

warnings: ୭̥⋆*｡ short (I'm sorry) fluff tbh

summary: ʚ the fans get the wrong idea when you and Johnnie tweet lyrics of his new song ɞ

Words: 1299

An: this is short but honestly it's so sweet and I loved doing this!!

You made sure to keep balance with the plate and cup in your hands as you approached your office room. You had finally convinced Johnnie to start editing in your office since he moved in. You both even set up a little recording spot for him complete with a spooky background.

You walked up to the door and knocked against it slightly using your foot. After a moment or two the door opened with a slightly worn-looking Johnnie. “Hey what's all this for?” he asked, opening the door for you. “Well you have been working so hard on your new song I thought I outta surprise you.”

You say with a big smile holding up his cup of tea and chips. “Eh, I'm really proud of this song. I just hope it, you know, does well,” he says with a short laugh at the end of his sentence. You smile while walking to the couch that is directly next to his editing chair.

The one you sat at and relaxed while he would stream. The whole world seemed so in love with you two dating. Everyone loved how well you two worked. And you loved it too. “I'm sure they will babe. I think you fucking killed it with this song,” you spoke moving your legs up to your chest and setting the food on the desk.

He smiles as you sit down in his chair and start to click around on his computer. You plucked a chip off of his plate scrolling around Twitter. “Hey, quit stealing my chips,” Johnnie said, staring at you accusingly.

You pause looking up at him, blinking slowly for a second. “When your dick gets bigger I will,” you said with a faux smile. He giggles at your comment, turning back to the computer, his fingers reaching for the coffee mug.

“Be careful, I think the tea is still pretty hot.” you half mumble the warning before putting the chip in your mouth. “I'll drink whatever the fuck I want bitch.” he says in a sassy, Timmy-esque voice. He takes a small sip of the tea before yanking the cup away from his mouth. “Fuck!” he shouts as the hot piqued burned his mouth.

You let out a loud laugh at his reaction, covering your mouth as you did so. “Aahh fuck you!” he yelps again searching for a drink of something colder. You snicker looking back down at your phone. Twitter was usually an awful place to be and it wasn't any different than this time.

You banned Johnnie from looking up his name on social media sites, and it wasn't good that you still did it but occasionally you liked to check in on fans and see what was popular amongst the fandom.

Most were hyping up the newest video you had posted this week and taking clips from it as reactions. Your fans were so funny, like genuinely. It blew you away that people found you so funny.

Of course, there were a select few that were not ideal. One about how You and Johnnie haven't posted in a while, and that you two must have broken up. They were not true by any means. With Johnnie's new song coming out soon it was easier for him to bulk-record videos so he had more time during the day to work on it.

Johnnie had finally calmed down from burning the shit out of his mouth. “How much of the new song have you teased?” you asked using your foot to spin his chair so he faced you. You continued to munch on a few chips, eating all the food you brought for your boyfriend.

“Honestly not much just that I have a new song coming out, not even a date or anything,” he said, grabbing a chip too. “Mmm we should start doing more to promote it, well sorry, you should do more this isn't my song,” you murmur using your ring finger to tap around your phone with your chip-dust-covered hands.

“Mmm, I feel like it's both of our songs in a way, I mean yeah I performed it and edited it but you helped me write it. You're also helping me by taking care of me.” he gestured to his tea as he took a sip.

You smiled at his words. It was nice when credit was given for things like this. This was Johnnie's song but you did help him with the lyrics. It was about the heartbreak of getting older, the lyrics sounding like you were talking to time.

The idea simmered down into a few words; it was like breaking up with time. The lyrics were akin to a breakup song. It was a cool idea and one you dealt with as you grew older. You even starred in the music video as the “time” character.

“What were we thinking of doing?” he murmured with his mouth full. “Maybe tweeting a few of your lyrics? Something you wouldn't normally rant about I guess,” you suggested dusting your fingers off.

“That could be cool, we should do it from the chorus or something,” he said, pulling his phone out of his back pocket. “Yeah for sure,” you mumbled absentmindedly, moving the chair with your foot still.

Over the next few days you both tweeted lyrics from the song. ‘I will forever mourn the loss of us’ and ‘You can't stay innocent to it forever’ got the most likes. Unfortunately, you two were now trending. “What the fuck are we going to do?” you asked looking at the #Johnnieandy/nbreakup tag.

“Just ignore them? The song comes out soon anyway,” he reassured you, his thumb rubbing the side of your thigh. Your legs rested on his lap as you cuddled up next to him.

You still didn't like the idea that everyone thought you two broke up. You can see how someone might think that from your guy’s tweets. And yes you shouldn't assume something about someone online but that just means your fans care about you. Doesn't it?

After a few days, you both released another video on each other's YouTube channels. The entire comments were filled with asking where the other person was. If you two had really broken up this would have been awful. Thank god you hadn't.

You both decided that you two should make at least one video addressing the rumors. On one of your tik toks someone had commented ‘Did you and Johnnie break up?’ so you replied to the comment with a video.

“Hey guys so a lot of people have been asking if me and my boyfriend Johnnie broke up, so today we are going to go ask him,” you said holding the phone up to your face as if introducing a vlog.

The next shot was of your feet walking up to Johnnie sitting on the couch. “Hey babe?” you asked, pointing the camera at him. “Yeah?” he answered back looking up at you. “Did we break up?” you ask as if it was a normal question.

“Umm last time I checked no,” he replied back trying to hold his smile back. “Oh ok, sweat just checking. Love you,” you said back moving the phone down as he broke his serious face and laughed with you.

You posted the tik tok captioned “addressing the rumors”

You cuddled up next to him and read the comments. Most of them were making fun of others for assuming things. The other half was just talking about how cute the two of you were together.

The following day the song and music video were posted and the feedback was worth it. You were so proud of Johnnie and all he had done but this song meant so much to both of you.

#jake and johnnie #johnnie guilbert #johnnie guilbert fluff #johnnie guilbert x reader #johnnie guilbert x you #johnnie x you

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gentlebeardsbarngrill · 1 day

Text

04/23/2024 Daily OFMD Recap

TLDR; David Jenkins; Taika Waititi; Samba Schutte; Vico Ortiz; Astroglide; Articles; Fan Spotlight: Cast Cards; Never Left Podcast; OFMD Colouring Pages; Love Notes; Daily Darby/Tonight's Taika

== David Jenkins ==

Chaos Dad popped out to send some love and support today!

Img Src: David Jenkins Twitter

= Taika Waititi =

Well, Taika broke the internet today with his Belvedere commercial. Directed and starred in it. Be sure to open a window because it is hot.

youtube

= Samba Schutte =

Samba has started up a new T Shirt campaign to benefit the charity @everymomcounts that helps to make pregnancy and childbirth, safe and equitable! You can either buy a #CrewForLife t-shirt, or sign up for one of his baking classes/meet and greets!

Our Merch Means Death on Stands

Delicious Chaos with Samba Schutte

== Vico Ortiz ==

Vico starred in a short called Fire F*cking Fire and great news it's headed to the Tribeca Film Festival in June!

Img Src: Vico Ortiz IG

== Astroglide ==

Our besties over at @astroglideofficial put out a word search today with a few words/phrases you'll recognise!

Img Src: Astroglide Twitter

== Articles ==

Warner Bros. Stock Has Had a Rough Year. Why This Analyst Thinks It Will Get Even Worse.

Mark Indelicato Frustrated With Queer Shows Constantly Cancelled

== Fan Spotlight ==

== Cast Cards ==

Our fabulous @melvisik has another cast card for us! Tonight's is another one of the bourgeousie that Frenchie and Olu manageed to include in their Pyramid Scheme! They are the one that Olu told to "Go Away"!

Img Src: @melvisik's Twitter

== Never Left Podcast ==

Next episode of the podcast Never Left is out! This one is Beautiful Princess Disorder Part 5!

Never Left Instagram

Never Left Linktr.ee

== OFMD Colouring Pages ==

More colouring pages from the fantastic @patchworkpiratebear ! Visit their tumblr for more!

== Love Notes ==

Hey there Lovelies. Happy Taika Tuesday! Did you have a good day today?

Dad's comments today brought out a lot of folks sharing their stories on therapy and I wanted to chat about it for a moment.

First of all, if you're delving out for the first time (or trying again after years of not going)-- just know, you're being really brave. Depending on where you come from and your background, mental health may not have been something that your family prioritized (or maybe it was but therapy was never an option). It can be pretty scary to talk to someone you don't know about your inner most worries. You're taking a big step, and I'm proud of you for that.

You've looked at your situation, whatever tough things you're experiencing, and you've decided to prioritize you and your mental health-- and that's amazing. It's a hard decision to make sometimes, and as simple as it should be, it's not that easy. I'm so happy that mental health is talked about and therapy is so much more accepted now a days. Growing up I was in a situation where we "didn't talk about ourselves to other people" and that can be so very lonely when you are feeling really down.

I wanted to mention a couple things that I didn't know going into therapy-- in case they help at all, but obviously every experience is different, so feel free to take or leave the advice :)

Firstly, therapy doesn't solve things overnight. Sometimes it'll take weeks, or months, or years to unpack some of the things you really need to work through. It'll take time. When I went to therapy for the first time, for some reason I thought I'd just be able to dump all my problems out on a table and the therapist would pick one and we'd work on it. Instead it was a gradual thing, where they got to know me, I got to know them, and the more we talked the more we were able to unravel. I just don't want you to get discouraged if it takes longer than you planned, it's definitely a process.

Secondly, something to remember, is not all therapists are going to vibe with you. It took me a few tries before I found a therapist that really worked well with me. If you don't feel like it's helping, consider looking into a different therapist, sometimes it's not the therapy that you're struggling with, but just a mismatched vibe with your therapist. If you can help it-- don't give up right away, try another, I was really grateful that I did.

Thirdly, and if you're like me, this is a tough one. Remember to advocate for yourself. Sometimes a therapist may want to try certain therapies, or exercises, and it's something you've tried and just isn't working for you, or they want to go a medication route and you dont, or maybe they're saying something you disagree with. Remember you're your own advocate here, and they're here to help you, not hinder you from getting to where you want to be. Speak up for yourself if you can.

Lastly, therapy, especially the first few, don't always end in happy feelings. Think of it like a muscle in your leg that you haven't been using for years...and it's atrophied. You have to build that muscle back up, and it can really hurt occasionally during that time. You might leave therapy feeling worse once or twice because you're finally letting out some of that vitriol you've been holding onto for so long. It should feel better later.. maybe the next day, but it may not feel great the same day. That's a perfectly reasonable experience to have, and if you feel awesome, that is too!

Anyway lovelies, not sure if that helps, but I wanted to share it just in case it helped someone.

Whether you're going to therapy tomorrow, or soon, or ever, or never, I am really proud of you. You're doing what you need for you, and that's the most important thing. You deserve good things, and healthy thoughts and positive feelings. You really do. You got this <3

== Daily Darby / Tonight's Taika ==

Tonight's theme is hats <3 Taika Gif Courtesy of the phenomenal @ofmd-ann, Darby gif Courtesy of the lovely @funforahermit

#daily ofmd recap #daily ofmd recaps #ofmd daily recap #ofmd daily recaps #vico ortiz #david jenkins #samba schutte #never left podcast #our flag means death #ofmd #rhys darby #taika waititi #Youtube #Spotify

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cy-cyborg · 2 days

Text

Dealing with Healing and Disability in fantasy: Writing Disability

[ID: An image of the main character from Eragon, a white teenage boy with blond hair in silver armour as he sits, with his hand outstretched. On his hand is a glowing blue mark. He is visibly straining as he attempts to heal a large creature in front of him. /End ID]

I'm a massive fan of the fantasy genre, which is why it's so incredibly frustrating when I see so much resistance to adding disability representation to fantasy works. People's go-to reason for leaving us out is usually something to the effect of "But my setting has magic so disability wouldn't exist, it can just be healed!" so let's talk about magic, specifically healing magic, in these settings, and how you can use it without erasing disability from your story.

Ok, let's start with why you would even want to avoid erasing disability from a setting in the first place. I talked about this in a lot more detail in my post on The Miracle Cure. this line of thinking is another version of this trope, but applied to a whole setting (or at least, to the majority of people in the setting) instead of an individual, so it's going to run into the same issues I discussed there. To summarise the points that are relevant to this particular version of the trope though:

Not every disabled person wants or needs a cure - many of us see our disability as a part of our identity. Do difficulties come with being disabled? absolutely! It's literally part of the definition, but for some people in the disabled community, if you took our disabilities away, we would be entirely different people. While it is far from universal, there is a significant number of us who, if given a magical cure with no strings attached, would not take it. Saying no one in your setting would be disabled because these healing spells exists ignores this part of the community.

It messes with the stakes of your story - Just like how resurrecting characters or showing that this is something that is indeed possible in the setting can leave your audience feeling cheated or like they don't have to worry about a character *actually* ever dying. healing a character's disability, or establishing that disability doesn't exist in your setting because "magic" runs into the same problem. It will leave your readers or viewers feeling like they don't have to worry about your characters getting seriously hurt because it will only be temporary, which means your hero's actions carry significantly less risk, which in turn, lowers the stakes and tension if not handled very, very carefully.

It's an over-used trope - quite plainly and simply, this trope shows up a lot in the fantasy genre, to the point where I'd say it's just overused and kind of boring.

So with the "why should you avoid it" covered, let's look at how you can actually handle the topic.

Limited Access and Expensive Costs

One of the most common ways to deal with healing and disability in a fantasy setting, is to make the healing magic available, but inaccessible to most of the population. The most popular way to do that is by making the services of a magical healer capable of curing a disability really expensive to the point that most people just can't afford it. If this is the approach you're going to use, you also typically have to make that type of magic quite rare. To use D&D terms, if every first level sorcerer, bard, cleric and druid can heal a spinal injury, it's going to result in a lot of people who are able to undercut those massive prices and the expense will drop as demand goes down. If that last sentence didn't give you a hint, this is really popular method in stories that are critiquing capitalistic mindsets and ideologies, and is most commonly used by authors from the USA and other countries with a similar medical system, since it mirrors a lot of the difficulties faced by disabled Americans. If done right, this approach can be very effective, but it does need to be thought through more carefully than I think people tend to do. Mainly because a lot of fantasy stories end with the main character becoming rich and/or powerful, and so these prohibitively expensive cure become attainable by the story's end, which a lot of authors and writer's just never address. Of course, another approach is to make the availability of the magic itself the barrier. Maybe there just aren't that many people around who know the magic required for that kind of healing, so even without a prohibitive price tag, it's just not something that's an option for most people. If we're looking at a D&D-type setting, maybe you need to be an exceptionally high level to cast the more powerful healing spell, or maybe the spell requires some rare or lost material component. I'd personally advise people to be careful using this approach, since it often leads to stories centred around finding a miracle cure, which then just falls back into that trope more often than not.

Just outright state that some characters don't want/need it

Another, admittedly more direct approach, is to make it that these "cures" exist and are easily attainable, but to just make it that your character or others they encounter don't want or need it. This approach works best for characters who are born with their disabilities or who already had them for a long time before a cure was made available to them. Even within those groups though, this method works better with some types of characters than others depending on many other traits (personality, cultural beliefs, etc), and isn't really a one-size-fits-all solution, but to be fair, that's kind of the point. Some people will want a cure for their disabilities, others are content with their body's the way they are. There's a few caveats I have with this kind of approach though:

you want to make sure you, as the author, understand why some people in real life don't want a cure, and not just in a "yeah I know these people exist but I don't really get it" kind of way. I'm not saying you have to have a deep, personal understanding or anything, but some degree of understanding is required unless you want to sound like one of those "inspirational" body positivity posts that used to show up on Instagram back in the day.

Be wary when using cultural beliefs as a reasoning. It can work, but when media uses cultural beliefs as a reason for turning down some kind of cure, it's often intending to critique extreme beliefs about medicine, such as the ones seen in some New Age Spirituality groups and particularly intense Christian churches. As a general rule of thumb, it's probably not a good idea to connect these kinds of beliefs to disabled people just being happy in their bodies. Alternatively, you also need to be mindful of the "stuck in time" trope - a trope about indigenous people who are depicted as primitive or, as the name suggests, stuck in an earlier time, for "spurning the ways of the white man" which usually includes medicine or the setting's equivalent magic. I'm not the best person to advise you on how to avoid this specific trope, but my partner (who's Taino) has informed me of how often it shows up in fantasy specifically and we both thought it was worth including a warning at least so creators who are interested in this method know to do some further research.

Give the "cures" long-lasting side effects

Often in the real world, when a "cure" for a disability does exist, it's not a perfect solution and comes with a lot of side effects. For example, if you loose part of your arm in an accident, but you're able to get to a hospital quickly with said severed arm, it can sometimes be reattached, but doing so comes at a cost. Most people I know who had this done had a lot of issues with nerve damage, reduced strength, reduced fine-motor control and often a great deal of pain with no clear source. Two of the people I know who's limbs were saved ended up having them optionally re-amputated only a few years later. Likewise, I know many people who are paraplegics and quadriplegics via spinal injuries, who were able to regain the use of their arms and/or legs. However, the process was not an easy one, and involved years of intense physiotherapy and strength training. For some of them, they need to continue to do this work permanently just to maintain use of the effected limbs, so much so that it impacts their ability to do things like work a full-time job and engage in their hobbies regularly, and even then, none of them will be able bodied again. Even with all that work, they all still experience reduced strength and reduced control of the limbs. depending on the type, place and severity of the injury, some people are able to get back to "almost able bodied" again - such was the case for my childhood best friend's dad, but they often still have to deal with chronic pain from the injury or chronic fatigue.

Even though we are talking about magic in a fantasy setting, we can still look to real-life examples of "cures" to get ideas. Perhaps the magic used has a similar side effect. Yes, your paraplegic character can be "cured" enough to walk again, but the magic maintaining the spell needs a power source to keep it going, so it draws on the person's innate energy within their body, using the very energy the body needs to function and do things like move their limbs. They are cured, but constantly exhausted unless they're very careful, and if the spell is especially strong, the body might struggle to move at all, resulting in something that looks and functions similar to the nerve damage folks with spinal injuries sometimes deal with that causes that muscle weakness and motor control issues. Your amputee might be able to have their leg regrown, but it will always be slightly off. The regrown leg is weaker and causes them to walk with a limp, maybe even requiring them to use a cane or other mobility aid.

Some characters might decide these trade-offs are worth it, and while this cures their initial disability, it leaves them with another. Others might simply decide the initial disability is less trouble than these side effects, and choose to stay as they are.

Consider if these are actually cures

Speaking of looking to the real world for ideas, you might also want to consider whether these cures are doing what the people peddling them are claiming they do. Let's look at the so-called autism cures that spring up every couple of months as an example.

Without getting into the… hotly debated specifics, there are many therapies that are often labelled as "cures" for autism, but in reality, all they are doing is teaching autistic people how to make their autistic traits less noticeable to others. This is called masking, and it's a skill that often comes at great cost to an autistic person's mental health, especially when it's a behaviour that is forced on them. Many of these therapies give the appearance of being a cure, but the disability is still there, as are the needs and difficulties that come with it, they're just hidden away. From an outside perspective though, it often does look like a success, at least in the short-term. Then there are the entirely fake cures with no basis in reality, the things you'll find from your classic snake-oil salesmen. Even in a fantasy setting where real magic exists, these kinds of scams and misleading treatments can still exist. In fact, I think it would make them even more common than they are in the real world, since there's less suspension of disbelief required for people to fall for them. "What do you mean this miracle tonic is a scam? Phil next door can conjure flames in his hand and make the plants grow with a snap of his fingers, why is it so hard to believe this tonic could regrow my missing limb?"

I think the only example of this approach I've seen, at least recently, is from The Owl House. The magic in this world can do incredible things, but it works in very specific and defined ways. Eda's curse (which can be viewed as an allegory for many disabilities and chronic illnesses) is seemingly an exception to this, and as such, nothing is able to cure it. Treat it, yes, but not cure it. Eda's mother doesn't accept this though, and seeks out a cure anyway and ends up falling for a scam who's "treatments" just make things worse.

In your own stories, you can either have these scams just not work, or kind of work, but in ways that are harmful and just not worth it, like worse versions of the examples in the previous point. Alternatively, like Eda, it's entirely reasonable that a character who's been the target of these scams before might just not want to bother anymore. Eda is a really good example of this approach handled in a way that doesn't make her sad and depressed about it either. She's tried her mum's methods, they didn't work, and now she's found her own way of dealing with it that she's happy with. She only gets upset when her boundaries are ignored by Luz and her mother.

Think about how the healing magic is actually working

If you have a magic system that leans more on the "hard magic" side of things, a great way to get around the issue of healing magic erasing disability is to stop and think about how your healing magic actually works.

My favourite way of doing this is to make healing magic work by accelerating the natural processes of your body. Your body will, given enough time (assuming it remains infection-free) close a slash from a sword and mend a broken bone, but it will never regrow it's own limbs. It will never heal damage to it's own spinal cord. It will never undo whatever causes autism or fix it's own irregularities. Not without help. Likewise, healing magic alone won't do any of these things either, it's just accelerating the existing process and usually, by extension making it safer, since a wound staying open for an hour before you get to a healer is much less likely to get infected than one that slowly and naturally heals over a few weeks. In one of my own works, I take this even further by making it that the healing magic is only accelerating cell growth and repair, but the healer has to direct it. In order to actually heal, the healer needs to know the anatomy of what they're fixing to the finest detail. A spell can reconnect a torn muscle to a bone, but if you don't understand the structures that allow that to happen in the first place, you're likely going to make things worse. For this reason, you won't really see people using this kind of magic to, say, regrow limbs, even though it technically is possible. A limb is a complicated thing. The healer needs to be able to perfectly envision all the bones, the cartilage, the tendons and ligaments, the muscles (including the little ones, like those found in your skin that make your hair stand on end and give you goose bumps), the fat and skin tissues, all the nerves, all the blood vessels, all the structures within the bone that create your blood. Everything, and they need to know how it all connects, how it is supposed to move and be able to keep that clearly in their mind simultaneously while casting. Their mental image also has to match with the patient's internal "map" of the body and the lost limb, or they'll continue to experience phantom limb sensation even if the healing is successful. It's technically possible, but the chances they'll mess something up is too high, and so it's just not worth the risk to most people, including my main character.

Put Restrictions on the magic

This is mostly just the same advice as above, but for softer magic systems. put limits and restrictions on your healing magic. These can be innate (so things the magic itself is just incapable of doing) or external (things like laws that put limitations on certain types of magic and spells).

An example of internal restriction can be seen in how some people interpret D&D's higher level healing spells like regenerate (a 7th level spell-something most characters won't have access to for quite some time). The rules as written specify that disabilities like lost limbs can be healed using this spell, but some players take this to mean that if a character was born with the disability in question, say, born without a limb, regenerate would only heal them back to their body's natural state, which for them, is still disabled.

An external restriction would be that your setting has outlawed healing magic, perhaps because healing magic carries a lot of risks for some reason, eithe to the caster or the person being healed, or maybe because the healing magic here works by selectively reviving and altering the function of cells, which makes it a form of necromancy, just on a smaller scale. Of course, you can also use the tried and true, "all magic is outlawed" approach too. In either case, it's something that will prevent some people from being able to access it, despite it being technically possible. Other external restrictions could look like not being illegal, per say, but culturally frowned upon or taboo where your character is from.

But what if I don't want to do any of this?

Well you don't have to. These are just suggestions to get you thinking about how to make a world where healing magic and disability exist, but they aren't the only ways. Just the ones I thought of.

Of course, if you'd still rather make a setting where all disability is cured because magic and you just don't want to think about it any deeper, I can't stop you. I do however, want to ask you to at least consider where you are going to draw the line. Disability, in essence, is what happens when the body stops (or never started) functioning "normally". Sometimes that happens because of an injury, sometimes it's just bad luck, but the boundary between disabled and not disabled is not as solid as I think a lot of people expect it to be, and we as a society have a lot of weird ideas about what is and isn't a disability that just, quite plainly and simply, aren't consistent. You have to remember, a magic system won't pick and choose the way we humans do, it will apply universally, regardless of our societal hang-ups about disability.

What do I mean about this?

Well, consider for a moment, what causes aging? it's the result of our body not being able to repair itself as effectively as it used to. It's the body not being able to perform that function "normally". So in a setting where all disability is cured, there would be no aging. No elderly people. No death from old age. If you erase disability, you also erase natural processes like aging. magic won't pick and choose like that, not if you want it to be consistent.

Ok, ok, maybe that's too much of a stretch, so instead, let's look at our stereotypical buff hero covered in scars because he's a badass warrior. but in a world where you can heal anything, why would anything scar? Even if it did, could another healing spell not correct that too? Scars are part of the body's natural healing process, but if no natural healing occurred, why would a scar form? Scars are also considered disabling in and of themselves too, especially large ones, since they aren't as flexible or durable as normal skin and can even restrict growth and movement.

Even common things like needing glasses are, using this definition of disability at least, a disability. glasses are a socially accepted disability aid used to correct your eyes when they do not function "normally".

Now to be fair, in reality, there are several definitions of disability, most of which include something about the impact of society. For example, in Australia (according to the Disability Royal Commission), we define disability as "An evolving concept that results from the interaction between a person with impairment(s) and attitudinal and environmental barriers that hinder their full and effective participation in society on an equal basis with others." - or in laymen's terms, the interaction between a person's impairment and societal barriers like people not making things accessible or holding misinformed beliefs about your impairment (e.g. people in wheelchairs are weaker than people who walk). Under a definition like this, things like scars and needing glasses aren't necessarily disabilities (most of the time) but that's because of how our modern society sees them. The problem with using a definition like this though to guide what your magic system will get rid of, is that something like a magic system won't differentiate between an "impairment" that has social impacts that and one that doesn't. It will still probably get rid of anything that is technically an example of your body functioning imperfectly, which all three of these things are. The society in your setting might apply these criteria indirectly, but really, why would they? Very few people like the side effects of aging on the body (and most people typically don't want to die), the issues that come with scars or glasses are annoying (speaking as someone with both) and I can see a lot of people getting rid of them when possible too. If they don't then it's just using the "not everyone wants it approach" I mentioned earlier. If there's some law or some kind of external pressure to push people away from fixing these more normalised issues, then it's using the "restrictions" method I mentioned earlier too.

Once again, you can do whatever you like with your fantasy setting, but it's something I think that would be worth thinking about at least.

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cc--2224 · 2 days

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Asking For Help

Pairing: Platonic Tech & F!Reader

Summary: You decide to stay in bed to deal with the pain you're experiencing. The Batch notices and sends Tech to check on you.

Warnings: Reader kind of described as AFAB as fic deals with period pain. But other than that, pure fluff! It can 100% be platonic.

Word Count: 918

Notes: Does the Bad Batch understand anatomy? Probably. Was it more fun to make them panic? Absolutely. I mostly wrote this for me as I took the day off work for this exact reason 😂 no real proofreading.

Taglist: None, let me know if you'd like to be added!

The Marauder's cockpit seemed weirdly empty without you, and everyone noticed your absence. You hadn't been with Clone Force 99 for very long, but when you spend all your time with the same people for four months, they start to worry when you're not being as social as you normally would.

"Where is she?" Hunter finally asked, looking at the empty seat you normally occupied.

Wrecker shrugged, "I tried calling her this morning for breakfast but she didn't leave her room."

"Is it not obvious?" Tech asked, eyes not leaving his datapad. "She exhibits this behaviour roughly around the same time each month."

He thought he was giving everyone the answer, but their confused faces told him that he wasn't.

"She is mostly likely menstruating."

"In Common, Tech." Wrecker said.

Crosshair rolled his eyes, "She's on her period. It's not the end of the world."

Eyes turned back to Tech for an explanation, and he sighed.

"Do none of you pay attention to the anatomy manuals? People who are biologically female go through this process nearly every month. Their body prepares itself for an egg to be fertilized, but when it is not, it begins to shed the excess in the form of blood and uterine lining. Typically resulting in side effects such as; mood swings, pelvic cramps, lower back pain, and headaches to name a few."

Wrecker looked shocked, "And they do this every month? That sounds painful."

Tech shrugged, "I couldn't say, from my understanding, each person reacts differently."

"Shouldn't we check on her? Make sure she's okay?" Hunter asked.

"She does it every month with or without us, I don't see how now is any different." Crosshair pointed out.

"Yeah but, we're her friends, we should help if we can."

Wrecker looked back to Tech, "You know the most about it, you go see if she's okay."

Expectant looks all pointed in Tech's direction and he shook his head. "Fine, I suppose I could inquire after her."

Truthfully, Tech was also concerned for you, even though he had a vague understanding of what was going on. He found your presence soothing, and the Marauder seemed more cheerful with you around. And it was his nature to want to solve any problems that arose, so he wanted the chance to do that now.

He got up from his seat and walked toward the refresher to look for a hot compress and some painkillers so that he might actually be of assistance before cautiously walking toward your room.

He knocked quietly.

"...Yeah?" You croaked from inside the room.

"It's Tech, may I come in?"

You didn't answer immediately but then after a few seconds you spoke, "Door's unlocked."

He pressed the button to open the door before stepping in and letting it close behind him. He frowned slightly when he was you curled up on your bunk with your arms around your stomach.

"I take it I was correct then, you are menstruating."

"Yeah." You replied a little too harshly. "Did you need something?"

"It appears your absence went quite noticed this morning and the others are worried about you."

"So they sent you to check on me?"

He adjusted his goggles, "Well, even though I had suspected what the issue was, I suppose I was also worried."

You didn't say anything, but you moved slowly, creating room for him to sit down on your bunk, he sat on the edge.

"I have brought you a compress and painkillers, if you are interested. I have heard they help to alleviate any cramping and pain associated with it." He handed both to you.

You smiled at his gesture and took the painkillers first. "Thank you," you swallowed two of them down with water from the canteen beside your bunk, then you took the heat compress and hugged it to your stomach.

"Is there anything else I can do for you?" He asked, looking down at you.

You looked at him then looked at your pillow and shook your head.

"Very well, I will check up on you later then." He announced before standing up and walking toward the door.

"Wait.." You called out. He turned to look at you. "Can you stay.. with me?"

His expression went from surprised to a gentle smile, and he nodded. "Of course."

He walked back over to your bunk and returned to his seat on the edge.

"Can we- er... Can you hold me?" You asked, so quietly that he thought he might have misheard you.

"You'd like me to hold you?" He repeated.

His need for clarification caused blood to rise to your face in embarrassment.

"If-if that's okay, actually, nevermind I-"

But before you could finish your rambling, Tech crawled into the bunk next to you, holding you so your back was firm against his chest.

You sighed into him and closed your eyes as he began drawing idle shapes on the skin of your shoulder.

"Thank you, Tech." You repeated.

"You are welcome, but your gratitude is unwarranted. We are your friends, we want to help you. Anytime you need us, you do not need to be afraid to ask for help, no matter what ails you.”

You smiled once more. With the heat both from the compress and Tech pressed against you and the painkillers beginning to kick in, you felt yourself finally begin to drift off to sleep. Despite his protests, you were truly grateful to have friends who cared about you, no matter what was going on.

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suzukiblu · 2 days

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WIP excerpt for yesdangerpls; the last son of Krypton meets Hypertime Kon. ( + non-chrono link for mobile users )

“A version of you was conquering alternate realities,” Bruce says, still neutral.

“Uh,” Kon says, looking embarrassed. “Kinda, yeah? Kinda definitely, actually. I mean–dude had some issues. His home reality wasn’t really all that clone-friendly, and shit kinda went to shit there, and then he just decided ‘actually killing inconvenient people is ethically okay if I just make clones out of their dead bodies and give those clones their memories after’, so, uh . . . issues, like I said. Serious ones.”

“And you don’t think that’s ethical?” Bruce says, which is an obvious test. Kon glowers at him as Clark resists the urge to sigh at Bruce. The man’s as paranoid as ever, no surprise. It’s . . . understandable, admittedly, but not exactly fair in this situation.

“Clones are their own people,” Kon says, setting his jaw stubbornly. “No matter whose memories you stick in our heads.”

“That’s a school of thought,” Bruce says neutrally. Kon scowls, then pointedly lifts his lassoed wrist.

“You’re an asshole,” he says emphatically. Clark has to muffle a snort of laughter behind his hand; Diana does the same. Bruce looks sour. Clark knows he doesn’t think they’re taking this seriously enough, but he just can’t look at this kid and see a threat.

Of course, that’s part of why Bruce doesn’t think they’re taking this seriously enough.

“And you’re asking for a lot of trust, for someone who’s reportedly an interdimensional conqueror in at least one reality,” Bruce says. “Why should we believe this version of you is any different from Black Zero?”

“For the record, it was a version of me that stopped him, too,” Kon says, still scowling at him. “Like, a whole bunch of versions of me. And we didn’t all survive the experience. So I dunno, democratically speaking I think I’m mostly not a shithead.”

“And you don’t know how to return to your home reality?” Diana asks. Kon grimaces, then shakes his head.

“No idea,” he says. “I only got out into Hypertime to begin with because another Superboy showed up in our Watchtower with a hyperjacket keyed to his DNA and, uh . . . crash-landed and died right in the middle of a JLA meeting, actually. He was–injured, when he made the jump. Didn’t survive it. He was with the resistance. Was trying to warn our reality that Black Zero was coming, but . . .”

Clark feels immediately nauseous at that thought; wonders how traumatic and horrible it was for his alternate version to watch that happen and not be able to save that version of Kon. Wonders if that Kon’s version of him even knows what happened to him. If . . .

He tries not to think about it. It’s not something he can do anything about.

It’s definitely motivating him to get this Kon home all the quicker, though. His other self must be losing his mind right now.

“Satisfied?” he asks Bruce, raising an eyebrow at him again. He’d be amused, a little, if he weren’t still thinking about what had happened to that other version of Kon: about a kid that young dying far from home trying to do the right thing, surrounded by a roomful of heroes who couldn’t save him.

“No,” Bruce says.

“Batman, there are multiple realities in which all of us are supervillains,” Diana says wryly, unlooping her lasso from Kon’s wrist and winding it up again. “We can hardly blame Kon-El for the crimes of a single version of himself.”

Bruce has a look on his face that makes it very clear that he does, in fact, think they can do that. Bruce also thinks that about them, though, himself included, so Clark isn’t going to give that concern particularly heavy weight right now.

#yesdangerpls #wip: the last son of krypton meets hypertime kon #long post

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mionemymind · 9 hours

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Don't Say Something Stupid

Summary: Wanda is unable to commit yet unable to admit she's wrong. (Part Two of Don't Ask Stupid Questions)

Warnings: Pure Angst, No Happy Ending, Maybe Part Three?

A/n: Wanted to hurt y'all more, so here y'all go :) Gif credits go to @thedorkphoenix

Word Count: 662

Masterlist

Part One | Part Two

“Y/n, your new partner is Emma.” Wanda turned her attention from Vision to Steve at the mention of Emma. Trying to hold back her offense, Wanda commented, “Y/n is my partner.”

Wanda looked back at Y/n, but their eyes hadn’t met as Y/n continued to stare at Emma’s file. “We believe their powers work better together, Wanda. Plus, your new assigned partner is Vision as your mind stones should help with increased efficiency and communication.”

Wanda held back the comment on the tip of her tongue. It wasn’t appropriate to say stupid things like, “But she’s always been my partner.”

“You dumped Vision?” Natasha asked surprisingly. Wanda looked away as she could tell Y/n had heard the comment with the way her shoulders tensed.

“He kept wanting more and honeslty…” Wanda sighed, feeling more guilty of the additional person she led on, “…and I couldn’t give him that.”

Natasha nodded in understatement as she squeezed Wanda’s shoulder. “Was it because y’all didn’t have the connection?” Wanda shook her head, feeling lost as to why she even did it in the first place.

“Honestly, I’m not too sure…I rather admit that before saying something stupid.” Wanda tried her best not to look at Y/n’s slumped shoulders as she proceeded to get up from the coach and walk to her room.

And as Natasha continued to talk, Wanda didn’t dare to remember how much Y/n hated feeling stupid.

“Why did you get in my way?” Emma was held back by Y/n as she aggressively questioned Wanda. “You almost got Y/n and I hurt with that stunt you pulled.”

Wanda rolled her eyes and crossed her arms. “Had it not been for my quick thinking, Y/n would’ve got hurt and you would’ve been swarmed.”

“We had it handled,” Emma bit back. And before Wanda could get another word, Y/n locked eyes with her, and silently pleaded to stop. Seeing Wanda’s stance falter, Y/n pulled Emma back and mumbled, “Let’s not fight anymore. We’ll figure it out a different day so come on.”

While Y/n tugged on Emma’s hand, Wanda mind couldn’t stop thinking of stupid things. The main one being, “Were you even on my side?”

“Are you ignoring me?” Wanda caught Y/n in the hallway, almost close to the spot where they used to secretly make out. The red head could tell that Y/n had wanted to be anywhere else but there with her. Although it stung, Wanda wanted answers.

“Wanda - I - let’s just be cordial.” Feeling even more confused, Wanda backed Y/n into the wall with her arms crossed.

“Cordial? You don’t even speak to me anymore.” Y/n still didn’t look at Wanda’s eyes. The girl was absolutely frustrated at how dense Wanda could be as if she couldn’t read the room.

“Well…” Y/n swallowed her anxiety and pain and finally looked into Wanda’s eyes, “…rules are rules. I broke them so this is me moving on from it.”

Wanda stepped back, feeling slapped and shocked at the confession. “Moving on? Are you seriously unable to continue without having feelings involved?” The red head didn’t know where this fierceness came from. It certainly didn’t explain what she truly meant. But she was always too stubborn to think it through.

Y/n scoffed, not surprised that Wanda could barely understand her place. “You ‘re right, I seriously don’t know why I ever fell for you.” The smug look on Wanda’s face fell. She’s had many people admit their feelings for her but none have ever admitted to regretting them.

Y/n didn’t wait for Wanda’s response and started to walk away but Wanda’s hand stopped her from going. Not wanting to hear anything more, Y/n blurted, “Don’t say anything stupid now, Wanda.”

Snatching her hand out of Wanda’s grip, Y/n declared, “You might get your heart broken if you do.”

Taglist: @halobaby @arelyitsherec8 @blackxwidowsxwife @cristin-rjd @madamevirgo @trikruismybitch @paradiselost916 @mmmmokdok @morbid-gaymer @dailyavengering @itsnottilly @helloalycia @randomshyperson @tomy5girls @daenerys713 @ensorcellme @lezzzbehonesthere @imagine-reblog

@sighsam @olsensnpm @tquick99 @feolok @emilyprentisslittlewhore @mvddison99 @iamapotato @yuhloversxx @mjaudrey @upsidedowndanvers @somewhatgreatexpectations @wandavixen @magicallymaximoff @username23345 @coollemonsaresour @littlewinchester15 @aimezvousbrahms @afuckingshituniverse @am-just-a-cosmic-joke-to-me

@ohmygooddamnbisexualmood @diaryoflife @s7uts @newyork1432 @the-anxious-stargazer @hello-mtf @marvelousbelladonna @ima-gi–na-tion @obsessed-with-wandamaximoff @the-camilucha

@itsnottilly @171611 @kaitlynroseb @daisybri7 @drpepperobsessed @bemyvitamin @musicinourlips @marvelousbelladonna @gingerbreadcookieforlife @xastrydx @chasethemoon @naixia00 @lostandsearching @stupidsapphicsstuff @haechanana @the-camilucha @severepeanutartisanhands @owloftheshadows @somewhatgreatexpectations @ywuen @mixed-fandom-mess @loomontoia @ilovemarvelwomen @coxmicbabygirl @cyanide-mustard @mrs-avenger3000 @prentisshoe @andrea-stark @simpforwandanat @abimess @randomshyperson @yourtaletotell @magically-queer-stuff

@imapotatao @iliketozoneout @maximoffbrossupremacy@olsensnpm @psychadelichues @whitelotus00 @taliiiaasteria @tynix @autorasexy @xxxtwilightaxelxxx @hiiraya @reginassweetheart @milkeeteaa

@msmothermaximoff @unicorniusfallapatorius @cakechan123 @anniedanvers @oh-thats-cute @ielliesitcheyereposts @how-to-disappearrr @justyourwritter69 @canvascoloredin (Wanted to tag y'all because I think y'all wanted a part two, but I won't add y'all to future taglists unless you want me to)

#wanda maximoff x reader #wanda x reader #angst #wanda maximoff #Don't Say Something Stupid #Don't Ask Stupid Questions #friends with benefits trope #mionemymind

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chiriwritesstuff · 2 days

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Hometown Glory; 1. Back to the Old House

Series Masterlist

Chapter Rating: M

Chapter Summary: Glory and Frankie, two best friends from a small town in Texas, find themselves in different places as adults. They haven't spoken in years, yet find themselves being drawn back home, searching for... something they can't quite explain. Will they be able to find their purpose back to where it all began?

Chapter Warnings and Tags: Strong language, Frankie is going through it, Someone decides it's a good idea to dip in the middle of the night, Sexism in the workplace, Unstable family dynamics.

Word Count: 8k

1998 (16 years old)

It's a school night on a random Monday, and you're perched cross-legged in a boy's room, a bowl of popcorn resting precariously on your lap. With a mischievous grin, you snatch the remote control from said boy, clicking it over to ABC as he groans in annoyance.

"Hey! What the hell!" he grumbles in annoyance, "Don't you know it's rude to just take a man's remote?"

"It's my night, remember?" you remind him playfully. "There's a new episode of Ally McBeal, and I'm dying to find out what happened between Ally and Billy."

"Gross. Not the biggest fan of that girly romance shit-" he drawls from above, his arm snaking around your shoulder as he reaches for a handful of popcorn. "I would rather watch something cool, like that 70s show. At least it's funny."

You roll your eyes at his protest, a playful smirk dancing on your lips. "Come on, Frankie, let's be real here. We both know the only reason you want to watch it is because you have a huge crush on Jackie," you tease, nudging him lightly with your elbow. "But remember, we made a deal, Frankie baby. Mondays are my night!"

Frankie flops back onto his bed, his arms crossed over his chest in a mock pout. "Fine, but I reserve the right to complain the entire time," he declares, a faint smile on his lips. "I mean, at least Ally is kinda hot-"

You playfully toss a piece of popcorn at your best friend. "Anyway, remember when we had to write that paper in Mrs. Miller's class? About what we wanted to be when we grew up?" You lean in closer, your eyes fixed on Calista Flockhart as she flirts with Billy on the screen. "Well, I wrote that I wanted to be just like Ally," you share, taking a sip of Pepsi.

"What, like a lawyer?"

"No, like an actress. Of course like a lawyer!" you exclaim. "I mean, I love to argue-"

"Not correcting you there-"

"... and, it's like, so grown up, right? She looks like someone who has her shit together, her lack of love life notwithstanding, but still. I can see myself doing that!"

Frankie groans as he props himself up on his elbows, his warm breath tickling your ear. "I can totally see you doing that," he says with a chuckle, his voice close to your ear. "But hey, you're good at everything you set your mind to, Glo."

"Aw, Frankie... is that a compliment I hear? maybe I should check outside and see if any pigs are flying-"

"Very funny," he scoffs, joining you on the floor and reaching for the bowl of popcorn. "You know you're smart as hell, so I don't doubt that you can do it."

"What about you?" you ask, nudging his shoulder playfully.

"What about me?" he responds, his shoulder bumping against yours. "What do I want to be when I grow up? That's easy. I want to be a pilot."

"So, like... the military, then? Flying Black Hawks and getting everyone to safety? I always knew you had a hero complex," you tease, nudging him again.

Frankie grins, his eyes lighting up with excitement. "Yeah, something like that," he says, his voice full of wonder. "I've always wanted to serve my country, you know? And being a pilot in the military seems like the perfect way to do it. Plus, I get to carry a gun," he adds with a smirk. "Chicks dig that, you know?"

"Chicks? Frankie, I love you, but for the love of everything holy, please don't refer to women as "chicks", it's degrading-"

"Some chicks like to be degraded," he quips, cocking his head. "At least that's what the guys say in the locker room."

"Not me though," you muse, resting your head on his shoulder as he settles himself against you more, placing his arm around your shoulder as Ally and Billy kiss on screen. "I guess that makes me not like other girls, huh?"

You feel the slight rumble of his chest as he chuckles.

You swear you feel the ghost of his lips on your temple.

Frankie leans in, his breath warm against your ear. "No, Glory," he whispers. "You're so much more than most girls."

16 years later.

"Excuse me, I think I heard you wrong."

"No, you didn't," you retort firmly, eyeing the hefty stack of papers across from you, addressing the group of men- the partners and board members of the firm you decided to spend the last ten years of your life at seated before you. Settling back into the plush leather chair, you cross your legs with an air of confidence. "While I appreciate your acknowledgment of my ten years of hard work and the countless cases won," you pause for emphasis, casually inspecting your nails before meeting their gaze head-on, "...if it weren't for a stupid technicality, I'd be hailed as the first female lawyer in the entire state of New York with a flawless record, right?"

"Indeed, we recognize your almost-stellar track record," Nigel, the lead partner of your firm continues, glossing over your achievements like you expected, chuckling as he adjusts his suit collar. "That's precisely why we believe it's the perfect time to bring you on as a junior partner. We think you're ready."

"Junior Partner?" you echo, incredulous, your tone laced with a mixture of frustration and disbelief. "After all these years of fighting tooth and nail against men who were promoted with far less experience, after winning case after case and saving these assholes millions of dollars in alimony payments, I'm still only good enough to become a Junior Partner? Please. Please tell me you're joking." You lean forward, fixing them with a pointed stare, the intensity of your gaze daring them to justify their belated recognition.

The ten men in question, a mix of balding, beady-eyed partners and sharply dressed greying board members shift uncomfortably in their seats. The rustle of their tailored Armani suits rubbing against one another fills the room with a grating sound akin to nails on a chalkboard.

"It took me a decade to even get offered Junior Partner. How many more years until I'm considered for a full Partnership? Another decade?" you ask, your impatience seeping into each word.

"Is there something amiss?" another member of the board interjects, gesturing towards the stack of papers on the table once more. "We don't often extend promotions like this, especially to someone as young as yourself... or any woman, for that matter," he adds with a cough, a smirk playing on his lips as if he's cracked a clever joke. "Most would consider it a gift, wouldn't you agree?"

"I appreciate the offer, truly," you interject, "but I believe my worth exceeds what you're offering." Each word resonates with a sense of determination, a testament to the challenges you've overcome and the achievements you've earned in your career.

With a flick of your wrist, you push the stack of papers back across the conference table, the pages dancing in the air as the men across from you watch in disbelief. The gravity of your decision hangs heavy in the room. "I'm done," you announce firmly, the weight of your words echoing in the silence that follows.

The room fills with gasps as another suit interjects, his face flushed with anger. "I beg your pardon?!" he exclaims. "This isn't a negotiation, and it's a fair offer for someone of your talents," he spits.

You fix him with a steely gaze. "Tell me, Bill-" you retort sharply, "who's the most sought-after associate in this firm? Why do I have gold-digging socialites, cheating tech bros, and trigger-happy celebrities clamoring for a meeting with me at the front desk? Whose face is it on the news when the courts decide to rule in our favor? Certainly, it isn't any of you, that's for damn sure."

Gone is the girl from the small town off the outskirts of Austin, Texas- a former homecoming queen slash magna cum laude loved and cherished by a town that seemed so minuscule compared to the vastness and hunger of your ambition.

You were both a dreamer and a doer, tirelessly working and amassing scholarship after scholarship, grant after grant. Your sights were set on one school only: Yale. You believed that if you couldn't make it there from the start, settling for anything less wasn't an option.

"I'm gonna be like that when I grow up," you declared, flopping onto the lumpy couch as reruns of Law and Order SVU played in the background. Your Nana, her tight, white curls peeking out from the worn brown fabric of her La-Z-Boy, glanced at you with mild curiosity.

"Be like what?" she would reply absentmindedly, her voice raspy from the years of Misty's holding constant residence at the corner of her lips. "Like an actor? Like Mariska? Did you know she's the daughter of Jayne Mansfield?"

"No, like a Lawyer," you would tease, your eyes locked onto Stephanie March as she takes the stand, her sneer as icy as the blonde of her pin-straight hair, her voice strong and confident as she calmly verbally eviscerates yet another rapist, this time one of the shaky-ijustwantedtosmellher-variety, shaking like a leaf as they undergo cross-examination. "She's so fucking cool," you would whisper to yourself, the loud chuckle-cough-chuckle of your Nana as she peers at you from the corner of her eye.

"... but you're such a sweet girl!" she would retort, "how are you gonna win the case when you're so damn nice all the time? those suits would eat you alive, believe you me!"

Your voice rises steadily, like a crescendo building to a climax, until you're finally shouting. All the hurt and embarrassment you've bottled up explodes, coursing through your veins like an unstable chemical reaction. "The reason we're all still in business is because of me!" you declare, your words punctuated by frustration. "Or should I ask Bill in finance for confirmation? Maybe he's mistaken." You unclench your jaw, feeling the tension in your neck as you reach for your phone. "All those high-profile clients? They're loyal to me. If I leave, they'll follow. Think about that."

As the partners exchange bewildered looks, Nigel's discomfort is palpable as he clears his throat. "But... where will you go?" he stammers. "How do you expect to thrive in this industry without the support of a prestigious firm like ours? Besides, no one just turns their nose up at a salary increase of a hundred thousand dollars-"

"Okay, got it. So this isn't a negotiation, and there's no room for reconsideration?" You glance around the room, meeting each of their downturned gazes. Leaning back in your chair, a smirk plays at the corners of your lips as you hold their gaze.

"Oh, don't worry about me," you retort, rolling your eyes slightly. "You don't have to concern yourselves with my well-being. After all, you haven't given a damn about it throughout my entire career here, have you?"

A ripple of anxious laughter echoes through the room, mingled with the partners' disbelief at your audacity. "And just where do you plan to go?" Nigel presses.

With a knowing smile, you rise from your seat, gathering your belongings with a newfound sense of purpose. "Back to where I belong, I suppose," you declare. "Home."

You give the group of men one last nod, your expression firm. "Thank you for the offer, but I don't think this is going to work out," you say, your tone resolute. "And frankly, I've had enough of playing by your rules."

With a final flick of your hair, pin-straight and glossy like Stephanie, you stride out of the conference room, leaving behind the stifling atmosphere of the sleazy-suited assholes, their mouths agape, completely stunned. As the door clicks shut, you feel a sense of liberation wash over you, like a weight has been lifted from your shoulders.

Good fucking riddance, you think to yourself, walking past your colleagues, their heads bobbing up curiously from their cubicles as they watch you march away. You laugh to yourself at the sight of it, your head held high in defiance. Today marks the beginning of a new journey, one where you refuse to let others dictate your worth or your future.

Back in your corner office, tucked away at the back of the building- a spot they seemed to think was where you belonged, far away from the big boys club, you're surrounded by the familiar trappings of your professional life. The cardboard box on your desk awaits its contents – the remnants of a career spent in a firm that never fully appreciated your efforts, despite your unwavering dedication and the millions of dollars earned in your wake.

Shaking off the sting of humiliation and blinking back the tears of frustration threatening to spill, you begin the task of packing up your belongings. Your framed Juris Doctor is tossed in haphazardly, followed by a flurry of other items scattered across the surface of the box. Three framed photos: two girls, with wide smiles and pigtails, an old woman standing on the porch of a decaying home, and a group of like-looking women, the bright smiles and the promise of the endless possibility of the future in their eyes. Gone is the meticulously styled hair, now hastily tied up in a messy bun as you delve into the depths of your desk drawer. You pull out items in a flurry, tossing them into the box until your fingers come across something unfamiliar, hidden at the very back of the drawer.

Your fingers brush against something soft, and you pull out a faded friendship bracelet. Its beads are strung together to spell out a name you haven't seen in years. The memories flood back, threatening to overwhelm you as you stare at the name engraved on the bracelet.

F-R-A-N-

In an instant, you're transported back to a moment etched deep in the recesses of your mind: small hands trembling as they offer the bracelet to yours, the earnest gaze of a young boy not much taller than you. A tentative smile graces his lips as he extends the friendship offering. "You gave me yours, so I'm giving you mine... that means we're friends, right?"

You accept the bracelet with shaky hands, feeling a warmth spread through you. You smile back at the boy in front of you, his smile widening to match yours. "Right. Best friends!"

A pang of regret washes over you, mingling with a bittersweet sense of nostalgia for the friendship that once meant so much to you. With a heavy heart, you carefully place the bracelet into the box, a silent reminder of the past you've left behind.

Two Weeks later (somewhere in between New York and Texas)

"Okay, let me get this straight. They finally offer you a promotion, and that's when you decide it's the perfect time to quit? Seriously, Glory, please explain that logic to me," your sister's voice crackles through the car speakers as you navigate down the coast, taking another sip of your coffee to steel yourself for the conversation. "I'm begging you, please make it make sense. If management told me I needed to shake my ass to get a wage increase, I would say when and where. Surely, a hundred thousand dollars is a decent offer-"

"Yeah, they dangled a hundred thousand dollar salary bump in front of me, but it's not just about the money," you reply, frustration evident in your voice. "They were going to make me a Junior Partner. Junior. It's like they're saying, 'Hey Glory, you're good, but you're not quite good enough to sit at the big kids' table yet. Maybe in another decade or two, you'll get there.'"

"So what's the plan, then? You're just gonna pack up your office, leave your fancy Upper East Side condo behind, toss your shit in a U-Haul, and hightail it back to Nowheresville, USA? You're seriously going to start your firm in a place you swore up and down and to the heavens above that you'd never return to?" Your sister's incredulous voice echoes through the phone as you navigate the winding roads back to your hometown. "As much as the kids and I would love for you to finally be around, shouldn't you be aiming a bit higher than Fredericksburg? There's nothing here-"

You bite the inside of your cheek, the sharp pain making you wince as the metallic taste of blood fills your mouth. Relax, you tell yourself. She's right. You should be aiming higher.

"And don't even get me started on that rundown old house that Nana used to live in. Seriously, Glo, you're going to live in that dump? I wouldn't touch that place with a ten-foot pole, let alone live in it. It's a fucking money pit! You'll lose more money than what it's worth!" she snarks, chuckling to herself. "I know that it was all fun and games, talking about how you were gonna fix up that place, make it your forever home, but that was when we were kids! That place barely has a functioning roof!"

"Well, you must read minds, then." you retort dryly. "Sister, I think that you should think about becoming a psychic, because how did you know?" you sing-song back. "Besides, don't you have a guest room in that place of yours? I remember you asking me very nicely to help you out with the reno you did a few years back as a wedding gift, doesn't that mean that the room is mine if I ever needed it?"

There's a weird, awkward silence that suddenly fills the cab of the U-Haul, and you swear you can hear the gears turning in your sister's brain as she processes the implications of your words, holding your breath as you can feel the wrath that is sure to follow next. You appreciate how predictable your sister always was, knowing damn well that if you had told her that you were actually telling her the truth about your plans on returning home, she would try with every fiber of her being to convince you not to.

"There's nothing here for you, Glory. Nothing but heartbreak and the skeletons that have gathered dust in your bedroom closet. You've always been better than this little old town..." You remember her drunkenly telling you over FaceTime as you down your third glass of Pinot Grigio, your eyes fixed on the blue light radiating from the screen of your MacBook.

Congratulations, the email read. The buyer has accepted your terms, and is expected to move in shortly-

"No, Glo-" she starts.

"The condo sold for over market value-" you offer, a thinly-veiled attempt to try to reason with her.

"Wait. Are you fucking telling me that you're in a U-Haul driving back home? and you're only telling me this now when I haven't even had time to clean out the guest room?! You know how I get when things are left to the last minute-"

"Relax, I'm not going to crash at your house, not when Andrew doesn't know, I've already booked a month at the Hyatt in Austin while I square away the final plans for the house. Think of it this way, if you ever need a place to stay after another one of your husband's benders, you could always sneak away to the hotel room, now that I'll finally be close by. Plus, Hank told me that there's a vacant storefront on Main Street, It's a perfect spot to open the firm-"

"It's just..." Your sister's voice trails off, her chuckle sounding forced. "You always seem to have impeccable timing." There's an odd tension in her tone, a hint of something unsaid lingering between you.

"Impeccable timing, huh?" you prod, sensing there's more to her words than she's letting on.

But before you can dig deeper, she interrupts with a hurried excuse. "Hey, I'd love to chat more, but I've got to run. We'll catch up later, okay? Call me when you get to the hotel, we can grab lunch or something with the kids-"

"Hey, what did you mean about impeccable timing?" you press curiously.

"I gotta go love you byeeee-" she says hurriedly, cutting the phone call.

You're left staring at your phone, a gnawing sense of confusion settling in your gut. Something about her sudden evasiveness doesn't sit right with you, but you push it aside for now, focusing on the road ahead as you continue your journey back home. "Love you too, I guess."

You continue to drive throughout the night, the 26 or so hours that the GPS has estimated your trip to be, refusing to stop for anything other than gas and the occasional bathroom pit stop, grabbing yourself a Buc-ees t-shirt for shits and giggles to commemorate your arrival, breathing a sigh of relief as you eye the “Welcome to Texas!” Sign out in the distance, its surface illuminated by the purple skies of early morning.

"Not much longer," you reassure yourself as you nibble on a sad-looking fruit bowl and sip lukewarm water in the Buc-ee's parking lot. Between bites, you check the time on your phone, swiping away the occasional concerned email from your former associates at the firm.

You raise your phone, capturing the Buc-ee's sign in the distance with your camera app. The empty parking lot reflects the loneliness that has become all too familiar in your adult life.

It's not like I meant for it to be this way, you muse silently, drafting a caption for the photo. "Homeward bound, just a few more hours!" You type out as you hit upload, sharing the moment on your Instagram feed.

As you enter the city limits of the small town you once called home on the way to the Hyatt, you can’t help the wave of nostalgia that suddenly washes over you. You can't help but smile as you pass by familiar landmarks – the public library where you would spend countless hours buried in books, the little Italian place with your favorite lasagna, still in the corner where all of the birthday dinners would be held, the bustling mall, still bursting at the seams with teenagers and young families alike, a place where you and your best friend used to gossip about boys and clothes and how much you hated Mr. Frankel constantly staring at your tits over scoops and cones of ice cream, the shrillness of your combined laughter ringing throughout your ears.

Ex-best friend, you remind yourself bitterly, your knuckles turning white as you clutch the steering wheel. It's a bitter pill to swallow, knowing that the one person you would never think would betray you ending up with the guy you once harbored feelings for. The guy. They probably have a picture-perfect life now, living in some military town with a gaggle of kids, the sound of their laughter echoing in your mind like a haunting melody.

As you drive through the familiar streets of your hometown, memories of you and him start to slowly flood back into your consciousness – lazy afternoons spent together, whispered secrets shared under the shade of a tree. But now, those memories are tainted with a bittersweet ache, a reminder of what once was and what could have been.

You can almost see him now, running around the backyard with their children, his laughter mingling with theirs as they play. The image is both heartwarming and heartbreaking, a painful reminder of the love you lost and the friendship that slipped through your fingers.

With a heavy sigh, you tear your gaze away from the fleeting fantasy, focusing instead on the road ahead. It's time to move forward, to let go of the past, and embrace the uncertainty of the future. But as you drive away, a part of you can't help but wonder – what if things had been different?

As you navigate the winding streets, you can't help but feel a sense of belonging wash over you. This may not have been the life you planned, but somehow, returning to your roots feels like coming home in more ways than one.

After a few more hours of driving, you finally pull up to the Hyatt, grateful for the chance to stretch your legs and unload your belongings. The luxurious lobby offers a stark contrast to the worn-out upholstery of your car seat. With a sigh of relief, you drop off your bags in your room before heading back out onto the road.

As you pull up to your Nana's old place, you can't help but feel a pang of nostalgia mixed with apprehension. The once-charming house now stands in complete disrepair, its paint peeling and windows boarded up. Standing outside the weathered front door, you can't help but shake your head.

"Welcome home, Glory," you mutter to yourself, the words carrying both resignation and determination. With a deep breath, you unlock the door and step inside, ready to face whatever challenges lie ahead.

Frankie, two weeks before your arrival.

Frankie forgot how fucking hot it was in Texas.

With a heavy sigh, he turns off the ignition of his truck and gazes at the house he hasn't seen in the last few years. The weathered paint job catches his eye, the deep cracks spiderwebbing across the exterior walls. Once-bright white has faded to a tired tan, and a single bright blue shutter still hangs slightly askew from his bedroom window.

"Shit Frankie, do you think your pop is gonna kill me for that?" The voice seeps into his thoughts, unbidden. He shuts his eyes tight, battling against the memories he's long kept buried deep in the recesses of his brain.

His ears catch the familiar sound of tinkering echoing from the depths of the carport beside the house, still cluttered with dismantled shells and rusty car parts. He recognizes the soft grunts of his father as he works on yet another car he decided to fiddle with probably after spotting it abandoned on the roadside.

I've been gone for fifteen years, and yet, it feels like nothing has changed, he muses to himself, shaking his head in disbelief.

Frankie lets out a groan as he swings open his car door. His legs feel like lead, knees protesting from the strain of hours spent behind the wheel. He's just made the long haul from his actual home in Florida, leaving behind his daughter and the life he's built there for the last fifteen or so years.

Or tried to, at least.

The notion of divorce loomed over Frankie's thoughts like a persistent shadow, coloring every interaction with his wife. Even in the mundane moments of their daily life, he couldn't shake the feeling of their impending separation. It was as if they were constantly tiptoeing along the edge of a cliff, one wrong step away from falling into the abyss of divorce.

He found himself distancing emotionally, a subconscious defense mechanism against the possibility of heartache. Small disagreements turned into major rifts, each argument fueling the belief that their marriage was irreparable. He couldn't help but imagine a life without Chelsea, even as they sat across from each other at the dinner table or shared a quiet moment on the couch.

The weight of his doubts pressed down on him, clouding his perception of their relationship. Frankie had never truly loved his wife; their relationship was born more out of convenience and familiarity than genuine affection. He often wondered if Chelsea sensed his lack of affection, if she felt the absence of passion and connection that should have been the foundation of their marriage.

Guilt gnawed at him, knowing that he had never given Chelsea the love she deserved. He had entered into their marriage with a sense of obligation rather than devotion, and now he was trapped in a cycle of discontent and disillusionment. Divorce had become more than a possibility; it had become a constant companion, lurking in the shadows of their marriage.

Fuck. She never stood a fucking chance.

So, with a heavy heart and a mind full of fucking turmoil, he'd packed up his car and hit the road, effectively abandoning his wife and kid like a fucking coward, driving with no destination in mind until he found himself back in the town where it all began.

Frankie's chest tightens at the memory of Lily's desperate pleas, her small face etched with fear as she begs him not to leave. He had thought he was being discreet, tiptoeing past her room, his rucksack slung across his back. Pausing in the dim light, he takes a long look at his daughter, knowing he might not see her again for some time. "I love you, baby girl," he whispers, his voice barely audible as he gently closes her door, the click echoing in the quiet hallway.

He pushes open the door leading to the garage, grateful that he had the foresight to leave the garage door open earlier in the evening. It was a calculated move, part of his plan to make a quiet exit from this house that never felt like a home. He had thought about his grand escape throughout dinner that night, opting to remain silent as he tuned Chelsea out, her words of her displeasure falling on deaf ears as he nodded in agreement, cutting into his meatloaf as he slouches himself down his chair.

Lousy, lazy husband. Neglectful and absent father. The biggest disappointment and regret of her fucking life. Coward. Fucking Coward.

Ah, there it was.

I bet you wish that it was her, huh? I bet you wish that it was her pussy that you were fucking instead of mine, right Frankie? Chelsea would accuse, her hand motioning for him to pass over the mashed potatoes in the same breath.

Hell. She isn't wrong.

He thought his plan was about to unfold smoothly, exhaling a sigh of relief as he set his rucksack in the bed of his truck. Then, he heard it—the unmistakable creak of a door opening, followed by the soft padding of feet on concrete, drawing closer from behind. With a heavy heart, he closed his eyes, bracing himself for the pain he knew was coming.

"Daddy?" his daughter's sleepy voice broke the silence of the darkened garage. "Where are you going?"

Frankie's heart sank at the sound of Lily's voice, her innocent question piercing through his resolve like a knife. He turned around slowly, his eyes meeting hers in the dim light filtering through the garage.

"Lil, sweetheart," he began, his voice catching in his throat as he struggled to find the right words. "I... I have to go away for a little while." His chest tightened with every word, the weight of his decision heavy on his shoulders.

"Why?" Lily's voice trembled with confusion and fear, her small frame shivering in the cool air of the garage. She took a hesitant step closer, her eyes searching his face for answers.

Frankie knelt down in front of her, his heart breaking at the sight of her tear-filled eyes. "It's... it's complicated, baby," he said softly, reaching out to gently brush a strand of hair away from her face. "But I promise, I'll come back for you. I love you so much, Lily. You're my everything."

Lily threw her arms around his neck, burying her face in his shoulder as she sobbed. "Please don't go, Daddy," she pleaded, her words muffled against his shirt. "I need you."

Tears pricked at Frankie's eyes as he held his daughter close, his own heart breaking with every second that passed. But he knew he had to go, for both of their sakes. With a heavy heart, he gently pulled away from Lily's embrace, pressing a kiss to her forehead.

"I'll always be with you, sweetheart," he whispered, his voice choked with emotion. "I promise. I'll come back for you, but you have to stay with Mommy for now, okay? I swear I'll come back for you."

As he stood up and turned away, leaving Lily behind in the garage, Frankie couldn't shake the feeling of guilt that weighed on him like a lead weight. But deep down, he knew that he had to do this—to find a way to be the father Lily deserved, even if it meant breaking both of their hearts in the process.

His throat tightens as he relives that moment, the memory etched vividly in his mind like a relentless nightmare. He can still see Lily's tear-stained face, her eyes pleading with him not to leave, her small hands reaching out for him as he walked away, the way her small form looks back at him as he looks at his rearview mirror, getting smaller and smaller as he drives out of the cul-de-sac like a fucking coward. The weight of her despair presses down on him like a vice, suffocating him with guilt and remorse.

Frankie silently makes his way over to the carport, his father's familiar silhouette outlined against the fading sunlight. He watches as his dad tinkers away, lost in his own world of gears and grease. With a smirk playing on his lips, Frankie leans against the doorframe, soaking in the scene before him.

"When I left, I was saying goodbye to a pair of feet under a fender, and I come home years later and it's like you haven't moved an inch," Frankie quips, his tone laced with affection and a hint of disbelief. "Are you sure you ain't dead under there, old man?"

His dad chuckles, a deep, rumbling sound that fills the air. "Nah, still kicking, just like always," he replies, not bothering to look up from his work. "You, on the other hand, look like you could use a good night's sleep."

Frankie rolls his eyes, but there's a warmth in his chest at the familiar banter. Despite everything that's changed, some things remain constant – like the easy camaraderie between a father and son, even after years apart.

Frankie's dad finally emerges from under the car, wiping his hands on a greasy rag as he beams at his son. "Well, well, look who's finally back home, a child of mine finally appears!" he says with a grin, opening his arms for a hug.

Frankie steps forward, enveloped in his dad's embrace, the familiar scent of motor oil and sawdust washing over him. "I'm your only child, Dad, or did you forget?" he teases, a hint of sarcasm in his voice.

His dad chuckles, patting Frankie on the back. "No, son, I didn't forget," he replies with a twinkle in his eye. "But you always knew who my favorite was."

Frankie nods solemnly, his eyes squinting in the distance, not wanting his mind to go there. He clicks his tongue. "So-"

"I assume that your sudden appearance has something to do with that wife of yours screaming into my voicemail about you abandoning your family in the middle of the night?" his dad asks, a hint of concern lacing his words as he studies Frankie's expression.

Frankie lets out a heavy sigh, his shoulders slumping as he meets his father's gaze. "Yeah, Pop," he admits, running a hand through his hair. "Things with Chelsea... they haven't been working for a while now. I couldn't stay there anymore. I had to get out."

His father's expression softens, concern etched into his features. "And what about Lily? How's she taking it?" he inquires, his voice laced with worry as he thinks of his granddaughter.

"Yeah, she was torn up about it," he admits, his voice heavy with sorrow. "But I couldn't just take her. Chels would accuse me of kidnapping, and you know how the courts always side with the mother. I can't risk getting arrested again. Not after what happened last time."

"Well, that seems about something she would do, I guess," his father surmises, "... but what the hell are you doin' back here? I swore the last time I saw you, you told me you would never step your foot back here, especially with what happened with Glory-"

Frankie cuts him off, his jaw tensing as he steels himself against the memories threatening to resurface. "Look, Dad, let's not go there, okay? It's been years, and I've moved on, she's moved on," he says, his tone firm. "I'm just here to figure things out, clear my head. I don't need to worry bout no skeletons in my fucking closet, especially when I know for a fact that she ain't here no more to spook me."

Frankie's dad pauses, his gaze distant for a moment before he speaks again. "You know, son, I always loved her like my own," he says quietly, his voice tinged with regret. "She was like family to us, and seeing her leave was one of the hardest things I've had to witness. It broke my heart, and I know for a fact that it broke yours, too. Maybe if she had stayed... you wouldn't be here standing on my front lawn, hiding from your wife."

Frankie's chest tightens at his father's admission, a pang of guilt gnawing at him for the pain he caused. "I know, Pop," he replies softly, his voice barely above a whisper. "I wish things had turned out differently."

"Yeah, well... shit happens, I guess." His father slaps his hand on his shoulder once more, motioning towards the house. "Come on, I got a pot of Chili that’s been simmering for the last few hours, I reckon it should be ready right about now. Go grab your shit and come help me set the table after you get settled, alright?"

Frankie nods, giving his father one last smile as he makes his way back to his pickup truck, slinging his military-grade duffle over his shoulder. Groaning, he makes his way up to the old house, the floorboards of the patio creaking as he opens the front door, the smell of his father's chili wafting in the air. He takes in the familiar sight of his living room, still the same as he left it all the years ago.

The same lumpy couch, the imprint of his father forever immortalized in his spot where he watches reruns of Pawn Stars and Columbo, greeted Frankie as he stepped into the living room. The faded fabric sagged under his weight as he lowered himself onto it, memories flooding back with each creak of the worn-out springs.

As Frankie's gaze shifted to the mantle, he couldn't help but notice the familiar photos arranged there. His eyes lingered on the one of him and his mother, her radiant smile captured forever in the frame. Beside it was a picture of you and Frankie as kids, arms wrapped around each other in a tight embrace, the innocence of youth reflected in your beaming faces.

Frankie's breath caught in his throat as he noticed a new addition to the mantle – a photo of you and his father in front of the Christmas Tree at Rockefeller Center. His father's arms were proudly slung around your shoulders, and both of you wore wide smiles that reached your eyes. It was a moment frozen in time, capturing a bond that had evidently formed in his absence.

"Well, what are you doing just sittin' there? Table ain't gonna set itself."

Frankie rolls his eyes at that. Yep, shit hasn't changed a bit. "Placemats still in the same drawer?"

"Unless someone moved them, which I highly doubt, being that it's just been me in this house for the last fifteen years," his father replies with a weary sigh, retrieving a steaming casserole dish from the oven and setting it on the stove. "Made some of that cornbread you like so much too," he adds with a wink. "Your Mama's recipe, not that boxed shit."

As they arrange the table settings, Frankie's father casts a cautious glance at him, a hint of concern in his eyes. "So, besides your marriage, How's everything going, son?"

Frankie lets out a heavy sigh, his shoulders sagging as he carefully places the silverware beside each plate. "Could be better, Dad. Could be a lot better."

His father's expression softens with understanding. "I heard about what happened. You doing okay?"

Frankie nods, though the weight of his recent troubles still hangs heavily on him. "Yeah, I'm managing. Just trying to figure things out."

His father places a reassuring hand on his shoulder. "You know, son, we all make mistakes. What's important is how we learn from them and move forward."

Frankie meets his father's gaze. "Thanks, Dad. I appreciate it."

His father's fork hovers awkwardly over his plate, his gaze fixed on the food as if it holds the answers to questions he dare not ask. "Dig in, for fucks sake. Don't let it get cold."

Frankie senses an opportunity to steer the conversation elsewhere, away from the awkwardness. "Hey, Pop," he begins, trying to sound nonchalant, "I couldn't help but notice that photo on the mantle. Is it new?"

His father pauses, then looks at him, a flicker of surprise crossing his face before he answers, "The one from New York? Yeah, it's recent."

"How recent?" Frankie probes further, his curiosity piqued.

His dad casually tears off a piece of cornbread and dips it into his chili, shrugging. "About three months ago," he replies, his tone casual. "Why do you ask?"

"I'm just surprised, that's all," Frankie says with what he hopes is casual, stabbing his spoon into his bowl, pushing the pieces of beans and corn around, refusing to make eye contact with his father who is surely gazing back at him with the quirk of his brow. "Wasn't aware that the both of you were still close," he mumbles, the sight of your bright wide smile feeling like death by a thousand cuts straight into his jugular. “Never thought that you would actually leave this fucking place, let alone go to New fucking York.”

"Well, we haven't stopped being close, son. Did you know that she sends me a bottle of tequila every year on my birthday? Noticed the difference in quality as the years gone by, she's doing quite alright up there in the big 'ol apple." Frankie hears his father make a noncommital snort as he continues to eat. “Besides, she asked me to visit her the last time she was in town, and I ain’t getting any younger, have to enjoy life somehow, right?”

You still remembered his father's birthday. Do you still remember his? he wonders silently.

He strains his eye at the label of said tequila bottle, near the center of the dinner table. José Cuervo 250 Aniversario. Twenty-one hundred off the shelf, easy. A soft snort escapes his lips, shaking his head. Well, at least you still remembered your shit.

"You know, she's one of those lawyers that deal with family stuff," his father muses, chuckling to himself as he gets that gleam in his eye when he realizes he has a (stupid, but convenient idea). "Maybe you should-"

“No.”

“I could even be the one to call her, I know she won’t say no to me-“

“Pop-“

“She’s still single, you know.”

“I don’t know what her being single has to do anything with my divorce-“

“She never really got into anything serious, at least she never told me… but I knew. She was too busy for it, you know? Too distracted. Told her she should stop playing ball with the boys and start her own firm back here."

Frankie's father continued, a wistful tone creeping into his voice as he reminisced. "She always had that fire in her, just like her grandma. I remember when she was just a kid, always standing up for what she believed in, never backing down from a challenge. That girl could argue her way out of anything."

Frankie listened quietly, his mind racing with memories of Glory's fierce determination. Despite their differences, he couldn't deny the admiration he held for her unwavering spirit.

"Yeah, well, she's probably forgotten all about this place," Frankie muttered dismissively, though a small part of him hoped it wasn't true.

His father's gaze softened, a hint of sadness flickering in his eyes.

"Maybe. But some things, some people, they never really leave you, no matter how far you go."

"Why settle for Fredericksburg when she's killing it up there?" Frankie says bitterly, his frustration palpable. "She's made it clear that there is nothing for her here beside her sister, and her Nana has been gone for the last ten years. This place is a shithole, honestly."

"If it's such a shithole, then why the fuck are you here then?" his father challenges, his irritation evident as he stabs his salad with more force than necessary. "It might not be fancy like New York or as interesting as Tampa, but it's your home, son. It's her home, too."

"Well, I'm glad to know that you still gave a damn about somebody after all these years," Frankie retorts quietly. "... and here I thought I was your actual child-"

"What do you want me to say, huh? I feel like you're trying to insinuate something here, son, so just be a fucking man for once and spit it out!"

"Why didn't you visit me, huh? If you had so much time on your hands, why her and not me?"

"What, so I could bear witness to the shitshow that's your marriage? Do you think I like watching you suffer?" his father shouts, slamming his fork on the table. "Your wife can barely stand being in the same room as me! I ain't gonna waste my time spending it with people who clearly don't want me there."

"Well maybe if you didn't find the need to compare her to Glory all the damn like you did, maybe she would have made my life a fuck of a lot easier, don't you think?"

His father's expression shifts, a mix of surprise and guilt flickering across his features before settling into a resigned acceptance. "Son, I never meant to make things harder for you," he starts, his voice softer now, devoid of the earlier hostility. "But you gotta understand, Glory was special. She was... different. And I know I shouldn't have let that affect how I saw your wife, but I guess old habits die hard."

Frankie's shoulders tense as he absorbs his father's words, a bitter taste lingering in his mouth. "Well, you certainly made it clear where her place was in your eyes," he mutters.

His father sighs heavily, his gaze dropping to his plate. "I know, son. And I'm sorry for that," he says, his tone laced with regret.

Frankie's jaw clenches as he struggles to contain his frustration. "Yeah, well, easier said than done," he grumbles, his gaze flickering to the tequila bottle on the table, a stark reminder of the divide between them.

His father rises from the table, his movements slow and deliberate, as if weighed down by the gravity of their conversation. "I'm heading to the bar," he announces quietly, his voice tinged with resignation. "Don't wait up for me."

Frankie scoffs under his breath, his frustration bubbling to the surface. "Typical," he mutters, bitterness seeping into his words. "Always running away when shit gets dicey. Coward."

As his father reaches the door, he pauses, casting a sorrowful glance back at Frankie. "Takes a coward to know one, son," he says softly, the words heavy with unspoken regret. Then, without another word, he slips out into the night, leaving Frankie alone with his thoughts.

With a frustrated grunt, Frankie snatches the tequila bottle from the table, his movements rough and unceremonious. He doesn't bother with a shot glass, instead opting to take several swigs straight from the bottle. The fiery liquid burns as it travels down his throat, but he hardly notices it amidst the tumult of emotions swirling inside him.

"Fuck," he curses. "Welcome home, I guess."

Clutching the bottle tightly, he trudges up the stairs to his bedroom, the weight of the day settling heavily on his shoulders. As he disappears into the darkness of his room, the only sound that fills the empty house is the quiet echo of his footsteps on the creaking floorboards.

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