#I really hope we keep doing this for a while

[snapscube]

I'd love to hear more about your thought process regarding the lyrics to your Deltarune song! Was it written with a specific POV in mind, or was it more so about the general theme/vibes of the newest chapters?

sure! i love talking about this stuff hehe. you could probably surmise from the font and left-aligned all-caps format of the lyrics that i was specifically trying to adapt the message from Gaster at the end of chapter 4 into lyrics while also mixing a bit of my general sentiment towards the overall story in there for flavor. so going line by line:

HOW MANY YEARS HAVE I SPENT ANTICIPATING THIS NEW CONNECTION

Very much the most "from Gaster POV" the song gets. literally just a direct adaption of Gaster messages like these

ALL OF US MARCHING ALONG YET STILL IN WAITING

I really wanted to include the recurring mention of how something or something within Deltarune as a whole has been "WAITING". We keep hearing this specific word and it really scratches my brain. DELTARUNE IS WAITING. It's so cool to me. Also the "marching along" being a reference to the beads at the hospital. Everyone walks along this path of prophecy and fate but in spite of the progress they make.... IT IS STILL WAITING.

YOUR OWN REFLECTION GAZES IN TURN AS YOU FACE THE LEGEND'S BENDING

The reflection line being meant to both capture the imagery of the reflection in the mirror in Kris's house AS WELL AS the running theory that the "Angel" from the prophecy is supposed to represent the player, which is why their image in the prophecy is blank. So as to reflect your own face onto the black screen in its place. Which I think is SUPER cool and compelling if true.

And then the line about the "legend's bending" being a reference to how in spite of everyone's appeal to prophecy... certain key factors of that prophecy seem to already be wildly out of line. It is bending, it's seemingly changing.

THE SHATTERED GLASS AND

"The shattered glass" once again being a reference to direct rejection of prophecy and what MUST be. The way that Susie punches through the glass of the final prophecy.

PARTS OF YOUR DREAMS THAT YOU WISH COULD BECOME ENDINGS

And my personal favorite line, the one literally being the reason I wrote and recorded this whole thing. I was humming to myself while listening to Neverending Night and the line "All of your dreams that you wish could become endings" entered my brain and became super sticky cause, to me, that's been the most compelling part of Deltarune to me for a long while. The idea that as far as we've heard Deltarune's ending is the driving force behind why it exists in the first place. The one that came from a fever dream so vivid that someone could dedicate their whole life to making it a reality. I love that kind of thing so much and it really strikes my heart.

ARE WITH YOU IN THE

Finishing the sentence about dreams with a reference to the recurring "with you in the dark" motif of Deltarune, butttttt cutting it off right at the final word to capture the nature of Deltarune currently being an incomplete story with room for our expectations and certainties to be challenged.

hope this was fun to read! :) it was fun to write. i'd love to do more if the inspiration strikes.

[atan-orofarne]

There's actually research that has produced solid evidence about how bad climate doomerism is not just for people and our well-being, but for the climate and the environment:

You can't just be blithely optimistic, of course. But you need some hope and optimism to help drive and sustain you.

And there are actual reasons to be optimistic! Even in terms of energy and emissions!

Vox isn't perfect, of course, especially with their super-super tight paywall these days (gosh, most places let you have at least like 10 articles a month or something), but they are one of the outlets that has consistently had good coverage and reporting on these topics.

One of their former climate writers, repeat On The Media guest, and longtime veteran of climate and environment journalism, David Roberts, also has his own newsletter where he does interviews and reporting on climate topics. I'd highly recommend his work. Here's an interview on the state of clean energy:

Doom and gloom will kill us almost as surely as pretending problems don't exist. Don't fall into that trap.

Some archive links down here 👇

And while I do very strongly believe that journalism deserves to be paid for, because these folks are doing important work that is deeply undervalued (socially, but especially monetarily), here are archive links for those Vox pieces. Because I think they're really worth a read, and that outweighs my other ethical concerns.

why bother caring about the environment when 1. It’s so obviously a lost cause and 2. There’s definitely going to be a nuclear war?

And what are you doing about it Anon? Learn about ecological restoration or get out of my way.

[pinkpurplesunrises]

Just don’t step on my foot - the short story - Alexia Putellas x Reader

Writer's note: Inspired by Alexia's Instagram photo dump, dancing salsa with her mother.

It started with a text.

Alexia: Is it weird I kinda wanna learn salsa?

You squinted at your phone. This was at 11:47 p.m. on a Tuesday. She followed it immediately with another:

Alexia: Like… like actually learn it. With you. 💃🏽🕺🏽

You: You just compared yourself to a small man emoji.

Alexia: I panicked.

And that was it. A casual comment turned into a real plan. Three weeks later, when her birthday rolled around, you handed her a small red envelope.

"Ten salsa lessons," you said. "Beginner level, so we don't die."

Alexia’s eyes widened. “Wait, really?”

You shrugged. “You said you wanted to. You’re impossible to shop for. And, selfishly, I want to see you in dance shoes.”

She leaned in and kissed you. Soft and sure. “Best gift ever. Also, I’m leading.”

You snorted. “Of course you are.”

The first lesson was an exercise in humility.

Mostly yours.

“I didn’t think there would be this much… counting,” Alexia whispered, wide-eyed, as Marina, your instructor with a suspicious amount of cheer, clapped her hands and shouted, “ONE two THREE… FIVE six SEVEN!”

You were still trying to figure out what happened to four and eight when Alexia spun you effortlessly. Like she’d been waiting her whole life to salsa dance.

Meanwhile, you were trying not to trip over your own feet. Or hers. Or thin air.

“How are you already good at this?” you hissed. Exasperated, after the third turn you flubbed.

Alexia shrugged, smug. “Natural talent. Leadership skills. Strong sense of rhythm.”

“You played football, not Dancing with the Stars.”

“And yet here we are.” She winked. Catching your hand again like a pro. “Try to keep up.”

You wanted to throw a shoe at her. But you were still clinging to the hope that Marina would call a water break before you collapsed in shame.

Each week, it got worse. Or at least, you didn’t get better.

Alexia? She was thriving.

By week four, she was casually humming salsa tunes while brushing her teeth.

By week six, she had moved on to practicing spins in the living room. With a broom.

“Okay,” you snapped one evening as she dipped it, dipped it, with alarming grace, “if you give that broom one more longing stare, I’m going to lose it.”

She laughed, flipping imaginary hair over her shoulder. “What can I say? It follows my lead.”

You flopped onto the couch with a groan. “I hope it steps on your foot.”

“You’re just mad it dances better than you.”

She wasn’t wrong. But you weren’t going to give her that satisfaction.

Not yet.

You almost quit during week seven.

Not dramatically. Not with a speech or storming out of the studio. You just kind of… stopped. Halfway through a basic step, your feet froze, your timing went off and you pulled your hand out of Alexia’s before she could twirl you again.

“I can’t,” you muttered. Turning away. “I seriously can’t.”

Alexia, for once, didn’t make a joke. She stepped back. Giving you space and tilted her head just enough to catch your eye. “Hey,” she said gently, “what’s going on?”

You waved a hand at the mirror-lined wall like it could explain everything.

“I look like a broken marionette. My rhythm sucks. I’m offbeat. My brain can’t process the steps fast enough, and you...” You gestured toward her. “You’re out here channeling Shakira meets ballroom royalty. I’m just trying not to elbow you in the nose.”

Alexia stepped closer. Not touching you yet. Just… being there.

“You’re being hard on yourself,” she said. “It’s not a competition.”

“Easy for you to say. You’ve got the hips of a goddess and apparently, salsa blood in your veins.”

That got a laugh. “I absolutely do not. I just… like it.” She looked down. Nudging her foot against yours lightly. “But I didn’t start out good either, you know?”

You raised an eyebrow. “Pretty sure you were born spinning.”

“I’ve been practicing at night,” she admitted sheepishly. “On YouTube. Tutorials. Watching our videos back. Because…” She trailed off and bit her lip.

“Because?”

“Because I wanted to impress you.”

You stared at her. “Are you kidding me?”

She finally took your hand again. Warm and steady. “You’re doing this for me. The least I could do is meet you halfway.”

Something softened in your chest. “I just didn’t want to suck at it,” you said. Quieter now. “I wanted to be good. With you. You’re so confident out there. And I feel like I’m always two beats behind and one misstep away from public humiliation.”

Alexia stepped forward until your foreheads almost touched. “You don’t need to be perfect for me. I didn’t want to learn salsa to become a professional dancer. I wanted to learn it with you.”

Your breath caught a little.

She grinned. “Also, you look very attractive when you’re angry at the music.”

You snorted. “This doesn’t mean I forgive you for dating the broom.”

She laughed. “I broke up with it. We weren’t spinning in the same direction.”

You rolled your eyes but smiled. And that night, when Marina cued up the music again, you let yourself have fun with it.

You still missed half the steps. Your turns were slow. And your cross-body lead looked more like a traffic accident. But for the first time, you weren’t focused on being good.

You were focused on her.

Week eight was a revelation.

Somehow, you got it. Not perfectly, but enough. You hit a clean eight-count in time with Alexia. You turned and didn’t trip. You even dipped slightly at the end... and when you looked up at her, wide-eyed, she looked just as surprised as you did.

“You did it!” she gasped. “You didn’t maim me!”

“I know!” you shouted. Arms flailing with joy. “We didn’t look like baby giraffes learning to walk!”

“Okay, that’s a stretch,” she teased. “But yes. Much less giraffe-y. You even gave me a flourish at the end.”

You paused. “That was not intentional. I tripped on your shoelace and disguised it as style.”

Alexia grinned and kissed your forehead. “Well, your tripping has flair now. I love it.”

By week nine, you had a routine down. A rhythm. She would stretch while you filled your water bottle. You’d both complain about Marina’s obsession with clapping. She’d help you tie your shoelaces because, in her words, “You’re a liability and I like my toes unbroken.”

And somewhere between missed beats and shaky steps, you started to feel it. Not just the music, but yourself in it. She gave you her hand and instead of apologizing for where you placed your feet, you started looking her in the eyes again. Smiling. Moving.

Dancing.

After the last class, the night air was cool and still buzzing with leftover music.

You and Alexia walked home slowly. Fingers intertwined. Your limbs sore but heart full. She couldn’t stop smiling. Her little dimple kept peeking out like it had a mind of its own.

“I still can’t believe I didn’t fall during that last spin,” you said, limping slightly from your most dramatic dip to date.

“You were basically majestic,” Alexia said. Dead serious. “You should’ve had a wind machine behind you.”

You nudged her hip. “Save the dramatic flair for your broom ex.”

She chuckled, then checked her phone. “Okay,” she murmured. “She’s home.”

“Who?”

“My mom.”

You raised an eyebrow. “You’re going now?”

She nodded. “I told her I wanted to stop by. Didn’t say why.”

Her mother answered the door wearing her reading glasses and a mismatched set of pajamas... floral bottoms and a Barça hoodie that had clearly once belonged to Alexia.

“Hola, cariño,” she said. Smiling tiredly. “Everything okay?”

Alexia leaned in and kissed her on both cheeks. “I have a surprise.”

Her mom immediately narrowed her eyes. “Is it a dog? Because you’re still technically not allowed to surprise me with living things after that duck situation.”

Alexia laughed. “It’s not a dog... or duck.”

Her mother tilted her head. “What is it then?”

Alexia reached out her hand. Palm up.

“Dance with me.”

“… Excuse me?”

“Salsa,” she said. Grinning wide now. “I want to salsa with you.”

Her mom blinked. “Are you having a fever?”

“No. I’ve been taking lessons.”

Her mother stared at her for a full ten seconds. Mouth slightly open. “Since when do you dance?”

Alexia turned toward you. Who was standing behind her with your arms folded and the smuggest smile on your face.

“Since she gave it to me for my birthday.”

Her mom’s eyes darted between the two of you. “You’re serious?”

Alexia pulled her phone out. Thumbed through a few videos, and handed it over. You watched as her mother squinted, hit play, and then… went quiet.

It was your freestyle. Shaky camera work. A bit blurry but full of movement and laughter and something real.

When it ended, her mother looked up. Blinking fast.

“Tu padre would’ve loved that,” she said softly. “He used to say, ‘Dancing isn’t about the steps... it’s about who you’re holding.’”

Alexia took her hand again. A little firmer this time. “So come on. Let me hold you.”

Her mom let out a laugh. Half disbelieving. Half tearful. And shook her head. “I’m going to need to change first. If I’m doing this, I’m not dancing in duck pajamas.”

Alexia turned to you, face glowing. “She said yes.”

You smiled. “Told you. No one can resist your strong leadership energy.”

She kissed your cheek and whispered, “I learned from the best.”

They danced in the small living room. Alexia leading. Her mother laughing. Both occasionally forgetting the steps but remembering to smile through every one.

You watched from the couch. A quiet spectator to something bigger than music.

Grief. Joy. And love tangled between their hands like an invisible rhythm. Steady and healing.

At the end, her mom pulled her into a hug and whispered something only Alexia could hear. You saw her eyes close. Saw her swallow hard. Then she nodded.

Later... as you both slipped out and walked home under the city’s sleepy sky... she turned to you and said, “Thank you. For the gift.”

You bumped her shoulder. “I didn’t give you salsa. I just gave you lessons.”

She looked at you. Eyes soft. “Yeah. But I got so much more.”

Then she reached for your hand again. And this time, she didn’t need to lead. You both just walked. Quietly in step.

-----------------------------------------------------------------------

Writer's note: writing inspiration is drained. Not sure what to write next but I guess inspiration will come back soon

[onlyforsebastianstan]

Breaking Bucky

Summary: Set in 1940s Brooklyn, this story follows you, Bucky Barnes, and Steve Rogers, lifelong best friends navigating the complexities of love and jealousy during wartime. Bucky, a charming playboy, dismisses your feminine side, treating you like “one of the guys” while parading his dates in front of you. Despite your unspoken love for him, he insists you’re not the dating type. When Steve, newly transformed by the super-soldier serum, pretends to court you to make Bucky jealous, tensions rise.

Genre: Historical Romance | Slight Angst | Jealousy

The dance hall was alive with the brassy wail of trumpets and the shuffle of polished shoes on the wooden floor. Brooklyn’s wartime energy pulsed through the crowd—soldiers on leave, girls in victory rolls, and the bittersweet hum of a world that didn’t know what tomorrow held. You, Bucky Barnes, and Steve Rogers had been inseparable since you were kids, dodging trouble and sharing dreams in the backstreets. But lately, the air between you three crackled with something new, something unspoken.

Bucky was the same old charmer, a playboy with a smile that could talk his way out of anything. Every week, he’d waltz into the hall with a different girl on his arm, each one flashier than the last. He’d parade them past you, tossing you a grin as he spun them onto the dance floor.

“Whaddaya think, doll?” he’d say, his latest date giggling as she clung to him. “She’s a knockout, right?”

You’d force a smile, swallowing the ache in your chest. “Sure, Buck. She’s swell. Just like the one last week.”

He’d laugh, mussing your hair like you were his kid sister. “Stick to bein’ our pal, kid. You ain’t the datin’ type.”

That stung, though you never let it show. You weren’t all frills and lipstick like his girls, but you had your own charm—slacks and a sharp tongue, a girl who could keep up with him and Steve in a scrap or a laugh. You’d loved Bucky for years, a quiet ache that lived in stolen glances and brushed-off compliments. But he never saw you as anything more than a friend. He’d made that clear, dismissing your feminine side like it didn’t exist.

Then Steve changed everything. The scrawny kid who’d always been in Bucky’s shadow came back from that army program looking like a Greek god. The first time you saw him, striding into the diner with broad shoulders and a new swagger, your jaw dropped.

“Steve?” you said, cola fizzing over your fingers. “That you?”

He grinned, a little shy but steadier than before. “Yeah, it’s me. Guess I grew a bit.”

Bucky, slouched against the counter, froze. His eyes flicked between you and Steve, catching the way you stared. His jaw twitched, but he covered it with a laugh. “Well, hell, punk. You tryin’ to steal my thunder now?”

Steve just chuckled, but his eyes lingered on you. Bucky saw that too.

A few days later, you and Steve were at the diner, splitting a plate of fries. Bucky was off with another dame, probably charming her at some jukebox joint. Steve leaned in, his voice low.

“I told Bucky I like you,” he said, his new confidence making his words bold. “Told him I wanna ask you out.”

You blinked, caught off guard. Steve was your best friend, but your heart was knotted up with Bucky. “Steve, I… I don’t—”

He held up a hand, a sly glint in his eye. “Hold on. When I told him, you know what he said? That I deserve better than you. Said you’re not a guy’s type.”

Your stomach twisted. “He said that?”

“Yeah,” Steve said, but his grin was scheming. “Thing is, I think he’s full of it. I think he’s crazy about you but too stubborn to admit it. So, how about we shake him up? Pretend we’re together, make him jealous. See if he cracks.”

You hesitated, the hurt of Bucky’s words stinging deep. Not a guy’s type. You’d spent years hoping he’d see you, really see you. Maybe this was the push he needed. “Alright, Steve. Let’s do it.”

The plan kicked off the next Saturday at the dance hall. You traded your usual slacks for a dress that hugged your curves, the kind of outfit Bucky’s girls wore. When you walked in with Steve, his arm looped through yours, heads turned. Including Bucky’s.

He was by the bar, mid-flirt with a redhead in a polka-dot dress, when he saw you. His smile faltered. His eyes swept over your dress, then snapped to Steve’s hand on your waist. His grip on his glass tightened, knuckles whitening.

“Looks like he’s noticin’,” Steve whispered, steering you toward the dance floor. “Let’s give him a show.”

You nodded, heart racing. Steve pulled you close as the band played a slow tune, his hands gentle but deliberate. You could feel Bucky’s eyes burning into you from across the room, but when you glanced over, he was back to charming his date, laughing too loud, like he didn’t care. Your chest ached. Maybe Steve was wrong. Maybe Bucky didn’t feel anything.

Steve sensed your doubt. “We need to up the ante,” he murmured as the song ended. “Follow my lead.”

He guided you to a quieter corner of the hall, near the edge of the dance floor, where the lights were dim and a pillar blocked most of the view. From Bucky’s spot at the bar, the angle was perfect—or perfectly deceiving. Steve leaned in, his face close to yours, his hand cupping your cheek. To anyone watching—especially Bucky—it looked like he was kissing you, his lips hovering just a fraction from yours, his broad frame shielding the truth.

Your heart pounded, not from Steve’s closeness but from the thought of Bucky seeing this. “You sure about this?” you whispered.

“Trust me,” Steve said, his voice low, playful. “If this doesn’t break him, nothin’ will.”

Across the room, Bucky froze. His date was talking, but he wasn’t listening. His eyes were locked on you and Steve, on the way Steve’s hand cradled your face, the way your bodies were pressed close. From where he stood, it looked real—too real. His glass hit the bar with a clink, and before his date could protest, he was striding across the room, his face a storm of anger and something deeper.

“What the hell’s this?” he snapped, grabbing Steve’s shoulder and yanking him back. Steve stumbled, playing the part perfectly, his hands raised in mock innocence.

“Easy, Buck,” Steve said, a hint of a smirk tugging at his lips. “Just dancin’ with my girl.”

“Your girl?” Bucky’s voice was low, dangerous. His eyes flicked to you, and the raw hurt in them made your breath catch. “Since when?”

You opened your mouth, but the words stuck. This was the plan, but seeing Bucky like this—his jaw clenched, his hands trembling—made it feel too real, too cruel.

“Since she decided she wanted someone who sees her,” Steve said, stepping closer to Bucky, his voice steady but pointed. “Not someone who treats her like she’s invisible.”

Bucky’s gaze snapped to you, and for a moment, the whole world seemed to shrink to just the two of you. “Is that what you think?” he asked, his voice rough. “That I don’t see you?”

You swallowed, heart hammering. “You tell me, Buck. You’re the one who said I’m not a guy’s type. That Steve deserves better.”

His face twisted, like you’d slapped him. “I didn’t mean it like that,” he said, stepping closer, his voice dropping. “I said it because… because I didn’t want him takin’ you. I didn’t want anyone takin’ you.”

Your breath hitched. Steve stepped back, giving you space, his part in the plan done. The crowd around you faded, the music a distant hum. It was just you and Bucky now, the truth hanging heavy between you.

“Then why didn’t you say somethin’?” you asked, voice shaking. “All these years, you parade your girls in front of me, tell me I’m nothin’ but a pal. What am I to you, Bucky?”

He ran a hand through his hair, his eyes wild, desperate. “You’re everything,” he said, the words spilling out like they’d been trapped too long. “I’ve been tryin’ to ignore it, tryin’ to keep you close without losin’ you. I’m a mess, doll. I chase girls because it’s easier than facin’ how I feel about you. But seein’ you with him—” He gestured at Steve, his voice breaking. “Seein’ him kiss you? I can’t do it. I can’t lose you.”

You stared at him, heart pounding. “He didn’t kiss me,” you said softly. “It was just for show. To make you see.”

Bucky blinked, his anger faltering, replaced by confusion. “What?”

Steve chimed in, his grin wide. “It was a setup, pal. You were too damn stubborn to admit you love her, so we gave you a push.”

Bucky’s eyes darted between you and Steve, realization dawning. For a moment, he looked like he might deck Steve, but then his shoulders sagged, and he turned back to you, his expression raw. “You let me think that… to get to me?”

You stepped closer, your voice steady despite the tears in your eyes. “I had to, Buck. I’ve been waitin’ for you to see me for years. I’m done waitin’.”

He looked at you, really looked at you, like he was seeing you for the first time. Then, without another word, he closed the distance, his hands cupping your face as he kissed you. It was fierce, desperate, full of all the things he’d never said. You kissed him back, hands fisting in his jacket, pouring every ounce of your heart into it.

When you pulled back, breathless, he rested his forehead against yours. “I’m an idiot,” he muttered, his voice thick. “I love you, doll. Always have.”

You laughed, tears spilling over. “Yeah, you’re an idiot. But you’re mine.”

Steve, still lingering nearby, clapped his hands together, grinning. “Told ya it’d work. You’re welcome, jerk.”

Bucky shot him a glare, but there was no heat in it. He pulled you close, his arm around your waist, and for the first time, you felt like he saw you—not as a friend, not as one of the guys, but as you.

The band struck up another tune, and Bucky leaned down, his lips brushing your ear. “Dance with me, doll. No more games.”

You smiled, taking his hand. “No more games.”

See my other stories here >>> Masterlist <<<

[yourlipstogodsears]

…What Are We? (Michael Robinavich Fic)

Summary: You and Robby are exes, he’s still in love with her. can they get over the hurdle that drew them apart: the death of their mentor.

(Mention of grief and death of Adamson, lots of sappy monologues and heart to heart)

She and Robby spend most of shift sharing longing eye contact when the other isn’t looking. Medical procedures where Robby has to talk you through it in his slow gravelly steady voice put you in a trance. a floating memory. His hand over yours as he guides you through it. feeling familiarity in the positioning. He uses any opportunity to tease her playfully or compliment her skills.

Robby smirks slightly, knowing he's making you uncomfortable. He intentionally uses your full name in front of the students, trying to hide his feelings while subtly showing off your skills. “Dr. Y/n would you mind demonstrating the procedure for these students? You have the most elegant technique I've seen."

She gives a tight lipped smile at Robby and nods, “oh uh- sure. I hate being put on the fly but.. hey that’s emergency medicine.. right?” You joke softly and laughs and moves to position herself correctly. “everyone position so you can see the monitor- Whittaker stand by Robby.. don’t need you needing a 4th scrub change..”

He chuckles softly, appreciating your attempt to lighten the mood and maintain professionalism. He steps aside, allowing you to take the lead, but keeps his eyes on you the entire time. He watches your every move, not just for the procedure but also to steal glances at your face when you're focused.

You look around at the med students- Javadi, Santos and Whittaker. “can anyone tell me why I’m doing open instead of less invasive right now?”

Javadi raises her hand eagerly, hoping to answer correctly. she’s the top student in the class, always prepared. "Because the patient's CT showed multiple internal injuries and possible organ lacerations, making laparoscopic repair risky and time-consuming?" she answers confidently.

You nods, “good Javadi. Come here and hold this for me?” You hold the tool for the student, “come on I won’t bite.”

Javadi steps forward, taking the tool with a small smile. She's used to your no-nonsense approach. Santos watches you intently, while Whittaker keeps looking around nervously between robby and you instead of the procedure. Robby watches you closely, his eyes flicking between your hands and face.

As the procedure ends, the med students can't help but feel a sense of admiration for the way you taught them today. Your calm demeanor, expertise, and willingness to engage with them made the learning experience enjoyable. Robby watches as you finish up, a small smile playing on his lips.

You smile, “go on.. you all have rounds and other patients and charting to do. I won’t keep you..”

The students file out, chatting excitedly about the procedure and your teaching style. Robby lingers behind, pretending to tidy up the instruments but really just wanting a moment alone with you. Once the door closes behind the last student, he turns to face you with a warm smile.

she looks at robby, “i really missed having med students around… ill never forgive Gloria for cutting the med student program during covid..” you say softly, trying to talk about anything but feelings. “they’re like our kids”

jesus.. why’d I say that.. knowing Robby wanted kids with her. Knowing they almost had it all.

His heart aches at your words, remembering the dreams they once shared. He steps closer, his voice low and sincere. "I know. I missed having them here too. And you were always the best teacher... still are." He pauses, his eyes searching yours. "You know..."

“Hm?” You gently tape the gauze into place on the patient and puts the blankets back.

"You almost sound like a mom when you talk about the students.” He tests the waters, trying to hide the fact that he used to picture you pregnant with their kids. He watches you carefully, your gentle movements tending to the patient like you would a child. He swallows hard.

You smile, “I guess in a way we are kinda like parents. Teaching them, giving them guard rails and hoping none of them end up killing anyone…”

"Exactly." He laughs softly, watching your nurturing side come out. He realizes this is one of the reasons he fell in love with you - your motherly instinct. He lowers his voice again, "Do you... Do you want kids?"

“You know I always did…”

He nods slowly, his expression softening. He knows this is delicate ground, but he can't help but press a little further. "And do you still...?" He lets the question hang in the air between them, hoping you'll fill in the blanks.

You nod, “I don’t think that just goes away.. atleast not for me..”

His heart aches at your response. He reaches out and gently takes your hand in his, giving it a squeeze. "I want kids with you." The words come out sudden and raw, filled with emotion he can't hold back anymore. "I want a family with you."

her entire demeanor melts, “Michael..”you say softly, your soft blue eyes looking at him.

"I know I messed up." He steps closer, his voice filled with desperation. "I was scared and I pushed you away. But every day without you feels like a mistake." He cups your face gently. "I want us to try again. I want us to be a family."

You sigh and turn, “I’m not sure- I mean we ended awfully and I finally got to a good place mentally.. emotionally.. I mean we both lost Adamson…”

He nods, understanding your hesitation. He drops his hands and takes a step back, giving you space. "I get it. I know we ended on a terrible note, and losing Adamson... it was devastating for both of us." He pauses, running a hand through his hair.

“And you still haven’t unpacked that for yourself” you say softly. You were always right and it made Robby agitated when you’d call him out even gently. Robby is the king of compartmentalization until he implodes. He’d rather hold it in til he implodes than have someone deal with him and his issues.

His expression turns distant, a familiar wall going up around his emotions. "I'm fine. I deal with it." He says dismissively, turning away from you to grab a coffee mug from the cabinet. "Can we not talk about Adamson right now?"

“You dont though… that’s what broke us” you state it again. He needs to face it. He can’t keep rushing around pushing the grief down. Handing everyone’s problems but his own.

He freezes, his back still turned to you. He grips the coffee mug tightly, knuckles turning white. "I know." His voice is low and strained. "But I can't keep rehashing it. It's done and over with."

You nod, “so why bring up wanting a family with me again if you’re not in a place to even talk about Adamson” she knows he blames himself for losing Adamson. Could’ve done ECMO longer, maybe he could’ve saved him and the little girl.

He turns back around, his face a mask of frustration and pain. He slams the coffee mug down on the counter hard enough to make a slam echo. "Because!" He shouts, his voice echoing in the kitchen. "Because every time I look at you, I see what could've been."

“I need you to lose the bass in your voice real fast” you snap back in her quiet sharp whisper, the breakroom isn’t sound proof. Everyone is probably hearing this right now.

He swallows hard, dropping his voice to almost a whisper himself. He knows you snap like this when you're angry or hurt. He chooses his next words carefully. "Do you want to know why I asked if you wanted kids again?" He asks softly, his jaw tight.

“Sure..” you move closer to him.

He watches you approach, his eyes flicking down to your lips briefly before meeting your gaze again. He takes a deep breath. "I want a family with you because when I look at you, I don't just see a life lost. I see a life gained."

You frown and sigh, “c’mere”

Without hesitation, he steps into your arms, wrapping his around you tightly. He buries his face in your neck, inhaling your scent deeply. He's been starved of your comfort for too long. "I'm sorry," he murmurs against your skin. "I'm so sorry."

“Nothin to be sorry about..”

"Yes there is." He pulls back to look at you, his eyes shining with unshed tears. "I pushed you away when I should've held you closer. I shut down instead of grieving with you. I ruined everything." His voice breaks on the last word. "I ruined us."

He leans into your touch, letting his tall frame fold slightly so he can rest his forehead against yours. "I miss you in my bed at night. I miss your goddamn tea in the morning. I miss you calling me an idiot." He lets out a shaky breath.

You nod, and then he starts Ho'oponopono. The Hawaiian ritual that Adamson taught them for forgiveness, reconciliation and interconnection. They use it for grieving families who are nondenominational. But it works for a lot of things. they are the starting point for the toughest conversation they’ve needed to have.

As he begins, his voice deepens and steadies. "I'm sorry for being an ass all those years ago…. Please forgive me for shutting you out instead of leaning on you after Adamson passed. Thank you for staying in my life in every capacity- friend, lover, everything but a stranger even when I don’t deserve it. I love you to the ends of the earth."

she sniffles softly, she’s crying.. she’s never cried infront of him before.

Seeing your tears, Robby's heart shatters. He cups your face gently, his thumbs brushing away the tears. "Please don’t cry," he whispers hoarsely. "I can’t stand seeing you cry. Not over me." He takes a deep breath.

“That was the sweetest most genuine things you’ve ever said to me. No barriers of sarcasm to hide behind.. just raw and feeling…” she whispers gently.

His expression softens even more. He realizes that he's never truly opened up like this before. No jokes, no sarcasm, no deflecting. He sees how your expression has changed, like you’re finally seeing a part of him you never have before.

she smiles and big tears fall down her cheeks.

He kisses the tears away gently, his hands framing your face. He pulls you into a hug, holding you tightly against his chest. You can feel his heart beating steadily, strongly. He buries his face in your hair, inhaling your scent deeply. "Shh..." He murmurs softly.

“I’m sorry I was hard on you for not opening up when I was ready to talk about Adamson.. I forgot people grieve at their own pace…” she sniffles. This is her turn to do ho’oponopono for him.

He freezes at your words, realizing that you’re not just apologizing, but also understanding him in a way no one ever has. He holds you tighter, feeling a warmth spread through his chest. For the first time since Adamson’s death, he feels understood, cared for, not judged.

she sniffles more, “please forgive me for not always being the best partner for you during covid when we were both overwhelmed and overworked and grieving. That’s not who we are at our core..”

His voice breaks slightly. "There’s nothing to forgive," he whispers. "I wasn’t the best either. We were both drowning." He pulls back to look at you, his eyes shining with unshed tears.

she sniffles and wipes tears, “thank you for being exactly who you are.. you are everything i need and more.. you make me smile and laugh even when i don’t want to. It’s like you go out of your way to do it..”

He smiles softly, his eyes crinkling at the corners. He realizes that he does that intentionally - tries to make her smile even when she's sad, tries to distract her from her grief with jokes and silliness. He pulls you back into the hug. "I love you," he says quietly.

“I love you endlessly Michael” she says gently through her watery voice.

He inhales sharply at your words, feeling them like a physical touch. He presses his lips to your hair, kissing you softly. He feels something shift inside him - like a weight has been lifted off his chest. He feels lighter, happier than he has in months.

she hugs him tightly, “Adamson would be proud of this…”

At the mention of Adamson, Robby's eyes well up with tears again. But this time, it's not just grief - it's gratitude and peace. He believes Adamson would be happy to see them healing, communicating, loving each other through their pain. "Yeah," he whispers,

“He’d be proud of you.. you got thrusted into a position of power.. chief of the ER even while grieving.. you handled it.. and are continuing to handle it…” she continues, Robby needs to hear this.

He nods, swallowing hard against the lump in his throat. Your words mean more to him than you know. He had often wondered if he was doing enough, if he was strong enough to lead while grieving. Hearing you say that Adamson would be proud of him means the world.

“You are the best parts of him…” she makes sure Robby looks at her when she says that. he needs to know that reality.

He closes his eyes tightly, a single tear escaping and rolling down his cheek. Your words hit him deeply, resonating with a truth he hadn't fully allowed himself to feel. He pulls you even closer, as if trying to absorb your comfort and belief in him. "God, I needed to hear that,"

“I don’t think anyone stopped to see how difficult your task was after Adamson…”

His arms tighten around you reflexively at your understanding words. No one had ever put it into those terms before - the immense pressure and loneliness of stepping into Adamson's shoes amidst a pandemic. Another tear falls silently. "Everyone just expected me to..." He pauses,"Be him."

“You did it flawlessly”

He lets out a shaky laugh, a rare genuine one. "Flawlessly?" He traces your cheekbone gently. "There were nights I barely slept. Nights I sat alone in my office wondering how the hell I was supposed to fill his shoes. And nobody saw that."

“Everyone was processing trying to find a way to carry on. He was a powerhouse. And so are you.”

Your words of praise and understanding break him. He buries his face in your neck, his shoulders shaking with silent sobs. All the pent-up emotion, the loneliness, the pressure - it all comes pouring out. He clings to you like a lifeline, his tears soaking into your skin.

“You found your own way to do things. You’re true to your roots.”

He pulls back slightly, his eyes red and swollen from crying but filled with gratitude. He cups your face gently with both hands, wiping away any stray tears from his cheeks onto yours in an intimate gesture. “You have no idea how much it means to hear that,” he repeats hoarsely.

she kisses his nose gently,“I guess we can give it another shot.. if…”

His breath hitches as you kiss his nose. He's always been self-conscious about it, but the way you cherish it melts his heart. He looks at you with a mixture of hope and trepidation, his thumbs gently caressing your cheeks. “If what?"

“If you wanted to”

He searches your eyes, looking for any hint of hesitation or doubt. Finding none, he lets out a soft sigh, his thumbs still gently caressing your cheeks. "You know I do," he admits softly. "I never stopped wanting to, even when everything was falling apart."

“Okay. Let’s uh go wrangle the med students..” she tries to break the heavy atmosphere after the reconciliation.

He chuckles softly at your sudden change in topic, but he's grateful for the reprieve from the heavy emotions. He stands up, pulling you up with him and giving you a quick, affectionate peck on the lips before heading towards the door. "Let's go."

[everythingisamazing]

Here’s a "fun" analysis of why Jayce’s first speech in the astral plane doesn’t work — and why so many Jayces before him have failed to convince their partner: Viktor doesn’t care about being saved for his own sake. And as painful as it is to admit: he doesn’t care about being loved for his imperfections.

Why do I believe this? Because the show repeatedly emphasizes what Viktor does care about — across both seasons. And it all begins with one of the very first lines we ever hear from him, as a child in the flashback:

"Can I help?"

Later, when Viktor speaks to Heimerdinger about his impending death, what is his main concern? Not that he’s dying — but that he hasn’t done enough. That he’s only achieved figments.

When he and Jayce experiment with the Hexcore and the plants, it's Jayce who focuses on finding a cure for Viktor. Viktor, once again, talks about saving others.

I don’t even think his decision to experiment on himself with the Hexcore was ever truly about saving his own life — but rather about buying more time. Time to achieve what he hoped Hextech could accomplish for the world.

And while Viktor’s “death” technically happens in Season 1, it’s really his arc in Season 2 that made me read it this way: Because despite everything that changes — from who he is at the beginning of the series to the moment he creates the commune — one thing doesn’t change: His utter disregard for his own well-being in the pursuit of helping others.

From the very first moment we see him use his powers, the show makes it clear: it comes at a cost. His attempt to heal ending with his legs shaking and him falling to his knees.

Singed, when he visits the commune, even talks to Viktor about his "decline," as he calls it — how his power is diminishing with every use. (Viktor answering this by asking whether he believes in fate is... interesting, but that’ll be an analysis for another time.) And what does Viktor do? He pretty much ignores him and keeps trying — which is no different from what S1 Viktor would have done. So, to summarize: I feel like Viktor sees his own survival as a means to an end — as if he is merely a vessel for saving others, not a person worth saving himself. His body, not as something imperfect yet beautiful (as Jayce calls it), but as an inconvenience — something that gets in the way of achieving meaningful change.

Now, I can’t tell you why Viktor sees himself that way — the show doesn’t explain it, because, as mentioned above, he already holds this mindset when we first meet him as a child. To play armchair psychologist, I’d assume it has something to do with his loneliness, and how helping others through his mind feels like the one meaningful way he can connect with them.

And how does his relationship with Jayce play into all this? Jayce, as stated by the writers, connects Viktor to his humanity. In this reading, I’d say: Jayce is the one thing Viktor can’t help but be selfish about. Because when Mage Viktor saves Jayce as a child, he likely does more harm than good in many timelines. And yet — he does it anyway.

There’s no time in the show for Viktor to fully work through this issue. At best, he might have started to realize, by the end, how this approach caused more harm than good. But I don’t think he’s anywhere near caring for himself. That’s why Jayce’s "You always wanted to cure what you thought were weaknesses" speech “fails” — while "Because I promised you" works. I hope I’m not getting too psychological here, but I feel like for someone who’s so committed to helping others, honoring a promise is far easier for Viktor to understand than the concept of self-love.

It might even be a bit of a callback to when Sky warns him about trying to save Vander — and Viktor replies, "He is worth the risk." I think that’s a sentiment Viktor understands deeply. And he sees it reflected back at him through Jayce in that final moment. He can empathize with Jayce’s need to do right by him, even if he can’t yet empathize with himself. (That part — well, that’s for all the angst-with-a-happy-ending fics to figure out).

[sergeantbuckybarnes]

REMEMBER YOU YOUNG // bucky barnes

CHAPTER 1: WELCOME TO NEW YORK

Summary: You end up stuck in 1942 without a way to come back, but when you meet the young and charming version of Bucky Barnes, do you really want to go back to the present?

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader

Word count: 3.9k

Warnings: mentions of war, lack of 40's knowledge, mentions of back to the future & the butterfly effect (with spoilers)

A/N: As always, remember English is not my first language. I'm sorry for any grammatical or spelling errors. No proofread or beta-ed.

It’s been an eternity since I've written for Bucky… I posted this fic I a few years ago, and I was going through it again, but I wasn’t happy with how I wrote it back in the day, so I decided to start it over. Reader how travels back in time and falls in love with Bucky is one of my favorite tropes 🙈 Hope you guys like it!!!!

marvel masterlist | series masterlist

It was supposed to be an easy mission.

In and out.

Easy. Risk-free.

You'd had the warehouse under surveillance for weeks, every corner carefully analyzed, the plan memorized like a mantra.

Steve had repeatedly said, “Do not touch the crystal.” To be honest, he'd repeated it more times than necessary. And even if you'd never admit it, you knew you were the reason for it.

Impulsive.

Reckless.

Hot-headed.

You were a good agent; that was indisputable. But you had the flaw of having trouble keeping your restlessness and curiosity at bay.

And that's why, when you entered the room, with Wanda behind you, your eyes were drawn to the glass resting on a pillar in the center of the room. It radiated an almost hypnotic white glow.

Steve's voice warning that the crystal shouldn't be touched without proper protection echoed in a remote corner of your mind, like an echo fading into the distance. And even closer, Wanda's voice was a murmur urgently calling your name.

You couldn't help it. It was like a magnetic pull, and the Chrono Crystal was chanting your name.

Your hand extended slowly, almost subconsciously. The moment felt frozen in time, as if the world had stopped spinning for a split second. When your fingertips finally made contact with the raw edges of the crystal, a pulse rushed through your body, leaving you paralyzed.

And then it happened.

The first thing was a powerful flash of light, so powerful that when you faced it, you had to close your eyes and shield your face with your arm.

The next thing was a tremor, the vibration of the ground resonating through your bones, and with a shudder, you lost your balance, collapsing next to Wanda on the cold concrete floor.

Then, a gust of wind blew toward you, a whirlwind that carried with it a force that defied logic. The white light intensified even further, enveloping every corner of the room in a flash so bright it was impossible to see anything. A few seconds later, the chaos ceased, and everything went black.

As your vision cleared, you realized something was wrong. The cold walls and concrete floor of the warehouse had been replaced by the grimy walls and floor of a dimly lit alley.

You slowly got up from the ground, wincing in pain as you touched your side, feeling it slightly bruised from the fall. Dazed and disoriented, you struggled to process your abrupt displacement. You found yourself standing in a narrow alleyway, surrounded by decaying posters plastered on the walls. The clamor of bustling city life and indistinct chatter filled your ears.

Your mind raced as you tried to make sense of the situation. “What the hell just happened?”

You heard Wanda groaning while getting up on her feet, brushing the dust off her jacket. When her sight gathered back its focus, her expression morphed into a confused one, which you were pretty sure matched yours.

“Where are we?”

You took tentative steps, your eyes darting from one end of the alley to the other, searching for any semblance of familiarity. The disorienting shift in your surroundings fueled a growing sense of unease within you. Your heart raced as you tried to recall what could have caused this bewildering displacement.

Then it hit you.

“The crystal,” you murmured.

“Steve warned you not to touch it,” she reprimanded.

“Actually, he warned all of us.”

“He just said it because of you.”

And you knew she was right.

You turned around to see Wanda, who was holding a newspaper in her hands with a frightened expression on her face. 

“What is it?” you inquired, curious as to what had disturbed her so deeply. She put out the newspaper for you to read, and dread settled in your gut. 

“THE BATTLEFRONTS OF THE WAR IN THE SOUTHWESTERN PACIFIC JAPANESE CLOSING PINCERS ON JAVA”

And the date.

February 18, 1942.

“We’re… We’re in the past.” The realization tumbled from your lips, heavy and surreal.

Was it actually feasible that you had gone back in time? 

Is this why they kept the crystal secured?

“What do we do now?” Wanda looked at you as if she expected you to come up with a solution; after all, you were responsible for this situation. If you had followed Steve’s orders and not touched the Chrono Crystal, you would not be here right now. Instead, you would have finished the mission and be back at the compound, safe and enjoying a cup of ice cream while watching some shitty show on Netflix.

You sighed. “I don’t know.”

“They’re going to come for us, right?”

You could hear the tremble of anxiety in her voice as she spoke, and it matched your own mounting fear. The weight of the moment pressed down on your shoulders, with each second extending into eternity as you tried to come up with a plan.

“Yeah, eventually,” you replied, though your words were coated with uncertainty. “They must have realized something had happened. Tony and Banner would quickly figure out what the crystal can do.”

“What do we do until then?”

For the time being, you concluded that looking for a place to stay was the best course of action. You stepped out of the alley and onto the streets of Brooklyn. 

The air was filled with the sounds of streetcars clattering down the rails and people discussing the latest news. The sidewalks were bustling with activity, lined with oak trees and lampposts. 

Men in hats and suits, women in gowns with nicely coiled curls, all going about their daily routines. Stores displayed their goods in small windows, luring passersby with flashy signs. The aromas of freshly baked bread and fried fish wafted from corner delis and bakeries.

You noticed the advertisements painted on brick walls, touting things that have long ago disappeared or evolved, and the newspaper boys shouting headlines about the ongoing war, and mothers rushing by with their children.

Everything felt so familiar yet completely foreign.

You understood how Steve felt when he walked into Times Square for the first time after being defrosted.

As you went through the crowd, you could see people giving you weird looks, attempting to get out of your way, and avoiding walking near you at all. 

“Why are they looking at us like that?” you inquired.

Wanda halted walking and grabbed your hand, dragging you to the side of the roadway. “I think it’s the clothes,” she pointed out.

“What’s wrong with our— ” You stopped your words when you took a look at what you were wearing. “Oh.”

You couldn’t stroll down like that. It was drawing attention, which was the last thing you two needed right now. Wanda paused for a moment, unsure if she should do what she was contemplating or not; it was a good option, the only one you had. 

Wanda sighed. She did not have a choice. 

You glanced at her and immediately knew what she wanted to do. It was one of the many reasons The Scarlet Witch was your closest friend—there was no need for words to communicate what the other was thinking.

With a snap of her fingers and just a few seconds later, you glanced down to see your new garments. Your twenty-first-century clothing had been swapped for simple, period-appropriate attire, resembling those commonly worn by women in those days.

You looked at her with the fascination that you’d always held whenever you saw Wanda utilize her powers. You couldn’t understand why people could be afraid of her when she could do such wonderful things.

The next day, you were lying in the bed of the hostel you were staying in, and the ceiling had never looked more interesting. It had been more than 24 hours, and you still hadn't heard from your friends.

You hadn’t left the room since you arrived and were beginning to feel suffocated.

“Let’s get out,” you said as you rose from the bed. Wanda averted her attention from the book she was reading and glanced at you as if you’d grown a second head.

“Are you crazy? We can’t just wander around the city like that!”

“Why not?” You pouted and sat in her bed next to her. “What is the harm?”

Impulsive.

Reckless.

Hot-headed.

Careless.

Wanda sighed and shut the book in her hands. “We aren’t home! We cannot parade around the city as if we belong here.”

“I just want to have some fun!”

“You wanting to have fun is what brings you into trouble, and let the rest of us deal with the consequences.”

She was not trying to be mean. She loved you; you were her best friend, her shoulder to cry on, and the only consistency in her life, but your persistent negligence drove her nuts. No matter how many times you burned, you never learned.

Like right now— you were stuck eighty years back in the past because of your reckless behavior, and you wanted to go out and have fun as if it were any other Friday.

You got up abruptly from the bed and made your way to the door.

“Where are you going?”

You did not respond to her as you exited the room, closing the door behind you and leaving the building and onto the streets of New York. You knew you were acting childishly, and Wanda was correct, but you were too proud to admit it.

You wandered through the streets with no particular destination in mind; all you wanted was to feel the breeze on your face. You had been walking for at least twenty minutes when you spotted a building that caught your eye.

‘The Lindy Lounge’

A dance hall.

You crossed the street and headed towards the building. 

The doorman, dressed in a clean white shirt, a black vest, and a bow tie, smiled and nodded to you in greeting.

A live band playing a fast tune, the beating of tap shoes on the shiny wooden floor. The aromas of perfume and tobacco smoke hung in the air.

Couples swayed in perfect sync with the music on the dance floor. A half-moon-shaped bar circled one wall of the room where patrons gathered, sipping cocktails and chatting.

The scene was completely different from the clubs you used to go to in Brooklyn nowadays.

As your eyes kept exploring the room, you spotted a short man standing out from the crowd that you couldn’t help but recognize. You narrowed your eyes, trying to get a better glimpse of him.

He was so much different now, but you could still recognize Steve Rogers anywhere.

You turned away as soon as you recognized him. Steve could not see you—yes, he didn’t know who you were yet, but he would meet you in the future, which could have a wide range of consequences. 

What if you do something that changes the past and influences the future?

You’ve watched ‘Back to the Future’ enough times to know that one small action could create ripples across time. 

The butterfly effect was no joke. 

What if you do something that alters the past and impacts the future?

Like when Marty unintentionally interfered with his parents’ first meeting, almost wiping himself out of existence.

Or that other movie with Ashton Kutcher, where he realized he could travel back to key moments in his life by reading his journals. Every time he modified an event in his past to achieve a better future for himself, he discovered that the repercussions of his actions were far more intricate and catastrophic than he ever anticipated.

You groaned inwardly at the thought; you couldn’t let that happen.

That would be your biggest screw-up ever.

You began to panic, your mind racing as you made your way back to the exit, only to turn around and clash with someone.

“Careful, doll.” 

That voice, why did it sound so familiar to you? 

You looked up, heart pounding, and found yourself staring into the piercing steel-blue eyes of a much younger version of Bucky Barnes.

His gaze was soft, devoid of all the sorrow he had become familiar with these days, and the charming smile across his face contrasted sharply with the ever-present frown he wore now.

The Bucky Barnes you knew was nothing like the man who currently stood in front of you.

“Bucky?” You stammered, your lips moving before you could control them. 

Here it goes, the second mistake of the night.

Confusion washed over his face. “Do we know each other?”

Your brain short-circuited, searching for a plausible response.

“Um– I mean… Is there any single lady in Brooklyn who doesn’t know who Bucky Barnes is?” You said, forcing a hollow laugh from your mouth.

He chuckled lightly, and the sound shot a thrill through you. It was so rare to hear Bucky laugh, “Guess you have a point there. I’m hard to miss.”

You sighed internally, relieved that your somewhat picky line had worked. 

His hand was still resting on your shoulder, having caught you when you collided with him and kept you from falling. It felt warm and reassuring, in sharp contrast to the chaos in your mind. You couldn’t believe you were standing in front of a version of Bucky who wasn't burdened by the weight of years of HYDRA’s torment. 

A Bucky that was on the verge of becoming what he would inevitably turn out to be. 

“Uh, are you alright?” he inquired, tilting his head slightly, a hint of concern creasing his brow, and then it was then that you realized you had been staring at him for far too long, lost in contemplation.

You hurriedly averted your gaze, muttering, “Y-yeah, sorry.”

You tried to get by him and keep to your original plan of leaving the club. If letting Steve see you was a bad idea, talking to Bucky was far worse. But he gently grasped your upper arm as you were about to depart, turning your heels back to face him.

“C’mon, doll. You can’t leave me like that,” he said with a smile that never left his face. 

It was so odd to see him happy. Bucky rarely smiled these days, not that you could blame him given what he'd gone through. And now you couldn't get over how wonderfully beautiful he looked with a smile on his face.

“You owe me at least one dance.”

He offered his hand to you, and you knew you should have declined because it was a bad idea and may have long-term ramifications, but there was something about him that drew you in, even if reasoning told you to go. Your gaze darted between his outstretched hand and his boyish smile. 

“Just one dance?” 

“Just one,” he assured you, his voice smooth and soothing. “I promise.”

Your brain was shouting at you in every way conceivable, reminding you of the butterfly effect, the temporal paradox, and how just a few minutes before, you were attempting to flee to avoid any irreversible damage. 

However, you were not known for making sound decisions. 

Against your better judgment, you shut off your brain and placed your hand in his. His grip was firm as he guided you to the dance floor.

Here it goes, the third mistake of the night.

It was late when you walked into the hostel room, but Wanda was still up, perched on her bed like a mother waiting for her daughter to return from a late-night rendezvous. 

“Where have you been?” she demanded.

You bit your lower lip, a habit you developed when you were nervous. Wanda knew you like the palm of her hand, and one look at you told her something was up.

“What have you done?” Even though her voice sounded fatigued, it remained steady.

“I fucked up… again.”

Wanda raised an eyebrow, the twitch of her lips betraying a hint of empathy despite the sternness in her expression. “You know that’s not an answer, right?” she asked, sitting up straighter and folding her arms. “You’re going to have to give me more than that.”

You took a seat on the bed opposite to hers, fiddling with your hands as you struggled to find the right words to recount your evening to your friend.

His hands were on your back, with yours wrapped around his shoulders. You swayed

to the slow melody the band was playing as the soft notes filled the air.

“So, you know my name, but I don’t think I got yours.”

Giving him your real name was definitely not the most sensible idea, but at this point, you might as well be hanged for a sheep as for a lamb.

A smile formed on his lips as he tasted your name. “It suits you perfectly. Beautiful name for a beautiful girl.” 

His unabashed flirting made you chuckle. You’d heard the stories from Steve about Bucky’s amazing luck with the ladies. But now that you had that man in front of you, his hand wrapped around your waist and dancing so close to you, you could see why so many women fell for him.

He really had a game.

His gaze remained fixed on you as you continued to dance to the music. He tightened his grip on your back and leaned in to get closer to you.

“How is it that I have never seen you around before?”

“I’m just passing by,” you simply stated, not technically lying to him. You still held hope that your friends were working on a way to bring you back home.

“Does that mean I’m not gonna see you again?” His voice sounded disappointed.

You peered into his deep blue eyes and felt the warmth of his gaze pulling you in. "Well, that depends," you replied playfully, a smile teasing your lips.

"Depends on what?" He prompted, tilting his head slightly as if hoping to catch a peek of the thoughts swirling behind your eyes.

You waited a few seconds to respond, weighing your words carefully. “Depends on whether you can convince me that it’s worth seeing you again.” 

Bucky chuckled, a low, rich tone that sent shivers down your spine. "I see how it is. A challenge, huh? I like a challenge," he replied, his grip firm but gentle as he drew you in closer, his heart beating steadily against yours.

The band shifted into a new song, one with a faster tempo, but he didn’t let go. Instead, he led you around the dance floor, expertly weaving between couples.

“Oh, do you? Or do you just like collecting pretty faces for your scrapbook?”

Bucky laughed, genuinely. “If that were the case, I'd have a whole wall dedicated to you by now." His forehead almost touching yours. “But I’m more interested in the stories behind the faces. What makes you… you.”

Your breath hitched in your throat as you stared back at him. The world around you faded away, and for that fleeting moment in the dance hall, it was just the two of you.

“So, what’s the real reason you’re just passing through?”

The question lingered in the air, and you hesitated. “Let’s just say I’m taking a little detour from my usual routine.”

“A detour?” His eyebrows raised in playful skepticism, and he leaned in again to keep the moment private. “You mean to tell me a girl like you doesn’t have a regular hustle?”

“Sometimes life has a funny way of making you take unexpected paths,” you said, your voice steady but playful enough to deflect the question without losing his attention.

“You should stick around these paths a little longer,” he suggested. “I have a feeling, if you do, you'd find more than just a dance.”

You searched his gaze, feeling the weight of his words linger in your head. “What if I don’t?” You asked, a touch of a challenge lacing your tone.

“Then I’ll just have to make sure I make every second count.” 

He brought one of the hands that were resting on your back to your face and gently caressed your face. Cupping your jaw, he stared into your eyes, silently asking for permission to close the small distance between you. 

When you did nothing to stop him, he leaned in closer, his eyelids fluttering shut as his lips brushed against yours. Bucky's lips were warm and surprisingly soft, coaxing you into the moment. Time seemed to stand still, the music around you fading into a background hum, and it felt as though the entire world had zeroed in on just the two of you.

His fingers curled gently around the back of your neck, deepening the kiss. You couldn’t help but smile against his lips. You wanted to hold onto this memory. This version of Bucky has only known you for a few hours, yet his kiss was more meaningful than any kiss you have experienced in past relationships. It was something you hadn’t realized you craved until now, so you let yourself get lost in the kiss.

And here it goes, the fourth mistake of the night.

“What the hell!” Wanda exclaimed your name, raising her voice at you. “Do you have any idea of what you have done?”

“I couldn’t help myself.” You ran your hand through your hair and exhaled sharply. “He was just—”

“Since when do you have feelings for Bucky?”

“I don’t!”

Wanda crossed her arms, her face one of incredulity and frustration. “Really? Because it sure doesn’t sound like it, and it certainly doesn’t look like it.”

“I swear, Wanda, it was just a moment!” You threw up your hands in exasperation. “A dance, a kiss… nothing more than that!”

You were not lying. You’d scarcely spoken to the man since Steve brought him to the compound. You knew nothing about him aside from the basic information that everyone else knew.

He was quiet, reticent, and brooding most of the time, with a heaviness that appeared to follow him like a shadow. He spent the majority of his time locked in his room. And the times he finally came out, he sought to remain out of everyone's way to avoid being a burden.

Wanda stepped closer, her green eyes narrowing as she studied your face for any signs of duplicity. “You don’t just dance and kiss someone like that. Especially not Bucky! You have no idea what that might signify in the future. Messing with the timeline like that... You really outdid yourself with this one."

“I didn't mean to! I didn’t plan it!” You ran your fingers through your hair again, pacing the small room. “You think I wanted to end up here, in the past, making a fool of myself over a guy I barely know?”

“It’s not just about you,” Wanda insisted. “What if he starts to feel something for you? What if he remembers this? You might end up erasing part of his past or—”

“Or what? It’s too late to take it back now,” you interrupted. "I know I screw up alright?"

Wanda’s shoulders fell slightly as she glanced at you, frustrated but concerned. “What did you do after you kissed him?”

You hesitated, the recollection returning in a maelstrom of emotions. “We just stood there for a moment, looking at each other. It felt like time stopped still.”

Wanda lifted an eyebrow, clearly still on edge. “And then?”

“And then I panicked!” You flung your hands up again, feeling the weight of the situation fall on you. “I wasn’t sure what to say! So I just… I pulled away and ran.”

[atangledfate]

The sheep stepped forward to catch the wolf to make sure they didn't fall over or get hurt. Yet her eyes were on the outline of surge as she bolted away. She couldn't help but feel like it would matter more coming from her. To hear her side of that story, to feel that emotion coming from the victim. It felt wrong what happened to her and continued to happen to her.

" ... Damn it Surge... just once i wish i understood what was going through your head... "

She muttered before turning to the wolf.

" Wish i could tell you more about the Wisp, that i'm afraid is a story for Sonic to tell... or perhaps Mr. Prower... i'm as clueless as you are. I was in the command center when it appeared, but they seemed ot be helping Sonic so... that's always a good sign "

================================================

Sonic came to a screeching halt when Kit came closer and made his demand. On the one hand he was really afraid Surge might get angry at him for spilling the beans. Truth was the only one who knew everything was Whisper he only knew bits of it, but he supposed enough to tell him---still damn if he wasn't being put between a rock and a hard place here.

" You aren't making this easy on me are you? "

He said with a soft tone as he placed his head into his hand.

" Fine i'll be straight with you. I only know what Surge said and that wasn't much... she went to this place, and is getting her memories back or maybe she has them back. I don't know... Whisper knows more but she's with Tangle.. an probably will be for a while... "

" I figure she hopes seeing this place will do the same for you... and that's all i know... i've never been out here before... well passed by it maybe... but yea that's it that's all i know..."

===============================================

Miles crossed his arms and listened to blaze as he was glad to hear she had a limit of some kind. So phasing herself was maybe natural for her but having to phase things outside that was difficult maybe, even draining. Well it wasn't much of a weakness but it was something. If he had a scan of that ability up close maybe he could work out a way to counter it. But for now it was best they avoid a confrontation with this warrior.

" Belle i don't doubt you... or Belle Bot... your skills are incredible. I just worry that we are up against foes we don't know the full capabilities to yet... i just want someone three to... back you up... that's all"

He didn't want her to feel like he was coddling her, just that he didn't want her on her own just yet. Not until this mess blew over...

" But if Blaze thinks Odessa is the right call and doesn't mind her being away for awhile. Maybe its best if we keep her away from lupus in the time being... either way we should get you out of the base, and someplace off site for awhile. "

" I agree with miles even if its just until this blockade is over... i don't like that they wanted Belle ... it was so oddly specific and when i refused i could see the president was a little frustrated by it... i would feel better as well if someone was with you... "

"Me flapping my gums about my cry baby backstory ain't going to do anything. It's not like most people at The Restoration already know what happened with Starline, and I'm sure you'll get a lot of people telling other's once this shit is over and done with. Weather I want to or not, people are going to find out. I just don't care. I'm gonna do what I'm gonna do, regardless of what people think about me." Surge had her style and wasn't going to change it for anyone.

"You're talking to an avid G.U.N hater here so you don't gotta convince me of anything. Though I think I'd like to get a statement about the giant mega Wisp that was flying overhead earlier. If you know anything about that." He was one of the many that got spooked seeing that Wisp appear out of nowhere. At least they were friendly and moved the ship crashing down somewhere else. It still wasn't something he expected to see today.

"You have fun with that, I gotta go get arrest," Surge said, shoving the canine out of the way almost knocking him over as she stormed off. "Drippy is already off the base so no need to delay this shit anymore."

===========================================================

Kitsunami gets closer to Sonic. "Either you tell me the truth or I'm going back. I'm not asking for details, just if Surge got her memories back. I'm only trying to piece everything together." The fennec didn't want to be sheltered from the truth anymore, and even if he wasn't perfect he's gotten better at just blindly following what Surge tells him and making his own choices. This was one of those times.

===========================================================

"We won't have to worry about the one who assaulted Amy for the day. I'm unsure what fully happened, though I believe they overload themself with their ability to avoid my attack." Something that still irked Blaze as she would've stopped them from fleeing if they hadn't managed to phase the entire plane to prevent it from being damaged. "They were clearly struggling to keep their power in check after that."

"I'll be fine on my own Tails, though I think I'll just stay inside Belle-Bot until everything calms down. I haven't field tested it yet, though as I said, I did design it to hopefully stand against Metal Sonic." Belle wasn't going to go out of her way to find out, though if Metal Sonic caused problems and she was able to help she would.

"I'd say that all depends. It's a rare sight for me to see Odessa so angry, and this General Lupus got under her nerves rather swiftly. Best to avoid them interacting today if we can help it, least she attempt to challenge him." Blaze knew the reason why. Odessa having strong morals and need to protect the weak. Something G.U.N wasn't doing much of right now and they were one's who were supposed to do just that.

[lieslab]

I've never been a natural, all I do is try, try, try

꘎♡━━━━━♡꘎ ꘎♡━━━━━♡꘎

Pairing: Chan X gn reader

Summary: You finally bring up the biggest fear you've been trying to hide from your boyfriend.

Genre: Comfort/hurt

Word Count: 1.7K

A/N: Someone has been waiting for this for quite a while now. Romantic relationships can be terrifying when they always seem to fall apart, but I like to think that maybe there really is a chosen one and life leads us to them. Requestee, I hope you find that someone that's forever special. Anyway, happy reading <3

_ _ _

“I love you. Every part of you. I don’t think you understand how I feel about you. You ignite something that has never been set ablaze before. I feel like I finally understand what my father meant when he said when I found the one for me, it’d just click. It happened with him and my mom.” 

“You think we click?” You asked. 

“I think we do so much more than click. You know how people say they think the stars align for different reasons? I think the stars aligned and burned brighter. I think the smog couldn’t hide them and the light pollution seemed non-existent.” 

You remained quietly perched on the edge of the roof. It wasn’t the safest place to be. Your legs dangled over the edge and your shoes hung over the window that the two of you climbed out of. Above you, most stars remained hidden in the night sky. 

You and Chan had been dating for a while now. It wasn’t the first time the two of you snuck out of his dorm and it wouldn’t be the last time, either. Maybe it was childish, but you adored it. He always let you go first and he kept his hands stuck out the window, ready to catch you if you ever fell. You hadn’t and you planned to keep it that way. 

The two of you took turns slipping cheddar goldfish crackers out of the bag between the two of you. Chan gushed about you and as much as you wanted to believe his words, you never could. Your past romantic relationships always blew up in your face. They blew up and there was nothing you could do to make it better. 

You fell head over heels, they all said the right things, and then they left. Too immature. Not ready for commitment. They fell out of love. You became boring. You never understood it and you didn’t know why it occurred. What part of you was boring? 

On the first date with Chan, you built up a glass wall between the two of you. You tried to pretend everything was fine, but deep down, you always had doubts. They sprouted when the relationship started, they kept growing as you progressed. 

You wanted to be happy. You wanted to believe him. You wanted everything to turn out right, let the stars remain perfectly aligned, but you never believed his words. He gushed about you now with hand gestures and light in his eyes, but what about a month from now? Three months? Six months? Certainly, by then, you’d bore him, too. 

Maybe some people aren’t meant to be loved. Perhaps, they go through their lives being the side-kick. The one to cheer people up and make them happy, but to never experience the longevity of love. People come and go, stories change, and responsibilities switch. 

You loved Chan in a way you’d never loved someone before. You appreciated the tender touches, the way he always looked out for you. When you walked outside after it rained, he kept his hand placed along the small of your back. Before you could open your car door, he’d jerk around you with a meek smile and open your car door for you. 

When you woke up groggy and tired, he’d kiss your forehead before bending down and tightly lacing your shoes. That’s the type of guy Chan was. He didn’t complain and each small task he helped you with, it was never a problem. He wanted to be there and help you. It’d never feel like a problem. 

Being with you was as easy as breathing. Even when the two of you were quite a distance up in the air, it still felt right. He didn’t fear falling and neither did you. Swaddled in your gaze with the warmth of your thigh against his, his worries melted away. Love squelched from the pores in his heart. How is it possible for a single person to make another feel this way? 

Time stopped with you. He hoped it remained like this forever. Time wasted away to quiet conversations and secrets that only the moon could hear. You didn’t complain when he tucked the bag of goldfish between his legs. He leaned over and let his head lean against your shoulder. “You’re quiet tonight.” 

“You noticed?” 

“I think I can always notice when something is wrong with you. Wanna talk about it?” 

You glanced over at the bag of goldfish crackers in his lap. “Did you know the goldfish cracker was invented by a man that loved his wife? She was a Pisces and he made them for her as a birthday present.” 

“Really?” 

“Yeah. That’s why they’re in the shape of a fish. He loved her to the point of invention. He made more, the word spread, and eventually, goldfish crackers were born.” 

“I think that’s beautiful.” 

“Goldfish crackers are fragile.” You leaned over, grabbed one out of the bag, and held it up. “Just like hearts, if you move the right way–” Your fingers squeezed and the flaky orange cracker crumbled into bits. It fell between your fingers and fell to the ground below. “You’re left with bits and pieces that can’t go back together.” 

“Mhm.” 

“Have you ever had a romantic relationship that you’ve yet to fully recover from?” 

His eyebrows furrowed and he pulled away from you. “Yeah, maybe at one point, but not now. I’m with you and when I’m with you, you’re all I’m thinking about. It’s never anyone else. Are you–” 

“It’s not like that, Chan. It’s not like I’m still in love with someone, god, no.” Your head shook rapidly and you ran a hand through your hair. You glanced up, staring at the pale underbelly of the moon. “I don’t love my exes anymore, but I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t afraid that one day you’ll end up as one of my exes.”

He studied you, trying to understand. You refused to look at him. “When I fell in love with each of my exes, I finally thought I found the one. Marriage, a family, and whatever else. Each time, they left. They said they weren’t ready. The one called me boring and he said he wasn’t in love with me anymore.” 

You finally moved your head, looking down at him. “What if that happens to us? I really love you, Chan. I’m terrified that what we have now will be a faded memory one day. I try to be brave and pretend like I’m okay, but I’m terrified. I’m not brave and I know I shouldn’t think like that. I shouldn’t be selfish and if you ever decide to leave one day, I have to be okay with that.” 

“It’s not selfish to want love. Not ever. It’s not selfish to want to be with someone that lights up the sky and brightens your darkest day. That’s not selfish, it’s basic human desire.” He reached forward, gently taking your chin. 

“You have nothing to apologize for. Some people are so brutal and even if they don’t mean to, their actions and words leave scars.” He reached up with a thumb, gently brushing against one of your cheek bones. “Admitting this isn’t foolish, it’s bravery.” 

“I’m here with you because I want to be. I might be busy and I have a career, but I’m here because I want you. I’m not interested in breaking your heart and walking away, I want to love you for a long time.” A faint smile quipped up on the side of his mouth. “Forever, if you’ll let me.” 

“I really want to believe you,” you whispered. 

“You don’t have to believe me right now, but I’ll do whatever I can do to prove it to you.” He slung an arm over your shoulder and you let your head fall against his shoulder. 

“I know it’s a bit uncalled for, but maybe I’m a little glad they gave you up. I’ll treat you like a flower and keep you captive. I’ll make sure you stay hydrated with water and nurture you with kisses.” 

You couldn’t respond. He pressed his lips to the side of your temple and you blushed. “It feels really nice to get that out of my system.” 

“I bet it does. Screw them, you’re mine now. If they want to come back, they’re going to have to get lost. You snooze, you lose, or whatever they say. I can’t believe they gave up on this. Goldfish crackers on the roof and the stars.” 

“To be fair, the one was afraid of heights and the other lived in a place where the roof wasn’t accessible.” 

“Are you saying–”He leaned closer and his warm breath brushed against your ear. “I’m your first bad boy.” 

“Bad boy?” You laughed. “Chan, you’re like a giant teddy bear.” 

“Teddy bears don’t encourage their significant others to climb roofs. Just admit it, I’m the first bad boy that stole your heart.” 

“You're such a goofball.” 

“A bad boy goofball. I can’t wait to unlock your phone when you sleep and change my contact name.” 

“Huh?” 

He briefly glanced over and shrugged. “Well, it’s gotta get done somehow.” 

You chuckled and leaned back against his shoulder. You sucked in a deep breath and glanced up at the sky. “We should probably go inside.” 

“Or we could stay out here until this bag of goldfish is empty.” He grabbed another one and held it up to you. Your lips parted, he gently slipped it between them, and you consumed it. 

“Can we?” 

“You don’t have to ask twice.” 

The two of you remained perched on the edge of the roof. Your legs dangled and you entertained the moon with stories. At one point you laughed so hard while chewing crackers, a piece came out your nose, causing Chan to accidentally drop the bag down below. You shared a wide-eyed look before the two of you burst into another fit of laughter. Surrounded by stars, head-over-heels in love, you didn’t want it to end. 

Whether it lasted for a brief moment, or a lifetime, you had no doubt you’d come back to this moment and laugh at the memory all over again.

| ♡.﹀﹀﹀﹀.♡ | ♡.﹀﹀﹀﹀.♡ | ♡.﹀﹀﹀﹀.♡ |

Taglist: @lia-linny @seungnishi @stellasays45 @emilyywhyy @rockstarkkami @flightlessackerman @inlovewithstraykids @velvetmoonlght @chrizrizz @ari-hwanggg @m-325 @justcallmewhatyoulike @bokkiesluv @phinnyphinnegan @zayn-210

Masterlist

Taglist and inbox rules

Ko-fi

[bewitched-hours]

Hello! Yeah me again asking abt the noli and 07 yandere thing (lord I feel weird asking again I don’t want to be a bother) It’s just the last one you wrote was really and I mean really WELL written and I was hoping to ask for a part 2 of how things go? Hacking together, speaking, debating life—just quite cool! I already sent you the link of the past one I was talking about so I hope thats alright!

HI- YEAH- I SAW IT LOL I only saw it at school tbf so I'm starting it with this and have the story opened in another tab to make sure I don't forget anything (•̀ᴗ•́)و ̑̑

The reader's pronouns are once again She/They-

Pre-Forsaken

All three of you sat on opposite sides of 007 as you looked at the child in his arms.

"It's kinda cute..." You tried to end the silence comfortably as you could see the man soften. Noli didn't look so tough either for a change.

Though the red bundle of joy was giddy now, you knew it was only a matter of time until it got hungry...

"What are we meant to do with it..?" Noli asked quietly, watching as the baby held onto 007's fingers with glee. It honestly melted your heart a bit.

"I say we keep it." You state bluntly, surprised eyes meeting your own as you went to quickly explain yourself. "Think about it. If we drop it off somewhere else it would probably reach the same path as us if it survives anyways."

The two of them gave each other an unsure look before you gently lifted the child out of 7n7's arms with a huff. "I'm not saying we'd be great parents or anything but it'd definitely be better than the foster system or death." Your tone was firm but they could tell you were empathising with that little red face giggling up at you.

Maybe you were trying to prove something to yourself. That you were better than your family? Maybe that you can actually take care of something meaningful?

Whatever, it wasn't like either of them could say no by the time you started cooing at the baby all motherly.

"Heh, guess you're right." 007 perked up first, getting you to smile a bit more.

Wether it was to make you happy or they actually liked the idea, you couldn't care less. What mattered was that this child was safe with you.

"We should totally call it after the c00lgui." You commented with a chuckle, having Noli cackling and 007 trying to suppress his laugh.

"Yeah- no- this is good- So c00lkidd?" He suggested, letting out a laugh at your grinning nod. It was silly, it was unusual...

It was perfect.

"It'll be the perfect addition! Plus, I have some experience back when I had a babysitting gig to save up some money as a kid myself. We'll just need to get a few things and c00lkidd is gonna be spoiled with love!" You practically beamed and placed a gentle kiss on the little one's head, going back to cooing at it as it giggled in your arms.

Being a family might just be easier than you thought...

Post-Forsaken

For once, 007 probably appreciated being an outsider.

It meant more time with you. More time with Noli.

You were quick to figure out a spot to all meet in where neither killers nor survivors would even hear you.

It was perfect, especially whenever Noli decided to bring along c00lkidd and you could just talk for a while.

CK loved you. He loved the idea of having a big family like this where you could be his mom. You played nice and fair and actually managed to tire him out at times.

Though he didn't understand why it was such a taboo to play tag outside of rounds, he trusted your explanation that it was because it was less fun with only you four and the other survivors wouldn't be willing to listen to you or 007.

And CK knew the other killers were even less willing so...

But you'd always promise that once you get back home, you'll be the best mother to c00lkidd. And he took it as a good promise to make before saying his goodbyes and waiting for the next round.

You were committed to being the mother c00lkidd needed and the 'wife' that 007n7 and Noli deserved...

A bit disappointed with how this turned out but I tried my best-

Anything you'd like to request/ask? Check out my pinned post first and I'll be happy to write up whatever you want!

[druidwolf21]

Konrad Curze and Lion are unable to recognize their own feelings , so of they get a crush they enter full conspirancy mode with them accusing the woman of being a psyker messing with their heads.

Hey anon!

Love this idea, thank you so much for letting me write this! I hope you like it!

Confusion

Tw: mild threat.

Lion El'Johnson

"Please I didn't do anything wrong!"

The astartes didn't answer, red eye lenses focused straight ahead as he dragged you down the halls of the Invincible reason, the wrought iron floor scuffing against your boots with each long stride the marine took.

"Please, just tell me what is happening!"

The marine growled, an audible snarl and yanked you into line with him. you spluttered and whined, jogging to keep up and struggling against the vice grip on your arm.

He hauled you up towards a massive door, dark metal with intricate sigils carved across its surface. Panic rose like bile in your throat and you dug in your heels, a useless endeavour as the dark angel pushed the door open and tossed you through and slamming it shut.

clambering to your feet, you cautiously surveyed your surroundings. A simple room, an office maybe, from the soaring book cases and the huge desk sitting pride of place in the centre. A single dying flame in a scorched bracket cast sparse light into the room, shrouding half of it in shadow.

A flash of movement caught your eye and fear drove you to your knees as Lion El'johnson stepped into the flickering slight.

"My lord El'johnson"

The primarch prowled towards you, green eye bright, almost reflective even in the dark. the ground shook slightly with each step, heavy ceramite ringing as it struck the iron floor.

"What have you done, witch"

Dumbfounded you simply stared at him.

"I...what?"

Lion snarled, gripping you by the collar and lifting you into the air. you feet hung uselessly as you clutched his giant armoured fist with your own tiny hands.

"You Know what you have done. Whatever curse or spell you have cast, you will undo it. NOW" he punctuated his sentence by shaking you vigorously.

"please, I really don't know"

The primarch eyed you scowling, His grip refusing to ease even slightly.

"My lord if you tell me what the problem is, maybe I can help"

The lions scowl deepened, a grimace forming across his face. Reluctantly he set you back down, eying you suspiciously as you straightened your robes.

"Every time I see you, my chest tightens. I feel anger when someone else is near you. When I see you i want to-"

He grit his teeth before continuing.

"I want to touch you. Claim you. This is clearly warp sorcery. You are corrupting my mind to your own perverse ends"

Shocked into silence, a thousand thoughts ran through your head.

"My lord. Have you never, uh. hmm"

your body was heating up as a blush broke across your skin.

"My lord, have you never felt uh, lets say affection, for someone before"

Lion cocked his head, sneering at your words

"Are you suggesting these thoughts are my own? That I have fallen so low, that is choose to lust for a serf?"

You dragged a palm down your face and sighed.

This might take a while to explain

Konrad Curze

"What do we have here?"

You shivered in the dark listening to the steady drip drip drip of water leaking through the shattered roof. The voice bounced around the shadows, reverberating around and distorting the sound.

"Who are you? What do you want"

Your foot touched one of the corpses, still warm and seeping ichor across the dirty floor. Blinded and scared you spun, trying to bite back tears and swallow your panic. The roof creaked under somethings weight and you collapsed to the floor, surrendering.

"Please just tell me what you want"

"I want you to fix what you have done"

"I havent done anything, please I want to go home"

The voice laughed. Deep and resonant it shook you to your core.

"I wont kill you, Psyker. Simply reverse your spell and we can be done with this matter."

The ground shook as a shadow landed near to you. Blurry in the dark you could make out the vague shape towering over you and the flash of white fangs.

"Curze" you whispered, your stomach dropping.

"Aaah so you do know me then."

The shape moved, disappearing into the blackness before reappearing next to you. A taloned hand grabbed your face, gripping your cheeks between two razor claws.

"Fix your sorcery."

"Please, i'm not a psyker i swear" you gestured in the vague direction of the tattered corpse somewhere in the building.

"If i was, don't you think i would've protected myself? you wouldn't have needed to kill him"

Silence. the only sound your heavy breath and that damned drip drip drip.

"Then explain"

The edge of the claw cut slightly into your cheek, keeping you facing away as the night haunter moved behind you. The faint whine of servos for a second and then his hot breath was in your ear.

"I have been watching you for a while, watching you ferry your little messages. It was so easy, you were so...pathetically oblivious. And yet when i moved to kill you, i couldnt."

Curze squeezed, drawing a slow trickle of blood down your cheek.

"You were so soft. So gentle with people around you. The thought of hurting you made me sick. It made me rage. I found myself lingering on thoughts of you, if you were....safe" he released your jaw, gesturing around you with a vague motion.

"Each time i saw you alive, it felt like a weight had lifted from my mind. When they came for you, I was unable to resist stepping in. So tell me. What. Did. You. Do"

He gripped your shoulder and spun you, pulling you inches from his face, hair tickling your shoulders as he loomed over you.

"What makes you so special that I need to protect you, if it is not your wretched sorcery"

"I don't know" your voice cracking.

@beckyninja @moodymisty @jaghatai-khock @echo-of-damnation @laura-naruto-fan1998 @lemon-russ @astrohymn @gallifreyianrosearkytiorsusan @incrediblethirst @kit-williams @iluminatka16 @cosmic-cryptid-from-beyond @bookandyarndragon @thisuserislilsilly @vithralith @absynthe-mind @saintsylestine @meervalv0

"well then. We should find out, shouldn't we"

🌒🌒🌒🌒🌒🌒🌒🌒🌒🌒🌒🌒🌒🌒🌒🌒🌒🌒🌒

[afroslacks]

Hiii idk if you’re still taking requests but I was wondering if you could do something where Micheal during an interview for Sinners he accidentally lets it out that when building smokes character that he had to draw from his own experiences in fatherhood. Which shocks the public because no one knew he was married let alone had a kid.

So he decided to put out at one of the premieres with his wife (reader) and nearly one year old baby (baby was born during filming in 2024)

Sorry if that doesn’t make sense🥹

Sinner’s press tour is up and running. The cast has been everywhere for the last couple of days. Michael, Wunmi, and Hailee are seated across from a female journalist who just entered the building. The journalist sits down with a warm smile on her face and white flashcards in her hands.

“Hello everyone, you all look so good today!” she says warmly, hoping to make everyone feel comfortable.

Michael is seated in the middle between both actresses, nodding his head while adjusting his chain and the special watch that has a message engraved from you. He always wears the watch because it brings him comfort on days like this—days when he’s extremely busy and wishes he could be with you and your baby girl, who was born recently.

“Thank you, we’re happy to be here,” he replies with a beautiful smile, gesturing toward the journalist.

“Truly,” Wunmi adds softly, nudging Michael’s shoulder as a subtle signal of gratitude for actively engaging—even though she knows his mind is at home.

Hailee sits there smiling as she rocks back and forth with her legs crossed in her chair. The journalist clears her throat.

“Now that we’ve got pleasantries out of the way, let’s get started, shall we?”

All three actors agree silently.

The journalist asks, “So Michael, since you’re playing two different characters in this film, how were you able to differentiate the twins, specifically in their relationships with Annie and Mary? Because the relationships are completely separate from one another.”

Michael nods as he takes in her question, preparing his response.

“That’s a good question. Stack is the more impulsive, hot-headed twin, so you can imagine his relationships with women being the same. He’s seen as a womanizer—breaking women’s hearts and moving on. But it’s also seen as a front, because Mary is the woman he wants. He has to act a certain way to deny himself his desire for her. When they do get together, you can definitely feel the tension and passion between them.”

After the first half of his answer, he clears his throat before continuing.

“Smoke, on the other hand, is the calmer twin. He typically keeps to himself. The trauma they experienced impacted him a lot more, so he retreats emotionally. I wouldn’t consider him much of a womanizer, because the only woman who stole his heart is Annie. Their relationship is deeper—they have history, and he’s the father of her child. He welcomed fatherhood. I’m the same way—”

His eyes go wide, and he shuts his mouth the moment he realizes his mistake.

The journalist furrows her brows. “I’m sorry? What do you mean you feel the same?” she asks.

Michael mentally rolls his eyes, realizing he now has to talk his way out of the mess he just created.

Wunmi quickly steps in. “What he means is, since he eventually wants to become a dad, he’s ready for the idea of fatherhood. Right, Michael?” She turns to him, giving him a flawless save.

He perks up, smiling at the interviewers. “Of course! My bad, I’m just really tired right now, so the words are coming out a mess,” he explains.

The journalist glances between the cast members, unsure if they’re being honest. After a moment, she lets it go, understanding that people make mistakes.

“Oh, okay. For a second, I thought you were a father.”

Wunmi, Michael, and Hailee nervously laugh, trying to steer attention away from Michael’s slip-up.

One hour later, after the interview is posted, Michael’s words start circulating online.

You’re sitting at your mansion on the couch, watching television while fiddling with the large diamond on your finger. The baby sleeps quietly in the crib next to you. Your best friend sends you a link to the clip with a message that says: "Check it out."

Pressing the link, you watch the clip. You scoff, shaking your head.

“I know this nigga didn’t just open his mouth,” you mutter, typing a message to your husband telling him to call you as soon as he’s free.

You and Michael have been together for five years total—dating for two and married for three. You recently had your baby after waiting a while to enjoy each other’s company. You met at a work event and immediately hit it off, but decided to keep your romance out of the public eye so you could enjoy your relationship in peace. You both agreed to hold off on telling the public for as long as possible.

But… that might not be an option anymore.

As you sit on the couch, you scroll through the comments—and people are not letting that slip slide at all:

I knew he had a family. That’s why we don’t see him much.

Michael, let me find out you’re married. I’m gonna find your wife.

Oh no, I’m not sharing my man.

Hello, I’m the wife he has a secret family with. So y’all can back off—thank ya!

It don’t matter if you’re married—we can still make it work, baby.

Whoever he’s with is lucky. They get Smoke AND Stack.

Where is the wife? I’m trying to find her.

That’s just a few of the comments. You take a deep breath to calm your beating heart.

Your phone lights up with “Hubby” flashing on the screen. Swiping green, his face appears.

“Hey, baby,” he greets nervously, noticing your scowl.

“Don’t ‘hey baby’ me. Michael, what the hell was that?” you ask, stepping into a quiet area of the house so the baby can keep sleeping.

“I’m sorry—I slipped up. I stopped myself as soon as I said it,” he apologizes, hating to see anything other than happiness and pleasure on your beautiful face.

You roll your eyes so hard they might fall out and hit the floor.

“You better do damage control. We agreed to keep this private.” The threat is crystal clear in your tone.

After a few moments of silence, he mutters, “Or… you could come with me to one of the premieres?”

You pause. Silence fills the air.

“Michael, are you serious right now?” you ask, brows furrowed.

He scoffs. “Why wouldn’t I be?”

“We agreed to be private to protect ourselves from the public. And now you want to throw that out?” You clarify to process what he’s saying.

“I know, baby. But I don’t wanna hide forever. I want to let the world know I’m taken and happy—so they’ll back off. We don’t have to be super public. Just let them know one good time, then keep it moving,” Michael confesses, hoping you’ll agree.

You sigh deeply. “Fine. But the baby can’t come—it’s too loud, and I don’t feel comfortable showing her.”

“Thank you, baby. I love you,” he says, smiling.

“I love you too, punk.”

[wzrd-wheezes]

Lily I’m in a ~mood~ and none of my dogs will cuddle me and I’m DESPERATE for some fluff😭

Can you write something happy and fluffy with Remus?? Preferably with cuddles and/or physical affection 🥺🥺🥺 your writing always just hits different 😭

Headphones - Remus Lupin x Reader

AN - hey lovely thank u for the request and for the sweet words. I hope this is okay Enjoy <3

Contains: no warnings. just some fluff and tiny tiny crumbs of wolfstar x reader just for shits and gigs. 650 words.

Remus’s bedroom was dim, save for the golden haze of the lamp on his bedside table. The room hummed with the faint crackle of a record that spun on the turntable, though it's sound didn’t fill the room.  

He sat propped against the headboard, legs stretched out in front of him and one arm lazily resting behind his head. A pair of oversized headphones rested crookedly on his ears. They looked like they had seen better days – and they had. The thick foam pads were peeling slightly and the wire had begun to coil. But they still worked and that was enough. More than that, they had been a gift from his girlfriend. 

Remus had always struggled to sleep. On restless nights, he would choose an album and lie awake, letting the music soak up the thoughts that whirled around his head. However, Y/N was a light sleeper and whenever she stayed over he refused to play anything, afraid it would keep her awake. She swore she didn’t mind but Remus wouldn’t give in. 

So, she had given them to him on his birthday, wrapped in a pretty box and with a tag tied to the ribbon that read ‘A compromise’. Ever since then, whenever sleep evaded him, he would slip them on and let the record spin without the fear that he was disturbing anyone else. 

Remus’s eyes flicked open when he heard the click of his bedroom door. Y/N stood at the foot of his bed, two steaming mugs of tea in her hands and a book tucked under her arm. 

“I thought you’d still be up.” she held one of the mugs out towards him. 

He shifted to sit up straighter, pushing the headphones off so they dangled around his neck. The faint blare of a guitar bled out of them and faded into the quiet room. 

“You always bring offerings when you turn up unannounced.” he smiled at her as he accepted the mug. 

“Oi!” she pretended to be offended, “I got off work late and your flat is closer than mine. What’s a girl to do?”  

She nudged his leg with her knee before climbing onto the bed beside him. Remus wrapped an arm around her shoulders without thinking, pulling her in until she was tucked against his side. 

“How did you even get in? I thought I locked the door?” he mumbled into her hair. It smelled like her shampoo. Sweet and familiar. 

“James is still up. He let me in. You didn’t hear me knock?”  

“Bit hard to hear anything over Queen, love.” 

She chuckled, “Oh, so I have to compete with Freddie Mercury now, do I?” 

“You’d win.” he said without hesitation, then added with a grin, “Probably.” 

She bumped his shoulder, “Charmer.” 

Remus tilted the headphones, holding one of the ears over his own, while pressing the other gently against Y/N’s. She shifted closer, settling her head against his shoulder so she could hear better. The music hummed softly between them. 

“You know you could just unplug the headphones so we can listen together.” she whispered. 

“Cosier like this though, innit?” he murmured, “I like having you close.”  

She huffed a quiet laugh, “You’re impossible.”  

Remus rest his cheek against hers, “Besides, if Sirius hears me listening to Queen, he’ll be in here like a shot and I don’t really fancy sharing you with him right now.” 

“Ah, so this is less about romance and more about keeping me all to yourself?” 

“Can’t it be both?” Remus smiled, eyes half-lidded as the music played between them. 

They stayed like that, tangled around each other, a single set of headphones between them. The music crackled and played on as Y/N toyed with the frayed hem of Remus’s sleeve. He let his eyes flutter shut, content. 

It wasn’t perfect. The ear pads creaked, the wire tangled, and they could only just hear all the lyrics.  

But it was enough. 

[maidragoste]

Gender Revelation

Frank Langdon x Wife!Reader

Hi, I'm back with more of Langdon's Wife! Reader. I hope you like it, even if it's short.

I remind you that my commissions are open, or if you enjoy my reading, you can support me on Ko-Fi to help pay for my cat's veterinary bills. Despite the commissions, my inbox is also open in case you want to share headcanons or ideas for me to write about 🤗💖

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Disclaimer: English is not my first language so I apologize for any mistakes.

I hope you have a good reading!

Frank and you wanted to do something special to find out the gender of Langdon baby number three, but you didn't want to do anything big. Not after the disaster of your previous pregnancy's gender reveal party.

So this time, Frank and you asked the doctor to write the gender on a piece of paper, and when you left the clinic, you went to your favorite bakery and ordered a gender reveal cake.

Now, a day later, the cake sits on the dining room table. Frank is preventing Tanner and Luke from getting their hands on the frosting and revealing the inside while you take one last picture of the cake before it's cut.

“It looks so pretty I feel bad cutting it,” you sighed.

“Mom, I want cake.” You could tell from Luke’s tone of voice that he’d soon throw a tantrum if he didn’t get a piece of cake quickly.

"Just wait a little longer, Luke,” you said as you handed your husband the other plastic cup and placed Tanner’s hand in yours so he could cut the cake with you. You watched Frank do the same with Luke. “Are we all ready?”

“Yes!” the kids shout excitedly, Frank and you smile at each other. You can see in his eyes that he's just as excited as you are. He'd really made an effort not to find out the gender early. He accompanied you to your doctor's appointments but avoided seeing the ultrasounds at all costs so as not to ruin the surprise of finding out together.

“Good. Then on the count of three,” announces Frank “One.”

“Two. Three,” all finish counting together, the kids practically screaming in their ears, but Frank and you are too happy to be bothered.

You help Tanner maneuver the cup and laugh when he rushes to remove the cup before Luke so he can see the inside of the cake first.

Maybe it's the hormones that make you sensitive, but the moment you see the pink cake and the pink sprinkles inside, your eyes start to water.

“I knew it! I told you it was a girl!” your oldest son shouts. Of the boys, he's the most excited about the baby; not a day goes by without him asking you questions about his new sibling.

Seeing how moved you are, Frank rushes to give Luke a spoon so he can do whatever he wants with the cake and focus on you. He hugs you and kisses your head several times until you seem calmer.

“We’re having a girl!” he says, still smiling, gently caressing your face. “You have no idea how happy I am. I can’t wait for us to meet her.” He kisses you wanting to show you even a tiny bit of all the love he feels for you, how grateful he is that you’re a part of his life and for everything you give him. “Now we can choose her name and start putting her room together. Tomorrow we can go to the paint store to pick out the colors, and then…”

You cut off Frank's chatter by placing your palm over his mouth.

You know you chose the right man to marry when you see that he looks just as happy as he was when you found out you were having boys. You know your husband and he'd be happy no matter the gender of the baby, but seeing him puts you at ease.

"Why don't we enjoy some cake first and relax a little? There's no rush to get the room ready, honey, we have time," you say, taking your hand off of him.

"Good. Cake, and then I'll start bragging to everyone that I'm going to be a dad to a baby girl," he declares, making you smile.

[wastefulreverie]

DP writing prompt: in which Danny wakes up from nightmare after nightmare, right before the scalpel cuts his skin.

taking writing prompts!!

The snap of latex gloves, the dizzying smell of antiseptic and the chill of cold metal at his back. The sharp, unyielding surgical light adjusted to blot out most of his vision. And the sound of metal on metal as his parents sort through their tools, selecting which knife will do the honors. He's long since been stripped of his suit, vulnerable to whatever fresh horrors they have in store.

Mom's stance is poised and delicate and it's the same look she has when mending his clothes after they get mangled in fights. I just tripped, he tells her and she shakes her head and puts his clothes back together again. Now the scalpel in her hand is meant to undo him. Pull him apart.

The cool metal has barely just grazed his torso when Danny jolts awake.

His cheek is wet with drool and he lifts his head as slowly as he can muster, willing his heart rate to slow with careful and steady breaths. An ingrained routine at this point. Look forward, focus on the whiteboard like it's the only thing in the world that matters.

"Fenton?" Dash says, beside him. Eugh, that's right. Detention with Lancer.

He lucked out today, because it looks like he feel asleep while Lancer was out of the room.

"What," he says. "Can't a guy get a minute's rest?"

"That—that didn't look like rest," is all Dash says, an uncharacteristic observation from the biggest human pain in his ass.

"Cool," Danny nods. He looks down at the assignment he's supposed to be working on. He nodded off halfway through the first question, so undeniably he's fucked.

He follows his previous work, double checking the equations and trying to figure out where the hell he is going wrong. If he doesn't have at least the first question before Lancer gets back...

"Are you alright?" Dash adds.

Danny lowers his pencil. "Why the hell do you care?"

Dash opens and his mouth and shuts it. "You were really... um. Twitching a lot and muttering things. About your parents."

"I'm fine. It was a nightmare, nothing real," Danny explains, as if speaking to a toddler. "You gonna bully me for having bad dreams now, or something? Tell everyone in school that I'm scared shitless asleep, too? Go ahead, see if I care."

He has bigger problems.

"That's not—" he runs a hand over his face. "Fine, okay. Yeah, you're right. It's nothing and not my fucking business what kind of nightmares losers like you are having. Just stop being so fucking weird."

Danny tries to return to his assignment, but his attention keeps slipping back to Dash and his watchful eyes. Like someone had removed the wool from his eyes and he was seeing Danny for the first time as a person and not a punching bag. What the hell.

Lancer returns shortly and Dash is quiet. Too quiet, but Danny doesn't care. It's not until their way out of detention that Dash stops Danny with a gentle slam into the wall and asks him:

"Why are you afraid of them cutting you up?"

Danny rolls his eyes. "We all have irrational fears, Dash. Shove it."

He pushes his way out of his grip and keeps walking. He just has to hope that the idiot won't bring it up again, like it's even a big deal. So what? Danny dreams about them ripping him apart all the time, it doesn't have to mean anything unless he thinks too hard about it. Because it's not going to happen. (Probably.)

"Your family is nuts!" Dash calls after him. "You're nuts too!"

Despite himself, Danny just laughs.

[absolutebl]

My Favorite BL from each country VERSUS the BL I think actually best reflects that country's style in 2025

Japanese BL

My top pick for JBL (live action yaoi)?

Seven Days

Honestly? I did dither over whether to hand this title over to I Cannot Reach You, but I had to go with my heart and the earlier offering. I like that this show is not only the best the Japan can do, but also the best they once did, too. Seven Days is the greatest heritage BL anywhere on earth. Fight me, I dare you.

Best current rep of JBL?

Miseinen: Mijukuna Oretachi wa Bukiyo ni Shinkochu aka Our Youth

Lots to pick from here, Japan has been doing great work over the last few years. Although, as one expects from them it's beens about 50/50 soft BLs versus harsh ones, with lots of spice and some challenging concepts thrown in to keep us on our toes. While I prefer my BL gentle, I think these days Japan is actually strongest in the BL sphere when they go sharp and edgy. They seem to handle difficult concepts with the most honesty and consideration, so.... Our Youth wins.

Thai BL

My top pick for ThBL?

Until We Meet Again

UWMA will always be my favorite Thai BL. I can't imagine it ever getting unseated. But it's incredibly atypical for a Thai BL because the story is so very strong. And story is not Thailand's strong suit.

Best current rep of ThBL?

Your Sky

Yes we are getting more prestige and chaos BLs like Pit Babe these days, but those are still less common than the classic uni-set fluff. Thailand's strength remains vested in its consummate chemistry and gentleness with its characters. It's not that soft BLs are the best Thai BLs, it's that soft is Thailand's most successful BL bailiwick. I was very very tempted by both Wandee Goodday and ThamePo since one major trend in Thai BL lately is that it's moving into the workplace, but GMMTV's filming quality is too high to accurately represent for Thailand.

I felt the need to go a little pulp with this pick, since pulp is still what Thailand primarily produces. Thus Your Sky is a clear winner as it reps for both the now (green flags, yay!) and the enormous back catalogue of Thai BL.

Korean BL

My top pick for KBL?

Semantic Error

Korea occupies more 10/10 spots in my heart than anyone else, but this was still an easy pick. Out my many KBL favorites (Color Rush, Light On Me, Our Dating Sim, Semantic Error, To My Star) there is only one 10/10 that I have called, frequently, Korea's pitch perfect BL. The pinnacle of smoothly executed pristine romance, I'm handing Semantic Error the crown with confidence.

Best current rep of KBL?

Love For Love's Sake

Another easy pull, Love For Love's Sake showcases the way Korea is pushing to explore interesting (slightly darker) concepts while staying true to their signature style and aesthetic. This was the only KBL in 2024 to get a high mark from me. So as more recent KBLs go, this is it.

2024 was not a great year for them, IMHO. But it would have been hard to beat the bumper crop that was 2023.

Taiwanese BL

My top pick for TaBL?

We Best Love

Always and forever. Like Thailand, Taiwan has only managed a 10/10 rank once, for this series. Despite the fact that, if pressed, I would call Taiwanese BL my favorite. WBL is just everything I love about Taiwan's messy, slightly unhinged, high drama, high domesticity, high chemistry, style of BL. Someday, we all hope, they will be able to repeat this magic. (Which I, frankly, can't say about Thailand and UWMA.)

Best current rep of TaBL?

See Your Love

I might call Kiseki: Dear to Me closer to Taiwan's typical style these days, but that aired too long ago now. So I am going to pick SYL partly on the basis of its recency. But also this is an ABSOLUTELY darling show. The cheekiness, the chemistry, the charm, the fashion, the classy way it handles content other countries simply can't or won't tackle (like queerness, mental health, or in this case, disability), the slightly bonkers plot (kidnapping, really?), and the utter squee that is gay domesticity in spades? Quintessential Taiwanese BL.

Vietnamese BL

My top pick for VBL?

You Are Ma Boy

I dithered for between this and My Lascivious Boss, both from 2021 which I think can now be considered the heyday of VBL. I like them both about the same, but the seme in this one is less red flag so I went with YAMB.

It's pretty classic VBL in that is is very messy with its story and characters, great on chemistry and domesticity, and while often fun there will always be elements that make us wince, whether it's a trigger or not. VBL is, in a word, clumsy but there is a raw chaotic good to it that I enjoy. I miss that a lot.

Best current rep for VBL?

Mr Cinderella

This was a real challenge since I have DNF'd most VBL over the last few years. The most recent one I actually enjoyed was 2022's Mr Cinderella. Higher production values and experienced BL actors plus two charismatic leads with good kissing and comfortable body language made this Vietnam’s objectively best BL to date. Frankly, it should occupy both slots.

Pinoy BL

My top pick for PBL?

My Day

My Day is my favorite PBL. Although Gameboys and Like In The Movies are rated just as high, My Day is the only VBL I ever rewatch. It's just so much FUN. All are from 2020, which it I guess means that was the heyday for PBL. Sigh. I miss it, too.

Best current rep for PBL?

Tie The Not

As many BLs as I have DNF'd from Vietnam I have dropped twice as many from the Philippines over the last few years. Tie The Not is a 2023 offering that came as close as anything over the last 5 years to winning back my heart. It missed the mark a bit, earning only a 7/10 but there was a small part of me that hoped it represented a resurgence. It did not. Still, it is the best we have had from them in a long time.

Chinese BL

My top pick for CBL?

Addicted

This remains one of my favorite BLs, and one of the best made and most truly heart wrenching out of China. It is great... if you ignore the ending. And that too is a very CBL thing. There is something about the cold atmosphere and rural setting plus the honest uncensored living conditions that really get to me (and probably got to the CCP as much as the boys kissing.)

Best current rep for CBL?

Meet You At The Blossom

This is hard because I don't know exactly where we are, but we are displaced out of time at the moment it feels like 2015 in CBLandia, not 2025. Either time period there is no way this can last. Appreciate Revenged Love while we got it because... yeah, it is representative of CBL - but CB as it might have been in 2020, and probubly won't be in the future. That's if it is allowed to finish it's run.

Look, we have had so little real CBL for so long, smattered with some censored bromance and sneaky only-international stuff, it's been a mad unpredictable ten years. As often happens when art is interfered with by waring factions of censorship and commerce.

All of this to say, I chose Meet You At The Blossom not because it's representative of modern CBL (there is no true modern CBL since it was never allowed to evolve), but because it's such a strange fabulous flaming creature. Like an IRL phoenix, we must appreciate it for this moment in time, before it combusts once again.

That said the best thing we have seen out of China in a very long time is actually Secrets Happened on the Litchi Island, which everyone should go watch immediately. And I do mean everyone.

But it isn't really BL, it's something more like an art installation meets fever dream with BL trappings that some of us are lucky enough to catch on YouTube. You should catch it.

Others worth mentioning

Stay Still

2023 BL from Hong Kong

What to say about this offering? It’s different, a mix of early CBL, Taiwanese shorts, and Pinoy visuals. It felt like the story was 2 independent shorts that had been lengthened and then smooshed together, and I wish they'd been approached as separate and tighter entities.

Nevertheless, this was a complex little piece, interesting in a sweaty grungy way, with a certain aura of queer authenticity that made it simultaneously tense, unpredictable, and refreshing. I’m not sure I would necessarily call it BL, but any county’s early foray into the genre usually starts out this way, so perhaps nascent BL? Worth watching, especially if you enjoy stuff from the Philippines and Taiwan.

Began Beginning

Burmese BL from 2024

Childhood best friends must come to terms with their own identities and true feelings for each other when a new boy comes to town, putting them into conflict with their families and ultimately, each other. For the first half of this show there’s a lot of sitting across from each other and talking about life choices over yummy food and then going to tourist spots (mildly boring and not particularly important to the plot). It changed tone about 2/3 in to be way more of a coming out family drama about forced marriages and homophobia. And then at the very end it changed again, becoming a full on soap opera with kidnapping, crazy characterization shifts, and rescue missions.

All in all? It was a wild raw creature to consume. No kisses since this is Myanmar, but a very romantic end, so I think maybe actually worth your time? I'm certainly glad I watched it.

Pure Vanilla

Singapore's 2023 microfilm

This is a short sweet offering from Singapore. It's a bit awkward acting but the tats are real and the feel is genuinely soft and queer. At the time it aired I said that I wished Singapore would give us a full proper BL.

Well, I got my wish as Sparkle in You Eye is airing right now - but I'm very much NOT sure about it. I prefer the Summerdaze style of BL from Singapore, not that they have enough BL to have a signature style yet.

Still it's nice to have them serving up... something.

Anygay, that's if for now.

This post dated June 2025, not responsible for BLs unfinished as of the time of this post. Favorites, both old and new, can always be unseated.

(source)