#I love many many more but these are the main ones

[aquaticmercy]

The Catalyst

Summary : In this universe, you and Bucky are happy. In other universes, it might not be that simple.

Pairing : Bucky Barnes x reader (she/her) 

Warnings/tags : Violence, death, trauma, grief, cursing, non-sexual nudity. Lots of Angst. Fluff in the beginning and end. Multiversal Travel.

Word count : 8.9k

Note : This story is meant to resemble a What If? episode. It is an exploration of what would happen to you and Bucky if the other died. I will refer to the main universe (MCU) as Earth-616 because Marvel is stupid and has decided that it’s not earth-19999 anymore. The fic is inspired by the song of the same title by Linkin Park. Also, I hope this story makes sense? Enjoy!

Earth-616��

The bathroom was quiet, save for the soft gurgle of water and the occasional drip from the faucet. 

Bucky sat on the edge of the tub, bare and bruised, watching you with a tired smile.

The gash on his forehead was deep, an angry red against his skin, and his chest was peppered with smaller cuts and scrapes, remnants of yet another mission gone south. You stood in front of him, tilting his chin to clean the wound.

“You’re lucky this didn’t need stitches,” you murmured, focusing on your work.

“Luck had nothing to do with it,” Bucky said lightly, though you could tell he was exhausted. “I’m practically indestructible.”

You glanced up, narrowing your eyes at him, not finding any solace in his self-deprecating humour today. “No, you’re not, James.”

He didn’t answer. Instead, he gave you that lopsided, charming smile, the one that always made your heart flutter— even when you were mad at him.

“Alright, my love,” you closed the tap. “Bath’s ready.”

Bucky stood slowly, groaning as he stretched. Before you could move away, he pulled you back toward him. 

“Come take a dip with me,” he murmured. 

You looked up at him. “I drew this bath for you—”

“Please,” he interrupted.

You hesitated, only a moment, before nodding. “Alright,” you said. “But don’t think this means I’m letting you off the hook for almost dying.”

He gave you a faint smile as you undressed.

The water enveloped you in warmth as you both sank into the tub. Bucky settled behind you, his legs bracketing yours, arms wrapping around your waist. You leaned back against his chest, your head resting beneath his chin.

For a while, neither of you spoke. Your fingers absentmindedly traced his metal arm, feeling the ridges of the plating.

You closed your eyes, but the memory of his bloodied face lingered in your mind. The fear you felt when he walked through the door earlier that day—bruised and battered but alive—still held onto you.

Bucky’s lips pressed softly to the back of your head, pulling you from your thoughts. “You’re quiet today,” he murmured, his voice soothing your worries

You swallowed hard, finger frozen on his arm. “You just really scared me tonight.”

“I’m sorry,” he whispered, arms wrapping tighter around you.

“Just… be more careful, please?” you said quietly. “There’ve been too many close calls lately. If something happened to you…” Your voice cracked as you drew in a shaky breath. “If I lost you, I don’t think I’d know how to put myself back together.”

“Don’t say that,” he said, grip strengthening on you. “Don’t even think about it.”

You tilted your head back, resting on his collarbone. “I mean it, James,” you whispered. “You’re everything to me.”

“You’ll never lose me,” he said, his conviction absolute. “I’ll always come back to you, no matter what.”

“You’d fucking better,” tears pricked at the corners of your eyes, but you managed a small smile. “Or I’ll find a way to drag you back myself.”

Bucky chuckled softly. “You’re terrifying, you know that?”

“Good,” you said, snuggling closer to him. “Maybe that’ll keep you in line.”

He kissed the back of your head again. The water lapped gently around you, the warmth easing the knots in your muscles, soothing the subtle throb in your heart.

After everything you’ve both been through, you were just happy he was here— alive.

•

Somewhere in a distant reality…

In this universe, Bucky Barnes didn’t cry at your funeral.

The rain came down in unrelenting sheets, soaking through the black suit he wore, but Bucky didn’t shiver. He didn’t flinch when the first heavy shovelful of dirt struck your casket, the dull thud echoing in his ears like a death knell. He stood apart from the others, an immovable statue at the edge of the grave, his hands limp at his sides, trembling ever so slightly— His face might as well have been carved from stone.

The sound of weeping surrounded him—your friends, your teammates, people you had saved. Each sob seemed to pierce his skin, sharp as broken glass, but still, Bucky didn’t move. He didn’t blink. He didn’t cry.

Bucky didn’t cry when the ground swallowed you whole.

He didn’t cry when Pepper, eyes red-rimmed and brimming with tears, rested a firm hand on his shoulder. He didn’t cry when Sam placed a folded flag in his hands, whispering, “She was a hero.” He didn’t cry when Clint, voice hoarse, muttered, “She saved so many lives.”

He didn’t cry when Tony, uncharacteristically subdued, raised a glass to your memory that night, his hand trembling just enough to make the liquid ripple, Bucky stayed silent. He stared at the drink in his hand until it blurred into nothing.

But when he sat in the shadows of his apartment later, something deep inside him twisted.

He couldn’t stop replaying your death in his mind. Your final words, whispered through cracked lips and choked breaths, were for him. “You’re going to be okay, James.”

You had died saving them— saving the world. You had grabbed the infinity stones away from Tony, you had snapped so he didn’t have to. You did it because you couldn’t let anyone else make the sacrifice— you did it because Morgan needed a father.

But Bucky needed you.

And you were gone.

He had no more tears to give. He had shed them in the days leading up to your funeral, in suffocating quiet of the aftermath. He had cried until there was nothing left inside, until grief turned into a cold, sharp knife that carved your initials into his chest and refused to let him rest.

So he didn’t cry anymore.

But when the world fell away—when the comforting murmurs of others faded and he was left alone in the silence of the apartment you had shared—something inside him broke.

Bucky didn’t cry anymore, but that didn’t stop him grieving.

Bucky grieved like a soldier.

It was disciplined, bordering on mechanical. He scrubbed your presence from the apartment with clinical detachment, packing your things with military precision. Your clothes disappeared into boxes he refused to label. Your toiletries vanished from the bathroom like they had never been there.

He didn’t touch the photos, though. He left them right where you’d placed them. He didn’t move the jacket you always left draped over the back of the chair, didn’t even bring himself to wash the cup you’d left on the counter.

At night, when the apartment grew unbearably still, he would sit in the dark and trace his fingers over the curve of your handwriting in the little notes you’d leave him—Don’t forget milk! He would fiddle with the frayed fabric of the worn shirt that still smelled faintly of your vanilla perfume. He held it in his hands for hours, gripping it so tightly his knuckles turned white.

Every mission after that was a blur of adrenaline and violence. As soon as he got pardoned, he threw himself into the fight with reckless abandon, his mind a haze of desperation and anger, his body moving like a machine, like no part of him remained human.

He fought like a man trying to outrun himself.

He didn’t care if he made it back, didn’t care if he took a bullet—or fifty. Every blow he took was nothing compared to his own pain. 

But nothing— none of the wounds, none of the cuts he sustained— brought him closer to you.

And when the fighting was done, in between missions when the world didn’t need him, he disappeared, abandoning your shared apartment because it made him think too much of you. He retreated to a remote cabin deep in the woods, a place so far removed from humanity where no one could find him.

No one, except for Stephen Strange.  

—

It had been nearly six months since your death when Strange appeared on Bucky’s porch, his portal crackling in the fresh mountain air.

“Go away,” Bucky growled, not bothering to glance up from the knife he was sharpening. He had gone hunting again, determined not to rely on anyone else for his survival.

Strange ignored the warning, stepping through the glowing portal and onto the weathered wooden planks. His expression was grim, his tone desperate. “James Buchanan Barnes.”

“What do you want?” Bucky’s voice was rough, his patience worn thin.

“It’s not about what I want,” Strange replied. “It’s what the multiverse needs.”

Bucky finally looked up, his blue eyes still sharp but exhausted. He’d been running on empty for months now. You weren’t there to steady him, to breathe life into the fragile space beneath his ribs when the nightmares were too much to bear. You weren’t there to wake up next to him. You weren’t there to pepper him with kisses when he thought he wasn’t good enough. You were gone.

“The multiverse can save itself,” he muttered, turning back to his blade.

Strange’s expression softened, but only slightly. “If it could, I wouldn’t be here.”

Bucky let out a scoff, his hands gripping the sharpening stone. “You’ve got the wrong person.”

“I wish I had,” Strange said quietly, his words landing like stones thrown into water.

The desperation in his voice made Bucky pause. He set the knife down with care, leaning back in his chair to glare at the sorcerer. “What the hell are you talking about?”

Strange wasn’t the type to hold back words, but even he seemed to hesitate. And then he said it—the name. Your name. The one Bucky hadn’t heard in weeks.

“Don’t,” Bucky snapped, feeling like an arrow had struck his chest.

Strange pressed on, undeterred. “A version of her exists in another universe. But she’s… no longer her.”

“What the hell does that mean?”

With a flick of his hand, Strange conjured an image: glowing strands of the multiverse weaving together, spinning until a vision appeared. 

It was you—but… not you. Not his version of you. 

Your face was twisted, your body cocooned in violent energy. Behind you, planets crumbled, swallowed by the raw power radiating from you.

Bucky reached out, his hand floating near the image that magic had willed into life.

He couldn’t fully grasp it—this alternate reality where you were alive, suffering, destroying. It didn’t make sense, how this could exist. 

You were gone. You died in his arms. 

The heart that beat for him— he felt it stop beneath his fingertips. 

How could he possibly wrap his mind around this? That a fragment of your soul—some version of you—was out there, breathing, enduring. 

Alive. 

His throat tightened as he tried to speak, to force out even a single word, but he choked on his own tongue.

The multiverse. Or whatever Strange had called it. A few years ago, he’d have laughed it off as some nonsense, he wouldn’t’ve believed it. But after being snapped out of existence and then willed back into it by a handful of glowing galactic stones, Bucky Barnes, man out of time, knew better. 

Now, he’d believe in absolutely anything. Especially if it meant he was believing in a world where you still existed.

“She’s become the Catalyst,” Strange said, his voice laced with dread. “A being of grief, capable of destroying entire worlds. If she’s not stopped, she’ll collapse the multiverse.”

Bucky stared at the image, his chest tightening. Was this really you, destroyer of worlds, of universes? 

You couldn’t be capable of this. 

You were kind, you were incapable of harming an innocent soul. He remembered the day a poisonous spider had wandered into the room. You refused to kill it, carefully guiding it out to the garage.

But now, as the memories came flooding back, doubt began to settle. 

He had seen glimpses of another side of you, when you were alive. The fiery rage that consumed you after losing an old friend. The anger you brought into battle, wielded like an iron fist. It had been terrifying—a force of nature that no one could stand against. It was how you wielded the infinity stones long enough to do what needed to be done.

Now, looking at this image Strange had conjured, he wondered if that force had finally consumed you.

“You want me to go after her,” Bucky said flatly. He was certain of it. 

“I want you to stop her.” Strange nodded. “Talk to her. You’re the only one she might listen to.”

“And if she doesn’t?”

Strange’s gaze was unyielding. “Then you’re the only one who stands a chance at killing her.”

The words hit Bucky like a hammer to the chest. He turned away, gripping the porch railing until his knuckles went white. “I can’t lose her again.”

Strange stepped closer, his voice soft but resolute. “She would want you to do it.”

Bucky’s voice rose, his eyes filled with tears he would not let Strange see. “You don’t know her like I do.”

“No,” Strange admitted. “But I’ve seen what happens if no one stops her. Entire universes will fall. Countless souls will die. If you won’t do it for her, then do it for them.”

—

Bucky didn’t sleep that night. He sat on the edge of his bed, the room blanketed in suffocating silence, broken only by the occasional creak of his wooden single bedframe as he shifted nervously. 

In his hands, his gun seemed to glow under the moonlight filtering through the window. 

He turned it over and over, fingers brushing the worn grip, the faint scratch on the barrel— one he remembered you making during a standard recon mission. You had scratched it, accidentally catching it with your knife. 

You apologised profusely, and he said it was no big deal. 

He then teased you for being too attached to your weapons— how your knives had little personal inscriptions, how you had cared for it like it had a soul. He, on the other hand, said that he felt indifferent to his weapons— said he didn’t want to get too sentimental. 

You laughed, saying he was too dramatic. "It's just a tool, James. You’re the one who decides what it’s for."  

Now, he wasn’t so sure what he wanted to use it for. 

Strange’s words looped in his mind like a broken record: You’re the only one who stands a chance at killing her.

The thought of pointing a gun at you made his heart drop. 

He once promised to protect you, to be your safe haven. And now, a sorcerer had tasked him with destroying you in another universe. How could he ever make peace with that? 

How could he pull the trigger on you?

But then another thought struck him: Strange was right. You would want him to. 

You would forgive him if he had to kill you.

You always forgave him, no matter how many times he swore he didn’t deserve it, because you would understand that this needed to be done. If the situation were reversed, you’d do what needed to be done— because that’s who you were.  

You were good— everything he aspired to be. 

If you were alive, if you knew you had turned destructive— you would kill the Catalyst yourself.

As the hours dragged on, Bucky tried to think of another way, to fantasise a different ending for the sick story he existed in. What if there was a chance— however slim—to reach that version of you without violence? To pull you back from the brink and remind you who you were? 

He knew he had to try, but he also knew what failure meant: countless lives lost, entire universes wiped from existence.

If he failed, this universe would be gone, along with all the memories of you. Along with your legacy.

Your sacrifice would be in vain.

He couldn’t let that happen.

The gun in his hands felt heavier now, the future hanging like a noose around his neck. The sun was just beginning to rise when he finally stood.

He had made his decision. 

He didn’t bother to pack much—just his knife, the gun, and the dog tags he always carried, the ones you had once traced with your fingers when you thought he was asleep. 

He knew he needed to do this mission.

Not for the world, not for the universe.

The multiverse could burn, for all he cared. He’s doing this because he knew you would want him to. 

—

When Strange arrived at the cabin, the swirling portal casted an eerie light over his mostly empty living room.

Bucky’s face went grim. He didn’t say goodbye to the cabin, didn’t look back at the life he had built in solitude. 

He never liked this cabin. Never liked this new life— he only went here because it was what you always wanted. You wanted to be away from the city, one with nature. You always wanted to build the rest of your life here. Back then, Bucky had agreed— but now it was just a reminder that he was living a hollow existence without you.

He stepped through the portal. 

The overwhelming surge of energy as he entered the alternate universe was nothing compared to the pain his heart endured.

The world he had stepped into felt like the aftermath of a nightmare.  

The sky was a sickly yellow, streaked with ash and smoke. The sun, barely visible through the haze, poured a dying light over the desolation below. 

Buildings lay in ruins, their remains clawing at the sky. The ground was a wasteland of debris, littered with the wreckage of battles fought long before he arrived.

Ultron's remains were everywhere. His drones twisted, mangled, scattered across the landscape, half-buried in dirt or wedged into crumbling walls, some buried under concrete slab. Their empty eyes stared at nothing— stared at Bucky with emptiness.

Bucky adjusted his grip on his rifle and took a cautious step forward. The air was thick, stinging with the stench of burning metal and organic decay. He moved carefully, scanning his surroundings.

This wasn’t his world, but it was familiar enough for him to navigate through. 

“Strange,” Bucky muttered under his breath, though the sorcerer had closed the portal. He pushed through, putting his Winter Soldier mask on “What the hell did you send me into?”  

—

It didn’t take long for him to piece together what had happened. In this universe, Ultron had won, but not by slamming Sokovia into the Earth like an asteroid. Instead, his drone army had swept across the world, decimating everything in its path. 

He found more evidence in a hollowed-out bunker near the remnants of what would have been Central Park. His name was scrawled across a rusted memorial wall alongside hundreds of others. His dog tags—this world’s version of them—hung from a nail driven into the cracked concrete.  

Bucky stared at the tags for a long time. He could imagine the moment you had hung them there, your fingers shaking, your heart breaking.  

This was the universe’s cruel twist: in this world, he had died in the battle against Ultron. 

He had been the one ripped away from you.  

The rest of the story came from whispers, fragments of information he gathered from the few survivors he encountered. Most were too broken, too terrified, to speak more than a few sentences, but they all spoke of one thing: the Catalyst.  

“She wasn’t always like this,” one man had said, his voice trembling as he huddled in the corner of a makeshift shelter from scrap metal. “She used to be a hero. Fought against Ultron with everything she had. But when he killed Barnes—”  

His breath hitched, knowing the mask obscured him from this civillian’s view.

“—She lost it. Hunted Ultron down, tore him apart with her bare hands. But then she… she took his parts. Built something with it.”  

“Built what?” Bucky pressed, his stomach twisting.  

“Armour. Weapons. Something stronger than anything the Avengers had. But it did something to her—got in her head, twisted her. She’s not human anymore. Not really. Just anger and grief and—and…”  

“And power,” Bucky finished grimly.  

The man nodded. “She destroyed Ultron. Destroyed his whole army. But she didn’t stop. She just kept tearing down everything in her path. Now she’s… she’s…. If you see her, you run. You don’t fight. You don’t talk. You run.”  

—

That night, Bucky sat alone in the ruins of what would’ve been the Avengers tower. He stared at the fire he’d managed to build. 

The image of you—this you, the Catalyst—was burned into his mind. He’d seen a glimpse of it through Strange’s portal, but now the reality of it was just starting to sink in.

You had always been so full of life, so determined to make the world a better place. How could you be the very thing tearing it apart in this universe? How could you let grief do this to you?  

He clenched his fists. He should’ve gotten here earlier. 

This version of him had failed you. He should’ve fought harder, been faster, or something. Maybe if he had been, you wouldn’t have had to face Ultron alone. Maybe you wouldn’t have—  

“Stop it,” he muttered to himself, running a hand through his hair. “It’s not your fault.”  

He knew he could not control what this universe’s version of him did. But the guilt ate him up anyway.

—

The next day, he found the first sign of you.  

In the centre of the ruins stood a towering monument of burned metal, forged from the remains of Ultron’s drones. It was a grotesque structure, its sharp edges gleaming like shark teeth in the dim light.  

He looked around, realising this would’ve been the Rockefeller Center— where he had taken you on a date, ice skating in the cold winter with Christmas lights surrounding you. 

Bucky approached cautiously, his eyes narrowing as he studied the details. The surface of the monument was etched with symbols—some binary, some human words. 

This wasn’t just a monument. It was a warning.  

She’s close, he thought, gripping his rifle tighter.

The ground trembled beneath his feet. Suddenly, a low hum rose in the air. He turned sharply, his heart pounding as the shadows moved around him.  

And then he saw you.  

You descended from the sky like a vengeful god, clad in sleek, silver armour forged from Ultron’s technology. It clung to you like a second skin, pulsing with an unnatural light. Your eyes glowed with the same energy, and the air around you crackled with raw power.  

For a moment, Bucky couldn’t breathe. It was you— but at the same time, it wasn’t. It was the face he loved, the lips that once kissed him goodnight, the eyes that soothed him after he woke up from one of his nightmares. Yet something was wrong. This wasn’t entirely the person that had been his world. This version of you was twisted— destruction incarnate. 

But he could not stop the leap of joy his heart made. At least you were alive.

“You’ve come to stop me,” you said, not even lifting your eyes. Your voice echoed unnaturally. It was layered, as if a hundred versions of you were speaking at once.  

Bucky stood his ground, heart pounding as you, —no, the Catalyst— stood still. The pieces of Ultron’s remnants shimmered with an almost ethereal glow, stitched together into a terrible masterpiece that trapped you like a tomb. Your face—once warm and full of life—burned with an inhuman intensity, flickering like a dying sun.  

“I’ve come to bring you back,” Bucky replied, his voice steady despite the hammering of his heart. Slowly, he took off his mask.

Your expression flickered, just for a moment. As if he was a crack in the armour.  

You recognised the voice. 

“You’re— ,” you whispered, your voice layered and fractured, distorted by grief and the technology that had consumed you. Your eyes snapped up to meet his. “You came back to me.”  

The words hit Bucky like a blow to the chest. I did, doll. He wanted to say. I will always come back. 

But he knew this version of you wasn’t his, so he swallowed hard, keeping his rifle lowered.

You froze, your head tilting slightly as you studied him. You weren’t satisfied without an answer. “James?”

Bucky’s heart twisted. For a moment, he saw a glimmer of the person you had been, the love you had shared. 

Kill me now, he thought, before I have to kill you. 

But he knew the cost of that. He knew failing would mean he had failed you. 

“I’m here to help,” he said softly. 

You stepped closer, unsure whether to reach for him— a fragment of your old soul begging you to stop this madness — or strike him down— an instinct the Catalyst had developed. Your glowing eyes traced every inch of him, lingering on the scars lining his face, the haunted look in his eyes. 

Your fingers twitched, and for a moment, you looked lost.  

“You’re different,” you muttered to yourself. “The scars… the way you stand”  

Realisation dawned, and with it, the fragile hope in your expression shattered. You took a step back, the electric storm around you surging to life again. “You’re not my James,” you hissed, your voice bitter.  

Bucky didn’t flinch. “I’m not,” he admitted. “But I know what he meant to you. What you meant to him.”  

“Why would someone else’s James come to me?” you demanded, your voice rising, the ground beneath you cracking with the force of your grief. 

“Because I couldn’t save you in my world,” he said, his voice breaking. “But maybe I can save you here.”  

For a moment, the storm faltered, the energy around you dimming. But then your eyebrows furrowed, hands curling into fist, your grief boiling over into fury.  

“You think you can save me?” you snarled, your armour shifting as weapons emerged from its surface—cannons, blades, and glowing surges of energy. “You think you can take my pain away, make it disappear? You have no idea what I’ve done. What I’ve become.”  

The first blast came without warning. Bucky barely had time to dive behind the concrete of a collapsed building as a searing beam of energy scorched the ground where he had stood.  

“Don’t make me do this!” he shouted, rising from cover and firing a warning shot. The bullet ricocheted harmlessly off your armour.

“You came here to kill me,” you spat, advancing the attack with terrifying precision. “Just like everyone else!”  

“No!” Bucky’s voice cracked as he dodged another strike, rolling into a crouch and raising his hands. “I came here to stop this. To stop you.”

“And how do you think that ends?” you snapped, the storm of energy around you growing more volatile. “I know what I am. I’ve seen what I’ve done. There’s no stopping it.”  

You lunged at him, your speed too quick for him to process. Bucky barely managed to block your strike, your armoured fist colliding with his vibranium arm in a deafening clash of metal. The force sent him skidding backward, but he held his ground.  

“I know you’re still in there!” he shouted, his voice desperate. “I know you don’t want this!”  

“I didn’t want any of this!” you screamed, unleashing a wave of energy that knocked him off his feet. “But he left me! He—he died, and I—” Your voice cracked, and for a brief moment, the storm flickered, your grief breaking through the madness.  

Bucky scrambled to his feet, his chest heaving. “He wouldn’t want this,” he said, his voice softer now. “I don’t want this.”

Tears streamed down your face, glowing faintly as they fell. “I can’t stop,” you whispered, your voice shaking. “It’s too much. It’s too—”  

The storm surged again, and Bucky knew he was losing you.  

“I’m sorry,” he said, gripping his rifle tightly. “I’m so sorry.”  

You raised your hands, energy crackling between your fingers, but instead of attacking, you froze. A look of clarity crossed your face—a moment of realisation.  

Bucky lowered his rifle once again.

“You can’t let this happen again,” you said quietly.  

Before Bucky could respond, you turned your gaze to the glowing core embedded in your armour—the source of your power.  

“No,” Bucky said, stepping forward. “Don’t—”  

“It has to end,” you interrupted, tears spilling down your cheeks. “Promise me, James. Promise me you won’t let another version of me become this.”  

“I can’t—”  

“Promise me!”  

His throat tightened, and he nodded. “I promise.”  

A faint smile touched your lips, and then you placed your hand over the core. The energy around you flared brightly, pulsing like a heartbeat.

“Thank you,” you whispered.  

And then, a blinding light flashed before his eyes. You cried a violent shriek as you cast yourself into nothingness.

When the light faded, Bucky stood alone in the ruins, the air eerily still. Your body was nothing but ash, armour scattered across the ruins. The glowing core was shattered, its energy dissipating into nothing.  

Bucky dropped to his knees, his hands shaking as he stared at the spot where you had stood. He had lost you all over again. 

He had failed you all over again. 

—

Bucky stumbled through the portal Strange had opened for him, his body worn, his breaths shallow.

“It’s done,” Bucky said, his voice hoarse. He dropped a silver shoulder piece, a part of your armour—a fractured piece of the nightmare you had become—onto the floor of the Sanctum Sanctorum, in the space between them. “She’s gone.”  

Strange nodded, but said nothing.  

Bucky glared at him, his grief rapidly turning into anger. “You knew, didn’t you?” he growled, “You knew she went mad because she lost me. Why didn’t you tell me?” 

Strange met his eyes, “Because it wouldn’t have changed anything.”  

“That’s it?” Bucky demanded, his voice rising. “I’ve lost her twice now, Strange. Twice. And I—” His voice broke, and he turned away, rubbing a hand across his eyes.  

No crying today. He’s grieved over you. He’s done. 

No crying, Barnes, he insisted again.

“I wish it ended here,” Strange said quietly. 

Bucky’s head snapped back sharply, his heart sinking deeper in the abyss it was already stuck in.

Strange hesitated, his hands clasped behind his back. “This wasn’t an anomaly,” he said finally. “In every universe I’ve observed, when you die, she becomes the Catalyst.”  

He stumbled back a step, shaking his head. “That… that can’t be true.”  

Strange’s gaze softened, but there was no comfort in his expression. “It is,” he said. “Her love for you is not only her greatest strength, but also her greatest weakness. Without you, her grief consumes her. It changes her.”

“So what?” Bucky spat bitterly. “You’re saying she’s doomed to destroy the multiverse?”  

“No,” Strange said, his voice firm. “Not if you intervene.”  

“You want me to… to do this again?” Bucky froze, his blood running cold. “To watch her die again?”  

Strange’s silence was answer enough.  

“Fuck,” Bucky muttered, raking his fingers through his hair, wanting to pull them out so badly. “How many times, Strange?”  

“As many as it takes,” Strange replied solemnly. “If we don’t act, the Catalyst will dismantle the multiverse, piece by piece. She doesn’t stop at her own world. Her grief is a hunger—a need to destroy everything, to erase the pain.”  

Bucky sank onto a nearby chair, burying his head in his hands. The thought of facing yet another version of you—of seeing your face twisted by grief again, of failing to save you again—was unbearable. 

But what choice did he have?  

“Are you ready for this, Sergeant Barnes?” Strange asked.  

“No,” Bucky admitted, his voice barely above a whisper. He lifted his head, his eyes red. “But I’ll do it anyway.”  

— 

Every time Bucky stepped through another portal, he braced himself for the inevitable. Some universes were barely recognizable—worlds where humanity had advanced far beyond what he’d known, some were distant worlds ruled by psychopathic overlords.  

But in every one, you were the same. You met him. You fell in love with him— some evil villain decimated Earth, and this world’s version of Bucky perished in the fight.

When he was gone, your grief forged you into the Catalyst— destroyer of whatever force had destroyed earth, salvaging your victims’ weapons to make you more powerful.  

Sometimes your armour was made from Ultron, like before. Other times, it was pieces of Thanos’ gauntlet, or the living metal of Ego the Living Planet. In one universe, you wielded the shattered fragments of Mjölnir. 

You weren’t even close to worthy, but your grief was so powerful that you had bent enchanted Asgardian steel into submission. 

Each encounter started the same way.  

You mistook him for your James. There was always that flicker of hope in your eyes, that fragile moment where you thought he had come back to you.  

But then you noticed the differences—the scars, the way he moved, the subtle sadness in his eyes. 

And the hope turned to rage.  

“Who are you?” you would demand, furious. “Why do you look like him?”  

Bucky tried reasoning with you every time, pleading for you to stop, to let go of the grief that consumed you. But it never worked. The madness always took hold, and the fight always began.  

In the end, you always destroyed yourself. It’s as if he was doomed to watch— doomed to be a captive audience to your death— over and over and over again.

—

The first time Bucky killed the Catalyst, it nearly broke him.

He had spent weeks, maybe months, tracking you in this icy universe. In this universe, Frost Giants took over. Bucky had been killed somewhere along the lines, and you took Loki’s staff and matters into your own hands. 

When he saw you there, standing in a cloak of fur and leather, you radiated power.

And yet, behind the glowing eyes, he could still see you. The way you tilted your head when you studied him, the smallest flicker of hesitation before you struck.

He had prepared for this. Every movement, every breath, every strike was calculated, the result of months of relentless study. He’d learned how to predict the devastating surges of energy you unleashed, how to exploit the brief seconds when your guard faltered. You were stronger, faster, almost unstoppable—but almost wasn’t enough.

When he finally got to you, he only hesitated for a second before stabbing you.

No. What have I done?

A desperate wail tore from his throat as tears burned his eyes, spilling over like a shattered dam. He cried— for the first time in months— as he watched the light in your eyes fade. 

Bucky knelt beside your dying body, whispering useless apologies as he cradled you in his arms. You looked up at him. You didn’t look at him with grief. Not anger. Not hatred. Maybe relief. Maybe love. 

And then, as life drained from your eyes, the multiverse seemed to hold its breath.

You were gone.

Again.

He had finally convinced himself that he had to kill you. He could no longer endure your suffering. Every moment of your self-destruction had been nightmare fuel—your anguished cries, your desperate screams— It was unbearable. He loved you too deeply to continue watching you suffer.

Now, he was certain— ending your life, giving you a swift death,was the only way he could stomach this mission.

—

The Catalyst was powerful in every universe, but Bucky learned how to fight you better. Most times now, he was able to kill you, to put you out of your misery because he outmanoeuvred you, predicting your attacks like a ghost of every battle you’d ever had. Other times, he got there too late, and you destroyed yourself, unleashing a final burst of power so immense it annihilated your very existence. 

Those times were harder. 

Watching you choose to end it. Watching you fall apart in his arms, whispering words he couldn’t always hear.

Still, everytime, he took a piece of you.

He didn’t know why he reached out to gather the shattered remains of your armour. Sometimes it was a gauntlet, still glowing faintly with residual energy. A shard of the crystalline crown that marked your reign as the Catalyst. Sometimes it was Loki’s scepter. 

Maybe it was instinct, or maybe it was guilt. He tucked the fragments into his pack and walked away, feeling like he had salvaged a part of you.

At first, he thought it was a way to remember you. The woman you had been, not the Catalyst you had become. But over time, the collection grew into a monument to his failure. Each weapon, each ruined piece of armour was a reminder of what it cost to keep going. To try and save you. To survive you. To kill you.

And still, he couldn’t stop.

The multiverse demanded it. The Catalyst always returned, more powerful, and Bucky would be there, each time, with the weight of a hundred battles on his shoulders and memories of the woman he loved. He’d fight. He’d win. 

He’d lose you again.

And he’d carry another piece of you, knowing it would never be enough to make him whole.

So, over time, missions chipped away at him, piece by piece.  

He didn’t smile anymore. He barely spoke, even when Strange tried to comfort him. His humanity felt like a distant memory, buried beneath the endless cycle of loss.  

Once, in a rare moment of quiet, Strange tried to reason with him.  

“You don’t have to do this alone, Barnes,” he said. “I’ve talked to Clint, Bruce, and Sam. They said they’d help.”  

Bucky shook his head, his expression hollow. “It has to be me. I’m the only one she listens to. Even if it’s just for a second.”  

Strange didn’t argue.  

—

This time, he was so devastatingly close to saving you— it was the only time you had let him reason with you. The only time you had let him talk longer than a few seconds.

In this universe, you had taken the remains of Ronan the Accuser’s hammer, merging it with Kree technology to create an unstoppable weapon. You were a force of nature, cutting down armies and leaving entire planets in ruin.  

Bucky fought you for hours, trying to get through because he saw a chance. His body was battered and broken by the end. But as he stood over you, your armour cracked and your face visible beneath your helmet, you looked up at him with tears in your eyes.  

“I’m sorry,” you whispered, your voice faint.  

Bucky dropped to his knees beside you, his hands trembling as he reached for you. “Don’t do this,” he pleaded. “There’s still a chance—”  

“You’re still my James, aren’t you?” you interrupted, your hand brushing his cheek. “You love me in every universe, the way I love you.”  

“Don’t leave,” he begged, his voice breaking. “Please, don’t leave me again.”  

Your smile was soft, bittersweet. “I never really left, James. I’m always going to be a part of you.”  

And then you were gone again, an agonising cry as you self-destructed.

He was alone again.

—

As long as there were universes to save, as long as there was a chance to save you, he would keep fighting—no matter the cost.  

Today shouldn’t’ve been any different.

He stepped through the portal with his usual grim frown, expecting to face another version of you consumed by grief, transformed into the Catalyst.  

But what he found instead… was peace.

The world was whole. The sky wasn’t scorched, cities still stood tall and bustling, and the air hummed with life. It felt… normal. 

And then he saw you.  

You were sitting at a small café on a sunlit street, your hair loose, a soft smile playing on your lips. There was no armour, no glowing energy, no storm of grief around you. You looked like the person he remembered—the person he had loved.  

He died in this universe, too— he knew as much. You had his dog tags around your neck, carrying a piece of him everywhere. 

It took time for him to piece together what had happened, but he eventually got it.

In this universe, Bucky had been the one who took the gauntlet from Tony. He had been the one who snapped the stones.

Bucky’s breath caught in his throat. 

For the first time in what felt like an eternity, he felt something other than pain. He watched you laugh, the sound a beautiful melody he thought he’d forgotten. 

In this universe… you were happy.  

For days, Bucky stayed hidden in the shadows, watching you from a distance. It was wrong, he knew, but he couldn’t help himself. He followed you through your routines—your morning coffee, your walks through the park, the way you waved at the children playing by the water fountain. 

You hadn’t become the Catalyst.  

Strange was wrong, Bucky thought, a flicker of hope sparking in his chest. Not every version of you succumbed to grief. In this universe, you had found a way to move forward, to live.  

And maybe… maybe he could, too.  

The thought crept into his mind slowly. What if he stayed? What if he stepped into this world and introduced himself to you? Would you recognize something in him, a fragment of the love you had shared in another life? Could you fall for him again?  

Could he be happy?

Could the two of you put the pieces back together again?

For the first time in years, Bucky allowed himself to dream of a life beyond grief and guilt. A life with you, as he once had.

He imagined walking up to you at that café, asking if he could join you. You’d be confused, maybe a little wary at first, but he’d win you over. He’d tell you about the man he used to be, the battles he’d fought, the people he’d lost. He’d tell you how much he loved you still. And you’d tell him about your James, how similar he was to him. 

Maybe, in time, you’d fall in love with him again.  

But then he saw Steve coming home from a mission.

It was a perfect day— the sun was warm, the breeze gentle, the streets alive with chatter. Bucky stood at a distance, watching you in the park, his heart full of hope, something he thought he’d never feel again.

And then Steve Rogers appeared.  

He walked up to you with that shy confidence Bucky had known since they were kids. You stood when you saw him, your face lit up in a way that made Bucky’s stomach twist.  

Steve pulled you into his arms, and you went willingly, laughing as he spun you around.  

Bucky felt the air leave his lungs.  

He watched as Steve kissed you, his hands cradling your face like you were the most precious thing in the world. And you kissed him back.  

It wasn’t fair.  

Bucky's knees nearly buckled, as he turned away. His chest caved in, feeling like his heart had been ripped out and crushed into a million little pieces. The fragile hope he'd clung to for the last couple of days was torn from him as quickly as it appeared. 

Your laughter echoed faintly in his ears, a cruel reminder that chased him as he stumbled toward the portal Strange had opened. His head hung low, his shoulders slumped. 

He was no soldier, no saviour—just a broken man, haunted by dreams that would never be his.

—

When Bucky returned, Strange's eyes lingered on him for too long.

Bucky wasn’t covered in bruises or cuts like he usually was, but somehow he looked…. worse. The exhaustion ran deeper this time, as if the scars were invisible. “You stayed longer than usual in this one,” Strange observed.

Bucky ignored his statement. “You were wrong,” he muttered instead. His eyes stayed fixed on the ground, unable to meet Strange’s. “She wasn’t The Catalyst in this one.”

Strange froze. “What do you mean?” he asked.

Bucky’s breath hitched, his voice barely above a whisper. “She’s happy here, after my death. W-with Steve.” He finally looked up, the emptiness in his eyes enough to make even Strange flinch. “She moved on, and she’s... she’s still… her.

Strange’s eyebrows softened. “I’m sorry,” he said quietly, his tone measured, regretful. “But this is the exception, the rule. The Catalyst is still out there.”

Bucky let out a bitter laugh, but it held no humour. Only defeat. 

He ran a hand over his face before dragging his fingers through his hair. His shoulders slumped under the weight of this endless mission.“I…” he started, his voice strained. “I’m never... I’m never gonna be happy. Am I?”

Strange had no answer for him. 

—

Bucky sat on the edge of his bed in Kamar Taj, staring at the collection of armour pieces he had gathered from the other universes. Each shard was a reminder of the battles he’d fought, the versions of you he had lost.  

And now, he had been cursed with the knowledge that not every version of you that lost him succumbed to grief.

The knowledge that you were happy in that world. That you had found love again, and it wasn’t with him. That no matter how hard he tried, no matter how many universes he visited, it seemed there was no version of him that could have you.  

It was cruel.  

You had once told him he was the strongest person you knew, but in that moment, he felt like anything but. He had fought armies of aliens, faced death over and over again, but this… this was too much.  

Bucky clenched his fists, his metal hand creaking under the pressure. He wanted to scream, to punch something, to let out the unbearable weight crushing his chest. 

Instead, he picked up one of the shards of your armour—a jagged, glowing piece from an Ultron world. He held it in his hand, his reflection distorted in its surface.  

“I’m happy for you,” he whispered, his voice cracking, insincere. “Even if it’s not with me.”  

Bucky placed the shard on his shoulder, the first piece of the armour. 

It felt right— like the power of a thousand suns starting to surge towards him.

He didn’t cry. 

He never did anymore.  

Because no matter how many universes he visited, how many battles he fought, how many versions of you he saved or lost, he knew one thing would never change:  

You would never be his again. 

Every time he closed his eyes, he saw you kissing Steve, your laughter echoing in his skull.

Why should they have happiness, when he was condemned to grieve for eternity?  

Why should any universe be allowed to thrive, when his own existence was empty, meaningless?  

He began by rearranging the pieces of your armour he had collected from the other universes. Each fragment gleamed with a faint, residual energy— remnants of the immense power you had wielded as the Catalyst. He spent weeks forging his own armour.

What started as just your shoulder pieces extended to more. 

He reforged the chest piece a version of you got from the Kree, then a gauntlet you ripped off of Thanos when the Infinity Stones had been destroyed. It grew and grew until every piece of him was covered in fragments of you.

When the work was done, he stood before a mirror, clad in the armour of his own making. It was a haunting reflection of yours, humming with fragment stolen power. He didn’t recognize the man staring back at him.  

“That’s the point,” he muttered to himself, almost annoyed.  

When the destruction started, the first universe fell quickly.  

Bucky tore through its defences like a force of nature, his new armour amplifying his strength and speed. He dismantled its protectors—heroes and villains alike—efficiently. He left the cities in ruins, their skies dark with smoke, their people screaming in terror.  

No one deserved peace when he couldn’t have it.  

—

Stephen Strange felt the disturbance immediately. The multiverse’s fragile threads started to unravel as Bucky’s rampage spread across realities. 

At first, Strange couldn’t believe it.  

Bucky Barnes, the man who had fought so hard to save the multiverse, was now its greatest threat.  

Strange had hoped that by guiding Bucky, he could break the cycle of grief and destruction. Instead, reversed it. 

James Buchanan Barnes was now The Catalyst.

— 

Strange arrived in a quiet, dimly lit apartment in yet another universe. The air was filled with the scent of coffee and rain, and the sound of your muffled sobs echoed through the space.  

Yet another version of you sat on the floor, clutching a photograph of Bucky—your James—to your chest. In this universe, he was gone, just as Strange had calculated. 

“Get out, Strange.” you demanded, your voice hoarse when Strange stepped through the portal into your living room. Your eyes were red and puffy, so utterly defeated.

Strange ignored the warning, stepping through the portal and onto the ceramic tiles of the apartment. His face was grim, his tone measured. He called your name to draw you out from the grief, even if only momentarily

“What do you want?” Your voice was raw, your patience long gone.  

“It’s not about what I want. It’s what the multiverse needs.”  

You finally looked up, your eyes sharp with exhaustion. You had been running on empty for months. You didn’t have Bucky here to hold you. To kiss you when you needed him to. To ground you in this existence. “The multiverse can save itself.”  

Strange’s expression softened, but only slightly. “If it could, I wouldn’t be here.”  

You scoffed, turning back to the photo of Bucky you cradled in your arms. “You’ve got the wrong person.”  

“I wish I had,” Strange said quietly.

The desperation in his tone made you pause. You set the photo down and leaned back, staring at the sorcerer with narrowed eyes. “What the hell are you talking about?”  

Strange hesitated for a moment before speaking. 

Then he said it: the beautiful name you haven’t heard in weeks— “it’s about Bucky.”

“Don’t,” you snapped, your voice a low growl.  

Strange pressed on, unflinching. “A version of him exists in another universe. But he’s not who you remember.”  

“What does that mean?”  

Strange conjured an image with a flick of his hand, the glowing strands of the multiverse twisting together to form a vision. It was him—but not your James. His face was twisted in anguish, his body surrounded by a swirling storm of energy. Planets crumbled in the distance, consumed by the raw power emanating from him.  

“He’s become the Catalyst,” Strange said, his voice heavy. “A being driven by grief, powerful enough to destroy entire worlds. If he’s not stopped, he’ll collapse the multiverse.”  

You stared at the image, his chest tightening. It wasn’t possible. Bucky was gone. He was dead.  

“You want me to go after him,” you said, your voice flat.  

Strange shook his head. “I want you to stop him. Talk to him. You’re the only one he might listen to.”  

“And if he doesn’t?”  

Strange’s gaze was unrelenting. “Then you’re the only one who stands a chance at killing him.”  

—

In the vast expanse of the multiverse, the roles have reversed but the tragedy remained unchanged. 

Somewhere, in a distant reality, Strange watched the threads of the timelines twist and tangle. He knew the truth, the one neither of you could see:  

That as long as one of you lost the other, the cycle would never break.

•

Back in Earth-616…

After some playful back and forth splashing, you both decided it was time to get out of the bath.

You stepped out first, shivering from the cool tile beneath your feet, grabbing a towel. Bucky followed, water dripping from his hair onto his chest.

He took the towel from your hands and draped it around your shoulders. He wrapped the fabric tightly around you, as if he was protecting you from whatever evil may want to reach you. 

Without warning, he pulled you into a hug. His lips brushed against your damp hair as you closed your eyes, sinking into the safety of his embrace.

After a while, you shifted in his arms, your hands finding another towel that hung from the wall behind him. 

The corners of your lips tugged up in a playful smile as you began patting him dry, earning a soft chuckle from your supersoldier boyfriend. He didn’t stop you— he never could when you insisted on taking care of him. 

So instead, he just watched you with that lovesick expression that made your heart do cartwheels. 

Neither of you spoke; you didn’t need to. His hand stroked lazily up and down your back, and your fingers traced patterns along the scars that marked his skin. 

As much as you hated seeing him hurt, you knew that he was safe. And that’s all that mattered. 

Because, in this universe, you were so blissfully unaware of the fragility of this peace, the fragility of your emotions. You remained unaware that in countless other universes, losing each other had broken you both. Unaware that in most other realities, there was no escape from the sadness that came with the death of one and not the other.

But in this one, none of that mattered. Because here, in this small bubble of love, you would keep each other grounded.

So as long as you both lived, you would stay blissfully unaware of the horrors your variants had to endure.

-end.

[phntxm]

Love Languages hcs n/sfw

} real world, the nsfw part is VERY short y-y characters; mr. gap & mr. scarletella

My beloved aka Mr. Gap

he’s annoying and cute (canon)

likes to surprise you but acts nonchalant about it

no worries about danger in an alley—he always keeps an eye on you, and no one would dare touch you (he scares them away first)

the dev said it’d be funny to make players say something like, "what do you mean you’re kind when you’ve caused so many game overs?" when he helps you and calls himself good/kind.

yeah, he’s silly like that (luv him)

his love languages are gift-giving, quality time, and physical touch

gift-giving: as much as he loves receiving things from you, he loves giving things to you too

quality time: he can appear anywhere, anytime. sometimes, he’ll only spend a short time with you before leaving to prank someone, but at the end of the day, he’ll always come back to you—often in surprising ways (like appearing under your bed or blanket)

physical touch: the moment he reached his arms out to hug the mc, I was screaming—he’s so cute! I thought he’d be the type to dislike being touched, but he reached out first, so yeah

Mr. Scarletella

most of the main characters are born as ghosts, and since they’re born from people’s beliefs (similar to Rise of the Guardians), if people don’t believe in them, they can’t be seen

at first, I headcanoned him as asexual since he’s more of a phenomenon than a person, but this is a romantic horror game, so...

he learns about love by watching human lovers, but he’s still bad at it, and his love is twisted, so his actions aren’t exactly normal

in Japan, it’s common for guys to be shy and for girls to confess their feelings first

the scene where he says "me like you" follows a moment where we give him a gift and he says, "you like me" this can be interpreted as us confessing love to him first

the word "together" (一緒に), if I’m not wrong, can imply romantic feelings. Saying you’re going to do something together can lead someone to think you have feelings for them

physical touch: he imitates what he thinks humans consider romantic—holding hands, staying close to each other, etc.

words of affirmation: honestly, the only thing you’d probably need to say to him is to tell him to stfu already

acts of service & gift-giving: he lures someone with his illusions to lead them to his territory, just so you can hunt them down. he also helps you cover the evidence if needed and offers human prey as a gift for you

quality time: bros been spending his time stalking you since the very beginning

nsfw;

Mr. Gap

dacryphilia

if you being stressed and cry, he'd be worries, but on the bed is other thingggg broo

TEASES A LOT

like both verbally and physically with your body

orgasm denial, he enjoys keeping you on edge

likes to appear at the edge of your bed at night, crawling from your toes up to your body

appear under your blanket to fingering u

bro MIGHT just be really good at fingering

Mr. Scarletella

somnophilia

I think mr. crawling would be into this too but the different is, mr.crawling he lets you know and ensures you both consent, on other hand, mr. scarletella just does it cuz he wants

role play master-servant but he's the servant

into spanking and bl00d play too but he's M not S

[corseque]

On the scale of 1 (Rise of Skywalker) to 10 (Shadowbringer/Endwalker), where would you place Veilguard?

critical post

I’ve burst into enraged tears like 5 times since I finished it, which is not nearly even close to as many times as Rise of Skywalker, but still 5 times too many. Just the shallowness of the writing, the obviousness, the incredible frustration at the simplicity, the ignoring so much of my favorite character in order to make a stupidly simple plot work, the horrendous time I had trying to ignore Rook’s annoying stupid fuckass pov while just trying to self-insert myself into the end of my favorite fictional character of all time’s story after waiting 10 years. I screamed in frustration that I had to hear the painfully obvious commentary these brand newcomer characters who I did not give a shit about, explaining to me like a toddler how I should feel about revelations I have been writing about for 10 years, especially when what they were saying was stupid as fuck. I cried at the thought of so many cutscenes and so much effort went into stories I found very forgettable and went nowhere, while they were able to only scrounge up like 10 total animated shots reuniting Solas and Lavellan. I mourn that I could not make any decisions in a BioWare game. I mourn Solas’ story so much, and probably will for years. I will never get over the way they talked down to him and never listened to him for even a second, lest they actually have to write a branching path into their game. I hate that the theme was regret but Rook regrets nothing ever so (shrugs) regret doesn’t affect them or mean anything to them. I mourn the loss of the voice and point of view of his people, the ones he was fighting for, the ones who are alive. I mourn that it turns out that he’s just a stupid feral dog who is 100% wrong about everything always and he always has been from the beginning of time. I cried that the game said the answer was that Solas should NOT try to help his people and they never even discussed it as a philosophical question or the ethics of it or anything, or playing as a character so dense they never once even wondered if accidentally freeing the gods killed more people overall than the veil coming down would have. (We avoided this question like the plague, lest we feel less like purely Good Heroes who could talk down to the gods with righteous fury). I mourn that I’m never going to know what would have happened without the Veil. I feel so stupid for thinking that elves or spirits as factions would appear in any capacity with lines and perspectives in this game. I’m so angry at how safe and smoothed over everything in the setting is, and how it felt like the main characters never struggled with anything and have nothing to say. I can’t believe Dragon Age is so shallow and unsatisfying and head-empty. I mourn that the story of Dragon Age is Over to me and I will never play another game.

I’ve also cried a few times at the completely separated and individual imagery and music in the last scene. I’ve cried that my favorite character didn’t die in any world after 10 years of being at death’s door. I’ve cried at the thought of him being a little worm spirit, and that I was right about him the whole time. I cried when activating Felassan’s crystal in the final fight and seeing all the buffs. I cried when I turned the page and realized the default inquisitor was exactly the same as my personal Lavellan, down to hair style, eye color, hair color, vallaslin removed. I cried when I realized Solas thought he should have died as a spirit rather than be born. I cried that the main story Dragon Age has been telling the whole time has been about the reconciliation and freeing of my favorite fictional character. I cried that Solas and Lavellan got married in the end, when I genuinely wasn’t expecting either of them to even be alive. They’re both still alive and in love in every single world. I can’t wrap my head around that.

I have no idea where to put it. It’s a few high highs but some intolerably low fucking lows. It could have been so much worse but the bar is on the fucking floor. I go back and forth between moderate enjoyment to just being so angry. It could have been so much more and I do not know who to bite for it.

I have no idea.

[beleester]

I love journaling RPGs and Hollow Knight, so I gave this one a whirl.

We're starting in an Abandoned Village, for that soulslike feel. Obstacles are Steep Cliffs, Angry Ghosts, and Breakable Palisades. Legend says that the villagers held off an invading army, with the help of a wandering spearmaster. It has 7 areas.

Area 1: Burned Gate. 5 enemies, no secret, 2 exits.

Area 2: Wrecked Gatehouse. 5 enemies guard an unblocked relic - a sturdy Guard's Shield. 2 exits.

Area 3: Village Street. 3 enemies, a blocked secret (treasure in a barricaded house), and 2 exits.

Area 4: Mineshaft Entrance. A friend! Also a blocked clue and 4 exits. One of those exits is to a new environment, the others lead to the last 3 locations in the village. But for now, let's hear what the survivor has to say.

The Old Miner cackles as he recognizes a foolish adventurer. Lots of people died for what's in that mine, but they never could keep it. Not even the lords with all their armies could. The ghosts are all that's left now.

Desire: Despite his bravado, he's clearly afraid. Maybe if you clear out the monsters from the nearby Miner's House to give him a safe place, he'll warm up to you enough to share more.

Task: If you insist on going down there, find out what happened to his grandson. The foolish boy ran deeper into the mines when the soldiers came close, and didn't come back.

Area 5: Miner's House. 4 enemies, a blocked clue (Miner's Diary in a locked chest), 3 exits (back to mines and to the last 2 areas)

I now have 11 XP (3 location, 5 areas, Miner's story and desire). Let's say we found bombs in the Miner's House, which let us open up the mineshaft and other breakable obstacles.

New location discovered: Glowing Mines. A cavern lit by multicolored glowing crystals. Obstacles are Flooded Tunnels, Unstable Magic, and Hungry Kobolds. It's unclear how the kobolds got into the mines - there must be other entrances. Rumor says that they're looting the place at the command of a great dragon deep underground. 5 areas.

I'm going to stop here. It plays pretty well, but there's only so many areas I can name in one sitting.

"Include one legend you've heard about it" is a great touch - it encourages you to come up with some big lore elements to build a story around.

Rolling for the number of occupants is pretty unremarkable, unless you roll a friend. One in four areas should have friends, so I found roughly the average number.

It would make more sense to put "Map it" after you roll the room's contents. That way you know what sort of area you're describing (e.g., a room with lots of exits might be a main plaza, a room with 1 exit and a treasure is a side room).

The feature I'd most want, if you ever try to expand this, is a way to generate boss encounters. Doesn't have to be a lot of detail, but they're such a defining feature of soulslikes and metroidvanias that it seems a shame to leave them out. Maybe fit them into the occupants roll somehow?

200 Word RPGs 2024

Each November, some people try to write a novel. Others would prefer to do as little writing as possible. For those who wish to challenge their ability to not write, we offer this alternative: producing a complete, playable roleplaying game in two hundred words or fewer.

This is the submission thread for the 2024 event, running from November 1st, 2024 through November 30th, 2024. Submission guidelines can be found in this blog's pinned post, here.

[lexirosewrites]

I might b getting a cold tht is making me tired but I have a single idea I wanted to send in before I succumb

O!Steve is the God of Children & Protection, his temples r often safe havens for orphans or run aways, first time mothers pray both to O!Joyce the Goddess of Parenthood & War AND Steve the God of Children & Protection for an easy delivery & a healthy child

Steve loves walking hidden behind a glamor among mortals, especially on his festival days, he takes many forms but enjoys running with other young children as if he is one of them, his statues & mosaics & paintings depict him most often as a youthful omega with broad shoulders & eyes like stars wearing a type of clothing tht is worn by children till they come of age

It is on one of his festival days tht he meanders into the city of Hawkins from the woods as if he is a traveler come to give offerings to his own temple, he walks the streets enjoying the sounds of children laughing as they receive free treats & new toys from the priests & priestesses of every temple but especially his, one child runs into him & he stops them from apologizing by pulling out from seemingly thin air something the child had wanted but wasn't being offered among the toys, a book of mathematics. The child is gleeful & when he looks up from the book to thank the stranger (Steve) he is gone. Several more children end up getting gifts directly from Steve throughout the day, an older brother gets a slingshot while his little sister gets a sweet treat not offered at any of the stalls, a red headed girl is given a board of wood crafted w 4 wheels to replace the one she'd broken by accident (she never told this traveler abt her broken board) & her friend who's a resident of Steve's temple is gifted a necklace of finest carved wooden beads after Steve winks at her when she almost blows his cover after immediately seeing beyond his glamor. A timid boy w an unfortunate haircut is given drawing tools & materials. A snarky boy who reminds Steve of a huntress he once loved is gifted a book of various stories from around the land while his much younger sister clutches the cat doll Steve gives her tht she promptly names Cheese.

There's great fanfare as the festival reaches its main event, Steve is curious since every village/town/city does something different for this event. The city of Hawkins puts on a story contest each year tht is judged by the children's response. This year someone steps up last to tell their tale who Steve instantly recognizes as not mortal. This person's tale is decidedly dark & scary & it details some sort of future wherein the God of Children & Protection is to submit to the God of Darkness & Monsters who oversees the world of the monsters & shadows & forced to become his wife. The temple objects loudly to this tale, shouting tht Steve is a virgin God who swore off marriage & courtship & mating when a foolish mortal huntress played w his heart hundreds of years ago, to which the stranger responds he is merely telling the tale of what he wanted, a tale he will make true no matter what it'll take & when the ppl try to get the stranger to leave the stage the stranger suddenly begins to morph & change shape till he towers above the crowd with horns like a crown, claws instead of fingers & alpha fangs larger than is possible.

This is Vecna the God of Darkness & Monsters who is said to never leave his domain of shadows. He proclaims he will lay low the temple tht houses the orphans & run aways of the city & nearby villages tht he will even slaughter the children if he must till Steve appears to him & comes w him as his bride

Steve is abt to reveal himself & jump to protect the children the God is aiming to swipe his claws at when a man runs forward from the crowd brandishing a string instrument tht he uses to knock away the attempted attack, this man then also morphs & changes. The man is now crowned w a wreath upon his head tht reveals him to b a God tht had newly arrived to their land whose cult was still growing without any temples or altars, he has no name tht the humans or others in the Pantheon know, simply taking up the epitaph of the God of Indulgence & Storytelling. This new God bares his own Alpha fangs & declares he would not sit idly by while such a God of Monsters told a tale only meant to scare another into submission.

Then it is pandemonium as a clash btwn Deities begins. The ppl r evacuating the area, many adults prioritizing the children while Steve's temple is also cleared of ppl & Steve feels an anger simmering in his stomach tht boils over when he sees the boy tht he'd given the mathematics book to trip over a rock & begin calling desperately for his mother as she's swept away by the tide of panicking bodies. It explodes when he sees the boy with the slingshot carrying his sister on his back trying to help the mathematics boy up & away. Then Steve cannot contain himself as the little girl who he gave a doll is clutching it & crying as she has also clearly lost her family in the chaos & is does not know where to go.

Steve is charging forward shedding his glamor & pulling from within his clothes a long metal weapon w sharp spikes at the tip. He cuts short an attempted swipe from Vecna aimed at the stomach of the other Deity tht jumped to the children's defense. The alpha God snarls & finds himself out numbered. He continues to fight on two fronts for four days & four nights till Steve calls upon the leader of the Pantheon to intervene in Vecnas disregard for his banishment. Vecna tries to grab Steve around the wrist as he begins to retreat to his world of shadows & monsters but the new God intervenes again as the sky rumbles w the approach of Hopper the God of Justice & Storms, essentially breaking Vecnas own wrist. Then Vecna has retreated & Steve's ire is cooling as he turns to see the destruction wrought by a clash of Deities.

The mortals seem to all b safe, especially the children. The temples r untouched but other buildings have been felled. Steve turns to thank the other God for interfering when he did, but he finds this new God sunk to the ground clutching at a wound on his stomach. Steve is at his side as a grim faced Hopper descends with a furious Joyce at his side, Steve is afraid to touch in case the wound is made worse. This new God's condition begins to worsen till Murray the God of Politics & Love appears with little fanfare telling Steve to simply hold him & let this alpha God scent him.

Steve feels a deep pull within him at Murray's words & as he gathers this new God within his arms he feels a warm light blooming wherever they touch. As Steve cradles his head near his neck the scent he exudes causes a response from the other & when they pull apart to look at eachother without the threat of battle all wounds r healed. Without thought the God of Indulgence & Storytelling then tells Steve his name, Eddie.

Eddie asks to court Steve without a thought to the Deities & gathering mortals around them. Steve heartily agrees.

Hundreds of years from tht battle art depicts Steve the God of Children & Protection embracing his husband & consort Eddie the God of Indulgence & Storytelling

OH YES DELIGHTFUL🥰🥰🥰

[kotonni]

Ok this might be a stretch but after act 2 I was so curious to see why Jayce had looked upon Viktor like that

It wasn't fear, not exactly, upon seeing Viktor in a divine sort of position I could only describe Jayce's gaze as awed.

Of course, before the third act came out, the popular theory of "Jayce is stuck in a time loop and has killed Viktor many times before" explained a lot about his behavior but not about this look. Why would he look so shaken if this isn't his first time seeing him?

Now that the show is over I do believe we might have an answer and of course the answer is given to us in this scene.

When Cait mentions Viktor, forcing Jayce to confront that more than Ambessa, the greatest threat to their lives and Piltover is Viktor himself, Jayce thinks back to that first meeting after the time skip.

Of course we know at this point that there was no time loop. This is indeed the first time Jayce sees Viktor as the herald, and Viktor's reaction to seeing Jayce for the first time after months has been distorted in Jayce's own memories.

In his mind Viktor smiles at him. Although he is about to kill him, from Jayce's perspective, Viktor's first look at him after months of being separated is one of pure affection.

During his time in the arcane he was forced to undergo contidions that directly reflect Viktor's own upbringing, but let's not forget he was also haunted by such visions:

Making Mel's image dissappear only to be replaced by Viktor's is extremely symbolic, this is not Jayce obsessing over Viktor and his actions, instead we are directly told that not only is Jayce's relationship with Viktor of the same sort as his relationship with Mel, Viktor is quite literally replacing his former lover.

We could talk about the constant parallels between Mel and Viktor for days, but I believe my last point is backed up even further by propably the most evident mirror shot of the two of them:

appearing again during Viktor's conversation with Jayce:

This is very clearly a POV shot of Viktor from Jayce's own eyes, although it is Viktor talking, the images we see are from Jayce remembering their first meeting which, of course, was fated to happen.

With this established and going back to my main point, I believe upon seeing Viktor for the first time in months, who is gazing down at him with a smile on his face, and after being forced to confront his feelings for Viktor, Jayce looks up at him with love.

This is his own realization that they are in fact meant to find one another in every timeline.

[venuslarkspur]

Teen Hero Shenanigans

Part 1

Jon My Love, There’s A New Batgirl.

Summary: Your Damian’s Twin Sister, after arriving 3 years after your brother so you never excepted to take the Robin mantle, until your brother runs away and you volunteer to take his place. Damian eventually returns and you are discharged from the role, after bottling up your anger you decide to go solo by running away and stealing the Batgirl. But your not alone, your sort of boyfriend joins you. The main problem is the boyfriend in question is your brother’s best friend, Jon Kent.

Pairing: Just Jon Kent x Batsis!Reader on this one. Mentions of platonic Jason and reader.

Notes: it’s not proofread so I’m so sorry if there’s any mistakes 😭

Warnings: Undertones of Misogyny, mentions of Talia being overprotective, Teen Runaways.

Words: 1.4k

————————

You weren’t sure if you had heard your father right, all you knew right now is that you had to get as far away as possible. You ignored your father calling out to you and ran out that office, you felt your dinner coming up. You clenched your stomach and your mind relapsed. It brought back bad memories from your time with your grandfather, being pinned against Damian and being chosen as the inferior twin. That’s why you weren’t the heir, that’s why you weren’t Robin first. And that’s why your currently sprinting you way through the house, Cass had called out to you and you felt dreadful for ignoring her but you you couldn’t take this right now. You were displaced, again.

One thing led to another and you were stood in the bat cave, staring at all the costumes behind the glass. There were so many, but only one caught your eye. Barbara’s purple and yellow Batgirl costume. Maybe it was the Lazarus Pit trauma talking but suddenly your picking up the nearest object and smashing the glass, suddenly your putting the costume on and grabbing your phone from your room. Suddenly you’re jumping out your window and hopping the fence; you wished you’d had at least told Jason or even Cass what your game was, but it’s not like there would be much explain; your instinct just acted for you. And it felt good to hop over buildings in costume and punching a few noses on the way, as of right now you were snapping off your boyfriend’s window lock, and your feet hit the ground with a creak. Jon wasn’t there but you looked at the time on your phone which read 18:05, he must of still been having dinner. So you waited for 5 minutes and in true Wayne family fashion sat there on his bed, reading one of his textbooks; until you heard footsteps outside the door but continued on reading.

The door opened and you sat up straight and met eyes with the person you’d hoped to see, “Y/n? Is that you?” Jon eyes widened, many questions floating around his head. You slipped the mask off and got up and met him, “We need to whisper, and shut the door please.” You tried to say as politely as possible, he got the message and gently shut the door. “I heard…so it’s true that Damian’s back.” He inferred as you led him to sit down with you on the bed, you sat down and took his hands in yours. “I was happy but judging by this costume, did Batman fire you?” You nodded at him and looked down in shame, but he quickly brought your chin back up. “He told me I was discharged, but I’m sure that’s just a gentler term for fired.” You sighed, and as mad as you felt you saw this as an opportunity to join his lips to yours for what might be the last time. You slowly moved in and connected your lips to his, he sensed the urgency and moved in as well but didn’t quite understand the rush.

You stayed that way for a while, but slowly moved away as he popped another question. “What’s actually wrong?” He asked and you felt bad because right now he looked like a sad puppy, but you couldn’t drag him down with you. Not to mention you had to be more careful with Damian’s return. “I’m sorry but I think I’m gonna tough it out on my own for a while.” You took your hands away from his and instantly missed the warmth. He looked at you as if you’d just told him his whole family died. “You’ve actually lost it if you think I’m letting you go off on your own.” He took his hands back into yours. “If think you need to do this- I’m not gonna act like I’m not happy about it but if I can’t stop you I’m gonna join you.” You both stay that way for a while, and reality sinks in at last. “I can’t let you, your parents won’t forgive me not to mention Damian will feel so betrayed I’m just not sure..” you whisper as if not wanting anything to change but it’s already too late, everything’s changed.

“Sorry Batgirl you can’t stop me, I couldn’t forgive myself if something happened to you, not to mention the wrath of your brothers, jeez..” He blushes and on a more serious note you accept his proposal. “Okay we can set up base at the outskirts I think, I know a place.” You stand up and reapply your mask, he follows and asks “Are you nervous?” You grin and if you could look at yourself right now you’d probably remind yourself of your twin brother. “Nope, nobody’s taking us down and if they try they won’t try and come back for another round.” You give him one last peck before sliding past the window sill again. “Gather what you need, speak to who you need, I’ll be on the rooftop when you’re ready.” You smile at each other before slipping onto the roof without a sound.

You made a point to ignore the countless notifications on your phone, only messaging Damian with an unhelpful “Im okay.”

————————

You knew just where you both wouldn’t be found, it probably would of been ideal to just ask to make your team but not only would that expose your relationship, it would also make family reunions really awkward. You weren’t really thinking at all, you knew a warehouse you could operate from for the time being. It was where you and Jason trained for a bit, you had fond memories of being taken for ice cream afterwards and a ride on the back of his bike. It was nice to have someone look out for you, so much effort went into training Damian when you were young children, your grandfather tried to believe in you but knew ultimately Damian would be the heir. Which created so many insecurities, well right now you weren’t much better running off with his friend but as you saw it you needed to pave your way as well.

Talia hadn’t even wanted you to leave, you had to run away to escape your overly pampered life; and it took Bruce insisting you stay to get her to return home; but she still promised you’d eventually return to her. As much as you had wanted to lecture her on her overly protective behaviour you also wanted her approval. Sure she would be happy you were rebelling against your father, but would she approve of you doing it this way? Would she approve of Jon? Who was currently flying you both to the warehouse. You wanted to be validated and that you hated the most.

You didn’t feel like being alone tonight either, you knew there was an abandoned flat above the warehouse but you and Jason had never gone up there. But you didn’t mind if it was a 1 bed situation, if anything it would help to have someone to hold. Worse case scenario you’re both found sharing a bed and your brothers lost their shit. As long as you both are fully clothed at the time nothing too bad should happen.

And it felt like the most natural thing ever, patrolling together, the thugs being confused wondering when you two became an item. Turning them into the nearby station, avoiding cctv and you going to your new makeshift home as if it was the most normal thing ever. You had set up your own mini crime alert on Jon’s laptop and found ways to charge your devices. You even managed to spruce up the warehouse and upstairs apartment a bit, thank goodness Jon was raised normally and knew how to cook because you couldn’t cook to save your life.

But naturally your respective families began to put the pieces together, and soon enough Oracle was watching.

Taglist: @waterwyne @venusmorning

(If you want to be added please let me know <3)

[angevinyaoiz]

Was compelled by these tags but I wanted to put my personal analysis here! Trying to keep it strictly based on the events of the movie and not on pure speculation or external historical stuff, bc I think they do a LOT of interesting things in this short scene and what it implies about the Richard and Philip and Henry (and Louis) relationship dynamics.

I think because this happened right after his back and forth with Henry where Philip felt like he was getting somewhere until Henry did his whole smug ass "Haha I win I squeezed all the information out of you ;D goodnight!" It made him jump out of his more calculated "facts and logic" mode and into a more deeper sense of his burning resentment and inferiority complex, hence the whole "you made my father nothing...and then you made him love you for it" speech. Love is kind of established as a sign of weakness and submission, even if in this case it's not in a romantic context. Louis is a "loving man" who (in the world of TLIW) gets taken advantage of by Pushy men like Henry and Philip is frustrated with that weakness. And so when Henry smugly reveals he was just probing Philip for info, Philip feels like he is "losing" and being demeaned again and so decides to pull out his secret weapon.....His Super Special Scandalous Information jfjdif to throw more fuel on the fire.

Course the main thing is Henry isn't even that scandalized like you said ("Richard finds his way into so many legends, let's hear yours" and in the play after the telling he's just like "I've heard better" lmfao...3 out of 5 stars. Also let's not forget he's also a boydiddler too from his speech to Alais in the opening scene. The royal corkscrew is NOT easily shocked!!). Philip is playing an interesting paradox where he's basically framing Richard as the Older Predatory type taking advantage of him, but also Richard is simultaneously Pathetic and weak at the same time for caring so much about not just sex presumably but wanting to be loved and desired. Philip also casts himself as the Victim in this scenario, as the younger, innocent and un-desiring party, but also positions himself as being the strong-willed clear-headed one where it's like "yes I succumbed ...but NOT because I was too Weak to Resist or out of Fear but because it was my Genius Long Game Plan All Along."

Why does he do this??? I would say like earlier, it was kind of his last card to play in their battle of wills, and allowed him to feel like he had a one-up on Henry after Henry had been smugly putting him down the whole day. I feel the purpose of this is similar to Eleanor's outburst about fucking Henry's father later in the film. Where it really doesn't do anything helpful for her, since he just leaves to do his thing. but in the moment is an emotional weapon that she knows will hurt him. Also there's something fun and cathartic about both Philip and Eleanor's outbursts where after a long day of conniving they really relish in talking about Being Bad in a more straightforward way. For Philip it does end up being helpful in that it sets the ball rolling to reveal all the sonbetrayals in the room and gets the feelings all heightened and sows distrust amongst the family.

Also, to get a bit more speculative, but still basing strictly off what is in the earlier scenes: in the end we don't know the truth of what happened between him and Richard in the forest during the event that he recounted, or what his true feelings are. I personally feel what is implied from his earlier interactions with Richard is that there was a sincere emotional connection, and that they did both miss each other during their time apart. There's implied also a little frustration on Philip's part over Richard not keeping contact and maintaining their friendship after the marriage. But also I sort of interpret it as he wanted to reframe the story in his mind as well, maybe to himself, in a way where he comes out of it feeling like he had control over the situation, especially if their encounters were really as dubiously consensual as he implies it as being. If he did love Richard at some point, that would mean he was the one being "weak" like his father, and so to be strong and be a man and respected ruler ("No man's boy" as he keeps Insisting Very Hard in public the whole movie), he can't afford to indulge in affection the same way. The sexual element just adds another layer that, viewing both from the medieval and 1960s homophobia POV, is already assumed to be deviant and something to distance one's self from. If having the affair with Richard was only A Genius Plan to Sabotage Henry all along, with only Disgust and No Real Feelings of Affection Ever, then he can manage to wiggle out of being implicated or having any responsibility for Sodomybehaviors while pinning all the shame onto Richard (and by extension, Henry.)

So the motivation I can see as being a mix of being mad at the history of Henry overpowering his father and belittling him, being conflicted with Richard for either 1) taking advantage of him back then or 2) having had maybe for real a pleasant affair but getting ghosted 3) most likely a mix of the two. Whatever the case, his main goal was to destabilize Henry and it fit into that goal, so he just poured some extra oil on the fire I guess XD

*in some ways, it's a very 60s homophobia more than a medieval kind, since I feel in early and medieval era there's nothing that would feel off about intense emotional, borderline romantic love between men if expressed in specific socially approved venues. but in modern times even emotional affection is an expression of weakness and timidity, or if a sign of a separate lesser identity being revealed, as how it is portrayed in this movie. The sexual element as deviant is important to the luridity but the part Philip emphasizes as particularly shameful is the vulnerability of asking for love from a man and wanting it returned.

a king like you has policy prepared on everything. well, what’s the official line on sodomy? how stands the crown on boys who do with boys?

THE LION IN WINTER 1968 | dir. anthony harvey

[lurkingshan]

Hey Shan!! IDK if you're planning to do a BL wrap up or superlatives or anything like that this year so this question might be a bit too early but um...what has been a few of your favorite first watches for 2024 bls?

Hi Eboni! This is actually pretty good timing for a list because most of the shows that will end within 2024 are already over! The only two I could see maybe making my list that have not ended yet are Love is Like a Poison (Japan) and Blue Canvas of Youthful Days (China), so I'll mention them here (fingers crossed they end well and stay favs).

That said, here are my favorite completed BLs of 2024 (alpha order)!

At 25:00 in Akasaka (Japan, Gaga)

Two actors who first met in college are cast in a bl together, old feelings resurface, and the lines between their professional and private lives start to blur. This show is super beautiful and moody.

Cooking Crush (Thailand, YouTube or WeTV for uncut)

Ten and Prem are my favorite of OffGun's many couples. Ten is a med student with food issues who wants to learn how to cook, and Prem is a chef in training. Their romance is super sweet and I also really like the side couple and friend groups in this one.

Cherry Magic Thailand (Thailand, YouTube or Viu, requires VPN)

I still can't believe this show happened. How on earth did GMMTV manage to make a superior version of Cherry Magic?? Tay Tawan had a lot to do with it, along with a very smart adaptation. It's so sweet and funny and perfect (if you just pretend ep 8 doesn't exist).

City of Stars (Thailand, iQIYI)

I was surprised by how much I liked this charming little Thai pulp. It had an interesting story with strong writing and the pair was very good together. More people should watch it!

I Became the Main Role of a BL Drama (Japan, Gaga)

This is a short and sweet and note perfect BL comedy about two actors falling for each other while making a BL. Loaded with meta jokes about the industry and stan culture and very loving about it.

Knock Knock Boys (Thailand, Gaga)

I am obsessed with this excellent Thai BL that not nearly enough people watched. Two couples, both compelling and sexy and fun, and amazing friendship dynamics. I want everyone to watch it!

Let Free the Curse of Taekwondo (S Korea, iQIYI)

My top BL of the year. It's a second chance romance, you see the characters both in high school and later as adults and I don't really want to spoil anything else about it. It's beautiful, the characters are so compelling, and the story is masterfully told.

Love for Love's Sake (S Korea, iQIYI)

This one is special and quite unique, and I also don't want to spoil much about it! It begins with a basic isekai set up that then goes to some unexpected places. Really, really beautiful show.

Love Sea (Thailand, iQIYI)

Definitely my favorite spicy romance of the year. I really loved a lot about the story for this one, in particular the class dynamics that defined the characters and their relationship, and Mahasamut (played by Fort) is on my list of favorite drama characters this year.

Marahuyo Project (Philippines, YouTube)

We didn't get much from the Philippines this year, but they did drop one absolute banger in this show about a fierce and proud gay kid who gets booted out of school in Manila and sent to live with his grandma and mother on a small island. He makes friends and enemies and starts an LGBTQ+ club, and falls in love along the way.

Mr Mitsuya's Planned Feeding (Japan, fansub)

An excellent age gap romance about a young editor and the chef who writes for his magazine making food together and falling in love. Lots of fun side characters, too. I loved every minute of this show.

Perfect Propose (Japan, Gaga)

Two old friends meet when one of them is in need of housing and one is on the verge of a nervous breakdown from a soul-sucking corporate job, and help each other heal. This one is short and sweet.

Ossan's Love Returns (Japan, Gaga)

This one is technically a sequel, but you can enjoy it without having seen the original (and might like it better that way, tbh). One of the funniest shows of the year and featuring a main couple that is a personal fav and are now on my ride or die list.

Takara's Treasure (Japan, Gaga)

This one is a simple story but so, so sweet. A cute little bean follows his mysterious idol to university and joins the hiking club to get to know him better. They get to know each other slowly and fall in love.

Unknown (Taiwan, Viki)

ALMOST my favorite bl of the year, but we had a few issues on the back end. Despite that, I still loved it a whole lot. A family drama and a love story about two chosen brothers whose relationship changes over time. Easily the best BL Taiwan made this year.

Looking at this list, I am realizing how absolutely invaluable my Gaga and iQIYI subscriptions have become; it's where nearly all my favorite BL is airing.

[mossy-aro]

Aspec Video Essay Masterpost

This is a resource masterpost intending to compile together the video essays pertaining to asexuality and aromanticism and affiliated topics online! I'm only going to be including videos that are 15+ minutes long (to qualify as a 'video essay') - of course if anyone has suggestions please feel free to contribute! This is a community project!

Compulsory Sexuality, Comphet & Asexual Alienation by Evie Lupine - slightly less of a video essay and more chatty but she does talk about academic articles on compulsory sexuality. She also did a podcast episode with @theacecouple (here: Asexuality and Kink ft. Evie Lupine) which was very interesting!

Amatonormativity by Tara Mooknee - one I've recced on here before! Definitely a bit 101 and aimed at an allo audience but still worth a watch!

The hell of "sad singles" set ups & the need for found family by Bryony Claire - sent to me! I'm afraid I haven't seen it yet.

is love a social construct? by oliSUNvia - recommended to me by a friend! Again, I haven’t watched it yet but I know pertains to the wider discourse around romantic love + amatonormativity.

Are Aromantic and Asexual Representation Queer Enough? (Buddy Daddies) by VIKA - I haven't seen this series but it's an aspec reading / analysis on the main relationship in the show!

Rowan Ellis has a few here:

the chronically online state of asexual discourse - I've recced this one before on this blog and I still highly recommend it!

The Rise of Asexual Representation

They've also done an interview with Alice Oseman about aspec representation but it's more of a discussion than a video essay, so I haven't included it.

Spacey Aces (their entire channel is dedicated to discussing aspec topics so check that out if that interests you!) - most of their content is more chat/101 focused and not so much video essay-y but I've picked two which I think qualify:

A-specs vs Amatonormative Media (and the world)

Lavender Marriage | a history of purple and relationship anarchy in the queer community

David J Bradley has quite a few essays, here:

Alone. Not Alive. | A Queer Reading Of Company

Sherlock Holmes: Asexual Icon

That One Time House Cured Asexuality

Maybe You Haven't Met The Right Person Yet | An Asexual Video Essay

Asexuals and Sex - more of an explanatory 101 video but still felt like I should include it!

Meghan Sandor has some here:

Polyamory, Relationship Anarchy & Queerplatonic Partnerships: Are They Really the Same Thing?

Asexuality and Kink: Why Do So Many Aces Love It?

[notjustjavierpena]

Inés just broke something in the house, what does hubby and wife say????

Mess (Drabble)

Series Masterpost | Main Masterpost | Support a disabled creator

A/N: Such a fun writing project, tysm. I missed them terribly! 

Summary: Inés breaks a lamp. Javier has the scare of his life.

Pairing: Javier Peña x f!reader/you (no y/n)

Tags: Family dynamics, Javier POV, fluff, hurt/comfort, i write to fix my own trauma 

Word count: 1.8k

Link to this work on AO3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/52937182/chapters/137384134

Mess

The stack of folded clothes is growing taller whilst the laundry basket on the double bed is emptying out. Javier is enjoying a weekend with time to get housework done before midterms begin at the local college. He is nervous about guiding his students through the exams for the first time since starting his job as a teacher, feeling like he has only just begun his life as an educator and the responsibilities are overwhelming. You’ve sweetly encouraged him each time he’s voiced his concerns to you, told him that his class is lucky to have him whenever he has mumbled about nerves over dishes or during goodnight kisses. 

With your support, he has found that prepping for the exams is best done accompanied by mindless work and he has gone through several tasks on the list saved in his head; groceries have been bought, gutters have been cleaned, and two full baskets of children’s clothes have been washed and dried. He doesn’t want to admit to you that he thinks about the theories behind criminal behavior while folding Sebastian’s tiny socks. 

You are outside with the boys, enjoying the last months of your pregnancy with a book in your lap, laying in the hammock under the large trees. He checks on the three of you often, spotting that you have put down the book as you sway gently to substitute it with watching your children with a hand on your rounded belly. Lucas smiles brightly as he has Sebastian waddling hurriedly after him on the newly mowed grass. The soles of their feet will be green when they come inside later, marking the floorboards that he has just vacuumed but he doesn’t mind. It is evidence of fun, of love and joy. Messes equals life.

Inés is the only one who refuses to go outside. Her giggles and chatter floated up the stairs not too long again, blending with her little feet making the floorboards creak as she paced around with her hobby horse. It offers a rare kind of comfort to be able to hear her having fun while he packs clothes away into dressers and drawers. 

Until he doesn’t hear it anymore. Instead, it is a sudden crash that comes from downstairs and makes Javier tense up. He freezes to listen for her voice calling for him but only silence follows the loud noise. 

“Inés?” He calls. No answer. The t-shirt that he is in the middle of folding falls to the bed and his heartbeat quickens. 

He walks to the open door of the bedroom, grabs the doorframe, and leans out of it to listen again. He calls her name a second time, this time a little louder and more insistently, but there’s still no response. 

In his chest, his heart has started to pound enough for him to be able to hear it in his ears. Many thoughts go through his head at the sound of silence from the living room, firstly images of broken furniture but then finally the picture of his daughter who has fallen and hit her head. Why hadn’t he paid closer attention to her? Why hadn’t he checked on her sooner? 

He is out the door before he even realizes that he is moving, barrelling down the stairs and taking it two steps at a time. Fuck, maybe he could have prevented disaster if he had gone downstairs the second she had gone quiet. He raises his voice without thinking, knuckles whitening as he grips the banister, “Inés? Answer me now!”

When he stumbles into the living room, he first notices the broken lamp, a shattered bulb lying beside the ceramic base on the wooden floor but with no blood on the shards. Next to it, Inés’ hobby horse lies discarded like it has been thrown in a panicked hurry. He furrows his brow, scanning the room to find her. 

When he spots her through the doorway to the dining room, crouched down under the table, relief floods him. She isn’t hurt, no sign of even a scratch on her, but then he sees the way she has her knees pulled up to her chest and her eyes are fixated on the broken lamp. 

She’s scared not of the crash, he realizes, but of him; his shouting, his loud footsteps, the way he had said her name. She looks like she is bracing herself for trouble - more specifically the anger and disappointment in his voice - and she’s covering her ears with little, trembling hands in a way that is unsuccessful in keeping out noise. The sight of her terrified face makes Javier remember the feeling of being unfairly scolded for accidents horribly well, and his heart sinks.

He walks calmly into the dining room, not even thinking about the broken lamp anymore, and kneels on the floor. With his hands on his thighs, he takes a deep breath to steady himself, “Inés, I’m not mad at you. I just want to know if you’re okay, baby.”

His daughter lifts her gaze to meet his eyes. His chest constricts at the sight of the tears in Inés’ wide eyes, threatening to fall down her cheeks. She looks like a deer caught in the headlights of a car, still immovable. 

“Are you hurt?” He asks softly. 

“I didn’t mean to break it,” she answer in a whisper and shakes her head. She’s always so bold, hilarious, and mischievous but she’s so clearly hiding from him, trying to decide if it’s safe to come out or not. 

“I know you didn’t, mija (my daughter),” he reassures and moves slowly until he holds both hands out to her, palms open towards the ceiling, “It’s just a lamp, okay? Come here, I’m not mad. Just let me take a look at you.”

Javier can only imagine how fast her heart is beating in her chest right now, knowing that he hurried down here with his own racing heartbeat. She must be dizzy from the anxiety just as he is disoriented by his adrenaline. He gestures gently at her, beckoning her to him. 

“I didn’t mean to,” she repeats quietly.

“Lo sé (I know),” he offers her a little reassuring smile, shifting to sit cross-legged on the floor instead, “Can you come out, please?”

With hesitant steps, she moves from under the table and walks straight to him. He expects that he has to ask for a hug but just as she comes to a halt in front of him, she collapses into his arms like they are a harbor in a storm. He squeezes her tightly. 

“I thought you were mad at me, Papá,” she hiccups as her tears wet his shirt. He rests his chin on top of her head, his broad palm stroking her small back. 

“Not at all, baby. You just scared me is all. You didn’t answer and I thought you were hurt,” he explains while pressing gentle kisses to her hair. He inhales slightly, sighing at the way his baby girl smells of love to him. 

“I’m sorry,” she says and practically crawls into his lap. 

“It’s okay,” he replies, cradling her in the same manner as he has done since the day she was placed in his arms for the first time, “It’s just a lamp. Mamá and I can just get a new one but we can’t get a new you.”

“Will you tell her?” She pulls back to look up at him with huge, wet eyes. 

He nods, using his thumb to swipe at the tears on her face, “Yes, I will have to tell her but Mommy doesn’t care about the lamp either. I promise. We care about you. I’ll also tell her that you gave Daddy the scare of his life and made him run down the stairs like a crazy person.”

A tiny, hesitant giggle escapes her and he feels another wave of relief wash over him. She finally smiles and her voice is more steady now, “Silly.”

“Very silly,” he agrees with a smile and runs a palm over her head, threading his fingers through her hair, “But you know what’s not silly though?”

“What?”

“If anything like this ever happens again - if you break something or you get scared - I want you to call for me instead of hiding underneath the furniture. Just say ‘Papá, I need you’ and I’ll be there, okay?” 

She only hesitates for a moment but then nods thoughtfully, “Okay.”

“And hey, te quiero tanto (I love you so much).”

“I love you too, Daddy,” she says, no hesitation this time. 

The two of them stand up from the floor to look at the broken lamp on the floor. Inés makes an uncomfortable face, reaching for Javier’s hand. He holds her hand in his palm, “How about we tell Mom together?” 

“Now?” She widens her eyes but she isn’t crying anymore. 

“Yes now. Watch your feet, alright?” He waits for her to initiate the first step towards the door to the garden. Her eyes are firmly on the floor as they pass the broken ceramic shards. 

Outside, Javier's face is warm in the afternoon sun. There’s a buzz in the air from the cicadas’ singing and the laughter from his two sons. He and Inés find you in the hammock, the book still discarded as you watch your children with fondness but this time, you’ve switched to sitting. 

However, as they approach, your eyebrows knit together when you spot Inés' apprehensive look. You carefully plant your feet on the ground, asking, “Is everything okay?”

Javier glances at his daughter, “Inés has something she wants to tell you.”

She fidgets for a few seconds, looking down at her feet, but when she feels Javier’s hand on her shoulder, she looks up with determination. She confesses quietly but her voice doesn’t waver, “I broke the lamp. I didn’t mean to. I’m sorry.”

“Oh, Inés, baby,” your expression softens instantly. With a gentle touch, you brush a strand of hair out of your daughter’s face, “Are you okay? You’re not hurt?”

She shakes her head, “I’m okay. Daddy said you wouldn’t get mad but it is messy all over the floor.” 

“You’re okay and that’s all that matters,” your gaze flickers to Javier, a look warmer than the sun in your eyes. He feels his heart nearly leap out of his chest but he catches himself in interrupting the moment between you. You continue, “Daddy and I don’t mind messes, do we? As long as everyone is okay.”

“Yes,” Inés nods in grateful understanding. 

“How about you sit here with Mommy while I clean the floor?” Javier finally suggests, “Then the living room will be as good as new and you can play in there again?”

“Yes, please,” she says politely, “Okay.”

“Okay,” he repeats. 

“Okay,” you chime in and kiss him softly on the mouth before he heads into the house once more. 

Yes, messes mean life, and Javier is lucky enough to live in a world where life also means love.

.

.

If you would like to follow my writing then go follow @notjustjavierpena-fics and turn on notifications 💖❤️

[straynoahide]

I like your explanations of our morally imperfect existence, accepting the need for help or a savior, that Christianity is also a mindful and onerous process, not a side-thought with no burden, that being raised Christian and being Christian are two entirely different things, and the personal relationship with God. I would add, Christian faith is faith in the ultimate goodness and victory, Hope unending, despite the world, despite everything, because of Him.

Everything in this universe is transactional, except God's love, which merely has to be understood, and accepted. God is perfect and needs nothing - he made us because he wants us, because he loves us, because he chooses us.

A "Christian declaring himself to be a Jew" is a schismatic and heretical form of the religion, very atypical, a Messianic Jew, and should not be used to misrepresent Christians in general.

Catechism leading up to confirmation, in many Christian denominations adult confirmation, is also a process of learning, reflection and commitment, although it is not "conversion" itself, it is part of the road towards being a full member of the Church and living in the faith, and it is for example the way i converted / re-connected.

I however, perhaps influenced by having being an atheist until the time of my actual conversion (despite having being raised Christian), have never come to actually believe in punitivistic Hellfire doctrines.

I can get the doctrinal view of the existence of a state of self-imposed separation from divinity, and of the unredeemed, but I believe two fundamental things that modulate how I interpret that: (1) there are kind and good people who are not Christian, (2) Christ helps us willingly and enthusiastically by us accepting his moral message, which is time-sensitive worldly kindness and ultimate goodness, and rejection of cruelty and tyranny when it matters, which is now.

I really don't believe that atheists, Jews, muslims or other 'pagans' are "punished" simply for not professing Christianity, the mere idea is unchristlike. Communication and truth go deeper than that. Christ, who is the Logos, emphasized content and criticized form so many times it can't be a coincidence.

I also don't conflate unredeemed and unredeemable. I think only God knows what the "restoration of all things" is and that attempts by us to see who is in eternal exclusion are meaningless, because we are partial and our view is partial so long as we are here- as Christians I believe we should, for example, reject the death penalty to be truly pro-life, and also reject "capital punishments" of the soul in our utterances of who is condemned, lest we incur in sin, because if we pronounce a soul condemned to hell, and we are wrong, what does that entail for our soul? I believe we should strive for healing, reconciliation and restorative justice on this Earth, for literally everyone. No one harms who has no god-given unmet need and is at ease, no one kills without halving their humanity. There is no other sound view of universal human dignity, to me. You can't dignify through disdain nor exclusion.

On proselytism, my views are not precisely typical or orthodox. I believe there are many ways to evangelize. I personally don't have an individual disposition towards trying to make others hold my beliefs. On the contrary, my tendency is towards compatibilization unless proven wrong. So as for evangelizing, I think there are good ways and bad ways to do it, and I think the Church has sometimes done it poorly, organizations within it often do great work however and I appreciate it, and have been part of some.

As for my personal life, I believe in doing good and in sharing knowledge as the main forms of 'showing not telling' my moral worldview. I feel more like non-proselytes in that regard, because I know I can influence people in a positive way despite them not coming to share my worldview - and that I can learn from the Other and genuinely listen, even if they aren't Christian, without needing to be insecure that it will challenge or oppose my faith.

At the end of the day, these are just my interpretations, and I've shared them with my spiritual father; there is room for discussion and differing views on punitivism and proselytism, but I remain a full member of the Roman Catholic Church and I respect my fellow Christians and those who are not because I believe highlighting the human dignity of everybody, in our work and in our words, is the most christlike thing we can do.

My favorite, and I mean FAVORITE teaching of Judaism is that proselytizing is wrong. It’s the one Christians have the hardest time understanding. That even though Judaism is an incredible part of my life, that it’s an incredible community to be apart of, that I could not care less about wether or not they choose to become apart of it. That conversion is possible, and converts are a welcome part of our community and no less Jewish than anyone else, but at the same time we do not seek out people to convert. In addition, conversion is a very serious decision, and the conversion process is lengthy and difficult.

It’s because while I love being Jewish, and I love my community, I do not think that Jewishness is required to live a happy and productive life. I know that it is not right for everyone. I know that for most, the conversion process is not something they view as worth the time and effort. And that is okay. No one HAS to be Jewish. No one should EVER be coerced, manipulated, or forced into conversion.

If someone chooses to convert, it is because THAT PERSON wanted to. They saw something of value in the teachings and community. I think that means so much more than “convert or you’re going to burn for eternity because you are a bad person.”

[yaseraphine]

short-medium mercury observations bcuz I am feeling silly

A little silly astro obs until I am finished with the capricorn rising one. This post is just leo mercury non sense please don't mind me

I feel like a lot of water mercuries, especially scorpio mercuries, don’t talk much. They tend to observe, analyze and stay kind of out of the conversation. They only speak when it’s necessary. The opposite of a yapper basically

They also tend to have deep voices, both for men and women.

Capricorn mercuries can be a bit like this too. Really dry texters (as a leo mercury it gives me anxiety i feel like they hate me when they talk to me.. like if you hate me just tell me ☹️💔😭)

I genuinely don’t understand capricorns, and capricorn energy. Except when it’s in the ascendant or Venus, their energy is unreadable to me. Whenever I interact with a Capricorn, I feel like they hate me and don’t want to be there because they are not really expressive when they speak and are really direct and realists in their talking style. As a Leo mercury, I feel so judged 🫠😟Like if you hate me just say that💔😭😫

I am super expressive when I speak, kind of like a theater kid. Kind of like the voices in cartoons. Overtly excited when saying worldly stuff, like talking about the weather in the most dramatic way. When I speak, my tone goes up and down, it feels like you’re on a roller coaster when you interact with me. I have had people coming to me many times in the streets or the library telling me that I am too loud and that I should lower my voice to be respectful lol💀🤡💩 sorry😀

Aries and Leo mercuries, sometimes sag mercuries : we can’t shut the f up to save our lives lol the number of times i have been kicked out of class with my friends at school for being too loud, and laughing too much i can’t even count help-💀🤪🤠

Mercury in Sagittarius are so funny but at the same time so cringe my mom has it and she always makes corny dad jokes and she’s always the only one laughing at the diner table lmaoo

Mercuries in Gemini are so fucking smart, not in a genius way, but they can pick up on stuff so easily. Like understanding a text, or seeing the main points of a text without reading it in its entirety. They are really good at making connections between things, and connections that make sense. They are generally as logical as virgo mercuries, but they lack the meticulous side. They are pretty much to me a virgo mercury with ADHD on crack lol I'd say instead of being smart, they are more so perceptive, insightful or astute.

Some Mercury in Pisces sometimes speak so cryptically that it gets hard to understand, once they open their mouths, where they are going with what they’re trying to say. Their talking style is kind of surreal and romantic. They tend to create new words, and change up the grammar and verb conjugations. Their sensitivity and capacity to perceive things that cannot be seen by the naked eye is what makes them invent those words, because the already existing vocabulary isn’t enough to express this hyper specific thing or feeling they have.

Mercury in Pisces and Mercury in Virgo were placements that I found in the biggest readers I know. Both love reading and writing, and they have a thing for romance novels or fantasy books from what I've seen. Really delulu people in their own respective ways 🫡 but at the same time really talented 😁😍

the type of fiction virgo and pisces mercuries be writing on AO3 and Quotev instead of being productive members of society :

i just know a pisces mercury was behind this soul crushing poem 😞😔😿🫂

[lunarsilver]

How can you glow up?

A short lenormand reading.

All arts are from official covers of Choujin X's volumes.

REMEMBER

I’m not a doctor, a psychiatrist, a therapist nor a psychologist. Divination will never replace meetings with them.

It’s a general reading, so not everything will resonate.

If you can’t choose between two piles, probably both of them have some messages for you. You can also not identify with any of them, and that’s okay, too.

Readings can help you make a decision, but they shouldn’t be the main reason for making it.

1 ~ 2 3 ~ 4 PILE 1

Lilies - Ship - Mountain - Man - Heart

With how the first two cards are Spades (Air), the next one is a club (Fire) and the last two are Hearts (Water), it kinda gives a vibe of a logical person experiencing strong emotions and getting more in tune with them in the process. Depending on your gender, the Man represents either you or someone in your life. I see here someone more feminine getting in a relationship with someone more masculine. This relationship, most likely a romantic and definitely a loving one, will be a way for you to glow up. Alternatively, for a minority of you, I see that tapping more into your masculinity would let you glow up.

PILE 2

Bear - Fish - Ring - Anchor - Letter

Instant boss vibes from this pile. And, at the same time, these vibes are pretty calm. To glow up, you can show your strong character and not be afraid of communicating what you think. This will make it clear to everyone what your values, opinions and strengths are, and you’ll see how much more secure you’ll feel in communicating with other people once they know you.

PILE 3

Coffin - Woman - Anchor - Ship - Bouquet

I’m pretty sure the Woman here represents you. This pile is pretty straightforward - time to explore your social possibilities, to lay foundations for your own social circle. Like, literally four out of five cards are Spades, which are related to Air - communication. Do you think about how nice it would be to have many friends, or maybe just meet someone new, but you’re just grieving over not having it instead of acting? Looks so, pile three. You can glow up by getting out of this safe bubble of your solitude and opening up more to people, trying to interact with them.

PILE 4

Heart - Tree - Lilies - Key - Child

You’re so sweet, pile four. Most of you here don’t have too much experience in love or sexual matters is what I’m getting. The cards say that tapping more into your sensuality will open you to something new. You can glow up by connecting more with your values and possibly also femininity (regardless of your gender). Don’t be afraid to grow, love the process!

[shadyr4m]

REWATCHING SEASON 2 EPISODE 7 OF ARCANE

+ some of my highlights and notable moments that I enjoyed bc people can’t understand media anymore

This is mostly an infodump of stuff I can fit into a twitter thread/didn't rly want to make into a thread. I'm not great at words so I apologize in advance, I am sure there are many people much better at analysis than I.

I want to start off by saying I am heavily invested in timebomb so this is very much going to be a ship analysis. If you're looking for someone unbiased i am very much not the person for that 😭

FIRST OFF:

The disc on the music box is adorable!!! It features au Powder (who I am going to refer to as just Powder for the duration of my analysis) and au Ekko

Compared to the normal Disc

This is very obviously because it takes place in a different universe, one without Vi or "Jinx".

The first scene starts off with AU Ekko writing in his notebook. (Cute mention is Powder's doodle in his notebook!!) Then we see flashes of the wild rune. This is when AU Ekko switches to canon Ekko.

Also one of my favorite silly images from this episode is this one.. Powder is being so adorable and Ekko is just scared out of his MIND. it's so silly.

In the Last drop, Powder asks Ekko. "What is up with you? You've been out of it all day?". One thing I noticed in my rewatch is that i think Powder is aware this Ekko isn't HER Ekko. This is just one instance of many that makes me think this.

This hideout seems so much more vibrant and loved, similar to Jinx's hideout after Isha. It's colorful. There are guard rails that I like to think was pushed by Vander. We can see Ekko's art scattered around. It just shows how much more support and family Powder has compared to Jinx, which i mention a lot.

Id also like to note Ekko being shocked au him went to powder for help. In his mind at this time he believes Jinx to be all that is left, no more Powder. Through out the episode we see that change.

Notice how Powder gets upset at Ekko in this scene. However, she doesn't react explosively like Jinx would've. She handled it in a way that shows she had support. She told him to leave instead. Again, the main difference between Powder and Jinx isn't only Vi but also the existence of multiple support systems that Jinx simply didn't have.

THIS FLASHBACK! Oh my god this flashback. The fact it happened after he upset Powder? I think it shows just how much he truly cares about Jinx/Powder. He remembers VIVIDLY the day that he thought he killed her. Jinx was his childhood best friend, and I don't think that kind of feeling ever truly goes away. He doesn't want to hurt any version of her, not even the alternate universe her. We see that showcased more later on. Also, random probably insane note. He is interrupted by small children playing, having fun. This isn't a coincidence, it shows he does miss the moments from when they were kids.

While talking with Heimerdinger, we see Ekko look at Powder multiple times. Watching her laugh and be expressive, he smiles. When she doesn't return it we see him get upset. Once more this brings me to my point that he doesn't want to hurt her. Considering he hasn't known this Powder very long you can see where I gather my point that he doesn't want to hurt her in GENERAL. Any version of her.

THIS SCENE!! He is such a bad liar it's adorable. This brings me to my earlier point, Powder knows what's up!! She suspects something 100%. He is talking about this dream her like it was real.

"You aren't the kind of person who helps other people with their projects. Your ideas change the world. I can't shake the feeling that that's who you're supposed to be."

Are you LISTENING TO THIS? He is obviously talking about Jinx. You can tell this by the first sentence because obviously Powder IS that kind of person. He's starting to see that Jinx is just a part of Powder, one that is unavoidable and that he unknowingly appreciates in a sense. Like two sides of one coin he can't see Powder without Jinx and that is good. I think it is here he realizes truly just how much he cares about Jinx.

This whole montage is beautiful but I want to zero in on two things. Powder's reaction to the notebook and how she looks at Ekko after. NOW THIS. This is the nail in the coffin for her. She knows that this is not her Ekko. She has fully gathered that he isn't from this universe.

Also heimerdinger totally knows how Ekko feels you cannot tell me otherwise. Pushing him to go to the party? yeah he knows what you are.

THIS WHOLE SCENE. I AM NOT ANALYZING THE WHOLE THING HERE BUT IT IS GORGEOUS. I saw someone talking about how it was animated on 4's to signify the way Ekko can only go back 4 seconds and I honestly shed a tear. THE SONG TOO? I encourage everyone to look at the lyrics because they're beautiful.

Okay now for my favorite part of this episode so much to dissect and i'm totally going to mansplain but yk..

"I used to dream the undercity could be like this" — That sets the tone for the whole conversation and just what world he is talking about. The canon one.

"But somewhere, I got consumed by all the ways it wasn't. I gave up on it. Gave up on YOU." — Heavy emphasis on this line. Once more he is talking about Jinx. He is talking about how he got so consumed by the way that Jinx wasn't good, and he gave up on her. Believed she was irredeemable. Powder showed him that Jinx is capable of love and happiness, it's just under that tough protective shell. The undercity in the metaphor is Jinx, from my interpretation.

"I promise i'll never forget this." — Now time for my insanity. He doesn't forget this. That's why he saves Jinx from ending her life in the first place. He remembers Powder and knows that with the right support Jinx doesn't have to be the way she is. It's not that she "needs to be fixed" she just needs to be LOVED, like Powder. He sees that now. He sees how in the au the love that everyone shares for one another shaped the undercity beautifully, and made everyone in it much healthier mentally despite going through hardships. That is beautiful. People with mental illness are not unlovable they just need more support, it can't be cured, or fixed just healed. Mental illness is always there it is how you DEAL with it that matters.

Nothing too major to talk about with the kiss. It's sweet I love it, but nothing too notable for me to say about it.

Finally, Ekko leaves the au. I have seen people say that this is a sacrifice, he could've had everything he wanted and he gave it up to save the people at home. But i take insanity to another level. I see this as him appreciating his home. He knows he can never truly love this Powder because she isn't the version he fell in love with. He learned to appreciate Jinx even through her flaws, and that while this world has everything he could want and more he can have that home too.

I am experiencing HEAVY timebomb brainrot if you can’t already tell. I was tired of people taking things in the complete wrong way with this episode, if anyone has different views pls tell me I love hearing how other people took certain scenes. there are a few scenes I love but I would’ve made this post way too long..

[aryesdanger24]

I will be honest, I've seen the post a lot too and to me it has a different meaning. I think it is showing 2 different types of relationships. Not just wlw and mlm relationships, but the idea that there is a 3rd options that both are important. That even though one ship isn't shown in a physical way that doesn't mean it is any less gay than cannon ship.

For too long gay relationships were only shown through physicality, specifically gay men in relationships is always shown in aggressive physicality while lesbians in media feel overly said more than seen, less physical and more mental.

This feels like it flips the script on a lot of the stereotype that lesbians in films are always soft touches rather than heavy physical touches and quick to act like CaitVi (yes i know there is a joke about how fast lesbian relationships move, but i meant in media it often doesn't show that).

Men on the otherside often get straight (hehe) to fucking to 'confirm' their sexualitys or relationships whereas this with Jayvik is very much that soft word filled confirmations of love.

So this meme doesn't feel like a 'haha look at this and compare' as much as it feels like a 'id like to bring your attention to how these relationships went and how confusing this will be for the straights to compare'.

Also I think it is people just wondering why Jayvik didn't get their happy ending rather than just bypassing CaitVi and their more traditionally happy ending.

I think it's people who don't know how to process what happened with Jayvik so they are comparing how CaitVi got a normal ending and the confusion of how to deal with Jayvik.

In short:

Wlw relationships are much harder to come by and many people are happy that Caitlyn and Vi got all the good writing into their characters to really enjoy the progress of their relationship. Jayviks's ending is more confusing that people can't help but compare and wonder (in the words of Arcane) what could have been.

This post, to me, is subjective to the viewer. Some can see it as trashing on CaitVi or on Jayvik. Some may interpret it as a show to how different their endings can be in the media of today. Some may even view it as the idea that despite a ship not being cannon, it can be just as gay and important as one shown on screen.

I personally love both of their endings and hate both for different reasons. Their pros and cons to each and yet it fit for them in a way I can't be mad at BECAUSE they are so well written as characters!

P.S. I didnt make the meme at all but I simply wanted to not assume the makers goal of sharing it into one of negativity. Unless the main poster is definitely some mlm supremacist or lesbian hater or something because then, by all means, bash that bitcherous. Until I see some evidence against the original meme maker I will just see it the way I see it, a way someone is coping with their idea of an 'unsatisfying' ending for Jayvik by comparing it to the more canonically physical confirmation of CaitVi

(Personally, I don't find the endings dissatifying, though, but that's just me)

Someone else's post:

~

I have seen so many posts like the one above in the last 24 hours and honestly, it's starting to piss me off. I know the majority of tumblr users aren't wlw, but do you know how patronising this kind of thing is? This was the most beautiful, intimate, lovingly animated lesbian sex scene, between two rich, well-drawn, compelling characters, but over and over, I see people comparing it unfavourably to Jayce and Viktor's final scene. The story between two men is seen as more powerful, more meaningful, gayer, deeper, than the one between two women.

Look, it's fine to enjoy the mlm ship more. I support you! I think Jayvik is cool! But can you all please, please, stop acting like it's inherently better just because the lesbian story didn't happen to be written for your personal tastes, this one time?

(Also, to answer the question: as a lesbian, I promise you, the lesbian sex is much, much gayer. You're just not the target audience.)