#someone who doesn't put their feelings last

[cakypa120]

Ok Billy keeps coming back au.

Seeing all those people, I just imagine everyone are careful and sad now, so imagine that either this is the first time Billy didn't got killed, or the first time someone who still haven't killed Billy killed him.

I'm don't want to lie I hope he survives, but everything you post says that he won't

Billy sighs. Everyone is tiptoeing around him. Which he expected anyway. Billy doesn't blame them. He just.... He wishes they'd stop being so careful with him.

And then Signal shows up at the Watchtower. Gotham's daytime vigilante. Billy had only seen him three times, since he usually died before Duke joined the Batfamily. Now was the perfect opportunity to meet him.

Marvel: Hello! I'm Captain Marvel! You're Signal, right? Gotham's daytime hero? Nice to meet you!

Signal: Nice to meet you too.

They shake hands. Marvel laughs loudly, although he feels Batman's piercing gaze, as always, watching his brood like a hawk.

Marvel: Are you here on business? Or just annoying your father like your brothers and sisters?

Signal: He is not my father, I don't know where you got that idea from. And I am here to familiarize myself with the internal affairs of the League, since I will be more accessible during the day, unlike Batman.

Marvel: I see. Then let's go, I will show you our cafeteria, where Batdaddy takes coffee as dark as his soul to get energy to suck the strength out of people.

Billy takes Duke to the cafeteria, ignoring the boy's complaints and an irritated Batman. In the end, Billy shows Duke everything, explaining everything in detail, sometimes telling funny stories about Bruce and others from the Bat Clan.

Duke eventually returns to Gotham, and Billy and Bruce see him off. After Duke leaves, Bruce asks the expected question.

Batman: Has he ever...?

Marvel: No. I was dying before he showed up in your family. Well, it's time to go on duty.

Duke doesn't know how to react to this smiling hero.

Duke: Dick, how do you like Captain Marvel?

Dick: A good hero, a wonderful person, has seen too much shit in his entire life.

Duke: He seems too cheerful to me.

Dick: ...... Believe me, if he weren't like that, then... a lot would have gone wrong.

Duke was a breath of fresh air in Billy's life. Ignorance was a blessing. No one wanted to enlighten Duke about what Marvel had to endure. And for that, Billy was grateful. Duke was the only one who talked to him normally, without any guilty looks or awkward silences. Billy liked talking to him. They even got to know each other better.

And then comes the day when the sword of Damocles falls on Billy.

The mission went wrong. Billy and Duke are sealed in an ancient seal that requires a human sacrifice. Billy can't break the seal, because it is too powerful. Created from the suffering of an entire people, created to contain the Gods. Even as the Champion of Magic, he will not be able to break this seal.

Marvel: The seal requires a sacrifice. A human sacrifice.

Duke: Like blood or hair? An arm? A leg?

Marvel: No. You have to kill a person and put it on this seal. The sacrifice will be accepted, and a portal will open through which you can exit.

Duke: What?

Marvel: Magic based on human suffering always requires a sacrifice. This seal is designed to contain God. And this seal is very ancient. We better follow the rules.

Duke: That means one of us will have to die!

Marvel: Yes. Unfortunately. But better than both of us rotting in this prison.

Duke: Maybe we can get help? Well, on the other side! And we will both stay alive!

Marvel: I understand your hope. But... A sacrifice will still be needed. From this side, from that side... It doesn't matter. Someone has to die.

Duke: No! We can't just give up! We have to fight! You have the wisdom of Solomon!

Marvel: The Seal is poisoning you. You're human. You won't last long.

Duke: I'll hold out. I'll survive. We'll be rescued.

Marvel: Duke, I know you believe, and that's good.

Duke: How do you know my name?

Marvel: I know many things. And I know that only one of us will leave this place. And that one will be you.

Marvel materializes a dagger, the blade of which was made of eternium. Duke flinches when Marvel hands him the dagger.

Marvel: It's one of the few things that can kill me.

Duke: No...

Marvel: I know it's hard, but... It's necessary. Sometimes we have to make difficult decisions.

Duke: No! No! No! What are you talking about?!

Marvel: Signal...

Duke: Why are you giving up on life so easily?! You have a family! Friends!! A city that loves you! Are you really going to leave them because of me!? I'm just a newbie! My death won't matter to anyone.

Marvel: *grabs Duke by the shoulders* Don't talk about yourself like that! You're so talented and kind! You'll become a great hero! And you also have family and friends who are looking for you, hoping that you'll come back alive.

Duke: What about you? What about your family?

Marvel: My family... My parents are dead, and my sister... she knows the risks I take by becoming a hero. She understands. The League will understand, too. They won't be mad at you. Trust me. They won't.

Duke: Are you really just going to give up?

Marvel: Maybe. Better me than you. You have to live, Duke. You have your whole life ahead of you, and I'm an old man.

Marvel places the dagger in Duke's hand. Duke's lips tremble. Billy looks at the seal and stands in the middle. He turns and looks at Duke. Billy spreads his arms out to the sides, a bright smile on his face.

Marvel: One blow will do.

Duke:.....

His hands were shaking, holding the heavy dagger. He looks at Marvel, who smiled brightly and spread his arms out to the sides. As if inviting him for a hug. Duke picks up the dagger. He closes his eyes. He has to do this. He has to. But he doesn't want to. He doesn't want to!

Duke takes a deep breath and runs. The dagger pierces the flesh, and Duke feels the warmth of Marvel's body. He slowly opens his eyes and looks at where it struck. Golden blood flowed from the wound. Slowly, the gold turned red. Duke froze, his body stopped obeying him.

Warm hands take his hands and tug. The dagger leaves the body with some kind of sound that Duke cannot understand. A few moments later, Marvel falls to his knees, and Duke continues to stand and stare blankly into space. Marvel's voice breaks him out of this strange trance.

Marvel: You did well, Duke. Great...work...

Marvel lurches to the side and falls. Blood soaks into the seal. The seal lights up brightly and Duke finds himself in the woods. He blinks. Where is Marvel? Wasn't he supposed to come back with him? He needs to be buried, right? Marvel deserves peace. Maybe if Duke searches, he can find Marvel? He's probably nearby. He wanders through the woods, looking for Marvel's body. He doesn't know how much time has passed.

He hears his name being called. But who is calling him? Someone is hugging him. Suddenly, Duke becomes aware of his surroundings. Bruce is hugging him, and Superman, Damian, and Flash are standing next to him. And their faces are sad.

Duke: I killed him... I killed him... I killed... killed... him...

The dagger falls out of his hand. Why was he even holding that abomination? His legs give way and he falls to the ground. Bruce follows him. Duke continued to whisper, "I killed him." Bruce stroked his back and whispered that it wasn't his fault. Duke feels tears, he screams, hugging himself. Before his eyes, again and again, is Marvel's corpse, with a peaceful smile frozen on his face. Bruce hugs him tighter, as if trying to hide Duke from all the pain, from everything that happened. Duke no longer screams, he cries quietly, burying his face in the man's armor.

Duke: I...

Bruce: It's not your fault.

Duke: He...

Bruce: It's not your fault. It's not your fault. It's not your fault. It's not your fault.

Duke presses himself closer to Bruce. Bruce continues to hug him. Duke just hoped that Marvel had found the peace he deserved.

In another universe, a newborn took his first breath.

[batmanisagatewaydrug]

dear sex witch,

i'm really sorry if this question is inappropriate and too long, please delete if necessary. i am a 17-year-old cis girl who grew up in a sexually conservative culture/religion but stumbled into extremely taboo nsfw fanfiction (and later nsfw fanart once or twice) really young (probably about 12) without even registering that what i was doing was masterbation/looking at porn. i no longer think those things are objectively bad or sinful as i was taught when i was younger, and i consider myself probably more sex-positive than a lot of my peers irl, but i feel a lot of shame about specific things that i've read and i still consider immoral although obviously none of the content i consumed involved real people doing sexual acts, and i started experiencing a lot of taboo and guilt-inducing intrusive thoughts two years ago.

if it's possible would you be able to give some advice about how to move forward? i've avoided pornographic material for more than a year but i don't actually know if that's healthy or helpful. the shame around previous porn use and the intrusive thoughts have also led me to become very afraid to disclose my sexual orientation (i realised i was a lesbian last year) because i'm worried i'll be bad representation and that if people realise what my past experiences were it would reinforce their homophobic beliefs about homosexuality being perverse.

again i apologise if this isn't the sort of thing you are able or willing to deal with at all, or if i sound too reactionary regarding sex and kink: i have been trying to educate myself but i obviously still have a long way to go. thank you for the work that you do and i hope you have a wonderful day.

hi anon,

okay, so, first thing I need to say, right out of the gate: it's not possible for you to be "bad representation." you're not representation. you're a real human person who, like every other human, will make mistakes and have regrets and sometimes do things that you're not very proud of. the burden of ending bigotry is not on queer people; don't have to be upstanding paragons of morality in the hopes that people will stop being meaners to us. if someone is homophobic, that's not something that you can change personally by being the most perfect lesbian in the world. they're still going to be homophobic unless they personally decide not to be, a choice that you can't force anyone to make. please, p l e a s e do not put that kind of pressure on yourself.

also: you actually don't have to disclose your sexual orientation to anyone whose reaction you're worried about. if someone is a homophobe, they don't need to know that you're homo! I know a lot of importance is placed on the idea of being out in every aspect of your life, but that is fucking DANGEROUS for a lot of people - especially young people who are dependent on families that won't support them. being out to your family is never, never, NEVER more important than you being safe; don't get it twisted.

re: avoiding porn, it's none of my business if you want to look at or read or listen to porn. I do know in many cases that learning how to just look at a thing as it is, without judging yourself for doing so, is the most effective way to stop feeling so scared and worried about it. I have no idea how much you pay attention to my blog, but I've had numerous people telling me that watching me joke so much about an incestuous relationship about two brothers in a bad Marvel movie has helped reduce the anxiety they feel about fictional incest. if you feel able to do so, it might be really good for you to experience enjoying some porn and masturbating about it without anything bad happening.

it doesn't even have to be watching porn; any kind of content centered around sex in a positive manner can really help to make it feel more natural and less scary. I always recommend the channel Sexplanations on YouTube, which is quite frank about bodies and pleasure while also being lighthearted and education, and I think you in particular might really benefit from the podcast Sexvangelicals, which is hosted by two sex therapists who do a lot of work specifically targeted at helping individuals who come from high control religious groups unlearn shame about sex.

[snowdewdreams]

There's a LOT to unpack with the third and fourth chapters of Deltarune, but there's one new character in particular I'm really, REALLY intrigued by.

(spoilers below of course)

Ramb.

I went into Chapter 3 expecting Tenna or Mike to be the stars of the show regarding theories, and they certainly are, but there's something about Ramb that's particularly unusual. He seems to know Kris on a personal level, moreso even than Tenna. Like a friendly older uncle or family relative he hasn't seen in a while. I wouldn't exactly use "luv" to refer to a stranger. It's just so odd? Not exactly off-putting, but his familiarity with Kris raises so many questions that make him incredibly mysterious. Not to mention, if you talk to him one last time before playing the final game, he admits,

He's the only one in the TV World who knows, to my knowledge, that Kris was responsible for opening their Dark Fountain.

But perhaps the strangest thing about Ramb? He's the one who grants Kris access to the "Real Game" that leads to the Shadow Mantle. He doesn't beg Kris to play the game or force him to, but insists on playing it so Kris can scratch their itch for freedom — and continues to help them complete it.

Why? What does Ramb know that we don't? I wouldn't exactly call him the Jevil or Spamton of Chapter 3, but his involvement in this part's route to the Shadow Crystal is definitely noteworthy and shouldn't be overlooked. Maybe he's an agent working for someone behind the scenes?

I can't shake the feeling that Ramb might be more important to the story than we initially believe, so I hope people keep an eye on him.

[mxtantrights]

WORLDS AWAY II

a/n: okay wasn't expecting that many of you to actually see and like the first part. stick with me here while I put some stuff together for these two love birds. I'm gonna warn you, it's gonna be angsty.

It was like everything was happening so fast but not fast enough. Azriel took in everything with his eyes. How Lucien swiped the meaningless stuff from the table with is arm. Rhys winnowed away to get Madja himself. Mor took your hand into hers and talked to you, begged you to just hold on, as Cassian grabbed a clean napkin to press to your neck.

Nesta grabbed another bunch of napkins to place pressure on your chest. Feyre took care to dab at the wound on your head.

Azriel stood there as still as a statue. He didn't know what to do. He didn't know what his hands should do, or what he should say.

He watched your eyes open. He watched you look around the room, at all the people that surrounded you. How you weakly groaned and tried to move away from them.

Until you saw him. Your eyes locked with his and in that moment it was like time moved normally.

Azriel stepped up to your body on the table. He watched as you visibly stopped tensing and your eyes went wide.

"It's okay. You're gonna be okay." he spoke.

You nodded your head at his words, a couple of tears then came out of your eyes. They painted streaks down your face. His hand, as if on instinct, came out and brushed them away.

-------

Everything felt like pain. Blinking. Breathing. Trying to move your head, trying to move anything. But you couldn't help it. You didn't know where you were, or who was with you.

You didn't feel safe.

That's why you sit up in bed, which doesn't belong to you, and look around the room. The room isn't filled with anything identifiable or homely.

It's bare.

A horrible thought crosses your mind. That you were taken to some place without your knowledge. Someone did something to you The last thing you remember is being held down by a captor and their thick blade cutting you open.

No. Not that's not the last thing you remember.

Him.

The winged fae. The one you saved some time ago. He looked at you.

The sound of the door opening makes you look over to it. You see an older woman walk in. As she does, your cat Felix walks in behind her. You let out a sigh of relief at the sight of him.

"You're awake. Good."

-------

Azriel didn't know what to think. A mate? A human mate? It's not like these things were impossible. Feyre and Rhysand come to mind. They both felt the pull before they even knew what it was and before Feyre was made into fae.

But this?

He feels undeserving of this, of you. He's getting ahead of himself anyways. He's just happy you're alive. Healing.

"I met her a while ago. In the woods near The Wall."

Azriel turns around at the sound of a male voice. Standing there, at the edge of the training mat, is Lucien.

"When I met her she was nowhere near The Wall." Azriel says.

"She said she moved. Not sure why. I relocated her within Spring." Lucien offers.

Azriel nods, "What happened? How did she end up like that?"

"She had taken in one of those Children of the Blessed."

Azriel huffs. A fanatic had let their followings lead them to hurting another person. It's not unusual but he didn't like it. He didn't like it at all.

"When I got there, the lunatic was gone. Left her there to bleed out." Lucien continues.

Azriel shakes his head at that. It's been eating him up since he saw you so close to death. Maybe his run in with you had caused this. Maybe he had brought death to your doorstep.

"She's asking for you." Lucien says.

-------

A series of knocks comes from the door. You're not sure who it is. You know who you want it to be. You're just not sure if he'll show up. He hadn't visited these past two days.

You asked for him. Maybe you shouldn't have.

"Come in."

The door opens slowly. And in walks a person you weren't expecting to see. A person you don't know. A tall man with wings, but he's not the one you saved.

"Quite the first impression you made. I'm Cassian." he says.

You laugh lamely, then you introduce yourself, "Can't say I wanna do it again."

He moves further into the room now. He takes note of Felix laying on the corner of the bed.

"He's been looking for you. Since you saved his life." he says.

Without having to ask you know who he's talking about. Who else could it be? But if what he's saying is true, why isn't he here? Why do you not even know his name?

"Why?"

He takes a while to answer. Which throws you odd for a moment there. It's a simple question. Unless he had ulterior motives.

"It'd be best if he explains."

-------

Azriel feels pathetic. Absolutely and utterly pathetic. He's been in combat. He's killed people. And yet he cannot work up the courage to go into your room.

Every time he tries something stops him. His shadows even whisper for him to go. But he goes slack. His hands shake. He feels clammy and his breathing quickens.

He's pathetic!

Azriel turns around, away from your door, and is about to walk away.

Until he hears a door open. His heart skips a beat. He stops in his tracks. He can feel his shadows swirling around him, uncontrollably.

When he doesn't hear anything, he slowly turns around. His eyes find yours. He could fall to his knees right here and now. He gulps and clears his throat.

"Hello." he says in more of a whisper.

You gape at him. You look up at him with your wide eyes. The bandages that cover your wounds make his skin crawl. You were perfectly fine before you met him.

There's a beat of silence and then you say it.

Your name.

And then he does it. He actually falls to his knees. There are two hard knocks on the floor. You watch him as he does, your head moving downward to follow him.

He hangs his head, "I'm so sorry."

"Me too. I wish you had visited me sooner." you speak.

He looks up at you confused. That is not what he was expecting you to say. At his confusion you chuckle lightly. When you do you reach for your chest and hold it, a wince leaving you.

"What's your name?" you ask.

"Azriel."

You hold out your hand for him to take. Like an angel from a story. He takes your hand in his and feels the warmth and that spark again.

-------

The two of you sit in silence on the balcony for a while. It had been like this since he finally spoke to you. It was like there was nothing to say to each other.

But there was.

You wanted to ask about him. You wanted to know about him, and what brought him to your doorstep on the edge of death.

And it's not like he was avoiding you. He found you almost twice a day and sat with you. But never said anything. Never. It was odd to say the least.

You weren't planning on taking up residence here, so you would have to get a move on sometime soon. Majda is coming over later this week to check your wound again before giving you the all clear.

You look over at him. He's sitting with his legs crossed and looking over the view from the house.

"I'm leaving soon." you say.

At that he turns to you. A bit of surprise in his eyes. Not a good surprise but a bad one.

"Oh."

"I don't really fit in here, and I can see your friends overcompensating for me." you explain a bit to him.

He nods his head, "I understand."

"But I would like to see you." you add on.

He goes still at that.

"What?" he asks.

"I would like to see you, Azriel. Outside of this place."

He clears his throat. His eyes darting around and around. He can hear you stifle a laugh, to his benefit he supposes. He sits up and reaches for the metal railing of the balcony.

"I'm the reason you for hurt. You know that, don't you?" he asks.

You shake your head, "No, that child of the blessed or whomever is why I got hurt. And if I could go back in time I'd still help you."

Azriel scoffs, "Even with that scar on your neck now?"

"Even with the scar. I don't care." you answer poorly.

"You should. I only bring disaster and pain."

You think to yourself maybe this is why he doesn't talk to you when he sits here. All that rattles in his head is self deprecation. You don't like hearing it one bit.

"What if you come and see me?" you ask.

Azriel looks at you then. Like you had stumbled upon something new, unheard of. You didn't want to make him uncomfortable or put him on the spot. You had save his life and it seems like he feels indebted to you.

You wish you could tell him that saving his life wasn't a transactional experience. That you didn't need anything from him for it. So maybe the best way to do that is to give him the decision.

Without wasting another second you shrug off the knitted cardigan off your body. You hold it out for him to take. He looks down at the piece of fabric, unmoving.

"You can use it to find me." you speak.

He looks up at you, "Are you sure?"

"Whenever your'e ready to find me Azriel. I'll be there."

-------

The cabin is pretty big. Bigger than what your'e used to. But you couldn't turn down the offer from Rhys. You half heartedly expect that there is more to it.

With the way they all looked at you as you left a few days ago. It felt weird. Like they knew something that you didn't. Something that had to do with you and Azriel, who curiously didn't see you off.

It did sting. He was the only one of them that you sort of knew. The only one you had a real connection with. But you guessed that he didn't feel the need to say goodbye to you. So you tried to push it down deep inside of you and no let it consume you.

Which is why you're decorating the cabin. Lucien dropped off all of your things from the other place. The place where you almost died. He did a good job at cleaning up things too.

Well, almost. An old blanket had a bit of blood on it. You hold it up to inspect it a bit more.

Before you can harp on it for too long, Felix comes in-between your legs. You look down at him with a smile.

"I'll be fine. Just thinking." you say.

Felix moves from your legs and over to the door. You think to yourself he may want to get some fresh air. You walk over to the door and open it so that he can run free for a bit.

What you weren't expecting was the basket. Sitting on the porch of the cabin is a huge wicker basket. Filled with things. You kneel down and look it over. Candles. A blanket. Some clothes. Trinkets. House stuff.

A letter.

Your fingers pluck the paper from the basket. No name. You turn it over to the back to be sure of it. Then you open the folded letter to unveil very neat handwriting.

Your name is at the top.

It's been a few days since you left. I am sorry for not saying goodbye with the others. I wanted to but I felt wrong doing so. I still feel at fault for your being hurt and on death's doorstep.

I know you won't hear it, but I am sorry again. You can't begin to understand how much.

The basket is supposed to be filled with things you need. Although I admit I didn't partake in much of the buying and had help from some of the inner circle.

If any of it displeases you, please throw it away. I thought it would be a gesture of something. I'm not sure what.

I realize now what you were trying to do when you gave me your sweater. I do want to see you. But there are things I need to figure out before I do. I wish to have more answers than questions for you.

But I promise I will come visit you.

Hope to see you soon,

Azriel

You bring your hand up to your mouth in a gasp. The letter is sweet and really thoughtful. You're glad that he doesn't feel like you pushed him into anything he didn't want to do.

With bated breath you get stand up straight again. Felix coming between your legs once more.

"You knew I had something waiting for me on my doorstep, didn't you?" you ask.

The cat just looks up at you, unimpressed.

-------

The nightmare isn't too bad. Not that you think. Even trying to recall it is difficult. When your eyes were closed you could swear the images were vivid and real.

But as you start to wake, your mind reveals the truth to you.

There is no unknown person your house trying to kill you. There is just silence. You sit up a bit out of breath and look around. The darkness of the room doesn't help to ease your mind.

But you can see Felix at the edge of your bed. If he is sleeping, then everything is okay. He could sense danger from a mile away and would let you know.

It's why you think that Child of the Blessed didn't do any worse damage. Felix had remained at your side through the whole visit and launched at them when they attacked you.

You reach up to touch the wound on your neck. Not yet a scar but somehow not fresh anymore. Funny. Every morning you wake up and you feel it weighing on you.

It isn't morning yet. The dark blue sky and the moonlight that peeks out of the window tells you as much. So you put your head back down on your pillow and shut your eyes again.

What you don't know is that there is no need to worry about your safety. In addition to Felix that sleeps at your feet, facing the bedroom door, there is another living thing keeping you company.

Azriel stood guard on your front door. Dress in his usual black leathers and his arms crossed over his chest. His eyes focused on anything in the distance that could be coming your way. And his ears focused on your breathing that evens out as you fall back to sleep.

For now, this is what he'll take. Being separated from you by two doors. You not knowing that he's here. Even though he does want to see you. He wants it badly.

But his guilt eats at him most nights. He thinks this is why he's able to feel your nightmares in the pit of his belly. They wake him with a jolt and he comes over to watch over your cabin for a few hours. Ever since you left.

One day he'll have the courage to tell you he's here. One day.

Not tonight.

[sourinartt]

Oh jesus, nh fans are so delusional and idiotic

I could even say that it's more interesting to fight with an ss Stan

"you're trying really hard to make it seem like Naruto forced himself to be with her." and wasn't it like that? The last movie where Naruto is constantly insulted for not having feelings for his stalker monster, for not realizing that even though everyone knew that he was looking to get Sasuke out of the darkness and had quite a few goals like getting everyone to recognize him to play at being loving with someone who wants him

Throughout the entire movie he treats her like a friend, even making fun of her for not wearing something good for the cold. Naruto has such great feelings of love!! *sarcasm*

until he simply puts the genjutsu on him and in all the scenes he is sad, melancholic because he feels guilty

" pair two characters who have no attachment to each other" Are you serious?

Are you talking about two characters who die for each other? What do they feel for each other? Sasuke is the one who makes Naruto realize that he has someone who cares about him

Sasuke is the one who sacrifices his dreams and goals to save Naruto's life, it is Sasuke who agrees to stop being a Shinobi to feed Naruto, It's Sasuke who plays with him all the time, Sasuke recognizes him, Sasuke protects him..The same Sasuke who awakens his powers out of love for Naruto and hated this love so much that he had to get away, he had to get Naruto out of his life because he gave him love and light...

Naruto is the one who can't stop thinking about Sasuke, it's Naruto who never stops defending his beauty and integrity, He doesn't care if others tell him to stop looking for him, Naruto chooses to look for him because he loves him and he doesn't choose for Sasuke to fall into absolute darkness

Naruto speaks as Sasuke was one of the first to recognize him, to not let him fall, who gave him strength

Naruto chooses to die with him because he can't stand that others don't like Sasuke. when Naruto talks about his important people, a certain Hinata doesn't appear because she doesn't even matter, just iruka and sasuke

"he would definitely choose his best friend over the mother of his children and the woman he married " literally...

"The woman who showed him her true love" and what good is her absurd love if he doesn't choose her? If he gets bored by her side and abandons her to live in an office far from her? What's the point if he doesn't sleep with her and made a separate room for his family?

"play down Hinata for Narusasu" "I would choose her over Sasuke and the entire Team 7 " Please, I need to laugh so hard my stomach would hurt

He chooses her over Sasuke? What world do they live in? If it weren't for Sasuke, he would abandon her and their two children for Sasuke. He lives in an office, bitter, until Sasuke appears and cheers him up, He doesn't accept his meals because he wants to get to Sasuke as soon as possible, escape to this one's favorite restaurant.

While with his lovely wife he gets bored, frustrated, tired and doesn't want to put up with his children either, so he runs away, lives in an office and chooses to raise an orphan.

Kishimoto wrote a manga full of texts about why Sasuke is important to Naruto and Naruto is important to Sasuke, but these people are too wrong.

[i-am-a-bad-influence-writes]

Ordinary Chapter 9, Photorealism

Masterlist Word count: 1.9k Zayne x Fem!Reader

Summary: After seeing his best friend getting married to the love of her life, Zayne can't help but be a little jealous. He never had this feeling before. It's almost like he's longing for someone to love. At the wedding, she introduces him to a colleague who instantly forces him out of his comfort zone. Could this be love?

Author's note: It has been a while! I got sick, then was changing jobs, then got sick again. I've been through the wringer but I'm back and better than ever! Or at least I'll try to stick around until I finish this one.

∘₊✧───────────────────────────────────────✧₊∘ 

Zayne doesn't remember much about yesterday. How he got home, how he got into bed, why his arm feels so numb. None of that matters when he opens his eyes and sees you sleeping in his arms. He's not home, but he feels more than at home. He feels at peace. 

In a fleeting moment of butterflies rushing through his whole body he squeezes you a little tighter, breathing in the faint scent of paint and something uniquely you. It's a smell he notices whenever you're close but can never pinpoint. His heart swells as he revels in the feeling of having you close to him. 

That's when it all comes back to him in humiliating clarity. 

The argument, your ex, showing up at your door in the middle of the night, your help, your giggles, his need for your touch as if it were the only thing keeping him alive. That last one might still be the case. But he had meant to give you space, respect your boundaries, yet his traitorous subconscious had driven him straight to you. 

Just when he starts spiraling, you stir. 

Terrified to wake you, he freezes up. You simply nestle closer to him, sighing in comfort feeling the warmth of his embrace. And through tired lips, he hears you mumble. 

A soft, but distinguishable "Love you." 

Zayne feels his face flush. It is decided. This is his place, his spot, forevermore.  

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It is hours later when you wake. 

Zayne's body is sore, but he doesn't mind. He tried to stay still so you could rest, only moving when you moved in your sleep. His face is inches from yours when your eyes open and you can't help but smile. 

Somewhere in your mind you had feared he would leave. You know he is not the type to do that to you, but you worried he might've been embarrassed if he remembered the shower. Then again, he was barely lucid. Maybe he doesn't remember anything from last night. 

'I feel like I was uncharacteristically affectionate and needy yesterday.' His voice is low, gravely, tired, as his eyes meet yours. 

'Maybe a little bit,' you tease and move closer to plant a sleepy kiss on his lips. 'I didn't mind though.' 

Zayne goes a bright shade of red as he nods and takes a deep breath. 'We have a lot to talk about, don't we?' 

'We do, but don't you have work today?' Zayne picks up his phone from the nightstand. You had probably put it there. His battery is hanging on for dear life at thee percent as he checks the time and date. That's when it hits him. 

He had been at work for nearly seventeen hours. That would explain why he was as tired as he was. Just when he wants to check his schedule, his phone gives out. He carelessly tosses it back on the nightstand. 'Can I use your phone?' 

'Sure.' You reach back for your own phone and hand it over. Seemingly locked. 

'What's your passcode?' He sees a sliver of doubt in your eyes for a fraction of a second. In his mind, the question was merely functional but he gets that it has to do with trust. Trust that he broke. Trust that you broke as well. 

But then. 'It doesn't have a code.' 

'What?' You swipe your finger over the screen and he watches as the phone comes to life. 'That is highly irresponsible.' Care dipped in judgement. Suddenly you recognize it. A strange, but welcome, thing. 

'You think I want to type in a code when my hands are covered in paint or charcoal?' 

'Fair point.' Acceptance without argument. It makes you wonder why yesterday felt so different.  

As your eyebrows knit together in thought, Zayne drops the phone and looks in your eyes, searching for something. Something he can't seem to find. Not until you actually look at him instead of staring through him in some kind of haze. 

'I need to apologize for yesterday,' he states, as if there is no question about it. This is something he has to do and there's no talking him out of it. You start to open your mouth in protest, trying to admit that you were in the wrong too, but he does not let you. He is faster. 

'When you came by yesterday, I had already had a stressful shift. Daniel came in and started making very distasteful jokes about the nurses that I did not agree with. I was angry at him, but I realized it looked like I was angry at you. I'm sorry.' 

He looks at you expectantly, hopefully, as if you hold his faith in your next words, like the universe will stop existing if you say you don't forgive him. Truth is, you had already forgiven him the second he came to your door last night. The fact your home felt like home to him too, the trust he put in you to care for him, him not wanting to let you go even for a second. It already felt like an apology and your care and love was you forgiving him. 

But there is still something on your chest. 'I am not blameless either. I refused to talk to you and I'm sorry for that. It would've been better to talk it out there.' 

He nods in response and pulls you closer against him. Your phone, his schedule, everything outside the sheets long forgotten as a warm feeling grows between the two of you. 

It has only been a few weeks since you've started dating, but there's one thing you know for sure. 

'I love you, Zayne.' 

The three little words lay on the tip of his tongue. You made them sound so easy, so real. He's not sure if he can give himself into this feeling like you do. But for you, he'll try. 

'I love you too.' 

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Despite the hospital being the last thing on Zayne's mind, the second his phone booted up again after charging it started ringing. Greyson, a name you knew as Zayne slipped it into work stories every so often, called him about a surgery he had to be part of and who are you to keep your man here? 

What was different is that he seemed to doubt if he should go for the first time since you've started dating, but the look of guilt in his face was too much for you. You urged him to go, knowing how important his work is to him. 

You packed him some food while he took a shower. At the door he kissed you goodbye and promised to text you when he was done, but by the time he texted you were gone in your own world, in your studio. 

The music turned way up, curtains open letting in all the natural light, your body almost unconsciously swaying along as you focus on the work in front of you. You can't take your eyes off your canvass for even a second, afraid you'll forget the picture you drew in your mind. 

It has been years since you've painted a realistic portrait, but you felt inspired. No, not inspired. Possessed. Possessed by the spirit of this morning. Possessed by Zayne's beauty. Your fingers have a featherlight grip on your brush, as if the hairs guide themselves through the paint. Blending, adding, caressing the canvas and paint at will. 

Golden light starts falling through the window, illuminating the painting all new and gentle. It must've been hours since you started. You look out the window to see the sun setting and suddenly you realize you are hungry and dehydrated. 

The whole day came and went without as much as a second thought. Your body feels heavy, tired, sore in the shoulders. The canvass you worked on was huge. Big enough for you to have to take a few steps back to admire it fully.  

When you do, you bump into something and two gently hands appear on your arms to steady you. You don't have to look over your shoulder to know who it is. Instead, you lean back into his touch, but something is off. 

'Why the fuck are you painting my doctor?' The hairs on your neck stand up before you can even turn. That sneer you know all too well, and you realize the person behind you is not who you thought they were. You pull yourself away and turn around. 

'Daniel? What the fuck are you doing in my house?' 

'I still have the key,' he huffs as he looks past you at the canvas. 'Still playing with paint I see.' His voice drips with condescension and suddenly you feel very small. A response you've had to his words for a long time. You thought you grew past it, but apparently not. 

'You need to leave,' you state defensively, but you feel your breath hitch in your throat as if all the oxygen is suddenly sucked out of the room. 

Daniel smirks and takes a step closer. 'After you came all that way to visit me yesterday? I thought this was what you wanted. To have me back where I belong. On top of you.' 

Your stomach turns as you realize the predicament you are in. This is dangerous. 'I came to ask you to change your emergency contact.' 

'Sure you did.' He slips past you, standing face to face with your painting. 'You need someone to keep you from being a little whore. I mean, falling for a doctor? That's way out of your league, sweetheart.' He talks down to you like it's the one thing he's put on this earth to do. It's vile, sharp, meant. As if you are nothing more than a sexual object for him to use. 

Such a contrast between him and Zayne. It's like night and day. In the portrait you captured Zayne in the morning light, all soft edges and quiet intimacy lined with sleep. And in front of you stands Daniel who's smirk twists into something disgustingly ugly. Distain. 

'Pathetic. You'll spread your legs for any many who gives you attention, won't you?' He leans forward, the faint smell of alcohol masked by breath mints walms into your face. He's still a drunkard and a fool. 'I'll admit, trading up to a surgeon is smarter than your usual trash.' 

'Leave.' Your eyes fit over to the studio entrance. There stands Zayne and he looks pissed. You've never seen him like this before. His voice rumbles through the room like a command you can't refuse, but there's this strange calm in him. It's icy cold, steady, reliable, dangerously calm. 

Daniel laughs in disbelief. 'Oh my God, you've got him believing you actually like him? Shit, I knew you were a manipulative bitch, but this is a whole new level.' 

Zayne takes a few steps forward. 'Don't address her. Leave. You are trespassing.' 

'It's not trespassing if I have a key,' Daniel sneers back, taking Zayne's words as a challenge. He puffs up his chest, makes himself big, but Zayne is not impressed. He throws a quick look at you, checking in with you, but all you feel is shame. You did not change the locks after you broke up with Daniel because he had "lost the key." 

Suddenly, Zayne moves so fast it has you startled. One moment Daniel was puffing out his chest, the next he is pinned against the wall with Zayne's forearm bracing against his windpipe. 

'The key,' Zayne demands. Daniel wheezes, unable to breathe properly, but his eyes are full of malice as he throws the key to the floor. Zayne lets him go the second the key hits the floor. No need for useless violence. 'Now leave.' 

Daniel huffs. 'Enjoy my sloppy seconds, doctor. She's good at playing house until she gets bored.' 

The door slams closed and then there's just silence between you and Zayne. 

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[cripplecharacters]

hi! this is more art-related, so i hope this is ok to ask. i know giving your characters strabismus or the "googly eyes" for a joke/to make the character look silly or "insane" is bad, but what about when characters are tired, half-lidded, and have their eyes pointing outward? or, are like, screaming in pain? would those types of drawings count as putting strabismus in a bad light?

i've also seen scenes in the cartoons i watch where the characters' eyes kind of go wall-eyed or unfocused (for a lack of a better term), usually when they're surprised or have a realization— i hope you know what im referring haha. is that also a bad trope and thus something i should avoid drawing? thank you so much!!

Hey!

In my opinion, it depends on how it's depicted. There's nothing inherently funny or wrong with someone's eyes unfocusing because of fatigue or something intense going on. When I take off my glasses my eyes immediately go in opposite directions, it happens.

Basically ask yourself: why am I putting strabismus here? Is it supposed to make the scene funnier, make the character seem less intelligent, more "derpy", get a specific reaction from the viewer that's specifically related to the character's condition, etc.? If that's the case, don't.

And the reverse: is it just a feature of that character, and it also shows up in more serious scenes? Go ahead. Generally speaking, if the character has actually consistent strabismus (=doesn't just show up in a few scenes) then you're probably fine by default.

As for the last question, IMO it's not as bad/boring as your standard "eye condition=funny" gag, but it's still used to make it more 'comedic' than it would've been otherwise.

As a rule of thumb, I wouldn't count on media who don't have

a singular character, who has actually consistent strabismus, isn't the comedic relief, and isn't shown as "stupid",

to be a good representation of it. If the funny eye condition only shows up once in a while for The Effect then it's probably tired and overdone at least.

If other followers with strabismus have Opinions feel free to share, I don't know what the community consensus is.

Hope this helps,

mod Sasza

[leonawriter]

I just went through Hong Lu's announcer lines, and there are SO MANY where he's directly addressing Dante themself.

That acceptance that yes, Dante may not be fighting with them, but they don't need to be in the field to be alongside them, leading them.

This one reminds me of how before his Canto, people were wondering what Dante would have to do next, as the Sinners' Manager. They'd already started being more involved.

And we were pointing at Chesed like "They're gonna have to help someone with depression." And that's what they did, with Hong Lu - he's able to see the joy in his past experiences, and want to keep going.

The kindness! The acceptance!

This is when an abnormality part is broken. Interesting way of putting it there, though.

This is for a strong attack with a sin advantage.

That "Did you see that, Dante?" makes me think of a kid pointing out something cool.

Hong Lu... probably didn't have many chances to just be a kid, while he was one. So it's probably not much different. Especially when Dante does treat the Sinners well.

This one is for when a Sinner's staggered, and it made me laugh so hard. The sing-song way he's saying it! Calling out! The "oh, this is awkward, haha~"

No lilt. This is far more serious. I'm reminded of how I write Chesed; sometimes the lilt is implied in what he's saying even without a tilde, and sometimes you can just tell it isn't there.

Oh I loved seeing this line.

You can tell that it's hard, now that he's finally allowing himself to feel things again. Just like he's accepted, he never fully let go of his sorrow; he tried to grow numb, but the emotions were still with him all along.

That "Ha ha, this isn't good" being more about how "excruciating" it is for him to feel this sorrow, even as much as it is about how sorrowful that it's happening at all is.

I'm hit again by the familiarity of how Hong Lu talks to Dante. It's friendly. He doesn't read like an employee, he reads like a friend. Like someone who'll be right by Dante's side as it happens.

And AGAIN, there's that growth. "I would turn away and smile thoughtlessly" and that "but... I don't have to do that anymore."

From here on, I'm sure we're going to see a lot more of Hong Lu emoting, and reacting to all sorts of things. He's free to react how he likes, and hurt as much as he likes, because he isn't alone and he doesn't have expectations on him to be anything like an "untarnished jade."

I'd seen someone else bring this one up on twitter, but... he really is kind, isn't he? Even back when he didn't know anything about Dante, when they were just the new Manager who was inexperienced and amnesiac who was stumbling along, Hong Lu paid attention to them, as well. Not just the other Sinners in their Cantos.

And yeah maybe there's lore foreshadowing about "pain can accumulate," but I think it's also because of how his own (emotional) pain accumulated, to the point where he broke. And that if Dante has mentioned in canon (inner thoughts/narration or not) that they've got lasting pains from turning the clock, then Hong Lu's probably noticed that, too.

And there's another one I saw on the wiki, too-

"Dante keeps talking about what comes next, even in dire situations like these... Oh, I don't dislike it. I... I'm always happy to hear the warmth in your every word."

I'd imagine that for someone like Hong Lu, who's always just been told to put up with everything, not cry, and witness... having someone like Dante remind him that this isn't the end, that there'll be a next time... it has to be really reassuring. Comforting. Because Dante is doing what Hong Lu always wanted for his younger self-

To be told everything's going to be okay.

All in all I just love these announcer lines. They're gonna feel like having a friend talking over the battles.

If anyone wants to watch the vid I used, it's this one.

[thinkviolets]

Whisper me Lies

Pairings: Wanda Maximoff x Reader Summary: How can something end when it isn't there anymore?

A/n: IDK what category is this word vomit but I am putting this here. First contribution to the fandom and I am craving angst. English is my 3rd language and my first time writing. This piece is devastatingly not proof read and typewritten in my phone. Grammar mistakes ahead ⚠️ Might delete this later who knows?

You know that look in her eyes and have been dreading this for weeks. Gone were the whispered promises, each uttered promises felt even colder than death itself. Silence used to be a comforting warmth between the two of you, now it's choking the life out of you. This shared space was your haven amidst the chaotic life she seems to choose. You love her even before you know what love is. You were her solid ground when this foreign country felt like sinking sand for her. She was your first in everything and probably the last but it seems that wasn't the case for her.

This rift didn't even occur slowly, it came fast and hard. There were no arguments, no fights, just a sudden chasm of emptiness. You wondered what went wrong for the sudden turn in your relationship with Wanda. Everything just seemed to dissipate slowly into the void. She still sleeps with you with her arms around your waist. She still holds your hands and still buys you flowers but you know she doesn't see you that way anymore. You know the both of you we're trying to salvage whatever what's left. Prolonging this will just hurt the both of you, caging her will hurt you more than setting her free.

You already made peace with letting her go, you just didn't expect her to say she can't feel your love anymore. You, who would do everything for her, the only woman you have ever loved more than life itself can't feel your love? You don't want her to say it. You didn't think you failed in showing it and thought it right. Maybe, it does fail to compare when literal cosmic energy connects them. How can you even compete with that when the universe has tied them together.

Despite all those facts you know it in your heart you have given everything to her and never failed your love so she doesn't need to console you. She doesn't need to say that you will love someone else more than her. You don't want to hear her saying you will love someone else. You would rather hear her lie that she hates you than make you love anyone else.

You are ruined for anyone else. You are letting Wanda go so she doesn't need to say it. You'd take all your love for her even as much as asking her to whisper lies in your dying breath.

--

[midnight--sadness]

So i saw your recent(?) reply to an ask about nsfw junhun hcs and I’ve come to demand more 🔫

You said many things that made me dizzy, but I’d love to hear you elaborate on:

- ‘[Junho] just had a lot of frustrations he has to let go of and he uses Gihun to do just that.’

What are we talking about here? Bending him in half and fucking him hard and fast? Would he say anything mean? Would he thank him after?

- ‘lots of athletic sex’

I NEED A POSITION LIST NOOWWWW.

- ‘phone/cyber sex’

Your brain is so big and sexy

Imagine Junho asking Gihun to fuck himself on a toy while he listens…or to touch himself and moan into the phone…BUT YOU SAID A VIDEO. What kind of video would Junho want to see? How would Gihun show he was nervous? Avoiding eye contact with the camera, tucking his chin into his chest, what are we talking here? I feel like Junho LOVES the way Gihun says his name when they’re fucking so I could totally see him asking for a video of him jerking it and calling out for Junho, maybe some nipple play in there too

FEED THE BEAST MIA. FEED ME

- exactly who tf you think it is

i love when u send me an ask bc the sign off is so fucking ominous every time dkvfdjjfvnjkdj feeling like the junhun grim reaper is coming for my ass 😭😭😭 (all in the best way possible of course!)

okay, im gonna answer this in parts to make it easier

‘[Junho] just had a lot of frustrations he has to let go of and he uses Gihun to do just that.’

in this instance, junho literally uses gihun how he wants to. whichever position he wants, he will manhandle gihun into it. he sets the pace, the depth, the rhythm. he's the one who decides how much preparation gihun gets, how long the foreplay lasts, if gihun can talk or make noise. nothing is up to gihun. junho is the one in control, he's calling the shots.

(i firmly believe that they have a safeword, use the color system liberally, and have a special hand gesture they know to make when they have their mouths covered; i dont think junho would ever do any of this to gihun without first asking him if he's okay with it and estabilishing a way for gihun to communicate when he wants to stop.)

in the end, junho would for sure thank gihun - for allowing junho to do that, for being so good to him, for not judging junho... the aftercare in these instances is always top notch bc junho would almost feel like he has to apologize to gihun. but gihun quickly assures him that he likes it, likes being junho's to manhandle and own and claim. it makes him feel good.

i do have to point out that this isn't something junho plans. some days work sucks and he has too many memories choking him and so he needs to do this to let off steam. it's also why gihun is willing to participate; he knows how much better junho gets afterwards.

‘lots of athletic sex’

i wish i could put genuinely insane sex positions here but the truth is the only one half of this pairing is young and fit nkdfjkdj so i do have to account for the fact that gihun isn't in the best physical shape ever.

im talking lots of standing up sex, against the walls, anything that has them using every muscle in the body. junho bends gihun in ways he thought his body wouldn't bend but thankfully gihun is surprisingly flexible for a man his age. junho makes gihun ride him in every single way you can ride someone and by the end of gihun's legs are burning and he's almost begging junho let him stop but it feels so. fucking. good.

‘phone/cyber sex’

every single thing you said: yes!!!

junho loves all type of phone sex, so he'll take just a phone call bc hearing gihun moan is like a siren's call in his ears. and a picture is just as good, the visual of gihun stretching himself is amazing. but a video... a video has both auditory and visual, so junho doesn't have to pick one - he can see gihun stretch himself and moan all at the same time. and that is so delicious for him.

gihun is, obviously, very embarassed and very shy the first time he does it. i was debating whether junho would help him out at first, just setting everything up and making sure he's comfortable... but then i thought that junho is a little shit who'd enjoy seeing gihun struggle a bit. one of his favorites things is being able to surprise gihun despite gihun being more experienced in life, so seeing him fumble through a challenge, all shy and sweet, is half the point of the cyber sex idea for junho. it gets him so hot to see gihun pushing his own boundaries and doing everything he can for junho's pleasure.

gihun is a nervous mess, equal parts staring at the camera and then avoiding it completely. he is the one to set up the camera and sometimes he has to readjust it a bit so the bed is fully in frame. he has to constantly remind him to be facing the camera when he does anything bc the point of this is for junho to see.

he's fumbling at first, but then his awkwardness fades as the pleasure builds and at one point he forgets he's in front of camera recording himself. his confidence grows too, especially as he imagines that junho is physically behing the camera, watching gihun with half-lidded eyes, that dark gaze of his laser focused on gihun's body. it's something gihun has loved abt junho, how intense he is, and the moan of junho's name slips out without him wanting it to.

after that first word, the rest comes tumbling out. he's whimpering and begging as if junho is actually there, saying that junho is so good to him, becoming a completely incoherent mess. he digs his own fingers into his hip the way junho does, he runs his hands over his thighs and tweaks his own nipples in the exact same way junho does. he even keeps tilting his head to the side to expose his neck bc he knows junho loves to kiss him there before he remembers he's alone.

he for sure says something like "wish it was you filling me" and when junho is watching that tape he cums as soon as he hears gihun say that... does he get jealous fo the toy gihun is using? yes. but he can irrational when he has seong gihun moaning his name like that.

[dollypopup]

honestly, I think the reason the last few episodes of S3 made me so upset as a Polin fan was that they didn't wrap up any growth from Pen or from Colin in regards to their character flaws to have them gel as a cohesive unit. They still felt very much. . .alone, to me, in those last few episodes. Here are two people who really are soulmates on main, able and willing to help the other become a better person, and I don't feel that the season delivered in that regard. now I'm open to this discussion, but I feel like part 2 really lost the plot in regards to romance because they didn't have a solid grasp on 1: who the characters are, and 2: what the appeal of them as a couple IS

colin's flaws in the show are not the same as his flaws in the book, but they almost treated him like they were. where in the book, his main flaws are his temper and being a flake, in the show, Colin doesn't really get angry. Not in the way his book counterpart does. And Colin is not flakey, either. If anything, he runs heartfirst into his problems. And other people's. His travels aren't necessarily an escape: they're to complete his education. Now, Colin DOES look for escape, but in other ways: drink, drugs, rotting in bed (god, what a relatable king), but his travels? I don't see that. Yeah, he needed distance after S1 to heal over heartbreak, but that's not the primary goal. And the second go around, he's not running away from anything, either.

In fact, everything about Colin points to the fact that he's the opposite from his book counterpart in this sense. Please keep in mind- he is ONLY 22. He essentially did the regency equivalent of getting a bachelor's degree after two years of study abroad and then got married to his childhood best friend right whilst he published his thesis (the travel logs). Unlike in the books, PEN is the one who runs away. She offers up annulment (that Colin refuses), she resigns to paying off Cressida (whilst he goes to talk to her), she literally races off to her carriage to cry and go home (and he chases after her). Colin does NOT have the character flaw of flaking out, which means him sticking around, staying through everything, is not symptomatic of his character growth, but just an inherit character trait of his.

No, Colin was never looking for escape. And he wasn't even necessarily looking for MEANING.

He was always, from the first moment we met him, looking for himself.

Colin's main character flaw in the show is his confusion and insecurity of self. Not only in his arc of trying to parse out what it means to be a man of his society, fighting against and trying to meet gender expectations, trying to be someone others listen to and care about, but also his general selflessness. Colin does everything with very little regard for his own well-being. Colin doesn't care about being humiliated or looking like a fool, he runs after Penelope regardless. Multiple times. Colin refuses her annulment yes because he loves her and wants to stay, but also because he cannot leave her to her lonesome, even if he goes down with her. Even with Marina, Colin would have married her if she was honest, his own happiness not even a consideration. His own feelings, his own emotions, come secondary. Thus is the plight of the chronic people pleaser.

And at the end of the show, he doesn't crack through that. Even when, arguably, Penelope is the best person to help him do so. Not only because Penelope is in the habit of putting herself first (which, frankly, she should be doing and I applaud her for. When she's asked who Whistledown was meant to protect and she answered 'Me', I think that was the most honest she'd ever been, and probably when I respected her the most), but also because she has had the buildup in Polin of being the stable one. The one who fell first. The one who doodled love notes in her diary and had stars in her eyes whenever she talked to him. What's that one quote? Someone who thinks they're hard to love being with someone who loves them like breathing? If there's ANYONE who could convince Colin to consider himself more, it's Penelope 'What of him? What of Colin?' Featherington.

But then. . .she doesn't. And so he doesn't. The last speech is that he is happy to stand off to the side and soak up a bit of her light.

Which, let's not parse words here, Chat, he has BEEN doing. Colin is not an arrogant character who takes up all the spotlight. He has ALWAYS existed on the outskirts. By the end of the season, he continues to.

Which takes us then to Penelope, who also ends very similarly to how she began. Penelope's main flaw is not that she considers herself above or before others (again, I think putting herself first is, ultimately, good!), but rather that she does not trust anyone to help her. As someone who has learned to be hyper-independent, mostly as a trauma response, I understand her. But I still think it was the wrong move not to challenge that.

Half the appeal of a partnership is that you can lean on someone else. That you no longer have to do things all by your lonesome. That someone is there to confide in, to support, to take some of that weight, to depend on. Colin is the PERFECT person for Penelope to learn to lean on others with. She does not do so with Eloise. She does not do so with her family. But Penelope in the previous seasons LIKED that Colin would do things for her. She LIKED that she didn't have to do things all on her own. That Colin would defend her, or think of her. Compliment her and support her and ask her questions and encourage her to open up. That he went to bat for her with Jack. That he wrote her letters. Colin made Penelope feel special because the way he loved her made her feel SEEN. His love helped to soften her. There is something so unyielding sweet in the knowledge that this woman who has clawed her way to notoriety and safety and freedom was all but skipping down her hallway in girlish glee after he danced with her. I LIKED that. I LIKE the fact that she can find ease with him. That she doesn't HAVE TO be strong.

But then in S3, they decided to lean even more into her hyperindependence, to the point where I am ASTONISHED it didn't shoot her further in the foot. Penelope informs the Queen she's LW alone (which was HER choice), Penelope sleeps alone in her marriage bed and doesn't reach out to him, Penelope makes all the big decisions alone, Penelope tells Colin she does not need him to do anything for her.

Yeah yeah, 'he feels like he needs to do things to earn love and she's telling him he's enough just as who he is'- but part of who Colin is IS being useful. He LIKES doing things for others. He LIKES feeling accomplished because he assisted someone.

Doesn't. . .everyone? Is that not a hallmark of a caring person? And isn't a sign of vulnerability, you know, that thing we NEED if we're going to have a relationship with someone. . .letting them? Letting them love us? Letting them care for us?

There are a lot of things I think S3 did well, but the main problem for me will always be that the core of Polin as a unit was missing. The appeal was ALWAYS about 'these two people are perfect for each other because they're so alike but they also CHALLENGE one another'. Who better to challenge Penelope's hyper-independence than Colin? Colin who looks out for her, Colin who loves to uplift her, Colin who wants to love openly and loudly? And who better to challenge Colin's self-disregard than Penelope? Penelope who considered him when no one else would, Penelope who wrote him more letters than anyone else, Penelope who listens?

Instead, the version of them we got in S3 landed so. . .flat, to me. Yeah, the 'and everyone clapped' ending was ick. Yeah, the editing was sloppy and Benedict's never ending threesome felt like I was in purgatory being punished for some sin or another. But at the end of the day, the thing I wanted, and that would make the two of them really shine as a couple, was seeing Pen and Colin become POLIN. Better because they're together. A team.

They never really became one, imo. And that's infuriating because the opportunity for it was RIGHT THERE. Polin is a golden opportunity couple. Guaranteed happy ever after, complex characters, multiple seasons to build them up, actors who have off the charts chemistry with each other. They had hours on hours to give us Polin working together toward a common goal. And then. . .didn't?

The character growth wasn't linear. It didn't have to be, of course, but it wasn't in an upward trajectory at the end, and it certainly wasn't a circle, either. It was an ouroboros, eating it's own tail. I will never forgive the writers for that.

[dodger432101]

OMG I LOVE HOW YOU WRITE LUX💜💜💜

I can’t help but think of Lux making an effort to swoon us every time we come home. I’m talking nice music, flirting touches and lots of kisses and hugs☺️

[I got a little lost in the fluff. If you want another that's more flirty and about making the reader really swoon send another request, I am more than happy to write a flirty lil Lux :>]

Work has been hard on you this week. The general public weren't the most fun to deal with at the best of times, but it's like the world has banded against you recently. There were always some annoying teenagers, or a parent who needed someone to take their anger out on, or food and drink thrown just about everywhere it could go.

You stagger home each day, worn out even though you live close to Palazzo. Lux hates seeing you so run down, always helping you out of your clothes and getting you something to eat. Every other day he'd run you a bath or get your shower ready, washing your hair for you while you rant out your frustrations from the day. He even threatened to go to work with you one day to sort those pesky mortals out. You're too tired to argue against him at that point, so you mumble about him not worrying about it as he helps you dry off and get into bed.

Luckily for you, you have the weekend off. So on Friday, you stand a little bit taller as you head out the door, blowing a kiss to Lux. Of course he knows this is your last day before you get a bit of time away from work, so once he's said goodbye to you he gets to work on making a nice scene for you to come home to.

Today has not been any kinder to you. Fatigued, you clumsily unlock the door to your home and stagger your way in. Only after the door closes behind you do you register the soft music playing further in the house. Curious, you make your way towards the source of the sound, ending up in your bedroom. Lux slips off the bed as the door opens, sauntering over to you. He's wearing a white shirt -the top few buttons undone- and black pants, you notice, as he adjusts his collar before holding a hand out to you. “You look exhausted, angel. Come, lay down, do you want anything to eat?” There's already a t-shirt and a pair of shorts waiting for you on the bed, which Lux helps you into once he's got you out of your work clothes. Of course, that doesn't happen without plenty of kisses being littered over your body, each one relaxing your tense muscles from withholding your rage at the Palazzo’s visitors.

“Mmm, not right now, love. Maybe later..” You flop down into bed on your front, head to the side and eyes closed. Just from your voice it's clear that you need this treatment. Your God nods to your response, even though you can't see it, hands massaging at your shoulders. That gets him some grumbled moans of relief so he goes down your back too, smiling as he feels you sink into the mattress with each knot that he works out.

After you're nice and relaxed, he comes back up to kiss along the side of your face he can get to. “I'm so proud of you for getting through this week, my love.” The music playing fades out, replaced by an equally soft track. It's a playlist of relaxing music he found, mostly containing instruments he's noticed you enjoy. “I love you so much, angel. You put up with so much shit from your own species,” That gets a low chuckle out of you. “Just to keep a roof over our heads, and food in your -well, our- bellies. I hope you know just how grateful I am to have such a strong, persevering lover. And I hope the little things I do make life easier for you, sunshine.”

Lux snuggles up against you, giggling as you grumble at the feeling of his shirt. He separates from you just enough to unbutton it the rest of the way and pull it off, a fond smile on his lips as you bury your face into his chest. “You do help, Lux, so much. The thought of coming home to you keeps me going through my shitty job.” His hands go up to run through your tangled hair as you turn on your side, facing him, humming as he gently scratches at your scalp. “I love you, Lux.”

The God of Light rests his head on the pillow, watching you with little hearts in his eyes. “I love you too, my beautiful angel. Take a nap if you want. You sure look like you need it.” He leans down to press a kiss to the top of your head, smirking as you return it on the part of his chest your lips are pressed up against. “You've got 2 days to relax now. We can watch that series you mentioned earlier in the week, or try that recipe you found online, or-..”

You've fallen asleep to his voice, the vibrations of him talking lulling you to dream land. He slowly wraps his arms around your head, cradling you to his chest. “Or we can just stay in bed. Either way I'll be happy. I love every second I spend with you.” His voice is just a whisper. “Sweet dreams, my most precious light.” With one more kiss to your head, Lux closes his eyes, soaking in your warmth as he joins you in sleep.

[starrbishops]

⟡Sidelines⟡

(Bob Reynolds x f!Reader)

Summary: Your boyfriend worries about you. A lot. When you come home injured, he immediately focuses on taking care of you, in more ways than one. (Based partially on Sidelines by Phoebe Bridgers)

Word Count: 1.9k

Notes: Set after the events of Thunderbolts*, established relationship, SMUT!!! oral sex (f receiving), reader injury (stab wound), Bob is a nervous but caring bf, and a MUNCH (bless his heart)

a/n: This is my first published Bob fic! I'm still trying to get a sense of how to write him but this is sort of me trying to character build what he's like post TB and in a relationship. But if there are two things I do know it is that he is Phoebe Bridges coded and that that boy eats pussy like the last goddamn supper so I give you this.

One thing Bob didn’t expect about being in love was how anxiety inducing it was.

He still didn’t fully believe your relationship was real; that you’d said yes to him asking you out, kissed him that night outside the tower, excitedly told everyone about your new relationship. It was strange, having someone be proud of him, but a feeling he had come to love.

You were kind to him. He still wasn’t used to the feeling of being wanted, or even tolerated, let alone loved. But the way you treated him, not like a burden or like he was made of glass, made him love you.

And with that, came with being constantly worried whenever you were out on a mission, even doing simple recon. He tried to stay calm, not be annoying about it, yet he always found himself imagining the worst, that one day the team would come home and you wouldn’t be there.

It’s why he sat, waiting by the door for you and the team to return from your mission of the day. You’d texted him when you’d all gotten on the jet home, reassuring him you were all fine and giving him and ETA. It was lonely in the Watchtower, although he did find ways to entertain himself. Still, he often found himself seated in his chair in the common room, twiddling his thumbs as he awaited you all. It was kind of sad, he knew. Still, he wouldn’t trade anything for seeing the way your face lit up when you saw him waiting, and the relief he felt when you walked in.

The elevator dinged, opening to reveal the six of you, everyone looking tired and beat from a long day. Bob’s eyes immediately searched for you, finally seeing you step out last, an arm around Bucky as he held you up. You hobbled in, not putting pressure on your left leg, where he saw a red splotch on your gear, clearly blood.

“What happened?” he quickly moved to you, Bucky automatically shifting to let Bob hold you up. You winced a bit at the transition, wrapping your arms around your boyfriend’s shoulders.

“It’s fine, it’s just a little cut-”

“She got stabbed.” Bucky announced as he began pulling off his holsters.

“You got stabbed?!” Bob repeated, eyes going wide as he looked down at the wound.

“Look, Bob, I’m okay, it’s just a minor stab wound-”

“There’s no such thing as a minor stab wound!” he exclaims, sighing as he kneels down to look at your calf. Sure enough, the blood looks dried but there is a gash in your gear, and he can see the stitches someone had given you on the ride home. “Who stitched you up?”

“Me!” Walker calls as he unclips his helmet. “Did pretty good for a mid-combat wound.”

You scoff. “Debatable.”

“Thanks, Walker.” Bob talks over you as he stands. “You are going to rest now.”

“Bob, I’m fine-”

“Nope!” He wrapped an arm beneath your knees, lifting you with ease as he carried you to your room. You forget how strong he is sometimes- how the Sentry Project changed him. He’s always wearing baggy crewnecks and long sleeves that hide the physique it gave him, the muscle. He’s a little embarrassed of it, honestly. He doesn’t feel like he earned it. Then again, he doesn't feel like he earned any of this- these friends, living in the tower, you.

You give up on fighting as Bob kicks your door open, putting you down softly on your bed. “Thanks.” you mutter as you scoot upwards to lay on your pillows, wincing at the sharp pain in your leg. “Sorry I didn’t tell you. I didn’t want you to worry.”

“Well I am worried!” he laid down next to you, gently putting a hand to your cheek. “I always worry. Every Time you guys go out there, I-I’m terrified something’s going to happen to you.”

You put your hand over his, a guilty look on your face. “Bob, I…” you trail off, staring at the ceiling. “I just don’t want to be a burden to you.”

Bob’s quiet for a moment, processing your words. “A burden?”

You nod, peering over at him. His face is confused, brow furrowed as if you’ve said that the sky is green and grass is blue. “You could never be a burden to me.”

“I know, I know, I just-”

“No. You are not a burden.” he silences you with a soft kiss, cupping your face gently. “You are everything.”

You smile up at him, kissing him back once more. “I’m sorry for not telling you.”

“It’s okay.” he punctuates his words with another kiss. “I’m just glad you’re okay.”

He nuzzles into the crook of your neck as you wrap your arms around him, the two of you laying still, just basking each other’s presence for the moment.

“A burden…” Bob mumbles into your neck. “You’re the best thing in my shitty fucking life.”

“Don’t say that.”

“It’s true.” he lifts his head, looking you in the eyes, dead serious. “Before you, it was like… everything was just so far away, just things happening to me. Now, it’s so much more…” he searches for the right word. “Real. Like I had something to keep going for. And something I could lose.”

You just look up at him, seeing the genuine look on his face, the fear primed in his eyes. Bob is no stranger to rejection; even after months together, in the back of his mind he worries every romantic gesture could be the wrong thing.

But instead of yelling at him, pushing him away, you just smile at him, run a hand through his hair. “I’m not going anywhere, okay? Not if I can help it.” you press a kiss to his cheek. “And I’ll be more careful from now on. I promise. I’ll always come home to you.”

Bob smiles softly, yet hesitantly, like there’s still something left on his mind. “Okay?” you ask, both a question of understanding and of his current mental state.

“Yeah, yeah I’m good, I just…” his eyes flit around nervously, before landing on your face again. “I love you.”

It’s the first time he’s said it out loud, although he’s known it for a long time. He’s known since the first time you kissed, but he was too terrified of scaring you off to ever say it. So he held back, till now.

“I love you too.” you smile, chuckling a little as you see the joy light up Bob’s face. “I love you, Bob.”

“Really?” he grins, still unsure if this is real. You just nod, and then he’s pulling you into him, kissing you again, this time intense, with all the feeling and honesty he’s held back till now. His hands run down to your waist, pulling you close to him till your bodies are flush against each other.

When he finally pulls away, you see his brown eyes darkened with lust, glancing back down to your lips as if he can’t get enough.

“I want you.” He whispers, shifting himself so he’s atop you.

“You’ve got me.” you pull him in for another kiss, before he’s sitting back up and yanking at your tactical pants.

When it comes to sex, Bob is always eager to please. You make an effort to take care of him just as much as he does for you, but he insists he takes just as much pleasure in your ecstasy as he does his.

Now he’s swiftly pulling your pants down, taking your underwear with them as he tosses them off somewhere in your room. He runs a thumb along your wound, assessing how bad it is.

“I’m okay.” you breathe out. “Wasn’t deep. Please, Bob.”

He takes his place laying between your thighs, gently propping your legs onto his shoulders. His eyes take in your already soaked folds, his mouth hanging open, salivating at the sight.

“You sure?” he checks once more, glancing over at your cut. You nod fervently.

“Yes, please, Bob, God-”

That’s all he needs to hear before he’s pressing kisses into your thighs, moving quickly to lick a stripe up your cunt. You gasp at the sensation, his tongue sending shockwaves through your body.

Prior to meeting you, Bob had had a few relationships, mostly short, sexual based things. He wasn’t an expert on eating pussy, but the first time he got between your legs, it was like he’d found God in there. 

He lapped at your pussy fervently, like it was his last meal. Bob Reynolds was nothing if not a pleaser, and after a few months, he had learned what worked. For instance, he knew that if he flicked his tongue against your clit as he did now, you would release a choked out gasp, fingers gripping his hair like a lifeline, which is exactly what you did.

He groans against you, the vibrations sending heat through the growing knot in your stomach. You writhed against him, his large palms holding you down against the mattress. God, you loved it when he showed his strength.

“God, yes, Bob, just like that, fuck-” you moaned out praise as he continued to delve into you, switching between lavishing your folds and sucking at your clit. His hips stuttered against the mattress as he desperately sought friction, growing impossibly harder by the second at your cries. “I love you, love you so much.”

The words go straight to his cock, his hips slamming against the mattress even harder as he groans into you. One of your favorite things about Bob; he is vocal during sex. The dirty things that came out of his mouth the first time you gave him a blowjob are still etched into your mind.

But now, you feel the coil in your stomach tightening, threatening to come undone. “Bob, Bob I’m close, baby, fuck…” you grip his hair with both hands, gridning your hips into his face as best you can while he holds you down. He stares up at you, his big brown eyes taking in every gasp, every moan that comes out of you. He moves up, sucking on your clit so hard you see stars as you finally cum, crying out his name as you do.

He doesn’t slow down, continuing to lap at you as you ride out your orgasm. You gasp as you come down from your high, his mouth finally slowing and smiling up at you, covered in your slick.

“You’re so pretty like this.” you pant out. “Me all over your mouth.”

He grins shyly, but with pride in his actions. “You liked it?”

“Yes I liked it, Bob.” you laugh as you pull him up to you, tasting yourself on his lips as you kiss him. You reach down to his groin, feeling a wet spot there. “Baby, did you-”

“Uh, yeah.” he mumbles, cheeks growing red. “I like seeing you like that.”

You just smile, kissing him once again. “That’s hot.” you murmur into his lips.

He hums against you, kissing you hungrily. He rolls his hips against yours, and your breath catches as you can feel him already getting hard again. 

You're in for a long night.

a/n: Bob my Shayla. Oh my Shayla. I hope I did him justice with this. Ain't much, but it's honest work.

[dreamjoymemoir]

thr storm of anaxas shall never stop coming 👺😉

Reader who always makes time for him/bears the brunt of some of his worst behaviors occasionally still always being there for him? No matter how hurt or exhausted they are at times?

i wasn't totally certain what to write for this request but i hope you like my interpretation of it anyway 😭🙏! he loves you very much don't forget.

-anaxagoras has a lot going on, from his work as a scholar to his grudge against the gods and the fact that he doesn't seem to value his own life very much... he can be stubborn too, and maybe his arrogance makes it a little difficult to love him at times. you worry about him quite a bit, and you'll have to be firm with him when he's being self-destructive or dismissive.

-that being said, i believe that he notices all of your gestures of kindness and is genuinely grateful for them. when he falls asleep at his desk and finds a blanket draped over him, or you urge him to take care of himself more, his heart aches. the last thing he wants to do is worry you, the person he cares about most in this ridiculous world.

-as a proponent of "equivalent exchange," he is keen on returning your devotion in kind. he understands that a relationship can only be built on mutual understanding and effort. if he notices you feeling particularly tired or down, he'll put more care into coming home on time so he can spend time with you. he is sometimes a selfish person, but he is not cruel or callous on purpose, and he wants to be worthy of your love. if it seems that he's hurt your feelings, he apologizes and makes it clear that it wasn't his intention.

-he might not care much for his life on his own, but it's different when he has someone who deeply cares about his well-being. he'll be a little more willing to take care of himself, and he'll be more careful about the way he treats you too! you are certainly not just someone he wants to carry all his burdens for him, nor will he take you for granted. as someone who's experienced devastating loss, he understands love and sacrifice better than you might expect.

[reidhalstead]

The world spins. Tilts on an axis as he loses himself in the warmth of her skin and her lips. Where hands had traced her in his memory both as something cherished and as something he's hated. She's different now; there are grooves and scars felt underneath fabric, withered muscle and agonising reminders that she is painfully human. He's not sure how he can loathe this or find bitterness in a broken soul as rough hands press unforgivingly into her flesh, lingering too long over that crescent scar at her hip as his thumb ghosts along the ridge.

He notices when Anika's attention moves, a hand that fumbles at herself, an arm that moves in tandem to meet it — a limb that's so coordinated but missing a piece. Her gentle, but concentrated breaths that have his teeth clipping her lower lip, threatening to tug it rather than accept the idea she's pulling away from him. But she isn't, it's just her mind that dips away. Jaws that speak a language without sound. Reaching desperately to find an answer in the other, something right, something that does not shatter this illusion.

Eyes open, peering at the crease in her features as she whispers at him between breaths. Reid stares at her hand briefly, a shirt tugged halfway up, peeled away from blood and grime. He doesn't allow himself too much pause. Not for this. Booker's not someone who asks for help. And perhaps that's all he allows to reach his features; that hardened gaze that challenges her about this action. You don't have to do this. They don't have to. And a monstrous part of him laughs at him for that.

Hands gently move her arms away, he lifts the shirt over her head and tosses it to the ground beside them. It'd been clean, but speckled and stained with reddened fingers. He's seen her like this before, put his mouth against old scars, whilst his eyes here search for new ones. He's threatening the fragility of this moment, but he can't deny her either. Struggles to refuse himself. Easier then, to slip into darkness than it is to scream about everything that's weighing him down; the lives he's taken that are a heavy cloak on his shoulders. So, he finds his way back to her lips, knowing it is selfish. Hands return to exploring bare skin when he reaches beneath her and lifts. They've been here before too. In his arms, pressed together, as lowers her onto the motel bed. Swollen lips that refuse to cease as he crawls between her legs, kneels there and lays her down.

She needs this. Rest. Not to stare at the broken thing that said cruel things because he'd smelted his inhibitions in hellfire. Even if she's doused the heat, he's remembering who he had been, and how he's so far from that now, there's no return.

You can't want this. Him. Her. What he should tell her if his mouth was thinking about anything other than consuming her. Hunger sits carefully underneath it all, waiting to rear its head into an opening. He can't slip. Reid won't. But his hands move to brace either side of her head, keeping him above her as she sinks into the strewn covers of the bed. It feels feverish, but he can't fight the part of his conscience that wars inside of him. It says she can't strip her clothes off and bare herself to him and expect to know what she wants. There's no whiskey here. Just blood, and months gone memories.

"I'm not him, princess." The man she knew. The one she believes she sees as he wrestles with a guilt and a monster that cackles at him for it. Even without a piece of her, she's always going to be Anika. She's more than he'll ever be. They were really always built to lose. He dips for a kiss that feels like any could be the last, nips, like he can't decide if he wants to win or lose anymore. "You know I'm not."

Every inch of her skin called out to him. She didn't think she could let him go, even if she tried. She didn't think her selfish heart would allow it. And the way his hands had gripped her said the same; a language only their limbs seemed to understand, written in breath and touch, quiet in their pleas to be held, to be wanted and loud in their bruising kisses.

She missed him, even when he was right there, chest to chest, and mouth to mouth, wrapped up in each other like veins strangling a lost building. The coldness, that emptiness around her where he used to be, where he should've been, still echoed in her bones. In his absence, the ghost of him had lingered, born of the only emotion she'd ever let herself feel when it came to him — hate.

Hate was what she felt for most things. Anger, rage, bitterness that rotted her from the inside out. It was a weapon, something she sharpened to make tearing through flesh easier. Killing had become second nature, effortless in the hand that held the gun, because nothing good ever lived inside her. Not until he dug up the grave, kissed a corpse on the mouth and something moved inside a dead chest. A heartbeat. A heart that beat for him. Yet, she feared that the heart she had to offer looked a lot like decay.

He tightened his hold on her, maybe because he knew she would run at the first sign of vulnerability, at the sound of walls collapsing, at the sight of want and need sipping through the thickness of her skin. Every tug at her clothes, and every misplaced kiss in places his mouth hadn’t mapped yet, said: don’t go, don’t leave me again, don’t run. And she could feel it in her spine, and in her ribs, in the way she was gripping him just as hard. Anika was now offering too much of herself, and maybe still not enough, where her hand had slit from his neck and found the hem of her shirt. It was a struggle, to pull it off, like everything else was. A basic fucking task that looked so sloppy and stupid. Frustration flushed hot across her cheeks as she fumbled with the fabric, digits tugging stubborn and helpless all at once. she remembered a time when this was easier. Her jaw tightening against the kiss she refused to break.

She didn’t want to ruin the moment. Didn’t want to spoil a good ending — not when it was right here in her hands. Because fuck, did they deserve something good and fragile, and theirs.

Her lips barely parted against his, just enough to let a mutter slip out: "Can you, uh—just… take it off." It sounded smaller than she meant it to. But defeat came easy when his mouth was right there to kiss it away.

[invinciblerodent]

himh I'll make a Dark Urge that's so fucking scared

big scary bloodsoaked killer, tearing through armies with her literal bare hands? nah. a quiet, scared girl who doesn't understand why she does what she does, why she can do what she can, but is, at the same time, deeply disgusted by herself because she has just enough self-awareness to know to be repulsed.

maybe it's because I'm a tiny bit obsessed with clinging to the thought that people, at the end of the day, are fundamentally good, no matter what. that there is a fundamental human goodness in all people that makes them worthy of redemption, or at least of the opportunity for atonement.

maybe the way I want to play a story like that is with someone who, stripped from indoctrination and free for the first time to think for herself and embrace and be who she is, finds that in the deepest, most hidden pits of her soul, she is not the strong, kind, resilient person she might want to be. try as the might, she is not someone who can bear the weight of her own past, she's just a... a terrified, broken little girl, cowering in the shadows and unable to look herself in the eye. (which also gives me ideas for her relationship with Orin but that's a little bit beside the point)

cathartic self-insert who. therapy? what is that. is it on Steam or Epic.