#it’s not penance either. it’s not. it’s just. existence.

[quietwingsinthesky]

thinking about cain and him living alone for centuries(? when did his wife die) after slaughtering the knights of hell. forever after choosing not to do harm or fix things. to just. exist. alone. cooking for himself despite the fact he doesn’t need to eat and keeping his house tidy and tending to bees that would not choose to stay there unless he cared for them very well. and it is driving me. insane.

[horngryeyes]

>thinks about douglas eiffel

>starts crying

[charliemwrites]

Still thinking about Nikto, and that anon ask I answered just a bit ago.

Content: Dissociation/Depersonalization, Unhealthy (not harmful) Coping Mechanisms, Codependence, Trauma/PTSD symptoms, Sexual Themes

After the hallway incident you’re a bit shaken. A life of a heavy burden, but your shoulders are used to the weight; you’re a medic. But what Nikto offered you in the hallway — no, not offered, but gave, devoted. It makes it hard to breathe.

You’re not sure if what he’s seeking (or perhaps found?) is solace or penance. You don’t think you have much say in the matter really. If God asked His disciples to stop worshipping, would they?

The comparison feels too bold, even in the privacy of your own mind. Smacks of narcissism and ego. You don’t feel powerful. You feel scared. Of what it means to hold this broken, burdened man in the palm of your hand, trying to keep all the pieces together without cutting yourself on them.

Don’t be so careless with your life, you told him.

He’s taken those words as religious creed. He doesn’t storm around corners, guns blazing anymore. Doesn’t drop from heart-stopping heights to stamp-sized targets. Hes not the first one out nor the last one in anymore — though he never lets you get out first or hop in transport last either.

Suppose that shouldn’t be a surprise.

He cares for his wounds now, too. Cleans and changes them regularly, doesn’t over exert them before they’ve healed. You’re so dizzy on pride in him that you kiss the front of his mask one day, telling him “thank you”.

He grunts in something that sounds almost like shock and shakes his head at you. You figure he doesn’t feel he deserves praise for doing as you’ve told him. You do it anyway.

Things start to settle into this new normal.

Until you can’t find him anywhere. He’s become your new shadow, another limb, and suddenly he’s gone like so much smoke. You’re both fresh off a rough, but successful mission. You’ve just finished a stint in the infirmary and your debrief. Usually hed take that time to clean off and change in privacy, back before you could miss him.

Where is he?

You find him bleeding in his room, trying to care for his own wounds. Mask off, shirt gone, a new knife wound added to his macabre collection. You scramble to his side and collapse at his feet, snatching the needle from his shaky, slippery hand.

“Don’t you ever—” you choke on the words, unusual tears welling. You’re a medic; you’re not allowed to cry during treatment. But all you see if Nikto and blood and—

“I am okay,” he says in that low, crackly voice. Gravel in a blender. “It is not bad.”

You swallow and don’t answer, can’t because you’ll start weeping into his wound. Just stitch him up, hands steady even as you sniffle and the rest of you trembles.

When it’s done, you start wiping away the excess, prepping a bandage. He’s so silent you can even hear him breathing, but you feel his eyes like a physical touch. Finally make yourself look up at him meet his piercing eyes.

“You come back to me from now on,” you say. Quiet, firm, fervent. “I don’t care what it is, you return to my side always.”

The silence stretches and stretches, and he just stares with that unfathomable gaze.

“Understand?” you insist.

“Yes.”

Those two commandments become that basis of his new existence. Nikto once thought he survived it all because he still had work to do. He was wrong; it was because he still hadn’t found his purpose at all.

He’s found you now though, and you are a demanding god. But not a cruel one

Your first commandment is atonement. This vessel requires so much work. Food and water and rest. Maintenance for every abrasion, upkeep to stay strong enough to stand at your side, to protect you. It is endless, bitter work. He doesn’t care for the labor itself, but it must be done.

It is made bearable with you.

Your second commandment is salvation. Your quiet chatter during meals, the lingering taste of your mouth on his water canteen. Your kind hands mending tears and holes, keeping whatever he is now whole and hale. Your company in the gym, on sparring mats, at his side at the gun range. The smell of your sweat past the mask, your laughter goading him into another round.

You let him sleep in your bed. Let him wake you with nightmares or memories. Keep him warm because this thing he inhabits doesn’t always remember it’s not dying anymore. You are so very alive, the realest thing in any room. Your touch is the only thing he can feel sometimes.

It takes him a long time to realize that his body (because it is a body you tell him, a living one that needs care) reacts to you.

That some mornings the press of you against him is especially sweet. That there’s more than relief and pride when you pin him down. That, at most points of the day, his body wants your touch for more than just grounding.

He’s hard most times that he’s with you, simply for the fact that you are there. And he is with you almost always.

(That it is not actually always grinds at him, niggles in the back of his mind. A sticking point. He wants it to be always, you with him at all times. Like when he used to wear a cross pendant.)

You notice, of course you do, sensitive to your most loyal devotee. He can’t tell if you’re offended, but you haven’t sent him away. Sometimes you flush and he thinks he’s certainly upset you, but for all he’s survived it would kill him to break your second commandment. And so he stays, even if he waits to be told to leave.

“Nikto?”

You never need to call his name, he is always listening. He likes the sound of it anyway. These syllables and sounds that have a meaning, that you use for him.

“Do you… want to do something about that?” you nod to his crotch. There’s a blatant bulge pressing at his tac pants. At some other time, he would probably would have found it uncomfortable.

“Do what?” he asks.

You shrug. “Get off? I could leave—“

“No.”

You blink but don’t seem surprised. “Do you want to just ignore it then?”

He shrugs a bit. There’s a flicker of amusement in your eyes. You like when he makes gestures. He tries to remember common ones, and when to do them, and tries them out for you. Though you never seem to mind his stillness either.

“It does not bother me.”

You hum, look like you’re going to go back to your tv show.

“Does it bother you?”

Your eyes dart up, mouth parting in surprise. You didn’t expect him to continue the topic. Neither did he.

“It doesn’t bother me,” you reply, tilting your head. “But if you want to do something about it, we can.”

We.

“We?”

“If… if you want me to do something… I would.”

He couldn’t ask that of you. Not ever. He’s not allowed to want anything of you when you’ve given him everything.

“No,” he says quietly finally. “Just ignore it.”

“Okay.” You smile at him, touch his hand. It is bare, mangled tattoos on display. He wishes he could feel it more. “Come snuggle in?”

Snuggle in.

Such a quaint turn of a phrase for a creature in your room, wearing a man’s face. He climbs in, shoes gone, mask gone. You wedge yourself against his side and he stares absently at the screen as you continue your show.

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Masterlist

[baldursgate3tempobsessed]

Astarion & Scratch: Compromising for Tav Affection

This idea is entirely from @nairil-daeris and it's so cute!

~

Despite what some may have believed, Astarion wasn't that against associating with animals. He was actually a fan of a few of them, cats mainly considering their penance for cleanliness and independence. Not to mention they were admittedly adorable. And stood as the one type of beast that Astarion never feasted upon.

So no, he didn't hate animals in principle. He only hated a select few, with reason. Like the type that could rip him apart with their claws and fangs. Or the ones that thought that rolling around in their own filth was a worthwhile pastime. All and all, creatures that Astarion didn't have to deal with on the regular. Or at least not until now.

But here he was, stuck in the middle of fucking nowhere, with his ragtag group of merry weirdos. It wasn't that he didn't appreciate his own acceptance into your little group. He did, immensely. By the look of things out here in this hellscape, he probably would have been murdered ten times over if he had remained alone. Or gods forbid, become a goblin's chew toy.

So while he had no intentions of leaving, he was still frustrated. Especially with the pretty little druid that quickly became their de facto leader. Astarion had been vaguely aware that druids had an intense love for nature and all of its creatures. But that hadn't prepared him for how unreasonable that love could be. It felt as though you would take literally every opportunity you had to speak to any lowly pest on the side of the road.

Not to mention your insistence on taking care of a damned owlbear cub, which was an objectively stupid thing to do. Something that he should have fought you on harder but... he wasn't made of stone. The thing was objectively adorable. Even if it was almost certainly destined to grow up and try to kill you all, Astarion kept his mouth mostly shut.

But then came the dog. That god-damned dog. How a singular mutt could make his life so damn difficult, Astarion wasn't sure. But he did know that he was trying to enact a well-thought out plan. Seduce you, foster a protective affection that was strong enough for you to always want him alive, perhaps use you to defeat Cazador if the parasites proved strong enough, and then effectively abandon you for a new life of freedom.

It was all very simple, and he had gotten a great head start. You had spent the last few weeks flirting with each other, always staying close. You gravitated towards each other, a fact that felt more natural than Astarion would have liked. But... he had found himself enjoying his time with you, genuinely. Not that it mattered, but it was definitely a plus for his plan. Being with you was far from unbearable. You were attractive, sweet, a little angel just begging to be corrupted. A job that Astarion was growing excited to start.

He had been so, so close to fully propositioning you, completely confident that you would agree. And then Scratch happened. He hadn't thought much of it when you came across the little mutt. Maybe it would stay with the corpse of its owner or it would be another hanger-on like the owl bear. He hadn't had a horse in the race either way.

But then he did show up to the camp, looking so sad and dejected that even Astarion couldn't be bothered that his arrival completely interrupted his first attempt at asking you to bed. He had watched you pet and whisper to him for the rest of the night, providing a comfort that only a druid could.

Which was fine. Or at least it had been for that one night. That one night that kept repeating. Because suddenly, that damned dog was everywhere. The quiet nights the two of you had together by the fire, talking about anything and everything with your thighs pressed together now included Scratch squeezing himself into the middle.

The orchestrated moves he would do to make you blush, like removing a non-existent speck from your cheek with his thumb or leaning in close to remove a leaf from your hair, were getting harder and harder to pull off. The damned mongrel was always there, and any attempts Astarion took to get close to you Scratch used as an invitation to jump all over him. If he had it to wash his face of dog slobber one more time from the crime of trying to hold your hand, he was going to go ballistic.

And there was zero reprieve. The thing went with you everywhere, even in the most perilous of situations. Worst of all, it actually proved to be useful. Astarion had no idea where the thing was trained, but it was incredibly smart. Smart enough to serve as a perfect distraction when needed, while being clever and fast enough to never get himself killed. He could even function as a spy, considering how you could make sense of all of his whining and barking. And worst of all, the little beast was amazing at thievery, with nothing more than his mouth. No one suspected the adorable dog to be the one stealing your coin purse right off of your belt. He was completely inconspicuous, perhaps even more so than Astarion. A fact that... was not sitting well.

How on earth was he being outclassed by a fucking dog? One that he had no valid arguments to leave behind at camp.

And to top it all off, you even slept with it. You slept with both animals, usually huddled up in a pile beneath the stars. How you managed to not stink of dog breath and owlbear saliva in the morning, Astarion would never know.

How was he supposed to make you fall for him like this? In the past two weeks since you'd attached yourself completely to the thing, doting on him constantly. He had only managed to sleep with you once. The night of the celebration over the goblin slaughter, and what a lovely night it had been. But that was only because Scratch and the cub had been sufficiently distracted by all of the enamored tiefling children. The next night it was back to the same.

And Astarion was not willing to let the night you had together go as a one night stand. Maybe it wasn't necessary. It had become clear that you cared for him, you cared for all of them. Enough to put yourself in danger for every party member's protection. A strong friendship would probably do him just as good as a romance. But... that didn't feel like enough. He didn't want it to be enough. For reasons that he was not going to start examining now.

No, for now he was just focused on getting past your slobbery bodyguard. But he knew better than to bring it up to you directly. You were far too infatuated with the pup to see his side of things.

Gale had made a singular comment on a slight frustration over having to wait around for Scratch to sniff nearly everything he came into contact with, and that had ended in you giving him a half-hour lecture on the importance of understanding one's surroundings. Shadowheart had mentioned, once, just once, that perhaps it was time to start looking for a more appropriate family for the dog, and that had led to you giving her the cold shoulder for days.

No, if he was going to get more time alone with you Astarion would have to try other means. Which had led him here, swinging back a Potion of Animal Speaking with a grimace. It tasted oddly grassy, like he had just swallowed blended up lawn shavings. But he didn't have time to grouse over the taste, not when you were thoroughly distracted with talking about druid mythology with Halsin, Scratch left conveniently alone to dig holes in the back of camp.

And that was where Astarion was going. Because if he couldn't reason with you, perhaps he could reason with the mutt itself.

Part of him could not quite believe that he had to resort to speaking with a dog to further this relationship, but here he was.

Astarion stopped in front of him, swallowing back a grimace at how the thing was digging dirt directly on his shoes. Instead, he smiled down at it, his voice only slightly strained when he asked, "Can you understand me?"

Scratch stopped his digging, opting to sit and stare up at him, an oddly humanoid voice answering, "Yes."

Huh, so that's how this spell worked. It was a little disconcerting to hear a human voice from a dog's mouth, but he would make do. Astarion cautiously sat next to him, perching on a nearby log as he tried to keep a pleasant smile on his face, "Good. How are you?"

Scratch stared at him, his head cocked, "The dirt tastes good here. I like that."

That was... Astarion didn't know. It was his own fault for trying to make small talk with an animal. He cut straight to the point, "That's great to hear. Now, would you mind doing me a favor tonight?"

Astarion had never had a dog narrow its eyes at him before, but that's exactly what Scratch did, "What is it?"

"Nothing serious," Astarion tried to reassure, "I was just hoping that perhaps you and the cub could sneak off for a night so Tav and I could spend some time together-"

"No," Scratch interrupted circling the ground three times before laying down, his eyes still on Astarion.

"Excuse me?" Astarion shot back, his true annoyance shining straight through his voice, "It's not exactly much to ask for! It's one night-"

"I don't trust you around them," The dog said simply, "I think you're going to hurt them."

Well that was just offensive. Ever since this little brat's arrival Astarion had barely had a chance to drink from you. And the times he did he was perfectly in control. Not including the first time of course.

"I'll have you know that not every vampire is some hellish demon with no self-control," Astarion bit out, only the slightest bit amused at himself for being reduced to defending his own disgusting kind, "And why pray tell, would I hurt one of the only reasons I'm still alive."

Scratch shook his head, one eye closed like this conversation was boring him, "Not that kind of hurt. The inside kind, that makes people cry. I don't want them to cry."

That was-Astarion didn't-how in the hells could a dog see through him that easily?

"I have no intention of hurting them," Astarion lied. Or at least he thought it was a lie. It felt... uncomfortably true when spoken allowed, "I just want to have a little fun, that's all. Don't you think they've earned that?"

"Not with you. You don't like them enough," Scratch sighed, "I like Gale more. Or Wyll. Karlach too. They can have fun with them instead."

That was it. Astarion was going to wring this little shit's neck. But before he could give into his more violent impulses, he could hear your voice, calling out to the current root of all of his problems.

Scratch bounded up, his tail already wagging as he started to trot over. But before he fully did he turned around, giving Astarion a once over, "If you can prove you like them, then I'll consider it."

And just like that he was off, running to your side while leaving a stunned Astarion in his wake. Did... did he just get verbally annihilated by a damn dog? How was he supposed to go on after this? Not to mention he was actually thinking about what the creature said. It sounded like a challenge, one that Astarion was suddenly pissed enough to take up.

If the little shithead wanted sincerity, then he would get it. And that's how Astarion found himself willingly opening up more. Even if it had to be in front of the damn dog. He told you more about Cazador, the horrors and tribulations he had endured through centuries. He told you of his regrets, the things he missed the most about being a mortal. He even told you the truth about that first night that you let him drink from your neck. That... that you were the first. How good it had felt to have what he had been denied for so long. And he was rewarded with his honesty. He got to learn more and more about you in turn. Your family, your home, where you incessant love for nature derived from. He was starting to slowly become a Tav-expert, suddenly hungry for every bit of information that he could procure.

They were long conversations, long enough to last well into the night. And for Astarion to be exhausted enough to just... fall asleep in the first available location. Which just so happened to always be in the pile of creatures you liked to sleep with. Though, Astarion had to admit after experiencing it himself, it was oddly pleasant to be surrounded by the warm, furry little headaches.

As for the two of you, things were slowly progressing in regards to his plan. A plan that he continually kept conveniently forgetting about. You were together now at the least, even if Scratch hardly ever let you have a night alone. But you cuddled and kissed, called each other pet names and the like. And... it was nice. Perhaps even too nice. Because Astarion was starting to... feel things that he'd prefer to not.

He was getting too attached, too close. The idea of sex didn't even seem to matter anymore, let alone the idiocy of trying to convince a dog to help him in that department. He was knowing too much of you, and the fact that he seemed to adore everything he saw only made it worse. And then the two of you managed to kill that demon, getting more and more information about Cazador. You risked so much for him, and were willing to risk so much more. He couldn't take it anymore.

He had told you the next night, everything. His plan, his past, how easy it was to revert back into new tricks. But he didn't want that with you. Maybe he never did. He wanted something real, and by the gods above you wanted the same thing. He had half expected you to dump him completely after that little speech. But... you didn't. Instead you hugged him, comforted him for trying and failing to betray your trust. It was a kindness he didn't deserve, but one that he would gladly accept.

Everything felt easier after that. Yes there were still countless horrors hanging over your heads but... he had you. And with you he was starting to think he could get through anything.

Even Halsin's insistent flirting. He was watching you both now as you helped him nurse a dying sapling to health, his eyes tracking Halsin's every move as he pretended to read. While he trusted you more than anything, fully aware that you would never stray, it didn't stop the paranoia. Just one other aspect of being in a real relationship that he hadn't seen coming. Turns out, it involved being terrified of losing it all. Especially to handsome, bulky elf druids.

But before he could fret over it any longer, he felt a tugging on his pant leg. He glanced down, his brow furrowing when he saw Scratch there, his tail wagging and his tongue lolling out.

"What the hell do you want?" Astarion asked, his words completely unmatching his actions as he scratched him behind the ears. Don't get him wrong, he still at least semi-loathed the creature but... he's also not quite sure he would have gotten to this point without his intervention. So a reluctant appreciation for his existence it was.

Scratch continued to paw at his leg, a low whine in his throat as he cocked his head to the right. Astarion followed the motion, only getting more confused when he realized he was trying to point to another potion.

Astarion sighed as he picked it up, “What? You want me to understand a new dressing down speech?”

Scratch continued to wag his tail, letting out a happy bark as a confirmation. As much as Astarion would prefer to not spend an evening getting lectured by a dog, he was more than a little curious to see what he had to say. 

He swallowed it down, grimacing at the taste as he wiped his mouth, “Okay, out with it. What do you want?”

"I like you now," Scratch said excitedly, prancing back and forth in front of him, "And they like you too. Do you like them?"

In moments like this, Astarion really did wish he had the heart of stone that he pretended to carry. Because the unexpected approval from a random pup was suddenly making him feel almost teary eyed. Or it was the bitter taste of the potion, but either way the innocent words were making his heart ache pleasantly. 

Astarion swallowed, smiling down at him, “I like them very much. More than anyone before. And I’m starting to think you might not be so bad either.”

Scratch sat in front of him, resting his head in his lap as his tail wagged, a goofy smile on his adorable face, “It’s because I’m a good boy. They tell me so all the time. Are we friends now? We are right?”

“Yeah,” Astarion smiled as he ran a hand through his white coat, his eyes drifting over to you. You were watching them, grinning ear to ear with a hand over your heart, nearly moments away from swooning. He looked back down at the dog, his smile only widening, “We’re going to be great friends.”

[princessbrunette]

jj making you kiss his cock because you made it hurt

(you were wearing his shirt and it made him harder than it should have😭😭😭😭)

-🏹

⋅˚₊‧ ୨୧ ‧₊˚ ⋅🎀༘˚⋆𐙚｡⋆𖦹.✧˚

he’s been holding himself back all day, trying not to be a total perv. you’re just existing, and with your sweet nature there’s no way you know to that extent how much you’re torturing him as you walk around in his muscle tank and a pair of cotton panties. your side boobs are on display, one wrong move from a nip slip every five seconds— just going about your day, walking around the kitchen of his house making some late lunch.

you lift your arms up, arching your back trying to crack it as you stretch, a quiet moan leaving you from how good it felt. apparently, that was his final straw.

“no, nope— you gotta— there’s no way you don’t know what you’re doin’ young lady.” he marches over, pointing a finger which rustles the black bracelets on his wrist at the force. you turn and face him, all confused and doe eyed as expected.

“huh?”

“dont huh me…” he corners you against the kitchen counter pressing his hard on directly against your front, a small gasp leaving you. “yeah, know what that is don’t ‘ya? you are killing me.” he hisses, a tinge of amusement in his otherwise serious tone. he looks good, lounging around in only a black backwards cap and grey sweat-shorts, his shirt being stolen right off his floor by you.

“what did i do?” you mewl, allowing him to manhandle you — slipping his hands round your back to your ass cheeks so he could pull you even harder against him, clearly trying to relieve himself with some friction.

“walk around in my shirt. lookin’ all sexy n’shit. this right here should be a crime. you should definitely let me lock you up f’that. shit, maybe i’ll handcuff you too.” he teases with a shrug and your lashes flutter at the suggestion. “you got some penance to do, missy.”

“what do you want me to do jayj? didn’t know i was teasing you i swear.” you promise, jutting your bottom lip out poutily. unable to resist, he leans in to kiss it — but stops right before he does, hovering over your lips with a better idea.

“gotta kiss the booboo, babydoll.” he steps back casually, standing crotch forward with his hands on his hips as he gazes down at his clear erection. “you made it hurt so like, it’s only fair you kiss it better right?” he explains further when you continue to blink at him.

“yay!” you giggle, delighted by the idea as you sink to your knees — barely giving yourself enough time to get comfortable as you eagerly bury yourself into the musky material of his shorts, kissing him everywhere all up and down his covered cock. he rolls his tongue over his lips before biting down, stomach tensing at the feeling of you mouthing at him, happy little moans leaving you.

“jesus, really getting in there, huh?” he comments and you nod happily, pulling back from a moment to look up at him lovingly.

“can i suck it? will that make it all better?” you mewl needily, and for a second he feels like he’s died and gone to heaven. he sighs, a chuckle rolling off the end of it as he bends at the waist, clutching your chin and cheeks in his hand.

“nothin’ would make me happier, sweetcheeks.” he smiles before reaching down and slowly dragging the hem of your shirt up until your tits spill out. “wouldnt complain about you lettin’ me see these pretty ass titties either.”

you briskly remove the shirt, and without being asked you peel your panties off too — totally naked on the kitchen floor making him wince, dick unfathomably hard. you press your body to his legs and get back to work, licking the grey material of his shorts until it was shades darker above where his dick lay.

“eaaaasy, damn. down girl, how about you let me take you somewhere a lil’ more comfortable, yeah?”

⋅˚₊‧ ୨୧ ‧₊˚ ⋅🎀༘˚⋆𐙚｡⋆𖦹.✧˚

[littlemisshyperfixation]

Wonwoo Fic Recommendations

a - angst f - fluff s - smut

One Shots

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penance (s) by @smileysuh ✩♬ ₊˚. You’re hyper-aware of the fact that all four of your lovers are just outside the confessional, that they’re listening in- it’s making your mouth dry, your palms becoming sweaty as you rub them against your dress. “When you last confessed, you mentioned greed and lust as your sins. Would you care to elaborate more on that?” The priest asks. “Maybe it will be easier, now that you’re amongst… friends.”

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game on (s) by @ahloveisboo ✩♬ ₊˚. it’s been a shitty day and all you want to do is be close to wonwoo.

Chat, is that Rizz? (s) by @sailorrhansol ✩♬ ₊˚. Your rivalry with Wonwoo has existed for as long as you’ve been streaming. It’s fun, and both of your communities love it. Wonwoo is happy to play along - at least until you question his rizz while live, and he feels like he should remind you just how much rizz he has.

[corvidaes-crow]

Deruth Henituse bashing ahead, you have been warned.

I finally figured out why I hate Deruth Henituse. The novel, through Kim Roksu, barely lingers on his failings as a parent. Which, fair enough, I understand from a characterisation perspective why that wouldn't be a main focus. It just means I linger on that in canon's place. Why is Deruth satisfied with giving his child some exorbitant allowance? Why doesn't he ask at any point what it was used for, even when he thinks their relationship has improved? Why can he be a good person to everyone except OG!Cale? What is stopping him except his own cowardice and guilt?

There is not a single thing in LCF that redeems him as a father. We see how Ron grows to care for (KRS!)Cale, as well as Eruhaben and Fredo in their own pseudo-fatherly ways. We see how Deruth has not changed since 'Cale Henituse' improved. If he had been more grief-stricken finding out about Cale on-screen, maybe that would have redeemed him a bit in my eyes, but alas.

I need a scene where Deruth wakes up in the middle of the night heaving, tears streaming down his face when he realises that his son does not exist in their universe any more. When he realises his son has disappeared from their timeline, and likely did so believing everyone would prefer it that way. When he realises that belief is not exactly wrong, because everyone does prefer it this way.

That last realisation, he struggles with, because bad parents will never understand what they did wrong without significant internal struggle and a self-driven desire to understand. I need someone (Eruhaben, Ron, or even Violan) to notice his internal conflict and sit him down and ask him, straightforward and simple, "Which one do you prefer?" And they won't let him tell them his answer, that's not for them to know. But Deruth finds himself repeating the question over and over, which do I prefer?

It starts with 'neither, obviously, how could I pick a favourite?' but the guilt gnaws at him; his reflexive answer is not what his son, his sons, deserve. So he disassembles it all from there. What would he feel if they swapped back? What would he do then? Shower Cale with love, of course - but would he? Or would he find himself taking a step back, guilty and avoidant as always when it comes to his son?

And then, why would Deruth feel guilty? Because he hungers after a son who he can interact with without fearing Cale's hatred or resentment. He knows and fears his own inadequacy to heal their relationship. And the new soul doesn't mind it. The new soul, Cale, holds no expectations for him. No resentment. He doesn't know how to reconcile, but is there any need to if Cale is no longer the son he wronged?

So the answer to such a cruel question, which do you prefer, is... this one. The new one. The Cale that Deruth can be a proud father of, that he can hold his head high when talking about and fret over when he coughs blood or faints or leaves for another dangerous mission. The Cale that he knows exactly how to make happy. It's not hard, either, just food, rest and gold.

Deruth will never know how he could have made the original Cale happy. There is too much strife between them for Deruth to dare try to unravel it all, so he'll settle for wishing him all the best in future endeavours. This is penance enough, the guilt he will carry forever for not noticing sooner the loss of his firstborn son.

[finallyfantasy7]

I've seen people accuse Angeal of being a coward.

Either for choosing to die, or for making Zack kill him instead of doing it himself.

Angeal Hewley was a hero.

I didn't see anything cowardly in his behavior. I only saw a person willing to sacrifice his life to protect others.

Not just the story but imagery and motifs support it too: his name, being the only one of the trio having a white wing, being called Angeal Penance in the final fight, the way he's depicted at the end...

As for the story, what drove Angeal to get Zack to kill him wasn't cowardice, but a wish to protect others. Suddenly faced with Genesis and unaware of motives for his desertion and behavior, Angeal disappeared in Wutai because he didn't want to drag Zack into the whole mess while Angeal takes time to reason with Genesis to come back. Being a SOLDIER had come to mean so much to Angeal but he left without hesitation to protect Zack. He left to get Genesis back.

Yet, despite Angeal's love for his friend, he stands between Genesis and Zack in the Banora factory, because protecting is what he does.

Angeal never joined Genesis because he couldn't justify the violence. Angeal was there only to convince Genesis to return with him to Shinra. Of course, once Angeal learned the truth of the horrible experiments that created them, and of all the disgusting things Shinra did, he couldn't morally justify returning either. He was left in a limbo.

On top of that, his own degradation got triggered and affected his mind and made him confused and unable to think clearly (G-SOLDIER degradation makes them irrational and more prone to violence), and he wrestled with the newfound knowledge of his twisted origins, his mother's willing participation in it, her lies, and that the fact that it was actually the sleazy lowlife Hollander who was his biological father (and not the man he respected and loved all his life and who was so proud of Angeal he had sacrificed everything for Angeal to have the Buster Sword). Hollander used Angeal's moment of helplessness to harvest his cells and with them started creating Angeal copies. Angeal never consented to this. Sephiroth's conclusions that both Angeal and Genesis are in league with Hollander when he saw Angeal copy is incorrect and comes from Sephiroth's own issues.

Yet, Angeal's own existence created the one thing he strove all his life to prevent. A danger to others. Aside from Lazard, all Angeal copies were monsters, not humans. And monster are dangerous. They attack people. They kill. They create suffering.

If he were to prevent it, he had to destroy the source of the cells - himself, or the world would never be safe from Angeal copies.

Now, it's very important to note that this decision to destroy himself was very different than the self-loathing wish to die he expressed to Zack in Banora, or the pointless attempt to get Zack to kill him on the bottom of the plate above the Sector 5 church.

By this point, Angeal had managed to overcome the degradation's effects on his mind by using his willpower and his SOLDIER honor, and he was not searching to die to end his own shame, he was searching to do his duty.

We see this change in him when he starts helping Zack and Sephiroth deflect Genesis' and Hollander's attacks, protecting people in Shinra Building, and informing Lazard of their plans, although never officially returning to Shinra. He retained the spirit of what it means to be an honorable SOLDIER without supporting Shinra that created it all.

Now, with his mind clear and his honor restored he does not loathe himself, but he can clearly see his copies have to be destroyed. And there is sadly no other way to do this than to absorb them and destroy himself in the process.

He is not a coward, he is selfless and brave for willing to die to protect others.

He did not saddle Zack with this. Zack consented. Zack agreed that their enemy is all that creates suffering, even if he didn't fully understand what that would entail. At that point Angeal probably didn't either.

But think about Zack's personality. Killing his mentor and friend is unthinkable to him, but how would he feel if he had refused and then Angeal copies killed innocent civilians? If they killed a little kid? Zack was devastated but ultimately it was Angeal's free decision. How much more devastated would Zack be if his refusal to fight Angeal led to deaths of people who had no choice in the matter unlike Angeal?

From what I saw of their last fight, Angeal faced several issues:

to collect his copies and destroy them

to prevent Hollander from getting more samples from him

to find a way to destroy himself while being merged with the copies which seems to rob him of self-awareness. He didn't seem at all in control as Angeal Penance, so how could he destroy himself?

So, what course of action is left? Who can Angeal trust?

Who is strong and skilled enough to fight a SOLDIER 1st Class strengthened by degradation? Who can be trusted to prevent Hollander from collecting more samples? Who cares enough about protecting others to crush his own feelings by killing his friend? Who has mental fortitude and emotional support to do it and come out on the other side still himself?

Gensis is still obsessed with a cure and revenge and is creating untold suffering himself, and Sephiroth was taught that collateral damage is no big deal and doesn't care about much except his friends. And besides, Angeal already saw Sephiroth had started spiraling into despair.

So who is left?

Only Zack.

And Angeal prepared Zack. He prepared him by training him, by loving him, by teaching him about being an honorable and moral SOLDIER. He certainly couldn't even dream this is what he was preparing him for, but he inadvertently did. Zack is powerful enough, and cares enough, and is emotionally strong enough. Zack is the most emotionally strong person Angeal had ever met.

Only thing left to do was to convince Zack to do it because Zack has shown he would rather die than fight Angeal. But while Zack was alright with sacrificing himself, he wouldn't hurt Aerith by never returning to her (which very nicely makes Crisis Core even more tragic).

Angeal did everything in his power to make sure Zack would be alright. He checked to made sure Zack has emotional support after Angeal is gone. He went to the Church to meet Aerith.

He made sure she is the kind of person to be there for Zack.

And she was.

He made sure to leave one of his copies he could influence from the Lifestream to protect Aerith.

And it did.

And Angeal knew Zack is emotionally strong enough to handle it.

And he was.

[catholic-character-tournament]

Round 4 - Catholic Character Tournament

Propaganda below ⬇️

Harrowhark

I'm pretty sure you've already got plenty of submissions for her so I'll just say she was raised in what is basically a cult (technically a nunnery but let's be real) dedicated to keeping the body of the thing that will kill God behind the rock. One of their prayers is actually "I pray the rock is never rolled away". Harrow is extremely devout as penance for her earlier heretical actions in the tomb as a child (spoiler!) so the Catholic guilt really comes through

imagine being a catholic nun and you meet god, but it turns out he’s a twitch streamer from new zealand who became god because everything got a little bit out of hand. and just before you met him you gave yourself a diy grief-fuelled lobotomy with the help of your best frenemy. imagine how insane you’d be. now multiply that insanity by nine. that’s the fictional love of my life right there.

she meets god. she’s not inspired

she’s number one practitioner of space Catholicism. The locked tomb is chock full of Christian (catholic) imagery themes metaphors etc. just look at her she’s got a bone rosary

They're Catholicism with extra bones. Everyone is a nun. They have what is basically a rosary made from knuckle bones. They technically worship the same God as everyone else, but they're waaaay more focused on The Body in the Tomb (Mary) and we get a moment where we find out that while everyone else prays the equivilent of The Lords Prayer, they're doing the equivilent of Hail Mary. And they paint their faces with skulls.

She thinks leaving dry bread in a drawer is taking care of someone. She's in love with a 10,000 year old corpse (the same one they worship). She spent ALL NIGHT digging with her bare hands to make sure a field had bones every 5 feet so she could fight her girlfriend - I mean, greatest enemy. Spoiler territory: She's been puppeting her parents corpses since she was 8 years old. Instead of grieving her dead girlfriend, she gives herself a lobotomy. She makes soup with bone in it so she can use the bone IN THEIR STOMACH to try and kill them.

The author is/was Catholic and the entire series had heavy Catholic overtones. https://www.tor.com/2020/08/19/gideon-the-ninth-young-pope-and-the-new-pope-are-building-a-queer-catholic-speculative-fiction-canon/ A good breakdown of how it's Catholic

Anti-propaganda (spoilers)

I love the Locked Tomb series but Harrowhark has daddy issues with God, had a childhood crush on God's cryogenic partner, and is in love with God's daughter, not to mention that she's essentially a bone-bender. The religion on her home planet exists in a way that is technically against the will of the canon in-universe God, even. All of this to say, Harrowhark is heretical at minimum if not an outright witch. Terrible Catholic. Burn her.

Ronan Lynch

Uhh fun fact he saw the devil flash his father once, and that's one of the reasons he goes to church on Sundays <3

context for this scene from book 2: ronan is in church with his older brother declan, younger brother matthew, and ghost friend noah "Joseph Kavinsky isn’t someone I want you being around,” Declan added. “Don’t snort. I’m serious.” Ronan merely invested a look with as much contempt as he could muster. A lady reached over the top of Noah to pat Matthew’s head fondly before continuing down the aisle. She didn’t seem to care that he was fifteen, which was all right, because he didn’t, either. Both Ronan and Declan observed this interaction with the pleased expressions of parents watching their prodigy at work. Declan repeated, “Like, actually dangerous.” Sometimes, Declan seemed to think that being a year older gave him special knowledge of the seedier side of Henrietta. What he meant was, did Ronan know that Kavinsky was a cokehead. In his ear, Noah whispered, “Is crack the same thing as speed?” Ronan didn’t answer. He didn’t think it was a very church-appropriate conversation. “I know you think you’re a punk,” Declan said. “But you aren’t nearly as bad ass as you think you are.” “Oh, go to hell,” Ronan snapped, just as the altar boys broached the rear doors. “Guys,” Matthew pleaded. “Be holy.”

Gay Catholic streetracing farmer. Consumed by catholic guilt NOT because of the gay thing but because he can Create things in a way he thinks should be only God's business. Will literally roll up to mass on sunday morning still drunk and bloody.

THIS GOTH KID IS LITERALLY GOD. This is a god trapped in the body of a Catholic teen and if he ever stopped feeling Catholic guilt he’d end the world!!. How is your confession every week that you creating a whole new being? Babygirl the God is coming from inside the house

eldritch entity from beyond the mortal plane wants to be a Real Human Boy, becomes a real (ish!) human (ish!) boy, goes to mass every sunday

Gay boy got his crush an apartment above his church so he could have his two favorite things in one place

gay. I'm not caught up the the series but I went through the tag when the latest book came out and I remember seeing a quote that said he worried if his boyfriend would make it to heaven when he dies because of his agnostic tendencies.

Kid is like a dream warlock who creates psychic horrors and never goes to confession because why would he? and he’s gay

There are no words

basically ronan's powers are inherited from his dead father niall and it means he can bring anything from a dream into real life. so he's got this whole crisis about whether he is a living piece of blasphemy because men are not meant to have the powers of gods or whether he literally is god. which is not acceptable to him for a number of reasons but mostly because he hates himself. his love interest's name is adam and adam lives in a small apartment above a church which the book says focuses the objects of his worship neatly into one building. I love them both dearly. also, this entire page makes me feel like I'm going insane. Ronan Lynch believed in heaven and hell. Once, he’d seen the devil. It had been a low, late morning at the Barns when the sun had burned off the mist and then burned off the chill and then burned the edges off the ground until everything shimmered with heat. It never got hot in those protected fields, but that morning, the air sweated with it. Ronan had never seen cattle pant before. All of the cows heaved and stuck their tongues out as they frothed with the heat. His mother sent Ronan to put them in the shade of the cattle barn. Ronan had gone to the searing metal gate, and as he did, he’d glimpsed his father, already in the barn. Four yards away from him had stood a red man. He was not truly red, but the burned orange of a fire ant. And he was not truly a man, because of the horns and the hooves. Ronan remembered the alienness of the creature, how real it had been. Every costume in the world had gotten it wrong; every drawing in every comic book. They’d all forgotten that the devil was an animal. Looking at the red man, Ronan had been struck by the intricacy of the body, how many miraculous pieces moved smoothly in harmony, no different than his own. Niall Lynch had had a gun in hand — the Lynches had an enormous number of guns of all sizes — and just as Ronan had opened the gate, his father had shot the thing about thirteen times in the head. With a shake of its horns, the unharmed devil had presented its genitalia to Niall Lynch before bounding off. It was an image that had yet to leave Ronan. And so Ronan became a reverse evangelist. The truth burst and grew inside him, and it was laid upon him to share it with no one. No one was meant to see hell before they get there. No one should have to live with the devil. So many homilies on faith were ruined once you no longer required it for belief.

Our boy CHOOSES not to receive the Eucharist because he doesn’t believe he is worthy. The spiritual insight, the devotion, the fact that this teenager is worried he may have a mortal sin weighing on his soul…this boy isn’t just going through the motions, he’s putting work into this.

[bfpnola]

I am not Palestinian nor am I Jewish. Be that as it may, I hate settler colonialism, even more so as a brown, bi, genderqueer ‘Afab’ person. I just wanted to say. 1) your post on the topic is more empathetic and insightful than I’ve seen a lot of people be about this over my entire life and I’ve asked questions of both sides, I tend to stay out of the fray cause I don’t feel it my place to speak over Palestinians and Jews (who are critical of Israel). But, do you have any advice for being a better ally to Palestinians and combating anti-semitism and anti Jewish racism in the everyday?

hey sweetheart! thank you for your commitment to the movement and your earnestness. i am not Palestinian or Jewish either, so i did what is always considered best: i asked those who are! that's exactly why our Advocacy Committee within BFP exists :)

from one of our Palestinian youth volunteers:

if you have the money to do so, donate to the cause! the unfortunate truth is that to gain access to various resources, things cost money. more specifically, donate to humanitarian aid funds you've done the research for and are sure are doing work on the ground. even better if you can donate directly to those being affected! this includes Palestinians on the ground but also within the diaspora who need self care items, especially for all the work they've been doing educating others. for example, this is an organization this member volunteers with and trusts:

and these are two amazon lists of Palestinian youth within the diaspora:

share posts by Palestinians! the big thing is really just getting the word out, sharing their perspective. Zionist propaganda is hard to penetrate so the least we can do is uplift their voices by sharing!

from one of our Jewish youth volunteers:

understand that not all Jewish people are Zionists and not all Zionists are Jewish. saying the two are equivalent is not only antisemitic but ignores the blatant statistics, like the growing number of anti-Zionist Jewish young adults in the united states for example, or the fact that the biggest supporters of israel are actually evangelicals.

to that same point, know that israel has been purposefully trying to conflate the two in order to then label anyone who does critique the state as automatically antisemitic. it is a tool.

additionally, be careful with the rhetoric you choose to spread & subscribe to (i.e., watch how they describe israel. do they refer to the people as Jews or Zionists? it can tell you a lot about how educated they are and their vague stance on the matter)

my own additions as a longstanding ally and friend of those involved:

learn your history! there is a clear attempt to distort the history of Palestine. learn what Palestine was like before israel's occupation. learn about the way pioneering Zionists openly called Zionism "colonialism" and didn't even try to hide it. learn about how discussions of the Zionist project were discussed roughly 80 years before the Holocaust ever happened. this does not mean that some Jews did not, in fact, move to Palestine in response to such a horrific event, but in the words of a Jewish mutual of mine, israel's rhetoric literally weaponizes Jewish trauma by conflating these two dates in history.

BDS movement! stands for boycott, divestment, and sanctions!

when possible, actually speak to people of Palestinian descent. like seriously. posts are great, but actually speaking to people who are knowledgeable in real time can be so helpful for getting your questions addressed, so long as you are respectful, of course. a great place to do this, not even to advertise, is actually our Discord server linked in our bio @bfpnola

know that language matters, as inconsequential as it may seem. in the words of my Palestinian, Kashmiri, and Artsakhi friends and/or mutuals, when speaking of occupations, we capitalize the occupied people's country (ex. Palestine) while not doing so for the occupier's (ex. israel) to delegitimize them.

learn about Hamas and its history/purpose. here are my notes on two podcast episodes let by Palestinians:

thank you for your ask! im sure i may think of other things later but these are my answers for now.

-- reaux (she/they)

[artificialmoth]

Penance

Read here on ao3 or below!

Ratings & Tags Mature || No Warning Delta/Alpha || Hurt/Comfort, Angst, Vaginal Fingering, No Sex, Crying Delta hadn’t seen Alpha around much - it wasn’t a surprise. Alpha wasn’t pleased with what he’d done - what he’d agreed to, and hadn’t made it a secret. He’d stormed off to cool down after he found out, and it just seemed like he hadn’t cooled down yet. Truthfully, Delta hadn’t seen much of Alpha, or Omega, let alone the rest of his pack. He’d spent the days prior to his transition - the botched, painful transition that left his bones aching still - learning all he could about it. Preparing for it, in any way he could.

@skele-bunny

this WAS an ask but then tumblr ate literally all of it so,,, ok.

Delta hadn’t seen Alpha around much - it wasn’t a surprise. Alpha wasn’t pleased with what he’d done - what he’d agreed to, and hadn’t made it a secret. He’d stormed off to cool down after he found out, and it just seemed like he hadn’t cooled down yet. Truthfully, Delta hadn’t seen much of Alpha, or Omega, let alone the rest of his pack. He’d spent the days prior to his transition - the botched, painful transition that left his bones aching still - learning all he could about it. Preparing for it, in any way he could.

He was as willing of a participant as he could be, all while knowing he was just a test subject, a lab rat, to perfect this ritual. One that he wasn’t expected to wake up after.

But he had. He’d woken up in the infirmary, tucked into an uncomfortable cot in a private, sterile room. It was empty, other than him, and the machines monitoring him. And, in the days following, he only saw Omega infrequently. When the quintessence ghoul was making his rounds, when he’d stop in to check on Delta. It was isolating, and when he was finally cleared to leave the infirmary, nothing seemed to change.

He couldn’t fully understand - he needed his pack more than anything, but it very quickly seemed they didn’t need him. It was jarring - he’d wanted nothing more but his pack during the ritual, during that painful time where his newfound quintessence burned and tried to suffocate him, as his water receded unnaturally within him. He retained his Water traits - his gills, and fins, his finned tail and webbing for swimming, but even now, weeks after leaving the infirmary, after surviving that ritual, he was afraid. Afraid to swim, or even submerge himself in his tub.

It was bizarre. Before, his pack had to come and practically drag him from the lake. Now, he hadn’t even gone to the beach, let alone stepped foot into the water. It was nerve-wracking. Delta knew as well as any other water ghoul, just how dangerous the water could be. He was anxious that if he went, if he submerged himself, he’d die regardless. That the water would snuff him out, just as he deserved for turning his back on it.

Delta had been remarkably alone. Still recovering physically from the transition, he was temporarily relieved of any duties around the Abbey. All he was expected to do was show up when the Clergy, or Sister Imperator, wanted to show off their latest successful science experiment, and for Mass. He’d barely seen his pack - Omega was definitely avoiding him, and while Alpha wasn’t, he wasn’t being shy about glaring at him any time they were in the same room.

It made his skin crawl.

Delta didn’t really want this. He hated what he’d become, but it was either him, or Mist. And, frankly, Delta would rather go through the elemental transition as many times as it took, to prevent Mist from being chosen. All the same, it felt like Alpha, Omega, and the remains of their pack, the other ghouls, all thought he had. That he’d agreed readily, to ask for it. He hadn’t. He wished he could take it all back, really. He missed his Water, how it felt in him. Now, it was like it barely existed. Just the implication of it - like smelling rain, but the ground was dry already.

Delta had tried - he spent hours sitting in his large bath until the water got too cold even for him to stand. When he was just Water, Delta preferred warm water, and like most other Water ghouls, couldn’t sustain extreme temperatures. Now, he struggled to discern when he was cold, until he was shivering from it.

Which found him here, naked and dripping with water, clawing himself out of his too-large bath. The porcelain tub was slippery, and once he’d ungracefully hauled himself out of the tub, water already drained from it, he almost slipped again. Tile, freezing to his already cold skin, only made him shiver harder. Snarling silently into the empty room, his tail lashed, sending water splattering across the floor in an arc.

Once, in the past, before Delta managed to blow up every relationship he cherished, Alpha would be there to warm the bath for him. Keep the water nice and comfortable for Delta, until he climbed out on his own time. Always greeted with a warm embrace from Alpha, to keep him comfortable. To chase the chill the empty bathroom gave him, when he got out.

He didn’t have that now, though. Baring his teeth, he turned and snatched a towel, roughly drying himself off. It hurt - his skin was always sensitive, a fact left unchanged when everything else had changed. If anything, he felt more sensitive than before.

With a huff, Delta dried himself off roughly, ignoring how it made his skin burn and tingle. He’d gotten used to the feeling over time - mostly. It wasn’t pleasant. Soaking in the bathtub was nothing compared to the lake itself, and Delta hadn’t been there in well over three months, now. His skin was drying, gills aching uncomfortably and stinging when he breathed too deeply, and he longed for the water. He kept finding his scales peeling off, and while it didn’t hurt physically, it made his chest ache.

Once he wasn’t dripping wet, Delta stormed out of the bathroom, tail lashing behind him, flicking small droplets of water everywhere. Looking up, he stopped short, staring at the ghoul in his bedroom.

Alpha stood in his room, arms crossed hip cocked. He didn’t look happy, from what Delta could see of his profile. Eyes narrowed judgmentally at the mess of blankets and pillows on Delta’s bed. Almost a week ago, Delta had torn his nest up. It was a mess before. Not that it’d ever been neat, before he ripped it apart. He regretted it the moment he did it, but just didn’t have the energy to try and fix it, after.

“... Alpha?” He stared at the fire ghouls profile, still holding the damp towel, fully nude. Alpha’s spaded tail twitched, and he turned around to look at him.

Oddly, Delta felt shy under his gaze, holding the towel in front of himself, as if to hide. As if Alpha hadn’t seen every part of him already. Hadn’t already stripped him bare in more ways than one, before.

“What happened here?” Alpha asked finally, tipping his head toward the remains of Delta’s nest. Delta’s eyes followed, scanning over the tangle of blankets and pillows, before he shrugged.

“Redecorating.” He replied, as primly as he could, turning away to get dressed. Trying to ignore the heat of Alpha’s eyes on him, tracking as he crossed the room to his dresser. Alpha scoffed, and even with his back to the larger ghoul, Delta knew he wasn’t pleased with that answer. He could hear the tapping of Alpha’s tail against the floor, and could feel the heated glare on his back.

“Why’re you in here, Alpha?” Delta asked, fishing out a pair of pants. Sleep pants - soft and comfortable to lounge in, soft enough that it didn’t irritate his already perpetually sore skin. The only times, now, that Delta got dressed properly, was for meetings with the Clergy and Mass.

Alpha didn’t reply for a long moment, long enough for Delta to get his sweatpants up, and tied, tighter than normal. He’d lost weight - he’d barely had an appetite since his transition, struggling to eat, let alone keep most food down.

“You haven’t left your room in a while.” Alpha replied finally, turning away. Delta peeked over his shoulder, watching as Alpha picked up a rumpled blanket from his bed, sniffing at it, wrinkling his nose. “Have you washed these?”

“No.” Truthfully, Delta hadn’t even been sleeping with the blankets and pillows, formerly known as his nest. The mess had existed in a state of movement, constantly being shoved to his floor at night, or whenever Delta decided to go to bed, and then put back when he got up. He knew they were gross - he’d spent the first few days of his time out of the infirmary, stuck in bed. Too sore to get up, feeling like his muscles were seizing constantly. He’d spent those days barely able to roll out of his nest to begin with, ultimately leaving his nest gross with sweat and tears.

“I can tell.” Alpha sniffed, dropping the blanket like it burned him. Like the stale scent of Delta, of his pain and distress, disgusted him. Delta wouldn’t be surprised if it did. Staring at Alpha’s back, Delta tried to take a steadying breath, ignoring how his gills ached. He swallowed down the hurt, straightening up slightly.

“Why are you here, Alpha.” He repeated - less of a question, this time. Demanding a better answer.

Alpha paused, turning finally to look at Delta, narrowing his eyes, “What, you want me to leave so you can keep rotting in here?”

Scowling, Delta snapped his tail, irritated, “Like you’d care either way. You’re probably only here for an easy lay.” He scoffed.

He ignored the look of hurt that flashed across Alpha’s face - it was a low blow. Delta knew that. He knew how Alpha was seen by most people in the Abbey. Knew he was seen as a player, how it affected Alpha’s self-worth, being treated like he was easy. He fought the urge to apologize, swallowing the words that felt like sandpaper.

“You’re right.” Alpha scoffed, “So, get over here.” His hurt bled away, hiding behind anger. Alpha was always quick to emotions, quicker to anger. He was harmless, more bark than bite. Delta knew it, knew he’d never raise his hand to harm anyone he didn’t feel deserved it.

Ignoring the guilt in his chest, Delta shrugged, walking closer to him, waiting until the fire ghoul reached out. To Delta’s cold skin, Alpha’s hand was burning when he grabbed him by the forearm, dragging him in closer.

The kiss was more teeth than anything else, Alpha’s hands burning hot on Delta’s bare skin, pulling him in close.

Alpha tasted the way he always had - like smelling a campfire from a distance, the mix of wood and smoke was downright intoxicating.

Delta missed it.

He moved when Alpha did, allowing him to practically drag Delta as he walked backward, toward Delta’s mess of a bed. He turned before he bumped it, ever aware of his surroundings, shoving Delta down roughly. Alpha climbed up, straddling him before he could even begin to recover.

Maybe if this had been before - when Delta was just water and not… whatever he is now, Alpha would’ve been gentler. Would’ve warmed the bath for him so he could stay for as long as he wanted, dried him off gently so his skin wasn’t irritated. Laid him out and lavished him with easy, gentle attention, and Delta would do the same to him.

But it wasn’t. The hold Alpha had on Delta’s hips, for a moment, felt gentle. Reminded him of how many times Alpha guided him into a lazy grind, more cockwarming than anything else.

And then Alpha dug his thumbs in, claws prickling at the delicate skin, thumbs digging in tight into the hollow of his hips. It hurt, just enough to remind Delta otherwise.

The kiss Alpha pulled him into was just as vicious as the first one - all teeth and tongue. Alpha’s fang caught awkwardly on Delta’s bottom lip, scoring the inside just enough to draw blood. He pulled back, hissing quietly and tonguing at it, trying to soothe the sting.

“Don’t bite me, asshole.” He huffed, brows pinching together. This wasn’t how he expected.

Curled up in his nest, especially in those blurry, early days of being back in his own room, wracked with pain and guilt alike. He’d longed for Alpha to be gentle with him. For Omega to come to him, to soothe his pain away with his big hands and a soft smile. For kindness. He didn’t find it then, and he can’t find it now.

“You like it.” Alpha sneered, but when he reached up and grabbed a fistful of Delta’s grown-out hair, pushing his head to catch him in another kiss, he didn’t bite again. He was remarkably careful to keep his teeth to himself, for once.

Alpha started a dirty grind - it didn’t do much for Delta, the friction was too high for him to feel much at all, but it still felt nice. He could pretend he was desired, for once.

One of Alpha’s hands landed on his collarbone, sliding up to the side of Delta’s neck. A warm thumb rubbed along his closed gills, a tempting pressure to open up for him. A soothing warmth.

And, like always, Delta’s gills fluttered against his thumb. Welcoming him in.

Alpha didn’t hesitate, though, turning his hand and viciously hooking his fingers in Delta’s gills, claws just barely glamoured away. A shred of kindness, even when Alpha’s overly-hot fingers felt like a burning brand in Delta’s throat.

He fought a gag, nose wrinkling as he sunk his teeth into Alpha’s lip just as viciously, drawing blood. Alpha growled, pulling back and, thankfully, taking his fingers out of Delta’s already sore gills.

Baring his teeth, blood welling up and dripping off his lip, Alpha reared back, “Th’ fucks that for?” He hissed, swiping his tongue over his lip.

“Keep your fingers out of my gills.” Delta snapped, pushing at Alpha, trying to get him to roll off.

Annoyingly, Alpha stayed rooted on top of him, straddling Delta like he belonged there. “Fine. Don’t bite me, then.” Alpha scoffed, “C’mon, let’s just play.” He murmured, voice gentling down to something softer, sweeter.

“You’re putting in all the effort, then.” Delta grumbled, as if it were a chore to let Alpha fuck him. It’d never be one - he wanted Alpha, more than anything.

Rolling his eyes, Alpha scooted back, pinning Delta’s thighs down, “As if I don’t always.” He grumbled, looking down as he fiddled with the drawstrings of Delta’s sweatpants. “Could you have tied these any tighter…” Alpha scoffed, brow furrowing as he worked the knot loose. His tail lashed in irritation, but clearly it wasn’t enough to dissuade him. Once he got the knot free - Delta didn’t offer any help, naturally - he yanked both the sweatpants, and Delta’s underwear, off together.

He barely raised himself up onto his knees to make room, shoving the pants down to Delta’s knees roughly.

Grunting, Delta glared up at him, “Way to swoon me.” He huffed, narrowing his eyes.

Alpha didn’t offer him a response immediately, just pushed Delta’s legs open as far as he could, humming, “You’re still getting wet.” His tone was teasingly light.

Delta couldn’t help it. He loved Alpha, despite all the hurt and complicated emotions he’d been dealing with. Just having Alpha close, let alone on top of him, had him getting wet.

It was embarrassing. It was something Alpha adored teasing him about, in the past. It had always been rather light, before. But something in Delta told him that it wasn’t meant quite so lightly, now.

Alpha leaned back, one hand skating up to rest on Delta’s hip, the other stayed on the inside of his thigh. A warm, comforting weight there, keeping him spread open.

“So pretty for me…” Alpha murmured softly, hand sliding from Delta’s thigh up to his slit, thumb sinking into him slowly.

Delta sighed, tilting his hips up as much as he could manage, trying to invite Alpha to touch him more. Needing more from him.

Alpha chuckled lightly, pulling his thumb out and swiping his first two fingers through Delta’s slick, “Still so slick after everything, huh?” He murmured, bringing his hand up and licking his fingers clean, “What was the point of what you did, if nothing changed?”

Delta huffed, “Shut up, get your damn fingers in me.” He reached out, grabbing onto Alpha’s wrist, pulling his hand back down between Delta’s legs, “Fuck me or get out.”

“Yeah, yeah. I’m gettin’ there, love.” Alpha murmured, voice low. He teased one finger in, seemingly testing the water.

Delta sighed softly, rubbing his thumb against the inside of Alpha’s wrist, before letting go and retracting his hand. He closed his eyes as Alpha pressed a second finger in, curling them lightly.

“She still here?” Alpha asked abruptly, thumb rubbing along the underside of Delta’s clit, clearly trying to tease his tentacle further out.

Shifting, Delta huffed, “Shut up. Stop.” He grumbled, though he didn’t even sound very commanding to himself.

Alpha offered a cheeky grin, “That’s a yes in my books.” He replied, but he stopped trying to coax her out. Spreading his fingers, he leaned back slightly to watch, admiring Delta.

Delta stayed still as best he could, despite wanting nothing more than to squirm under his gaze. Suddenly, any fuzzy warmth he felt, snuffed out. Alpha’s gaze felt too heavy on him.

Suddenly, Delta was hyper-aware of the weight he’d lost. The way his hip bones jutted out in a way they’d never done before. How he could see his own ribs slightly, how dull he looked now that his scales were flaking off. The lack of care he’d shown to himself showed starkly in his body.

His tail flicked, writhing slightly despite being pinned partially under himself. He tried to stay still, tried his best to focus just on Alpha’s fingers in him, fingering him open. But, he could feel his expression twist into something more uncomfortable, and Alpha picked up on it.

He’d always been a keen observer - hyper aware of anyone around him, nothing escaped Alpha’s attention. He was beyond giving in bed, always focused on whoever he’d fallen into bed with, rather than himself. It’d take both Delta and Omega to get him out of his head enough to really enjoy himself without focusing on them too much.

“What’s up?” Alpha stopped his hand, looking up at him closely, eyes narrowed. Fighting a sigh, Delta debated his response.

He could lie. He’d enjoy himself, eventually. Surely.

… He couldn’t do that to Alpha.

“I’m not in the mood anymore.” He stated, voice low.

There was no hesitation, no argument, no scowl, from Alpha. He sat up fully, pulled his fingers out and wiped them messily on his own pants. “What d’you need?” he asked, already clambering off of Delta and tugging Delta’s underwear and pants back up. “Want me to stay? I can get you another bath ready. Or I can go get you water and a snack and leave you be.”

Delta lifted his hips slightly, letting Alpha settle the sweatpants back up, before dropping back down with a sigh. Before he could even reach to tie the drawstrings, Alpha was doing it for him. He watched in real-time as Alpha’s brow furrowed at just how far he had to tug the drawstrings til the sweatpants were as tight as Delta preferred.

“You’ve lost a lot of weight…” He murmured, as if he just noticed. Maybe he had - maybe he’d been too focused on everything else to realize it. Maybe it’d been denial. Delta wasn’t about to ask, he didn’t want to know.

Looking away, uncomfortable under the weight of Alpha’s words, of his gaze, he sniffed slightly, “Yeah. A bit.”

“This isn’t a bit, Delta…”

Oh, Alpha sounded sad.

“Have you been eating?”

Delta was silent, maybe for too long, given how quickly Alpha’s scent soured. The warm smokey notes shifting closer to house fire smoke than campfire.

“I have. Just… It’s hard.” He admitted, voice stilted. Embarrassingly, he felt his eyes well up slightly, stinging with tears. Delta thought he’d cried himself out weeks ago.

Alpha was silent, before he leaned forward, holding himself up with a hand beside Delta’s shoulder, leaning over him. “Oh, Delta…” He murmured, cupping his face, and wiping under one of his eyes gently.

Swallowing thickly, Delta closed his eyes, bottom lip trembling pitifully. He wanted to hold onto the hurt and anger with Alpha - longed to yell at him, to show him just how badly he’d hurt Delta, but he couldn’t. He just pressed his face into Alpha’s hand, whimpering quietly.

“I’m sorry.” Alpha murmured quietly, leaning and pressing his forehead against Delta’s, butting his horns against Delta’s gently, “I’m so sorry.” His tone was beyond gentle - just as warm as Delta remembered it to be.

He broke.

Turning, he wrapped both arms around Alpha’s shoulders, pulling him down to crush himself under the fire ghouls weight, sobbing. Burying his face in Alpha’s shoulder, he wept, finally finding the comfort he’d wanted nothing more than to have, before.

“It hurt!” He sobbed, fisting Alpha’s shirt. Alpha tucked both arms under him, squeezing him close.

“It hurt so bad -” Delta’s voice broke, warbling in his throat as he sobbed. Clinging to Alpha, trying to not claw at his back. “I was - I was so scared -”

Alpha moved, not quite pulling away, but made enough space between them that Delta’s heart seized in his chest. He clung tighter, trying to pull Alpha in closer, trying to keep Alpha fully on him. As long as he was there - as long as Delta could feel his weight on him, it meant Delta wasn’t shattered yet.

“Don’t - Please, I’m sorry, please, please don’t leave me again!” He sobbed, gripping to Alpha’s shirt tighter. One of Alpha’s hands slid up, cupping the back of Delta’s head tenderly.

“I’m not. I’m not, Delta. I’m here.” Alpha soothed, voice low. He pressed his lips firmly to the side of Delta’s head, “Just gonna lay us down better, okay? I don’t wanna squish you, love.”

Delta sobbed brokenly, but didn’t have the energy nor the strength to keep Alpha from moving him. Alpha made it as quick as he could, rolling over so Delta would be laying on top of him. All the while, he kept Delta crushed to him, holding him tight.

“I’m not leaving you.” Alpha promised, guiding Delta to tuck his head down under Alpha’s chin, “I’ve got you.” His hand stayed on the back of Delta’s neck soothingly, thumb rubbing back and forth soothingly. His other hand settled on Delta’s back, rubbing up and down his spine repetitively.

Delta couldn’t help but sob helplessly against Alpha’s collarbone, squeezing his eyes shut. Helpless against the weight of his own hurt and grief.

Alpha stayed quiet, cradling him close, rubbing up and down his back as soothingly as possible. At some point, he started purring. Delta didn’t know when - he only registered it once he’d calmed down slightly. Once he was just crying without sobbing, lashes sticking together and cheeks hot.

Breathing hard, he turned his head to tuck his nose against Alpha’s skin, sniffling wetly.

“Feeling a bit better…?” Alpha asked tentatively, voice low, rumbling in his chest just like his purr.

Delta couldn’t trust his own voice, refused to risk breaking again, and just nodded faintly.

In response, Alpha hummed quietly, acknowledging him. They remained in silence for a few moments, Delta’s breath shuddering and wobbling. His shoulders heaving with silent, fought-off sobs that threatened to overtake him again.

When Alpha spoke again, his voice was kept low still, not breaking the tentative peace.

“Do you want to take a bath?” He asked softly, hand never stopping, still rubbing up and down Delta’s back slowly, “Or, it’s still light out. Could grab a towel and run down to the lake. If you want.”

The offers were tempting. Delta longed for both - the intimacy of lounging in his too-large tub, with Alpha there to keep him warm and entertained. To step out into his waiting embrace. But, sneaking off together to go to the lake was just as enticing. It’d been far too long since they’d done it - it was his favorite way of playing hooky. Noone but his packmates dared try and get Delta out of the lake before he was ready and willing to exit. And no one was stupid enough to try and take his prize away from him - no matter how needed Alpha, or any of the others, were elsewhere. If they were in the lake with him, they weren’t going to be going anywhere.

But, he didn’t have the energy. Didn’t want to make the trek down to the lake, didn’t want to have others see him. He’d hidden away in his room for so long, he didn’t want anyone else to see him, not more than needed by the Clergy.

“Bath, please.” His voice was thick and warbly with tears, despite him sniffling and trying to calm down. He felt Alpha nod, before the ghoul started moving.

Alpha moved gradually, sitting up without dislodging Delta from how close he’d settled. “I’m gonna stand up.” He warned softly, waiting until Delta wrapped both arms around him, before he stood.

He hesitated for a moment, adjusting Delta, guiding both legs to wrap around Alpha’s waist, one hand on his thigh to keep him up, the other on his back. Once he felt Delta was settled, Alpha walked to his bathroom.

Alpha warmed himself up before Delta could even shiver from the cold of the bathroom, patting his thigh to get him to unwrap his legs. Setting him down, Alpha smoothed his warm hands down Delta’s sides, untying his sweatpants again and letting them drop, pushing his underwear off with them.

“Sit while I run the bath.” Alpha murmured, pressing his lips to Delta’s forehead gently. He held Delta by the hips, guiding him to settle on the closed toilet lid, before pulling away. He leaned over, teasingly hiking his tail up over his hip like he always did before, pointedly showing off his ass like always.

Delta could appreciate the normalcy above all else, even if he didn’t have enough energy to properly appreciate Alpha in that moment. Wiping his nose, Delta’s ears twitched as Alpha started the faucet, holding his fingers under the rushing water. As if he could really tell the temperature difference, when everything short of hot was cold for him.

Delta ignored the snot smeared on his wrist, blinking tears out of his eyes. “... I’ve missed you, Alpha.” His voice was still frail, wobbly even to his own ears.

Alpha’s tail twitched, shivering briefly, before he straightened up. Flicking water off his hand, he turned to look at him, eyes soft, “I’ve missed you, too.” He replied quietly. The water ran loudly in the otherwise quiet bathroom.

Silence reigned until the tub was full, and Alpha deemed it just warm enough. He helped Delta up again, lifting him up to help him step into the tub. It wasn’t needed, but he still did it regardless. He took his spot beside the tub at Delta’s feet, as Delta sat down and submerged himself as much as he could in the warm water. Alpha dipped his hand into the water, grabbing Delta’s ankle and rubbing soothingly.

Delta dipped down to dunk his head, lingering for a moment. It stung, his gills ached uncomfortably. His tub was plenty big enough for him to be able to dunk his head without his knees coming out of the water - something he was always grateful for.

Surfacing again, he blinked water out of his eyes, refocusing on Alpha after a moment. Alpha looked lost in thought, brow furrowed in what Delta could only assume was concern.

Swallowing hard, Delta found his voice again, “I didn’t want this.”

His voice seemed to startle Alpha, the fire ghoul finally looking at him properly, eyes wide. “I - What?”

Delta hesitated before repeating himself, watching in real-time as Alpha’s expression twisted slightly. Alpha stayed quiet for a moment, swallowing hard before replying.

“I know. I know you didn’t.” He paused briefly, before continuing, dropping his gaze, “Even if you did, I shouldn’t… I shouldn’t have pushed you away.” His voice was stilted, as if he was struggling to put into words how he truly felt.

Delta sniffled slightly, sitting up a bit more in the tub, “I know.” He mumbled quietly. He wanted to tell Alpha everything - wanted to explain how the transition felt, how it felt like his very being was unspooled. He couldn’t find the words, just reached out for Alpha.

The fire ghoul obliged, moving closer and letting go of Delta’s ankle, reaching to take his hand, “I’m sorry, Delta.” Alpha murmured, voice gentle. He squeezed his hand, bringing Delta’s hand up to press a kiss to his knuckles.

Delta closed his eyes, swallowing hard. He nodded faintly, sniffling and squeezing Alpha’s hand in return, “I know.” He replied, eyes stinging with fresh tears.

Alpha sat up further on his knees after a moment, leaning over to press another kiss to Delta’s forehead, but redirected easily when Delta tilted his head up. Catching him in a soft kiss, Delta wrapped an arm around Alpha’s shoulders loosely.

Breaking apart, Delta blinked his eyes back open, “Get in with me?” He asked quietly, pleadingly.

Alpha didn’t hesitate, standing up to strip fully, leaving his clothes in a heap off to the side. He climbed in easily, tail flickering. He guided Delta to lean forward, settling down behind him, legs on either side of Delta. He wrapped both arms around his waist, petting over Delta’s hip gently. Nudging his nose behind Delta’s ear, he rumbled a low, content purr.

Delta leaned back into Alpha comfortably, holding Alpha’s hand in place gently. Resting his head against Alpha’s shoulder, he closed his eyes, finally feeling the tension he’d been holding onto since he left the infirmary, bleeding away.

“I love you.” He sighed, feeling Alpha turn his head, pressing a kiss to the side of Delta’s head.

“I love you, too.” Alpha spoke it into Delta’s hairline, pressing his nose into Delta’s hair gently, “Can take you to my room, if you’d like. Snuggle in, take a nap…”

Delta nodded, “... Wait for ‘Meg to get home. We… We should talk.”

The fire ghoul stayed quiet for a brief moment, before nodding, “Yeah.” He agreed, purring a bit louder, “It’ll be okay. We’ll be okay.”

Sniffling, Delta squeezed his eyes closed, “... I’ve missed this. I’ve missed you.” He admitted, swallowing hard, “You and Omega were all I wanted.”

Alpha ducked his head down to tuck his face in the crook of Delta’s neck, sighing slowly through his nose. “I’ve missed you.” He agreed softly, “Neither of us were sure you were alive until Omega saw you. I’m sorry I didn’t come.”

Delta shook his head, not dismissively, “I’m okay. I forgive you.” He soothed. The hurt was still there, lingering in the back of his mind, but he knew once Omega was back from his shift, they’d talk. Would work things out properly.

It didn’t diminish the hurt, Delta didn’t think anything would. All the same, Delta had plenty of hurts to live with, now. More than willing to live with it, too.

They didn’t soak long - just long enough for Alpha to help clean Delta up - before they were out. Like he expected, Alpha got out first, grabbed a towel and wrapped it around his hips. Snagging a spare from under the sink, he helped Delta out and wrapped him in a big hug immediately, warming him up before he could get cold. Wrapping the towel around him, Alpha scooped him off his feet immediately.

It was enough to startle a laugh out of Delta, clinging to Alpha to keep his balance, even if Alpha’s grip never faltered.

Alpha didn’t stop in Delta’s room, marching right into the hallway, holding Delta over his shoulder. Delta hung limp once in the hallway, hiding his face behind his wet hair, accepting his fate to be paraded through the hallway to Alpha’s room, in only a towel.

Only when they were in his room, did Alpha set him down. Which, for Alpha, meant dropping him harmlessly into bed. Delta grunted on impact, flopping back and purposefully rubbing his head into Alpha’s comforter, rolling over to dry himself off using the soft blanket. Alpha snorted, stepping away to grab a change of clothes for both of them.

Neither of them spoke, not even after pulling shirts on and nothing else. Alpha peeled the blankets back, waited patiently as Delta crawled further up the bed to slide in. He joined Delta quick, slipping into the bed behind him and tucking the blanket around him almost aggressively, like always.

Smiling, Delta settled right in, nestled under Alpha’s chin comfortably. Alpha wrapped both arms around him, squeezed him tight, before running his fingers idly up and down Delta’s back, tail wrapping around Delta’s.

It was soothing, and between blinks, Delta dozed off. Safely tucked in bed with one of his mates, waiting for the second, warm and finally at-ease, he slept.

[velvetwyrme]

oouuouua please make a follow up on the superhero pap x reader theyre one of my favorites also im excited to see tf fic from yuo

im glad you enjoyed it!!! i got a comment on it recently while i was thinking abt how to continue it and that seemed to click my brain into action LMAO

EHEHEHE hopefully! soon!! ive got a few things in mind but im also waffling over Really Starting because i have so many things ongoing but... auauugh the IDEAS plague me!!!!

also heres a sneak peek into my brain because im in the mood to chatter, but feel free to skip it if you so desire:

for Origin Story im LOOSELY planning any continuation/s to be kinda standalone stories all centered around a superhero trope (like the Origin Story ;]) because i think that could be fun to work with. i enjoyed writing some of the larger Undertale cast, something that i WOULD have liked to do in FF, except Edge and the MC in that are both pretty reclusive socially abfjfbdjdghkf,, oh well.

anyway. i have tons of ideas for the various tropes, so its really a matter of picking a place and Writing. i really want to feature more of Alphys in this because i love her dearly <3

as for TF fic... most of them are reader inserts unsurprisingly lmaooo but ive got a few non-reader inserts floating around there too. im kinda just throwin stuff at the walls of my mind to see what sticks, but heres a few of my draft titles for your perusing pleasure:

into the fire: noble-ish au with a human reader who is supposed to be gifted to one of the members of the household. reader makes a failed escape attempt torn bedsheet style and is saved :] inspired loosely by the visual novels i used to read/play back in high school LMAO. skeletiano, i will forever be sad i could not romance you.

between you, me and soundwave: reader writes rpf abt mechs on earth LMAO. i see people mention humans writing fanfic about Cybertronians in passing but i think itd be funny to put that at the forefront. extremely silly and low stakes fic. probably.

drift compatibility: mecha! pilot! au!! exists purely because i read 1 (one) fic about plugsuits and just went "hmnngh... mecha pilots are fun to imagine interacting with Cybertronians... also there's DRIFT compatibility... i can totally do some fucked up shit with that" and now it's spiralled wildly out of control because at some point i started thinking about Governments and Social Structures and got distracted with worldbuilding lol. i have many many many ideas and i can only hope i can string some of them together so I can EXPLODE it out of my brain either through writing or art. also theres smut that happens wayyyy down the line which ill probably end up writing first and posting separately LMAO

penance is a prison: my take on Titan AU but as a fic because my brain is so so full of thoughts abt this au. i'll probably just end up drawing a lot of these scenes instead but like. its there! partially written!! im emotions abt it!!!

self explanatory long title: human/borrower au constructicons/jazz/prowl poly. i love rare not-so-pairs a lot and im particularly fond of this set. also i just like thinking abt either jazz and prowl getting menaced by a bunch of tiny guys OR the opposite where a group of construction workers have two borrower roommates. this one is more just random idea dumps instead of a fic but still fun to think about LMAO

ALSO! MINI REC. while you wait for me to (eventually maybe) write TF fic, you should check out boostergoldishh's works on ao3 for some tasty tasty TF reader insert fics. im still planning on making a rec list but they updated today and im filled w/ much love for good writing.

and as a bonus if you got this far (thank you!!): the super secret draft chapter title for the next NEXT FF chapter because its pretty silly

if my cowriter sees this hi. ill share the doc soon but its pretty much empty, its just there to remind me whats coming next LMAO 👍

[bestworstcase]

Thought brought on by the Penny question but not about her - A big detail with the question of Penny coming back is that - she brings more to the narrative by being dead. Winter and her grief (especially as her other loss Weiss isn't dead). Especially with the "Okay what is with the mirroring" between Winter and Cinder as Penny being gone and the hatchet being buried between Winter and Cinder works as counterpoint to say Jaune never being okay with Cinder because she killed Penny and Pyrha. Which is more than fine and understandable. Cinder having two deaths that the audience and the cast can place to her allows for "What does peace look like" to have multiple ways for people to deal with after the war and all being shown as correct ways. The empty space of Taiyang not showing up even when he was given a miracle in contrast to Raven who is set up to react like she did get a miracle and Penny's father who probably isn't. Penny being gone is a hole - it is meant to hurt. Her death like Pyrha's is one of the stakes with Cinder that makes a peaceful resolution so hard because there is blood on the ground. There is people never coming home.

100%

it’s a frequent talking point in penny 3.0 circles that well penny is just special – whether because of her atypical origin or in the more nebulous sense of being somehow more narratively or thematically important than, say, pyrrha – and therefore it’s not just possible but important to the integrity of the story for her to be brought back and the tragedy of what happened to her fixed. (sometimes with an extremely weird undercurrent of blame put on penny for ‘throwing her life away’ because there is no other group of fans more determined to exonerate cinder for murdering penny than, er, penny fans who desperately want her to be resurrected. endlessly fascinating.)

but like… no? she isn’t?

the story makes it expressly clear that the unique circumstance of penny’s existence as a person who could be [checks notes] repeatedly killed and revived by further mutilation of her father’s soul had run out – pietro doesn’t have enough aura left! – as well as being, you know, a bad situation. and then her mechanical body is destroyed.

the narrative makes it very clear that there is no viable way forward to anyone bringing her back, notwithstanding the grasping at straws fan insistence that either pietro can just kill himself to do it (1. wtf, 2. interesting take from the crowd that’s spent years whining that penny getting murdered ‘glorifies suicide’ somehow) or else some other character can donate their aura out of love or penance instead (i mean you can make a new person that way but that won’t… be penny…)

and the story just isn’t about penny full stop; she is not at the center of any overarching conflict nor does she represent, like, the immanent possibility of hope. she’s no less important than any other major character, but she isn’t more important than them either.

frankly—with apologies to the penny/ruby contingent—it’s telling that the narrative purpose of penny’s sword in the ever after is to lead ruby to sundered rose. ruby finds it in 9.2, loses it in 9.3, follows it into the blacksmith’s workshop in 9.5, turns around to see her mother’s axe, and that’s the last time it appears. this is not to diminish the very real intensity of her grief for penny (which we do see emerge as raw devastation in 9.8) but to note that this grief serves narratively as the opening through which 1. her grief for her mother and 2. her fear for oscar are brought to the surface so that she can confront them. this is not something you do with a story where penny is meant to be the emotional center and foremost concern.

and so there is no real narrative reason for penny, specifically, to come back; which by extension means that the narrative and thematic justification for penny 3.0 are very steep. not wholly insurmountable (because the story includes reincarnation as a significant component of the narrative), but very difficult to argue convincingly that penny can come back, let alone that she should.

which is why, if it’s in the cards, i absolutely do not think she’s coming back as penny, it will be some form of reincarnation whereby it’s clear (to the audience and possibly to the characters) that her soul has been reborn into this new person who is not penny. i do think that the story is likely going to end with an understanding that life-death-rebirth is the natural balance and that if people on remnant don’t already reincarnate then they’re going to start now that the brothers’ interference has been ended—and an obvious, simple way to establish this is for at least one character who has died to reincarnate.

but in that scenario you still have the loss and the mourning and the importance of moving forward, because this new person isn’t penny and it wouldn’t be fair or kind for the people who loved penny to force her to conform to who penny was; that’s the whole point. and so you get a metaphor about healing and change and, very literally, life going on.

[fiapple]

something i love about huntress (1989) is just how succintly its opening scene builds up helena as a character & the overall themes of her narrative.

the comic opens on western society’s prototypical idea of a victim, a young white woman (that fact having its own horrid political history should be acknowledged)- fashionable for her era- walking alone at night, and being followed by a man with a knife.

Immediately, the scene visually cuts between the young woman & helena, tying them together in the eyes of the audience. it then plays out as so:

Huntress (1989) #1 by Joey Cavalier & Joe Staton

Both through the very explicit paralleling of the two women, and the lamp-shading thereof on the writer's part within the scene itself, helena is framed within the eyes of the audience as someone who herself has once been a victim. the creative team presents you with the one most archetypal examples of a victim they possibly could, though, again, the problems within the history of that fact can't be ignored either- one that for all its commonplace is still powerless and meek as ever, and said "our hero has once been her."

"I knew somebody with a name like that... a long time ago..."

By allowing the audience access information so early on, the creative team is quickly able to position helena as existent within a dichotomy of the struggle between the ongoing disempowerment of trauma, and the fight to regain one's sense of power thereafter, as seen through the lens of non-linear trauma recovery. It is planting the seeds of what will grow to be a major theme in helena's arc.

Additionally, it very quickly posits helena as a character who is, in part, motivated by the phantom of her own vicitimization. She is very quickly suggested to the audience to be a character that is doing this- doing all she can to fight, stave off, prevent acts of violence- as a form of penance both to herself and to the world for the moments in her own life in which she was unable to do so. It is put into the mind of the reader that she is followed by the wraith of her own suffering, and of knowing that the weight of trauma is one that others can also be forced to bear.

This is further reinforced by the immediate narrative focus the collaborators chose to place on helena as a figure of compassion. from her first scene in main canon, her focal point is the victim, so much so that when choosing to return to the scene to comfort the young woman, she is able to notice something as innocuous as a wallet and return it. Moreover, due to its atypical nature in the context of comics, the 'alley-way victim' being named with such a sense of gravity in this scene takes on an added layer of importance besides the aforementioned. The victim is humanized, emphasizing their centering in helena's concious motives. To further compound this, the first time we ever see helena speak on-panel is when she chooses to comfort this young woman. her words, her actions, her passion are all motivated by her own needs & wounds, yes- but the victim, the person being hurt, that is what is at the centre of them. if further evidence were required, one may even point to the fact that the first face we see at all is that of the victim's.

And, emphasizing the overall themes present within the introduction to an even more extreme extent, is the nature of the visual story-telling taking place on pages 4 & 5.

Page 4 begins with helena fighting the perp, her back turned away from the audience, but ends with her walking toward us, body language confident. This draws our attention both to helena's capacity to be imposing, to inhabit the position of the unknown in order to illicate fear, and to helena's individual power as a character.

Conversely, the first time we see helena on page 5, when her face is finally revealed to the audience, she is talking to the victim. It ends with her back to the audience, standing as if fixed in her position, taking up fairly equal panel space with her fellow as she watches helena k. walk off, and falls into a memory. this places the audience's focus on the fact that helena b. is just as, if not more so, consumed by her victimhood as her counterpart.

(this also sets up the following scene, in which we are given helena's backstory, exceedingly well btw)

Moreover, the visual choice to hide her face temporarily gives helena a sense of being quite guarded as a person, which will be expanded upon later, and shows that the dedication to character building started very early-on for Stanton & Cavalieri, which i really appreciate.

From the first breath of life given to her story, helena is deliciously presented as a byronic heroine- an unusual type of female character to see at all, let alone in comics- and it is done through focus on her agency as a character & her dominating sense of compassion for others.

Truly, I adore beyond my heart’s capacity just how much Staton & Cavalieri chose to dedicate their opening to showing just how much Helena is a character who finds the power to find personal redemption, empowerment, & rebirth- as violent and bloody as that rebirth may grow to be- in the ability she has to do good unto others, to try to allow them to retain the innocence that was taken from her by force & the closure she was denied. They put such energy into making it clear that she is a character so very deeply driven by a sense of compassion, one so consuming it may as well be keeping her heart in chains, and they portray it as equally served by her violence as tender-heartedness. it’s enrapturing, it’s enchanting. like, really, heart’s honour, i live for it.

[codenamesazanka]

do you think shigaraki would be fine with going to prison? what about spinner? dabi?

Feel like that depends on whether the Heroes have broken Shigaraki's will enough/convince him he's remorseful enough to obediently serve a sentence/have him agree he deserves to be locked up as penance. That even solves the restraints issue - Shigaraki willingly agrees to not use his quirk to break out of prison, because he considers staying in jail to be rehabilitation/just punishment.

Like, saving him means stopping him, having him let go of destruction, and restoring his hope in the world, right? And that last part probably means he will want to reintegrate into society and abide by its rules. Trust in Heroes and listen to them/the governance they uphold. And that will most likely mean serving a prison sentence, so that he'll have paid for his crimes enough that he can rejoin society as a normal and proper citizen after getting out, whenever that will be.

So how Shigaraki will be saved - how convincing Deku will be in saving his heart - will influence how fine he is with going to prison, I think.

However, in general, I don't think Shigaraki is fine going to prison. Would anyone? Definitely not the way he is now.

If he suddenly gets stopped now, he'll be more like Toga - he's feeling better, but he'd still rather have the new, freer world that rises from the ashes of the old one. He's not going to sit and wait on death row*. He's going to skidaddle.

As for Dabi and Spinner... I don't think they would be fine going to prison either? And if they go because they're incapacitated and captured, that's not really a choice of being 'fine' with it.

Spinner hasn't been saved. Dabi is back with his family, which is the first step of a long journey to true salvation. Neither of them - nor Toga (nor Compress) - are remorseful about what they've done and wants to go to jail as penance. Toga explicitly rejects this.

They'd just be getting captured and going to prison.

Whether they try to break out is the question. If they failed to break out, then whether they eventually make peace with it and serve out their sentence because they lost the war, the world moved on, and they're here in the future their opponent created, so they might as well deal, is the question.

(* i know there's the idea that he won't get the death penalty or a life sentence, maybe he'll serve only a few years then he'll get bailed out by Deku or All Might due to their influence or an generous undue influence plea, or have to work as a pro-hero in exchange - but that's literally favoritism/making an exception for him/not following the new system they profess to have faith in??? "Hey, this guy has done more damage than any other villain, BUT the No. 1 Hero thinks he's a swell guy, All Might calls him nephew and hired the best lawyer that exists to argue that he was totally manipulated into everything, and he'll be doing community service in the highly-coveted and well-regarded career of pro-heroics, so let's give him a short sentence. Every other villain can just stay in prison until whenever because no one cares enough about them to intervene so greatly. We have a fair and impartial justice system."

What about Gentle, you might ask? Well, Gentle's crime was that he tried to break into UA to make a youtube video. Then he partly redeemed himself in the eyes of the law by stopping a prison break during a national emergency. Compare that to Shigaraki... not exactly the same level of bad.)

Thanks for the ask!

[ask-mortarion-the-death-lord]

headcannons about mr spoiler in space marine 2

chaplain leandros headcannon i fully expect to be debunked if/when they do anything more with that.

given what i've heard, namely that apparently the line for how titus and cato can both exist simultaneously is that titus spent 100 years in stasis and then did his 100 year stint in the deathwatch, leandros very well could be older and more experienced then titus at this point in a practical sense if he spent that entire 200 year period not only alive but working/undertaking the training of a chaplain.

well it is indeed suspicious as fuck whats going on with titus in space marine 1 from leandroses perspective, i imagine it would be just as suspicious to arrive to an isolated group of marines to find one of them dead and the captain having been carted off because his junior filed an official acquisition with the inquisition. as such i would not be surprised if some form of investigation happened as to whether or not leandros himself was on the level. ultimately it works out in his favour i would imagine.

spends some time serving under cat sicarius, getting some more experience under his belt in the wacky campaigns of the 2nd company. i feel like he would either really like or kinda dislike cato sicarius and i'm not sure which.

given that leandros likely participated in and lived through all the shit that happened with the 13th black crusade, the ultramar campaign, the trip to terra etc. unless we assume he underwent the rubicon voluntarily, its probably around here we can assume he got his shit pushed in hard enough to warrant undertaking the rubicon surgery. as a consequence i also feel around here is when he'd likely start taking on the path of a chaplain, both to recouncil everything hes seen and probably because he would regard his survival as a "being by the emperors mercy, i must repay him by doing his work as a chaplain" kinda way.

he and acheran didn't talk much, and well leandros is a judiciar they talk even less but being "one of the only other people he knows from before the return of guilliman who survived all the shit that accompanied it" i imagine they're probably fairly close as far as space marines get. i also really like the imagine of them becoming friends after a judiciar leandros saves acherans life on the battlefield.

calgar initially was angry, but given the entire affair was effectively over and finding titus would have likely been more important to him, i imagine he just kinda went with the "pretend he doesn't exist" route of things at first. since guillimans return however hes likely worked more closely with leandros due to leandroses role as a chaplain, and in general i would say game calgar trusts leandroses judgment and capabilities now. pre graia leandros would have effectively fanboyed out at the notion, but modern leandros more so focuses on keeping things professional.

guilliman breathing and walking again also contributed to leandroses interest in chaplain duties. after all, the blessed primarch walks and leads again. i imagine guilliman regards him the way he would any other chaplain.

his chaplain mentor regarded leandros as a bit too soft hearted in his capacity as a chaplain, and as uncommonly forgiving. ironically. its part of why calgar and acheran trust him, especially when it comes to handling sensitive matters because he tends to have a "nuanced" approach.

spends so much time wearing the helmet and doing his job, that a lot of the younger ultramarines only know him as "chaplain" much to acherans amusement. its not really a penance thing on leandroses part, he just finds it more comfortable that way. it also partly stems from a deep rooted distrust of camaraderie that formed after graia, and he tends to keep even his few friends at arms length.

has come to appreciate the nuances of what was happening with titus on graia due to his own experiences over the past centuries, and his chaplain training. still regards titus with suspicion because of those same experiences and training however, but is willing to give titus the benefit of the doubt. for now.