#salvation is given not earned

[tabernacleheart]

The Teacher and Friend I need and long for, Who alone can meet my case, is One who knows at least what it is to live in the body, as well as to be tempted through the soul and the body; Who could speak to me with the voice of authority about sin and pardon; Who could be always with me, and go where I go and stay where I stay; Who could see me in the darkness as well as in the light, and see my whole being throughout, for how else could He bring me help? One who could say to me, ‘It is I; be not afraid,’ and to the storm, ‘Peace, be still,’ and to the power of evil, ‘Hitherto shalt thou come, but no further’; One Who could fathom my perplexities, enlighten my darkness, and never misunderstand me; Who could heal the sores of my conscience, rule my passions, and understand the groanings that I cannot utter; One Who knows [firsthand] what the valley of death is, and would be with me there, and Who can speak for me in the Day of Judgment, and receive me to glory. To Whom then shall I go? To Whom but to Thee, Lord Jesus? Thou art offering Thyself to us for all this and more, able to save to the uttermost, to the glory of God the Father.

James Nisbet

[anteomnia]

just endlessly thinking about blue eye samurai.

thinking about how akemi, taigen, and mizu are if a coin had three sides or maybe just the two and mizu is the bridge of metal between them.

akemi being the ideal image for women, for the life they endure. she was simultaneously a princess, a prostitute, and a prisoner. her entire life was men making decisions for her, even the ones that had good intentions, and she believed her deepest desire was freedom. it still is, but she has been revealed to this heinous predicament of her gender, and she’s realized that to reach true freedom as a woman is to be the bird in the cage, to play nice and to earn the love of a man until he buys her a bigger cage and a bigger cage until he trusts her not to fly away. and it'll never be true freedom, but it will come with power. it'll come with the freedom of only one master rather than many.

taigen being the ideal image of a man. not all powerful, but not weak. he had a taste of what it'd be to succeed, and when it was taken from him, that easy success, he mistook it for his honor. he hunted mizu down to kill him, and instead he saved him. he saved him and saved him and he came closer to killing mizu when they were on the cliff's edge, and just when he gets to the point where he may actually fight mizu, he's tortured for information on him. he is tortured. Literally tortured within an inch of his life, enduring such a heinous violence, and he refuses to break. this man was a fight, was the torturer, and the victim of his torturing could've been his salvation from pain but he refused. mizu gave back taigen's honor but not by fighting him.

akemi wanted freedom and learned she would need power to have it.

taigen wanted power and learned that the violence that came with it was infinite and dishonorable.

and then there's mizu. mizu who wants revenge, wants acceptance. arguably the same things as them both. mizu wants acceptance, the freedom of living and the freedom to love and be loved. mizu wants revenge, which follows after violence and power, to get said acceptance. she thinks she must do both, have both, to live peacefully, and she's blatant about how she will not live without either.

she's given acceptance with the blacksmith, her "mother," her husband, but she sees the flecks of avoidance in it.

the blacksmith will not hear of her true gender. her "mother" will not acknowledge the crime of her birth. her husband can't find tolerance for the violence within her, the man of her.

and so she has to balance the woman and man of her, the ronin and the bride. taigen and akemi. and it's meeting mizu that they start to unravel their own identities.

mizu, who is both, and akemi and taigen who thought themselves one but turned out to be neither.

god.

[introcoryo]

— suggestive themes, religious allusions.

sejanus plinth makes love as though he’s praying; practicing a religion he has thoroughly devoted himself to. a religion where you’re the sole deity, and he’s willing to give himself up, his own body autonomy, his vulnerability, as an offering.

sejanus knows wiser than most that a god won’t save anybody now, especially the districts, but his mind becomes clouded and dizzy with belief when he inhales your nectar-like scent and captures your ambrosia flavored lips between his.

first comes adoration. he leaves kisses along the side of your neck with a pleading, whining mantra of ‘please’s, asking permission to worship you. to bask in you. to prove his loyalty.

you don’t need to utter a word, just digging your fingers in his brunette curls is enough gospel and clarity to him.

and so comes confession. he proceeds with his ritual, hands gentle, light, but slow. sejanus is not the type to rush his prayers. he knows the more time he spends on his knees, the more rewards he’ll earn. the more he confesses his sins over and over again to you, the cleaner he’ll become. ridding himself of all his thoughts and letting himself become one with you was his momentary salvation.

then, thanksgiving. when he’s on the verge of losing himself in the feeling of your warmth and mercy, he begins to thank you incessantly. he blathers on about his gratitude, tears forming in his eyes, holding you so tight that his knuckles turn white.

and finally, his supplication also comes in white. as he halts his movements and pants in your ear, he feels rejuvenated again. full of hope. sejanus has given himself to you entirely and wholly, offered up his most primal gift, and he prays and prays to you for the day of deliverance.

[whencyclopedia]

Zagreus

In ancient Greek mythology, Zagreus is a god closely associated with the wine god Dionysus, the underworld, and hunting. A son of Zeus and Persephone, he is known in the Orphic tradition as the first incarnation of Dionysus, whilst other stories identify him as the son of Hades or even as Hades himself.

The earliest mention of Zagreus comes from a quoted line from the lost Greek epic Alcmeonis, a poem dating back to at least the 6th century BCE, where he is described alongside Gaia, the Greek personification of the earth, as "highest of all the gods" (West, 61). Yet some scholars believe this line was only in reference to him being the highest of all the gods of the underworld, as surviving fragments of works written by the Greek tragedy playwright Aeschylus (c. 525 to c. 456 BCE) identify him closely with Hades.

Zagreus is also the name often given to Orphic Dionysus, whose story was central to the beliefs of the followers of Orphism. In the story, Zagreus, a child of Zeus and Persephone, was killed and eaten by the Titans, except for his heart which was found by Athena and brought to Zeus. Because his heart was saved, Zagreus was able to be reincarnated as the god Dionysus. Zeus punished the Titans for their treachery by destroying them with a thunderbolt, and it was from their ashes that humanity was born.

Followers of Orphism, therefore, believed that humanity had a dual nature, one of the body, inherited from the Titans, and one of the soul, or the divine spark inherited from the parts of Zagreus ingested by the Titans. It was the central focus of Orphism for one to achieve salvation through acts of atonement during their lifetime or else be cursed with endless reincarnation. Aspects of Orphism, including the suffering, death, and resurrection of Dionysus Zagreus, and the idea of redemption for an original sin call to mind aspects of later religions, such as Christianity.

Origins & Interpretations

What little is known of Zagreus outside his association with Dionysus comes from fragments of lost works of Greek literature. He was certainly renowned, as a surviving quote from the lost Greek epic Alcmeonis offers a prayer to "Mistress Earth, and Zagreus highest of all the gods" (West, 61). The invocation of his name alongside Mother Earth seems to suggest that Zagreus was held in high esteem and was thought to be very powerful. Some scholars believe that the reference to him as "highest of all the gods" does not claim that he was the greatest god on Mount Olympus, but rather that he was the greatest god of the underworld.

This can be gathered from the context of the prayer, in which the hero of the Alcmeonis, Alcmaon, calls upon the powers of the earth to see the soul of his father safely transferred to heaven. Zagreus' status as a god of the underworld can further be attested to by two works written by Aeschylus. One of these references, found in a fragmented line of one of Aeschylus' lost Sisyphus plays dating back to around the 5th century BCE, identifies Zagreus as the son of Hades. Another reference, from Aeschylus' Egyptians names Zagreus as Hades himself.

Either way, Zagreus seems to have been a powerful underworld god, earning the epithet "Chthonios," or "the subterranean." As for the associations of him to Dionysus, scholars such as Timothy Gantz have postulated that the separate myths of Zagreus, a son of Hades and Persephone, had over time become merged with the myth of Orphic Dionysus, the son of Zeus and Persephone, so that the name Zagreus came to be associated with both myths.

Continue reading...

[withahappyrefrain]

Summary: When your pastor wishes to practice fulfilling his God-given responsibilities, you're more than happy to oblige.

Warning: Strong breeding kink. Language, preacher!Rhett, female reader, p in v sex, oral (f receiving), creampies. I'd like to give my NSA agent a formal apology.

The praise got old after a while, the words all the same. He smiled and nodded as he made his way towards the back of the church, past the throngs of people. Their compliments washed over him. He had heard them all before. 

Beautiful sermon. So lovely. What a fresh take. What a way to take it back to tradition. 

He used to cling to every comment when he first began as the church's preacher. Hung to their every word. 

But now he had something more important. Something better than the congregation's words. Something that he believed rivaled heaven. 

You.

As he walked down the hallway of his church, the voices of adults faded away and were replaced with that of young children. 

Some say it was a miracle how quickly you had been able to grow the children’s ministry. Rhett knew it was because once you set your mind to something, you were determined to get it done. 

Like how you were determined to start a new life. Determined to put your past behind you. Determined to spend more time with him. 

Not that Rhett minded. He had already been thinking of ways he could get you involved, get to know you better, get to spend more time with you. He saw your potential, ever since he first met you at that church picnic. 

You were much like him. A good soul that had been led astray by wayward circumstances, desperately trying to get back to salvation. 

Which was why Rhett did everything he could to make you feel welcomed, to find a place for you. 

The clergy had been talking for years about expanding the Children's Ministry; expanding beyond a nursery, turning it into a place where all children could learn the valuable words of the Lord, where families could become a part of a welcoming community. 

Then you came along. It didn't strike Rhett as odd that you were working at the local diner, despite having gone to school for teaching. It wasn't his place to judge, after all, everyone had their reasons. 

Just like he had his for leaving Wabang. 

Rhett was convinced. Convinced that you were the answers to his prayers. That God had led you to him. 

You were much like him. You wanted to do good, to repent for your past sins. 

When he offered his help, you accepted graciously. After all, the program had to be blessed by the lead pastor. 

And soon, you were blessed by Rhett. In his office, bent over his desk. Over the front pew, right before his sermon. In his home, as he sat in his leather chair, while you were on your knees. In your home, your back against the bed while Rhett's mouth whispered words of praise against your cunt.

Reverend Abbott had many blessings to bestow onto you. 

But the biggest blessing Rhett wanted to give you- his last name- had to wait. As a preacher, he could get married. However, that didn't stop him from having to navigate the bullshit of church politics. That people felt strongly over who should be the wife of their preacher; after all, she would become the face of the church. 

You were willing to work your way up. Not that gaining the good graces of the congregation was hard. Everyone loved how you had dedicated yourself to creating the Sunday School program, how you took the time to get to know families, earning their trust when it came to looking after their children. 

Normally you would be leading the Sunday school session for the early school age children. But today you were in the nursery. A new couple was hesitant about leaving their first child alone, so to soothe their nerves you promised to be in the room.  

Rhett beamed with pride when he saw how relaxed the couple was after hearing you'd be there. Though his mood had dampened when he realized the only way he could show it in public was a simple squeeze of your shoulder. 

He wouldn’t have to do that much longer. Rhett had started receiving knowing glances when you were mentioned. Folks had begun coming up to him, telling him how good you had been for the church. 

The ball was rolling. Soon Rhett wouldn't have to sneak around and instead could kiss you whenever he wanted, instead of behind closed doors. 

Rhett was incredibly thankful, as the sight in front of him nearly brought him to his knees. 

Through the door window, he saw you in the nursery, wearing the same yellow gingham dress you wore to the church picnic where he first met you. In your arms was a baby you were rocking back and forth. 

You looked like a natural, like it was what you were always meant to do. You confided in Rhett that you did enjoy the times you got to go to the nursery, to spend time with the youngest. 

Rhett could see your mouth moving, a bright smile on your face as you spoke to the infant. You gently placed them in the nearby crib, rocking it to ensure the infant fell asleep. 

He watched as a toddler waddled up to you, pulling on the long skirt of your dress. You didn't mind, picking up the little tyke and resting him on your hip. 

Rhett gripped the door knob, trying to ground himself while all the blood in his body went straight to his cock. He tried to think of holy things, he really did. 

But the thought of you surrounded by children-his children, with your stomach round and full with his baby, refused to leave his mind. 

Perhaps it was a sign from God that he needed to explore. 

First, he needed to get you out of here and into a room alone with him. 

"Miss Fabre?" You had gotten better about responding to your 'name'. Soon you would have a new last name- Rhett's. One that was actually yours, one that would represent new beginnings.

It's what you deserved, after all your hardships. Rhett wasn't sure why someone like you had been given so many challenges. You didn't deserve to have to look over your shoulder, worried a remnant of the life you tried so hard to escape would show up. You still did, despite watching Rhett ensure your ghosts were laid to rest. 

You looked up, a sweet smile overtaking your face at the sight of him. 

He swore his knees nearly went weak. 

"How's our newest member of the congregation?" Rhett motioned to the crib you were nearby. 

"She's doing well!" You put the little toddler down, who was more than happy to scurry off and investigate the painting activity. 

"She was a little fussy at first, but settled right in." Rhett joined you by the crib, admiring how you looked down at the little one with such bright eyes and a smile nothing short of radiant. 

"That's because she had you," His voice was low in your ear. A shiver went down your spine when you felt his large hand squeeze your shoulder. 

"You're a natural at this, y'know that?" You could only nod, too busy focusing on the butterflies in your stomach. 

"Think one day you'll want your own?" Your head turned to find Rhett's blue eyes focused on the baby in the crib. 

"I do," you paused, your hand moving closer to Rhett's, "with the right person." 

Rhett's breath hitched upon feeling your pinky gently run along his hand. Your touch grounded him. To Rhett, it was his salvation. 

And he wanted to show that to you. 

"May I speak to you? Privately." 

You would do anything the owner of that deep voice asked. 

You nodded, following him out the door. As soon as you two were out of sight, his hand engulfed yours, leading you through the hallways of the church. 

"You leading me through a maze?" You giggled. Normally your laugh was music to Rhett's ears, a sound better than the choir. 

But there were more pressing matters at hand. 

As soon as the door to his office opened, Rhett's lips capture yours in a bruising kiss, his hands now on your shoulders, walking you backwards. 

The click of the door closing is now distant. Did he even close it all the way? Your head was clouded due to his addictive scent; rosemary that always lingered on him. 

His stubble is now brushing against the soft skin of your neck as his teeth nip down to your collarbone. Rhett's hands felt heavenly, squeezing your breasts through the soft fabric of your dress.

"Need my angel," he muttered against your skin, teeth nipping at the soft flush. 

You found yourself on his desk, legs spread wide enough for Rhett to get down on his knees, ready to worship at his favorite altar. 

The soft fabric of your dress is pushed upwards to your hips, exposing your clothed cunt. 

Rhett made quick work of removing the cotton fabric, stuffing it in his back pocket for later. 

A gasp fell from your lips upon feeling his stubble against your thighs, his teeth sinking into your soft flesh. 

"Rhett, some-fuck! Someone could walk i-in," you tried to get his attention by tugging on his dark blonde locks. The action only spurred him on, his tongue desperately lapping at your core. 

"Good, let'em see who you belong to." 

Everyday he was getting bolder. What had started out as small smiles and quick taps on the shoulder had turned into lingering touches and whispers in your ear, beyond what was appropriate for two colleagues, for two friends. 

Your teeth sunk into your fist, trying to contain your whimpers. As much as you loathed having to sneak around, it was for a good reason; you two were so close to being in the clear, to finally reaching the path God had intended for you two all along, despite the numerous obstacles thrown your way. 

And yet, you can't find it in yourself to push him away. Your body melts into him, relishing in his touch. 

Rhett easily works two fingers inside of you, thankful that he had you earlier this morning, hours before his first sermon. 

He knew greed was a sin. But was it greedy when he just wanted to fulfill his duty? 

"Such a good girl, always ready f'me." 

His words caused you to whimper, your hips bucking up towards his face. Rhett let out a chuckle, sending vibrations throughout your body as he looked up to see your withering form. 

Rhett thought it was better than any other icon he had ever seen. Your parted lips, half closed eyes, the small gasps that fell from your mouth. 

"You want it? Wanna be full of me?" 

"Always wanna be full of you." 

His cock twitched at your words, grunts falling from his lips as his hands fumbled to remove his belt. He pulled his pants and boxers down far enough to free his hard cock. 

Your arms extend out, finding his hair as his lips devour yours, swallowing your moans as he eases into you. 

Rhett can feel your hips squirm as you adjust to the sheer size of him. You bury your head into his neck, trying to muffle your gasps as he bottoms out. 

"S'fucking tight."

For a man of God, his mouth was sinful. 

He quickly set a fast pace, knowing how short he was on time. You buried your face into his neck, practically clinging onto him for dear life. 

"Want me to fill ya up angel?" You could only whimper in response, causing him to chuckle, "Course ya do. S'good f'me. Gonna be the perfect lil' wife f'me." 

Your walls clenched at his words. It wasn't the first time you two had spoken about this particular subject. But usually it was done with bashful smiles and Rhett's cheeks turning red as a tomato. 

This? This was bold. 

You’d be a liar if you said you didn’t like it. If you hadn’t thought about taking the next steps with him. Haven’t thought about moving in with him, living on his ranch with a little one running around. 

"Ya like the sound of that? Gonna keep you full of me. Every day 'till it takes." 

His cock began brushing against the spot that made you see stars. Your lips pressed against his forehead, his mouth moving down your collarbone to the tops of your breasts. 

"Gonna look s'good, full of me," he pulled the fabric down before sinking his teeth into your skin. Rhett knew that you could easily cover the bite marks. In fact, he loved it. Loved knowing underneath that fabric were physical reminders of his devotion towards you. That you would be able to feel it, you would know it was there as folks tried to talk to you. 

That you were his. 

Those very thoughts sent your head reeling, pleasure surging throughout your body. Any concern about the door, someone walking by, the Millers' baby, were gone. All you could focus on was the way his cock made you feel so full. 

“Fuck, can’t wait until these get full. Ya gonna look so pretty angel, carryin’ our baby.” His tongue lapped at the fresh bite mark on your breasts. The action did little to soothe you, adding to the ache between your legs. 

Two fingers tapped at your bottom lip. You opened, moaning around his long digits. Soon, there would be a wedding band around one of them. Soon you two wouldn't have to go to restaurants in the next town over. Soon you would be able to hold his hand in public. 

Soon you two would have the life you always deserved, the life you both made so many sacrifices for, committed sins for. 

Rhett always said that sometimes God put good people in bad circumstances. And that in those cases, the Lord understood you had to do what was necessary to get out. 

You still doubt whether you were good. But with Rhett, you knew you could be. 

His fingers left your mouth, moving to just above where your bodies connected. 

"Gonna have ya sit in the front row. So everyone can see who you belong to. See who fucked a baby into ya." 

Your fingers dug into his broad shoulders. Even with his button up, you knew there would be faint crescent-shaped marks. Not that Rhett minded. He liked the physical reminders of your devotion just as much as you, if not more. 

His hips rocked into yours. That, combined with the circles he was drawing on your clit, led to your undoing. His other hand clamped over your mouth, muffling your moans. You should at least try to be quiet, given the circumstances. 

But that was near impossible with how his thick cock was dragging in and out of your wet cunt, prolonging your pleasure. He always made you feel so good, so full. 

"Rhett," his name weakly fell from your lips, barely audible over the obscene sound of his cock fucking your wetness back into you. 

"Whatcha need angel?" He grunted. Rhett liked to consider himself a good listener. Many had told him it was one of his strengths as a preacher. But it was so hard to focus on anything other than you. 

"Need….need y'to fill me up," your words were slurred, as if you were drunk off his cock. 

Wouldn't be the first time. 

His hands gripped the back of your thighs, bringing your legs up to his hips. The new angle allowed him to fuck you even deeper. 

"That's what ya want? Want me to fill ya up? Make ya mine?" 

"W-want it s'bad Rhett." His words made your walls clench, head spinning in a sickly sweet pleasure, "Wanna have your baby." 

None of the words that fell from his mouth could be found in the Bible. 

The oversensitivity combined with how deep he was fucking you caused you to teether back and forth from pleasure to pain. A near animalistic need was overtaking your body, the only thing you could focus on was the sensation of him coming deep inside of you. 

"Want me to keep going, don't ya? So deep inside ya, I bet ya want it to take." It made your head reel that this was the same man who an hour earlier, was speaking to a congregation about loving thy neighbor. 

His different layers were what caused you to fall in love with Rhett. The same man who was grunting words of pure filth was the same man who planned to make you dinner. It was the same man who personally saw to it that your demons were laid to rest, unable to haunt you ever again. 

The same man who was now pressing his lips gently to your forehead as he pulled out. 

"I'll feel ya up real good tonight angel, promise. But folks are probably wondering where we are." You nodded, though your body remained wrapped up in his. 

"You know, they're still gonna wonder where we are, even after they learn about us." 

Rhett simply smiled as he stuffed your panties into his back pocket. 

"Yeah, but they'll know better than to say anything about it." 

One of your eyebrows quirked upwards, "Perks of being a man of God?" 

His lips pressed against yours for a quick peck, "You'll get those perks too angel. Soon." 

It couldn't come soon enough.

[hauntedhokage]

salvation

Priest!Nanami Kento/F!Reader

word count: 2k

summary: you’ve been avoiding the church, the weight of your unabsolved sins sits heavy on your shoulders, and you know that he knows. he could always see right through you.

warnings: MDNI, priest kink, blasphemy up the ass, references to sexual content (sex in a church and unprotected sex), unintended use of a rosary & prayer, manipulation, Nanami refers to reader as “lamb” and “little one”, this is not their first meeting, established…something, reader is some kind of devout to Nanami and not necessarily to the religion itself at this point,

note: this is heavily inspired by my experience in church (read: very catholic), but I was also trying to lean more into my own vision of  “cult-religion” while not explicitly naming any particular religion that reader and Nanami are failing at practicing. Technically this is act iii but idk if I’ll write the acts i & ii that are in mind. 

AO3 | Nanami Masterlist | All Masterlists | Ko-fi |

You’d been avoiding the church. 

Always conveniently scheduled to work during the different scheduled mass times, and the one time you hadn’t been working you’d faked sick. Faking sick again wasn’t an option, as you were still working through the various meals that were brought your way to help you feel better and didn’t need any additional tupperware to wash and return to your neighbors. Your boss hadn’t scheduled you during Mass in a while, stating that he knew how much going meant to you and now that business was a bit slower he could afford to give you that time back. Everyone wanted you back in that church, sharing the house of worship and the teachings being preached because they all felt you needed it. 

What it provided, you didn’t know. It used to feel natural to be there, enlightening even. Confessional once lifted the weight of your transgressions and had you feeling lighter with the knowledge that your path had been redirected. The reassurance that the gates of heaven had not yet been shut to you, the feeling of light that came when you were told that you were still part of His flock, safe from the fiery darkness of hell - nothing topped that feeling. 

But it wasn’t that you were avoiding the church. 

You were hiding from Father Kento. 

He knew you better than anybody else did at this point, and you hadn’t known him long. It had been maybe six months since he’d come to replace the older priest who had passed away, and how quickly he’d drawn you in - like a moth to his flame and you were trying to avoid getting burnt. He was a priest, after all, even if everything you knew about him went against your understanding of what priests actually did. But maybe that was what you liked about him? Father Kento to you was a completely different man than he was to anybody else, you knew him better because you’d been blessed with the opportunity to see more of him. He’d taken “priestly liberties” to see to your salvation, took special care of you as his most precious lamb, and this was how you repaid him and his kindness? Avoiding he who had given so much to you?

“You look troubled, little lamb.”

And there he was. Always there when you seemed to be thinking about him the most, only in the last few weeks you’d turned away when you saw him at the market or on your way to or from work. Today, though, there is no avoiding him for he’s standing right in front of you. A gentle hand on your elbow (to steady you, would be his cover for a touch so intimate), eyes looking right through you it seemed. 

“Good evening, Father,” you greet, smile soft yet still uncertain as you meet that piercing gaze. “How are you?”

“I’ve been worried about you, but I’m well.” There it was, so quickly to the point yet still managing to be indirect given the public setting that was the middle of the sidewalk. “How have you been?”

“I’ve been alright. Busy, then-”

“Then you weren’t well, yes?”

“That’s where I need to confess.” Your admission earns a quirked brow, the ghost of a smile gracing his features under the streetlight as he gives your arm a squeeze. 

“Would you like to come with me to the church? Somewhere private where we can talk and hopefully provide some solace to that troubled mind.” 

Another act of familiarity, this time his thumb gently running up from the bridge of your nose and between your eyes to smooth out your furrowed brow. A gentle pat to the top of your head follows when you nod, and that has him smiling as he gives a nod of his own before turning to lead you back towards the church. During the walk you tell him about your day, how work was and sharing a fun fact you’d learned that day. In turn he tells you what he can about his, out of interest to respect the private lives of others in the parish. It’s natural, nobody would assume any less than holy intentions to see you being guided down the sidewalk by Father Kento. 

But as soon as you’re inside the walls of the church, the loud click ringing through your ears signaling that you were alone with him and would see no intrusion, you feel almost like a lamb being presented for sacrifice. 

He follows you to where you usually sat shen it was just the two of you in the large building, on the steps in front of the pews, beneath the stained glass but out of its reach when the light shone through at most hours of the day. He does what he always did, dimming the lights before lighting the candles that would provide more intimate lighting for the conversations yet to come.

Father Kento always made you feel special. 

“Where’ve you been, little one? I miss seeing you front and center at mass.”

That was where you were nervous. To tell him what was on your mind, as well as the things that you’d been doing in lieu of attending church and confession, wasn’t going to be easy. He’d be disappointed, and you think for a moment that maybe that’s what you were hiding from. Not Father Kento himself, but the disappointed look in his eyes when you confessed to him that you failed to resist temptation - failed to come to him for protection from that temptation. 

But you tell him anyway, sparing no detail as you know the only way to be absolved of your sins was to confess them. He does an excellent job of keeping his face neutral, hands idly turning his rosary as he listens, and that helps you to ensure that you maintain that honesty. You knew it would hurt him to hear that you’d let another man touch you, that you were hiding from his disappointment, that you were afraid of being a distraction from his work. By the time you’re done your own hands are in his, wrapped in his rosary which eased their shakiness and brought a great deal of comfort.

“I’m sorry that you felt that you couldn’t find sanctuary here,” he murmurs, carefully pressing his forehead to yours. “You should know that I would never judge, and am always here to help you cleanse your sins.”

“I know, I know,” you whisper, looking down at your joined hands. The crystal beads don’t feel as heavy on your skin as they had when he’d started to bring them around your skin, which helps considerably but doesn’t completely relieve you. “I’m sorry, Father, sorry that my faith in you became so weak.”

“God forgave you as soon as you entered his House.”

“But have you forgiven me, Father?” The question brings him pause, and you know why it would. In his eyes, God’s forgiveness should be most important to you, and if God can forgive why would you need to hear anything else? He liked to tease that you were constantly testing him, but this wasn’t a test. This was how you truly felt, and you feared his reaction but you still finish your thought to improve his understanding of your situation. “God’s love means nothing if I don’t have yours.”

“My love for you has not waned in your absence. You are forgiven for your transgressions, my lamb, and I would like to reassure you in that forgiveness.”

You’re kissing him before you can properly process the implication of his words, knowing that what you needed was the specific brand of salvation that only came from Father Kento’s touch. His hands pull from yours, leaving the rosary to hang from your hands as his come to hold your cheeks. Father Kento’s kiss was as he was; calculated and warm, knowing exactly what he needed to do or how he needed to move to maximize your experience in his arms. 

“Please do not drop my rosary, sweet lamb,” he mumbles, lips moving to your neck while his hands work to position you on his lap. “It’s key to your salvation this evening.”

Your attempt at assurance that you’d never drop his rosary - or anything of his, really - is cut off by a whine when sharp teeth dig into your shoulder. A signal to God, he’d said once, to let him know that you’d bled for your faith and did so willingly. You have to separate your hands so he can pull your shirt over your head, and he pulls the cross that now dangles against your forearm into his mouth as he looks up at you through his lashes. Perhaps it's a reminder to be careful, a reminder of where your faith should lie, but you take it as an invitation and press your mouth to his in an open kiss around the quickly warming metal.

“I have to properly present you to God, little lamb. Ensure that he can properly see you embrace your salvation.” And you know exactly what he means as you finally pull yourself from him, letting the spit slick rosary fall against your arm once more before you stand on shaky legs. You needed to bare yourself before God and the Father, present yourself at the altar to accept your salvation. Akin to taking the sacrament, but this brand of salvation was reserved specifically for you - for Father Kento’s favorite little lamb. 

There's a symbolism here that you can’t miss as he lifts you onto the altar - the focal point of the church beneath the intricate stained glass windows depicting images of peace and holiness.

The lamb presented for sacrifice as she’s laid atop the altar, but there’s no knife in his hand. Even if there was, you would only feel reverence for the man standing before you - the man you trusted with your life. You were his little lamb, his favorite within the flock to be used as an example but never to be harmed. If you were ever sacrificed; you’d be reincarnated to once again be his favorite, he’d said it himself that in every instance of your shared existence that he knew he would always find you. The shepherd tends to the flock, always, and a lost lamb would find her way home to the shepherd who loved her so dearly.  

“Are you ready to embrace salvation?”

“Please, Father.” Your hand searches for him, something that you can hold onto when you feel his tip slide through your folds. His hand catches yours, the tight grip pressing the rosary beads into the tender flesh of your palm to the point where you know you’ll see indentations from the intricate bead and metalwork decorating your skin. Another reminder of your repentance to join the soft bruises on your hips, markings on your shoulder, and the remnants of Father Kento’s holy essence that would be left inside you once he’d finished. 

You were far from pure, but so was he. Figuring out where he lost any hope of the salvation he preached would take months of carefully placed questions, but you knew when you’d lost your own. He was unassuming, a kind priest who followed the path lit by God’s light, but at the same time all consuming as he ravaged you from the inside out. Your road to hell had not been paved with good intentions, as he’d intended on dragging you down with him on his own road to damnation. 

But Hell didn’t seem so bad to you if it would be his, too.  

Despite it all, you’d follow him anywhere, if he asked you to go. It wasn’t any god that you prayed to when referring to a Father in your prayers, for Kento was the only Father you prayed to. Your heavenly father, and you know that you will not stray far from his side again. 

You knew better than to hurt yourself like that again. 

[lets-try-some-writing]

Heavy is the Head that Wears the Crown

Based off this post. Enjoy this short little thing.

Many times the Matrix was given, and many times its bearers writhed in agony at its touch. The priests told them they were worthy.

But Optimus knows he is not.

━━━━━━ ⊙ ❖ ⊙ ━━━━━━━━━━━━

The priests always said that he was worthy. Like every Prime before him, Optimus's frame forever ached with the weight of the holy relic he bore. Fire leapt in his fuel lines. His hydraulics burned with exertion that he had done nothing to earn. Every waking moment was a form of torture as the relic within him made its opinion quite clear.

He was not worthy.

━━━━━━

"Your station is the most holy on all of Cybertron. Bear this weight with pride." The priests smiled as he passed, gilded in gold and draped in fine cloths. The people cheered as they saw him step out of the Citadel. He despised it.

They did not know the pain that came from carrying the relic within him. They did not know that just like every single Prime who came before him, he was not intended for this station.

"Rise, Optimus Prime." The head priest blessed him as he stood before the masses. The Matrix burned within his spark chamber, reminding him that he did not belong.

"Glory to the Empire!" The people shouted in joy. Optimus remained still, his battlemask ever present as he watched the celebration. Whispers spoke in the back of his mind, murmurs offering wisdom even as his spark flared in quiet agony.

The price he paid for divine knowledge was high. Such was the consequence of imposing on Primus's most holy.

━━━━━━

"You make an excellent Prime." Ratchet smiled as Optimus passed by. The doctor affixed his brooch to his cape, and while the act was tender, the Matrix thrummed in warning. If his corrupted form was to taint the divinity of the Primes, he was to have no joy.

"Now we can make some real change!" Ironhide exclaimed with glee as he patted Optimus on the back. Optimus nodded, but he did not smile. He was not allowed to smile. The Matrix was clear.

Every decision he made was done with agony clouding his thoughts. He learned to stop twitching when the Matrix caused his nerves to shoot with pain. He quickly silenced his instinctual cries when his plating felt so tight around him that he might suffocate.

"You alright Prime?" Jazz asked after one long cycle of legislation discussion. Optimus said nothing. Voicing his pain would bring only suffering to those around him.

"Of course." He answered simply. Jazz didn't believe him. No one did.

━━━━━━

"The Decepticons have turned Kaon into a fortress. It won't be long until they march on Tarn too." Prowl frowned as he hunched over a map. Optimus stood still, his vision hazy as ghostly forms surrounded him. Their glares were so intense that he couldn't help the way his plating flared.

"You are not worthy." They whispered as Optimus pointed out a location on the map, the knowledge of his unworthy predecessors guiding his thoughts.

The forms of the old gods pressed up against him, their ghostly frames burning everywhere they touched. The only ones who did not harm him where those who shared his fate. Countless presences wrapping around him and shielding him from the wrath of the ancient horrors that denied him the holy rank he had been forced to bear.

"Send our forces to the northern border and prepare for war. Cybertron will not fall." The ghostly optics never left him as he made his declaration. They held no love for him.

━━━━━━

"Sir, we need you." Ultra Magnus reached out, touching Optimus's shoulder as he looked out over the remains of the burning city of Rodion. It had all happened so fast. The flames of war engulfed their world before he had the chance to react.

"Please Prime, guide us." His Council begged, pleading with what they saw as the most holy for salvation. Optimus had nothing to give. The Matrix denied him. He could give no blessings or assurances.

"Optimus, what are we going to do?" One by one his companions came to him for comfort. Optimus's spark burned with righteous fury every time he offered another battle plan instead of some sort of prophecy, a promise of peace.

His frame forever burned. The Matrix cursed him, but the people needed him.

He would make himself worthy, if only to give his people something to cling to.

━━━━━━

"Energon shortages are increasing. This war is devastating the planet." Perceptor noted clinically. The rest of the war council grew grim. They knew how far their people had fallen. Centuries of war were killing their world and they all knew it.

"If a true Prime had been chosen, this would have never come to pass." The old gods whispered, their digits digging under his plating and setting his circuits alight with agony. Optimus did not react. He had long learned to remain silent when the Matrix saw fit to punish him for his hubris.

How a mortal could have ever dreamed of carrying the Matrix was beyond him. And yet, he had to be worthy. Whatever the Matrix said, his people needed him. Perhaps he was not a proper Prime, but he was all that remained.

He would tear himself apart to be worthy of the mantle he bore.

━━━━━━

"Optimus, your frame is falling to pieces! You need to rest!" Ratchet demanded as Optimus stood watch. His digits were shaky, as was now his regular state of being. His plating was cracked, his hydraulics were weakened, his optics strained more with every passing cycle. Already he had been forced to permanently wear his mask just to hide his eternal frown. It hurt too much to pretend anymore. Such was the curse of his station.

The longer he stood in the place of a divine, the more he deteriorated. All those who came before him fell this way. Optimus merely endured because he had to.

"Pride shall be your downfall oh foolish mortal." Their whispers forever haunted his audials. He could hardly recharge anymore. And yet, while Megatron still reigned, he could not falter.

"Orion, please, this has got to stop." Jazz pleaded with him as they prepared to leave Cybertron. He wasn't sure if Jazz meant the war or his increasing distance from his troops. Optimus wasn't sure he wanted to know.

He had to be worthy... there was no other choice.

━━━━━━

"Prime." Megatron met his gaze, and Optimus returned it. What was the use in fighting anymore? After so very long, they had new concerns. Cybertron needed to be restored. Their war was irrelevant.

"Let us get this over with." Optimus murmured as the words of the Matrix drowned out all else. He wished it could all end.

His frame was battered and he had not recharged properly in millennia. His life was one of pain. The Matrix never allowed him a moment's rest, not while he defiled it with his very existence. Over and over it murmured-

"You are not worthy."

He knew it, and he believed it.

━━━━━━

"Sup OP!" Hot Rod held out his first, an Earth custom that he had picked up from Primus knows where. Optimus stalled as the eternal whispers quieted. Hot Rod tilted his helm in confusion as Optimus reached up with shaky digits to wipe at his face.

It didn't hurt anymore.

"You are worthy." His voice was breathless as his knees felt weak. Megatron came to support him as Optimus struggled to stand upright. The pain had begun to fade. The Matrix sang with joy as he set his gaze upon the warrior before him.

"Prime, you alright?" Hot Rod nervously came forward, unsure how to act. Optimus retracted his mask. Those gathered gasped as Optimus dropped to a knee, a smile on his face.

"You are worthy." He repeated, echoing the words of the gods within him.

"What? I don't get it? What's going on?" Optimus continued to smile as the Matrix pulsed within him. He knew what it desired and he had no interest in denying it. Soon, very soon.

Soon he would not need to be worthy.

━━━━━━

Vorns came and went. Optimus endured the pain. Hot Rod needed more time. He was not prepared for his station, not yet. The Matrix flared every time he approached the warrior, prodding but not demanding, not yet.

But finally, after what felt like an eternity, the time had come.

"Hot Rod, will you accept this station?" Optimus asked, and the warrior before him paused. The mecha gathered around paused in their steps, dropping whatever they were doing to stare. Optimus had come from nowhere. He could see why they were concerned.

However, he could not wait any longer. Not when salvation stood before him.

"I don't understand." Hot Rod stared in confusion. Optimus smiled.

"You will. For unlike me... you are worthy." His chest plating parted, the Matrix shone. For one in his functioning, Optimus felt its approval. This was the correct choice.

The relic tore away from him, and Optimus fell to a knee as he caught it and held it out to the mech before him. The Matrix burned his servos as he touched it, but the holy fire merely served to have him shake. His freedom stood before him.

Hot Rod reached out, his hesitation obvious up until he touched the relic. A smile spread across his face. He looked as though he had found a piece of himself long lost. Optimus smiled alongside him as the Matrix finally found its Prime.

"Rise, Rodimus Prime." A new Prime stood before him, holy flame his to command. Optimus relished in the flames that whipped across his plating. They burned, but not as the Matrix had tormented him for so long.

He was free.

He was not worthy.

But he did not need to be.

[justafriendofxanders]

I think Buffy and Angel as shows ultimately reject the concept of the "redemption arc" as a journey from point A to point B where, at the end of it, you can "earn" some kind of absolution. I know some people take issue with Spike's sacrifice at the end of season 7 as an example of this, but I don't think that's the case at all. I think Spike starts out trying to earn Buffy's love/forgiveness (see: the "Beneath You" monologue -- "Why does a man do what he mustn't? For her. To be hers."), but I think their ending ("I love you." / "No you don't. But thanks for saying it.") is ultimately about Spike rejecting the idea that he's doing this for any motive other than simply doing the right thing. Ironically, he's "redeemed" when he accepts that there's no redemption at all.

I also don't think this means Buffy doesn't love him in that exchange. I think the very act of saying "I love you" to someone who has done the unforgiveable is itself an act of love and compassion, and I think that love is what makes Spike's growth possible. I think that's the gratitude at the crux of "Thanks for saying it," which is a thanks for loving him and seeing the good in him, so that he might get to the point where he doesn't need it.

Ultimately at the heart of Buffy's sacrifice at the end of S5 ("The hardest thing in this world is to live in it. Be brave. Live.") and in the Slayer activation spell ("Are you ready to be strong?") is about a kind of boundless love that's given to other people whether or not they "deserve" it. It's the kind of love that takes strength to give, and it's the kind of love that makes people stronger for having received it.

This is also the lesson Angel (the character) takes from Buffy (the TV show and the character) onto ATS. Both he and Spike are "saved" by Buffy's love, which is to say that through it, they realize there's no being saved at all. Living is both the punishment and the gift, but mostly it's just living and trying to do the right thing. Every day. Even when it's hard, even when there's no reward or hope of redemption.

There's various plot points that deal with this on ATS, big and small, but I think the finale captures this the best. First when Angel signs away his chance at being redeemed by the Shanshu, and second when the final episode ends just as the battle is ramping up. Like, that's the point! There's no end to the fight. You fight and you live even when there's nothing to be gained from it.

For shows that are to varying degrees overtly or covertly anti-organized religion, they're very much about faith and salvation; they just take the stance that 1. there's no being saved, 2. the only way you can realize that is through love, 3. which is to say that love is what saves us. It's just that the source of that love is from ordinary people, and that we have the capacity to give it as much as we have to receive it.

[battlekilt]

Perception vs. Reality.

Obi-Wan comports himself as though he is a man of total self-control and dignity. Yet, we see how much of a feral fucking menace he really is.

Anakin comports himself as though he is entirely capricious to the will of the moment. Yet, we see how he agonizes with forethought before his actions; it is ecstasy for him when he lets go and falls into the Force's will, falling wherever it may let him land.

Do we really expect these men's flag units to be any different than they? Do we really expect the 501st not to be the Force's chosen instrument that brings order to chaos or the 212th to not be order proceeded by chaos?

We, the outside observer, call the 501st a Battalion of chaos, yet it pulls off missions with careful execution and the honed focus of a scalpel. They are the calm in the storm, no less dangerous than any other of nature's raw forces, made moreso because it was given direction and purpose, with a target to hone in on.

We discuss the 212th similarly to its senior officers. It is the "golden" battalion. Yet, it is the 212th that throws itself with full-entropic force against its enemy. "Let slip the dogs of war" was colored in blurs of white and gold.

Nah, the 501st is the disciplined bunch. They are the unit forged in fire from hardened durasteel, with an edge sharp enough to split the wind, kept under control by the light touch of General and Captain less powerful than their look.

The 212th is the battalion that has earned its moniker—attack battalion—without question. It is the men under General Kenobi and Commander Cody that fling themselves with total disregard, screaming at the top of their lungs and only inhaling after victory.

It is the 212th that makes Commander Fox's men girdle their lions and cantina keepers put their insurance companies on speed dial. All they have to do when they see boys in blue is remind the men that they know the names of their General and Captain; one word and let mercy be the only salvation without recompense.

However, the 212th is summed as such:

The Force is the fickle finger of fate.

[dokidokitsuna]

Salvation

Most of the leftover Dream Alliance content actually comes from its 'AU of an AU'-- while the premise of DreamAll is that Magolor leaves the Jambastion cult, in this alternate-alternate universe (which I nicknamed Bad!DreamAll~) Magolor stays, and eventually joins his father in his murderous rituals. Unsurprisingly, this takes a devastating toll on his mental health, and he quickly devolves into a living weapon.

At the heart of this story is Magolor's relationship with Princess Sectonia, a valiant swords-mage who joined the Dream Alliance after her fiancé was killed during Void's emergence. Basically, she's the first person he meets who can actually keep up with him in a 1-on-1 fight, so he immediately goes from wanting to kill her to wanting desperately for her to kill him, as he believes she's the only one who can. Unfortunately for him, Tony has a terminal case of protagonist-brain and believes she can 'save' Magolor, given enough time. ^^; So she refuses to back down when he challenges her, but she also refuses to ever deal the killing blow.

Eventually the two end up locked in this twisted dynamic where he's constantly stalking and attacking her, hoping that if he's cruel enough and hurts her enough, she'll finally decide not to let him live. Meanwhile, she's determined to show him mercy even at the cost of her own life, and even with the rest of the Dream Alliance pleading with her to see reason.

...It was a fun concept~. ^^ Before GONE, this was probably the darkest AU I ever wrote, particularly Bad!Magolor's tragic backstory and self-loathing mindset, which inspired this picture. I do believe that these versions of Magolor and Sectonia like each other a lot, in their own weird ways. For Tony, I think her unresolved grief over her boyfriend's death manifested into a self-destructive hero complex/rebound crush. :9 For Mags, I think he sees Tony as a sort of holy figure, simultaneously the perfect unblemished victim for him to destroy, and the perfect avenging angel to grant him the death he craves. But she won't do it for him until he earns it...until he lays out all the darkness in his soul for her to see, until he offers up enough pain and bloodshed to satisfy her judgment, until he proves that the need for him to be removed from the world outweighs the well-deserved punishment of his continued existence.

...Despite all that, he still understands what it's like to be loved, and he can't help but feel flattered that she actually wants to befriend him (his conclusion is that she's delusional, but still). Between the melodrama and deathmatches, they tend to have very cute conversations~.

[clownfishbites]

Ok it’s time for the St Augustine Joker meta. Sorry if it got a bit long I just have a lot of thoughts.

I find it so interesting that he would bring up St Augustine in that moment. I wasn’t a huge fan of the run in general but I thought it had its merits and this bit was one of them because I’m a sucker for batjokes that is also religious fanaticism.

For St Augustine, ‘grace’ in this sense is not something that needs to be found or earned, the Catholic doctrine states that it is given freely, a gift from God to mankind.

Batman gives Joker grace when nobody in the entire world will, I mentioned it a bit in my last meta but think Batman: Cacophony, Batman: It's Joker time, Batman: Devil's Advocate and literally every time he doesn't kill him, or protects him from harm when nobody else would. He is giving him grace that does not have to be earned, it's a benevolent gift from the divine. Or at least that's how Joker is seeing it, a rationalisation for why Batman spares him when nobody else would.

St Augustine tells God that "it is only by Your grace and mercy that You have melted away the ice of my evil". St Augustine needs God in the same way Joker needs Batman, to act in opposition to his 'evil', to be worshipped with the intention of being the gravity that keeps him on Earth, or in his own words, the compass pointing true north.

I'm not going to get too carried away but I think it's a pretty interesting comparison that's existing here between St Augustine and God, and Joker and Batman.

"head towards God and remember, everything else is chaos"

If Batman is the entity that is salvation, the thing to be drawn to- he isn't just the opposite force, but the only other thing in existence, because Joker defines himself as chaos. There is Divinity and Chaos and that is all. It's a nice lens on Joker's perspective that every other living thing is a prop in his pursuit of Batman's love and attention.

Religion is a choice, but how could Joker pick any other divinity, when he freely acknowledges that Batman is his creator. One of St Augustine's concepts surrounding human creation is that of original sin- that being that everybody is born with sin, born tainted ever since Adam and Eve were expelled from the garden of Eden.

But if everyone is born tainted, lives tainted and there is no real assurance of redemption, what actually is the point in trying to be good, to be a virtuous person, if someone like the Joker can just come into the church and take your life. Or from the pov of the Joker what is the point in any of it if we are born ruined.

We return to the idea that Joker sees himself as beyond salvation in the traditional sense, he's in a sunk cost fallacy but with being evil. But just to push this to it's limit, his very existence shakes faith in a creator that is all good,

Where is the grace of God in a world that allowed him to exist?

In the absence of divine light and a creator that loves him, he desperately seeks the opposite, divine darkness and a creator that hates him. But Joker loves him no less for it because Batman is all that exists in his world.

"head towards love and everything else is chaos"

Here he's changed the words of St Augustine, altering it from following God to following love, and he says this while heading towards Batman which is...basically the entire point of this, Batman is his love, Batman is his divinity.

But even Batman has to devote himself to an idea bigger than himself, and he can only stand in opposition, his crusade would be over if he truly cleansed Gotham of all evil- OR, as Joker suggests in this comic, if he became happy. If he didn't have to exist in opposition, if the misery that fuelled his crusade was taken away

Joker can only stand in opposition too- we know this because we see how completely he crumbles apart when his opposition is removed.

Batman functionally exists as half of a whole, in his own way Joker's speech is confronting this reality, albeit in a much more roundabout way than he explains it to Selina.

And this is why neither of them can ever truly escape this cycle, their aspect of devotion would die the moment the other was removed from the equation, and with it divinity and chaos would cease to exist, and so would the world.

I love cosmic batjokes.

[tabernacleheart]

[In my darkest moments,] Satan says to me, "Look, there's no sense in you going to God. He doesn't want anything to do with you! You're a failure, man! Your life is a mess. God doesn't want anything to do with you. There's no sense in you going [to Him] because there's no way He's gonna open the door for you." And [just like that, the devil] would plant [the self-fulfilling prophecy of] unbelief in my heart, [because] if I believe that God won't receive me, then God won't receive me, [solely because] because I won't come. But Jesus said, "Whoever comes to Me I will [never] cast out. All that the Father has given Me are Mine; they'll come to Me. And [the soul] that comes to Me I will [never] cast out." What encouraging, glorious words to your troubled spirit, [to your hesitant heart]. You— who Satan has been hassling for so long, trying to tell you that you're not worthy, that God doesn't want you, God isn't interested— let me tell you something. If you just come to Jesus, there's no way, no way He will cast you out. [It is the absolute Truth, that all of you to] whom the Father has revealed the truth of Jesus Christ and who believe in Him, it's God's will that He saves you and raises you up in that last day. Praise God for His glorious will for our lives!

Chuck Smith

[damnitiloveyou]

if it wasn’t for aaron id have stopped watching already, the writing’s been even more atrocious than usual. cain’s “confession” was pathetic, are we supposed to feel sorry for him because he ended up not bludgeoning his nephew?

i really do hope this is eventually leading to a robert return because he’s the only person left who actually DOES love aaron unconditionally, idk what they were talking about going on about chas’ unconditional love for him bc it’s just not true lol

I love Aaron. Love him, but if there is no Robert return I won't be able to stick around. Everything else is just too bad. I know we're still getting through the Jane nonsense, I think, I don't know how far ahead her stories went. But I'm going to need to start seeing some kind of improvements no matter how small. I don't know if we'll get that given the other two are still there. At least for now they're still there anyway.

The Chas stuff makes me want to punch a wall. She has been insufferable since the Gracie storyline. That's years of gross, often downright cruel behavior. And nothing ever happens to her. They have used that one storyline, that is years old, as an unstoppable excuse for everything she does. And now instead of actually making her fall and having to earn the forgiveness she demanded tonight they just made her sick instead. They gave her another excuse to be horrible and paint her as the victim. I don't care that she's sick. She's past the point of salvation for me. She's also, unfortunately, not dying at the end of this storyline so none of it will matter. As for Cain I actually thought I misheard him at first, lol. His big confession was second guessing himself because he didn't beat the shit out of Aaron. I mean what??? Too ridiculous to pretend to take seriously.

It would have been odd if Robert hadn't been mentioned tonight. So I don't hold this mention to the same 👀 as the other ones, but it was still the fourth one in barely 3 months, five if we count Aaron's pause in the other episode. I don't see how we can pretend it's not a deliberate thing at this point. There's no reason to keep mentioning him. Aaron started the whole thing, supposedly, because of Liv's death, they could have kept just to that. They chose not to. They chose to remind the audience of Robert (and Seb) on several different occasions. Soaps just don't do that. The new set is still the biggest clue to me. There was no need to build that set for Aaron alone. That set screams Robron. I'm still trying to keep at least a foot in the possibility that he's not coming back, but everything they're doing is making that increasingly difficult. It's really starting to look like a return.

[wildrosesayshigh3]

Would Damian have been robin if Tim willing gave up the mantle according to Pre-Crisis times?

This going to be long so buckle up.

This isn't going to be specifically pre-crisis, but more focused on the robin transitions. So Damian is the only robin to be given the mantle, Dick, Tim, Steph forced his hand into excepting and Jason was mentored into it by Dick to take up the mantle.

Plus (and correct me if I'm wrong) Damian is the only one who wears the mantle without the previous mantle wielders permission. Dick was growing up, Jason was dead, and Tim was in boarding school. To my (vague) knowledge Tim wasn't all that willing to give up the mantle. So would Damian have become robin at 10?

The only reason Dick was allowed (reluctantly) to be robin was because he was already athletic enough to keep up. Jason was trained, Tim became robin without batman's agreement and Steph was Spoiler.

So would Damian still be given the mantle after coming out of the LOA and being an unknown in terms of skills and loyalties and mental health. Like I know some can make the assumption that he was given the mantle because Batman (Dick) needs a robin. But that so reckless, the mantle of robin is known to be batman's student, the one who learns all of the bats trick and tips in order to succeed. Why give the mantle to a boy who (1) hasn't earned it like the rest and (2) just came out of potentially abusive situation. Cause lets face it the LOA is not good for a child mental or physical well being.

What should have been done was giving him two years at existing around the bat clan before giving him the mantle. I don't care if Bruce was lost in time and Tim was who-knows-where. Unlike before where Bruce desperately needed a robin, Dick has more connections inside and outside of Gotham at his disposal. Batman has been without a batgirl or robin before and he can do it again.

Also Damian doesn't really have a connection to Robin like the others. To him Robin is a mantle of the protege of Batman (his father) that he only knows through his mother who left him at the manor without so much as a by your leave. Robin isn't anything else.

To Dick, Robin was a connection from his old family to his new, a symbol of his childhood and past. To Jason, Robin was magick and the hero who protected Gotham since he was a little kid. To Tim, Robin was hope and Batman's salvation. To Steph, Robin was viewed the same as Jason did.

Plus each of the vigilantes that take up the mantle all still have some connection with the name in there current names. I think that the nepotism would have pissed them off.

Night Wing, the wings of the night connected to both his families not one or the other but both. A vibrant blue stripe as eye catching as the the robin costume with a black as bat background.

Red Hood the red of the blood on his costume, a name chosen to snub a madman. And reclaim power over itself. (Even if phoenix would be much more appropriate)

Spoiler taken inspiration from the Robins around her to o good and bring evil doers to justice.

Red Robin still a robin. Just new colors and feathers adorn him.

[emblemxeno]

FE Fates Localization: Ending Changes

Wanted to put together what I find to be noteworthy and/or bothersome changes that were made to character endings in Fates from Japanese to English. 

It’s important to note that some changes/cuts are almost certainly because of space limitations; Japanese as a language is able to fit more information in sentences than English can, evident in this game where one English letter is the equivalent to one Japanese character in terms of spacing. So I don’t have major grievances with all of them, as cutting something in order to fit the most important parts was most likely unavoidable.

Credit to @aphonicdreams for the JP ending translations.

Corrin (BR/CQ) - Crux of Fate (Eng)/The One Who Chooses the Future (JP)

Eng: While no official records remain, tales of a hero spread across generations in songs and folktales. And while the stories varied, they all spoke of the hero's critical decision that led to peace.

JP:  After the war, many legends were left behind in every land about the Hero of Salvation. But strangely enough there are no official records that remain. The only certainty is that he chose one path and connected it to peace.

-No issues with this other than “Hero of Salvation” is a banger folk name and I wish it was kept.

Corrin (Revelation) - King of Valla/The New Touma King (***???)  (新たなる透魔王)

Eng: After the war, the portal to the bottomless canyon was sealed forever-as was Anankos's body. Corrin was crowned King of Valla, and the three rulers forged a new era of peace.

JP: After the war, he governed the country as the King of Touma. Closed at the bottom of the Infinite Chasm, the former land of Touma and the corpse of Hydra became sealed together for eternity. Touma, Nohr, and Hoshido were bound by a solid bond and an age of peaceful dawn continued for a long time.

-I knew of the implication that Valla/Touma was given land by Hoshido and Nohr in Rev’s ending but I never found like, concrete lines about it? Is this what this is? Cuz I never knew about this, holy shit. Specifically saying ‘the former land of Touma’ means that Corrin isn’t governing empty floating islands, but is taking the few remaining Vallites to the surface to establish a new kingdom. Cuz how the fuck would anyone get to old Valla if the Bottomless Canyon was shut and only Azura and Corrin can travel through water to get there? This makes more sense than what I always thought of Rev. I highlighted Corrin’s title change as well cuz I don’t speak or read Japanese, and I was wondering if the original sentence means like “The New King of Touma” or “The King of New Touma” since those sentences imply different things, with the latter further supporting how old Touma was left behind.

Silas - Loyal Knight/Knight of Friendship (*)

Eng: Silas returned to Nohr to serve in the castle guard. His honest and dedicated nature earned him the title of lead knight. Records show Corrin and Silas remained friends for all their days.

JP: He returned to being a royal knight and served the Nohr Kingdom. That earnest personality changed the minds of his companions and, in his last years, he was entrusted to be the leader of the knights. Many younger knights adored him. It is said that he continued his close friendship with Kamui for his entire life.

-JP ending mentions younger knights adoring Silas. This was removed in English.

Kaze - Easygoing Ninja/Ninja of the Cool Breeze (*)

Eng: Few records of Kaze exist. Numerous poems of the time say he worked for his homeland and for Corrin from the shadows. His gentle yet mysterious nature made him a legend among ladies.

JP: Not many records are left of him after the war. There are many stories on the streets of his appearances, but he assisted Kamui and his country as a shadow. It is said that his unassuming kindness seduced the hearts of many women in his lifetime.

-No problem with his ending, but Kaze’s title has the wind attribute removed; I mention this now because it’s applicable to other ending titles having a little color or flair replaced or removed. If you see a * next to the titles, it means I think the change is, IMO, interesting to note. This one is inoffensive objectively, but I like element theming, it’s cool.

Mozu - Rural Power/The Country Girl

Eng: Mozu returned to her village and began rebuilding all by herself. Inspired by her efforts, nearby villages began their own rebuilding efforts. Mozu was eventually hailed as a local hero and humanitarian.

JP: She returned to her home town and started rebuilding her destroyed village alone. Soon, people from neighboring villages could be seen helping her, and her home town slowly and steadily regained its former appearance.

-Eng ending has Mozu’s work inspire other to rebuild their own villages. JP ending has people help rebuild her village. Odd change, don’t know why it was done.

Shura - Righteous Rebel/The Bandit Who Discarded His Name (*)

Eng: With the help of the Hoshidan royal family, Shura began the difficult task of rebuilding the kingdom of Kohga. Putting his outlaw past behind him, he eventually ran for office and was elected governor.

JP: He stepped into rebuilding the Principality of Kouga with the assistance of the new King of Hoshido. The people, who had scattered to every land, also returned and the country returned to its former appearance. He refused any condolences for his past as a thief but he became the ruler with the support of the people.

-JP ending mentions other Kohga remnants coming back during Shura’s rebuilding efforts, Eng ending removes this. It can kind of be considered obvious that they came back through implication, but it’s still worth mentioning. Shura’s ending title also is an odd change, because Righeteous Rebel doesn’t really... make sense. Maybe the term ‘rebel’ is more abstract than I think, but he isn’t really rebelling against anything, he’s trying to line his purse to rebuild his kingdom. His JP title is much more fitting, IMO.

Izana - Lord of Leisure/Official Ruler of Izumo (*)

Eng: Izana certainly suffered the ravages of war—he was never able to win another "Best Hair" contest. He tried to make up for it with lavish dinner parties and vacations, but he felt hollow inside.

JP: He went back to the Principality of Izumo and returned to his previous life. By his great efforts in the war, his popularity among his citizens became steadfast. But it is said that there was no difference in his lifelong divine appearance and teasing personality, and those who came to visit him were surprised.

-Endings are pretty much completely different. The trope of ‘ruler/boss being overly casual and friendly to the point of hilarity’ in Japanese is a tough thing to translate to an English equivalent, so Izana being kooky and using funny words in English I think was a good way to do it. That said, I think the ending being drastically changed was a bridge too far, cuz why would the side comment of the Best Hair Contest take priority over him being beloved by his citizens in despite his zany personality?

Ryoma - Peerless Samurai/The Samurai of Hoshido

Eng: Upon ascending the throne, Ryoma ushered in a new era of peace and prosperity throughout the world. Generations later, scholars would praise him for surpassing even King Sumeragi's great legacy.

JP: He was crowned as King of the Hoshido Kingdom. His preciseness in forming a fair and impartial government gave the people, who suffered from the ravages of war, courage, and the kingdom soon finished a dramatic revival. In the future, scholars would so comment on him: “He is someone who will exceed even the greatness of his father King Sumeragi”.

-JP ending mentions Ryoma implementing a fair and impartial government and giving people courage after the war. This is cut in the Eng version.

Hinoka - Warrior Princess/The Warrior Princess of Crimson

Eng: Hinoka became general of the Hoshidan army. While her official portraits depict a gentle princess, she was known to personally go on solo missions to destroy the remaining Faceless.

JP: For the sake of the country’s reconstruction she created an army for self-defense and controlled the Hoshido Kingdom’s forces. Although she became somewhat more princess-like during the war, occasionally she would aimlessly leave to defeat the remnants of the Nosferatu; her characteristic excitement had not changed.

-JP version mentions that Hinoka personally created a self defense army for Hoshido’s reconstruction. Eng version cuts this.

Takumi - Wild Card/Master of the God Bow (*)

Eng: After celebrating Ryoma's coronation, Takumi struck out on his own—volunteering to help rebuild war-torn villages. Over the years, he grew into a wise and patient leader.

JP: He assisted in the restoration of the Hoshido Kingdom, which had been desolated due to the ravages of war. All the human kindness he had seen suppressed the shadow, he was recognized throughout the country as a skilled leader, and he became someone who could be relied on.

-JP version details Takumi’s dark side being suppressed due to the human kindness he witnesses. Eng version cuts this.

Sakura - Loving Priestess/Priestess of Love

Eng: After Ryoma ascended the throne, Sakura led recovery efforts to heal the bodies and hearts of war-torn Hoshidans. She was known far and wide for her compassion and the strength of her resolve.

JP: Even after Ryouma was enthroned, she remained in the royal palace and supported the government of the king as a royal. Sakura, who matured, became a woman who gave off the impression of the former Queen Mikoto, and it is said that she captured the hearts of her subjects wounded by the war and was someone for those hearts to rely on.

-JP version mentions Sakura supporting Ryoma’s government plans and becoming a woman just like Mikoto. Eng version cuts this.

Saizo - Angry Ninja/Explosive Flame User (*)

Eng: While no official records of Saizo the Fifth exist from after the war, later scholars agreed that he most likely stayed in Hoshido, working covertly for the Hoshidan royal family. What else would he do?

JP: His figure disappeared from the official records. But in the future, the opinion of scholars all agree that he did not leave to another country but once again dove into the darkness to work for the sake of the Hoshido royal family.

-Nothing was cut here, but why was “What else would he do?” added in the English version, that’s mean :/

Azama - Calm Philosopher/The Aloof Priest (*)

Eng: After the war, Hinoka assigned Azama to a remote post on the very fringe of the kingdom. Despite initially clashing with the locals, he gained a cult following--and ultimately founded a new religion.

JP: He went around on a trip to every land of the Hoshido Kingdom. Without leaving his post as Hinoka’s subordinate, he contributed to the reconstruction of the country by skillfully guiding the areas that were difficult for the royal family to oversee. It is said that he was surprisingly loved by many with the success of his personality that was unattached to anything.

-WOW, okay this one is fucking weird. JP version has Azama willingly go around to help people and that his personality actually won people over and helped them out. And he’s still in Hinoka’s employ. Eng version has Hinoka kick Azama to the curb, he acts like a dick to the locals, he gets a few troll followers and starts a new religion despite not really liking religion himself. Nuts.

Hana - Focused Samurai/Tomboy Samurai (*)

Eng: After the war, Hana was entrusted with her own division, where she enforced her own training regimen. She remained close friends with Sakura, and trained every day to protect her and Hoshido.

JP: She entered the forces of the kingdom, and was entrusted with the whole army. It appears that after that she involved her subordinates into her own training without reserve. She continued her friendship with her master, Sakura, through her whole life and it is said that she improved her swordsmanship for Sakura and for Hoshido.

-Nothing to mention here other than the ending title. Fates was released back in the era of gaming and Internet where feminism was in its loud 'Not Like Other Girls’ stage, as opposed to now where nuanced and leftist feminist points are seen more. So any mention of gender roles/dynamics and descriptors in this era were changed or altered in Fates and it really shows its age. In this case, Tomboy was replaced with Focused, even though Hana is a Tomboy and the term itself is very inoffensive nowadays. This also applies to her personal skill, where the name was changed from Tomboy to Fearsome Blow. This is the first of several instances.

Camilla - Bewitching Beauty/The Bewitching Flower (or Beauty? *)

Eng: After her brother ascended the throne, Camilla largely withdrew from royal affairs. She focused instead on humanitarian efforts, eventually adopting as many as 11 children by some accounts.

JP: After ensuring Marx’s enthronement, she removed her status as a royal of the Nohr Kingdom. Thereafter she left behind legends in every land and, guessing from her tracks, she walked on as someone who somehow watched over Kamui secretly.

-JP version has Camilla continue to watch over Corrin, Eng version has her adopt lots of kids. Again, in 2015/2016 this was probably seen as an “aww she’s grown and changed and is helpful now” moment, but in 2023, all I think of is “wow the woman with an abusive childhood was written to just become a mom to solve her problems.” Not a fan of this change.

Laslow - Dancing Duelist/Blooming Smile (*)

Eng: Laslow disappeared shortly after the war, but his unique dance style grew in popularity and paved the way for future generations of dancers. They say his dance has the strange ability to rally spirits...

JP: His figure disappeared after the war for a short while. But the dances that he danced remained in the hearts of the girls he met, and were inherited as the foundation of later dancers. It is said that those dances had the strange ability to make their watchers smile and feel energized.

-JP version mentions girls Laslow courted remembered his dances, English version replaces it by saying his dances grew in popularity. Technically the same meaning, but not as much specificity. And idk, I like the idea of a guy indirectly teaching women dances in a usually women oriented field, it’s cute. 

Selena - Cutting Wit/Concealed Aspirations (*)

Eng: Not much is known of Selena's postwar activities, Depending on who you believe, she became one of the world's best seamstresses, metalsmiths, actors, and/or mercenaries.

JP: After the war, her whereabouts immediately became unknown. There is nothing certain that is known about what became of her, but appreciation was high towards the woman who make any effort to achieve her goal, and she was praised in the future by people as a “true genius”.

-JP ending remarks Selena as a genius, Eng version replaces it with a list of things she might have been the best at. I don’t think the latter is worse per se, but I really like how she’s called a genius like her mother was. Same deal with her ending title, which is the same/a similar ending title to her Awakening one, which was neat.

Niles - Cruel to be Kind/The Habitual Sadist (*)

Eng: Niles continued to support Lord Leo throughout his royal career, handling some of the unsavory tasks a royal must assign. As a result, he wasn't popular- except among Leo's staff.

JP: After the war he devoted his abilities to expanding the Nohr Kingdom as Leon’s subordinate. At times he supported the kingdom as part of the shadow and stained his hands in dirty jobs. There were many people who detested him but it is said that he continued to be a priceless treasure in his lifetime for Leon.

-They’re pretty much the same, but the JP version has Niles being called a priceless treasure to Leo and that’s 🥺🥺🥺. Also big L for removing any mention of Niles being a sadist, I shake my fist at thee.

Effie - Army of One/Knight of Superhuman Strength

Eng: Without the need for as much brute strength after the war, Effie reluctantly turned her attention to teaching. Traveling far and wide, she helped promote fitness throughout Nohr.

JP: She helped the revival of every land after the war for a while. Her physical strength was a great blessing to the reconstruction of the Nohr Kingdom. After returning to the castle, she continued to work as Elise’s subordinate, and it is said that the friendship between the two continued for life.

-LMAOOOOO. I don’t remember if it was @ezralahm​ or @agoddamn​ who said Effie invented Jazzercise in the English version, but it’s really fucking funny. Effie remaning by Elise’s side like, y’know, a retainer would was apparently not interesting enough to keep, so they scrapped all of it and made a gag ending. Like, it was written right there that her strength was a great boon to reconstruction, and then it was changed to being useless??? What!?

Charlotte - Wily Warrior/Women’s True Nature (*)

Eng: Charlotte returned to the castle guard and took her duty quite seriously. She never married, but she never stopped appearing at royal balls, bewitching the hearts of eligible young men.

JP: She returned to being a royal soldier, as per her desire. After that, she learned from her past failure, and worked seriously on her duties as a soldier. But her passion for marrying rich did not disappear and it is said that she lead astray many male hearts as a beauty of high society.

-Lol, okay Charlotte’s title is one I can more understand why it was changed. The implication that all women are two faced, while kinda funny in satire, is still pretty yikes. Wily Warrior was a good alternative, it keeps a similar meaning without the negative connotation, and alliteration makes my brain feel good.

Benny - Gentle Giant/Heavy Knight of the Scary Face

Eng: Benny returned to his hometown village and was assigned to train new soldiers in combat. He never reported for duty. Instead, he lived out his days in the forest, frolicking with his animal friends.

JP: He returned to his home village at the borders of the country. He taught the next generation for a little while but soon took his leave of that as well and disappeared. After that there are no official records which talk about him but, according to stories, it is said that he happily spent his remaining years in the forest together with animals.

-JP version has him train recruits for a bit before taking leave, Eng version has him never bother in the first place.

Sophie - Clumsy Knight/Scatterbrain

Eng: Sophie became a knight of Nohr so talented that many of her records are yet to be beaten. In particular, young squires study her life to learn how to become better masters of their horses.

JP: She entered the knight forces of the Nohr Kingdom. Thereafter she bloomed the talent handed down by her father and was remembered as an excellent knight. Her particular ability on horseback surpassed the rest and her model of “one horse one rider” became something to be handed down.

-JP version mentions “one horse one rider” which I believe is a Japanese phrase of a technique relevant to horseback archery? This same phrase is used by the Japanese car company, Mazda, so one could assume non-Japanese people might know it, but meh. 

Midori - Reliable Chemist/Of the Reliable

Eng: Midori developed a number of new medicines after the war, healing wounds and curing illnesses. It is widely accepted by scholars that she saved more lives through her work than anyone in history.

JP: She worked hard at developing new medicines for the people who were injured from the war. Her medicines saved many lives and cured their injuries and illnesses. Due to inheriting her father’s blood, it appears that when she grew up she captured the hearts of many men.

-JP version mentions that due to Kaze’s genetics of being irresistable to women, Midori after growing up, became loved by many men. This was cut in the Eng version.

Mitama - Starry-Eyed Poet/Tanka Composing Priestess (*) (Tanka is 31 syllable poetry)

Eng: After resting at home for a time, Mitama was inspired to travel the world. She wrote a number of poems while visiting famous sites and ruins. Generations of poets would later retrace her steps.

JP: After returning to her residence and sleeping for a little while, she went to travel around the world to take it in. She visited every famous and historic place in each land and composed verses, but soon it appeared that her trip focused on visiting famous locations and set aside the creation of verses.

-JP version has Mitama become less focused on her poetry and more keen on experiencing the world around her, Eng version changes this.

Hisame - Pickle Pro/The Calm and Collected Samurai (*)

Eng: After the war, Hisame retired from combat and turned to research and teaching. Hinata was disappointed, but Hisame went on to become one of the most respected professors of his era.

JP: He placed his sword aside and devoted his strength to the reconstruction of the Hoshido Kingdom as a civil official. His father Hinata was disappointed but, in the end, respected the decision of the son he doted on. His calm and prudent nature was a blessed ability to him as a government official.

-JP version mentions that Hinata respected Hisame’s decision despite initial disappointment, Eng version cuts the respect part. Also lol at Pickle Pro.

Forrest - Fashion Forward/Adorable Prince (*)

Eng: Forrest began a career in clerical work alongside his father and uncle in Nohr. Soon, however, his fashion designs and artwork led to worldwide acclaim - and a second career in the art world.

JP: He remained by his uncle and father, and contributed to the development of the Nohr Kingdom. Although he exhibited capability in government affairs, he surpassed everyone inside and outside the country in fashion sense and fascinated many, and he contributed greatly to developing the culture of the royal palace.

-JP version mentions Forrest’s capability in government and contributing to palace culture, Eng version loses a bit of specificity. 

Soleil - Adorable Adorer/Girl Lover (*)

Eng: Soleil left one day never to return. There is no record of her travels, but numerous bards sing of a traveling heroine whose skill with a blade was surpassed only by her skill at seducing young women.

JP: One day she went on an aimless journey. It is said that her goal was the formation of a mercenary group and that she became a dancer who trained very hard, but the official records are uncertain. This resulting gossip can be considered to have come from the many women she mingled with.

-JP version mentions Soleil might have become a dancer, Eng version cuts this.

Nina - Eye Spy/Perverse Fantasies (*)

Eng: Nina put her snooping skills to good use after the war, forming an undercover vigilante group focused on keeping the streets safe at night. She also continued snooping as a personal hobby.

JP: She stopped being a chivalrous thief and formed a vigilante group. She protected the weak and punished her enemies as well as the rich who stole from the poor. According to legends, her vigilante group consisted of many handsome men. It appears that her tastes never changed throughout her life.

-JP version had Nina create a Yaoi Squad LMAOOO.

Percy - Luck’s Sidekick/Lucky Hero

Eng: Percy joined Nohr's army and led a squad of wyvern knights. His luck never failed him, and he didn't lose a single battle over a long and distinguished career. Ace went on to lead a squad of wyverns.

JP: He entered the national forces of the Nohr Kingdom and commanded the Wyvern Riders. His good luck never changed and no matter what adversities he faced he never lost somehow. On the other hand, he didn’t exactly win either and, as their strange commander, he earned the name “Not Invincible but Unbeatable”.

-JP version treats Percy’s luck as something that doesn’t really help him win, just he can’t lose. Kind of confusing, so I guess that’s why the Eng version changed it.

M!Corrin/Niles (CQ)

Eng: After helping restore Hoshido and Nohr, Corrin and Niles traveled the world together. The two were celebrated for their humanitarian work, inspiring songs, folktales, and poems worldwide.

JP: Kamui, after helping the reconstruction of both Nohr and Hoshido countries, traveled the world. By his side was the constant presence of Zero. It is said that the two of them left stories in every land. In their later years, they opened a small orphanage for children who were not blessed and lived their lives quietly

-JP version mentioned that Niles and Corrin opened up an orphanage 🥺🥺🥺 Eng version cuts this sadly.

M!Corrin/Niles (Rev)

Eng: Corrin and Niles ruled over the Kingdom of Valla together, ushering in a new era of peace. Some years later, they adopted two orphaned children and raised them as successors to the throne.

JP:  Kamui governed the country as the King of Touma and, while being supported by his spouse Zero, created an era of a long and peaceful dawn. In their later years, the two adopted a child. One bright and innocent child and one other child, who was said to have a unique sense.

-JP version has the adopted children noted to resemble F!Kana (bright and innocent) and Nina (unique sense), respectively. Eng version cuts this.

F!Corrin/Rhajat (Rev)

Eng: Corrin and Rhajat ruled over the Kingdom of Valla together, ushering in a new era of peace. Some years later, they adopted two orphaned children and raised them as successors to the throne.

JP: Kamui governed the country as the Queen of Touma and, while being supported by her spouse Shara, created an era of a long and peaceful dawn. In their later years, the two of them welcomed an adopted child. It is said that the child was as pure as Kamui and was as devoted as Syalla.

-For some reason, the Eng version basically copy pasted the Eng version of M!Corrin/Niles (Rev) where they adopt two children instead of adopting one. (JP version alludes to this being a pseudo M!Kana)

Felicia Paired Ending

Eng: Felicia gave up her career in the service industry for the military, ultimately becoming a commander.

JP: Felicia, who became a wife, endeavored valiantly to be of help to her husband, and matured from breaking three sets of tableware to one.

-JP version has Felicia continue to be a maid and become better at it over time, Eng version has her give up maid work and become a commander. This is despite the fact that Felicia repeatedly states that she loves her job and prefers housework to fighting. But again, in 2015/2016, it didn’t matter it the woman in question liked her work, she had to be written into the “more useful” field anyway. :/ Times have changed, thankfully, where nuance around this is more common.

Hinoka Paired Ending

Eng: His wife, Hinoka, became general of the Hoshidan royal army, and the two remained together always.

JP: Hinoka, who became a wife, retired from her post of supervising the armies of the Hoshido Kingdom, and chose to walk the path of life together with her husband.

-JP version has Hinoka retire, Eng version has her become a general. A bit of a different discussion here compared to Felicia, cuz Hinoka retiring to life with her husband makes sense in the greater scheme of following Hoshido’s more patriarchal setting. But, since said patriarchal aspects of Hoshido were cut or underplayed in the English version and again, this was a weird era for feminist politics in western gaming, the ending was changed. 

Azama Paired Ending with Corrin (Rev)

Eng: Azama decided to use his talents to inspire and heal people—rather than taunt them.

JP: Husband Asama was often absent but he traveled to every land of the Touma Kingdom and guided the people as a royal.

-JP version has Azama do his duties as befitting royalty, Eng version meanwhile is more or less a copy paste of his basic married endings.

Peri Standard Paired Ending

Eng: Peri eventually learned the difference between right and wrong. It took a while.

JP: Pieri became a loving and devoted wife but her emotional and crybaby side was unchanged and it appears that her husband was often at a loss.

-JP version details how difficult Peri’s husband found it to keep track of her emotional side, Eng version has her develop better morals.

Peri Paired Ending with Odin or Laslow

Eng: Records of his wife end around the same time, as does a curious string of missing-persons cases.

JP: Wife Pieri’s records, at the same time, also came to an end at the borders but, according to rumors, it appears that she became a good wife beyond recognition and lovingly supported her husband.

-JP version details Peri as becoming a wife beyond recognition, Eng version implies she became a serial killer.

Beruka Paired Ending

Eng: Beruka was torn about leaving Camilla but enjoyed having enough emotions for them to conflict.

JP: Belka, who became a wife, was lost after leaving Camilla’s side but, after being persuaded by Camilla, moved together with her husband.

-JP version has Camilla encourage Beruka to follow her new life, Eng version instead makes comments on her developing emotions, which should already have been implied to have happened since she is getting married.

Charlotte Paired Ending with Odin or Laslow

Eng: His wife, Charlotte, went with him, but scholars note they sent their daughter an allowance every year.

JP: Wife Charlotte, lived happily together wherever her husband was, and it appears that no matter where she was she would always send money to her family.

-JP version says Charlotte is sending money to her family (most likely her poor parents), Eng version has her sending money to her daughter, which... doesn’t make as much sense since unless Ophelia/Soleil is also married, why wouldn’t they all just go together? Especially since the daughters’ solo endings imply they disappear in a similar way as it is. 

F!Kana Paired Ending

Eng: Scholars believe Kana traveled the world doing good. Most stories of dragons were based on her deeds.

JP: Wife Kanna was always together with her husband. It is said that when they occasionally got separated she would feel very lonely.

-Eng version copy pasted M!Kana’s paired ending onto F!Kana. JP version is different and deals more with her semi-unique tendency to cry/get upset over loneliness often.

Soleil Paired Ending

Eng: Historians disagree about Soleil's final fate but agree she was an inspiration to everyone she met.

JP: Wife Soleil acted cheerfully and firmly, without shrinking from any adversity, and from the beginning encouraged her husband and the people around him.

-Eng version is basically an entirely new ending, most likely part of Treehouse’s attempt to sell Soleil as a lesbian instead of bisexual, even though Laslow implies she’s bisexual in the English version of her paralogue. Soleil in the English version is a mess of contradictions and poor fixes in general, so this isn’t surprising.

----

Final note is that the Paired Endings for the Awakening Trio in the English version can cause contradiction issues for Xander, Leo, and/or Corrin; basically the Eng version has both husband and wife leave public eye, which is really odd for two countries’ crown royals and Leo being an important policy maker to do. The JP version of these paired endings don’t have these issues. Camilla and Elise also leave in both versions, but since Camilla doesn’t like being royalty it makes sense, and Elise doesn’t really have any contradictions in her case.

[m1ckeyb3rry]

Pomegranate Ink: I

Series Synopsis: Unable to heal but willing to fight, with a fiancé in Kyoto and a last name that looms over everything you do, you accept an offer to study at Tokyo Jujutsu Tech. What you did not know was that your salvation and your ruination alike would soon join you at the school, neatly wrapped in the form of a boy followed by death.

Chapter Synopsis: Considered the failure of your clan, you are given the chance to prove yourself by an unlikely source.

Series Masterlist

Pairing: Yuta Okkotsu × Female Reader

Chapter Word Count: 5.5k

Content Warnings: angst, misogyny, naoya zenin, forbidden relationships, canon-typical violence, character death, original characters included

A/N: i think my fatal flaw is not making the main love interest show up in the first chapter

A heavy pressure settled on your chest as you stared at the body in front of you. It was a man, probably twice your age but no less handsome for it. Inky black curls stuck to a feverish face, gone pale from pain. He tossed and turned fitfully, his bare torso shining with sweat as you trembled with terror.

“It’s alright,” your father said, placing his hand on your shoulder, “You can do this. Relax a little and remember your training.”

“It’s never worked before,” you said tearfully, “How can you expect it to do so now?”

“His life is in your hands. It will work, because there is no other option,” he said. You set your palms on the fallen sorcerer’s chest, drawing upon your cursed energy. This first part was easy; you were more than proficient with using your family’s inherited technique.

The weak spots that belonged to every human glowed a cheery white — the nape of the neck, the jaw, the heart. The newly created ones were a furious red, pulsating in a steady rhythm. These were the ones you had to treat and regenerate by utilizing your Reverse Cursed Technique.

Though the Dissection part of the technique was simple, its Reversal was anything but. The technique itself was nothing special, nothing of note — it simply pointed out the weak spots of an opponent. Compared to the inherited techniques of most other important clans, it was downright weak. But that was not where your family earned its importance in jujutsu society: you were not fighters nor leaders. You were healers — or at least, you were supposed to be. Something in your genetic bloodline made Reverse Cursed Techniques natural and easy-won.

Your father was quick and efficient, with a ruthlessness to his light touch as he reconstructed muscles and bones, creating something out of nothing and restoring function to long-useless limbs. Your great-grandfather had supposedly healed an entire army in a matter of minutes once, and legends had it that an ancestor of yours from the Heian period had even resurrected his wife from near-death.

The latter tale was a romantic one that your mother often read in a vain attempt to inspire you, even a little. He loved her so much, she recited, over and over, that he was willing to reach into the darkest depths of his soul to save her.

This was the downside of Reversed Cursed Techniques. In order to create positive energy, it was necessary to multiply negativity by negativity. And this was the step you were unable to do — that reaching into your soul, that bleeding yourself dry for the sake of others.

You were not a healer, or at least you had no aptitude for it. You were the family’s greatest disappointment, a girl who wanted to be a warrior but at this rate was destined to be nothing more than a housewife.

The fact that you were the only heir to the L/N name only compounded this disappointment tenfold. How would your prized Reverse Cursed Technique, Composition, be passed down if the line ended with you, the useless child who could not so much as fix a papercut?

You tried. Feeling the man’s pain and knowing you had to fix it, you tried to rip the hurt out of your soul and mold it into something malleable, something workable, something with which you could soothe his injuries, which were nearing the point of irreversible fatality.

“It hurts,” you whimpered. It felt as though there was a blade driving into your heart, and you clenched your fists, gasping for air, “I can’t, father. I can’t do it.”

“Push past the pain,” he said, voice tense, “That’s the only way. You must take it and make it your own; it will vanish soon, once it has been multiplied with the cursed energy of your technique. The more you practice, the quicker you will be, and thus the less you will suffer. Come on, Y/N, you can do it.”

“No,” you said, stubborn tears welling in your eyes as you shook your head frantically, vision swimming and knives scraping at your windpipe, “No, I cannot breathe, I cannot — I cannot — please, father, you have to save him. I am no healer, I can’t — it will kill me!”

Your voice was shrill and hysterical, fractured with fear and desperation. You were not built like the rest of your family; perhaps you took after your gentle mother, who had no cursed technique at all. Perhaps your constitution was not meant for this. Your father gave you one final, measured look, and then he let out a heavy exhale and pushed you to the side. His hands barely glanced the man’s chest, his brow creasing for a mere instant before the sorcerer shot up with a gasp.

“Easy there, Kaito,” your father said, chuckling and pushing him back down, “You’re not quite back to fighting form just yet. You still need to rest up a bit. Also, quit pushing yourself so much! Fighting such a powerful curse is hard for just about anyone, and you’re still a newly minted Grade 1 sorcerer. There’s no sense in risking it all so soon.”

“Ah, you’re right, but you know how I am. I give my all every time I’m on the battlefield. It’s the only way we stand any sort of chance against these damned monsters,” Kaito said.

“We all have our parts to play,” your father said diplomatically, “Or most of us do, at least.”

It was an unspoken dismissal, and you bowed your head before slipping out of the hospital wing. Your family manor was silent, your soft footsteps echoing in the hallways as you padded back to your room in shame.

Your fate was all but sealed now. This had been your final chance to make something of yourself, to prove that you could at least be a healer and carry on your family’s noble work. But you could not, and so as a woman of the L/N line, there was only one fate left for you — engagement to a man of note, left to be nothing more than a broodmare, the rest of your life spent atrophying away in some gilded-cage-mansion, raising children that you had no choice in bearing.

You wondered who it would be, which man would lay claim to your hand in marriage. It was no stretch to say you were an attractive prospect, though not for your looks. Any children you might have were likely to be able to utilize Reverse Cursed Techniques, strengthening any clan’s power tenfold. And besides, your family was reliably the only group of capable healers in the jujutsu world that were not pledged to any one side. An alliance with the L/N clan had more benefits than risks, so in that sense you were actually quite sought after. Your prospects were open, though it wasn’t like you’d have much of a choice in the matter because of this fact. You’d marry who you were told to and drown in self-pity for the rest of your miserable life either way.

It was something of a game for you at this point, going through the most important clans and seeing which had unmarried descendants. You often ranked them, picking out which you would like to marry the most and least — what else could you pass your time with? Training to fight meant that you ran the risk of getting hurt, and in a society such as the one you were trapped in, a marred girl was of intrinsically less value. You could not heal, either, so you languished in your room and amused yourself with silly, mundane things such as your own personal version of The Bachelorette.

Your favorite never changed: Toge Inumaki, the only son of the Inumaki clan. He was closest in age to you, with soft blond hair and violet eyes that shimmered with eternal mischief. Dark, delicate markings curled around his lips and on his tongue, marking him as a user of Cursed Speech — his family’s inherited technique. To some, such a thing might be a downside, but you found it a plus, really. After all, the less your future husband talked to you, the better.

But you knew your father and uncles would never allow it. He would be a back-up, a safe option, but he was not what they truly wanted. No, they had their sights set higher — on the scions of the Big Three, and one in particular: Noritoshi Kamo.

He was not bad, you concluded. Not too far in age from you like the heirs to the Zenin and Gojo clans were, he was polite and powerful, if not achingly proper. He was always kind to you, giving you his phone number on your first meeting and sending you gifts every now and then. Indeed, as far as candidates went, he was perfectly tolerable. So, if you could not have Inumaki, then you would take Kamo — provided he would take you back.

And he did. The proposal came via messenger one day, and it was altogether far too formal and ridiculous by any sane person’s standards, but it came. A delicate gold ring with a star-bright diamond set onto the band was presented to you in a velvet box and then fitted to your finger, where it rested as an eternal reminder of the man you were now bound to. Parties were thrown and the higher-ups were informed: Y/N L/N was to marry Noritoshi Kamo once he had graduated from school.

For the first time, you sensed you had made your parents proud. And this was enough to make you somewhat compliant in the festivities, paraded about at functions reserved for the upper echelons as the newest jewel added to the Kamo clan’s crown.

The stiff gaudiness and subtle politics made you more than a little uncomfortable, but your soft complaints meant nothing to your parents, who had never cared to listen before and certainly did not now, now that you weren’t their problem but rather the Kamos’ — Noritoshi’s in specific. And Noritoshi himself only gave you a sad smile when you whispered your feelings in his ear — he understood them, shared them even, but what could he do? What could either of you do? You both were stuck, chained to one another and to a sinking ship that was dragging the two of you down with it.

“Aren’t you so thrilled to have such a beautiful woman to call your own?” This was Naoya Zenin, lifting his glass at Noritoshi in congratulations, who smiled tightly, his nimble fingers tapping your thigh thrice in quick succession under the table. It was something of a language you had developed in solidarity with one another. If anything, the parties had at least forced a tenuous friendship between you two.

Three times was an apology. He was going to play the role he was expected to, but he wanted you to know he didn’t mean it. You smiled vacantly and tapped back once discreetly. Acceptance and affirmation. You would not hold it against him.

“Certainly,” he said.

“And she is so docile, too. Careful, you might make me jealous. Would you be opposed to sharing?” Naoya said.

“Unfortunately, I am not open to any such thing at the moment,” Noritoshi said immediately. You tapped twice — gratitude. He tapped once back — it’s nothing.

“Pity,” Naoya said before returning to his conversation with his father.

“Thank you,” you murmured under your breath, leaning closer to Noritoshi under the pretense of fixing his collar. “He gives me the creeps.”

“Me as well. He is somewhat of a raging misogynist; it is rather grating. And he is so much older than us that for him to insinuate such things about you makes me feel nauseous,” Noritoshi said. Your expression softened, and you continued to eat your dinner to hide it. Noritoshi was kind, to be certain; this was more than could be said about most of his equals, so you cherished it.

“I am glad that it is you I am to marry and not someone like him,” you said. In a rare show of affection, you interlaced your fingers with his and squeezed. His brows drew together in surprise before he smiled and squeezed back.

“I am glad to marry you, too,” he said. There was no comparison, no qualifier attached to the end of it. Perhaps it was implied, or perhaps he meant to leave it at that; perhaps he really was just glad to marry you. Well, good for him, then. At least one of you had positive feelings towards the relationship.

“Do you mind if I go out for a little bit? It is hot in here,” you said. He pressed the back of his hand to your forehead, a small frown playing at his lips.

“Are you feverish?” he said. You shook your head.

“No, I just want to take a walk. I need some fresh air. You know how I feel about these parties; after a while, I need a break,” you said.

“Will you be alright by yourself?” he said.

“I’m not a child,” you reprimanded him, “And I won’t go far. Just out on the balcony.”

“Be careful,” he said anyways. You scowled.

“I am glad to hear of the faith you have in me,” you said dryly, standing and brushing your skirt off.

“Just take my worry as evidence of my fondness and accept it,” he said. You fought off the urge to wave him away, instead nodding once, shortly.

“Thank you,” you said. The words rang hollow, and he sighed in defeat but did not argue further, only watching as you excused yourself from the table and headed towards the balcony.

The moon was full and bright, a soft breeze tickling at your skin as you looked down at the gardens filled to the bursting with flowers. They were beautiful, their colors muted in the silver of the night and their petals curled slightly inwards, as if the blooms were sleeping, too. You were too far for their sweet fragrance to permeate the air around you, but you imagined they probably smelled nice. Closing your eyes and leaning forwards as if that would help you any, you let out a soft breath.

It was nice out here, where there were no expectations nor demands floating in the air. Alone, you could pretend that you had a choice in marrying whoever you wanted, in becoming whatever you wanted. With the stars as your only company, you could finally just be yourself.

You were never meant for a life like this. A call to do something with what you had been given sang through your blood. A call to do something, anything. You wanted to feel adrenaline pumping through your veins and fire in your heart; you wanted to feel energy bursting from your fingertips and strength fortifying your muscles. You wanted to leap; whether you crashed or flew didn’t make much of a difference. The free-fall was what you sought, that moment of suspension in mid-air when time slowed and there was nothing but you and your soul and the feeling of being alive.

“I won’t catch you if you fall, you know,” a masculine voice said from behind you. Despite yourself, a smile tugged at the corner of your lips as you recognized the person who spoke. He was well renowned throughout the sorcery world, after all, a bona fide celebrity that you had seen here and there at various gatherings.

“Gojo,” you greeted him.

“Hello, Y/N. Oh, do you mind if I am familiar with you?” he said. You shrugged, not turning to face him.

“Not really. You’re my elder, anyways, so I’m hardly about to correct you,” you said. He let out a raucous laugh.

“Don’t give me that! We should be friends. I prefer to get along with my students,” he said.

“I’m not one of your students, though,” you said sourly. You heard the click of his footsteps approaching you, and you readied yourself to react somehow, but he only moved to stand beside you, resting his forearms on the railing of the balcony in a casually graceful movement. His typical white blindfold made of bandages had been replaced with a pair of black sunglasses that allowed you to see the maelstrom of blues swirling in his irises as he regarded you coolly.

“You could be. You have potential,” he said. You snorted.

“Not so. I can’t use my Reverse Cursed Technique at all. It’s not something I’m capable of, actually,” you said. He wrinkled his nose in disdain.

“Maybe, maybe not. I’ve often found that capability is not something we can really define for ourselves. You might find that strength when you need it most…but even then, even without your Reverse Cursed Technique, you are not useless,” he said.

“Thank you,” you said, blinking at the acknowledgement, “That is very kind of you to say.”

“I’ll admit I have ulterior motives,” he said, rubbing the back of his neck sheepishly and grinning as if to offset his words.

“Oh,” you said, though you really should’ve expected such a thing, “That’s fine.”

“Though I wasn’t lying! It’s true that you could be great, but we both know your talents will be wasted in a life such as the one your family desires,” he said.

“You don’t have to tell me twice,” you said with a bitter laugh.

“I want you to come to Tokyo Jujutsu Tech. You can train under me to fight curses, and if you are able to unlock your Reverse Cursed Technique, then all the better! Shoko can help you hone it, she’s a relative genius with such things,” he said. Your shoulders sagged, and the smile fell from your face as you shifted your attention back to the moon.

“That’s not a choice I can make for myself, and it was unfair of you to ask me in the first place. As if my life has ever been my own,” you said.

“I’m from one of the Big Three clans, too, with far more respect than Noritoshi and your father have combined. They won’t stop me if I command it,” he said.

“What good would forcing the issue do? You’ll just make more enemies. It’s no secret the higher-ups have no love for you; respect, yes, but they are more likely to harm than help you. It would not be wise for you to do something that directs the vitriol of both the Kamo and L/N clans towards you, too,” you said.

“I’m the strongest,” he said, and it was a lazy statement that hung in the air with the weight of a thousand stones. He was the strongest.

“I think I should like to jump after all,” you said finally. “At least there will be one thing I can do for myself.”

“I won’t stop you,” he said.

“Thank you, but we all know they would,” you said, motioning towards the party haphazardly and then shaking you head. “Anyways, maybe I’m not quite at that point just yet. Thank you for your offer, Gojo, sir. I really appreciate it…and I really, really, really wish I could take it.”

He extended a hand to pat you on the head, careful to avoid messing up your elegant hairstyle. You closed your eyes in content; this was the most parental affection you had been shown in some time, or at least without any strings attached. Once, you might’ve thought such a thing sad, but by now it was a firm fact of life that you were resigned to accepting.

“Don’t give up so easily,” he said before waving cheerily, “Enjoy your time outside! The weather’s nice, so don’t rush back too quickly, yeah?”

“I wasn’t planning on it,” you said, deciding you might never understand him. Attempting it was futile, so you just pushed the odd encounter out of your mind. Dwelling on lost possibilities would only taint the night with melancholy, after all, so what was the sense in it? Never mind that the strongest sorcerer in the world had just offered to train you. Never mind that he thought you had potential. Never mind any of it.

You should’ve known that Gojo was up to something from the smirk he wore as he left you alone. A sudden chittering noise in your ear caused you to jump, and goosebumps abruptly rose on your flesh when you came to the horrific conclusion that you were not alone. Your breath came in quick, shallow gasps as you slowly turned your head and met the eyes of a curse.

This was your first time encountering one, but you knew what it was as if it were an instinct. The body was twisted and malformed in an inhuman way, its sharp teeth bared in a predatory leer as it continued to laugh maniacally, its intentions clear in its stance.

The only thing you could think to do was scream. You screamed until your throat was sore and you heard a pounding at the door — but why were they pounding like that, why were they not coming to save you? You craned your neck as much as you could, keeping the curse in your peripheral vision and then swearing aloud when you fully understood the magnitude of the situation you were in.

It was locked. For some reason, the door was locked, and none of them could open it. You saw the rage and despair on Noritoshi’s face, and some part of you was comforted in a fatalistic way. Here was somebody that would mourn for you; not your bloodline or skills but rather you.

Naoya was the second person you saw, and distaste bubbled in you at his self-satisfied expression. This was the natural order of things to him; you were a pretty toy, but why should he risk himself to defend something so easily replaceable? And, to that end, why did even Noritoshi feel so strongly about this? He had no shortage of suitors, after all. Your death would free him to do whatever he wanted in the future.

It was cold, you idly noted; perhaps the goosebumps were not from fear alone. Indeed, the fear had actually vanished into a freezing, clinical calm, and your mind at once slowed and then sharpened.

Gojo believed you had potential; somehow, you had a gut feeling that this was his way of proving it. True to your intuition, he was nowhere to be found. The so-called strongest was not even attempting to save you, the vulnerable girl about to be absorbed by a curse. This was not entirely unforeseen, though, was it? He had said so already — he would not catch you if you fell. This meant, then, that he had the faith you could catch yourself.

“Alright, then. If that’s how it’s to be,” you said, pulling a pin out of your hair and rolling your shoulders. Your elaborate updo did not even budge — far too many other pins and hairspray were at work keeping it up. You silently thanked the maid that had done it before refocusing yourself. You only had one shot at this; though your reserves of cursed energy were actually above-average, channelling it was like working a muscle that had not been used in some time. You doubted you could maintain it for long without fatiguing yourself beyond belief, and at that point, you might as well give up and hand yourself to the curse on a silver platter.

Furrowing your brow, you imbibed the hair pin with as much cursed energy as you could muster — a fairly basic technique that most sorcerers were capable of, even you. Sweat poured down your forehead, but you only wiped it away with a flick of your hand, your concentration too intense to be broken. You would pay for this later, but you would be thankful to do so, for it’d mean you’d lived to tell the tale and face the consequences.

A giddiness replaced the fear as you realized you were about to do it. You were about to fight a curse, and whether you won or lost, your time on this earth would not have ended without impact. The call in your blood hummed lowly, sated for the moment as you finished cursing the pin. Then, turning to the spirit that had, until now, been watching you silently, you tilted your head.

“Dissection,” you said, pronouncing each syllable meticulously. At the same, you held out one palm and tapped the pin against the center, activating the pressure point that allowed your technique to take hold even when you were not in contact with your target.

You were surprised to discover that, unlike humans, the weak spots of curses glowed a malevolent, dark green. Though, this made sense when you afforded it further thought, so you shook off your initial shock rather quickly.

The brightest spot was the weakest — or at least, it worked that way for humans, and you assumed that that principle, at least, transferred over. At any rate, you hoped so, because you were about to stake your life on it.

The solar plexus — if it could even be called that on such an inhumanoid thing — drew your attention first, shining far more than the other pinpricks of light. Taking careful aim and then trusting the rest to fate, you threw the pin.

It stuck true, and the curse stumbled back in surprise before promptly bursting into a million particles. The pin clattered to the ground, and time suddenly returned to its normal pace. What had seemed like minutes upon minutes had in truth barely been a few seconds, and as your heart rate slowed, you came to understand what you had just done.

The door slammed open as you crouched to pick up the hairpin, holding it up to the light and inspecting it carefully.

“Y/N!” Noritoshi’s concern was so heartbreakingly raw that it wrenched you from your daze. He was upon you in an instant, kneeling and holding you tightly to his chest, glaring out at the others as if they would try to attack you, too.

“Noritoshi,” you said, slumping against him, the soothing ylang-ylang of his cologne grounding you to reality, “I just exorcised a curse.”

“I am so sorry,” he said, “I — I should’ve been there to protect you, but I let you down. You could’ve been killed, and I could not so much as open a damned door! I cannot begin to imagine the terror you must’ve felt. I am sorry. I am so, so sorry.”

“Noritoshi,” you said once more, only now you were more amazed than anything, “I just exorcised a curse.”

“Yes,” he said, “Yes, you did. You should not have had to…but you did.”

“Boy, did she ever!” This was Gojo, the only one tactless enough to intrude on the private moment, causing you to let out giggle, breaking the tension somewhat.

“She was excellent, indeed,” Noritoshi said, “There is nobody more talented than her in the entire world, I think.”

You thought it ironic that he was saying such things to Gojo of all people, but it was sweet, so you did not bother to correct him.

“I’m inclined to agree! In fact, she’s so talented I want her to train with me,” Gojo said. You felt Noritoshi stiffen around you, and panic seized your throat. He could not say no, he could not, you believed you might die if he did.

“You mean to risk her life daily by throwing her into the world of sorcery headfirst?” he said, tone scathing.

“Yup!” Gojo said.

“Noritoshi,” you said. His attentive eyes were on you in an instant, and then you found yourself unable to speak anymore. Your hand found his bicep, and you tapped once. Acceptance and affirmation. You begged him to understand, and to your surprise, he did.

“Are you certain?” he said hesitantly. This bolstered your resolve, and you nodded, finding the courage to vocalize your thoughts once more.

“I have to. Now that I have done it once, there is no way I can live without ever doing it again. Noritoshi, please,” you said quietly, to avoid being overheard. He studied you for a second before exhaling through his nose in a warm amusement.

“I’ve known from the very start that you’re not one to be tied down. It would be sheer stupidity on anyone’s part to think that they could stop you from doing what you will, but I do not want to ever give you cause to work behind my back. Marriage…it is a partnership. We will be partners, at least, in the future,” he said.

“Partners,” you repeated, not questioning how he had seen through to your true nature so easily. You were not that good at camouflaging your wants — he was only the first to ever pay enough attention to uncover them. “I can accept that. I would like it, even.”

“Very well, then,” he said, “Train with Gojo, if that is what you will.”

“Thank you,” you said, eyes widening as you realized this was it, this was liberation, this was the freefall you had craved, “Thank you, Noritoshi, thank you, thank you.”

“Don’t thank me,” he said brusquely, “Your wants are as much mine as mine are yours. I am not like…well. You know who.”

“I do,” you said, and now you were beaming, “But thank you, anyways.”

“Ready to go?” Gojo said, once again interrupting the moment and offering you his hand, “I already called and ensured a room would be ready for you on the campus! You’ll be transferring in a little after the year has started, but don’t worry, the rest of your classmates are a welcoming bunch, so you’ll fit right in.”

“Yeah,” you said, taking his hand with an air of finality, “I am. Let’s go.”

He pulled you to your feet and dragged you after him, cackling out apologies as the two of you ran through the throngs of partygoers that had gathered to watch the spectacle. You winced at his crass behavior, but when you pushed aside all thoughts of propriety, you realized it was fun to race though the crowds, sticking out your tongue at Naoya when you passed him and snickering at the confusion that flitted over his features.

“You put that curse there! And you locked the door!” you accused him between sharp inhales, your lungs burning from pure exhilaration.

“What are you talking about? I would never endanger a child!” he shot back.

“Maybe not, but that means nothing. I doubt you thought I was in any danger, anyways,” you said.

“You’re perceptive, I’ll give you that. I know someone you’d get along with marvelously! Too bad he’s a year younger than you,” he said. “Want to stop for mochi on the way to the school?”

“Sure?” you said, startled at the change in subject. “Yeah, mochi is good.”

“Alright!” he said, pumping his fist in the air. This was the heir to the illustrious Gojo clan; this was the strongest sorcerer in the world; this was the strangest man you had ever met. He was a person of many dichotomies, and you were stumbling to keep up with them all.

He rambled about random things as a tired man with deep-set frown lines drove the two of you to a place that sold mochi, and then he paid for your food without complaint. However, as you both ate, his demeanor sobered.

“You’ll be one of us from now on,” he said.

“This feels like a cult initiation,” you said nervously, wondering what you had just signed up for.

“It might as well be. You have lived in this society for your entire life, but you have never been in battle, have you? It is entirely different from the healing you have trained for until now,” he said. You understood, then, what he was trying to say in his funny, roundabout way.

“It is easier, I think. Fighting, that is, compared to healing,” you said thoughtfully.

“Is that so?” Gojo said, and there was genuine curiosity in his voice now, “Explain.”

“Healing is like a war,” you said, remembering the pain in your chest and the death that washed over you when you tried to use your Reverse Cursed Technique, “There are storms in suffering, I’ve come to find — great, unshakable seas of pain set into turmoil with the slightest disturbance. It is too delicate a job for me, so I think I shall stick with battles. I would rather witness death than be responsible for it.”

“Responsibility is inescapable,” he said, shoving the last of your food in his mouth. “But you may not be far off in your assessment.”

“I will not know until I’ve done it. What I am certain about is that I would prefer dying to living as I have until now,” you said.

His eyes were wise, belying his true maturity and grief when he spoke next.

“It is not your own dying that you should fear.”

This, too, you understood, so you nodded in assent.

“I know.”