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magnus-rhymes-with-swagness · 10 months

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thinking thoughts about swords symbolizing the corruption of the institute and the control it has over the kingdom. the sword motif is absolutely everywhere - banners and art, kids’ games and cereal commercials, the statue of gloreth at the center of the kingdom. the institute building itself boasts even more - there are tons of statues and suits of armor, all holding swords. swords are everywhere you look!

another example is the way ballister and his swords are used as a tool by the director. he’s knighted with the same fake sword that kills the queen, highlighting how the system can only thrive on manipulation and deceit - the director can only have control over the kingdom if she lies to it, which she does primarily through ballister. he also immediately tries to go to his sword when he finds out nimona is a shapeshifter, as he hasn’t yet unlearned the values taught to him by the institute. the director keeps his real sword the whole time and uses it to try to kill who she thinks is ambrosius, planning to frame ballister for that murder too, which becomes a major turning point in his arc as he decides to abandon the sword as he no longer wants to be part of her game.

but even though he’s made the choice to reject the institute, he still struggles to unlearn its values. he’s been brainwashed from a young age, and had plenty of time to internalize false notions about heroes and villains and monsters. while he cares deeply about nimona at this point, he still instinctively goes to draw his (other) sword when he learns she’s the “monster” from the legend of gloreth.

one of the ways the director retains power is through gloreth - since she’s considered the symbol of righteousness and heroism, the ideal to which all knights should strive, she’s invoked at every moment possible. the scroll bearing the legend is used to justify killing nimona, and “the will of gloreth” is used to justify practically everything. ballister’s sword has a G on it, which is visible right before he gets knighted, and ambrosius’s sword looks just like the one the statue holds aloft. (gloreth didn’t actually have a sword like that, at least not when she knew nimona, but nobody knows this - the real story had been warped and twisted to fit the narrative so much over the course of a thousand years.)

ambrosius, being her descendant and the golden boy, finds it even more challenging to realize the institute is corrupt. he’s also been brainwashed and forced into a role, and there has always been an immense amount of pressure on him to follow in her footsteps. so when he meets ballister in the tavern he places ballister’s sword on the table and suggests killing nimona, as this is what the institution wants. ballister, who knows that nimona isn’t the one to blame, angrily walks out and leaves the sword laying there, trying to leave both it and the institute behind again.

ambrosius becomes understandably reluctant to use his sword for anything violent after cutting off ballister’s arm. he doesn’t draw it when leading a squadron of knights to find nimona and ballister, even when everyone else has their weapons trained. he points it at them and doesn’t use it when he and the other knights have them surrounded. at one point he even places it in front of the director in the effort to protect her. (he seems to be very loyal to her for reasons i’ve touched on here, and is still heavily under the influence of the institute at this point in time.) in fact, the only time he ever actually uses his sword going forward is the fight with ballister, but even then he’s not really fighting exactly, just deflecting ballister’s sword. he doesn’t try to get in a single strike, not wanting to hurt ballister again or give him any more reason to hate him.

nimona, having grown up under very different circumstances, knocks over suits of armor that have swords. she destroys the statues that hold them. when she and gloreth play fight as children, gloreth holds a toy sword while nimona holds a stick.

everything is inverted at the climax - when every other knight is running around with weapons, ambrosius doesn’t draw his sword. he stands in the middle of the street and asks aloud, “what are we doing?” as he’s finally able to see how corrupt and how dangerous the institute is.

and nimona is the one who seeks out gloreth’s sword, and ballister is the one who lets his own sword fall, breaking the cycle and rejecting the institute’s values once and for all in order to save her.

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frankie-idk · 1 year

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odesta is such a criminally underrated ship.. like annie as a character is too but they! are! so! perfect!

#just their dynamic is so good #he LOVES her #the poor mad girl from district 4 #if anyone wants a fic recommendation read #where soul meets body #by #ellizablue #on ao3 #it’s fantastic #the hunger games #the mockingjay #catching fire #odesta #annie cresta #finnick odair #finnick x annie #katniss everdeen #peeta mellark

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creationcitystreet-em · 3 months

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Me: wow a full weekend off? I can actually study and get some much needed work done!

My brain: what if you reread the entirety of “Where Soul Meets Body” for the first time in like 5+ years and stayed up until 6am doing so instead??

#I’ve read 30 chapters in the last 24 hours #please help #odesta #words cannot express how deeply I feel for these 2 #their love story is perhaps the greatest ever told #and this fic gets me everytime #where soul meets body #finnick odair x annie cresta #Annie cresta #finnick odair #hunger games #thg series #catching fire #mockingjay #finnick x annie #finnick and annie #fanfic #fic

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ssmhhh · 2 months

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basically this is the tip of the iceberg that is a whole sprawling thesis in by brain of why katniss and gale should pay for their crimes and that these two were done dirty by everyone involved on a level that is quite frankly unprecedented.

#odesta #annie cresta #finnick odair #the hunger games #catching fire #mockingjay #suzanne collins #the anchor cast below #tacb #where soul meets body #ellizablue #odesta fic #katniss everdeen #fuck katniss everdeen all my homies hate katniss everdeen #fuck gale #katpiss everdeen

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aquaquadrant · 6 months

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hey so about your tango torchy fic, while i see what you were going with having torchy represent intrusive thoughts n such. it does kind of come off as torchy being an evil alter voice in his head which is a harmful plural stereotype. intrusive thoughts don't usually have vessels or personas represented by them and all

sorry, i think there’s a misunderstanding? i only put the intrusive thoughts warning just in case ppl could be triggered by reading things like ‘burn it’ or ‘kill him’ ect ect or the fact that tango thought he was hearing things. but in the actual fic, tango isn’t actually imagining anything. he really is hearing fire talking to him, bc he’s part blaze. that’s the concept i was exploring. so like, it’s not actually intrusive thoughts or supposed to be a portrayal of an alter? i just put that warning so anyone who is sensitive abt that stuff would be aware.

if there’s a different way i should phrase it in the warning to be more accurate then that’s fine, i just figured this was the clearest way to warn ppl? cuz like, i didn’t wanna put “content warning: someone thinking he’s hearing voices in his head telling him to burn things and kill ppl but he actually isn’t, it’s real.” ya know?

#i hope that clears things up??#i def don’t know a lot about these kinds of things #but that’s not what the fic is actually about #torchy isn’t supposed to represent tango’s own actual thoughts he’s literally listening to fire talk #and when he went over to hc he started hearing soul fire talk bc he’s in his blue raspberry design

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justanotherfanwriter · 1 year

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And they were ROOMmates, cht 2

cht list: (1) (2) (3) (4)

a/n: thank you to everyone who left such encouraging messages on the first part of this. Ah ha, so like I said, I lost the rest of the outline for this story, and can’t remember where I was supposed to be going with it, but people said they would be interested in more, so here’s more! I’ve got a general idea of where I want to take this, but im writing without much of a plan! sort of how soul eater was fking written anyway Hopefully, it’s still enjoyable!

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Above Soul, there was a fluorescent light that needed replacing. The light flickered off-beat with the high-pitched buzz of the dying bulb, and at odd intervals, the room would dim before filling with an irritatingly bright, white light. He stared absently ahead, slouching in his seat. For the most part, the white walls, white light, and now, what he accepted as a white noise stood in the peripheral of his attention.

His eyes flickered to the clock nailed to the wall above the door before leaning over the hospital bed to rest a hand right below Maka's chest. He had been conscious of her breathing since the fight, checking it on the hour almost every hour. He sat completely still, holding his breath, afraid he'd somehow steal the oxygen away from her, as he felt her diaphragm rise and fall. He counted three slow inhales and three slow exhales before he allowed himself to suck in a greedy breath of his own.

He had no reason to be doing so. Logically, Maka was quite alive and hooked up to a monitor here, at one of DWMA's clinics, but there was this little needling voice in the back of his mind that would whisper differently, the tone of which was almost as high-pitched as the buzzing lights above him.

"You're touching my boob."

"Can't touch something that isn't there." He shot back without startling, "How are you feeling?"

Maka groaned, her eyes fluttering open, "Just kill me."

He didn't bother hiding how he smiled as he shook his head, "Drama much?"

"You'd think with everything we've been through, they'd, you know," She waved a bandaged hand in the air, "go easy on the bed rest stuff. I'm fine."

"You'd think after everything we've been through, you'd go easy on the almost dying stuff."

"Okay," She let her head fall back onto the pillow, "noted. I'll admit this hasn't been my…best moment, but death do me in, I was dealing with Oxford!"

He also didn't bother to hide the way he rolled his eyes, "Yeah, he's a brat, Maka, but he's not worth two ribs, a leg, and, well, I guess there was never any helping that face of yours, was there?"

"Har. Har." She sighed, then said, "Noise isn't so bad anymore, but I could do without all the light."

"They won't let me turn this shit off," He grunted, glaring at the door where the nurses popped their heads in from time to time, "but I'll bring your eye mask with me tomorrow. On your nightstand, right?"

"Hanging on one of my bed posts," She corrected, covering her eyes with the crook of her arm. "Sorry, I can't remember which one."

"Don't worry about it." He stood up, placing their duffle bag on the bed, "I've got your book still. Do you want that, or…?"

She shook her head, "It'll just give me a headache."

"Right," He nodded, toeing the ground. "Do you want me to go to the café, get you something not-disgusting to eat?"

"If you did, I'd probably love you forever."

"Pfft, is that all it takes?"

She smirked, lifting her arm off her face, "What can I say? I'm a woman of simple tastes."

After a three-beat pause, he fixed her with a look and asked, "Can I get that in writing?"

"Hey!" She huffed, chucking a pillow at him.

He dodged it easily, "Good luck picking that up by yourself."

"Soul!" Maka called out after him as he walked out of the room, snickering. He was halfway out the door when she spoke again, "Uh, hey, wait, Soul?"

He poked his head back into the room, and his smile faded when he saw the way she had crowded in on herself, "Yeah? What's up?"

She fiddled with the blankets in her lap, "Well, are you alright?"

"I'm not the one in a hospital."

She snorted and looked up. She had that look on her face, still kind but closed-off, staring at him like he was a puzzle she couldn't quite figure out, "I know that, but I mean, in general? You've been a little in your head lately." She pressed her lips together as her eyebrows furrowed, "Wanna…wanna talk about it?"

His heart dropped.

"I'm good, Maka. I'm okay."

"It's just with Harvar—"

"—he just pissed me off, that's all. He's an ass, and 'sides," he shrugged, "I was worried and stuff about you." Her face softened, and he glanced away, feeling embarrassed all of a sudden, "Sheesh, don't give me that look. Are you seriously surprised?"

He didn't stick around for her response. Instead, he shoved his fists into his pockets and stalked down the hallway. Guilt did a number on his gut. Lying to Maka, even the innocent 'no-we're-not-throwing-a-surprise-party-for-you' kinda shit always messed him up, but he didn't know what else to say or do.

A short elevator ride later, he stepped into the clinic's café line, gnawing on the inside of his cheeks in thought. This was all Harvar's fault, or not so much Harvar, but the shit he had said was all Soul could think about. And usually, he did such a good job of not thinking about it that all the thinking about it was—

"Hey, aren't you that kid?" The guy behind the counter asked, snapping him out of his thoughts. Soul blinked. The line had moved quicker than he had expected.

"Hm?" He looked at the large guy looming before him, "Sorry, what?"

"That kid! You're that kid, right? The new Death Scythe? I've seen you on the news with the Death Lord and the pigtails girl, you know, the one who was involved in all that moon stuff. Nasty business, that moon stuff. I was committed for a few years after all that, got some of the moon crazy." The man's eye twitched as his smile spread just a little further than humanly possible up his face, "I'm good now, of course."

Soul eyed the guy carefully, "And you're working at a clinic?"

"Applied for that program, you know, the Death Lord initiative helpin' with all the moon—" the man circled a finger next to his head, "—got this job with it!"

"Well, I can't see how that'll backfire on us," He drawled, mostly to himself, before uttering a small "congrats."

The man preened, "Real nice seein' a Death Scythe, never got to thank anyone, you know, none of my letters ever made it past censor for some reason. Say what you doin' here?"

"The ambiance, I guess," He pointed to the menu, noticing how he was holding up the line, "listen, can I just get a—"

If possible, the man's smile grew wider, "I like it too. Good energy. Death and sickness. That girl, she's here, right now, isn't she, pigtails? That's—" He laughed, "—that's probably why you're actually here. I heard the gossip this morning! Nasty business dealing with that monster! If it wasn't for pigtails, I'd just be another version of that guy! I'll have to stop by her room, huh? This morning when I heard what all the buzz was about, I asked, I said, hey! What room's she in, and they all said, that's inappropriate, but I just want to say thanks, you know, for what she's done! That's not so bad, is it?"

Soul narrowed his eyes but chose not to respond. He knew this guy's type. Madness was hard to recover from, and most people couldn't do it. Many people were like this guy, half there, half not, living a convincingly everyday life until something pushed them over the edge. Anything could do it, but from Soul's observations (and experience), it was always some sort of invocation of fear.

Thanks, of course, to Asura for that. A real cool guy, that one.

A lot of times, these people didn't know they were still under the heavy effects of madness until they were standing smack dab in the middle of their living room, surrounded by the bodies of their dead loved ones. To say the least, it wasn't a good time for anyone involved, and for the past few years, it had been his and Maka's line of work, given that she thought Crona, and therefore the Moon, was her doing and responsibility.

"I mean, she fixed everything! Can't say anything was ever broken," The guy behind the counter laughed harder, pounding his fist onto the prep counter off-beat with his belly laugh, "but hey, you know, I ain't no shrink! But seriously, it's got me all frazzled," The man leaned completely over the plastic display window so his face was close enough to Soul's that he could no longer politely ignore his breath, "cause she's here, but no one's fucking telling me where she's at. Guy can't live like that, you know, me and her, we've got something special, and I can't even see her!? What the fuck is that all about?"

Soul pushed the man's nose away with the tip of his finger, "Back up—" He peered at the nametag on his left breast pocket, "—Marc, you're starting to really piss me off."

Marc slid back to the other side of the counter, and the faux-jovial expression fell off his face. Soul studied his eyes closely, watching his pupils dilate at odd intervals. A violent twitch shook his whole body, and then, the face-splitting smile reappeared as if nothing had happened.

"Oof," Marc shook his head, "ha! That got a little intense, didn't it? My bad. We're all good here, aren't we?"

"Are we?"

"Course we are! Say, you know pigtails, and I, obviously, would like to know pigtails. Maybe put in a good word for me, yeah? I mean, she was your meister, right, and no need to lie, you know, 'cause I already know. Maybe she could make me a Death Scythe, too? I'd like that a bunch! You're through with her, right?"

"You got a manager or something I could talk to?"

"It's not like you need her anymore," Marc kept going, "you're already a Death Scythe, and I think it's only fair I get a shot, right? I mean, that little bitch ruined my fucking life. I think she owes me one." He said this like he was making a casual remark about the weather, "So, just tell me her room number."

"Yeah, I want to talk to that manager now." He reiterated, "And your counselor. They're not gonna like this."

Marc threw back his head with a short laugh, which ended rather abruptly, and he continued looking at the ceiling as he talked, "I just don't get it. Why won't you just give me her room number? I mean, just give it to me, you know? What—" His head snapped down, and he gave Soul a look that would have made him flinch if he weren't so used to it, "—you fuckin' her or something?"

He picked some lint off his shirt and, watching it float to the ground, asked, "Why are you freaks always asking shit like that?"

"Give me her room number."

He mulled over an answer before returning to Marc, "No."

An ear-piercing scream seemed to erupt right from Marc's gut as he lunged over the counter. Soul stepped back, transforming his arm into a scythe as the man jabbed his own spear-like arm in his direction. It was always interesting, in Soul's opinion, at least, when a demon weapon was under the control of madness. Soul knew what it felt like firsthand to be under the effects of madness and how fucking hard it was to shake the feeling, so seeing another weapon's reaction to its' influence made him feel less othered in some twisted way like he wasn't the only one.

On the other hand, it was harder for him to sympathize with these people. If he could overcome it, why couldn't they?

He blocked Marc's attack, pushing the older man back against the counter he had just hopped over. Then, with a spin kick, he moved the scythe of his arm to his leg, slashing at Marc's center. He made contact, could literally feel the way Marc's skin split in two for him, but he didn't dare go any deeper than a surface-level cut.

He pulled away quickly, putting some distance between them as he prepared for the counterattack, but was surprised to see Marc slump to the ground with a grunt, falling to his knees.

The fact that someone his size—and a weapon at that—was already on his knees because of a little graze was odd. Sure, most weapons didn't choose to work as a weapon as he had, so Marc's lack of stamina wasn't totally unexpected, but regardless, it was surprising.

Unless of course—

Soul tilted Marc's head up, so he could see his eyes. They continued to dilate at impossible speeds, like his sanity and insanity were playing tug-o-war with his consciousness.

—he was internally fighting himself. People who made it this far in the Program didn't make it this far without trying.

"Bad idea, coming for a Death Scythe. I guess I freaked you out, huh?" Soul spoke to the groaning, mumbling man, "Don't worry. I won't take you out. The people in this room have enough problems as it is."

Soul looked around at the frantic individuals and families cowering over each other, still likely scarred from all those years ago when this sort of happenstance played out on a near-daily basis. People from Death City weren't usually the "cowering" type as in some way, shape, or form they had walked the halls of DWMA, but visitors, like the family wearing the matching sports jerseys from some team in Georgia, weren't probably as used to this, especially in a hospital setting.

He gave them a weak smile and muttered, "Fuck, what a drag."

"Hey! What's going on out here!" A man in the same uniform as Marc scrambled around the corner, coming from the direction of a supply closet.

Soul flashed his badge, and the other man—Clay, he assumed from the nametag, at least—came to a halt.

"Shit, you're a Death Scythe!"

"Is that what that badge says?" He sniffed and then jerked his head at Marc, "You got his counselor's name and number?"

"Uh, I'm—did he attack you? They said—my supervisor said this one wouldn't do that!"

'This one,' Soul felt offended on Marc's behalf. How demeaning was that shit, 'this one.' It wasn't like any of this was Marc's fault.

"Well, he pulled it, sorry. That number, though? Kind of time-sensitive. I think he's trying to—" Soul paused. Explaining exactly what this guy was going through would just take up more time, "—stop himself, let's go with that."

"Can't you do something!" Clay exclaimed, "Aren't you, like, supposed to be doing more? Is he gonna go ballistic? I thought this guy was messed up! I told them!"

"Did my badge say Program Counselor, or did it say Death Scythe?" He snapped, "Get the number!"

Clay's eyes widened a fraction as he scrambled around in the front pocket of his apron, "My supervisor told me I had to keep it on me at all times. He said it was just some dumb rule and that we had to follow it or the cafeteria company—it's not the hospital, it's like some third party—they wouldn't get some grant or something, but he said it was just a precaution, nothing bad was supposed to happen. Is his arm a knife! Is he a weapon! They never said anything about him being a—"

Shock did a lot of things to people. Evidently, it turned Clay into a talker. Fan—fucking—tastic.

"—Looks more like a spear to me. Now, Clay, dude, the number," He demanded, making a grabby hand at him.

"Right!" Clay squeaked, passing it over with a shaky hand, making Soul lousy.

He took the number and pulled out his phone. As he dialed, he looked back at Clay, "Hey, you're not from around here, are you?"

Clay's large eyes bounced away from Marc. If Soul could guess, he'd say Clay was maybe five-ish years older than him. He had the Death City aesthetic down, but anyone could wear a pair of gauges and combat boots and have the Death City aesthetic down, and his reaction to a weapon was telling. Obviously, weapons lived worldwide, but unless they turned into a weapon, non-weapons tended to forget they existed, which had its perks from time to time. Other times, it did not.

"Uh, well, I'm from Las Vegas, but they pay better down here."

"Heard that." Soul nodded as a woman on the other end of the phone picked up, "It's gonna be okay, though, alright? We'll get this—"

He didn't have time to finish his sentence. Dropping his phone, he pulled Clay into his chest and turned, shielding him with his body as Marc sprang up from his spot, his spear arms stabbing into the tile floor where Clay had just been standing.

Soul cursed, ignoring Clay's cry of surprise as he pushed him toward the family from Georgia. He hoped they'd all get the fucking picture and book it out of here, but fear made people do stupid things. He was a living testament to that.

He didn't have much time to react as Marc freed his arms from the ground and made another lunge at him. He'd be able to dodge one of those spears, but no matter what, thanks to his own stupidity and timing, the other was going to land its target. He braced himself for the inevitable. It wasn't like he hadn't been stabbed before, but this was really the cherry on top of an already shitty week.

At the same time he dodged one of Marc's arms, a gunshot echoed throughout the cafeteria. Marc's eyes went wide, staring into his own as a bullet hit the shoulder of the arm Soul wouldn't have been able to dodge.

Marc fell with a cry, the blast of the shot sending pulse waves through his body until he collapsed. The convulsions were semi-unsettling to watch. Kid's wavelength manipulation reminded Soul of a cartoon character getting hit with a taser, but Marc didn't immediately bounce back like a cartoon. Instead, a moment of clarity flickered through his eyes, and Soul wished he could look away. Genuine, non-madness-induced fear was there, and it was like Soul could read his every thought.

I've been shot.

Then, I'll be recommitted.

It turned Soul's stomach. That could have been him. He could have been Marc.

"I said!" Black*Star screamed, and Soul jumped in surprise, looking up at the ceiling where Black*Star hung from a light fixture, "I had it!"

"You were taking too long," Kid rolled his eyes, brushing invisible dust off his jacket while Liz transformed back into her human form.

"Too long! Too long!" Star continued to scream, dropping from the ceiling with a thud right in front of Clay and the terrified family from Georgia. He regarded them as he pointed at Kid, "This guy says I took too long. Can you believe it!? He took my—" He turned back to Kid, "—it isn't just about the shot! It's about the suspense! Dammit. Where was the flair?"

"Upsey-daisy!" Patty appeared in front of Soul with a giggle, forcing him to look away from the argument brewing between Star and Kid.

"Oh!" He blinked in surprise, staring at her outstretched hands, "I fell?'

"Like a sack, man," Liz appeared, "what's up with that?"

He took Patty's hands and was yanked up at such an incredible speed Tsubaki had to reach out to steady him.

"Are you okay, Soul?" She hummed, tilting her head in concern, "You—" she frowned, "—well—"

"—You froze!" Patty finished with a laugh, mocking what he assumed his face must have looked like, "Like a deer!"

He rubbed his head, "I—it's…this week has been absolute shit."

Liz looked around the room, first at Marc, then the cowering bystanders, and nodded, "Nothing ever good happens in a hospital for us, that's for sure." Then, she spoke up, yelling in the direction of her—their—meister, "If only there had been someway to prevent this!"

Kid got the hint, loud and clear, and froze mid-argument with Black*Star.

"B-but…they weren't...even…," He whimpered, ducking his head.

"Even…did he just say—" Soul muttered to himself, Kid's words relighting the fire under his feet as he put two and two together, "—you piece of shit! I was right!" He took off after Kid, "I'll show you even!"

#soul eater #soul x maka #maka x soul #fic #my writing #canon compliant with the manga #FYI I take what I need from N.O.T. but I wont be tricked into reading that dumpster fire more than I have to #Think of this cht an intro to the c-plot // im not very good at action and wanted to practice!#In the next cht I introduce the nonsensical b-plot :))))

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pucks-goals-penalties · 8 days

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Delusional enough to think I could actually pull an nhl-er but not so delulu as to actually attempt it 🤪

#nhl #hockey #I just know in my soul that I was born to be a hockey wife #also I lied #I did once drunk dm an nhler and it continues to be the most embarrassing social media experience I’ve ever had #but like gotta shoot your shot #it was sadly unsuccessful but I’ll remain hopeful #try to believe in the power of manifesting #I mean manifesting does work because one night I read a fic about a nhler volunteer fire frighter #and the next morning I had a fire in my house and the first responders were super hot so I guess 🤷‍♀️#me on my bullshit #at 4am #on cold meds

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cornerful · 24 days

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Sméagol and the Gift

'Now!' said Sam. 'At last I can deal with you!' He leaped forward with drawn blade ready for battle. But Gollum did not spring. He fell flat upon the ground and whimpered.

'Don't kill us,' he wept. 'Don't hurt us with nassty cruel steel! Let us live, yes, live just a little longer. Lost lost! We're lost. And when Precious goes we'll die, yes, die into the dust.'

Devastated by this. Just a little longer, he begs. Even though his existence is a torment. Even though the will that holds him to life is barely his own anymore. He has long outlived his time but it's such a cruelty that now the only freedom for him is in death. I'm glad Sam didn't kill him but the whole scenario is awful.

When a mortal keeps a ring of power he does not gain more life, he continues, denied natural mortality as the fear of death is amplified and twisted into fear of separation, nothing matters anymore but the keeping, the continuing. In that miserable existence there is no peace, and at its end there is no graceful goodbye to life, there is only dust. Sudden, empty, and final.

It would take murder to spare him that. Or falling with the ring into the fire.

Bilbo let it go in time (did he feel anything when it was destroyed?) Frodo is freed of it now, though the toll it extracted for the separation was at very least a finger. It was too late for Gollum for the price to be anything other than it was, and that's brutal.

If you live long enough, death is no longer the enemy. What Sauron did to Gollum ensured that it would always be the enemy, to be feared and avoided for ever, once time and the ring had fashioned it into the only escape left. Evil.

#lotr newsletter #suicide mention in tags #haunted by the au in which gollum goes into the fire with the ring On Purpose #bc he still couldnt separate himself from it but frodo's compassion had somewhat released him from its evil #in a way an honor to frodo's quest and in a way an act of mercy to be able to give up the self-torment #which gives me shrimp feelings bc of the everything but also back to the original point that it is so tragic that death is all that awaits #bc death is natural and that was taken from him. what is the will to live in the absence of natural death?#smth deeply horrible about that #matt bugg screaming we'll be dust. so famous and rent free #lotrn325 #damn it im having more thoughts #wraiths vs gollum: discuss #the nature of the ring kept affects the nature of its possession no? those rings were made FOR thralldom #sauron has power over gollum but not That Much and his own ring is all abt the domination #what would a 2000 year old gollum even be like ._.#the wraiths are probably even more tragic bc at this point they're like...undead. even death isn't freedom #on that topic what happened to the witch-king's spirit fr #I'm pretty sure he isn't ever actually called that in the book but it's epic and gender and way snappier than lord of the nazgul #anyway shoutout to i think yambits for breaking the lore and giving them peace that was sick #where's my gollum rehab fic #i know he's a horrible little man who is constantly trying to murder my boys but i love him so #the au...gollum gaining the willpower to destroy himself because he was given trust and kindness and companionship for once. FUCKED UP.#fucked up horrible i need a minute. being shown compassion and then becoming more self-compassionate. epic #that compassion entailing seeking the freedom of death your soul was denied bc this is fantasy and somehow the exact #arc that usually leads to fighting to live is now flipped. HUH.#yeah jirt alluded to his motivation being For Frodo but i maintain that the willingness to die is HUGE there and extremely relevant #me and my red string keeping me company #ugh tag championships i win i think but at what cost #who wants to spin around miserably in a pool like franknfurter with me as we listen to gollum's song #tam you're already invited i have a floaty for u

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giggly-squiggily · 5 months

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*me double checking that Fire Force is still on your fandoms list bc it's been a minute and a half*

YEEET REQUESTS!! I'm so excited to see them open again! Also I really hope you're hanging in there. I've been thinking of you as you go through this difficult time, my friend. 💖

*drumroll* OK OK so I've been having serious Fire Force brainrot this past week (I really gotta rewatch it, I love that show 🔥), so I come to you with a humble request for lee!shinra and ler!tamaki (the lucky lecher lure gal, bc I always get her and maki mixed up 😅)

I don't have a ton of specifics but the general idea is that Shinra absolutely cannot function when she tickles him; he gets so flustered he doesn't know whether to fight back or just let it happen 😂 (though I do hc that he would at least be coherent enough to cover his eyes in case her lure kicks in to protect her modesty, which only makes him more vulnerable to tickles and - you get the idea 😈)

Only if you want, as always, my friend! Can't wait to see what you do with this prompt if you decide to take it!! AND HAPPY FALLLLL I'M SO EXCITED FOR COOLER WEATHER!! 🍂🍂🍂

AHH NYM! *running jump hug* I'm so glad to hear from you! :D And with a Fire Force request HELLO? *squeals* God I haven't written for these guys in so long; this was so refreshing and lovely! (And girl SAME!!! It's their hair I swear- they both have the same dark put up look and face akljrekarjkejrj)

Oh my god Lee!Shinra my BELOVED! I've gotcha covered, girl! (got a little shippy at the end whoops! My hopeless romantic side; it gets the best of me lols) This was so fun to write, and I hope you like it! :D (AND YES LETS GO FALL!!!!)

In Shinra’s defense- it was a total accident.

“AH!” Tamaki screamed, arms shooting up to cover herself as she was splashed with water. She had been leaving her prayer session with Iris when she crashed into Shinra carrying a water pitcher.

“I’m so sorry! Here!” Facing away, Shinra yanked off his shirt, offering it to Tamaki.

“Why are you stripping?” She squealed, flushing as red as he did.

“I’m not! I’m trying to be a hero!” He cried back, still refusing to look. When he felt his shirt being taken and heard the sound of her pulling it on, he dared a peek. “Sorry, Tamaki…”

“It’s fine- I’m covered.” She sighed, pulling at the hem of his shirt. It was so big on her- falling mid thigh. At least the bottom of her prayer robes were dry. “Thank you. That would have been an awkward walk back.”

“Hm!” Shinra nodded, still looking rather flustered. A tense silence passed over them both, both too awkward to say anything. “Well- I better go! Um- keep the shirt! Bye!”

“Huh-Wait, Shinra-!” But he was already booking it away, leaving Tamaki standing on her own.

~~~

“And now he won’t even talk to me! It’s not like he really saw anything!” Tamaki groaned at the desk, poking at her lunch. It had been a few days since the lecher incident, and Shinra had been avoiding her like the plague. Anytime they crossed paths, he’d go bright red and give her a wide girth of space-avoiding her eyes.

It reminded her of the kids back at school. The old wound ached in painful memory.

“Hm…that is strange. Shinra never acted like that before.” Iris nodded around her spoonful of pudding, looking thoughtful. “Did he say anything else before running off?”

“Nothing I haven’t told you already.” Tamaki sank further, drooping with gloom. “I just want things to go back to normal. And to give him back his shirt.” It was tucked away in her room, folded and pressed. “He probably got tired of being polite and doesn’t want to take a chance with me anymore.”

“That’s not true! You know he’s not that kind of guy.” Maki reassured, reaching out and taking Tamaki’s hand. “You two just need to talk, that’s all. Put your guards down and just come out with how you’re feeling about each other!”

“Come out with…” Tamaki blinked, then she flushed bright pink, dropping her chopsticks. “What-wait, wait- Huh?”

“Too soon?” Maki shared a look with Iris, smiling a tad sheepishly.

“They’ll figure it out.” Iris stole Tamaki’s chopsticks before nipping a bite of her lunch.

~~~

“Feeling about each other?” Tamaki mused on her walk back to the bunks, shaking her head. Maki was in la la land again- she had to be! Why else would she ask such a question…

As if sensing her thoughts, Shinra appeared before her, eyes downcast in his own thoughts. He looked up just as she did. “Ah! Tamaki! Eh- hey!” He yelped, face red as he looked anywhere but her for an escape.

That’s it. Enough is ENOUGH.

“Oh no- you’re not running away from me!” Tamaki declared, more pissed off than flustered. Without really thinking about it, she charged at him, tackling him into the ground. “Talk to me! Why are you being so weird?”

“T-Tamaki! Let me up!” Shinra had his head turned all the way up, refusing to look back down. “I can’t-”

“What? You can’t be my friend anymore?” Anger curled into hurt, her voice cracking some halfway. “You’re done with me because of the lecher lure?”

“What? No- Not at all!” Shinra looked back at her, panic replacing his nerves. “Tamaki, that’s not it-”

“Then tell me!” She cried, returning to anger. “Tell me what the problem is!”

Shinra opened his mouth, but nothing came out. He looked like a fish out of water, the words stuck in his throat as he helplessly looked anywhere and everywhere but her. “I….I can’t say.”

“Why not?” She glared.

“Cause…cause it’s embarrassing!” He covered his face with both hands, flopping back into the ground. “You’ll hate me.”

“....” Tamaki stared at him. Then- without warning, she grabbed his sides, squeezing.

“AH! Ahehehehehhehe!” Shinra arched at the touch, giggling. “T-Tahahahamki!”

“I don’t hate you- I don’t think I could ever hate you.” She nodded, feeling rather ruffled. “And I don’t care how embarrassing it is- I want to know! It’s the least you can do after all that time ignoring me!”

“I’m sohoohooohhrry! I prohohohohmise it’s nohohohot you!” He cackled, hands covering his face as he kicked and squirmed. “Whehehehell it kihihiihihinda ihiihiihihs? Ahehahahahahha Tahahahhamahahahahki!”

“Which one is it? Is it me or is it not me?” Normally she’d be more irritated by such mixed signals, but Shinra was talking to her again- well; laughing with her anyway. She scritched her nails along his belly and waist, giggling when he squealed. “For a hero, you’re sure bad at talking about yourself. Out with it!”

“AHehahahahahhahhahaha! Noohohohooho, dohoohohohohn’t tihihihihihickle me thehehehehhere!” Shinra’s hands shot to hers, stopping midway. “Nohohoohooho fhahahhahahhair!”

“Too scared to touch me? Afraid you’re gonna get burned?” She teased, squeezing along the underside of his ribs and making him scream. “Fine by me- I get to keep tickling you! Now- TALK!”

“Iihiihihihiihi cahahahhahahn’t! He squealed, face flushed a pretty pink. “TahahhamakIHIHIHIIHII!”

“I’m waiting~” She had switched over to his legs, squeezing his knees with both hands. “You know- cats do this.” She began kneading his upper thighs, further driving him wild. “Talk to me or I’m going for your feet!”

“TAHAHHAHAMKI NOHOHOOHOHOHOOOO!” He howled, punching the ground repeatedly as he thrashed about. Tamaki wasn’t bluffing- she’d absolutely go for his worst spot. “PLEAHHAHAHHASE MEHEHEHEHRCY!”

“Are you gonna talk?” She gave him a small break, stretching out until she was pinning his legs with her body, flicking off a sandal. “Or are we gonna have to get serious?” To further her point, she shaped her hand into a cat paw with her pyrokinesis. Her trademark trick- Shinra was gonna DIE. “Last chance.”

Shinra gasped for air, hands covering his face as he tried to compose himself. The words rattled his ribs, desperate to be heard, but it was just too, too much! “Tamaki…”

“Hm.” Was all she said at his tone. Then her cat paw attacked.

“AH!” Shinra couldn’t speak- he couldn’t think. He couldn’t really do anything at that moment. The second those fiery claws touched- warm and fluffy despite what they were made of- he was racked with ticklishness all throughout his body. It was like she’d found the one bundle of nerves that activated the rest- making every tickle spot on him burst to life. “AHEHAHHAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHA!”

“Wow- and I thought you were bad without the claws.” Tamaki mused with an impish grin, delighted. Shinra was a mess, flailing behind her like a fish out of water as he guffawed. His face was getting redder- and his smile; normally a nervous tick- looked so real and genuine it made her stop breathing for a moment.

Stop breathing…Oh sh- “Shinra! You okay?” She stopped, remembering that air was kinda necessary to live. Upon ending her tickles, Shinra curled into himself, hiccups breaking up his giggle fits as he twitched in tickly residue.

“Ahehehehe…hehehhee…I’m ohohokay. Nothing to wohohorry about..” He reassured her, easing her worry. When he could breathe normally again, he rolled onto his back, covering his face with a hand. “Sorry…”

“Huh? Why are you apologizing? I was the one tickling you to near death.” Tamaki shook her head- then paused. “Oh wait- this is the earlier thing, right?”

“Yeah. I…” Shinra dropped his hand as he willed himself to look at her. “I’m about to tell you something…and I don’t know how you’re gonna react, but please hear me out.”

“Okay…?”

“Right. So…erm.” Shinra seemed to shake, mouth pressed into a thin line as he willed the words front and center. To her surprise, he seemed rather flushed- a new shade of pink coloring his already hot cheeks. “The reason I’ve been avoiding you…it’s erm..my shirt.”

“....huh?” That was it? “But- you lent it to me! If you just wanted it back-”

“No! No- that’s not- that’s not it.” Shinra quickly cut in, flushing even more. “God, why is this so hard to say? I…I don’t know what happened, but when I saw you standing there in it…something kinda clicked.” Shinra sat up, looking at his hands as he spoke. “I erm…I…”

Tamaki blinked at him, taking it in. Then her eyes grew wide, cheeks warming as the realization hit her. “Shinra…are you confessing?”

Shinra seemed to flush more, but then he nodded.

Put your guards down and just come out with how you’re feeling about each other!

She internally apologized to Maki for doubting her intuition.

“I guess I am…I’ve er- kinda liked you for a while now. I figured at first it was just us bonding, but then I started seeing, you know? How you light up when we decide to get something good to eat, or how you never give up on your ambitions and goals to get stronger. How you sing to yourself when you’re cleaning up or cooking, and how you always play with your hair when you’re in mid-thought. I just…” Shinra shook his head, smiling a small but real smile. “I realized when I looked at you in my T-Shirt: ‘Wow. I’m falling for this girl.’

But then I panicked and ran cause…yeah.” Shinra chuckled sheepishly, finally looking her in the eye. “I’m not…entirely sure what I’m doing here. I’m probably gonna mess up a hundred times over before I get it right, and I’m sorry if I do. But…if you’d have me, I’d like to be more than friends, Tamaki.”

More than friends…Be still, her beating heart. Looking at Shinra, hearing him speak in that soft voice- the voice he seemed only to reserve for her she realized now, her vision grew blurred. Shinra’s nervous smile grew panicked at her tears, but before he could do anything, Tamaki threw herself into his arms, knocking them both over once more.

“You’re so stupid, Shinra.” She said against his chest, no malice in her voice. “Of course I’d have you.” She sat up, gathering her own courage. “You’re the first real person that didn’t shy away or avoided me- not with the lure, and not when everything was said and done. You saved me more times than you’ve realized. You’re my hero, Shinra. If you’d have me…I’d like that too.”

Shinra seemed to stop breathing. Then he was smiling, really- truly smiling. “Tamaki…” He brushed his thumb over her cheek, cupping her face as his other fingers played with the loose strands of her hair. She leaned down to kiss him-

“Devil! Lady Tamaki- what are you two doing at this hour?” Arthur’s cry of surprise sent Tamaki stumbling, crashing into Shinra’s chest. Amazingly enough, her lure didn’t kick in. A small blessing in a mess of flustered moments.

“Arthur, could you PLEASE not shout? You’ll wake the Lieutenant!” Shinra growled, helping Tamaki up before turning to his roommate.

“Apologies- a knight king as myself must always make sure his kingdom is safe.” If he caught on, Arthur didn’t say- but there was something a bit knowing in that smile of his. “My energy bar is running low- I must recharge. Good evening.” With that, he turned on his heels, disappearing back into the room.

“Odd as ever.” Shinra laughed, shaking his head. Tamaki snorted in her hand, just as amused. “Still- we better call it a night here; who knows who we’ve woken up with our antics.” Shinra swung their hands together before leaning in, pressing a kiss against Tamaki’s cheek. “I’ll see you tomorrow?”

“Sounds good. Goodnight, hero.” Tamaki squeezed his hand in return before letting him go, making her way back to her own room. Shinra signed in content, leaning into the wall beside him.

“So the devil does have a weakness.” Arthur’s voice broke him out of his thoughts, startling him. “Two weaknesses. Good to know.”

“Why you- GET OVER HERE!”

Thanks for reading! :D

#Fire Force #tickle #tickle fic #shinra kusakabe #tamaki kotatsu #Whoops I fell down and now I ship it lols #I just really love lee!Shinra kajrkjaekjrajker #some ShinTama for the soul anyone?#akrkjaerkjeajkajkerjkearjklae

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drengar · 3 months

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After he loses his arm, his physical therapist talks him into picking up gaming as a sort of hobby to help him get used to micromovements and dexterity with his prosthetic. He eventually caves in and actually finds a few games that he does enjoy playing. Legend of Zelda and Hades are two games he enjoys playing as he easily makes strategies to beat them. And yes he does one hundred percent any game he plays. It isn't something that he tells anyone, mostly Fuyumi and Shouto know but then anyone else that is extremely close to him will eventually find out.

#beneath the armor「 headcanon: enji 」#[okay i read this in an endhawks fic and i loved it]#[expect they had him playing games like dark souls]#[and tho i do think it's an enji game it doesn't fit mine per say]#[but bones had the great idea of zelda and that is definitely something i can see him enjoying a lot]#[also i need to make him more of a closet nerd cause i love that about my angy fire man]

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landfilloftrash · 11 months

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earlier beliefs had the butterfly symbolizing a departed soul

I figure him and his beloved’s soul might have had a few instances like this

#my art #Star Madness (across the universe)#Q Star Trek #Star Trek #Star Trek PIC #(<- technically)#me drawing all this stuff rapid fire; random bullshit go !#I am 100% blaming ‘killing butterflies’ (song) and ‘sweet like ice’ (fic) for this one bc I saw that image and nearly broke my mouse #*and by THAT image I mean I read “Slavic vampires were able to appear as butterflies echoing an earlier belief of the butterfly symbolizing #a departed soul’’ and they expected me not to start frothing #is this a GIANT red admiral ? yea. do I care ? nope ! big bug be upon ye #yes the butterfly is called a Red Admiral #I know there’s an actual butterfly/moth used but have this one instead #season 3 who’s she it stopped at season 2 #edit; HOW DID I FORGET TO ACTUALLY TAG Q— girl.#rea’s trash

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blackjackkent · 3 months

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Pairing: Unkindled/Firekeeper Warnings: None Word Count: ~740 Setting: Dark Souls 3, directly after the End of Fire ending

A/N: Random little flashfic vignette that my brain insisted on spitting out after thinking about DS3 for the first time in a while and having feels about the End of Fire. Honestly I have a whole longfic in mind about an Unkindled's journey towards this ending that I would like to write, but idk if I will ever actually get around to it, so this is what I have produced instead, at least for the time being.

Idk how good this is or how much sense it will make to anyone besides me. XD Like DS itself, it operates more upon vibes than sense. But here it is for anyone with interest in such things, and hopefully my brain will let me go to bed now. <3

-------

“Ashen one… hearest thou my voice still?” she asks.

All is dark. The first flame has burned out at last; not even embers remain. And with it has gone all light out of the world, even that pale ring of fire that had been the sun’s last dying form. The blackness is absolute.

He breathes - once in, once out. Then again. The kiln smells of charred bones.

The firekeeper speaks again, her voice like the whisper of silk on skin. “Ashen one… what we have done may not be undone. Dost thou still hear me?”

He turns his head, listening. In the silence of the darkened world, he can hear the gentle susurration of her feet through the infinite ash that blankets the kiln. So many have died in this place, fed themselves to the fire in pursuit of immortality for a god long dead. But no more bodies will burn here now. They have seen to that.

They have seen to the end of the world.

“What have we wrought, ashen one?” she asks him. There is a tremble in her voice. “Surely we were not wrong? The world had stretched itself to breaking, its only respite to be found in utter surcease… It was a kindness we did, and yet I did not, in all my visions, sense how cold it would be…”

He feels that chill as well, seeping through his armor. It is not a chill merely of the air, but of the world itself. Its heart has been stopped; its flame-blood no longer flows.

It matters not to him, of course. He is not alive, in spite of his breath and the twitch of his flesh, but merely a construct molded of the remnants of those who came before. No matter how cold this long night grows, he will not freeze.

But she might…

The thought stirs him from his torpor, as his own discomfort did not. Were he abandoned to witness this sea of black in solitude, he might have sat there unmoving for many hours before finding the will to rouse himself. But he is not alone.

The fire has faded, and the world with it. But she is still here, as she has been waiting at the end of every battle since he was pulled gasping from the grave. She has been his voice, as he has been her eyes. She has given him strength, and he has acted for both of them in pursuit of a new world. And now, even in the endless darkness, he is not alone because she is with him.

He stands. His armor rasps metal on metal with the movement. He hears her soft exhalation, a sigh of relief.

“I hear thee, ashen one. Wilt thou come to me? Canst take my hand?”

He reaches out blindly, led only by the sound of her voice and that nearly imperceptible sound of ash under her feet. His gauntleted hand brushes the sleeve of her robe, and then her fingers close around his with a desperate intensity that he can feel even through steel and leather. She tugs his hand to pull him to her; he cannot see her but he feels her weight as she leans into his chest, her forehead pressed to his breastplate just above his heart.

“I know I am not wrong in what I saw,” she says softly. “A new flame will kindle itself, dancing across the darkness. We could take no other course than this; we could not hope for a new world while the old one still writhed and struggled for breath.”

It is a plea for reassurance, for comfort. He says nothing still, but releases his grip on her and begins, methodically, to strip the gauntlets from both his hands. Each metal glove falls into the ashen dune with a soft thump. When she reaches out for him again, their fingers interlace, warm skin on warm skin that says what he cannot say in words.

She relaxes; her voice softens to almost a whisper. “Yes. If we walk side by side in this darkness, there shall be nothing left to fear. Thou wilt stay with me, to see this new world together?”

He lifts her hand and presses his lips silently against her knuckles.

Her breath catches, releases shakily. “Then this is how it shall be. We shall traverse the roads of black, and I shall be at thy side.”

#dark souls 3 #ds3 #dark souls fic #dark souls fanfiction #end of fire ending #dark souls #my writing #drabble

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shredsandpatches · 8 months

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sunday snippet

Because why not? This is the fic I was on about yesterday. Heads up, I guess, for some mild period-typical homophobic language.

Mephistopheles is standing beside his chair now, looking for all the world like a dutiful butler, although there's no real need for the illusion, as no one else in the room can see him anyway. The scholars have become embroiled in an energetically pointless argument about the identity of the most beautiful woman who has ever lived; it has gone on so long that Faustus is beginning to fear that his allotted twenty-four years will run out and he will be dragged to hell before the after-dinner sweets have even arrived.

"Poor Faustus," Mephistopheles drawls from just over his shoulder. "I can't imagine a topic more perfectly suited to boring you."

Faustus has known a number of beautiful women, since he signed over his soul. It's been years since he'd brought any of them to bed, years since he'd come to understand where his inclinations lie. Why should he deny it to himself? He's already going to hell. He rolls his eyes and holds out his cup, watching as it refills itself. No one asked you, he thinks, emphatically enough that Mephistopheles can hear it.

"I'm surprised the conversation hasn't turned in a direction more to your taste," Mephistopheles continues. "Sodomy is the great vice of the universities, after all. I doubt you're the only one here with a preference for it."

Faustus heaves a long-suffering sigh and takes a long drink of wine, but Mephistopheles' hand is on his shoulder now and he can't help but smile indulgently. Clearly not, he thinks, reaching up to touch his fingertips to his demon's. On that very subject, I'm planning to bend you over this table after everyone's left.

He hears, rather than sees, the lascivious smirk on Mephistopheles' face. "Boredom inclines you to play the master, I see," he says. "Well, I am, as always, your obedient servant."

#sunday snippet #fic babble #doctor faustus #hot faust summer #faustopheles #otp: as many souls as there be stars #these jerks lit a fire under me i guess #one thousand one hundred and eighty six ships

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mister-eames · 9 months

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Day 22 of @inception30daychallenge: Another type of rec! (meta, podfic, fanvid, edit, meme, blog, whatever!)

youtube

#inceptiversary #inception30daychallenge #the fic this is based on is great #and the video and song are lovely #this song by mika is one of my faves of all time #combined with arthur x eames just sets my soul on fire

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infernaleikon · 2 years

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Guiding Light dances to the side and up while Saber complements the move and finds itself under the Kaiju. Anakin grits his teeth and ignores the unsettling feeling that’s coursing through his body — he doesn’t have time for this, not now. He shuts down some background processes and reroutes more power to the thrusters, giving Obi-Wan and Ahsoka the burst of speed they need to get close enough to the Kaiju to slice its head off.

A second before the two weapons light up and strike, time seems to stop for Anakin.

There’s a ripple in the Force, a sense of wrongwrongwrong.

The scene is so familiar not because he’s seen them practice this form, not because this is one of their signature moves, no. It’s so familiar, because—

Anakin’s whole body turns cold, then hot. He can hear the blood rushing in his ears, the noise so loud he wonders if everyone around him is hearing it too.

Time restarts and Anakin is on his feet and shouting before he registers anything else.

“Don’t!” he and Luminara scream at the same time, their hands reaching towards the viewscreen as if they’d be able to stop the two blades from severing the Kaiju’s head.

They’re not.

The blades slice through the Kaiju’s neck as if in slow motion, and a blinding light fills the viewscreen, the whole control room.

the guiding light of a bleeding heart, or the obikin pacific rim fusion i asked for

#obikinedit #obikin #anakin skywalker #obi wan kenobi #fic rec #giidas #nastigifs #*elmo in the fire gif* YES THIS IS FEEDIN MY SOUL

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lex-play · 9 months

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Light My Soul on Fire pt 8

~*~

Katsuki did, in fact, have to call the hag for new slacks. The pair he had was much too small for him now. Much to his embarrassment, he couldn’t even pull them up past his thighs. The damn sneaky witch kept her cool over the phone, but as soon as he said bye, he heard her screeching for his father and knew that she’d be bombarding him with questions in no time.

“How are you, son?” His dad asked when Katsuki got to their house.

“M’good,” Katsuki said. He was somewhat on edge. He’d expected the hag to divebomb him as soon as he set foot in their house. The fact that she hadn’t was… concerning. She hadn’t even been the one to answer the door, and he didn’t see or hear her anywhere. “Where’s the witch?”

“Your mother is in the basement,” Masaru said with a snort. “You haven’t asked us to make you clothes in quite a while. I think she’s excited.”

Katsuki sighed. “I haven’t needed anything since the last time I asked.”

“I figured as much,” Masaru led Katsuki into the kitchen. “You only asked for casual clothes the last time.”

His tone was curious, but Bakugou Masaru wasn’t pushy. He knew that pushing Katsuki to talk would do the opposite of what he wanted, so he was content to wait at least a bit.

“Tea?”

Katsuki nodded and sat at the table with a sigh.

“How’ve you guys been?”

His father looked delighted as he immediately launched into a ramble about their fashion line and the recent happenings. For a moment Katsuki was reminded of Izuku, and he bit his lip to keep the grin off of his face. No need to give the old man anything to gossip with the hag about later.

Katsuki wasn’t sure how much time had passed when an unholy screech came from the basement stairs.

“Masa! Is the brat here yet?!”

Katsuki groaned and dropped his head into his hands as he heard his mother stomp up the stairs. He… may or may not have been stalling. It’s not that he didn’t want to see his mother or get the measurements and shit over with, he just knew how she was. When she wanted to know something she would pick and prod and poke at him, in this case possibly literally, until she learned everything she wanted to know. And like he told Kirishima, he didn’t want to jinx anything.

“Sorry Suki, I’ve been hogging him a little,” Katsuki’s dad chuckled. His mom’s face was completely unamused when she turned the corner into the kitchen.

“I’m down in the workshop sweating my tits off and going through fabrics, meanwhile you two chucklefucks are up here having a goddamn tea party,” she scoffed. The twitch to her lip gave her away.

“Nobody told you to start before I even got here, hag,” Katsuki snapped with a snort and a roll of his eyes.

“Oh fuck off,” she said. Katsuki flipped her off, the normalcy of the interaction causing him to relax almost against his will.

“You ready then?”

“Yeah, I’m coming.”

Katsuki followed her down into the basement which doubled as a workshop for when one of his parents (or both of them on occasion) had personal projects they wanted to work on. Without being prompted, he stripped off his sweats, folded his tank top up so his midriff was bare, and moved to the raised platform that was set up.

“Nice to know you remember how this works.”

Katsuki snorted.

“I only did this once or twice a year for the first two decades of my fucking life.”

His parents would never let him wear shit off the rack or mass produced. At one point the hag had literally told him she’d rather die.

“Yeah yeah.”

A tape measure suddenly wrapped around Katsuki’s hips and he almost jumped. He’d kind of expected the interrogation to come before the measuring.

“So,” ah, there it was. “Why’d you need slacks all of a sudden?”

Katsuki shrugged one shoulder lightly, trying to keep still.

“Katsuki.”

He huffed. “I’m not even sure,” he muttered, hoping she would leave it. Unfortunately, he wasn’t that lucky.

Mitsuki’s hands paused for just a moment where she’d stretched the tape measure down the outside of his leg.

“What do you mean?”

Katsuki sighed and did his best to keep from shifting uncontrollably, lest he be stabbed with a pin. It had happened before.

“I mean it’s a fuckin’ surprise.”

“You’re letting someone take you someplace where you need to dress up and you don’t even know where you’re going?”

“Yes,” Katsuki snapped.

The resulting silence had katsuki on edge. His mom came into view, her eyes on where she was measuring, and he was surprised to see a soft smile on her face.

“Can I at least know the name of the person who’s charmed my notoriously difficult son?” She eventually asked with a raised eyebrow.

“Why would I do that? So you can go run another goddamn background check?”

Mitsuki sighed. “That was one time.”

“It was three times actually but nice fucking try.”

She groaned and Katsuki scoffed.

“I promise I won’t run a background check.”

Katsuki eyed her critically. “I’m supposed to just take your word?”

“Have I ever lied to you?”

No. No she hadn’t.

Katsuki sighed. “Midoriya Izuku.”

Mitsuki stiffened, her brows furrowed.

“What?” Katsuki snapped. That was not the reaction he’d expected. He’d expected smugness from getting him to talk about someone he liked. Or even curiosity about the person he liked.

Not this guarded wariness.

At his tone Mitsuki shook her head.

“It’s nothing. What are they like?”

Katsuki eyed his mother with frustration. He knew she had something on her mind, but he also knew she wouldn’t fess up if she didn’t want to. He was the same, after all. So instead of pushing like he wanted to, Katsuki huffed and told his mom about how he met the omega.

If it was important, she’d tell him.

~*~

A little peek into the Bakuhouse. Wonder why Mitsuki got all weird when she found out Izuku’s name. 👀

Also to anyone who’s new to this fic it is gonna be an accidental inc*st fic so pls take care of yourselves. I’d tag it but idk how this place is with that kinda stuff and I don’t want my work removed. 😅

I also have update goals for my fics! The kofi goal for this one is up.

#mha fanfic writer #bkdk #bkdk fanfic #bkdk fic #omegaverse #omega midoriya izuku #enigma bakugou katsuki #quirkless au #bkdkfanfic #eventual nsft #light my soul on fire #LMSOF #Mitsuki’s actin kinda funny 👀#wonder why

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