#also the feather in his hat's not there because it's on the other side and he's facing a different way so I didn't draw it in

[charmre]

Salt in my lungs, Holding my breath Making peace with my inevitable death I guess I did alright considering Tried to be a halfway decent friend Wound up a bad comedian An honest fool with more bad habits Than you can count

[cat3ch1sm]

hii! could i request hcs about illumi's fiancé meeting the zoldycks? something along the lines of her being expected to be the next lady of the house and getting used to the mansion's lifestyle (having butlers, being secluded on a mountain, having the entire family living together)? it would also be nice to see her getting along with the little siblings (killua, kalluto, and alluka)

sorry if i left out any necessary details in this request :(

~✰♡✰♡✰~ hellooo! thanks for ur request :)) haven’t written for hxh in a little while so im happy to write this for you and our favorite bug-eyed assassin :3 if you’re ever unsure about what info to put in a request, just visit the pinned post! ily 💚

fem!reader

𝐢𝐥𝐥𝐮𝐦𝐢’𝐬 𝐟𝐢𝐚𝐧𝐜é 𝐦𝐞𝐞𝐭𝐬 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐳𝐨𝐥𝐝𝐲𝐜𝐤𝐬

illumi isn’t close with his family in the same sense that normal people are close with their families, but nonetheless he feels the need to inform them of major developments in his life. through a letter he tells his family of his engagement, and says that he is going to bring you to his home to see them all.

silva is indifferent, and zeno couldn’t care less, but kikyo is ecstatic that her illumi is finally going to marry someone- and that it isn’t that awful clown hisoka. she’d been seriously concerned for a second there. but she rounds up all the members of her family to be present on the day of your arrival (using excessive force because nobody really wanted to come besides alluka, who was only allowed to meet you because killua threatened to not show up unless alluka was permitted as well).

when you and illumi first arrive after the lengthy trip up the mountain, you are greeted by butlers gotoh and canary, whose presence startles you. you were aware of illumi’s great wealth and status, but it was certainly different from how you’d grown up. just getting inside the actual home is a process- illumi’s strength slightly freaking you out when he pushes open four of the doors to the entrance of the mansion without breaking a sweat and then encountering Mike, the Zoldycks’ monstrous dog. illumi does notice your apprehension, though, and plainly assures you that the dog won’t harm anybody it isn’t supposed to. you’re still visibly nervous, though, so illumi has you come closer to him and hold on to his arm. regardless, you realize it may be tougher to settle in than you thought.

at last, though, illumi brings you to his family. nobody reacts much outwardly to your presence, but you notice a white-haired boy with catlike eyes observing you closely, his expression a mixture of suspicion and confusion. standing beside the boy are two other black haired children- one with short black hair standing somberly with his hands folded in front of him, and the other an eager blue-eyed girl whose gaze sparkles as she looks at you. the white haired boy stands right behind the blue-eyed child. the tall, blonde man with a large frame illumi tells you is Silva, his father, and the slightly shorter man with white hair beside him is illumi’s grandfather, zeno.

without warning, you feel thin arms thrown around you in an embrace, and you almost jump out of your skin. but when you are released, you see the woman that can only be your fiancés mother, the only member of the family illumi had warned told you about prior to the visit. kikyo wears a large dress with an ostentatious petticoat and hat, and most notably a visor over where her eyes would be with one red glowing dot. her appearance is unsettling, and you find it a little difficult to force a smile when she greets you. illumi watches you from the side of his eye, his face unreadable.

just as kikyo is pulling away, something gleaming and silver and large is thrown right at your head, whizzing right by kikyo’s hat and slicing off a single hair from the feather on her hat. you don’t hesitate to lift your hand to your face and catch the sword immediately, the blade slicing your hand- but you don’t flinch as the blood seeps onto the blade and down your arm. you tilt your head to the side to see your assailant is silva, his arm still poised in throwing position. his expression grows less stony once he sees you’ve caught his weapon.

there’s a moment of icy silence, you lowering the weapon to your side, and silva watches you even more intently before uttering a flat “welcome to the family.” with that, he and his father turn and disappear elsewhere inside the mansion. kikyo, though, takes this as her cue to immediately grab you so you two can walk by yourselves throughout the mansion. illumi doesn’t look super pleased to see his mother take you, but he knows better than to try and stop her.

you two are navigating the long, hollow corridors of the zoldyck home. you pass many unsettling family pictures and paintings as well as various weapons like swords and arrows on the walls, and several human sculptures that seem a little too realistic. you’re also sure that you pass at least two torture chambers. it’s an eerie atmosphere, which was what you’d expected, but it doesn’t help your nerves.

kikyo either doesn’t notice or doesn’t care about your apprehension, and instead starts talking about how much she’s wanted a daughter and how thrilled she is to finally have a “daughter” to take in. but then she grows eerily serious. she talks about how you’ll be expected to be the next lady of the house and, since you’re becoming a zoldyck, how you’ll have to follow the same codes they do as a family and exhibit the same values- which makes you antsy. the woman clearly seems a bit unhinged. you’re relieved when the walk ends and you’re returned to your fiancé, who gestures for you to take his arm again. illumi’s mother’s mood changes drastically yet again and she storms off, shrieking to her husband that it’s rude for him to walk off after hardly having said anything.

now you and illumi are left with the four other children- the white-haired boy, the girl with long hair, the boy with short hair and purple-pink eyes, and a homely fat boy behind the three younger ones. he holds a small console in front of his face and doesn’t even seem to acknowledge your presence. illumi introduces them to you.

“y/n, i’d like you to meet my siblings,” illumi states in his usual manner, walking slowly towards them. gesturing to the white-haired boy, he says, “this is my brother, killua. i call him kil.” he looks down at his brother with an eerie smile and black eyes like pits, but killua keeps his stony gaze straight ahead. his hand rests on the shoulder of the girl in front of him.

“this is my youngest brother, kalluto,” illumi continues, placing a large hand on top of the boy’s head. his hands remain folded in front of him, and he gives you a polite nod. looking toward the fat boy behind kalluto, his expression slightly curling into one of disdain, illumi tells you, “and this is the second oldest, milluki.” milluki doesn’t acknowledge you at all, which seems to visibly irritate illumi, but he doesn’t reprimand the boy.

you’re confused when illumi doesn’t introduce the girl, and you glance up at him in confusion. “illumi, what about her?” you look down at the girl in front of killua, who looks surprised for a second, and so does killua behind her. “you forgot to tell me her name. she’s a beautiful little girl.” you manage a small smile, leaning down slightly to stroke the girl’s hair. her blue eyes sparkle with joy, and killua looks up at you as well, looking a little confused but also very relieved. “your mother said she had no daughters.”

illumi’s eyes lower ever so slightly, giving him a dismissive look. “she doesn’t,” he answers flatly, and his tone makes you feel like that’s the end of the discussion. you’re definitely lost- but you suppose it’s something illumi will have to fill you in on later. you glance sideways at illumi, hand still resting in the girl’s hair. she definitely doesn’t seem to mind you, and killua appears to have warmed up to you as well. milluki’s vanished elsewhere and kalluto watches the whole exchange from the corner of his eye.

suddenly you all hear kikyo call for illumi, who immediately stands up upon hearing his name. “you will remain here until i return.” he tells you, his tone no-nonsense, and heels clicking he makes his way down the dark hallway, leaving you alone with the kids.

the second illumi is out of earshot, the girl brightens up. “hi!” she chirps, bouncing on her feet excitedly. “my name is alluka!”

you’re slightly startled, but you smile at the girl anyway and tell her hi, still wondering why illumi seems so detached from this girl in particular.

killua seems to read your mind. “i know what you’re thinking,” he tells you, not unkindly. “listen, my family doesn’t like alluka much- and they refer to her with male pronouns. just go along with it in front of them. it’s safer for you.” he pauses, then looks down. “but thanks for being nice to her.”

you frown and nod, deciding not to ask any more questions about it. kalluto still hasn’t said anything, but somehow you don’t feel like this boy will be anything to worry about.

with alluka and killua having warmed up to you, you get into a conversation, and kalluto eventually offers a few words after awhile- although never acknowledging alluka directly. most of it is basically killua wondering how the hell you managed to get engaged to someone like illumi.

“No way he didn’t force you to go out with him.”

“What the hell do you even see in that guy? He’s batshit crazy- and he’s definitely not a model.”

“How’d he propose? Did he try to kill you and you survived?”

“‘Man, you really gotta be messed up for Illumi to like you.”

“What even made him wanna get married to you? What even made you wanna get married to him?”

“You gotta be kidding me.”

“And you said yes? You’re crazy!”

that’s all i got :3 hope u enjoyed <33

[lxvvie]

On today's episode of Simps-R-Us: A Guy and his... pet(s), or You, Your Faves, and your fur/feathered/fin-babies:

Capt. John Price - Standing ten toes down on this: Price would have two small, cute dogs, one named Sir Peabody and the other named Lady Marie. You two spoil them something fierce and they have a pile of little doggy hats that match their beloved papa's... much to his chagrin.

Gaz - Gaz said he'd surprise you and surprise you he did. He came home with a cockatoo. A damn cockatoo. Jokes on him, though, because your bird baby absolutely loves to prank the shit out of Gaz, too, by mimicking your voice when you're away and making him jump. Jokes on both of you now, because Soap has taught him how to curse and that's all he does now, Scottish accent and all. You have a picture saved of the bird (named Buttercup) on top of Gaz's head.

Alex Keller - Has the most gremlin Donskoy (named Brunswick) to ever gremlin, complete with the wide stormy eyes, which is funny because Keller can sometimes make a face that's very much gremlin-esque and the two greatly resemble each other. Can usually be found making biscuits on Alex's head.

Soap - Has a Labrador named Whiskey that he absolutely adores. Whiskey has also put you two in the most adorable of love triangles where you don't know whose affection you're playfully fighting for on any given day. Also has a tendency to take Soap's socks and he has to chase him throughout the house. Well, he and Whiskey are chasing each other throughout the house just about constantly.

Ghost - You guys talked about it but he surprised you one day by bringing home a Belgian Mal puppers who didn't make the unit. His name? Pup. Pup Riley. And Pup Riley is a ball of energy. Bloody hell. He always assumes he's going for a walk whenever you two make ready to leave. He also won't let Simon leave without him and so Simon usually has to create a diversion just to walk out the front door. It's also not uncommon for Pup to jump on his Papa whenever he gets home, too. Oh, did we also talk about the fact that Simon has to fight with Pup for his side of the bed whenever he's home or that Pup wakes him up early in the damn morning to take him out for his first walk of the day?

Roach - Found a stray kitten and brought her home. Her name's Oatmeal. Oatmeal is now the chonkiest, cutest loaf (you send Roach various pictures of her Loafiness). You two also bought her a set of those pet buttons just for shits and giggles and Oatmeal's really caught on to them. She uses "Dad", "Mad", and "Food" a lot even though she stays fed lmao.

Keegan - To everyone's surprise (and his own), has a husky named Balto who ignores the concept of personal space, loves to put his paw right in the middle of Keegan's face, and has pissed on Keegan's boots more than once because Balto felt slighted (you had to go to the groomer's, buddy, you rolled in mud). You and Keegan have also lost count of the number of times you've had to carry Balto into the house because he refuses to come inside, especially when it’s cold.

Alejandro - You two adopted a senior dog named Mojo who is the most peaceful little angel. Can usually be found lying near yours or Alejo's feet as you're working or something of that nature.

Rudy - You two have this huge ass tank full of fish that run the gamut of the rainbow and you remember all their names. The brooding one is named Alejandro and his namesake was not amused lmao.

König - You two have a small but floofy cat. She's black with a grey undercoat that he calls his "little Prinzessin" and she always looks like she's in a constant state of surprise. Whenever she blinks or closes her eyes, she becomes a floofy void. Her Highness prefers to be carried like a baby, thank you very much.

Phillip Graves - You two are the proud parents of a Bulldog named Bubba who thinks he has his humans trained (spoiler alert: he kinda does). Bubba Graves makes your day with the way he silently judges his parents, throws a tantrum when he doesn't get more food or pets, and usually has Philip sigh facetiously and go, "Now, son, why can't you behave for your old man, huh?"

[carnivalcarriondiscarded]

Bard-aby <3 except he's only loosely a bard bc i don't subscribe to absolutes <3

rambles:

BARNABY WITH PANTS??? BLASPHEMY!!! however this is a (dnd-inspired) fantasy au so. pants! loose pants tucked into modified boots because no one can tell me No!

based off of Clown's pokemon au human Barn, it seems like he might be a bit of a jewelry guy! he was wearing rings! and had an earring! also i think Barn just looks great w/ some extra shinies, yk yk

since ties aren't really a Thing in fantasy settings, i combined the iconic pattern w/ his vest for a two-in-one. then suspenders bc they fuck severely! his belt buckle is a bone both as a nod to the pattern on his tie / house decoration, and to go along with how Wally has an apple buckle! besties stay twinning!

you can't see it but on his other side he has his pack & his smoking pipe holster, which attaches to his belt! it's very high quality leather that he spent so much money on. his pipe is important to him - he carved it himself out of wood from an important tree from his childhood, so he wants it to be properly stored & protected! he has two kinds of tobacco for it - normal, and magic tobacco that essentially allows him to cast minor spells w/ the smoke

the feathers on his hat are from Ms. Beagle! in my mind he left the farm to go adventuring on a bit of a bad note, but his mama made sure to give him a couple feathers to take with so that she'd always be close <3

he keeps his claws blunt so that he doesn't accidentally scratch people/things, and so that he can play stringed instruments without cutting the strings. while i imagine for this au he plays a wide range, he prefers Loud Handheld Instruments that allow him to sing along. so in mind he has an Accordion here! loud! jaunty! but i imagine he also keeps a recorder in his pack for when Frank needs annoying. (he did have a lute, but he broke it over someone's head in the act of defending Wally's honor)

im still trying to pin down the right balance of colors for his outfit, but! for a little au tidbit - all of his spots are the same two blues as his ears. in this im imagining that he, at a young age, learned a very basic cosmetic spell that allowed him to change his spots color to mimic Ms. Beagle's! he wanted to look like his mama! but by the time he's in his late 20s he no longer changes his spots

ohhhh i forgot to add his pockets. Oh Well

[hitlikehammers]

feels like home

rating: t ♥️ cw: coming out, softness, recovering from the upside down ♥️ tags: pre-relationship, post-s4, fluff, hurt/comfort, Eddie is having many feelings, the main one being that Steve feels like home, platonic stobbin, supportive platonic soulmates coming out so Eddie feels safe to do the same, injury recovery, still-so-soft

for @steddielovemonth day seventeen: Love is about a hand reaching out to you so you don't get lost (@yournowheregirl)

this definitely takes place chronologically after this one so: have some of these codependent lovebirds as they start to figure their big feelings out ♥️

It’s weird, and probably unhealthy, that his hospital room—like this—feels kinda like home.

But he thinks it’s okay, to be fair, because it’s not like he thinks this place is home; the smell of antiseptic is still pretty sharp in the air even as he’s gotten disconnected from one machine, drip, or monitor every day until he’s largely free to toddle to the bathroom on his own as long as there’s someone to watch and make sure he doesn’t fall. Wayne’s there for that when he can be, which explains the home associations, but: the rest of the time, in fact—kinda more often than it isn’t?

It’s Steve.

And Eddie struck a deal with himself—no digging in to the fluttery-gooey-warm-chest-squeezy feelings while he’s laid up in a bed—but when he walks around even under supervision, it’s…feeling like he’s cheating.

Plus the feelings are getting kinda…kinda loud.

Because Steve is always there, sometimes he ever stays when Wayne comes, at least for a while. He leaves to keep an eye on the Party, leaves to check up on Max, hits the community hub: but it’s…it’s such a blip of time, honestly, in comparison to being here, with Eddie.

And when he’s gone, it doesn’t…it doesn’t feel at all like home, it feels kinda fucking horrible, so.

Eddie doesn’t even actually have to dig in to that train of thought. It’s pretty fucking clear as-is.

He’s surfacing from kind of, like, a light doze, not even a full on nap, and he’s gentle with the coming-to of it because he can kinda, like, feel Steve’s presence at his side and he’s talking really low anyway, even if he couldn’t, so Eddie definitely knows it’s him, and he could have guessed the other visitor pretty easy even if it wasn’t her voice that was the first to bleed through with actual words:

“She’s,” Robin makes a little stifled whine; “you’ve seen her.”

“Not my type but,” Steve’s saying from next to Eddie; “ I see your point, yeah.”

“She’s like a,” Robin’s voice goes kinda hazy, a little dreamy; “like a fairy creature, or! Or like a prairie woman with those, those hats—“

“A prairie woman who likes boobi—“

“Stop!” Robin hisses low, and Eddie can feel her knock his mattress a little, she must lean over like she wants to enforce her will somehow: “stop stop stop—“

“If you can’t say it you probably shouldn’t be touchin—“ Steve’s saying and god, his voice is so bitching, and Eddie think he kinda fucking lov—

Oh. Oh, well. Shit.

“I’m not touching!” Robin moans, but kinda frantic with it; “the problem is I am not touching!”

And Eddie, too, is not touching the thought he just had about those four fucking letters that are, that, that are—

“Also it’s a gross, immature word,” Robin’s going on and…oh.

Oh.

Okay, so like: even if he’s just kinda in that liminal space of awareness, they have to know he’s more awake than not; his two remaining monitors are different even when he’s calm and just resting, but as the words themselves sink in, now? His heartbeat’s betraying the hell out of him for the staccato it’s pinging on the screen as he processes it: Robin’s showing her cards, though Eddie’d always figured she might be a bird of his feather, but, like—

“Is it though?” Steve’s murmuring low and so, so judgmental; “seems more immature to not say it at all,” and he, he fucking tsks at her, then, and, and—

And then—

Then Steve’s saying words that make no sense at all, like: sure they’re words. In English. Eddie’s very sure of it. So that means he should definitely comprehend them. But…

“You should listen to me, Robs, seriously. I do still like boobies, too. I have insights.”

And Eddie—Eddie’s eyes fly open, he thinks out of shock? That makes the most sense, like he’s startled into full-wakefulness, that tracks as he blinks up at the water-stainer ceiling with his heart in his throat as he tries to find sense in those words, fails, tries again, fucking fails, all as the Corsican Twins cackle over word choice, good god, and then—

“Hey.”

Steve’s grabbing his hand at the wrist and covering it so gently, fucking…cradles it and stories his thumb over the insistent tap of his pulse and meets his eyes, so wide and honest and earnest and if Eddie’s heart wasn’t already primed toward racing it sure as shit would have started just with those eyes on him, and that touch on him, and:

“You okay, man?” and it’s so simple, and Eddie doesn’t fucking know what’s happening on his face, what kind of of shock or terror or something deeper still is seeping from his expression but Steve’s studying him, watching for long seconds that stretch for-fucking-everbefore his jaw squares and his head tiles, something resolute shining through in him and he moves so slowly, lifts Eddie’s hand in his so slowly and Eddie doesn’t even wholly clock what’s happening, let alone that it’s real, as Steve fucking pauses their hands by his lips, so Eddie can feel his breath so warm and he watches, then, waits, and Eddie doesn’t think through what it means when he nods, like it’s not actually a legitimate thought, exactly, he just knows that, that—

Whatever’s happening, and however terrified he thinks he is: he can trust Steve.

Because somehow: Steve’s home.

It’s still fucking earth-shattering when Steve does lean, when his lips brush against the heel of Eddie’s palm, still scrape-covered, and then he reaches just as slow again for Eddie’s cheek to cup, to fucking cradle that, too, and Jesus H. Goddamn Christ—

“You’re safe, Eddie,” is all he says and maybe, maybe Eddie’s reading into it way beyond what he should, but like, it doesn’t feel like Steve’s telling him he’s safe maybe from the lingering threads of a nightmare, or that he’s safe from the government, from the cops, or from the Upside Down coming for them because they all know it’s still fucking coming but Eddie has felt scared of it once, yet, not like this, not here, with—

But Steve’s tone doesn’t just hold that: it’s bigger. He means…

They had to know he wasn’t really asleep, and so, Eddie, Eddie thinks Steve means…

Yeah.

Fuck.

“You’re outta water,” Steve’s saying and Eddie didn’t even notice he’d been reading to pour Eddie a glass from the ever-present pitcher at his bedside then he’s standing, his hand leaving and fuck all if Eddie doesn’t lean into it before he can think twice but Steve just smiles, soft, as he walks out the door.

“We talked about it.”

He turns to Robin almost violently, head kinda snapping her direction with the speed and force he moves with.

“We weren’t gonna hide it from you, but like,” she mashes her lips together, Eddie can see she’s trying to find a way forward with the least possible rambling, but the clearest possible throughway so she can get what she needs to say out, before Steve comes back.

“You shouldn’t feel like you have to,” she hums a little; “be that, you know, open? With us, if you don’t want to,” her eyes are so big and sincere, and Eddie’s pulse is steadying if only slowing by a fraction, but she does help put him at ease, even as she trips a little over the rest: “if you had any thing that was, y’know, kinda private or, something,” she nods to herself and plays with the hem of her shirt: “yeah.”

Eddie nods to himself, and…he can’t, he can’t not ask her, not in this window, because she said they’d talked and if this wasn’t part of it she loves Steve fierce and he could be still a little fresh off death’s door, she’ll still tell him to fuck off if she needs to, so at least there’s that, at least he knows, like, he won’t be allowed to step where he’s not welcome, and—

“I’m,” and fuck, his voice is a mess, he does need a fucking drink but in the absence of one at hand, he clears his throat hard and accepts that consequences of it burning like hell; “he, umm,” Eddie bits his lip and gestures toward the empty door, eyes Robin kinda pitifully: “he said—“

Robin, thank fuck: Robin is merciful, has to see where he’s going, here, and she points to the doorway indicative of who isn’t in it, yet:

“Very both,” she says simply, then point to herself: “very…”

“Boobies?” Eddie suggests and Robin, she just groans.

“Not you too,” and…okay, shit, umm, well—

Eddie… maybe Eddie can be brave. Like, in small doses.

“Actually, ah, I,” he stumbled but then he makes himself take a breath, makes himself try:

“No, not me too,” he says in a rush and looks up at her through his lashes, so fucking vulnerable: “like, very specifically not, me too.”

And she smiles at him so warm and…like, almost welcoming, which is weird but feels, nice? And she pats his arm kinda affectionately and, just—

“Did you decide to take me up on my wisdom so we can actually accept she’s almost definitely into you, and move on to planning your wedding?” Steve slides back in and shuts the door behind him, getting to pouring Eddie some water before he even sits the fuck down.

His fingers brush Eddie’s as he passes it off and, it probably shouldn’t make Eddie all tingly, Steve did kinda kiss his hand? Like, a little?

But that don’t mean shit: Eddie’s all pins and needles and, like, sparkles.

“He’s the only help you’ve got here, Buckley,” Eddie screws his courage up one more time because…because Steve needs to know, too; Eddie wouldn’t put Robin in the position of not knowing whether she can tell her platonic soulmate something, make her keep a secret even by implication but so much bigger that that is, are—

All the things he doesn’t want to poke at, or dig up and examine, that he’s dodging on the excuse of convalescence: all those things taken into account: he trusts Steve. He feels…so much for Steve already, and he feels weirdly sure that whatever happens next, those feelings are only gonna find ways to grow, so—

Steve has to know, not just because Eddie thinks he suspects it, but because Eddie tells him—because it’s….’cause it’s Steve.

“Feels like it’d be foolish not to take the man up on the offer when he’s definitely the expert in the room,” Eddie pushes on, awkward but determined; “seeing as I don’t, umm, know about,” and his eyes flicker to Robin for a second, before they land on Steve to finish:

“About boobies.”

And Steve does say anything, doesn’t look any way save how he’d looked before: calm, and mostly-relaxed, and right next to Eddie, and Eddie’s eyes drop from Steve’s face and find the collar of his shirt, the peak of hair from in between and, shit, shit, he’s talking about tits and then there’s Steve’s chest hair and holy fucking wow he is staring:

“Umm, I mean,” and fucking fuck, now he’s talking—

“Like, not that kind, at least,” and then he forces his eyes down to the sheets over his lap and considers if it’s possible to dissolve into cotton if it’s startchy and uncomfortable as shit, and you happen to be mortified enough to sink into the fucking threads.

But then; then there’s Steve.

Because of fucking course there’s Steve.

And Steve?

Steve takes his cup from him when he could easily have leaned to put it down himself, but then Steve replaces the cup in Eddie’s grip with his own warm hand, like a tether, like a lifeline, like a…

Like a promise.

And when the conversation turns toward strategizing Robin’s approach for Vickie, Eddie’s, he, he just…

He’s home, y’know?

tag list (comment to be added): @pearynice @hbyrde36 @slashify @finntheehumaneater @wxrmland @dreamwatch @perseus-notjackson

♥️

divider credit here

[harrysfolklore]

grammy at wembley - bandmate!yn blurb

gif by @londonharry <3

BANDMATE!YN MASTERLIST | MY PATREON

Wembley Stadium buzzed with excitement as the crowd eagerly waited for the big night to start. Feather boas, cowboy hats, pride flags and colorful signs were everywhere in sight in typical Love on Tour fashion.

Tonight was one for the history books. Harry was closing out a successful run of 4 sold out nights at Wembley Stadium, and his family, friends, colleagues and all kinds of loved ones came together to support him.

To celebrate said shows, Harry had a lot of surprises in store, including letting each of his bandmates be an opening act for a different show; and even though it took a lot of convincing, his girlfriend agreed to take part for the final night.

"I'm not sure, lovie. I mean people like what I do as your bassist but my own work? I don't know if they would like to hear that." YN said when Harry brought up the proposal.

"They would, because you're insanely talented and everyone deserves to see it."

And with a few more kisses and sweet words, YN accepted to perform and delivered an impeccable set that was loved by everyone in the stadium, specially Harry who greeted her as soon as she was off the stage and held her as he said how proud he felt.

Now, the band was getting ready to hit the stage together one final time, gathering around in a circle as they always did.

"Okay, I'm not trying to get sentimental over here," Harry spoke to his bandmates, "But these past shows wouldn't had been possible without you, so let's do it one last time for London."

"Let's go!" Pauli cheered hyping everyone, and then they were off to perform.

The evening went on filled with music, excitement and love. Harry charmed the crowd as usual and the band gave their best playing their instruments.

"I'd like to take a few second, no, not a quick second, a brief moment to introduce you to my wonderful band." Harry said into the mic and proceeded to introduce each of his bandmates, leaving his girlfriend last as usual.

"And finally, in bass and vocals, YN!" she waved out to the crowd, but surprise filled her face when instead of moving on with the next song, Harry continued speaking about her, "YN, you're not just my bandmate, you're also my girlfriend, my musical soulmate and my partner in crime," Harry said, putting a hand into his heart and making the entire audience become emotional, "Tonight is a very special night, and I want to give you something that is just as special, and celebrate with everyone here."

A trace of confusion flickered across YN's face, not sure about what Harry was about to do, she leaned closer and her voice came out in barely a whisper, "Harry what's going on? Don't tell me you're proposing becau-"

"I'm not proposing, yet," Harry interrupted her with a wink, "Just wait here."

He walked towards the side of the stage where a crew member handed her the a shinny item that YN and the rest of the crowd was yet to identify, it was when she took a proper look at the golden trophy that a wave of realization hit her body.

"No way, Harry. Is that?" YN said off the mic to him when he was next to her.

"It's your Grammy, baby. Came in the mail the other day and I decided this was the best way to give it to you," Harry shrugged, pulling her into his arms in hug, "Congratulations, bandmate."

YN pulled back to look at him, she was aware of the thousands of fans watching them but she still pulled him in for a quick kiss before speaking, "Thank you, this is magical."

Harry only pecked her forehead before speaking to the crowd again, "Give it up for YN! Grammy Award winner for her collaboration as a songwriter and producer in Harry's House!"

The audience broke down in cheers and screams as YN held her award up, and as the crowd continued to celebrate, she thought that the award not only symbolized a musical achievement, but also the strong bond she shared with Harry, one she wishes would last forever.

taglist: @lightsoutstyles @waitingroomharry @willowpains @straightontilmornin @sleutherclaw @gimsaysay @hazzassmirk @platinumbarbie143 @musicforcinemas @celesteblack08 @scntfrhs @eleanordaisy @lomlolivia @iceebabies

tell me if you want to be added to the taglist <3

[mochiwrites]

For the ask game/prompt, mayhaps #1 with Scarian? Could be in canon, one of your AUs, or any other AU you think of lol, no preference ☺️

01. Touch starved/cuddle curse (put that guy in a situation!)

reblogs do more than likes!

"How in the world have you managed this, Scar?!" Grian's indignant voice exclaims, echoing in the small space of Scar's train car. The avian looks down at the man currently pouting at him, a sheepish expression on his face.

"I-I don't know! Joel just gave me this potion thingy and -- and said it would be good for bonding with cOW!" As he speaks, he makes a grabbing motion for Grian, his pout morphing into a pleading look.

Grian pointedly takes a step back from Scar's outreaching arms, pinching the bridge of his nose. "Trusting Joel was your first mistake," he mumbles, sucking in a breath.

"He's a trustworthy fellow!" Scar retorts, "Besides, I don't see what's so bad about this arrangement... all I want to do is cuddle with you."

"That's exactly the problem, Scar!" The feathers of Grian's wings fluff up as he stares at his husband with a firm look. "I have building I have to do! Shops to set up, permits to not do! I also promised Gem I'd help her out with something in a few hours. I can't just stay here with you all day."

Scar's pleading expression only becomes stronger, his green eyes looking shiny as he stares up at Grian from where he sits on his head. "Please, lovebird? Just for a little bit?" He makes another grabbing motion for Grian, who finds his resolve rapidly crumbling the longer he looks at Scar.

"Nuh uh mister, I know exactly how this sort of thing goes. We both know it won't just be 'for a little bit,'" he answers. Grian's making any desperate attempts at keeping his denial firm.

But... he could just tell Gem he'd be around tomorrow. And it's not like the Permit Office is really ever open. They're only sometimes there to help anyway. And he still hasn't come up with any ideas for his mushroom stem shop.

"I promise this time I'll stick to it! Only a few hours, I swear on my hat!" Scar exclaims, eagerly nodding.

"Where have I heard that one before," Grian mumbles under his breath, fondness written into each and every word. He lets out a little sigh, "Alright, alright, fine. But only for a few hours! Let's hope this... cuddle affliction has run its course by then."

He takes a step toward Scar, and the moment he's close enough, a hand jumps out to grab hold of his wrist. Grian yelps as he's pulled right into Scar's lap, arms slinging around his waist. He steadies himself by gripping Scar's shoulders, finding the love of his life grinning at him.

"You should know I always want to cuddle with you." Scar shoots him a cheeky little wink, making Grian roll his eyes, a small smile upon his lips. "You just fit in my arms so perfectly!"

"Maybe that's just because you're a giant," Grian huffs, getting settled in Scar's hold. He moves to lay his head on Scar's shoulder, tucking it within the crook of his neck. "You're like one big teddy bear."

Scar squeezes him lightly, one of his hands moving to rest against the small of his back, right in between his feathers. The contact leaves Grian melting right into him with a content noise. "Am I a cute teddy bear?"

Grian snorts at him.

"It's the most important question I've ever asked you next to proposing, Grian!" Scar gasps in return, a serious look in his eyes. His green eyes sparkle with mirth, and pressed against him like this, Grian can feel the way his chest rumbles with hidden laughter. "I have to know if I'm a cute teddy bear!"

"Yes Scar," Grian sighs fondly, pulling back to hold the man's face in his hands, "you're a very cute teddy bear." He accentuates his response with a kiss to Scar's nose, "Although Jellie is cuter."

Scar makes some kind of ecstatic noise, pulling Grian down into bed as he rolls onto his side. Grian squawks at the sudden action, just narrowly avoiding his wings getting squished. "But of course! No one is cuter than Jellie. You come in a close second place though."

If it were anyone but Jellie, Grian would have complained.

Instead, he snuggles in close to Scar, wrapping a wing around him as they fall into a comfortable silence. Scar's arms are secure around him, and Grian thinks he'd be fine with laying here all day, wrapped in his husband's arms.

"Remember Scar, only for a few hours."

"Right, right! Only a few hours. Or until this cuddle curse goes away!"

(They go well over 'a few hours' together. Grian's communicator pings a few times, but it sounds almost silent over the pair's easy breaths as they sleep.)

[misterbartender]

Mortal Kombat 11 x Dark! Caster Reader Intro Banter

(Gender Neutral)

The Reader in this scenario will be a Dark Caster (a dark witch/wizard/warlock/sorcerer/etc..) paired with Mortal Kombat 11 characters. Yes, retconned Sindel will be used here because I thought it would be better for this scenario.

Kombatants: Kano, Erron Black, Skarlet, Shang Tsung, Sindel, Johnny Cage, Cassie Cage, Noob Saibot/Bi-Han

Warnings: (Some suggestive themes) not proofread

KANO:

KANO: I intend to make a fortune by taking your head.

Y/N: And I intend to make you my slave.

KANO: (with a filthy, smug grin) Kinky.

-

Y/N: Like hell I would let you tear out my organs.

KANO: Oh there’s another way I can rearrange your guts, love.

Y/N: ...How big is that knife?

-

Y/N: So you are the head of The Black Dragon? How filthy.

KANO: And dangerous, love. You’d also make a fine Black Dragon.

Y/N: Hmm bet I can tame you then. (smirks)

ERRON BLACK:

ERRON BLACK: You casted a hell of a spell on me darlin’.

Y/N: And now you’re mine, cowboy.

ERRON BLACK: You’re wicked… I like that. (smirks)

-

Y/N: How much is on my head, Erron Black?

ERRON BLACK: Billions, and I won’t quit just ‘cause you have a pretty face.

Y/N: Glad we’re on the same page, pretty boy, I’ll make you plead for mercy.

-

ERRON BLACK: I could take you out for a ride ’round Outworld.

Y/N: I’m more interested in the “save a horse, ride a cowboy” deal.

ERRON BLACK: (tips hat with a smirk) Say no more sweetheart.

SKARLET:

SKARLET: So much power running through those veins.

Y/N: I could give you a taste, Skarlet.

SKARLET: And more?

-

Y/N: Join me, Skarlet, and I will teach you the secrets of Blood Magic that not even Shao Kahn knows.

SKARLET: You think I would betray Shao Kahn as one of his daughters?

Y/N: He has been holding you back, my dear.

-

Y/N: That hunger of yours can also be a weakness.

SKARLET: Blood has made me powerful. (narrows eyes)

Y/N: With my powers, you will feel hunger no more.

SHANG TSUNG:

SHANG TSUNG: Together with our powers, we could be ruling the realms.

Y/N: And how will I know you will not betray me?

SHANG TSUNG: Only a fool would do that to a beautiful creature like you.

-

Y/N: Are you here for my soul, Shang Tsung?

SHANG TSUNG: Only your heart, Y/N.

Y/N: It is black as the darkest of nights.

-

SHANG TSUNG: I could give you anything you desire.

Y/N: For what price?

SHANG TSUNG: You, by my side.

SINDEL:

SINDEL: The great Dark Caster.

Y/N: Beautiful as you are wicked.

SINDEL: Coming from you, that is the highest praise one could receive.

-

Y/N: You’re still with that oaf?

SINDEL: He is far greater than that weakling Jerrod.

Y/N: If I come back with his head, will that sway you?

-

Y/N: Well well, Empress Sindel (turns around and smiles)

SINDEL: Kneel. (smirks)

Y/N: I do not kneel. But I can provide other...services...if you wish, my lady.

JOHNNY CAGE:

JOHNNY CAGE: Are you the bad kind or the sexy kind?

Y/N: Both. (smirks)

JOHNNY CAGE: Woo! Well I’m in trouble.

-

JOHNNY CAGE: So uh... did you use a broomstick to get here?

Y/N: Cage, we do not all use brooms.

JOHNNY CAGE: Well if you need one, you can ride mine.

-

Y/N: That power you possess comes from a line of powerful warriors.

JOHNNY CAGE: Awesome-ness is in my blood.

Y/N: I’ll gladly take it from your hands you arrogant fool.

CASSANDRA CAGE:

CASSANDRA CAGE: So… are we playing Light as a feather, stiff as a board?

Y/N: (rolls eyes) Just like your father, living in your movies.

CASSANDRA CAGE: Maybe I should start calling you Nancy Downs

-

Y/N: So you’re the one that defeated Shinnok?

CASSANDRA CAGE: Impressed? Or scared that you’re next in line for an ass kicking?

Y/N: Oh but you stand before a beast far greater than Shinnok by many levels.

-

CASSANDRA CAGE: Come on, stop with the villain shit so we can go out.

Y/N: Negative, darling, wreak havoc with me.

CASSANDRA CAGE: Is that really all you do?

BI-HAN/NOOB SAIBOT:

BI-HAN: Come join us in the darkness.

Y/N: My time above is not yet over, Bi Han.

BI-HAN: We will conquer it together with our army of shadows.

-

Y/N: The dark is where I belong, in the end.

BI-HAN: The shadows yearn for your touch.

Y/N: The touch of death?

-

BI-HAN: There is only room for one force of darkness.

Y/N: Me. Now go home to your brother.

BI-HAN: You know nothing!

[manicpixiefelix]

head, heart, hand. {Felix Catton/Reader/Oliver Quick}

Part 10.

Summary: The last few days of the year at Oxford! Celebrations to be had, but also you contemplate what may come next for Oliver once the semester ends. Meanwhile, in a brief moment of downtime, you try and discuss Felix's weirdness from before exam season, but he can and will try and seduce you instead of having a real adult conversation. But unfortunately he may have had a point, because that real, adult conversation fucking sucks.

{ masterpost }

Need to Know: They/Them. Explicitly NB Reader. FWB!Reader/Felix. Reader is from a well off family but has pretty much been adopted by the Cattons.

Warnings: discussions of oliver's father dying, discussions of jealousy

A/N: 5623 words. wrote this directly after finishing ch 9. and then was like, what if i edited this. which means the ending of this chapter is COMPLETELY different to what it was originally, and is a bit of a downer. but we need conflict, you know? and sometimes its genuinely hard to have these adult conversations at like 21 years old. emotions and such. also there's a wizard hat. half edited then i completely rewrote the ending and that's absolutely unedited. how are we feeling about leaving oxford finally????

TAGLIST IN COMMENTS!! // TAGLIST ALWAYS OPEN ! (just message or comment to be added)

----

It's always a big deal when the first years finish all of their exams and get their final results. Or, well, the rest of the students make a big deal about it. You're not sure who started the tradition, or how long ago, but it's a tradition you hold dear to your heart nevertheless. The first year of university is nothing if not overwhelming, survival of it was to be celebrated.

Last year the cheering crowd of your more senior students had made you feel like you had conquered the world. This year, you were bursting at the seams with excitement to be able to share in the tradition from the other side, especially since there were several first years in particular you wanted to celebrate with.

Everything about the tradition seemed tailor made for your brand of joy. It's bright bits of costuming and ticker tape canons, balloons and medals for the undoubtably exhausted first years. Clustered together by the main doors of the examination school, you and your friends press yourselves against the barriers that had been put up to give all the first years enough space. Still, front and centre, many of you, yourself and Felix included, had been handed medallions to give to first years, while the rest were all still clutching each other and giggling with excitement, reminiscing about how loved you'd all felt at this time last year, seeing everyone cheering for all you'd accomplished.

For the past few days since your exams had finished, those in your group particularly committed to the bit, you and Felix among them, naturally, had been frequenting as many of the local charity and party shops in town. Each of you were desperately searching for delightfully garish garments and props to wear and share.

The moment Felix had spotted the sparkly, pink cowboy hat on a mannequin, paired with a violently lavender feather boa, he'd clung to them like his life depended on him owning them, hearts in his eyes, absolutely refusing to let them go. On the other hand, the sailor hat for Ollie was your idea; something more understated for a man more understated than either Felix or yourself. While Felix wanted to protest, wanted to give him something a little more flashy, you thankfully got him to compromise by allowing him to pick your accessories. Which is how you ended up with a hot pink, bedazzled 'Mother Of The Bride' sash.

And a blue, pointy wizard hat.

Anticipation grew in the gathered crowd, all chatter and smiles and giggling as you waited for the doors to open. In amongst the growing noise, you turn the medal over in your fingers, gazing at it with pride, excited to be able to be the one to give it to one of your closest friends. You still have your own from last year, usually pinned above your desk, but right now in a box ready to be taken back to Saltburn for the Summer.

The moment you all heard the tell-tale creak of those large, wooden doors, the cheering began, and you're glad to be pulled from your thoughts and back into the moment. It grew into a cacophony, a roar of joy and delight as the ticker tape canons went off and the first years streamed out in a river of excitement.

Farleigh's always cut a defined figure in any crowd he's in, considering his height, but you'd also given him the heads up to look out for the blue wizard hat to find you. At first you saw him scanning the crowd, but it takes him barely a second to find you. He lights up, eyes fixed on your stupid hat, and he breaks away from the pack at a full sprint. He doesn't even let you give him his medal at first, he's laughing at the top of his lungs, reaching all the way over the barrier to pull you into a hug, almost dragging you over the railing. There's nothing to be said, only a joy that has gone beyond words.

"You're a wizard!" He finally manages amid laughter as he lets you go, leaning back to hold you at arm's length, taking in your whole outfit, "and," his head tips in further confusion, "mother of the bride?"

"And you're a first year graduate," you grinned, "do you want your medal, or do you have more important follow up comments about my outfit?"

"I several have follow up comments but- oh my god," his eyes go wide and he suddenly seems a little breathless, like it's only just properly hit him "I finished a whole year," there's a genuine quality to his voice that's not often heard from Farleigh; still half laughing, but it's almost disbelieving, full of hope without any hint of irony, "not, like, just a week, or a semester; a whole year. A whole year at Oxford University." Lowering his head, he finally lets you put the medal on him.

For a long few moments he holds it out in front of him with pride and joy in his eyes; a precious, rare sight for you to behold. Then, very suddenly, he grabbed your face, bringing you close with this intense, shocked look in his eyes.

"I topped three of my Lit exams," he hissed with actual disbelief, almost making it sound like a scandal, "I took a hit before my Modernism final and spent nine pages arguing that Trainspotting was Allen Ginsberg's Howl for the postmodern audience. I don't even know if I believe that. How was that the best essay they saw?"

"Farleigh," you chuckled, "you might actually just be very good at this." You gave his cheek a fond pet, but after a moment, a hand reached over to tug at Farleigh's shoulder, breaking your stalemate.

"Congratulations, mate!" It's Felix, all smiles, unsurprisingly, "why've you got that look in your eyes?"

"He took one of his exams stoned and still topped the class," you grinned slyly, before your gaze fell on Oliver. As if sensing this, Farleigh slid over to give Felix a proper hug and congratulations, leaving space in front of you for Oliver to step in with a shy grin. You tug on his sailor hat with a fond smile and he turns even redder.

"Congratulations, Oliver Quick."

"Thank you," his gaze flicks up for a moment, stifling a giggle, "wizard."

Puffing out your chest as you mock-straightened your pink sash you hold your nose in the air.

"And what of it?" You put on a faux serious voice. Oliver has to duck his head to hide how much he's laughing at the bit. Once you let it go and deflate, you do then gesture for him to come close, wrapping your arms around him.

"Proud of you, Ollie," you murmur, giving him a tight squeeze.

"Don't know if I could have done it without you and Felix," he admits softly.

"Of course you could have," you assure him with warmth as the two of you begin to pull away. Oliver's eyes meet yours, blue and intense and that same familiar searching that you're so used to by now that it's something of a comfort. For just a moment, you want to reach out, to touch him, to hold onto his gentle expression and this moment in your own two hands. You wonder if he can see it in your eyes too, can see you repressing that urge.

"Wouldn't have been half as good," with the smallest of smiles, just edging on knowing, neither his expression nor his tone gives away enough for you to know exactly what he could be meaning or referring to, if anything beyond general companionship. So you play it off, you let anything you might be holding onto, anything that might be too much for such a public forum, pass.

"Of course," you say loudly, blithely, tucking your arm in Felix's beside you to get his attention, "we're wonderful company!"

"What's this?" Felix turns, eyebrows raised as he looks between yourself and an amused Oliver.

"Just saying that Oliver's year is better for having met us," you say simply, airily.

"Without a doubt!" Felix agrees without any kind of hesitation. Farleigh rolls his eyes, but is laughing as he calls both you and Felix incredibly vain.

As the excitement begins to die down and everyone begins to filter out, your group begins to meander towards the road that leads off campus, with yourself, Felix, and Oliver trailing behind.

"What's next? I mean, what's the plan now? I know there's a thing tomorrow, but -" Oliver's tentative again, quiet and meek again, acting like he's on the back foot again.

"Step one," Felix begins matter-of-factly, "pub; celebrate; get shitfaced." You see Oliver glance dubiously at your foot-high, velvet wizard hat once more. He's been doing it a lot. You can't lie, you've gotten very attached to your stupid look for the day and do plan to keep it all night.

"Even with that?"

"I'm gonna die in this hat I've decided," you say easily, to which both boys snicker at your assertiveness on the subject. But soon enough, Oliver raises another question.

"And- and tomorrow, that's the- I heard there was an end of year gala," he hesitates as you and Felix both automatically confirm. It did not seem to soothe any of Oliver's nerves and he finally brought up, "It's black tie; I have a black tie - bow tie, actually - but I don't really have anything else that'll match the theme -" he babbles awkwardly, looking all kinds of mousey and small with his head bent like that, hands fingers twisting together in anxious shapes. Both you and Felix are quiet, stuck in thought, and it takes you closing your eyes for a few seconds, trusting your arm in Felix's to keep you on the right path, before it hits you.

"Walters of Oxford," you open your eyes, "on Turl street, I think," you pause for a beat, reconsidering, "maybe double check that." Squinting for a moment, you try and recall, "ten minute walk, I think? Depending on your route, I guess. Not far is the point." But when you look over at your companions, both are frowning at you, something incredulous in their eyes. "To... hire a suit," you explain almost sheepishly under their respective gazes.

"How did you do that?" Oliver asks softly.

"Why did you know that?" Felix adds, bewildered.

"Isn't it handy to know the best place to get good suits and expert repairs done?" You shrugged a little helplessly. However, as you let your gaze drift, you find yourself recalling something India had said about you always needing to be a step ahead, to always have contingencies in place so Felix need not ever be inconvenienced for too long. Whatever; you push the thought and India's past negative tone from your mind, telling yourself it's good information to have anyhow.

"Anyways, I was also looking into good places for suit hires, in case the worst happened, and wouldn't you know it, Walters does that too."

"I'll- I guess I'll head there tomorrow morning," Oliver says awkwardly.

Felix drops your arm for a moment, wrapping his arm around Oliver's shoulders, bringing him in close.

"I look forward to see you in a suit, Ollie," there was no mistaking the flirty tone he was using, and from the glimpse of Ollie's face that you could see around him, he was turning red under Felix's praise, "handsome man like you all done up," he trailed off, ruffling Oliver's hair before he let go, cheeky smile on his face and bounce in his step. He has to be aware of Oliver's nervous, starry-eyed gaze locked upon him, but Felix just strikes up a conversation with you, enquiring if you would be going in a suit or a dress.

"I'm going in a wizard's hat." You declared.

"I love this bit; you aren't even drunk yet!" Everything you do is worth it if it means Felix will look at you like this, with delight shining in his eyes and in his words.

The night - what you can remember of it - is phenomenal. Benji calls you Archmage of the Bride and it's the only thing anyone refers to you as for the rest of the night, everyone else loudly correcting anyone who gets it wrong. Aside from that, everyone is babbling and bright and so enthusiastic about the gala the following night and what they'll be wearing.

Oliver is quiet, tucked in between you and Felix, nursing his pints longer than anyone else. Felix's arm is around him, as it always seemed to be, and as the night goes on, more and more you get the urge to tip your head and rest it against Oliver's for several long moments at a time.

But there's something different about tonight. Oliver doesn't reach out to you, even subtly. His thigh against yours is forced proximity, but his hands are always on his drink and his ankles are crossed beneath the table. Whenever he looks away, you start to notice that it's not at you; Felix seems to hold his attention more than anyone else, but on any other night, that wouldn't really surprise you. You want to ask what's wrong, but by the time you realise something is, you're not sure you're even capable of stringing two coherent words together.

You think back on what he'd said on the way to the pub, his voice small and nervous.

What's next?

You ponder as you leave the pub with several others in the group, thinking hard. Had he meant more than just the immediate? Your next was Saltburn, Oliver's next was... ah. Junkie mum and no dad.

Someone sticks a finger in your ear. Immediately you jump and clutch protectively at your hat -

"Fuck off 'm wizard!"

"I'm seeing if I can feel your thoughts, they look serious," Farleigh, somehow more sober than you, is still cackling. Your drunk mind doesn't like that he's laughing at you, even if it's an objectively funny situation, and you spend the rest of the short walk stomping and pouting, with Farleigh laughing and calling you ridiculous the entire time.

You awaken on the second last day of living on the Oxford University campus for your second year, with an absolutely killer headache. You don't remember getting back into your dorm, but apparently your drunken self was kind enough to steal an entire pitcher from the common area and fill it literally to the brim with water. Far less had spilled on your bed side table than you'd anticipated.

What you do remember, however, is the numerous thoughts you'd had about Oliver. Both last night, and over the past few weeks. As you take some painkillers and drink water out of the pitcher, you gaze across your room to few newspapers you've had sitting under a pile of textbooks since the second week of exams.

It's almost midday. Taking the papers, you pack yourself a bag of whatever you'd need to get ready for the gala on top of your little project, and pull your garment bag from your wardrobe. Swinging past the on-campus café, you pick up arguably too much food for you and Felix to share before the event, then heading to his dorm.

"Get fucked," Felix shouts through the door, muffled probably by his pillow, when you knock.

"Felix, open up!"

"No! What time is it?"

"Midday!"

"Fucking midday?!"

From behind you, one of the doors flies open and one of Felix's scowling dormmates spits for you to shut up or fuck off.

"Grow up or eat shit; it's the afternoon," you flip him off with a scowl. The door slams shut. Immediately you turn and kick Felix's door. When he opens it, he does not look happy. In return, you smile sweetly at him, thanking him with the most saccharine tone you can manage.

"Brought us food," you offer, as if trying to placate him, but instead Felix pointedly falls face first upon his bed, pulling his pillow over his head in defiance. Just glad to be finally let in, you potter around his room quietly, carefully avoiding his boxes of already packed belongings.

Putting all the food on the table, you start on some of it yourself as you keep working almost silently. You hang your garment bag up next to his, put your nice shoes by his door, put all your accessories and other things you needed to get read in their own, distinct pile on his dresser before you settle yourself in his desk chair, pulling out one of the newspapers and carefully going through it.

The Liverpool Echo.

Your eyes flick briefly over the articles, not really paying any of them much real attention, at least not until you got to the obituaries. These you scoured. Names and faces and dates and sweet words about caring, loving people who you neither knew nor cared for. No Quicks. Next paper.

It takes you quite some time; you're thorough and you'd gotten quite a few day's worth from around the time Oliver had found out the news about his father in case it had been reported earlier or perhaps a few days later. Prescot didn't have it's own newspaper, but the lady at the news agency you'd phoned to order them assured you that the Liverpool Echo was received by the people of Prescot too.

"Are you reading the paper?" Felix's voice actually makes you jump, having so engrossed yourself in your reading, forgetting he was still there. Looking at the clock, then at him, you see him still looking groggy, but more bemused than anything. Then, after a beat, he looks to the pile of ones you'd already gone through on the floor by your feet.

"Food's cold," you told him, going back to your reading.

"Why are you reading the paper?" Propping himself up, he begins to stretch and finally, properly wake up for the day.

"Been thinking about Ollie," you tell him with a distracted air, folding up the paper in your hands after a minute more of poring over it, adding it your growing pile despondently. Thankfully, instead of making a snide comment, Felix yawns, asking you what exactly you'd been thinking.

"I know he said he's fine, but his dad still passed," you said softly, gazing at the small stack you're still yet to read, but feeling no urge to pick any more up, "and he hasn't been home, and when he gets home, I don't know..." you sighed, sitting back and looking at the ceiling, a kind of ache in your heart that you hadn't expected, "I wanted to try and find his obituary, to see if anyone said any nice things about him, but I'm not having any luck."

"I don't think he was the kind of man who had obituaries written about him," Felix tells you with a kind of resignation, "but I get that it's one of our last days," he extrapolates, voicing your intentions as easily as if he could read your mind, "and you want to try and give him a nice moment, to show that people care about him, before we, you know, fuck off for a month and a half and leave him."

"Grim, when you put it like that," you hummed, "but yeah, essentially." Felix made a noise of sombre agreement.

Finally, however, he rose from his bed, slowly meandering over to the desk and picking through the food you'd brought. For a long few moments he idly flicks through the few papers you had left on his desk, carelessly shoving each over as he doesn't even open them.

"What about that rock thing my family does?" Mouth half full of a sandwich and leaving the papers alone, his curiosity over them apparently sated, Felix sits himself on the floor by his bed, knees drawn up to his chest as he contemplates, "doesn't have to be all that serious, can be just about saying goodbye and letting go. Closure and shit, you know?" He swallows, looking at you with bright eyes, as if waiting for you to validate his idea, "like we did with my dog when I was a kid."

"That's actually a very sweet idea; I think he'd love that coming from you," you slowly begin to smile as you turn the idea over in your mind. Felix, however, wears a look like he's almost confused, but you can't begin to imagine what until he opens his mouth -

"What do you mean 'coming from me'?" Despite his apparent vague distaste for your wording, you can't help but laugh, rolling your eyes.

"Ollie would love the idea of lighting a bag of shite on fire on his mother's doorstep if the suggestion came from you; I'm saying it's a lovely idea, and he's very fond of you, it'll mean a lot to him."

Quiet filters in with the sunlight. You watch Felix, Felix watches himself pick at his nails.

"Very fond of you too," it's completely and totally neutral. It's also a fucking loaded statement if you've ever heard one come out of Felix's mouth.

"Felix." When he hears the warning notes in your voice, you know he pretends not to.

Reaching over to his bedside table, the unnecessary arc of his arm has him catching the light, muscles lean and taught with his effort to not otherwise move. Heat of the day had already begun to infiltrate the room, but this angle and the light makes the beading sweat along his skin glow; he's always been able to take advantage of a hot day in a way you've never seen of anyone else. Felix, of course, knows exactly what he's doing. Felix learned long ago how to perform at the drop of a hat; no-one was better at objectifying him than he was if he wanted to, "don't do that," you mutter, knowing that even you weren't immune to the way he could manipulate people's eyes upon him.

"What?" It's too innocent to be anywhere near truthful. You see the edge of a smirk before it disappears behind a cigarette and his sudden, aloof façade.

"We haven't talked about what happened," you tried, you really did, "we swept it under the rug for Ollie's sake, and then we had exams, and we -"

Felix lights his lighter, head angled so he can look up at you through his lashes, so his hair falls and curls and turns gold in the flickers of the lighter's faint fire. For another second he holds your gaze, confusing and teasing all in one; like he adores you, but like it's a challenge. Then he moves again, poses again. One leg up, one leg stretched out in front of him, cigarette resting so lazily between the fingers of the hand that he rests on his thigh, plays a staccato beat with his fingers against his bare skin. Nudity was never taboo between you, so why were you losing your train of thought over Felix in his boxers, a sight you'd seen arguably a hundred times before.

Looking anywhere else on him doesn't do you any favours, the beautiful body you've marked and called yours - jealousy, right, that's -

But his head tips back, falling back against his bed as smoke rings rise from his lips and the column of his throat is caught by the light. When his tongue darts out to wet his lips, you catch only the briefest flash but he knows you can fill in the rest, knows you see the way his adam's apple bobs as he swallows.

"You know we need to talk, otherwise you wouldn't be doing this."

"Doing what?" He shifts, legs spreading a little wider, and when he looks at you, he's wearing that smile you've seem him turn on countless girls before, teasing, flirting, look in his eyes like he's getting high of of the very idea of you. Lips quirking into a cocky smile, he raises his cigarette to his lips, watching you with an almost lazy kind of arousal. Like every girl he's looked at like this knows they could get him in bed without even trying, without even knowing they were being seduced, "something wrong, love?"

And it's fucking working.

"Fuck, Fi," you have to close your eyes, putting your head in your hands. He laughs and it sounds like fucking syrup, all teasing and warmth, but you can't fucking do this right now; "are you trying to get me in bed just because you don't want to talk about the fact that you were obviously jealous of Oliver?"

This silence is far more bitter, as is Felix's tone when he finally speaks.

"What would I have to be jealous of?" Sounding like a man in denial.

"That Oliver is good to me without needing you as an audience," you push the heels of your palms against your eyes, words and thoughts escaping you that you didn't even realise you had. The next breath you takes shakes. Audibly. Felix clears his throat, but he doesn't seem to know what to say. Now that you've said it out loud, you can feel your face beginning to heat up, tears stinging your tightly closed eyes, the way you begin to tremble.

"I know," you start slowly, carefully thinking about your words this time as you say them, "that you love me, Fi," it's gentle, reassuring, but frustrated nonetheless, face still in your hands. But your breath still shakes as you try and keep it level, "so I think part of you is- is scared that if I find someone who could love me," even the thought of your next words sit bitter and heavy on your tongue, so you have to take a deep breath, try and centre yourself, "without you," you pause, swallowing hard, feeling traitorous tears escaping you, "that I might realise I prefer- prefer that, or something," here is where you start to break, where your voice cracks and you can't keep your hands against your eyes so all you can do is hang your head and hope he doesn't see your tears, "but you've spent all your time assuming, and pouting, and thinking badly of a good friend, and you haven't even asked me!"

Finally, Felix speaks, his voice weak; he sounds moments away from tears.

"I made you cry."

You hadn't even realised how far beyond Oliver this went, how tightly you'd been holding onto this, these thoughts and feelings, keeping them coiled in your chest, until just now. Hearing his words, your crying finally becomes audible, even to you, even if you hadn't meant it to. Today was meant to celebrate, not... this.

"I don't-" he voice catches in his throat, and you hear him sniffle softly, "I don't know if I can ask you that." He admits. Finally, when you look up, you see his expression carefully neutral, looking over his shoulder with both his knees drawn up to his chest. God he can't even look at you.

You know Felix Catton too well; he is terrified.

In the moments that follow, you slowly pull yourself together. You dry your eyes, and nod, while trying to school your expression into something lighter.

"Okay, Fi," you tell him, and try to make sure he knows you're being sincere, "it's, um," you sniffle as you try and smile, "it's a loaded question, I know."

When he bites his bottom lip as subtly as he can manage, you know its to try and keep it from wobbling. There's guilt written all over his face as he watches you move around his room. He doesn't get up, doesn't move, just watches and listens.

"I'm -" you take a deep breath, looking around the room and forcing a smile, "I think I'm going to get ready for tonight with Farleigh, is that alright?"

"Yeah, 'course," he says, as if on autopilot. After a beat, as you collect up your things, Felix finally looks around his room, at the boxes and the things you'd brought with you. Suits, matching and side by side in his closet, bought alongside a third in the set for Farleigh that you know he'd be wearing tonight too. You take it out, lay it over a taped-up box full of his books, ready to go, and finish collecting up your accessories.

"You should talk to Ollie," you tell him, double checking your bag, unsure of how you were managing to act like everything was suddenly okay. Felix nods, watching you once more, gaze a little glassy, far away and looking almost lost, almost guilty again. Part of you is desperate to stay, to comfort him. But as much as he may want it, it's not what he needs in this moment.

"Fi, are you listening to me?" You asked, firmer this time, and he seems to surface from whatever thought's he'd been stuck in, giving you a faraway smile as he nods; it's almost believable, "I know you care about Ollie," you say warmly but firmly, "please talk to him," wetting your lips, you deliberate on your way to the door, picking up your garment bag, "be good to him; Ollie's the only audience that matters there."

"Does this change..." Felix is looking at the floor when you finally make it to his door, "us?"

"Are you still jealous of Ollie?" You try to make it sound joking, since you were pretty sure of the answer, though Felix shakes his head with a frown.

"No, 'course not," he mutters, almost as if to himself, but he doesn't seem to have finished his thoughts on the matter, so you give him a moment; "I've been an asshole, haven't I?" He finally mutters looking out across his room, "a right asshole to someone who's only ever tried to be a bloody good friend to me."

"You kind of have," you agreed easily, and Felix finally looks at you again, the slightest furrow in his brow. There's nothing particularly, prominently beautiful or posed about Felix in this moment; he'd dropped the pretense long ago.

Looking at him now, looking up at you with those helpless eyes, all folded up and far smaller than he usually appeared, all you can remember is the kid afraid of scary movies and his sister's Goosebumps books, who'd stayed up late with you when you'd cried your eyes out in your first year of Secondary school when your parents missed your birthday again, who never let you forget how much he loved you, even for a moment, since you'd met. Your best friend. Always.

"I wish you'd just trust how much I love you too, Fi," voice and expression softening. Slowly, Felix stands, makes his way over to you, wrapping you up in a hug.

"I do, and I will better next time," he mumbles faintly, apologetically, "'m sorry."

There's something melancholy about still parting ways, even after his apology, but both of you seem to know that it's for the best.

Farleigh is glad for your company, and you do a good enough job of appearing alright that he doesn't seem to pick up on the strange mood you can't otherwise shake. Still, you're quiet, Farleigh talking enough for the both of you in between a range of CD mixtapes he'd put together for his own enjoyment.

On your way into the gala itself, you're ahead of Farleigh by a few paces, eager to get in and get yourself a drink, but you brush past Oliver, waiting, looking, as always, out of place. When you tell him he looks lovely, you can't bring yourself to meet his eyes, and barely stay, while you hear Farleigh, behind you, taking his time with antagonising your poor friend.

Felix is leaving the event as you're arriving. He almost crashes into you, bottle of champagne clearly stolen from one of the tables, in one hand as he's running from the venue.

"Hey, hi," despite both your best efforts, there is still clearly some discomfort in the air between you. Felix's eyes roam over you, almost out of habit, but there's an appreciative look in his eyes as he meets your gaze once more, "I think, I, uh, I'm going to skip this one and hang out with Ollie," almost like he's trying to invite you. But after everything, this can't be something you do; this isn't your tradition, this isn't your moment to share with Oliver. He'll never get it.

He's Felix Catton; he's the sun.

"He's going to enjoy that so much more than hanging around here," you smile brightly. Felix looks a little surprised, a little put out that you had apparently not picked up on his offer, or that you had and had decided to decline.

"Yeah, I- I thought so," he almost seems a little stunned by how cold this interaction was between you, compared to the usual, boisterous comradery you shared.

"Have a good night, Fi," finally, you kiss his cheek and slip into the entrance hall of the gala building, weaving through beautifully dressed students to find your gaggle of friends for the night. Throughout the night, you get asked where Felix is, and you shrug with a blithe smile every time.

My Felix <3: i invited ollie to spend summer with us

Tomorrow you would be okay.

Tonight, however, you planned to dance with your friends, drink enough that you either stop feeling so weird in your damn brain, or feel perhaps even worse, and probably end up crying.

Tomorrow everything would be okay again.

[impsandstars]

Ficlet: Cookies

Stolas stared at Blitz’s door for what felt like ages. There had been a few other residents who walked by as he awkwardly stood there and although they gave him an odd look (he had to crouch to not bump his head on the ceiling) they simply shrugged and continued on.

It wasn’t that he didn’t want to knock (he always wanted to see Blitz), but he was…apprehensive. He was doing something he had never done before and that small voice in the back of his mind that he had been working on silencing was making him doubt. He knew Blitz would be nothing but supportive and caring but…what if this time was different?

His hands tightened around the soft tulle of the delicately wrapped bag and he looked down.

He had made cookies.

Not just any cookies, but horse shaped sugar cookies.

It was the first time he had ever baked and with Via's help (both with the baking and the decorating) they hadn’t turned out half bad. Well not half bad for a first try…

Stolas had wanted to make them for Blitz because he could. Because he liked the idea of doing something unexpected and getting Blitz to smile at him. A soft smile, one that assured him that he was enough, that he made Blitz just as happy as the imp made him.

He huffed and took a step back.

He couldn’t do this. Not face to face.

With his heart pounding he dropped the cookies onto the floor right in front of the door and knocked gently.

He heard movement from the other side and quickly portaled himself back to his bedroom.

Taking out his phone he opened up the messaging app and found Blitz.

Hello dear! Just wanted to let you know I left you a treat outside your door. They are cookies, in the shape of horses! I found the cutter rummaging through some old boxes and knew I had to make them for you! It was my first time baking so if you don’t want to eat them you don’t have to. I also added some walnuts for texture but they got a bit burnt. We tried a few and it didn’t seem to mess with the flavor! Most of them are lopsided though and the frosting got a bit messy on some of them…You know what they probably aren’t any good. I’m sorry for bringing them over. You can just throw then away or give them to a neighbor. Don’t worry about it at all!

Stolas hit send and sat heavily on the couch in his room, smacking his forehead lightly with how ridiculous he was being. Why would Blitz want cookies from him? Horribly misshaped monstrosities. He will probably hate them for that alone, destroying one of favorite animals with his attempts at decoration.

His placed his phone on his nightstand and made his way to the greenhouse to focus on something else.

—o—

A few hours later Stolas walked back into his room, clothes covered in soil and water stains, feeling a bit better.

He was about to make his way over to take a bath when he heard his text alert.

A chill ran down his spine but he found himself moving to pick it up.

There were 6 messages. All from Blitz.

Taking a breath he opened his phone and went back to the first few texts, time stamped about an hour ago.

Im sure ther fine Stols. getin grosherries tho. Looney got tem

I hav named tem all

looney ate 4, i hav had 7

The last three messages were images. The first one was all the horses placed onto a large piece of paper. Written next to each horse in Blitz's handwriting was a name and a little blurb about them. Stolas zoomed in and read all of them, chuckling at some of the ridiculous names. What in hell's name was a dilf?

The next picture was one of Loona biting into a cookie while flipping off the camera. He smiled wide at that too.

The last text Blitz had sent just a moment ago and seeing it made Stolas's heart go all aflutter. On the paper, beneath two cookies, Blitz had drawn a tail and horns on one and a top hat and tail feathers on the other. He had moved the horses close so it looked like they were kissing and had drawn hearts around them.

His phone pinged and a new message appeared: look ther in love

He checks ached with how wide he was smiling and he held the phone to his chest. Oh Blitzy…for someone who has scoffed at romance you sure know how to make me swoon.

Stolas was about to reply back when another message popped up.

we have eten all the kookees. They wer good

Stolas felt his cheeks warm and he smiled softly.

I’m so glad you both liked them! Maybe next time you can come over and we can make them together. ;)

iz a date

Stolas hooted happily and began to search up all the different things they could bake together, wondering idly if he should invite Via and Loona too.

[twisted-wonderland-shenanigans]

Twisted Monsterland: Sleepy Birds

So…let’s talk harpies.

Without going into details about the overall species (I’ll save that for the baby monster bestiary I’m working on), I will say that harpies can be based on all species of birds. Falcons, eagles, and vultures? Sure, they’re more commonly known as the base foundation for the species, but they’re not the only ones! Crowley is a good example as a corvid harpy, and some of Rook’s siblings are based on birds of paradise like parrots and macaws! Some can even be based on delicate birds like the hummingbird~

Oof…just thinking about having to flap my arms that fast as a harpy makes me tired! 0.0

Now, you’re probably wondering, “That’s neat! But…where are you going with this?” And that’s a good question! Because we’re gonna talk about birbs~!

I’ve never owned a bird as a pet before, but my grandparents had one when we used to visit in my childhood. One thing I learned about birds (aside from the fact that we had to clap whenever their bird performed a trick on her own and someone saw it) is that one common thing bird owners do to calm down their feathery companions:

The “sleepy-time blanket”!

When the blanket goes over the cage, it’s supposed to mimic night time so the bird thinks it’s time to sleep. And when the cover is removed? It’s time to sing good morning~! Granted, it seems like this varies from bird-to-bird, but considering how often I’ve struggled to stay awake in school whenever the teachers used powerpoint slides in a dark room? Yeah, I get very sleepy in those cases. 😅

Now…imagine if Yuu discovered this by complete accident in the Monster!AU. >v>

////

Yuu: *hanging laundry out to dry on a bright, sunny day* “Hey, Grim? I need another clothes peg. The middle is sagging too much.”

Grim: “Yeah, yeah, here.” *flaps wings to hover next to Yuu, holding a bag in his paws* “Are we done yet? I’m bored…”

Yuu: “We’d be done sooner if someone hadn’t taken one of the bedsheets while the ghosts were collecting laundry and added one more load to wash and dry.” *unaware of a large shadow on the other side of the sheet, Yuu frowning as they go to take the sheet down and redo the arrangement*

???: “Bonjour, little Trickster~!”

Yuu/Grim: “Ack-!?!”

Crash!! Fwomp!

Grim: *pinned under Yuu* “Get…off! You’re heavy!”

Yuu: “Ow…sorry!” *climbs to their feet with a wince before turning to face the visitor now covered under the sheet* “Rook! You scared us half-to-death!”

*Rook doesn’t move, eerily silent as he stands there*

Grim: “Hm? Hey, wazza matter? You usually start talkin’ funny by now!” *huffs when he doesn’t get a response and goes to peek under the sheet* “Hey! Are you listenin’ to m…eh? Wait a minute…he’s asleep!?"

Yuu: “Huh??”

Grim: “He fell asleep standing! See?!” *yanks off blanket, pulling off Rook’s hat at the same time*

Rook: *straightens up with a blink, fluttering his wings before feathers settle down and he smiles* “Oh, there you are, Trickster. How are you faring this morning?”

Grim: “Mrah!? I thought you were asleep! What gives?”

Rook: “Hm? I was asleep? I don’t recall…”

Grim: “Yes you were! You were practically snorin’!”

Yuu: *picks up the sheet again, looking between it and Rook before slowly climbing back on the stepladder near Rook*

Rook: “Non, non, I promise you that I did not fall aslee-”

Yuu: *throws sheet over Rook’s head again*

Rook: “Mon di-!?” *freezes before slumping, standing in place in silence again*

Yuu: “…holy crap…I wonder if this’ll work on Ace or Cater?”

Grim: “What’s going on?!”

////

Needless to say, Rook was thoroughly confused by this until Yuu told him what happened. This also leads to a discussion on harpy parents using their wings to settle down rowdy chicks and restless hatchlings. Suffice to say, Yuu decided to run their own experiment on their fellow winged students. The results were…interesting to say the least.

Ace: Froze in place but was wide awake.

Cater: Fell asleep but collapsed on his side.

Leona: Blanket was torn to shreds from manticore quills. Hiding out in Diasomnia until he cools down.

Kalim: Normal blanket activates the zoomies. Introduced weighted blanket. Instant calm and Jamil is left baffled and grateful at the same time by this discovery!

Crowley: Fell asleep instantly. Sheets have been weaponized by the staff on occasion, so now he flies away at the sight of anyone carrying one towards him.

Seeing these results makes Yuu question what other animal reactions the students can possibly have. Meanwhile, their fellow students are warily watching the human scribble down notes in a notepad while carrying a jar of peanut butter.

Jack: “…why do you need me to be in beast form?”

Yuu: “I wanted to see something.”

Jack: “Okay…but what’s with the peanut butter?”

Yuu: “This? It’s just a tasty snack.” *opens it and scoops out a large spoonful* “See? Just regular peanut butter.”

Jack: “…alright.” *shifts into Fu dog form, nearly eye-to-eye with Yuu now* “Okay. What did you want to se—mfph!?!” *scrambles back after Yuu shoves the spoonful of peanut butter in his mouth, licking and trying to chew at the same time* “Blamph! Namf-nif-thaths?!”

Yuu: *scribbling notes* “Fu dogs react to peanut butter like dogs. Fascinating…I wonder if catnip affects manticore too?”

Ruggie: “Do you have some sort of death wish???”

[she-posts-nerdy-stuff]

It’s gone midnight and I’m thinking about Six of Crows so y’all know what that means: it’s time for a long rambling thought process that will hopefully have some interesting insights into the books in it.

I want to talk about the animal, mostly bird, symbolism of these books because although it’s obviously something we’re very aware of I also think it’s something that runs a lot deeper than we necessarily always realise/talk about. Even when people aren’t being directly involved in bird metaphors (crows, pigeons, peacocks) they are often described as “squawking”, “flapping”, or with other phrases that further this semantic field.

Now the crows is obviously the main source of the symbolism, and it’s openly talked about in the book with the speech on how the recognise human faces and how they support each other. I’ve also seen a few people online talking about the Crows in conjunction with a poem/nursery rhyme about crows (it’s one of those that has many different versions spun of it, some know it was counting magpies rather than crows) wherein 6 crows symbolises gold, of course greatly linked to the plot of the novels as well as their anti-extreme capitalism message. It’s also key to mention that crows are massively underestimated birds in the general public view; they’re far ‘smarter’ animals than we would typically expect. Crows have a very high brain to body mass ratio, I believe the highest of any birds but don’t quote me on that, and although we understand very little about the brain the size ratio is currently considered a very good indicator for the general intelligence level of the animal. Crows can make tools, hide their food, mate for life, and - VERY interestingly for this book analysis - have even been suspected to hold funerals. Now I want to be clear I’m working on a mix of random knowledge and the first helpful looking website that came up when I googled ‘fun facts about crows’ so I am by no means an expert here, but to my understanding the practice that was initially considered to be a ‘crow funeral’ is actually a process wherein crows will gather around a dead crow to look for potential danger. So I feel like the links I’m establishing here are relatively obvious, the point is that, like the birds themselves, the Crows are undervalued, underestimated, and unexpectedly successful. But the symbol of the crow in these books arguably goes even further.

The crow-headed handle of Kaz’s cane represents everything about the crow I’ve already mentioned on top of his own symbolic layering to the cane as a sign that no part of him has not been broken, and no part him is not better for having been broken. So in Chapter 27 of Crooked Kingdom, when Kaz returns to the Slat and fights the Dregs before leading a coup against Per Haskell, the cane with the fake crow’s head that Haskell has contrived to mock him effectively represents the failing of everything the Dregs represent. They’re last, the remnants, the people with nowhere else to go: they are the people who have been broken and have made something new for themselves. Except Haskell. So the sheer ridiculousness of him mocking Kaz’s cane, something he clearly thought would win him favour and success, in the end becomes one of the biggest aspects of his downfall. Inej describes the moment when the Dregs begin to support Kaz, the way the look at Per Haskell with discomfort - “the feathers in his hat, the canes in his hands” (and then she goes on to highlight how they’ve seen Kaz use his cane in fights, “wielded with such precision”, whereas Haskell is washed-up, pathetic, never could have taken the fight Kaz did and walked out the other side). Of course they realise, then, how completely and utterly wrong all of this was. Because when they’re confronted with both of those canes they realise something. They know what Kaz’s cane represents; it’s power and strength in spite of a world that has that has scorned him, it’s taking something that was broken and not fixing it but emphasising it and making it into a threat, into a symbol, into a strength. They know that, even though they don’t know what happens in Kaz’s head, because they see themselves in that. The Dregs; the literal bottom of the Barrel, who have been broken and who have clawed their way to survival. They cannot see themselves in Haskell’s mockery cane. Haskell is not a man who reflects what the Dregs are at their core, but Kaz is. The emphasis on the feathers is also really interesting, because I think it’s implying a sort of gaudy, colourful feathering that (despite fitting in with the style of the Barrel) does not represent the symbol of the crow; it is not something shadowed, something half hidden that could have an unexpected bite. It’s almost more akin to Heleen’s gaudy peacock feathers than it is to anything the Dregs understand, or represent through being Crows.

The pigeons I don’t really see anyone talking about, but I think it’s pretty interesting. The idea of ‘the pigeon’ is the same as ‘the mark’; they’re the victim, the fool who’s easy to swindle. I think the imagery of the fools being pigeons, ie being everywhere and massively populating big cities, is really clever to show a divide between the few, the Crows, and the many, the pigeons. However, it’s not only the Crows who remark on others being ‘pigeons’, but other gangs as well. When Kaz confronts Pekka about the scam he ran on him and Jordie, he says “you were just two pigeons, and I happened to be the one who plucked you”. I’m not gonna lie to you guys I’m losing my point slightly, but I just googled ‘crows and pigeons’ and the first thing that came up was about how crows sometimes eat pigeons so I reckon that’s pretty relevant.

Ok I’m really tired and I feel like I’m clutching at straws here, so I dunno I guess if this does well then I’ll cover peacocks, lions, and the general semantic field of birds in another post. I hope at least some of this made sense, thanks for reading it if you bothered to get this far

[thislovintime]

Photo 1 by Henry Diltz, photos 2 & 3 by Micky Dolenz (in screenshots from footage of his tour, Micky Dolenz Celebrates The Monkees).

Bringing back an article transcribed in 2023, since it ties in with the theme of these photos.

“Dolenz chewed a jaw-breaker and snapped pictures of Peter. Jones sat nearby and munched his lunch. Tork said he believes in doing anything ‘as long as you’re totally committed to what you’re doing.’ Is Peter committed to starring in a television series, making hit rock ‘n’ roll records and living in Hollywood? ‘Sometimes,’ he said, ‘but I’ve got my best men working on it.’ Peter gets up and goes to the diving board. He clowns a while, starting to dive, then stopping suddenly at the end of the board. Teen-age girls at the side of the pool cry out, ‘Oh, Peter.’ Finally, Peter dives. The girls applaud and sigh. He comes back to the side of the pool and digs his hand into a box with the words ‘Peace’ and ‘Love’ painted on the side. The box, called a ‘Super Survival Kit,’ is filled with things Monkees are fond of, like Plasticman and Tarzan comics, a bushy-headed figure with a sign that says ‘Stamp Out Haircuts’ and a feathered hat. Tork, resting up beside the pool, commented, ‘It’s not hard work.’ He added that he spends what little free time he has ‘balancing my checkbook.’ ‘
We’ve been accused of copying the Beatles,’ said Peter, ‘but we’re picking up on the same things.’ Referring to the Beatles’ new hit ‘Baby You’re A Rich Man,’ he said that it means anyone can make it big. Did he think two years ago when he was a folk-singer in New York City’s Greenwich Village that he would make the big-time in the pop music field or television? ‘Sure, although I didn’t believe it as firmly as I do now. Now I’m a believer,’ Peter said with a grin. One of the Monkees biggest hits was ‘I’m a Believer.’ Other hits have been ‘Last Train to Clarksville,’ ‘Stepping Stone’ and the currently popular ‘Words.’ A cha-cha came blaring over the loudspeaker at poolside. Peter glanced up. ‘That’s obscene,’ he remarked. A young girl in a blue bathing suit nervously stepped forward requesting an autograph. Peter signed: ‘Love, Peter Tork’ and drew a flower. ‘I dig flowers,’ he said. ‘I always put a flower after my autograph, because it’s more gentle that way. But that doesn’t make me a flower child or a hippie. No one can call himself a flower child. ‘I also wear beads all the time now, any beads, colorful beads,’ said Peter, who attended Carleton College in Northfield, Minn., from 1959 to 1963. Then he settled back in the deck chair to read a ‘Peanuts’ book — out loud.” - article by James Beaumont, The Des Moines Register, August 7, 1967 (x)

[wackysach]

Can we get some dhmis main trio headcanons from you? 🎤

*taps microphone gently* you may.

doi 🌻: - heart of the group. sensitive to others' emotions and empathic to the core. he may not have the right words to express what he's thinking, but know whatever he's feeling, he's feeling very deeply. - certified pasta fiend. the others have learned to stop asking him what he wants for dinner because chances are the answer will be spaghetti. every. time. (though if there were already plans to make it, redd will end up asking him anyway so they can pretend like he got to decide what the household ate for the night. he ends up happy, everyone smiles and nods. it's a win-win.) - always seems to be lost in his own little world; drawing, humming, daydreaming, etc. don't mistake this for him not listening though, because if you do, you might end up hearing him parakeet something you didn't exactly want him to hear... - his name isn't "doi." in fact, no one actually knows what it's supposed to be. when sketch first opened his file and looked under the name section, they couldn't make out what was a letter from a number, or if roy's handwriting was just that bad. thus they resorted to using the only three consecutive letters they could make out: "D-O-I." but he doesn't mind. he likes it !

duck 🦆: - a grumpy, old soul who still carries around the belief that he should be the one in charge because he's the oldest of the three, so obviously that means he's also the wisest. duh, shouldn't you know that by know, stupid ? aren't you stupid... - has taken on the onus of decorating the house with various old knickknacks and hunting paraphernalia. if there's any way to get on his good side, ask him about history. just be sure to grab a chair while you're at it, you'll be stuck listening for an hour (or two). - yes, the feathers get everywhere. no, he's not embarrassed about it. deal with it. - owns an extensive tie collection. all of them coming in different colors, patterns, and textures. he's not exactly fond of them being touched (and despite the massive number of them, he very much knows when one has gone missing), but on the rare occasions he's feeling generous, he'll allow redd to take one to work so long as he comes back to report how many compliments he got on it.

redd 🧣: - considerably less emotive and more reserved than the other two, but definitely not emotionless. redd has a lot of complex feelings about the situation he's in, yet doesn't know when or how to get them out... or who or what might be watching him when he does. - sort of a sickly fellow. anemia, anxiety, and insomnia keeping him on a constant mental and physical edge, mixed with a pesky smoking habit doesn't really make him the healthiest guy around. but he swears he's going to quit one of these days. he will ! yeah... eventually. - does not like owls. thinks they're creepy. the way they swivel their heads around to make sure you're in full view of their large, bulbous eyes and sound like they're repeating "who ? who ? who ?" over and over again. who what ? he doesn't know. stop asking him questions. it's freaking him out. - while the eyes on his hat do move, if you mention something about it, he'll act like he doesn't know what you're talking about.

[quess-art]

Character Designs for Twisted Wonderland's version of Esméralda (Esme) and Quasimodo (Celes), characters that will feature in her Glorious Masquerade fic.

Commission for @thelazyhermits! Thanks for commissioning me ❤️

☕ Kofi Commissions (Limited Spots Open) ☕

Both designs were created with Haze's descriptions and backstories for her characters.

Design Notes for Esme

Jewels and trinkets galore! It catches the light beautifully when he dances

But his accessories are a mix of real and imitation jewels and gold. He's no Kalim lol

He wears bright and mature colours on top of a puffy shirt he keeps unopened. It's mostly because it gets HOT with a ton of people dancing around you and torches everywhere (as lighting and entertainment)

He's been called a pirate before because of his fashion choices (boy, I wonder from who lol)

His short gloves are for fashion and to protect his fingers from the cold because woodworking will fuck up your cuticles and skin

The gold chains on his hair are attached from the feather accessory to a jeweled clip on the back and then to another gold clip on the left side of his head

Overall, his design gives confidence and freedom with a dash of mischievousness and wit

Design Notes for Celes

I based the burn scars on myself and some of my good friends. Also, research on too many tabs that made my laptop die on me lol

Her left eye can't open fully due to the accident and the skin around that side especially is tighter and more sensitive

She wears light, breathable clothing and compression garments for comfort and due to some bad experiences with others (ie. orange tights, black glove, white sleeves)

The lining on her hat is the same off-white colour as her shirt and compression sleeves

Her dress shape is like that of a bell. It goes a little past her knees like a Japanese lolita fashion dress. There is a soft petticoat inside

Overall, there are elements of catholic school clothing styles and more modern feminine fashion

+Close-ups of faces!

[tickly-giggles]

Watch Your Back (My Hero Academia)

A/N: This is a sequel to Feather Ticklish, so I highly recommend reading that before this :D Also, this does get kinda angsty at the end, but I promise it's a fun read and there's no warnings aside from the mention of cigarettes :>

Warning: Tickle fic ahead!

Characters: Dabi, Hawks

Shipping: Technically DabiHawks but they're still not together yet

Lee: Hawks

Ler: Dabi

Word Count: 3,093

Summary: It's been a few weeks since Dabi warned Hawks to watch his back, but nothing has come of it. Hawks decides to go about his work without worrying about it too much (spoiler: he worries a lot) and, during a private outing to the hideout late at night, he runs into Dabi.

--------------------------------

Weeks had gone by like normal with no signs of hostility from Dabi aside from his usual snarky attitude. He didn’t want to admit it, but Hawks was on edge, and only grew more so as time dragged on. 

“Watch your back, birdie.”

He shivered at the unpleasant memory. Hawks may have only tickled him, but Dabi was a villain. Did he really expect him to solve this amicably? 

"I'd be lucky if all he did was burn me," 

he muttered to himself as he sifted through a cardboard box he had found behind the bar counter of the hideout.

He had joined the League to gather intel, so that was what he was going to do. Or, at least, it's what he tried to do. He couldn't get what Dabi said out of his mind, and the fact that he never made any move or gave any indication of revenge only worried him further.

With a frustrated grunt, he shook the thoughts out of his head and continued to search through the box. There wasn't much worth noting. It was mostly filled with junk, aside from some polaroids. Hawks couldn't help the small smile that tugged at his lips. 

The League of Villains looked like anything but. One photo depicted Toga and Twice holding hands and dancing together. Another had what looked to be Shigaraki shoving at the camera. Judging by each villain's personalities so far, Hawks figured Toga was the one to take the picture. 

The last polaroid showed all of them. The camera must have been set on a timer, because they were all positioned together in a group.

Toga and Twice looked happy as can be, Toga sticking her tongue out and winking with Twice ruffling her hair and giving the camera a thumbs up.

Mr. Compress did his best to look formal with a bow and a tip of his hat, but it was easy to tell he definitely didn't mind the camera. 

Spinner was the opposite. He tried to look like he wasn't interested by turning away from the camera, but his overall demeanor was that of childlike excitement.

Shigaraki did not prefer to be on camera, and it was obvious in his reluctant pose. He had one hand stuffed in his hoodie pocket, and the other scratching at his cheek absentmindedly while he stared off to the side.

Then there was Dabi, apathetic as usual. He stared into the camera, thumbs stuffed in his pants pockets, and his face void of emotion. Hawks furrowed his brow, as if trying to decipher what Dabi was thinking at the time of the photo.

"The hell are you doing?" 

Hawks squawked and fumbled the polaroids, haphazardly shoving them back into the box. He whipped around to see Dabi standing there, eying him curiously. He leaned to the left to peer at what Hawks was looking at.

"Where'd you find that?" he asked, his tone indiscernible.

"I- uh- I- it.."

Hawks swallowed and collected his thoughts,

"It was behind the bar. I was just curious."

A moment of awkward tension passed before he handed the box to Dabi,

"Sorry, I didn't mean to snoop."

"Yes you did,"

Dabi smirked as he took the box from him,

"You wouldn't have gone through it otherwise."

“Ah,”

Hawks rubbed the back of his head with a nervous chuckle,

“Ya got me. Um, what’re you doin’ up so late, anyway?”

“I could ask you the same question, birdie.”

Dabi set the box on the counter and stared intensely into the hero’s eyes. Hawks stared back, not daring to blink.

“Couldn’t sleep, I guess,” he breathed.

“So, naturally, your first thought was to come here,”

The hot headed villain took a step toward Hawks, 

"Why dont'cha tell me why you're really here?"

The number two hero didn’t back down. If there was anything he learned from being a pro for so long, it was to never show fear. He swallowed the lump in his throat and slowed his heart rate as he tried to think of an answer. 

When he couldn’t think of any substantial excuse, he simply shrugged and laughed airily, 

“I was curious about everyone’s lives. We hang out a lot, but it’s mostly for meetings and all. I wanna get to know everyone a little better.”

“And what better way to do that than snooping through our stuff~?”

Hawks’ relaxed smile faltered at Dabi’s tone. He watched him as he got ever closer, practically pinning him up against the bar. The air in the room felt quite warm all of a sudden, and there was a tightness in Hawks’ chest that he couldn’t relieve. He wanted to avert his gaze, but he knew doing that would practically be admitting defeat. Instead, he continued to stare into Dabi’s harsh, ice blue eyes.

“Well?” Dabi breathed,

“Are you gonna be honest with me, or am I gonna have to- GAHAH!”

The pro hero watched Dabi clutch his midriff and stumble backward. He didn’t really mean to squeeze his side, it was just the first thing that came to mind! He was trapped, he had no other choice. It was a survival instinct.

Suddenly, Dabi's intense glare pierced through Hawks, and he quickly realized that he was probably better off dead.

Hawks’ fight or flight response kicked in. Being as quick as he was, he was relying on his skills to get out of the hideout faster than Dabi could blink. Sadly, that didn’t end up being the case. Dabi tackled him as soon as he made to run, and the hero grunted as he fell face first into the floor. The villain grinned and sat on Hawks’ lower back. After a small struggle, he was able to pin his wings underneath his feet, effectively rendering him immobile.

“Guh! L-Lemme up!” Hawks growled, squirming fruitlessly.

“I warned you, feather brain. I can’t believe you had the balls to do that again,”

Dabi chuckled coldly,

“I’d be impressed if I wasn’t so pissed off.”

Hawks desperately tried to flap his wings, but to no avail. He foolishly tried turning his head around to at least see Dabi, but was met with nothing but pain in his neck.

“So what’re you gonna do?”

He snapped at the villain,

“Kill me?”

“I told you to watch your back, didn’t I? Not doing such a good job at that right now,”

Dabi’s tone was pondering as he scanned the hero beneath him,

“I wonder…”

Silence filled the room, and the tightness in Hawks’ chest returned. What was Dabi going to do to him? Fully expecting the worst, he clenched his fists and readied his body for whatever amount of pain he was about to endure.

And then…

“GAAHAHAHAHAHA WHATTHEFUHUHUCK!”

Dabi cackled at the reaction. He skittered and scribbled his fingers along Hawks’ back, greedily drinking in the desperation of his victim’s thrashing.

“What’sa matter, birdie? Your back a little sensitive~?”

“WHAHAHAHAT ARE YOU DOHOHOHOING?!”

“What’s it look like, you moron?"

Hawks wriggled and squirmed helplessly, the tickles feeling even more intense because he couldn’t arch or turn his back away from them. He was completely trapped, entirely at the mercy of a member of the League of Villains. Even his wings were unable to flap properly due to Dabi putting most of his weight on them, not to mention the odd angle he was at. Being so vulnerable only increased Hawks’ sensitivity, and his face erupted in red.

“OKAHAHA- HAHAHAHA!! OKAY YOHOHOU GOT YOUR REHEHEHEVENGE! Y-YOHOHOU CAN STOP NOHOHOHOW! GAHAHAHA!!”

Dabi smirked at the mess of a hero beneath him. His thumbs and forefingers nipped at his shoulder blades with intense accuracy while the rest of his fingers scribbled along the sides of them,

“I’m just gettin’ started. You tortured me, so I’m gonna get you back twice as bad. You shouldn’t have messed with me, Hawks.”

“STAHAHAHAHAP! I-IHIHIHIT TIHIHIHICKLES!”

Dabi jolted and he grumbled as he dug into the hero’s back with even more force, relishing the delightful shriek he ripped out of him,

“Just shut up and take it, bird brain.”

Hawks slammed his fist against the floor in ticklish frustration. He couldn’t even remember the last time he was tickled. He didn’t get much attention, if any, when he was a kid. The pro heroes dedicated their lives to work and keeping the public safe; there was rarely time to kick back and relax with each other. 

He remembered poking at Endeavor once or twice, but he never showed any desire to get him back. Jeanist tended to lean on the serious side, but he had a playful bone in his body. If Hawks tried to mess with him, there was a chance he would fight back. Mirko was probably the only pro he could mess with and expect revenge from, but he never had the chance to try.

It tickled so bad. The way Dabi’s fingers vibrated against every inch of Hawks’ back, especially around his shoulder blades where he elicited the most extreme reactions, was torture. His touch was so precise, it was like he knew just what to do to drive him crazy. There was no chance to get used to any one feeling either, considering the villain would switch up his tactics every few seconds. Whether it be the amount of pressure he used, the way he moved his fingers, or the spot he tickled, every new moment provided a fresh combination to drive Hawks completely insane.

And yet, despite the fact that the number two hero had tears of mirth streaming down his bright red face, and his throat felt slightly sore from his screaming laughter, he would be lying if he said this wasn’t the least bit fun. To completely give up mercy and laugh like there was nothing to worry about was an experience Hawks never realized he needed.

“I can’t believe your back is this sensitive,”

Dabi chuckled after a while,

“Kinda makes me wonder about these pretty little wings of yours~.”

“N-NAHAHAHAHA!! C’MOHOHOHOHON, DAHAHAHAHABI! ENOHOHOHOHOUGH, PLEHEHEHEHEASE!”

“Begging already? Pathetic, especially for someone who once called himself a hero.”

The tickling ceased and Hawks gasped for air, falling limp on the floor. The villain smirked down at him. The way his disheveled hair fell over his gorgeous face, the tear streaks that marked his flushed cheeks, the residual giggles that bubbled past his bright smile. Dabi’s chest tightened, and he swallowed a lump in his throat. 

“A-Ahahare you… dohone?” Hawks asked past breathless giggles.

Dabi’s smirk returned and he chuckled evilly,

“I told you I was just getting started,”

He ran his fingers through the feathery fluff on Hawks’ wings,

“I really am curious about these~.”

Hawks jolted and his wings twitched violently, practically bucking Dabi off of him. The villain laughed in amazement and quickly regained his balance.

“Hohoholy shit! I think I found the jackpot~.”

“D-Dahahabi,” the hero laughed nervously, his wings already tingling,

“Ihihi’ve had enough, plehehease.”

“Can’t take what you dish out, huh? Too bad, I’m not done with you yet. I’ll stop when I’m ready to,”

Dabi positioned his hands on his victim’s wings, causing them to twitch again,

“Until then, you’ll lay there and take it like a good little bird.”

The shriek that escaped from Hawks was ear-piercing. He bucked and thrashed violently as Dabi dug his fingers into his wings. The villain took note of how much more of a reaction he got closer to the hero’s back. Hawks’ hysterical laughter suddenly went silent. He slammed his fists and kicked his feet against the floor, his face was engulfed in cherry red, and he couldn’t tell his tears from his sweat at this point. Words couldn’t describe just how bad it tickled. The way Dabi mercilessly dug into his feathers drove him ballistic. It was torturous, his nerves were electrified, every single movement of the villain’s fingers sent a violent jolt of ticklish agony through Hawks’ entire body.

Why did he love this feeling so much?

Hawks wasn’t sure how much time had elapsed before Dabi finally decided to have mercy. His wings were burning with residual tingles, his feathers were all ruffled from the constant tickling, and he felt like he was going to pass out at any moment. The villain chuckled and stood off of the hero, giving him a moment to recover.

“God, you’re so sensitive. If only I had known this little secret sooner. But, now that I do, I’m never letting you live it down.”

After a few moments of residual giggles, heavy breathing, and slight coughing, Hawks shakily stood up. He used the bar counter as leverage, but stumbled and almost fell back onto the floor. He grunted when he made contact with Dabi, who had moved forward to catch him. With a hum, he absentmindedly nuzzled against the villain’s chest, then finally stood on his own. Dabi decided to ignore the heat that rose to his cheeks from the gesture.

The number two hero chuckled fondly and leaned up against the counter, 

“Thahat was uhh… something. You are awful.”

“Not my fault you’re so sensitive~.”

“Can you not say it?”

Dabi frowned,

“Say what?”

“Tickle.”

The villain jolted and looked away bashfully, eyes narrowed in embarrassment,

“I don’t like saying it.”

“Why? Does it fluster you~?”

“No!” Dabi shot a glare at the hero,

“It’s just a stupid word. I hate using it, so I don’t.”

Hawks simply shrugged in response, then caught the box out of the corner of his eye. It was seated on the counter, right where Dabi had left it. He turned around and plucked one of the polaroids out of it, examining it once again. It was the group photo of the League. Dabi approached him and ripped the polaroid from his hands.

“Hey! I was lookin’ at that,” he pouted at the hot head.

“Ya shouldn’t look through other people’s stuff, bird brain,” 

Dabi punctuated his sentence with a flick to Hawks’ forehead,

“Besides, what’s in here that’s so important to you?”

The winged hero grumbled and rubbed the area, then gave Dabi a small smile,

“These photos. They’re really cute,”

He chuckled and poked Dabi’s cheek,

“Would it kill ya to smile once in a while, though?”

“Yes,” Dabi replied bluntly, smacking Hawks’ hand away.

Hawks grinned and sighed fondly. 

Silence fell over them for a few moments. Dabi reached into his pants pocket and pulled out a pack of cigarettes. He took one in between his teeth, and his index finger suddenly burst into a small, blue flame. He carefully lit the cigarette, then offered the pack to Hawks. 

He chuckled and shook his head,

“No, thanks. I don’t smoke.”

Dabi shrugged and stuffed the pack back into his pocket, extinguished the flame on his finger, then took the cigarette out of his mouth and wistfully breathed the smoke out.

The aura in the room was peaceful, almost like the two of them were genuine friends. A pang of guilt tugged at Hawks' heart, but he ignored it and turned to Dabi, who was staring at the polaroid. His expression was calm. 

The hero smiled, feeling melancholy, and decided to break the silence,

“So, why are you up so late?”

Dabi remained so still that Hawks almost thought he didn’t hear him. He opened his mouth to ask again, but was interrupted by the villain letting out a low, mirthless chuckle.

“I guess I couldn’t sleep, either.”

Silence reigned once more, and he took another puff of his cigarette before he continued,

“Ya ever hear of ‘the butterfly effect’, Hawks?”

The question was so sudden, Hawks gave the villain a puzzled look. After a second, he responded,

“Ah, a butterfly flaps its wings in Rio and causes a tornado in Chicago, right?”

“Correct. Though, I guess in your case, you flap your wings in Japan and cause a ripple in some other part of the world.”

“Where’s this coming from?” the hero asked, brow furrowed in confusion.

Dabi huffed sharply, and his grip on the polaroid tightened,

“Ya ever wonder where you’d be had you made one choice a bit differently?”

“I… dont–”

“Heh, never mind. That was a dumb question.”

Hawks frowned, but otherwise didn’t respond to Dabi’s sudden drop of the subject. What did he mean by that? Surely he didn’t regret becoming a villain. Granted, the winged hero had no idea what Dabi’s motivation was aside from the main goal of the League. Hero society was corrupt, he knew that was an idea they were passionate about, but…

"I'm not one for sentimental talks,"

Dabi chuckled suddenly, putting the cigarette up to his lips,

"So don't take much of what I say to heart,”

he inhaled deeply, then crushed the finished cigarette against the counter while exhaling the smoke through his nose. He flicked it across the room, then turned to look at Hawks, who had a look of befuddlement on his face.

“Do you… regret the choices you’ve made?” Hawks asked carefully.

Dabi stared at him for a moment, emotionless, before he grinned wickedly and blew the remainder of the smoke in his face,

“Do you?”

Hawks scrunched his nose and coughed, whisking away the smoke with a disgusted grunt. He then watched Dabi as he made his way out of the room, but was surprised when he turned to address the hero a final time,

“We’re even now, got that? Don’t even think of trying that shit with me again.”

With that, he disappeared deeper into the hideout. Hawks couldn’t stop the chuckle that escaped his lips. He shook his head and casually left the building, taking into the air with a swift flap of his wings. He cringed when the air hit his feathers, they still felt a bit sensitive.

As he flew back to his own home, he thought about the conversation he and Dabi just had. He didn’t know what to make of most of it. How did they go from tickling to a serious discussion about fate and paths in their own lives?

…Did he regret his own choices?

Hawks sighed and shook the thoughts out of his head. He was a hero, Dabi was a villain, and there was no way to change that. Even if there were moments where Dabi felt like a genuine human being, even if he felt like he was actually bonding with him, he couldn’t allow that to cloud his judgment. He was on a mission, and he would see it through to the end. 

His chest felt tight again.