#he's still not over the lime green hoodie im sorry he's an old man he gets stuck on these things

[wingshead]

“ I still stand by what I said, you know. ”  He hides the twitch of his lip well, exuding a calm look of dryness that he’s put into practice for years and mastered. He isn’t lying, though --- he does think that the lime green hoodie is ugly. Bringing it up again though? That’s more really to poke a little fun at Rogue.  “ And before you mention it, yes, I know this is coming from the guy who wears a flag for a living. ” 

@onlyrogue    |  ♥’d for a starter.

[cdroloisms]

more of the ghost!dream au!! still no good names for it, sorry (feel free to give me recs? maybe?) - picking off right where we left off here [x]. i’ve gotten quite a bit of this pre-written already as well as quite a bit planned - it’s definitely one of my favorite universes at the minute and something im really excited to show yall !! 

tw: death, memory loss (?), grief, unhealthy coping mechanisms, unhealthy relationship, grief, emotional distress, implied torture/abuse, aftermath of prison arc/pandora’s vault, dark(ish?) portrayal of c!sam (he’s one of the main figures of this au lmao but it grapples quite a bit w/ what he did in pandora)

Sam had only met Ghostbur once.

He never knew the former president well, had been busy with his own base during the Revolution and came back to the server in chaos after an ill-fated election and the man exiled. It hadn’t mattered, much, at the time; Wilbur was an imposing man, even in others’ recollections of him, and their words left very very little to the imagination. From what he knew, Wilbur was a smart man, cunning and silver-tongued, brimming with an unending fountain of belief that he could change the world with his words and his words alone; the server, overrun with memories of scuffles and battles and wars and countries Sam had not been around to remember, only seemed to serve as proof that he could. The few glimpses of the man that he managed to catch showed dark, tired eyes, a figure that stood almost as tall as he did, lips twisted in a perpetual tight-lipped smile.

Even as he spiraled, unexplainably, whispers of madness chasing the wind and landing in choppy fragments in the Badlands meetings held over Skeppy and Bad’s dinner table, those eyes never became less piercing, never failed to seem like they were burning through whatever and whoever they looked at. Sam hadn’t been the subject of that stare many times, but he remembers the bone-deep anxiety from having those eyes on him, even now.

Ghostbur, somehow, was the complete opposite; where his eyes had once been all-too knowing, belying their owners’ intelligence, a ruthless penchant for analysis that would split bone from marrow with a single sharp-edged glance, the phantom’s eyes were completely vacant. Instead of the glossy whites and rings of brown that would flicker warm to cool and warm again without warning, there was only an empty, all-encompassing blue.

He had floated over to Sam following a particularly difficult- session, with the prisoner, greeting him with an airy call of his name as Sam set off to his base for the night. He’d startled, then, still fresh off the adrenaline that was sent coursing through his veins each time he entered those blackstone walls, and started a sort of easy, unfocused conversation as they went along the path to the nether portal.

Ghostbur was - off, for the lack of a better word, even with Sam’s lack of familiarity of either side of the man - who he’d been before and what he’d become. His memories slipped through his mind like water seeping through fingers, and his attention span didn’t seem much better. Still, Sam listened to that echoing, otherworldly voice, nodded along as he eagerly recounted his day - or what he could recall from it, at least, until his feet had brought him along the same well-worn path to the nether portal, spitting purple sparks into the night.

“I’ll have to be going, Ghostbur,” he’d said through a thin smile, muscles aching under netherite as he pulled his shoulders back. The ghost’s head had cocked to the side, watching him with empty eyes, hands outstretched in front of him, palms up.

“Sam-” the ghost blinked slowly, “Are you sad?”

Sam froze. Ghostbur stared at him, face still kept in that same blank expression, eyes still an endless blanket of blue, but something - in his stance, perhaps, in the echoes of his words as they reverberated off of nothing, felt familiar, felt like looking up expecting a window and coming face to face with a shattered mirror - before the phantom’s face broke out in a weightless smile.

“Have some blue!”

The blue was dropped unceremoniously into his hands as he fumbled the catch and nearly let it fall to the ground; the clear, glassy surface of it tainted blue by his fingertips, the color swirling and darkening in his hands. He watched it, mesmerized, as blossoms of blue bloomed beneath his skin; his feelings, sharp-edged, became sea glass tossed in its shifting waves, smoothed, numbed, slowly sucked away in a pulsing chorus of blue blue blue-

“That’s quite a lot of blue,” Ghostbur chirped, and Sam blinked at the thing in his hands - navy, the same color as the sky above their heads clinging to the last remnants of twilight - “Would you like some more?”

“...no thanks, Ghostbur,” Sam looked back up, feeling through the new, blue-tinged fog in his brain, memories blurred at the edges but lacking the same burning sting of regret, “Good night.”

“Good night, Sam!” Wilbur smiled, blank blue eyes trained on his face even as Sam stepped into the portal and the world swirled away. “See you soon!”

---

“Sammy,” Dream walked - no, floated, forwards as Sam took a step back, unresponsive, “is there something wrong?”

Sam swallowed, mouth suddenly dry.

He was a spitting image to Dream as he first knew him; the same tousled hair, freckled face, down to the ratty old jacket that he’d insisted on wearing at all times, made of a garish shade of lime-green and covered in customized patches that Bad - unable to resist his puppy eyes - had always ended up fixing the thing with. He had a gap in his teeth that had left him with a lisp for weeks back then, prompting Sapnap’s teasing much to Dream’s annoyance; his head tipped to the side, curious, familiar, and something deep inside Sam’s chest ached.

“Dream-” he tried, chest tightening further when the ghost’s face broke out into a brilliant smile, “why are you here?”

Why do you remember me?

He hadn’t talked to Ghostbur much, but he’d heard, to some degree, about how the ghost operated, how his memories were inconsistent at best, seemingly dependent on the emotions he’d attached to them while alive. How he went through the world in a state of unshakable bliss at the cost of his mind. Dream’s memories of him should’ve been anything but happy; why was he here?

“What do you mean?” Dream blinked at him, eyebrows scrunched, lips set in a small frown. His eyes, black and vacant, seemed to swallow all light, even with the sun streaming through the branches. “Where am I suppos’d to go?”

“Don’t you want to be with George and Sapnap?”

Dream’s face was blank, and the pit in Sam’s gut grew deeper. “Who’s that?”

“George?” Sam could feel his voice begin to tremble, eyes widening. “Sapnap? You know them, right?”

“No?” Dream drew out the word, looking at him like he’d grown another head. “Should I know them?”

“Should you- Dream, this isn’t funny- they’re your best friends! They were your best friends- Pandas? Do you know Pandas?”

“You mean like in the jungles? I haven’t been in a jungle before, Sam, d’you think we could visit one?”

“No- Pandas, do you-” Dream only looked at him with the same confused, uncomprehending expression, not even a flicker of recognition in his face; Sam could hear his heart thudding in his ears, a distant horror growing and wrapping around his throat, “How about Ponk? Alyssa? Calla? Bad?”

Each name did nothing to change the blankness on Dream’s face, the screaming thoughts in Sam’s head growing to a fever pitch when the ghost in front of him shook his head, hair whipping back and forth.

“Nope!” His hands tugged at his hoodie sleeves, the movement familiar in a way that had echoes of long-forgotten memories drifting to the surface, holding his heart in a chokehold and squeezing tight. “Are they your friends?”

“Dream,” he stepped forward - felt a shadow of a pickaxe held in his fists, the shape of the name in his mouth bringing forth the taste of iron and smoke and painting the inside of his eyelids red - and stopped in his tracks. The images melted away, left just a kid standing in front of him, rocking back and forth on nothing, and Sam was going to be sick.

“Who do you remember?”

Dream smiled as the question registered, directing a look of such open, unadulterated adoration his way that it stole all of the air from Sam’s lungs.

“You, dummy!” He laughed, airy and light. “Who else?”

---

He brought him to his base, because what else was he supposed to do?

Dream skipped behind him, entirely enamoured with Fran; he watched as she melted under his enthusiastic scratches at the tufts of fur at her neck. He’d always been a soft touch with animals, had brought home stray mobs more than a few times as a kid; Sam swallowed around his unease and trudged forward.

“Puppy!” He nearly screeched with laughter, and Sam looked back to see Dream with his arms wrapped around Fran’s neck, face buried in her fur as giggles made his shoulders shake. Fran gave him a sloppy lick on the cheek, making him break out into a new round of high-pitched wheezes, “Good girl! Good puppy!”

“Hurry up, Dream,” Sam turned away. “We don’t have all day.”

“Oh- m’sorry,” Dream’s voice quieted, almost seemed to wobble, and Sam bit down on his tongue as they continued to walk back. He- didn’t know what to do, not with this version of Dream, not the little kid he’d half-forgotten instead of the masked monster he’d become so accustomed to. It was so much easier to slip into the mask, let his voice drop cold and deep and empty, the role of the Warden heavy and comfortable like a set of netherite armor. He pointedly kept his eyes staring forward, looking for the edge of the forest they’d ended up stuck in so he could finally see.

A sudden, yipping bark came from behind, thoroughly startling him and sending a sword appearing in a flash of white. He huffed at Fran, looking at him with faux innocent eyes, really?

Unfortunately, both she and Dream had somehow fallen ridiculously behind, the ghost having lowered to the ground at some point as Fran sat and wagged her tail. He rolled his eyes, making his way back towards the duo, feeling irritation press in the form of a headache against the front of his skull.

“Come on,” he muttered, wincing at how clipped his words sounded, even in his own ears. Not the same Dream, Sam. You’re not in the prison anymore. He shoved his hands into his pockets, eyes narrowing as he came closer; Dream hadn’t just stopped because of some distraction, as he first assumed. The kid was leaning against Fran, hands twisted loosely in her fur, head tipped forward and leaning against her body.

“Dream?”

The ghost looked up at his voice, one hand going to rub at his eye. His hair seemed to be moving around less than earlier, lips twisted in a small frown.

“M’sleepy, Sammy,” he mumbled around a yawn, bottom lip jutting out in a pout. He reached both hands up, palms facing the sky, as he stared expectantly. “Up.”

Aren’t you a little big to be carried? The retort came to mind as easily as breathing, echoed in his own head by his own voice, younger, exasperated but fond. His arms shook with the memory of a kid wrapping his arms around his neck and fumbling with his crown, with the feeling of a dead weight resting against the crook of his elbows, tall and lanky and far too light for its size, held in his arms one final time-

“Please?”

Sam shook his head.

“We’re walking to my base. Come on.”

[caandlelit]

dabihawks and the villainsquad christmas drabble bc its crimas!!

im like late but its my dads bday on christmas so I was understandably busy

oh my god my dad is jesus

so 

hawks has been with the league for several months

hes on their side

kinda

its complicated

but he knows them well and hes pretty close to the vanguard action squad

and he thinks he knows them well enough that hes not surprised by the heights that their bullshit will go anymore

welp

toga himiko is here in an ugly christmas sweater to dangle a twig of sad looking mistletoe that says ‘ding dong u are wrong’ in his face

he is understandably surprised when dabi nudges him as they walk to the meeting on christmas eve and says 

“dont freak out” 

hes like ‘???what?’ 

and hawks looks up at the door of the league hq as he steps inside, shivering even though hes wearing two hoodies and leggings under his jeans and he immediately blinks thrice in quick succession and is gaping in an unflattering way

bc the entire bar is covered in christmassy décor. 

the counter looks like a tinsel monster threw up on it, jingle bell rock is playing in the background, there is a fire place with many many meticulously labeled socks hung above it precariously, looking like theyre gonna be set on fire any second now, and every villain in the league is wearing an ugly christmas sweater, some of them looking resigned, some of them looking confusingly ecstatic 

hes just wide eyed 

dabi snickers beside him and steps forward, gently pushes up on his jaw, closing his mouth

“ur gonna catch flies, loser”

hawks is blushing slightly but he ignores it and follows dabi 

‘do y’all always go this full on out? bc I can. um. I can get behind this’

dabi stops. looks at hawks. 

he looks adorable and shy and dabi is cooing on the inside

bc hawks just wants to be part of this christmas celebration that feels so familial and nothing like what hes used to

bc the only christmas celebration hawks has been part of is his agency’s, and rumi sending him wine each year without fail

he looks just like how dabi felt when he first arrived, ill prepared, to the previous christmas celebration at the league ft the vanguard action squad

aka the first happy christmas he had spent in a long fucking time

but he shrugs it off

dabi, softly but with feeling: i thought u were normal 

hawks: what

dabi, tears in his eyes: but now shes coming dont say I didnt warn you

hawks, growing fearful: w-who

dabi, whispering: t-tog-

he is interrupted by toga, naruto running at top speed wearing a horrendous neon fucking orange christmas sweater that satan himself would balk at

she jumps on top of them making them both fall on the ground with her on top of them

toga at top, earpiercing, wince inducing volume:

‘MERRY CHRIMAS YOU HO HO HOES’

*panicking hawks voice* what the motherfuckin CHRIST OH MY GOD

bc jin and spinner are right behind her

5 seconds later sees a resigned dabi and a wildly confused, blushing hawks are being engulfed by jin, spinner and toga as they squeeze them to death

they then proceed to shove ugly sweaters on top of their heads

dabi’s sweater is neon pink with a rudolph the red nosed reindeer pattern

hawks’ sweater is lime green and has actual fairy lights strung on it like they light up

he looks delighted and dabi stares at him sappily

shigaraki went insane from togas badgering and bought an army’s worth of hot chocolate in bulk 

the remains of which were distributed by the league to the poor and the street villains 

a little warmth for their, cold lonely christmases to ensure that they wouldn't be as empty as before

*excited toga voice* ‘GUYS LETS GO CAROLLING’

*flat shigaraki voice* ‘toga we cant we’re villains’

‘so??’

‘we would get arrested’

‘fuck why are we villains’

there is a christmas tree

and holy fuck it is so big

its huge

hawks has to crane his neck up to see all of it

they make hawks put up the star, which for some reason hasn't been put up yet and is in the art style of the stars from dora the explorer 

it was like this

toga ‘well I put it up last year whos doing it this year’

shigaraki ‘im the boss so technically-’

spinner arguing ‘im the second youngest so-’

jin ‘oh fuck no ur not ur like thirty u old man-’

spinner ‘oh fuck no im not u bitch-’

their voices overlap as they argue for like ten minutes while kurogiri hopelessly tries to stop them to no avail

jin ‘I want to do ittt but we should let hawks’

hawks ‘what’

dabi, grinning wildly “oh yes absolutely hes the youngest and the newest”

hawks, whispering angrily ‘fuck u man u know I cant reach that high-’

dabi smugly “im sorry what was that”

hawks, yelling ‘too bad guys im too short I guess the bossman has to do it’

toga, unimpressed and trying to get dabi and hawks to fuck:

‘stop sucking up to the bossman-’ ‘I love u for saying that’ ‘-and its chill dabi can pick u up’

dabi stops laughing abruptly

“what”

hawks, rapidly shakin his head ‘nononono its chill i’ll just fly-’

spinner, also trying to get dabi and hawks to fuck ’YOU CANT!‘

hawks ‘why tf not’

jin, wracking his brains for a solution ‘uhhhh bc we dont want you to put strain on your wings’

hawks, touched, ’oh my god! thanks guys you’re so sweet, but its okay really-’

shigaraki, firmly ‘nope dabi has to pick hawks up im the boss and I say so’

hawks: well fuck

toga films, awing from behind the camera as a blushing hawks is lifted up by a blushing dabi to place the star on the top of the glittering christmas tree

dabi, eyes wide as he stares at the big, soft, pretty red feathers of hawks’ upper back and the back of his head, blonde hair pinned back, and then he looks down at the delicate, fluffy, smaller feathers above the small of his back, and he swallows and feels his face get redder when he notices how it arches when hawks stretches his hand up to set the star into place

then he startles as hawks turns around triumphantly in his arms, beaming and tossing a peace sign at toga, and he adjusts his hold on his thighs quickly and looks up at the same time hawks looks down at him, smiling brilliantly and dabi’s breath catches

he looks iridescent in the glow of the candles and fairylights strung around the bar and on the tree and absently dabi thinks, “toga’s still filming”, but everything falls away in light of hawks’ smile softening as he tilts his head at dabi and he was helpless when it came to this angel

hawks threw his head back and laughed at something twice was saying and dabi’s eyes traced the line of his tan throat 

hawks looked back at dabi and smiled, saying ‘the tree looks amazing, huh?’

dabi, breathlessly; “’doesn't hold a candle to you babe’

hawks’ eyes widened and there was a pretty blush painting his cheeks pink and dabi was enchanted as he leant up and kissed him hard

hawks was enthusiastic in his response, kissing back and throwing an arm on dabi’s shoulder, the other hand threaded in his hair 

and toga was still filming them and whooping as they kissed slowly and softly in front of the tree, hawks still in dabi’s arms, legs wrapped around his waist

jin and spinner were cheering when they split apart slowly, blushing madly when they saw the league surrounding them

shigaraki, sagging against kurogiri in relief ‘well thank fuck thats over I dont think I could have taken the fuckin ust any longer’

dabi smirkin up at hawks ‘I think I know what my christmas present is now ;))’

hawks smirking back “yeah ;)) a bible ;)))))”

dabi breaks down cackling breathlessly into hawks’ neck and hawks just stares at him lovingly

shigaraki, in slowly dawning horror ‘fuck this isn't what I wanted theyre gonna be worse now abort aBORT’

anyways merry christmas and happy holidays y’all