#i think he would sound like a squawking chicken trying to sing but he does it anyway to annoy his teammates

[corntort]

lectros voice is incredibly fitting dont get me wrong but also let me be very clear in saying its Not A Good "Singing" Voice

[spacelion-loveshermulletson]

Hawks being friends with Toga (+ the League) HC's - Part 13

When finally getting a day off (after going several days with only work, coffe and training), Hawks will crash at the LoV's and simply try to rest.

Sometimes, during his small "vacation" there, Toga will have him lie down with his head on her lap. She feeds him cookies and other sweets as reward for his hard work.

(Toga: "I've always wanted to try this! It's like a manga romance!"

Hawks: "But we're not really romantic though."

Toga: "Doesn't matter! This is still lots of fun!")

- She will also run her fingers through his hair and scratch his scalp just right and Hawks preens at the attention.

---

They often take naps together - Toga hugging Hawks around the chest while his wings cover them both.

Twice will join in more times than not - hugging them both close while sleeping.

---

Toga: So, if Hawks would become an official member of the League - like, in public - wouldn't he need a new Villain name?

Spinner: I don't know, wouldn't "Hawks" be good enough to keep?

Toga: Well, yeah, but wouldn't it be fun to give him something else too? Like, "Phoenix", perhaps?

Twice: "Bird of prey!"-  "Wings of death!"

Toga: Maybe something cute, like "Birdie"!

Twice: But that's not scary., - Perfect!

Spinner: How about "Crimson feather"?

Dabi: That's a little too on the spot, isn't it?

Spinner: What would you call him then?

Dabi, grinning: "Chicken wings".

Spinner: Screw off!

Mr. Compress: "Sharp blade" might work.

Toga: No! "Angel of mercy" fits him!

Shigaraki: "Angel of death" would be more threatening though.

Toga: But he is more merciful than most of us..

Shigaraki: "Scarlet Angel", then?

Kurogiri: How about just "Angel"?

Spinner: I like that, "Angel" sounds perfect.

Mr. Compress: A fitting name indeed.

Dabi: "Angel" it is then.

Hawks, weeping: You affectionate bastards!

---

They have Karaoke nights.

* You wouldn't expect Spinner to sing that well, but he does. He has perfect pitch in whatever song he's singing.

* Hawks is not too bad himself, but he has some trouble hitting the higher notes just right without squaking like a bird.

* They still have a lot of fun singing duets, even though they don't match up at all - leaving their singing to sound way off and ends up with them laughing in the middle of it.

---

Hawks lets out high pitched squawks when his body is being sensitive to touch.

You better believe that is a knowledge Dabi and Toga takes advantage of whenever possible.

-

It took some time, but Hawks eventually got used to allowing himself to let out his bird noises while among the others. They are not judging him and at most they tease him in an affectionate way.

Now, you can often hear him squawk during conversation, especially when someone makes him laugh.

-

When he feels happy and excited about something, Hawks will let out a number of joyful chirps.

The rest of the LoV was met with the sound of high pitched chirping the day Dabi (finally) asked Hawks to be his boyfriend.

-

Hawks Will now chirp whenever Dabi acts affectionate with him. It's a bit embarrassing, but Dabi really enjoys listening to the undeniable proof that he is loved and wanted.

---

Even when she has gotten used to it, Toga still does not think that her gear looks cute and it's annoying for her.

Hawks tells her that it makes her cuteness stand out even more, as the tough appearance of the gear brings focus to her pretty eyes and sweet way of acting.

Toga squeals as she rubs her cheeks and she will not stop smiling for the rest of the day.

-

Hawks makes sure to compliment her more and call her cute whenever she shows off something new added to her outfit or general appearance.

[reversecreek]

MEET THE NPCS...

BOBBY YANG, “BIG BOB” .

1. how old are they and what do they look like?

thirty-four. implausibly tall. the day magda first saw a sketch of slenderman she thought of him. when her aunt shelly pulled up the dirt road to abernathy creek magda remembers seeing him through a dusty back window with his head bowed to avoid getting tree leaves in his eyes, joint between his lips, dungarees dirty and half unbuckled. one side of his hair is buzzed with no apparent style intention and he has a weed leaf tattooed behind his left ear. an elephant on his thigh. a name on his ankle he often wears a plaster over. once it soaked through and fell off in the creek and, newly glossy in the sun, nine year old magda reached to give it a blunt and shameless prod. big bob never explained who the name belonged to, he only reached to thumb at the minari growing by the water bed and talk about the fact it was a "versatile little sucker”. 

2. if applicable, where and when did they meet your muse?

big bob introduced himself as such and magda raised her eyebrow in disbelief, the soul of a disgruntled pensioner in a seven yr old’s body. magda didn’t rly talk to anyone when she first arrived in her new home, verging on mute. she was angry at the move, angry that her dad hadn’t called her when she got there, angry that she didn’t know her mother’s voice to imagine it telling her everything was okay. the world made her so angry she didn’t want to acknowledge it. she sat outside in silence for a long time letting a ladybug crawl over her hand, and big bob didn’t ask anything of her, he only schlepped closer and presented her with a buttercup. she looked at it like it’d spat in her face but took it nonetheless. it was strange having an actual bed, if you could call a bare mattress that, used to sleeping on the sofa in shelly’s old trailer, and the springs nipped at her like a dog demanding treats, so she wandered outside in one of shelly’s big tie dye shirts like a nightdress, searching for the moon. big bob was standing out there already in the overgrown grass, stark naked, chin lifted to gawk at the moon himself. magda didn’t disturb him. this is when she first discovered his habit of naked sleepwalking. abernathy creek felt like a bird house overrun with all kinds of eccentric, squawking parakeets. it was a lot for a seven yr old to take in. this was a strange reality she’d never signed up for, swallowed by the commune to overheat inside it’s belly. 

3. what kind of a presence do they have in your muse’s life? do they have a positive or negative relationship?

bob’s definitely a character. three times now he’s slipped hallucinogens into magda’s tea without her knowing under the impression that this is just harmless fun and he’s actually helping her by pushing her little boat to bob along the ocean of enlightenment, once at as young as 16. every time she realises he’s like “y’just got bobbeddddd!” and magda’s like here we go ig. told her the raw earth has healing properties to explain why he’d dug up the grass just to rub his hands in the soil and lay there like a panting, overheated dog. he’s an important component to abernathy creek and oversees a lot of the agriculture there. rigged up the irrigation system himself using copper pipes that magda suspects were stolen. the beat up camper van that’s usually parked up behind abernathy and hidden under leafy branches appeared when he did, apparently, although he insists it belongs to everyone. he leads the crusades to drive it up to the mountains and take a group of abernathy creek residents shroom picking. he’s in charge of drying them for selling, too. jack of all trades, really. magda claims not to care for him (or anyone) but she still walked out onto the grass, took his hand and lead him inside whenever she found him sleepwalking at night in her teens. once a group of kids were daring each other to get closer when he was out there and magda threw a stone so hard at one of their shin’s it split it open and made them scatter. but again, magda “does not care about him”. the jury is not convinced.

4. are they revered in irving? do they have bad blood with anyone?

honestly everyone in irving probably thinks he’s a rly strange guy and i won’t fk around. he kind of is. wears many necklaces around his neck n one is just a pouch that has a prehistoric mosquito encased in a little piece of amber inside. sometimes magda wonders if he likes to play up to his reputation by putting it on a little bit. once she saw him suddenly jerking his head like a pecking chicken and saying “g’warn GET” to scare a random middle aged hiker into galloping in the opposite direction in the trees near abernathy. has a masterful knowledge of bird songs and can imitate them all impeccably. sometimes does this instead of replying with words. never cares about the holes in his shoes where his toes poke out. always seems to be turning a rusty coin between his fingers like it helps him think. he makes moonshine that will knock u off ur feet tho which is always a good time if ur lucky enough to try it. he has a very rich n warm voice like a log fire or a gooey chocolate brownie. even with all of his oddities he sounds kind. he’s very unconventional n doesn’t abide by rules of society a lot but he’s quite funny n a good time. makes engaging smalltalk if u treat him with respect. weird but admittedly a tiny bit wonderful. 

OTIS WOLFE.

1. how old are they and what do they look like?

forty-six but he looks older. the skin beneath his eyes is subtly purpled like it’s been dyed by a lick of beetroot juice. he has a very charismatic walk which doesn’t sound like it makes sense but it does to look at him. he walks everywhere buoyantly and with purpose. very high energy in his good days. lives everything in large quantities, good and bad. always used to wear a tan leather bomber jacket when magda was growing up but he forgot it w her one visit n it’s the only time she’s known him to call up two days after leaving to ask if she’d seen it. magda lied and said she hadn’t. she still has it to this day. sleeps in it on her bad days. otis has a smile so big it shines like live wires are sparking in his mouth. magda’s fingertips prickle like she’s an hour recovering from shoving a fork into a plug socket whenever she sees it. she used to think that’s what excitement felt like. that used to be true.

2. what kind of a presence do they have in your muse’s life? do they have a positive or negative relationship?

it’s very complicated. magda knows her dad isn’t a good person but she knows he isn’t a bad person either. sometimes it’s more frustrating to see things in grey because you just want something solid to take shape that u can actually put ur finger on. she finds herself perpetually stood at a fork in the road between believing in him still and deciding he’s no good. sometimes she’ll start walking in one direction only to realise it loops back on itself and she’s right back where she started. otis has given her a lot of fun “adventures”. taught her how to juggle. they stayed in a hotel on someone else’s credit card once and racked up a gargantuan tab ordering every form of room service and renting godzilla and the matrix on pay per view when she was 11. sometimes he’d use her in gimmicks where she had to lie and pretend she had a health condition so they could get a few bucks off charitable strangers on a street corner and under the veil of youth magda found playing up these roles funny because who would ever believe that? wasn’t everyone in the world so stupid except them? it was nice being part of his team. his “little wolfie”. but then a lot of things weren’t nice either. he’s left her stranded on the side of the road with nowhere to go on more than one occasion. he’s passed out in motel corridors and she’s had to lug him into a bed. he’s forgotten almost every birthday apart from one where he sent a card with five dollars inside and handwriting so squiggly she could tell he was drunk when he wrote it. he doesn’t know she likes to sing because he’s only ever listened when he’s fallen asleep. otis is all of magda’s heart and that’s why sometimes she likes to forget that it’s beating. 

3. are they revered in irving? do they have bad blood with anyone?

he’s very flighty n rarely in irving any more tbh but was more when magda was younger n his visits were a little less sporadic. probably owes a bunch of people money for some reason or another. smashed up fannie’s recently when he turned up drunk and got ahead of himself on a giddy n frenzied rampage in the name of “fun” n “just having a laugh”. magda’s aunt shelly really doesn’t get on with her brother n thinks he’s a complete deadbeat waste of space n resents him a lot for the impact he’s had on magda. magda remembers being little and peeking through a crack in shelly’s trailer door when he turned up drunk one time to collect her for a visit n shelly wouldn’t let him in. something along the lines of “you don’t give a rat’s ass about that little girl” and “she worships you, y’know that? most of the time, you don’t even remember her name”. magda crept back onto the sofa and pretended to be asleep by the time she came inside.

4. if your muse is no longer in contact with them, how did the relationship end? did your muse get closure over this?

magda slowly stopped trying to keep in contact over the years. it got embarrassing trying so hard when she didn’t get much back. like pushing a boulder all the way up a hill only to watch it roll back down again. it’s probably contributed a lot towards magda’s inability to really try with people like she should, especially when her heart’s involved. she doesn’t want to be humiliated again. magda hasn’t spoken to her dad in person in almost a year. they had a phone call about seven months back but it turned out to be a butt dial and he hung up because he was in the middle of a conversation at some bar about the moon landing conspiracy. magda’s playlist that i have for her is called “a rodeo clown in a revolving door” which is basically the role otis serves in magda’s life. always in and out. never constant. gone more than he’s there, especially lately. idk if magda will ever get closure over that. she certainly hasn’t now. pouts my fuckable lips to the side w a hand on hip and triple f’s prominent.

[fromthewifecage]

Imagine Kombants sees Reader with bunches of cats

I LOVE kitties, all kitties, ALL of them. So do Erron Black, Johnny Cage, Nightwolf, Bi-Han and Kano. As usual Kano is last so if you don’t like him then you don’t have to read that one.(Yeah I kinda got over excited writing this and went a bit crazy. The Johnny Cage one is inspired by a scene in Red Dragon/Hannibal.)Hope this is ok, if not then feel free to throw a shoe at me.

Erron Black: (So this I actually took from a stupid Cowboy/Victorian Lady (called Clementine) thing I’ve been writing. It’ll never be finished because it needs to be probably 50k words or more, but this bit I liked writing. Erron’s trying to be a better man, got caught up trying to save a kids life, but the kid died, and Erron’s pretty cut up about it. Yes it’s not the reader with a bunch of cats, it’s about Erron with a cat, but the other Kombatant’s scenarios definitely the reader with kitties!! Please don’t hate me.)

Arms slid around his waist, her body pressed hard to his back and enveloped him in a much needed embrace. His head drooped forward, shoulders slumping, his head in his hands. He’d tried his best, hadn’t he? But it wasn’t good enough, never was. He was a God-damned failure.To his eternal shame his eyes prickled with the threat of tears. He hadn’t cried since Ma had screamed at him for crying over the body of a barn cat. The large ginger cat had been Erron’s only friend since he’d had first found the cat. He’d first seen it sat upon a dark brown saddle in the barn, the saddle’s leather gleaming from the earlier oiling. The cat paused between washing its ears to stare, and when Erron held out a hand it took a moment to sniff at his fingertips before going back to its wash.

Erron had named the cat Peter and they’d quickly become firm friends. Peter would chase after mice and spiders, batting at them with a large ginger paw until he got tired of the chase and quickly killed them. Erron would bring Peter scraps of meat and cheese filched from the larder as a reward. Erron would often find half a mouse in one of his boots, Peter obviously thinking Erron was too skinny and needed fattening up, and Peter was right, Ma was far too stingy with her portions. If Erron had been judged to ‘deserve sleeping outside’, usually after answering his Ma back or being caught filching from the larder, then Erron would climb the long rickety ladder to reach the hay loft, and spend the night with Peter on his chest, purring happily.

They’d been friends for 3 long summers until Erron had gone into the barn at the end of a particularly hot and long day helping in the fields. Ma found Erron sobbing over Peter’s stiff and lifeless body, and dragged him back into the house by his ear, beating him harshly for caring about “that ginger shit more than you care about the rest o’ us.” It was true, so Erron didn’t put up a fight as he took his hits. He merely filed away the hate with all the other times she’d beat him, hurt him, scorned him and neglected him, so when years later, he stood by Ma’s bed as she took her final breaths with cancer riddled lungs, he shed no tears.

Erron sat there, fighting with the sadness of not being able to save the child, until the small bedchamber was dark enough that he could barely see his own hands. Clementine still held him, had made no protest or whispered fake platitudes that he’d get over it or he’ll feel better soon. She’d let him take the time he needed.

More after the cut! (these ones really are about the reader with kitties, promise!)

Johnny Cage: Johnny is more excited than you are for your birthday. His grin has been extra sparkly for the entire past month, and each hint about what he’s got for you has been more ridiculous than the last. You keep trying to tell him you don’t want a fuss, and to not spend more than £20 on a present, but it’s like telling a child they have to eat their broccoli if they want ice cream for afters. He’s not going to eat the broccoli, he’s sneaking into the freezer as soon as your back is turned.

He wakes you up extra early, despite your protests that it’s your birthday and you want to sleep. In the end he picks you up and carried you into the shower, washes your hair and refuses to leave the bathroom until you brush your teeth. He doesn’t stop singing ‘Happy Birthday’ either. Even when you threaten to leave him he doesn’t stop being annoyingly amazingly cute.

He blindfolds you in the car (the driver starts to get worried that you’ll ruin the seat leather but Johnny calms them down with promises there’ll be no sex in the car) and does his best to confuse you with increasingly remote landmark spotting. Quite how you’ve gone from home to the Louvre, past the Pyramids via the Lin Kuei Temple, you have no idea. Eventually he leads you from the car, your hand tightly in his grasp and a hand on your shoulder so you don’t stumble.

As you walk to your secret destination you hear all sorts of animal and bird sounds, chirruping, squeaking (including a couple of gasps from some humans along with “OMG it’s Johnny Caaaaaaaaaaage” whispered under their breaths), some growling, even trumpeting.“Surprise!” Johnny stage whispers as he unties your blindfold, leaving you blinking in the dim light.

Before you is a scene from one of your very best daydreams. A room full of lion cubs, each one rolling, biting, investigating, chewing or playing with it’s brothers and sisters. A hand clasps over your mouth when your heart bursts with joy, Johnny chuckling and letting you know that the kitties are so little that they’ll be scared by squeals of happiness. The zookeepers are more than happy to let you play with the cubs, showing you how to feed the furballs, how to hold them and cuddle them.

You spend the rest of your birthday in lion cub heaven. Johnny takes so many photos of you surrounded by the kitties that his photo groans, and of course you take a bunch of him with the cubs too, he’s just as excited by the balls of fluff and teeth as you are and he almost cries when it’s time to go home.

Best. Birthday. Ever.

Nightwolf: The man is an expert on nature in all its forms. He can live self sufficiently from a small plot of land, he built his own home and keeps not only real animals happy, but spirit animals too. An ideal day for him would be to tend to his crops and land during the day and spend the evening surrounded by his animal and human companions.You’ve spent significant time with Nightwolf, and he’s grown not only to love you, but trust you to share his life and loves. Hana took a while to warm up to you, but will now sit on your shoulder almost as happily as she will with Nightwolf (it took many batches of mini pancakes for her to get to this stage, and now she demands you make her some food whenever you cook).

Nightwolf is in the kitchen when he realises you’ve run out of salad ingredients. The evening air is warm and sweet, the frogs by the small creek are noisily calling for mates, and the idea of a short walk to the vegetable plot to stretch your legs before dinner sounds appealing. Hana follows you out the door, first taking to the sky and circling the house, then drops down to land upon your shoulder, tugging at strands of your hair in her own way of looking after you. As you gather some lettuce Hana squawks and flaps her wings, then flies over to a patch at the very end of the plot, squawking some more. You call out to her, maybe one of the frogs has got lost?

But it’s not a frog you find, it’s even cuter than that. It’s a tired stripy cat with large ears, surrounded by the smallest of kittens, each one latched to a teat. You gasp excitedly and whisper to Hana to go fetch Nightwolf. Hana gives one final indignant squawk, then flies off, returning on the shoulder of the beautiful man you love.

“Welcome back Koko, it is an honour to meet your children.”

Nightwolf greets the cat as a friend, and your heart melts a little more for this wonderful man. He asks you to stay with the kitty family whilst he returns to the house to fetch some things. Koko watches you with sleepy eyes, trusting that since Nightwolf trusts you, you aren’t a threat. You don’t reach for the kittens, they are far too tiny to play with, but you make a wish upon the stars that you’ll get to play with them when they’re a little older.

Nightwolf returns carrying one of the chicken coops he’d been mending and with blankets in a backpack. He sets up a little home for the cats in the dark corner of the vegetable plot. You’ll be able to visit the kittens whenever you like (with Koko’s permission of course).

Yay for kittens!

Bi-Han: The man might be a deadly (the Lin Kuei are NOT ninjas) ninja assassin, but that doesn’t mean he doesn’t have a heart. As a trained spy he has to take notice of everything, no matter how innocuous it seems, so he knows more about you than you know about yourself. So he knows that you’re getting a little lonely in his absences, and recently, he’s been absent a lot more due to an influx of contracts.

You’ve tried so hard not to show your loneliness, thinking it would upset Bi-Han and make him consider breaking off your relationship to try to save you from more pain, and that has crossed his mind. Then he looked upon his life and decided that he didn’t need anything but you, and that no matter how often you were apart, it was the together that mattered.

It was early morning, the blood of his latest target swirling down the sink as he scrubbed himself clean, when his phone blinked with a new message from you. His smile curling the corner of his mouth when he sees that you’ve sent yet another cat picture, this one of 2 kittens wearing ninja outfits with the caption “You and Kuai!” Bi-Han is about to flick back up through the conversation to where you’ve sent some pictures of yourself rather than kittens, when his smile widens as an idea pings into his head.

You’re woken by a cold gentle kiss to your forehead, a brush of icy fingers across your cheek when you stir then wake with a happy yawn.

“You’re home!”

You sprint to the bathroom to first wee then brush your teeth, sprinting back to jump into Bi-Han’s fierce embrace. When he doesn’t immediately tug off your pyjamas you’re puzzled, the man is normally insatiable. He laughs at your pout and tugs you into the living room where he nods towards a box resting on the table.

“Happy Tuesday!”

His grin is huge when you squeak upon looking inside the box to find two kittens curled around each other. It widens even further watching you cry with happiness when the kittens wake to first sniff you, then immediately demand attention. He pulls out his phone and takes some pictures, seeing you this excited has to be recorded.

Yay for kittens!

Kano: The big burly scary Australian beefcake actually has a soft spot. You.

You’ve heard the stories, the ones about him scaring someone so much they wet themselves and when Kano laughed at their fear they burst into tears. About the time he had someone skinned alive and thrown onto the street. Kano could be a Bond villain, he already has the one-eye thing down, he had the comfiest squidgiest chair for his desk (it swivelled so Kano could spin around when he got bored), all he needed was a cat for him to stroke when watching a Special Forces member wet themselves.

You’d gone to the animal shelter to pick up a cat for him (he’d laughed at your idea then shrugged.

“I already got my kitten, but if you want a kitty, I ain’t gonna stop ya.”

Then he’d pulled you into his arms and kissed you until you forgot how to breathe.)

At first you were going to adopt the fluffy white cat with the huge blue eyes, she was gorgeous, but it was when you were walking to the corner of the room to discreetly take a phone call when you saw the 2 kitties that had been forgotten by everybody. They sat by their small window, peering out into the world they’d never get to experience again. One of the kitties had lost a leg, the veterinary nurse later telling you she’d been attacked by an enormous dog and had carried on fighting even when she’d lost the leg. The other had only 1 eye, again, having lost it in a fight. Your heart went out to these sweet brave kitties, and you knew you could give them the best home.

“What you got there, love?”

Kano stood in the doorway, bare chested as usual, huge 'sexy-as-hell' grin as usual.

“I couldn’t leave them, no-one wanted them and they’re all little.”

Kano looked from you down to the kitties exploring every nook and cranny of the bedroom, tails twitching secret messages to each other as they couldn’t believe that they were finally out of the shelter. He chuckled then strolled over to you to wrap you up in a huge embrace.

“Think that one wants a cyber eye?”

[argothiathedreamer]

Rating: Gen Relationships: Edward Elric/Ling Yao Summary: Ed's having a hard time sleeping. Notes: I honestly think this is the first ship fic I've uploaded and even it's kinda subtle, but I was excited because I actually managed to finish it.The title's from Name by Goo Goo Dolls. Hope you all enjoy it! Kudos appreciated!

---

Ed has been tossing and turning for hours just trying to get some sleep, but he just can’t. Every time it feels like he’s just about to doze off he awakes with a start, because even with the uproar of Gorilla and Lion-guy’s snoring it’s too quiet. He keeps finding himself listening for the telltale sounds of Al’s armor clinking softly whenever he moves. Keeps almost hoping to roll over and see his brother sitting beside him or to back up in his sleep and bump into cold iron.

But he doesn’t.

Ed has been tossing and turning for hours trying to get some sleep, but he just can’t. Every time it feels like he’s just about to doze off he awakes with a start, because even with the uproar of Gorilla and Lion-guy’s snoring it’s too quiet. He keeps finding himself listening for the telltale sounds of Al’s armor clinking softly whenever he moves. Keeps almost hoping to roll over and see his brother sitting beside him or to back up in his sleep and bump into cold iron.

But he doesn’t.

Instead whenever he rolls over to face the fire he sees the slight shine of Greed’s eyes staring back at him and much as he’s trying to work with the guy, it’s still kind of disconcerting. So Ed tries to keep his back to the dying embers of the fire and face the forest. Tries to forget that there’s a dangerous homunculus only a few yards away. Tries to forget that he’s more alone than he’s been in a long time.

It’s not working though. He’s just lying there staring into the dark, jumping at every sound. Thinking he sees shadows moving out in the forest when he knows there’s nothing there.

“What? No.” He hears Greed whisper abruptly. Is he talking to Ling? “No, I’m not doing that.”

There’s a pause.

“Why would I let you…” Greed groans. “God, no… Fine, but just until morning.”

A brief silence, then a light sound that lets Ed know someone’s moving. A moment later that someone sits down behind him. “Hey.”

Ed lifts his head and looks back. “Ling?”

“One and the same.”

Just like that Ed feels himself relax. “Greed?”

“I threatened to sing if he didn’t let me out.” Ling grins. “He’s sulking.”

A fond smile pulls at the corner of Ed’s mouth. “Sounds like a serious threat.”

“Mm, you’ve never heard my singing.”

Ed rolls onto his back. “That bad, huh?”

“Like a thousand chickens squawking all at once or so I’ve been told.” Ling just sort of flops down, his shoulder bumping against Ed’s metal one. “Since I did give my word to Greed, I won’t demonstrate.”

Sounds like they’ve dodged a bullet there then. Ed closes his eyes. “Why’d you resort to the big guns like that?”

“…Somethings are worth it.” Ling scoots a bit closer, like he’s making sure Ed won’t be able to forget he’s there. “Like catching a bit of shut-eye with a friend who looks like he could really use some.”

Ed grimaces. “I don’t need your pity.”

“I’m aware,” Ling responds, sounding a little amused. “But you do need to sleep and that’s a hell of a lot easier to do when there’s a friend around, right?”

Opening his eyes Ed tilts his head to look at Ling, finding him looking back. There’s no goofy smile on Ling’s face and Ed takes in again how that makes him seem so much more stern than he is. Still Ed kind of likes this look on Ling better than the goofy grins. This is the real Ling after all and Ling trusts Ed enough to show it to him.

“Ed.” Ling smiles slightly. “You’re blushing.”

“I-I am not!” Instinctually Ed covers his face with his hands. “Shut up! I thought we were going to sleep. Dumbass prince!”

Ling elbows him in the side. “Seriously? You have got to work on your attitude towards royalty. Jeez. Also how is it my fault you’re not sleeping? You’re the one who’s too busy admiring my pretty features to go to sleep.”

“I wasn’t! I was just staring in a random direction and your stupid face was in the way!” Ed protests.

“So now my face is stup--”

“Will both of you shut the hell up!” Lion-guy roars from across the clearing and Ed tenses up, guilty that they woke him and embarrassed at being caught arguing about something like this. “Some of us are trying to fucking sleep over here, goddammit!”

Ed mumbles a quiet apology in tandem with Ling and that seems to appease Lion-guy for the moment.

“Tomorrow night we’re finding a hotel and you two are getting a room.” Gorilla mutters, irritably.

Ling snickers while Ed snaps, “Shut up and go to sleep, Gorilla!”

Gorilla just waves a hand at him lazily and doesn’t respond. Finally the camp slips back into some semblance of peace and Ed closes his eyes again.

“Goodnight, Ed,” Ling whispers.

Ed breathes out a contented sigh. For all the ruckus he does feel more relaxed. Calmer. Maybe he’ll actually be able to get to sleep now. “Goodnight.”

[bangtanata-blog]

A way to a (deceased) man’s heart is: through his stomach

Rate T / Pair: JINKOOK / 3k words

Summary:

Kim Seokjin faces Death in the face, armed with food and cuddles.

The Ring!AU

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Also available on AO3

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It starts with the presence of a mysterious tape. You see, being a student in the theatre department, he’s a bit intrigued when he finds an old video tape in the library’s collection, especially to find it in the middle of many pristine new ones. He intends to ask the librarian about its contents, only to find out that the tape, labeled as JJK, is in fact doesn’t belong to the library.

Weird, he thinks, but interesting. Maybe someone dumps it here in hopes that nobody will find it—or that someone will find it? Nevertheless, he takes the tape home with him instead of offering it to the library. It could be a porn video for all he knows, and it would be awkward if they check. It’d be better if he checks it himself first.

The point is that he’s… intrigued, to say the least. He just wants to take a peek, perhaps, to find out what’s inside the tape before he throws it away or keeps it.

Hoseok, unfortunately, doesn’t really agree.

“Hyung, it has the word asylum on it!”

Seokjin blinks. “It does?” He turns the tape around, and there it is, faded but still legible: Gonjiam Psychiatric Hospital. “Oh,” he blinks slowly, processing the new information. “So it’s not a sex tape, then.”

“Hyung!” Hoseok sounds indignant, squawking. Seokjin thinks if he’s not the older one here, the other would be cursing at him right now. “You have to throw it out right now!”

“Okay…” He trails off, furrowing his eyebrows as he stares at Hoseok incredulously. “Wait, why? It’s just a tape.”

“In the asylum.”

“Exactly,” Seokjin nods, not really comprehending. Or perhaps he does; he just finds amusement in how Hoseok drags his hands down his face, exasperation clear on his otherwise horrified and concerned face. He laughs, then, slapping the dancer’s shoulder a few times. “It’ll be okay! Don’t worry too much,” he shakes his head. “It’s just a tape. It’s not like it’s cursed or something.”

Hoseok makes a rude gesture with his hands, one that Seokjin expertly ignores in favor of laughing his ass off. The dancer mutters a bit too low for Jin to hear, but in the end the red haired male simply shrugs and accepts Seokjin’s words.

“Just don’t come running to me if you get cursed, hyung.”

“Aish, I won’t. Go now, shoo, shoo, I want to enjoy this tape in peace.”

“It’s a tape from an asylum! You can’t enjoy it?!”

“It’s a figure of speech, Hoseok-ah.”

“Figure of speech how?!”

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To be quite honest, now that he knows it belongs to an asylum—one of which doesn’t exist anymore and is pretty popular as a “haunted place” despite the truth of why it got shut down, mind you—his interest has died down quite a bit. Not that it stops him from playing the tape and watching it, but Hoseok gave him a spoiler and his excitement died down a little bit as a result.

Still, as he watches the tape playout (and it is creepy. Seokjin keeps on thinking someone is watching along with him and he ends up turning around from his seat more often than not) he can’t help but think about how… lonely, the kid in the tape must be.

This… JJK.

First of all, he needed a haircut, in Seokjin’s humble opinion. The boy in the tape has bangs covering his eyes most of the time, and Seokjin doesn’t even know emo hairstyle was popular around the time this tape was recorded. Seokjin hoped the boy at least got the haircut he deserved.

The boy rarely talked in the tape, mostly spending his time staring at the wall muttering to himself or staring right at the camera (that is creepy. Seokjin has to make a walk to the refrigerator to calm himself down from the death stare). Sometimes, JJK would sing. Sometimes, he’d draw on papers or even the white walls of his room (good, Seokjin can’t help but think. The room was so dull that even Seokjin himself would turn crazy if he was in it for a long time).

Other times, he’d talk to psychiatrists. Sometimes, he’d ask for his mother (it seemed his mother never came, and Seokjin gets a little bit sad over it).

Sometimes, he screamed at the doctors until he got tired.

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He doesn’t know why he keeps on watching the tape. Minutes have passed and nothing remotely interesting have happened (other than the boy changing positions, moving his gaze from the wall to the camera, or when he banged his head to the wall and giving Seokjin the scare of his life) and yet… Seokjin is still here.

So apparently the boy had supernatural powers and that’s why he was in the asylum. Not a great reason to put someone who wasn’t crazy (he saw those things JJK made fly, okay, he’s a believer now) but considering the time and age, he can understand it, he supposes.

Things take a heavy turn when the recording shows a well, instead of the usual white room, and Seokjin can only watch, a scream stuck in his throat as he watches a woman who could probably be JJK’s mother manhandled and threw him inside of the well and closing the lid.

What the fuck.

What the fuck!

He… He didn’t expect this. JJK didn’t deserve that, what the fuck, mother?! Why did she do that?! Better yet, why did this tape exist?! Who recorded this and just… let this happen?!

The tape is still on, the screen showing the closed well, and Seokjin hurriedly turns it off in disgust.

Unbelievable. He’s angry, now.

JJK didn’t deserve that. He kept asking for his mother, didn’t he deserve some cuddles and home made cooking? Or, oh, I don’t know, the whole ass “you’re weird and you can make things fly but you’re still my son and I will try to accept you?” or maybe “I can’t love you but here let me try to find someone who will because you deserve some warmth in life at the very least, haha.”

No? Just kill the boy and throw him inside of a well instead?

He has to admit, JJK was scary. His intense stare, his powers, his screaming and his... episodes, when he was still in the white room; those were scary.

But he also seemed to be lonely.

He doodled on papers and walls, he sung and he hugged a bunny plush to sleep.

Perhaps he was weird and creepy, but he did not deserve that.

JJK did not deserve that.

Sighing heavily, Seokjin rubs the back of his head as he walks toward his bedroom. He’s intent on trying to forget the tape—it’s an old tape and there is no use getting angry over it. The asylum has been closed down, anyways—and continue with his life.

He’ll probably throw the tape away. There’s no need to bring that sort of a thing to the library, after all.

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Except Hoseok comes barreling to his apartment the next morning, babbling about cursed tape from that asylum and how you’re going to die, hyung, oh my god, I told you not to watch it, I TOLD YOU! And Seokjin is perhaps a bit too sleepy to really process what Hoseok is saying, but it takes a good 20 minutes of the dancer explaining about how dire the situation is before it settles into Seokjin’s brain that, hey, he just got cursed.

Seokjin blinks.

“That’s wild.”

Hoseok looks like he wants to cry. Seokjin can relate, really. “Hyung!”

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Okay… So… he got cursed. The tape he watched yesterday is unfortunately a cursed tape (Hoseok gave him the link to the site explaining about the contents of the tape and warnings not to hear or even see it and Seokjin can only think: uh, too late buddy) and now he’s cursed.

It makes sense, now that Seokjin thinks about it. JJK was held in a white boring room for a long ass time, had to be alone for a long ass time, had to experience being thrown into a well, and he had supernatural powers.

If Seokjin is JJK, he would do curse people too.

Still, he’s cursed now, and the site is talking about copying the tape and giving it to somebody else before seven days to transfer the curse to them. Seokjin had looked at Hoseok when he read it aloud and the younger man honestly looked so afraid of his life. Honestly, so adorable.

Seokjin doesn’t think he can do it though; cursing Hoseok or anyone else that he knows. Besides, that means the curse has spread and who is to say he won’t die regardless?

Still, the instruction says JJK will come to him in seven days to kill him.

…..

Hm….

He may have an idea.

Maybe.

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Seven days later.

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It’s something that Seokjin doesn’t really expect: his TV suddenly turning on, showing the scene of the closed well (he shivers). The lid is slowly moving away from the mouth of the well, he notices, and Seokjin waits with a bated breath as a figure he knows as JJK, with the long ass bangs and the dainty waist and all—climbs up from the well.

JJK is getting closer, Seokjin knows, and his breath actually hitches when a hand gets out from the TV. The boy is crawling out of the TV, and that is some creepy shit over there, Seokjin has to admit.

He may have released a tiny “aAAhhhH” as he watches it happen, but he digresses.

JJK is drenched, as to be expected from someone who was thrown into a well and… probably drowned in said well, and Seokjin probably shouldn’t be so snotty about this but really, if JJK wants to kill him, he should be faster.

At the rate he’s crawling right now, Seokjin could’ve driven himself to the airport and move away to Hong Kong.

Still, Seokjin doesn’t run, and he watches as JJK stops short in his tracks as he notices the things Seokjin has prepared for him in seven days.

A full-course meal, with red flower petals and lit aromatherapy candles; all prepared by Seokjin.

“Hey, JJK,” Seokjin calls, watching as the boy lifts his head, his drenched bangs covering his eyes. “Let’s eat.”

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You know, he thought it would be harder than this. But JJK simply needs five minutes of Seokjin coaxing him to sit in front of him and to dig in the meals he’s prepared for the boy. He didn’t even think that JJK could eat, but apparently he could, since the boy is practically devouring the spicy fried chicken he made, all the while still being drenched in water and all that.

If Seokjin doesn’t know how dull and lonely JJK’s life had been in the asylum, he would’ve been surprised over how JJK looks like he’s never seen such good foods in his life before.

(He probably hadn’t).

(Fuck, why is he getting sad for a vengeful spirit who is probably going to kill him?)

(Said vengeful spirit is currently poking at a chocolate pudding with a spoon, but well).

(He’s still a vengeful spirit).

“Is it good?” Seokjin asks as casually as he can, watching the boy whose eyes are still hidden by the bangs nod slowly. His cheeks are bulging from the big spoonful of chocolate pudding he shoved into his mouth after he got a small taste of the dessert, and Seokjin kinds of want to hit himself for thinking that he looks cute.

A vengeful spirit, Seokjin, he thinks to himself, mentally kicking his own butt. Remember, a vengeful spirit.

“You can come back here tomorrow,” Seokjin says, his voice shaking. JJK is staring at him rather intensely now. He thinks he’s going to die. “You know, for, uh, food.”

And that’s how Seokjin somehow manages to live for another day.

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Seokjin doesn’t tell Hoseok on why his life is spared and he evades Hoseok’s questions about his drenched apartment floor. Still, he does tell Hoseok never to come to his apartment unannounced ever again. He doesn’t know when JJK will come and finally take his life, after all.

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“So... What’s your real name?” Seokjin asks over another candle lit dinner (he uses lavender today, and JJK seems to rather love the smell). JJK snaps his gaze up from the roasted duck he’s been poking with his chopsticks (why is he so cute????? Literally Seokjin can’t handle?????) and stays silent for awhile.

Seokjin has to wonder if he’s finally crossed some invisible line that allows his life to be spared.

“….kook….”

“Uh?” Seokjin blinks. “Say what?”

“….” The boy mumbles. Seokjin watches as the knife on the table seems to shake a little bit on its own. “…Jungkook,” JJK—or Jungkook—says finally, the knife settling back in place as if it hasn’t almost given Seokjin a heart attack of the century.

Seokjin nods. “Well, I’m Seokjin. You can call me Jin-hyung.” He’s basically just letting his mouth run on its own at this point, though he considers itself a miracle over how the spirit hasn’t killed him yet… because of food.

How starved must this kid be before, that he could be bargained with food?

“I was born earlier than you,” Jungkook says, stabbing his chopsticks to his bowl of rice. Seokjin really runs on autopilot by now, since he retorts back.

“You’re, like, forever 21 maybe, kid, I’m definitely older than you.”

“….You’re old,” the boy says petulantly, a pout forming on his lips (what the fuck, Seokjin’s mind supplies. A vengeful spirit. Remember he’s a vengeful spirit, Seokjin). “Ancient.”

“Excuse me, I made your food.”

“…Ancient,” Jungkook repeats as he continues eating.

Seokjin still has control over his limbs and he doesn’t want to die, so he refrains from throwing a spoon at the other.

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Somehow… it becomes a tradition?

It’s been almost a month already and he’s not dead yet, so maybe it’s a good thing?

He’s reduced the full course meal into something more simple and easy to make, since he’s no rich college student (his family’s business begs to differ, but Seokjin isn’t taking that into account). Jungkook still comes by every night, climbing out of the well and then the TV and drenching his floor in the process. (By now, he’s only exasperated as he watches as his floor and carpets getting wet. Must Jungkook be wet everytime he comes here?)

They will eat and Seokjin will ask questions, Jungkook will answer.

Well, sometimes.

Other times he either stays quiet, pouts or throws him sass.

(He wants to ask if that sass is what gotten him killed but Seokjin believes that is insensitive and that he will definitely die if he ever ask that to Jungkook).

Sometimes, Jungkook doesn’t immediately disappear when he finishes his food (somehow Seokjin has managed to coax the boy into washing the dishes??? At first the boy’s reaction had been violent but after he explained it the boy became rather docile).

Seokjin has to remind himself all the time that Jungkook is a vengeful spirit.

If he wants to be smug, he can say that Jungkook has warmed up to him considerably. The boy puts everything in his mouth and he accepts whatever kind of food Seokjin has to offer him. He trails after Seokjin as he moves around the room, like a lost puppy (Seokjin has to stop himself from cooing. He’s a vengeful spirit, Seokjin, a vengeful spirit). Sometimes he draws on papers Seokjin gives him (“I saw on the tape that you like to draw,” Seokjin said to him the first time he did it. Jungkook had stared at him for a full ten minutes before he took the paper and doodled on it).

Sometimes he sings. Sometimes he uses his powers and makes things fly as he sings (Seokjin ran away to the bathroom with a lame excuse when he saw Jungkook making knifes fly around his living room).

Jungkook calls him “hyung” now. Sometimes he smiles (bunny teeth! Seokjin had to refrain himself from screaming it to the world the first time he saw it), sometimes he laughs.

Sometimes he tugs on Seokjin’s sleeve when he wants to ask the elder something.

Some other times, the boy literally throws himself on Seokjin and his couch (his couch keeps on getting wet these days, Seokjin kind of wants to cry. He should hair dry this boy before he goes anywhere, he swears) and they… cuddle. Or… whatever. He sits on Seokjin’s lap and either stares at Seokjin’s face or he stares at the ceiling. Seokjin has come to simply accept it. It’s either that or he dies anyway (or so he said).

Other times, his vengeful spirit side comes out in full force.

Other times, he’ll stare at the wall all day, sometimes smacking his head to it repeatedly without pause and only stopping when Seokjin calls out in panic and fear that Seokjin will make him watch about a man in a tin can if he stop trying to crush hurt himself please stop it.

(Jungkook ends up loving Iron Man).

Other times, he’ll give the death stare at Seokjin, as if he’s thinking of creative ways to kill Seokjin.

Other times, he makes the walls and the furniture tremble with his powers and it’s not him playing around, and those times are the only times Seokjin is afraid for his life.

Other times, he’ll talk about it.

“I’m supposed to kill you.”

Seokjin ignores the instinctive fear that comes with those words and that intense stare as he shrugs. “No more food for you if you do.”

Jungkook simply nods, “and no more Iron Man.”

“Atta, boy.”

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One day, Hoseok breaks his promise not to ever come to Seokjin’s apartment unannounced and ends up finding Seokjin trying to coax Jungkook into allowing the older man to cut his bangs.

“C’mon, Gukkie, just a little bit!”

“I want sushi.”

“Yah, I already made you beef and you want semur?! I’m even going to cut your bangs for your sake!”

“Then you can forget it.”

“Yah, Jungkookie!”

“I want sushi.”

Hoseok screams.

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“…Can I kill it?”

“No, you can’t, Kookah.”

“I want sushi.”

“…Fine. But don’t kill Hoseok.”

Jungkook smiles his bunny smile (Hoseok pauses at this, and yeah, Hoseok, Seokjin can relate) and pecks Seokjin’s lips, ignoring how Hoseok seems to resume screaming at this (for a whole different reason) and Seokjin’s pale blush.

“Yah—You—I can’t belie—“

“Sushi.”

“Ugh!” Seokjin huffs. “Fine, you big baby. But you’re not killing Hoseok and I’m going to cut your bangs!”

“Kay.”

And there’s that.

[sinfully-romione]

The Taste of Crow

Rating: K

Summary: Hermione is determined to make Ron eat healthy.

“Ron, what are you doing?”

He jerked back, tripping over the kitchen chair, and would have fallen if he hadn’t thrown out one long, lanky arm to grab the counter.

“Damn it, Hermione, you’re going to give me a heart attack!” Ron hissed, clutching his chest as he glared at his wife. How did she always bloody do that?

I don’t think I’m the one most likely to give you a heart attack,” she said with a pointed look at the bag of crisps he had been reaching for, her tone carrying all of the superiority of a habitual salad snarfer.

“Oh, come on! It’s just a snack!”

“We have some lovely hummus and carrots in the fridge. Or kale crisps; I got those especially for you.”

“I wondered what I’d done to deserve that,” he muttered, flinching at the thought of the greenish, crispy little disks that made him think of dried bogies.

She sighed, rolling her eyes. “You know we agreed to encourage the kids to choose healthy snacking options.”

“The kids aren’t even down here! They’d never know!” He tried to convince her, giving the crisps a longing look.

“Kids know, Ron. They see and hear everything, even when you think they don’t.”

“You make them sound like a creepy cross between Santa Claus and government operatives,” Ron grumbled, his stomach whining in protest as it realized it was not to be fed.

“You know we’re about due for our wellness checks at the Ministry. I shudder to think what your cholesterol and blood sugar looks like! We aren’t getting any younger; you need to start eating more sensibly.”

“What good is living long if you’re miserable?” He asked, then sighed. “Alright, I’ll try to be good until then–emphasis on try. After that, no promises, unless the Healer says there’s something really wrong with me.”

“I’ll hold you to that,” Hermione said, with a small, complacent smile that told him she expected the Healer to do her dirty work for her.

And hold him to it she did; for the next three weeks, every time he tried to sneak a snack, she materialized out of nowhere to thwart him. All of his secret stashes disappeared. And, in what he thought was the lowest blow of all, she had arranged for him to only be served ‘healthful’ options at the Leaky! He wasn’t even allowed to slip off to the Burrow unsupervised. Harry was practically frisked at the Floo every time he visited, just in case he was tempted to try to sneak in a care package. He had sunk to the low of slurping up the flavored water left over from the kid’s snacktime fruit cups. Yesterday, a little girl had stopped by selling cookies for some kind of troop she was in, and Hermione hadn’t even had to come to stop him, since he’d managed to scare the poor girl away with the crazed, hungry expression and low moaning noises he made when she showed him a box.

Now, thankfully, it was time for their checkup, and he was determined to gorge himself just as soon as he was free.

“I say that after this, we get lunch at that place that makes those ginormous burgers,” he said, practically able to feel the grease sliding down his chin, caressing him like a lover.

“Oh, yes, that sounds lovely,” she surprised him by saying, idly flicking through a magazine.

“Really?” He asked in surprised, not sure she was paying attention.

“Absolutely. I think it would be the best thing for you.

“Y–you do?” He couldn’t believe his luck.

“Yes. That place makes amazing salads; I’m sure you’d love the grilled chicken.”

He sat back in his seat, thinking sulkily to himself that if he was going to have chicken today, it was bloody well going to be fried.

They were finally called back, methodically put through the various tests that helped keep their insurance at a manageable level. Once they were done, the Healer came in with their results, but was promptly called out of the office.

Once he was gone, Hermione craned her head, squinting to read the parchment.

“Ha! I knew it–Ron, you’re going to have to start eating better now–your cholesterol is far too high!”

“What?” He yelped. “It can’t be! I’m not that old, and as much as you like to complain, I don’t eat that poorly, and I exercise…..”

“Results don’t lie, I’m afraid,” she said, patting his arm.

Oh, Merlin, what was he going to do? If the last few weeks had been this unbearable, how would he manage a lifetime on Hermione’s iron-fisted regime? He might live a long time, but it would feel twice as long now. And not in the good way. A Chocolate Frog might never hop past his lips again! He wondered if she’d let him have a sort of farewell tour of all his favorite foods.

“Sorry about that. Now, where were we?” The Healer said, bustling back in.

“You were just about to give my husband the results of his tests,” Hermione prompted.

“Oh. Yes, yes…..Mr. Weasley, you seem to be in excellent health; keep it up!”

Softly, angels began to sing.

“Wait, so there’s nothing wrong with me?”

The Healer cocked his head. “No, not at all. Were you expecting something to be?”

“But I saw his cholesterol level!” Hermione protested. “It was so high!”

Adjusting his glasses, the Healer checked his notes again. “No, his–ah, I see what it is. You were looking at his good cholesterol. Yes, that is high, but oddly enough, that usually has the effect of lowering the bad cholesterol.”

At this point, Ron was practically ready to offer the man any future children they might have in thanks.

“So I don’t need to make any changes?” He asked, just to be sure.

“No, I wouldn’t say so. You, however…..” he frowned at Hermione, who blinked in surprise. “I’m afraid you’re the one with high cholesterol. And not the good kind.”

“What?” Hermione squawked. “But I’m so careful! I always eat more healthy than he does–I can’t understand it!”

The Healer shrugged. “While eating carefully is a good choice, there’s always other factors, such as genetics. Still, I’m sure we’ll be able to get yours under control, with a little work.”

“Well, are you ready for lunch?” Ron said brightly as they stepped out onto the street. “I’m starving.”

“I don’t know,” Hermione said with a wan smile. “I think I’ll be too full from all the crow I’m eating.”

“Don’t worry about it, love; I know the place that’s just right for you,” Ron said, putting his arm around her waist and leading her towards their destination.

“You do?”

“Yeah. I’ve been told they make wonderful salads.”