This Is Just What My Campaign Achieved 😔😓💔 !!

Cooling off... (from last month's Patreon)

another lazy sketch… i added the blood for no reason.. sorry edited it bc i didn’t like the color!!

Some modern au for fem dabihawks weekend over on Twitter 🙏

I THINK YOU'RE ALREADY COOL 🙋‍♀️🙋‍♀️🙋‍♀️

whoever reblogs my posts gets a hug/kiss/headpat/other affectionate gesture. if you reblog with comments i will personally befriend you (increases your chances of me writing a fic that caters to your interests) please give me attention and support my art i know im a writer but i wanna be cool so bad

I think Hawks' pupils should do that creepy shrinking thing parrot eyes do. I think it'd be funny if nobody told him but they're all very much unnerved.

Complimenting someone’s content:

Getting complimented back:

Dabi thinking 'what's the catch' each time Hawks goes out of his way to do something heroically nice for him, a villain...

Something so terribly close to care.

Or impossibly like 𝘭𝘰𝘷𝘦.

(When Hawks can't care)

(When he doesn't get love)

A hero laced in gold and too bright wings can't be anything but a nefarious spy with impure intentions, waiting for him trip and fall.

Only to find out the catch, when he accidentally stumbles a little too close to the edge of the tallest skyscraper, the streets of oncoming traffic hundreds of feet before him flashing precariously across his eyes, his own life coursing through his veins, is just that—

Hawks catches him.

Without any pretense, without a moments hesitation.

Gloved fingers wrapped against the back of his neck and pulling against his wrist, his erratic pulse like a freight train beneath the stretch of fabric, and golden eyes boring concern into his own.

And there's nothing there but openly raw affection.

There isn't any other catch.

"Don't leave this world before me," Hawks murmurs, painfully close to his ears, wings curled against his back shielding him from the fall, as if his strength alone wouldn't be enough.

And the manic feeling of insanity and disbelief and wonderment exhales out of him all in one breath.

𝘖𝘩.

JUST FINISHED SEASON 7!! HELP!!

so while we waited for season 8 i thought I'd try drawing my boy Hawks!

That one time I re drew that one scene from that one movie

I live for vigilante hawks ♪ヽ(´▽｀)/

#dabihawks Hawks, who's not the fastest hero who sits at number two, but the people's fastest vigilante, who crashes hero galas and every overly lascivious extravagances and press conferences that top heroes hold, to steal the food and all of their riches to distribute to the poor. His prime target, the number two flame hero.

And rising pro-hero Dabi, who watches him do it without fail, every time. Something between annoyance but impressed and confusingly fond, another purposely slowed step to not catch him.

(He could catch him if he tried, is what Dabi tells himself.)

But it is his father, so maybe vigilante Hawks is on to something. He's never approved of the waste that top heroes spend. Most definitely not his father's annual celebrations, so if he turns a blind eye, there's really no harm here, right?

And if Hawks lounges against a table at the annual bash, no eyes' on him except for Dabi's, as he bites into an apple, Dabi can't deny that he looks good doing what he does.

"Here to rob the poor old man again?" Dabi greets, for the hell of it. Not because he's not already sure of the other man's intentions. Innocent until proven guilty... except Hawks is always guilty.

Hawks snorts as he throws out a hand and props up a knee, leather pants stretching against the pose and Dabi's eyes stray too long between his legs. His hand dangles off the knee as he waves, "This what you guys call poor?"

Dabi laughs, sloshing the liquid around the glass of champagne in his hand. "Nah, but someone's gotta give him a little pity. He'll be bled dry someday if you keep coming for him."

"Will he?" Hawks muses lazily and takes another bite of the apple, the crunch of the fruit catching its juices against the corner of his mouth. Dabi licks his own lips. "And what of the people outside, already empty? I rather think I'm not bleeding him dry fast enough."

Dabi agrees, he does, but he's also a hero who's supposed to discourage criminal behavior. And yet the words don't come out that way.  "So work faster," Dabi offers. "You're the fastest out there, aren't you? Or is that name just the press getting it all wrong?"

"Who knows?" Hawks' lips quirk into a grin. "But if I didn't know any better, I'd think you're encouraging stealing, Dabi."

"I'm a hero," Dabi repeats flatly, but it sounds weak even to his own ears. He doesn't move to arrest Hawks. He doesn't step in to stop him, not even with the chance that presents itself. He doesn't have an answer either, to generational poverty and the poor that don't have enough to eat. He wished he did, wishes Hawks, wasn't right in his own fucked up way.

Hawks jumps off the table, finished apple core tossed into a nearby bin. And then he's at Dabi's side lightning fast, blink and he'd miss it, voice sliding temptations like the gravest of a deadly sin against his ears. "Guess I'd better get to work, lest you get any other ideas. But if you're ever having a change of heart, you could... join me."

Dabi blinks and there's a whirlwind of feathers and a gust of wind, something more than the beat of his heart and the twitch of arousal that's distantly confused. Hawks is gone, a single feather left behind. His glass of champagne and the wallet against his pockets, missing.

The entirety of the banquet table too, stripped bare. All that remains, the polished wood but not a single bite.

The crowd in the background break out in gasps and uneven chatter between shock and disarray at the sudden lack of food, their missing wallets and expensive jewelry. As if they'd attended without noticing the annual reputation that these events often held now. Daylight robbery, from theirs truly.

Join Hawks.

That's crazy talking though, isn't it?