i can just imagine this is keigo's mood during every tour
do you think he ever goes back to touya and rant when they're no longer constantly going for each other's throat
imagine if touya witnesses the girls shamelessly flirting as keigo guides a tour group past him, and it makes him jealous, which he'll never admit, so when they're in private touya is EXTRA bitchy which leads to another scrap lmaooo
oh gosh college au keigo gets a job as a tour guide and it’s his least favorite thing ever but he wants the spending money (his parents (adoptive) only fund certain activities and he wants to have more of a life than that (and buy touya things what who said that))
just picture it. keigo takami. gorgeous guy. walking around campus (even when it’s cold) having to tell all these people he doesn’t know and doesn’t like how awesome this university is (is this not just propaganda his “mother” is the university president)
and when he’s not working and encounters other tour groups he’s all but seething because they’re loud and take up space and he does not want to deal with it
something about touyas scars makes him so pretty and ugh it's so satisfying to draw
also we don't talk about hawks' hair okay it was like 4am and I thought I was cooking (*ToT)
if Touya had become a pro hero, I know he would’ve aced modeling. just imagine him posing. and the STARE??? god he belongs on a front page
redrawing this after 7 months woo
I'll probably color and render it later if I have time cause I actually kinda like how it turned out
Crackfic Idea:
30-year-old Zuko gets randomly flung back in time to his 16-year-old self. For a couple of hours at a time. At the most random times imaginable. Imagine the potential.
Zuko assumes that it's a dream or a vision, but definitely not real. He tries not to freak everybody out too badly, but he's also fully enjoying himself and seeing all of his friends as their young selves.
ZUKO, as he and Aang circle each other at the South Pole: I've spent years preparing for this encounter. Training, meditating. You're just a [Spirit Shwoop Sound] ... baby Aang!
AANG, confused: Well, more like preteen Aang. How do you know my name?
ZUKO, looking around: Wait, where are we?
AANG: Um... this is the-
SOKKA: Don't answer him! He's trying to get information out of you. You can't give away our location!
KATARA: Sokka, he's standing in the middle of our village. I think he knows.
ZUKO: We're here? This is so weird. I was just here for the Annual Penguin Race.
AANG: THERE'S AN ANNUAL PENGUIN RACE?!
ZUKO: Well, yeah, it was your idea... you gave a whole speech about cross-cultural cooperation and friendship, but I know you just wanted to go penguin sledding with a bunch of people...
AANG: Well, I-
SOKKA: Stop giving him more information! He already knows about the penguins!
Everybody else is confused, bewildered and even befuddled except for Iroh, who assumes that it's Spirit Shenanigans™️ and just fully accepts that his nephew likes tea and hugs and Pai Sho sometimes while being his usual shouty surly traumaball self at others.
ZUKO, stepping into the cabin: Hi, Uncle. I brought you some ginseng. How about a game of Pai Sho?
IROH, tearing up a little: I would love that, my nephew.
ZUKO: I wish we could do this more often, but you live so far away...
IROH, mentally calculating that he lives exactly three doors away from Zuko, and nodding sagely: The rat-viper may never climb the mountain that a hog-monkey can, but the monkey does not know what lies underneath it.
ZUKO, sighing sadly: I know, Uncle. I do appreciate my position in life, even if it has disadvantages.
IROH: Hmm. Your move, nephew.
The crew of Zuko's ship is terrified by the fact that whenever it happens, Zuko is somehow even more hyper-competent, seems to be weirdly calm about everything, and most unnervingly of all, he's polite.
SOLDIER: Here is a report on the best teahouses within three days travel of our current location, Sir. And, uh, Commander Zhao sent a messenger hawk.
ZUKO: Excellent. Thank you very much, Sergeant. I think we can ignore whatever Zhao has to say. In reply, I want you to send him a list of the most famous officers in Fire Nation history, and point out that none of them had sideburns. I want to see if he shaves them.
SOLDIER, sweating nervously: O-of course, Sir.
As a matter of fact, the whole fic could just be Zuko trolling Zhao. It would be glorious.
YAYAYAYAYAYYAY GUYS LOOOKKKKKKK (*≧∀≦)人(≧∀≦*)♪
#dabihawks 🔥 pro-hero Dabi accidentally setting his birdie on fire in the early stages of their team up, and pro-hero Hawks, too allured by those blue flames blazing in the distance, too distracted in love, doesn't even notice until Dabi repeatedly shouts something suspiciously like, "Hawks?! You're on fire??" over the roar of inferno.
And Hawks sighs, dazed between the heat and Dabi's beautiful blue, as he glances down, the lick of sparks catching against his feathers as he ignored the pain, pain tolerance too high to even care, "I guess."
Dabi, who can't fly, propels himself across the air towards Hawks on pure firepower alone, faster than he's ever done, already speed dialing the paramedics as he yells, "HELP?!"
And oh, Dabi's coming closer then? The whoosh of Dabi's costume floats through the sea of blue, more distracting than ever, more beautiful than anything. White really is his color.
Hawks chuckles as a gloved hand brushes off a spark, some of his feathers dusting beneath him, "Nah. Don't worry, hot stuff I'm good actually."
Dabi wraps an arm around Hawks in record speed, ice already encasing protectively against his wings, extinguishing what's left of any hint of flames.
Hawks smiles dreamily up at him, loopy between the heat and cold and Dabi's palms shooting against his wings. "Mm, you're so hot."
"It's ice?!" Dabi cries.
Later...
Hawks lays on his stomach as Dabi's warm hands comb through his wings, righting the poor feathers who have seen better days and preening over the roughed up strands.
"You're reckless," Dabi chides, but he sounds pained, like it's him that's accidentally caught fire today.
"Mm," Hawks agrees absentmindedly, thinking he doesn't mind getting a little singed if it's Dabi's work. His feathers will grow back and Dabi tending to him like this, soft and attentive, is really just cherry on top of having seen the blue of his dreams. "'s okay. I'm okay."
// tbc in a full fic
(for @yerrrrrrrl who inspired this beautiful concept of Dabi and Hawks who are each other's worst matchup only bcus they are too busy watching each other lmao)
That's what im sayinnggggggg it's like as if there were NO heroes before all might yk ? It's like her character is there to just acknowledge that there's a little bit of a plot hole there. It didn't even feel like nana got the same treatment as the other past holders of ofa who were all so mysterious and wise but nana just said she failed and that izuku should be prepared to kill shigaraki... like... where's the depth behind that... a lot of female characters in mha are just taken at face value in the story tbh
WHOS THE BADDEST BITCH IN THE CLUB ⁉️⁉️
guys there's a reason why horikoshi didn't make dabi femaleughhhhhhajahhahav
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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?