𝖗𝖊𝖕𝖊𝖓𝖙𝖎𝖓𝖌

monster themed asks

Fury: What is a word/phrase that you dread to hear?

It’s, admittedly, been a few things over his lifetime. He shifts, disquieted by even having to consider an answer here. It’s a personal thing, but there’s no point in not being forthcoming, right?

“For a while, it was ‘You never made it’,”  Even the ghost of the phrase tastes bitter on his tongue, but Enji procedes anyway, “These days, I think it’s more like… ‘You disappointed them.’“

flower crown meme / @glamie

Who are we kidding, they’re probably both. These remedial classes are something he’s really caught himself up in trying to get to here and there-forst for Shouto, then for that really tall one, and now, he supposed, for the lot of them.

But this girl was a unique brand, wasn’t she? The circlet goes on hap-hazard-a consequence of his own towering height-and subsequently he gets a few pokes along his eyelids-ouch.

It’s the extended kind of silence that makes your skin crawl, that makes you regret saying anything at all. Enji doesn’t realize he’s holding his breath until she smiles-and then it comes out in one long, ragged sigh that he can’t even pretend to hide. It’s embarrassing-he hates being embarrassed.

But maybe it slips between the cracks, because she steps forward and for maybe the sixth, sevent time since she was an infant, embraces him. That number cuts to three when Enji lets his arms wrap around her in turn. It’s a little thing that he notes, how small she is. Or maybe he’s just unwieldy huge.

He thinks about saying things, about opening up that statement further. I’m worried about you, When I say you can call me-I mean please call me. I’ll miss you, I love you. He says none of it, he lets go.

Even as Enji stands on the curb past the front gate of the courtyard and gives her a curt nod goodbye, he can’t help but feel a palpitation in the darkest corner of his heart; Maybe she’s leaving forever, like Natsuo. That’s a big suitcase, you didn’t ask about the hotel, maybe she’s moving up-country, maybe this is goodbye. You can’t trust anyone, Enji, you know that. You made them like that.

When he reenters an empty parlor, he tries to overlook it. A few glasses of umeshu, a long wait. He hates texting, especially now that he’s gotten in the habit of doing it more often. It’s a long series of those pauses he hates-with words you hear it right away, you get that validation right away. With this phone, it’s a series of little dots and sometimes quarter-hours of waiting. Or no response at all, in the case of his youngest.

But it sends, regardless.

    “you’re also bad for me, yet here you are…”

flower crown meme / @ice-aflame​

First, a moment of surprise. Then, he removes the thing only to inspect it.

It’s a pretty thing, carefully wound in a way that echoes the expertise of ikebana. Something about even that nags at a guilty part of his brain. Of course she’d learn such a thing, of course she’d have the patience (maybe even the sense of duty-of obligation). Peony and hydrangea and poppy and bluebell.

He’s blank-eyed for a split second, brain straining more than it has any excuse to. But isn’t that how things have been these last few months?

“wrow, it’s mr. smokey!”

“I don’t smoke; it’s bad for you. You must have the wrong Pro.”

The worst thing about someone having a flying quirk is that it’s hard to avoid nonsense like this. Unable to dodge the small wreath of tied flowers, Enji instead chooses to turn and glower at Hawks.

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