Work Text:
Hawkmoth looked around at the condition of his lair. In all honestly, it was horribly underwhelming. Mainly because of the lack of furniture. Well, he knew the solution to this problem.
“Nooroo, transform me, we're going to Ikea.”
The workers at Ikea didn't really know how to handle some random guy in a purple butterfly suit looking for in his own words ‘villainous’ furniture while muttering something about ‘vin'. They had no idea what vin meant, since it was a French word and for some reason they all only spoke English, despite working in Paris. They didn't question it out of respect for the all consuming void Ikea workers worship, a distant cousin of the glow cloud all hail.
Hawkmoth inspected the price tag on what looked like a chair. He could afford it. He could afford the store. Satisfied with his purchase of one chair and exactly two (2) tables, he checked out. But not before eating some meatballs while glaring at passerby. His favorite pastime.
The Ikea workers go home. They go to sleep. The next day a man named Hawkmoth is on the tv. They recognize him. They give the void a sacrifice. Then they do nothing. Time goes on. Yesterday is blurry. What happened yesterday. They see Hawkmoth. They don't recognize him. They have a headache.