howlrs

[howlrs]

i am on a hiatus across both blogs. irl is getting busy, and with the exception of a few occasional threads/memes i have big motivation for, i just haven't felt any desire to write on here lately. rp has felt like a chore, i've felt like i'm letting everyone down, my inbox and drafts are at 100+, and i just need to take a step back for now rather than pretending i can do things that i really cannot. so if you see me just responding to the same couple of people and/or not responding to dms often, it's not that i hate or am bored of everyone else, it's just that my muse and social energy are 99% nonexistent rn. geto's muse especially has tanked hard.

hopefully after a break i'll find the love for the blogs again! but for now, bitches be lurking, maybe making ooc + headcanon posts, and otherwise peacing out. i'm bitches.

[howlrs]

indie midoriya izuku of my hero academia. / mutuals only. selective. as written by alex (21+, gmt+1, english as second language). minors dni. primarily villain au & secondary canon verse. featuring: canon divergent verses, a fandomless crime verse, spider-verse au & arcane au.

a story on: arson, murder, and jaywalking, batman grabs a gun, beware the nice ones, despair event horizon, the unchosen one, yin-yang bomb, & more.

BABY, I AIN'T UNDER PRESSURE GATHER UP, RETURN TO SENDER

⋆ BLOG ⋆ CARRD ⋆ PERMANENT STARTER CALL ⋆ THREAD TRACKER ⋆ PLAYLIST ⋆ GRAPHICS CRED. ⋆

[howlrs]

It started as a joke. Then ... it wasn't. Technically, there's nothing stopping Jie from taking this stupid thing off. Kind of hard to be confined with or in anything when he's able to just ... phase away. Yet the muzzle — degrading as it may feel — stays on. He's not happy about it, but he did mangle Rayaan's arm the other day. Again. Not his fault an entire arm's used to quit his post-meteor frenzy.

So he sits and sulks.

PERSEPHONE, FOR HER PART, cannot seem to shake the quiet amusement she feels every time she spots her muzzled and glowering partner. ❝ you know that your pouting only makes it funnier, right. ❞ deadpan as ever. she hooks a finger around one of the bars, tugs on it with a barely-there smirk. ❝ you're just missing the collar and leash. maybe i should get some dog treats to train you with. don't you wanna be called good boy? ❞

unprompted // @tewwor

[howlrs]

無量__My  muse  nearly  confesses  but  quickly  backtracks.  “It’s  nothing.  Forget  I  said  anything.” //and then proceeds to climb out a nearby window

FIRST: IT'S SOMETHING IN HIS VOICE that gives her pause. satoru gojo and hesitation do not go together; it's not like him to backtrack before speaking. if it were, persephone would not have suffered hearing half of the things she's heard him say.

second: it's the fact that gojo, brash and prideful and devoid of shame as he is, is blushing. sure — unearthly pale as he is, he's bound to go red sometimes, but persephone's only ever seen it come from exertion. never ... this.

it doesn't take a genius to figure out the trajectory of his abandoned words.

it doesn't.

but —

❝ ... ❞ what comes from persephone's throat is not silence, per se. it's a strangled noise, not quite one thing or another, somewhere between shocked and confused and irritated and something else, something worse. before they can force out anything better than h—rk—uh—, they blink, and they're staring at the dandelion-puff back of his head as he clambers toward their dorm window like the world's largest, palest spider.

❝ gojo—wai— ❞

the last thing she sees is him. there and gone.

❝ wait, ❞ in a smaller, weaker voice. spoken to an empty window. ❝ i'm leaving tonight. ❞ it's probably best they didn't get to say goodbye. they aren't supposed to. asshole, leaving her wondering like that — likely, he's left her wondering for the rest of her short, stupid life.

[howlrs]

UNLIKE THOUGHT, AS HYPOTHESIZED BY VIKTOR, LOYALTY IS staunch and unmoving. loyalty in its truest form, no matter how those bound by it are bent or twisted or shaken, cannot be torn asunder by outside force. it breaks apart from the inside or not at all. viktor's mortality leaches out day by day like blood into the soil. those who once stood by him now see him as a traitor, while others look up to him as a god. persephone cannot claim to understand how any of his new bullshit works, frankly, but they understand the rot of humanity on a bone-deep level. this rot killed them and brought them back worse, a thousand little deaths by human hands.

❝ i envy you. ❞ dark eyes flick down to meet those that glow back up at her; she can only hold that unnerving gaze for a moment before glancing away, though not out of disgust. he could be trying to end the world and she wouldn't give a damn. do what you want with humanity; it's broken anyway. persephone's loyalty, knightlike, will see it through to the end. ❝ i can't imagine life without fear. ❞

❝  thought,  in  its  truest  form,  is  never  stagnant.  its  beauty  lies  in  its  capacity  to  grow   …  transform.  ❞  his  fingers  curl  around  the  tip of  his  cane,  slow  and  deliberate,  edge  biting  into  skin.  he  doesn’t  flinch.  viktor's  gaze  flickers,  a  pulse  of  arcane  light  threading  through  irises  no  longer  quite  his  own.  tilt of the head,  just  slightly,  like  he's  observing  something  under  glass.  ❝  back  then,  i  was  bound  by  limitation.  fear.  ❞

* . ⊹ @howlrs sent ... that's not what you told me back then.

[howlrs]

waow first time drawing my own oc ever wooooow

[howlrs]

HELLHOUND'S STEPS ARE QUIET as she picks her way over broken limbs and slumped bodies. still, her spidery form casts a long shadow over the hole someone must have punched in the warehouse's metal wall. still, the half-dead man pauses. notices. speaks.

impressive.

he may recognize the thing that stands behind him, with its deep-pitch hair and limb-ripping metal claws. he may not. it won't save him, either way. ❝ nah. ❞ low, quiet. ❝ lucky you. you're not the one i'm after. ❞ after a quick glance at the bloodsoaked faces littering the ground, their expression darkens. ❝ and you haven't killed his ass yet. which means they're about to send more fuckers after you. one and only chance to get out of dodge, stranger. ❞

open — mutuals only — based off of this wishlist idea!

Bodies lay motionless on the floor; red and tacky with blood. The person he had just grappled with was thrown down to join the others. Breaths come out a little-lot labored, but he's still standing. Still sharp enough to pick up on another presence, at least.

"You next?" Siwoo asks, voice grating and rough as he eyes the newcomer. Doesn't take a genius to see how he's barely able to stand; all disheveled with blood soaked fabric and heavily matted hair. Pain rattles with each shallow breath. There'd been too much overexertion, too many injuries, too much lost blood.

[howlrs]

they're serving all might limited jello cups. aizawa kept him after class to lecture him, so you know what? he's just going to cut in front of seph at lunch to make sure he gets one. [ from katsuki! c:

AND ALL IT TAKES IS one kick of the leg, a hooked ankle around the knee, and by impossible sciences seph has flipped their positions so that bakugou is behind her. it's a completely kneejerk reaction. ❝ hey. asshole. if it weren't your birthday, i'd fuckin' pummel you. ❞ despite her irritation, she tosses the jello cup toward him as soon as the poor first-year hands it to her, then stalks off without another word. see? she can be nice.

unprompted // @damnedflames

[howlrs]

𝐑𝐎𝐌𝐀𝐍𝐓𝐈𝐂  𝐑𝐏  𝐒𝐓𝐀𝐑𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐒  .  .  .  (  pt  3.  the  first  admission  )   Moments  of  hesitation,  breathless  confessions,  and  the  weight  of  words  finally  spoken    ✧  ˚₊  Themes:  vulnerability,  tension,  relief  &  the  fear  of  ruining  everything

✧      ›     𝐍𝐄𝐑𝐕𝐎𝐔𝐒    &    𝐒𝐎𝐅𝐓

My  muse  stumbles  over  their  words,  finally  managing  to  say,  “I…  I  think  I’ve  been  in  love  with  you  for  a  while.”

My  muse  fidgets  with  their  hands,  avoiding  your  muse’s  gaze  as  they  whisper,  “Do  you  ever  think  about  us?  Like…  more  than  just  friends?”

My  muse  lets  it  slip  without  thinking,  eyes  widening  as  they  murmur,  “God,  I  love  you—”  then  freeze.

My  muse  bites  their  lip,  hesitates,  then  finally  sighs,  “I  don’t  know  how  to  say  this,  but…  I  think  you  mean  more  to  me  than  you  should.”

My  muse  confesses  in  a  quiet  moment,  looking  down,  “I  don’t  need  you  to  say  anything  back,  I  just…  needed  you  to  know.”

My  muse  shakes  their  head  with  a  soft  laugh.  “It’s  ridiculous,  really.  I  was  scared  to  tell  you  because…  I  didn’t  want  to  lose  you.”

✧    ›     𝐀𝐍��𝐒𝐓     &     𝐓𝐄𝐍𝐒𝐈𝐎𝐍

My  muse  snaps  in  frustration,  “Do  you  really  not  see  it?  How  much  I—”  then  stops,  realizing  what  they  almost  said.

My  muse  confesses  in  a  moment  of  desperation,  gripping  your  muse’s  wrist  as  they  plead,  “Just…  tell  me  I  don’t  have  a  chance,  and  I’ll  stop.”

My  muse  looks  away,  voice  barely  above  a  whisper.  “If  I  tell  you,  everything  changes.  And  I  don’t  know  if  I  can  handle  that.”

My  muse  confesses  in  a  reckless  moment,  pulling  your  muse  close.  “I  should’ve  said  it  sooner.  I  should’ve  told  you  before  it  was  too  late.”

My  muse  breaks  the  silence  with  a  strained  voice.  “I  don’t  want  to  pretend  anymore.  I  can’t  keep  acting  like  I  don’t—like  I  don’t  feel  this  way.”

My  muse  clenches  their  fists,  staring  at  the  ground.  “I’m  in  love  with  you.  I  have  been  for  years.  And  it’s  killing  me.”

✧    ›   𝐅𝐋𝐔𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐄𝐃     &     𝐂𝐀𝐓𝐂𝐇𝐈𝐍𝐆     𝐘𝐎𝐔𝐑𝐒𝐄𝐋𝐅

My  muse  blurts  out,  “I  think  I—”  then  immediately  shuts  their  mouth,  cheeks  burning.

My  muse  tries  to  play  it  off,  laughing  nervously.  “I  mean,  it’s  not  like  I—uh,  you  know,  like  you  like  you  or  anything—”

My  muse  nearly  confesses  but  quickly  backtracks.  “It’s  nothing.  Forget  I  said  anything.”

My  muse  starts  to  confess  but  gets  interrupted,  then  panics,  saying,  “Never  mind!  Nothing  important!”

My  muse  trips  over  their  words,  then  just  sighs  in  defeat.  “Screw  it.  Yeah.  I  like  you.”

✧    ›   𝐂𝐎𝐍𝐅𝐄𝐒𝐒𝐈𝐎𝐍𝐒     𝐈𝐍     𝐈𝐍𝐓𝐈𝐌𝐀𝐓𝐄     𝐌𝐎𝐌𝐄𝐍𝐓𝐒

My  muse  whispers  it  against  your  muse’s  skin,  their  breath  warm.  “I’ve  wanted  to  say  this  for  so  long…”

My  muse  confesses  as  they  tend  to  your  muse’s  wounds,  their  hands  gentle.  “You  don’t  get  it,  do  you?  I’d  do  anything  for  you.”

My  muse  leans  in,  voice  barely  audible.  “Tell  me  I’m  wrong.  Tell  me  you  don’t  feel  it  too.”

My  muse  murmurs  it  in  the  dark,  thinking  your  muse  is  asleep.  “…I  love  you.”

My  muse  says  it  in  the  middle  of  laughter,  their  expression  softening  as  realization  dawns.  “God,  I  love  you.”

My  muse  admits  it  right  before  a  goodbye,  voice  breaking.  “I  didn’t  want  to  leave  without  telling  you.”

[howlrs]

slowly loading up the paused queue (even though i can only manage like one reply a day sobs) and then start it a bit later. for now i'm taking a partial step back from tumblr because i'm struggling to be here without stressing about letting everyone down :'I hopefully getting caught up with some older drafts and asks will help things feel a lil better/more balanced!

[howlrs]

still stuck in a brain rut w writing...... unsurprisingly it coincides with it still being Horribly Cold and Dark outside. i'm tryna push thru it, but right now (all winter really. and it's still winter im so fucking SICK OF IT) i'm having a really hard time working on anything that doesn't have an immediate sense of novelty to it 😭 so if u've been waiting for a while but see me writing other things with newer partners/dynamics, i'm so sorry and it's not at all an effort to replace you. i wish i could more accurately describe how it feels, but the best i can do is "a layer of thick cotton in between ur brain and the world that u have to cut through to do anything that requires effort, but u have no scissors".

this isn't about one thing or person, it's an accumulation! i think i've messaged everyone individually who i was worried about it with, but in case anyone else is wondering: this is what's going on behind the scenes :') totally understandable if this isn't a pattern that works well with you/you don't want to interact anymore if it can't be consistent. i get it, trust me! it's no hard feelings! just know that i am probably thinking about you a lot even if we haven't talked or written in a while. eventually the sun will come back (god willing), the seasonal depression will finally leave me the FUCK ALONE, and i can actually put effort into more things again <3 again i'm really sorry to anyone i've made to feel ignored or replaced, i care about u guys a whole lot.

[howlrs]

today was a weird day. on one hand i am a tummyache victim but on the other hand i had the best cinnamon roll ive ever had in my life, so like,

[howlrs]

無下限__²⁾ a sticky note on a pillow - a poorly drawn picture of a catalytic converter.

IDIOT. ODDS ARE, BY THE LAW OF GOJO, he would become an excellent artist at superhuman speed if he tried. not that it seems like he wants to try, but whatever. it's cute, in its own way. how did he even get into her room?

god only knows. seph's been gone for a week on a job she couldn't tell anyone about — some lame excuse about seeing her parents back in the states — so who knows what kind of hijinks the crew got up to while she was away? nice to know that someone was thinking about her.

it shouldn't be nice. it should be alarming. don't get attached, seph, you'll regret it in the end. but when has she ever listened to the voice of reason?

the note is pinned onto a corkboard on the inside of the door with other miscellaneous memorabilia — photo booth pictures from being dragged out to shibuya, postcards orion painted by hand, squares of cardstock with seph's pressed flowers pasted on. she snaps a photo of it on her cell phone, texts it to gojo along with the message "is this your emotionally constipated way of saying you miss me? lol"

domestic prompts // @mukagenborn

[howlrs]

²⁵⁾ a shared bath && ³⁶⁾ lit candles // from sukuna! LOOK. idk how ic it is for the bath bit but both of them washing up and patching wounds or whatever in the tub together + sukuna lighting candles or smth in the hideout instead of turning on lamps for whatever reason. there's a VIBE HERE

THE HOT BATHWATER comes at the cost of a scathingly cold shower beforehand, the two of them scrubbing away the grime and the blood — persephone gritting her teeth against the lancing pain the cold brings to the marred flesh of her torso. fuck. it's being hosed down in prison all over again. there are merits and drawbacks to this particular hideout. merits: a bathtub, full kitchen, closest one to where they were after stumbling out of the warzone they left behind. drawbacks: very limited hot water, no rigged lighting in any room except the kitchen. no lamps, either. not like she'd give a damn in most circumstances. her hideouts are a place for doing the bare minimum and getting the fuck out again.

sharing a bath was just... economical. extreme cold is impractical for dealing with injuries. both of them bear deeper wounds across their backs: persephone from bodyshielding him on pure instinct, tanking more than one gunshot to buy sukuna precious seconds; sukuna from a knife he couldn't deflect. neither of them should be conscious, let alone functional, but. well. the only thing worse than one fucker who won't stay down is two.

while persephone fills the tub by the faint multicolor light of the city outside of an opaque (and bulletproof) frosted-glass window, sukuna digs out an old box of candles from god-knows-what drawer and sets to lighting them. both are used to working in darkness. still, why not take what they can get? and it makes a shocking difference: by the time he sheds the towel and steps in with them, the bathroom is bathed in a soft orange glow.

persephone casts a glance around the room with the echo of a hint of a smile, still sitting on the edge of the tub. ❝ get some rose petals in here and it's just like a dingy love motel. ❞ a moment later she sinks in across from him — and the second the the ends of her impossibly long hair submerge in the water, the change is immediate. pitch-blackness spreads through the tub like fast-moving ink; the steam darkens into wisps of odorless smoke, blanketing the surface around them.

seph blinks. pauses. oh, right. it's been a second since she's actually taken a bath. ❝ ... don't — worry. it's illusory. doesn't stain or anything. ❞

domestic prompts // @quillheel

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⁶⁸⁾ dog leads hung by the door ( from silco? based on what we’ve plotted a bit? )

SHE PAUSES AS THEY PASS, dark eyes lingering on a new addition to the outside of persephone's workshop door in the unseen's topmost chamber: a red dog lead nailed into the wood. scrawled in sharpie on the door's surface beside it:

FOR FLETCH'S DOG

if she cared enough, it would be an embarrassing thing for a new business partner to witness on a tour of the tower — ha, ironic, maybe that's where fletch's alias came from — that the unseen's top ranks call home. miraculously, she doesn't care what silco sees, nor does she care what he or anyone else thinks of her. let them talk. silently, she wonders how long this taunt has been there. persephone spends more time in her boss's topside estate than this fucked-up grimy office building, so itcould have been weeks. ( but she misses the undercity grit. it suits her better. )

❝ fucking childish, ❞ she mutters under her breath, surging past the door and down the hallway toward fletch's office. here, on the top floor, only their own suite and the quarters of their top twelve agents reside. persephone's and the vacant one that used to house a traitor are the two closest, so it isn't much farther before they're opening the door and following him inside. there is something to her movements when she does this that might almost strike an onlooker as chivalrous, knightlike. even despite the sharp-edged way she slinks around.

the octagonal meeting room is brighter than silco's, much less moody despite the dark wood-paneled walls and floor. a sunlight-mimicking "skylight" set into the ceiling casts a warm, dawnlike glow on an impressive array of flowering plants hanging from the ceiling, climbing the walls. against a large curtained window at the center-back of the room, a round dining table ringed by cushioned chairs. beside it sits a fully-stocked cart for fixing up tea and liquor alike.

to someone unused to the brightness of a sunlit room, it may hurt the eyes on first entry. this is purposeful on fletch's part.

persephone pulls out a chair for silco on one side of the table, electing to haul herself up onto the windowsill rather than sit like a normal person. busies herself with lighting a cigarette. ❝ it'll be a second before the tower gets back from council work in piltover. this is where you'll take meetings with him. inner circle's offices are on this floor too — most of us stick around off-duty, so if you need one of our specialties, you can utilize them. ❞

them. not us. persephone herself, it's implied, is off-limits. ❝ doctor, engineer, muscle — don't engage with him, he's fucking insane. spy, fence, chemist, accountant. ...forger. ❞ a pause on that last one, something unreadable flickering across her face. she doesn't like mentioning her brother to new unseen allies if she can help it. but it'll come up soon enough anyway. whatever. orion can handle himself. they haven't even spoken for the last three years.

brief introspection done with, persephone's eyes finally, wholly turn to silco. black and arrowhead-sharp. it is the stare of a predator in the grass, a wolf sizing up a snake. ❝ you've got big plans for the undercity. what makes you so confident you'll succeed? ❞

domestic prompts // @goodmeeting

[howlrs]

okay okay SO. for the most part, replies and starters will go in the queue and meme responses will be posted when answered, though i will stick some meme responses in the queue to stagger things a little bit and avoid spamming. o7

[howlrs]

³⁸⁾ a blanket draped over a sleeping form

HE'S OVERWORKED. THAT MUCH IS OBVIOUS from the way midoriya seems to have knocked the fuck out at his dorm desk — a heavy, body-shutdown sleep, as evidenced by him not jolting awake when persephone shifts her stiff body into a stretch.

they've been studying together for hours. he wasn't her first choice nor even close; she's certain he'd say the same for her, given the way they fix each other with glares in the hallways and always pick each other first when it comes to fighting. but ... a begrudging respect has formed between them, regardless. no one else was available tonight to act as a body-double to keep them accountable. when considering their options, they had a feeling midoriya would enjoy the opportunity to snip at them with some sort of authority.

persephone prefers the floor, most times, so her class materials are sprawled out in front of her crossed legs — decent progress for a cram session, she'd say — whereas izuku, this being his dorm, has everything set up on his desk. they've been back and forth occasionally with questions or sharp-edged banter, but for the most part, it's been ... quiet. it's been nice.

long stretches of silence have always provided a sense of peace to her. the compound where she and her cohort were raised was rowdy, always clamoring with noise from the other young killers and their handlers; seph had to seek out peace and quiet by staking her claim on a room and kicking anyone's ass who got too close. now, it's — weird, not to have to fight for it. but it's nice. especially with company.

but the night has gone on long enough. she can feel her eyes start to droop from the lull of midoriya's slow breathing. after her study materials are packed back up and she's stretched out her long, gangly limbs, she eyes the boy passed out at his desk, the goosebumps rippling down his arms from the slight chill of nighttime hours.

... whatever. he won't see her do it. and — despite her rough exterior, seph knows how hard it can be to sleep when you're too cold. and the test is tomorrow. so. normal reasons for her to pull the blanket from his nearby bed and tuck it over his body before she ghosts out of the room, heat prickling at her ears all the while.

domestic prompts // @vsagis — ua reform verse