hwitzr - Tumblr blog

[hwitzr]

no becos baku not being on the new hori sketch is sending me MDJDKDH

[hwitzr]

what  brand  of  stupid  are  you  ?

bastard stupid.

swears are your language and crime is your profession. your reason for doing just about anything is because you could, no matter how stupid it was. why did you set that fence on fire? to watch it burn. why did you put that bug in your mouth? to see what it tastes like. why did you teach that kid to say fuck? it's funny. keeping you around is like housing a cartoon villain, but at least you know how to pick locks so that's a reason to let you stay.

tagged by: @shaidow <33 mwah tagging: @eraseur, @ericense, @roguesenses, @crem8, @antigodeus, @pokiiroki

[hwitzr]

@crem8 threads that r like oh no both our charas had nightmares …. and accidentally meet/hang out during the night …… and then they talk abt deep philosophical things n never mention it again …

katsuki wakes with a tremor obscuring his senses and a gleam he can not smother. behind lidded eyes, there is the weight of thought that shines like star-dust, and no matter how hard he tries they won't open. he watches himself shatter, choke and vanish under cold benevolence, feels cloying flesh block his airways as he tries to scream. [ varying selves of inexperienced youth haunt at the edges where he should have been smarter, stronger, kinder. they fade to wordless snap-shots and he wishes that growing up meant forgetting. ] the memories repeat like a reel before the grasping hands that loomed melt into blurry vision. katsuki's next breath leaves him gasping. instinctively, flickering panic alights in his lungs as palms rub hard enough across his eyes to see shapes before he realises, oh. i'm crying.

it takes several moments before the disorientating wave that shudders through him finally eases. it takes several more, before he can even think. counting helps, up to ten and down again. as he does the rooms serene silence seems more familiar when removed of weltering shadow. [ he ignores the way the man watches him, half-lurking in the recess of his mind. ] touya had offered a room after a long night shift and naively, katsuki agreed, thinking that maybe, just maybe, he'd feel safe enough to sleep through the night with a pro just steps away. it hadn't. there's still that unsettling sensation in the pit of his stomach, the paranoia of someone waiting outside or any movement being a body. he sits up, throwing the twisted blanket off and stands. suddenly, the room is too dark. too quiet. head still spinning, katsuki stumbles before he's slipping on shoes and opening the door as softly as he can. touya won't mind if he passes out on the couch. hopefully.

what katsuki hadn't anticipated, was seeing the pro in question already sat in the living room. guess being quiet was a waste of effort. unsure of what to say or do, he stares. the flooring underneath creaks. shit. now what?

❛ uh... morning. ❜ what the fuck is wrong with him.

[hwitzr]

❛ you're one of those support study students right? ❜ despite being phrased as a question, his tone brokers little to no argument with how he stands, tense shouldered and posture tight. katsuki's eyebrow twitches. after a brief moment of an unblinking stare, the gauntlets are haphazardly rippped off only to then be gently placed on the work station. [ anger tastes flat in his mouth and all there is, is exhaustion. ] he'd spent nearly all night trying to repair them, notes written and crossed out as each time a new approach was tried, nothing seemed to change. it was infuriating. ❛ they've been heating up and splintering when i ain't even usin' my quirk. can't figure out why, so fix them. ❜

@portraitsof

[hwitzr]

"Lean on me, I’ve got you." bracing himself to get punched in the face, but still feeling the need to take care of him hehehe

ASK MEME. ACCEPTING. @eraseur

flames and ether rush through veins, flesh and blood playing out lightning to strike as limbs stiffen. sodden in drizzle with rain still falling alongside industrial smoke, katsuki can barely bring himself to move from where he lays. the ground is wet, puddles forming beside and the rally of rain-clouds weigh down the vertical-flowing sky. wait. the sky's not meant to sway in some odd downward flow, is it? he groans. his knee feels twisted sore under the guard, head near spinning with every twitch; clockwise, paused, reversed until his eyes fall shut again. a concussion, of course, and it seems a dislocated knee. they aren't the worst injuries he's suffered, far from the outpouring anguish that came with building his palms' callouses, but it still stings. [ in what way, katsuki can't quite place. ]

retracing his steps in the forms of memory, he knows he was careful to avoid damaging the practice buildings foundation, that he'd barely set off anything bigger than a spark. he couldn't of caused the collapse. katsuki wasn't an idiot. no, clearly someone else hadn't gotten the memo of being careful. fortunately for them, he had grown rather skilled at shooting himself out of windows even if his landings remained rough. his finger twitches. his shoulders ache. a piercing-quiet setles as the droplets ease their torrent, the sound around faded and dull. wisps of simple musing sing in faint tide-rhythm flows, half-thought things which easily muddle between themselves. cringing forms in the crowded air scuttle and flutter in and out, leaving in their place an odd semblance of rest. it's easier to exist with his eyes closed.

then, all at once, noise thunders back to him and brings with it a penetrating pain that leaves him wincing. it just makes the headache worse. echoes of raindrops, shouts of his class and the steady pace of footsteps soon encroaching towards his muddied sanctuary all roar undisturbed. katsuki is sure this is what hell must be. loudness and company. if it's izuku coming over, i'll scream, he thinks distantly but instead, it's his teacher. aizawa's voice is lost to the sea of riot and bombast, barely lessening even when katsuki manages to peel open his eyes. there is a sharp inhale that comes from one of them before he's moved. the world begins to spin faster and katsuki smacks a gloved palm towards aizawa's face to make it stop. he grins when it hits and squawks when it does nothing to stop the shifting ground.

❛ fuck you. ❜ katsuki says and hopes it conveys everything he feels before his eyes shut again.

[hwitzr]

I am convinced that Alice knew she was going to die. I’m convinced of that. I think the figure at Lake Mungo was an omen for her. I think Ali saw a ghost. But she wasn’t to know it was her own. I believe she recorded the future coming to get her.

LAKE MUNGO 2008 dir. Joel Anderson

[hwitzr]

[hwitzr]

katsuki watches on with a gaze of evening flame. there is something that flickers, struggling against the flashing heat that burrows into his chest and rakes slowly through it. the feelings abject sharpness is unsettlingly new. raw, almost. like there is a running wound that writhes tumultuous under his skin, his very being. it breathes out alongside the small grunt he makes as izuku moves him, the harsh shriek of the wind making even himself wince. katsuki has half the mind to yell, until he sees izuku's barely there trembling. how he's in front to take the hit. [ just like katsuki had been. on the surface they're nothing alike, but he's begun to realise that he's the reason izuku left. the final domino that fell. just like always, he is the catalyst to something terrible. ]

so, even to the surprise of himself, katsuki doesn't yell or bite out a snarling response, he just stares. expression pinched into a contemplative look until suddenly he slouches, eyes darting away and he snorts with a roll of the shoulders.

❛    probably.    ❜ he says, and the smoke-veiled throne he always sat tall at ebbs, dissapating even more. it's all its done this year, that supposed stable foundation of his. fade away until he's left with nothing he's ever known and forced to acknowledge his own snarling fear of inadequacy, his own weakness. [ bloodied, bruised, its ripped at every limb and somedays katsuki can even persuade himself he's a different person now. most days, he knows he isn't. ] still, katsuki makes no effort to move. he knows he'll leave izuku's side again before morning peaks through the clouds least anyone notice, but for now the streets are quiet. the night calm. there is no reason for him to go, not yet. ❛    why? my company not good enough for you anymore?    ❜

an awful taste settles in the back of his throat, more truth in the snarked out answer than the tone implies. with his injuries, katsuki is all too aware he is in no shape to fight if an escaped villain were to startle through the peace. knows he's useless in comparison to the outpouring power of one for all that lingers in each tremble of lightning that alights izuku's whole form. the bandages serve only as a reminder of katsuki's own pathetic uselessness. all he could do to save izuku was almost die, and though he knows he'd do it over and over again, the barely healed wounds are humiliatingly human. what use is he, if his only ability to help izuku is to nearly die?

❛    i just had to make sure your dumb ass hadn't died in some fuckin' alley. tryin' to take on shigaraki without one for all would be a real mess, though of course we'd still win 'cause i'd be there. i've got a lot to say to that bastard.    ❜

Their  shoulders  collided  lightly  and  Izuku  was  surprised  by  the  amount  of  comfort  he  managed  to  gather  from  that  brief  contact.  It  reminded  him  of  the  other  day  when  he  was  eating  his  lunch  in  a  narrow  alley  several  streets  down  from  here.  It  was  a  dingy,  unsanitary  space,  but  also  pleasantly  quiet  until  a  soft  meow  alerted  him  to  the  fact  that  he  was  not  alone.  The  stray  was  mangy  but  seemed  friendly  enough  as  it  crawled  up  his  leg,  stepped  on  his  chest,  and  bumped  its  head  against  his  shoulder.

He  hadn't  realized  his  desperation  for  companionship  until  now...After  he  had  officially  walked  away  from  everyone  because  he  needed  them  to  be  safe.

This  moment  here,  with  Katsuki,  was  selfishness -  yes,  Izuku  was  aware.  

But  he  took  the  protein  bar  anyway,  despite  the  guilt,  because  he  could  not  physically  refuse  a  gift  from  his  childhood  friend.  Once  upon  a  time,  all  he  wanted  was  for  Katsuki  to  turn  around  and  look  at  him,  now  that  he  actually  achieved  that  and  more,  he  suddenly  became  fearful  of  losing  it  all.

He  peeled  back  the  plastic  wrapping  of  the  protein  bar  with  no  sense  of  urgency  because  he  didn't  feel  hungry.  Once  he  actually  had  the  first  bite,  however,  the  bar  disappeared  in  seconds.  "Thanks."  Guess  hunger  was  something  that  could  be  ignored  too  when  one  was  too  single-mindedly  focused  on  a  higher  goal.

Izuku  allowed  silence  to  sit  between  them  for  a  while  as  he  struggled  with  indecision,  but  eventually,  did  opt  to  verbalize  the  unreasonable  request  that  was  swimming  in  his  head.

"Can  I  see?"  His  gaze  drifted  towards  Katsuki's  torso.  "Is  it  fully  he-"

There  was  a  rustle  in  the  distance  -  that  was  all  -  but  Izuku  could  not  stop  himself  from  responding.  He  swapped  their  positions  with  a  single  swift  movement  so  that  he  was  between  Katsuki  and  whatever  made  the  sound.

His  danger  sense  did  not  activate.  It  was  only  the  wind,  and  his  increasing  paranoia.

"I  am  sorry,  Kacchan."  Was  he  apologizing  for  overreacting  just  now,  for  getting  the  other  hurt  in  the  first  place,  or  for  leaving  without  a  proper  goodbye?  Even  Izuku  didn't  know.  "Can  you...Go  back  to  UA?"  There  was  a  chance  he was  inviting  the  blond's  anger,  but  Izuku  didn't  care  anymore.  "You  shouldn't  be  out  here.  Especially  not  looking  for  me."

[hwitzr]

“How are you feeling?” From Mami :)

ASK MEME. ACCEPTING. @memuria

simultaneously, katsuki feels both everything and nothing. blurring his sight like some sort of flying detritus of pollen or dust. his body thrums red-headed, the hairs on the back of his neck still raised as breathes come short. [ how are you feeling? like everything living and enervated is jutting out in shapes i don't recognise. ] trembling hands begin to ease as the white knuckled grip around the crowbar loosens, and a heavy noise follows after one end hits the floor. with a tight look, shoulders lift when he drops to sit, head between his knees and the thrum of the witches lair fizzling into bird chirps. lips are soon chewed raw. a hand reaches to scratch absent-mindedly at the feather-soft tufts of hair at the base of his head as katsuki sighs. staring towards a weed that sprouts through a crack between his shoes, he offers mami a shrug.

how the fuck is he meant to answer that?

what are you meant to feel, afterall, when you realise that reality itself isn't stable that there are puddles that reflect something you didn't think could be real? katsuki had thought the whole experience was a dream. a horrid one, sure, where he tasted sunlight thicker than cough-syrup and had twigs in place of limbs as everything glittered gold, but a dream nonetheless. and yet, it wasn't. it was more real than the everday he'd walked for years, just humming under each step. [ a part of him always knew it wasn't a dream in how it curled into the back of his mind like mold, unmoving and persistent. he supposes seeing mami was just a confirmation of a fear he didn't realise he had. ]

❛    fuckin' great, obviously. couldn't you tell?    ❜ katsuki snarks with his voice heavy. he throws his head back, groaning as the crowbar is properly dropped and hands move to rub at his face in dismay. ❛    who doesn't enjoy finding out their nightmare is fuckin' real and has a shitton of friends? fuck, i've got a headache from that bullshit. nice guns'n all but i'm never joinin' you again. s'like i got jetlag or fell off a bridge. how the fuck did you even get those?    ❜

[hwitzr]

‘ are you threatening me? ’ from dabi <3

katsuki swears that there must be a sign written on his forehead in nontoxic marker exclaiming 'hey villains! come get me you bastards!' and it's beginning to piss him off. half the time it seems, neither of them are even in active duty, just dressed as civillain-esque as they can manage and going about normal person things. [ he assumes that late-night walks are normal, even if technically not allowed. it will be a cold day in hell when aizawa catches him on the cameras again. ] now seemed to be another one of those times. it had initially started as a short excursion to the nearby 7/11 for some melon soda and rice crackers, perfect snacks for late evening studying. the weather was pleasant enough, air still and cool as the streets droaned on in peaceful silence. with the goods secured, he'd only taken a few steps into the darkened streets before he felt the air shift.

someone was watching him.

gripping the melon soda tighter, katsuki maintained his lax pace least it was just another passerby. [ he'd already blown up at some extra this week because of his increasing paranoia, and he was in no mood to deal with another lecture. or another is he a villain? spiel from the news. ] as the gaze seemed to continue to linger on him despite walking steadily forward, he frowned. flickering lights above nestled under his skin, nerve endings prickling like sinuous knitting-needles had bunched further and deeper into his limbs. apparently his mind liked to lie to him. right now it felt like it was trying to warn him. with misplaced confidence and gripping anger that incessantly flickered, katsuki turns on his heel with a glare to where he presumes the figure stands.

❛    what's you're fuckin' problem asshole? i'll kill you!    ❜ belatedly, as his gaze searches through the shadows of alleys and doorways, that the threat is significantly lessened by his attire. he'd left in his pyjamas. his all-might themed pyjamas that had the heroes face printed in blurred pixels and spanning across almost all of the t-shirt. shit. before he has the time to dwell, a familiar voice replies. ❛    are you threatening me?    ❜

katsuki wishes he'd just be put out his misery at this point. all he'd wanted was some snacks. ❛    of course i am dipshit! what do you think i'll kill you means? fuckin' hell. you're even stupider than you look. now fuck off already before i give you more shit to stitch back up!    ❜

@dpsdiff / @crem8

[hwitzr]

half-asleep,    it  takes  a  moment  for  shoto’s  words  to  fultter  through.    a  daze  of  blurry  innumerable  flowers  droop  as  his  head  turns  and  eyelids  crack  open  with  a  glare.      katsuki  hates  sharing  a  room.       usually  they  don’t,    the  doctors  letting  him  wallow  in  splintered  gold  and  indistinguishable  emotion  that  trembles,    but  now  they  do.       he  figures  it’s  from  how  frequently  they’re  here  in  near-death  states.       it  saves  time  to  shove  the  problem  the  children  into  one  room  least  they  wake  up  yelling  for  the  other  again.      he  groans.      a  hand  reaches  to  wipe  at  his  face,   soon  turning  to  a  middle-finger  as  he  rolls  his  eyes,    mumbling.       ❛    and  you  look  fuckin’  ugly.       don’t  know  why  it’s  suddenly  a  problem.    ❜

careful  of  the  wires  and  bandages  that  wrap  beneath  blankets,    he  moves  to  stand.       a  sharp  ache  waves  passionless  through  ribs  and  he  lets  out  a  breathy  wheeze  that  he  smothers  in  a  sigh.       [  how  long  do  stab  wounds  take  to  heal  anyways?       the  stubborness  of  pain  is  starting  to  piss  him  off.  ]       grabbing  at  the  few  spare  coins  that  litter  his  bedside,    he  hobbles  to  drop  them  unceremoniously  on  shoto’s  lap.       katsuki  would  have  to  be  dead  and  buried  to  pass  off  an  opportunity  to  inconvenience  him.       ❛    aren’t  you  meant  to  be  the  rich  one?        fuckin’  asshole.       now  get  your  ass  up,    i’m  cravin’  melon  soda   and  i  know  if  i  let  you  go  by  yourself  you’ll  just  buy  me  the  wrong  shit  again.    ❜

‘ you look terrible. ‘ shoto says it in his typical blunt way. it’s not meant to be an insult, it’s just a simple fact. he says it with the same infliction that you would tell a friend what the weather is like outside. though he knows he probably looks just as bad. at this point, the two of them should just move into the hospital. they definitely spent the most time there, along with midoriya. it seemed like after every major battle, the 3 of them ended up in the worst of it, with the worst injuries to heal before getting right back out there. 

it weirdly allows plenty of time for the two of them to hang out. not necessarily a fun time, considering the extent of their injuries most of the time, but some quiet, quality time. he looks over from his own hospital bed, looking around for his clothes. ‘ i’m hungry. i want something from the vending machine. give me a few dollars. ‘ 

@hwitzr​

[hwitzr]

this face is anothers [...] a skinless vapour that weeps: these hands decay and i am not myself. a broken prototype. WHEN THE SMOKE FADES, I WILL FIND A SHAPE WORTH TAKING.

an independent, low activity and headcanon-heavy baku.go katsu.ki of horikoshi's boku no hero academ.ia! this blog will only be using beta legacy and will revolve around the themes of: guilt as an open wound, metamorphosis and anger as all you are. written by lou.

carrd. playlist. pinterest.

[hwitzr]

what does your heart look like ?

molten lava and charred flesh.

your heart burned so fiercely that it burnt itself out, leaving horrible scars in its wake; scars inside your chest and on the hands of those who touched you, the hearts of anyone who got close enough to connect to yours. the person you are now is no longer recognisable, burnt up by your own anger and passion and love. the injuries can never be fully erased, but they can be soothed with time and trust and forgiveness.

tagged by: @oraijin my platonic wife <3 tagging: anyone!!

[hwitzr]

bird-song, bloom, rapture. it eats away at his day to day, greying the school walls and joy swollen to fraility. he trains with izuku, tries to ignore the rough-red cheeks of eijiro when a new teacher comes to fill midnight's spot, and sways on his aching legs back to bed. the routine is a simple one. thought-infested nightmares just fetter in the hell of his room, haunting as eyes stare and hands reach to him. it's routine. as are the purple shadows undereye that only grow darker, the way his shoulders tense if izuku is out the room. it's routine, one that shudders and aches. but he's managing. katsuki's not weak enough to crack just from this, he'll be fine because there's no other choice.

izuku, of course, seems intent to disrupt it. the two are near inseperable now. when they aren't training, they're talking to all-might or walking around the school together as normality shudders around them. he sighs, quiet. izuku glances at him with a frown yet katsuki can only offer a shrug. [ how are you meant to explain you're tired? that nothing will ever be the same again, and it terrifies you like you're five years old again? ] he can see izuku open his mouth to say something, like always, before another voice filters through the hall. it's empty except for a door barely cracked open. katsuki puts a hand to izuku's chest, stopping him mid-step before signalling him to be quiet.

❛ really? that's what you found? are you sure right... ok. yes, i understand, i'll check the files you sent soon... upsetting? how? oh oh, that's, yes. and he was only 10? ❜ a heavy, tired sounding sigh follows, and a chair creaks. katsuki doesn't breath. ❛ i see. and you're sure that the nomu was him? ...you are. he was dr. tsubasa's nephew? right... yes, i'll i'll make sure to send them across. thank you. ❜ and a click rings out as silence falls.

it takes a moment for the air to leave his throat, a murky feeling building in his chest. katsuki knew a tsubasa, knew one who went missing at ten years old and how no one had seen or heard from him since. his uncle had reported him missing. the case went dead only a few months after. katsuki feels his hands tremble and for a moment, thinks he must be dreaming. he has to be.

@roguesenses

[hwitzr]

❛ the fuck? ❜ there's an incredulous look accompanying the complaint, shoulders tensing as once stilled lips twitch. tenya looks no different, not really. his hair is still flat, glasses still square and yet the engines on his calves seem sleeker. newer. katsuki's frown deepens. hard flint self-kindled rises through the column of his throat, mingling between quiet breathes. it's not anger he realises, but something new he can't quite name. ❛ what's with your engines? ❜

@deckofclubs ♥

[hwitzr]

" you can stay the night. if you'd like. i have a spare room. " pro hero touya after a late night patrol/post a scuffle with villains and thinks that baku should sleep soon and he cares him from b4sekoto

treading the thorny road, street-lights shine ardent against a twighlighted evening. their walk is quiet, punctuated only by the fading meoldies of soft breathes and dragging steps. it's late. late enough, that even the gentle bustle of the city is awash in an uncomplaining sleep, and katsuki wishes he was too. droopy-eyed and faint as he'd rest like dew on a peaceful petal, where melancholic thunder lay behind glass rather than threatening overhead. but he's not. instead he still wanders with trembling arms, red imprints embalming his skin like frozen fire with an expression that betrays none of it. next to montag touya, he'd rather keel over than ever admit to being tired [...] a chance like this isn't one to take for granted. [ he knows too much about taking after all, and he's not sure how he'd fare if touya ever saw him as weak. the thought is cut off before it has the chance to reply. ]

a hand on his shoulder shakes the silken fringe over his eyes, touya's blue eyes warm in a way katsuki wishes his own were. answering with a slow shrug, his gaze flits back to the empty street, the lights. to the small movements of bugs that diffuse themselves in some lorn nightgale. for a moment, his tongue lays heavy against barbs, wondering, fleetingly, on how to respond. [ should he thank touya? abandon the instinct to swear and sneer for once, and answer like a 'real' hero? ] it's what so many others have tried to teach by cutting through each layer and calling it humility but then, touya has yet to complain. it's... nice. refreshing, almost. like maybe he's not some passing ghost stuck in a mockery of itself.

❛ fine. better not be a shithole though. ❜ he finally utters, a frown twisted along his mouth. [ it reminds him of how he acts around all-might, painfully awkward and like the child he knows, somewhere, he is. one day he'll kill that part of himself, he's sure. ] ❛ s'just gotta tell mr. aizawa. he'd kick my ass otherwise. ❜

@crem8 / @b4sekoto

[hwitzr]

{Hannah Green, from "Are you still hungry, Mother?"/ Anne Carson/Sam Gordon, "A Mother's Hate"/ Ella Wilson/ Joan Tierney/ Ella Wilson/ Ocean Vuong, from On Earth We're Briefly Gorgeous/ Unknown/ Nayyirah Waheed/ Sharon Olds, “Holding To A Wall, Treading Saltwater”/ John Green, Turtles All the Way Down/ Safia Elhillo, "an inheritance," published in Narrative Northeast/ Annie Ernaux, from I Remain in Darkness/ Poplar Street by Chen Chen/ Unknown/ Tumblr User: @inkskinned/ Elena Poniatowska, from "La Flor de Lis," published c. January 2011/ Kyung-Sook Shin, Please Look After Mom}