#howlingintohell

[lycanstark]

𝐎𝐍 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐒𝐔𝐁𝐉𝐄𝐂𝐓 𝐎𝐅 𝐀𝐋𝐂𝐎𝐇𝐎𝐋

LOGAN ENJOYS THE TASTE OF SCOTCH. however, drinking in the general context is purely a public display, due to his heightened metabolism, unless it is specially made and tailored for him. he does not use wolfsbane. it itches, kind of kills the buzz, and that’s not really what he’s aiming for. if anything, over the years, the closest i have ever gotten to detailing this, was MOUNTAIN ASH ( from a headcanon with a previous partner howlingintohell ) and it's later been referenced that he has also gotten ' booze, ' from thor as well. however, given logan's status and the money/connections he has, it would make sense that he can reach out to a few witches to help him in that department. seeing as this is not an UNCOMMON HEADCANON to have, i choose to leave it as LACED or INFUSED. you are free to take that how you choose.

that being said remember that LOGAN IS TONY STARK'S KID. so, if he starts consuming a lot of alcohol, it is something to be on the lookout for ─ years of watching his father drown himself at the bottom of a bottle, taught him to be mindful, so he does try to limit how much he allows himself to lean on that crutch. if he is going out of his way to turn to that often ( not talking a casual drink here and there ) that is a sign that there is something WRONG and he is attempting to suppress it by any means necessary.

NOTE: since this is a subject in a current/ongoing storyline with @iviaw figured i'd go ahead and toss this out there.

[lycanstark-a]

logan and derek give me all the feels tho. @howlingintohell​

[mccallofthewild]

I'm gonna go ahead and just leave Derek in here. Maybe Derek visiting Scoot in college. Perhaps Asleep on his dorm bed. Possibly with takeout. Or sleeping off a teensy tinesy injury. Maybe he's sleeping as a wolf! You decide. xoxo

“DEREK! You’re bleeding all over my freaking bed! Do you know how hard it is to get access to the washing machines in a dorm?!” Scott wasn’t really upset about that. He was upset that Derek was hurt in the first place. Upset at the fact that he wasn’t healing as fast as he should be. Upset that he hadn’t gotten called at the first sign of trouble and the older man had gotten hurt because he wasn’t there. And his first reaction was to grab Derek by the face and make him wake up and look at him -- mostly to help take away some pain and hopefully heal that much faster.

[aranaminokitsune]

@howlingintohell cont’d from here:

[ sms ; hale ] I can be over in 30.

[ sms ; hale ] I’m also bringing milkshakes, because.

[forchancookie]

howlingintohell replied to your post: Day Two of BishounenCon, I mostly did panels. I...

I am sorry I had to slightly restrict your adorable generosity. Your Bishi Bait looked delicious, though, and I hope all the artists and other attendees enjoyed it!

Don’t even worry about it :) I realized going in there would be various dietary restrictions and personal tastes and flat out discomfort from accepting candy from strangers that might make people decline. But since it did get me chatting, it was still a success. And my co-workers certainly appreciated being on the receiving end of all the leftover Bishi Bait.

[mieczlw-a]

New Years: tag someone who you've known/followed/written with/etc for a long time.

DECEMBER  POSITIVITY   ! 

@mistersourwolftoyou   /   @oftroubledsouls   /   @mccallofthewild   /   @cursedteme   /   @devilsxinthedetails   /   @codeworn   /   @venusiiian   /   @howlingintohell      —-     there’s  a  whole  bunch  more  that  have  been  around  a  while  but  these  are  the  ones  who  have  been  around  from  the  absolute  very  beginning.    they  were  here  on  my  old  blog  and  are  still  here  now  and  i  couldn’t  be  without  either  of  them.   

[batwynn]

A OC commission for howlingintohell :)

[starkxsarcasm]

Nearly Human (closed)

@howlingintohell

Shut down mode was very much like a bizarre kind of deep dreaming state. This stasis where he could not move or speak, but he could still feel and see things. Normally, it was just colors or soft things, like ghosts dancing in his eyes. He never really remembered what, if anything, he “dreamed” about when he woke up. But what he did remember was how long he had been in shut down mode.

Two years, one month and thirteen days.

Then, his vision flickered to the power on screen, his body running a rapidfire diagnostic test for all of his functions, proven by the quickly scrolling white letter on the side as his eyes adjusted to the white room around him. “System on. Diagnostics in progress. Visual functions: Normal. Auditory functions: Normal. Mental capacity: Stable. Mobility functions: Normal. Command functions set to: Manuel.” 

He felt himself getting lowered to the ground, feet touching which finally gave him enough range of movement to blink a few times and shake his head, as if coming out of a daydream. A scientist with round glasses came into his vision. “State my name and your name.”

He looked over at him and quirked an eyebrow. “You’re Doctor Gregor and I’m Android model ST1L....You know, I don’t like that name. I want my own name instead, please!”

Dr. Gregor made a note on his clipboard, talking to his assistant in hushed tones, “We gotta twerk the personality sector a bit.” He turned to him and spoke, “Ready to meet your new partner?”

“I’m bouncing off the walls,” He said with a smirk, following a mildly irritated Dr. Gregor off the back of the van. They had parked in a police station’s parking lot, which Gregor walked up to and buzzed in, saying, “Andriod for Derek Hale is here.”

[mccallofthewild]

@howlingintohell:

[Text] That was not what I meant to send you [Text] at all

[text] So, not asking the obvious question [text] What did you mean to send?

[batwynn]

This is Fern. :3 To find out more about here, head to howlingintohell ‘s page!

[mccallofthewild]

Derek, I believe, has decided he needs to do exactly that.

“Just say when and where.”

[familianegotium]

howlingintohell replied to your post:   ”— I got chiiiiills, they’re multiplyin’!” 

No, DEEEEEEEAAAN

   Can't stop me Derek, might as well join me.

[the-heart-and-the-wildfire]

it's the apocalypse. must be a monday.

When everything was said and done--and if Stiles were to be completely honest with himself (something he tried to avoid at all costs, given his givens)--the honey-eyed magic user had full expected to reach his expiration date long before it came time to draft his college application essays. The horrors that he and the rest of the Pack had faced seemed to have followed a pattern: that is, each new big and bad happened to be bigger and badder than the one previous. (Ironic--or not at all--that Stiles had started to yearn for Ye Olde Days, where the most he had to worry about was an insane, maul happy Alpha Peter Hale.) But simplicity in finding a solution to the Pack's newest dilema had passed long ago: going hand-in-hand with that, however, came Stiles' increase in practical ruthlessness. ...but. That was neither here nor there: Because Stiles had managed to live to the ripe old age where college applications were actually necessary--and required, with how his dad's mouth had gone all tight and pursed and unhappy when the Sheriff had learned that his son had put them off and put them off and... In the end, the essays had been written, the applications filled out, and the processing fees paid--which then was followed by those schools' reply letters. And there had been a great deal more acceptance letters than rejection ones. Choosing the actual university had been easy, though. Where Scott went, Stiles would be there, too: there were no choices with that; it was a fact that was set in stone. And thus, it was a attendee of the University of Northern California that came stumbling out of his room, more than half asleep but still zeroing in on the scent of coffee with a deadly, intent look upon his face that had made many of Stiles' opponents shiver in both foreboding and fear. In this particular case, however... The enemy came in the form of a 7:00 a.m. Psychology class paired with a research spree that had led Stiles on a merry chase through Wikipedia and onwards to the deepest, darkest hidey-holes that the 'net had to offer. "Caffeine," the exhausted boy croaked and nearly faceplanted into the kitchen table. "Sustenance. Ambrosia. Give to me." a.k.a.: Stiles' typical Monday morning.

[mccallofthewild]

Accidental nuddesss

[text] Put that freaking thing away. You’ll put someone’s eye out.

[curlyfriesandsarcasm]

He feels a shudder pass through him as fingertips trace the familar pathway. “God it’s like I can feel my resolve buckling…how long until you turn eighteen again?” He asked with a semi frustrated groan. Tipping his head down to catcg his lips in another kiss. “Call it sick curiosity but..what other ideas specifiically did you have?”