#>> in.

[howlrs]

OPEN: a journeying train, place unknown, time unknown.

THE SUN IS WINDING DOWN TO SLEEP, washing the endless sky above them in a layer of deep, rich gold. outside the train window, the world rushes by. it is a world far from the rooftops and alleyways hellhound is used to. soft trackside grass ripples like water in the breeze left by the train as it speeds through the countryside. farmhouses and barns dapple the hills around them, accompanied by flocks of sheep, black-and-white specks of sprinting sheepdogs, and occasionally, the tall form of a shepherd calling their flock back home before night falls.

❝ my employer says your skills speak for themselves, ❞ hellhound begins, reaching across the polished coffee table between them to pour their guest a cup of steaming tea. ❝ but i don't buy it. could've easily done this shit alone. ❞ she places the kettle back down and nudges her hand to the left, wrapping leather-gloved fingers around the neck of a crystalline decanter full of amber liquid. 

the unseen's train cabin is spacious, easily the size of a small bedroom. a couch lines the wood-paneled back wall, piled high with cushions of silk and rich velvet. the cabin could easily fit a group of six people. seven or eight, maybe, with some awkward squeezing. hellhound and her guest sit at a polished wooden table set up against the window, velvet curtains pulled back so that they can enjoy the last threads of daylight before the flickering lanterns are all that remain to illuminate the car. 

a stack of papers and a fountain pen sit in front of the person across from her. hellhound plucks a short glass from the stack by the wall and pours herself two fingers of whiskey, then thunks the decanter down on the table – just out of the new hire’s reach.

❝ two weeks’ employment, long enough for us to pull off the heist and get the money sorted. read through it and sign – your cut’s detailed at the end. if you don’t like the terms, get off the train wherever you want, and we go our separate ways. no negotiation. ❞ hellhound takes a sip of whiskey as she glances back up from the contract. cold, dark eyes study the stranger’s face. a tailored wool coat fits over her shoulders; it cuts a sharp, androgynous silhouette, and all of the black contrasted against her pale skin makes her look like a phantom. their endless sheet of black hair has been coiled into a braided bun at the nape of their neck, the ends tucked carefully into its base to stifle the smoke. 

❝ so, ❞ she says, lounging back across her side of the car's plush booth. ❝ what's your thing? what do you bring to the crew that you think we need so badly? ❞

[huntershowl-moving]

❝  are they making you uncomfortable?  i can do something about it.  ❞ from sukuna

@hinodae — jealous, fiercely protective & territorial prompts. | ACCEPTING

IT ALWAYS SURPRISES HER HOW adept he has become at reading her body language. it's no secret that persephone's face is near-constantly fixed in a glower, eyes dark and seething with some distant and simmering rage that no one else could ever hope to understand.

their body, too, they carry with perpetual hostility. of course, it's worse when they're by sukuna's side: an unnecessary guard dog as much as a prized thing, she is his first line of defense in this new and chaotic world he has carved out for himself. everyone is an enemy.

some more than others. it's barely a shift in her body language: tension in her shoulders not like she's ready to attack, but like she's ready to run. it's always the fuckers who have the audacity to lock eyes with her and not cower immediately — the men who sneer, who call her a whore behind her back and expect her not to hear it.

she hears it.

❝ ... ❞ despite being pinned under her glower for more than enough time, the idiot doesn't shrink away even when the friend he was talking to is smart enough to make haste out of the room. ( they'll hunt him down later. ) the way this one looks at her makes her skin crawl. but if persephone retaliated against every asshole who insulted her, she'd be too busy to catch a moment to breathe. she's never been much good at defending against them, not when most of the time she believes what they're saying.

it's only when sukuna takes notice that the man stiffens from head to toe. satisfaction and disgust warp together deep in her stomach until they become bile; it's impossible not to notice the gap in respect, but then, what else are they to expect from someone so insignificant? ❝ don't care. you heard him. ❞

[gravesung-moving]

" how terrible it is to love something that death can touch. "

❝ ... ❞ ORION'S BRUSH STILLS ON THE CANVAS. presses down a little too hard. it was halfway through an upward stroke completing a wisp of pale blue hair. he hasn't been able to stop working since oboro died; in each of their ways, he and his sibling deal with grief by letting overwork swallow them whole, and they have certainly been doing so lately.

he hasn't looked up at shouta once, because if he did everything would fall apart. ( not a problem he normally has with this particular boy. ) now, though, he actively casts his gaze away. ❝ yeah. ❞ there's a lump in his throat. he hates this. ❝ it fucking sucks. you said it better, though. ❞

water collects in the corners of obsidian sclerae, the white rings of light within darting to the window, to the empty desks under it. he blinks the water away. he can feel shouta's eyes on him; the tips of his ears go red, heat prickling the back of his neck under the scrutiny. ❝ i wish we were all immortal. like... vampires, or something. ❞

[lipsticktrail]

"Present? For meeeee?"

[howlrs]

bites you bites you bites you.

[howlrs]

@cursesavior.

❝ i guess it's not so bad here. your followers are fuckin' annoying, though. ❞ she shakes a cigarette from the pack procured from somewhere in her coat; blood-flecked cardboard. the flash of sharp canines as she pulls one out with her teeth like an animal. once it's lit, the box stashed, her dark eyes cut over to him. ❝ there a reason you called me up here? what could you possibly need that you can't use a curse for? ❞

[howlrs]

@stormsplit.

❝ was that a fucking demon you just mulched? ❞

[howlrs]

@therelentless.

❝ the saying love is war is stupid as hell. doesn't make any fucking sense. war has a dictionary definition already and love doesn't exist. ❞

[howlrs]

❝ go on. try to hit me. ❞

[howlrs]

i've missed this so much.

either unprompted or a prompt i lost.

PERSEPHONE LOOKS AT SHOTA — really looks at him, his face illuminated by moonlight and his legs entangled in hers where they sit together on the sill of his bedroom window — and takes his hand in hers so that she can pull him closer. body-to-body. warmth-to-warmth. featherlight, her lips trace a line from the edge of his shirt collar to the pulse point at the edge of his jaw.

it's wrong, what they're doing. part of her hopes that he will realize this one day. the rest of her is too selfish to care. ❝ let's enjoy it while it lasts, yeah? 'til the war is over. ❞

[howlrs]

"Oh yeah. You won't believe what I saw earlier. Ryaan smiled— an actual, full smile. Was kinda scared for my life, but now I think it's an omen for an upcoming apocalypse." ( jie about ricoshit ofc. and he's lying, he blushed Immediately and had the unbearable urge to share it with seph )

❝ YOU'RE KIDDING. ❞ DARK BROWS flick upward at the hushed confession, mouth curling into something echoing a smirk as smoke curls up into the air from her parted lips. ❝ what the fuck happened? he get possessed or something? or did you actually put aside your pride and say something nice to him? ❞

[howlrs]

"If you think that I've forgotten your birthday over the years, you'd be mistaken." Shota never really had the patience to wrap gifts but had decided to go with a bag instead. Holding out the bag by it's strings, he gave her a flash of a smile. "It isn't much, but it's something."

seph birthday shenanigans!

❝ SHIT. REALLY THOUGHT I'D gotten you. sly fuck. ❞ though normally she would push back harder, she did get something for him this year. retribution is retribution. with a sharp sigh, persephone takes the bag and hops up to sit on the low wall next to shota, shooting him an amused look before reaching into the bag. what's in there shota. what does fate have in store for her today.

[howlrs]

❝ who the fuck told you it was my birthday. was it orion? he put you up to this? ❞

[howlrs]

“Everybody loves me, and I intend to keep it that way.”

cruel intentions.

❝ REALLY. ❞ THE WAY THEY SAY IT, dry and monotone and pointed, makes it clear exactly how much persephone believes midoriya's claim. in her experience, it's always the guys who say everybody loves me that everybody decidedly does not love. ❝ your ego's gonna get you killed one day, hotshot. keep talking like that and i'll have to knock you down a rung or two. —but. yeah. i get what you mean. keep supply low, keep demand high. make them need what you have. give them what they need and they love you. just be careful of resentment building in the far corners; that shit can turn into a wildfire real fast with the right guy at the helm. ❞

[howlrs]

“The truth of the matter is that being with you was the only time I have ever been happy.” (i am screaming raine)

cruel intentions.

THE WORDS HIT HER LIKE A GUT-PUNCH. like a cold sweat, weeks deep into a fever with no sense of time and then suddenly bam, it's wednesday, you missed your brother's graduation, your body feels like it's been dunked in a bath full of ice. the words hit her so hard the world spins. it isn't like izuku to pull his heart out like this, not without layers of implication and unspoken affections shrouding the truth ( no matter how easy it is for seph to pull all of that aside nowadays. ) it isn't like him. but it doesn't feel wrong, either.

that's what hurts the most, really. it doesn't feel wrong. izuku isn't a liar; he makes a point not to be.

❝ ... ❞ the silence sits between them a moment before persephone shifts forward and settles into his lap, tipping his head up with cold, steady hands. ❝ ever? really? not even as a kid with your mom? ❞ their questions are — gentle, at least as gentle as they can be on persephone's harsh tongue. no matter how much izuku tells them about himself, they find themself wanting to know more. if he gave them every cell of himself, they would want to dig their fingers into the molecules, the strands of DNA, the atoms of him. ❝ i thought you had a nice upbringing. back then. ❞

[howlrs]

Early Birthday Present From Altair: a set of extremely well-balanced & easily concealed throwing knives, small roller vial of bergamot perfume that isn't too strong, raspberry tart in a sealed & tamper-proof container, silly coupon taped to the top that says [ONE (1) FREE BEATING].

seph's birthday [december 21st] shenanigans!

❝ ... heh. ❞ no one will see it, not within these dingy walls, but the chuckle is a soft and genuine thing. fucking altair. leave it to that asshole to get her something for her birthday when she threatened to stab anyone else who did. since when did he know her so well? the dessert container? the throwing knives? even the perfume, not their usual scent but one that compliments the subtle floral-vanilla notes they carry on them, is incredibly thoughtful.

fuck. what the hell? what the hell?

[ TXT: dr. bitch ] holding u to that free beating [ TXT: dr bitch ] thanks btw