08-20-2018, 06:33 AM
He remembers hearing that an owner will often come to resemble their dog. The two bond so well that their lives become intertwined, two figments bound together through the face, a mystified aura of togetherness. There is no particular reason as to why an uncanny resemblance will begin to occur but some hypothesize that it is through the adoption of mannerisms, similar perceptions and perhaps even appetites. Normally, such an idea doesn't linger in Bakugou's mind but it seems that, at this very moment, the memories are awoken. The strings of these time fragments are drawn to him through hefty pulls against his will, scraping them along his neurons and bringing him intensely aware of them. He doesn't question why though for he has already made the connection. The state of a leader often reflected the state of a Clan. Many would try convince him that it was the bulk of the Clan who made the foundation but Bakugou believes that it is through the captain that The Typhoon persists.
Sickness often spread in unusual ways. Though others may not physically catch onto the exterior sufferings of the captain, the ragdoll was still immensely cautious of coming anywhere near Pincher when he notices the faltering strength of the male's voice. There's a sense of dissonance that ponders the air, slinking like a coral snake. He's not worried about contamination. His body heat is often too high for him to become ill, but he is suddenly worried about the stability of The Typhoon. Although he knows to put trust in their second-in-command, Pincher always seemed to be looked upon a pedestal, the face of the pirates. The further the meeting goes on, the more intense Bakugou's discomfort. He's beginning to hate this gnawing feeling. He feels tireless and irritated from the lack of comments or murmurs around him of anyone. No one seems to want to address the state that their captain is in. He feels his blood begin to boil in frustration and his paws begin to fiddle dangerously, unsheathed and almost burning to his own skin.
Once again, he doesn't manage to muster any sympathy for the ones demoted or receiving warnings. Those who he hasn't met or come to know have little impact on Bakugou's life. He sees no point in wasting his time moping over those who don't exist within his cognitive reality. At Kirishima's shout out, his ears noticeable perk when he scans the crowd for his friend, unable to see him and clenching his teeth. He's glad his friend has been acknowledged and begins to realise just how far he's managed to get without him, adding yet another thing for the male to silently stress about in the background. Bakugou may not seem like it, but he does in fact care a lot. It is the very fact that he gets angry that shows he cares too much. His dreams are big and ambitious, his perception of the world must coincide with what he believes to be perfect. It was for those reasons that he felt so unhappy, so threatened when it seemed as if he could lose something at any moment. To lose was to fail and to fail may mean that he will never be able to try again. He was, in fact, a child of fear. He works hard because he has both too much and too little to lose.
When his name is called out to be promoted to privateer, he doesn't feel particularly happy. He is glad to be climbing the ranks, glad that his contributions have been worth it but his thoughts still remain with Pincher's current health. The words which struggled to squeeze past the captain's vocals were beginning to hammer down on him. He doesn't need to see his reflection to know how his fur has begun bristling, a strange aggression sitting at the tips of his hairs. And at the end of the meeting, he couldn't contain himself. He was possessed by a desire to act. "None of you are going to fuckin' address the fact that Pincher sounds like a dyin' fish?" the ragdoll roars, louder than he originally thought he'd sound. He doesn't let it stop him. "No 'get well soon' or 'don't push yourself'?" He tosses a glare to Pincher. The captain was certainly not excused from Bakugou's vexation when he snaps at him as well: "Go to fuckin' bed, mush-brain." He hates it when others one-up him in dedication - dedication being that Pincher even dared to host a meeting in that state.
Sickness often spread in unusual ways. Though others may not physically catch onto the exterior sufferings of the captain, the ragdoll was still immensely cautious of coming anywhere near Pincher when he notices the faltering strength of the male's voice. There's a sense of dissonance that ponders the air, slinking like a coral snake. He's not worried about contamination. His body heat is often too high for him to become ill, but he is suddenly worried about the stability of The Typhoon. Although he knows to put trust in their second-in-command, Pincher always seemed to be looked upon a pedestal, the face of the pirates. The further the meeting goes on, the more intense Bakugou's discomfort. He's beginning to hate this gnawing feeling. He feels tireless and irritated from the lack of comments or murmurs around him of anyone. No one seems to want to address the state that their captain is in. He feels his blood begin to boil in frustration and his paws begin to fiddle dangerously, unsheathed and almost burning to his own skin.
Once again, he doesn't manage to muster any sympathy for the ones demoted or receiving warnings. Those who he hasn't met or come to know have little impact on Bakugou's life. He sees no point in wasting his time moping over those who don't exist within his cognitive reality. At Kirishima's shout out, his ears noticeable perk when he scans the crowd for his friend, unable to see him and clenching his teeth. He's glad his friend has been acknowledged and begins to realise just how far he's managed to get without him, adding yet another thing for the male to silently stress about in the background. Bakugou may not seem like it, but he does in fact care a lot. It is the very fact that he gets angry that shows he cares too much. His dreams are big and ambitious, his perception of the world must coincide with what he believes to be perfect. It was for those reasons that he felt so unhappy, so threatened when it seemed as if he could lose something at any moment. To lose was to fail and to fail may mean that he will never be able to try again. He was, in fact, a child of fear. He works hard because he has both too much and too little to lose.
When his name is called out to be promoted to privateer, he doesn't feel particularly happy. He is glad to be climbing the ranks, glad that his contributions have been worth it but his thoughts still remain with Pincher's current health. The words which struggled to squeeze past the captain's vocals were beginning to hammer down on him. He doesn't need to see his reflection to know how his fur has begun bristling, a strange aggression sitting at the tips of his hairs. And at the end of the meeting, he couldn't contain himself. He was possessed by a desire to act. "None of you are going to fuckin' address the fact that Pincher sounds like a dyin' fish?" the ragdoll roars, louder than he originally thought he'd sound. He doesn't let it stop him. "No 'get well soon' or 'don't push yourself'?" He tosses a glare to Pincher. The captain was certainly not excused from Bakugou's vexation when he snaps at him as well: "Go to fuckin' bed, mush-brain." He hates it when others one-up him in dedication - dedication being that Pincher even dared to host a meeting in that state.