09-16-2018, 12:54 AM
It's easy to become hypocritical of your own ideals. Bakugou himself is not free from such sins but, to be completely honest, he would not be able to name any events of such. Most of his hypocritical actions stemmed from his subconscious. He was deeply unaware of the internal workings of his mind, the shifts and turns of every metal cog that twists within his mind. He is yet another machine with feelings, to be swept along with the ocean and a tide of subconscious thoughts. Self-awareness. He doesn't ever look to his own heart. Mind ever heart, he always says, mind over heart. But if Bakugou aimed to be so rational, why was he always depicted to hold such a cauldron of anger? The feelings are left to simmer, bubble and boil over until he pours at all sides. His anger rules and guides him, manipulating him as though he were a marionette, pulled and drawn. He's just a puppet to his own emotions, his heart he thinks he's got the better of. And yet his anger is not all that bad. It presents to him a desire to be known, to be treated well, a burning passion for justice. He is yet a fireball of judgement, criticism and need.
When Caesar speaks up, the ragdoll halts in place. It is not out of respect for the savannah cat but because he genuinely agrees with the Officer's reasoning. Why waste their resources? They are a war-clan, a group of pillagers and fearsome pirates. What exactly has bound them to helping every single lost, injured or confused stranger that appears on their borders? They have no responsibility for their lives and yet they act as though it is the most important thing in the world. Bakugou stiffens slightly at the yellow male's wording. It. He swivels around and looks back at the injured creature, realising there was an aura that seemed different to theirs. Something that lacked the same sentience as other Typhooners but not yet feral like the prehistoric monsters who roamed the island. The tiger feels foreign, exotic maybe. There is a danger that glints from the other's eyes. But to call the stranger an it... Bakugou is fixated on those words, ribs expanding as he takes a deep breath of air. That it has an identity. Even those utahraptors where called 'she' or 'he', given names as if they were one of them. The concept of membership and identity infuriates him. Outsiders are its.
Before he can even think of a reply to the officer, the obnoxious voice of Linux enters his mind. His ears twitch as Bakugou gently bites his bottom lip, giving the girl only a sideways glance. He was, of course, about to fetch the healers himself but Linux had barged in and taken the job. He doesn't want to waste any time just standing around this injured, bleeding male. Stop the bleeding. He snorts at her words. She makes it sound as if Bakugou knows how to do it and he knows he doesn't have anything on him other than his own two paws to try and stop the flow of blood. Still, he gives a reluctant nod. He remembers seeing the way Luca put pressure on a wound before and approaches the tiger, attempting to do the same and stop the bleeding. This, of course, leaves him open to being attacked.
[ ooc ] feel free to bitch slap bakugou
When Caesar speaks up, the ragdoll halts in place. It is not out of respect for the savannah cat but because he genuinely agrees with the Officer's reasoning. Why waste their resources? They are a war-clan, a group of pillagers and fearsome pirates. What exactly has bound them to helping every single lost, injured or confused stranger that appears on their borders? They have no responsibility for their lives and yet they act as though it is the most important thing in the world. Bakugou stiffens slightly at the yellow male's wording. It. He swivels around and looks back at the injured creature, realising there was an aura that seemed different to theirs. Something that lacked the same sentience as other Typhooners but not yet feral like the prehistoric monsters who roamed the island. The tiger feels foreign, exotic maybe. There is a danger that glints from the other's eyes. But to call the stranger an it... Bakugou is fixated on those words, ribs expanding as he takes a deep breath of air. That it has an identity. Even those utahraptors where called 'she' or 'he', given names as if they were one of them. The concept of membership and identity infuriates him. Outsiders are its.
Before he can even think of a reply to the officer, the obnoxious voice of Linux enters his mind. His ears twitch as Bakugou gently bites his bottom lip, giving the girl only a sideways glance. He was, of course, about to fetch the healers himself but Linux had barged in and taken the job. He doesn't want to waste any time just standing around this injured, bleeding male. Stop the bleeding. He snorts at her words. She makes it sound as if Bakugou knows how to do it and he knows he doesn't have anything on him other than his own two paws to try and stop the flow of blood. Still, he gives a reluctant nod. He remembers seeing the way Luca put pressure on a wound before and approaches the tiger, attempting to do the same and stop the bleeding. This, of course, leaves him open to being attacked.
[ ooc ] feel free to bitch slap bakugou