10-25-2018, 07:27 AM
Although an adult in terms of a feline, he's never thought about having his own kids. His mind doesn't stop to ponder the possibility of little spawnings from him, creatures that shared half of his blood. It was perhaps because Bakugou was immature, and although he was subject to multiple mood swings, never really felt those kinds of attractions. He never even put a label to himself and if asked, he'd probably just claim he was asexual - uninterested in such affairs or thoughts. There was so much more to life, he thinks, than to concern himself over matters of love. He was always too busy to stop and think. When he was blacksmithing, his mind was fixated on the sound of clangs, the way metal and stone heated red when blasted against fire. He was always considering the way he wanted the blade - how thin and sharp it was, where its deadliest point may strike, how it would fare against multiple uses. He put so much care into crafting one piece and now with his earth manipulation, he was able to pay extra attention to detail, using smaller and thinner rocks to chip his signature on the side, written delicately in kanji. Funny how he put all his being into his work only to throw them out routinely whenever his house began to be hoarded.
He would probably never be able to raise children with the same care as he did with his craft, or the same amount of strategic and calculative thinking as his training. He was selfish, looking out for himself, honing his body until he couldn't feel his own blood circulate. He had to fit the image of himself that he wanted before he could ever think of smaller things such as children. They were annoying to him. He could never see the joy in raising such parasitic things, so dependent on the ones around them and frustratingly pitchy with their voices. Love was something he also didn't pause to consider. His feelings were always strong and passionate but never directed towards love, instead becoming that of anger and frustration. Bakugou has always been this way and as far as he is concerned, he won't change. He's stuck like this, irony being that he was indeed changing - transforming from the environment around him, adapting and becoming a different person.
He doesn't understand herbs. They all looked too alike but even then he couldn't tell name from face apart. Weeds looked too much like normal flowers, sometimes he even saw grasses being used. He doesn't understand how the black mambas can tell them apart and it's clear that Luca too was struggling. If this had been before Masie's burn, he probably wouldn't have approached the demon. Not that he would ever admit it: he was scared of him, worried about approaching the other in case he turned on him. But as it turned out, they shared the same hatred with the raptors and the male didn't seem to go feral. He simply left it at that. He was hesitant to approach but he felt more certain now that he wouldn't be attacked by the other Reaver. He too noticed the sugar pink lumps on top of Luca's head, formed like horns. It was not hard to realise the brightness of it, especially considering they had not been there before. And yet he isn't so sure when exactly Luca had those horns. He was trying to remember seeing the male in other instances, such as when Luca was expressing his distaste for Owen, but nothing felt certain.
He needs to be blunt. "Since when did ya have those horns on your head?"
He would probably never be able to raise children with the same care as he did with his craft, or the same amount of strategic and calculative thinking as his training. He was selfish, looking out for himself, honing his body until he couldn't feel his own blood circulate. He had to fit the image of himself that he wanted before he could ever think of smaller things such as children. They were annoying to him. He could never see the joy in raising such parasitic things, so dependent on the ones around them and frustratingly pitchy with their voices. Love was something he also didn't pause to consider. His feelings were always strong and passionate but never directed towards love, instead becoming that of anger and frustration. Bakugou has always been this way and as far as he is concerned, he won't change. He's stuck like this, irony being that he was indeed changing - transforming from the environment around him, adapting and becoming a different person.
He doesn't understand herbs. They all looked too alike but even then he couldn't tell name from face apart. Weeds looked too much like normal flowers, sometimes he even saw grasses being used. He doesn't understand how the black mambas can tell them apart and it's clear that Luca too was struggling. If this had been before Masie's burn, he probably wouldn't have approached the demon. Not that he would ever admit it: he was scared of him, worried about approaching the other in case he turned on him. But as it turned out, they shared the same hatred with the raptors and the male didn't seem to go feral. He simply left it at that. He was hesitant to approach but he felt more certain now that he wouldn't be attacked by the other Reaver. He too noticed the sugar pink lumps on top of Luca's head, formed like horns. It was not hard to realise the brightness of it, especially considering they had not been there before. And yet he isn't so sure when exactly Luca had those horns. He was trying to remember seeing the male in other instances, such as when Luca was expressing his distaste for Owen, but nothing felt certain.
He needs to be blunt. "Since when did ya have those horns on your head?"