#chipen

@chipen:

👫 gimme gimme those thoughts about yumichika

Aight here we go

Yumichika has more innate Reiatsu than Ikkaku. It's the reason why he can use advanced Kido without an incantation. However, Ikkaku min-maxes in physicality and evidently is more in tune with his Zanpakuto. These two have figured those two aspects about each other out and have leveraged them to become probably the single best two-man cell in Seireitei. Their performance together cannot be underestimated.

Yumichika is the reason Ikkaku has his red makeup by the corners of his eyes. It was Yumichika's idea to make Ikkaku look a little more colorful, as a way to compensate for his indistinctive look. Ikkaku, taking Yumichika's advice very seriously, obviously adhered - and he liked it so much he just kept using it every day.

YUMICHIKA LETS IKKAKU DO HIS HAIR. Don't even at me.

He  had  gotten  used  to  being  considered  revolting,  something  about  the  concoction  of  burning,  acrid  skin  and  vulgar  disposition  had  a  tendency  to  drive  strangers  away.  They  gave  him  a  wide  berth  and  he  couldn’t  have  cared  less.  For  years  he  had  been  driven  by  the  sole  motive  of  destroying  everything  his  father  stood  for  not  caring  for  the  detriment  to  his  body,  his  mind,  but  there’s  something  akin  to awe that  reflects  in  Hawk’s  gaze  when  he  looks  at  him.  It  makes  his  stomach  churn,  wanting  nothing  more  than  to  writhe  free  of  his  penetrating  gaze,  he  reserves  himself  to  sullenly  taking  another  long  drag,  making  sure  that  he  doesn’t  expel  it  until  his  lungs  scream.  It’s  how  he  copes,  it’s  how  he’s  always  coped.  If  hawk’s  sees  him  as  anything  less  than  an  abhorrent  criminal  then  all  he  can  do  is  recommend  he  gets  his fucking  eyes  checked, surely  pro  heroes  have  health  insurance.  For  all  that  lingering  in  the  doorway  he’s  doing,  that  sheet  hanging  low  on  his  hips,  he  isn’t  refuting  him,  merely  staring  on  and  on  before  he  eventually  decides  it’s  time  to  stop  being  an  ominous  mother  fucker  and  actually  joins  him  on  the  balcony. When  they  were  up  this  high,  above  all  the  detritus  that  society  smeared  across  the  pavement,  all  of  the  bullshit  that  festered  and  decayed,  he  could  have  almost  deluded  himself  into  believing  there  was  another  way.  It  was  when  it  grew  real  quiet,  the  stars  glinting  overhead,  that  part  of  his  shrivelled  up  heart  whispered  to  him,  pleading  that  he  might  cling  to  this  moment  for  a  second  longer  before  it  all  inevitably  went  up  in  flames.  ❝  disappointed  ?  ❞  oh,  hawks  might  be,  knowing  he  didn’t  take  his  leave  like  a  good  little  home  invader  might,  actually,  this  time  didn’t  count,  he  was  invited.  Dabi  isn’t.  In  fact,  colour  him  impressed  that  the  docile  little  bird  they  kept  was  as  brazen  as  to  seize  a  cigarette  out  of  his  pack,  easing  into  his  lap  like  it  was  the  most  comfortable  seat  available.  It  wasn’t,  he’d  lounged  on  the  lavish  couch  situated  in  the  middle  of  his  almost  barren  living  room  long  enough  to  gauge  how  expensive  it  was.  He  would  choose  this  over  that  ?  what  a  fucking  strange  guy.  Those  long,  often  concealed  talons  card  through  his  hair,  reminding  him  that  the  person  reclining  against  him  was  somewhat  of  an  apex  predator.  There’s  a  shudder  of  anticipation  within  him,  when  they  graze  against  his  skin,  angling  his  head  to  press  his  cigarette  into  his  and  effectively  light  it.  He  makes  an  incredulous  noise,  it’s  in  approval. 

❝  look  at  you,  the  number  two  hero  lightin’  it  up  with  a  villain.  wouldn’t  be  the  worst  thing  you’ve  done  in  the  last  twenty  four  hours. ❞  the  searing  heat  that  kindles  between  their  gazes  reminds  him  of  how  pretty  hawks  had  been  pinned  beneath  him,  how  each  feather  had  trembled  as  pleasure  lanced  through  his  body.  He  was  getting  to  see  so  many  aspects  of  the  number  two  hero,  more  than  he  should  be  privy  to,  than  he  thought  he  wanted  to. 

Sinuous  rings  of  smoke  wreath  around  them,  slowly  dissipating,  he  cannot  tell  what  is  more  pernicious,  the  tar  lining  his  lungs  or  the  pro-hero  perched  in  his  lap.  Safe  to  say,  he  didn’t  fucking  care  about  the  repercussions  of  either  of  those  things.  It’s  when  hawks  rests  his  head  on  his  shoulder,  as  if  daring  him  to  do  something  about  it,  that  a  rasp  of  laughter  is  punctuated  by  a  hand  listlessly  brushing  through  his  feathers.  He  looked  better  when  they  were  ruffled,  his  hair  tousled,  his  expression  open.  If  Dabi  had  common  fucking  sense  he  wouldn’t  be  having  a  preference  about  any  of  this,  yet  here  they  are,  doing  dumb  shit  anyway. 

𝐀 𝐓𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄 𝐎𝐅 𝐇𝐄𝐀𝐕𝐄𝐍𝐋𝐘 𝐋𝐈𝐆𝐇𝐓

“  Is  that  what  love  is  to  humans?  ”      happiness  is  the  void,  the  vast  expanse  of  nothingness,  the  darkened  silence  to  sit  and  Be,  and  so  if  that  was  something  that  love  is,  then  he  would  have  felt  love  and  known  it.  Yet  he  had  already  known  of  love  ;  just  like  every  human  emotion,  it  was  worthless.  Love  could  not  be  seen  with  his  eyes,  and  so  it  did  not  exist.  Like  her  hope,  her  happiness,  her  fear,  and  her  soul.  Maybe  that  was  all  a  part  of  being  human  and,  without  having  understood  love,  it  couldn't  exist.

"What are you talking about, I get to spend my time with you! " a laugh from his lips for a moment. Yet the other was right, it wasn't the best of his days. But he was going to play it off like it didn't matter. Crossing his arms into his sleeves, he couldn't help but smile at the other. Watching with his one eye, he shrugged.

" Let's just say it hasn't been a good week, but when worst comes to worst -- everything tends to get better later on." shrugging his shoulders he couldn't help but keep that sly grin.

"Besides, I should say that to you. you're the one right here with me. your day isn't looking so good, now is it?"

He couldn't tell him he was in another fight. No -- personally didn't need that fight right now. But he was feeling it. a good couple of hits, and yet he couldn't help but laugh and smile. Eyes looked at the other for a moment, trying to play it off like it was nothing.

" Oh, worried about me? No need. It's not mine."

he was lying, some of it was his, but a bath would clean it up like it was nothing. Though if the other had known him well enough he could see right through him. Another laugh left his lips for a moment as he looked away.

"Anyway, I'm going to wash this all off. Wanna join? " he teased playfully. " I'm kidding! or am I--- Though to be honest with you, I might have one or two cuts, but nothing life-threatening. Mainly the blood is someone else's, so to put your pretty head at ease, you don't need to worry about me. I can handle myself. You of all people know that."

Hallowmeme || Accepting @chipen asked " “ Put that Ouija Board down right now or so help me! “ / from izuku "

At the vehement refusal, Hanta blows a loud raspberry, shoulders slumping down heavily. He had gotten the thing at an antique market, it had been priced down so heavily that the college student manning the stall had practically begged Hanta to take it when he showed even an ounce of interest in the thing. He wasn't really a believer in spirits, let alone vengeful ones that would somehow be compelled to answer to a wooden board, but it was dirt cheap and sounded like fun. So, of course, he had to make use of such a great deal!

And of course, he would never turn down the opportunity to mess with his friends.

The hard part, as seen above, would be convincing the other to join. He couldn't use the same tactics as he would with Bakugou, poking at his somewhat fragile braggadocio and easy tells, but considering they're childhood friends there must be some sort of similarities shared between them that Hanta could utilize. Midoriya was pretty susceptible to teasing just like Blasty, and (no offense) seemed kinda touchy about ✰ friendship✰ in a way that usually betrayed his better judgements. Just look at half the things Midoriya gets up to when left alone for long enough with even a minor issue, the proof was in the green-haired pudding.

So, Hanta sighs, a small and pitiful huff of air, and drops his head down like a dejected creature. "Ah, that's fine. I've always wanted to try one of these and no one else wanted to. Not even Denki or Roki! But it's fine."