[ Shigaraki picks up his passenger smoother, but then proceeds to just drive through crowds, cut through parking lots, parks, you name it. There's a lot of yelling involved. ]
[ This is absolute madness. The first time he gets lost enough that a passenger yeets themselves out of the car, Ibuki doubles over laughing. He smashes past at least three cars and one bench before he takes back control.
His constant crashing slows him down, but that's no reason to heed the words of the passengers telling him to keep his eyes on the road. He just follows the arrow, prioritizing ramps whenever possible. Gotta sail when you can, right? Or in some cases, drift straight into the destination's wall. Can't pass up that chance when he can.
While his commentary may not be as loud as Shigaraki, he's probably making up for it with his laughter whenever the taxi ends up somewhere ridiculous. ]
[ He's laughing again, mostly because Ibuki is laughing but this really is it's own brand of ridiculous chaos. Obviously he's played Crazy Taxi before, but not like this. By the time the timer is ticking down, he's managed both spectacular tricks and catastrophic failures, like his passengers jumping out mid-hill. ]
They better pay us better for this, and not just cuz this isn't set in the 80's.
[ As long as they're both having fun! Something about this game's brand of chaos sits well with him. He may not know the map at all, but the arrow keeps him mostly on track for better or for worse. He's stopped caring if he accidentally takes too long, because the sight of them jumping out of the car never gets old. ]
Yeah, the pay has to be better than newspaper throwing. And Temenos should pay us for taking him to church.
[ As he says that, he almost crashes into the church, but the in-game priest doesn't seem to mind. Nailed it. Off to find the next flailing victim paying customer! ]
What is he rich too? I'm good at conning old geezers out of their money!
[ Things he should probably know but hasn't bothered knowing, the Shigaraki experience. He picks up his last passenger with a boost of propulsion that looks like it should come out of Mario Kart. ]
[ Unsaid: but pay us anyway. Not long after picking up one last customer, Ibuki crashes straight through a police station sign and swerves into a track on his way to the baseball stadium. This is fine, there's still enough time to finish the route in record (?) time. ]
And now that I think about it, that explains a lot about Overhaul.
[ Shigaraki snickers, causing him to overshoot his current jump, landing him kinda glitched in this fountain in true chaos. ]
Doesn't it? He's not that loaded though. The old guy I'm using for bank now is mega rich compared to him. [ Given the timer is flashing across the screen, he's probably not making his last drop-off but that's fine. Chaos is just as good currency to him. ]
[ To the milking or the landing? Either way, that's as good an ending as any in this game-shaped chaos. Ibuki swerves into the baseball stadium to let the passenger go before time finally runs out. Certainly a better showing than the one he made during Paperboy. Speaking of which... ]
It certainly does feel like Paperboy grew up into another job.
[ He says this even though he has never actually held a job. (Test subject doesn't count.) ]
I got better at it as I leveled up, just like Paperboy.
[ That's kind of a joke.
There's probably a remark about score here because Ibuki has gotten better too and Shigaraki's noticed. Instead what comes next is a memory that's both ill-suited and not to the conversation at hand. ]
[ You are five years old, and you have one dream. You want to be a hero, one of the many caped crusaders who fight against evil and protect the weak. It's a fanciful dream but not a completely fantastical one—the world you live in is one where actual heroes exist, with superpowers known as quirks.
You want to be a hero, even if you don't have your quirk yet. You're too young to understand that by now, the chances of you having one are slim to none. You're young and you dare to dream, despite reality.
That is unforgivable.
Your father drags you by your collar, as your sobs echo down the hallway, your mother, your grandparents, and your sister looking on with anxious, worried expressions. There's one rule in this house, not to speak of heroes, and you keep breaking it. But like any child, you want to reach for the stars.
The next day, or maybe any other day, you tell your mother how much you want to be like the strongest hero there ever was: All Might. You tell her through the repeated motion of scratching your face, over and over again. You're itchy, but no one knows what you're allergic to. Despite how young you are, it's already started to leave marks on your skin, blemishes and wrinkles your short dark hair can't disguise.
You don't understand why your father hates you, though your mother tells you this isn't true. He loves you, he wants to protect you, because he knows how difficult being a hero could be. You nod, doing your best to accept her words, the words of an adult which are absolute. But you can't help but wonder why none of the other adults will help you. They tell you to bear it, that your father means well. That this is his way of showing his love. You don't understand it, though deep down you begin to feel like you're being rejected with kindness.
One day, your sister calls to you and shows you something hidden in your father's desk. It's a photograph of your dad when he was your age, with a strong looking woman, a hero, arms around him protectively. This was your grandmother, Hana tells you. Your grandmother was a hero! That means you can be a hero too. You're ecstatic, heart overflowing with joy. This'll be your little secret, between the two of you.
You're still walking on cloud nine as you play fetch with your dog, feeling like you could take on the world. You don't hear your fathers footsteps, even as thundering as they are. He's shouting, screaming, angrier than you've ever seen him. ]
"You saw, didn't you!?! That's not your grandmother, that's a savage who abandoned her own child!!!
Listen, in order to save strangers they don't even know, heroes will hurt their own families!!!"
[ The itching is getting worse, like a million ants biting at your skin, even as your father strikes you. You wonder, why no one is helping you. You wonder, why they're just standing there and watching.
You stay there, unmoving from where he dragged you, tears streaming down your face as the sun sets. You can't take it anymore, you're hurt, you're itchy, all over and you don't understand. Why won't anyone help you?!
You hate everything. Yes, you hate everything, you try to convince yourself as you clutch at the only one who hasn't abandoned you, your dog. Still crying, you're desperate for something, anything, anyone to hold onto.
Suddenly, the fur beneath your fingers gives way, a crumbling sound, chunks of flesh plopping down onto the ground, blood pooling onto the dirt in your backyard. You panic, not knowing what's going on. Was it a villain? Is a villain targeting your house, your family, on this terrible, awful, no-good day?
You hear your sister's voice, wavering, hesitant, apologizing to you. You can't get any words out, and she steps closer asking what's wrong and then she sees. She screams. She screams, you grab onto her, and she cracks into more chunks that hit the ground with a sickening plop. You fall onto your hands and knees, emptying everything that's in your stomach.
You hear more voices, your mother, your grandmother, your grandfather. You know now, even if you don't understand. Why did they protect your father? Why did they tell you not to cry? This is your doing, it's your fault, but you can't take it anymore. Your hands make full contact with the ground, cracks spreading, crawling, reaching to your family. Your mother runs to you even as her legs slough off beneath her. Little by little, it built up. It was too much.
Your father is back and he's yelling again. He screams your name: Tenko, telling you to stop. He strikes you with garden shears, sending you flying. You want to kill him, you hate him, you know this clearly even in the chaos of everything.
You touch him with all five fingers on your right hand. The itching stops, and you feel a pleasure you've never felt before. You stand in the ruins of your family, of your house, and you think this must be what you wanted all along. ]
[ While not the first time he's seen death through someone else's memory, this one hits differently for many reasons.
It's not like he hasn't thought about what to do if it happens again. The role of observer is not one foreign to him. He still remembers his ideas even now: Separate his mind from the memories. Keep breathing. Think of the theater and its plush seats. Stay observant, but don't get too close. A typical observer to-do list.
But distance is never an easy concept when it comes to Shigaraki. Shigaraki who gave him an answer to questions he didn't realize he had, some hope in himself that he didn't even realize he had lost. Who was willing to take the hand he offered.
He couldn't look away from him now. Even if this is an abyss better left untouched, he reaches forward into the memory.
The scene that unfolds is something both utterly alien in its dynamics and uncomfortably familiar in its feeling of longing and isolation. He doesn't recognize this household. And as that odious man keeps talking, he thinks he shouldn't. Even though this is a memory, one not even his, the raw bite of fury keeps gnawing at his brain. He hates this. He hates a lot of things right now. This never should have happened, a complete and utter failure on the shoulders of those that should've protected him. And look at who else ends up paying the price in the end.
Something inside him hurts. He keeps seeing faces that aren't there.
Ah, he never did like the adults. Fickle, fickle beings more concerned with keeping them in line than as individuals with their own thoughts. Hopes. Dreams. Same as any human. Why expect them to bleed out for them emotions with a smile? Just rot away with those impure hearts.
Letting the feeling of resentment wash over him like ice-cold water, he steps forward from where he was watching. The heels of shoes touch the phantom remains of what used to be family. Not his family, he reminds himself. Never once did he have one. Maybe that's what makes it easier for him to crouch down into the gore, intent on meeting this child at eye level. ]
That's right...be who you want to be.
[ He doesn't know what else to say. He wishes he did, but as he is right now, an astray observer, this is what he can do. ]
[ The boy looks back at him, or is he looking at the slabs of concrete and wood that remain of his house? His eyes are a fathomless thing, tinged red, either from the mutation or tears. Maybe both.
The memory fades there, a gradual washing of colors from the blotches of flesh and debris to the neon colors of the arcade, Crazy Taxi next level scene still humming along in the background. Shigaraki is looking at Ibuki with a wry smile. ]
If it was gonna show all of that, it could have finished it? I wandered for a while after, but no one wanted to help me then either. They took one look at me and said it was a job for heroes and ran off, but none of 'em bothered to show up. One lost kid ain't a big enough job for them to care when they could be saving a burning orphanage or whatever.
But eventually, my Master found me. He reached out to me when no one else would and taught me pretty much everything I know. I don't need him to tell me anymore now, though. I know who I am and what I want.
Hearing it from you ain't bad though. [ It's more than that, his smile relaxing into a more genuine one. By now, he's fielded compliments of all kinds, sarcastic ones, sycophantic ones, ones from some of the members of the League who look up to him in the patchwork sense that is their relationships. This is none of those things, at least to him. ]
[ Even as the memory melts away, emotions unbidden continue bubbling up. The feeling of resentment towards people he's never met still remains, heavy as rain. Untangling his emotions should be his priority, but easier said than done. He knows part of the anger is also his own now. Bad adults have that effect on him, he supposes.
Instead, Ibuki listens to Shigaraki's continuation, letting his voice anchor him back down to the arcade. Neon colors visible from the corner of his eyes, the music drifting from the machine, the smell of whatever bag of chips he opened before the memory happened...everything paints the picture of his present.
Right, this is where he is. Both of them are still here, and for now, that's enough for him. Maybe Ibuki himself won't be later, but that's something for another day. (He knows. He knows, but he won't turn away when the time comes.) ]
Of course that's how they rationalized it... At least you were found.
[ That's human, he supposes, the urge to let somebody else handle the problem. He'd be more disappointed in them, but that means expecting something back in the first place. Feeling much less adrift at that thought, he lets himself keep talking. ]
Really? I was just saying what you told me. [ He vaguely gestures around them, alluding to the memory. ] But...I'm glad you're here to say that.
[ Say what? A lot of things really. Shigaraki's presence is a comfort to him for a reason. Even with what just happened, that doesn't change how much he enjoys being around him.
Maybe that feeling is part of why Ibuki holds his hand out here, waiting to see what Shigaraki does. ]
Did you mean it? [ He asks this, but he's already moved to take Ibuki's hand within his, curling their fingers together. Why would he do anything else?
If they hadn't walked where they had, he might have asked Ibuki if he was really sure he wanted to touch his hands after all of that. But they're past that. He can't and won't offer words of comfort either, but that's fine too isn't it? He can offer other things, but more importantly (and obviously, especially to himself), he wants to offer them. ]
[ He lets his own fingers curl around as well, feelings swirling around his mind growing more positive. The cold of resentment slowly recedes to the background, a chill still there but no longer overpowering. Yeah, this is what he wanted to do. It's what little he can offer with what he has now. And there's nothing wrong with that, he thinks as he looks at Shigaraki's face.
The world may be cruel and indifferent, but he's starting to realize that he doesn't want it to take this away from him. ]
Right. Free to do whatever we want no matter what anyone else thinks.
[ A smile spreads across his lips, content and pleased. ]
All that stuff you saw, that's why I wanna destroy everything. To destroy what that house stood for, I gotta destroy it all. [ His fingers twitch slightly just thinking about it. ]
But it's also for the fun of it all too. I'm doin' it for me. Just like this.
[ Not that Ibuki didn't already understand the urge to destroy society, but he's right in that it does put things into more perspective. Why would anyone want a society with such skewed priorities to continue? He nods, acknowledging. ]
Mmhm, they had their time; they can deal with us showing them what we think of their symbols. Not like it should be a surprise anyway. It's a long time coming. So might as well enjoy doing what you got to do.
[ His own smile gets a little wider, happy at the sight of Shigaraki's. It's easier to breathe now. ]
Yeah, just like this.
[ He squeezes his hand lightly, content with the feeling. ]
[ He laughs lightly, accepting those words, accepting this touch, simply because he wants to do so. In truth he's always been the type to accept what's been offered to him, at least as long as he can keep being himself. ]
Oh, yeah, speaking of symbols—I said I'd show you the other hand, right? [ Hm, well he can do this one handed and that's far as his logic extends to hand holding, so. He reaches into his pocket to pull out one (1) male adult sized hand, somewhere a mix between taxidermied and artificial appearance wise. ]
I used to wear these all the time as a reminder, but all of 'em are gone now besides this one, my father's. It's just an accessory, but I haven't felt like wearin' it.
[ There's something about how someone being unapologetically themselves catches Ibuki's attention, makes him want to stare and observe like he's looking into a kaleidoscope. And to him, the way Shigaraki stands his ground no matter what happens is the most eye-catching of them all.
May they continue to be themselves until the very end. ]
I remember.
[ Ah yes, that day. He recalls the beeps of Paperboy, the sweet taste of the cupcake, and of course, the discussion about his Master. Turning his head to the extra hand in the area, he peers at it with curious eyes. Not disgusted or disturbed, simply intrigued at the new sight. Some lingering resentment stirs when he mentions it's his father's hand, but it feels filtered through a sort of sieve now. It doesn't reach his expression at all. ]
Looks kind of cool after all. [ Putting what it is aside, hands are pretty cool. ] But right, accessories are optional for a reason? No harm in keeping it somewhere when not in use.
What, did you think it wasn't gonna be? [ That's largely a joke because he knows he's a chuuni and doesn't care. He's also been called every name in the book when it comes to these hands. ]
Yeah, but I was wonderin' if I should get a new accessory. I wouldn't know what to get though cuz these were given to me.
[ His tone is joking, since even he's kind of aware that hands aren't a typical accessory. Not that he's one to mind human norms much, but still. It definitely stands out in a crowd. He wonders how that went over.
That aside, Ibuki tilts his head to the side, going through a list of accessories in his mind. ]
If you want to? I'm probably not the best to ask for recommendations. Usually I only wear my charm as an earring. [ He gestures towards the earring on his right ear with his free hand. ] But if it helps, these can come as bracelets, necklaces, phone charms, and watches.
[ He cocks his head at the gesture and the charm, thinking more. ]
It'd have to be sturdy whatever it is. Property damage goes along with the whole destruction thing. [ Which is to say as a shounen, he rarely escapes combat nowadays without losing at least part of his wardrobe, getting burned, tossed around, you name it. It's all in good fun. ]
Ah, I usually fight as Moravia, so I don't have to worry about damaging it then.
[ The joys of being a magical girl with all the rules it implies. ]
Almost anything can get blown up if you try hard enough though. Even something like hair extensions. [ Maybe this is why he usually doesn't wear many accessories, now that he thinks about it. ] Yuuki's friend wears nail polish, but it'd probably chip off in a fight? Rings can get caught in something...
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
no subject
[ Shigaraki picks up his passenger smoother, but then proceeds to just drive through crowds, cut through parking lots, parks, you name it. There's a lot of yelling involved. ]
no subject
[ This is absolute madness. The first time he gets lost enough that a passenger yeets themselves out of the car, Ibuki doubles over laughing. He smashes past at least three cars and one bench before he takes back control.
His constant crashing slows him down, but that's no reason to heed the words of the passengers telling him to keep his eyes on the road. He just follows the arrow, prioritizing ramps whenever possible. Gotta sail when you can, right? Or in some cases, drift straight into the destination's wall. Can't pass up that chance when he can.
While his commentary may not be as loud as Shigaraki, he's probably making up for it with his laughter whenever the taxi ends up somewhere ridiculous. ]
no subject
They better pay us better for this, and not just cuz this isn't set in the 80's.
no subject
Yeah, the pay has to be better than newspaper throwing. And Temenos should pay us for taking him to church.
[ As he says that, he almost crashes into the church, but the in-game priest doesn't seem to mind. Nailed it. Off to find the next flailing
victimpaying customer! ]no subject
[ Things he should probably know but hasn't bothered knowing, the Shigaraki experience. He picks up his last passenger with a boost of propulsion that looks like it should come out of Mario Kart. ]
no subject
[ Unsaid: but pay us anyway. Not long after picking up one last customer, Ibuki crashes straight through a police station sign and swerves into a track on his way to the baseball stadium. This is fine, there's still enough time to finish the route in record (?) time. ]
And now that I think about it, that explains a lot about Overhaul.
no subject
Doesn't it? He's not that loaded though. The old guy I'm using for bank now is mega rich compared to him. [ Given the timer is flashing across the screen, he's probably not making his last drop-off but that's fine. Chaos is just as good currency to him. ]
no subject
[ To the milking or the landing? Either way, that's as good an ending as any in this game-shaped chaos. Ibuki swerves into the baseball stadium to let the passenger go before time finally runs out. Certainly a better showing than the one he made during Paperboy. Speaking of which... ]
It certainly does feel like Paperboy grew up into another job.
[ He says this even though he has never actually held a job. (Test subject doesn't count.) ]
1/2
[ That's kind of a joke.
There's probably a remark about score here because Ibuki has gotten better too and Shigaraki's noticed. Instead what comes next is a memory that's both ill-suited and not to the conversation at hand. ]
cw; child abuse, animal death, gore
You want to be a hero, even if you don't have your quirk yet. You're too young to understand that by now, the chances of you having one are slim to none. You're young and you dare to dream, despite reality.
That is unforgivable.
Your father drags you by your collar, as your sobs echo down the hallway, your mother, your grandparents, and your sister looking on with anxious, worried expressions. There's one rule in this house, not to speak of heroes, and you keep breaking it. But like any child, you want to reach for the stars.
The next day, or maybe any other day, you tell your mother how much you want to be like the strongest hero there ever was: All Might. You tell her through the repeated motion of scratching your face, over and over again. You're itchy, but no one knows what you're allergic to. Despite how young you are, it's already started to leave marks on your skin, blemishes and wrinkles your short dark hair can't disguise.
You don't understand why your father hates you, though your mother tells you this isn't true. He loves you, he wants to protect you, because he knows how difficult being a hero could be. You nod, doing your best to accept her words, the words of an adult which are absolute. But you can't help but wonder why none of the other adults will help you. They tell you to bear it, that your father means well. That this is his way of showing his love. You don't understand it, though deep down you begin to feel like you're being rejected with kindness.
One day, your sister calls to you and shows you something hidden in your father's desk. It's a photograph of your dad when he was your age, with a strong looking woman, a hero, arms around him protectively. This was your grandmother, Hana tells you. Your grandmother was a hero! That means you can be a hero too. You're ecstatic, heart overflowing with joy. This'll be your little secret, between the two of you.
You're still walking on cloud nine as you play fetch with your dog, feeling like you could take on the world. You don't hear your fathers footsteps, even as thundering as they are. He's shouting, screaming, angrier than you've ever seen him. ]
"You saw, didn't you!?! That's not your grandmother, that's a savage who abandoned her own child!!!
Listen, in order to save strangers they don't even know, heroes will hurt their own families!!!"
[ The itching is getting worse, like a million ants biting at your skin, even as your father strikes you. You wonder, why no one is helping you. You wonder, why they're just standing there and watching.
You stay there, unmoving from where he dragged you, tears streaming down your face as the sun sets. You can't take it anymore, you're hurt, you're itchy, all over and you don't understand. Why won't anyone help you?!
You hate everything. Yes, you hate everything, you try to convince yourself as you clutch at the only one who hasn't abandoned you, your dog. Still crying, you're desperate for something, anything, anyone to hold onto.
Suddenly, the fur beneath your fingers gives way, a crumbling sound, chunks of flesh plopping down onto the ground, blood pooling onto the dirt in your backyard. You panic, not knowing what's going on. Was it a villain? Is a villain targeting your house, your family, on this terrible, awful, no-good day?
You hear your sister's voice, wavering, hesitant, apologizing to you. You can't get any words out, and she steps closer asking what's wrong and then she sees. She screams. She screams, you grab onto her, and she cracks into more chunks that hit the ground with a sickening plop. You fall onto your hands and knees, emptying everything that's in your stomach.
You hear more voices, your mother, your grandmother, your grandfather. You know now, even if you don't understand. Why did they protect your father? Why did they tell you not to cry? This is your doing, it's your fault, but you can't take it anymore. Your hands make full contact with the ground, cracks spreading, crawling, reaching to your family. Your mother runs to you even as her legs slough off beneath her. Little by little, it built up. It was too much.
Your father is back and he's yelling again. He screams your name: Tenko, telling you to stop. He strikes you with garden shears, sending you flying. You want to kill him, you hate him, you know this clearly even in the chaos of everything.
You touch him with all five fingers on your right hand. The itching stops, and you feel a pleasure you've never felt before. You stand in the ruins of your family, of your house, and you think this must be what you wanted all along. ]
see previous cw
It's not like he hasn't thought about what to do if it happens again. The role of observer is not one foreign to him. He still remembers his ideas even now: Separate his mind from the memories. Keep breathing. Think of the theater and its plush seats. Stay observant, but don't get too close. A typical observer to-do list.
But distance is never an easy concept when it comes to Shigaraki. Shigaraki who gave him an answer to questions he didn't realize he had, some hope in himself that he didn't even realize he had lost. Who was willing to take the hand he offered.
He couldn't look away from him now. Even if this is an abyss better left untouched, he reaches forward into the memory.
The scene that unfolds is something both utterly alien in its dynamics and uncomfortably familiar in its feeling of longing and isolation. He doesn't recognize this household. And as that odious man keeps talking, he thinks he shouldn't. Even though this is a memory, one not even his, the raw bite of fury keeps gnawing at his brain. He hates this. He hates a lot of things right now. This never should have happened, a complete and utter failure on the shoulders of those that should've protected him. And look at who else ends up paying the price in the end.
Something inside him hurts. He keeps seeing faces that aren't there.
Ah, he never did like the adults. Fickle, fickle beings more concerned with keeping them in line than as individuals with their own thoughts. Hopes. Dreams. Same as any human. Why expect them to bleed out for them emotions with a smile? Just rot away with those impure hearts.
Letting the feeling of resentment wash over him like ice-cold water, he steps forward from where he was watching. The heels of shoes touch the phantom remains of what used to be family. Not his family, he reminds himself. Never once did he have one. Maybe that's what makes it easier for him to crouch down into the gore, intent on meeting this child at eye level. ]
That's right...be who you want to be.
[ He doesn't know what else to say. He wishes he did, but as he is right now, an astray observer, this is what he can do. ]
no subject
The memory fades there, a gradual washing of colors from the blotches of flesh and debris to the neon colors of the arcade, Crazy Taxi next level scene still humming along in the background. Shigaraki is looking at Ibuki with a wry smile. ]
If it was gonna show all of that, it could have finished it? I wandered for a while after, but no one wanted to help me then either. They took one look at me and said it was a job for heroes and ran off, but none of 'em bothered to show up. One lost kid ain't a big enough job for them to care when they could be saving a burning orphanage or whatever.
But eventually, my Master found me. He reached out to me when no one else would and taught me pretty much everything I know. I don't need him to tell me anymore now, though. I know who I am and what I want.
Hearing it from you ain't bad though. [ It's more than that, his smile relaxing into a more genuine one. By now, he's fielded compliments of all kinds, sarcastic ones, sycophantic ones, ones from some of the members of the League who look up to him in the patchwork sense that is their relationships. This is none of those things, at least to him. ]
Actually, it's pretty nice?
no subject
Instead, Ibuki listens to Shigaraki's continuation, letting his voice anchor him back down to the arcade. Neon colors visible from the corner of his eyes, the music drifting from the machine, the smell of whatever bag of chips he opened before the memory happened...everything paints the picture of his present.
Right, this is where he is. Both of them are still here, and for now, that's enough for him. Maybe Ibuki himself won't be later, but that's something for another day. (He knows. He knows, but he won't turn away when the time comes.) ]
Of course that's how they rationalized it... At least you were found.
[ That's human, he supposes, the urge to let somebody else handle the problem. He'd be more disappointed in them, but that means expecting something back in the first place. Feeling much less adrift at that thought, he lets himself keep talking. ]
Really? I was just saying what you told me. [ He vaguely gestures around them, alluding to the memory. ] But...I'm glad you're here to say that.
[ Say what? A lot of things really. Shigaraki's presence is a comfort to him for a reason. Even with what just happened, that doesn't change how much he enjoys being around him.
Maybe that feeling is part of why Ibuki holds his hand out here, waiting to see what Shigaraki does. ]
no subject
If they hadn't walked where they had, he might have asked Ibuki if he was really sure he wanted to touch his hands after all of that. But they're past that. He can't and won't offer words of comfort either, but that's fine too isn't it? He can offer other things, but more importantly (and obviously, especially to himself), he wants to offer them. ]
no subject
[ He lets his own fingers curl around as well, feelings swirling around his mind growing more positive. The cold of resentment slowly recedes to the background, a chill still there but no longer overpowering. Yeah, this is what he wanted to do. It's what little he can offer with what he has now. And there's nothing wrong with that, he thinks as he looks at Shigaraki's face.
The world may be cruel and indifferent, but he's starting to realize that he doesn't want it to take this away from him. ]
no subject
[ A smile spreads across his lips, content and pleased. ]
All that stuff you saw, that's why I wanna destroy everything. To destroy what that house stood for, I gotta destroy it all. [ His fingers twitch slightly just thinking about it. ]
But it's also for the fun of it all too. I'm doin' it for me. Just like this.
[ His fingers curl a bit tighter. ]
no subject
Mmhm, they had their time; they can deal with us showing them what we think of their symbols. Not like it should be a surprise anyway. It's a long time coming. So might as well enjoy doing what you got to do.
[ His own smile gets a little wider, happy at the sight of Shigaraki's. It's easier to breathe now. ]
Yeah, just like this.
[ He squeezes his hand lightly, content with the feeling. ]
no subject
Oh, yeah, speaking of symbols—I said I'd show you the other hand, right? [ Hm, well he can do this one handed and that's far as his logic extends to hand holding, so. He reaches into his pocket to pull out one (1) male adult sized hand, somewhere a mix between taxidermied and artificial appearance wise. ]
I used to wear these all the time as a reminder, but all of 'em are gone now besides this one, my father's. It's just an accessory, but I haven't felt like wearin' it.
no subject
May they continue to be themselves until the very end. ]
I remember.
[ Ah yes, that day. He recalls the beeps of Paperboy, the sweet taste of the cupcake, and of course, the discussion about his Master. Turning his head to the extra hand in the area, he peers at it with curious eyes. Not disgusted or disturbed, simply intrigued at the new sight. Some lingering resentment stirs when he mentions it's his father's hand, but it feels filtered through a sort of sieve now. It doesn't reach his expression at all. ]
Looks kind of cool after all. [ Putting what it is aside, hands are pretty cool. ] But right, accessories are optional for a reason? No harm in keeping it somewhere when not in use.
no subject
Yeah, but I was wonderin' if I should get a new accessory. I wouldn't know what to get though cuz these were given to me.
no subject
[ His tone is joking, since even he's kind of aware that hands aren't a typical accessory. Not that he's one to mind human norms much, but still. It definitely stands out in a crowd. He wonders how that went over.
That aside, Ibuki tilts his head to the side, going through a list of accessories in his mind. ]
If you want to? I'm probably not the best to ask for recommendations. Usually I only wear my charm as an earring. [ He gestures towards the earring on his right ear with his free hand. ] But if it helps, these can come as bracelets, necklaces, phone charms, and watches.
no subject
[ He cocks his head at the gesture and the charm, thinking more. ]
It'd have to be sturdy whatever it is. Property damage goes along with the whole destruction thing. [ Which is to say as a shounen, he rarely escapes combat nowadays without losing at least part of his wardrobe, getting burned, tossed around, you name it. It's all in good fun. ]
no subject
[ The joys of being a magical girl with all the rules it implies. ]
Almost anything can get blown up if you try hard enough though. Even something like hair extensions. [ Maybe this is why he usually doesn't wear many accessories, now that he thinks about it. ] Yuuki's friend wears nail polish, but it'd probably chip off in a fight? Rings can get caught in something...
[ Huh, this is tougher than he thought? ]
no subject
no subject
[ Because of course he's punching something. ]
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
1/2
2/2 cw: body horror, questionable fanfic (thanks yashima)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
no ones reading this anymore right? yes, good
i'll know someone is when kao suddenly messages me
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)