[ choso could write a book on all the things he’s Not Thinking About, one featuring an introductory chapter dedicated solely to the flex of Bakugo’s triceps against his shoulderblade, with an afterword ruminating on what manner of fear could be so terrible as to stop the hero in his very tracks. choso does not write this book because he’s Not Thinking About it, because the Thought itself can’t sit up front while he’s steering his wild charge through this tomb turned battlefield.
Kabus screams, monstrous, but even its terrible noise is blessedly drowned out by his passenger’s explosions. ]
Hai, hai. Hold on.
[ Flowing Red Scale sections choso’s face in undulating crimson lines, blood tumultuous as if his heart itself were still shaking off Kabus’ effects. even without the boost, choso still dashes as if unburdened, Bakugo’s weight seeming almost inconsequential as the curse launches himself up the steep slant of a fallen pillar at an unnatural clip. he leaps at the three meters mark, kicking off of ancient sandstone in an arc over a growing gaggle of ghasts.
no subject
Kabus screams, monstrous, but even its terrible noise is blessedly drowned out by his passenger’s explosions. ]
Hai, hai. Hold on.
[ Flowing Red Scale sections choso’s face in undulating crimson lines, blood tumultuous as if his heart itself were still shaking off Kabus’ effects. even without the boost, choso still dashes as if unburdened, Bakugo’s weight seeming almost inconsequential as the curse launches himself up the steep slant of a fallen pillar at an unnatural clip. he leaps at the three meters mark, kicking off of ancient sandstone in an arc over a growing gaggle of ghasts.
hold on indeed. ]