Bakugou Angst Stories

≡;- ꒰ °Pulverized → C.

🔊 cy•a•not•ic

/ˈsīənätik /

1. Blue discolouration that takes place when there's not enough oxygen in the blood (medicinal).

.

Fourteen year old Katsuki Bakugou has always been an overachiever. His life was practically all planned out before him, despite his spontaneous attitude and short fused anger—he knew where he'd be forty years from now. Could even envision himself then, that always seemed to be harder for other kids, but it was a breeze for Katsuki. He knew where he was headed beyond a shadow of doubt. So he always believed walking home after school would be the same.

Until the day it wasn't.

One second Katsuki was on the ground, another he was being lifted, another he felt something wet and gross consume him. He had just been rethinking something awful he had said to Deku, but he wasn't quite sure if he regretted it. A barrage of memories had been making their unwelcome appearance the way home, guilting him in a way he wasn't able to avoid. Entrapping him in its grip quite like whatever is piling on him.

And the thing that piles on him is gross, it oozes, it leaves its resin wherever it goes and it's all consuming. It would feel near omnipotent with how ever present it is, but it's far too wretched for that. Leaving not a touch of comfort but a lingering feeling of edge, the antagonist against true omnipotence; unlike the hero All Might. Katsuki is so confused.

Funny enough, confusion always ferments to rage in seconds once Katsuki achieves it. So at least he's no longer confused now, directing diverse emotions through a one way prism to anger, was what turned thoughts to actions. Anger makes things happen, rile up a crowd, and things will be shaken. Anger can be thinly veiled. Anger can be the brunt force of a bull. Anger is already so diverse, what's the need for other emotions to complicate simple things further?

A one track mind is a one track mind no matter what.

So he struggles, squirms, fights, and bursts. A quirk that only brought pain, now powerfully melts away ooze. He hears a voice hovering around him, it moves all too quickly, far too evasive. So swift that the motion of the jumbled words looming everywhere only adds to the dreaded all present feeling, making him feel so dizzy.

So of course, Katsuki pulls in all that dizziness, nice and hard like a rope, and screams at the top of his lungs. Letting all that dizziness escape as rage. Because it feels so wrong whatever is happening, and there's something so terrifying about the sloppy black climbing so high above him. It's like having to support Mount Everest underwater. A weightless feeling with too much pressure under these conditions.

Katsuki never even had time to acclimate to such harsh conditions!

And all of a sudden, a gaggle of people are honking from far off. He doesn't know what's going on, and he feels the skin around his eyes being drawn back by tough sludge. Black mounts the corners of his vision, and he doesn't know if that's the creature or consciousness leaking out of his ears. There's something so terribly wrong with this.

Then it happens.

It begins to rope around his face and tie him down.

There's suddenly a system overload, as though there was just too much panic that it couldn't just be senselessly packaged as anger. But he pulls through, ordering this there, and forcing this here, but where, where, where, where, where adds to the awful panic. It crawls into the cuffs of his pants, rolls into his shirt, and slides down his throat.