[two weeks. that's all dabi's willing to give himself. and he's not promising he'll be able to make it those two weeks without ditching the entire plan or attacking endeavor to finish what he started. the objective of his revenge is a powerful detriment to jumping the gun, but in the end, fire is fire. it burns.
look at him. does he look like someone who's enjoyed many good touches in his life? over half of his fucking skin is hanging on his body with surgical staples and hoop piercings! the scarred violet flesh lacks any real feeling in its wrinkled extremity, but beneath it, the raw flesh of his deeper tissue and muscle is constantly firing nerves. like breaking through ice and touching with fire, hard enough grips on his scarred parts can go from completely nothing to agony in a flash. it's a good thing he has some real high pain tolerance built up by now. still, unlike shouto and natsuo, dabi's not as quick to lash out at endeavor for an accidental touch, preferring to jerk out of the way and glare in silence. let that speak for him.]
Why the hell do ya wanna touch me?
[the response is deliberate in its seriousness. dabi refuses to look at the older hero face to face, merely holds his gaze in the reflection of the window. he can't imagine any positive reason for why. some selfish need for endeavor to reassure himself the son he killed isn't actually dead? some reflexive attempt to relive the past where he could continue to try and cow his eldest child into doing what he wants? or is this is insane way of wanting to attempt the sort of "bonding experience" through embracing that he should've done ten plus years ago and never did...
dabi's narrows his eyes at the verdict passed down over his shoulder. while he doesn't exactly have the best argument against the former--considering he's pouting and being temperamentally bratty right now in this chair--the latter one flares up indignant ire once again.]
Like hell I'm intimidated by you. I've clashed with you on even ground, would've killed you if it weren't for that damn rabbit. I've spit your secrets into the world, torn you from your fucking pedestal, and stomped you and your allies into the dirt. I can even hold your family hostage if I wanted to. Hell I'll even rip the other half of your face off if I'm in the mood.
[with a push of his foot, dabi spins the chair around, rotating twice in a childish manner before it comes to settle and bringing him to bear with endeavor. boots brace on the ground and he leans back in the seat like it's his control center, spreading his arms in a showy manner for no other reason but to be an ostentatious asshole.]
I outgrew you a long time ago, Enji. Left shit like shame, fear, and intimidation behind in the scum of the street. Kinda funny, dontcha think? I'm a fuckin paradox. I ain't ya little boy anymore; he died on that mountain. And yet I'm ya very own son; back from the dead and ready to drag ya to hell with me.
[dropping his arms, dabi rests his elbows on his knees, hands dangling between his legs like a punch. the chair creaks a bit as he leans forward, hunched over and menacing at the other man. that said, endeavor hit his mark. dabi can be the dramatic lunatic when he's feeling energized and wanting to make a point of revel in his villainy. but right now, he's deliberately threatening, bristling and attacking, puffing himself up and lifting his spines...
which can probably be construed as just one more way to demand his father pay attention to him.
if he can't get his love and affection, then he'll settle for sucking in his hatred and fear. either way, it rips endeavor's eyes off everyone else except for him. and no, dabi can't see it that way. his warped mentality renders that reality impossible to seriously consider outside of mockery and insincere shit talking.]
I ain't afraid of ya touchin me. I just got no idea why the hell you want to.
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
i did. hope your went well too!
Date: 11/28/21 02:19 (UTC)look at him. does he look like someone who's enjoyed many good touches in his life? over half of his fucking skin is hanging on his body with surgical staples and hoop piercings! the scarred violet flesh lacks any real feeling in its wrinkled extremity, but beneath it, the raw flesh of his deeper tissue and muscle is constantly firing nerves. like breaking through ice and touching with fire, hard enough grips on his scarred parts can go from completely nothing to agony in a flash. it's a good thing he has some real high pain tolerance built up by now. still, unlike shouto and natsuo, dabi's not as quick to lash out at endeavor for an accidental touch, preferring to jerk out of the way and glare in silence. let that speak for him.]
Why the hell do ya wanna touch me?
[the response is deliberate in its seriousness. dabi refuses to look at the older hero face to face, merely holds his gaze in the reflection of the window. he can't imagine any positive reason for why. some selfish need for endeavor to reassure himself the son he killed isn't actually dead? some reflexive attempt to relive the past where he could continue to try and cow his eldest child into doing what he wants? or is this is insane way of wanting to attempt the sort of "bonding experience" through embracing that he should've done ten plus years ago and never did...
dabi's narrows his eyes at the verdict passed down over his shoulder. while he doesn't exactly have the best argument against the former--considering he's pouting and being temperamentally bratty right now in this chair--the latter one flares up indignant ire once again.]
Like hell I'm intimidated by you. I've clashed with you on even ground, would've killed you if it weren't for that damn rabbit. I've spit your secrets into the world, torn you from your fucking pedestal, and stomped you and your allies into the dirt. I can even hold your family hostage if I wanted to. Hell I'll even rip the other half of your face off if I'm in the mood.
[with a push of his foot, dabi spins the chair around, rotating twice in a childish manner before it comes to settle and bringing him to bear with endeavor. boots brace on the ground and he leans back in the seat like it's his control center, spreading his arms in a showy manner for no other reason but to be an ostentatious asshole.]
I outgrew you a long time ago, Enji. Left shit like shame, fear, and intimidation behind in the scum of the street. Kinda funny, dontcha think? I'm a fuckin paradox. I ain't ya little boy anymore; he died on that mountain. And yet I'm ya very own son; back from the dead and ready to drag ya to hell with me.
[dropping his arms, dabi rests his elbows on his knees, hands dangling between his legs like a punch. the chair creaks a bit as he leans forward, hunched over and menacing at the other man. that said, endeavor hit his mark. dabi can be the dramatic lunatic when he's feeling energized and wanting to make a point of revel in his villainy. but right now, he's deliberately threatening, bristling and attacking, puffing himself up and lifting his spines...
which can probably be construed as just one more way to demand his father pay attention to him.
if he can't get his love and affection, then he'll settle for sucking in his hatred and fear. either way, it rips endeavor's eyes off everyone else except for him. and no, dabi can't see it that way. his warped mentality renders that reality impossible to seriously consider outside of mockery and insincere shit talking.]
I ain't afraid of ya touchin me. I just got no idea why the hell you want to.