another case of ignorant fantacism.

interest twinkles in eye(s). like you are a deadman walking attracted to some corpse. you envy it honestly, how this boy your age looks so lively, so flesh-y, so alive.  part of you wants to rob it and take it away for yourself. part of you doesn’t want to, as if to say, don’t become the broken dead boy walking that i’ve shaped myself into.

❛   all might is my favorite hero. it’s so, so sad that he had to fall, huh?  ❜    you murmured, and genuine concern does rot in your voice, as much as you wanted to feign it. to watch a beloved hero crumble before your eyes still felt like a stab in the front, even if he’s already stabbed you in the back,  ❛   if you ask me, i don’t think whoever holds the number one spot deserves it. i have a gut feeling that he’s not supposed to be there.  ❜  

Redraw of a very iconic deck piece

Old ones:

kacchan and izuchan both refer to their childhood selves wherein theyre Actually friends and izuku and katsuki are referring to each other as just ... izuku and katsuki. 

kacchan to deck is an incredible hero that they’ve adored since childhood. they’re their favorite hero, their number one inspiration and their absolute best friend. now katsuki is a traitor that’s left them for something ( winning ) he’s suddenly considered more important than their friendship, or rather another individual poisoned by the toxicity of quirks. izuku doesn’t hate kacchan! they would never! katsuki, on the other hand, they despise for being blinded, but then again they can’t entirely blame him for it, so they don’t.

    the night is young and the knife is in your hands. the night is young and moonlight cradles your face tenderly like a mother holding her beloved child,  but there is nothing beloved about you. the night is young and you were supposed to be, too, but alas, sometimes children have to tear their spines out early. sometimes children have to grow up when they shouldn’t yet. 

    because fuck happy endings, lollipops popped in your mouth and cotton candies. fuck puppy crushes at fourteen and all the lovey dovey shit on sixteen.  some narratives just aren’t written for you.

      “   that’s pretty bold of you,  katsuki.    “    amusement dangles at the tip of your tongue and swims in green eyes.   kacchan is a shooting star you wish to hold onto, a goal you want to achieve and a model you want to mimic. kacchan is the best friend you aspire to become and the one you long to hold onto.   kacchan is your favorite hero.

      katsuki isn’t.

   “  you’re nothing but a pathetic, worthless fake trying to stain the word hero.  just like the rest of them,   “  is scoffed as you circle him, the boy you once put on a pedestal is now like bubblegum on the sidewalk,   “  you call yourself a hero but really, you drown yourself in a river of lies built by constant praises to feed your shitty ego.    you’re no different from the rest of the crowd.   and you know, katsuki,  it saddens me how you let yourself get sick.   but that’s okay, i don’t blame you. not everyone’s eyes can be open to such a harsh, harsh truth--- especially not by a brat who abandoned his so called best friend for praises from strangers who doesn’t even know his name. “