okay so the minimal screen time for night, being in a frame with everyone else, always the one who is left behind,... all those were this deliberate🙂 he was always this back ground character (ofc not for me. HE'S LITERALLY MARK PAKIN) now it all makes sense. the deliberate portrayal of how a glass child is treated and it did hit so hard
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No but like, the amount of suffering I went through while watching Good Omens S2, episode 6 is incredible. Like i knew the ending and i knew what was gonna happen, but like for some reason I still had hope. THEN IT HAPPENS AND I WAS LIKE NOOOOOOOO. WHYYYYY
Truly incredible honestly, love that show
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hi all! I do have a cashapp in case you ever want to send some money! it absolutely fine if you don't, all I ask is that you enjoy my works! but if you ever wish to donate I would appreciate it very much and you'd have my eternal adoration! thank you all for liking and reblogging my stories! It means the absolute world to me and I hope you're all ready for my new works and future stories to come <3
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chewing on mammalian sighing reflex as if i am violet beauregarde from charlie and the chocolate factory: ceaselessly and without any semblance of shame (dear god take it away from me)
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The weewoo show really should’ve just killed me instead of making me watch every one of my favorite “It’s a wonderful life” tropes.
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until death do we remain
dkbk | 578 words | some angst
Katsuki was never the same after the war. He tasted death – felt the blood drain, sight blurred, his muscles stiffening and that dull rattle of his lungs collapsing. Afterlife wasn't a worry for him, but he still felt fear when the darkness consumed him. In life, he was a promising young hero with aspirations to become number one. In death, he was nothing.
Revival felt like breaching water, coughing and retching until you have enough air to breathe. It's not the first time he has woken up in a hospital bed, but it was the first time he saw his mother cry. Contrary to his lies, death didn't feel like falling asleep then waking up the next morning. No amount of therapy sessions, doctor visits, or time with family and friends will ever snuff death. It's permanent.
Sleep felt like passing, so he wouldn't sleep, not until his body crumbled into a heap of strewn blankets. Food didn't give him pleasure anymore, so he hated eating. Fighting and climbing and studying and patrolling – all enthusiasm for those dissipated on the battlefield.
His friends noticed, of course. Denki and Hanta tried to continue on like nothing happened, but Katsuki never became angry or short with him. He would be silent. Eijirou and Shouto tried to comfort him in their special ways, but Katsuki never reciprocated their words. Silence. Best Jeanist, All Might, Mr. Aizawa, the Big Three – they all tried to console him. They saw him, dead on the field, dead on a bed. Nothing.
Katsuki was more than quiet: he was lost. He isolated, ignored and shrugged away every instance of life. He didn't choose life; he didn't choose death. Living felt like limbo. He didn't feel alive.
That's what Izuku saw, why he watched from a distance and took notes on Katsuki's behavior. That's why during hero training, when Katsuki sat against the far wall with his knees to his chest and his chin tucked, Izuku approached him. Step by step, further away from his friends and classmates chattering to each other. Katsuki didn't even react when Izuku stood before him – that same glassy, far-away glaze over his eyes. He didn't grumble or turn away or snapped at Izuku for speaking to him. Nothing that felt like...
"Kacchan," Izuku says quietly, and still, no reaction.
That's why, instead of walking away or calling out again, he sits at Katsuki's feet, legs wide, and scooched forward until his inner thighs met with Katsuki's ankles. His arms lazily wrap around his friend's body, fingertips barely touching behind his back, forehead meets forehead.
"I'm here, Kacchan," Izuku whispers in their tight, enclosed space.
Katsuki responds with a choke, then a shudder, then sobs. Izuku could almost taste the salt of Katsuki's tears, could feel them drip down Izuku's neck and into his shirt. He could feel the whimpers along his arms, the sniffles against his nose. He knew Katsuki's cries grew louder, enough that 2-A quiets down until every gasp bounced off the walls like tennis balls. He knew there would be questions, concerns, maybe some comforting words or hugs from the girls, but Izuku ignored them. This is their bubble, their apologies and regrets and confessions.
"I'll protect you," Izuku swears, "From this day until our final days, you'll be safe with me."
And, for the first time in months, Katsuki raises his eyes. Red sees green, and Izuku sees the glimmer of life in that gaze.
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