#but seeing how consumed he becomes by his hatred and anger. how it fuels this ideal to become a god. she can’t help but feel like he’s

[pearl-blue-musings]

all the right moves

Pairing: Childe x fem!afab!reader smau and written

Warnings: 18+, modern/business au, adult situations, angst

Word count: 704

Taglist open

prologue

March, 199x

You woke up from an after school nap to an array of sounds. Your young mind struggled to comprehend what was happening. You heard your mom yelling and crying at your father, and in your sleep induced hazed you only caught glimpses of what was being said.

“… be so stupid!

“Sold the whole company?! Did you… read the contract…?!

“…dumbass! We have no money!”

That one caught you off guard. You hurried downstairs and was shocked by what you saw. Your dad at the table, fingers crossed and a solemn expression on his face. Your mother, standing and huffing with one hand on a suitcase. You bite your lip before making your presence known.

“M-mommy,” you stammer, “where are you going?”

You miss what was said by her yelling and your fathers forced silence. There was a ringing in your ear that didn’t help your young mind either. You saw your mother yelling and shivering with either fear or anger, you weren’t sure which. But you do remember the sound of the door slamming as you tried to chase her out the door. Maybe it was for the best that you didn’t see your mother drive off, as it would’ve been painful for the both of you. For that you were thankful she spared both of your feelings.

You slowly walked back to your father and shook him as hard as you could. “Dad, daddy what’s going on?” From the whole exchange, that was the first time you had heard him speak. Although to you it made no sense and sounded pretty broken, similar to how your mother sounded.

“…she had outsmarted me…

“I should’ve looked at the fine print.

“They run…all of it…

“The Harbingers…Snezhnaya…took all of it…

“Tsaritsa…”

The cold you felt from the low words spoken from your father and your mother walking out on the two of you makes the winter in Teyvat seem like spring. You watched in childlike emptiness as your dad dried his tears and walked through the motions of preparing and consuming dinner, to putting you to bed. The light in his eyes never truly returned. Not the next day, the next week, the next month, or the next few years. The man you once knew was no longer available to you. It was as if you lost two parents instead of just one.

For the years to follow, you did everything you could to help your father attempt to become the man he once was. With your mother walking out, losing the business to some bigger company (with sketchy means and falsities you later discovered), you tried to help make life easier for everyone around you. You took extra part time jobs throughout high school, which made you lose out on the socialization a teenager needs to grow. But all you had on your mind was getting your family back on the ground. As you got older, your father opened up about the business world and showed you the surface level of what had happened. But that wasn’t enough. You needed to know more, to get to the bottom of it.

So you researched. When you weren’t working, you were looking into this woman called the Tsaritsa,what kind of company Snezhnaya is, who the Harbingers are…It’s all intriguing. They're just a large conglomerate, swallowing up other large companies to achieve, what? What is their main goal? You also looked into the aftermath of those companies being swallowed up and how it has affected those lives. You see that there are similar stories like yours, ruined lives, upheaval from their homes, broke or close to bankruptcy. There’s no way this company can get away with this!

And yet, they have. So instead of pursuing what you wanted to originally, you went into business and are now going for your MBA. It wasn’t such a straight shot, after all you still had to work your way through school. All the while, your heart grew cold, frozen like ice as your hatred for the words your father whispered in hushed whimpers fueled you. Despite your success in your field, it was all to get your family back,

And bring down this so called Tsaritsa

Taglist: @zireaels-igni @mrskreideprinz

#atrm #childe x fem!reader #childe tartaglia ajax #ajax tartaglia #tartaglia x fem!reader #Childe smau #tartaglia smau #genshin impact #genshin smau #childe x reader #tartaglia x reader #my writing #i did the thing

[viviennevermillion]

Some thoughts about Rollo

not really an analysis per se. sorry if this lacks structure, this is just a summary of me rambling about rollo on discord

warnings: mention of alcoholism, glorious masquerade spoilers

dark content creators & consumers do not interact

I feel like Rollo is never truly going to get over his hatred for magic. If he heals he'd probably be like "okay you do you" at most but he likely spent +10 years holding so much anger and rage at mages and magic itself in his heart, I don't think he'll ever truly get rid of it. It's kinda like when your deadbeat dad is an alcoholic and kicks the bucket and for the rest of your life you're never truly comfortable around people drinking or get like, annoyed at it, and the best you can do for yourself is find some friends who don't drink or talk about drinking all the time and engage in some activities you like where alcohol isn't involved.

Healing for Rollo might involve a future of basically living magicless in a predominantly magicless community despite being a mage. And somehow trying to go his own way and making the best of it.

Even though the death of his brother is the source of his hatred and rage, the literal years he spent with those feelings while constantly in the presence of mages and seeing magic treated like this amazing enriching thing while he feels completely differently about it but tried to blend in all these years....I feel like that made it so much worse than it was originally. Even before he started blaming magic for the death of his brother, magic was probably something he associated with the incident for a long time but could never take a break from. Like when you have a trigger but you're continuously exposed to it. And that just fueled an amount of rage that hurts Rollo first and foremost before it does anyone else. If you've ever been consistently furious about something internally for months on end, you'll know that this becomes really exhausting really quickly.

So yeah, Rollo needs some distance from magic as a whole to heal and ground himself imo

He probably thinks his hatred for magic is less obvious than it actually is. People likely know he's not the biggest magic enthusiast but he definitely mellowed it down from how bad it actually is.

Also there's the fact that people knowing his true thoughts would likely make him unpopular. If people knew how he felt a lot of them probably wouldn't like him or want to be around him. But he can't help the way he feels. I like the idea of a younger Rollo at some point trying to get rid of those feelings and failing miserably.

I've seen a lot of people say Rollo talks the way he does to Yuu because he wants to recruit them to his side but that's not what I read into this. I see a dude who is trying to hide his true thoughts from everyone around him all day every day despite how he's suffering on the inside; that he is so desperate for someone to understand him and for a place where he can be his true unadulterated self, that he's making an attempt to latch onto the first person who could possibly feel the same way he does

I'm seeing a lot of frustration from Rollo. The "if this thing didn't exist, I literally would have 0 of the problems that I do" kind.

His magic isn't just ironic because his unique magic is the very magic that killed his brother, it's also a metaphor for his own anger burning him alive from the inside out

The relationships he has with the vice prez and aide for example are built on a lie and that's precisely why the fate he got at the end of the event is such a punishment for him. Because he has to keep living with that lie or be truthful but left alone. Regardless of what choice he makes, he's going to feel alone. Being alone with his experiences and way of viewing the world or being alone, literally; those are the choices he has now.

I really like what Twst did with Rollo's character because his backstory and personality makes him feel less of a radical advocate for an existing belief system but rather someone whose hatred and anger are so incredibly personal and something he mainly deals with on the inside and then acts on it on the outside. It's less of "this is Rollo he is this and that and believes this and that take of a radical splinter group" and more "this is Rollo and his experience and feelings are so radically different from everyone around him and he's silently suffering on the inside until he fucking snaps". Because as humans we love to assign labels to people based on the thoughts and feelings they voice but Rollo as a character is more complex than that and that's what sets him apart from og Frollo for me. I like that direction they took with his characterization.

#twisted wonderland #rollo flamm #twst rollo #twst jp spoilers

[pretty-little-candid-blurbs]

Shadows of desolation

rafe cameron x reader

Content Warning: This story contains highly sensitive and distressing themes, including substance abuse, toxic relationships, depression, and deep emotional trauma. Reader discretion is strongly advised.

The once vibrant beachfront mansion now stood as a haunting symbol of the love that was lost. Rafe Cameron's world had turned to darkness after Reader left him. He wandered through the halls, each step echoing the emptiness in his heart. The walls that had once witnessed laughter and joy now bore the weight of his anguished existence.

He couldn't forget the night they fought, the night everything fell apart. Reader's words echoed in his mind like a never-ending torment. "You're a bad person, Rafe," she had said, and he believed her. He believed it with every fiber of his being because he had become a stranger to himself.

Rafe recalled the day he met Reader. She was the beacon of light that pierced through his darkness, bringing warmth and love into his life. But as time passed, that light began to fade, overshadowed by the darkness that consumed him.

His attempts to buy her affection with extravagant gifts only deepened the void between them. He couldn't understand that true love couldn't be purchased, but he was blinded by his own insecurities and fears of losing her.

When they fought that night, it was a clash of two wounded souls. "Everything I did was for you, you're ungrateful," Rafe spat back, trying to justify his actions. He was desperate to make her see that he had done it all out of love, but his words only fueled the fire of their disastrous confrontation.

Reader's face contorted with pain and disappointment. "It was never about the material things, Rafe. It was about how you treated me, how you suffocated me with your possessiveness."

She tried to convey her feelings, hoping he would understand, but Rafe's anger blinded him to the truth. He lashed out, saying cruel things he didn't mean, unable to bear the idea of her leaving him.

When she finally walked away, he felt his heart shatter into a million pieces. He was alone in the wreckage of their love, drowning in remorse and guilt. His mind became a breeding ground for self-hatred, and he sought refuge in alcohol and drugs.

Days blurred into nights, and Rafe's life became a series of hazy memories. He stumbled through his existence, disconnected from reality, chasing away the pain that gnawed at his soul. The once polished and confident man was now a mere shadow of himself, lost in the abyss of his own misery.

His friends tried to reach out, but he pushed them away, unable to face their concern and the consequences of his actions. He sank deeper into despair, each day a reminder of the love he had destroyed.

One night, in a moment of drunken desperation, he stood on the edge of the same cliff where they had fought. The waves roared below, beckoning him to join their eternal embrace. His mind was clouded, and the pain was unbearable.

As he teetered on the precipice of oblivion, a faint memory of Reader flashed before him. Her smile, her laughter, and the love they once shared haunted him. It was the glimmer of light he needed to step back from the brink of self-destruction.

With a trembling hand, he reached out for help. He checked himself into a rehabilitation center, a last-ditch effort to escape the clutches of his own demons. But the road to recovery was long and treacherous. Each step was a struggle against the darkness that threatened to consume him.

He faced the consequences of his actions head-on, attending therapy sessions that peeled back the layers of his past trauma. The wounds he had ignored for so long resurfaced, and the pain of losing Reader became an open wound, forever festering in his heart.

As Rafe clawed his way through recovery, he attempted to reach out to Reader, but she remained distant, shielding herself from any further pain he might inflict. The rejection stung, and he understood the depth of his transgressions. It was a bitter pill to swallow, knowing that he had lost the love of his life because of his own toxic behavior.

Months turned into a year, and Rafe emerged from rehab a changed man, but the scars of his past remained etched into his soul. He was a shell of the person he once was, haunted by the memories of their love and the devastation he caused.

One day, he received news that Reader had moved away, seeking a fresh start in a different city. The weight of his heart grew heavier as he realized that he had lost her forever. The pain of his actions had driven her away, and he was left to grapple with the void she left behind.

The mansion that had once been their haven now became his prison. He surrounded himself with the remnants of their past, clinging to the memories that haunted him day and night. The echoes of their love were now muffled cries in the darkness, as he drowned in the misery of his own making.

Rafe's life became a portrait of despair, painted with the brushstrokes of remorse and self-loathing. He often found himself standing by the window, gazing at the sea they used to walk along, wondering if she ever thought of him, or if she had completely erased him from her life.

There were days when he wished he could turn back time, erase the hurtful words, and rewrite their love story. But reality had no rewind button, and he was forced to live with the consequences of his actions.

As the years passed, Rafe became a mere whisper of the man he used to be. He withdrew from the world, haunted by the ghosts of his past, unable to forgive himself for what he had done. The substance abuse, once a fleeting escape, now clung to him like a heavy shroud, suffocating any glimmer of hope that remained.

He often found himself at the cliff's edge, gazing at the same horizon that witnessed their love's demise. The waves crashing below mirrored the turmoil within him, a constant reminder of the void that had swallowed him whole.

And so, Rafe Cameron's life became a tragedy, a tale of a love that was poisoned by his own darkness. He lived in the shadows of desolation, forever tormented by the memories of their love and the realization that he had lost the one person who meant everything to him.

But in the depths of his sorrow, he clung to a sliver of hope, that maybe, just maybe, one day he would find the strength to forgive himself, and in doing so, begin the journey of healing and redemption.

#rafe cameron #rafe x reader #rafe obx #outerbanks rafe

[endfought]

Character Inspiration: Fell

Fell is one of my oldest OCs, dating back to 2007 when I first thought him up and started drawing him. He’s been through many changes, he even didn’t used to be all black. When he was brand new, he was black with turquoise markings, had scarlet eyes, and wore the Eye of Horus around his neck. He also wore a gold hoop earring in his left ear, (not pictured) which has stayed for his entire existence! Over time, he took on more personality traits from media I consumed, but these are the top six!

1. The Wolf - Ringing Bell (1972)

The Wolf is a ruthless killer, often raiding the sheep barn to slaughter them. When he kills Chirin’s mother, Chirin promises he will become strong just like the Wolf, because he doesn’t want to be killed like the rest of the sheep. The Wolf reluctantly takes him in, teaching him to hang on to his anger as it makes one stronger. He also teaches the young ram about the laws of nature. This character planted the seed of what I wanted Fell to look like; the scar on his eye and the ragged appearance just gave off vibes.

2. Gabriel / Van Helsing - Van Helsing (2004)

Fell went through a werewolf phase and so looked like this when I took inspiration from the werewolf design in this movie. The only difference from this was he wore tan shorts that were torn at the hems. This movie was a keystone in Fell’s development, because even to the present day his origins begin in gothic Europe. His real name is also Gabriel Valerius, names that are also from this movie (because I really just like how they fit together ok).

3. Smaug - The Hobbit: Desolation of Smaug (2013)

This dragon’s personality is everything Fell is and more. Smaug is a psychopath, and Fell is on that very border, especially when the moon is full. The dialect in which Smaug speaks is also very similar to the way Fell words his sentences and tones his voice. Like Smaug takes pleasure in playing with his food, so does Fell when he has a victim cornered. Smaug is essentially Fell when he no longer remembers who he is: a psychotic killer who takes pleasure in the hunt.

4. Scar - The Lion King (1994/2019)

Scar is a sassy, sarcastic villain who is fueled by hatred and jealousy. He wishes to be king instead of his brother, whom he soon murders in order to attain that goal. But Scar’s past is what made him into the person he is. Being overlooked by his family and his friends, Scar was an outcast and often felt as if he was not good enough. He was always trying to please everyone around him in the hopes of receiving even a small praise, but over time he let his anger consume him. When he was human, Fell too let anger consume him after the murder of his beloved bride to be, seeking revenge on every wolf he could hunt until he found the one that took his fiance away. Both characters let anger lead them down their unfortunate paths, and both characters also carry themselves in a similar fashion; Scar is brooding and melancholy, which is the same energy Fell gives off to others

5. Fell - David Clement-Davies’ Fell (2007)

The year Fell was created is the same year I discovered this book. Fell is a character in this series by David Clement-Davies. He is the brother of Larka, a she-wolf who is gifted with the Sight, the power to see through the eyes of birds and see what is yet to come. Fell also has this ability as revealed in Fell, but instead uses it differently than his sister. I’ve honestly not finished this series, but from what I’ve read so far, Fell is on point. This book is also where his name came from.

6. Sirius Black/The Grim - Harry Potter and the Prisoner of Azkaban (2004)

The black dog in the third Harry Potter movie, soon revealed as Sirius Black, got me thinking about Fell being seen as an omen. Before we know the dog is actually Sirius Black, one of the students believes it is a Grim, an omen of death in various folklore. This ties in with Fell being connected to the Big Bad Wolf of many fairy tales.

7. The Big Bad Wolf - various

Fell is THE big bad wolf of legend. The Wolf is a manifestation of people’s fear, and it is a curse that cannot be broken. The Wolf is damned to roam the earth forever bound by an eternal contract to do the bidding of anyone who summons him. He will kill on demand without question, and he feels nothing inside. Robbed of love and light, he serves only one purpose: to send those who have wronged his master to Hell. He no longer remembers his past or who he used to be.

Many people have tried to hunt the Wolf, but those who left never came back. Fell will kill anyone who tries to kill him; if someone were to kill him, the curse of the Wolf would be passed on to them. It is a fate worse than death, a fate Fell doesn’t wish upon anyone else.

awoo  // personals do not reblog

#🐺 [ ❝ it is those who fight the hardest for freedom who are never free ❞ ] (character study: fell) #( x. dash games )

[glorioustidalwavedefendor]

Loki and all of Asgard know that Loki is Jotun and that he is adopted in the comics. This isn’t a well kept secret like in the movies. Whereas in the movies, Loki was raised to believe himself to be no different than any Asgardian, comics!Loki grew up with his difference well known. (...) And that really is the crux of how the two Lokis are different. In the comics, Loki has grown up being treated as an outsider and evil, and it made him bitter and fueled his hatred for Thor and Asgard to the point where it consumed him. In the MCU, Loki has always been jealous of Thor, but it’s not until he learns of his true parentage that he goes off the deep end and essentially throws a cosmic temper tantrum because of very fresh and very raw anger over his entire perception of the world and himself being shattered. They’re both acting out of rage and hatred, but one of them has stewed in it all his life whereas the other hasn’t (at least not to the same extent).

OMG

This is adorable

I have to

O.K. so the argument made here is that becasue MCU Lokis true heritage was kepta secret from him and everyone else, he didn't stew in rage and hate for all his live.

The implication beeing that MCU Loki was treated no differnet becasue no one was officially informed that he was different

While at the same also claiming that:

Loki has always been jealous of Thor

-> Why do you think he was jelous, if they where treated equaly?

...

This is so cute

This is like ... so precious

Like OMG ...

My sweet summer child ...

You don't have to tell people that someone is different ... they can smell it on you

...

Like, beeing othered and treated like garbage is a fundamntal experience of not just everyone who grew up with a "visible" disability/illness but also everyone who grew up with an "invisible" disability/illness

And you can stew in your trauma and regrett without every having the words to describe what is wrong ...

Like I have gotten most of my diagnosis as an adult ... but trust me, the resentment anger and viceral hate I feel for everyone who failed me as a child, for everyone who saw me struggle and just decided I was lazy unwilling evil human trash ... who wanted to fail ... who wanted to self sabotage ...

Those feelings are decades old, ... but now I have words to explain ...

It was there the entiere time, but now you can see it ... because having the words works like a chemical compound that allows them to precipitate and thereby become visible

The I was there the entire time ... but now you can see it ...

I got one diagnose as a child and it actually helped me a lot

Becasue I was still different, but now I knew why.

That is important

OP argues further that telling Loki would always make him more of a villain, becasue everyone will treat him bad and he will recent that ... he is weird like that XD

Apparently OP has not contemplate that Loki never says, you should have told everyone, he says:

“You could have told me what I was from the beginning. Why didn’t you?”

That's what my parents did.

They told me, but not other people (unless they where a teacher, so I would get the accomodations I am owed by the law)

So wenn people treated me badly, becasue they could smell ND on me ... I knew why ...

I didn't beat myself up about it.

I just didn't waste my time with people who would throw stones at visibly disabled people if they could get away with it ...

[arklay]

hi i found another song last night for the clown pair and i will never emotionally recover from this

#it’s only 6am but i’m about to be so annoying right now #so. illusion by vnv nation. uh. i’m not okay first of all #but okay i don’t know if this is even gonna make sense without the context of their relationship and like everything that is in my brain but #i heard this and all i could think about was how he just pretty much goes off the rails after learning from spencer that he was basically #an experiment and she just doesn’t want the albert she knows and love to go. she will stand by his side. she will follow through with the #vision they’ve shared over these years but she doesn’t want him to leave. she’s by his side through it all and that’s not going to change #but seeing how consumed he becomes by his hatred and anger. how it fuels this ideal to become a god. she can’t help but feel like he’s #slipping away and there is nothing she can do to stop it. she’s never seen him be reckless or act so much on emotion and it’s a change she’s #not sure she likes seeing. it doesn’t change the fact that she loves him. doesn’t change that she will see this through to the end with him. #i have so many emotions about this song it’s unreal but hearing it and my brain going oh uh this fits them actually was just ouch stop #wish i could transfer all the context in my mind to others so they are like italicised oh moment over this as well #‘i know it’s hard to tell how mixed up you feel / hoping what you need is behind every door’ that anxiety that was placed in him as a #fail safe by spencer. that need to be something greater and to push for his plans because of these ideals and beliefs that he was brought up #to believe. ‘each time you hurt i don’t want you to change / because everyone has hopes you’re human after all’ help. they may believe #themselves to be superior over other people. may fancy themselves as gods of a new world. but this perfect image he’s created. this cold and #composed demeanour. it doesn’t change that he hurts as well. that what spencer did to him and the life he stole from him was going to affect #him because he still is human. and she knows that better than anyone. i mean literally the rest of this verse too. just all of it i’m so #oughgh over like the need to strive for something more. but also tying back into that thoughts on kafka note from alex and when she said #that he must have felt this way as well. that he was bred for a purpose and when that was fulfilled he would be cast aside. idk i’m fine i #swear. then of course the whole chorus is just ouch ouch send help ‘i don’t want you to hate / for all the hurt that you feel’ like shut up #shut up shut up this is not okay. screaming over this whole song like it just ruined me last night… also this bit from next verse i think #also ties really nicely into their whole will live as gods in the new world situation and the fact that they just know each other’s minds so #well and are so intelligent and believe themselves better than others like ‘but what i do know is to us the world is different / as we are #to the world but i guess you would know that’ OKAY i’m literally gonna shut up now i promise i’m just. okay. i’m fine #pair: 🤡 #leah.txt

[lisartino]

Awakes from her long-ass nap on Tumblr

I’ve seen people in the Phandom mentionning how Val’s suit could become sentient after Flirting with Disaster but I’ve never seen someone going into the meat of it (unless I’ve missed that one golden post about it).

Anyway, I present to you...

SPAWN, the Support Ghost Kamui Parasite

After Technus gave her a new “upgrade” on her suit, a new being made of ectoplasm, blood and nanobots was born. This ghost parasite now lives Valerie’s every moment and tainted her whole arsenal with their presence.

At first, Valerie was incomfortable with the idea of a speaking ghost nanoparasite within her at any time, especially with how she became the Red Huntress. However, the “ghost” wasn’t harmful towards her. In fact, they wanted to help her as long as she feeds them with some of her strong emotions. Overtime, the two get to understand each other and develop a whole new arsenal.

Click on the Read More to have a few infos on Spawn

Overall facts on Spawn

Spawn is a ghost nanoparasite that can shapeshift into her new enhanced jumpsuit. When Val doesn’t wear the jumpsuit, Spawn can change into her signature headband

In order to give powers to Valerie, Spawn needs two things: Strong emotions they can get thanks to Val’s anger towards other ghosts and Trust: Both has to trust eachother to work things out. The more “syncronized” they are, the stronger they’ll be

If there’s an overload of strong emotions (anger for example), Spawn can no longer control themselves and will “consume” Valerie to become an eldritch abomination fueled by whatever emotion triggered the overload.

Power-wise, they can bring any kind of technology and arsenal into existence. Along with that, Spawn can make Valerie intangible or invisible(He can’t do both)

Althought he can speak, only Valerie and ghosts could hear him.

When Valerie has to stop a ghost, Spawn "swallows” her whole in nanoshadows before the red parts glows and reveal themselves.

After a fight, Spawn “melts” and goes back to her shadow. Only the head section gets sucked into her headband.

Bonus facts about Spawn, Valerie and the rest of the cast

Spawn helps her on mostly anything, whether it’s ghost hunting or not

Valerie grew fond of the nanoghost and he’s known as the only exception to her hatred towards ghosts

Spawn has no problem with Danny but they doesn’t like his puns. Not the puns themselves but the quantity to be accurate: Too much puns kill the PUN, Twinky Invisobill!

Their instincts tells them that Danny and Phantom are related. Valerie doesn’t believe in that

Spawn coined the latest nickname for Phantom: Twinky Invisobill

Danny fucking hates that nickname to the point he hisses with sunken green eyes towards whoever said it. (and that’s the best case scenario...)

Skulker called Phantom Twinky Invisobill instead of whelp for a whole fight once. He almost died...

Wes can’t believe Valerie has a ghost headband on her head and felle completely fine( Of course, nobody believes in him)

Valerie and Spawn’s favorite anime is Kill la Kill hands down. This surreal anime somehow “teaches” her how keep a sane relationship between the two.

The idea of a ghost’s perception affecting their appearance applies to Spawn: He used to look like a black slime until they watched KLK. From now on, Spawn somehow looks like Senketsu (especially when Val changes into Red). This is due to them seeing the Kamui as a potential role model.

Valerie incorporated some of Ryuko’s moveset into her attacks.

Danny has to keep up with her by also watching the anime.

Phantom can be seen sleeping like a bat on lamppoles. If you want to take a photo, deactivate the flash and sound at all costs. If you don’t, he’ll look at you with pure green eyes and hisses at you until you’re gone.

#Danny Phantom #valerie gray #dp headcanons #Spawn the Support Ghost Parasite #myart #red huntress #Val is DP's Ryuko #Twinky Invisobill #Skulker is dumb...again #Hissy Danno

[aemonds-sapphire]

Fix You | Dabi x Reader

Summary: Dabi couldn’t afford to care about you. Life had long taught him that he was underserving of such feelings. It was better this way. Right?

A/N: This is just a short drabble that practically wrote itself. It has some sprinkles of angst but very, very light. I just love exploring Dabi’s mind. I can see a bit of myself in him, so this was a bit hard to write because it hits home.

Warnings: Mention of blood and abuse from his father.

Word count: 1k

Dabi knew the pits of rejection far too well. It had become second nature to him. It consumed him as Todoroki Touya, and it had morphed into something way darker as he grew older.

He was certain that if there was driving force behind his thirst for revenge then that the fear of abandonment was the root of it all.

Feelings were doorways into suffering. And Dabi had learned long ago that some doors are better left shut. Allowing himself to care for someone was a weakness he could not afford. The last time he let himself care for what his father thought of him half of his body went up in flames.

Slowly, he lifted one of his hand and carefully examined the crooked barrier between both of his skin types, tightly held together by rounded metal rings.

A painful reminder.

No. Just a reminder.

Pain had forsaken his thoughts. He had made sure of that it stayed that way.

His body was now a reminder of what happens when one allows feelings to overcome the senses.

He was a vessel of hatred. Of revenge. He no longer cared that he was but a shell of his former self. It was necessary.

One of the metallic loops was coming undone, and he would have to fix that. He could always ask you to aid him, but the mere thought of having you so close sickened him.

No matter how strong someone was. How well trained they were. How disciplined their mind was. There came a time when something — or rather someone — slippped through the cracks and managed to become a weakness. Much like the sun that insisted on shining through the curtains of his room. Or much like the tears of blood that would eventually find their way down his face when he allowed himself to feel for the briefest moment.

You were a weakness he couldn’t afford.

Deep down, in the depths of hos heart, Dabi feared that he is not enough. That he was broken beyond repair. And no one wanted to be left with having to fix both his body and his mind. He feared that if you turned him down it would fuel his anger even more. That he would feel small just like little Touya did once he realized he was just an afterthought in his father’s mind.

“Fuck.”

He could feel a single bloody droplet streaming down his face, prickling his skin along the way. His strained skin was coming loose around the loops. An inconvenient issue that he would often have to deal with, especially when his body was tense.

Unconsciously, he brought his thumb to clean it up before examining the red stain tainting the pad of his finger.

It was the closest thing he had to tears.

He no longer cried. Not because he didn’t want to. He was just unable to. The fire that had erupted from him when he was younger caused his tears ducts to get burned.

Truth be told, he didn’t mind that at all.

And he’d rather have it this way.

There was a faint knock on the the door.

It was you.

“Dabi... can I come in?”

He wanted to say no. He needed to say no.

His body had become so numb to physical pain that he only realized he was gripping his knees too tightly when he saw the loops struggling to keep his skin in one piece.

Another knock. “Dabi...”

“Leave.” He firmly said.

“Don’t push me away.”

He had to.

“Let me be here for you,” your voice was but a whisper, but it was enough to cause his heart rate to quicken. “Your... staples need to be fixed... I can help.”

He scoffed. You really had no idea that he needed fixing beyond a couple of metallic rings. That was why he couldn’t stand being near you anymore. You triggered so many feelings within him.

Feelings are a weakness.

You are a weakness.

He can’t afford having one.

He had promised himself that his only motivation would be ending his father’s career. To have him pay for what he had done to him and his family.

Damn you.

Damn you for haunting his thoughts. Damn you for being you and for being so... 

“I don need your help. Leave.”

His words betrayed his heart, but he was used to it by now.

The doorknob rattled briefly. “I’m not scared of you.”

You should be. He could easily burn you to the ground if you kept on pushing him.

With one swift motion, the door swung open. There you were. The newfound source of his turmoil. Standing quietly and determined to defy him.

Dabi considered activating his quirk just to scare you off. He could definitely feel the heat rise within him.

However, surely enough, the moment you started pacing towards him and knelt at his feet with that loving face of yours resting on his thighs, he knew he was done for.

“Hello, ashtray.” You taunted him in a low voice, offering him the sweetest smile.

“Hey yourself, doll.” He mumbled as he let his hand reach your cheek.

You instinctively closed your eyes as the warmth of his touch flooded your senses. His eyes took in all of you and he nearly flinched when you took his hand in yours.

“Let me fix this.”

Fix what? Did you even know what that proposition entailed?

Before he could measure his words, Dabi spoke. “What do you want to fix?”

You opened your eyes and kept them locked with his.

“You.”

#dabi #dabi x reader #dabi fluff #dabi angst #dabi scenarios #mha #bnha #my hero academia #dabi headcanons #dabi x female reader #dabi x y/n #mha scenarios #bnha scenarios #touya todoroki #dabi is touya #mha fanfiction #league of villains #bnha dabi #mha dabi #dabi fanfic #dabi imagine

[bakugosbratx]

Request: Hi! I was wondering if you could write a story when y/n is the crazy one and kidnaps Bakugo. Tysm ! -meena

Warnings: NSFW 18+ Content. Yandere, stalking, kidnapping, cursing, mental illness, blood, abuse, drugs, etc.

Check out my other works here

A/N: Hmm this is a different turn of events. I love it 👀 I hope you enjoyed anon! I went a little wild with this one.

Words: 2.2k

Tags: @awilddreamerwrites @peachsenpie @miriobaby @lanarist @sickchildren @bakugousbrat @ssplague @ahbeautifulexistence @m779 @vinny-likes-to-play21

“Dear Katsuki,

I watched you save a civilian on television today. I know it’s your job and all, but you did not have to save her. Her life is not as important as mine. Do you not cherish what we have? Am I just a nobody to you? This is my 103rd letter to you and still no response. I know your address did not change so do not give me that pathetic excuse, Katsuki Bakugo. Surely, you must remember we are soulmates. We are one. How dare you fucking forget me? I had to rip all of my posters down in a fit of rage. You know how angry that makes me, baby, but it will all be okay, because you are coming home to me. We will be one.

Sincerely,

Yours.”

You burst into a fit of giggles as you kick your bare feet back and forth on his bed. You wrote in black ink and covered the paper in orange hearts since it is the pro-hero’s favorite color. You could not help but leave precious lipstick kisses on the page. Something you always do in your love letters to Katsuki. The posters in your house are covered in them. Katsuki’s beautiful face is just so kissable. You cannot wait to do it tonight.

All you can think about is Katsuki. That is all your day consists of. Your clothing is all his merchandise and his favorite colors. You spend hours upon hours watching interviews, videos, surveillance footage of the hero. When he is out on patrol, you do your best to hide in areas so you can see the hero up close and personal. Your face just beams with joy at the mere glance of him.

You did your best to meet him several times. Any disaster there was to be had, you put on your nicest attire, do your make-up just how you think he likes, and have your hair freshly done. No better way to greet your significant other after hero work than looking like a beauty pageant queen.

Sadly, all your attempts were failures. Katsuki did not even give you the time of day. He is way too focused on beating the villains to a pulp. You did admire this about him, but your own selfish desires created hatred in you. He should be paying attention to you. Not those pesky villains.

Katsuki is sure to receive forty-five letters addressing the issue. All that he will never even skim over. This is only adding fuel to the fire.

The posters that hang in every single room in your apartment are ripped to shreds. Pools of tears covered your orbs, smudging all of your makeup. You climbed onto your black sofa, taking your left high heel and breaking the glass photo of Katsuki hanging there. Shards of glass sprinkle the couch and hardwood floor below. You don't even care for the pieces that collected into your skin. You will worry about that later.

“Fuck you, Katsuki!” You sobbed, ripping his face with your teeth and spitting out the saliva covered photo onto the litter filled floor.

“Pro-Hero Great Explosion Murder God Dynamite saves another civilians life yet again, taking down another member of the league of villains who was terrorizing the victim.”

The news anchor’s words fell on deaf ears as you went to the television screen. You are captivated by your significant other’s beauty on the tv. Blood leaked from your freshly manicured hands. They are painted orange and black as always.

“Oh, Katsuki,” you sighed with a smile, tracing a heart around his face with your leaking blood, “we will be together soon. I promise, baby. I’ll take you away from this sick, cruel world so we can live happily ever after.”

You were serious that day. You planned it on your calendar. The countdown began on the night you are going to be one with Katsuki. A day you knew you both looked forward to.

“Dear Katsuki,

Did you miss me? I know I missed you. I even stamped this letter in my blood so you can have my DNA to mix with yours. I can’t wait to procreate with you. We will make such wonderful babies, don’t ya think? They will be so beautiful like you. I will be such an excellent mother. No woman can be a great wife to you like I can. Do you understand me?”

You had to pause writing as your blood started to boil at the thought. Your pen is already creating a huge ink spot from the anger consuming your hands. Small growls escaped your parted lips as you began to growl.

“If I can’t have you, no one can, Katsuki Bakugo. I am your one true love. You're one and only. And I’ll make sure that day comes. Just a few more days, baby, and we will be one.

Sincerely,

Yours.”

The day finally came. You knew Katsuki’s schedule by heart. You loved watching him do his morning routines with the security cameras you placed in his home. The poor male never even thought to check. Such a mistake on his part. It only confirmed he needed protection from the world. Only you can provide that. Sure, you may be quirkless, but no one knows Katsuki like you do. No one can love him like you. He knows this. He has to.

You drew a luke-warm bubble bath with nice lit candles, rose pedals, a few drops of your blood, and some freshly made desserts for you both to enjoy while you catch up. You are even so kind enough to fetch him a beer or two so he can relax. You know how he enjoys his alcoholic beverages after a long day of hero work.

You rested on his bed. The natural caramel scent engulfed your nostrils as you wrote letters into your notebook once more. Even when you two are officially together forever, you still love to write out your thoughts. You know he enjoys them as well.

Hours upon hours passed. Frustration arose overtime. You did not want to be angry with your spouse, but he knows better than to be home late on your special day. You have almost filled up your notepad with phrases upon phrases of ‘I love you’s’ and sweet nothings. Along with other things.

You tapped your bandages covered foot on the ground as you began to pace. “What is taking him so long?” You huffed aloud, growing more impatient by each passing second. The bath is beginning to become cold and that is just rude in your opinion. You decided to write out your emotions.

“Dear Katsuki,

What the fuck is taking you so long, huh? It’s so fucking aggervating and just plain rude. I have done so much for you only to toss me to the side like I’m nothing. Are you cheating on me? I do not tolerate disrespect, Katsuki Bakugo. You are going to make me mean and you know I hate being mean to you. You just make me jealous, baby. You know how you do that to me. Make me feel all types of emotion I can’t seem to understand, but one thing is for certain is that you and I will be together.

Sincerely,”

You did not even get to finish your final entry as you hear the front door downstairs unlock. Scrambling to put the diary away, you gather the necessary items from under the bed and wait for the perfect moment to strike. Katsuki’s natural loud ways was helping you locate his every move without even having to look at security footage.

All you have to do is be patient.

Katsuki sat on the couch, propping his sock-covered feet onto the glass coffee table and turning on the television. You allowed him some moments to get settled before gently tip-toeing down the stairs, rope, duct tape, and a blunt object ready in hand.

Just as Katsuki turned to acknowledge your presence, the crowbar hit his head, knocking him unconscious. You quickly attend to his wound — not without dropping some droplets of blood into his — so it does not get offended. You cannot have your husband getting an infection.

You tie up his hands and legs, duct tape his mouth after delivering kisses to his perfectly plump lips, and drag him to the kitchen. You did not realize how much your lover really weighed. Too much time was wasted dragging him to the fridge than preferred, but it will all be worth it in the end. You know it will be.

Katsuki did not wake up until the next day. You stayed by his side the whole time, telling him about your day and how much you have planned for you two. Of course, he needs to build his trust with you. You love a very intelligent man and the last thing you need is for him to be against you.

Slowly opening his crimson eyes, his attention is brought to a grinning you. Katsuki immediately attempts to escape the captivity he is in, but it is no use. You just had to buy special rope that cancels quirks.

“Struggle all you want, Katsuki-poo. There is no escaping me.” You chuckled, loving the way he squirmed and furrowed his eyebrows at you. All of his curses are mumbled by the tape which is probably the best considering you did not want to be insulted right now.

“When you calm down, I’ll take off the tape.” You bargained, shrugging nonchalantly as you kneel in front of the man. Did this calm him down? No. You know it wouldn’t regardless. You know Katsuki better than he knows himself yet you already want to push his buttons. The way he gets so angry turns you on and you can’t just help yourself but want more.

After a couple of hours of Katsuki complaining and you writing even more in your diary, he decided to calm down. This made you happy. You wanted to hear his beautiful gruff voice.

Grabbing the corner of the tape, you rip it off. Katsuki is already barking insults. “Are you fucking insane? Who the hell even are you? This isn’t going to end well with you, you psycho bit—“

A hard slap to his face interrupted Katsuki’s spill. Along with the duct tape you placed back on his mouth. “Such a meanie,” you pout, “and here I was about to be so nice to you.”

This cycle repeated itself for three days. You never left his side once. How could you? He is obviously in distress. He needs you by his side. He cannot do anything without you. Especially with his hands tied behind his muscular back. Katsuki finally decided that playing the game is the only way to win it.

You ripped the tape off once again. Katsuki did not even speak this time. “Did you learn your lesson?” You quizzed with an arched brow. “Y’know being a meanie is not going to get you anywhere, Katsukikins.”

“Why are you doing this?” Katsuki inquired, his gruff voice sounding so weak and hollow. You almost felt bad.

“You’re so silly, Suki. C’mon,” you brought your lips close to his, “gimme a kiss.”

Reluctantly, Katsuki did as instructed. Considering you are straddling his lap and his powers are useless, he has no choice in the matter. You loved the compliance.

“Good boy.” You praised, ruffling his messy blonde hair. Katsuki glared at you. “Will you be good and eat some food for me?”

“I don’t want your stupid ass food.” Katsuki growled, laying his head against the bottom freezer of his fridge.

“Nonsense, Suki.” You giggled, feeling extremely joyful to be with Katsuki. You bring a spoon of Miso soup up to his closed lips, “have some. I blew on it so it’s not too hot.”

“Get that trash away from me, you idiot—“ Katsuki was interrupted by a spoon entering his mouth. Though he would hate to admit this, the soup tasted delicious and he is quite hungry. He put up a fight, but allowed you to feed him properly until every drop was gone. Unfortunately, Katsuki is unaware that the soup is drugged until it’s too late.

His body began to feel numb. He did not even have the strength to ask questions as his eyes became drowsy. Soon, he is slumped over, sound asleep as you manage to drag him up the stairs and into your shared bed.

Planting kisses all over structures, you tuck him in and finish some late night entries in your diary. Skimming through them all and reflecting on how you got here now, it made you smile. Progress has been made and will continue to do so.

Signing off on the final page, you write:

“Dear Katsuki,

These past three days have been exhilarating. I see it in your terrified eyes how happy you are that I am here. I know how much you missed me. I missed you, too, baby. We will continue to grow and soon, we will have children. I even have my menstrual cycle all planned out. I am all yours and you’re all mine. Can’t you see, baby doll? We are forever meant to be.

Sincerely,

Yours.”

©bakugosbratx

All Rights Reserved

#tw blood #tw yandere #tw kidnapping #tw injury #tw stalking #bakugosbratx #bratx request #bakugo x yandere reader #katsukibakugou #yandere my hero academia #yandere bakugou #katsuki bakugo x reader #bakugou katsuki #bakugo katsuki #katsuki bakugō #submission #bakugo x you

[dialovers-translations]

DIABOLIK LOVERS MORE,BLOOD Vol.10 Sakamaki Reiji [Track 5+6]

Original title: パイプオルガン & ヴァンパイアの本能

Source: Diabolik Lovers More, Blood Vol. 10: Sakamaki Reiji [CD not owned by me]

Audio: Here

Seiyuu: Katsuyuki Konishi

Translator’s note: Translating this at 7 AM in the morning was INTENSE. xD The pipe organ blasting in the background is definitely...something else. It does fit the overall mood of this CD very well though. I also like how they are using Reiji’s hatred for his brother as a way to trigger him. The Mukami’s are definitely very sly in these CDs~ They know the S brothers’ weaknesses and will use those against them.  

Track 1+2 ll Track 3+4 ll Track 5+6 ll Track 7+8 ll Track 9+10

→  LIKE MY TRANSLATIONS? SUPPORT ME ON KO-FI!

TRACK 5: PIPE ORGAN

*Rustle*

“Why do you seem so surprised? Is it that strange for me to lift you up into the air? ーー Or rather, why do you appear to be the slightest bit happy? It leaves a bad taste in my mouth.”

You ask him why he is doing that.

[00:22] “I simply have no other choice. Or would you rather I abandon you here, so you can indulge in the fangs of a bunch of men swarming around you? Well, I have to admit that is a thought I could imagine has crossed your mind. At this rate, you might actually die.”

The pipe organ suddenly starts playing.

“...!? What was that sound just now? The pipe organ…?”

*Duuuuuun*

[00:56] “...!! If this is part of their prank, I have to say they have quite childish tastes. I do think they are simply wasting their time, trying to lower my guard through the use of loud noises.”

*DUUUUUUN*

“...I shall teach them that it has the complete opposite effect.” 

Reiji steps forward.

“It is quite easy for me to leave this place after all. They should use their heads a little more.”

*DUUUUUUN*

[01:28] “You remain here seated for a bit, understood?”

He puts you down again.

*Rustle rustle*

*DUUUUUUN*

“...Ugh!”

Reiji attempts to open the door.

*CLATTER CLATTER*

“Haah...Just as I thought. They won’t let us leave so easily, huh?”

*DUUUUUUN*

[01:46] “Kuh…! How vexing of a sound this is...One should not attempt to play an instrument if they cannot do so properly.”

*DUUUUUUN*

“If you insist on plaguing my ears with that unsettling music any furtheー”

They begin to play a song on the pipe organ.

[02:01] “...!? T-This is…It can’t be...This music...Hah. I see how it is now.”

*CLATTER CLATTER*

“I wonder what their intention is...by agitating me to this degree!? Hah...Cut it out! STOP!!”

TRACK 6: A VAMPIRE’S INSTINCTS

“Haah, haah...Is this their objective? ...Haah?”

You ask Reiji if everything is alright.

[00:20] “You want to know if I’m okay? If you can look at me right now and think I’m ‘alright’, then ーー Kuh! Something is...seriously wrong with you.”

*Rustle*

“Haah...You should hurry and keep your distance. ...Quickly!!”

You refuse, still worried about Reiji.

[00:41] “Haah, haah...Why…do I seem to be in so much pain, you ask…? Do you not know even that…? Someone sucked your blood, remember? We found marks on your body, did we not? As a result, the scent of your blood is even more fragrant than usual.”

*Rustle*

[01:11] “I get it now...The person who locked us up in here...Is trying to get me to assault you. Therefore, in hopes that I would suck your blood and forcefully leave behind my mark, they opted to imprison us inside the Church - a place I happen to hate very much.”

*Rustle*

[01:41] “Ugh...And thenーー There’s this music as well. This song prevents me from acting like my usual self. ...Yes, exactly. It’s a personal favorite of that good-for-nothing...so I have heard it over and over again ever since we were children. Every time I hear this tune, I can feel myself growing irritated. Angry, one might even say. Tskーー Why did that man develop an interest in human entertainment...and why was it allowed!? I cannot comprehend…!”

*THUD*

[02:31] “Haah, haah...You want me to calm down? What do you even know…!?”

You try to explain.

“...Hah? Listening to music is similar to consuming food (1), you say…? ...Hah. I see. How pretentious. It seems like you very much wish to ridicule me.”

*Smack*

[03:06] “...It hurts, you say? I would assume so. I whipped your hand so you would feel pain after all. I wish you would not look at me as if you know me!”

*Smack smack*

You flinch.

“I never wanted you to try and sympathize with me. I simply find it very unsettling how you would pity me like that. I am already irritated as is, but it seems like you want to fuel my anger even further.”

*Rustle rustle*

[03:43] “You poor little thing...Fufu. The palm of your hand has started bleeding ever so slightly. By enticing me, just what did you hope I would do to you?”

He laps up the blood.

[04:06] “Haah...I’m sure my other brothers would indulge in your blood to their heart’s content at this very moment. However, Iーー will not do that. Although I am sure you very much wish I would.”

*Rustle* 

“You lose your mind if I do not suck your blood after all. That is the type of person you are. Haah...However, look at what just a small sip of your blood has done to me…?”

*Rustle*

[04:54] “Haah...Kuh...Ugh...I figured a small amount would still be okay, but still...Kuh...Che...I really wish this vexing song would stop playing already! It is highly unsettling and upsetting. On top of that, this time...Haah...This thirst is added to it as well...Haah...While you could say I brought it upon myself, having to deal with the thirst under these circumstances is quite the challenge.”

Reiji pins you down.

*Rustle rustle*

*Thud*

[05:46] “Haah...Your body is aching, is it not…?”

*Rustle*

“Your skin has become flushed, no? I feel somewhat suffocated as well…”

He loosens his tie.

*Rustle rustle*

“My apologies. I took the liberty of loosening my necktie. I’m struggling to breathe...Almost as if I find myself in a tropical forest.”

*Rustle*

[06:26] “Ah...That kind of feeling as if someone is slowly driving you into a corner...Haahー...The reason why I have you pinned down underneath me here, is all because of your blood. My body ー or in other words ー my instincts have been yelling at me this whole time, telling me so suck your blood. Exactly. It is very noisy, truly. Very much so...I feel as if I might lose my mind. When will it end? ーー This requiem!”

*Rustle*

[07:27] “Ah...I can’t…! It is as if a swarm of bugs are crawling around inside my head!”

*Rustle rustle*

“Ugh...Aah…”

ーー TO BE CONTINUED ーー

Translation notes

(1) I think the MC is speaking from the point of view of a Vampire here. Vampires need neither music or (human) food in their lives, yet they may choose to indulge in it as a way of entertainment or to seek pleasure.

#diabolik lovers #dialovers #reiji sakamaki #diabolik lovers translation #diabolik lovers drama cd #drama cd #diabolik lovers more blood

[skitter-kitter]

Extinction Event

summary: Giratina doesn’t stop Cyrus and the world burns. In their desperation, Dialga and Palkia send Cyrus to a different world in the hopes of forcing him to see reason. It fails.

word count: 4371

cws: body horror, mass murder, lots of minor character death

Read it on AO3!

At first, there was nothing. It was beautiful— it was free of pain, free of suffering. It was the perfect world he commanded Dialga and Palkia to create.

But slowly, dots of color formed around him. His perfect world was torn from him with each stone that came into view. Every speck of blue littering the sky was stolen from his world. Cyrus wanted to tear the clouds from the sky— burn the grass until it was gray and lifeless once more.

After what could have been seconds or days or months, Cyrus could see the world around him. In the distance, he saw the Pokémon League. Where the strongest trainers gathered. What a joke. 

Cynthia had fallen so easily to Dialga and Palkia’s united power. How could she be the Champion? How could she be the best Sinnoh had to offer? 

Cyrus felt a familiar anger burning in his chest. Pity and anger and hatred and everything he never allowed himself to express bubbling up to the surface. He could explode with the emotions— he could burn on a pyre of his own fury.

He had too much to live for to die here. Cyrus had to make his dream— Team Galactic’s dream— come true. He had to make his perfect world. 

(He had to make it come true. If not, then what were all those years for? If he couldn't make his perfect world, then what had his commanders died for?)

Spear Pillar stood before him— empty of mythical Pokémon, of enemies, or allies. 

Cyrus was alone on the throne of his becoming. No commanders, no chains, and no Pokémon. Even his own were gone— killed by the mythical Pokémon he commanded.

Grief was a concept Cyrus was familiar with. Grief was an all-consuming whirlpool, but rage… rage was a Staraptor flying up, up, up until he couldn’t breathe. Rage brought him to space, to the stars, and to Helios. To the sun the world orbited around— to the sun he orbited around.

(Was he Helios, now? Was he the star in the sky, shining bright and blinding and beautiful? Or was he just another moon in an endless orbit around a lifeless planet?)

Rage won out over grief, as it always did. As it always would.

“Dialga,” he called out, “Palkia!”

In his chest,— in the cavity his heart once inhabited— there was a burst of warmth. Less like an inferno… and more like a candle. Carefully controlled, carefully regulated. If it tipped over, it could cause devastation. 

Didn’t he want that? Didn’t he want Dialga and Palkia to kill and maim and destroy at his discretion? 

No, he didn’t want that. Not now, not with so little information.

Cyrus lifted his hand to his chest, listening for the thump, thump, thump of a heart. There was none, only the low hum of their combined power burning in his chest. Their power— their passion burned thousands of degrees hotter than his heart ever did.

In his mind, Cyrus considered it. He considered the gods he had control over. The red chains, unbroken but invisible.

Cyrus considered his dead heart— and he considered the red chains that replaced it. Through them, he could feel the mythical Pokémon. He could feel their anger, their disgust, and their hate. 

It only fueled the red chain more. It only tightened and strengthened the bond between them. The more they hated,— the more they felt— the tighter their bonds would get.

They would never break the red chain. Only Cyrus could do that.

(Cyrus would die a thousand times over before he willingly threw away the only proof of his victory. The red chains gave him control. They proved that every life— Saturn, Jupiter, Mars, every grunt— he’d extinguished was for a cause. Without the chains, it would be murder.)

In the back of his mind… his mind or theirs? Was it one mind or three— 

Cyrus heard a roar. Once, the two would have sounded the same to his mortal ears. Now, he could hear the differences. Now, he knew it was Dialga calling for his attention.

Cyrus let the Pokémon’s power wrap around him; let it pull his mind into its own.

Colors overran his vision, blinding and beautiful. A world he’d never seen before. A world only gods could have viewed. There was a flash of red, then yellow, then orange. Cyrus blinked, and it was gone.

Dialga roared once more. The vision began to play again, slower.

It showed him a meteor, falling down to the earth. It burned brighter than any star or sun. Cyrus could smell the ashes— hear the hushed cries of Pokémon. He watched as the meteors turned the sky an ashy red.

Am I the meteor?

Dialga turned his attention to a man standing on a nearby cliff. He stood motionless as the extinction event came for him. The man would be dead in mere moments, but… he didn’t look scared. It was odd to see such peace on the face of someone inches away from death.

Am I the man?

Would Cyrus be that calm? Would he embrace death like an old friend? Or, would he run?

After a long moment, Dialga huffed. It was… frustrated. Annoyed. It was trying to show him something, but Cyrus hadn’t understood it.

Show me again, Cyrus demanded. If he had another look, then he would understand. He would! 

Dialga sent no more visions. His mind was filled with silence. He was alone in his mind— he was alone for the first time since he had crafted the red chains. It was disconcerting, it was lonely, it was… terrifying. 

And, wasn’t that odd? Shouldn’t he feel peace? Shouldn’t he be like the man from the vision? Shouldn’t he embrace this?

Cyrus couldn’t. In his own world, he always had a commander by his side. If they weren’t there, then he had his Pokémon. And, even without his Pokémon, he had Team Galactic behind him.

Now, he had none of that. Now, there was only Cyrus and the warmth in his chest. Now, there was only Cyrus and his chains. 

Cyrus walked to the other side of Spear Pillar. His hand gripped the rocks of the exit. With a single step, he could leave this place. Leave the memory of death and destruction behind. Abandon the memory of Cynthia and her screams.

He hesitated. Cyrus turned to face the podium where the two gods had once stood. In another world, they were still there— roaring and resisting the red chains. In this world, there was only empty air on the podium.

“Nothing else to add?” Cyrus croaked. His voice was weak from disuse. He waited for their reply. For another vision or for them to appear back in their podiums.

Silence resonated through the red chains.

So, they didn’t want to speak? That was fine.

He didn’t need to speak to them— not when he had the red chains. For the first time in his life, Cyrus didn’t have to worry about them abandoning him. For the first time in his life, he was in control.

Cyrus stepped through to the rest of Mount Coronet. 

- - - - - 

It was an easy journey, despite the rocky terrain and the powerful trainers littered around every corner. Trainers saw his lack of Pokéballs and ignored him. It was easier like that. With no one to bother him, Cyrus could continue to reach through the red chain. To reach for answers.

Tell me. Show me.

And still, it refused to show him. 

Cyrus sighed. Above him, a Zubat flew down toward him. He moved out of its way easily— he’d learnt how to avoid them after his Crobat followed him home. And, oh, how he missed his Crobat— how he missed his Zuzu. 

He wondered if Zuzu even remembered its name, or if it was like every other Pokémon. Nameless in life, forgotten in death.

Surely,— because they were his Pokémon— they were better. Smarter, stronger. No matter how well he raised Malum— from an egg to a Sneasel to a Weavile that would jump out of its ball to protect him— it still lost to Cynthia’s Garchomp. It only took a single Dragon Rush before Cyrus returned it to a Pokéball. It took less than that for Zuzu to fail. 

Seraphim had been his final Pokémon. His Honchcrow— the only one who properly listened to his commands. The only one who stayed in the ball. 

If it wasn’t for the red chains, Cynthia would have won that fight.

Seraphim had stayed by his side as he gave the command to wipe the world of impurity. Of suffering and of spirit. It was the last kind touch Cyrus felt before… nothing.

In their balls, Zuzu and Malum were the first to go. Cyrus hoped they couldn’t feel it. Hoped they couldn’t see the holy, white light coming for them— hoped they couldn’t feel the fire burn them to ashes. Most of all, he hoped they couldn’t hear the screams. 

Cynthia had screamed— desperate and distraught and furious— as she rushed toward him. Her Garchomp gave a final Dragon Rush, running at him with its claws ready to kill. 

If it had been a second faster, Cyrus would be dead.

But, it wasn’t… and that made all the difference.

Beside him, his Honchcrow was the first real casualty. It let out a short shriek of fear before… nothing. It was inconsequential compared to Cynthia’s rage. The first death of millions— and yet, Seraphim’s death was the one that hurt the most.

It had trusted him. They all had trusted him to bring them with him to his perfect world. Team Galactic had made their choices. His commanders had had their chances to leave. But, his Pokémon had been loyal to him even before he caught them.

They wanted to be by his side not for his power but… for something else. Why did a Pokémon choose to follow a trainer? Why did a trainer choose to keep a Pokémon? 

Power? Pity? Compassion?

(Love?)

Cyrus couldn’t understand it. Why didn’t Seraphim hesitate at the thought of dying for him? Why had Team Galactic rallied around his goal?

Cyrus had never pretended to understand people— Pokemon made even less sense.

Seraphim had held a wing in front of him before the burst of light hit them. It had tried to protect him. His Honchcrow had raised a wing to the extinction event that tore through the world— to the burst of power that left Cyrus alone in a void.

It had raised a wing— and now it had none. Seraphim was gone forever. Its loyalty and its devotion and its love were gone. Killed by Cyrus’s extinction event. By Cyrus’s perfect world.

(And, oh, didn’t it hurt to know he was alone? To know he would never see his commanders again? To know he would never hear Cynthia’s voice again?)

Cleanse the world of suffering, he commanded. Was it cleansed? Or, had they destroyed everything good for his vision? 

(Was Seraphim’s death a mistake? Did Pokémon deserve to die with the rest of humanity? Could he go back— could he save them? Or, would he be stuck with the memory— with the guilt— for the rest of time?)

Were the gods he commanded just as fallible as his commanders? Did they make mistakes as well? Or, was the whole world so cursed it had to be destroyed? Did Dialga and Palkia see the hate in their hearts? Did they see what Cyrus couldn’t?

Could they see the good of man? A complete heart? Or, did they see the reality he saw? A forever incomplete world? A world of pain and prejudice and hate?

Did they, too, wish to burn it all to the ground?

Was the void he created a perfect world? And, if so… why hadn’t they left him there? Why had they dragged him back into this world— not his world, never his world again— of color and of humans and of suffering?

Through the red chains,— through the gaping hole in his chest— he called out to them. Is this my perfect world?

After a long moment, his chest burned. But, it wasn’t Dialga reaching out to him this time. Palkia— the god of space— reached in through his mind and led him to the past. 

Once again, there was a meteor in front of him. It fell torturously slow. Bits broke off in its fall, burning up in the atmosphere. The man from his previous vision stared up at his doom. This time, he could see the desperation in his blue eyes.

This time, Cyrus looked past the man. This time, he spotted what Dialga had tried to show him.

A Pokémon flew out from between the mountains, rising up, up, up toward the meteor. Plates circled its midsection. The air around it hummed with power. Cyrus could feel his skin prickle as the Pokémon’s aura encircled him. It was… considering him. Judging him. 

Did it know of the blood on his hands— or… did it only see his heart? No, his heart was dead. So, if it could see his heart, did it see the red chains? Did it know what he had done to craft them?

This was only a vision, but… did it see him? Did it know he was watching?

Did it know? Did it care?

The Pokémon rose to the sky, meeting the meteor with a harsh blow. Its plates glowed with power. It shined brighter than the meteor— brighter than the sun— as a protective circle formed around its body.

Smoke rose up around it, filling the sky with darkness. The red sky turned to a harsh gray. 

Slowly, the meteor began to crack. With one final attack from the Pokémon, it shattered. In tiny pieces, the meteor fell to the ground. 

The Pokémon fell with it. The plates that once protected it were displaced from its body.

Cyrus couldn’t help but pity the being. It had done so much— and now it was dead. It had saved humanity at the cost of its own life.

The man gasped, staring at the place the Pokémon had landed. “Arceus!” He called, running down the hill.

Cyrus didn’t follow him.

He stood, silent, as the man gathered the first of Arceus’s plates. As he revived the creator of worlds. As he saved it and took no credit for his great deed.

Arceus. 

It all made sense, now. Why Dialga had even bothered to send the vision. Why Palkia had shown him a second time.

The man, the meteor, and Arceus.

A story from the beginning of time, forgotten by most. Of betrayal and forgiveness. Of the inherent kindness of humanity. Of the cruelty of gods.

Which am I? Cyrus asked a lifetime ago. Now, he knew.

Cyrus had the power to create extinction events. He had the power to forgive and the power to kill. He was Arceus; he was the meteor; he was the man.

He was everything. He was nothing.

Palkia returned his mind back to his body— back to Mount Coronet. Once again, he could hear the Zubats squeaks. See the trainers’ odd looks. 

Cyrus balled his hand into a fist. His nails dug into his palms. A gaggle of Zubats circled above him, their chirps and chitters so similar to Zuzu’s it hurt to listen to. It was so loud and so silent, and that was Arceus. He had never met the being before— never even considered it.

And now, he had. And… nothing changed. He was still Cyrus. He still had millions of deaths on his hands. He was still without Pokémon. He still had a red chain in his chest instead of a heart.

He still had to listen to the Zubats’ chatter. 

Cyrus grit his teeth. “Shut up.” It started as a quiet whisper to himself. Then, louder. “Shut up!”

The Zubats continued to speak, their chirps sounding more and more like laughter the longer he listened. He could feel the eyes of the trainers like knives in his back.

He didn’t care. He didn’t care. He didn’t—

The hole in his chest ached, something like passion and something like hate burning through the red chains. The chains looped fury between Cyrus and his gods. Their hatred and his own, looping, looping— anger evolving into rage into fury into an inferno.

They looped until Cyrus’s eyes burned a furious red. They looped until Cyrus’s hands shook and his mind screamed. They looped, and Cyrus was lost to their shared fury.

Dialga’s roars and Palkia’s screams and his words were one in the same. His eyes— a monsterous red or a stormy blue?— lifted to glare at the flock of Zubat. They were so annoying. So much like his Crobat and yet nothing like it. They were not sweet. They were not kind.

They were incomplete, and incomplete things needed to be purged. The world would be cleansed starting here.

A surge of power grew in the back of his throat. With each second that passed, the loop grew weaker. His rage faded, but the power only continued to grow.

Cyrus could feel Dialga’s presence, pressing on the back of his mind. Once, it would have felt comforting. Like a Golbat sat on his shoulder. Now, it felt like he was Atlas, struggling to keep the sky from crashing down into the world. 

Calm down, calm down, calm down. 

Dialga’s power wrapped around him, pushing his lungs to breathe in and out. To calm down. 

After a long moment, the power began to fade until all he had was the memory; his hands shook still, the last remnants of power— of a strength no human was supposed to wield— burning under his skin. It was a god’s power in a mortal’s body. Maybe, in his original universe, it would have killed him. Maybe, that was their plan.

Kill the master, break your chains.

But, Cyrus wasn’t alive anymore. The man with an incomplete heart was dead, and all that was left were his ideals. His motivations and the chains he crafted. Everything he loved was gone. Everything he hated was gone.

All that was left was his body… and his perfect world.

His legacy was immortal. 

The Zubats were silent, now. Maybe, they felt his power. Maybe, his yelling scared them off. 

In the distance, Cyrus could hear the low chatter of voices. Human, this time. Normally, he would avoid others. Normally, he had some grandiose plan to fulfill and a perfect world to create.

Cyrus didn’t have that anymore. He didn’t have his team— Pokémon or people. He didn’t have his heart. All he had was time; time to spend reminiscing about what he lost, time to tinker, time to live.

He approached the voices, tucking his arms behind his back and squaring his shoulders. Like that, he was intimidating to strangers. Cyrus knew it wouldn’t work on the trainers who had watched him scream at Zubats, but maybe… maybe he could recover from this. 

Maybe, he could be better. He could catch a Zubat and try again. Rebuild his team and their connections from scratch. Would it be worth it? Would it be the same?

No.

Cyrus’s nails dug into his palms. He straightened his back. The red chain burned in his chest— he ignored the pain. It was easier to pretend to be a dead man than it was to be honest. It was easier to pretend he was still wearing his uniform— to pretend Jupiter and Saturn were by his side. Easier, still, to pretend he had Pokémon who loved him. That he had a group of dedicated people supporting him.

It was easy to pretend.

Cyrus had pretended to be a good person every day of his childhood. And then, he left on his journey. For a time, he had been free of pretending. For a time, he had been free.

Then, he lost to the final Gym leader and had to return home. 

(Maybe, if he won it would have ended differently. He would still be with her. They would have challenged the Champion together. He wouldn’t be alone.)

In the distance, he saw two teenagers. One with bright blonde hair, tugging along her friend. Her Gabite walked beside her, glancing at the walls. Its piercing gaze was the first to notice him. 

Gabite let out a loud cry, alerting both of the trainers to his presence. The blonde girl met his gaze. Gray eyes met stormy blue. 

Cyrus resisted the urge to roll his eyes. If Gabite hadn’t revealed him, he could have avoided them entirely. Now, he knew who they were. Now, he knew why Dialga and Palkia had sent him here.

A younger version of his best friend smiled at him. It had been years since he’d seen Cynthia smile so freely. Even longer since he’d seen her Gabite. Soon enough, it would evolve into Garchomp and Cynthia would abandon him.

But, it was Gabite, and she was still here; traveling through Mount Coronet.

Cyrus had missed this. Their quiet journey together had been full of highs and lows, but he’d always had her. Her chatter and her kindness and her friendship. After she became Champion, that had stopped. She had better things to do than stay with quiet, freakish Cyrus.

Cynthia looked down at his waist, excitement turning to disappointment. Just like every other trainer, she found no Pokéballs there. Just like every other trainer, she was required to let him pass.

“Aw!” Cynthia cried out, stepping away from her friend. “I’ve been itching for a fight!”

Cyrus let his mouth curl into a small smile. He’d missed her banter. He’d missed her casual touches. 

Her friend stepped away from her, straightening out his hair. He smiled, rolling his eyes. His smile was genuine and kind and everything Cyrus wasn’t. He was Cyrus’s antithesis. His opposite; his equal; his younger self.

The kid laughed. “You’re always itching for a fight, Cynthia.”

Cynthia stepped toward him, looping an arm around his younger self’s shoulders. “I need to train to beat the Champion, Cyrus!”

The boy beside her— her best friend— turned to face him. Past met present. 

A child— he was only a child. He was bereft of the pain and the hopelessness Cyrus endured— of the pain he would endure. He had a beating heart and loving Pokémon by his side.

He had everything Cyrus had destroyed.

“Your name is Cyrus?” The older Cyrus asked, his voice weak from disuse. Cynthia paused, and the two stared at him for a long moment. His younger version nodded, eyes narrowed. 

Cyrus looked down at his younger self’s waist— at the two Pokéballs that sat there. A dusk ball and a great ball. Catches that had once meant everything to him, were now only a footnote in his memory.

Did he miss those times? The hope? The misery? The pain of loss and the thrill of victory?

Cyrus mourned the little boy in front of him. Full of hope and full of dreams. Dreams of becoming the Champion. Dreams of rising above and beyond everyone else. Dreams of eliminating suffering.

Maybe, in a better world, he was the Champion. With a team of Pokémon strong enough to protect him and the region. With friends who supported him no matter what. With rivals and acquaintances and a family who loved him.

His hands balled into fists. Cyrus closed his eyes. Cynthia’s words and the Zubats’ jeers and his younger self’s friendly chatter— it all melded into a cacophony of noise. 

None of it mattered. All of it was incomplete.

“Dialga, Palkia,” Cyrus whispered. Above him, he heard the Zubats flying down toward him. To attack him— to stop him. “Cleanse this world.”

The red chain came to life, buzzing with power. A white light burst from his chest. It tore through the world in seconds. 

The Zubats never reached him. Cynthia never finished her thought. His younger self never got to grow up.

(At least they didn’t suffer.)

When he opened his eyes, Cyrus was alone in the void. Alone, with red chains for a heart. 

He was left alone with the flame of power in his chest. With a dead heart. 

He could feel their presence this time. He could sense Dialga and Palkia, and the chain connecting them. He could sense their anger.

This time, he heard Palkia’s roar— heard the god of space call forth a new world.

At first, nothing seemed to happen. But slowly, dots of color formed around him. Greens and grays and pillars and monoliths and the sky bloomed around him. After what could have been seconds or days or months, Cyrus could see the world around him.

A new world, he thought bitterly. My perfect world?

Dialga and Palkia roared, the sound ricocheting through the red chain. Maybe, if he was alive, it would hurt. Would it burn? Would it ache? Would he be out of breath? Would they steal his breath— or, did they only want his heart?

A heart for the death of millions. Deaths for his perfect world. 

Was this his perfect world? Had he finally accomplished it?

Was his perfect world a void? Was it a world with Pokémon and people? Was it a world where he was alone? Did it even matter?

(Yes, it mattered more than life and more than death ever would.)

Cyrus stared up at the bright blue sky. Cloudless, just like the previous world.

Spear Pillar stood before him— empty of mythical Pokémon, of enemies, or allies.

Cyrus was alone on the throne of his becoming. 

He would always be alone. His perfect world would be empty of Pokémon and of people. A world where only Cyrus remained.

Dialga and Palkia dared to bring him to different worlds? That was fine. Cyrus was an extinction event. He was Arceus; he was the meteor; he was the man. Cyrus would cleanse these broken worlds until they were all complete. 

Cyrus pulled taut on the red chains in his chest. The gods bent to his will easily.

“Dialga, Palkia. Cleanse this world.”

#pokemon #galactic leader cyrus #cyrus pokemon #skitty fics #i spent so long writing this #so so proud of how this came out #thanks to star for being there to encourage me to write this #love ya <3333 /p

[sunny-sings-sooth]

Daphne

Words: 4.5k

TW: Sexual assault, abuse

Here's my retelling of the myth of Apollo and Daphne! Highly experimental, as I usually write in first person and not so poetically. Hope you enjoy, and if anything doesn't make sense lemme know and I will add some context here. (Also FYI some of the dialogues are pulled directly from Homer's narration)

_____________________________________________________________

Phoebus Apollonas had been alive too long.

He was young by god standards, barely over a millenia old, and still one of the youngest Olympians. And yet he had grown exhausted. He’d been suffering the curse of life long enough to see the boy he used to be -- Phoebus -- die. The demise of the boy began when, in attempt to protect his sister Artemis, he had committed his first murder and thereby lost her forever. The boy decayed further when he’d held the corpses of his sons in his arms. And he’d finally killed the boy with his own hands when he turned his grief-fueled wrath on mortals. Phoebus, the bright, the innocent, the golden prince of Olympus, was dead. All that remained was Apollonas, the destroyer, the terror, the monstrous god of plague.

Except he no longer wished to be Apollonas. Apollonas was addicted to alcohol, drowning himself in it so that he wouldn’t have to face the memories that had murdered Phoebus. Apollonas had struck his younger brother Hermes, the only friend he had left, in drunken rage. Apollonas was despicable and deserved death. He could never be Phoebus again; that he knew and had accepted. But perhaps he could rid himself of Apollonas and become just Apollo. That did not mean erasing Apollonas; he had too many crimes to pay for, and running away would be a dishonor to all those who had suffered at his hands. He would repent for everything he had done as Apollonas, and thereby recreate himself as Apollo.

The first thing he needed to do was to break alcohol’s hold on him, which meant distancing himself from Dionysus. He didn’t want to abandon his youngest brother, but the temptation to drink was too strong in his presence. He hoped Dionysus would understand, and that he would one day be strong enough to bridge the gap of his creation.

He had been clean for three whole days. It didn’t seem like much -- blink of an eye in the lengthy lives of gods -- but that alone had taken him all his willpower. In the absence of the gallons of drink he had been consuming daily, not only was he plagued by memories and sheer self-hatred, he suddenly became highly attuned to the gossip that trailed him. Every moment on Olympus, hundreds of eyes were trained on him, and the whispers never escaped his sharp ears. It wasn’t that he was not used to being the center of attention, but rather the harsh truth of their statements. Phoebus Apollonas is a murderer. He flayed Marsyas alive for daring to challenge him. He curses anyone who questions his authority. He has killed thousands with his plague arrows. He is a monster. He knew these were all true and that he deserved to be pierced by such words, but the anxiousness caused by his withdrawal made them unbearable, and he had to escape to the woods. Here he found solace. Here he could work to slowly put himself together again until he was strong enough to face those who he wronged.

If he hadn’t been so lost in thought, then perhaps he would’ve heard the flap of wings before Eros was standing before him. He nearly dropped the silver bow that he’d been restringing and looked up to meet the other god’s gaze. Eros was the only man Apollonas considered a possible competitor in terms of beauty; his fair skin was smooth as a pearl, his wings the color of one, his features the aspiration of every artist’s portrait. And yet there was something unnerving about the other god. Perhaps it was his hair that, while comparable to a young maiden’s blush, was also the same shade as blood. Perhaps it was the deep red hue of his eyes, made of crushed hearts and rubies. And perhaps it wasn’t his appearance at all, but the mystique that surrounded him; he was the fourth being to come into existence and was old as time itself, and that was one of the only two things Apollonas knew about him.

“Phoebus Apollona,” Eros stated in greeting, and Apollonas hated how wrong it sounded, though he couldn’t tell if it was the names themselves or simply the one who spoke them.

“What do you want?” He couldn’t hide his irritation. The other thing he knew about Eros was that he was the god of love, and love had only ever caused Apollonas pain. He had no reason to like the god nor felt the need to veil his displeasure. All he wanted was the solitude necessary to rework himself.

“I was simply admiring your bow, oh He Who Shoots From Afar.” There was no missing the mockery in Eros’s voice, and his eyes gleamed as he gazed at the weapon. “Why, your skill is almost comparable to my own! Perhaps with some effort, you can become the greatest archer in the land.”

“Are you implying that you are the greatest archer?” Eros nodded, and one glance at the winged god’s slim arms and the modest bow slung across his back sent Apollonas into a fit of laughter. It was many moments before he could calm himself enough to speak. “What have you to do with the arms of men, you feeble thing?”

“I am merely suggesting I may be god of archery as you are god of plague.” Apollonas’s head snapped up at the idea, and his hands curled into fists as he stood, towering over the shorter god. If Eros was a painter’s fantasy, then Apollonas was a sculptor’s. His toned body was the epitome of perfection, the ideal balance between strength and beauty. He was well aware of this fact, and though he rarely preferred to use his appearance for intimidation purposes, Eros’s insult necessitated such action.

“Do not lay claim to my honors,” he hissed, his sky blue eyes glinting with divine power. Archery was the one constant he could always rely on. With his bow and arrows, he could protect and punish, wound and save. It was the one part of him that stayed no matter if he was Phoebus or Apollonas or whoever, and he’d be damned if he allowed this worthless winged wretch to even suggest taking that from him.

“Let us put it to test, then,” Eros declared, unfazed by the archer’s anger. What would the ancient deity have to fear from the youth? He was well aware of his capability, and little did Apollonas know he was falling into another trap, his emotions and naivety deceiving him once more. He was but a pawn in Eros’s game. “What say you to a battle of skill?”

Apollonas did not grace the other with an answer, lifting his weapon and drawing an arrow from his golden quiver in response. The toned muscles of his back flexed as he pulled back the string and released, and the arrow had barely gone forth an inch before he sent forward another, and then yet another. His arms were but a blur as arrow after arrow went flying, striking the most minuscule of targets: the pupil of a fly’s eye, the thread of a spider’s web, the stem of a single olive. Apollonas did not stop until his quiver lay empty, and he took in the perfect shots before him that seemed almost artistic by his hand. No matter how low he may have descended in these past years, there was no denying the masterpiece he created from the most basic of weapons. This was his domain. He couldn’t keep his lips from curling in conceit as he turned to Eros.

“That gear becomes my shoulders best,” he declared, setting his bow back beside his quiver to draw emphasis to the weapons that had adorned him for centuries. “I wound my enemies; I wound wild beasts. My countless arrows slew the bloated Python, whose vast coils across so many acres spread their blight. You and your loves!” Apollonas couldn’t hold back his scoff at the mention of Eros’s inferior work. “You have your torch to light them. Let that content you. Never claim my fame!”

“Your bow, Phoebus Apollona, may vanquish all, but mine shall vanquish you. As every creature yields to power divine, shall your glory yield to mine.” At Eros’s threat, an enraged response was making its way up Apollonas’s throat, but before it could spill off his tongue, the love god drew his own golden-tipped arrow. In the blink of an eye, he shot it forth right into the other god’s heart before taking flight.

Apollonas stumbled back, a gasp more of shock than pain escaping him as he clasped his hands over his chest, fingers fumbling for the arrow. However, it had already dissolved into him, its magic making its home in his body. He felt something ooze into his heart and bloodstream, shoot up his spine, ensnare his mind. He turned his attention inward, trying to identify the invader, but he could not locate it, nor could he compare it to anything he had ever felt before. What had Eros done? He lifted his head, searching for the god, but instead his gaze fell upon another figure altogether.

There, a few feet away, stood the sweet river nymph Daphne. He knew her -- he knew the names of many of the nymphs that resided in these woods -- but beyond a passing glance and a murmured greeting, she had never caught his attention. But now… he couldn’t seem to look away, his lips parting in awe as he stared at her, dumbfounded. Had she always been so breathtaking? How could he have missed such a beauty? Her dark locks flowed down like a waterfall of ink. What it would be to hold that silky hair between his fingers, to braid it and adorn it with flowers and beads! Her eyes were a startling shade of not blue, not green, but something between the two, and he could spend hours drowning in their depths. Her figure had the slightest curve to it, the outline of a river, and he imagined that her body had been crafted to fit against his perfectly. He saw her, loved her, wanted her.

“Daphne.” Apollonas whispered her name, marvelling at the nectar-like flavor that coated his tongue. If just her name was so sweet, then how must her lips taste? Looking was not enough. The urge to find out was unbearable, the earlier argument stolen from his mind entirely as he found himself tossing aside his bow and quiver. What did archery matter when he could master the bow of her lips instead? He would claim it, make it and the rest of her his and his alone. He took a step forth, a giddy smile alighting his features.

“St-stay back,” the nymph stammered, icy fear coiling in the depths of her stomach. She could read his intentions clearly on his face, from the crazed look in his eyes to the wolfish grin he wore to the way his hands reached towards her. Daphne knew all too well what this man planned to do with her, and that should she fall into his grasp, she would not be able to stop him from having his way. So when he took another step forward, she turned and ran as fast as her legs could carry her. Apollonas gaped only a moment before rushing after her, an arrow released from its bow.

“Daphne, please wait! I am no foe! You don’t need to fear me!” he cried out after her. Daphne did not answer him, her thoughts only on escaping. Thorns and brambles tore at the bare skin of her calves, yet she refused to slow down. “You run as if I am a wolf and you a lamb, but that is not so! It is love that spurs me! Don’t fly so fast, lest you fall and wound yourself!”

“Leave me be, you horrid man!” she shrieked, not stopping even as her dress got caught on the surrounding plants and began to tear, revealing her to him little by little. Apollonas’s brows furrowed in worry at the sight of bloodied cuts on her legs. From within him a voice called out: What are you doing, Apollona? Why are you tormenting this poor girl? Leave her be! You will not have your way with her! But before the voice could say more, he caught a glimpse of the bare skin of her thigh, and everything left his mind. His conscience was once more bound and gagged by Eros’s power, forced to watch it all in horror. Speaking of the god of love, he also watched, flying unnoticed above them, yet he felt only amusement from the sight. The sheer terror that had contorted Daphne’s face and drawn panicked tears from her eyes made him smirk, and Apollonas’s frantic yelling drew out peals of laughter. They had both bent to his will so easily, and he was eager to see how this played out.

“You run because you do not know. I am no peasant, no shepherd!” Apollonas called out to her again. She was only afraid because he didn’t know who he was. He knew the moment she realized his true identity, she would stop and turn to him with a blessed smile. “I am the son of Zeus, prince of Olympus, lord of Delphi. By me things future, past and present are revealed. I shape the harmony of songs and strings. You will be happy as my bride, dear Daphne! I will see that your every wish is granted and that no desire goes unfulfilled. Please stay!”

“No! My only desire is to escape you!” Yet this would not be granted, as her body was beginning to fail her. Try as she might, she could not outrun Apollonas; he was strong from years of training and battle, and though she was swift and sure-footed, she had used up all her limited mortal strength. Her legs trembled with every step, her lungs two pits of fire in her chest. And so her traitorous body came to a stop as she gasped for breath, and Apollonas finally had her. He held her hip tightly, freezing her in place. Had he been in his senses and had control over his own body, he’d never have done this, and his conscience screamed within him. But he was deaf to it, the lust coursing through him silencing all else. His eyes soaked in her bare skin when he would’ve shielded them, his hands pulled her closer when he would’ve let her go, and he was ready to claim her when he would’ve done anything but this crime.

“My love.” His warm breath brushed against her ear as he leaned down, pressing his lips against the pale column of her neck. Daphne gasped and tried to pull herself away, but his grip was too strong, utterly unbreakable. How could she escape a god? She was helpless and frail, trapped and alone. There was no one to aid her, no one to stop Apollonas from running his hands down her body and forcing himself against her. And then he was turning her around, wishing to taste her lips, and a final plea escaped her.

“Help me, Peneus!” she screamed for her father. She knew her father could do nothing against an Olympian, but perhaps he could do something to her, and she would accept any escape from this fate. “Open the earth to enclose me, or change my form, which has brought me into this danger! Let me be free of this man from this moment forward!”

Daphne’s prayer was answered, and she was changing.

A stiffness had taken over her body, the swiftness that had protected her for so long sacrificed to escape Apollonas. Her arms lifted of their own accord, her fingers elongating up and her feet rooting into the ground. The dark waterfall split into a hundred streams that lightened to a soft green. Her curved figure fell away as her body thinned into a single arc, her legs fusing and her hands reaching higher and higher. Bark was creeping up from her extremities, down what were now branches and up what had transformed into a trunk. It conquered her shoulders, her chest, her neck. A soft sigh, her last breath, escaped her just as her lips were encased.

Apollonas’s lips met rough bark that cut at his soft skin. With a small gasp, his eyes flew open and he looked straight into Daphne’s piercing eyes. The waves in them had finally calmed, as the storm that had tormented them could no longer ripple its waters. He stared into those beautiful orbs, breathing her name, and watched as they shut forever.

Apollonas couldn’t tear his gaze away, his mind still unable to process the transformation that had unfolded before him. His hand trembled as he raised it, placing flat against the trunk of the tree. A steady pulse graced his fingertips -- a heartbeat. Daphne’s heartbeat. She was this tree, this sorrowful laurel tree, lost from him forever. His legs gave out beneath him as he wept, wrapping his arms around her and leaning his head against her bark. And yet the lust hadn’t left him, and he was kissing the wood over and over, whispering her name and an endless string of apologies as the skin of his lips tore and blood dripped down his chin.

“Oh, Daphne. My Daphne,” he cried, yearning what could’ve been. He thought the image of her smiling sweetly at him, kissing his cheek and calling him ‘husband’, was a vision, a prophecy promising that he could be the source of her happiness until the end of time. But he was wrong. It had been a fantasy, a dream that had slipped out of his grasp. And now she was gone. His sobs doubled in intensity as grief wracked him, and he didn’t notice Eros approaching until he spoke.

“Isn’t this a beautiful sight?” the god of love asked, his lips twisting into a smirk. “Phoebus Apollonas, broken and filthy inside and out. A slave to his desires. Do you accept defeat, oh lustful one?”

Apollonas turned to the other god, and the grief in him sharpened to rage. His beautiful Daphne, the love of his life, had been stolen from him, snatched right out of his hands, and the cause of it all was simply standing there, taking amusement in his loss. He reached for his bow only to find it missing, and so he lunged forth and tackled Eros to the ground, wrapping his hands around the smaller man’s thin neck.

“You monster,” Apollonas growled, his sky blue eyes glowing with divine power. This horrid creature had taken his Daphne from him and deserved nothing less than death. Apollonas would deliver him to the gates of Tartarus himself if necessary. The man must pay for his crimes. He increased the pressure, causing the other god to choke under his iron grip. “You did this!”

“Oh no, Apollona. I merely gave you a nudge. The rest was all you,” Eros gasped out, managing to laugh even as his windpipe threatened to collapse altogether. The sun god’s brows furrowed at the statement, and Eros subtly waved his hand, calming the effects of his magic. “And who knows what you’ll do next if I keep nudging you forth? You’ll be giving your father quite the competition, won’t you?”

The spell finally broke, and Apollonas’s grip slackened as the lust drained out of him and the truth became clear. He had chased Daphne. He had chased Daphne with the intention to force himself on her. He had tried to kiss her and claim her as his own with no care for her terror. He pushed her so far that she thought it better to lose her humanity than to be his. Oh Fates, what had he done? You are the most wicked person to live, Phoebus Apollona. You are no better than your father. You did this to that poor girl. You ruined her.

“N-no,” he whispered, backing away from Eros and clamping his hands over his ears, but it was in vain. The voice came not from outside but from within, where his conscience was finally free to reclaim its owner. And so Apollonas relived the incident that had just taken place. He saw himself chase after her just as Python had chased him and his family, heard his plans to ruin her just as he believed Orion had intended with Artemis, felt himself force himself upon her just as Zeus did to his mother Leto. Never in his life had something been so achingly clear to him as this truth: while he had spent his whole life painting others as wicked, he had been the most terrible monster all along. Apollonas doubled over, spilling his insides onto the earth as though he could purge the maliciousness from his body. But alas, he could not; he was born the destroyer, and he had truly lived up to his name. He could not tell if his scream remained in his soul or ripped out of him. He didn’t know if it was tears or fire spilling from his eyes. All he knew was the terrible truth that he has been blind to all his life.

“You are weak, boy. But I can make you strong,” Eros declared, towering over the hysterical god. He wondered how Olympus would react to seeing their golden heir broken on the ground, sobbing like a spoiled child. He could only imagine they’d be just as entertained as he. Still, the time for games was over. Making sure to avoid the pool of vomit, he crouched down and placed a thin finger under Apollonas’s chin, forcing the young god to meet his gaze. “Here is my offer to you: vow to me on the river Styx that you will follow my every command, and I will save you from further humiliation and heartbreak.”

“What, so I can spend my life blind and deaf, a mindless slave to a heartless man?” A dry, humorless laugh slipped out of Apollonas’s lips. He had seen and tasted truth, and he would not give that up to become Eros’s puppet. He scowled and spat at the love god’s feet, glaring into those blood-red eyes. “That is what I think of your offer.”

“I expected the god of intellect to be wiser than this, but I now see the difference between you and Athena.” Eros sneered, wrinkling his nose at the sorry display. “Do not be hasty, godling, and ponder my words carefully. I am offering you invulnerability. I will harden your heart to stone so that none may hurt you. Without your greatest weakness, you will be unstoppable. You will never have to feel such pain again.”

Apollonas paused for a moment, considering Eros’s claim. To never feel this soul-tearing agony again? To be free of the organ that rebelled against his mind at every moment? Now that he contemplated it, the offer was quite tempting. Without his heart, he would only have to rely on his body and mind, both of which were immaculate. He would indeed be unstoppable, finally the golden heir of Olympus he was expected to be. And yet… his gaze moved to the laurel tree, and a single leaf drifted down before him. Apollonas caught it in the palm of his hand, carefully tracing its pale green veins. If he were to remove his heart, to lose his ability to feel, would that not be a dishonor to Daphne? After all he had put her through, did she not deserve to be mourned and remembered? And what about all the others, every mortal that had suffered at his hand? He would be spitting on their graves by choosing to run away from the pain that, in the face of what torment they had lived through, was nothing. And so Apollonas rose to his feet, stretching to full height and then kneeling down so that his face was merely inches from the love god’s. “Rot. In. Tartarus.”

“You really should have chosen the easy path,” Eros muttered, the smirk sliding off his face as he grit his teeth. Apollonas wanted to regret? Then he’d give him reason to regret. His hands flew to Apollonas’s temples, freezing the younger god in place. Eros’s eyes glowed, twin pits of lava, and his voice boomed as he invoked his ancient power. “I curse you, Phoebus Apollona. May love be your enemy and your heart a traitor. May you be powerless to control the whims of your desire, and may you be the cause of pain to those you love, over and over until the end of time itself.”

Apollonas fell to the ground once more, struggling as the curse rooted itself deep in his soul, at the very essence of his being. By the time his throat had grown too raw for him to continue screaming, Eros had already flown away, leaving behind nothing but punishment. He found himself crawling back to the laurel tree, to Daphne, leaning his forehead against her trunk as he wept. He wept for her, for those before her, and for those after her.

“I’m sorry, Daphne,” he whispered, holding on so tightly the bark dug into his skin and realizing how powerless he really was. “I’d change you back if I could, sweet nymph, but I cannot. Instead, I swear by the river Styx, I won’t let you be forgotten. I bless you so that your leaves are never shed and instead will be woven in wreaths that will become a symbol of honor, the very thing I tried to steal from you. Let mankind see me to be the monster I am if that means your memory will live on. And even if your name no longer forms on the lips of men, they will live on eternally upon my own. This I vow to you.”

With this, he lay one last touch upon the tree before turning away, trudging his leaden feet back to Olympus. He heard the whispers as he arrived in the city, but he paid them no mind and made way to his house. Barely moments after he entered, his fingers scurried over the wall until they found the loose brick that he yanked out and tossed aside. His hands trembled in a moment of hesitation before reaching in. He grasped the bottle of his poison, his secret, his solace. Apollonas lifted it to his lips, tears running down his face, and drank his worries away.

#Apollo #apollon #apollo deity #greek mythology #greek gods #greek myth #daphne

[vajranam]

Dealing With Anger

ON DEALING WITH ANGER

Undoubtedly, both Shantideva and the Dalai Lama are most articulate in their discourse on how to deal with anger and hatred.

Shantideva in fact opens the chapter on patience with the strong statement that an instance of anger can destroy positive imprints created over “a thousand eons.”

He further asserts that there is no evil like hatred and that there is no fortitude like patience. Thus, he recommends that we all seek to develop patience.

In Shantideva’s view, anger acts as the principal obstacle to the development of patience. To use the well-known medical analogy, hatred is the poison and patience is the medicine that removes the poisonous toxins from within the mind.

As the Dalai Lama’s commentary makes clear, Shantideva identifies two key elements in our attempts to overcome anger.

First and foremost, it is important for us to have a profound appreciation of the negativity of anger. Of particular relevance is to reflect upon the destructive effects of generating anger.

Second, Shantideva identifies the need to develop a deep understanding of the causal mechanism which underlies the arisal of anger. This is of special interest to the modern reader, who will unavoidably be approaching Shantideva’s text with many of the popular assumptions associated with modern psychology and its views on human emotions.

In verse 7 of the chapter, Shantideva makes the crucial observation that the “fuel” of anger is what he calls “mental discomfort.” This is an interesting notion. The Tibetan word is yi mi-dewa which can be translated as “dejection,” “unhappiness,” or simply as “dissatisfaction.”

It is best understood as a pervasive, underlying sense of dissatisfaction, which need not be felt at the conscious level. It is that nagging feeling that something is not quite right.

Shantideva seems to be suggesting that it is this underlying sense of dissatisfaction that gives rise to frustration. When this happens, the conditions are set for an immediate outburst of anger when things do not go the way we wish.

Once this causal nexus between dissatisfaction, frustration, and anger is understood, we can then appreciate the virtue of Shantideva’s approach to dealing with anger. We can see that much of his approach is aimed at rooting out this underlying sense of dissatisfaction rather than engaging in a head-to-head confrontation with actual full-blown anger.

This is the reason for Shantideva’s emphasis on reflections which aim to create stability of mind. As to the specific practices, the reader can follow the detailed commentary of the Dalai Lama in the appropriate sections of the book.

An important point to note here is that Shantideva does not appear to make any distinction between anger and hatred in his discussion.

However, the Dalai Lama’s commentary explicitly underlines this critical distinction. He observes that, in principle, it may be possible to accept what could be called a “positive anger.”

Anger as an outrage toward injustice done to others can often be an important catalyst for powerful altruistic deeds.

However, he rejects such possibility with regard to hatred. For the Dalai Lama, hatred can have no virtue. It only eats the person from within and poisons his or her interactions with fellow human beings. In his words, “Hatred is the true enemy; it is the inner enemy.”

Perhaps we can say that the feature that distinguishes anger and hatred is the absence or presence of ill-will. A person can be angry without bearing any ill-will toward his or her object of anger. The Dalai Lama instructs us to ensure that our anger, even when it arises, never culminates in full-blown hatred. This, I think, is an important ethical teaching.

A few words on some of the general principles which lie behind the approaches suggested in this book for dealing with our emotions and developing patience may perhaps help the general reader.

A key principle is a belief in what could be called the plasticity of the mind, that is, an assumption of the mind’s limitless capacity for improvement. This is supported by a complex understanding of the psychology of the mind and its various modalities.

Both Shantideva and the Dalai Lama are operating within a long history of Buddhist psychology and philosophy of mind which emphasizes a detailed analysis of human emotions.

Generally speaking, in this view the mind is perceived in terms of a complex, dynamic system where both cognitive and affective dimensions of the psyche are seen as an integrated whole.

So, when the two masters present means of dealing with emotions such as anger, they are not suggesting that we should suppress them. Both Buddhist and modern psychology agree on the harmfulness of mere suppression.

The Buddhist approach is to get at the root so that the very basis for anger is undercut. In other words, Shantideva and the Dalai Lama are suggesting ways of reorienting our character so that we become less prone to strong reactive emotions such as anger. It is in this light that most of the reflections recommended in this volume should be understood.

The motto is simple: Discipline your mind. Shantideva underlines the critical importance of this inner discipline with a wonderful analogy:

Where would I possibly find enough leather

With which to cover the surface of the earth?

But (wearing) just leather on the soles of my shoes

Is equivalent to covering the earth with it.

Likewise it is not possible for me

To restrain the external course of things;

But should I restrain this mind of mine

What would be the need to restrain all else?

(Guide, V:13–14)

This of course is reminiscent of the memorable verse from the Dhammapada in which the Buddha says:

Intangible and subtle is the mind,

That flies after fancies as it likes;

Wise are those who discipline their minds,

For a mind well-disciplined brings great joy. (Verse 35)

Shantideva calls this basic Buddhist practice “guarding the mind” and he discusses it at great length in chapter 5 of his Guide.

Another general principle I wish to draw the reader’s attention to is the basic pragmatism of Shantideva’s teachings. He does not appear to believe in the possibility of one cure or solution to any problem.

His is a strategy that involves drawing extensively from all our inner resources. Many of his arguments appeal to what we may call human rationality. But he also uses approaches that appeal to our fundamental humanitarian sentiments. Often he plays upon our sense of moral outrage too. So, the bottom line seems to be “whatever works best.”

In the final analysis, many of the approaches presented in this book are insights grounded in common sense. For example, who can argue with the sheer practicality of the following lines, which the Dalai Lama is so fond of quoting:

Why be unhappy about something

If it can be remedied?

And what is the use of being unhappy about something

If it cannot be remedied? (Guide, VI:10)

Perhaps most importantly for the modern reader, it is vital to appreciate that both Shantideva and the Dalai Lama do not believe in “instant enlightenment.”

In their teachings, there is the basic assumption that cultivating inner discipline is a time-consuming process. In fact, the Dalai Lama rightly points out that having expectations of immediate results is a sign of impatience, the very factor the teachings in this volume aim to counteract.

With a sense of irony, he observes that often what the modern reader wants is “the best, the fastest, the easiest, and, if possible, the cheapest way.” So the journey of someone who is on the path of self-betterment is arduous and requires long commitment.

Nevertheless, the rewards of embarking upon such a journey are potentially enormous. Even in immediate terms, the benefit such an endeavor brings to the traveler’s life seems remarkable.

If the Dalai Lama is representative of those who have gained the fruits of this journey, its merits are shown to be beyond question.

Geshe Thupten Jinpa

Girton College

University of Cambridge

Perfecting Patience - His Holiness the Dalai Lama & Geshe Thupten Jinpa - Shambhala Publications, Inc.

#wisdom #spirituality #mindfulness #meditation #religion #buddhism #self care #zen #visualization #tibet #mystichealingtherapy

[tamhrayis]

I remember someone asking me if I know @kasumi_kasa on Twitter (my answer is yes) and I saw the latest tweets about Omukuji. From Kasumi’s explanation they are fortune telling cards, so I would like to give my interpretations on EMA’s cards as they have “Excellent luck” (Daikichi).

Eren

From Kasumi’s translation, the advice (?) for Eren was “If you keep your heart honest and strong and believe in everything, the future will eventually open up for you”.

I think this advice is very relevant to Eren’s current state as he is in the debate between his selfishness (do whatever it takes to achieve his personal “freedom” and simply move forward) and selflessness (fight for the freedom of his people and friends). Eren needs to understand what exactly his heart wants and be honest with himself (did he do everything for himself or his people, or it’s both?).

I am not quite sure what “everything” means, because...well...it’s everything, but it might be believing in goodness and badness of both sides (World and Paradis/Eldians).

Wish: When the time comes, it will come true.

The sentence itself is quite ambiguous, because it can be interpreted differently, but I think it might mean two things:

1. Eren’s wish to exterminate all the titans will come true (especially if Ymir helps him).

2. Eren’s goal to become the “villian” to eventually end the cycle of hatred and all the past mistakes (again, breaking the curse and exterminating the curse will contribute into it).

3. His actual intention might be revealed (POV and the reason like in ch.131).

Expected visitor: It’s coming.

Expected visitor is present in all EMA’s predictions (?). So both 3 will see someone or something (depending on what “it” means). It might be Mikasa, but we still yet need to know how exactly she should come as these predictions were made after ch.138.

Missing thing: It’s near you.

This one is very interesting. What is the thing that Eren thinks he misses (in terms of what he doesn’t have)? Freedom. Eren has been chasing freedom since he was a child, but did he find it? No and I don’t think he will find the “freedom” he is searching for, because Eren himself doesn’t know what exactly his “freedom” is.

As a child, his “freedom” was seeing the outside world from Armin’s books. As a teenager, his objective slightly changed to getting revenge on titans and then, eventually, seeing the ocean and world.

But was he when they finally reached the ocean? No. Eren was upset, because the presence of an even bigger enemy meant that his freedom is nowhere near unless he destroys others. But does destroying the world mean that Eren will finally be free? No. Why? Because Eren himself doesn’t know what he is chasing. Freedom for him is something that he has never experienced and blindly has searched for until he became a slave to his idea of “freedom”.

Eren thinks that freedom will give him happiness and he will be happy only when he achieves it. But the problem is that the more he “obeys” his idea, the more unhappy he becomes. Now, he almost lost everyone who sincerely believed and fought for him.

This sentence says that Eren’s happiness (a.k.a his “freedom”) was always near him. And that’s his friends and Mikasa. Eren needs to free himself from his own “master”, which Eren created and that’s his superficial idea of freedom.

This idea is worthless, because it doesn’t bring anyone actual freedom and happiness. It broke Mikasa’s heart, hurt Armin and killed so many innocent people. It totally doesn’t worth it.

But another missing thing could be Mikasa and as it’s coming, it could also imply that Mikasa will come to him again (like...she kinda did in ch.138...?)

Game and match: Restrain your ego.

Eren’s ego is what used to cause him to fight with bullies, fueled his desire to get stronger and be free from Mikasa’s protection, and now pushes him to move forward, because Eren doesn’t want to lose (bringing iconic “If you win, you live. If you lose, you die. If you don’t fight, you can’t win”). Yes, he does want to be stopped (and was by someone), but even like that, he still continued to fight (he even turned into a colossal to fight Armin).

But since, in Armin and Mikasa’s cards, it’s written “win”, Eren has nothing to do, but to respectfully give us and tame his ego.

Study: Study with peace of mind.

This one is a bit unclear to me (and when I translated it, it showed “learning” as another possible translation), but if it’s related to learning something, maybe Eren will need to learn to give more importance on the present and learn to live in the moment rather than living in his thoughts, past, future, guilt.

If we look at ch.90 and ch.123, when his friends were having good time at the beach and Marley, Eren was wandering in his thoughts thinking about how cruel and uneven the world is, and how he wants to get revenge on it.

Even in ch.138, when he and Mikasa were living alone, far away from everyone, Eren was still consumed in guilt and responsibilities.

If Eren doesn’t restrain his ego and free himself from his “master”, he will never learn how to live a peaceful and happy life he secretly desires about.

Mikasa

So moving to Mikasa. The advice for her was “Do what is right and help those who are lost and you will be better”.

This one is pretty straightforward. Mikasa opposed the person she loves and chose to fight Eren to save humanity from destruction. In general, Mikasa’s character is about saving people and she values human life the most as she almost lost hers back in time. Even though, Isayama said that staying with Eren for Mikasa is a good thing and if she didn’t have strong morals (she would follow Eren), she can’t give up on saving other people’s lives.

Wish: You will get what you want. Don’t let your guard down.

The first part is clear as Mikasa will reunite with Eren and hopefully have a life with him, but the second part is quite interesting. So I think it might suggest that even though Mikasa loves Eren and wants to be by his side, she shouldn’t let her desires overpower her morals. Again, coming back to ch.138, Mikasa chose to run away with Eren and let her selfish wish to be with him take over her. She chose to stay away from fighting and let others’ lives to be in danger.

Mikasa needs to continue sticking to what she believes in and do the right thing to get what she wants.

Expected visitor: It’s coming.

Same as I said in Eren’s part.

Missing thing: It’ll be late, but it will come.

This sounds intriguing, because what exactly can come late? I think it might be related to her wish and desire to live a peaceful life as it might come slowly...? (If we take into the account that Paradis will probably still have some issues to deal with and peace won’t come instantly).

On another note, Eren’s arrival can be late too (in some ways..?), so it’s also plausible to say that the missing thing for them is each other.

Game and match: Win.

So since Mikasa is a part of alliance, they will “win” (even now they kinda did by stopping colossals) and Eldians (probably) will be viewed as saviors (though on island they are traitors as the majority of population was pro-rumbling).

Love: There’s happiness in this person.

Mikasa represents love, freedom and pride and as the statement suggests, there’s happiness in her. What Eren actually needs is happiness, so EM things again.

But even like this, I won’t say that Eren will instantly will become lucky and forget about his trauma. It will be a long learning process (as his card said), but Mikasa will greatly and positively influence his adjustment to a normal and peaceful life (especially since they will very likely live in mountains and as Grisha said in “Lost Girls” he thought that fresh air will positively help Eren’s anger issues).

So the presence of Mikasa, fresh air and calm atmosphere will help Eren learn to live in the moment and cherish what he has without going for something that doesn’t properly exist.

Armin

The advice for Armin is “Make a decision before and you will move forward, work diligently and you will be happy”.

It’s heavily related to Armin’s new role in life, 15th commander of Survey Corps and the position suggests, Armin from now is responsible for the lives and decisions of his subordinates. Of course, for now because of his inner struggles and doubt, Armin isn’t happy about his career advancement, but if he surrounds himself with good and diligent people, and gain some confidence, he will overcome his current problems.

Wish: Two wishes won’t come at once.

What are Armin’s wishes? His first wish was to travel the outside world and explore the unknown with Eren, but as he himself said in ch.131, that wasn’t quite what they dreamed about.

However, Armin still wants to believe that there’s still a world that they don’t know about past the walls (might be a reference to the miracle that Uri was talking about).

So going back to peaceful times and exploring the world definitely won’t come at once (he still has duties and issues to deal with), but slowly and surely will.

Expected visitor: It’s coming

Same as Mikasa and Eren.

Missing thing: It’s in a high place.

This one has 2 potential meanings:

1. Armin misses Erwin and Hange as they were his previous commanders and he would want some guidance from them. Even now, Armin (as a newly assigned commander), he thinks how these two would handle this situation (especially Erwin).

2. The other thing that Armin (possibly) misses are the good old days that both three of them wanted to go back. After all, every character somehow wants to have a peaceful life with no war and hate. So saying that this thing is in a high place might mean that it won’t be easy to achieve and they will still need to deal with negotiations etc. But it will come eventually.

Game and match: Win

Same as Mikasa.

Study: you will overcome difficulties

I am really glad about this one, because it means that Armin will overcome his insecurities and doubts, and will gain his confidence! Again, I am heavily manifesting a talk between him and Levi, so seeing him overcoming his flaws and becoming a great commander is more than anything I could ask for Armin *cries*.

The links to the translations:

Eren, Mikasa, Armin.

#wow I am posting again #eren jaeger #mikasa ackerman #eremika #armin arlert #ema #attack on titan #shingeki no kyoujin #meta #analysis

[sweetlikepeppermints]

Collab with @onyxiana-is-obsessed go read her works or I’ll eat your kneecaps as you sleep❤️

Original idea by: @pocket-is-obsessed

Edit-I just realized you two are the same person-

Word count: 4585/ 12 pages

Warning:angst, cheating, villain reader

Summary: You and Izuku have been dating for seven months but he suddenly becomes distant and he finally breaks you for the villain that’s been targeting you.

You hated it, every bit of it. You hated that you hated Uraraka, you hated how much midoriya hung around her. The two of you were supposed to hang out today but he never showed, you felt the tears in your eyes as you fell to the floor hugging yourself. Everything would go back to normal, of course, it would. He still loved you, midoriya and you have been dating for almost a year now, you were just overthinking things-just like you always were. There was no reason to worry. Even as you said that to yourself you still had the doubt that clouded your mind and you didn’t have the heart to tell uraraka to back off so you didn’t. 

With a struggle, you manage to crawl into your bed crying yourself to sleep as your fears consume you. That next morning you had heavy bags under your eyes, forcing yourself to get ready for the day you dragged yourself into class, several people noticed your condition right away but kept quite with worried eyes. There he was, chatting with Uraraka leaning over her shoulder as she showed him something on his phone, as much as you wanted to yell at him for bailing on you last night you weren’t that kind of person so you stayed quite quickly walking past them without a word as they laughed away in their own little world.

You felt your heart hurt painfully, he didn’t even look in your direction. You knew he was probably was too busy to even notice that you were there, they were good friends so that was to be excepted. They were nothing but friends, very close friends at that,  you shook your head getting rid of the painful thoughts that filled your mind. All you could do is wait for the class to start.  At last, midoriya looked in your direction. Worry, and guilt filled his eyes as he walked over to you.

“Hey, are you alright? You don’t look like you slept well” He mumbled worriedly his voice low and careful.

You quietly shook your head at him “I’m fine, do you think we could hang out today? You forgot last night” you asked softly trying to keep your voice even. He opened his mouth to speak but you never got his answer as the bell rang, you could feel that heavyweight returns to your chest as you held back tears. He probably had more important things to do than hang out with someone like you. Uraraka was so much better than you in every way, so why were you so hurt that Izuku got bored of you?  You should have seen this coming yet-

You were thankful that it was lunch, midoriya didn’t wait for you like he usually did. You could tell they were both talking about something important, Urakakra placed her hand on his shoulder with a worried look. He nodded at something she said and they went back to eating without another word. Everyone knew what was happening but you weren’t ready to accept the truth so instead, you would lie to yourself, always come up with an excuse. When someone would try and talk to you about it you would yell at them and avoid what was happening.

You so badly wanted to believe he still loved,  you tried so hard trying to make him smile and laugh, you even kissed him but he never returned it as he used too.

This went on for weeks until you couldn’t handle it anymore, your mental health had been slipping a lot, you couldn’t bring yourself to eat or sleep. Your grades slipped horribly, every once in awhile you and Deku would hang out but he didn’t hold your hand and kiss you anymore, he didn’t tell you that everything was okay and he loved you. 

No, of course, he didn’t, everyone was in the common room when it happened. When you stormed up to midoriya with tears streaming down your face. When you looked at uraraka, you could only look at her with hate. “What day is today midoriya?” you asked trying to keep your voice calm but it shook unforgivably. The room had gone quite watching the two of them.

“W-what?” He mumbled nervously knowing that he forgot something but he couldn’t remember what it was for the life of him.

A heavy sob ripped through your throat and you pushed anyone away who tried to comfort you. ‘P-please...just please tell me you love me-please tell me I’m still your world” you sobbed hugging yourself as you struggled to stay standing. “Midoriya! It’s our one year! You forgot our one-year a-anniversary! When is the last time you kissed me-told me y-you loved me? Please..why wasn’t I good enough? I-i tried so hard” You broke down to the floor struggling to breathe as sobs racked through your body. No one could even look at midoriya or uraraka as they ran to your aid. You felt so angry, sad confused, your emotions were all over the place. 

Izkuku had fallen out of love with f/n he just never knew how to tell her, he had hoped she would break it off with him so he waited. Every time he tried to tell you the truth you had this broken look in your eyes and he could never bring himself to confess.  He had never wanted to hurt you. He felt his own tears form seeing you in so much pain like this, knowing that he did this to you, he caused this. How could he ever be a hero if he was putting you through so much pain?

Bakugo stormed up to midoriya, Kirishima and Denki had to hold him back as he cursed at him and Urakara for being so selfish. You didn’t deserve to be broken like this. You didn’t deserve to be hurt like this, he could have given you more than what Deku ever could, he would have never hurt you like this and now for the first time ever he’s truly wanted to kill midoriya, he wanted to punch his face in for making you go through this much pain, seeing you like this destroyed him.

The room was in a panic full of anger and sorrow, it was too loud. You couldn’t handle this. You got up and rushed out the door no longer wanting to be in the dorm rooms. So you ran as far away as possible, away from him, away from her, away from everything…..

Glowing purple eyes watched your form run through the dimly lit streets. A smirk formed upon the face as it emerged from the shadowed alley. Toxin leaned against the brick wall as her eyes watched your form get smaller and smaller.

“Huh, that was easy. Thanks, Izuku Midoriya.” With that, the tall woman followed behind the young student, keeping a slow pace.

You finally stopped running, your lungs and legs unable to take the strain anymore. Your chest heaved from the heavy breaths and your cheeks felt cold from the tears. You were so good to him, you were so supportive, and understanding. Why… Why would he do that to you? Izuku? Your Izuku Midoriya did that to you? Someone who always wanted people to smile, someone who wanted to save people with a big, bright smile of his own.

You scoffed. What a pathetic dream for him to follow. Why try to be a hero when he couldn’t even be a decent person?

“You look a little upset,” you jumped at the voice behind you, frantically turning around and falling on your butt. “You ok, love?” You rolled your eyes at her sweet tone and wiped your cheeks with the back of your hand.

“What do you want, Toxin?” She held her hand out for you to take, but you ignored it and stood up on your own, dusting off your clothes. 

“Just… checking up on you. How’s… life?” You scoffed again, rolling your eyes.

“Terrible. Thanks for asking.” Toxin nodded, pushing her long black hair out of her face. “What do you want?”

“I want you to join us, (f/n).”

“Doesn’t matter how many times you ask me, I’m gonna say no. I’m gonna be a hero.”

“Be a hero, huh? You sure about that?” You glared, backing away from Toxin’s tall form. “You’re angry, (f/n). You’re very angry and it’s ok. Take it out on him. That’s the thing! Heroes act like they wanna do good! They act like they’re the good guys and that people need them. They act like their godsends but you know what they’re like. You know just how cruel a wannabe hero can truly be. So tell me now that you still want to be a hero.”

“I’m a good person. I’d make a good hero.”

“Or a better villain. Sure, you can surpass Izuku Midoriya and his sad dreams to become the number 1 Hero. Or you could become the next All for One. Be a thorn in his side for the rest of his career. Who knows, maybe you’ll have a chance to off him or that pretty little gravity girl of his.”

“I’m not gonna kill anyone! Are you crazy!?” Toxin only stared at you without any expressions on her face. “I-I’m not gonna b-be a villain. I’m gonna be a hero!”

“Those are bold words for someone who can’t even keep their emotions under control for more than an hour. Give up, (f/n). You’re not meant to be a hero. Join us, join the league. We’ll take good care of you. We understand how cruel heroes really are.” You looked down at the grass below which was slightly damp.

Your mind was a mess of emotions. You knew that it was wrong to be a villain, you knew it was wrong to join Toxin. But… why? Because villains hurt people? Does that mean Midoriya was a villain? He hurt you… no. No, he tore you apart. He tore your heart to shreds. If that was what heroes truly were, then you wanted no part of it.

But you were a good person. You would be a truly good hero, why not show up Midoriya? Why not hurt him by stealing his dream of being the number 1 Hero? Why not hurt him by showing him you were happy without him?

Or you could become the next All for One. Be a thorn in his side for the rest of his career.

Or… you could truly torture Midoriya and be something he would never want to see you as. Show him exactly what he did to you. This was your chance to show him what type of hero he really was. 

Your (e/c) eyes landed on Toxin’s outstretched hand, which was waiting just for you. Fueled by anger, hatred, loneliness, and sorrow, your hand landed in hers. She tightened her grip, a sick smile spreading across her lips.

“Let’s go.”

~**~

“She doesn’t have her phone with her,” Mina frowned, “It’s right here. She left without it.” Kaminari, Sero, Tokoyami, Kirishima, Todoroki, Bakugou, Tsu, Momo, and Jirou were still out looking for you. Everyone had decided to split up and try to find you two hours after you disappeared. They were so worried, they didn’t want to give you space.

Unfortunately, now, it had been about four hours and you still weren’t here. Iida had just returned a few minutes ago, reporting that he wasn’t able to find you either. Midoriya hadn’t left and Uraraka was trying her best to console him. After seeing you so hurt and broken, something weird was happening to him. He felt anger and hatred but towards himself. He was livid at himself. He loathed himself. How could he do that to you? He was just scared… he was just too much of a coward to admit his true feelings and he watched as it tore you apart, but stood by and did nothing about it.

“Todoroki! Tokoyami! Please tell me you found something!” Mina exclaimed, running to them. The rest of the class looked up at their arrival, but immediately frowned when they saw their expressions. Both of them shook their heads.

“No, we weren’t able to find her either,” Todoroki said as he and Tokoyami walked towards the kitchen. “We just came to get a drink before we go back.”

“I think it’s time we tell Mr. Aizawa,” Iida started. “We tried looking for her and we can’t find her. We have to assume the worst happened to her.” The others frowned and a tear slid down Izuku’s cheek.

“I’ll go get him…” Mina frowned as she left the common rooms. They all knew they were going to be in trouble, no doubt. But they were ready to take all the punishment they’d get as long as you were back, safe and sound.

**

“What happened. Tell me everything.” Aizawa said as he sat down with the remainder of the students.

“(f/n) and Midoriya had an argument. After that, she fled the dorms.” Todoroki said, “We’ve been searching for her for about three hours now.” Aizawa sighed.

“You should’ve told me earlier. Bring the rest of your classmates back and let the pros handle this.” He stood up, looking down at an extremely broken Midoriya. “Especially you. Stay put.”

**

That night was restless for class 1A. Bakugou and Midoriya had to actually be restrained so they wouldn’t fight. Mostly on the explosive blond’s end. Midoriya was too broken and miserable to think clearly. He was too busy hating himself to even think about fighting Bakugou, however, Bakugou was the opposite. He was hyper-focused, noting every little sigh, scratch, movement his friends made. Especially that pathetic, little Deku.

Bakugou’s friends refused to leave him alone, too worried that he might actually try to kill Midoriya. No one slept, everyone feeling some bit responsible for not running after you. If they’d tried just a little bit harder, you might’ve been here with them.

The next day, everyone begrudgingly went to class, still unsure of your whereabouts. However, they’d be shocked to learn what happened that afternoon in their hero course.

“Looks like (l/n) was kidnapped,” Aizawa started and the room echoed with gasps. “She was seen by a few witnesses being harrassed and then taken away by a woman with long black hair and purple glowing eyes. No one knows where she was taken and aside from the description I gave you, there are no others. If-”

“THIS IS YOUR FAULT, DEKU!” Bakugou screamed, turning around. Immediately, an explosion went off from his palm, hitting Midoriya’s chest, making the green-haired boy scream. Aizawa activated his quirk, but that didn’t stop Bakugou, who grabbed his shirt and threw Midoriya to the floor. “THIS IS ALL YOUR FAULT, YOU ASSHOLE!” Bakugou had only gotten in a hit or two before Aizawa’s scarf pulled them apart.

The green-haired boy stayed silent as his childhood bully threw insults at him. Midoriya was stuck in his own mind. He drowned out every single thing anyone else said, unable to break himself away from his own destructive mind.

He did that to you. Izuku Midoriya was at fault for your disappearance. You had been kidnapped by a villain and it was his fault. He wanted to be a hero. What would All Might think? What would All Might say and what he’d been doing? Midoriya wanted to be the reason people smiled, be the reason people felt safe, happy, and protected. He did the exact opposite last night and now you were gone.

What was he supposed to do? He didn’t even know where to start looking, he didn’t know what to do… he… what was he supposed to do?

Tears spilled down his freckled, red cheeks. A violent sob wracked his body and Bakugou’s eyes widened. Unsure of what to do, he fell back, moving away from Midoriya, who had just broken down in front of everyone. There was nothing for anyone to tell him. There was nothing anyone could do, there was no consolation for something like this.

~**~

It had been about two weeks since your disappearance and it tore apart class 1A. Mostly Midoriya and Bakugou. Bakugou’s hatred for Midoriya had increased tenfold. As ridiculous as it sounded, Bakugou and Midoriya were under constant watch from both the other teachers and classmates. Bakugou no longer cared about the repercussions, if Midoriya was close enough, he was going to attack.

However, Midoriya was just as angry. It was his fault you ran off that night, it was his fault you got kidnapped, it was his fault all of this was happening. His demeanor had changed that day Aizawa announced you’d gotten kidnapped. He was distant, he lashed out more, he threw all of his time into training and studying, alienating himself from everyone.

Never has he wished for a time-related quirk. He begged every single deity in existence to help him. Every single day that went by lowering the chances of you being alive, every single moment that he sat in his room, could’ve been your last. Never has he hated the quirk he had, it was All Might’s. One for All belonged to his idol, to his hero, and here he sat loathing it. He wanted to go back in time, he wanted to punch himself for ignoring you, for not hugging you enough, for not kissing you enough, for not loving you enough.

Why couldn’t he love you? What was wrong with him? Why did his stupid heart choose to fall out of love? Why you? You were this beautiful ball of sunshine, a person everyone naturally gravitated to. You were strong, shy and confident at the same time, and you fit so well in their class. So, why couldn’t he love you the way you loved him? Why didn’t he just talk to you? Why did he assume you’d break it off with him?

Tears slid down his cheeks as Midoriya clenched his fists. What was he supposed to do? He’d never felt so lost in the world before. He’d talked to All Might, numerous times, but he’d gotten the same, bland response.

“We’re doing our best to find her, young Midoriya. Please, just try to have faith.” What faith? It had been two weeks and you were still missing. Where the hell was he supposed to find this faith? How were you? Were you even alive? Were they hurting you? Were they planning on using you as leverage against the heroes? Why hadn’t they done that already? Where were you?

“Where are you, (f/n)? C-Come b-back to me…” He sobbed, his hand clenching the shirt around his chest. “JUST COME BACK TO ME! I’M SORRY! I’M SO, SO SORRY! J-JUST C-COME BACK!”

Uraraka frowned, her back leaning against Midoriya’s door. These outbursts had become normal for him. He’d randomly fall apart, screaming for you to come back, screaming and begging for you to forgive him. Everyone- except Bakugou- tried to console him in their own way. There wasn’t much they could do. They missed you too, they were hurt and trying to cope with your disappearance too. 

A small lack of communication did all of this. If Uraraka had urged Midoriya to tell you what had happened or come to you herself, this wouldn’t have happened. This was a common thought in everyone’s head. Not that it was Midoriya’s fault, but that there were a million things they could’ve done that might’ve saved you.

Bakugou could’ve reached out to you. He could’ve tried harder if he was so damn sure he’d make you happier. Your other friends, Mina, Tsu, Momo, and Jirou could’ve tried harder to help you through your relationship problems. Everyone could’ve done something but they didn’t. They let you push them away and now they had to deal with the consequences.

***

“I want to see him,” you mumbled as you stared at your darkened ceiling in your new home. “Can I?”

“I mean if you don’t tell Shigaraki, I’m sure it’ll be fine. But what for?” Toxin asked, sitting up from her spot on the floor.

“I want him to see what he did,” you sat up and glared at the wall ahead of you at the thought of your ex-boyfriend. “I want him to see and hurt.”

“Well, I’m always up for that! Any pain we cause the heroes makes me happy!” Toxin chirped, much like Toga would have. Your eyes glanced at her for a second before returning to the wall, no change in your attitude.

“Take me.”

“Sure,” Toxin said then stood up. Waving her hands, shadows appeared on the floor, swirling before they opened up a portal. “This should take you to the UA dorms.”

“Can you put me in his room? I don’t want to get caught trying to sneak into his room.” You muttered, standing up as well.

“I have to know exactly where to send you,” Toxin said, “let’s go through first.” Both of you inhaled before walking through the darkened portal. A small jolt later, you appeared at Height’s Alliance. “Where’s his room?”

“Um… back this way?” You lead your friend to the back of the building, scanning each balcony and trying to gauge where Midoriya’s room would be. You had been there plenty of times, so all you needed to do was count out each room. “That one, I think.” You said, pointing.

“You think?”

“I’m on the other side, I counted.”

“You counted?”

“Just send me up there. If it’s not him, we’ll just run away.” Toxin rolled her eyes at your statement but opened up a portal for you regardless. Taking a deep breath, you stepped on the portal, feeling yourself jolt into Midoriya’s room. You stepped away from the portal, which vanished and gazed around the darkened room.

On the bed, you saw a mass under the blankets, but around the sheets and on the floor, you saw a bunch of tissues. In the trashcan, you saw three empty boxes of tissues. Slowly, you inched towards the bed, gently pulling the covers down a bit to reveal a disheveled Midoriya. He was asleep, a piece of tissue crumpled in his scarred hand.

You sat down next to him, but slowly and gently, so you didn’t wake him. A frown appeared on your face as you watched Midoriya sleep. Even after everything, you couldn’t bring yourself to hate him. That was the most frustrating part. He’d shredded your heart to bits and here you were, still concerned for him.

He looked pale with bags under his eyes, clearly, he hadn’t been sleeping well. Had he been eating? Had he pushed everyone away? What… how was everyone else doing?

Your (e/c) eyes landed on your hand. You and your quirk were meant for villainy. Wanting to be a hero… striving to be a hero was just a stupid, dumb dream. Your fingers moved towards his freckled cheeks, gently grazing against them.

There was a day when you used to pepper kisses on those freckled cheeks. Your fingers gently slid down his nose. There were days where you’d Eskimo kiss him. Finally, your fingers moved across his lips. He was a good kisser and every time he’d kiss you, he’d send your mind into a whirl. He must’ve not felt anything since he slowly stopped giving them to you.

Midoriya’s bright green eyes shot open and his body jumped when he saw the figure over him. His hazy mind needed a few seconds before he recognized who it was.

“(f-f/n)?”

“Great, you’re awake.” You mumbled, looking away. You proceeded to stand up, but he grabbed your wrist.

“Y-You’re back-” Your hand slammed against his mouth and you glared down at him, not wanting him to be loud.

“Let go of my hand, Midoriya.” Your cold tone of voice hurt, but he immediately let go.

“You c-came back, (n/n). Wh-what happened? Are you hurt? How did you get away from the villains? Where were they holding you? Wh-”

“Stop. What are you talking about?” You asked, stepping away from the frantic boy.

“Y-You w-were kidnapped. R-right?”

“No. I wasn’t.” His eyes widened and he felt his heart sink.

“Wh-what does that mean?” You rolled at your eyes at his shock. Did he seriously think you’d still want to be a happy hero after what he did?

“I went with her on my own. I joined the villains.”

“What? Why? Wh-”

“Because of you, Deku. I joined the villains because of you. You showed me how heroes truly are and now I don’t want to be one.”

“B-But it was your dream!” He retaliated, the look of horror spreading in his emerald green eyes.

“Yeah. It was my dream. You ruined it,” your hands met with his shoulders and you shoved him, causing him to fall back on his bed. “You ruined it. Just like you ruin everything else, Deku. Why are you even trying to become a hero? You’re not meant to be one. You tore my heart out! You threw me away for Uraraka! I was your girlfriend, I was so madly in love with you, do you know how much it hurt me to see what you did! I… I loved you. All I ever d-did was love you! I gave you my heart, I thought you- YOU, Izuku Midoriya- out of all people, would never hurt me. I thought you’d keep my heart safe and sound, but no. You… you threw it away… just like you threw me away.” At this point, tears were sliding down your cheeks and you didn’t even bother to stop them.

Midoriya was crying too, the back of his hand tightly pressed against his lips as he choked back a sob. One of his worst fears had come to life and now he really didn’t know what to do.

“I-I’m s-sorry.” You scoffed, rolling your eyes as the tears slid down your cheeks.

“You’re sorry? Not yet, you’re not.” Moving towards him, you pushed his hand out of the way and grabbed his shirt, pulling him up towards you. “You’re gonna be the number one hero, you hear me? Then, I’ll humiliate you in front of everyone, just like you did to me. The world will watch you fall just like they watched All Might fall.” 

Midoriya’s eyes widened, he knew that he deserved every bit of this, “y-you don’t mean that” he whimpered trying to keep his balance as you yanked him away from you in a fit of anger only to fall over on to the floor. 

“I meant every word Deku, please, go be happy with Uraraka, I won’t hold you back anymore-but just know this. When we meet again it won’t be as friendly, we’ll be fighting as enemies.” you snapped before turning away from him and going out the window back to toxin.

 Midoriya quickly got on his feet as tried to stop you, but there was no sign of anyone, so he screamed your name into the night as heavy tears left his eyes. He begged for you to come back in hopes that you could hear him, he collapsed to his knees in a shaky mess. “P-please...come back” he sobbed “let me fix everything.”

“Please come back f/n..”

#bhna x reader angst #bnhaxreader angst #bhna angst #midoriya #midoriya x reader #midroiya x reader angst #bhna x reader #bhna fanfic #mha #izuku x reader #villian reader #x reader #bhna #bhna fanfiction #deku #midoriya angst #bakugo angst #mha x reader #bnha angst

[rikalovesrice]

Douxie x Reader #4 - Comfort (Part 1)

Reader Recap : Lives in older sister’s shadow, rarely ever acknowledged by her parents or people at school. Has a host of insecurities because of it. Part-time pizza delivery girl on a scooter. A partner in crime when hunting for monsters in the late hours of night with Douxie, Archie, and Zoe. You and Douxie have become close friends. 

You didn’t know where you going and you didn’t care. All you knew is that you had to get as far away from your house and the people inside of it as you could without leaving Arcadia. 

You floored it on your scooter, fueled by the frustration and hurt pumping through your veins. Eventually you rolled into town and parked the scooter in the park, dismounting and leaning back against the seat, holding yourself. There was a dull sort of ache in your head and you could feel the pressure of tears forming but refusing to fall. It brought you to the ground and you curled in on yourself, rocking forward onto the balls of your feet. It was times like this, when being swept aside became too much, that you questioned your very existence. Why you even bothered sometimes. If your parents even knew they had another child. If you really were just a speck of dirt on your older sister’s pristine image.

You weren’t sure how long you stayed there all balled up beside your scooter, taking deep breathes and crying softly into your arms. You had just noticed a bizarre, prickling rasp in your ear when -

“(Name)!!”

There as a flash of blue and you instinctively ducked, rolling forward and roughly onto your side as some kind of misty, shadowy form took the brunt of a blast of blue. The creature screeched and quickly recovered from the attack. It was about the size of a squirrel and it twitched and jerked about like a glitch. White, ghastly, hollow eyes pulsed against a shape of black and gray smoke, like distorted full moons. You backed away on your elbows, terrified when not one, not two, but what looked like a hundred more of the things manifested from the night, rising like a wave from behind your scooter.

You braced yourself as the creatures descended upon you, squeezing your eyes shut, when a hand clamped around your shoulder and pulled you snug against a familiar bundle of black. 

“Douxie...!” you gasped, looked up at his face creased with concentration. You flinched at the force of the shadowy creatures slamming into the shield of magic Douxie had conjured, his left arm extended, charm bracelet alight with symbols. When they’d dispersed, Douxie lowered the shield and helped you to your feet, checking you over.

“Are you alright?” he asked, patting your shoulders and arms. “What are you doing here? I thought you had something with your family tonight.”

“What...What are those things?” you huffed, wondering how you’d manage to forget what Arcadia’s like after midnight. The flurry of writhing shadows regrouped in the air, a frightening show against the street lights, and were circling back. Douxie moved in front of you, watching them closely with charm bracelet at the ready.

“Hollowsprites,” Douxie said lowly. “Nasty things. Haven’t seen this many since Morgana returned. Drawn to darkness. They feed upon strong negative emotions and feelings. Fear. Anger. Sadness.” His voice lost some edge and his head turned slightly back towards you. “Pain and suffering...”

Sensing a lapse in attention, the hollowsprites spiraled downward, only to be intercepted by a bright flash of pink and a burst of fire. Archie and Zoe were hurrying onto the scene, Archie perching himself around Douxie’s shoulders.

“(Name)! Change your mind about tonight?” Archie asked, glancing back at you.

“So this is where they all went,” Zoe said, pink electricity sparking between her fingers. “Thought you were gonna have all the fun, did you, Doux?”

“Ugh, you’re welcome for finding them,” Douxie retorted. Then he grinned, his charm bracelet flickering as he clenched his fist. “Go on, Zoe. I’ve worn them down for you!”

“Yeah cause more hollowsprites showing up is wearing them down.” 

“Provoking is more like it,” Archie added. “Dramatically emoting?”

“Whose side are you on?” Douxie whined.

“Uh, sorry, Arch,” you say. “I think I was one...er, emoting.”

Archie turned in the air to face you, his white eyebrows creased. “That so? Are you alright, (Name)?” 

Douxie let his guard down even more, slightly lowering his charm bracelet and equally concerned as he looked back at you. 

“Okay not to be insensitive but can we do this later cause we’ve kinda got a situation here!” Zoe lashed the angry hollowsprites with sparks of magic. “Sit tight, (Name). Come on you two!”

“Thought you wanted all the fun, Zoe!”

“Douxie, I swear -”

Continuing their banter, Douxie, Zoe, and Archie got to work blasting and zapping and burning the hollowsprites into submission. The pain in your heart was suspended for the moment as you were fixated on the action in front of you. Several hollowsprites lunged at you, but they ended up barreling into another one of Douxie’s shields. 

“(Name), whatever negative emotions are inside of you, they want to consume them,” he said, looking back at you. “They want to use your emotions to make them stronger and corrupt you. But you can resist them. Don’t let them win!” Douxie shoved the magical shield forward with a loud grunt, the magic bursting and causing the hollowsprites to scatter furiously. 

Corruption. That was a concept that hadn’t occurred to you. But now that you thought about it, it made sense. There were plenty of times the hurt threatened to melt into bitter hatred, to the point where you considered being a nasty person yourself in retaliation. Everything was constantly being taken away from you. Everything. But...There were things within you that your family could never touch. Things no one could touch or take, not if you had any say in it. And right now...It seems you did. 

No one would steal the peace of a bookstore. The warmth of a cafe. Jamming out in a record store. The thrill of cruising on a scooter under a starlit sky. The wonder of literal magic, the kind you thought only existed in movies. A talking cat with glasses and a pair of wings. Headphones over a head of pink hair. Black clothes and golden eyes and that breathtaking smile of his.

The place where you belonged.

The friends you now cherished.

The love you had found.

The pain of understanding now what life could be. What it should have been.

You were constantly aware of the exhaustion of choosing love. Choosing to have grace. Choosing to be strong and steadfast. Choosing to be different. But as tiring as it was, you never once regretted it. And that belonged to you, too. 

The decision, your resolve, to try and be better.

You planted your feet, grounding yourself as the hollowsprites once again took aim at you. As they dove down, Douxie almost conjured another shield but you stepped firmly in front of him.

“Stay away from my emotions you freaks!” you yelled at the mass of writhing shadows. “They’re mine! My feelings are mine!” Almost immediately, the hollowsprites recoiled as if stung, screeching and squealing in confusion.

“That’s it!” Douxie said with a broad smile, summoning rings of magic to attack the creatures further. Archie flew between the rings, setting Douxie’s magic ablaze to amplify his spells. Soon blue flames were raining down like falling leaves from hollowsprites being burned alive.

“Big mistake messing with my friend!” Zoe said, engulfing herself in pink electricity. With two taps of her toes on the ground, she bolted forward, powerful streams of lightning trailing behind her and frying any hollowsprite in her path. The ravenous behavior of the creatures dissolved into frustrated disorientation, members of the shadowy cluster zipping around aimlessly.

You noticed that the hollowsprites weren’t actually dying. Rather the number of hollowsprites began to dwindle as members of the swarm shot off into the night like dark firecrackers. 

Eventually all the hollowsprites fled, an eerie silence filling the town in their wake. All three of your magical friends loosened in exhaustion, Douxie actually dropping to the ground to sit.

“None of them were destroyed,” you commented, looking up into the night where the creatures had vanished.

“Yea, well...As long as negative emotions exist, hollowsprites can’t be destroyed,” Zoe said. “Just shooed away, really.”

You frowned. “I’m sorry...”

“Don’t be,” Douxie said. “We’ve been seeing more and more of them lately anyway.”

“You see, hollowsprites are also drawn to...‘disturbances’ in the realms, so to speak,” Archie said. “We suspect something must be amiss...”

“There’s that, too, yes. But I suppose they targeted you because your emotions were so strong...” 

You locked eyes with Douxie, a moment passing between you both. His eyes were soft with concern. For some reason, looking to those eyes, you felt really vulnerable.

Zoe cleared her throat. “Erm, Archie? Why don’t we make sure the rest of the town is clear of those things?”

“Pardon...?” Archie said. “But- Oh. Oh...Y-yes! Good idea, Zoe!”

Zoe gave you a quick hug. “I’ll text you later. You better answer me! Make sure she gets home safe, Doux.” 

You felt a blush on your cheeks. They were leaving you alone with him? 

“Uh, hold on-” But Zoe and Archie were already hurrying away. You leaned back against the seat of your scooter, fumbling with your fingers and saying nothing. And suddenly extremely aware of Douxie’s presence. You actually jumped a little when he said your name.

“(Name)...Um...” Douxie scratched the back of his neck. “You don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to...But if you don’t mind me asking what happened...?”

Of course you didn’t mind. Douxie was a safe space where the monsters couldn’t reach you. Your place of respite. But even though the tears came easily then, it didn’t mean you weren’t embarrassed.

“They all forgot,” you said, your voice already thick with tears. “They forgot about the dinner I had planned to um...celebrate my dad’s promotion.” With an empty laugh, you wiped your face with your palm. “I mean, I don’t know what I was expecting. I just...”

Douxie got up off the ground, stepping closer to you. “(Name)...”

“I just wanted to do something nice for my dad. For my family. But I’m dumb and I actually thought they’d care. Mom and dad just went out to eat and my sister just stayed in her room and the food was getting cold and -”

As soon as his arms wrapped around you, you sobbed into his sweatshirt. You were vaguely aware that you were probably getting tears and snot and dribble all over your crush but you couldn’t stop crying for a solid three minutes. Douxie just held you the whole time, hand squeezing your shoulder and thumb stroking your back. 

"I’m emoting all over you...,” you whimpered, having settled down into soft sniffling and hiccups.

“Oh stop it,” Douxie said. Then he hugged you tighter. “I’m so sorry they treat you like this. You know you can always come to me...Zoe, and Archie, right? I... We’ll never sweep you aside.”

You almost came undone again. Not wanting to soak Douxie’s sweatshirt further, you moved back and pressed your forehead against his collarbone, still staying as close as you could to his warmth. To his eyes like the sun and moon, glowing with compassion, soft with understanding. To his smile that always made you smile. To his gentle hands. Those streaks of blue hair. The comforting shadow of his presence. His magic, bright and beautiful like he was. 

It terrified you.

“Yeah...” You pulled away to look up at him, still holding his arms. “Yeah, I know you won’t. I...I believe you. I’ll try....”

Douxie gazed at you for a moment before smiling softy, wiping a tear away with his finger. 

“Good,” he said. Then he smooshed your face between his hands, forcing your cheeks and lips to pucker.

“H-hey!!”

He released you, laughing. “Shall I walk you home?”

Blushing wildly and rubbing your face, you managed a smile.

“That’d be nice.”

~

~

There wasn’t any hurry. It was probably two in the morning now but would your family notice your absence? Negative.

You guided your scooter along as Douxie strolled beside you, the two of you chatting about any and everything. Douxie went off a bit talking about how he didn’t understand people who ate fondant and how much of a jerk Shakespeare was. It was the cutest thing. Then you started going on and on about how pretty the moon was tonight and how crescent moons were your favorite. For a second, Douxie might’ve been staring at you, but, no, duh, you definitely imagined it.

“Well uh...This is me.” You took one look at your front door and sighed. “Sadly.”

“Hey.” Douxie placed a hand on your arm. “Remember what I said. Anytime. A phone call, a text-”

“A raven?”

He snickered. “Especially a raven. But seriously...Just say the word.”

Under the moonlight, Douxie was otherworldly. So gorgeous your heart threatened to swell to bursting. How was it that your paths could possibly have crossed? It escaped you, and you had no hope of catching it.

“Okay,” you said softly.

“Okay,” Douxie repeated. “Goodnight, (Name).”

“Goodnight, Douxie.”

Neither of you moved.

“Ah, go on, then,” Douxie said kindly, putting his hands in his pockets. “I’ll stay until you’re inside.”

“O-oh. Okay, thanks.” You parked your scooter next to your sister’s car. Just as your hand touched the doorknob, you were overwhelmed with the urge to just tell him. Heart racing, you tried to say his name, starting to turn back around.

“Uh..Uh D-Doux-”

“(Name).”

You paused. “Y-yeah?”

Douxie smiled warmly. “I’m glad that I met you. I’m glad we’re friends.”

It was sweetness followed by a stab. 

“Me, too,” you said, meaning it with your whole aching heart. “You...” A shaky breath. “You guys mean the world to me.”

Before he could say anything else, you hurried inside, up the stairs in the dark, and into your room, not caring if you woke anyone up. You curled up on your bed, face in your forearms. 

You were happy. So, so happy. 

And so utterly crushed.

Just outside, still in front of your house, Douxie’s eyes fixated on your bedroom window. Then he turned and started back towards the town, wondering how he could ease the pain in your life and thinking about the look on your face, the glow in your eyes, as you enthused over the moonlight.

#DID I MENTION IT'S A SLOW BURN #Oblivious Doorknob Douxie #Zoe wants to punch your sister in the face #She invites you spend the night at her place all the time #Archie is the ultimate therapy cat....dragon #Douxie is soft gentle kind wizard boi #writing is HARD #but it is nice to write again #Rika writes #God bless ToA for the inspiration #For the sketch I was inspired by the way Douxie looked at Claire when she started crying ;_; #fluff #angst #insecurities #hurt/comfort #Douxie x Reader #Tales of Arcadia #ToA Wizards #toa Zoe #toa Archie #Hisirdoux Casperan #Douxie #myart #Rika tries to draw #The Green Knight's on his way #that butthole