If you’ve sent me requests for readings, I’m very sorry, but I’m putting them on hold until I sort things with my deck out. I thought I figured it out, but it doesn’t seem that way.
They say that we, Romanians, are technical geniuses. Well, not me apparently. When I was away this weekend, some scumbag hacked into this account and posted pictures of girls. I’m so sorry this happened. The only intention of this page is to spread all the wonderful things about Romania.
Just so you know: everything is safe again and the posts are deleted. Thank you for all the kind messages about this hack. You guys are great.
Rating: M (hurt no comfort ~ violence ~ mild description of injury ~ bully Bakugou ~ self hatred ~ no happy ending ~ Bakugou is not a good person in this)
A/N: I don’t know what this is. I wrote this instead of sleeping. Now it’s your problem. To those who are waiting for the next instalment of twos company threes a crowd I am sorry but this is not it. Life’s been getting me down lately and I just can’t do lovey dovey at the moment.
Things don’t go as planned but Izuku has found that they rarely do.
He’s worked hard his whole life, tried to be the best possible version of himself and look where it’s gotten him, bloody and broken and left to rot in a back ally amongst the trash. He should have known that standing up to Kacchan would have ended up like this. He had been stupid and naïve to think that if he stood his ground for once that the other boy would back down. He knew better then that. Knew that Kacchan would see it as some kind of slight against him and yet Izuku had still tried. He had wanted it all to just stop, wanted the pain to go away but instead it had just gotten worse. So much worse.
He knew he had at least a couple of broken ribs, maybe even a broken wrist from the way it was throbbing and hanging limply at his side. He could taste blood in his mouth, his left eye already swelling shut from the force of the other boys punch. His whole body hurt, a thousand bruises blooming to life across his skin like some sort of twisted watercolour of purple, blue and yellow. It all hurt but the worst one of all was the one around his throat because it didn’t hurt at all.
At some point between Kacchan throwing him against the wall and breaking the second rib Izuku had started to apologise, begging for the other boys forgiveness and for him to stop. That had been yet another mistake in a string of bad decisions, his wailing just seeming to make things worse. Kacchan had yelled for him to shut up but it was like a damn had burst and Izuku couldn’t stop, the words tumbling out of his trembling lips and tears streaming down his face. So Kacchan had shut him up himself, wrapping his hand around his throat and squeezing tightly until Izuku was gasping for breath. He had tried to pry his hands off him, panicking as Kacchan’s hold got tighter and his hand began to warm. He hadn’t listened though, hadn’t let Izuku go and dropped him to the floor like the worthless worm he was always telling Izuku he was. No, he had leaned in, snapping and snarling about how weak Izuku was, how pathetic and disgusting he was and how his very existence was a stain on humanity.
On and on he went, his words cutting into Izuku like fine blades, slicing away at him until he was nothing but a bloody and mangled mess. He just kept squeezing, Izuku barely able to suck in a breath. He had felt light headed, his vision going hazy and arms falling limply to his sides. Kacchan had said he would do him a favour, do the whole world a favour and put an end to his misery and in that moment Izuku had both feared and welcomed his death, wanting the pain to stop and fearing what came after the darkness. His breath had stuttered, vision almost gone apart from those angry and vicious eyes staring back at him. Eyes of a demon, a monster, a future hero. Izuku had enough time to fear for those who Kacchan ever went against before an all consuming pain ripped through him, chasing any other thought from his mind.
He screamed, Izuku was sure of it. How could he have not with the feeling of a hundred little explosions going off against his delicate skin, burning away his flesh and eating away at the muscle below. His ears were ringing with it, the smell of burning flesh filling his nose and making his stomach churn. It hurt, the worse pain he had ever experienced, all consuming and endless, stretching on until the end of eternity, until it was all Izuku knew. There was nothing else, just his scream ringing in his ears, a pain so bright it felt like it was burning him alive and those red eyes, bright like a blood moon and ripping into his soul.
And then everything had stopped, the world consumed in darkness and his mind blissfully empty.
When he had come to everything had still been hazy, Izuku struggling to stay conscious. There had been a voice, familiar but yet unrecognisable in the panic and fear that dripped from everyone word. There had been hands on him, shaking and petting as that voice begged for Izuku to stay with them. He tried to answer, tried to ask for help but his throat was raw and every time he tried to speak it was like he was swallowing razor blades. He couldn’t speak, couldn’t see past the spots in his vision and the unfocused image of someone running away, their retreating figure a black silhouette that disappeared into the far off light at the end of the alleyway.
Izuku had been alone then, body burning and unable to call for help or force himself to move towards the light. He stayed where he was, slumped against the dirty wall and surround by trash. Used and thrown away like a broken and useless toy. That was what Izuku was after all. Useless. Unloved. Unwanted. He wasn’t worth the air he breathed. Pathetic. Quirkless. Society didn’t want him, didn’t see any value in a quirkless runt with dreams far beyond his station. He was so stupid, completely delusional. How could he ever have hoped to be a hero, saving lives and defeating villains when he couldn’t even save himself. Kacchan had been right all along. He really was a useless Deku.
He didn’t know how long he sat there, eyes closed and body getting colder by the second. It felt like time had stopped, dragging out his suffering one sharp and jagged breath at a time. He thought of his mother as he waited for the darkness to take him once more. She had tried but even she had been unable to love him the way he needed. She hadn’t encouraged him to go for his dreams, hadn’t told Izuku that he was capable of achieving anything if he just put his mind to it but she hadn’t outright told him no either. Never once had she told Izuku to stop, to give up his foolish dream and strive for something obtainable. She had left Izuku in some kind of limbo, not encouraged but not dissuaded either.
Sometimes he wished she had put a stop to his hero worship. That she had refused to indulge his All Might obsession and pushed him to be realistic. He was quirkless after all and everyone had known that there was no miracle great enough to grant his wish and make him a hero. It would have been harsh, probably would have broken him a little but it would have been better than this. Izuku was pretty sure he was going to die here, alone and forgotten and he knew it would hurt her, that his mother would blame herself for this instead of Izuku’s blind determination. She was his mother so his death would be her failure and Izuku would never get the chance to tell her that he forgave her, that this was his fault and his alone. He really was a horrible son, to put her through this. She was going to have to bury her only son and no matter how much of a disappointment he was Izuku knew that she would grieve for years to come. Maybe even decades.
At least she wouldn’t be alone once he was gone. She had friends, Kacchan’s mother her closest one. She would look after his mother, would make sure she continued to live when he didn’t. Unless they blamed her of Izuku getting Kacchan in trouble. That was if he even got into trouble for this. Izuku was a quirkless nothing wheres Kacchan had a promising future ahead of him. Izuku’s death would probably end up marked as an accident, a quirk mishap and Kacchan would get a slap on the wrist and be free to carry on with his life, probably uncaring that he had taken a life. Doing the world a favour, that’s what he had said because Izuku’s death now meant that he wouldn’t get himself and others killed in the future when he tried to play hero and it all went wrong. Kacchan, always the hero.
If Izuku could if he would have laughed but all that came out was a scratchy cough, fresh blood trickling over his lips and his throat being ripped to shreds. Kacchan, a hero. It would have been laughable if it wasn’t going to happen. The boy was psychotic, more a villain than anyone aiming for the U.A hero course had the right to be. Kacchan was a monster. A bully with a vicious streak a mile long and an explosive attitude to rival his quirk. He had anger issues, a superiority complex and if Izuku was right an inferiority complex to. He was more likely to blow someone up than save them, yet he would be the one to become a hero.
Why? Why did people like that get the chance for greatness when Izuku was condemned to be the lowest scum of society, even blow the villains that caused so much pain and destruction? It was fair. Izuku deserved more than this. He had been a good boy, studied hard and always polite. He helped his mum out around the house and always made sure to stay out of trouble. Well, stay away from trouble that wasn’t Kacchan but the blonde was impossible to ignore considering they were in the same class. Izuku had deserved a chance to try. Had deserved to be treated better than a walking talking punching bag. He deserved more than for society to turn a blind eye to his suffering. Izuku deserved respect, to be judged by his capabilities and not by his genetics. He deserved all of that and more but now he would never get the chance to achieve anything. Now he was just another statistic about how quirkless people didn’t make it to thirty.
There was a noise in the distance, like footsteps but they seemed so far away that Izuku wasn’t sure that he hadn’t imagined them. It was probably the last slither of hope, reaching out for even the slimmest possibility that someone cared enough to help. No one cared though, never had and just because he was inching towards death didn’t change that. He’s resigned himself to this. To sitting quiet and still until he’s finally free. He should just give in already. Should let it all be over so he can start again. Maybe Kacchan will be right. Maybe in the next life he will get a quirk and finally be worth something to the society he is born into. Maybe he’s wrong. Maybe there’s nothing but but empty blackness waiting for him. An eternity of nothingness. Whatever there is waiting for him Izuku wished it would hurry up. He didn’t want to feel anymore. Didn’t want to think.
Someone is talking a deep and steady voice that strangely calming. It’s talking to Izuku, something about a waist and taking him somewhere. It must be death, come to take Izuku away. He smiles at that, tries to thank death but all that comes out is a rough and strangled noise that has him coughing up more blood. Death shush’s him, tells Izuku not to speak and save his energy for what’s to come. That strikes Izuku as odd. Surely he wouldn’t need the energy to do anything now? It takes a lot more effort that Izuku thought to pry an eye open, his eyelid heavy like it was made of lead. There’s a purple mist before him, dancing and moving like wisps of smoke in the air. Yellow slits stare back at him, empty and endless and yet full of possibilities.
Izuku’s eyes flutter closed, blessed darkness so close now and he willingly gives himself over to it, gives himself over to the vision of death before him. There are hands on him, an arm sliding under his knees and one behind his back, lifting I g him from the ground. Izuku feels weightless, cradled in deaths arms and his body limp and useless. In the distance someone calls his name, the same guilty and panic stricken voice as before but it’s to late now, death has him and as that purple mist consumed him Izuku finally feels at peace.
Uuhhh…. Wow… It’s been so long. Well, sorry guys, guess this is a update of what’s been going on. So me and Jo started high school so yeah. That’s always fun -_- and Jo has been busy he says, so he’s hardly spoken to me. It’s whatever though. He has a life unlike me. ANYWAYS. Since he can’t run the blog, I’ll be stepping in more. He deleted the old asks I answered -_- I’m seriously aggravated he did. MOVING ON. as far as readings, sorry guys, but no more please. And for PAST requests… Sorry…. As said before, Jo is never on, but I am (no life) so I’ll be mostly running the blog :3 I’ll be turning it more to the astrology type though. Don’t get me wrong, magic and Wicca is great, but personally, I’m better with astrology, so thus, begins the shift. Any questions feel free to ask ^w^ and if you can’t reach me here, my personal is @gummybear1025
to thoughts who are curious, No I have not dropped this comic, it’s just a lot of things have happen in my life, one of them is ALL of my equipment has died and I had to replace them. but FINILLY I will be posting “Lioness Defenders-vld fan comic every weekend again! and giving the first one in the middle of the week
Lotsa life events (including an impromptu cross-country move, which was a solid decision it turns out). Been super overwhelmed. I’ve missed some messages it seems, I am so SO sorry about that, I’m reading them now (SO SORRY).
