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Of Monsters and Magical Girls by VaguelyGenius for AppleNapoleon!

Monsters have started appearing all over the world, wreaking havoc and destruction. Their appearances are unpredictable and unstoppable as they drop through a portal from a shadowy realm, and conventional weaponry is useless against them. Luckily, every action has an equal and opposite reaction. Magical girls are also appearing around the globe to combat the threat, but times are getting desperate, and the magic is getting less choosy. The newest magical girl in town is no girl, but a guy, and Yugi Mutou has a whole lot of fighting ahead of him.

Tags

Characters: Mutou Yuugi, Bakura Ryou, Yami Yuugi Pairings: None Rating: T+ Other: Magical Girls, AU

Recommendation!

Although I’m not convinced this needs a recc (magical girls au - who could resist?) I’ll say that this is well-thought out, well-written, extremely enjoyable and honestly I just wanted more and more of this verse. I really hope this gets continued, or extended might be a better word because I’m a little desperate for more.

Read it here!

LINK

A little snippet from a piece I've written.

Mental: Part 1

-MENTAL: PART 1- In the dim light of a trembling heart, where whispers cling like shadows, haunting me louder than laughter, I tread the twisted corridors of my mind— a fractured mosaic of misfits, stitched together by the restless threads of insomnia and doubt. Each heartbeat echoes, a relentless reminder of unvoiced truths sprawled across the silence, like confetti scattered in the wind, only to be drowned by the biting critiques, their barbs cutting deeper than wounds, inflicted by cruelty’s hand.

In crowded spaces, voices twist into mumbles, a cruel symphony, suffocated beneath the tide of my own isolation. Oh, how I crave clarity in a world shrouded in fog and uncertainty; my body, a fragile fortress, betrays me, sensitive to the world’s offerings, a parade of foods I must forgo, colors that elude my grasp, while the weight of iron deficiency sinks into my skin, fragile as the rain-soaked paper.

Celiac stalks through my veins, an uninvited ghost dragging a tapestry of sorrow, my dreams served cold and untouched. Each meal is a battleground, forged from the web of allergens, a gamble with my very essence. Tormenting faces follow me— soured laughter, mocking glances, their jeers weaving through my psyche like a haunting melody of defeat, reminders of their power over my skin, of battles raged unseen.

The screen glows with their venom, a litany of malice, tainting trust, ghosts of relationships mutated by cruelty, their whispers trap me in a hall of mirrors, each reflection heavy with despair, each click a knife that pierces my heart.

I write to shatter the silence, to weave the threads of my fragmented self into a vivid tapestry— an anthem of survival, a battle cry against the noise. This is not merely my story; it is a flicker of countless unspoken battles, an ode to the strength buried deep within, a reminder that amidst the chaos, we are the architects of our quiet rebellion, stitching together a symphony of resilience, crafting beauty from the noise of existence. -A.K

Compiling all my poetry, working on a book.

This could be my second book, hopefully within a few years, it'll be completed as a first draft.

I probably shouldn't write when I'm baked.

-Puff- On Wednesdays, we come together, unapologetically embracing our choices At 31, I still find comfort in THC as I navigate through PTSD The therapist's office is my sanctuary, a space for honesty and healing If my vibe doesn't resonate with you, I understand I have no time for judgment from those who haven't experienced my struggles Puff-puff, watch the smoke rise Life isn't a punchline, and I negate stigmatization for seeking solace Depression and ADHD are my daily battles, but this plant gently mends my soul, piece by piece From emptiness to warmth, I've found resilience In the haze, I've discovered my inner strength I don't seek condemnation from those who don't understand I've made peace with my demons, and now I'm growing Just as I haven't walked in your shoes, I know you haven't walked in mine Let's embrace our differences and support each other without judgment -A.K

I had smoked two joints, and then I wrote that.

picture in her locket.

“and there is this picture in her locket

it reminds me of you

and she wears it close

just like how i used to do

and i used to long for your rusty eyes

i hope she does too

and when my character dies

i pray the news reaches you

and when my ashes are found

i wish you know that the fire were you.”

hey, everyone. i hope you're doing well. okay, so let’s talk about this piece. this is probably the longest piece i have ever written. even though it’s really simple, i just thought that i would give you a little backstory for it.

this, as you can see, is a story that revolves around three people. i like to call them;

cedar coral (the male character), rosary hemlock (the female character) and ivy nightshade (the other female character and also the narrator. and um, i also like to think that i am ivy).

anyways, rosary cleaves a locket that posses something that ivy thinks should be hers. even though, she has lost all rights to it, and she knows that it’s off-limits.

cedar, on the other hand is now madly in love with rosary. he has moved on into this beautiful relationship with this beautiful girl, that he knows is the one.

ivy, she hasn’t moved on. though she portrays that image, but she’s stuck. still stuck in the waves of memories that never seem to hit the shore.

she can’t help, but to bring his name up in every conversation. she can’t just let him go. as if it’s imprinted on her soul, her heart, her mind, her body and everything cedar ever managed to touch.

though she blames him for everything. the heartaches, the shattered glass vase on the floor that screams anger and agony and all the tears that came along when they both parted ways, but she still longs for him. she still wants him back.

she keeps on forgetting the reason why cedar left. the reason why he had to leave. she believes that she’s harmless, but then again she’s ivy.

all in all, ivy’s a toxic bitch. pray for cedar and rosary.

dead roots of dead wood.

“and if you must walk the other way

i envy the soul standing at the end of the path you choose to take

but if one’s beloved desires not to stay

then there’s no other heart that can break this way.”

hey, everyone. i hope you’re doing well. this is the next, other, or you can say maybe the last part of my previous post. i don’t know why i delayed it so much, because i wrote this part right after i wrote the first one. probably because i was thinking about leaving it to just that (the previous part).

for those of you who haven’t read the previous one, here’s some information about the dramatis personae of this play that i created inside my head.

cedar coral (the male character), rosary hemlock (the female character) and ivy nightshade (the other female character and also the narrator. and um, i also like to think that i am ivy).

acceptance. it’s a brutal thing. maybe not for others, but for ivy it is.

gone. cedar is gone. he has left. he has left and left pieces of himself in the form of burning memories. ivy stares. she stares at the door.

‘what if the door knocks— what if the door knocks, and it’s him?’

‘should i sit near the telephone table? i probably should.’

‘should i wait by the door? or maybe— maybe in the front lawn?’ thoughts are poison. they truly are. even more when they are far away from reality.

rosary hemlock. she is indeed the soul standing at the end of the path cedar chose to take. she’s everything ivy could never be, and it’s not about being beautiful, it’s about how she is the one whom he chose.

rosary isn’t a responsibility just like how ivy was. a child. ivy acted like a child waiting by the door every day when the clock hits two, waiting for cedar to come home, so she could welcome him.

ivy tried so hard. to be perfect, to be presentable, to be accepted, to be welcomed and to be his. but now that he’s gone, and she knows that it’s not her, it will never be her-she accepts this twist of fate.

ivy patches up her heart with the plaster of acceptance, but she still waits by the door and the shattered vase on the floor still screams anger and agony just like it did on the day they tied the knot.

set: meredith, nh.

hand to hold.

“hold my hand, will you?” “always.”

land of trust.

hey. i wrote this under fifteen minutes, so i genuinely understand if this doesn’t make any sense.

there’s a small reference to a greek god here. dolos. sometimes also referred to as dolus. in greek mythology, dolos is the spirit of trickery. he is also a master at cunning deception, craftiness, and treachery. dolos is an apprentice of the titan prometheus and a companion of the pseudea. his female counterpart is apate, who is the goddess of fraud and deception. his roman equivalent is mendacius. there are even some stories of dolos tricking gods into lies.

using the terminology “dolos’ follower” is basically trying to give benefit of the doubt. in order to hide someone’s dirty work by blaming it on something else or saying that it was done under someone’s pressure.

judas. judas iscariot, his name, is often used synonymously with betrayal or treason. according to all four canonical gospels, judas betrayed jesus to the sanhedrin in the garden of gethsemane by addressing him as "rabbi" to reveal his identity in the darkness to the crowd who had come to arrest him.

i don’t know how i feel about this little “part” of me that is always ready to forgive betrayal. it’s that part that would happily walk on a new path whilst leaving the worst behind, just because it (that part) is either deeply in love with that source of betrayal or because the hurt is too much to get a sensible reaction. it leaves you numb, in the puddle of agony, that drowns you until you can’t think straight.

“i hope you bury me before i bury you.” is simply my way of saying i hope you completely demolish all the pillars of faith you built in this land of trust because if i get to support myself on any of them, i will come back and build another home to all our false memories. so, it’s better if you ruin every last thing, before i decide to get back up and fight a war that i clearly have no interest in wining. “before i bury you-” to me means digging my grave.

you can’t save me.

rheum is delusional and a hopeless romantic, but then again, who isn’t?

we finally have a happy ending in this house, and it’s from rheum’s point of view.

so, this is before the crash. rheum explains how ivy and him weren’t perfect at all, but then he thinks about their past relationships where both of them thought that it was a match made in heaven, but somehow those matches made in heaven brought them hell. so, he decides to ignore all the warning signs and just be there.

this piece shows a little glimpse of people resenting the idea of ivy in rheum’s life. they tell him, he still has time to turn his back and forget everything, but he still decides to stay.

but then he also says that he understands why his friends are so worried about his decision. he relates ivy’s past to crystal cove. self-proclaimed “most haunted place on earth”.

now, i ALSO can’t believe i did that, but this is not the first time i have done something stupid. crystal cove, a reference from scooby doo.

the allegedly “cursed” town's long history of strange disappearances and ghost and monster sightings form the basis for its thriving tourist industry (in other words, how someone’s misery attracts a good amount of audience).

basically, crystal cove is said to be haunted and there’s always something going on there, but rheum is referring to the aftermath. all the tales of how the city is always betrayed and fooled by the ones they know. it’s always someone they think they know well, and they end up betraying them, scaring them, fooling them and of course hurting them.

then, ivy refers to herself as a mad town, confirming all the rumours about herself. in other words, pushing rheum away from her miserable life, telling him that she doesn’t need saving because there’s not much left to save anyways.

and despite all that rheum still decides to stay because if one can know the art of leaving then the other can definitely know the art of staying.

i would leave me too if i could.

saturn, my love.

just a filler post. 2021 can’t be more crazier so here’s something that i wrote about my love for saturn [clown emoji]

i think i lost myself.

“i have loved you like i wish somebody had loved me. do you know how hard it is to give something you don’t have?”

catching my death.

“does blood seep through your garden as dew?”

theatre screens and film reels.

“we are not a folktale stuck on a film reel.”

in the arms of death, so easily.

“and i am always on the run, looking for a new hunt or to be hunted down.”

fatima aamer bilal, from in the arms of death, so easily.

did i shatter your heart?

sending you two things that will never be able to heal you. a band-aid and my empty words.

she’s a heartbreak.

“honey, would you bleed for me?”

“it’s the kind of ache that leaves, but it lingers.” (from silent crash)

eclipsed apocalypse.

“my soul ghosts my anatomy.”

fatima aamer bilal, arrangement for eclipsed apocalypse.

all that is damaging.

fatima aamer bilal, excerpt moony moonless sky’s from all that is damaging.

[“it's damaging, the look on your face when you say it's just a phase. / although i doubt it.”]