Your gateway to endless inspiration
Not sure if you write ships or if you're still active, but here's an angsty TogaChako idea: Toga performing CPR on Ochako to restart her heart
YES I LOVE THIS!! ahhh togachako how i miss you, how i love you
i hope i executed it how you wanted <3 this got away from me a little bit, it might just be rambling AHH
cw blood, sad stuff (it’s tgck ofc), cpr grief and major character death
•••
Wake up.
Please wake up.
All Himiko Toga had ever wanted was a world in which she was accepted and loved, a world where she wasn’t hated and feared.
For as long as she could remember her parents would say that she was born cursed, in-human, but really Himiko was born so full of love that it hurt. It ached deep within her bones, coursed through her veins, pulsed in her teeth.
When she saw something that she loved, she wanted to hold it, to feel it, to be it so badly. She wanted to sink her teeth into it, drink its beautiful blood and be one with it. Because that’s what love meant to Himiko Toga.
But that’s not what love meant to society. That’s not what was ‘normal’ for them. So she was cast aside. Painted as a disgusting monster, a freak, a sub-human vampiric psychopath.
When she joined the League of Villains, she finally felt like she was somewhere she belonged, with people that accepted her. But one by one the people that she held most dear to her heart disappeared: murdered, slaughtered, taken from her.
So many losses change a person, a young girl at that. Big sis Magne was gone. Twice- Jin. Gone. Kurogiri, Compress, Spinner. She had no idea where they were, if they were alive or not.
Tomura wasn’t the same, he wasn’t the person who told her to live how she wanted to. Touya was burning up, his seemingly so strong life force that helped her keep going, fading into ashes as she watched from afar.
Her fight with Ochako had been so painful, physically and emotionally. But… In all of her life she had never felt so.. Loved. Ochako didn’t say it directly, but as she screamed Himikos name into the cold air, telling her that she was envious of beautiful smile, as she held Himiko in her arms and whispered, words only meant for her to hear. As she promised to give her as much blood as she needed, as she called her the cutest girl in the whole world.
She felt it. Love, reciprocated.
Himiko wanted a society that accepted her. She fought so hard for that world, a world where her love wasn’t returned with hatred. But somewhere along the way she began to hate back. Her intentions, once filled with love, became a desire to destroy.
But Ochako broke through that. Ochako touched that sadness, that pain and hatred inside of her heart, and when she did it was like it all floated away. She felt light. She felt loved.
But now, because of her, because she fought so hard to talk to Himiko, Ochako was dying. Himiko knew that if Ochako lived, she would have to put Himiko in jail for her crimes. Because that’s who she was. But Himiko couldn’t let that happen. Even so, right now, all she really wanted was for Ochako to live.
A world without Ochako was an unbearable thought.
But she could do something about it. The decision was so quick, she didn’t mull it over for even a second before she began to drag her syringes over to Ochakos heaving body.
But. When she got there, Ochako was still. Himiko dropped to her knees, hands running over Ochakos soft, blood-covered face, down to the deep gash in her side.
No. Not like this.
A world without Ochako? No. That can’t happen.
I wont let it.
With tears rolling down her cheeks, Himiko placed her hand over Ochakos bloodied chest, over her still heart. And she pressed down. Up, down.
Wake up.
Wake up, Ochako-chan.
Please.
I can’t let you die.
I won’t.
Himiko didn’t know all that much about CPR, never thinking she’d need to revive anybody. But even with limited knowledge and shaky hands she pumped Ochako’s heart for her, as if her body just knew what to do.
Maybe if i’d felt the love Ochako showed me sooner, I would’ve longed to give my own blood to other instead of just taking theirs.
Maybe in another life, me and Ochako-chan met as kids.
Maybe in another life I could’ve worked to save lives instead of take and ruin them.
Maybe in another life I could’ve been a Hero and not a Villain.
A screamed ripped itself from her throat and she began to pound of Ochakos so still, too still chest. Her thoughts became spoken words, screams into the cold battlefield.
Wake up.
Please wake up.
A beat. And then another. A flutter of eyelashes, a whisper of breath. Himiko moved before she could think, drinking Ochakos blood from her hands, placing the syringe from her arm to the arm of her beloved.
As the pain of overusing her quirk shot through her, Himiko let her blood, a copy of Ochako’s own flow into the weak girl, warming her cold insides. She was barely conscious, but she was alive. Himiko sobbed in relief, even as she began to feel her own heartbeat weaken, her body becoming achy and cold.
Curling up next the girl she loved, her face buried in her neck, their shared blood connecting them, their bodies intertwined, Himiko smiled.
Here, right here with Ochako, Himiko felt completly normal. She was helping the one she loved. The one who had accepted her, held her and called her smile beautiful.
Himiko died happy and loved. Ochako lived because of her sacrifice.
All Himiko Toga wanted was a world in which she felt accepted and loved. In her short lifetime, she fought so hard for that, in the only way she knew how. When Ochako woke up without Himiko by her side, all consuming grief covered her, like a dark, smothering blanket. But that wasn’t what Himiko sacrificed her life for.
Ochako would always carry that grief, that sorrow and pain with her. But with that hurt, combined with the pure and true love she had for that beautiful girl, she moved forwards, with the sole goal of making the world a better, easier place to live in for other people like her Himiko.
I am filled with so much jealousy for other’s art, I am unable to enjoy my own.
Art is not my friend right now.
I can’t come up with anything new. I miss the days where this wasn’t a chore. We aren’t friends right now because I want my art to be something it is not.
Art is not my friend right now. I can’t make my hands create what is in my head.
Art is not my friend right now.
But all I want is for our friendship to return. It may be selfish, I want her to bring me joy. She might be the only one that can. I want to bring her to life, so we can walk hand in hand amongst creation.
Art will be my friend again soon.
Now I lie in my bed
my window is open wide
I don’t have to be outside to feel the cool breeze
I can hear so much
The wind
The birds
My dog’s breath
My pen on paper
Leaves rustling
Cars rushing by
My brother’s laughter
And the tapping of my own fingers
The sky is turning purple
With the purple comes comes a cloud of calm
And a gust of joy
I want it to stay this way
(Perfect temperature, perfect sounds, perfect peace)
Forever.
The air smelled sweet, of growing green
And flowers bloomed, their beauty serene
Birds chirped, as if on cue
As we dived into waters blue
The water ran with ease and grace,
A world so still and full of place.
As we grew up, we came of age,
Our path ahead, a turning page.
Our hearts would race with each new thought,
The tides of life we'd brave and sought.
And as we witnessed the river flow,
We found ourselves with more to know.
Through twists and turns, our stories formed,
A tale of love and life adorned.
As dreams took shape and hearts were won,
The summer's light had just begun.
On that river's edge, we found our way,
Our lives transformed with each new day.
And though we'd soon be far apart,
The memories etched within our heart.
Our summer days, we'll treasure long,
For in its embrace, we grew strong,
And as we bid farewell to our youth,
We'll always know, our bond is the truth.
Envy consumes like a starving fire, Devouring all that's in its ire, Ripping apart what's not its own, Gnashing teeth, breaking bone.
Claws reach out to grab and shred, Leaving nothing but crimson red, Territorial in its gruesome feast, Not a scrap left for even the beast.
Digesting every ounce of worth, Leaving only an empty dearth, Jealousy spares no part or limb, Tearing apart even the strongest vim.
A monster within, hungry and vile, Feasting on envy, keeping it on trial, Until it has destroyed all in its path, Leaving just a carcass, in aftermath.
In halls of wonder, vast and bright,
Where colors swirl and dance in light,
Where walls stretch high and ceilings soar,
And stories whisper through each door.
Each brush stroke whispers of a tale,
As if the canvas begins to exhale,
A hint of passion, a shred of pain,
The artist's soul within each frame.
From abstract splashes to portraits grand,
The beauty of the world at hand,
In every brush stroke, every hue,
A story painted just for you.
With every step, with every breath,
A masterpiece in every depth,
A world of wonder, there to see,
In each exhibited symphony.
So come and wander, lose yourself,
In halls of magic, in halls of health,
For the joy of art is always here,
In every image, every cheer.
I feel like a whore.
Used and disgusting.
Why did I say yes?
I thought it would make me feel better about myself.
It didn’t.
Why didn’t it?
Why?
I've betrayed God.
And for what?
Some girl I barely know?
(I've known her my whole life.)
She doesn't love me.
I don’t love myself.
I am afraid of so much.
Of getting older.
Of change.
Of moving on.
Of sleep.
Of school.
Of never finding love.
Of routine.
Of the fact that my friends probably don’t love me.
Of failure.
Of loss.
Of me.
My collection of fears has grown so large, that my brain has become a museum for them.
Stuffed to the brim.
But new fears continue to be added to my collection everyday.
I wonder to myself, in a whisper of thought, “Will I have enough space?”
Or will my brain overflow and explode.
That is my greatest fear.
Explosion.
I feel like I am totally invisible. At home and everywhere else. Like I could say something completely earth shattering, and nobody would even acknowledge me.
I feel like everything I do is taken out of context, like I could be with someone who said something wrong, and it would be my fault.
I feel like I will never be right. I can’t trust my own thoughts, so why should I expect others to?
I feel like I can’t share myself fully with anyone because I know that they would leave so fast.
I want to get better, and I am putting so much fucking effort into it. Into being, looking, feeling, smiling, crying better. But it isn't working. At what point is it no longer worth even trying?
I am so glad you are back
That you weren't gone for too long.
But I know it hurts.
The decision you made was hard, and I feel as though I don’t deserve it.
I don’t deserve to be the reason you chose to be happy.
The reason you chose to leave her.
It feels nice, I suppose.
Like coming home.
Like wrapping myself in an old quilt.
But it also feels like exactly what it is.
Coming back to an old friend.
Tears, my greatest acquaintance
Left to dry on my balcony
I hope they mix with the guilt spilled on the railing
And that my tears find solace in the stress that stains the windows
And mingle with the blood crusted on the stairs
So that maybe, in some way,
Some part of me is joined with something.
Even if it is another part of my own self.
You see, the thing is, some people can just open up.
They can just crack their hearts open.
Spill out the truth.
I can’t.
I won't.
Because if I did, everyone would think I was insane.
Everyone would see me for what I really am.
A mess.
An unlovable mess.
Used and disgusting
Fat and fake.
Mean.
Crazy.
Damaged goods.
That's who I am.
Not some put-together girl who has a few issues.
Not someone who knows how to help.
I can’t help.
But I can make it worse.
So much worse.
It would be so much worse if I opened up.
Trust me.
Sorry.
I don’t mean to bother you.
I really don't.
I don’t mean to take up this much space.
I’m trying to be better.
I swear.
Sorry.
You say I apologize too much.
I wish I could apologize for that.
I just have become so close with guilt.
He sits on my shoulder every afternoon when I get home.
He whispers in my ear.
“You should be sorry”
He’s right, you know.
Because Guilt sometimes lets me call him by another name.
A nickname if you will.
(we are that close)
He tells me to call him Truth.
He’s right here if you want me to talk to him.
Sorry.
What do I have to do?
Paper thin and delicate
(So far from me)
Thin little lines, not the ugly kind
Bones of glass
Skin like water
Hands that fit into another hand properly
Canyon gap between legs
Face soft and structured
(not me)
Starve?
Pray?
Dried mascara stains
Little marks on my legs, arms, and shoulders.
Numbers on the scale.
Numbers on my plate.
Tears in my eyes
Lists
So many lists
Things to do
Things to write
Words to say
Words that will never be spoken
People to talk to.
People to avoid.
Breathe in
Breathe out
Hold it in.
Suck it in.
Suck it up.
Walking on eggshells
It’s all so dirty.
Clothes on the floor.
Papers on my wall.
God can’t be found here.
Scrubbing my skin until I am raw all over
Ice cold showers.
Grades are dropping.
They are all leaving.
I can’t breathe.
I can’t do it.
Is this who I have become?
Sometimes, when I feel the way I do, I like to think about the little things.
The little things that make life worth living.
(at least for a while)
Like the way blushes grow on human cheeks.
Little things like the sound that can be only heard when rain and laughter marry.
Like lighting a candle while you start a new book.
The perfect little notification you waited all day for.
The way making someone else laugh sits on your chest for a while.
The way blades of grass fit neatly between your toes
The completion of a simple task.
The sound a dog’s collar makes as it walks.
(it's the little things)
It's the tiniest of things too.
The three-feet-distance between the desks of two friends.
That one freckles that girl you barely speak to anymore, but still makes you laugh.
The glitter in someone’s eye that just never leaves.
The smallest possible paper crane that you made in class last Tuesday.
(it's the little things)
It's also the big things.
Like the first kiss you had that really mattered.
Like the letter you never thought you’d get.
Knowing that she’s okay, even if you aren’t. Not anymore.
It’s the realization that you understand. Even though it's a bit too late
But most of all it's the little things.
If I am being truly honest with myself,
When I think realistically about my future,
I know in my heart I will be alone.
It’s not that love isn't something I yearn for.
I do. I really do.
There is this fire in my heart that wants to be put out.
But I know it will always burn.
It’s not that I am incapable of loving.
At least I hope not.
It’s just that I can’t really see why anyone would want to deal with loing me.
From what I know,
Which isn't much,
Is that love is supposed to be through thick and thin.
Love is supposed to be filled with little moments,
Like thinking of them while you fall asleep,
Like getting to know every little thing about them.
Love is supposed to be like coming home in their arms.
And while I feel like I could feel all of those things for someone else,
I know nobody would feel it for me.
Who would want to?
They want to love someone interesting.
Someone happy.
Someone smart.
Someone real.
I’m none of those things.
No matter how hard I try.
I hope one day I will get the hang of it.
Being lovable.
But I suppose for now, all that is, is a silly, childish dream.
Why?
Why would you suck the color out of life?
Who ever saw a sunset as dull as this?
What cause did you have for stealing the pigment of humanity, if not to hoard it?
What is gained by poisoning a love so true?
Is Godliness not salvation?
When I close my eyes to look for sleep’s touch, I think of you.
I think of how our fingertips brushed
How much it meant to me, how little it meant to you.
I hear your breath laughing in my ear at some joke I didn’t say,
but I wish I did.
I remember all of the time we spend together,
even if you don’t.
I can still see all of the little notes you left on my desk
which I wish I kept not just in my heart, but in my hand as well.
It is all so comforting, as I drift away.
Just to know you are in my life.
Even if you are not mine.
For every set of hands joined together, i lose a thread in the sweater of my soul
I wish it was me.
I don't want to wait.
Though it seems selfish
I just want to be seen.
To be held.
To be loved.
Selfish.
She held you didn’t she?
Why can’t I?
I know why.
I have let myself go.
Every breath puts me farther away.
I want what everyone else seems to have.
Is that so selfish?
To want what is guaranteed for so many?
I think so.
Every single test
Every Single quiz
Every single report card
I didn’t do it for me
I did it for you
I did it because it was all you ever talked about
It was all you ever valued
It's all you ever saw in anyone else
I thought that if the numbers were high enough
I thought that if I got close enough to four point oh
You would love me
You would see me
You would finally hold me
But you did not
You don't
And you never will
It was all for nothing.
I have wasted it all
And now i am gone
Fog rolls out of my heart
I know it is making you cold
you shouldn’t stay
I have made you hard
I have made you cold
You shouldn't have to suffer because i do
You don't deserve it
The mist that spills from my nose and mouth is poison
It probably will kill you
Don’t try to stay
I won’t be able to live if you go first
Is that wrong to think about?
I guess i’m guilty of that as well
Its my fault
I should have known
I should have known
I should have
After all this time, I am still stuck.
I am still listening to your stupid playlist
with your stupid songs
that only remind me of how stupid i was.
I can’t really remember why I used to think that caring for you was smart.
Was it because you were?
You answered every question,
but you couldn't describe why you wanted me.
Because you never did.
Tuesday, December 6, 2022 2:17pm
Horoscope
You don’t believe in horoscopes
but mine tells me to love you
I read my horoscope and I love you
These are things that I do
My horoscope reminds me
I can have a short fuse
and so do you
Except you don’t say that to me
we just both read it
in the things I do
It seems as though you still love me
I try to be better
but you never asked me to
You don’t believe in horoscopes
but I believe in you