Love.
They say it can make you stronger. They say it is beautiful. They say it changes you—for better or for worse.
Isn’t love a beautiful thing?
—It would’ve been nice if that was all it was.
But it’s not. At least, not always.
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@emilacie
Love.
They say it can make you stronger. They say it is beautiful. They say it changes you—for better or for worse.
Isn’t love a beautiful thing?
—It would’ve been nice if that was all it was.
But it’s not. At least, not always.
pov: it's two am, you're halfway done with your gift fic, but then plot bunnies strike you like a particularly vicious mirko with a villain
Your dreams are filled with things that you don’t know. (They are filled with things that you have forgotten.)
A smiling girl, and a downcast boy. Their shadows stretch farther than the eye can see. They walk towards the sunset, their footsteps trailing red. (Only one of them will come back.)
Scattered on the floor are papers inked red, filled with familiar handwriting and blurry sketches, torn pages from someone’s diary. Picking them up, a sinking weight of dread forms in your stomach. (This is the beginning of despair.)
A child crosses the street. Someone follows after. Steel bars fall. A truck screeches to a halt. (There is nobody there.) A black cat from nowhere jumps into your arms. Red steadily trickles out. (There is no body here.)
The steady, halting beeping evens out. The highs and lows turn flat. The boy enters the stage. (He dies right on time). She runs and runs and runs, but she is going nowhere. There is nothing behind her, nothing chasing her. (Red stares her in the eyes.)
There’s a boy with scars and bruises everywhere. His house is empty and silent. There is red everywhere. They find him hugging the air. (His mother isn’t there anymore.)
The red reaches for them, and the monster devours them whole.
You wake screaming, tears running down your face and an inexplicable feeling of loss festering in your chest.
It isn’t enough. Her power—Mother’s power—isn’t strong enough.
Todoroki Shouto hates to admit it, but he—is just not strong enough.
It’s not that he’s weak. He is not weak. He’s not.
It’s just that there’s someone right there who’s far stronger than he is, simple as that.
Yet, it’s hardly ever so simple like that.
Midoriya with his All Might-like strength makes the gap between them so, so vast.
How can he ever surpass that? He can’t even bridge it.
It’s like Endeavor and Number Two all over again.
(Shouto refuses to acknowledge being comparable to him.)
In order for something to be born, something of equal value must be destroyed. Whether that is a parent or a world.
So the story goes.
Whatever the case, whatever is made—it can only be a tragedy. Whether that is a story, a life, or even a world—it is nothing if not a tragedy.
Not knowing what it was like to love, yet at the same time wanting to be loved. That was Hoshino Ai, once upon a time.
But then she became Ai, B-Komachiʼs Ai, the favorite star, the beloved idol. She was loved, so very loved, by so many people. But still itʼs hard for Hoshino Ai to love.
And then she met him. He didnʼt want to love or be loved. That didnʼt stop him from being loved. He hated it, hated being loved, that he hated to love too. Or so she thought.
She didnʼt really know, what it was like to love or be loved. But she wanted to learn. That boy didnʼt like love, but for some reason he decided to teach her how to love, how to love someone.
That was how Hoshino Ai learned the shape of love.
Still, for all the good that did her, she still didnʼt know what it was like to love, to really love, someone, until it was too late.
Ai, Ai, Hoshino Ai. B-Komachiʼs Ai.
When she decided to break it, break them, Hoshino Ai had known the shape of love. But she did not know what sort of thing would be made from the pieces of it.
By the time she did, it had penetrated deep inside her. Such a thing would have filled her up, before. Now all it did was tear her open and bleed her dry.
Even then, even when she knew what it was like to love, Hoshino Ai at her end couldnʼt say those words at the very end to the one person she wanted to show it to.
(Even at the very end, Hoshino Ai couldnʼt help but be loved.)
Even as she said the words to the two other people she found she wanted to say it to, it ended up being just the same as before.
(Even when she wanted to love and be loved, the only thing she could do was leave. Like mother, like daughter, a certain cruel fate might have loved to say.)
(It hurt her to love and be loved, just as much as she hurt to love and be loved.)
(Unable to love or be loved, that was Hoshino Ai once upon a time.)
and yet (i come back to you)
evillious chronicles short ft. eve & mikulia connected to this belated addition to heartbreak valentine's
.
From the beginning, she was always just a shell. A vessel for her to dwell in, just like every girl who came before her. They—were a part of her. Of Eve.
And yet.
Mikulia was different. She was...something born from Eve, but she wasn’t Eve.
That was why it was easy for Eve to leave.
And yet.
Somehow Eve is drawn to her. Her vessel, her shell. Her...dregs.
It’s the tugging in her heart that calls her back to the girl.
But she’s a doll. She shouldn’t have a heart, not anymore.
And yet.
She finds her lying in a pool of her own blood.
There’s a babe in her hands, wailing, crying. It looks like a fruit, a red, red fruit.
And Eve thinks back to her own two fruits. To the bear from whom she stole those fruits.
Mikulia Greeonio is a girl made from her soul, a shell made wearing her face.
And yet.
All Eve can see is her, that wretched beast that took everything from her.
It shouldn’t be, it couldn’t be.
And yet.
It is all she can see.
And yet.
Her clockwork heart stutters, it whines as if it aches.
She is a demon, a capricious thing that feels nothing for human suffering.
And yet.
She feels like the girl she used to be once upon a time.
Just a girl, not quite a witch, living in that quiet village she called home.
And yet.
Her home is gone. Not a trace is left of the place that she loved.
And yet.
She’s still here, last of her kin.
And yet.
This dying girl is not a stranger. She is kin.
And yet.
Mikulia was born from Eve.
She is Eve’s. Eve can be she.
Mikulia will die with Eve.
single, happy, but still feeling angsty here, i kinda want me some heartbreak for valentine's but i swear i'm fine...
[Shin XX Hiyo] without you
Another summer's come and gone, but still they're here.
bad end, grave, “waiting, lonely”
single, happy, but still feeling angsty here, i kinda want me some heartbreak for valentine's but i swear i'm fine...
[SetoMarry] after everything
For Marry, Kousuke can wait forever. (Marry doesn’t want to wake from this dream.)
platonic, time, post-canon, comfort, “wait, wake”
single, happy, but still feeling angsty here, i kinda want me some heartbreak for valentine's but i swear i'm fine...
[HibiHiyo] moon is beautiful
Hibiya tries his luck, again. Also, Momo is terrible at keeping secrets.
so supposedly this was just the kids, but momo is intrusive and gossipy and kanoshin is just there in the bg so~
children, sweet, fluff, rejection, just kids being kids, find this on AO3
single, happy, but still feeling angsty here, i kinda want me some heartbreak for valentine's but i swear i'm fine...
[KanoShin] night time memory
Shintarou really, really hates the 14th. (Shuuya needs to stop.)
two years of haunting, two-part story (haunting you; delusionary me), find this on AO3
single, happy, but still feeling angsty here, i kinda want me some heartbreak for valentine's but i swear i'm fine...
[AyaShin] lost time valentine
183 days after he confesses, Ayano takes her leap. 183 days after her confession, Shintarou took a leap.
post-canon, half a year (183 days)(twice! before and after), unrequited love, foot in mouth, two-part story (and so the sun sets; hazy shapes), find this on AO3
single, happy, but still feeling angsty here, i kinda want me some heartbreak for valentine's but i swear i'm fine...
Remember when she told you she loved you.
She was dead long before she told you she loved you.
And yet your memories of her are real, they are as real as can be.
Who was it, then, that told you they loved you?
Inner Child
Silent, mild
Stay within your cage
Bury all your rage
four drabbles, all inspired by the art, the poem, and dedicated to the inner children of everyone living in this world right now.
inner child
You can hear crying out there, in here.
It’s faint. A wheezing, dying sound. As if it were being strangled. Or muffled. You do not know which is worse.
You find it huddled in a cage. It is open. That provides it no comfort still. But maybe it’s the thought.
It curls into itself. It makes itself seem small. Insignificant.
Covered in blood, it cries, soft and quiet. You might not have heard it if it was not such a silent night.
It is an ugly thing. You might have killed it yourself, once upon a time.
Weak, you think.
silent, mild
It stares at you, eyes open wide.
There is wonder in those eyes—childlike, innocent, untainted and pure. You wish it would stay forever that way.
Everything fades with time.
They may shine with awe today, and they will certainly flicker with awe tomorrow.
But it will not be the awe you wish were there.
It will be the awe of terror, of fear, of disgust and horror. It will be a disbelieving awe twisted to be a shadow of what once was there.
Now those wondering eyes can’t believe what they see.
Soon those eyes won’t want to see.
stay within your cage
You were safe, inside.
You could not be hurt, you could not be touched. You did not have to see what is there outside in this terrible, terrible world.
It was beautiful, once.
Now it is not.
It is gone, all the beautiful things of the world. They have taken it, destroyed it.
All that remains is the memory you hold in your heart.
Let it not be sullied by the filth of the world.
So stay. Stay where you can still remain the same.
Stay unknown, do not try to know.
Stay inside your cage.
Please, stay. Don’t leave.
bury all your rage
It is hot. It is cold.
It has an all-consuming hold.
You look at the world and you wonder, you ask, why?
There is no answer. There will be no answer that can satisfy you.
You’ve heard it all.
There is no more peace in the world.
You loved this world, once upon a time.
Now you look at it and wonder, where has the world you loved gone?
It is gone.
This world is angry, and their rage is all-consuming.
Don’t let it swallow you.
Swallow your rage. Bury it deep inside.
Look inside, and find your inner child.
thus I read, read and read again.
little extended drabble inspired by kdj, od, and @vacationtown
There is food on the table.
An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works
Chapters: 2/7 Fandom: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling Rating: Teen And Up Audiences Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Characters: Harry Potter, Ron Weasley, Quirinus Quirrell, Albus Dumbledore, Cedric Diggory, Minerva McGonagall, Arthur Weasley, Moaning Myrtle, Severus Snape, Irma Pince, Hermione Granger, Other Character Tags to Be Added Additional Tags: Seer Harry Potter, Sleepwalking, Canon Compliant, besides the obvious, and only until fourth year, Prompt Fic, Reddit Prompt, Snippets, NOT!, character tags limited to snippet centers, Out of Character, understand that these kids are growing, of course they change, adults are just stressed out around him, Song: Stressed Out (Twenty One Pilots), also the song prompt i forgot, Song: Monsters (All Time Low) Summary:
She meets him in the dead of night.
He’s a ghost in a shell, waiting, waiting. Who is he waiting for? She doesn’t know.
Whispers humming low, she thinks she sees glimpses of a bloodied ring and a blade reflecting the moon in red. It’s horribly familiar, though she can’t place just where she’s seen it from.
She looks into those eyes so green, and she sees. She hears his voice, echoing, ringing in her mind:
“Beautiful, lovely, wise. Wit beyond measure. Her mother is everything she wants to be. It’s the diadem, isn’t it? Man’s greatest treasure. She wants it, wants it like she wants to be like her mother, to be beautiful, lovely, and wise. Wrong, she’s wrong. She steals it, wears it, but she’s no wiser that she already is. Fool, fool, she’s a fool. You, you are a fool.”
Just as suddenly as she went, she’s back again.
Helena really doesn’t want to know.
OR
Harry is a Dreamer, a rare kind of Seer who can see the past, present, and future—but only while sleepwalking. Everyone is creeped out with his Sleepwalking prophecy's and ramblings.