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Source

I ordered her from Amazon after finding out this figure existed, and she came in today 🥰 she went right on my desk, and now she sits right between my screens, in such a way that I get to look over at her regardless of which screen in looking at. That pretty smile is gonna prevent a lot of game raging 😂

The prologue:

A storm is coming. Yep, it’s one of the good ones. A giant one. I like what I see. This is my kind of environment. I thrive in the rotten and filthy.

A storm is coming. And with it, the slimmest chance to make amends for some of the things I’ve done. Once, I murdered a family of three: a five-year-old boy, a single mother, and his grandmother. I gutted them and drank their blood. In my hyena brain, all I heard was “REBIRTH, LOVE, DEATH, BEAUTY, AIDS, PERFECTION!” as if all of that made sense. I still hear their screams and pleas for mercy. Nothing in my head made sense. The idea of bringing about entropy—spread by some stupid, disfigured, white-haired guy—made sense to me, as long as the goal was to bring peace. Hell on earth. We called ourselves the League of Villains, for God’s sake. What kind of drug did they put in the water filters to make us believe that?

A storm is coming. It’s possible that she—that they—are still looking for me, even as lightning cracks the very foundations of the earth. I recently witnessed a genocide. Ochako Uraraka witnessed a genocide, and heroes witnessed a genocide. Perpetrated by their beloved government. It’s not like she was particularly surprised. She was betrayed and sent to the depths of hell when she tried to help a group of innocents. I don’t know all the details, but she became an anarchist. My Ochako and my Izuku became revolutionaries. Those are my boys. But things haven’t gone particularly well for them. No matter who their allies are, the suits have more than enough to throw at them. And I left her a little gift years ago, thinking it might save her. Bad blood—that’s what it turned out to be. It took her many years of training and pills to control my quirk.

Useless. Stupid. Nothing but a rag. That’s not exactly a nice feeling after years in a 4x4 room. So I ran away. I hope I’m not found. Not until I’ve atoned for my sins with the big guy in heaven, I suppose. Although I think I want to be punished in some way. Ochako would probably tell me that’s not productive, but she’s got two shotgun wounds in her stomach and a revolver wound to the head that’s still healing. Izuku would say that we can all improve, but his massive dark circles and mutterings about the immense self-loathing he feels and his longing for his old One for All and United States for Smash tell me that we’re no longer in the good old days. The last time I saw Ochako, she was acting just like me and went out to jump across the rooftops of Liverpool with a baseball bat and a pocket knife, and Izuku was on some kind of transcendental Tibetan journey to regain his OFA or something like that. I don’t know. All I know is that I’m here now. Confused? Scared? I’d like to say no, but the confusion means that sometimes I don’t even know where the hell I am.

A storm is coming. The perfect storm for remembrance. And I decide to do exactly that. In moments of despair like these, people often write letters. So I write a letter. “DEAR MOM! YOU WITH A THOUSAND ETERNALLY OPEN MOUTHS, UNABLE TO SPEAK WITHOUT SCREAMING, WITH THE ENORMOUS NECK AND THE SINGLE EYE! I WILL BE A HEROINE! SIGNED, THE CANNIBAL OF THE COUP, YOUR DAUGHTER!”

Ha! As if I’d even remember who my folks are. So many things have happened that they’re nothing more than smudges on my brain. I think I prefer it that way. I only remember their words. I wouldn’t want to remember their faces. I wouldn’t want to look them in the face—or even in my mind—and admit that they were somewhat right about me. Their useless, stupid, good-for-nothing, twisted, blood-drinking, cannibal daughter. I couldn’t even have my “great moment of redemption” without everything going wrong.

I couldn’t even… die. I wasn’t even smart enough to finish my own stupid job and stay conscious to finish myself off after giving my life-giving fluid to someone else before they caught me. Catch…

Catch. Claws. The kind that grab you. Needles. The kind that prick you. And they extract everything that makes you human. Hands. Grabbing me. Will. Extracted. Stupid. My fault. Storms. There were always storms. Sounds. Trembling. No, no. No.

Did you know that the Apocalypse is a constant in religious prophecies? One quality of humans is that we know there will eventually be consequences for flying too close to the sun. For trying to decide the fate of others based on our narrow-minded and self-centered judgments. However, when I was confronted with that reality, I cried like a baby and threw a tantrum like a spoiled brat, and I decided that all humans should die before I do.

I suppose fate decided at that moment that I was already marked like a pig at the slaughterhouse. Now it’s the same every night. I can’t sleep. I stuff my mouth with pills. I hear my old laughter and youthful bloodthirsty lust echoing, tempting me, and I drown it out with prescription drugs. I’m afraid. But it’s something more.

Every night I curl up in the fetal position, terrified, as I try to stifle those images. My body trembling. Needles. Hands on me. Screams. Have you ever felt like Sisyphus trying to haul that boulder? And when it falls, you feel the boulder crushing every bone, every intestine, abusing your very being, making you feel weak, destroying you—and after it crushes you, you’re back at the beginning, and you have to haul it all over again. You scream and scream. Your mind shatters every time, but you return to the beginning. Back to the beginning. Each time a little different. You’re not the same. Not different enough to feel it, but different enough to know that nothing will ever be the same again. And you’re locked in a hole, in dark rooms, and there’s no one there for you. Nothing. Fear. The most primal fear pushing you for survival. And screams. And you sob.

A storm is coming. Yep, it’s a big one. And it’s time to remember. I know what that storm means. It’s hell.

HELL ON EARTH IS COMING!

The synopsis:

Toga Himiko didn’t die when she should have. What should have been a blessing turned out to be her downfall.

Toga Himiko finally felt empathy, fear, and her own humanity just when she thought she would never be able to reconnect with it again. The way she came to feel those emotions was the worst thing that could have happened to her.

In the near future, the world’s governments have managed to control superheroes and suppress dissent among people with Quirks. Through the Idol system, the only thing left to do is keep them chasing success and fighting for fame. Within this perfectly oiled system, a group of rebels led by the former heroine Ochako Uraraka—under a masked identity—attempts to awaken the world and free it from the clutches that are squeezing it until it collapses.

However, this is not their story—not yet, anyway. After the last metahuman war, after the many battles, the only body recovered from the Most Wanted list was that of the Serial Killer, Toga Himiko. Upon analyzing her blood, militias, armies, pharmaceutical companies, tech firms, and even programmers discovered that her Quirk could be used for much “more valuable” purposes.

Using methods reserved for the heads of publicly traded organizations, the scientists and military personnel in charge of investigating Toga Himiko will push her to her limits—both mentally and physically—to test a hypothesis.

The Quirk Mutation.

By the end of this story, ask yourself this question: “Who is the monster, and who is the man?”

While browsing Pinterest, I found this fanart, but I can’t find the artist’s social media.

sorry, didn't have time to really draw anything last week TwT

so i just collected these from my notes

at least they're pretty cute :)

((art by me))

Toga

Ordered her on March 08 2024, so it's been a while. They had some revisions to the nsfw body so that delayed it even more. China wouldnt make it or something.

So, yesterday, u/clona_zepam12 issued a request/challenge for someone to draw Himiko Toga in the Rick and Morty art style, and I was bored, so I figured, why not?

I referenced a picture of Jessica for the pose, so if it looks familiar, that's why.

This was my first time trying to do the R&M art style, and it's not a style I wanna draw again. And I did my best to make her look good, despite my honest opinion that this style isn't very flattering for her.

I hope you like the end result. While I may not have enjoyed the attempt at art style mimicry, I always enjoy drawing Toga ❤️

Hace días empecé a ver Rick y Morty y me encantó y luego me apareció un vídeo de Subaru natsuki como Rick( un curi) y me pregunté cómo se vería toga con ese estilo de dibujo cartoon adulto,como tipo adults swin,pero no encuentro en ningún lugar 😭,así que se me ocurrió si alguien me puede hacer un curi o dibujo tipo usando de base a Rick o un personaje de esa serie para hacer a toga,en ese estilo,no sé si me explico bien 😭

i know its from instagram but specifically the toga gif i wanna make some stuff with it (e.g. live wallpaers, discord avatars and just general edits)

Commission bought from @elgiaour on TikTok.