#I hope they do the same for Shigaraki too

[bicheetopuff]

I hope this yassification of anime katsuki stays consistent through the season. We all know how bones usually makes him look like a sewer creature…

[thyandrawrites]

man. what was even the point of all the parallels the villains (esp. shigaraki, dabi and toga) to the heroes just to have them all die. what's the point. I'm glad i dropped bnha when i did, that's so damn frustrating. they should have been saved. the set up could have resulted in such a good pay off, just for them to throw that all away.

Hi! Sorry for the late reply. I spent most of last night working on my fix-it todofam fic, haha

Anyway, I've been wondering about the same thing. Despite everything, I don't think this is the ending Horikoshi originally had in mind. He has many flaws as a writer, but I do believe him to be a strongly compassionate person. The main problem with bnha imo is that he always seems to struggle to put his foot down and see through his choices all the way. Enji's arc in particular is full of this type of problem. One moment he's depicted as an unredeemable, unchanging monster, and two chapters later he's someone whose journey to self-betterment we're supposed to cheer for—a misguided guy who is trying his best and still failing. You get what I mean?

If it's true that the theme of DV is dear to Horikoshi (and I think it is, from how intimately he writes its intricacies), then I can understand that duality, at least. The fact that he can't quite make up his mind on who he wants to humanize more. But it's still disappointing. It feels insincere, the way he's wrapping up this story by pretending this is where he was always meant to go. For all of his indecision, at the very least he's never denied the Leagues' humanity, not until this very abrupt, tonal-shift ridden ending. And a part of me wonders if it's just Horikoshi's way to cater to the part of the fandom that's always loudest, the one that's been arguing for bloody 'justice' all along. If he's unable to handle that criticism on a work he holds so dear. And yet, by responding to it, by changing tracks on his own set up, he still managed to invalidate everything the story ever said about compassion, and that's the worst part.

[yanderenightmare]

tomura with hero reader whose quirk he's stolen, rendering them defenseless

Shigaraki Tomura

TW: slight nsfw, implied prev noncon, captive reader, Stockholm syndrome, implied mental break, mental deterioration, disassociation, manipulation, angsty, but also weirdly fluffy? reader is super fragile

gn reader

The chub of your inner thighs is still wet with the act. You rub them together for no other reason than that it feels pleasant. You trace the awful scars on his arm, using his warm chest as a pillow—the sound beating of his heart thumping rhythmically at your ear, a soothing presence.

 He balances a red book atop your crown.

He doesn’t seem very interested in reading it—only regarding it with jaded eyes, a meager scoff then and there before turning the page. But still, even though the book didn’t excite him, it bothered you that his attention was elsewhere. It sowed the seeds of doubt and gave root to way too many intrusive thoughts, sprouting out and spreading like weeds throughout your mind, making your chest curl at the possibilities.

“Do you think I'm ugly?” you have to ask. You have to know, why isn’t he looking at you.

He pans away from the page, beady garnet eyes softening from scrutiny to nonplus.

Your question stunted him—nearly made him believe he’d heard you wrong. Why someone like you would ever ask someone like him something like that seemed beyond all reason. It would be the same if a flower asked gravel.

But then again, you’d become a little ditzy as of late. Or maybe you’d been so for a little while already. It’s hard to say—you don’t talk as much as you used to. You no longer scream either, though that had ceased even longer ago.

You continue to delicately run your finger over the tear where his tough skin meets the even tougher purple tissue as though mapping the damage. There’s a frown on your face. No, not a frown—a pout. 

He thought for a moment to use it against you like he’d done everything else so far. Lie and say yes, tell you you’re about as ugly as he is—gravel—make you fall even further apart than what you were already. But something compelled him to choose differently.

“I think you're the prettiest thing in the world.”

Your pout is sucked between your teeth as you pick yourself up to peer down at him—eyes round and misty and something more, something strange—dare he say joyed?

You're scaring him.

“Really?” you choke out as if you’d been holding back a lump.

He hasn’t known how to treat you lately. You’ve become too soft to handle poorly—too frail to harass and too willing for him to feel the need to. Earlier, you'd even begged him to fuck harder and deeper—even cum inside. Actually, you hadn't veered away from his touch in a while. More like you've been embracing it.

He'd brushed it off as mere compliance at first, a state of meekness, weakened by being touch-starved, something that perhaps developed into a minor case of Stockholm syndrome.

But the way you're acting now—seems more concerning.

“Yeah,” is all he warrants as an answer. Though, he was curious as to yours as he begs the same question, “What about me?”

A smile graces your face then—there’s a comfort to it, a mild and affectionate one, unexaggerated, honest, as you smoothly swing your leg over his lap.

A look like that has no place on your face, especially when regarding him, and yet he finds himself hoping for more. He lays his book aside as you lean forward and doesn't stop you when you cup his face in both your palms.

“As far as I'm concerned, you’re not just the prettiest boy in the world—you're the only boy in the world.” You say it with a kiss, lips just as soft as the words leaving them. It shocks him, though he accepts and gives it back.

You close your eyes, laying your chest against his—he keeps his open to look at you. Observing and assessing.

You’ve truly become a whole other person altogether. A far cry from the tough hero you once were—the one who’d beat him within an inch of his life and leave him to choke on the blood.

“Will you stay with me today?” you ask against his lips—playing with his hair, looping the curly tresses around your fingers.

There’s a neediness to your voice, a certain desperation, a sadness—something lonely and something that reminds him all too much of himself. He feels both a strong urge to reject and soothe it all at the same time.

“No, I gotta go,” he says despite it. He had business.

You hide your face in his neck and continue with your tracing, now on the scrapes striping his throat where he’s raked his nails time and time again. “When will you come back?” Your tone comes out even sweeter, only a murmur mushed against his skin.

It nearly makes his heart twist. “It’s better I don’t answer that.”

It’s funny. Though the thought had struck him, he didn’t gauge any ill intentions. You could be asking, acting, plotting some escape based on the hours of his absence—yet somehow, with the way you nuzzle into him like that, as though you’re pouring your all-too-candid grief into him, he can't sense any other ulterior motive.

“Last time you left at this hour, you came back all beaten and bruised,” you mutter, now with a hint of bitterness—as if you’re cursing whoever hurt him under your breath.

It’s ironic. He sneers lazily, almost fondly, at the old memory. “You’re the one who used to beat and bruise me, remember?”

He’s truly curious if you do. Or if something’s spirited your past life away and left you like this—no longer an aspiring young hero, but something whose only value is warming his bed at night.

You arise, an appalled look of affront upon your face.

“No, that can’t be right,” you very nearly cry, as if the very thought was killing you. “I would never hurt you—I love you too much.”

Apparently, you don’t remember who you were at all.

“Love me?” he all but croaks. It’s a laughable prospect, and yet he doesn’t even smile. There’s something awful in his gut that prevents him. “Don't be stupid. You can't love me.”

Your face doesn’t drop its grimace, only further tears with forlorn outrage. “Of course, I love you!" you insist. "You’re my whole reason for living...”

You look so despaired—wrecked from his dismissal. The tears well quickly then slip down your face just as fast—and yet it isn’t the same crying as you used to. This time, it’s quiet—in wait or in dread as you beg the question, 

“Don't you love me?”

It’s an unexpected one, and it quickly proves to be an existential one—even more so than your unnerving confession. Despite not wanting to, it leaves him to dig through the muck in his head he’d long ignored, down in the dark where he’d tried burying the truth he'd felt oncoming. He'd wanted to deny it, reject it, amend it, simply because it confused him too much to acknowledge—complicated things—changed things he didn’t want or need changing.

He wonders if it’s somehow proof of fate—even though he despises such a concept. That, no matter how much you practice free will, no matter how many knots you make upon the red string, the world will pull and straighten it out, and you’re left to realize you’d brought it all on yourself.

First, he took your quirk, then he took your body—your mind shortly followed—and now it seems he’s managed to take your heart, too. 

There’s nothing left of you that isn’t his. 

There was a time he’d frolic at the thought of having reduced you to such a pathetic ghost in a shell—back then, he’d do anything to destroy you—he’d surely shatter you into a million little scattered pieces if presented with the chance, make sure you were broken for good. 

But that was the old him. Or rather, that was his dream for the old you—the hero he loathed down to his rotten core.

But the pretty misty-eyed thing looking down at him now, aching for his answer, wasn’t that person anymore.

And the truth is, the person you are now scares him more than that hero ever did. 

You were… well, you were the person who warms his bed at night, the person who traces his scars and plays with his hair—the person who wraps themselves around him and keeps him from falling apart when he stumbles through the door into the tiny little room he keeps you a prisoner in. You're his.

This time, his heart does twist. He’s never before spoken the words that dance on his tongue, or if he has, they’ve been long forgotten and come out as dust balls as he affirms them now, 

“Yes. I love you.”

There’s a flash of hope in your eyes, though it just as quickly diminishes—as if you don’t believe him.

Your lip warbles as you confirm it, “No, you don’t.”

More tears run silently down the tracks on your cheeks, gathering at the tip of your chin before dripping upon his chest—each one like a gunshot through something hollow.

“If you did, you wouldn’t go. You wouldn’t leave me here in this room, all alone.” Your nails curl into your palms where they rest atop him. You bow your head as though you can’t bear to look at him, as if it hurts. The next words come out beneath your breath, “How am I supposed to compete with the whole world?”

You’re making him feel like dying. The continuous twists of his heart feel as if you’re about to tear it right out of his chest.

He sits up and lifts your face. It’s strange, even with his two-finger gloves on. He doesn’t think he’s ever held you like this. Though, suppose it’s been a night of many firsts already. And here comes another,

“As far as I’m concerned, you are my world.”

There you are, the one thing he doesn’t wish to destroy.

Your sore eyes become round, then swell with different tears. There’s a hitch in your breath as you sigh through a shuddering sob, throwing your arms around his neck and clinging to him tightly—your body jostling while you rub your wet face into his neck, holding him close for comfort as if you're scared to ever let go.

He returns the gesture, though somewhat hesitantly, wrapping his arms around you and laying his head to rest against your shoulder.

And then, as he holds you—for the first time ever, fear of actually losing the fight ahead strikes him.

He hadn’t much cared about the outcome before. Either he’d destroy or be destroyed.

This wasn’t as simple. As said earlier, this complicated things.

But then again, it was even more of a reason to go.

“But I still have to leave.” 

You part from him—the betrayal in your tone demanding his justification, “Why?”

Suppose, in some ways, this actually made things simpler—as that was a question he had no problem answering.

“‘Cause there are monsters outside…” He rests his forehead upon yours, gazing back into those terribly glassy eyes looking back at him as he speaks to you about your dear old colleagues. “Monsters who want nothing but to take you away from me.”

If only they could see you now, they’d know… you no longer want to leave him.

“So I have to go out there and make sure they have no chance,” he explains, almost like a vow, “You’re mine, and I’ll destroy anyone who says otherwise to keep you that way.”

The way your eyes melt makes him feel all fuzzy. It’s a special type of glee, a victory before the battle even begins—to see you root for him—so deep in love with him that you’ve forgotten you’re celebrating the onset of death to all of your former friends.

They probably wouldn’t be able to take you away from him even if they somehow managed to invade this very room. You’d sooner die than betray him.

And that makes him feel all the more ready for the war ahead.

“So kiss me good luck, and I’ll come right back to you soon.”

♡ SHIGARAKI TOMURA ♡ BOKU NO HERO ACADEMIA masterlist

[solarspirit]

Hello I hope your having a good day I would like to request a shigaraki x reader hc on how you think he’d be in a romantic relationship with reader do you think he’d be a good bf or bad? And how would he be before and after the mla

If you don’t want to do this or it’s braking any rules they just ignore it

you get me!! definitely think Tomura would change a lot after joining the MLA and PLF.

(pretend i didn't get this ask in feburary)

Shigaraki Relationship Headcanons

Pre MLA:

It’s not that Tomura’s a bad boyfriend on purpose. He just doesn’t know what the hell he’s doing. 

It’s hard for him to believe that you actually want him in the first place. You’d have to reassure him every once in a while that you do love him and need him around. On the outside, he’ll brush it off and say he knows that already, but it does make him feel better. 

In a relationship, he’d be pretty selfish. He’d put his goals with the League first, even if it ends up negatively affecting your relationship. Once he’s set on a task, the most important thing to him is completing it regardless of what happens to him. He’ll ignore your protests of it being too dangerous or time-consuming until he gets it done. 

It’d be different every day with him. On some days he’s clingy and wants you within arm's reach all day, and on other days it seems like he wants nothing to do with you. 

You’d have to deal with his tantrums, too. Sometimes he’ll take it out on you and other times he wants you there to listen to him rant about it. It’s unpredictable. 

He’d have a hard time displaying affection–instead of actual words, he’d let you pick out the game you’ll play together for once or randomly come back from an outing with your favorite food.

Physical touch is rare with Tomura, too. Even if you figure out some way to block his Quirk, he doesn’t trust it. He just can’t risk destroying something as important as you. The countless incidents of accidentally dusting things hold him back from touching you. 

 He won’t even risk falling asleep on the couch with you, let alone sleep in the same bed as you. 

When he does feel like he can touch you, the most you’ll get is your pinkies being linked or three fingers resting on your thigh.

Post MLA:

Still doesn’t fully know what he’s doing but it’s getting better! 

Tomura’s more aware now. His goals still take precedence, especially with attaining All For One being so near, but he’ll think of you more. He sees how upset you were after he’s almost killed by ReDestro and realizes he probably needs to think more about your feelings too. 

He’s much more likely to listen to you–if you plead for him to stay and not move onto another dangerous mission so quickly, he’ll sigh and agree begrudgingly, wanting to make you happy. 

He’s more mature now, too. His tantrums are basically gone, but when he’s frustrated with all these new people in the MLA, he’ll still use you as the person to vent his frustrations too. He knows you'll listen to him without being annoying about it.

Tomura’s still not big on verbal affection, but with the new money from the MLA, he’s able to get you whatever you want. The most romantic words you’ll get from him are “I got you this” and an expensive present tossed in your lap. 

If you’re a member of the League/MLA, he does tell you that he values you much more than the others. In his mind that’s almost like saying he loves you.

He’d still have his days where he wanted to be left alone, but they’re much less dramatic than before. He'll sulk by himself for a bit but won't be as rude about it.

The biggest change is physical touch. Now that he can choose when Decay activates, he needs to make up for all the times he wanted to touch you and couldn’t. 

It doesn’t matter what you’re doing–playing games together, reading, sleeping, even at an  MLA meeting–Tomura wants to be touching you. He’s constantly near you, arms wrapped around you or a hand on your body. Your space is now also his space.

Forget needing your own room in the Gunga Mountain Villa. He wants you around almost all the time, including being in bed with him.

He’ll only agree to let you go when you need to use the bathroom or something similarly urgent.  Touching you is his way of showing he loves you and needs you, even if he won’t say it. 

Overall, he’s much more attentive and mature than before, even if he still doesn't know what he's doing.  

[d1s1ntegrated]

hiii im back again !!!

can i request shiggy hcs for a reader who chronically bed rots (i was trying to find a better word for it instead of chronically but alas) but they basically just stay in bed watching whatever and sleeping (forgetting to eat is also a habit of mine when i do it ;-;)? thank u <33

OFC U CAN!!! i am also a chronic rotter. i know how it feels bb i got u!

bed rotting x shigaraki hcs

✶⊶⊷⊶⊷❍⊶⊷⊶⊷✶

the first time tomura saw you bed rot, he thought you were sick.

"are you okay?? are you getting up?"

when you explained you just...couldn't...he nodded and crawled into bed next to you.

he and you both understand it's not the healthiest, but he's no stranger to a bad habit or two.

so when he learns that some days are just gonna be harder than others, he prepares like a mf

we're talking doomsday prepping.

he and a few other league members will go out and steal a bunch of shit: snacks, water bottles, etc

charges all the electronics and makes sure there are chargers nearby

gets nice clean pjs to lay in for you

regardless of whether its related to a chronic illness, mental shit, or not, he makes sure he learns what you need, if anything during that time.

because thats what he would want for himself :( thats what he needed. he understands it

helps you brush your hair out (he kinda sucks at it but hes doing his best okay)

sleeps next to you when you're sleeping, because gods know he needs it too

especially likes to watch shitty animated movies with you when you guts are awake

will send you memes/posts instead of showing them to you even though you're right. there.

you guys dont have to say anything to each other for hours on end, and you're still content just being there together.

plays dumb games on his phone

shows you him bullying villagers off his animal crossing island to get you to laugh

"i fucking hate barold hes so fucking ugly GET OFF MY FUCKING ISLAND YOU PLEB" (sorry barold lovers shiggy is NAWT a fan)

if you forget to eat, he will also forget, until you hear his stomach rumble and you both go "oh fuck"

adhd mode as fuck

gotta keep the big lights off for this

if you're the only one in that headspace, he'll do his best to just be there for you and make sure you take care of yourself

even if that means dragging you by a foot to brush your teeth or at least have a quick rinse in the shower

cause he knows if you dont, you'll feel bad for not

but he's very gentle and understanding always, because hes been there

and he will continue to be there regardless

all he cares about is that you're at least safe and healthy with him

cuddles and kisses you incessantly

just loves being next to you always, this just gives him an excuse to be clingy

✶⊶⊷⊶⊷❍⊶⊷⊶⊷✶

okay this was really cute, also helped me channel some of my own personal guilt ab bed rotting ;-;

thank u for the request <3

shit like this gives me the motivation to not only keep writing, but to be kinder to myself, because thats what shig would want. i hope this has the same effect for you guys.

love u all, take care of urself <3

[lily-claw]

The fact that Katsuki's letter'd be the only different letter makes me curious. I wonder what did Izuku wrote to him. I mean-

THAT "SMILE" THING MAKES ME THINK A LOT OF POSSIBILITIES DUDES

He wrote everyone the same thing but to Katsuki? Nah. My best guess is:

"Kacchan,

Thank you for everything. I felt that I had to reveal my secret to everyone in Class A. And I wanted to write a letter to you too. It was fun to sharing secrets with you until now and it is only thanks to you that I have come this far. Thanks for saving me from Shigaraki (he probably means the time that Katsuki got stabbed instead of Izuku when they tried to raid). Take care of Class A. If we could I'd love to go to that river together again Kacchan. I hope after everything, you all can smile again. I will do my best from here.

Izu(de)ku"

Im sure asf Katsuki's letter was something like that and Noguchi-san is trying to point us something for the last chapter or at least last chapter he dreamed of by talking about river.

Thank you for reading my TED talk.

[kingtomura]

Vitality | 3

Summary: You were always told heroes and villains had no place in your home.  Not when there’s an increase in crime, not when there’s monsters on the loose in Hosu and certainly not when the man in your home raises a hand to you. All it takes is one impulsive decision to change your life forever. content: shigaraki tomura x female reader, slow burn, hurt/comfort, mutual pining, reader has a quirk, graphic depictions of violence, past abuse, past sa, angst, pstd, eventual smut, found family LoV, mdni wc: 4.8k | prev | chapter 4 | m. list | read on ao3

Sometimes days can pass by pretty slowly in the League. It takes time for a good plan to come together. 

Today is one of those days. 

You’re sitting at the bar, fiddling with your given phone and customizing the home screen when someone slaps a paper down on the counter, startling you from your task.

You glance up and of course, it’s Shigaraki. It’s hard to fight the eye roll, loaded and ready, but you do — the photo on the paper catches your eye instantly. 

All too familiar eyes meet yours. 

Same hair, same nose, same mouth. 

It’s you. 

Your eyes widen as you glide over the words printed above your photo. 

Missing Person. 

You feel the pricks of panic trail its way up your spine as you read the words below your photo.

Have you seen me?

There was no way. 

“Where did you get this?” Your voice feels foreign as you fall into the sinking feeling in your chest, the anxiety is beginning to spread throughout your mind and it is taking a lot to remain still. Even though it feels like an impossible task, you try to calm your rapid breathing, hoping that this was some kind of sick joke.

Shigaraki just shrugs, watching your every move as he takes his own seat in the barstool next to you. “All over. These posters are everywhere right now.”

You couldn’t believe your ears. “What…”

“I didn’t know your father was the lead detective over the city.” His tone is light and airy as he taps at his phone. Shigaraki’s concentration is deep in the search, but his movements are relaxed — too relaxed for your liking. “That’s impressive.”

Shigaraki seems to find what he is looking for as he turns the phone in your direction. A news article with your face below the headline. 

“He’s staging it as a break and enter gone wrong,” he continues, “said they knocked him out and took you away. He’s been in the hospital recovering for a few weeks now.” 

You are rendered speechless. He is not dead. Your father is alive and well and he is looking for you. 

“Wanna see the press conference?” Shigaraki’s question rings in your ears as he holds the screen up to your face, pinky and index fingers extended as the others clutch the device. 

You don’t, but you can’t bring yourself to speak, nor could you shake your head and deny. A morbid curiosity within you wants to see though. It wants to know everything happening outside of these walls. 

Shigaraki is pulling the screen up before you could refuse — taking your shell shocked silence as permission. 

(Maybe he knew, deep down, that you wanted to see, to know your reality in its entirety.) 

Sure enough, there was your father — bandages wrapped around his head and in his detective uniform you knew so well. He stood at a podium, two of his colleagues beside him as he read off of a paper in front of him. 

Your father speaks of criminals and senseless violence, he speaks of the injustice done to him and his family and how he will work day and night to make sure those responsible will pay and that you will be brought home safe and sound.

It’s so heartfelt you almost believe it. 

If it weren't complete bullshit. 

You knew the truth. You know exactly what happened that night and how it all went down.

He is a monster in his own right. One that puts on a front of the caring guardian, but you know so much better.

The truth of it all makes you nauseous.

“And to my precious daughter,” his voice rings through the speakers of the phone, “We will find you and we will bring you home. That’s a promise.”

The video ends there and the screen goes black, revealing your own troubled reflection in the glass.

“He’s going to find me,” your voice shakes as Shigaraki locks the phone and slides it back into his pocket, “I don't have long.”

“He won’t.” Shigaraki is unbothered, crossing his arms with a tilt of his head. 

You shake your head, knowing your father all too well. 

He is thorough in everything he does and he would leave no stone unturned until he finds you and brings you home. That cursed home you would never set foot in again. The one that haunts your dreams. 

There's heat burning at your eyes and you realize it's the sting of tears. You couldn’t cry here, not in front of villains — in front of your leader of all people. It's humiliating. 

“He will! It's only a matter of time.” Bringing a hand to your chest, you fist the fabric of your shirt, wishing it could be your heart, open and able to be ripped out of your chest just so you could stop the rapid beating—

“Let them look, but they won't find you.” His voice is calm, rational. It's certain in ways you weren't sure you could believe. “You’re with the league now — we won't let anything happen to you.” 

It’s hard to believe when your face is plastered on everything. When a huge search and rescue effort is being made and for all the public knows, you were being held somewhere against your will, subject to all kinds of torture. 

It couldn’t be further from the truth. 

You can only watch as Shigaraki stands from his seat, exhaling sigh on his lips as he waves you off. Clearly he had other places to be and other things to do.

“It’s getting late, you should get some rest.” he offers, and you note that it's barely nightfall, but say nothing. Lost in a daze as you stare at your feet, tears threatening to fall and humiliate you further. 

“Kurogiri.” Shigaraki commands and the apparition nods, opening a warp gate. You can tell by the familiar bedding beyond the portal that it leads to your room. 

“We will keep an eye on the situation and make further plans tomorrow.” He announces passively as he walks off, passing by the warp gate and leaving through the door. 

The gate will save you a trip of walking through the borderline endless tunnels, and you’re grateful. All you wanted was the safety of your room. 

You waste no time walking through and sighing in relief as the portal closes behind you. 

There was no chance of anyone coming into your room here, but you move to lock your door anyway — the extra layer of security makes you feel safe.

Your mind swam in the overwhelming feelings, drowning your thoughts in fear and anxiety. 

It just couldn’t be. The idea of killing your father was beginning to sound much more manageable than the reality. 

And his press conference?

The bed greets you with its comfort and you bury your face into your hands, tears finally escaping and sobs fighting their way through your staggered breaths. 

It was all bullshit. 

The break and enter, the kidnapping and the promise of finding you.

He wants you back, but not for a friendly reunion. No, the day he finds you again will be the day you are better off dead.

Everything else said is just fluff for the media and crowd. 

But you knew better. It is an intimidation tactic for you. 

A way to weed out the possibilities of hiding with a good civilian. Any good civilian would take their chance to bring you back to your seemingly loving home and surely loving father. It was a chance for an ordinary person to be a hero and reunite family together from a tragic event. 

Bullshit. 

The man is abusive. In every way possible and he will take advantage of any benefit given to him. He was nothing more than a shady cop who just so happened to play his cards right and work his way to the top of the food chain. 

The idea of someone so cruel being on a team of detectives makes your stomach curl as the sobs you so desperately held tight echo throughout your small room. 

It's just not fair.  

Why should you have to pay the price for wanting freedom? 

The question haunts you as you lie your head down onto the pillows, quiet gasps of your easing sobs filling the room. Your new blankets have always seemed warmer than the ones from your old home. You hold them tight and pray that Shigaraki is good on his word and strong in his promises. 

If they cannot find the most wanted criminal in the country then there was no doubt they would not find a missing girl. 

You would have to place your faith into this group. It’s the only thing you can do for now and the uncertainty of it all only makes you feel worse. 

The uncertainty of it all weighs on your mind as you pray your troubled thoughts won’t catch up to you in the form of nightmares.

———

The meeting of the day is brief and to the point. 

Since the media is plastering your face everywhere, it is best for you to stay back at the base. It's not much different from what you had been doing, but still informative for the other members around you. 

However, after the meeting you run into a small problem.

A small, blonde and enthusiastic problem.

“Just come with me, please!” Toga is loud as she bounces in place with her fists clenched in excitement. The wild smile on her face makes you take a small step back from her. “It won't take long!”

She was so young, but so… odd. You weren't sure what to make of her. “They just told us I can’t leave.”

“It’s not out in the open! Let me show you!”

You sigh and look around, no one is paying any attention to this scene Toga is causing, which leads you to believe that this must be a common occurrence for her. 

Even Shigaraki gives no reaction, only focused on his newspaper and you assume it must not be much of a problem if he doesn’t care. 

Well, if he doesn’t see a problem in Toga dragging you around, then you suppose it can’t be that bad. Reluctantly, you shrug and agree. 

Toga does not hide her excitement, cheering and waving to Kurogiri. 

“Kurogiri! Will you do the honors, please?” She asks the man behind the counter and he agrees, opening a gate and Toga wastes no time grabbing your hand, pulling you through. 

The gate leads you to an empty field. So much for not being out in the open. 

There’s a sinking feeling of unease making itself present as Toga lets your hand go. 

It lingers as she walks on, fully expecting you to follow her along to wherever she deemed so important to show you. Against your better judgment, you follow her, believing in your heart that you were both in the League so there was no reason not to trust her. 

But…

The entire situation is odd. Even as you look around the field and see that it is as vast as it is empty, you know that something is off. The girl only hums a tune, completely content with leading you nowhere. 

“Hey, healer,” Toga starts, continuing her pace ahead as you begin to lag behind — your thoughts catching up with you and making you slow. 

“Yeah?”

“Do you ever dream?”

The question makes your brows furrow as you watch from a distance. She seemed so carefree.

It makes you ponder as you find the words to respond, “No, not really. If I do, I won’t remember them.” 

You may not dream, but you do have nightmares from time to time.

They haunt you when you least expect it, but you would rather not share that with a girl who made venomous snakes look good on a bad day. Instead you try to focus on what’s around you. The field is as green as it is empty, and it only makes you wonder more why you were brought out here — wherever ‘here’ even was in the first place. 

It’s all unusual. 

You look back at the girl and notice she’s stopped walking, causing you to catch up with her.

“Hey, Toga, where are we going anyw—“

Your words are cut short as she turns on you, the silver gleam of a knife in her hand now against your throat. 

“I dream, too! But I remember mine,” Her eyes are glassy as she smiles in delight, the look on her face makes you more on edge than the knife against your throat. “I dream of a world I can live freely in. Wouldn’t that be lovely?”

The question sounds rhetorical but you bring yourself to nod anyway, swallowing your fear and you can't help but wonder what deity you’ve pissed off to have ended up in this situation. 

She pulls the knife back and it feels like you can breathe again, only to be put back on edge as she lunges towards you. 

It’s a reflex, the way you squeeze your eyes shut and bring your arms up to defend yourself from an oncoming attack, but you do. Only to be met with nothingness. 

Toga presses a hand to your shoulder, using the momentum she gained to jump up and over your head. 

The action makes you pause, but you don’t get any time to question as the swift print of a shoe kicks you right in the back, making you fall to your knees onto the ground.

You feel it then, the unease you’ve noticed since walking through the warp gate. 

You are weak. 

You are small and fragile and it burns at your throat as you grit your teeth in frustration. The idea of being taken down by a child is so fucking frustrating it makes you sick. 

The press of Toga's shoe against your back feels like it holds the weight of the world within it. 

Every ounce of inadequacy falls upon your back as you curse under your breath. But just as soon as the weight is there, it is gone. Lifted away as she comes to stand in front of you — extending a hand with a smile no longer wicked, but warm. 

“Living in this world is hard, you know? It looks like it’s been hard for you too.”

Her words make you still, your eyes meeting Toga’s hand and then dragging up to meet her eyes as well. You decide to take her hand in yours, allowing her to help you to your feet, even though you are still wary of her movements. 

“To me, you’re like… a caged bird.” She continues, making a point to keep your hand in hers. “But now you’ve opened the cage and you still won’t fly! That just won’t do.”

It’s difficult to place this feeling in your chest, this string tugging at your heart as you purse your lips, unable to speak as she goes on. 

“I love the league. It’s my home. The one place where I can truly be free and do whatever I want.” She looks far away as she speaks, eyes staring off at the now setting sun, illuminating the field in orange and pink hues as she smiles fondly. “I love Jin and Dabi and even Tomura! They’re my friends.”

Her attention is back on you as she brings her hands to your face, cradling your cheeks in her small palms like you were the one needing comfort and not the other way around. 

“And I love you, too, little bird!” Toga pulls you into a hug then and it is as warm as it is strange. The action shocks you still, you can’t recall the last time you had been hugged. “I’ll help you fight.” 

Toga’s voice is soft as she continues, words dripping with honesty, “The League will help you spread your wings. You’ll fly with us.”

You lean into her touch and think maybe, just maybe, you’re right where you need to be. 

———

The scene to greet you both at the bar is a strange one. It makes you raise a questioning brow as you walk through the warp gates. 

A rare sight of Spinner and Shigaraki, in a deep discussion, that is somewhat shy of an argument over what seemed to be a video game. 

“No, no, no! He is not the best at that! It’s Little Mac!” Spinner is at the counter of the bar, seated next to Shigaraki, his scaled fingers jabbing into the counter beside them. 

Shigaraki seems unbothered, an assessment you can only make by the posture he held and relaxed form. You couldn’t make out any kind of expression behind the hand covering his face. 

“That’s dumb. He’s easily countered by Ness.” He supplies and this answer only seems to frustrate Spinner more. The latter groaning and desperately pleading his case. 

You can’t help the way a smile tugs at your lips as you walk towards the counter yourself, hoping Kurogiri would supply you with more of that fizzy clear soda you enjoyed. 

“Hey, healer!” Spinner calls, making you snap your head towards him. “Tell him! Little Mac could beat any competitor with no trouble if you’re skilled enough at playing him!” 

You fight the frown making its way onto your face. “Um…” This was about a game, you’re sure but the name of it eludes you. “Is this that fighting game that came out a while ago?”

Spinner is enthusiastic as he nods, just happy you recognize it. “Yes!” 

“Oh, um,” your brows furrow as you try to remember the details of it, but it’s fuzzy in your mind. “I don’t really remember much, but I always played as the character with the blue dress. My father said games like that rot your brain, though, so he took the console before I could really get good at it, sorry.” 

The memory makes you huff a bitter laugh, mood souring at the idea of a fun game potentially ruining your young mind. “Gotta make sure dad’s keep their daughters’ undivided attention at all times, right?”

The comment was more towards yourself — thinking out loud, really. But the feeling of all eyes on you makes you look up. 

You feel like you’ve said something wrong with the way you feel the eyes on you. Even when you let out a small awkward laugh to break the tension it remains. It makes your stomach turn as you are constantly reminded of your unusual upbringing. 

Spinner speaks first, with a look of genuine worry on his face. “That’s… not normal. Why would he do that?”

“Um, I’m not sure.” You walk past the group, forgoing the soda and instead choosing to head straight for the tunnels, eager to get out of there and more than ready to shower and go to bed. “But I think I’ll head in for the night.”

It’s a feeling you can’t outrun, you realize as you sit in the shower of the bathroom — allowing the water to run over your body and you watch as it flows down the drain. 

You wish so badly things were different. That you could have been a normal child with a normal upbringing and a normal life. 

But that just hadn’t been in the cards for you. 

You tuck your head down into your hands as your thoughts spun around you. Toga's words invade your mind, swimming around in your head and you agree with them. 

You were just like a caged bird. 

And even though that door is open, you know exactly what lies outside of it. You know exactly who is watching and waiting for you to take the bait, to come out and risk capture again. The repercussions of escape this time may be much more dire than before and you just couldn’t take that chance. 

The warm water of the shower masked the tears running down your face, but nothing could cover the burn of them. The way they sting at your eyes as you fight to maintain composure. 

You know exactly why your father took the console from you. Some shitty reasoning lying beneath the real issue of how much attention you were putting towards it instead of towards him. 

It was bullshit.

It makes you feel sick. 

—------------

Everything feels more peaceful at night. 

It’s a comfort you didn’t expect to find here in the league but it is a welcomed one. 

The days can feel long but the nights are calm. Even though more than a few of the members are working throughout the night, you are safe to relax and enjoy them. You’ve even started filling your bookshelves. It’s only three books for now but they keep you entertained. 

Even when your leader pays you a visit, you don't feel afraid. 

Tonight Shigaraki is your patient and he is as quiet as the night. The lack of disembodied hand daunting his face is obvious as the pale moonlight lit the room — bathing his natural features in a soft light. 

You’ve learned that there seems to be more than meets the eye when it comes to Shigaraki. 

He never asked more than he needed to know, his eyes never lingered.

Tomura Shigaraki had goals and his focus was undoubtedly on them at all times. It made you feel… safe. Like you weren’t a burden indebted to him. Like you had autonomy. 

Never anything you had at home. 

No one in the league really bothered you or impeded into your space. It was refreshing. It’s why you feel the boldness within you that gives you the strength to ask,

“Why did you send Toga to train me?”

The question breaks through the stillness of the room, catching Shigaraki by surprise, but his expression stays neutral — only opting to raise his eyes from the ground and meeting yours. 

The question seems to pull him from his own deep thoughts. His eyes were carmine red and they seemed to glow in the light of the moon. The intensity of them makes you want to shy away. 

“She seemed like a good fit.” 

“Is it because she’s a girl?” You feel emboldened in the space of your room. The door, forever cracked, allows more light to bleed into the area. 

He doesn’t miss a beat. “It’s because she can fight.”

Silence. 

You move to heal the next area, a cut along his arm. He went out into the field today and didn’t come back unscathed. 

“Does that bother you?” His question surprises you and it shows on your face. 

You shake your head, it doesn’t. “No, it’s fine.”

He hums in acknowledgment. There’s an awkward air to the space now, but you’re sure it’s only on your end. Your nerves prickle as you work on his arm, past his deadly palms. 

“She did pull a knife on me though.”

 “That damn brat.” He huffs a little sigh. “She wouldn’t hurt you.”

“Yeah, I figured that out after. Shook me a little though.” You pause taking in the calm of the room. “Thank you.”

He looks surprised, the small tick of his brow giving the expression away. 

“I’ve been thinking about what you said… and my father.” You look down, focusing your gaze along the arm you’re healing. His skin is so pale. You were so close. “I never thought I would get the chance to stand against him, or even fight him. But… I want to be able to if it comes down to that.” 

Shigaraki says nothing and you aren’t sure he’s even heard you, yet you go on, speaking the most you have since you’ve gotten here. “I think in any situation, I want to be strong. I want to try to stand on my own. Working with Toga is a good choice, I believe.” 

You swallow, nerves catching up to you and it’s a wonder you’ve said this much. You don’t know where these words are coming from, but you can’t help but wonder if you should have probably kept them to yourself.

“That’s good to know.” 

His voice surprises you, causing your eyes to look up and meet vermillion. It sends heat spreading along your face and you feel stuck — frozen in place as his gaze locks you into a trance. 

Shigaraki is not bad to look at once he no longer had his face fully covered. You can’t help but wonder if it’s inappropriate to think of your leader as cute. Handsome, even. 

Lately he has shown you something akin to kindness, but you know better than to let your guard down. He is still a villain. A villain with goals of taking down society. 

But…

He could be kind. You feel desperate to find some kind of connection in this new world you’ve found yourself in. You’re not sure what pulls you towards your leader — be it the promise of safety or guidance it just does.

You break out of the trance you’d found yourself in moving along to the battered bruises along his upper arm. 

“Also… is Spinner always like that?” The question falls and the corner of your mouth ticks up in a small smile. 

This piques his interest. “Like what?”

“Nerdy. Ecstatic about video games.” 

Shigaraki huffs a laugh, barely there and light. A blow of air from his nose and nothing more. “Yeah. He’s kind of a weirdo.” 

You laugh at this, words falling before your brain can catch them. “That’s rich, coming from you.”

You instantly regret it, freezing your motions and wondering if you’ve made a mistake. 

Shigaraki actually laughs. It’s short and shallow and rings in your ears. You decide you like it and would do anything to hear more of it.  “Yeah, well, it takes one to know one.” 

It’s silly, really. The way you would take any crumbs of generosity after years of the opposite. Years of violation and violence can never compare to consistent kindness and respect.

When you feel your cheeks flush at the sound of Shigaraki’s laugh you feel strange. The feeling makes you remember a quote you had read from one of your mother’s old poetry books. 

Something about silver spoons and knives. 

But still, you want to indulge the feeling. 

“Hey, Shigaraki?”

He hums in acknowledgment, eyes meeting yours again. It makes you focus on anything else, the ground is your subject for now. 

“Do you think the investigation will go anywhere?”

“No, they have nothing in their corner.” He’s confident, and continues, “guys like that are full of shit.” 

The bluntness surprises you, though it's not unwelcome. “You think so?”

He scoffs at this, “Yeah, it’s all for show. There are no criminals and he’s hiding something deeper behind the pretense of you going missing. If they dug closer into the issue, they would find his lies. He wouldn’t want that.”

You nod in agreement, and for the first time you feel yourself relax a little. Shigaraki was not only sure, but he had the reasoning to back it up. The confidence made you feel warm — glad you were not in this alone. 

“Got anything else for me?” You ask, the hint of a smile sneaking onto your lips as you finish your healing. Shigaraki shrugs, shaking his head as he moves to stand. 

You don’t know how you hadn’t seen it before but there’s a bandage around his hand. Wrapped tight and kind of sloppy, you reach for it before you think about it, your innate need to help bleeding through at the worst times. 

This was perhaps the first mistake you’ve made since joining the league. 

Shigaraki’s reaction tells it all. His movements are fast and sharp. 

The way he recoils from your touch makes you think you’ve burned him. Shigaraki is on his feet in an instant, knocking the chair he previously sat on backwards and sending it tumbling to the ground. 

Your eyes widen in shock as you try to reach out again, an apology quick on your lips, but he’s far away from you now — more than an arms length away and ready to put more distance between you two.

“Don’t,” his voice is low and his glare is sharp, if you didn’t know any better you would think the rise and fall of his chest was from panic instead of anger. “Don’t touch me.”

It hits you then and you curse your carelessness.

His hands.

You almost touched his hands, without a care in the world — just wanting to help your leader out and fully heal whatever you could. 

You were so close to danger, so careless.

“Shigaraki, I—” You don’t get to finish your thoughts, already lost to the open and slam of your bedroom door. The air of the room is quiet and still, the only reminder of his presence being the overturned chair left behind. 

The silence rings in your ears as the distressed expression on Shigaraki’s face replays in your mind. For someone supposedly so cold to react so strongly to the smallest possibility of accidentally activating his quirk makes you wonder what else lies beneath your leader's layers. 

It makes you wonder just who Tomura Shigaraki is. 

[itsnothingofinterest]

The implication that society at large hasn't learned a thing from its Original Sin (Shigaraki's backstory) is making me ill... Between this and Touya/Dabi's ending, I feel like I'm reading the ending of a tragedy from an Outsider POV or the bad ending path in some video game and being told to Suck It Up Buttercup, because this is a Good Ending Actually!! I've never felt more insulted reading the ending of a story...

Oh same here; a part of me is even beginning to wonder that you might be on to something labeling the whole story a tragedy. The more closely you look into things, the more it looks like every aspect of this ending is a tragedy underneath a thin veneer of “well things are happy and the day is saved now.” I’m almost suspecting if it’s on purpose.

Dabi was beaten, and now Touya is stuck in cenobite cosplay in prison as he lives out the rest of his single digit days letting his abuser talk at him while the rest of the Todorokis wait to hear that the eldest son has died once again.

Anyone considering that the next AFO or Tomura could be out there is taking the exact opposite approach from correct; saying they need to not be sympathetic and instead close their hearts to such a person to better persecute them, driving such folk to villainy faster.

We don't know what happened to Toga but the faces we've seen on Uraraka these past few chapters do not fill me with hope.

We started out with a 4-digit, maybe even 5-digit hero figure when this all started, and the only solution we’ve seen anyone think of (and only as a joke) is to fill the streets with more heroes. Otherwise you can’t fix this; Deku’s talk with AM and Taukauchi ends concluding that you can’t prevent these tragedies.

That sucks when the end of humanity is coming sometime in the next century; just far enough away that no one cares, just close enough that no one can stop it. And though a cure was developed, Deku smashed it to dust and scattered it to the winds alongside the guy he vowed to save; and when the end comes, likely no one will know that Tomura could have prevented this.

It feels poetic how much this reflects hero society as a whole, how much it repeats everything Tomura said in real time. All this present tragedy and future disaster swept under the rug of “but the big bad villain is dead, smashed to pieces by the next symbol, the day is saved, isn’t it?” I once thought MHA was supposed to be optimistic. It has not turned out that way. But it might turn around my opinion on Hori’s writing if that turned out to be on purpose.

...But that might be too much to hope for.

[kikyo-writes]

Can we get a scenario for Shigaraki with a healer girlfriend that always fusses over him when he gets injured?? And he tries to play it off like it's no big deal but he secretly loves being spoiled by her

The moment Shigaraki gets back to the hideout, he is greeted by your wide-eyed, panicked expression.  

“Tomura!” you cry out, rushing over to him. “What... what happened? You’re hurt!”  

Granted, you’re not wrong. Part of his clothing has been torn up, and there are noticeable gashes on his skin peeking through the frayed fabric. He's taken enough damage that he's even walking with a bit of a limp, and he has to admit that it’s a pain in the ass.  

Despite all that, Shigaraki just shrugs in response.  

“I’m fine,” he dismisses. “Just let my guard down for a bit. Don’t worry. The other guys are dead, so in comparison, they barely did anything to me.”  

You puff out your cheeks, and even though he knows you’re worried, you’re so goddamn cute that it’s kind of hard to take you seriously.  

“Just because you’re strong doesn’t mean you don’t need to take care of yourself,” you chastise him.  

Shigaraki shrugs again. “It’s no big deal. I barely even feel anything.”

That’s a total lie, but he does his best to act tough around you. Besides, it wouldn’t reflect well on him if the leader of the League of Villains was whining over a few little injuries, right?  

Instead of responding, you just roll your eyes, grab him by the wrist, then pull him into one of the rooms.  

“Even if it’s not a big deal to you, it is to me,” you remind him. You lightly push on his shoulders and force him to sit down. “Now, stay there. I’m not letting you leave until you’re good as new.”  

Apart from his mentor, All for One, Shigaraki is the most dangerous villain to date. There’s practically no one who doesn’t cower in fear when they hear his name. He’s powerful enough to reduce anything to dust, and he watches in delight as no-good heroes die from his bare hands.  

That’s the kind of person he is, and yet, you still worry about him.  

Shigaraki isn’t sure how it happened, but he must have plucked an angel from the sky. Well, a corrupted angel who willingly supports a murderer, but an angel all the same.  

You lean forward, knitting your brows together, and slowly but surely, your palms begin to glow with bright, warm light.  

Even Shigaraki, as determined as he is to act unbothered, can’t help but sigh in relief as you press your gentle, glowing fingers against his injuries. He can feel the pain ebb away, gradually at first, and then all at once.  

Seriously, he struck the goldmine. Not only does his party have a healer now, but she’s also his super-hot girlfriend. Lately, he has to admit that life is pretty damn good.  

“How does that feel?” you ask, making sure not to apply too much pressure.  

Shigaraki nods sleepily. There’s something about your Quirk that makes him let his guard down and feel especially at ease. Although that can be said about being around you in general.  

You run your fingers over every single wound, even the ones that are small enough not to warrant any attention. His body is back to being in near-perfect shape, but he knows that using your Quirk comes at the cost of your own energy, and you let out a heavy sigh, slumping down onto his lap.  

“That’s why I said you didn’t need to do this,” Shigaraki frowns. “Look. You’re exhausted now.”  

You shake your head, mustering up a smile. “No. It’s fine. A bit of fatigue is nothing if I know that you’re safe. I just always want you to be safe. Okay, Tomura?”  

Before he can even respond, you cradle his cheek and lead his lips towards yours, meeting him in a soft, featherlight kiss. His face instinctively flushes, and he wraps his arms around you as quickly as possible, hoping to prolong the moment.  

“I know you only worry because you care,” he acknowledges. His lips trace yours for a moment, and when he kisses you again, it’s deeper and more urgent than before. “I... love you,” he mumbles. As usual, it’s hard for him to say the words. He always thought that someone like him didn’t deserve love, wasn’t even capable of it. But meeting you changed that, and now, he knows better.  

“I love you too, Tomura.”  

You smile back at him again. Perhaps he’s biased because you’re his girlfriend, but he really thinks you’re the most gorgeous human being on the entire planet. You make him feel warm and comfortable. He’s strong enough to kill anyone who dares to fuck with him, that much is true, but even so, it’s nice having someone who puts his wellbeing first. 

Shigaraki squeezes you tight, and he watches in adoration as your eyelids slowly fall shut, the strain of your Quirk finally catching up with you. If you happen to fall asleep on his lap, he knows he won’t be moving for the next couple of hours. But it’s fine.  

You took care of him, and now it’s his turn to take care of you.  

[myheroblogs]

Man, the whole thing with Yoichi and Kudou parting ways is a bit more heartbreaking if you consider the fact that just moments before, Yoichi had to deal with the death of his brother.

Despite everything that he has done, despite everything that has happened, Yoichi still loved his brother. Even though his brother was cruel, he still acknowledges that AFO took care of him when there was no one else. All they had was each other.

His anger in ch 193 wasn't done out of hate, but concern for his brother. Like how a loved one would get angry when they recognize you doing something that isn't good for your well-being.

Nana and Yoichi are in the same position, both having their close relatives on the villain side, but while Tenko has the hope of being saved, AFO is far gone. And while Yoichi has long accepted this, that doesn't mean he won't be affected by the loss of his brother.

We saw Yoichi's expression when AFO gets defeated. People talk about it being a "bombastic side eye", but to me, it's more so sorrowful.

Not long afterwards, we have Yoichi talk like this:

"Don't cling to sentimentality"

"Bringing down Tomura Shigaraki is our reason for still existing"

Yoichi was silently trying to process his brother's death here. Alone. Not even Kudou knows.

And not long after the death of your only family, you're forced to say goodbye to the one person who would still be there for you after all that? The very first person who valued you as a fellow human being?

Damn, I'd break down and cry too.

On a side note, some people are unhappy that the OFA Users are often calling the shots here. But am I the only one who noticed that Yoichi's the only one who doesn't do this at all?

Yoichi's the one who interacted with Midoriya the least. He's the only OFA User who actually doesn't tell Midoriya what to do. The only times he came out to interact with him was whenever he feels like Midoriya's life could be in danger, or that time when he tried to reassure him in Ch 193.

Even when trying to cope with his brother's death, starting to give up on the whole "saving" thing, he never really came out to talk to Midoriya to try to change his mind. He's only in the OFA space the entire time with the other users.

Yoichi doesn't say anything cause he just trusts Midoriya to make the calls. (Hence his "this fight has long been passed to the successors") But he also trusts the other users, so he lets them do their thing.

He's also the one who humanises Tomura, calling him a "successor" like Midoriya, making him an equal. En later calls him out on this, saying the opposite.

Yoichi's the best OFA vestige and he deserves the entire world. Gives this man a darn break. T_T

[thehusbandoden]

You Flinch During an Argument -Amajiki Tamaki

A/n: so sorry this took so long! I had a good thing going but my power went out and it got erased </3

I do think this one's better though. Technically this is the third legitimate try <33

Edit: I'm trying out a new format for my info.. is it better or worse O.o

General info:

Wc: 1,176 words | angst to fluff/comfort | Character/s: Tamaki Amajiki

Warnings!: loneliness, snapping, flinching, a little bit of crying. Please let me know if I miss any! <3

Dabi | Hawks | Todoroki Shoto | Bakugo Katsuki | Midoriya Izuku | Shigaraki Tomura | Aizawa Shota | Amajiki Tamaki | Kirishima Eijiro | Shinso Hitoshi

The night was cold as you sleepily flipped through your journal, not wanting to write but knowing you should. The entries from the last three months have been short and filled with a dull ache of lonliness. They lacked the usual length and warmth you poured into the pages, ranting on about how sweet your timid Tamaki is and how much you adore him and his ever lasting warmth.

The rambling would go on and on, but now you wrote a paragraph or two about how your life has been 'fine' and that Tamaki has been super busy- if you wrote at all.

There was one or two that held multiple paragraphs of your frustration and not knowing who to blame- knowing that it wasn't Tamaki's fault that there weren't enough heroes to protect the innocent of your large city.

Tamaki was doing his best to protect the defenseless, and you admired that- but the dull ache that sat in the pit of your stomache couldn't go ignored much longer.

Sighing, you closed your journal, standing up from your desk to head to the living room, deciding to talk to Tamaki tonight.

~~

Four hours later Tamaki walked through the front door, tall form drained from exhaustion as he made his way inside, already stripping off his hero gear.

"Tama?" You call, poking your head out from the living room to sadly smile at your Tamaki.

"Oh. Hey y/n." Tamaki yawned, dropping both his cape and mask onto the floor as he dragged his feet towards your room, tossing his belt onto the kitchen table before moving onto taking off his gear further.

"Wait, Tamaki!" You call, stopping at the bottom of the stairs as Tamaki paused, looking back at you.

"Yes bunny?"

"Ummm.. can we talk?" You ask, smiling at the nickname Tamaki gave you the first week into your marriage- though he later admitted that he thought of it when you two were simply friends but was too shy up until that point-.

"Baby, I'm really tired.. is it important?"

"Yes.. it'll only take five to ten mintues."

"Okay baby, where do you want to talk?" Tamaki yawned.

"How about the living room? I can give you a shoulder massage while we talk if you like." You smile, causing Tamaki's eyes to shine as he smiled down at you.

"I'd like that."

~

After you were both situated you started by squirting some lotion on your hands before spreading it onto Tamaki's left shoulder, immediately noticing his many knots.

"Okay bunny, what did you want to talk about?"

"Oh.. so I know that you're working really hard and are really tired.. and I also know that we haven't had us time in a while.. so I was wondering if you could take a day or two off? Not much, just a day or two would be fine."

Tamaki was silent as you bit your lip in anticipation, hoping you didn't upset him somehow.

"Y/n.. are you serious?"

"Y-yes?"

"Do you know how many people might be dying right now? I can't just laze about spending time with you because you're feeling lonely. Why don't you go hang out with some friends?"

"T-that's not the same.."

"How so?"

"I want to spend time with you Tamaki. You know, my husband?" You scoff, starting to get annoyed.

"And I want to spend time saving people y/n, why don't you stop being sensitve and start thinking about other people?"

"But I've been holding my feelings back for months! Please! I'm just asking for a day- even a few hours is fine!"

"Y/n. No. Now if you're done I'd like to get to bed."

Jerking his shoulder away from your touch, Tamaki started standing up.

"But wait Tama-"

"No. I'm disappointed in your selfishness y/n."

"Wai-"

"Stop."

"Pl-"

"I said stop!" Tamaki hissed, turning around to face you within a second.

At the sudden movement and change of tone you flinched back, tears gathering in your eyes as you stared up at Tamaki, eyes wide.

As Tamaki glared down at you he froze as you flinched, heart immediately breaking as he saw the tears in the corners of your eyes.

"Y-y-y/n I-"

"I-it's okay Tamaki.. you don't need to say anything. I get it. I-I'll just go to bed now."

"B-but y-y/n.." Tamaki whimpered, guilt consuming him as he watched you walk away.

"Y-y/n.. I'm sorry.."

~

You quickly got in bed after hurrying up the stairs, wiping at your eyes as you clung to your pillow, staying as far away from Tamaki's side as possible.

~~

You awoke the next morning to the sun shining in your eyes.

Wincing, you turned around to feel for Tamaki, forgetting all about last night and the dreadful few months.

After feeling how cold Tamaki's side of the bed you sighed, memories coming to you in flashes as you stared at his side of the bed.

Wiping away the stray tears, you got out to get ready for a day worse than the one yesterday.

After getting dressed you made your way down stairs, deciding to get on top of your piling to-do list to help get your mind off of Tamaki.

Stepping into the kitchen, you stepped back at the sight of a lavish breakfast filled with all of your favorites spread across the newly cleaned kitchen table.

"T-Tamaki.." you whimper, looking at your beloved with tearful eyes as he guilty studied you with his indigo orbs.

"Y-y/n I-"

You interrupted Tamaki as you rushed into his arms, clutching the back of his shirt, desperate for comfort from the man you've grown to adore.

"Y/n I- I'm so so sorry." Tamaki mumbled, burying his face into your hair to mask the tears falling from his eyes.

"I forgive you Tamaki, I know you were just over worked and didn't mean to take it out on me."

"I promise you- I really didn't me an to, a-and I feel terrible about it."

"Shhh it's okay baby.. I already forgave you. We just need to reflect on what we did wrong tonight and make sure not to do it in the future. Next time, I'll wait until you're less exhausted, and you'll make sure to remind me that you're too tired, mkay?"

"O-okay.."

"Now baby.. why are you home? Don't you have work?"

"Nope, I took the next two weeks and a half off. I know that it won't make up for the months of loneliness, but I'll try to be better, I"ll take less shifts and make sure to only leave for emergencies when I'm off the clock.

"Alright, that's a good start."

"I may need today and possibly tomorrow to sleep.. but I cleaned the entire house -besides our room- and looked at your to- do list and did a few of the bigger things on there.. oh and I made us breakfast.."

"Tamaki. I love you. So, so much."

"I love you too bunny. I'm really rea-"

"Shh, I already said I forgive you. Now, let's eat!"

~~~

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[yanderenightmare]

who's the worst bnha yandere? in your opinion

Shigaraki Tomura x darling

TW: NSFW, noncon/dubcon, f!reader, Shiggy being gross

fem reader

It’s easily Tomura.

Tomura because he doesn’t care about the most basic of human needs. 

Forgets to feed you. And when he does – it’s always some half-eaten burger, sub or burrito. He doesn’t give two shit if you’re vegan or vegetarian. Shit – he doesn’t even care if you’re allergic. If you don’t want it, you can starve.

Doesn’t give you clothes. He rarely bothers getting himself new clothes, do you think he’s gonna do you any better? No. Wear his dandruff-riddled, old-sweat-seeped hoodie – or wear nothing.

Something else you miss is proper housing – even if it’s just a room with a bed and a toilet. You’ve learned that even that is too much to ask for.

You never stay in the same place for long – needing to switch bases regularly in order to remain low. Never anything he’ll have to pay for, of course – a pick of the litter abandoned office buildings, hotels, and empty homes. 

If you’re lucky enough to find a place with running water, you stay longer. If not, you’ll have to make do for a couple of days – worst case was a little over a week. You still shudder thinking about it. 

He’ll keep you in any room he can lock from the outside – only sometimes blessing you with an actual mattress and not some old moldy sofa or a thin blanket on cold floors.

One time, you stayed in some old mansion one of the league members had found. You suspect they killed whoever lived there before – seeing as the entire house was properly furnished and clean when you all infested the place. 

Not that you got to explore much – Tomura kept you locked in the master bedroom on the third floor – the one where you most definitely would have broken both legs if you tried escaping through the window.

It had been one of the nicer places. One with working hot water and clothes for you to change into – albeit shamefully, sending prayer and thanks to the owner who was no doubt dead and rotting. You were even able to find a stockpile of fresh towels and linens you changed after a week had gone by.

But as the weeks turned to more weeks, they’d all run out – and you began hoping you’d move on to the next place soon. Even with the risk of it being someplace cold and dusty, it would still be a fresher slate.

The nice mansion had gone bad after a month or so – you’d lost track of time. 

Thankfully, you’d been able to air out the dank smell of armpit, ass, and feet – and were allowed to take a shower whenever you weren’t handcuffed to the bed – often able to lure Tomura to join you if only for the sake of washing the stench of decay, dandruff and dickcheese off him. 

But even so, Tomura isn't the most hygienic type. Managing keeping him halfway decent was troubling enough. 

It’s way tougher to keep the room tidy with Tomura’s ill habits of keeping half-eaten food lying around – empty cup noodles and other street junk, beer bottles, and sour energy drinks – along with bloody piles of worn-out clothes, dirty holey underwear, and soggy condoms.

You were driven to the point of disgust that you’d asked him whether he could do you the simple favor of finding and bringing you the house cleaning supplies so you could wash the place yourself.

Oh… how funny he’d found that little comment... 

“Too filthy in ‘ere for yah, is it? Too gross for the pretty princess?”

It hadn’t been the first time he’d made you lick the floor. Face down, ass up – with his bare foot placed heavy and clammy against your teary cheek – two of his fingers stuffing your cunt, and the other two inside your ass – while he sits at the edge of the bed, spitefully stroking his hard dick to the degrading view.

“Tch – such a filthy bitch, and you complain about the scenery?” He sneers – pumping both your holes. “Didn’t know I was fuckin’ such a spoiled cunt.”

You cry at the crass stretch his digits make – but you know better than to fight him when he’s pissed. You only regret forgetting how it’s never been a good idea for you to do much of anything other than nod your head and smile pliantly – open your mouth wide for his tongue, spit, cock, and cum or otherwise keep it shut.

Per request, you keep it open wide, tongue out on the hardwood floor – tasting the grouts of lint and dirt and God knows what – stale and salty on your tastebuds. Or maybe it was the tears gushing from your eyes – soaking your face where you sobbed.

“Tch – shut up.” A hand replaces the foot on your face – dragging you up with a fist in your hair. Pulling his fingers from your holes with a sloppy shlick – before promptly pushing all four digits inside your mouth. “If you wanna clean somethin’ – you can start with this slutty mess.”

You gag at the threat as he shoves all but his thumb down your throat – wiping off your slick, then giving your face a mean slap with the same, now spit-coated, hand – before pulling you up from the floor by your hair and ushering you onto his lap to straddle him.

He wipes the rest of your drool off on his erect cock – standing proudly with a thick flow of creamy pre leaking from his slit.

He doesn’t waste much time before lining up with your puffy pussy-lipped hole and making you sink down on him.

You croak at him going in raw – always feeling extra violated without the thin rubber protecting you from catching his germs as he pushes all his veiny girth inside you until giving your womb a cummy kiss. 

“What’s the problem, slut? Don’t like riding dirty dick?” He huffs, starting to rut against you in no clean tempo. He snickers at your grimace, still holding your hair in a tight pull as he angles your face to his to kiss your tight-lined lips – feeling you cringe even more. “Don’t worry. I’ll let you clean it after I fill this and the other hole up with filth.”

You whimper at the dark promise – and he wipes his tongue across your sorry expression from chin to temple.

“I’ll do you up nice and nasty – so you won’t feel so out of place anymore~”

[dekusleftsock]

MMMMM OKAY OKAY OKAY

I’m surprised no one has talked about how interesting Izuku breaking his mask is???????? Like oh my god?????

He even comments on the fact that it’s probably useless to wear in a scene like this, since he only put it on previously to shield his face from the waves while fighting and running away from Himiko.

In fact, I could even compare this to another Himiko scene altogether!

Himiko’s broken mask.

It’s a metaphorical mask, but honestly, so is Izuku’s. In this chapter (and previous chapters, obviously) Izuku is hiding from the fact that he has… deeper than desirable feelings for Katsuki that makes him violent and hateful. He does not want to be violent or hateful, but currently, he is at such an awful state of mind (due to Katsuki’s death and then reawakening, and also partly the state of his friends and colleagues) that he can’t help doing so.

That hate and violence cannot be stuffed down deep in his bones like usual, oh no, his quirk elicits a PHYSICAL reaction. But he didn’t have a quirk before, how could he really know that this would happen? It’s like walking through daily life as a teenager, and then in your early adulthood being hit by an extreme anxiety disorder or other health conditions. With no real reason, it just happened one day! Other people have dealt with this before sure, but they had several years throughout their adolescence to figure it out, how to cope with it. And just like it’s said in the manga, it’s like everyone else is running far ahead, and you’re just starting to crawl.

And that’s what the mask is (fuck you dream 🫶🫶🤭) really for. It protects Izuku on a very emotional level. The mask is broken, chipping, dirty—yet he wears it anyway because it’s the only way he can really smile like allmight. Just like allmight found his mask, he also found his smile. It’s also probably why his first reaction to having a quirk stolen (while also strategical) is to hide hide hide in blackwhip. A bubble that hides him from Shigaraki, from Katsuki, from everyone who could see his face.

And comparing this to toga, hello?? Her masking metaphor is about MASKING AS A HETEROSEXUAL GIRL, and her breaking that mask makes her a deviant, an outcast! And here Izuku is, doing the exact same thing.

Shigaraki has danger sense now, by all means, the table has flipped—Shigaraki now knows that Izuku wants to hurt him. Izuku wants to destroy him. Danger sense doesn’t work on just anyone, it has to be coming from a place of malice (because Himiko doesn’t affect danger sense), and an urge for violence. Very Himiko trait.

AND IZUKU KNOWS THIS, HES BERATING HIMSELF, INDIRECTLY ONCE MORE—saying that he has this useless power (similar to how he berated the fish when he was mad at Katsuki in chapter 1), comments on how the mask is broken and that allmight found him that mask, and he even holds this disappointed look on his face.

THIS is the weight I was talking about. This. The berating, the indirect hatred, because Izuku hates. He hates people and things just like Shigaraki does. That’s why danger sense was the only power shigaraki should have taken, it’s the literal power to feel who is loving and who is hating.

AND OF COURSE WE HAVE THE THROWBACK CHAPTER TO 342 OH MY GOD

The fact that Izuku has to say, “you’re a person”, ITS SO DAMN BEAUTIFUL YALL IM DEAD

Oh also! Izuku having matching blood falling over the other half of his face is just too fitting.

To me, with this whole chapter, Izuku and Katsuki, the parallels Katsuki had to ochako last chapter (the falling on the ground, passing out because “it’s getting cold”), it’s just given me a lot to think about.

And I’ve thought and paced and I really really hope I can describe what I’ve been thinking.

Pikahlua (or however their name is spelled, sorry!) translated the text on top of ochako as “Im still not sure what was obvious to that person”. These are the rough translations which is good to keep in mind, but there’s a few ideas I’ve had floating around from that line.

I went back and read 342, Ochako is ofc looking out into the city, calling herself an oddball, even saying she feels like she doesn’t know anything about Toga; if, and this is a big if, but… if this is Izuku thinking about Ochako, then that makes this line far more interesting.

What was obvious to her? A couple of possibilities—possibly understanding that she doesn’t really know Himiko, maybe it’s the fact that Ochako is so openly ready to accept Himiko (unlike Izuku for shigaraki, though this doesn’t apply to Katsuki. Showing Izuku is capable of feeling long term resentment for someone who wronged him, so long as that person doesn’t just wrong him, izuku), or maybe, it was the fact that she was so openly ready to say that she was weird, an oddball (a queer trope for coding characters, “she’s just so weird about that girl”, “I feel like I don’t really fit in”, or “I feel like the way I think of this same sex character—regardless of contextual status such as being a villain or an arch enemy—is wrong, and I should be condemned.”)

Though this could also be Ochako talking about Himiko that wasn’t directly said/shown in that scene, “I’m still not sure what was so obvious to Himiko about me.” (Though personally I find this harder to believe since this isn’t a panel directly taken from the chapter, rather a redraw from Izuku’s perspective. The drawing even makes her look taller than Izuku, which is interesting. Maybe he thinks that she’s better than him, morally)

And if we take Izuku’s comment of “You’re a person” then that furthers my belief that these are thoughts ABOUT ochako. Maybe the “obviousness” was the seeing the villain as a person. She EVEN TELLS HIM that she was thinking of Himiko during her speech about how Izuku is still human to the civilians. Maybe that speech was never about Ochako to Izuku, maybe it was ALWAYS ABOUT HIMIKO.

And ntm, this is another case of Izuku projecting onto someone else; not only is this a declaration to Shigaraki, “You’re still a person (that’s why I know I’m going to save you)!” But it’s also a declaration to himself, a motivator, a reminder that Ochako made to him during her speech, in Katsuki’s apology, and from allmight during his vigilante arc.

“You’re still a person (Izuku).”

The same declaration he made to the fish in the first chapter, to Shoto during the sports festival, and to Katsuki during dvk1.

“I matter.”

And it’s this that truly makes all of this so ironic—izuku speaking for himself, projecting onto shigaraki… honestly they feel the same way about hero society. The only reason Izuku can and does relate to Shigaraki is that he also feels cast away, no adults to reach out to as a kid, therefore making decisions on morality and bias that he mostly made on his own. Not only that, but Izuku has been the boy that was not seen as human. He has been the one to be isolated and shamed for being dirty and looking like a villain.

That’s honestly probably why he agreed with Ochako at all—he saw the little boy Shigaraki once was in ofa yes, but he’s also been an isolated and dehumanized teenager at UA. What if what Izuku was thanking Ochako for wasn’t actually standing up to the people and the speech she gave to him, but that she was able to truly open his eyes, see the bigger picture. Save Shigaraki.

Do I think shigaraki and dekus relationship and ideas of relatability are vastly different from togachako AND dabi + shoto ideas? Yes. Extremely so. Shoto and Ochako don’t and never really did hate Himiko or Touya. Obviously, to an extent Izuku does. Ntm, Shoto and Ochako brought up their conversations about their respective villains on their own, professing their insecurities and doubts, unlike Izuku who only expresses that he relates to them.

Maybe this anger and hatred came more recently, after seeing Katsuki’s death, but I have a feeling it more has to do with a built up grudge of Shigaraki targeting Katsuki.

Regardless of all of this, I see something bigger; when Izuku breaks his mask, he smiles. Genuinely smiles. Not his bright allmight smile, but he smiles regardless on that last page. It hurts and it takes a lot of power to push it, but it happens anyway.

This is the first time I’ve seen Izuku happy, or at the very least motivated, since seeing Katsuki dead. Even when Katsuki woke up, he still looks heart broken.

But the mask is gone. He’s free. Just like Himiko was free, so is Izuku.

And I thought for just a second that he would cover himself up another way, but he didn’t. He got up and he said “You’re still human” And smiled at him like the badass he is (yes I can compliment him, I promise. He’s my favorite character for a reason, I also just wanna kick him in the balls 24/7 for being so dumb).

And what did Himiko do when the mask broke?

She gave in.

She was free.

She let the world know, “this is who I am, take it or leave it.”

And I know, in my heart, that this is what Izuku will do too.

Yk how I mentioned earlier that this was a parallel to this?

I mean that, down to the fact that Ochako is calling Himiko by her first name.

Will Izuku try to give his life to Katsuki? I doubt it, he can’t do much in the medical sense.

However, do I see a shared moment similar to this? Maybe.

Okay all I’m saying is that it’s undeniably canon atp. Like I’m gonna wait for some kind of confession or kiss (bc yes I still believe that will happen, I am in that camp and you couldn’t drag me out unless I was cold and dead on the ground), but Himiko literally says she loves Ochako multiple times, INCLUDING is 395, so like. Idk what else you want. It’s this. We did it. Horikoshi you bastard.

[scary-grace]

For the milestone thingy with shigaraki, 24 and 28!

Thank you so much for the prompt! I went a little crazy with this one, and I hope you like it! If anyone else wants to prompt me from this list for a Shigaraki fic, please feel free.

When a child from your settlement goes missing, you go willingly into the woods to rescue him from the entity that dwells there. You're not at all prepared for what you find. Based on the tale of Tam Lin. 7.1k words, afab reader, warnings for dubcon + smut. Prompts: 'whispering in their ear, lips touching the skin' +'feeling for each other in the dark'

Izuku’s been missing since noon, and you and the others are out of places to look. You’ve searched high and low, crawled into every closet and tight corner, and checked every building, outbuilding, and hole in the ground. You even risked the radio, calling to the next settlement fifty kilometers away, on a wild hope that someone had found him and taken him to the wrong place. You’ve asked everyone if they’ve seen him, and got the same answer – not since noon. Now the sun is setting, and you’re out of ideas. Except one.

You’re the one who raises it, because no one else will. “What if he went to the woods?”

“Why would he do that?” Yue looks at you like you’ve lost your mind. “He knows better. They all know better.”

“Something could have enchanted him,” you argue. “We have to think of everything –”

“Nothing that’s supposed to stay in the woods ever comes out of it,” Rumi says. “That’s why we’re here instead of somewhere else.”

So much of the world is haunted now. You and the others are old enough to remember the way it was before, but the little kids have never known anything different. Fear of the woods isn’t learned for them, it’s instinctual. It’s hard to imagine that a kid like Izuku, a kid who follows the rules to a fault, a kid who’s always eager to please, would do something like this. But if there’s anything you know about the world as it is now, it’s that you can’t trust the rules to stay the same. Soon enough, they bend and warp, and there’s enough space between them for Hell itself to slip through.

Some say the creatures that claimed half the world seven years ago are demons, drawn up by humanity’s sins. Others think they’re aliens who’ve been watching Earth for eons, choosing to step in now for reasons incomprehensible to anyone but themselves. It’s easier to believe those things than the truth: They’re the Fair Folk, creatures of myths and fairytales the world over, who burst from hiding all at once and forced humanity to the brink in a seven-day war. Seven days. To you it shifted overnight.

Millions were lost. Any space where nature had been left to flourish became a stronghold for the Folk – forests, beaches, streams, mountains, fields, lakes. Deserts. Oceans. City parks. What the Folk couldn’t overrun, they destroyed; what they couldn’t destroy, they transformed. Even iron can’t protect against them, when there are enough of them, and they targeted the cities and towns first. That’s why you and the others were sent away. The Folk’s armies are merciless. The Folk who took up residence in the wild places are – less.

There are no truly safe places, but the settlement is as close as it gets – a cluster of buildings in the midst of a square mile blasted clean of anything wild, on the edge of a forest whose fey inhabitant never ventures out. As long as you don’t go into the woods, look at the woods, think about the woods for too long, you’re safe from him.

Or you thought you were. Fuyumi’s coming around to your way of thinking. “If Izuku’s in there, we have to go get him.”

“Are you crazy?” Natsuo crosses his arms over his chest, shakes his head. “I love that kid as much as any of us do, but if we go in there, we’re dead. That thing in there wants us more than it’ll ever want him.”

Manami wraps her arms tightly around herself, shivering. “Maybe we should call the grown-ups.”

“No,” you and everyone else says at once. Rumi keeps talking. “The radio’s too risky. The Folk can distort it. And we can’t distract them. What they’re doing is too important.”

“Besides,” Yue mumbles, “they left us in charge. We’re the grown-ups now.”

The military was decimated in the first round of fighting. Now the military, such as it is, consists of every able-bodied adult, no matter who they were before. Every able-bodied adult includes the parents of every single kid in the settlement, but someone has to take care of the kids during the three-quarters of the year where the adults are away. The older kids got the job, because in spite of the fact that all of you are old enough to vote and all of you could theoretically fight, you still count as underage in the eyes of the law. That makes you children to the Fair Folk. The Fair Folk love human children too much.

“We can’t call the adults. We looked everywhere. We can’t go to the woods,” Fuyumi says. “What are we supposed to do?”

“We don’t have proof he went to the woods,” Keigo says, speaking up for the first time. “Nobody goes in unless there’s proof.”

“How are we supposed to get proof?” Yue asks. “We already asked everyone.”

“Let’s ask again,” you say. “And let’s hurry. Whatever we do, we have to do it before dark.”

You and the others split up. Natsuo and Rumi go to quiz the oldest kids, while Fuyumi and Manami and Yue go to talk to the middle-graders. Keigo aims for the youngest kids; you go to the ones who would be in primary school if the world hadn’t ended. It’s Izuku’s age group. Even though he’s not popular, they’re more likely than anyone else to know where he is.

You asked them already, but this time, you’ve got specifics. “I know you don’t know where he went,” you say to them, once you’ve herded all of them into a corner to talk to. “I want to know what he’s been like over the past few days. Has he said anything about the woods?”

The reaction among the kids is instant, and it strikes fear and guilt into you like you’ve never felt before. “What did he say?” you ask. Head-shakes all around. “I need you to tell me. Izuku might be in big trouble. We can’t do anything to help him if we don’t know what happened.”

More head-shaking, from all the kids but one. Katsuki’s looking away from you, his arms crossed over his chest, his jaw set. Of all the kids, Katsuki’s the one who likes Izuku the least, who picks on him the most. You and the others try to stop him, but you can’t be there every second. “Katsuki,” you say. He looks quickly at you, then looks away again. “What did Izuku say to you about the woods?”

“Deku’s a coward. He wouldn’t do it. I just said I’d stop if he –” Katsuki’s voice wavers. “I didn’t think he’d really go.”

You feel sick to your stomach. “Did you dare him to go into the woods?”

“And bring something back,” Katsuki says. “To prove it.”

It all comes together in your head, an awful picture you can’t look away from. What Izuku wants more than anything is to belong with the other kids, to have friends, and Katsuki’s the one who won’t let it happen. Promises hold more weight in this world than they used to. If he promised to leave Izuku alone, Izuku had good reason to trust it. But he dared Izuku to break two rules at once, two rules that are guaranteed to seal Izuku’s fate. Humans don’t trespass on the Folk’s territory without consequences. And they definitely don’t steal from them.

But you know where Izuku is for sure. Now there’s something you can do. “Stay here,” you order the kids, and you run to find the others.

“No,” Yue says, even before you’ve finished explaining. “We still can’t go in there.”

“We have to,” you say. “He’s just a kid –”

“So he’ll be safe,” Natsuo says. You stare at him. “If the stories are anything to go by, that thing’s not interested in kids. But you can bet he’d be interested in us.”

“The stories also say he can be bargained with,” you say. It gets quiet. “There’s no story about Tam Lin where he doesn’t let you make a deal.”

Part of the reason the settlement is here is that Tam Lin doesn’t leave the woods. The other part, never said but known all the same, is that unlike the other monsters from folklore, an encounter with Tam Lin doesn’t lead to death. You can walk away alive, so long as you and he come to an agreement. “No,” Keigo says. “Nothing ever goes well bargaining with the Folk. Especially not at night.”

“So you’d go in the morning?”

“I’d go in the morning,” Rumi says. “We could all go – or most of us, since somebody has to keep an eye on the kids –”

“What if he doesn’t have until morning?” you ask. It gets quiet again. “Time runs differently in their territory. We only know how long he’s been gone out here.”

“That’s just a rumor,” Natsuo says. “I say we go, some of us. In the morning.”

It’s a solid plan. You’d probably agree with it if there wasn’t this awful feeling in the pit of your stomach, the one that says Izuku has less time than you think, the one that says waiting until morning is waiting too long. There’s fear, and at the same time, there’s guilt. Guilt when you imagine Inko, Izuku’s mom, coming back from eight months of war to find her son gone. And even if it wasn’t for Inko, you know what kind of kid Izuku is. You know that if someone was in trouble, he’d run to help them, no matter how dangerous it was. You owe him the same.

“You can do what you want,” you say to the others. “I’m going now.”

“Are you crazy? You can’t just –”

“I know the stories. I know the rules. And I’ve still got things –” You touch the necklace your mother gave you before she died, the bracelet from your grandmother around your wrist. The idea of letting them go makes your heart ache, but for another person’s life, it’s not a question whether you’ll make the deal. “I still have things to trade. I can’t live with myself if I don’t go now.”

“You want to go get snatched by a faery? Fine.” Natsuo turns away, his jaw clenched. “My dad and my brother both tried this shit. You know how it went for them.”

“They didn’t try it with him,” you say. Natsuo walks away, and you face the others, forcing a smile onto your face. You hope you look brave. “Take care of the others. If I’m not back by nightfall, I’ll be back by morning. And so will Izuku.”

Promises made carry more weight in the world now. You take it as a good sign that you’re able to get the words out of your mouth without choking on them.

Crossing the border into the woods feels like entering another world. The Folk’s magic is so thick in the air that it’s hard to breathe, and you stumble against a tree before you’ve taken more than a dozen steps, your head swimming. You’ve never felt their magic like this except once before, and you do what you did then; small, paced breaths, taking sips of the air rather than gulping it down. Your lungs will adjust if you give them time, and once the knot in your chest loosens, you straighten up again. There’s a path before you, almost certainly a trap. Is it still a trap if you go into it purposely?

It doesn’t matter if it’s a trap or not – it’s Tam Lin’s trap, and you want to find him. You step onto the path and follow it into the trees.

Each step seems to take you centimeters forward at most, and at the same time, you can feel time passing in a way that’s not quite normal. It skips and starts and pauses, and panic begins to well up inside you as you feel yourself getting tired. On either side of the path are logs covered in soft, pillowy moss, hollows at the base of trees that would be perfect to curl up in, all inviting you to stop and rest. You ignore them, the same as you ignore the shimmering flowers a few meters off to the side, the same as you ignore the deer that follows along beside you close enough to pet. They’re all tricks made to stop you. You won’t stop until you find Izuku. And you won’t find Izuku until you reach Tam Lin.

The path terminates in a clearing, and you nearly stumble into it before you catch yourself. Instantly you know you’ve found the right place. The glade is covered with roses, a few of them white but most of them red, and Izuku sits amongst them, bound hand and foot in thorny vines. You call out to him, remembering only at the last minute not to use his name, and he looks towards you. There’s panic on his face. “Run,” he says. “This is his place. He’s here. If you take another step –”

You look more closely at Izuku. He looks terrible, dehydrated and exhausted, and worse than all of that, he looks thinner. Like he’s lost weight. Like he’s been here much longer than half a day. There’s a white rose clenched in his hand, bound there purposely by the vines. He’s made both mistakes outlined in the stories – trespassed in Tam Lin’s territory, and plucked a flower. Tam Lin has him. You wonder if he’s offered Izuku a bargain, and if he has, why Izuku didn’t take it. “Have you seen him?”

“He won’t show himself, but I know it’s him.” Izuku is crying now. “Please just go. This is all my fault. I don’t want anybody else to get hurt.”

“It’s too late for that.” A voice rasps out from between the trees on the far side of the glade. You see a pale figure there, just out of clear sight. “Listen to the boy. Run while you have the chance.”

So Tam Lin can entrap only one person at a time. You think through the rules of bargaining with the Folk, slowly and carefully, knowing that a mistake will cost Izuku everything. Tam Lin must have offered him a bargain. He must have refused it. And if he’s still here, it means that Tam Lin offers only one chance. It means you’ll get only one chance, and it’s the only choice you have if you want to save Izuku.

It’s not a choice at all. You take a deep breath, shaky enough to rattle your entire body, and step forward into the clearing, ignoring Izuku when he protests, noting the way the shadow in the trees startles. You bend down and grasp a red rose, snapping it free of its vine. “I’ll make you a deal, Tam Lin,” you say. “Let the boy leave the woods alive, safe, and whole, and I’ll take his place.”

Izuku protests again, or tries to. A vine wraps around the lower half of his face, clamping his jaw shut, as Tam Lin steps from the shadows at last. He looks nothing like the Folk are meant to, beautiful and healthy and whole – instead he’s gaunt and deathly pale, his skin dry and ashen and laced with scars. His clothing is ragged, and his hair, even paler than his skin, hangs lank and tangled around his face. His face is scarred, too. His eyes are bloodred.

You catch your breath in horror at the sight of him. He scoffs. “If you dare to offer that bargain again, it’s yours,” he says. “But I don’t think you will.”

“You think the way you look will make me forget why I’m here?” You let out a scoff of your own. “Let the boy leave the woods alive, safe, and whole, and I’ll take his place to bargain with you.”

Tam Lin’s lips are dry and cracked. When they curve into a smile, blood spills from them, dripping from the corner of his mouth to stain the collar of his tattered shirt. “Done.”

The vines unwrap from around Izuku, and you turn towards him, clamping your hand down over his mouth before he can say anything that will put him in Tam Lin’s clutches again. “Go home,” you order. Izuku’s eyes are welling up again. He shakes his head. “I know what I’m doing. I made your bargain, not my own just yet. Promise me you’ll go home now.”

If he promises you here, he won’t be able to break it. You lift your hand away from his mouth. “I promise,” Izuku whispers, and you breathe a sigh of relief.

The vines slip away from him at last, and with them, Izuku moves to drop the white rose. You fold his fingers around it. “Keep it,” you say. “Show Katsuki. Make him keep his promise, too.”

Izuku nods. “Go now,” Tam Lin rasps from behind you, as you help Izuku to his feet and turn him in the direction of the path. “Not that way. Here.”

He points to a gap between the trees, one that travels straight and true. At the far end of it, you can see the light of the setting sun. Izuku stumbles towards it, then steps between the trees, takes a single step – and vanishes. At least, that’s what it looks like from your angle. When you race through the vines to peer into the gap yourself, you see a small figure, dwindling rapidly, disappear into the light.

“You think I’d break my word?” Tam Lin’s come up behind you without warning. He speaks with his lips pressed against your ear. His breath is cold, and you freeze in terror. “Remember, I can’t lie. Unlike you.”

“What makes you think I lied?” You step forward, away from him, turning so you’re face to face. “If my bargain for his life wasn’t true, you wouldn’t have accepted it.”

“That’s right, but you didn’t lie to me,” Tam Lin says. “You lied to the boy, when you told him you had another bargain to make. You knew it was a lie when you said it.”

“I knew,” you admit.

“Then why?”

“So he’d leave without trying to help me.”

“Is that all?” Tam Lin tilts his head, studying you. “I think you lied so he wouldn’t think about the bargain you truly made.”

“That, too.” There’s no point in lying about this. You sealed your fate the moment you pulled the red rose. You let it fall from your hand to rest among the vines. “I don’t want him to think about what you’re going to do to me.”

“You offered yourself to me,” Tam Lin says – snaps, almost. “I gave you the chance to leave. You refused.”

“Yes.” You knew what you were offering, and he knew when he accepted. Why is he still talking? “Let’s get this over with.”

You have the brief satisfaction of seeing Tam Lin’s jaw drop. “Get this over with?”

“Don’t be dense,” you say. You made your deal with him. What else can he do to you? “When someone trespasses and steals from you, you take their virtue or the most valuable thing they have to offer. I made my bargain already, so I don’t get to choose. I don’t want to stand here waiting all night. Let’s get this over with.”

Tam Lin is staring at you like you’ve gone insane. The magic permeating every centimeter of the woods must be making you insane, because you’re standing here in a faery’s haunt, telling a faery to hurry up and – you can’t even finish the thought. Maybe you won’t need to finish the thought if you take control. “Well?”

Tam Lin looks away from you. “Take off your clothes.”

You think about it for a moment, then decide against it. You’re out of choices when it comes to this, except for how it goes, and you don’t want it to go like this. It must not be what Tam Lin wants, either – he’s still looking away, visibly uncomfortable. You cross the space between the two of you, reach up, and turn his head back to face you. He startles when you touch him. His skin is cold. So are his lips, when you rise on your toes to kiss them.

Tam Lin stays frozen, maybe in shock, maybe in disgust. When you draw back, you can read nothing on his face. Maybe this isn’t how the people whose virtue he steals usually react. You kiss him again, and he doesn’t stop you, but he doesn’t respond. You haven’t done a lot of kissing, but you think the person you’re kissing is supposed to do something back. “Do faeries not believe in kissing?”

“I’m not a faery.”

He expects you to believe that, when he has faery magic, when he lives in the middle of a haunted forest, when he’s bound by the same rules that bind them. “Then what are you, Tam Lin?”

“I’m not a faery,” he says again, and you remember, suddenly, that he told you he can’t lie. His hands rise to grasp your waist. They’re thin and bony, almost skeletal, and cold just like the rest of him. “And my name’s not Tam Lin.”

“Oh.” You can’t manage much more of a response than that. “What do I call you, then?”

Not-Tam Lin, not-a-faery, leans in close, presses his lips to your ear again. “Tomura.”

You start to repeat it, to make sure you’ve heard it right, and Tam Lin – Tomura – covers your mouth with his hand. “Not out loud,” he says. Then why did he want you to know it? You kiss the palm of his hand and he flinches. “What are you doing? I told you to take off your clothes.”

“I have to at some point.” Your stomach clenches with discomfort at the thought of exposing yourself here, exposing yourself to him. “But you were right, before. I offered myself willingly. I should act like it.”

Tomura still looks confused. He looks frustrated when he’s confused, or else he’s confused when he’s frustrated, and either way, the whole virtue-stealing thing is taking too long. Your resolve could break at any second, and then this will be awful and painful and terrifying instead of simply awful, simply awkward. You’d rather he acted while you could both still convince yourselves that you want this. You watch Tomura’s expression shift, see the moment when he comes to the same conclusion. This time, when you lean in to kiss him, he kisses you back.

Cold. His kisses are ice-cold and unrelenting, even as his lips split against yours and blood spills between you. You lick it away on instinct and his grip on you tightens, and worse when you swipe your tongue across his lower lip again. Tomura’s lips part at once, and although you’ve done nothing more than read about this in a book, you lock your mouth against his. He’s so cold. But when your hand slips to rest against the side of his neck, you can put your fingers against his pulse. Whatever else Tomura may be, he’s alive.

The thought comforts you ever so slightly, but whatever peace or comfort you feel evaporates when Tomura’s grip on you shifts. He lifts you off your feet with a strength you wouldn’t have imagined he possessed and lays you down amongst the thorns. Amongst a spot that’s clear of them. You can see the vines retreating out of the corner of your eye a moment before Tomura pins you down. His mouth crashes against yours, and the way he’s stretched out on top of you forces you to part your legs, just enough that one of his can fit between them.

You chose for this to happen. You offered yourself willingly, and still you squirm to get free. Tomura shifts his weight so he’s no longer pinning you quite so heavily, but one of his hands slips beneath your shirt, pulling one cup of your bra down to clear his way to your breast. “Hey,” you protest. “What are you doing?”

Tomura doesn’t answer. He seems fascinated, too fascinated to even kiss you, as he cups your breast in one hand, gives an almost experimental squeeze. Your nipples harden, more from the cold than anything else, but of course he notices. He pinches it lightly, and your body jerks. An unfamiliar sensation runs quickly through you. “Hey,” you protest again, softer this time. “I thought you just were supposed to take my virtue.”

“I want everything.” Tomura’s leg presses harder between yours as he pinches your nipple again, tugs at it for a moment before circling it with the rough pad of his thumb. Your body jerks a second time, forcing your hips up to grind against his leg. “You’re warm –”

Warm, bordering on hot, and the way he’s yanked your bra aside is uncomfortable. You shove lightly at his shoulders as he wrestles with the other cup. You shove weakly at his shoulders, and he gives you an annoyed look. “Let me sit up,” you say. “I need to take it off.”

Tomura lets you up just long enough for you to take it off and pull it out from under your shirt, but as soon as it’s gone, he pushes you back down again. This time his mouth finds yours as he plays with your breasts, and when you squirm against the sensation running through you, there’s nowhere for you to go. If your back isn’t arching into his touch, your hips are rolling against his leg, your motions growing more urgent as he toys with you. He has to stop. He has to stop, or he’s going to –

“Tomura,” you gasp against his mouth, and you feel him shudder. So that is his name. So you do have something, after all. “Tomura, please –”

He stops, which is what you wanted – and at the same time, it’s not what you wanted at all. He sits up, draws back, and before you can protest, he’s tugging at the waistband of your pants. You start to sit up, but he pushes you back. “I need to take off my shoes,” you say. He gives you a skeptical look. “I said I’d take my clothes off.”

“I want to do it.” Tomura pushes you back onto your elbows, then pries your shoes off your feet, along with your socks. Then he’s back to your pants, pulling them down along with your underwear and casting them aside. “I told you. I want everything.”

He’s still fully dressed, but his shirt’s in tatters, barely concealing anything. You thought he’d undress more, but he’s already pushing your legs apart, sinking down between them. Too far. By the time it occurs to you what Tomura’s doing, his mouth is between your legs, his tongue cold in contrast to your heat. His fingers are the same, when two of them slip easily inside you. Your legs are shaking from a few laps of his tongue against your clit. Your body tenses, forcing a sharp gasp out of your mouth. You feel exposed to an awful degree, horrified at how helpless you must look, how helpless you are – and at the same time, the sensation of his touch feels so much better than anything you’ve felt before.

You sit up on your elbows, but your face goes up in flames at the sight of him between your legs, and you fall back, staring up at the sky instead. Even then, you can’t shake the image of him with his eyes shut, face buried between your legs, completely lost in you. You can’t fail to hear the harshness of his breathing, the sound he makes when you clench tight around his fingers and come so hard your eyes go blurry. Even if you could, it would be impossible to miss the fact that he keeps licking you even as your body goes limp, that it takes you shoving at his shoulder to make him pull away – and even when he does, he’s reluctant in a way that makes you cringe with embarrassment.

Tomura sits back, and you sit up. When you make eye contact, you see that his eyes are dilated, and that his pupils are round rather than vertical. He wasn’t lying. He’s not a faery, but the way he’s looking at you means you can’t look at him for long. You look away. He catches the hem of your shirt and peels it off, and you do the same before unbuttoning his pants and pulling them down. You don’t know the first thing about cocks, but you’d have to be an idiot to miss that his is hard already.

You reach out for him and he pushes your hands away, shaking his head. “Don’t. I can’t if you –”

If you touch him? You’ve barely touched him. Why does he look like he’s about to come already? You lie back and Tomura follows you down, knocking your legs apart and lying down between them. This is what you were steeling yourself for, an eternity ago when you told him to get on with it, what you planned to grit your teeth and bear through. But Tomura sinks into you easily. Your legs shake where they’re hooked over his hips, but that’s nothing new. Tomura, with his gritted teeth and flushed face, looks like he’s having a harder time with it than you are.

You wrap your arms around his neck on his first unsteady thrust, pulling him down for a kiss that tastes the way you must. You don’t know how you feel about that. You kiss his neck instead, then his jaw just below his ear, and Tomura moans. You know how you feel about that – heat rushes through you, and you kiss him again. He’s almost frantic in the way he fucks you, no control, all need. Almost like – the thought’s absurd – almost like it’s his first time, not just yours.

You know you won’t come a second time. That doesn’t mean it doesn’t feel good to have him like this, to be the reason why he’s desperate, why he’s panting for breath, why some trace of warmth has returned to his icy skin. There’s no way you can touch him that won’t unbalance him somehow, no matter how light or gentle you are. When you cradle his face in one hand, run your thumb over a scar on his lips, he leans into your palm for a split second before seizing your wrist and pulling your hand away.

But he doesn’t let go of your hand. You pull your wrist free, then lace your fingers with his, and you see his eyes go wide. “Tomura,” you say, and he looks at you.

You have no idea what you look like, and no idea what to say next, but it doesn’t matter. He shudders, curses, his grip on your hand tightening to the point of pain as he comes. His grip doesn’t loosen, not even when he pulls out and slumps against you. The fact that he’s still holding your hand is the only proof you have that he’s not completely unconscious.

Even though he’s warmer than he was before, you’re still cold. And naked. And lying on the ground. You start trying to escape, and you get as far away as sitting up and reaching for the nearest item of your clothing before a not-quite-so-cold hand closes around your wrist. “No.”

“I held up my end of the deal,” you say. “You can’t keep me here any longer.”

“The woods aren’t safe at night,” Tomura says. “Not from them. Not for you, and not for me. I can’t stop you from leaving, but if one of them finds you, they’ll do worse than anything I could.”

You remember what you said to the others before you left – you’d be back before nightfall, or else tomorrow morning. It looks like it’ll be tomorrow morning. “All right,” you say, and Tomura’s grip on your wrist relaxes. “I’m still putting on my clothes.”

Somehow, getting dressed again makes things more awkward, not less. Even with your clothes on, you can’t forget that he’s seen you without them, or anything else about what happened between the two of you. You’re hungry and thirsty, but even if Tomura offered you food, you couldn’t eat anything that’s passed through faery hands or come from the Fair Folk’s domain. It’s dark, and you’re tired. Once you’re dressed again, you go looking for somewhere to sleep.

“Here.” Tomura is shadowing you, never more than a hairsbreadth away. He points out the hollow of a massive tree, more than spacious enough for three people, let alone two. Inside it you can see a collection of objects, scattered in the corners, decorating the walls. “This is where I sleep.”

“So I should sleep somewhere else,” you say, but your attention’s drawn to the objects. There’s no rhyme or reason to what they are, no common thread. Jewelry and watches hang on walls beside folded pieces of paper, books lay in piles on the ground next to stacks of CDs and old cameras – and phones. There are more smartphones piled up under this tree than you’ve seen since the end of the world, and suddenly it clicks. “These are from your trades.”

Tomura nods, and you study the objects, feeling sick to your stomach all over again. The most valuable thing a person had – in the war and immediately afterwards, it would have been their phone, because everyone still hoped they’d start working again. Then photo albums, picture frames, even missing posters, reminders of people who’d been lost, and after that, simple objects. A CD, because things with batteries still work. A favorite book, because no books will ever be printed again. A piece of jewelry, gifted by someone a person loved. Like what you would have traded to Tam Lin, if you’d had a chance to choose.

You get a little fixated on a dog’s collar, well-worn, with a tag still dangling from it. It’s all too easy to imagine the person who would have carried it with them. “This is cruel.”

“They had a choice.” Tomura takes the collar out of your hand and sets it back among the rest, arranging it just so. His hands are covered in scars, just like the rest of him. “They chose this.”

Something occurs to you. “How many of them chose it?” you ask. He glances sideways at you, then looks away. “How many of gave something to you, and how many of them –”

You aren’t sure how to describe what happened to you. Tomura doesn’t answer, and you think about the world before the war, the world after. Of how many people still cling desperately to the scraps of a world that will never come back. You know the answer to your question. You wished you hadn’t asked in the first place, and the idea of sleeping here makes your skin crawl. Sleeping here next to him feels even stranger.

But you don’t know what else lives in the woods, and while you can’t trust Tomura, you know at least that he has his end of the bargain to uphold. You crawl into the hollow beneath the tree, keeping as far from Tomura as possible. Tam Lin’s glade shimmers even in the moonless night, but within the tree, it’s ordinary darkness. Somewhere within it, Tomura speaks. “Out there. What’s it like?”

You don’t know what to say. “I asked that boy,” Tomura continues. “He wouldn’t tell me. Is it a secret?”

“It’s not a secret,” you say. “He knows better than to talk to faeries. All the children do.”

“For how long?”

“Why does it matter?” you ask. Tomura scoffs, shifts in the darkness. Your eyes have adjusted enough to see his shoulders hunched, his almost-skeletal limbs folding in to make him smaller than he should be. “You’re one of them. Shouldn’t you know?”

“I told you I’m not a faery.” It’s quiet for a few moments. “If I knew, I wouldn’t be asking you. How long ago did it start?”

“Seven years this October,” you say, and on the other side of the hollow, Tomura sits bolt upright. “Does that mean something to you?”

Tomura doesn’t answer that, either. He sits there, frozen like a statue, and you turn away. It’s been a while since you slept on the ground, but you’re tired enough that it won’t matter, and you feel so strange. Your legs hurt, and you’re sore between them, and when you lick your lips, you find Tomura’s blood still staining your mouth. Lying down on the far side of the hollow with your back to him doesn’t feel like the right answer, but neither does trying to talk to him, let alone going closer. You lie down, fold your arms against your chest in an effort to keep warm, and close your eyes.

Your eyelids have just begun to grow heavy when Tomura speaks again. “Seven years,” he says, and his voice sounds wrong. “Are you sure?”

“I remember the day it happened,” you say. “I know.”

You were thirteen. You remember the way the weight and taste of the air changed, the icy winds that whipped through town ahead of the advancing armies. You remember running, then hiding, hearing but not seeing what was done to the people who were caught. Izuku and the others will never know what the world was like before, but even if you don’t cling to the past, you can never forget what the Fair Folk tore away. “I know,” you say again. “Almost seven years.”

“Seven years.” Tomura takes a deep breath, or tries to. You hear it catch and rattle. “I didn’t think –”

His breathing rattles again, and a sense of foreboding sweeps over you. There’s something he knows that you don’t, something you have to get out of him – but then he takes another rattling breath, and you match the sound to the reaction. It’s not one you’d expect from the Fair Folk, and it’s what convinces you at last that Tam Lin’s not one of them. The Fair Folk don’t cry.

You shouldn’t care at all, not when you’re sitting amongst the precious things he’s stolen from so many in exchange for their freedom, not when you’re one of his – victims? – yourself. But ignoring it feels wrong, wrong in the same way as waiting until morning to look for Izuku was. You sit up, reach out across the hollow, but the distance between the two of you is too great. You scoot closer, feeling for him through the darkness until your hand encounters a frozen, shaking shoulder. The question you were going to ask him dies on your tongue.

Whatever this is, it’s not something you can fix. You wrap your arms loosely around him instead, feeling him startle the same way he did when you first kissed him. You lie back, pulling Tomura with you, until the two of you are sprawled on the ground. It’s uncomfortable, still. Tomura’s still cold. You still don’t know how you feel about what happened between the two of you. But you know you feel better like this. Things feel better when you aren’t alone.

You don’t remember falling asleep, but when the sounds of the forest wake you up, it’s dawn. Tomura hasn’t stirred, and he’s lying on one of your arms, which is numb and full of pins and needles as you try to work it loose. Tomura sits up before you’ve freed yourself. The darkness wasn’t kind to him, but in daylight, you’re struck by just how terrible he looks – thinner, paler, skin dry and cracked and scarred. He’s hard to look at. Harder to look away from.

You look away and get to your feet. “Which way do I go to get out?”

“The low road.” Tam Lin is slower to rise, and as he does, the same passageway that Izuku left through opens on the far side of the glade. “Don’t leave the path.”

“I won’t.” You straighten your clothes, then turn to look at Tomura. What are you supposed to say to him now? Thank you for not hurting you, for letting you fulfill your side of the bargain your way? “Goodbye, Tam Lin.”

“That’s not my name,” he says. “The other one. Do you remember it?”

“Of course,” you say, and Tomura’s shoulders relax ever so slightly. “I won’t forget.”

“It won’t matter anymore, soon,” Tomura says. He turns away. “Go.”

You have questions – questions, and a strange twist of worry within you – but you also made a promise to the others in the settlement, and you have to keep it. You turn away from him and cross the glade, heading for the opening between the trees, not stopping even when you hear his footsteps behind you. One hand grasps your waist again, stopping you in your tracks, while the other arm wraps around you. There’s something in his hand. You look down and see the rose you plucked last night, as perfect as when you pulled it from the vine.

“Here.” Tam Lin’s voice is less than a puff of air against your ear. “You won this. Take it with you.”

You take it from him, and his hands fall away from you. The urge to look back is there, and it’s strong. You step forward instead, crossing out of the glade – and three steps later, out of the woods and into the bright morning sun.

It’s not long before one of the others spots you – Keigo’s always had sharp eyes – and he calls for the others. As they race towards you, you decide what you’ll tell them. You spent the night bargaining with Tam Lin, the same as the hero in another folktale spent her night as wife to a murderous king telling stories to keep him interested, and eventually you won your freedom. You’ll say nothing of the bargain you really made, nothing of what happened between you and the being the world knows as Tam Lin. They’ll look at you differently. They won’t understand. You barely understand yourself.

You’ll keep it to yourself. When the others reach you, you ask your question first. “Did Izuku get back? Is he okay?”

“He’s fine,” Fuyumi says. She looks you anxiously up and down. “What about you?”

You’re conscious of the woods behind you in a way you never were before. You’re still holding the rose. “I’m glad Izuku’s okay,” you say, because you are. And then you lie, because you can do that, because they don’t need to know how you returned – just that you did. “I’m fine, too.”

[commander-revan]

Maybe it's too much to hope for at this point, but I am wondering if Mr. Compress will have a role to play in these last two chapters anywhere. Saying "He'll be back." seems to imply he has more to do before the story is over, and the last time we saw him besides in flashbacks was here talking to Geten in prison.

And that scene doesn't really seem important enough on its own to hint at his return in that character profile.

His goal in joining the LoV was all about honoring the family legacy of exposing injustices and corruption in society that would go ignored otherwise.

He sacrificed himself so Shigaraki and the rest of the League could change the world, but most of them are dead or dying now (still hoping that changes), and it seems society hasn't changed at all yet. The same cycles keep repeating.

So if Izuku and Ochaco's talk in the next chapter covers their feelings regarding their villains that they couldn't save, and how they want society to view them differently since no one got to see their heroic aspects in the end, I wonder if Compress may lend his voice to their cause, and help them expose the injustices the LoV faced. Maybe he can still complete Harima's goal of reforming society.

Granted, I'm probably just reading too much into it, or it may be a plotline that was dropped in the end. But I do hope we see Compress again before this is all over.

[existence-is-a-liminal-space]

rant time

This is so disappointing, and the worst part is I have no one to blame but myself. I've always sorta seen the writing on the wall. Hori has always had a really weird track record with his writing; dropping plot points, being purposefully cagy and noncommittal to certain themes etc. However I do think there is a difference between something being an objectively poorly written story and just a story that, while well done, might no be something I personally enjoy (or even a overall fine story with a few flaws). For awhile I thought, like many people that mha was going to be a scathing critique on hero society and Deku & Co. would have to reccon with their places in it: how the hero-villain dichotomy does not help anyone, scapegoats those deemed undesirable, allows heroes to get aways with murder, and perpetuates the complicity of the masses leading them bring about some sort of systemic change with the help of the antagonists . When I realized it wouldn't be that I thought "OK" then it is a story about saving the have-nots and proving why they are going about things the wrong way and offering another solutions while working within society–a bit sanctimonious but sure–they become the greatest heroes because of their compassion and willingness to save. And then when the villains bring up their issues with society their continuously told to shut up or that their wrong with no further elaboration, better yet that they just dealt with what happened to them the wrong way as if was somehow their fault for reacting badly to being treated badly and given no real recourse. And then the All For One reveal happened. And god. the last minute reveal (right before he's 'killed') that all of Shigaraki's family issues and quirk were the direct result of AFO? It's a really nice way to further invalidate all the criticisms he's ever made now that nearly everything bad that's ever happened in his life was because of some really bad guy, doubling down on making everything an individual problem rather then a social one–because that way you don't have to challenge your characters core ideologies right? or think of actual solutions? And that's where I feel like MHA crosses into being an objectively poorly written story overall; to establish all these issues and themes and back out on them at the last minute for a simple solution.

I have to ask: What the fuck is going to change? Stories set in a fantastical world usually have something to actually fucking comment on in that world. We are shown explicit issues in the world of mha What has been deconstructed about the world of MHA? After all of this, what have any of these so called greatest heroes done to make an actual, tangible difference in the world they live in? The end of MHA is shaping up to be just a continuation of the same cycle it the begins with, all of it's issues going unaddressed or swept under the rug. People want to say that MHA doesn't need to address those things, that it's just a story about hope and redemption, where is the hope and redemption in killing off the people shown to be the most victimized by society? If it is a story about true heroism being intrinsically linked to saving then what does it say that some people just can't be saved, that are 'too far gone' that have to be fucking mercy killed.

In conclusion, the LOV deserved to be in a story which actually lived up to what it promised.