A New Life For Tomura Part2

A new life for Tomura part2

Shigaraki Being Comforting Headcannon

Its Kinda Sad But You'r My Reason To Live 🫤

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Shigaraki//non gender specific reader. Detailed description of depression, implied suicidal ideations, mentions of alcohol, PLF arc.

You sat next to Shigaraki at the PLF’s upscale bar. He was alone, playing on his switch, just trying to pass the time while waiting for his injuries to heal and enjoy some peace and quiet.

You felt lonely too, and have looked up to your boss since you joined the league in the very beginning. Proud of how far he’s made it.. how far we’ve all made it.. but you can’t ignore the quiet depression lingering in the background of your mind. Even in moments of celebration, it’s there. It’s always there, following you like an unwanted entity, feeling as though it is forever attached to you.

Today was one of those days where the depression got louder. You could no longer bury it or push it away, it was demanding for you to feel its presence, to acknowledge it and face it. You felt heavy, empty, and alone, even though you were surrounded by people all the time, the feeling of worthlessness embodied your soul.

You were more quiet than usual, normally you talk a lot or at least smile at him and ask about his games, but not today. You just sat there staring at your drink as if you were looking through it. He couldn’t help but notice. “Either drink it or don’t, it’s creepy that you’re just sitting here like this”

Without looking away or moving, a tear falls down your face, changing his tone as one of his comrades is feeling pain. “Hey. Don’t just sit there and cry, tell me what’s wrong?”

You respond in a quiet and shaky voice, continuing to not move an inch, frozen in your tragic state, “it’s kinda sad but.. you’re my reason to live”

He doesn’t say anything.

Shigaraki just stares at you for a moment, his mouth slightly ajar as he is trying to choose his words carefully.

“Why does it have to be sad? I’d say that’s a great reason to exist” he grins.

You don’t react to his shitty joke. He then takes a sip of his drink and his voice becomes more serious.

“Look. That’s the reason I’m trying to change this rotten world. To destroy it. Will there by anything left after? Who knows really… but it’s better than living in a world full of pseudo-hero’s and all the dumbass people who worship the ground they walk on. The rejection felt from those around us will only grow stronger and more powerful each day until we do something about it. That’s why you’re here with the league right? Because you want to make a change too? So don’t do anything stupid to jeopardize that. You’re an important player in this game, you’ve survived this long with the issues you’ve had to face and deal with, what’s a little longer? Get angry, and fight back. I need you.”

Note from author:

It’s my first ever headcannon/short fic so I’m sorry if it’s bad or boring >.< I just wanted to spice up the ask responses a little bit if I can.

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flamme-shigaraki-spithoe

1 year ago

i need. More repressed shigaraki

Oh babe you asked for it and so yougot it

Part I and II here

At this point, it’s been a few weeks, and Shigaraki is as close to coming to terms with his feelings for youas he’s going to get. That’s not saying much, since now that he realizes the trouble he’s in, that means he’s going to have to actually do something about it, right? Now, our boy is a man of action, but this? This is uncharted territory for him, and he doesn’t like that one bit.

He’d rather go toe to toe with All Might than act on what he feels for you. Battles are a matter of strength, calculation, and strategy. Worst comes to worst, he could retreat and try again another day. But this? Too many variables, too many questions. Feelings are irrational and random, and there’s no way to calculate that.

Plus, if you reject him, it’s gameover, and there’s no continue. He’s not sure he could handle that.

Afficher davantage

391 notes View Post

flamme-shigaraki-spithoe

1 year ago

Love Like Ghosts (Chapter 19) - a Shigaraki x f!Reader fic

You knew the empty house in a quiet neighborhood was too good to be true, but you were so desperate to get out of your tiny apartment that you didn't care, and now you find yourself sharing space with something inhuman and immensely powerful. As you struggle to coexist with a ghost whose intentions you're unsure of, you find yourself drawn unwillingly into the upside-down world of spirits and conjurers, and becoming part of a neighborhood whose existence depends on your house staying exactly as it is, forever. But ghosts can change, just like people can. And as your feelings and your ghost's become more complex and intertwined, everything else begins to crumble. (cross-posted to Ao3)

Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Chapter 3 Chapter 4 Chapter 5 Chapter 6 Chapter 7 Chapter 8 Chapter 9 Chapter 10 Chapter 11 Chapter 12 Chapter 13 Chapter 14 Chapter 15 Chapter 16 Chapter 17 Chapter 18

Chapter 19

You pitch forward, but Tomura’s there to catch you, and for a moment, everything’s right where it should be. You’re home. You didn’t leave him. He won’t let you fall. For a single split second, you let yourself believe things will be okay. Then one of Tomura’s hands brushes over an open wound and you cry out. When he pulls his hand back, his palm is shiny with blood. Tomura looks at his hand, then looks at you, and you see his eyes widen – first in horror, then in rage.

“You thought I’d blame them?” he asks his conjurer. “You think I’m weak. You thought I was stupid, too? You’re the one who tried to take my human away.”

He’s trying to put his arm around you, but you’re bloody from shoulder to knee. There’s next to nowhere he can touch that won’t hurt you, and with every second that passes, his anger grows, until he’s practically vibrating with fury. “I wouldn’t dream of taking your human from you,” Shigaraki says to Tomura. “On the contrary, I want to ensure that you keep her forever – without having to make any unnecessary changes to yourself!”

“What?”

Tomura sounds baffled. “Nomu,” you mumble. You seize the hand that’s been searching for a place to hold you and press it to your cheek. “He wants to make me a Nomu.”

“Think about it,” Tomura’s conjurer says. “As a Nomu, she’d be much less breakable. Much less mortal, too. All that effort you’ve put in to understand her – this way, she’d understand you. The process was nearly complete when she left to return to you.”

“Escaped.”

“It wouldn’t take much,” the conjurer says, like you didn’t speak at all. He’s coming closer. “It could be done in a matter of hours. If you wish it.”

“If I wish it,” Tomura repeats. Your blood turns to ice.

“Of course,” the conjurer says. “As I said, I’ve neglected you all these years. I’ll do what I must to make it right.”

Tomura’s thinking about it. Is he thinking about it? You don’t know. “You idiot,” Dabi shouts. “She wouldn’t be your human anymore. She’d be something else, and he’d own her just like he owns you!”

“Look what’s been done to her,” Shirakumo says, his voice low and quiet. “I know what it’s like. I wouldn’t wish it on anyone.”

“Do you truly believe they have your best interests at heart, Tomura?” Shigaraki asks. “They’ll do anything to keep you trapped here, using your power for their own protection. You’ll be a slave to their fear forever. I’m offering you freedom.”

“At a cost.”

It’s Aizawa’s voice. He’s the only human who’s spoken up since you crossed the property line, and he speaks again, his voice perfectly calm. Not to the conjurer. To Tomura. “It comes at a cost,” he says again. “Neither you nor he will be the one to pay it.”

You still have Tomura’s hand pressed against your cheek. He looks at you, then at his other hand, smeared with your blood. You see fury flash in his eyes. Then he turns away, putting his back to the street, pulling you with him. “Spinner,” he says, and Spinner hurries forward. Tomura shifts you from leaning against him to leaning against Spinner. “I need both hands to clear this level.”

He’s not going to give you to his conjurer. He was never going to. Spinner ushers you away, pulling you over to where the noncombatants seem to be huddled – Himiko, Eri, Jin’s youngers siblings. Tomura, meanwhile, materializes fully, cutting off his conjurer’s access to the world between as he starts down the steps. “You were gone too long, Master,” he says. “There’s nothing you have that I want.”

“Yes, come here. Let me see you. I – ugh.” The conjurer makes a disgusted noise. “Now I see where my brother’s spirit went after it ceased to trouble me. You look like him. I’m aware you can’t control how you look when you embody yourself, but – forgive me. It’s quite frustrating.”

“I don’t care who you think I look like.” Tomura stops at the edge of the yard, just prior to the gate. “I’m pretty. My human said so.”

He sounds so proud of himself, and your heart leaps. Even the fact that half your neighborhood is laughing semi-hysterically doesn’t check your joy. You twist in Spinner’s arms, catching a glimpse of the conjurer standing on the opposite side of the gate. He looks horrible. Whatever energy the bracelet released when it broke, it looked like it scalded him, or boiled him, peeling back his skin until his face is nearly devoid of features. He’s looking at Tomura blankly, completely nonplussed. He looks like he doesn’t know what to do.

Finally he clears his throat and speaks again. “You’re quite possibly the most powerful being in this world. Is this – protecting this single neighborhood, and that particular human – truly all you intend to do with it? Is that the extent of your will?”

“No. This is.” Tomura crouches, sets his hands on the ground, and your fence blows apart for the third time this year.

That’s not all that happens. The ground shakes. You feel everything around you ripple and shift, and you hear Dabi swear loudly. Eri and Himiko are both cheering. You look around for answers and find Spinner staring, slack-jawed. “He said he could. I didn’t think he’d actually do it –”

“Do what?”

“Expand the boundaries of his power by force.” Aizawa’s got his gun. “His spirit is still tied to the property, but the entire neighborhood is now within reach of his abilities.”

“That means he can do more to all of them,” Shinsou says. He’s hunkered down with the other kids, but he doesn’t look like he likes it. “Except it means it’s easier for them to get to us, too.”

Jin’s mom steps out of your house. She’s holding a baseball bat and her expression is grim. “Go inside,” she tells her children, and most of them get up and hurry through the door. She looks at you. “Look after them. We’ll do the rest.”

You want to say that you’ll fight, too, but you can barely stand. There’s no way you’ll be anything but a liability. “I can fight,” Himiko protests.

“Me, too!” Shinsou gets to his feet. “We’re way outnumbered. You need us! We can help.”

Aizawa and Jin’s mom trade a glance. “Fine,” Aizawa says. “Himiko, back up Dabi. Shinsou, back up Shirakumo. Don’t engage anyone on your own. Understood?”

Himiko nods and takes off, pulling a knife out of absolutely nowhere. Shinsou casts about for a weapon, picks up a shovel that’s leaning against the house, and takes off, too. With nothing else to do, and Aizawa and Jin’s mom already taking up defensive positions in the yard, you herd Jin’s remaining siblings into the house. Eri’s already inside. She’s in Phantom’s crate, with Phantom. Phantom is whining, a low, continuous sound of distress, but when she spots you, she rockets to her feet, trampling Eri in an effort to get to you. You sink down to the floor, trying to greet her without getting any of your wounds stepped on.

From outside the window, you hear the conjurer’s voice. “Remarkable work, Tomura! But you don’t need to be so gentle with the use of your power.”

“Don’t worry.” Tomura’s voice is flat and icy. “I won’t be gentle on you at all.”

The air temperature plummets, inside the house and outside of it, and you hear the first set of screams rise. You’re seized with a desperation to see the fight, to see Tomura and make sure he’s okay, but you’ve got the kids and Phantom you’re responsible for. You rack your brains, trying to think of where the safest place to hide them will be. Finally you settle on the corner of the room, along the same wall as the front window. No one who peers in will be able to see them easily, and it’s a straight shot from here through the kitchen to the back door in case you need to get out in a hurry. Jin’s siblings, usually raucous, are quiet and scared. Eri’s the most agitated of the group, so you put her in charge of Phantom to give her something to do. And then you drag yourself across the floor again so you can peer out the window.

It looks like someone’s unleashed hell. The scene is eerily lit with flashes of blue fire, and you can see wisps of essence drifting through the air. Too many of them. At least two ghosts are already dead.

You search the battlefield, picking out every live ghost or ghost-adjacent on your side – Shirakumo, Natsu, Nemuri, Dabi, Tomura. They’re all here, although in Tomura’s case, here is a relative term. He’s almost fully materialized, but not quite. That’s not good. He needs to materialize fully if he wants to cut off his conjurer’s access to his power. Does he need to be dematerialized to access his own power? You should have asked, or somebody should have. If he can’t fight –

But he can fight. A ghost comes within reach and Tomura seizes them, blows them apart, adding more shreds of essence to the icy breeze. The next opponent is an embodied ghost. Tomura hits them hard enough to cave in their chest, then tosses them away. He didn’t drain them, even though draining them would have been faster. Why?

“He can’t,” Eri says quietly. “He wants to be like us. If he drains somebody he will be.”

And if he does, his conjurer will kill you all. The others are holding their own in the fight, but when you watch Tomura carefully, you realize that he’s stepping in to save them when they get in over their heads. That’s why he’s not fully materialized. When he’s incorporeal, his reach is longer. He can get to the others before they even know they’re in danger. “Knock it off,” Dabi snaps. “Quit stealing my kills.”

“Be faster, then.” Invisible hands grab Dabi’s current opponent, yank them backwards off their feet, and smash them face-first into the ground. It must be a live ghost, because they explode into a cloud of essence, and they don’t come back. “I’ll do this by myself if I have to.”

“Yeah, but you don’t have to,” Hizashi hollers from somewhere out of sight. You can’t see him, but you see dark liquid spray up, and you decide not to think too hard about what it is. “Focus on your own fight! He’s – fuck! Nem, watch out!”

You don’t see what happens, but you see Nemuri sprint through your field of vision, clearly in full retreat. “Quit screwing around! Do it now!”

Tomura materializes fully. You always know when he’s done it, because you always see him stagger slightly when his feet hit the ground. Shigaraki tsks from somewhere nearby. “You think that will save you? Why do you think I brought so many of my friends?” he asks. You feel the ground shake, once and then again. “You can access the world between even while wearing that weak form. Show me what you’re capable of!”

The thing that appears from the shadows is enormous. You’re not sure if it’s a Nomu or just another ghost, but it towers over the rest of them, dwarfing Tomura so badly that he looks like a child’s plaything compared to it. You watch Tomura brace himself, hands outstretched to make contact, but the thing swats his hands aside. Then it seizes him around the waist and clenches its hand into a fist.

You scream in horror. You can’t help it when you see the spray of blood that exits Tomura’s mouth, the way his head falls back, eyes blank and bloody, features gone slack. The monster squeezes harder, then gives a vicious shake, and you swear you can hear his neck snap. Tomura might be the one crushed to death in the monster’s grip, but you’re struggling to breathe. “Tomura –”

Improbably, agonizingly, his head turns in the direction of your voice. Then he dematerializes, leaving the monster with an empty, bloodstained hand.

“He’s okay,” Eri whispers to you, but you don’t believe her. Tomura materializes fully again, just out of reach of the monster, but he looks shaken. You’ve never seen him look like that before. “See, he’s okay! He’s –”

This time, Tomura dodges one of the giant’s hands only to get grabbed by the other. It seizes him with the other hand, too. Then it tears him in half.

He can feel things when he’s materialized. You know that. Some things feel good and some things feel bad, and as you watch the monster destroy his physical form again and again, you’re sick with horror at how much it must hurt. You watch him die three times, five times, twelve times, his limbs torn off, his skull crushed, his body mangled beyond repair. Every time he materializes again whole, he looks worse. Not marked by what’s happened before. Tortured by it, haunted by it, until the monster seizes him and it begins again.

You can’t look away. Some part of you feels like you owe it to him not to. If you can’t help, if all you can do is sit and watch, at least you can let him know you’re here.

The monster throws him to the ground and stomps on him until his body disintegrates into a puddle of tissue and shattered bones, and he doesn’t reappear quickly. Second after second ticks past without him materializing again. Then a familiar rush of cold comes over you, and when you look away from the window, you find Tomura crouched beneath it.

He looks awful, sick and sweaty and pale, and when you reach for him, you can feel how badly he’s shaking. You pull him into your arms and hold on tight, ignoring the bright flare of pain from your wounds when he slumps against you, when he hugs you back even harder. There’s no time for a kiss. There’s not even time to speak. Just a split second of contact that leaves your skin damp with his cold sweat and his shirt stained with your blood, before he dematerializes and reappears outside the house.

The giant swings for him again, but this time it misses – and it misses its second swing, too. Tomura’s gotten his feet under him, and he’s moving faster than he was before, so fast that your eyes can’t track him. It makes your head hurt to try. You squeeze your eyes shut for a split second, only for them to fly open when you hear the sound of glass shattering right next to your head. You open your eyes and find an embodied ghost leering down at you.

You struggle to your feet, trying to stay between the ghost and the kids, trying to figure out how permanent the embodiment is. You strike out towards his face and see him flinch – but he doesn’t blink. Fully embodied, which means you don’t have to worry about being drained, which means you need to fight. You’re not a good fighter by any means, and you’re worse now, courtesy of every other horrible thing that’s happened today. When the ghost strikes at you, you’re too slow to dodge, and he knocks you sprawling across the floor.

You have to get up. The kids. You have to get up so you can protect the kids, but when you try to rise, the ghost kicks you in the ribs and knocks you back again. “Go on,” he says, leering down at you. “Call for help. Call him.”

You seal your mouth shut. If you didn’t scream for Tomura to save you while his conjurer was torturing you, there’s no way you’re going to do it here. The ghost draws his foot back to kick again, only to yelp and stagger as Phantom bites down hard on his other ankle, shaking and snarling until he loses his footing. She’s not the only one trying to help. Eri’s hitting the ghost in every spot she can reach, her tiny fists balled up and her face twisted with rage.

“No!” she shouts. One of her blows catches the ghost in the groin and he nearly falls. That’s your opening. You crawl across the floor, heading for the fireplace and the fire poker hanging from a hook on the wall. “No! You’re not supposed to be here! Go away!”

Her voice rises to a shriek, and you hear an odd, strangled sound. You twist around and freeze, struggling to grasp what you’re seeing. The ghost is – shrinking. From an adult to a teenager to a child to an infant, and finally to nothing, vanishing out of Eri’s grip completely. Eri looks surprised, then pleased with herself. “I didn’t know I could still do that!”

She scrambles across the floor to you and starts patting your head. “It’s okay! I got him! You don’t need that.”

You grab the fire poker anyway, your mind still reeling. “Is that how you – got people before?”

Eri nods importantly. Then her eyes brighten. “I have to go!” she announces, and before you can stop her, she bolts out the front door. “Tomura! I have something for you!”

You want to tell her not to distract him, but then he crashes through the porch roof, sprawled out with wooden spars protruding from his torso, his shoulder, his mouth. He dematerializes, then reappears, and Eri seizes one of his hands. “Here!” she says, and you see something pass from her hand to his. “I helped! Go!”

Tomura nods in thanks and disappears off the porch at lightning speed, while you pour all your energy into getting ahold of Eri and pulling her back inside. Eri goes willingly. “I have to tell Himiko,” she says, squeezing her eyes shut. “Maybe she can do it too.”

You vaguely remember Hizashi saying something about how Eri had massive untapped powers as a ghost. Somehow she figured out a way to pass off a human-sized dose of life-force to Tomura without requiring him to drain anybody, and when you peer out the broken window, you see Hizashi dart past the giant as it pursues Tomura, slapping Tomura in the back of the head on the way. Tomura turns to snarl at him, but when he steps back out of the giant’s range, he’s notably faster. Hizashi can still drain people, maybe. But there’s another live ghost in the equation who can do the same, and Nemuri dips in next, tapping Tomura’s shoulder before dematerializing.

You don’t see where she goes, but the giant staggers, howling in pain. You look to Eri, wondering if she knows. “He’s a Nomu,” she says by way of explanation. “She’s in his heart.”

You remember what Rumi did to the conjurer’s henchman she caught and feel like you’re going to be sick. The giant reaches into its own chest, trying to remove Nemuri, and blood oozes out, spattering the grass, the fence, everyone fighting in the yard and on the street. It stumbles, then stumbles again, and its shadow falls over your house.

If it falls on you, you’re all dead. “Get out of there!” Aizawa shouts. You yell for the kids, grab Phantom, and bolt into the yard once the others are out.

Nemuri and Tomura have gone from trying to kill the giant to trying to stop it from crushing the house, and the two Nomu jump in to help. For a second you’re confused about why they’d want to protect the house at all, but then you remember that even with extending his power over the neighborhood, Tomura’s still strongest inside the property line. If the house is destroyed, there’s nothing at all to stop the conjurer from coming through.

Where is the conjurer, anyway? A chill that’s got nothing to do with the high concentration of ghosts in the area runs down your spine. You turn just in time to see the conjurer step through your front gate.

Aizawa spots him, shoots him, his aim solid even with one eye. But Tomura’s incorporeal, pushing the boundaries of his power to try to contain the falling giant, which means the conjurer shrugs off the shot like it’s nothing. Then he slips into the crowd, weaving in between the combatants, making it impossible for Aizawa to shoot him without the risk of hitting someone on your side. Aizawa snarls, turns to deal with another opponent, and you set off.

You take the kids to hide. There aren’t very many good places to hide, but anywhere the giant isn’t is a good place to be. You find Keigo and tap his shoulder just after he’s finished knocking out an embodied ghost, leaving them easy prey for Natsu. In retrospect this wasn’t your brightest idea. He swings a crowbar at your head and almost knocks you out, checking his swing at the last minute. “Don’t do that! Why are you walking around? You should be –”

“I need you to take them and help them hide.” You gesture at the children. “In your house. I don’t know. Just get them out of here.”

Keigo stares at you. “And what are you going to do?”

“I have to get to him. The conjurer.” Your legs go weak when you think about what you’re planning to do, but you lean on the fire poker and stay on your feet. “I’m the only one he has a reason not to kill. I can get close. If I time it right –”

Keigo doesn’t need you to finish the sentence. He nods and turns to the kids. “We’re gonna cross the street and go hang out at my place, okay? Let’s go.”

Eri hesitates, but she eventually follows Keigo and Jin’s siblings. You force yourself upright, tighten your grip on the fire poker, and start off through the crowd in search of Tomura’s conjurer.

You’ll only get one strike to bring him down. It’ll have to do the job, and courtesy of Garaki, whatever inhibition you had against hitting another person with the intent to kill them is long gone. All you have to do is picture what’s happened to Tomura since Shigaraki got here, and you see red. One hit to stun him, and then as many more as it takes, until he’s dead and Tomura’s safe and this is over for good.

Shigaraki must be trying to stay hidden. With Tomura materialized for most of the fight, his conjurer’s access to the world between is cut off, which means he won’t be able to defend himself if one of the Nomus on your side comes for him. You can’t defend yourself, either. Where would you hide?

The house. The house is the best shelter there is if one isn’t worried about the giant, and the conjurer probably thinks you’re still in there. You look towards the house and spot him climbing the front steps. His back is to you. Tomura’s materialized, darting around the back of the house to evade the giant. Now’s your chance. You renew your grip on the fire poker one last time and set off at an unsteady run, ducking around fights where you’re beneath the combatants’ notice. Originally your plan was to hit him in the head, just like you did to Garaki, but as you close the distance between the two of you, you realize that you don’t have the strength or the balance for a swing. There’s a sharp point on the fire poker. That’s what you’ll use.

You remember thinking, when you were deciding how to attack Garaki, that you couldn’t stab someone. That’s changed. You make it two steps up the short staircase to the porch, lose your footing, and fall forward against the conjurer’s back, getting your makeshift spear into position just in time. Your momentum does most of the work. The fire poker stabs into the conjurer’s back, sinking in to the base of the spike. You apply the last of your strength and shove it the rest of the way, fighting the resistance of muscle and bone until you’ve run him through.

Blood gushes from the wound, soaking you all over again, and Shigaraki Akira lets out a pained grunt. It’s a much quieter sound than you’d make if you’d just been stabbed, and it’s the first sign that something’s gone wrong. The next is when the handle of the fire poker is yanked out of your grasp, pulled into the conjurer’s body. He’s pulling it through, hand over hand, until it exits his body on the other side.

You stumble, losing your footing, and fall backwards down the steps as Shigaraki Akira turns to face you, fire poker in hand. Blood is running from his mouth, but he’s smiling at you, and as you watch in terror, the wound in his chest closes completely. “Excellent try, but your timing was poor,” he says. He tosses the fire poker down the steps to clatter at your feet. “Why not try again?”

You should. Just because Tomura was incorporeal when you stabbed Shigaraki this time around doesn’t mean he will be the next time, but when you reach for the fire poker, you can’t close your fingers around it. The hard landing feels like it’s jarred some circuit loose in your brain, and you can barely move. The pain’s flooding back in, too, and suddenly you’re struck by the futility of it all. Even if you pick it up, even if you fight again, you’ve lost the element of surprise. He’s bigger and stronger than you. You don’t see how you can do anything but lose.

Shigaraki leers. “You spent all your will on one strike,” he says. He’s coming down the steps towards you. You shuffle backwards, but not fast enough. “Shimura’s farewell gift helped you escape my purpose for you before, but it won’t do so again. This won’t take but a moment.”

He reaches down and seizes you around your throat, hauling you to your knees one-handed. His other hand reaches out and snags a passing ghost, yanking them out of their embodiment in a single smooth movement. You can see the spirit twisting in his grip as his hold on you shifts, forcing your head back and your mouth open. “It’s a shame Rumi escaped. She would have suited you and Tomura better,” he says. You bite down on his fingers to no effect, and he grips your jaw tighter in response. “But this will do. Don’t struggle, now. There’s no need when you’ve given up already. Just – swallow.”

Something cold brushes your lips, then the back of your tongue, something that squirms and wriggles horrendously as it tries to escape. You raise your arms and try to pry the conjurer’s hand off your jaw, but his grip is iron, and it’s getting hard to breathe. He’s going to force the ghost down your throat, turn you into a Nomu, and you won’t be you anymore – and there’s nothing you can do. You can’t pull his hand free. You’re reduced to scratching at his knuckles as you choke on the ghost he’s trying to bind to you.

His grip on your jaw tightens past the point of pain. “Don’t struggle,” he instructs you again. “Just –”

Something plows into him from one side, moving too fast for you to track it. You sprawl out on the ground, coughing up what little essence you were forced to swallow, and the ghost he was trying to force-feed to you vanishes in a split second. You’d run if you could, too. Instead you struggle to pick your face up out of the dirt to see what’s happened to the conjurer.

The giant’s gone and Nemuri is nowhere to be found, but Tomura’s on his feet. He’s standing over the conjurer, eyes blazing but curiously blank. His shirt hangs in tatters. His blue-grey hair’s gone white. The very air around you is crackling with the evidence of his power.

The conjurer looks at him, what’s left of his mouth curving into a broad smile. “Well done, Tomura,” he says. “You’ve claimed your power at last. Dispense with the others.”

Tomura doesn’t move, but all around you, enemy ghosts and Nomus burst apart into clouds of essence, until the entire neighborhood hangs under a heavy fog. The only ghosts left are the permanently embodied ones, who promptly bolt. Tomura lets them go. The conjurer gets to his feet, grimacing slightly, but once he’s standing, he smiles for Tomura. “Now put an end to all of this,” he says. “Destroy the house.”

Tomura looks towards the house. He extends one hanz, and for a moment, you’re convinced he’ll destroy it. The conjurer’s right – it was a prison. Maybe it’s always been a prison to him, even if it was home to you. Then a vicious smile comes to Tomura’s face. He turns away from the house and seizes his conjurer by the throat. “I think I’ll destroy you.”

His conjurer doesn’t answer. That smile is still on his face, and you see Tomura’s eyes widen in surprise a moment later. He’s materialized. His conjurer has no access to the world between through him. So why is he hesitating? You see something crawling across the conjurer’s skin and blink hard as you try to get a handle on it. When you realize what it is, your stomach turns.

It’s essence. Tomura’s conjurer is covered in clouds of ghostly essence. Was he always like that? No, you would have noticed during the time he spent torturing you. You were out of it, but not enough to miss something like that. You see Tomura frown, shake his head. A wave of cold sweeps through the neighborhood, instantly coating everything in a sheen of frost and ice, but the conjurer only laughs. “You’ve already broken them. They can’t be blown apart smaller than this, and the neighborhood is full of the remains of your enemies. Even if you could destroy them, I’ll always have more.”

The scraps of essence are beginning to move, crawling over Tomura’s hand, and he draws back, revulsion on his face. The conjurer gestures, and the fog you saw hovering over the neighborhood descends. Where it touches a ghost, embodied or not, they recoil. When it touches a human, like you, the cold begins to burrow through your skin. You’ve got a lot of open wounds. It doesn’t have far to go before it hits bone.

You don’t want to scream, but as the cold begins to writhe beneath your skin, you can’t help it – and you’re not the only one. Human or Nomu or ghost, it doesn’t matter. Whether the scraps of essence trigger a response of disgust or agony, all you and the others can do is scream for it to stop, and the conjurer’s voice rises above it all. “This stops when you decide it does, Tomura. You can’t destroy me the way you wish to. Destroy the house, and I’ll let them go.”

“No, you won’t.” Tomura looks miserable. “I can see inside your head. You won’t let them go as long as you think you can control me with them. I know what you think I won’t do.”

“If you do what I ask of you, you’ll find I’m very reasonable,” Shigaraki Akira says. “I’ll have no reason to hurt them if you comply.”

But he will. Every time he thinks Tomura won’t do what he wants, he’ll hurt you all until Tomura bows to his will. The question of whether Tomura cares about the neighborhood has been settled for good – he does care. Enough that he’d give in to his conjurer to protect you all. “I don’t believe you,” Tomura says. His hand closes around his conjurer’s throat again. “And I’ll destroy you however I have to.”

Garaki had the chance to speak, but Shigaraki Akira doesn’t. You see a split second of shock on his misshapen features before he begins to disintegrate at the throat.

It’s fast and mercilessly simple. Tomura drains his conjurer to death at lightning speed, scattering essence into the air, and as the empty set of clothes falls to the ground, you see Tomura’s feet touch the mostly-dead grass in your front yard. There’s the little stagger he always does when he lands, like he’s not quite used to being on solid ground. And then the world begins to bend and warp around him, midair tearing open just behind him. A rush of cold sweeps over you again, a thousand times worse than anything you’ve felt from Tomura or any other ghost. It’s the world between. It’s pulling him back in.

Tomura’s body begins to fray, strips of skin peeling off and being sucked into the rift behind him, a moment before it yanks him off his feet entirely. In a split second he’s nearly swallowed whole. All that’s left of him is one hand reaching out, grasping uselessly at the air, seeking something, anything, to hold onto.

You move without conscious thought. You throw yourself forward and seize Tomura’s hand in both of yours, one hand closing around his palm and the other around his wrist. You don’t know if you can stop this. If there’s any way to stop this at all. But you know for a fact that you’re not going to let go of him. Wherever he goes, you’re going there, too. Tomura’s hand grips yours just as tightly. His knuckles have gone white. And his hand is warm.

Another set of hands covers yours and you nearly jump out of your skin. When you look to your right, you find Spinner crouched next to you. He gives you a strained smile and tightens his grip on you, and on Tomura. “You gotta hang on,” he shouts at Tomura. “I heard there’s a shiny Giratina in the new Pokémon game.”

You almost laugh. You would laugh if you couldn’t feel the cold leaking out of the world between. Another set of warm hands closes onto you, one around your wrist, one reaching further up Tomura’s arm. Himiko’s teeth are bared, either smiling or snarling – you’re not sure which. “Don’t you dare let go,” she says – to Tomura, not to you. “Your human will never forgive you, and neither will I!”

The pull of the world between is getting stronger. It’s dragging on Tomura, and now it’s dragging you, Spinner, and Himiko, pulling you closer to the breach. “Oh no you don’t,” a voice says sweetly, and someone grabs you and Spinner around the waist at once. Magne’s grip is strong as she hauls you both backwards. “Jin, honey, you too!”

Jin is holding onto you and Himiko. He’s pulling hard. With their help, you’re no longer losing ground to the world between – but you’re not making progress, either, and your hands are starting to go numb. An agonized howl issues from somewhere within the rift and your blood turns to ice. He’s hurt. This is hurting him. You have to get him out of there.

You open your mouth to call for help, but before you can, the air is unceremoniously forced out of your lungs as someone bearhugs you from behind. “Hold on,” Kurogiri instructs – not Tomura, but you. Tomura’s nails are scrabbling at the inside of your wrist, but you’re so cold you can barely feel them. “We will do the rest.”

Only Tomura’s forearm was visible before. Now his elbow and his upper arm are free of the rift. There’s another scream from inside it. Someone scurries past you, much closer to the rift than you thought anyone would dare to go, and grabs Tomura by his upper arm. “Pull together,” Atsuhiro shouts at the rest of you, as ice begins to spiral up from the spot where his hands are wrapped around Tomura’s bicep. “Now!”

Tomura’s shoulder emerges from the rift, but even as you pull him free, his grip on your hand is weakening. You tighten yours in response. “Hang on,” you beg him. “Come on, don’t do this. Hang on!”

Another yank and his head is free, but something’s wrong. He’s not conscious. His head is hanging forward, his hair in his eyes, and even when you say his name, he doesn’t stir. You keep pulling, and so does everybody else, but once you’ve freed his torso, the world between fights back. Even with all seven of you struggling to free him, you can’t win. Tomura’s hand is almost entirely limp in yours.

Himiko notices, too. She raises her voice. “Help!”

Who’s going to help you? Everybody who’s ever shown they care about Tomura is already here, fighting to steal him back from the world between. You know Aizawa won’t intervene. You wouldn’t be surprised if Hizashi tried to push Tomura back in. Who’s left? Keigo’s watching the kids. You don’t know where Nemuri is. Jin’s mom – Natsu – nobody. This is who you have. You’re not enough.

“Fuck,” Dabi explodes from somewhere behind you. You barely have time to tighten your grip on Tomura before a pair of burning-hot hands lock onto your forearm and haul you backwards.

You can smell your own flesh burning, but it doesn’t matter. None of it matters, because eight of you are enough. One final yank, all of you pulling together, and Tomura tears free of the rift, falling forward into the pile of rescuers and landing mostly on top of you.

“Ew, he’s naked!” Himiko scrambles backwards, and everybody else follows, as you shift Tomura off of you and onto his back. He’s definitely naked, whatever remained of his clothes torn away in the effort to free him from the world between, and his body’s a mess. There are patches of burns and frostbite, bleeding fractures in his dry skin, his lips split and bloody. His eyes are closed. He’s not moving.

“Tomura.” You shake his shoulder, gently at first, then with increasing desperation. “Please. Please wake up.”

His skin is warm. He’s permanently embodied. He’s alive, or he was. You feel for a pulse at his neck, but you don’t know enough about taking pulses to know if you’re even touching the right spot, and your fingers are still numb. Is his chest rising and falling? Your eyes are so blurry with tears that you can barely see, and you blink hard, trying to clear them away. A few droplets roll down your face to splatter on Tomura’s shoulder, his cheek. You keep shaking him, fighting to hold in a sob. You’re injured. You’re in pain. The cold of the world between is in your bones, and none of it hurts as badly as the thought that you’ve lost Tomura for good.

You’re so busy shaking him that you barely notice when he stirs, but you can’t fail to notice the hand that rises, first to brush at his face, then to awkwardly wipe under your eyes. Even then, it barely registers. You think you’re imagining it, that you wished so hard your mind told you it was true. “Don’t leave,” you say, the same words you’ve heard him say so many times. “I need you. Don’t leave me. I –”

“Stop crying on my face.” His voice is so quiet you can barely hear it, but it’s his. You’d know it anywhere. “Don’t be stupid. I’m right here.”

It’s not a dream, or a wish come true. If everything was exactly as you wanted it, the second sentence out of Tomura’s mouth after he embodied himself wouldn’t be “don’t be stupid”, so that’s how you know it’s real. Tomura’s alive. He defeated his own conjurer. He saved everyone. And you, with a whole lot of help from the neighborhood he’s always pretended he hates – you saved him.

It’s okay now. It’ll be okay. You get a split second of pure happiness and relief before the pain floods in, and for the first time since you were dragged out of the conjurer’s torture chamber, your mind gives up the ghost. Tomura’s crimson eyes, staring up into yours, are the last thing you see before everything goes black.

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flamme-shigaraki-spithoe

1 year ago

Do you think we can get a little snippet of shigaraki and spinners drunken conversation about mc? 🫣

Ummm, YESSS?!?!

(Side note, this ended up being a lot more poignant and plot-relevant then I expected so I'll probably clean it up a bit and make it an official half chapter or something.)

Do You Think We Can Get A Little Snippet Of Shigaraki And Spinners Drunken Conversation About Mc? 🫣

“She’s too good for me.”

“That’s true.”

“She should be with Mirio.”

“Oh fuck that!”

“No, she should!”

“Shigaraki.”

Iguchi and Shigaraki laid on the floor, bodies in different directions but heads side by side. They’d long abandoned their controllers, their drivers stuck against a fence and parked in a patch of grass mid-Moo Moo Meadows respectively, as they became far too engrossed in their conversation and intoxication to proceed. If Iguchi had been still holding his controller though, he would’ve promptly thrown it at his friend for the way he was talking.

“It’s true, it’s true! They have so much more in common!” Shigaraki whined, genuinely whined.

“Like what?” Iguchi demanded.

“They both swim. They both have muscles. They’re both pretty…”

“All superficial stuff, man—”

“—and their brains aren’t all fucked.”

“Have you seen the way she laughs during horror movies? I don’t know if that’s entirely true.”

“I’m fucking serious, Spinner. You know me. You know I’m never gonna get better. Not really.”

Iguchi frowned. Because that wasn’t true. He’d seen such amazing improvement from Shigaraki in the last couple months, such a vast development of care, self-awareness, and empathy. He’d come a long long way.

But also, it wasn’t entirely untrue either.

There was something fundamentally broken inside of Tomura Shigaraki. Something that went beyond the warped way he’d been raised and lessons he’d been taught, beyond the abuse and trauma he’d suffered as a child. This was something that had to do with the way he was wired, the way he was born and how he felt things. Iguchi was similar in a lot of ways. And it took a certain level of medical intervention and SSRI’s to get him to a point where he could even start to function. He’d needed serious help, Shigaraki needed serious help.

Iguchi couldn’t say any of that to him though. He couldn’t recommend therapy or medication or support groups, it’d all be rejected, just as it had been many times before. Because even if Shigaraki wanted it, that was a help that All for One would never allow him to find.

So, Iguchi back-tracked to a more fixable problem.

“You’ve said it yourself, Shigaraki. They’re not right together. He stifles her,” Iguchi said, “Even if she’s trying to make things work with Mirio right now, it’s not gonna last forever. She’s a smart person, she’ll know to throw in the towel eventually.”

Shigaraki snorted, “And then what?”

“And then you make your move.”

He shook his head, “No. No even if they break up, I don’t think I can.”

“What’re you, stupid?!” Iguchi demanded, the vodka redbulls shoving his fuzzy irritation to the forefront, “Why the hell wouldn’t you give it an actual try then?!”

“Cause she’s too fucking good for me!” Shigaraki drunkenly wailed.

Iguchi groaned, sitting up so he could take a LARGE gulp of his drink. Shigaraki often made him feel like he needed a drink, but he was testing his nerves now more than ever with this woe as me schtick. Especially since he knew that Shigaraki was gonna pursue her in some stupidly roundabout way anyway.

“She deserves someone healthy. Someone who’s not gonna hurt her,” he turned to look up at Iguchi then, “You should date her.”

Iguchi choked on his drink.

“W-What?! Me?!” he coughed and sputtered.

“Yeah. You guys have way more in common anyway. You like to game and workout. Your parents are both normal, but like, weird, you know?” Shigaraki looked back down to the carpet at his eye level, getting to the real point, “And you’d be good for each other. To each other. Better than I’ve ever been to either of you.”

“That could never happen.”

“Nah, nah, I think she’d go for you! You may be ugly, but she doesn’t care about stuff like that.”

“Dick! That’s not what I meant!” Iguchi snapped with an angry blush, wondering if he should even bother to comfort this bastard after saying something like that.

But then Shigaraki looked up at him with that childlike curiosity of his, and Iguchi couldn’t help but continue.

“I mean that I’d never do that to you. And neither would she.”

Shigaraki snorted, “Why? I’d do it to you.”

Iguchi cocked a brow at him.

“You sure about that?”

Shigaraki’s eyes narrowed, in a way that was clearly meant to be challenging, but was really more poutlike in his whiney drunken state.

When Iguchi didn’t back down like he expected, Shigaraki just rolled over onto his side with some grumpy grumbling of something like “you don’t know. You don’t know what I’d do.”

Iguchi just chuckled and grabbed Shigaraki’s solo cup, filling it with water this time rather than vodka.

“...I’m gonna miss those skirts of hers when she goes to college.”

“She wears skirts in her day to day too, doesn’t she?” Iguchi asked, waving the cup in front of Shigaraki’s face.

“They’re not the same,” Shigaraki whined, leaning forward to take a sniff, shaking his head when he smelt the lack of alcohol, “They should make those skirts mandatory at Todai!”

Iguchi nudged him with it insistently, “Yeah. Yeah they should.”

“I’ll get Sensei to do something about it!”“If you remember to do that after this, I’ll wear one of those skirts.”

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flamme-shigaraki-spithoe

1 year ago

Guy pls vote for THE END OF ALL THINGS because it gave me Tomua’s vibes !