#hooks and needles

[abuddyforeveryseason]

This is the Buddy for March 14th. You see he's holding his instrument of torture, ready to subject his latest victim patient to a cavity treatment. Nothing surprising there, after all, a dentist is just a sadist with newer magazines.

Some people are afraid of dentists. Dentophobia, they call it. And, it might be understandable since a lot of times going to the dentist is a painful and uncomfortable ordeal. And it doesn't help that they all look like nazis. Or the sinking feeling that if were actually competent, they'd have gone into medicine.

Or maybe these people are just ashamed of admitting they can't afford to go. Because to me, the scariest part about going to the dentist is the bill. I hate to go, sure, but the pain and discomfort is the least of my issues, since they at least seem to be a logical consequence of the work being done.

Of course, you have to take a sick day to go to the dentist, and those are worth their weight in gold. You get there and there's a rude receptionist glued to her phone, having you fill in an enormous, useless questionaire. Why does the dentist need to know my address?

The tyranny of the waiting room is somewhat diminished by having an e-reader and internet access. I learned really early on to carry an emergency book everywhere just in case I have to be subjected to a sudden waiting room.

Then at the consultation itself, you're at a battle of wits. The dentist will try to gouge as much money out of you as he can, which doesn't really engender trust - I'm not accusing the dentist of making up cavities so I'll shell out even more cash (or, so the insurance will, making me more of a piggy bank that shoots out money whenever he hurts it, in the eyes of the dentist) - but it does feel worrisome to know that, the worst my dental health is, the more money he'll make.

And it doesn't help that the dentist'll try to guilt trip me about whatever's wrong. For the sin of allowing the cavities to develop (by eating all that sugar) I should be fined with a larger bill. It's not like the torture isn't punishment enough, no. After all, if dentistry was free, nobody would even bother brushing, right? It's just some hours in house of pain, sitting in that alien chair looking up at the flying saucer lights while doctor Mengele sharpens his hooks and needles.

And you accuse me of not flossing enough? Fuck you, how about I get some floss to wrap around your neck and choke you with it, you piece of shit?

Huh, maybe I am a dentophobe.

[explorationsofobsession]

Hooks and Needles Subscription Box Review

Recently the lovely people at Hooks and Needles reached out to me to offer me a subscription box – I opted for the knitting box. Then it arrived, and it was super fun to pick which of the 3 projects I wanted to make. I was pleased to see that literally everything I needed to complete the project was in the box. The circular needle is a good quality, the scissors were super cute, and the darning…

[scary-grace]

if my heart was a house (chapter 4) - a shigaraki x f!reader fic

It's been nineteen years since Tomura was sentenced to death, and you've built a life in the space he left behind, braced each day for the worst. You're prepared for everything - the questions your daughter asks, the memories that sting a little more in the winter, the specter of the news you've been afraid of for years. But of all the things life's thrown your way, it's the one you haven't dared to hope for might be the one thing you can't handle. (cross-posted to Ao3) The prequel can be found here: what I can't remember now Written for @pixelcafe-network's Challenge Friday event! Banner/divider by @cafekitsune

Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Chapter 3

Chapter 4

The text tone startles you awake a good fifteen minutes before your alarm is supposed to go off, just like it’s been doing for the last week. You only have text tones set for two people, and one of them is fast asleep in her bedroom right now. You open Tomura’s text, your hands shaking and read two words: good morning

Tomura never used to text good morning. Tomura was pretty inconsistent at texting in general. But Midoriya got him a phone, just like he promised you, and ever since, Tomura’s texted you good morning every day. You haven’t gotten used to it. Your heart skips a beat every time you wake up and find a message from him waiting for you.

good morning, you text back. did they wake you up for rounds?

He’s still in the hospital. They keep saying he’ll get released soon, but every time they do, something else crops up that they have to fix before he can come home. Your phone pings in your hands as Tomura responds. every damn day. better than getting a flashlight in my face to make sure I didn’t die overnight.

Your heart clenches tight and twists in a way that’s not good for you this early in the morning. Another text from Tomura pings to life on your screen. did I wake you up

my alarm was about to go off anyway. You hesitate for a moment before sending the next message. not to be weird but I’d rather wake up early than miss out on talking to you.

Your phone starts ringing. You silence it in a hurry, then lift it to your ear. “Hello?”

“It’s not weird.” Tomura’s voice is raspy and exhausted. “If you think I don’t want to talk to you all the time, you’re out of your mind.”

You find yourself curling in, pressing your phone hard against your ear so you don’t miss even the sound of his breathing. “I missed you.”

“Missed you more.” There’s a slight catch in Tomura’s voice. “When can I see you? Why haven’t you come to see me yet?”

They’re fair questions. Questions you don’t blame Tomura for asking. Questions he probably wouldn’t need to ask if he knew about Chihiro – who you can’t tell him about unless you’re face to face. “I was going to wait until you were out of the hospital. I didn’t want to overwhelm you.”

“Fuck that. I need to see you.” There’s a sharp edge in Tomura’s voice at first, but it dulls almost instantly. “Do you even want to?”

“Of course I do.” The need to see him is overpowering. You remind yourself that you can’t just drop everything and drive to Tokyo out of nowhere at least a few times a day. “I really want to, Tomura. I just have to get stuff settled a bit. And it’s a long trip. I don’t want to have to leave again as soon as I get to you.”

That’s not the only reason. You wish it was, but it isn’t. You’ve been holding off on visiting him because you don’t know how to tell him about Chihiro. And because Chihiro can’t decide if she wants to come, too.

You don’t think it’s a good idea. You don’t thinking breaking the news that Tomura’s got a daughter while his daughter is in the room is a winning strategy, especially since you and Tomura never talked about having kids. Seeing his initial reaction could be bad for Chihiro. Bad for Tomura, too. And part of it is selfish, plain and simple. It’s been so long. You want to see him alone. You want one moment where it’s just the two of you, like it was before, before you tell him something that will change everything for good.

“I want you to stay,” Tomura says. “You might not want to. Once you see what I look like now.”

Spinner’s seen him. You asked Spinner for details over FaceTime a few nights ago, and you saw the stricken look that flashed across his face. He’s been through hell and he looks it. It’s still him, but it’s – bad. “I mean, you’ve always been too pretty to handle.”

“Don’t be stupid.” Tomura used to blush when you said that to him. You wonder if he’s blushing now. “Just come see me. Soon.”

“I will.” Your alarm goes off in your ear and scares the hell out of you, at the same moment as Chihiro knocks on your bedroom door. “I’m sorry. I have to go. I’ll text – and maybe we can talk later if you’re up for it –”

“I’ll be up for it.” Tomura’s voice softens in a way that makes your eyes sting. “I love you.”

He only says it over the phone, never by text. You’re tired of angsting over whether to say it back. “I love you, too,” you say. You hang up the phone, hit snooze on your alarm, and sit up in bed. “Chihiro, are you still there?”

“Yeah.” Chihiro pushes open the door, crosses the room in quick steps, and sprawls out on your bed. “Was that him?”

You nod. “They wake him up early for rounds. Usually we just text.”

“Is he getting better?”

“I think so,” you say. “He keeps asking when I’ll visit.”

Chihiro nods. She turns her head and buries her face in the pillows, speaking facedown just like Tomura used to. “I think you should go see him first. Alone.”

“Really?” You try and fail to hide your shock. “I thought – you didn’t want me to hide stuff anymore –”

“I think you should see him first,” Chihiro says again. Her voice wavers slightly. “I don’t want to be there when you tell him about me. In case –”

She takes a deep breath, lets it go. “In case he doesn’t want me.”

“If he doesn’t want you, he doesn’t want us,” you say. She turns to look at you, her red eyes bright with tears. “I’m serious. You’re the most important person in the world to me, since the day I found out about you. We’re a package deal.”

“But you love him,” Chihiro says. “I heard you say it. I don’t want you to lose him because of me.”

“That’s not what it would be,” you say. You reach out for her, praying she won’t shrug you off, and when she doesn’t, you pull her close. “It’s my decision. My choice to put you first. Chihiro, I – I lived without him for nineteen years. I can do it again.”             “I don’t want you to,” Chihiro says. She blinks, and tears flow down her face. “I want everything to be okay. And if it isn’t – because of me – I don’t want to be there to see it.”

“Okay,” you say. You’ve been walking around with a lump in your throat since you got the first phone call from Tomura. Now it’s a little bigger. “I’ll find a time to go see him.”

“This weekend. Satomi’s family is going skiing, and they said me and Kaori could come too.” Chihiro pulls down the sleeve of her pajama shirt and roughly wipes her eyes. “I won’t be home alone and you won’t have to worry about me.”

“I’ll be worried that you’ll break your leg skiing.”

Chihiro snorts. “Maybe I should. Me and him can meet when we share a hospital room.”

“That’s one way to get to know each other,” you say, and she laughs. Her laughter and Tomura’s are your favorite sounds in the world. “You can change your mind any time this week. I won’t let him know I’m coming until the day of.”

“I’m not gonna change my mind.” Chihiro huddles a little closer to you, and you hold her tight. “I just want to know what happens next.”

“Yeah,” you agree. You kiss her forehead. “Me too.”

“Do you have everything?”

“All my stuff,” Chihiro says. She’s death-gripping the strap of her backpack, and her knuckles are white on the handle of her suitcase. “Are you sure it’s okay for me to go?”

“Are you sure it’s okay for me to go?” you counter. “It’s okay to change your mind.”

“I’m not changing my mind,” Chihiro says. “You need to go see him.”

“I know.” There’s been an anxious knot in the pit of your stomach since your alarm went off this morning, since you responded to Tomura’s good morning text with a heart and nothing else. “I’m going to. I just have to pack.”

“You’re bringing him his games,” Chihiro says, “and the quilt you made. And his clothes?”

“I’m holding off on those. Spinner said he lost a lot of weight.” Your chest tightens at the thought of seeing him again, seeing him soon, seeing him to day. Seeing what nineteen years on death row really did to him. “Thanks for helping me finish the quilt. Now it’s from both of us.”

She doesn’t help you with quilting a lot. This time she offered, and the two of you spent an afternoon together pinning the quilt top to the backing and batting so you could finish it off on your machine. It was nice to spend time together. To talk about Tomura and not talk about him, without the tension that’s been heavy in the air since she found out he was still alive. Chihiro checks her phone. “Satomi is on her way. Kaori had better get here soon. Unless her mom freaked out and said she couldn’t go.”

“I think that’s them.” You can see puffs of snow coming up along the road. Kaori’s mom is kind of a crazy driver. “Okay. I’m guessing you probably don’t want to hug and kiss goodbye in front of everyone – or at all –”

“I want to say goodbye,” Chihiro says. She hugs you tight, like always, and your eyes burn. “Mom, I just – it’s going to be okay, right?”

“No matter what,” you promise. At least for her.

Kaori’s mom skids into the parking lot, spraying you and Chihiro with snow as she careens past to a parking space. You kiss Chihiro’s forehead, then draw back as Kaori and her mom join the two of you. “Hey. How’s it going?”

“Fine,” Kaori says. She glances back at her mom. “I’m not going away forever. Stop crying.”

“I’m not crying,” Rika insists. “The wind is in my eyes!”

“It’s not even that windy!” Kaori rolls her eyes. “Come on, Chihiro. Let’s wait over there. If we pretend we’re leaving now, she can’t embarrass me anymore.”

Chihiro lets Kaori pull her away, glancing once over her shoulder at you. “Go have fun,” you say. “I love you.”

It doesn’t matter if she says it back. The important thing is that she knows. But you’re not going to pretend it isn’t an enormous relief to hear her say she loves you, too.

Satomi’s parents pull up in a ridiculously fancy car, and they aren’t driving themselves. Their driver is the one who hops out to help Kaori and Chihiro load their bags, and Satomi’s mom rolls down the back window to talk to you and Rika specifically. “Don’t worry, we’ll take good care of them! And take lots of pictures to send!”

“Thank you,” you say. Rika is choking up again. She just nods. “Have a really good trip.”

The Noda family’s driver is a much better driver than you or Rika. Their luxury car doesn’t kick up even a hint of snow or ice as they pull out onto the road. You watch them go, your throat tightening the way it does any time you say goodbye to Chihiro for longer than a school day. You know she’s coming back. You know your house is still her home, and probably will be for a while. And at the same time, you know there will come a day when she leaves and doesn’t come back. A day when home is somewhere else, and you’ll have to find a way to be at home with yourself again, alone. Maybe.

Rika is thinking along the same lines, but she’s a lot less calm about it. “They’re leaving us,” she almost wails. “They’re never going to come back. We’re going to be old and alone forever.”

“No we aren’t,” you say firmly. “They’re going on a weekend trip and they’ll be back soon. Don’t you have a whole wild weekend planned?”

“I’m going to be worried the whole time,” Rika says. She glances sideways at you, then gives you a suspicious look. “Why are you so calm about this?”

“I’m crying on the inside.”

“No you aren’t,” she says. “Why?”

You and Rika have gotten coffee once before, because Chihiro made you. You’re not close enough friends for you to even start to explain this. “I don’t want her to worry about leaving me at home,” you say. “I need her to know that I’ll be fine. And I’ve got some stuff to do this weekend.”

“Staying busy. I like that.” Rika sighs. “I was going to invite you out for girls’ night.”

“That’s really nice of you,” you say, “but I can’t. I’m driving down to Tokyo.”

“Driving?” The look Rika’s giving you makes sense. It’s a thirteen-hour trip by car. “Why?”

You turn up the collar of your coat against the wind, squaring your shoulders as you turn back to your car. “I’m meeting an old friend.”

Once you’re home, there’s not much left to do. You already have Tomura’s things packed. You pack an overnight bag for yourself, along with a change of clothes, then hit the road, your nerves humming worse with every kilometer that passes.

You remember the last time you made this drive. You were four months pregnant with Chihiro, barely able to see the road through your tears, everything you owned jammed into the back of this same car. It felt like the only thing you could do, and it still feels like the worst thing you’ve ever done. Running from your friends, from your past, from your memories. This is when you decided, right? That you would never tell your baby – your son or your daughter, because you didn’t know yet – what happened to their father. It was impossible for you to live with. You weren’t going to put that on your child.

Now you’re going the opposite way, and everything is different. You haven’t gotten used to it, and now you’re out of time, even though the drive is a long one, even though you left bright and early and don’t get there until night is already falling. You park in the hospital parking lot and rest your head against the steering wheel, struggling to breathe. Your phone buzzes. Chihiro, asking if you’re there yet. You tell her yes, tell her you love her. She asked you to come here and tell Tomura the truth, and you promised you would, which means you need to get your shit together. You force yourself to suck down a few breaths, mimicking the pattern your midwife taught you while you were in labor, then get out of the car.

Tomura started out in the hospital nearest to the prison, but then they transferred him to the University of Tokyo Hospital for better care. The receptionist makes you confirm your ID before she’ll give you Tomura’s room number, and once she’s given it to you, she asks if she should call up and let him know you’re coming. You shake your head. This needs to be on your terms.

It feels like the longest walk of your life – first to the elevator, then along the Internal Medicine ward, looking for Room 517. For some reason, you thought it would be quiet, but instead it’s loud, the air full of the sound of machines, announcements, nurses talking, patients’ families chattering in their rooms. Most of the doors are open. Room 517 is closed. You touch the door, wondering if you should knock, and it swings open at the slightest pressure of your fingers.

The first thing you register is how bright Tomura’s room is – not just the light, but the decorations, too. You can tell who’s been here by what they brought. A stack of books, some of which are clearly from Twice; Twice is the only one who’d think to bring comic books. There’s a Switch balanced on Tomura’s nightstand, and games, probably from Spinner. There’s his phone, charging on a fancy charging pad, courtesy of Midoriya. Toga brought Tomura flowers. It takes you a second to find Dabi’s gift, but once you do, you find yourself struggling not to laugh. It’s a voodoo doll, in the shape of Tomura’s adoptive dad, and it looks like it’s been attacked by a porcupine.

The room looks lived-in. Tomura’s been here for a while. But he’s not in the bed like you thought he’d be. Instead he’s sitting on the edge of it, bare feet flat on the floor, his head in his hands.

His hair is so long, but even with it shrouding his shoulders and back, you can tell how thin he is. You’ve never seen him sit that way, his shoulders hunched in a way that looks agonizing, and even in the courtroom when the verdict was handed down, he never looked this defeated. Before you can think better of it, you’re in motion towards him.

Tomura looks up. His face is hollow, his red eyes enormous and shadowed. They widen when he sees you, and he rockets to his feet, stumbling towards you. Everything you’re carrying falls from your hands, your fingers going nerveless and shaky – and that turns out to be a good thing, because Tomura loses his balance two steps away from you. Or maybe he’s falling into your arms. It doesn’t matter what it is, or why. He’s here. He’s alive. He’s free.

Tomura slumps against you, holding on painfully tight. You’d hug him back the same way, but he’s so thin, almost brittle. It’s an effort to keep your grip loose as your hands roam across his shoulders, his back, finding their way to the places you always used to hold. It’s muscle memory to cover the back of his neck, to splay your fingers at the small of his back. This is how it was before. Everything is different, but holding him still feels the same.

Tomura’s face is buried in the side of your neck, his breath huffing out unsteadily against your skin. “You still smell like you.”

“You smell like the hospital,” you say without thinking, and Tomura scoffs. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to make you get up –”

“I’ve been waiting. I don’t want to wait anymore. Tomura claws at your back with shaking hands, keeping you close even though you’ve got no intention of pulling away. “You didn’t say you were coming today.”

A stab of guilt drives through you. “It was a really busy morning. And a long drive. I’m sorry.”

“Don’t. You’re here.” Tomura’s response is fast and sure. “Fuck, I missed you so much –”

“I missed you too.” Four words doesn’t feel like enough to describe how it’s felt since they dragged him away from you in the courtroom. You don’t think there are enough words anywhere in the world for that, and your eyes are starting to burn. If you start crying, you won’t be able to hide it holding Tomura like this. “Let’s get you back to bed.”

“You’re coming too. And don’t say it’s too small. We used to sleep in a twin.”

“And then we got a bigger bed.”

“I liked the small one better.” Tomura sags against you. “Come on. Please.”

You help Tomura back to the bed, then go to pick up everything you dropped on the floor. Once you’ve set it down next to his bed, you’re back in range, and he pulls you awkwardly onto the bed with him. It’s a tight fit, a lot tighter than the bed in your old apartment, but the way Tomura maneuvers you to get you into the perfect position for him to sleep on is exactly the same. You remember how surprised you were the first time he climbed all over you. How quickly it became your favorite part of falling asleep at night.

“Spinner said you were in Hokkaido,” Tomura says, once he’s gotten mostly settled. “Why’d you go that far?”

“It was quiet,” you say. “Things were hard here, afterward. I thought it would be easier there.”

“Toga thought you’d died or something. Tomura’s grip on you tightens. “You stopped talking to everybody. Nobody heard from you again until the verdict. Why?”

“It’s –” You wonder if Spinner or Midoriya put him onto this, set him up to ask the questions that would lead to this answer. “I needed space. For a lot of reasons. A lot of things changed.”

“Spinner said you weren’t married,” Tomura says, and you nod. “He said you aren’t seeing anyone.”

“You and me never broke up,” you say, and Tomura scoffs again. You can feel tension building in his shoulders. “I was never seeing anybody. I never wanted to.”

Tomura takes a deep breath that rattles and rasps. “Then why weren’t you here already?”

Maybe it’s better this way. You can rip the band-aid off, see how he reacts, figure it out from there. And if it’s a disaster, if everything goes wrong, you still had these few minutes. A little piece of time where you and Tomura belonged to each other again. You’ve lived on less for nineteen years. Maybe it’ll be enough.

There’s no good way to say it. “I found out I was pregnant two weeks after your sentencing.”

Tomura freezes in your arms, but only for a second. Then his grip tightens almost convulsively, tight enough to make your ribcage creak. “You kept it.”

“Yes.”

“What – is it?” Tomura stumbles on the phrasing, his voice shaky in a way that makes you sick to your stomach. “What kind?”

“A girl,” you say. “Her name is Chihiro. She’s eighteen.”

“Eighteen,” Tomura repeats. He’s not pulling away from you, but that doesn’t mean anything. Maybe he’s steeling himself to draw back and tell you to get lost. “Why isn’t she here?”

You’ve spent the last month spinning off in a hundred different directions, catching on a thousand different responses Tomura could have to the news that he has a daughter. All of them were terrible, and none of them were what he just said. “What?”

“Why isn’t she here?” Tomura repeats, and while you’re struggling to find your footing, he’s gotten way ahead of you. “You didn’t come down here right away because you couldn’t leave her. Does anybody else know? Midoriya – Spinner – how fucking many –”

He breaks off, incoherent with some emotion you don’t recognize. “How many people knew about my kid before me?”

“Just Midoriya and Spinner,” you say. “I was on a conference call with them the night your verdict came back, and they heard her call me Mom in the background. And then –”

There’s nothing funny about this situation, but you’re still struck by a miserable urge to laugh. “Spinner accused me of marrying somebody else and forgetting about you, so Chihiro took my phone and switched it to a video call. He was so shocked he dropped his phone.”

“Why?” Tomura’s voice is hoarse. “Tell me.”

“She, um – she looks like you. A lot like you.” You remember looking down into her face after the doctors handed her to you, seeing those red eyes blink open for the first time. “Anyone who knows you and sees her –”

“Do you have a picture?”

“Yeah.” You swallow hard as you fumble your phone out of your pocket. “Here.”

It’s a good picture of her, one of thousands you’ve got saved on your phone. In your opinion, she’s never taken a bad photo in her life, and this one is from her birthday last year, as she smiles over a messily frosted cake studded with eighteen candles. Her smile is lopsided, like Tomura’s is. Her red eyes are crinkled at the corners, and you remember how your heart twisted as you snapped the picture, how you wished Tomura could see her, too. That he could meet her. That all three of you could celebrate together, like a family’s supposed to. Chihiro takes after Tomura, but you see your own shadow in her features. If someone saw the three of you, they’d know you belong together.

Tomura’s breathing hitches as he studies the photo. He reaches out left-handed to zoom in and it’s your turn to stop breathing for a second – the index and middle fingers on his hand are gone. “Tomura –”

“She looks happy,” Tomura says quietly. “Why isn’t she here?”

You don’t know what to say, and half your mind is still stuck on what happened to Tomura’s hand – and just like before, he gets ahead of you. “She doesn’t want to meet me.”

“That’s not true.”

“I get it. Why would she? I’m a convicted murderer –”

“You aren’t a murderer! You were never a murderer.” You can feel your temper starting to rise, even though you aren’t angry at Tomura – just this situation, everything that happened to put you both here. You didn’t realize just how angry you were until now. “She wants to meet you, Tomura. She wanted me to tell you first, because she’s worried you don’t want to meet her.”

“Why wouldn’t I want to meet her?” Tomura asks. “She’s my kid.”

You were prepared for your heart to break today. You weren’t expecting it to break like this. “You and me never talked about kids. We barely even talked about getting married. She asked if she was planned and I didn’t want to lie –”

“So what if we didn’t plan her? That doesn’t mean we wouldn’t have – you told her I didn’t want her? What is wrong with you?”

“That’s not what I said!” Tears spring to your eyes, and your voice shakes with them, even though you’re the person in this situation with the least to cry about. “I said I didn’t know. I tried to tell you. I wrote you so many letters, and you never wrote back – what was I supposed to think? I didn’t want to get her hopes up if it turned out you didn’t –”

Your voice breaks. Tears slip down your cheeks, and when an impulse you’ve been following for two decades wells up within you, you give in and look away, trying to hide before Tomura realizes that you’re crying. It’s not about you. It’s never been about you since you had Chihiro, so why is this so hard for you to learn? But Tomura won’t let you look away. His hand comes up to the side of your face and turns you back towards him. You can see tear tracks on his face. “I’m sorry,” you whisper. “Tomura, I’m so sorry.”

“For what?” He’s braver than you are. He’s not trying to look away, and in spite of the tear tracks, his eyes are clear. “I love you. Do you love me?”

“I always have,” you say. “Tomura, if you aren’t okay with –”

“Then it’s fine,” Tomura interrupts. “I was in prison for nineteen years. Nothing makes sense anymore except my friends and you. I love you. And I want to meet our kid.”

“She wants to meet you, too,” you say. Tomura manages half a smile. “Can I tell her?”

Tomura nods. You dig up your phone from wherever you dropped it on the bed and open up Chihiro’s contact. Tomura curls himself around you, chin notched over your shoulder even though you should be the one holding him. “Do you have more pictures of her?” he asks. “Are there any of both of you?”

“I can send some to you. Or you can look through my photos and pick.” In the meantime, you’re hesitating over what to say to Chihiro, just like you would have hesitated over what to say to Tomura if he hadn’t cornered you. Finally you just tell the truth. I told your dad. He wants to meet you.

Tomura nods. “Where is she? Did you leave her alone?”

“No, she’s with her friend’s family. They invited her to go skiing. I think she wanted to have something to distract herself with.”

“She shouldn’t distract herself too much. Not if she took after me.” It feels like Tomura’s trying to crawl into your skin, with how hard he’s got his face pressed into your neck. “I’m clumsy as shit.”

“Only when you’re tired. Nobody’s all that dexterous on four hours of sleep.” You find one of Tomura’s hands and lift it to your mouth, loving the way his fingers curl and flex as your lips brush his skin. His fingers. “Tomura, what happened to your hand?”

“It’s fine.”

“The other one,” you say. “Tell me –”

“Tomura?” The voice is unfamiliar, and it’s coming from the door, which you didn’t quite close when you came in. You try to sit up, but Tomura won’t let go of you, and while he doesn’t let you go far, you’re still able to get a look at the newcomer. He’s really tall, with lavender hair trending silver, and he’s covered in dark purple tattoos – on his arms, his neck, on his face around his eyes. “Who’s this?”

“My girlfriend,” Tomura says. “I told you about her.”

The tattooed man’s eyes widen. “I thought you hadn’t heard from her. You asked me to come back again today because she wasn’t answering your texts.”

“I surprised him,” you say. “Sorry.”

“Don’t say sorry. You’re here.” Tomura lets you sit up, but as soon as you do, he’s all over you again. “That’s Kurogiri. He was in the cell next to mine.”

Kurogiri. You look at him, puzzled, and he explains. “My proper name is Shirakumo Oboro. The people I knew while I was in prison call me whichever name they feel comfortable with.”

He rests one hand against the doorframe, tapping his first knuckle against it in a way that strikes you as too precise to be a nervous gesture. He’s giving Tomura a meaningful look as he does it, and Tomura dismisses it with a wave of his hand. “It’s good you’re here. Now you can meet each other.”

Shirakumo keeps tapping away at the doorframe, and suddenly it occurs to you. “Is that Morse code?”

“It’s how we talked in there.” Tomura’s arm wraps tightly around your waist, which is probably a good thing – he’s all over you to the point that you’re in danger of falling off the bed. “Safer than talking out loud.”

“Tomura, we’ve discussed being honest about your experiences,” Shirakumo says. “The people who – love you – should know what really happened.”

Tomura makes a dissatisfied sound. “Fine. We weren’t allowed to talk to each other out loud. We could only talk to the guards if they talked to us first. We had to talk in Morse code so we wouldn’t get punished.”

Your stomach lurches. “You got punished for talking?”

“Not if we were talking in Morse code.” Tomura shrugs. “I practically broke my knuckles telling the guy in the cell next to me to shut up.”

You don’t know what to say. Shirakumo can tell. “Tomura, how much have you told her?”

“There’s more important stuff to talk about,” Tomura says. “I have a kid.”

Shirakumo coughs. “What?” he says blankly, and starts tapping the arm of his chair, only for Tomura to double-tap the bedrail, cutting him off. “Let me finish. I’m not saying –”

“She’s mine,” Tomura snaps. “I’ll show you.”

He grabs for your phone, but it slips through his fingers, and you barely catch it in time. Tomura unlocks it – how does he still know your passcode after all this time? – and pulls up the photo you showed him. “Here. Look.”

Shirakumo reacts the same way to Chihiro’s picture as Spinner did to seeing her on the video call. “I’m sorry,” he says at once. He’s talking to you. “I shouldn’t have jumped to conclusions. It’s just – usually if somebody gets out of prison and finds out their partner had kids, those kids aren’t, uh –”

“Theirs,” you say. Shirakumo nods, vaguely embarrassed. “She’s Tomura’s. I haven’t had sex in nineteen years.”

Shirakumo chokes on thin air, but you weren’t saying it for him. Tomura is grinning into your shoulder. “Nice. Me neither.”

“To be fair, nobody was getting laid in there.” Shirakumo’s voice feels almost artificially bright. “I’m glad I’m here, Tomura. Like we talked about before – it might be easier to explain about what happened with some backup.”

“No.” Tomura’s voice goes flat, and you can imagine his expression closing off. “We don’t need to right now.”

“We’ve talked about this, Tomura. The people who love you want to help you, but they can’t help you if you lie to them.”

“I’m not lying. I’m just not talking.” Tomura sends himself the photo of Chihiro, then picks up his own phone, absorbing himself in it. “You can tell her, if it’s so fucking important.”

“Tomura –”

“You should know,” Tomura says. He glances up at you, and you can see that his red eyes have gone tight with pain at the corners. “He can tell you. His memory’s better than mine.”

Shirakumo’s shoulders are tense, too. “It’s your experience, Tomura. I shouldn’t be the one who tells her.”

“She should know. And I can’t.” Tomura fumbles for the call button and presses it, and a few moments later, a nurse comes in. “I want to sleep now.”

The nurse takes a glance at you and Shirakumo – mainly you, since you’re still sort of on Tomura’s bed. “They can stay,” Tomura says. “They need to talk.”

The nurse shoos you off the bed to get Tomura settled, and as you watch, she sets up an IV drip. It doesn’t go into Tomura’s arm, though – it goes into a tube taped to his chest, one that vanishes beneath his hospital clothes. Your stomach lurches. “Is that a central line?”

Tomura shrugs, his eyelids already fluttering. The nurse tugs down the neckline of his shirt to inspect the site. “I told you not to be so rough on this,” she scolds Tomura gently. “The doctors will take it out soon.”

Tomura mumbles agreement, and the nurse leaves. Once she’s gone, Tomura grabs your hand and yanks you closer. “Stay,” he says. “So I know it wasn’t a dream.”

“It’s not a dream.” You raise his hand to your mouth and kiss his fingers, not pulling away until he’s relaxed into sleep.

You lower his hand to the bed, keeping your fingers laced with his, and turn to look at Shirakumo. Shirakumo still looks a little guilty. “Sorry,” he says again. “I’ve come to care a lot for Shigaraki Tomura. I don’t want to see him get hurt.”

“Why does everyone think I want to hurt him?” You feel your temper yanking on you, and worse, your eyes are starting to burn. “I didn’t leave town to hurt him. I tried to tell him about Chihiro. He’s the one who didn’t read my letters. He didn’t even bother to write back and tell me to leave him alone.”

“He couldn’t,” Shirakumo says. “Once someone is sentenced to death, all contact with the outside world is cut off. I don’t doubt that you wrote him letters, or that you tried to call or visit. The prison wouldn’t allow it. They don’t allow it for anybody on death row.”

He couldn’t write back. Not only could he not write back, he probably didn’t even know you were trying to reach him. You spent so much time hurt, so much time angry, so much time cursing him for leaving things the way he did in the courtroom, for refusing to let you see him or even let you hear his voice. You would have settled for any acknowledgment that he remembered you. All the things you thought to yourself when you didn’t want to live, when Chihiro was the only thing keeping you alive – “Did he know?”

“Not at first.” Shirakumo drags one tattooed hand down his face. “That wasn’t a good day. There were a lot of not-good days.”

Some part of you wants to cover your ears. Some part of you wants to refuse to ask, to demand that Tomura tell you himself. But then you look at him, fast asleep, an IV line attached to a port in his chest. His face is too thin. So is the rest of him. His lips are cracked and his eyes are sunken and two of his fingers are gone, and even if there wasn’t physical evidence of what’s happened to him, you know there’s even more damage you can’t see. You won’t make him relive it just to tell you. But you need to know.

You raise his hand to kiss it again, reminding yourself that he’s here. Alive. Safe. Free. Then you look back to Shirakumo, steeling yourself. “Okay,” you say. “Tell me everything.”

<- Chapter 3

taglist: @lvrrinx @aryuunachigiri @shigarakislaughter @lvtuss @deadhands69 @xeveryxstarfallx @stardustdreamersisi @handumb @warxhammer @atspiss @shikiblessed @baking-ghoul @boogiemansbitch @agente707 @cheeseonatower @koohiii @minniessskii @f3r4lfr0gg3r @dance-with-me-in-hell @evilcookie5 @issaortiz @lacrimae-lotos

[buttercupdemise]

hey. every guy needs his fun little activities

[danizmomota]

Victory.

tw slight gore

…All of that torture I went through for you, all for what?

…All for a cold, robotic shoulder?

BFDIA 18, an absolute banger.

[maaarsbaars]

I’ve seen people headcannon that warriors knits, and yeah, I see it. However, I raise you:

Warriors is a crocheter whilst Legend is the knitter. They beef about it constantly.

(Bonus: Twilight spins yarn for them)

[pojkinsluv]

Ok, so I read the whole "My prized needle and threat"......

And I'm honestly really confused😭 Like, I genuinely don't know what to feel.

Araki clarified the actual reason of Pesci calling him "Aniki" and it wasn't anything with relation or like being a big brother figure to him of sorts. It is the respect he has for Prosciutto and that he "aknowledges his strength through his actions."

However, the novel did call Prosciutto "his older brother figure," (which I'm *not a fan of), and has been using the brother and some related to it. Not TOO often, and Pesci was rather called a subordinate. Still, even in the novel, it was obvious they're not relaled and not meant to be.

HOWEVER, the brothel scene was CRAZY😭 Pesci really did point out it was creepy for Prosciutto to stare at his crotch so much😭😭😭 Which yeah, the scene was going on TOO long.

So, taking this scene and mixing it with what Araki said, I think the usage of any "brother" is REALLY figurative. I very much hope so??

I need to know what you guys think😭😭

[kalashnikovlobotomy]

the breath ive taken and the one i must

[avg-lead-inhaler]

bfdi character design thingys…

final 5!!!

⬇️closeups⬇️

[theproblemwithstardust]

Hmmmm

[mossy-the-thing]

thinking about this idiot

[slavhew]

friend bought me the first 3 games for my birthday and i finally played them... if u love point and click games and the intersection of the ghost/detective genres go play Blackwell by @wadjeteye games now!!

[scary-grace]

if my heart was a house (chapter 3) - a shigaraki x f!reader fic

It's been nineteen years since Tomura was sentenced to death, and you've built a life in the space he left behind, braced each day for the worst. You're prepared for everything - the questions your daughter asks, the memories that sting a little more in the winter, the specter of the news you've been afraid of for years. But of all the things life's thrown your way, it's the one you haven't dared to hope for might be the one thing you can't handle. (cross-posted to Ao3) The prequel can be found here: what I can't remember now written for @pixelcafe-network's Challenge Friday event! Banner/divider by @cafekitsune extra-special thanks this time to @shigarakislaughter for the emergency beta-read!

Chapter 1 Chapter 2

Chapter 3

It’s two am, and you gave up on the idea of sleeping well before midnight. Midoriya Izuku apparently wasn’t planning to sleep at all. When you called around eleven, hoping he’d be asleep and you’d have until morning to brace yourself, he picked up the phone, sounding just as chipper as he does in every one of his voicemails. And he’s a talker. You’ve been on the phone since eleven, and you aren’t sorry about it. There’s a lot you need to catch up on. And you’re not the only one. Spinner’s on the line, too.

Spinner was Tomura’s best friend before, and Spinner’s pissed at you. You can tell, and part of you just wants to poke the bear and end the suspense about why. But you want to hear what Midoriya has to say even more, and Midoriya is a seemingly endless fount of information about the state of the death penalty and life in prison. You avoided learning very much about this during the trial. You were trying to hold onto hope, and it already wasn’t working very well. Most of what Midoriya says is news to you. You’re taking notes.

It’s only once he’s given you and Spinner a thorough background in the whole thing that he starts in about Tomura’s case in particular. “What’s interesting about Shigaraki’s case — the thing that jumped out at me first — is the life sentence. The court imposed the death penalty for six of the murders, but tacked on a life imprisonment for the seventh. It got lost in the shuffle of the death penalty thing —”

“Yeah, I never heard about that,” Spinner says. “Did you?”

“I did, but it didn’t mean anything to me,” you say. “It was all just awful. It all meant he’d never be free again.”

“I hear you. But it meant something for sure,” Midoriya says eagerly. “The victim in the life-sentence case was Shigaraki’s biological father.”

You curse. You can’t stop yourself, and Spinner’s voice takes on a note of urgency. “What was that? What do you mean?”

“His dad was –” You hated him when you first heard about him. Now that you’re a parent, you hate him even more, and your limbs start to hum with fury, such that you have to get up and walk it off. “His dad’s the reason Tomura ended up with his adoptive father. He hurt Tomura. I don’t know everything, but it was bad enough that they took Tomura away from the family.”

“So there were mitigating factors,” Spinner says suddenly. “They knew that at the trial?”

“Yes. I dug up a psych evaluation from after Shigaraki was removed from his biological parents’ care, and it had PTSD written all over it. Literally.” Midoriya pauses for breath, then launches back in. “And there’s no evidence that his adoptive father ever pursued treatment for him. Which is — we’ll get into that in a second. Anyway, the fact that the court recognized a mitigating factor in one of the cases signaled to me that there might be room for movement on the death sentence. If I could prove that the same mitigation factor existed across all the murders.”

“We tried that the first time around,” you say. “It didn’t work.”

You remember how dismissive the defense attorney was to you, how it was clear he’d already written Tomura off, how all the money you and Spinner and the others raised wasn’t enough to hire someone who cared. “I heard things have changed a little bit,” Spinner says. “Not a lot, but — Twice counsels kids who are in the system, and he says that they look at that stuff in juvenile sentencing.”

“It’s spilled into adult sentencing as well. The older generation of judges and prosecutors is retiring and the newer ones aren’t as hard-line,” Midoriya adds. “I felt pretty hopeful for at least getting the death penalty knocked down to life for Shigaraki. But once I started looking at the old trial, it was a mess. There was a lot of reason to doubt that Shigaraki actually knew what he was doing at the time of the murders — and when I pulled the confession out of the picture –”

“You can’t do that.”

“His interrogators got indicted two years ago for drugging people who didn’t confess and asking them again under the influence. Yes I can,” Midoriya says. You feel like you’re going to be sick. So much for pacing. You sit down hard. “Once I took the confession off the table, the situation changed a lot. Our legal system, regardless of what the codes say, starts from the presumption that the accused is guilty. I looked at the evidence again, this time based on the presumption that Shigaraki was innocent.”

It’s quiet for a second. You can’t take the suspense. “And?”

“Shigaraki was definitely present when the murders took place,” Midoriya says, “but it’s likely that the only one he took part in was his biological father’s. And it’s not clear that he would have done anything if he hadn’t been under the influence.”

“He was drinking?” Spinner repeats, bewildered. “He’s a lightweight. He’d start throwing up way before –”

“Not alcohol. GHB. That’s –”

“The date rape drug,” you say. Your voice sounds like it’s coming from miles away. “That was twenty-five years ago. How –”

“The same night the murders occurred, Shigaraki’s adoptive father took him to the emergency department, claiming that he’d been drinking. I pulled the records, which included a blood test that was taken at the time. Negative for alcohol, positive for GHB.” Midoriya sounds a little sickened, too. You squeeze your eyes shut. “So Shigaraki’s dad was with him the night of the murders. Shigaraki’s dad took him to the ER due to intoxication on a substance most people don’t use recreationally, but a lot of people use for — you know. And Shigaraki’s dad provided almost all the evidence against him. The state’s case would have fallen apart without it.”

You don’t even know what to say. You should shut up. Instead: “Tomura never got treatment for his mental health stuff. Every time I thought I’d talked him into it, his dad would talk him right back out again.”

“Because he wanted Shigaraki to be unstable,” Spinner says, and swears. “He fucking framed him.”

“Why?” you ask hopelessly. “What would even be the point –”

“I’ve got theories. But that’s not on me to do,” Midoriya says. “One of my classmates from law school is still a prosecutor, and he’s already arrested Shigaraki’s adoptive father. My concern is with Shigaraki, and what’s going to happen when he’s released.”

“We’ve got him,” Spinner says at once. “We can help him get back on his feet. Whatever he needs. We all have money.”

You don’t have very much money, but you want to help, too. You have to help. You have to see him again. “I can –”

“No, you can’t.” Spinner cuts you off, and does it with more venom than he used on Tomura’s apparent psychopath of an adoptive parent. “I don’t even know why you called. You don’t get to care about this any more. You fucking ran!”

“Hey,” Midoriya cautions. “That’s kind of aggressive –”

“I don’t give a shit. He’s finally started writing letters again, and you know who he asks about in every letter? You,” Spinner spits, and your chest deforms from the weight of your guilt. “What the fuck are we supposed to tell him? Sorry, Shigaraki — your girlfriend dropped off the face of the earth and none of us have heard from her in nineteen years? We thought you were dead. Then Midoriya comes up with your fucking phone number –”

“How did you get my number?”

“Uh –”

Spinner cuts Midoriya off before he can answer. “You should have been here with us, fighting for him. You gave up. Why are you even here? Why don’t you go back to living under a rock and let the people who actually love him –”

“You don’t know what you’re talking about,” you snap. “I didn’t give up. You have no idea what it was like for me, during the trial — everything –”

“Yeah, you had it so hard.” Spinner’s voice is heavy with disdain. “We weren’t having a great time, either. You know what helped? Staying together. You weren’t just his girlfriend. You were our friend, too. You dropped us all like we didn’t matter and ran off when it got hard.”

“Would you shut your mouth? You have no idea how complicated it got –”

“It’s not complicated at all,” Spinner shoots back. “You dropped us and ran away to the countryside to have your perfect little life –”

Your composure breaks, and for once, you don’t try to keep it together. “Fuck you, Spinner! If you would listen to me for two fucking seconds –”

“Mom?” Chihiro’s bedroom door creaks open, and you freeze. “What’s going on?”

The sound of her voice is all it takes to bring you back to earth. To notice how fast your heart is racing, to notice cold sweat dripping down your spine. “I’m just on the phone. I’m sorry it got loud. Go back to bed.”

You stumble through the explanation, but it doesn’t warn Chihiro off. She comes closer. Spinner must have choked on his own spit, because he’s coughing too hard to respond. At first. “Of course you got married and had a kid. How long did it take you to hook up with some loser and forget all about –”

Chihiro reaches over and presses the video call button, then turns the camera towards herself the instant Spinner and Midoriya both accept. “My mom didn’t hook up with anybody,” she says. “Shut up.”

There’s a clatter on the other end of the line as Spinner drops his phone in shock. Midoriya manages to keep his composure a little better. “Hi,” he says. “What’s your name?”

Your daughter introduces herself warily, and shares her age when Midoriya asks. “Why do you want to know?”

“Once — well, we’ve already filed a lawsuit against the government for violating death row inmates’ human rights, and Shigaraki is one of several plaintiffs. And once he’s released, we’re going after them for wrongful imprisonment.” Midoriya’s writing something down. “Part of the lawsuit is proving the negative impact of the government’s treatment of Shigaraki, and this will help. His wrongful imprisonment didn’t just hurt him, it kept you from having a relationship with your dad. He is her dad, right?”

That one’s for you. “Yeah,” you manage. “I didn’t find out I was pregnant until after the sentencing.”

“We’ll need to do paternity testing to confirm, but –”

“They’ll know.” Spinner’s phone is shaking, and you can see the shock on his face. “You look just like him.”

“You look like an asshole,” Chihiro says, and you take your phone back in a hurry, aware that you should be disappointed and sort of proud instead. Chihiro sits down next to you on the couch. “Who are you, anyway?”

“I’m —” Spinner coughs, looks away. His eyes look blurry. “I’m one of your dad’s friends. Spinner. Sorry, I just — you’re kind of a jump-scare. So’s he.”

For somebody with such a striking appearance, Tomura was pretty sneaky. He didn’t scare people on purpose, but he had no problem startling them a bit. You wonder if he’s still like that. How much will have changed since the last time you saw him. “My mom didn’t hook up with anybody,” Chihiro says. “I’ve never even seen her date. She gets sad every winter because it reminds her of him and she definitely still misses him –”

“Chihiro!” You cut her off, but it’s way too late, and Spinner actually looks relieved. You’re — what? Mortified. Sad. Ashamed. Angry. “Stop making that face, Spinner. If you’d let me finish talking, I would have told you –”

“You were still wrong to leave. But I get why you thought you had to,” Spinner cuts you off. “This is good. I’ll tell everybody so they stop putting together a hit squad, and Shigaraki –”

“No,” you say. Spinner, Midoriya, and Chihiro all jump. “Neither of you can tell anyone, especially not Tomura. It has to be me.”

“That’s bullshit. She’s Shigaraki’s kid, too.”

“My name is Chihiro,” your daughter says. “I’m eighteen. I’m not a kid.”

“Okay,” Spinner says after a second. “Yeah. He still has a right to know.”

“And he should hear it from us,” you say. You put your arm around Chihiro’s shoulders. “Not from you. And not right away.”

Spinner argues, but Midoriya breaks in over him. “I agree,” he says. “A prison sentence like his does things to people. I don’t know what he was like with surprises before, but a surprise this big, the instant he’s released — it’s a really bad idea. That kind of psychological shock can hurt somebody. We want his transition back to civilian life to be as smooth and quiet as possible.”

“He’s going to keep asking about you,” Spinner says to you. “You have to say something.”

You think Spinner’s right. What are you supposed to say, though? How can you say anything without saying the two of you have a daughter together? “If he’s going to stay with you at first, send me your address, Spinner. I’ll send a letter for him.”

“If you want it to get here before he does, you’d better mail it tomorrow,” Spinner says. Chihiro stiffens in her seat next to you. “Midoriya, when’s he getting released?”

“Sometime within the next three weeks. Our PR department has a few editorials lined up to hurry things along,” Midoriya says. He grimaces. “Sorry about the article yesterday. We didn’t sign off on that.”

“The Kizuki one?” Spinner looks disgusted. “She’d better quit mouthing off. Toga’s this close to doxxing her.”

“Don’t tell me things like that,” Midoriya says. “We’re working on it, I promise. PR and the legal stuff is my job. Your job — you two, not Chihiro — is to make sure Shigaraki has a soft landing. As soft as it can be, anyway. This is going to be hard on all of you for a little while.”

“No shit,” Spinner mumbles. He yawns. “I’m supposed to do a book signing tomorrow –”

“I have work. And Chihiro has school.”

“Get some sleep,” Midoriya advises. “And you two — work it out. Please. You trying to kill each other won’t help Shigaraki at all.”

He says goodnight and hangs up, but Spinner stays on the call a little longer. “Hey. Uh, Chihiro — can I talk to your mom for a second? Alone?”

“Are you going to be an asshole?” Chihiro asks around a yawn of her own. Spinner shakes his head, and Chihiro looks to you. “If he starts being an asshole again, just hang up.”

You nod and kiss her forehead before she heads back to her room. Once her door shuts, you make eye contact with the camera. “Now what?”

“Look, I shouldn’t have blown up,” Spinner says. “And you shouldn’t have run.”

“I shouldn’t have done a lot of things,” you say. “Why are we still talking? You said you had work in the morning.”

“I do. But this is important.” Spinner looks as serious as you’ve ever seen him. “When you write Shigaraki this letter, don’t promise anything you can’t follow through on. I don’t know how much of what the kid said is true — the kid. You have a kid. That’s insane.”

You resist the urge to roll your eyes. Spinner forges on. “Even if everything she said is true — about you missing him and everything — that doesn’t mean you want to get back together with him. Don’t say something you don’t mean.”

You can do that, you think. You need to figure out what you mean first. You nod. “This shouldn’t be the only time we talk before he gets out. Let’s check in sometime once we’ve both gotten sleep,” you say. Spinner nods, and something occurs to you. “Why’d we both end up on that call? I mean, we were the closest to him, but for something this big –”

“I was there because Shigaraki authorized it,” Spinner says. “You’re here because he named you when they locked him up.”

“Huh?”

“When people get to death row, they have to name the person who will get their personal effects and ashes — afterward.” Spinner looks away. “Shigaraki named you.”

Spinner must give your number out, because over the next week, you find yourself fielding calls and texts from Toga, Twice, Magne, and Dabi. None of them have brought up Chihiro, which means Spinner and Midoriya have kept their mouths shut, but that means that you spend a lot of time being yelled at. You get why they’re mad, but you’re getting tired of people being mad at you. Chihiro being mad at you is more than enough.

She’s not quite as mad as you thought she’d be. It could be a lot worse. She’s still talking to you, still says she loves you when you drop her off at school and when the two of you say goodnight – but the consequences of your lie by omission are lurking in every silence, and when she comes to you with questions, it always turns into a fight, no matter how much detail you include in your answer. They’re small fights, just a few minutes of raised voices and tears. Maybe other parents are used to this with their teenagers, but you and Chihiro never fought like this before. It could be a lot worse, but it’s awful.

You haven’t cried in front of her, but you’ve cried plenty on your own. In the bathroom with the shower running. On walks in the woods where you come back after dark. In the bathroom on your breaks at work when you’ve gotten another angry text or you fought with Chihiro on the way to school. And of all the calls you’re getting, none of them are the one you really want – the call from Midoriya, telling you that Tomura’s release date has been set.

You wrote the letter, like Spinner said. You mailed it the next morning, and Spinner let you know he has it, on one of the multiple daily texts you’ve been exchanging. Your interactions with him are probably the least contentious. Spinner’s trying to get his house set up to host Tomura, and because you lived with Tomura, he has a lot of questions for you.

For some reason, he’s called you today instead of texted you, and he hits you with a question before you’ve even said hello. “What kind of mattress does he like?

“Huh?”

“Soft, medium, or firm. What kind was your bed?” Spinner asks. Wherever he is, there’s a lot of noise in the background. “It would have been one of them.”

“I don’t remember. I think we bought it used.” Neither of you had very much money. “We were sleeping in a twin bed for the whole first year we had the apartment.”

“Yeah. Something was wrong with you guys,” Spinner says. You roll your eyes. “So the mattress – was it really squishy? Or really hard?”

“Neither. I think it was just a normal mattress.” The noise in the background is even worse. “Where are you?”

“I’m at IKEA. Midoriya said we might get news on a release date soon, and I’m not making Shigaraki sleep on my couch,” Spinner says. He’s at IKEA. You’re too bemused at that to really respond. “I don’t have any clothes for him, either. Do you remember what size he was?”

Yes, but – “He could be different.”

“He’s not,” Spinner says, and your stomach lurches. “Skinnier, maybe. What size?”

Spinner’s seen him. He must have. As much as your instincts are screaming at you to ask, you hold it together. “You don’t need to buy him new stuff,” you say. “I still have his things.”

“You – what? Really?” Spinner sounds shocked. “That’s – it’s been nineteen years. You kept all of it?”

“Of course,” you say. You don’t know what else to say.

The trial is a blur, but what happened after it wasn’t, as much as you wish it was. You couldn’t afford your apartment without Tomura, and because you couldn’t tell anyone why you were leaving, you had to pack up alone. You were exhausted. You weren’t sleeping and you were constantly throwing up, and when it came time to deal with Tomura’s things, you got as far as taking his coat off its hook by the door before you burst into tears. You sat on the floor with your face buried in it until it stopped smelling like him.

Getting rid of his things was never an option, not really. Even if you’ve never unpacked them, even if you haven’t looked at them since you closed the boxes, it’s meant something that they’re there. You’ve been waiting for Chihiro to ask about them. Dreading it. But maybe you can get around that. “I’ve got his clothes. And his old games. I can send them.”

“I’ll take the clothes, but you should keep the games,” Spinner says. You blink. “In case the kid wants them.”

Oh. “Chihiro doesn’t really game.”

There’s an awkward silence. “When you tell Shigaraki about her, don’t tell him that.”

You would have gotten Chihiro games if she’d ever seemed interested, but you aren’t much of a gamer, and you haven’t seen her play much except for Animal Crossing, Stardew Valley, and really old Pokémon games. Of all the things you’ve worried about when it comes to telling Tomura about his daughter, the fact that she’s not a gamer didn’t factor in, and you find yourself cackling semi-hysterically into the phone. “It’s not funny,” Spinner says, and you laugh harder. “He’s already going to have a hard time with it. What if –”

He's cut off with a series of staccato beeps. You have another call coming in, and when you check the caller ID, your stomach clenches tight. “Midoriya’s calling,” you say. “I have to –”

“Yeah. Go,” Spinner says at once. “He’s probably going to conference me in, so talk to you soon –”

You end the call and accept Midoriya’s, the questions spilling out in an anxious flood before he can even say hello. “Did you find out anything? I know you’re busy and I haven’t wanted to bother you, but – he’s been there for nineteen years and he should never have been there at all. Why is it taking so long to get him out?”

Usually Midoriya would have interrupted by now, but he’s quiet. All you can hear on his end of the line is ragged breathing, and your anxiety goes from uncomfortable to painful in a split second. “Say something,” you plead. “Is he –”

“It’s me.”

You don’t have to ask who it is. You’ve never forgotten the sound of his voice, even if it’s rougher and raspier than you ever heard it, and your own comes out in a strained, airless gasp. “Tomura,” you say. “Are you – out?”

“Yeah.” He sounds so tired. There’s a strange rattle in his breathing. “Midoriya wants his phone back. I can’t talk long. But I needed to hear your voice.”

“I’m – I’m glad you called,” you manage. It feels like the wrong thing to say, but you can’t imagine what the right thing is. You feel like you’ve been shoved off a building – the sick, swooping feeling in your stomach, the inability to orient yourself, the confusion and fear. “Is everything okay? What’s going on?”

Tomura starts to answer, but he starts coughing instead, and Midoriya grabs the phone. “I would have warned you if we’d had any warning, but – it was just supposed to be a pre-release conference. If the judge hadn’t insisted on holding it at the prison – it’s only been a week –”

“Breathe,” you say automatically, like you’re talking to Chihiro instead of to a grown man. “Tomura’s out. That’s good, right?”

“The judge ordered his immediate release, so he can go to the hospital. That’s how much his condition has deteriorated!” Midoriya sounds like he’s vibrating with rage. “I know you want to talk to him, but I need my phone so I can call Kacchan and tell him that if he doesn’t indict Warden Torino and everyone who’s worked under him in the last twenty years –”

“Why is he going to the hospital?” you interrupt. Your voice is shaking. “Midoriya, tell me.”

Midoriya’s not listening to you. “This is why prisoners don’t take legal action even when they’ve been wrongfully imprisoned! They know they’ll be retaliated against with impunity. How are we supposed to effect meaningful change if everyone’s too scared to ask for help?”

“Midoriya!” Your voice cracks. “What happened to Tomura?”

“That’s what we’re going to find out,” Midoriya says. “Dehydration, malnutrition – stop that, you’re supposed to be resting –”

“Give me the phone and I won’t have to fight you over it.” Tomura’s barely audible over the coughing, but when he speaks again, it’s clear he’s got the phone back. “I need to tell you something. I promised myself I would.”

“Okay,” you say. Your heart is pounding. It’s hard to breathe. “Tell me.”

“It was real,” Tomura says. His voice goes quieter, raspier. “It’s still real. I love you.”

He starts coughing again, harder than before, and before you can say a word in response, Midoriya has the phone again. “Can you update Spinner and the others? I won’t be able to make those calls. I have to deal with this – and find a way to protect my other clients –”

“I’ll do it, but you have to update me,” you say. “Even if it’s just a text. I have to know what’s going on.”

“Fine. I’ll work on getting Shigaraki a phone,” Midoriya says. “He can call you once the oxygen mask comes off. Until then I’ll do what I can.”

The oxygen mask. Whatever’s wrong with Tomura, it’s so bad that he’s in the hospital or on his way there. You have so many questions that you don’t have a prayer of getting any of them out. “Okay,” you say, trying to buy yourself time to think, and Midoriya hangs up on you.

You slump back against the wall, your head spinning. There’s cold sweat dripping down your spine, and when you lower the phone from your ear, your hands are shaking so badly that you nearly drop it. Tomura’s out of prison, but he’s in bad shape. Midoriya hung up on you. Tomura called you so he could hear your voice, so he could tell you he loves you, and you don’t know when you’ll be able to talk to him again. And you didn’t have a chance to say it – or anything – back.

Something happened to you when you heard Tomura’s voice, the same thing that happened to you when you found out he’d been exonerated, except this time, you don’t have Chihiro’s presence to force you to ground yourself. It’s like you’re twenty-two again. The world’s turned upside down, everything you thought you knew shaken up and shifted beneath your feet. You don’t know what happens next.

Yes, you do. Call Spinner. Call the others. Tell Chihiro, because you promised you’d tell her as soon as you knew anything, and then finish the rest of your day at work. You can do this. You’ll do it the same way you’ve always done it – one step at a time.

You text Chihiro first. She should be the first one to know that her dad’s out of prison. Then you call Spinner – Spinner, who’s definitely still at IKEA, based on the noise in the background when he picks up. “What’s going on? Midoriya never called me. He’s supposed to let us both know when something happens.”

“It wasn’t Midoriya. It was Tomura,” you say, and Spinner goes dead silent. You take a deep breath, let it go, and on the other end of the line Spinner does the same. Not that it helps much. Everything has changed, and it threatens to overwhelm you all at once – but you’ll handle it one step at a time, until everyone’s looking away and you can fall apart in peace. “He’s out.”

<- Chapter 2

taglist: @shigarakislaughter @deadhands69 @f3r4lfr0gg3r @minniessskii @cryptidfuckerofficial @lvtuss @issaortiz @evilcookie5 @aslutforfictionalmen @lacrimae-lotos @xeveryxstarfallx @stardustdreamersisi @aryuunachigiri

[fandomfan315]

So, I learned how to cro-tat* the other day and decided to see how it looks with normal crochet!! Here's a guide on how to do so, based on what I've cobbled together. The first part (1-7) is how cro-tat usually works, the second part (8) is just your usual crochet routine.

*Cro-tat is a combination between crochet and "tatting," which is a type of lacing!! It's super cool, usually done with teensy tiny thread & special hooks. But I've only got normal yarn and normal crochet hooks so I made do 🤷 Have fun!!

Please keep in mind I have no idea how to cro-tat beyond this and a few other moves. And I also have no clue how to add a second row on top of it because I haven't gotten there yet LOL. It's just for fun, and I made the guide for myself to remember but I just thought I'd share it with y'all 🥰

[crplpunkklavier]

soo close + hand for scale

[sachaeggie]

back when i used to make cool stuff