#but while the “shit villain that seems to steal the spotlight from everybody i like or care about” does work generally | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

hopiewrites · 5 years

Text

Runaways - BNHA

pairing - dabi x reader

ongoing series, chapter 2

word count - 6,861

chapter 1 & 3 up now!

-> back to masterlist

“ to survive, to live, to die “

“This place is the sketchiest thing I've ever seen in my life. Like, I'm talking prime murdering spot you got here.”

“Oh, shut it, princess. Just hurry up and follow me.”

Before the two of them was a large wooden building, falling apart at the seams. The wind howled through the holes in the walls, shaking the cracked windows that were frosted over in a sheet of ice. This guy couldn’t be serious, right? People couldn’t live here, in a place like this. It was basically as good as gone if so much as a rainstorm decided to blow through. She had to remind herself that it was better than sleeping on a park bench, bitterly grinning to no one in particular; if she’s lucky, and the male is true to his word, there’ll be a bed waiting for her, instead of the untimely death she’s convinced herself she’d meet.

Snapping out of her stupor, she lightly jogged to catch up to the taller male, who was holding the back door open with an irritated frown pulling at his lips. With a soft click, the door closed behind her, and he moved in front of her once again, climbing down a flight of stairs and swinging open another door to reveal the inside of the abandoned building.

The lighting was warm and mellow, dim and steady from the few lamps hanging overhead. There were only two other people in the room, one being a man sitting at the bar, slouched over the table as he grumbled not-so-quietly to himself, clearly angry with something or someone; the other was a man of mist, opaque black wisps make up his form, that of which was wearing a neat suit, the jacket being slung over a chair to reveal his undershirt.

The woman caught the door just before it slammed in her face, glaring at the back of the still-nameless man’s head. Said male turned to her, grabbing a handful of sweater in his fist at the small of her back, and slung her forward, sending her stumbling out to the middle of the room.

“Well, I got her here. Rest is up to you two.”

Before she had the chance to question what he meant, the man of mist looked up from where he was wiping a tall glass, eyes of glowing yellow widening at the sight of the woman in front of him.

She was a tired sight, honestly. Dirty, disheveled clothes, shoes dripping wet with melted snow, forming small puddles wherever she stood, and then there was the dried blood smeared across her lip and over half the side of her face. The first thing that came to his mind when looking at her was rabid.

The other male in the room shot up, back popping as he whipped around the stool to see for himself if she was present or not. His skin was pale, ashy and scarred, though only on the top half of his face, where his forehead begins to the bridge of his nose; his hair was a pale seafoam color, wavy and unruly, as if he’d just rolled out of bed. His chapped lips immediately tugged up, peeling and cracked, the scar running through his upper lip stretching oddly at the sudden movement.

His eyes were almost glowing, shining copper and crimson, unsettling the female to her very core. Those were not the eyes of a person she’d ever trust.

Her breath halted at the realization that she’d seen this man before.

“Dabi, I see you’ve returned. Who’s this?”

It was the man in the suit that spoke first, turning to set the glass in a cabinet before shifting back towards both Dabi, as she just learned, and herself.

“Oh, just a little somethin’ the cat dragged in.”

Said male walked passed the woman, who seemed to be frozen in her spot, and plopped himself down in a barstool, two empty seats separating himself and the other who sat.

“So you finally did something right… about time.” The strange man grunted out, red eyes studying the females stature, one of his hands coming up to scratch at his neck.

“Whatever, creep.”

Meanwhile, while Dabi stretched himself over the counter top with no worries in the world, the young woman was standing stiff in the spotlight, the middle of everyone's attention; her words seemed lodged in her throat, and she held back the coughing fit that threatened to ruin her throat at the moment. She should’ve ditched this place when she had the chance, or better yet, not even spoken to whoever this Dabi guy is, in the first place. It’s moments like these, when it feels like time stopped, when she can barely hear anything over the sound of her own heartbeat, when her stomach drops and her heart skips beats, that she looks back and regrets every single choice she’s ever made.

Her eyes couldn’t find a place to settle, so they darted around the room nervously, desperately trying to find something to stare at, anything to occupy her mind, to distract her from the anxiety that’s bubbling in her stomach and up her throat.

“Dabi, go tell master that we’ve found the.. candidate, if you will.”

Addressed male shrugged, “sure thing.” he stood up, popped his knuckles, and disappeared behind another door at the opposite corner of the small room.

There goes the only familiar face, abandoning her with two complete strangers in favor of whoever was waiting behind that other door, shrouded in darkness, completely unseen and unheard. Just who was he going to talk to? Why would their conversation be about her, of all people?

The woman has been here all of, what, fifteen minutes? And she can already tell this is not the kind of place she should be; these aren’t the kind of people she should count on for help, or for anything at all, really. She’s only a petty thief; a homeless girl just trying to survive on her own, just trying to get by without much trouble. While she’s not the most innocent person you’ll ever meet, far from it, actually, she’s not a killer - she’s not a villain, no matter how many times she’s been called that, by her family, her friends, her schoolmates. By the little girl at the shelter, who saw the woman taking her mother’s wallet from her purse.

By Daiki, a kind stranger who only wanted to help. He’s not the first person she’s taken advantage of and robbed.

‘to survive,’ she tells herself. ‘To live until tomorrow.’

She only wants to live, just like everybody else. She wants to settle down somewhere quiet, to find a nice job, to change her name and move to a town where nobody knows her face; she wants to make friends and find someone special and maybe even adopt a cat or two. All she’s asking for is a chance at a life that doesn’t scar - a life full of healing and growing and acceptance.

Is that really too much for someone like her to ask for?

“What’s your name, young lady?”

The tall man rounded the bar, walking towards her slowly, as if she’d jump and bite him if he approached too fast; which, wasn’t wrong, because her fight or flight instincts were only being suppressed by the crippling fear that wrapped itself around her throat and squeezed.

It was a few moments before the woman was able to answer. Her arms hung stiffly by her sides, feeling heavy and awkward and out of place and she slowly straightened her back. Taking a breath in, she contemplated.

Was it really a good idea to give these people her name? For all she knew, they could steal her identity and do shady shit under her person - well, even more shady shit than she’s already done. Though, she quickly brushed that thought aside. What could they possibly do to her name that she hasn’t already done? It’s not like she’s known for her ‘good social skills’ or ‘bubbly personality’. To be honest, right now, even through her nerves, she can’t really think of a reason not to introduce herself. She’s only known Dabi for barely two days, and he’s a sketchy asshole who can’t really mind his business, but he did say that these people are like her; that they would understand whatever reasons she had to wind up at this place. While she didn’t trust that smug bastard in the slightest, he was the only familiar face around here - he was the only one she felt brave enough to talk back to, anyway - so with only a strangers word to go by, she steeled herself, bearing all her weight down in her heels and locking her knees.

She looked the mist man straight in his yellow, cat-like eyes.

“It’s (L/N) (Y/N).”

The room, by all means, wasn’t bad, necessarily.

It was small; just enough room for a twin sized bed, a desk and chair, and a tiny closet. There was only one window in the room, but it was a considerable size - it sat just beside the head of her bed, covered by thin white curtains that were tattered at the ends. A thick layer of dust covered everything in sight, making it hard to breathe.

When she first walked in, having been guided by the man of mist who she now knows as Kurogiri, she wasn’t as disappointed as she expected to be.

From the view of the small doorway, the bed sat at the far right corner of the room, where the head of the bed was only a few inches away from the window; the desk sat opposite of the mattress, with a wooden chair that looked about as worn down and sad as the woman herself felt. Kurogiri apologized for the state of the room, but she just waved him off, saying not to worry about it.

She noticed the male was much more polite and well mannered than the others she’s encountered here. Those people being Dabi, who she hasn’t ran into since he disappeared behind that door, and the male Kurogiri addressed as Shigaraki, who growled and slammed his fists on the table when told that (Y/N) would be going straight to a room, instead of “being pestered by your abundance of ridiculous hazing”. So, all in all, she hasn’t ran into anyone else, even though Dabi talked as if it were some huge group of people; she was kind of relieved that it wasn’t, honestly. She wasn’t sure if she could handle any more introductions right now.

It was kind of strange, really, going from being treated as a target, as something to be acquired, to being treated like a treasured guest in such a short time span. The woman still didn’t know what to think of everyone here, besides the fact that they all looked eerily familiar, and that she couldn’t quite pinpoint the relationship they had with each other; though she was only around there for all of half an hour, so she figured she’d have more time to think about it when she cared more.

She’s been in this room for about four hours, if the time on her phone was correct. They had initially arrived at around four in the morning, now it’s nearing nine, and she’s done absolutely nothing besides lay on the floor, staring up at the ceiling, too restless to go to sleep.

Her mind wandered to her hometown, and all that she left behind - just like it always managed to. She thought about her mother, and how she used to look at her with those sullen eyes, how she never hugged her, always scared that her own daughter would hurt her, as if she’d inherited her father's ruthless hands. She thought about the family dog, a pure-bred golden retriever that her sister had begged and begged for - a sweet dog, playful and energetic. It still kills (Y/N) to think about how the animal must be forgotten in the backyard, now that she isn’t there to take care of it, because she was sure as hell nobody else was. She thought of the bush of lilac that grew at the side of her house, and how when she was little, she’d hide in it when she was too scared to go inside.

She thought of the woman she left behind, the only person who she truly felt comfortable around, the only person she opened up to; the only person who stood by her side through almost two years of her life. She thought of how she ended everything they built over a single text message sent at two in the morning, how she still gets messages from her to this day, over a month later, wishing her good mornings and telling her how much she’s missed.

She thought of how, even now, it hurts to think of her name; of how disappointed she’d be, seeing her in this state.

(Y/N) sighed, banging her head against the wooden floor and groaning when the impact rattled her brain. She repeated the action once, twice, thrice; only stopping when her door creaked open to reveal a messy head of ink black hair, tired blue eyes, and a bored frown.

“Could you maybe tone down the self harm? I’m trying to sleep.”

She grunted, unmoving on the ground.

“What, did you die?”

“I wish.”

“Die quieter, then.”

The slam of the door closing echoed in her ringing ears, and she turned herself on her stomach, pulling up her arms and rested her head on them so her face wasn’t smushed on the dirty floor. “I’ll die as loudly as I want to, thank you very much,” she spoke, a little louder than necessary.

(Y/N) snorted dryly when there was a hard thump heard in the next room over, the wall and her desk trembling with the force. She stretched her legs, arching her back, trying to ease the rock-hard muscles under her skin. She stood, raising her arms above her head, then letting them fall limp. (Y/N) watched the sunlit streets that sat outside her window, flurries of snow obscuring the shabby buildings that were packed in neat lines along the sidewalk, doorways’ wood splintering and chipping off in large chunks, bricks crooked and even some completely missing.

She felt her stomach sink low in her abdomen, her skin crawling over on itself in disgust and shame. Anyone could be in her circumstances, easily; anyone from any walk of life could end up homeless, whatever the circumstances may be, and be desperate for a warm place to stay, warm food to eat, clean water to drink. Quite literally anyone could be buried under the snow in an alleyway right now, cold, half dead, and alone, unseen by societies eyes, uncared for by the privileged people who have the power to help; that could just as easily be her, dying in the throes of winter.

But the thing is, nobody ever helps, not really. They offer dirty looks and maybe some spare change, but, really, what’s that going to do to help anybody? Do those people think that pocket change is going to afford them some boots? Food?

Do they genuinely think that their thoughts and prayers mean anything, or do they say that because they know for a fact they can get away with it, a quick way to keep up the ‘good person’ act, while doing absolutely nothing in the actuality of it all?

Too many people are hypocrites; sad attempts to mirror what people expect them to be, instead of being straight up with themselves, and everyone else for that matter, about how ugly they are on the inside. Nobody cares unless it’s their own reputation at stake, unless it’s their own life that’s being ruined.

Nobody cares unless it’s about themselves.

The woman grit her teeth, drowning in the acid of her thoughts.

The people sharing this building with her… she doesn’t know them. They’re complete strangers, albeit a bit odd, and prickly, they offered her a place to stay, a place to shield her from the cold. (Y/N) was sure they wanted something from her, because nothing is ever truly free, but she felt grateful, honestly. They didn’t have to go out of their way to do this for her, but they did. She’s beginning to think her run in with Dabi was something akin to fate, or karma, or whatever the hell else greater power caused them to bump heads.

Though, she just couldn’t shake the haunting familiarity of the two men that Dabi had brought her to. It’s like she’s seen them somewhere, at some point in her life, but they weren’t significant enough at the time to bother remembering.

There was a knock on the door, a soft three taps that pulled her back to reality.

“Oh, uh,” she stuttered, “yeah?”

“(L/N),” Kurogiri greeted, his tall frame standing at the doorway, his posture stiff and precise. “You are needed in the main room. If you would, please, follow me.”

The woman turned, nodding and swiftly following the male out the door. She wondered what they would want with her, but she

staying in their… house? Hideout? Either way, (Y/N) is curious about certain things that were said in the brief time she spent in the common area, down underground in that dingy little bar.

In particular, it was whoever this Shigaraki is that she wanted to know. Why had he seemed so excited to see her? He doesn’t even know her, and yet, he was almost ecstatic for her to have been there; almost as if he was waiting for her arrival. It was odd, to say the very least, and (Y/N) had a suspicious tug in her stomach that told her it tied into why he was so familiar to her.

Feelings and suspicions aside, she walks with her head up in an attempt to look more confident than she actually is, swallowing her anxiety in a thick gulp and biting her lip as she walked down two flights of stairs, halting at the doorway. She readied herself to be questioned and, in a worse case scenario, make a run for it, but when the door at the bottom of the staircase opened to reveal an empty room, void of any and all kinds of people, she felt relieved. (Y/N) released her lip when she felt the familiar copper taste of her own blood pin prick her tongue.

Kurogiri said nothing, leading her to a barstool, gesturing her to sit and rounding the counter. He slid a glass of water towards the woman, who, despite her attempts, looked about as calm as the trees in the midst of a hurricane. Getting some water for himself, he took a seat beside her, taking a sip, then twisting the stool so he could face the woman front and center.

“You’re wondering why I called you down here, correct?”

Hesitantly, (Y/N) nodded, cold fingers grasping at the glass as if it were a lifeline, leg bouncing up and down subconsciously on the bar that connected the front two legs of the stool.

Unluckily for her, the icy water that numbed her fingertips did nothing to sooth her bubbling nerves.

Also unluckily for her, Kurogiri picked up on every single one of her nervous habits right away. “Please, there’s nothing for you to be concerned about, Miss (L/N)-”

“Call me (Y/N)! I.. I mean, please.”

“Alright then, (Y/N). I merely wish to talk to you about a few things I thought you’d like to know, such as the arrangements of you staying here.”

Her eye twitched. “Oh, yes. Sure.”

“And, of course, I'd like to know more about yourself, as well.”

Of course it would be something like this; it’s not like this was some kind of hotel. She had to take a breath to remind herself that these people, or this man in particular, probably didn’t have any bad intentions; that she could tell, anyway. He was nice enough. Strange way of speaking, sure, but nice. She could only hope that he would continue to be nice to her; until she could find another place, that is. Then again, she’s always prepared to run away.

Running away is the only thing she’s ever done, after all.

“Um, okay. Ask away.”

“You see,” he paused, clearing his throat, “Dabi has told me a bit about you, and your situation. I just wanted to make sure that before anything else, you knew for sure that I, nor any other of us here, expect any form of payment from you.”

At those words, (Y/N) visibly relaxed in her seat. At least now she wouldn’t have to worry about scraping together any kind of money to pay them with - she already had her phone bill, and just that monthly sixty five had her struggling. Though, she was still suspicious; they obviously wanted something from her.

“We only want to help you out. I have heard about your quirk, and what you can do with it from Dabi, as well. That, in particular, is what I want to ask you about, if that is alright with you.”

‘What? has that creep been spying on me?’

Really, truly, from the bottom of her dead, shriveled, blackened little heart, what the fuck. Had he really been watching her long enough to know the extent of her quirk? Hell, the woman herself barely had an idea of how to use it and what it does. What are the implications of what the man beside her is saying? Just how long had she been watched, and by how many people? Can she even begin to think about the possibility that Dabi was sent by these very people to spy on her? No, not really. She didn’t even want to consider that, but the tensing of her muscles already though that to be the case. She was definitely watched.

But the question is why? (Y/N) really isn’t anyone special, let alone someone worth spying on. Sure, her quirk can be pretty intimidating, but it’s effects don't last very long, and she’s useless after she uses it. Sure, she can half ass fight, but she barely stands a chance in real combat; she’s too much of a coward to face anyone head on.

In that sense, her quirk really does suit her, doesn’t it? The perfect power that allows her to hide in plain sight, to escape perfectly, to scream and cry without ever being heard.

She didn’t voice her concerns, though. She only replied with a quiet voice. “Oh, yeah, that’s fine. What do you wanna know?”

What does (Y/N)’s quirk have to do with her staying here, anyway?

“Well, I would just like to know about it. He said that you can somehow make people blind, correct?”

Oh. Dabi must’ve just seen what happened from outside of the shop the other day, if that’s what he thinks - though, it is pretty hard to tell what exactly is going on if you yourself aren’t the one being targeted.

The young woman isn’t sure why she’s telling him about herself or her quirk so easily; maybe because she feels indebted to them, for helping her out and not letting her die outside in the cold, or maybe because she’s just stupid. In this case, (Y/N) feels like both apply.

“I don’t really know much about it myself, actually. I can take away people's senses. Like, hearing, sight, smell, touch, taste. I can’t take away one or even two at a time, though. They all go at once.”

His golden eyes widened slightly, but just enough so to look staged; as if his surprise was fake. “Oh? And you can do this on command?”

“Well, uh, no, not really. I have to hurt myself for it to activate. It has to be a sharp, sudden pain, like stabbing yourself with a needle, or biting your lip or tongue. I don’t really know why,” she shrugged, sipping her water.

“And how long can you do this for? As in, how long can you nullify their senses?”

What an odd question to ask, considering he already knows the answer.

“Around fifteen minutes, give or take. I don’t really like to use it, though, because I always feel awful afterwards.”

The man hummed thoughtfully, taking his glass and tilting it gently, watching the liquid swirl in slow, enticing circles. His movements were so elegant and poised, every little flick of his wrist was intimidating to (Y/N), as if he could crush her under his boots any moment he pleased - as if he’s a predator waiting for the right moment to pounce on their prey - a darkness that lies under his polite exterior, lurking within every smooth word.

She took this pause in the moment to get a good glance around the room, eyes trailing along the walls and ceiling with trepidation, as if waiting for them to collapse in on her at any moment. There weren’t any windows, as this was underground, and the copper lighting felt like a mockery of twilight; the way particles of dust floated in the air, suspended in time, dancing around her as the light reflected itself in shards on her skin; for a moment, she feared that the dust would collect in the fissures of herself, having already been broken from the inside out.

“What do you mean by awful, (Y/N?)” Kurogiri’s voice dipped to something uncanny. She felt her hair rise at the mention of her name, sweet like poison dripping off his tongue, a false sense of comfort wrapping around her like the softest shackles.

“Well… All my senses become muddled. Kind of like, uh, they all get blended together and fuzzy, and most the time I end up passing out because it’s such an overload for my brain. It gives the worst migraines.”

“Ah, I see. Perhaps, instead of nullifying other people’s senses, you’re stealing them away, then. Maybe you’re seeing, hearing, feeling, and smelling everything that they would have while they were debilitated by you.”

She’s… never thought of it like that before, actually. Stealing people’s senses? It does explain the aftermath of her quirk. But, what good is that if she can’t even coherently examine them?

Asides from that, why in the hell are we talking about this, anyway?

“Oh, I’m sorry, I didn't mean to confuse you.”

Shit, did she say that out loud?

“The truth is, (Y/N), what I really wanted to talk to you about was-”

But before he had the chance to continue, the door to the outside burst open, a man with disheveled, minty hair and what looked to be a mask in the shape of a hand covering the majority of his face waltzed into the room, shoulders hunched as he scratched the skin of his neck raw. A young girl followed behind him, skipping into the room humming a pop song (Y/N) couldn’t name. The masked man paused before the two that sat idly at the bar, hands dropping to his sides as he exclaimed, “oh, Kurogiri! I see you’ve finally talked to her?”

The addressed male stood up quickly, barstool flinging itself back against the counter with a thud. “Shigaraki, I was just about to go over th-”

“Oh, so you haven’t even told her yet. Figured. Since you seem to be taking so long, Kurogiri, I'll do it myself.” his voice was muffled by the hand that covered his face, and as scratchy and unbearable as it was, (Y/N) was almost revealed that it was someone she’s seen before. She’s really getting tired of new faces.

“Wait, this is a delicate matter. Don’t you think it’d be best if I were to handle it?”

Completely ignoring the other male, Shigaraki walked forward to stand in front of (Y/N), who was now spun around with her back facing the counter.

Just what does he mean by delicate matter? Why are her instincts screaming for her to run away, to hide and never be found? Why is it that she feels something dark looming over her as he stares at her, face obscured by a decaying hand, gaze bloody and hot on her skin. His breath was heavy against the palm that separates himself from the outside world.

“Oh, shiggy! Is this the new recruit that you’ve been talking about!? She’s so pretty, too! Say, pretty girl, what’s your name, huh!? Don’t be shy, tell me!”

Also, who the hell was that? She looked fresh out of high school, with that uniform and those bleached blonde twin buns that sat messily on her head; she couldn’t have been older than sixteen.

‘What is a girl like that doing hanging around shady guys like these? What the hell is going on?’

“Don’t call me that, you insufferable child.”

Suddenly, there was a strong urge in the woman to pick the smaller girl up in her arms and take her far, far away from here, to protect her from the dangers of the world while her mind was riddled by a thousand reasons why a tiny highschooler like that would be stuck in a shithole like this. But from the looks of it, she had no logical reason to feel this way; as the girl looked perfectly content, happy even, swinging her arms excitedly while she questioned (Y/N). she could hear Kurogiri sigh from beside her, then he cleared his throat to get everyone's attention.

“... Okay, now that we’re all here, I might as well get this all over with.”

(Y/N) turned her attention towards said male, gulping, deciding to take all of her scattered emotions and shoving them in the darkest parts of her mind, to be dealt with later for when she had the time and capacity to do so.

“(Y/N), you haven’t had the chance to meet the whole of us yet, but you will in due time. For now, as you already know, I am Kurogiri. This is Shigaraki Tomura, and this,” he gestured towards the blonde girl, who stood with her hands now clasped behind her back, bright smile tugging on her cheeks as she bounced on the balls of her feet, “is Himiko Toga. I believe you’ve already met Dabi. We are all apart of a league, of sorts. We all were cast aside by society, shunned and abandoned by our own blood.”

Oh.

This must have been what Dabi was talking about, when he said people like us. Does that mean he knows of her past, though? How did he even manage to get that kind of information? And why the hell did she get roped into this? (Y/N), just a person looking for a safe place to sleep, has managed to stumble upon a strange gang of fuckups. She almost chuckled at the thought, honestly. How did she always end up getting herself in these kinds of situations?

Anyway, she felt awkward, to say the very least. It kind of felt like he was about to dump his whole life story onto her.

Oh, shit, he was still talking wasn’t he?

“-so now, we’ve found other people like ourselves, who also feel unseen by the hero society, and have dedicated ourselves to the betterment of the world as it stands-”

Oh, god, this feels like one of those one hour infomercials that play on the cooking channels at four a.m.

Though, she has to be honest, what Kurogiri is saying kind of makes since. Maybe the woman would have cared to listen more closely if she actually gave a shit, but she didn’t. She only wanted a place to stay, food to eat.

“-that’s why Stain, the Hero Killer, was such an inspiration towards us. Asides from his, how do you say, methods of executing his beliefs, his philosophy is awe inspiring-”

Now that caught the woman’s attention.

She’s never been one to keep up with what’s been happening, or the news, or anything of the sort, but the name Hero Killer definitely struck a chord with her. She knew that name; he was the one that everybody was posting those videos about, talking about how he ‘saw through the cracks’ and ‘was doing what nobody else would do’ and, in all honesty, from what (Y/N) knew of his philosophy, she agreed with him, to some extent.

Of course, she had an insider view on what it’s like to be shunned for a so called villainous quirk, and how unfair it was to be considered hopeless and a lost cause because of it. She knew what it was like, she’s seen the underbelly of how little some pro-heroes really care about anything other than themselves, how corrupted the media and hero-centered reality was.

But that didn’t mean she agreed with murder, either.

(L/N) (Y/N) is a thief and a liar, but she’s not a villain. She’s not a murderer. She doesn’t want to take any lives, or revenge, whatever the hell that means. She only wants a life she can be content with, and she does the things she has to to achieve that.

And that’s why what Kurogiri said next chilled her to the bone.

“We, the League of Villains, want to reclaim the ill-fated hero society and show everyone how sick it really is. We want to expose all the fakes for what they are. And we want you, (L/N) (Y/N), to help us achieve our dream.”

League of Villains.

That’s why they’re familiar. It all adds up, now; why they’re living in such a desolate place, right in the middle of the chaos, hidden in plain sight - why their names sounded familiar, likely from her overhearing them on the news while in diners and bars - why there was a certain feeling of dread in her stomach ever since she got here. It’s because she’s been taken in by a bunch of psychotic murderers. Freakshows with nothing to lose, and everything to gain.

But it wasn’t that thought that scared her, not as much as it should, anyway. What scared her was the fact that they, the most feared and powerful villains wanted her, a nobody, a freakshow who also had nothing to lose, and everything to gain. Her, who was shunned by society, abandoned by her own blood. Her, who just happened to have nowhere else to go, nobody else to run to.

Why is it that these villains showed her more charity and kindness than any family member, any pro hero ever has?

“Will you join us?”

What was waiting for her, beyond this point?

“To be honest, and I know this isn’t the most comforting to hear, we’ve seen what you can do with your quirk. A power like yours, once strengthened, could be a very valuable asset to the League.”

Nothing. Nothing was waiting for her, besides a nasty case of frostbite and starvation. By the sounds of it, Kurogiri wanted her to join whatever this whole thing was. He sounded so sure of her, so certain of her quirk; as if he already trusted her, already believed in her abilities and judgement.

As if he already knew what her answer would be.

“Don’t feel pressured to answer right away, (Y/N)-”

“No.” Shigaraki said, balling his fists at his sides, “don’t waste my time. I want an answer, now. Well, (Y/N)? What do you say? It’s not like there’s possibly anything better waiting for you out there besides death by starvation, anyway. What other choice is there?”

He spoke her exact thoughts, too. Damn.

It scared her, more than anything, to know that she’s been cornered. Who knows what they’ll do to her if she refuses? Again, she looks towards that tiny little high school girl in the room, grinning wide and blushing hard. The woman wonders what they did to that poor thing to make her stay here.

There was a hole where her heart was supposed to be.

“Well? Hurry up. We haven’t got all day.”

The seconds flew by, falling through her fingers like sand, rough on her skin, leaving small cuts and burns, ruthless in how it left her. Time has no friends, (Y/N) knows this well; this is only a reminder of the fact.

She had very little time, she knew, despite how pleasant Kurogiri tried to be. None of this felt real. None of this could possibly be real. She’s not a villain; she’s never been one, has she? She never wanted to hurt people, and she certainly wasn’t a cruel natured person by any means.

Maybe she was wrong for assuming that these people were. But then again, for all she knew, the moment she declined she’d be a dead body being hauled to the nearest dumpster, never to be seen again; it was a very real, and a very reasonable fear for her to have. But she also knew that her fate outside of this place wasn’t much better. She wouldn’t last much longer on her own, in the depths of winter, starving and cold.

Maybe it was fate that brought her here, to these people - to the League of Villains. Maybe it was the god’s sick sense of humor, some form of divine punishment for her sins.

Maybe she just had bad luck.

“Whaddya say, (N/N)? If you stay, I think we’d be great friends! Come ooon, say you’ll stay! I don’t want to be alone anymore!”

Stupid (Y/N) and her stupid protective instincts. Stupid (Y/N) and her stupid inability to say no, even in the faces of literal wanted killers. Stupid (Y/N) and her stupid, stupid lack of common sense.

I don’t want to be alone anymore.

(Y/N)’s known this girl for all of ten minutes and she’s already about to put her life on the line for her, just to make sure she’s safe. Though, in reality, she knew that she could handle herself, you know, with being an experienced villain and all, but there’s a part of (Y/N) that feels obligated to stay, if only for Toga.

She nods to herself once, balling her fists and looking at Shigaraki in his eyes - or, well, trying to, but settling on one of the knuckles of the hand that he wears as a mask. She already regrets this, and she hasn’t even agreed to anything yet. She blames her low sense of self preservation.

Yeah, that’s totally it. This is fine. She can back out at any time, right? Well, no, not really, but whatever. They’re only murderers, who have taken her in, sheltered her, showed her a semblance of charity. They want to use her for her quirk, bend her until she breaks, use her until she’s useless. She knows, for a fact, they want her life in exchange for food and shelter. They want her soul in exchange for basic, human needs.

They’re murderers.

Yeah, no, there’s really no way she’s getting passed that fact. These people have blood on their hands, staining their clothes, their skin, their soul. Some sick, curious part of her wonders why they did the things they did, because everyone has a reason, no matter how disgusting and twisted it may be.

Like the Hero Killer, who, despite being completely fucking insane, shined a light on the not-so-perfect parts of the hero-worshipping society and how it could, in the end, breed just as much violence as it does peace - just as much hate as it does love.

And, some part of her, deep down, was glad that people have started seeing that messed up side of reality; people have started seeing her, and have started coming out with their own stories of how they were hurt and abandoned because of their quirks or lack thereof, and it makes her feel validated.

People like those that she’s met in the League of Villains make her feel valid, however screwed that may be. The woman feels sick to her stomach thinking about it.

Who are these people, really? What drove them to do the things they have? Why isn’t she scared of them, in this moment, even if she could easily be killed by any single one of them at any given point in time? Maybe it’s because (Y/N) doesn’t care about her life as much as she thinks she does.

Maybe it’s because she knows that she’s more use to them alive than she is dead.

In the end, she knows what she has to do. She doesn’t want to be a villain, but what other option did she have at this point? She had nowhere to stay, nothing to eat, no one that waits for her.

Was she so wrong for wanting to live?

She thought of those things while she decided.

“Count me in.”

#dabi is a todoroki #dabi is touya #touya todoroki #x reader #dabi #dabi x reader #bnha #league of villains #LoV #villain!reader #shigaraki #kurogiri #toga #hopiewrites #runaways #runaways - chapter 2

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tessatechaitea · 5 years

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Teen Titans Spotlight #11: The Brotherhood of Evil

Judging by the last few issues starring Robotman, Beast Boy, Mento, and the Brotherhood of Evil, this series could have been Doom Patrol Spotlight On:.

Warp might be the most intelligent super villain in the DC Universe!

Actually I'm not quite done not talking about The Brotherhood of Evil! I don't mean to suggest that the people who fled one kind of oppression weren't the best and kindest people in the world! The only reason I said all the awesome people wound up in California is because I'm from California and my family is pretty awesome. Don't worry! I can see all of the erasure in the above statement! It's just sometimes, you're speaking about a thing and you can't get bogged down by small details like Native American genocide or blatant anti-Chinese laws enacted in San Francisco (pretty much the coolest place in the U.S. (at least before the tech boom fucking turned it into a capitalist fascist run by tech start-ups and the angels who finance them)). The main point was that some people become comfortable with a status quo that oppresses others. And instead of fighting it, people flee from it. The people who flee often do so because they have their own status quo they want to enact and it's rarely one that provides opportunity for everybody. At least in the modern view, I tend to think (and hope it's more than hope and fantasy and wishful thinking) that those fleeing small town bigotries into big cities are actually more compassionate toward the entirety of humanity. We still make lots of mistakes but the key point is that we're trying to do better. When people discuss locking up immigrants at the border, you can either fight against the injustice and racism inherent in the entire process or simply shrug your shoulders like a douchebag and try to sound super smart by saying, "Well, they should have thought about that before they came here!" As if everybody in the world has access to media that somehow preempts the two hundred years of American propaganda that we're willing to accept the hungry and the tired and those yearning to breathe free. I grew up in the San Francisco Bay Area in the 70s and the reality of the world that existed around me at the time was fucking Star Trek: The Next Generation compared to what's going on in 2019. We had station ID breaks on KTVU Channel 2 out of San Francisco that would show a kid running around and playing and introducing the viewer into their world that would end with the kid saying, "I'm proud to be a Chinese American!", or "I'm proud to be a black American!" It's the kind of thing that would get so many people in a huff now and yet it was a simple and effective means to introduce younger viewers to the heterogeneity of their community. And now, in 2019, we have Comicsgate who can't stand to be reminded that people other than white people can be protagonists. It boggles my mind that people can get so upset over shit that won't make a millimeter wave on the cultural yacht they were born on. Fucking grow up, assholes. Not everything is about you. I think I was going to say more things about erasure! I don't mean to make light of it since it's absolutely a strategy used to disenfranchise groups or exclude them from social movements. But it's your go-to argument against everything you read, you're not going to make many friends. Lots of essays or articles or arguments need to be specific and they can't include every situation or group in the specific argument being made. Maybe it's tough to accept laser focused arguments on the Internet when the audience is harder to gauge. I know peanut allergies exist and they're deadly but I still stick the knife I just used for peanut butter in the preserves. Not because I don't give a fuck but because I know the audience using my apricot preserves. But if I were to mention this on the Internet, everybody who knows nothing about the context of my preserves and my audience and my entire existence would jump all over me saying things like, "That's really irresponsible!" and "You're going to kill somebody!" and "Apricot? You fucking monster!" I usually hate analogies but sometimes they're fun. The general problem with analogies is that people don't use them to help clarify arguments; they use them to try to simplify their argument into something nobody can disagree with. But by that time, the relationship between the actual argument and the analogy is tenuous at best! But I think my peanut butter allergy analogy is pretty rock solid! Hey! You know who's diverse?! The Brotherhood of Evil! They have a French gorilla and a British woman and a bald white guy (also French but what can you do? This team was all up in France and shit) and a brain in a jar. Hopefully Brain was African or Chinese or Pakistani. Maybe he was also autistic. He's enough of a cypher to allow any reader to identify with him, I guess. He's definitely gay! Unless he's into bestiality. One of those reasons is why he winds up fucking the French gorilla. Hmm, maybe not making it clear what Brain's intent was was a mistake by DC because doesn't that just amplify anti-gay sentiment by associating it actual deviant behaviors? If DC did make it clear and I'm the one who's obfuscating the matter, I should probably shut up. The Brain and Mallah are definitely gay for each other's human dicks. The fact that Mallah's dick is gorilla and Brain's dick is non-existent shouldn't hamper their love. The Brotherhood of Evil are being set up by some guy named Toulon. There was a lot of narration boxes that explained it but I was too busy thinking, "How is Brain going to suck Mallah's cock?" So all I know is that Toulon managed to fuck up Warp's powers and he teleported the Brotherhood to a strange world.

Hmm, looks like Earth-11 to me!

I know this takes place after Crisis on Infinite Earths and Earth-11 shouldn't exist but it does! Maybe this story takes place before Crisis? Maybe when the story reveals they're on Earth-11, the editor will provide a note, "*This story takes place before Crisis on Infinite Earths! -- Know-it-all Knobby!" Mallah introduces himself to Tin, the leader of the good guys, I guess?, by saying, "We're the Brotherhood!" I suppose I'd shorten the name of my organization when I met new people too if it were called The Brotherhood of Evil. Unless the new guy I was introducing myself to was like Kim Jong-un or Donald Trump or Mark Zuckerberg. I'm so tuned in to world events that I first typed "Mark Zupperberg" and couldn't figure out why it looked wrong.

Welcome to my new preschool, Tiny Tots Fucktown.

You might want to be upset with me for sexualizing young children but I'm not the fucking monster who made that advertisement. Ad Exec #1: "What if we show a guy building the model with a bunch of hot women getting wet over how well he's done it?" Ad Exec #2 Who is in Prison Now: "What if they were little kids?!" Was Earth-11 the one where DC put Tin Tin after they bought the rights? I mean, I don't know if they ever bought the rights but this guy is definitely Tintin, right?

He also rides a big white dog that he has yet to call Snowy but it's only a matter of panels.

Trapped on a world about to be destroyed (in a worse way than Tintin and his cohorts know! Crisis is coming! Or came? No, no! I sometimes forget comic books can tell tales from the past! Although weren't writers supposed to completely ignore the Pre-Crisis universe once Crisis on Infinite Earths completed? Or why even fucking bother?!), The Brotherhood of Evil decide to help Tintin and his rebels take back control from some guy called Minos. But they're only doing it for their own selfish ends. You might remember how their name has "evil" tacked onto the end.

You might have thought "cutting them down like grass" was the correct phrase and "mowing them down like paper mache" is stupid but this is Earth-11, dumb dumb.

Paper mache is how you spelled "papier-mâché" before you had the Internet. There might some other difference in this comic book due to the place in time it was written:

Fuck. Now I'm horny.

The Brotherhood help Tintin and his friends steal a space ark from their enemies so that Tintin and his friends can survive the destruction of Earth-11. Never mind what happens to the people of Earth who weren't offered the opportunity to become one of Tintin's group. In payment for their help, The Brotherhood of Evil are helped back to their own Earth where they can continue to be weird and impotent. The conclusion of the story has something to do with Doctor Mist and the Global Guardians helping make the universe a better place by saving Tintin (somehow! I mean, Crisis, right?! What the fuck?), getting some guy named Toulon killed (he's only "some guy" to me because sometimes these espionage plots are just too convoluted with too many normal characters I don't care about), and getting the Brotherhood of Evil killed. They fail in getting the Brotherhood killed but seem content with their other machinations. Plus, I'm sure Doctor Mist was happy to get a small role in this comic book to pay for his bowel cancer treatments. Teen Titans Spotlight #11: The Brotherhood of Evil Rating: B-. You know I don't put any thought into the grades I give these comic books, right? You know this isn't really a review site and just a way for me to enjoy my time reading comic books while journaling, right? You know my nemesis is still the Weird Science comics blog, right? What a bunch of squares!

#Doom Patrol #The Brotherhood of Evil #Teen Titans #Teen Titans Spotlight #DC #DC Comics

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