#spinner's circumstances

[codenamesazanka]

Saw some Spinaraki kid OCs so I decided to try my hand at it too. Though it's less happy family kidfic and more resentfully making Heroes and Deku face consequences post-canon. Sorry.

the Spinaraki lovechild:

Shirakata Masanori | 白方正憲

Age: 15

Appearance: Lizard heteromorph. Black hair, pink eyes, white scales.

Quirk: Adhesion. Decay's spreading effect + Gecko's sticking trait. Anything object Masanori touches and remain in contact with will adhere with anything the object is also touching. If he touches a sidewalk, everyone on it will be stuck and trapped, unable to move their feet.

result of Spinner and Shigaraki getting together post-Deika/pre-surgery. super unexpected.

three months after Shigaraki went in for surgery, Spinner pops out an egg (please go with it)

During Heroes' raid on the PLF Villa, Spinner entrusts egg to ReDestro. Unfortunately, when everyone got arrested, egg gets swept up in custody capture of MLA kids.

With no one to claim the egg, it is placed in orphanage; all contact is then lost.

Egg hatches after war, at end of August.

Spinner was never able to tell Shigaraki about their kid due to the possession.

He decides not to say anything to the Heroes either. Doesn't trust them after Shigaraki got killed, and better that the kid doesn't grow up stigmatized for having terrorists as parents.

But Spinner does leave a letter with his court-appointed lawyer, hoping that one day it will reach the kid, when they come of age.

Spinner dies early due to effects of having multiple quirks; dies ten years after war

The lawyer, deciding to just finish up this assignment cleanly, finds the kid 4 years later and delivers the letter despite the kid not reaching age of majority.

Despite half-assed mild societal change efforts, Masanori grows up an orphan in the system, with the additional stigma of being an PLF raid kid (and therefore very likely the child of dead/arrested Villains/criminals)

Abandoned, unnamed babies in Japan are named by the city/town's mayor. Masanori was named with the kanji "white-direction correct-law" in hopes that he would become a law-abiding citizen (unlike his unknown parents). The Mayor is an asshole.

(Though Shirakata is a real surname, and chosen because kid has white scales)

Early on, Masanori looked out into the world and realized it doesn't want him, made it clear he doesn't belong. So he accepted it.

However, he knows the path of Villainy only leads to doom.

His caretakers drilled that into the PLF raid kids. Quirk counseling emphasized it a lot. So did teachers. Everyone.

He’s (reluctantly) played the ‘Villain’ in enough playground games that ends with the ‘Heroes’ pretending to smash him to pieces or explode him to nothing, because everyone has seen the war footage.

And he’s known too many people who salivate over the satisfaction of proving his blood is irreparably criminal.

So he won't be a Villain.

He just wants to leave - leave the orphanage, leave the city, leave Japan. Maybe travel the world alone forever.

Masanori is: very solitary, utterly disinterested in people, self-reliant, pragmatic, opportunistic, clever enough but can bite off more than he can chew

Masanori doesn't really have any sentimental feelings about his parents; or rather, he feels there's no point to dwell on it

He always knew he was the son of criminals. Discovering that he's the son of the most notorious criminals is somewhat cool, but Spinner and Shigaraki are long dead and gone.

When Masanori first received the letter, there was a satisfaction to finally knowing, nearly a sense of destiny. So he read the League of Villains memoir. He read the manuscript drafts that he inherited from Spinner. He did a lot of research.

(In the letter, Spinner admits that the kid was a surprise, that Shigaraki never knew, and Spinner himself doesn't know anything about the kid and will likely go to his grave not knowing.

They dealt the kid a shit hand.

Saying something cliche like they loved the kid they never knew would be hollow; and besides, Spinner and Shigaraki were twisted and distorted people. Villains. So the truth is, the kid is likely better off without them.

But.

Spinner wishes he and Shigaraki could've known the kid, and he regrets that neither of them were able to stay alive and free.

Spinner also writes that if Shigaraki knew about the kid, he knows Shigaraki would've tried to give them the world.)

But eventually, for Masanori, the end result of all that is realizing that there's nothing to be done with this information. Spinner and Shigaraki don't know him, and he doesn't know them; never will. They were criminals, they were young and stupid, they picked a fight and lost, and they left him behind.

All he has is still just himself.

...and this new knowledge he might be able to use to his advantage.

Which is why Masanori decides to confront the Hero Deku and demand compensation for the death of his parents and other hardships

Age 15, Masanori arrives at Deku's agency, carrying Spinner's letter that is his only proof

But just looking at Masanori convinces Deku. Kid's appearance is basically Tenko in lizard heteromorph form, but even his demeanor reminds Deku of Shigaraki - aloof but intense, determined. (tho he is still younger, less hostile, a bit stiff in nervousness)

Deku is shocked, guilty, suspicious, already wants to help, appalled at the extortion attempt. Ready for a conflict.

At least until he hears Masanori's demands:

Guaranteed admission to UA's General Studies Program, a recommendation letter, as well as a stipend all three years that Masanori is in high school.

And that's it.

Masanori has only an okay school record.

He did not have an enriching school life.

He's been accused of delinquent behavior - mostly suspected small theft and 'incidents' with other students

(They could never actually prove he stole anything; and the incidents he get into are always with the more aggressive classmates. They're not so much fights as pranks, and the bullying usually ceases immediately afterwards.)

High school is not mandatory in Japan, and minors legally can start work at age 15, so Masanori has been "asked"/expected to leave the orphanage after middle school. Jin Scenario

Not a very bright future. But he was ready for it... until he received Spinner's letter.

Suddenly.

If Masanori gets into UA High School, an elite national school, with recommendation from a world-renowned and beloved Hero, it's leaving the orphanage, leaving his hometown, starting a new life.

(General Studies program because he has zero interest in being a Hero.)

Graduate and better prepared to leave everything behind and travel the world alone forever.

Opportunity of a lifetime. He will shamelessly seize it.

Masanori's not blackmailing Deku or anything - nothing to blackmail, since no one cares Deku killed Shigaraki, and admitting he's the son of terrorists is social death. He's relying entirely on Deku's heroism.

Even if his Shigaraki was a Villain that Deku had to kill for the good of the world, that was still his father. Deku will feel compassion and guilt for Masanori.

Because Deku is a hero.

Manipulative? Yes. Is he unqualified for UA? Yes. But Masanori wants a chance at having more to life.

And Deku has to face what he (and All Might, and OFA) never actually did: resolve the continued rejection and ostracization problem in quirk society, and the cycle of Shimura tragedy

Because it's quickly obvious Masanori is just like his parents: given up on the world, given up on people. He's just not dangerous about it.

But his heart is empty. He has never been saved. And he no longer wants to be.

In other words: this time, Deku has to truly save someone that's been failed and rejected by this society he upholds. even if easy mode too because Masanori is not a villain. but is less receptive than a seven-year-old. or someone already having Pro-Hero aspirations

[tinyshinysylveon]

ofc the villains are the ones who get a bad reputation aaa

[podcastenthusiast]

Sure it's all fun and games Tav telling Astarion to "say please" and calling him a good boy before having sex, but he'd have a mini panic attack if Tav explained safewords and like actually gave a shit about his wellbeing in bed.

[mettywiththenotes]

Spinner and Izuku actually meeting and acknowledging that despite everything they will continue to be no thoughts head empty about Tomura in their own ways is so good to me

[dimensionhoppr]

One day I will be able to properly break down the themes of authoritarianism, bioessentialism, and the VERY flawed "hero and villain" dynamic in MHA and then it'll be ALL over for you...

[jamiethebee]

I don't know what to think, but of the League who made it to the second half of the manga, Spinner is the only one who's family backstory/circumstances we never hear of.

Dabi is a Todoroki

Toga's parents rejected her

Twice's died

Compress has his family legacy

Shigaraki is a Shimura

Spinner is ??? Does he have siblings?? Parents? Grandparents? Anyone? No one? An orphan? We get nothing about him specifically, nothing that can't be related (or parallels drawn) with other characters.

And with the weakest quirk of the League, he's left alive? Like he's not even a threat to the heroes as himself? The complete lack of care that he's given in the story is...

[marimeeko]

FUCKING THANK YOU.

The Izuku hate lately in this fandom is astounding.

Not even surprised people are still bashing Izuku for not saving Tomura.

"Look, Spinner is---"

Stop! Spinner spent time with Tomura so he's gonna to have a different view than Izuku does.

But the fact some of you are acting as if Izuku isn't feeling anything from this is wild to me.

"He killed Shigaraki!" Okay, and Tomura killed people, too. If he was saved, he would have been locked up and you know it. What? Did you think he was going to roam free? And given this chapter and how the civilians are talking about him, you think he was going to be able to live in peace?

In this chapter, Izuku is actually hearing Spinner out about Tomura, getting his point of view about Tomura. He delivered Tomura's message to him and he didn't have to do that.

But no, he's still getting criticized.

Acting as if Izuku isn't regretting saving Tomura or doubting himself because of everything that has happened. Hell, all Izuku ever does sometimes is have doubts and regrets!!

[dolche-tejada]

You know, I think this ending would have been slightly less of a fucking disappointment if the heroes hadn't been so unfairly favored by Horikoshi compared to the villains. I mean, seriously

Deku destroys every bone in his body multiple times throughout the story and is warned that if he continues, he'll permanently lose the use of his limbs ? Everything's fine, his body's just got used to being reduced to a bloody pulp somehow so there's no consequences for him. In fact even when he literally loses his arms to Shigaraki, he gets them back two minutes later thanks to Eri because guess what ? Her horn still works even when cut off from her body. How convenient.

Gran Torino gets his ribcage obliterated by Shigaraki ? Don't worry guys, he'll survive that despite his old age and injuries, and this to have no particular role in the plot afterwards.

Bakugo dies heroically trying to buy time before Deku arrives ? Lmao, did you really believe it ?? No of course not, Edgeshot just uses his last-minute Deus Ex Machina to save his life at the cost of his own and- Oops nope he's fine too, my bad !

Hawks murders a criminal fleeing for his life in cold-blood ? The best Hori has to offer is him completely free and in charge of the HSPC.

And no, losing his quirk isn't a real consequence for him because not only it literally played a major part in saving the world with Vestige!Hawks raising an insurrection among AFO's quirks, but also because his quirk has always been the element through which people exploited him.

Endeavor abused his family for years and completely destroyed his eldest son ? No jail time and no media backlash for that, the only blame he received was due to the heroes' failure to stop the League during the Raid Arc.

And don't even get me started on this bs about facing hell or whatever for what he's done : He's literally free and wealthy ; he have Rei, Fuyumi, Shoto, his sidekicks and Hawks on his side ; and all the difficulties he's apparently going to suffer are off-screened.

Deku had to sacrifice OFA and his future hero career to save the world ? Guess what, Bakugo invested all his time and money to make him an Iron-Man suit and now he can still be a hero with everyone else.

There are plenty more examples of this but I think you get the idea. Now let's take a look at the villains' ending :

Toya is now a piece of charcoal kept artificially alive for the few years he has left, unable to move a finger, and whose few minutes a day during which he can stay awake will be spent talking to his father who abused him as a child.

Toga, a literal teenager, killed herself to save Ochako and because she knew it's still better than rotting at Tartarus her whole life.

And not only did she die but she did by bleding to death. Let me repeat for those who have trouble grasping what I've just said : In a manga where the heroes can survive having their heart blown to bits, being impaled Kakyoin-style or smashed against buildings like a fly on a windshield, one of the main antagonists died of a fucking hemorrhage…

As for Shigaraki, after learning that his very birth and all the tragedies of his life have been orchestrated by AFO, after all this development and narrative promises about him being saved in the end... Deku just kills him.

Because despite all his speeches about saving him, it seems like the best he could do was beating him both physically and mentally until he crumbles to dust…

Compress on his side is apparently locked up for life and kept alive by machines too.

A begging Kurogiri tried in a desperate attempt to save Shigaraki, only to be unceremoniously blown up by Bakugo and dying off-screen without anyone giving a shit, including Aizawa and Mic.

And Spinner will now spend the rest of his life struggling with the extra quirks inside him that affect his body and mind, while having to cope with the thought that his boyfriend best friend and companions have either died alone or are locked away for life in horrifying circumstances.

Clearly not the same as with the heroes...

Now don't get me wrong, even if they suffered just as much from the consequences of their actions or the plot as the League, this ending would still be a disaster in terms of writing but AT LEAST it wouldn't reek that much of hypocrisy.

[villainsandvictimsalliance]

The worst part is that the majority of the hero society has learned absolutely nothing and they keep refusing to empathize (not sympathize) with the villains.

It takes an AFO to raise people like Overhaul, Dabi and Tomura— to turn vulnerable kids into villains. It takes an Endeavor. It takes Toga's parents or Twice's boss or the social inequality Mr. Compress and Magne and Spinner lived through. Even AFO was made by the circumstances. So yes, you can't avoid terrible things from happening. Yes, they all were wrong and dangerous and cruel.

But the problem is not that there's people with the potential to become like them out there. In fact, anyone can become like them any day now. The problem is that no one stopped the injustice they suffered because they didn't care at the time; they only cared when they started to become a real threat.

Like, Overhaul's boss playing moral high ground over Overhaul???? My dude, it was a Mafia!! What did he think would happen if he raised a kid in a mafia environment???

I'm not excusing Overhaul's actions, because they were his own. Yet you cannot possibly tell me that he was born like that.

If the solution of the hero society is to keep an eye on anyone who can become a new AFO/Tomura, so they can incarcerate them sooner or kill them maybe??? Yep, absolutely zero learning from the whole experience.

It's frustrating.

[embers-of-the-league]

God, this series is ruining my life

--

This whole ending is just so bleak and depressing it's honestly starting to get to me. People are so angry and disappointed about it, and I really fucking get it, because the message we're essentially left with is "nothing is going to change". There will always be children like Toga who are villianised the moment they step out of the norm. There will always be young adults like Spinner and Twice, who are left to rot on the bottom of society due to circumstances they can't control.

Society is going to continue to have its black and white view on heroes and villains, which in turn, will get children like Tenko and Touya mixed up in cursed game, which have been decided for them before they're even born.

Apparently, the only villains worth saving are the villains who'll quietly agree to the suffering life has dealt them without acting out or demanding a change.

Just the simple fact that the Safety Comminssion (also that name in itself reads as some sort of cruel joke) is still operating as before is as much proff as any that nothing will change. Sure Hawks is president of it now, but we've already seen the lengths he's willing to go in order to keep up status quo, he knows the dark side of the hero society but he still keeps going with it because, what he's an optimist??

And in this story that is deemed a good attitude.

For 400+ chapters, 7 anime seasons and the real life span of 10 years we've been shown and told and shown again why this system doesn't work and how people suffers because of it. But for some reason wishing for major changes is apparently not what we, as an audience, is expected to do.

Idk what message this manga thinks it sends, but, as things stands, (and with only 2 chapters left) it's definitely not hope

[league-of-simps]

You know, despite not getting much information on the villains in the last chapter, I'm growing content with what we did get. Spinner presumably wrote, edited, and found a publisher within an eight year time span. While in prison/rehab and with minimal writing knowledge. That means someone was interested in their side of the story enough to pick it up and mass produce it.

Then the brief showing of Compress and the bittersweet smile he had when he was reading it...

That was his found family. While some of the contents of the book may hold some bad memories, he seems... content... given his circumstances. He and Spinner are the only confirmed members of the League alive as well. So reading about his friends, his family, that he either watched die or heard that they died as he sits in prison has to give him some comfort.

[moodyvoid]

what are your headcanons for the lov when someone catcalls their s/o?

and what about if their s/o fights the person who catcalled them?

The League of Villains reacting to someone catcalling their s/o.

Mr. Compress: Obviously this man isn’t going to stand for something so disrespectful, especially towards his s/o. He’d march right up to them and demand they apologize to his s/o. Regardless if one is given or not, he marbles them and pitches them into the nearest trash bin.

Dabi: The moment an inappropriate comment left the catcaller’s mouth, Dabi’s walking right over to them, all nonchalant. He’d be like “Yeah, they are pretty hot aren’t they? Wanna know what else is hot?” and suddenly the catcaller is up in flames.

Spinner: Spinner’s going to cuss them out and if they don’t apologize or walk away, he’s going to fight them. I can see him straight up punching someone out (because have you seen his biceps?) or pulling a sword out of nowhere and challenging them to a duel. His s/o will have to remind him that people don’t normally walk around with swords. Otherwise, he’d absolutely run them over with a car.

Twice: He would make several doubles and be like “You wanna run that by us again?” and the catcaller would flee the scene. His doubles are going to chase the catcaller while he checks on his s/o and makes sure they’re okay. If you listen carefully, you can hear the catcaller getting their ass beat.

Shigaraki: He’s going after them like a rabid animal. It’s 0-100. He’s walking along the sidewalk with his s/o and a catcaller says something crude and Shigaraki is already across the street by the time the catcaller finishes their sentence. They’re dead. He’ll walk back over to his s/o like, “So, anyway—“

Toga: She’s gonna stab the catcaller and then take her s/o to get ice cream.

As for if the s/o fights back: All of the league members would be beaming with pride as their s/o beats the living shit out of the catcaller.

Basically in every circumstance, the catcaller will die or be close to death 🙏

[curiositydooropened]

Halloween • A Ranged Special

A woman dies of mysterious circumstances and you and your partner are called to a tiny Midwest town on Halloween.

Pairing: special agent!Steve Harrington x special agent!Reader

Wordcount: 3759

Warnings: This is a special based on this fic.*This blurb contains canon typical violence, including violence toward both main characters, mentions of suicide, all characters in peril, jump scares, zombies, etc. Please read at your own discretion.

This blog is 18+ only. I do not give permission for any of my fics to be duplicated, reposted, or put into AI. Thank you!

Navigation • Masterlist

---

Moodboard • Episode 00: Prologue

A paper Dracula hung in the doorway, spinning on fishing line that was paper clipped into ceiling tiles. Crepe streamers dangled from its cape. 

A friendly little bell chimed your entrance, and although you’d managed to duck beneath the streamers, Steve walked directly into it like a moonlit spider’s web, and with a grunt, he batted it from the ceiling and into the ficus pot nearby.

“Steve,” you scolded, trying to muffle your laughter between your molars at the look of disdain etched in his brow.

“I hate Halloween,” he punched the vampire’s face into the soil for good measure before following you through the vestibule and to the open lobby of the little 24-hour diner. 

Cakes and pies with glistening tops rotated in a spinner to the left of the till. Bats and ghosts were hung from a coat rack and more ceiling tiles.

You waited near a hostess stand for a young woman to arrive, watching with baited breath as she gave your partner the ole up-down and lash-bat before ushering you off to your table.

He ordered two coffees and handed you an oversized vinyl menu, flicking a bat-shaped sequin from the tabletop.

“You’re such a Scrooge.” You chided, peering over stock-images of pancake stacks and sausage links.

“That’s Christmas and bah-humbug,” he crossed his arms over his chest and leaned back in his chair.

You glanced at him over your menu, hair perfectly coifed, bruise from last week’s scuffle yellowing at his jaw. “You not eating?”

He shrugged and glanced around the room.

You followed his gaze to a couple of truck drivers hunched over cups of coffee. Three old men shared a table in the back corner, laughing heartily with food in their beards. A mother was cutting up her pancakes for a little girl in face paint and cat ears. Your shoulders relaxed when Steve’s did. Safe.

The waitress returned with two steaming cups of coffee, staring directly into Steve’s eyes as she took your order, dark curls flowing from a hair tie at the back of her neck. “Are you really a secret agent, or is this a costume?”

Steve leaned forward in his chair, reaching into the inner pocket of his trench coat. “Wanna see my badge?” 

You slid the menu between their line of sight, and Steve cocked a brow your direction, the slightest smirk playing at the corner of his mouth.

“The sheriff is supposed to be here any minute,” you informed him when she walked away, peeling the lid from a creamer container to stir into your cup. Anything to distract from the heat in your face and neck.

“Henderson says hi, by the way,” Steve said, coffee mug in both hands, pink lips bowing to blow the steam from the surface.

“Huh?” You began to shuffle off your trench coat.

“Dustin Henderson, the friend of mine you met a few months ago. I was with him when Owens called about this case. He wanted me to tell you hi.” Steve explained, taking soft sips of his coffee.

You smiled, remembering the young man with the curly hair and delightful penchant for spy-craft. “Tell him ‘hi’ back.”

“Boo!” A man appeared from around the corner, nearly startled the coffee from Steve’s mouth. You recognized the Sheriff’s uniform, but did find yourself a little unnerved by the hyper-realistic zombie makeup and gashes the man had tacky glued to his face. “Or should I say ‘braaaaains’?”

Steve’s hand went to the handle of his weapon under his jacket, and you pushed your chair back to stand and greet you brunch guest. 

“You must be Sheriff Bouchart,” you introduced yourself and Steve with an extended hand.

“Oh please, call me Tim,” he cackled and ushered you back to your seat while he pulled up a chair from a nearby table and sat in it the wrong-way-around. “I just love Halloween. Don’t you just love Halloween?”

You bit back a smile as you watched Steve squirm in his seat and hummed your agreement. You’d helped Sadie decorate their front porch the night before, fresh carved jack-o-lanterns and corn stalks. Jeff was going to dress as a scarecrow and sit limply on a bench with a bowl of candy in his lap, waiting to scare passersby. You ached a little at the thought.

“So, what can I do you for, Agents?”

You looked from the Sheriff to Steve and back. “We’re here about the… murder.”

“Murder?” The Sheriff frowned.

You nodded and pulled a small notebook from your jacket pocket. “Cheryl Leahy?”

Tim shook his head, the bright smile falling from his bloodied face. “Oh that, tragic thing, really, but coroner agrees it was a suicide.”

“She made an emergency phone call about a monster with rows and rows of teeth,” Steve said, arms crossed and brow furrowed.

“She did,” Tim nodded.

“And you found her with several puncture wounds the size of small bite marks?” You tried to confirm.

Tim nodded. “So we thought, but upon further selection, we noticed it was glass. Poor woman threw herself out the front window of her home.”

Steve shot you a perturbed look, fingernails tapping the ceramic mug in front of him.

“Any sign of a break-in? Maybe she could have been pushed?” You asked.

“Nope. Doors were unlocked, but this is the Midwest, no one locks their doors. They weren’t any signs of a struggle either, other than the broken window,” Tim clarified, thanking the waitress with a hand on her arm as she dropped off another cup of coffee and your pancake stack. Then he reached across the table to pull out four sugar packets and unload them into his drink.

Steve looked like he might be sick.

“Listen, kids,” Tim picked up the spoon from your napkin and began to stir his drink. “Cheryl Leahy, God rest her soul, was a troubled woman. She’d gone a bit off the deep end in the last couple of months, and this wasn’t exactly a surprise.”

“What do you mean?” Steve pulled his coffee from the table, as though the sweetener might jump into his own cup. 

“I mean, she left her husband, quit her job, became a hermit.”

“Does anyone know why?” You asked, taking a bite of delicious, buttery pancake.

Tim shrugged, leaned in to offer the next bit of information just above a whisper. “Rumor has it she was seeing a woman.”

“Have you looked into this woman?” Steve asked.

Tim shook his head. “We couldn’t find any proof of an affair or even of another woman. You know how the rumor mills work in these small towns. I think the ladies at the credit union just needed something to talk about at the water cooler.” He turned to offer you a wink.

You faked a smile.

Steve’s fist clenched on the tabletop. “Well, we’re going to need access to the crime scene.”

Tim sipped his coffee and smacked his lips, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. “No can do, buddy. Crime scene’s cleared. New window’s being installed today. Like I said, it’s been ruled as a suicide. Nothing to see there.”

“We understand,” you said, mouthful of sticky sweet pancake to cut Steve off before he said anything rash. You swallowed. “Unfortunately, we have to report something to our boss. I’m sure you understand.”

“Sure, sure,” Tim nodded. “You’re more than welcome to canvas her neighbors. See if maybe they saw something? Other than the poor lady’s body in her driveway.”

—

Mist crawled from the lake’s surface and swirled at your feet. Lamplight cast you both in long silhouettes as you walked, heads disappearing into the fog. 

You stifled a yawn with your hand. 

“Knew I should’ve stopped you from eating those pancakes,” Steve tutted, kicking dead leaves from the toes of his shoes.

You’d spent the day canvasing. You left Steve at the stoop and walked door-to-door after the first homeowner nearly got decked in the face for wearing a Freddy Krueger mask and holding a candy bucket. Nobody knew anything about Cheryl Leahy, nor had they seen or heard anything unusual the night of her death.

“Why did Owens send us here?” You groaned, pawing at tired eyes. Your shoulders and feet felt heavy, each step a slog. 

A blood-curdling scream was better than a cup of coffee.

Steve took off first, the clack of his soles against pavement before he was up a lawn, reaching into his trench coat. You were hot on his tail, heart pumping.

Your partner stopped short, and you nearly barreled into his broad back until you peered around him to see a bunch of kids cackling, pretending to stab one another with a plastic knife. They were dressed as various cartoon characters and carried empty pillow cases and pumpkin-shaped-buckets.

With a snort, you grabbed Steve’s shoulder and led him back down the hill and to the paved path.

“I hate Halloween,” he repeated his sentiment from earlier through gritted teeth.

“Why?” You smiled, kicking at the fog as you stepped.

“Because,” Steve said, that frown burrowing itself between his brows, “there are real monsters in this world they should be afraid of.”

“Have you ever had fun?” You asked behind a yawn, laughing when his eyes snapped to yours. “Even once in your life?”

“I have fun,” he argued.

“Shooting monsters in the face doesn’t count,” you countered.

“Believe me, that is not fun,” he sighed.

You tried not to let the sadness sink in, choosing instead to barrel forward, back around the cul-de-sac where you’d parked your rental. “Alright then, what do you and Dustin do when you hang out?”

“That isn’t fun either,” he rolled his eyes.

“Okay, your… other friends then,” you ventured, hating the way your stomach sank at the thought of him having other company. You thought of Michelle from that party months ago, and wondered if he’d ever reached out.

Sadie hadn’t mentioned anything. She just kept pestering you about whether or not you’d tied him down: figuratively and literally.

Steve’s face fell in a way you hadn’t anticipated but recognized as a shut down of your line of questioning. He shook his head and looked far up the path into the mist. Robin.

You swallowed. You knew better than to push further, but you ached to slip your hand into his and tell him it was okay, that he was safe with you.

You felt his elbow bump into yours. “We should get you something to eat.”

You smiled up at him. “Don’t think I didn’t hear your stomach two houses ago, Harrington.”

You swatted at him to push him away, but he grabbed your wrist and pulled you in tighter, his trench coat and chest all-encompassing as a stampede of children skipped past you both, chanting.

“Trick-or-Treat, smell my feet, give me something good to eat!”

His chest radiated warmth, and when you looked up, his throat and cheeks were pinched pink. You watched his mouth as his chest rose and fall beneath your palm, and his Adam’s apple bobbed in a swallow.

You felt his stomach growl before you heard it, and you bit back a smile as you patted his middle. “Let’s get you something good to eat.”

—

The same Dracula was restrung in the doorway, and the hostess’s sign had been flipped to have you seat yourself at the same table as that morning. Vinyl menus now displayed mashed potatoes and chicken club sandwiches. A car drove by, casting Steve in the headlights for a moment across the table, engrossed in his dinner selections.

You tried not to think of Sadie’s pesterings, or wonder what Steve would look like all face-painted up like a scarecrow, hair stuffed into a straw hat. 

The same waitress from earlier approached with a tongue pressed to her top row of teeth. “You’re back.”

Steve flashed you a daring smile and leaned back in his seat. “You didn’t get Halloween off?”

“Jehovah’s Witness,” she explained, tapping her pen cap to the pad in her hand. “I’m off at midnight, though.”

“I’ll have a cheeseburger,” you cleared your throat, folding your menu over Steve’s. “Fries and a coke.”

“That sounds great. I’ll have the same,” Steve flashed her a thousand-watt smile, handing over the menus. 

You hated the green monster that clawed at your insides.

“So what brings you to town, G-man?” The woman asked, idling with a nylon-covered knee a little too close to Steve’s.

“Did you ever spend anytime with Cheryl Leahy? Serve her here, maybe?” You asked, leaning across the table to catch her gaze.

Recognition flashed across the woman’s face, and she pursed her lips. “You mean the crazy lesbian lady from the credit union? Thought she killed herself.”

“She did,” Steve shot you a look. “Her family just wanted us to tick all the boxes.”

“Right,” the girl nodded slowly, glancing between the two of you before the smile slid back onto her lips. She tapped her pen cap twice to Steve’s knee and promised to be right back.

“They wouldn’t send us on a false lead, would they?” You asked when the waitress’s hips swung out of earshot.

Steve’s eyes widened, and he glanced around the empty diner before leaning into you. “Say that again.”

You swallowed, the ominous feeling you felt around house six settling back between your shoulders. “Well, it did sound like our thing, but it’s looking like maybe it’s not our thing, and I’m just wondering if this is,” you lowered your voice, “some sort of distraction.”

“Distraction from what?”

You shrugged, played with the sticky wrapper holding your silverware inside your napkin. “Les Joplin, George Humbolt, the Garcias.”

When you looked up, Steve’s face was inches from yours, eyes carefully watching every change in your expression. You hoped you could convey your worry, that you’d been thinking about this for the last few months, through every small town and every patch of rotting Earth.

“Two cokes,” your waitress interrupted, placing sticky sweet soda between you. The bubbles fizzed against their straw.

You thanked her and ignored the ripple of butterflies at the smile Steve gave her.

“The last three people we saved are still alive,” he said through his teeth, glancing back up at the waitress as she sauntered away.

You swallowed and nodded, stirring your drink before taking a sip. The bubbles tickled at your nostrils and it went down ice-cold.

“Think they’re onto us being onto them?”

You shrugged. “Could be.”

“Do you think I put Henderson in danger?”

You watched the panic fill his eyes. “Steve.”

The bell chimed and a gust of wind rolled in, sweeping leaves into the lobby. Pies and cakes continued to spin in your periphery.

Your shoulders felt heavy with burden, with the weight of the world, and your eyelids too. You reached a hand across to Steve, and he spoke your name like sound waves through a soupy atmosphere. 

“Who sent you?” The waitress appeared, large bottle in her hand, although even she was sideways, off-kilter. “Was it Brenner?”

You fell from your seat, heavier than gravity would allow, and you watched as the bats and Draculas began to spin, crepe paper circles blurring your vision until everything went black.

—

Your brain felt fuzzy inside your skull, your mouth was bone dry, and the light was too bright behind your eyelids. You scrambled to remember your whereabouts, squinting against the harsh glow, and as you slipped back into consciousness, you became painfully aware of the rope around your wrists and ankles.

You strained against them and pulled yourself from laying to seated to find yourself in the auditorium of an old theater. Paint peeled from decorative lighting around the expanse and down from this balcony to the lower level.

On the stage, a huge white projector screen showed the mist of a classic monster movie.

You called out for Steve, but your mouth had been tied too, cloth between your teeth in a gag.

You tugged on your restraints for just a moment of more panic before remembering your training. Deep breaths in and out. 

You observed your surroundings, looked for exits, on either side of the floor level, and then one across the mezzanine from where you sat. You laid back down to peer under the seats for any sign of your partner. 

A few chairs creaked near the exit, almost imperceptible, and you froze, closing your eyes, stilling your breathing like you might pass for being asleep. Then footsteps, the clack of soles against the steps.

You risked a peak to find Steve, who crouched across the aisle from you, finger to his lips.

You nodded and waited with bated breath until a familiar voice startled you. “Oh good. You’re awake. You think now you’re willing to talk?”

You stared at Steve, and he maintained his posture, reassuring you he had it covered if you just played along.

You looked back up at the waitress and nodded fervently.

The waitress barked a cold laugh and approached from the row behind Steve, uniform discarded for something less conspicuous. Her long curls had been released and now fell at her shoulders. “Or maybe I ought to play with you a little bit more.”

She snapped her fingers and Steve stood from his crouch.

You cursed under your breath. Of course she was enhanced.

Feeling the ground around you for a loose screw, you used your thumbnail to loosen it from its hold to use to begin to cut the ropes at your wrist.

Steve wrapped his arms around her waist and pulled her in close, bending to press his lips against hers. She moaned, tangling her fingers in his thick hair.

You tried your damndest to focus on the screw until they began to move, slowly backing him to the balcony’s edge.

You cried out for him, but it was too late.

With one powerful shove, you watched your partner plummet to the auditorium floor. Scrambling to your knees to peer over the side, you saw his mangled remains, blood seeping down the incline toward the orchestra pit.

You screamed and ripped your wrists from their restraints.

Standing, you managed to swing your arms at her with the intention to push her over the side with him. Only, she wasn’t there, not really. You wafted through the air until you lost your balance, and you felt gravity cascading you up and over to meet your partner’s fate.

With a sharp tug, your arm was ripped from it’s socket.

“I’ve got you,” Steve said, gripping your wrist, teeth grit.

You glanced to the floor to find it empty, nothing but air beneath your dangling feet.

On the giant screen behind you, a monster’s silhouette was framed in shadow, tens of feet high.

“Give me your hand,” Steve yelled.

With a cry of agony, you swung your other hand to grasp his and allow him to hoist you upward.

Safely back on the mezzanine, Steve made to quickly untie your bonds, large hand replacing the gag on your cheek. “Are you alright?”

His voice was hoarse, blood caked the side of his temple.

You swallowed, nodded. “Are you?”

He shrugged and looked around for any sign of her. “I think she’s enhanced.”

“She can make you see things,” you confirmed.

“Great,” he sighed, hand brushing your hair from your cheek, warm and comforting. You knew she couldn’t manufacture this, not the care or the devotion. “Can you walk?”

“My legs are fine,” you stated, gritting your teeth through the sting in your shoulder.

Steve shook his head. “I’ll put it back in the car. Stay close to me.” He grabbed your hand to assist you in standing, and didn’t release it as you made your way up the balcony aisle and through the exit doors.

—

Flashes illuminating the mist and trees surrounding the little theater. Blood that spilled from her wounds. She coughed and sputtered, face covered in shards of glass.

Tim Bouchart handed you the handcuffs from his belt, and you clipped them around her wrists to restrain her to the gurney, flesh and blood and bone.

“You sure you’re okay there, Agent?” Tim asked, face quite mundane without the zombie makeup.

“I’m fine,” you breathed through the ache. The emergency response team insisted on a hospital visit, but you’d rather not spend your Halloween night watching droves of other people in skeleton costumes puke up their dinner.

Steve finished giving the ambulance drivers their specific directions and shook Tim’s hand. “Sheriff, thank you for all your help. We’ll be in touch.”

“I’m sure you will,” Tim managed an exhausted smile before stumbling back into his cruiser. “Happy Halloween.”

You stifled a yawn behind your hand.

Steve scoffed beside you, cut on his head covered with a butterfly bandage.

You nodded. “I think I hate Halloween.”

—

“Yes, sir. Thank you, sir.”

“Dismissed,” Owens smiled, blue eyes sparkling. He clapped his hands together and held his office door open for you and Steve to exit.

In silence, you exited through his receptionist’s office and into the hallway, glancing both directions before making your way into the elevator. Steve whistled as he pressed the button for the lobby.

“Have any fun weekend plans?” He asked, ceasing his whistle.

You frowned back at him, small-talk so not his forte. “Going to Sadie’s to help with Thanksgiving plans,” you said. “You’re invited, by the way.”

He bristled at that, didn’t respond.

The elevator dinged, doors sliding open to reveal a large group of people waiting. The two of you shuffled around them and to the revolving glass door.

Crisp autumn air hit your face, and you sighed, watching leaves tumble down the sidewalk.

“So listen,” Steve stopped you with a hand to your forearm. “Henderson’s coming over tonight to watch movies. He wanted me to invite you.”

You pushed down anything that kicked in your stomach, tilted your face to catch the sunlight just over his head. “Do you want me there?”

He pursed his lips to avoid the smirk toying at the corner of them. “Not really. I know it’ll just be the two of you talking over the whole thing.”

You hummed. “Is that what you like to do for fun? Watch movies?”

He eyed you for a moment longer, weighing whether or not to tell you the truth, before he nodded. 

This time it was you disguising your smirk. “What movies are you watching tonight?”

“Halloween,” he said. This time, his lips split into a knee-weakening grin.

---

[A/N: In my mind, this entire chapter is in B&W. Like my two favorite episodes of Supernatural and X-Files. I missed you guys. Happy Halloween! xoxo]

[itsabouttimex2]

hey 👋 could you please do more of platonic yandere hawks x teenage bartender reader pls ? :)) I love your work

(Aw, thank you! I’ll go back and tag this series as “Teenage Bartender” since I’ve got a few fics for it now)

Patronage

Out of all the people you’ve ever served, Mr. Takami is definitely your favorite patron. The League of Villains ranges from outright bad to somewhat decent when it comes to personality, each causing you trouble in their own way.

Mr. Bubaigawara is also pretty alright, but you have to cut him off after a while so he doesn’t drink himself to sickness. He’ll switch from thanking you for looking out for him to criticizing you for being a “mood-killer” in the same breath. You like to believe that the kinder half of him is the “real” one. It always feels more sincere, in your opinion. You try to see the good in everyone around you, after all. No matter how hard it may be, or how dangerous or depraved the individual is.

Maybe you’re an optimist, Keigo Takami thinks to himself, nursing a non-alcoholic strawberry spritzer. Or maybe you’re simply too naive to see the dangers of the killers and criminals around you. Maybe it’s a case of feeling obligated to love the unloved, to accept the spurned, to try and save those dedicated to hurling themselves headfirst towards irredeemability. Maybe you sympathize with them, with what they’ve been through in their tumultuous and checkered lives.

No matter what the reason is, what really matters is that you, in spite of whatever horrid circumstances have landed you in the middle of these villains, playing caretaker and maid and nanny to drunk, belligerent murderers…

You’re still kind.

That’s why Keigo truly believes that you, more than anyone else here, can be redeemed.

Not only because of the way you treat him, but also the way you treat your “coworkers”.

When Toga gets immediately drunk off of whatever cutesy cocktail she begged you to whip up, you help her get to a couch and make her lay down, leaving a bin by her side. When Shigaraki is having another one of his tantrums, you line up all the broken glasses and worn down equipment you have onto the countertop so he has something to focus his aggression on. You listen close to all of Spinner’s rants about Stain, even if you don’t understand a word he’s saying.

You see something in them, clearly. Keigo isn’t quite sure what it is exactly, but he’d love to know. Do you care about them? Do you think they could redeem themselves? Do you think you can off-put their suffering and bloodthirstiness by being kind? Do you consider them to be family? Do you consider him family?

You’ve been around him long enough to see him as a friend, surely. You treat the winged double-crosser with the same forthcoming kindness that everyone receives when they sit at your counter, ensuring that he’s happy, hydrated, warm, and not-

“-hurt? Mr. Takami, did you get hurt?”

“Sorry, kiddo. Didn’t quite catch that one. Run it by me again?”

“That mission ran a little long, didn’t it? Usually you’re back a lot sooner, so I wanted to make sure that you were alright, Mr. Takami. You’re not hurt, are you?”

Keigo is a well-guarded man. He doesn’t give away too much and he’s good at hiding his feelings and thoughts. Still, he can’t keep himself from smiling right now. With a gloved hand, he reaches out to ruffle your hair.

“Just fine, kiddo. Things got a little troublesome- when don’t things get troublesome, huh? But i got the job done no problem, like always.”

You try to meet his smile evenly, taking his drained glass and giving him a fresh drink in turn. There’s a moment of strange silence, something’s there’s never been between the two of you.

“I’m really glad,” you quietly admit to him, breaking the lull. “I think you’re… you’re the only one who talks to me the way you do. I don’t…”

He leans forward, propping his elbows on the table and resting his chin on his twined fingers. “Talk to me, pint-size. You’ve got my ear. I’ve got some time to kill.” He adds the last line just to make sure that you know he won’t mind if this takes a while. Even if he didn’t have the time… he would make it, for you.

“I really, really do like everyone! Really, I do! But it just feels… it all feels so endless, Mr. Takami. If someone isn’t mad at me, they’re puking on the floor. If they aren’t puking, they’re crying in the corner. If they aren’t crying, they’re picking fights. If they’re not fighting, they’re breaking things. If they aren’t breaking things, they’re mad at me for something. It just goes on and on, and I- I just-“

You pause, your breath hitching inwards sharply as you bury your face into your hands. You put your palms flat on the countertop, staring at your weary reflection on the polished surface.

“I’m so tired, Mr. Takami. And I feel like I’m never gonna get to take a break.”

“Okay, come over here,” Keigo guides, leading you around the counter by your hand and towards where he remembers seeing you head each night. Your personal room, he assumes. “The bar,” you try to argue as he pulls you along, “needs me at the counter. What if someone comes by for a drink?” Your words fall on deaf ears, it seems. “Most of the league is made of grown men, kid. Trust me, they can stomach a few hours without alcohol.”

He opens the door, giving himself the first view of your room he’s ever seen.

Knowing that you can’t see the face he’s making, the undercover hero allows himself to frown at the sight.

This isn’t a bedroom. This is a storage closet with a small bed and a nightstand. It’s barely four feet wide, and just about six feet long. The sort of room you’d put spare brooms and mops in, where you’d hide away a half-used gallon of drain cleaner or spare dish soap bottles you had gotten on sale. A place too claustrophobic and enclosed for anything except supplies.

But instead, this room had been given to you, a literal teenager who was giving their all to support the League in spite of getting nothing out of it.

For just a moment, his blood boils.

The League can pretend to be good. They can pretend to be heroes and freedom fighters. They can pretend that they’re fighting for a fair and just society. They can pretend that they aren’t monsters and murderers.

But this is how they treat their own. He’s always known this. The League of Villains prioritizes powerful, dangerous individuals above all else, prioritizes those who can spread chaos and mayhem in the name of their destructive goal. And you don’t fit into that powerhouse category, so you get shuffled away, tucked out of sight when they don’t have you serving them or playing babysitter to grown drunkards.

Keigo thinks he understands it, at least. But the truth is that some of the League do care for you. Twice, Spinner, Magne, Toga, Mr. Compress… all of them do care about you, as a friend or as family. And in turn, you care for them.

But he doesn’t think of that. As he helps you into the cramped bed, he thinks of “saving” you, and getting you out of here. Of bringing you home and keeping you safe from the harms and horrors of the world around you.

And there will soon come a day that you tumble out of the villain’s claws and into a hero’s talons.

[darkonekrisrewrite]

Whenever I see someone go "oh the League's actions can't be justified" or "their pasts don't justify their actions" or even "they're just evil"

I think two things

One

They're fiction, and are a lot more sympathetic than a lot of real people who face no consequences

Two

What the fuck were they supposed to do? Seriously what?

Your thoughts

Anyone who says things like that, likely hasn't had to (actually) fight for anything in their lives.

Saying that "the Lov's actions can't be justified" or that "their pasts don't justify their actions", can only be saying that from a place of assumed moral superiority and general comfort.

People who think like that in such rigid, self-righteous mental stances are usually-

A. The first to go back on their beliefs when things get tough.

B. The first to lose everything they have because they refuse to compromise on what they believe is right.

Because it is the truth, that the Lov didn't have any other options but to fight as hard as they could for their right to live.

They didn't get to choose how they were born or the course their lives took as children, so they could only try to cut out an existence from the hand they were dealt.

To destroy hero society, to even have a chance at a better life than being left to die (shigaraki and Dabi) and/or chased away to die (Toga and Spinner).

It's something very important to remember that while completely "destroying everything" isn't the right answer to what the Lov was looking for -

- Doing the "right thing" in their circumstances wasn't going to get them anything but suffering and death, all because of people (the bnha civilians and a number of heroes) who couldn't care less about them.

Anything good that happened in bnha's future (wether it's really true/makes sense or not), is thanks to the Lov's existence, at least 50% or more.

The Lov was never "evil", they were mostly right.

Also it's kind of hilarious that shonen fans say this stuff sometimes, they have to be either younger or just getting into manga/anime in general.

Because:

Orochimaru is chilling with the leaf village parents.

Frieza is teaming up with Goku to save the universe and getting back to conquering worlds.

Mayuri from bleach... enough said.

Patolli (the fake Licht) the elf from black clover, for a more modern example of a sympathetic shonen villain doing terrible things and still living despite that.

Villains who have done far worse and still got better endings.

[daisystwistedgarden]

𝒇𝒊𝒄𝒔 𝒇𝒐𝒓 𝒈𝒂𝒛𝒂 - 𝒕𝒘𝒊𝒔𝒕𝒆𝒅 𝒘𝒐𝒏𝒅𝒆𝒓𝒍𝒂𝒏𝒅 𝒆𝒅𝒊𝒕𝒊𝒐𝒏

✿✿ 𝐢𝐧𝐭𝐫𝐨𝐝𝐮𝐜𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧 & 𝐫𝐮𝐥𝐞𝐬 ✿✿

hello! i'm joining other lovely fanfic writers with @ficsforgaza to help raise money for the folks in need in palestine! i wanted to show my support in the best way i can, and this to me is a wonderful effort to bring the community together to do some good.

to participate, make a donation to a vetted fundraiser found on @ficsforgaza's page (aka, don't send me any money!) and send me a screenshot (with your personal information removed, please!) along with what you'd like to request to my ask box. please do not "double dip" aka use the same donation for several writers-- this is a fundraiser, after all! here is what a request looks like:

hello! can i sponsor your mermay fic? i donated $5 to gaza, here is the screenshot! thank you! [insert screenshot]

my pricing will be as follows:

❀ sponsor-a-WIP: $1/100 words ❀ drabbles: $2-3/100 words (elaborated below) ❀ no money to contribute, but you want to support the cause? that's okay. sign a vetted petition from the @ficsforgaza page and send proof, and i'll add a sentence to a WIP of your choosing.

if you have any questions, feel free to take a look here on @ficsforgaza's page or reach out to me. be patient, i will work on these fics at a good pace for me. thank you so much for helping me raise money for a good cause :D

✿✿ 𝐖𝐈𝐏𝐬 𝐭𝐨 𝐬𝐩𝐨𝐧𝐬𝐨𝐫 ✿✿

❀ the high school years

before night raven college, each student had their own lives and experiences in high school. what did those years look like? how did they affect each student at the arcane academy now?

headcanon paragraphs for each student. college!au. estimated length = unknown. characters completed: none. wc: 0. current sponsors: none.

❀ mermay: azul, jade, & floyd

you're a researcher and rehabilitation expert at an injured merfolk sanctuary near the coast in a small city. one day upon arriving to work, you're greeted with news of a new arrival. he's a bit... odd, it seems, but you're determined to coax him from the depths of his tank and help him recover from the injuries that landed him here in the first place.

small fics for each character. x reader. nonhuman!au (aka no school, no transformation potions). estimated length = unknown. characters completed: none. wc: 449. current sponsors: two! sponsored word count: 449/1000.

❀ summer camp collab

a super secret collab with two other amazing writers! support this fic if you want to sponsor a fun project i'm keeping under wraps for now...

fics for each character (limited cast). college!au. estimated length = unknown. characters completed: none. wc: 0. current sponsors: none.

❀ escape room hcs

in a convoluted set of circumstances, the members of night raven college are paired up together in completely random groups for an escape room bonding exercise. how does this go? who thrives, and who flounders? which groups make it out alive?

character groups made up of main cast of 24 (22 main students + yuu and grim). six groups of four chosen at complete random by a spinner wheel. college!au. estimated length = unknown. groups completed: none. wc: 0. current sponsors: none.

❀ tattoo/piercer!au

you're looking to start your apprenticeship in tattooing and piercing at a small shop on sage island. there, you study under an employee at the shop meant to take you under his wing. who is he? does your apprenticeship land you your dream job (and relationship), or is it a disaster from the moment you lock eyes?

fic, x reader. limited characters. post-college!au, tattoo/piercer!au. estimated length = unknown. characters completed: none. wc: 0. current sponsors: none.

❀ yandere!fem!vil x reader

vil never expected you'd ever break up. the split was blinding, leaving her in a stupor as she stumbled through coveted on-screen roles and modeling gigs for the most prestigious publications in twisted wonderland. in her mind, you're still hers. it's only when she finds out that you've found another lover that her world-- and mind-- officially crumbles. it's time she takes matters into her own hands.

fic, x reader. trigger warnings: murder, stalking, general yandere behavior. post-nrc!au. estimated length = unknown. characters completed: none. wc: 0. current sponsors: none.

✿✿ 𝐫𝐞𝐪𝐮𝐞𝐬𝐭𝐬 ✿✿

i'll be accepting drabble requests for the main cast. i write in a collge!au unless otherwise stated, elaborated further on my page here. drabbles are estimated to be ~500 words. they can be sfw/nsfw, tropes, fluff, etc. please specify what you'd like to see in this drabble, whether you only have a character in mind or a very specific scenario! (note: anon MUST be off for you to request nsfw, and you must be 18+).

since requests require a bit more work, i'll be pricing them at $2 per 100 words for sfw drabbles and $3 per 100 words for nsfw drabbles.

do you want to support gaza and request fics for obey me! or obey me! nightbringer? check out my other blog here