WELCOME ALL! To part 1 of 3 of... well, what I've done for Halloween this year! Happy Halloween, everyone! Thank you so much to everyone who has joined Patreon for 31 days of posts, and thank you to everyone joining us here for a sneak peek into some of what was posted!

Third person pov

Just because Aizawa has his emergency foster license doesn't mean he ever thought he'd use it. And certainly not for a four year old boy they found in the basement of a villain base.

The raid had gone well. There were no complications going in, nor were there any as they made their arrests. It had seemed, originally, like it would be a cut and dry case. A book opened, read, and closed. Shota supposes that had been far too much to hope for. Of course something would go wrong. And of course Aizawa would find himself the one picking up the pieces.

He'd almost missed the basement entrance. It wasn't a door, but rather a hatch with a ladder that descended into pitch black concrete box with no visible windows. His heart had sunk when he's first peered into it, shining a light down with disdain and a sigh. Shota had learned early on in his line of work that mysterious basements only spelled trouble. Of course, that hadn't stopped him from going down in it, because he also knew far better than to leave loose ends.

It was of little solace to him at the time that the place was small. Not with the dull crayon drawings marking up the walls and the old, faded wooden blocks scattered on the ground. Evidence of a child in a dank, moist place like that had made Aizawa shiver. Even thinking about it now caused his expression to pinch in. As much as he wasn't fond of dealing with children in any capacity, that didn't mean he didn't care.

There was a mattress in the far right corner. It didn't have a sheet or a pillow, just a single, thin blanket with tattered edges and fraying fabric. His dark eyes had connected with a pair of large green ones. The child was tiny, but the basement had made him seem all the smaller. His eyes seemed to nearly glow as he warily peered out at Aizawa, cautious and full of tension.

And... that had been that, really. He'd radioed it in and taken his time coaxing the child forward. It hadn't taken as long as he thought it would. The kid had been so skittish, jumping and tensing at the slightest shift in his weight. Maybe his quick trust had something to do with the way he kept spacing out, his eyes sometimes drifting to the empty space left of Shota and staying there before they snapped back, the boy blinking as though he'd forgotten Shota was speaking at all.

They didn't know his name, or where he came from, or why the villains had him to begin with. They'd obviously gone to great lengths to hide him. Thought on the skinnier side, he was hydrated and relatively well-fed, both of which were implications that they'd wanted or needed him alive. That meant they cared.

That meant they'd probably want him back.

So, still cradling the quiet boy in his arms from when he'd carried him up the ladder, Shota had agreed to take him. They had no idea if the kid had a quirk or not, or if it was dangerous. Shota was equipped not only to erase it if need be, but also to protect him if the wrong sort came knocking. Not that Shota thought they'd be easily found. He was a relatively new underground hero, still unknown to the streets, still forging connections. Nobody would think to check with him for the boy.

They clean him up at the hospital and try to gently prod something out of him. The boy is jumpy but relatively polite and well-behaved, excusing his continued silence. Shota can't blame the kid. Who knows what he went through down there, isolated and alone. It's obvious he has trouble focusing, his gaze constantly drifting away from the people in the room whether they're talking to him or not.

Aizawa's apartment is small and ill equipped for even just one person. He would've cleaned up if he knew he was going to have a house guest. He carries the boy in, trying to be as careful as possible with him as he does. He can already hear Hizashi's howling laughter over the fact that he, Aizawa Shota, has actually and willingly brought a kid into his home. A little one. That was like, alive, and did kid things, and was... a kid.

He stood there in the midst of his cluttered living room, a four year old on his hip and not a clue as to what the hell was he was supposed to do next. He wasn't sure if the kid being quiet was a bonus or not yet. Probably not, considering it was silence born from trauma. They'd have to figure that out later. Get the kid therapy, or whatever you were supposed to do in this situation. Shota supposed whoever ended up with him when this was all over would handle all that-- his stay here was just temporary, after all.

The kid was still spacey, likely exhausted from the night's events. He didn't squirm or complain as Shota carefully settled him onto the couch, making quick work of gathering all the scattered paperwork up off the coffee table. He swiped up a few pieces of dirty laundry as he went, throwing glances over his shoulder out of some irrational fear that the kid would... he wasn't sure. Fall off the couch, or need something, perhaps. Having a kid was stressful-- especially one that probably wouldn't tell if you if they needed something.

The kid stares at the other end of the couch intently, blinking with those brilliant green eyes of his. They're luminescent, and Shota thinks it must have something to do with his quirk. He's not sure he wants to find out just yet how the near glow is related-- he's not sure of a lot of things, actually. Being an underground hero is natural to him. Traversing the dark streets, getting into fights and winning them-- he's good at what he does.

This, though, this is a side of heroism he's unfamiliar with. The break in his patrols he'll be taking in order to properly watch the kid is welcomed. He's been needing to stop straining himself so much, having worked overtime a little too much for a little too long. Hizashi and Nemuri had been trying to cajole him into a vacation, and though he knew this wouldn't be a total walk in the park, Shota was willing to bet it'd be relatively less physically strenuous.

The kid doesn't complain as Shota cleans up, shoving things into his hallway closet to deal with later and rushing through the piled up dishes in the sink. He gives the boy a snack of leftover sticky rice seasoned with dried seaweed flakes, and it's taken and eaten without complaint. He turns on some cartoons, but his new charge gives the screen only a mild glance before he's turning to look at the empty space at the other end of the couch again.

Shota's not sure what that means. The kid is so, so small. So tiny it's actually terrifying that Shota is even in his vicinity, let alone responsible for his health and wellbeing. He feels leagues over his own head. How hard can taking care of a child be? It's not a question he'd ever wanted to find out the answer to, but he signed himself up for this. An irrational move, but it's too late to have regrets now.

Shota is pretty sure this is the cleanest his apartment has been in months, or rather, since the last time his friends broke in and took matters into their own hands. The kid's still gazing off at something Aizawa can't see. Maybe that has to do with his quirk too? Aizawa doesn't know much about trauma in children or how it presents itself. Another thing he'll probably find out in due time.

It occurs to him then, as he stands staring at the kid, that he doesn't actually have a place for the boy to sleep. Not unless he plans on leaving him on the couch, or gives him the bed to himself. Aizawa's not sure how he even feels leaving him alone to begin with, especially in his bedroom with all his belongings. What if he got into something dangerous? Or his quirk activated? He could be hurt.

Sleeping in the same room is the most logical course of action, but how best to achieve that leaves Shota standing in contemplation. The kid doesn't seem to mind his staring, for the record. His eyes shift between Shota and that same, empty space. Maybe it's not a quirk or trauma, but a sign of some kind of mental illness instead. Schizophrenia can make people see things that aren't there, can't it?

It's too early on to say anything for certain, so instead Shota approaches. The kid watches him carefully, though he notably doesn't seem all that scared or intimidated. Shota thinks that has something to do with his constant glancing off to the side too, somehow. He's not going to complain. It certainly makes things easier.

"It would be irrational for one of us to sleep on the couch when my bed is plenty big enough." Shota rationalized to the child, the words falling more awkwardly than he'd meant them to. "If you're comfortable with it, I don't mind sharing. I'm supposed to keep an eye on you."

It's not the way you're supposed to talk to a kid, but Shota doesn't know any other way. The boy blinks at him, green eyes once again trailing off to the side for a moment. His cheeks are freckled and round, his green curls falling in his face, clean from the wash he'd been given at the hospital. A few seconds tick by before the kid's gaze was snapping back onto him with startling focus. He reached up with tiny arms-- a request to be picked up.

The kid allowed himself to be tucked into the opposite side of the bed. Shota gave him strict instructions to wake him up if he needed anything. There was no telling how much the kid did or didn't understand. Unsure if he was scared of the dark or not, he turned the dusty lamp in the corner of his room on for the boy, settling tensely under the covers, all too aware of the too-tiny body off to his right.

Aizawa might've stayed up longer were he any less exhausted, but the events of the night caught up fast, weighing down on him. He hardly registered the kid scooting in closer as he lost himself in the haze of oncoming sleep, his eyes drooping shut as a small, warm body burrowed into his side. He felt the blankets get oddly tucked in around the edges, almost like someone else was packing them in snug.

Shota sinks into unconsciousness deeply. Right before he goes, he swears he hears soft humming and sees the briefest flash of blue.

~~~~~~

When Shota wakes up the sun is already high in the sky, and panic immediately shoots through him when he realizes the other side of the bed is empty.

The franticness that fills him is unlike anything he's ever felt before. It sends him hurtling out of bed, his heart thundering and his mind conjuring up every curse in the book. How did he not think to set an alarm of some kind? How had he not woken up? He has a kid to look after now and he'd just slept who knows how many hours. What if he'd been taken? And even if he hadn't been, how long had he been left alone to his own devices?

He hardly registers the flickering of the hallway light overhead as he stumbles into the living room, still a little bleary-eyed. The lights in the apartment are all on, the curtains leading to the balcony drawn open to let in ample amounts of sun and warmth. He comes to a dead stop when he comes to lay eyes on the kid, who sits in the middle of the couch with a bowl of rice and curry that Shota definitely didn't make.

For a moment all he can do is stand there and stare, blinking at the boy, who peers back with eyes that nearly glow. He seems largely unconcerned. Shota's eyes dart to the glass of water sitting on the coffee table in front of the boy. The kid's so small he shouldn't have been able to reach the sink, let alone any of the upper cabinets. Shota has no dining room table, no bar stools for the kid to drag over. Was it a quirk? It had to be, right?

"Where'd that food come from?" He asks, trying to keep the tension from his voice but ultimately failing. He hears a click from the kitchen and his head whips that direction. There's a pot on the stove, the indicator light alerting him that the burner is still warm. A shiver runs down his spine.

Someone, or something, made food. And got the kid water. He thinks back to the eerie humming he's nearly certain he heard the night before and another jolt of cold goes through him. There's a certain unease in all of this, but it would be irrational to think it's an enemy. It has to be the kid's quirk at play. Maybe that's how he stayed so taken care of down in that basement?

He takes a breath and files the information away to share with Tsukauchi later. Today they have things to do, like getting the kid some other clothes, maybe some toys or other things to do whilst Shota deals with paperwork and all the reports he's so behind on. He tries to shove down the guilt he feels over the fact that he didn't wake up sooner. He was the one who was supposed to take care of the kid, not the kid's quirk-- or whatever's going on there.

"Wake me up next time, alright?" Shota requests. The kid's gaze isn't on him, instead focused on the kitchen. The light in there is flickering. He wonders if something's up with the building's electrical. "We're going to go out and get you some clothes today. You think you're up for it?"

The kid doesn't give an answer, but Shota was quickly coming to not expect one. He just hums instead, checking the stove and leaning over the pot to give the curry inside a cursory sniff. The kid's shoveling it down amiably, so it's probably not poisoned. He's too skeptical to try it despite that, instead moving it off the burner and dropping the accompanying lid back on it. He hadn't even realized he had a stovetop pot. Must've been a move-in gift from years ago.

"I'll go get dressed." He tells the boy, feeling awkward again when all the kid does is stare past him. "You just... stay right there. And come get me if you need something. Seriously, I'm-- I'm supposed to take care of you, okay?"

There's no answer. Shota goes to change clothes and brush his teeth with tight shoulders. He frowns when he sees an extra toothbrush in his cup-- one of the extra ones he keeps in the bottom cabinet for in case he has an unexpected guest. Yet another thing he forgot. If Shota has to brush his teeth, of course the kid does too. How had the kid found it?

It's all fairly unexplainable, but it would be illogical to linger and stress over the fact. The kid's a total mystery, and Shota just acquired him. He has to keep some wiggle room for weird shit to happen. It's almost to be expected. The villains wanted the kid for a reason and hey, maybe this is a part of that. Nobody got hurt, nobody died, and nothing is on fire. It could be far worse than bizarre curry and an extra toothbrush.

When Shota comes back out, the kid is already standing by the door waiting for him, clad in only socks and the clothes he slept in. He's holding a piece of paper in two hands. Shota approaches, and the kid blinks, holding it out to him expectantly. Shota takes it with furrowed brows, flipping it over. It's the first time the kid has directly engaged him beyond holding his arms out to ask to be picked up.

'Izuku' is written in penmanship too concise and neat to belong to a four year old. Shota can't help but think he's seen it before, uniquely slanted as it is.

"Izuku, huh?" Aizawa shoves the unease back some more, deciding it's still too irrational. The lights flicker overhead. Shota tells himself it's too early to know anything for sure. "That your name?"

The kid's lips curl ever so slightly. The smile is small, but it's there. Shota returns it with a tiny one of his own, reaching down to pick the child up.

~~~~~

Izuku is a cute kid. Several women come over to coo and pinch at his cheeks, commending Shota on being such a good father. He doesn't try to correct them, mostly because he's too inwardly flustered to. He schools his expression on the outside, instead focusing on Izuku to make sure he's not feeling too much discomfort at the attention. He doesn't seem to mind, never really looking at the doting older women who approach, his eyes always elsewhere.

They get him a variety of different clothes. Shota sets the kid down in hopes that he'll go pick some of his own out. He does, though he does so rather oddly. He'll always stand there for a moment, peering out at the store for a couple of beats before trailing off and weaving between the racks. He always seems to know exactly where he's going, moving with single-minded focus until he comes to what he wants.

Shota guesses his size, holding shirts up to him vaguely and shrugging, draping things over his arm. The kid will wait again, his tiny hand in Shota's calloused one, and then he'll set off to another part of the store. He never looks at what he bee-lines to, at least not closely. He just goes to it, almost like he's being led there. It's-- again-- odd, but kind of cute in a way.

Izuku isn't a normal kid. Shota had known he wouldn't be, but it's still... weird. There's a certain air he gives off that Shota can't quite place. He notices, as they move from store to store, that the lights overhead always seem to flicker when the freckled boy is around. That mean's that's probably a part of his quirk too. Maybe some kind of telekinesis? One that interferes with electrical systems?

It would explain how he was able to reach those things at the apartment. The cooking thing was a little out there, but some four year old kids knew basic recipes, and like he'd said before-- Izuku was far from normal. Besides, what did Shota really know about children anyway? For all he knew cooking curry was a staple skill for four year olds these days. His mother could've taught him-- wherever she might be.

They get the rest of Izuku's clothes. They stop for ice cream. Izuku doesn't pick his own flavor, but he enjoys the chocolate Shota orders for him anyway. Shota watches him carefully, the pair of them sat in a too-loud food court that makes the underground pro's temples pound. Izuku looks terribly small in his chair, his little feet swinging back and forth from where they hang off the edge of the chair. His feet are adorned in a pair of brand new red sneakers that he'd somewhat brightened upon seeing.

It's not so bad. Shota's never really had a reason to go out. Mic and Nemuri were quick to drag him along, but this had been... nice. Leisurely, almost. Izuku was quiet and a sweet kid, never complaining, and fairly good at communicating what he wanted or needed. If he got tired of walking, he held his arms out. If he needed to use the restroom, he stood up and turned in the direction they were, turning to look over his shoulder at Shota to wait for him.

He didn't try to run off, he didn't cause trouble or make messes. Shota felt a peculiar sense of smugness, especially anytime he passed a parent struggling with their own kid. Not that Shota was a parent too. He was just... a temporary one. One that had a particularly well-behaved child, so everyone else could suck it. He was allowed to have his own small victories, right?

"We can hang your things in my closet. It shouldn't be too hard to clear you out a drawer." Shota tells him. Children are just tiny people, right? Even if the conversation is one-sided, google says it's good to engage.

The kid peers past him anytime he's not talking. His eyes rove the apartment, stilling on certain spots. Sometimes he smiles lightly. He sits on the couch for the most part, not seeming interested in the toys they bought beyond the pale blue bear he'd plucked off one of the shelves in passing. The only thing he'd actively reached out and grabbed himself. Shota couldn't not get it.

Izuku doesn't appear bored. Shota nervously reads through various parenting blogs on his phone for a clue as to what to do. He's tempted to ask reddit for help, but the idea is embarrassing enough to dissuade him. Instead he just sits at the opposite end of the couch, reluctantly doing his paperwork and shooting the kid occasional glances. The boy's not even looking at the TV.

"Remember, wake me up tomorrow if you wake up first, alright? I'm not sure I like the idea of you wandering around alone." Shota instructs him firmly as he drapes the boy's new fuzzy blanket over him. It was the same pale blue as the bear the kid was clutching, covered in prints of fluffy white clouds that made Shota feel morosely nostalgic. The kid had smiled upon seeing it, and Shota hadn't hesitated to pick it up. "It doesn't matter what time it is, or why you woke up. Just reach over and tap me, kid."

Izuku blinks at him. Shota gets into bed next to him, and it's a tense couple of minutes before he releases a breath and begins to sink into sleep, beyond tired. He sees flashes of blue behind his eyelids, and he shifts sleepily when Izuku rolls into his side, the boy curling up into a tight ball. His fuzzy blanket tickles Aizawa's arm. He can feel the teddy bear sandwiched between them. He doesn't have the heart to try sending the kid back to his side.

As he finally drifts off, he's sure of it this time-- he hears humming again, faint and reassuring. It's a tune he thinks he's heard before.

~~~~~~~

The kid does not, in fact, reach over and tap him. Shota has no idea how he extracted himself from the bed without waking him up. Shota's not a very heavy sleeper. The kid's first night here, sure, he'd been in pretty deep. It had been a long day. But today... today he should've woken up.

The sound of the bath running is nearly enough to give him a heart attack. The horrifying image of Izuku face down in the tub flashes through his mind. Kids drown fairly easily, don't they? They're small and clumsy. They're not supposed to bathe unmonitored until age five at the earliest according to google, and even then you're still supposed to check in on them regularly. Especially if they're as small as Izuku is.

The bathroom door is cracked, and he all but slams it open, fear running hot. Izuku blinks innocently at him from where he sits surrounded in bubbly suds. The plastic cup that had been raised, poised to pour water on his soapy head, drops abruptly at his entrance. The splash it creates makes Izuku's nose scrunch up and his eyes squint. The lights overhead flicker.

Shota takes a moment to catch his breath, thoughts racing. Okay. Okay, that's proof of a telekinesis quirk at least, but that's so not the point right now. This unsupervised thing can't be a recurring thing. The cooking was terrifying enough, but alone in the bathtub? Shota's going to die an early death at this rate. He guesses there has to be downsides to all situations, statistically. At least the kid's not prone to crying. Shota really wouldn't know what to do with that.

Izuku's not even looking at him. He looks off to the side again, staring at empty air, seemingly unconcerned with Shota's mini panic attack. The dark haired man takes deep breaths and tells himself he's not going to get upset. The kid's got trauma. He probably doesn't understand, that's all.

"Kid, you were supposed to wake me up." Shota tells him, feeling years older than he is. "You could've gotten hurt. What if you'd drowned? You can't be taking baths by yourself. If you're going to get up by yourself, just watch TV or something. If you need a bath, let me help you with it next time, okay?"

Izuku blinks at him. Shota settles onto the edge of the tub wearily, reaching into the soap blindly and fishing the cup out. The green-eyed boy immediately tilts his head back, peering at him expectantly. Shota lets out a slow breath, shaking his head a little and filling the cup. Izuku closes his eyes as the warm water washes the soap from his curling locks.

The lights flicker a few times overhead. Izuku makes shapes out of bubbles, presenting the blobs for Shota to see. The man nods every time, his chest feeling a little warm. He doesn't comment on the way he holds the suds out to the empty air and Shota's left, pausing before he lowers them again. Imaginary friend? Hallucination? Or just a personality quirk of his? Still too early to say.

He helps the kid dry off and helps him get dressed. His phone buzzes, and Shota looks to see that it's Tsukauchi. With just the name Izuku and the confirmation of a telekinetic ability, they'd found a hit. A four year old boy report missing three months ago. Midoriya Izuku-- no registered quirk, but his mother had one that allowed her to push and pull small objects towards and away from herself. It seemed like his was probably a more precise mutation of that.

"And what of the mother?" Shota asked lowly, standing in the kitchen idly stirring the sizzling meat on the pan. Izuku was staring off at the corner again, but Shota was careful not to speak loudly enough to be overheard just in case.

"Found dead. The father's MIA-- supposedly he works out of America, but nobody can contact him." Tsukauchi's voice was grim. "A couple of close family friends reported it after not hearing from Mrs. Midoriya all day and they've been pushing the investigation forward as much as they can. I think they're the boy's legal godparents, but the Midoriya's old apartment was broken into last night. Whoever took Izuku and killed his mother is looking for him. I don't think it's safe to place him with them right now."

Shota closed his eyes, taking a breath to center himself. Dead. The kid's mother was dead, and whoever had done it was still out there trying to find him. For what purpose? Did it have to do with the father? Was there more to his quirk than met the eye? It was possible. The flickering lights thing was pretty uncharacteristic of most telekinetic quirks.

It was reassuring to know the kid had someone out there looking for him still, who cared and wanted him. That meant he'd have a place to land once this all blew over. Shota knew he wasn't permanent. He was just protection. Though, he couldn't deny the kid was downright adorable, and a decent house guest so far if you excused his waking up without supervision. Maybe they'd let Shota drop by every so often, just to check in on him and see how he was doing.

"Got it. Is it possible to set up a meeting? May be good for Izuku to see someone from... before." Shota flipped the stove off, frowning. "Fuck. Someone's going to have to tell him about his mother."

"I'll see what I can do." Tsukauchi sounded sympathetic. "Good luck, Aizawa. I'll call with any updates."

It's not something anyone wants to do. Telling a traumatized kid that his mother's been murdered? Does he already know? Shota hadn't considered it before, but he might've seen it happen. The mere thought was horrifying, but it was highly possible. He read through the file Tsukauchi had forwarded him and it all painted a gruesome picture.

The apartment had been painted red. Signs of a struggle were vivid, broken furniture and glass-- it's a wonder the neighbors hadn't overheard and called it in. Where had Izuku been during all of that? Was there more than one offender, one who'd taken out the mom and another who'd whisked Izuku away?

The thought of Izuku, hiding scared under his bed whilst his mother was killed trying to protect him, made his heart twist. He was such a gentle, mild kid. Like a baby deer, or a rabbit. He deserved leagues better than this. Shota wasn't exactly caretaker of the year either. He wasn't very affectionate, or warm, or reassuring in the traditional senses. He wasn't sure how to be.

He had to try, though. He could do this, right? He'd done harder things in the past. Shota could handle this. He had to handle this, for Izuku's sake if nothing else. There was no good way to tell a child their mother had been murdered, but not telling him wasn't an option. It would be cruel to let him go on assuming she was out there. It would make things harder, he was sure, but it had to be done.

"Izuku Midoriya. That's your name, right?" Shota asked softly, crouched in front of where the boy sat on the couch. Izuku's hands were tiny in his, but it felt wrong not to hold them. Green eyes bore into Shota's darker ones, intelligent and bright. "Izuku, I... I have something to tell you. About your mother."

Izuku smiled a small, sad smile. It was morose, his eyes dimming a little. Shota felt his breath catch as the kid pulled a hand out of his grasp, reaching out to pat him on the cheek instead. It was a reassuring motion, his palms tiny and warm and soft. Too young for any of this. It shouldn't be him giving that smile. It should be the other way around.

"Don't worry." Izuku told him, voice so quiet Shota strained to hear it. He sounded as sad and little as he looked. He said it very simply. Like that was all there was to it. "I know."

It was the first thing Shota had ever heard him say, and he felt his heart crack.

~~~

Interested in Patreon? 31 days of posts, and 31 days of daily questions! Answer all the questions to get your name immortalized on the 2022 October Wall of... fall? We'll work on it. Whoever has the best answers can request any series from the 2022 October event be continued or elaborated upon! 

https://www.patreon.com/strawhatpirate?filters[tag]=October%202022

What was posted this October?

1st: Class 1-A fall headcanons!
2nd: Pumpkin spice: Harper's obsession with pumpkin spice lattes (xKirishima)
3rd: Fuzzy socks, freeze frame! Lillian has too many fuzzy socks. Where are they coming from? Aizawa doesn't know and it's driving him crazy.
4th: Smashing pumpkins: Harper x Kirishima pumpkin patch AU
5th: Loving you PT 1: Harper loves Kurogiri, but sometimes she forgets to say it
6th: Some and crystal: Harper runs a fortune telling booth at the school fair
7th: Darling pumpkin: Hawks x OC, Hawks stumbles into a cafe and the owner... has no idea who he is? He's immediately enamored! 
8th: Scare of a lifetime: pt 1! Tsukauchi finds out he has a biological daughter on Halloween (mind boggled au, bio dad tsukauchi)
9th: Scare of a lifetime pt2: Dad Tsukauchi settles in with his daughter
10th: Loving you pt 2: Harper loves Kurogiri but never says it, and she loves a lot of other people too
11th: These haunted halls PT 1!!! 
12th: These haunted halls PT 2!!!
13th: These haunted halls Pt 3!!!
14th: Autumn Dreams: Kit and Tenya meet in a dream, and then in real life
15th: The scariest thing of all: Aizawa gets a trick or treater who looks... awfully familiar (freeze frame AU)
16th: The Veil Things pt1: As halloween draws nearer, the vestiges of One For All find themselves able to influence the outside world, though they have very little control. AKA... Izuku's haunted, and trying to hide it.
17th: The Veil Things pt2: Izuku is still haunted. It goes about as well as you could expect
18th: Crazy In Love: Yandere!Kirishima x Harper
19th: The dead say: draft snippet in which Izuku can see the dead, and runs into All Might, who has seven ghosts 
20th: Purr... at the moon? Lillian is a werecat!
21st: The Deku Cult headcanons! Or: Izuku accidentally starts a cult and doesn't even realize
22nd: Halloween costume headcanons for OCs, 1-A, and a few teachers!
23rd: Minds Like These pt. 1: Kirishima is a werewolf and Harper is just... so tired
24th: Salt and Iron pt1: Harper's a demon and not that great at hiding it. 
25th: Minds like these pt. 2: Kirishima is still a werewolf and Harper is still just as tired as she was before, but at least Compress is... indisposed
26th: Salt and iron pt 2: Harper's a demon still, Kirishima is in love with her, and Todoroki thinks she's... mothman?
27th: What he whispers 1: ghost Izuku AU! Izuku dies, but does that mean he's gone?
28th: What he whispers 2: Izuku's definitely not gone, but the USJ Nomu is
29th: Nine In Mind: Halloween edition! Halloween edition of a series on Patreon in which Harper holds One For All, not Izuku
30th: ????
31st: ????

It's been tons of fun to write all these so far! Even after october ends, I hope anyone who joins will be able to enjoy all parts-- even if it isn't spooky season!