#superhero vest

[total-drama-brainrot]

Total Drama World Tour Assistant Noah AU…

What if Assistant Noah wears beautiful dresses, whenever Chef wears a dress?

During the Wedding Challenge, how would Alejandro react to Noah wearing a dress like Chef’s, or grumpy Noah wearing a wedding dress? 😍

Hot take? I don't think Chef would want anyone stealing his limelight.

And I also don't think Noah would resign himself to wearing pretty dresses unless he's motivated by spite or money - neither of which would really apply here? Like, sure, he's got very little left in terms of dignity (like most poeple who've suffered through the trials of Total Drama, and/or being Chris' personal assistant) but he does have some semblence of self-respect.

He's also susceptable to things like performance anxiety, which is something we see in Ridonculous Race during the air guitar scene, so I imagine he'd be very hesitant to make a spectacle of himself on international television for no apparent reason.

If he were a contestant, then maybe he'd be willing to wear a wedding dress. Lord knows they've all done far more embarassing things for the sake of the competition. But as an assistant? He doesn't really have anything to gain form the situation outside of dodging whatever penalisation he'd get from not following Chris' orders, and he wouldn't be on camera enough to justify the "joke", unlike Chef.

However.

You could spin this into Chef roping Noah into playing into the whole casino vibe they have going on, by having him pay Noah off to dress in something equally as gaudy and sequin-heavy as his own fuchsia gown. Though in this scenario I'd imagine Noah being dressed as a particularly sparkly casino dealer, if only to stay on theme with the whole Vegas-adjacent vibe they've got going on (you know; slot machines, speedy marriages, gambling, ect). He'd be unhappy about it, sure, but the outfit itself wouldn't be eye-catching enough to warrent any complaints from him.

Of course, Chef could just as easily pay him off to wear a maching gown. Or anything, really. With enough financial compensation, I reckon you could have him walk onto the casino stage in a fursuit, or a clown costume, or anything (within reason). It'd be embarrassing, but his further education won't fund itself.

As for Alejandro's reaction? That's fully dependant on what their relationship is like at this point.

Though I do think it'd be really funny to have him blue screen half way across the tightrope over Niagara Falls when he catches sight of Noah in the biggest, puffiest wedding dress imaginable standing casually next to Chef's customs booth. Either because he's just downright confused over Noah's wardrobe situation, or because he thinks Noah somehow looks pretty in a gaudy wedding dress that's bigger than he is. Likely a mixture of both.

Especially since Heather, at this point in the series, is trying desperately to keep his attention on her. Potential for a one-sided Heather-Noah rivalry, perhaps?

[yo-yo-yoshiko]

Glass has been in Bad Situation limbo for over a year now so I thought I'd like to just draw him and Strike cause I'm sure he's fiiiiiiiine........

[courseyoulovemeyoudontknowme]

Super (2010, James Gunn)

29/07/2024

[localvoidcat]

i wish i wasnt artblocked i want to draw the superhero au cast SO BAD

[lunamugetsu]

Danny is a house husband.

That's it, that's all it is.

As the years went on. Danny retired from being a superhero. There was no need for Phantom when the GIW were dealt with and all the ghosts were under control.

Now what's left for him to do but to just sit back, relax, and finally be able to live his life.

Sam and Tucker on the other hand....

Well, they had plenty of pent up rage, wits, and chaos inside their mind to become villains.

But they had one rule.

Never bring work home and to never involve Danny in any of their supervillain business.

Okay that's technically two rules, but they're kind of synonymous especially since Danny has been taking care of their house while also entertaining himself with trying new hobbies.

Tucker and Sam both make sure that they never bring any of their villainy home to Danny, because all they want is for Danny to enjoy his happy hero retirement.

And Danny in turn, doesn't bat an eye when watching the news and seeing that there were magical plants that were attacking sites that oil companies were digging or that somehow Lex Luthor had lost five hundred million dollars and had somehow leaked records showing he was building weapons of mass destruction.

He also doesn't bat an eye when he sees that Tucker had brought home a telescope that definitely looks like it came from some fancy lab because hey, Tucker was making him an observatory so he can look at the stars and planets. While also how they were able to make a great gaming pc with computer parts that are definitely not sold in stores, because hey at least the newest update of Doomed wasn't lagging.

Or that Sam comes home with various plants and animals that are definitely not from planet earth, but hey the three headed wolf-lizard-eagle- hybrid thing (that Danny has affectionately named Fluffy) is pretty great at keeping the pests away from his vegetable garden and likes to eat any of Danny's new food creations and is a great playmate for Cujo.

So you can imagine how the Justice League thinks when dealing with the pair of new villains: Upload (Tucker) and Sam (I could not think of a villain name that would suit her, so it's up to you what you think her villain name would be)

And how they were currently wreaking havoc in the city either by cyber warfare with robots or by magic plant monster or a Frankenstein of both approaches. The heroes had all evacuated the civilians from the battle zone and are currently fighting a losing battle. When they've been effectively captured and restrained by the two. Right before the villains could go into a monologue, they hear a person clearing their throat.

Everybody looks to see a 25 year old man wearing a sweater vest (he made it himself, thank you very much) currently holding onto the leash of a giant glowing green dog and some kind of giant animal hybrid. The man's arms were crossed and was currently not sporting a very happy look on his face.

Tucker and Sam (looking at Danny with hesitant smiles): Hi honey.

Danny (frowning): you missed our anniversary dinner.

Tucker and Sam both pale as they quickly realized what the date and time was.

The league all watch as Sam and Tucker immediately start apologizing to the man that just walked into a battle zone.

Danny (still frowning): Hmph! I guess since you two didn't want dinner you can go back to your little fight. Don't expect me to make you any lunches for the next month, and since you two are having so much fun here, you'll be sleeping by yourselves for the next couple weeks.

The league all watch as they were let go as Sam and Tucker yell as they run after Danny yelling apologies as he was walking away from them.

This is not the last they see of Danny.

When Danny is displeased with either of his partners, he'll invite a hero over to have lunch of afternoon tea.

[mrs-elsie-barnes]

Back To Work | Bucky Barnes x Female!Reader | Drabble - 800 words

Retirement, a new house, a romantic evening planned, Bucky just knew that life was all going too well . Especially when he starts being hounded to return to his superhero life.

Warnings: language, fluff, a little angsty at the end. Featuring domestic thunderbolts Bucky.

Dividers by @firefly-graphics and @reveriesources

Masterlist | Bucky Barnes

“Bucky, are you ready to go baby?” Your voice carried through from the living room as he clicked his arm back into place, shrugging his shoulder to get the fit right. 

You'd been excited all day, buzzing around the new house and opening boxes, trying to unpack at the same time as finding the perfect outfit. Bucky was only half regretting making plans so soon after moving, sure it was stressful trying to dig out his nice shoes from the piles of boxes and bags, but seeing you so happy was completely worth it and knowing you’d be coming home to your house, together, was just the icing on the cake. 

Now the sun was setting and you had turned on the downlighters in the kitchen, void of your usual clutter it looked lonely. 

“Just checking my phone, Doll.” He called back picking the offending item up from the counter - so many missed messages, he sighed.

 He'd been better recently, replying to Sam and catching up with him every week or so. He'd even managed to facetime Steve in his retirement home. He quite enjoyed the easy freedom of digital communication. But today, of all days, it had been pinging non-stop all driving him crazy during the drive and ruining the relaxing and, he hoped, romantic atmosphere he was trying to create. 

“Come on, baby, I don't want to be late.” You strolled into the kitchen and he dropped the phone again to focus his attention on you instead, taking in your dress and heels, your lipstick perfectly done. How could he worry about a stupid phone when you were together. 

“C’mere,” he pulled you close, tucking you under his chin and planting a kiss to the top of your head. 

He smelt lovely, fresh from the shower but with the hint of cut wood from building furniture. His vest revealed the hint of his dog tags, outlined under the fabric, as well as his tanned skin from a summer well spent outside, your traced your fingers over the chain and up his neck. Tangling your fingers in his long hair you tugged him down for a kiss. 

“Love you, Buck.” You whispered against his lips, heat surging through you just at his presence. 

“Love you too.” His lips tickled your cheek, behind your ear, and then he was swinging you up onto the counter. 

“Don't make us late!” 

“If you don't like it, stop giggling.” His fingers tickled up your bare legs, eyes twinkling with desire. 

Ping 

“That fucking phone,” Bucky growled, grabbing it again. More messages, more missed calls. 

“You should see what they want,” wrapping your arms and legs around him as you tugged Bucky closer, every line and curve fitting against him perfectly. He was sun warmed and cuddly, still ridiculously strong, but the hard lines and plains had softened since his retirement and you couldn’t get enough. 

“Fine, for you, then we're going to go and have a nice dinner and I'm leaving this stupid thing here.” He grumbled, chin on top of your head. 

You giggled again, leaving kisses on his chest. Bucky was so attached to that thing you didn't believe it for a second. Until his breathing went funny, heartbeat speeding up beneath your cheek. 

“What is it?”

His eyes had lost their sparkle, looking sad and serious. 

“I might have to rearrange dinner.” 

“What? Why?” You couldn’t see the phone, but his eyes raced across whatever he’d been sent.

“Where did we pack the gear?”

“The what? Oh - uh,it's in the trunk, in the garage but -” 

Bucky slid away, eyes glazed, focussed, intent and you were suddenly so cold without his presence.Your heart sank listening to the movement in the garage on the other side of the wall. 

He emerged ten minutes later, his smart trousers and vest discarded in favour of leather, the dirty t-shirt he'd been wearing while you were unpacking was back and he’d at least grabbed his soft leather jacket for protection. 

You threw yourself into his arms, tears springing to your eyes. “Are you needed?” 

“I think so,” his voice was low, sinking into the headspace required to take on whatever danger was lurking. 

“Come back to me in one piece, okay?” Your voice cracked, arms squeezing him impossibly tight.

“Of course, doll.” He looked at you then, tears welling in his own eyes, his lips so soft against your own. 

“You're my hero, you know that? You don't have to do anything else?” 

He nodded, letting you slide back to the floor, heels clicking on the tile in a sad reminder of your ruined evening. 

“I love you, Bucky.”

“I love you, lock the door behind me, okay? Don’t let anyone, anyone, in.” 

It was your turn to nod, you knew the protocols, the rules that reassured him. 

His bike roared to life, then he was gone, and you were alone in the echo of your home. 

[lovebugism]

Hi!!!

Could you write jealous!eddie x reader…🫣

I’m down so bad for this man istg

ty for requesting :D i too am down bad for this man — grump!eddie can't believe other people get to look at you (jealous!eddie, established relationship, 1.7k)

bug's one year celebration ♡

Eddie thought the comic book section of Family Video was the coolest thing in the world until he met you. And it’s weird ‘cause now you’re all he can think about. He’s holding a collector’s item in his hands, but all he can see is you — and how close you’re standing to Steve ‘The Hair’ Harrington.

The boy lays two VHS tapes on the counter before you, each packaged in a thick plastic case. My Neighbor Totoro and The Land Before Time. He waits for you to make an impossible choice while you idle just ahead of him, elbows propped on the countertop with your head in your hands. Your wide-eyed gaze darts between the two options.

Your head shakes between your palms. “I can’t decide,” you conclude, rising to full height with a final huff. “It’s like choosing your favorite child.”

“Well, good thing you don’t have to,” Steve quips with a lopsided smirk. His nose scrunches, and it makes his honey eyes sparkle. “‘Cause you’re getting both. On the house.”

“You don’t have to do that,” you tell him, brows pinched in a quiet sort of protest.

He drops the tapes into a plastic bag, then shrugs like his hand slipped. “Too late.”

“Won’t your boss get mad?”

“What Keith doesn’t know won’t hurt him.”

“I don’t want you getting in trouble because of me,” you agonize, face twisted with every bit of it.

Steve meets your worry with a wider, pink grin. He bounces a shoulder and jostles the nametag pinned haphazardly to his emerald vest. “I’ll be fine, alright? I’m strong— I can take one of Keith’s stupid lectures.”

Your hesitant fingers brush his golden ones when you take the bag from him. “You’re so brave, Steve Harrington,” you lilt with a teasing glint in your eye, tilting your cheek to your shoulder to feign sincerity.

“The bravest, actually,” the boy jokes in return.

Eddie watches all this play out from where he lingers at the comic book stand. A whole rack of his favorite superheroes, and he isn’t paying an ounce of attention to a single one. 

He was only halfway listening at first, still mostly focused on the cartoon in his hands — if only to pretend he wasn’t completely eavesdropping on your conversation. But now he’s outright staring the two of you down, with an unabashed glare pointed at the asshole flirting with his girl. 

“God, he’s disgusting,” Eddie grumbles under his breath when Steve says something that makes you laugh.

He’s not talking totally to himself. Not entirely, anyway. Dustin’s crouched just beside him in search of one of the newer comics that he swears Keith is hiding from him. “He’s just being nice,” the curly-haired boy reasons with a shrug, obviously distracted as he flips through a stack of flimsy magazines.

Eddie scoffs and finally turns away from you to look at the boy below him. He blinks for the first time in several minutes as he shoots the kid a deadpan stare. “Oh, so it’s not because he thinks my girlfriend’s hot?”

“He’s definitely doing it because she’s hot,” Dustin answers without thinking twice.

“Watch it, Henderson.”

“You asked!” he argues, tilting his chin to look up at Eddie with a wide, ocean-eyed stare. “I’m just saying. Steve’s a good guy. He wouldn’t do that to you— Now, can you please help me find this stupid comic book before I lose my mind?”

Eddie huffs. He decides it might be healthier to distract himself with this metaphorical treasure hunt than stare daggers at you and Steve from across the room. “Which one are you looking for again?”

“Metamorpho— The original. Not the stupid reprint that just came out.”

The older boy stills. He closes the comic book between his palms with one pale hand until the cover of it flips down. Metamorpho, the vibrant cover reads, The Element Man. He’d been too busy looking at you, he hadn’t realized he’d been hiding the thing from Dustin for five whole minutes.

“Is this it?” Eddie murmurs, shoving the thing in the boy’s face.

Dustin’s head shoots up. He snatches the thing from the boy’s grip and gapes at it, with all his practiced teenage boy dramatics. “You had it the entire time?!” he shouts, but Eddie’s already sauntering to the front counter — where Steve’s still making you laugh. 

As pretty as you are smiling (so much that it makes his chest ache), there’s a simmering anger burning orange in his chest. Making you laugh is his job. Not Harrington’s.

You seem to notice his presence before he’s even wrapped you in his arms. You flash him a beaming grin that makes his stomach whirl. He gets sick with it — with nostalgia or something equally tender. 

The green of his envy starts to fade when he realizes you’re wearing his skull and cross-bones sweater, all bundled up in it like it’s yours. He feels a primal sense of ownership, knowing that you’re swaddled in something that belongs to him, knowing he has you in a way Steve doesn’t. It’s not every day the local freak gets to one-up the king.

“Ready to go?” Eddie grins, rosy and broad, as he wraps his arms around you in a loose, sideways embrace. The warmth of the proximity has your stomach doing backflips. The familiarity of his scent, musky and woody and smoky, makes your heart thud hard against your ribcage.

“Yep,” you nod, still smiling. “Steve’s letting me get the movies for free.”

Eddie’s lips smack against his teeth as his jaw drops in a feigned sense of awe. His wild curls bunch at his shoulder when his head tilts softly sideways, looking at the boy across the counter. “Aw,” he croons, high-pitched and sarcastic. “Isn’t that sweet?”

Steve rolls his eyes. “Shut up before I revoke your comic stand privileges.”

Eddie squints. “You wouldn’t dare.”

“Try me, Munson.”

Eddie, deciding to be the bigger person, chooses to abandon the petty argument. He feels like the bigger person, anyway — like he’s ten feet tall, walking out of Family Video with you under his arm. He could lose a thousand arguments and still feel like a winner as long as he gets to crawl home to you.

You can’t help but notice how weird he’s being, though. There was a foreign bite behind his words as he spat his sarcasm at Steve. The tension follows you even now, as he opens the passenger side door of his van for you. 

Eddie holds onto the rusted latch with a pale, tattooed hand. You turn to face him instead of planting yourself onto the chipping pleather seat. “Are you okay?” you ask, a subtle furrow between your brows when you peer at him from beneath your lashes.

The boy scoffs a boyish laugh, obviously overcompensating. “Yeah, I’m fine— what are you talking about?”

Your eyes narrow. “You’re being weird.”

“I think you’re being weird, doll— interrogating me outta nowhere.” 

He expects you to laugh. Then he could tell you how pretty you are, and you’d be so flustered by the compliment that you’d forget this entire conversation ever happened. You don’t laugh, though. You don’t even crack a smile. You just keep staring at him.

“I’m fine,” Eddie groans, wild curls billowing when a breeze rolls by. He still tries to smile, though the bright pink expression doesn’t quite meet his eyes. He shrugs and tries to play it cool because anything less than that is so not metal. “I’m just… I’m just a little annoyed. That’s all.”

Your chest stings and your stomach starts to ache. Your mind reels as you try to understand what you could’ve done because the oh-so-sensitive you feels like it must be your fault.

“Annoyed at me?” you press in a tiny voice.

“No!” Eddie booms instantly, much louder than you. He quietens, but his face still swirls with protest. He could never be annoyed at you. As far as he’s concerned, you’ve never done anything wrong in your life. “No— are you kidding? You’re perfect.”

He takes your face in his ringed hands, cradling your cheeks until they squish softly together. A perfect thing, indeed.

“Then what happened?” you mutter through your gently jutted lips.

The boy drops his chin to his chest and sighs. He hates that you care so much about him that you actually make him talk about his feelings. He’d much rather bottle them up and save ‘em for a rainy day. But no, you love him enough to pry the hidden emotion from his cold, black heart.

“I don’t know,” he answers first in an inaudible murmur, kicking at loose pebbles on the concrete because it’s easier than meeting your eyes. “Sometimes it gets annoying when… Other people look at you, I guess…”

He peeks at you beneath his long lashes, button eyes made of chocolate. They swim with a glittering emotion. Something tender and sheepish. He’s like a puppy when he looks at you this way. You can’t help but find him utterly adorable accordingly.

He’s a little surprised when his words make you laugh. He wasn’t joking, really, but he’s relieved to hear the honeyed sound. It runs over him like drops of summer rain and absolves him of all his envy.

“Unfortunately, I don’t think I can fix that,” you reply, smiling wide between his calloused palms.

“I know,” he whines, pouting softly. “And it sucks. ‘Cause you’re too pretty for your own good.”

You lean further into his warm hand. You blink at him with pretty eyes, and in a pretty voice, you wonder, “Would it make you feel better if I said that I only care when you’re looking at me? And that everyone else is basically invisible when you’re around?”

Eddie’s heart swells so much it starts to ache. You’ve awoken something in him — something that used to be dead before you came around, or something that didn’t exist at all. It’s something golden and made of velvet. Something warm and honeyed. Something that doesn’t have a name because you don’t even know you’ve invented it.

Despite trying not to smile too wide, a beam begins to pull at the corners of his mouth. A second later, and he’s grinning with all his teeth. He gets all shy, ducking his gaze as he nods at you. “Yeah, actually— that does make me feel a little better.”

You beam up at him, all lovesick and stupid. With your cheeks still in his hands, you rise to the tips of your toes and press a smacking kiss to the flushed apple of his cheek.

Eddie figures it doesn’t get more metal than this.

[cmncisspnandmore]

Imagine being in a relationship with Dad!Simon and Dad!Johnny.

“Sweetheart?” Soap calls from upstairs, his voice echoing down the stairs.

“Love?” A second voice calls.

You put your finger to your lips. Shushing the small children in front of you. One standing in an emptied tactical vest. Her bright blue eyes looking back at you as she covers her mouth with her hands to quiet her giggles.

The other sitting on the floor, a skull balaclava over his head, but his whole face still visible due to the large size. His bleach blonde hair sticking out, and falling into his deep brown eyes. His own gummy smile matching his older sisters.

“Yes?” You call back, trying to hide the smile that creeps into your voice as your son reaches for you. His chubby toddler hand grabbing at the two sets of dog tags around your neck.

“Have you seen my vest?” Johnny calls.

“Or my balaclava? I swore I left it on the dresser..” Simon’s own voice calls. There’s soft murmuring at the top of the stairs as your husbands talk amongst themselves trying to figure out where their missing gear could be.

“Nope, haven’t seen them. Maybe they’re in the kitchen? I did do laundry the other day, maybe they got put in the basket.” You suggest, as your daughter giggles wildly into her hands. She knows her dads will have to pass through the living room where the three of you are sitting.

Two pairs of boots thud down the stairs as your husbands make their way through the house. Not even bothering to question you. As Soap and Ghost round the bottom of the stairs they pause. Smiles breaking out on their faces as they take in the scene in front of them.

You’re sitting on the floor cross legged, your back to them as your children peek around you. Your daughter losing her battle of containing her giggles. Your son clapping wildly as he sees his dads.

Your son is the first to move, his little arms and legs moving as fast as he can as he crawls across the floor to grab at the laces on Soaps boots. A babbling of ‘dada, dada,’ and baby screeching follows him.

Johnny reaches down and plucks the small child up off the floor, a huge smile on his face as he tickles him. “LT! Did you fall in the fountain of youth again?” Soap laughs, as the toddler laughs and screeches.

“I didn’t realize you liked sparkly pink nail varnish,” Simon grunts as your daughter laughs, pushing past you to stand in front of Simon.

“Daddy! Look I’m Dada!” She smiles, as Simon crouches down to her level.

“I see that Lovie,” he smiles, reaching out and poking her nose.

“And Brother is you!” She points to her brother, and looks up at Soap. “See Dada! It almost fits me!”

Soap sets your son down on the ground, also crouching to her level, “aye lass, soon you can go to work for me yeah? I can stay home with Mummy.”

“Mummy said one day I can be superhero’s just like you and Daddy,” she states proudly, as Soap reaches out to unclip the vest. Your son crawls over and starts tug at the mask on his head.

“Maybe one day, Lovie,” Simon mumbles as he pulls the mask off your son’s head, and presses a kiss to the blonde toddlers head.

“Here,” Soap says and he pulls the vest off your daughter, “Daddy and I have to go to work, okay?”

Your daughter face falls, “but you just got home..” she mumbles.

“I know baby, it’s just for a few days,” Johnny frowns, pulling the small girl into his arms and hugging her tight.

Simon stands, your son in his arms as he walks over to you and offers you a hand. You smile, putting your hand in his as he pulls you gently to your feet. “Looked like you needed some help,” Simon smiles. His hand sliding down to rest on the round bump of your stomach.

“Well if you two didn’t make such huge children maybe I would be able to get up off the floor,” you scold, a playful smile on your lips.

“Sorry Love, but I can’t help it. There’s just something about you carrying our children that makes us wild,” Simon whispers in your ear as he presses a kiss to your cheek.

You wave him off, as you watch Soap talk softly to your daughter who is doing her best to hold back her tears. She hates when they leave, and now that she’s older, the passage of time is a bigger deal to her. She knows that sometimes the few day trips turn into weeks and she hates it. For the most part she was a good sport about it. She would draw endless pictures and take videos for Simon and Johnny. But after Johnny got hurt on a mission, a gunshot wound to the shoulder she’s been more anxious about their leaving.

“Lovie,” Simon calls, as you take your son from him. The toddler settling into your arms, his hands grabbing the dog tags to stick into his mouth. Your daughter turns around. Blue eyes filled with tears, as she walks over slowly, her head slightly down.

Soap gives you a sad look as he walks over, and kisses your cheek. His hand following the same path that Simon’s took as he softly strokes your stomach. Simon leans down, eye level with your daughter as he talks to her.

“I know you’re scared that something bad is gonna happen to Dada, or me. But I promise you, I won’t let anything happen to him okay? Just like he’s gonna make sure nothing happens to me. I promise, I need you to be big, and take care of Mummy for us alright? Help her with your brother okay? Can you do that for us?” He asks softly brushing her hair behind her ear.

“I-I think so,” she mumbles, her voice soft.

“I know you can,” Simon brushes his fingers through her hair. Simon picks her up, and hugs her tight. Your daughter looks at you and Soap over his shoulder.

“Be good okay?” Soap smiles at her, and then looks down at your son. “And you mister, don’t cause too much trouble.”

Your son smiles and smacks his hand against Johnnys chest. “I don’t think he knows how to not cause trouble,” you mumble earning a laugh from your family. It was no secret that your son was a handful, taking after Johnny more than Simon. The image of him sitting in the fridge after he learned how to climb flashes in your mind.

“Okay Lovie,” Simon says, setting your daughter down. “Can you bring your brother to the playroom, so we can talk to mummy?”

“Okay Daddy,” she puts on her best smile and takes the toddler from your arms, holding his hands to help him walk to the playroom. As the door closes both Simon and Johnny move to stand in front of you.

“You gonna be okay?” Simon asks, his dark eyes on you.

“I’ll be fine Simon,” you smile, resting your hands on top of your bump.

“I know we’re leaving awfully close to the due date, I’d hate for to be alone when the new babe arrives,” Soap worries, as he pulls on his tactical vest.

“I’ll be fine, if something happens I’ll call Laswell and she’ll have both of your asses on the next flight home,” you roll you eyes. “Now go,” you wave them away, towards the kitchen.

“You don’t have to do that,” Simon grunts, pulling you into his arms by your hand.

“Do wh-what?” You mumble your voice tight, as tears burn in your eyes.

“Pretend that you’re made of stone,” Soap finishes Simon’s thought, as he also wraps his arms around you.

“We’ll be back Love, before you know it,” Simon kisses your hair.

“And in one piece too,” Soap adds.

“Promise?” You mumble into them.

“We promise.”

[satoruly]

𝘿𝙍𝙀𝙎𝙎 𝙃𝙄𝙈 𝙐𝙋 .ᐟ.ᐟ

costumes that the jjk men would wear for halloween

includes. toji fushiguro, satoru gojo, suguru geto, kento nanami

tags/warnings. fluff, no curse!au, i like to think gojo's is a college au too, suggestive, mentions of oral in toji's, gojo is called a slut (jokingly), fake blood.

a/n. i love satoru i swear and suguru's is so cheesy idk if i cringe or not idc i think he's lovely. mdni banner by @/cafekitsune

got a request? click here !!

𝘀𝗶𝗺𝗼𝗻 '𝗴𝗵𝗼𝘀𝘁' 𝗿𝗶𝗹𝗲𝘆 ₊˚⊹ 𝘁. 𝗳𝘂𝘀𝗵𝗶𝗴𝘂𝗿𝗼

“I look ridiculous.”

“I bet you don’t,” you spoke from where you sat on the bed, legs crisscrossed as you waited for your boyfriend to come out from the bathroom “Just show me”

He had taken longer than you thought to get ready, longer than you had, but in retrospect, you guess you should’ve seen it coming with the amount of belts you had handed to him and no instructions to work with, you guess it was really on you. 

“This was a mistake.” He mumbled through pursed lips once he came out, looking off to the side, his slightly overgrown hair obscuring his eyes. Without the vest and belt, it was practically an everyday outfit for him, a navy blue hoodie with a pair of blue cargo pants. The latter did differ from his day-to-day wear but it was okay, he was gonna wear his New Balance sneakers once you were ready to leave so it cancelled out. 

“I want to suck your dick so bad right now.” 

“I look like a glorified back-pack”

“Where did you learn the word glorified?” You joked, though only half-heartily because you were too busy staring at your boyfriend’s thighs concealed by not only way too tight pants but by very tight garters. You wished he would keep them on the daily. Luckily though, your primitive brain had no completely taken over and so you were able to process his lack of response to your off-handed blow job proposition.

“Im wearing kneepads like a fucking loser.” He raised his knee to emphasize his point, letting his foot rest on the ottoman at the end of the bed and practically throwing the skeleton mask you hadn’t noticed he had been holding on top of the covers. 

You stood up, gave him a once look over and walked towards him cupping his face with your palms. One of your thumbs rubbed the skin of his cheek now coated by a very subtle pink, one you’d only be able to notice if you squinted. 

“You don’t look like a loser, personally I think you look very very hot,” you assured him, “but if you really don’t like it you don’t have to wear it, we can find something else for Satoru’s party.”

He huffed, unconsciously leaning against the warmth of your palms, eyebrows still twisted into a frown. “It’s not that, just— you’d really suck me off dressed like this?”

You hummed, giving him a light peck on the lips before trailing your hands down his chest, ignoring the plate carrier that bulked him up more than he already was. 

“Like now?” You could hear the smirk in his voice, the usual sultriness it carried back where it was meant to be.

“Depends,” you pondered, biting back a smile at the suggestiveness. “How long ‘till we have to leave?”

He cursed at the number of pockets he had to go through before finding his phone stashed on the back of his pants, eagerly examining the time and then showing the lit-up screen to you. “Like 30 minutes.”

“Then sure,” you looked up at him, not breaking eye contact as you undid his utility belt, letting it fall to the floor before slowly working to unzip his pants. “I’ll be quick."

𝗻𝗶𝗴𝗵𝘁𝘄𝗶𝗻𝗴 ₊˚⊹ 𝘀. 𝗴𝗼𝗷𝗼

“I was gonna buy the tights but the imprint of my d—”

“Okay! We are changing the subject…” You almost slapped your palm over your boyfriend’s mouth before he could continue. Successfully [stopping] Shoko and Utahime from hearing the not-so-safe-for-work details of your costume shopping trip.

Looking back, it was kind of funny. Satoru wasn’t all that fond of superheroes but one singular video of a hot guy on his fyp was more than enough to convince him he was willing to commit to the transformation. In reality, you’re sure he just wanted to wear the tights. That's why he almost cried when all the ones at the costume shop turned out too small to cover his ankles.

He had tried his best to make it work but to no avail and had settled instead for a black pair of cargo pants, and though they weren’t the classic Nightwing tights he had envisioned, you swore they were so much better.

“It’s nice,” Shoko pointed out, taking a drag of her cigarette, directly juxtaposing her surgeon costume. The scrubs and lab coat she wore were likely taken from the faculty of medicine last minute. “Thought you’d use Halloween as an excuse to dress up sluttier though.”

His offended gasp almost made you burst out laughing, the hand you had used to shut him up still muffling his dramatics.

“Oh, he’s a slut alright.” You joked, now resting your hand on his chest and taking a sip of your drink to hide your smile as your boyfriend decided to run with your joke.

“Yeah exactly,” he chuckled, leaning against your head and smushing his cheek in the process and circling one of his arms around your waist. He couldn’t spend a single moment not touching you, and though you played tough, you couldn’t help but lean against his touch every single time. “It’s the energy.”

And it sure was. Even if his current costume was way more tame than the bunny boy one he had chosen last year, he was still giving ‘slut’.

Although you were quick to shut down his previous comment, you’d be lying if you said the mildly accurate costume didn’t do things to you. For one, props to him for making progress at the gym. The loose material stretched out over his thighs every time he made the slightest flexing motion. Sitting, standing, going up the stairs, no matter what he did was a sight for sore eyes. Then, you had the compression long-sleeved he wore. Though it technically was a “costume” and not a compression shirt, it still hugged his arms and chest so deliciously you swore you could moan. 

And of course, how could you forget about his ass. 

“And what are you supposed to be?” Utahime asked, looking at your pleated pants, loose light blue shirt with most of the top buttons undone, and a pair of sunglasses.

“A slut.” You shrugged, enjoying their confusion until it finally clicked.

“You’re dressed as him!”

𝗵𝗼𝘄𝗹 𝗽𝗲𝗻𝗱𝗿𝗮𝗴𝗼𝗻 ₊˚⊹ 𝘀. 𝗴𝗲𝘁𝗼

“Nope, we need another one.” 

Suguru groaned in dismay, so close to banging his head against the door frame as you rejected yet another costume you had suggested, or more so, insisted he should wear. At this point of the day, he was sure his skin was sore from the constant friction of multiple garments’ fabrics. 

“Why? I think this one’s good.”

You tilted your head, looking him up and down before pursing your lips. You won't deny he looked good. He always looked good. But, “We’re going to a costume party.”

“So? This is a costume.” 

“Yeah but…” You trailed off, wondering if he’d take personal offense for the comment you were about to make regarding his fashion sense. “It kinda just looks like you.”

Now it was time for him to tilt his head in confusion, squinting at you as if to prompt you to elaborate and you sighed before continuing, “Besides the boots, actually, no, you do use those, it's pretty much a normal outfit for you.”

He looked down at himself, eyes meticulously scanning every inch of his body to then look up at you. “I’ve never worn a poet shirt before.”

“But the vibe,” you pointed at him up and down with your hand, “is there.”

“What vibe? Suguru Geto from the 19th century?”

“Ish? Yeah.” You agreed, standing in front of him to fix the collar of his shirt. “You look like you belong in a romanticism painting minus the high-waisted pants, which fyi make your ass look great.”

He chuckled, turning around to stand in front of the full-body mirror next to your vanity to check himself out, subtly taking a peak at his ass. It did look really good in those pants.

“Let me try the necklace and you can decide.” He grabbed the thin chain and gave it to you for help. Holding his hair up, he couldn’t yet again chuckle at the reflection as you tried to stand up on your tip toes to hook the clasp around his neck. 

It added some depth, he thought. The white shirt and black pants combo was something he would wear. The added jewellery made it look a little less like him, but the matching earrings were still missing.

“—and I know what you’re thinking, so I got these.” 

You stretched your palm in front of him, a pair of new gauges resting on it. Unlike his, they weren’t black, more so a pale golden color. 

“They match the color of the necklace and if you want to wear the earrings you can loop them through there.” You pointed out, and upon closer inspection, once he held them in his hands, he could see there was a little hole at the bottom of them. “But you can also not wear them if you don’t wanna, thought it'd be a nice detail.”

“I thought you weren’t sure about the costume,” he kissed the top of your head, mumbling ‘thank you’, and carefully slipped off the ones he was wearing. The way you beamed as he started doing so didn’t you escape him, and it made him all the more eager to try them on even if they felt cold against his skin and were out of his comfort zone. He had never really been a fan of gold on himself.

“Eh, I might’ve been more committed than I let on.” You hugged his waist, looking at him through the mirror as he grabbed Howl’s dangly earrings. He looked pretty. “What do you think? Looks good?”

He hummed, shaking his head slightly and chuckling at the earrings swishing against his skin. He wasn’t used to wearing those, it felt funny. “It’s still missing something though.”

“What’s missing?” You asked as he moved fully in front of you. He pressed his thumb in the middle of your furrowed brows before kissing your forehead and then giving you a quick pick on the lips.

“The matching promise rings.”

𝗽𝗮𝘁𝗿𝗶𝗰𝗸 𝗯𝗮𝘁𝗲𝗺𝗮𝗻 ₊˚⊹ 𝗸. 𝗻𝗮𝗻𝗮𝗺𝗶

“You’ve always wanted to murder your coworkers, now you can pretend you have!”

“I’m never wearing this outfit again.”

“See! You can even make the references, it’s perfect.”

But you had to give it to him, it would be much more of a costume if he wasn’t wearing a suit that closely resembled what he used to wear for work. A fitted black suit, a crisp, freshly ironed shirt and a red tie, everything covered up by a transparent raincoat. And to be fair, the plastic did make a funny noise whenever he walked. 

The only missing piece of the costume was the blood, which led you to where you were, standing over old newspapers in case you stained the kitchen floor. 

“You’re enjoying this way too much.” He shook his head as you walked around him with a bottle of fake blood, excitedly pouring the runny liquid into strategic places for it to look organic like he had actually killed someone. He wasn’t a Halloween nor a dress-up fanatic per se, but the promise of a good costume party had set you off into a never-ending search for the perfect costume until you had finally settled on one. The perfect one.

You nodded at his words, carefully creating a couple of splotches with a paintbrush before you could finally admire your masterpiece. “Now the only thing we are missing is your face?”

“Pardon?”

“We gotta put some blood on your face.” You said sitting up on the counter, careful not to knock down the FX makeup kit you had gotten. Making space between your legs, you pulled him from his belt loops towards you, and automatically, his hands positioned themselves right on top of your hips. Without you needing to tell him, he leaned closer to you, lowering his height just enough for you to reach his face properly.

“That was not part of our deal.” Yet, he stayed as still as possible as you used a smaller dropper to carefully apply the liquid to his temple close to his hairline. 

“Close your eyes.” He did as you said, and you proceeded to imitate the splotches without staining his whole face, just his forehead and cheeks. Some of it dripped down his eyebrow and towards his eye, but you caught it fast enough for it to not stain his lashes. Hopefully, that’d be the only ‘liability’ you’d experience for the night, you really didn’t want his shirt to stain. “And we are done!”

You grabbed your phone and turned on your front camera for him to look at himself.

“What do you think?”

He stared at his reflection for a couple of seconds trying to figure out if he liked it or not. While he did so, he couldn’t help but subtly flicker from you back to him a couple of times, looking at your eyes creasing in excitement. The warm smile on your lips was contagious, the way you scrunched your nose when he kissed your forehead as if scared he’d get ‘blood’ on you too cute, and so he couldn’t help the gentler one that appeared on his. 

“I like it a lot.”

© all works belong to satoruly

[scattergoriesofevil]

My one petty nitpick about LOVM is how buff Vax is. Who is that Marvel superhero snuggling up to Keyleth, and how does he maintain an all lean protein diet in Exandria? His STR is 14, but I always pictured him more wiry in his build.

I’m willing to believe Percy is somehow hiding all those muscles under his shirt and vest because he’s exactly that ridiculous. His STR is only 12 but he is an anime character and therefore operates under a different set of cartoon physics.

[anonymousewrites]

A Not-So-Disastrous Romance Halloween Special 2024

Saiki Kusuo x Reader

Halloween Special

            “Who’s ready for the Halloween Festival tonight?” said Hairo, grinning.

            “I am,” said Teruhashi, smiling.

            Teruhashi in a Halloween costume!

            Saiki nearly rolled his eyes as he heard everyone’s thoughts surrounding Teruhashi. Some people pictured her as a princess, some as the goddess of beauty, some as…Saiki glossed over those thoughts and just stared ahead as Hairo stood at the board.

            “This festival will be one to remember.” Kaidou smirked dramatically. “If we’re still standing by morning.”

            Yumehara shivered. “Scary.”

            “What does that mean? Halloween is just candy, runt,” said Nendou.

            “No, Halloween is scary,” said Kaidou.

            “He’s right,” said Kuboyasu. His gaze was dark. “The amount of wounds…It’s no joke.”

            Everyone sweat-dropped and looked at him.

            “I think we’re going to have fun,” said (Y/N), smiling. “We’ll all dress up, eat candy, listen to spooky music, and maybe watch a scary movie. But we’ll all be together, so it’ll be fun.” They grinned.

            So wholesome, thought Saiki. And, now, since they were planning on going to the festival, Saiki would have to as well. At least there’ll be sweets.

l

            “Come on, Kusuo, no costume?” said (Y/N), pouting. They wore a straw hat, a red vest, and jean shorts—a Monkey D. Luffy cosplay, same as from their comicon visit.

            “Not my thing,” said Saiki.

            (Y/N) gazed at him with big eyes. Saiki tried to avoid their gaze. He couldn’t. He sighed.

            “Fine.” Saiki snapped his fingers, His clothes changed into a yellow and black sweatshirt, black painted jeans, and a spotted hat. Fake tattoos were drawn on his hands.

            “You’re Law!” said (Y/N), recognizing the look. Saiki nodded. “I love it!” They grinned and squeezed his hand. “We match.”

            Saiki smiled softly. “We do.”

l

            “Welcome! Candy is on the table to the left, we’re setting up a movie to—”

            Saiki was heading towards the candy before Hairo—dressed as superman—could even finish speaking. (Y/N) chuckled and followed. They waved at some of their friends on the dance floor. Kaidou was dramatically spinning—dressed in some strange robes with Jet Black Wings on it—and Yumehara, a princess, was trying to dance with him (it wasn’t going well). Nendou had stitches on his face, obviously Frankenstein, and was awkwardly dancing while Kuboyasu, a mummy, tripped over his bandages (and his own feet). Toritsuka was also a superhero, but with his nonexistent muscles, his attempts to woo girls was not going over well. On the other hand, Miko was a hit in her demon outfit. She was an excellent dancer and loved good music.

            However, as usual, Teruhashi was the center of attention. She wore a white dress and angel wings, and she looked absolutely divine—as usual. Everyone was watching her dance and twirl and smile with giant smiles of their own.

            “Everyone’s having a good time,” said (Y/N), smiling.

            “Yes.” Saiki was definitely agreeing as he picked up candy for himself. Pausing, he took one and handed it to (Y/N).

            “Thanks,” said (Y/N), popping the chocolate into their mouth. “I like Halloween.”

            “I like the sales for candy the day after,” said Saiki.

            (Y/N) chuckled, and Saiki glanced at them fondly.

            “We should sneak out when the movie starts,” said (Y/N).

            Saiki paused and looked at them. “I thought you wanted to come.”

            “I wanted to come to say, ‘hi,’ to everyone,” said (Y/N). “I did.” They brushed their hand against Saiki’s. “And now I want to spend time with you.”

            Saiki smiled slightly. “Alright.” As Hairo began to call everyone over to watch a movie, Saiki pulled (Y/N) behind a giant pumpkin balloon.

            It took barely any effort to teleport them back to his house.

            “So, I was thinking movie night? The Nightmare before Christmas or It’s the Great Pumpkin, Charlie Brown?”

            “Charlie Brown,” said Saiki.

            “Nice choice.” They grabbed a DVD and slid it into the DVD player. A moment later, they were sitting beside Saiki again. (Y/N) took his hand and squeezed. “Thanks for humoring me, Kusuo.”

            “I like spending time with you,” said Saiki. He leaned in and kissed their cheek. “You’re my favorite person.”

            “You’re mine,” said (Y/N), cuddling up to him.

            Saiki smiled and leaned his head on theirs. They made everything better.

Taglist:

@elaemae

@painstakingly-juno

@characterreaderwriter

@melovepurple

@sleep-7372

@w0mank1sser

@geminigengar

@noodleryworld

@leonardo-dabitchy

@janezee12751275

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@drowningfishy

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@digital-dumbass

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@peqch-pie

@rai-xxx

@loverzxi

[vanillablankcanvas]

Superhero and Supervillain Trolls

This was so goddamn fun to draw omg I was laughing the whole time.

I imagine it was like a 'draw a costume from a hat' kinda deal.

---

Branch is in the shower

Poppy "WHERE IS SHE?!"

Branch freaks out.

"I am the watcher, the savior, the glitter in the darkness!"

Branch - "Poppy, stahp."

"There's no Poppy here. ONLY BATPOP!"

--

Branch was happy that he could technically still wear his leaf vest but he drew the line at the red hair.

Clay "Grandma did always say I was her favourite clown."

JD "KISS ME MISTA CLAY!"

Clay "Get the hell away from me!"

[flamingspud]

"I wonder if she'll stick around this time," Mumbo, a gentleman in a late, Victorian-era suit pondered. "I hope not, she was a bitch," Scott, a man in a striking blue regency era suit and silver mask commented.

When Lizzie and her husband inherit a mansion in the middle of nowhere after the death of her great-aunt, it’s like a dream come true.

The catch? The house is haunted.

After an accident leaves Lizzie with the ability to speak to the dead, she finds herself helping to solve their problems, both serious and ridiculous.

Based on the 2021 version of Ghosts.

Chapter under the cut

Eight figures were gathered around the bed's occupant, a very elderly woman, as she took her final breaths.

"I wonder if she'll stick around this time," Mumbo, a gentleman in a late, Victorian-era suit pondered.

"I hope not, she was a bitch," Scott, a man in a striking blue regency era suit and silver mask commented.

"Hey! She was my great granddaughter I'll have you know," Mumbo informed him, getting an eye roll in response.

Their bickering was disturbed by the old woman taking an ethereal form. "Who are you?"

"We're ghosts, and we-" Mumbo began, but a shaft of blinding light that filled the room interrupted him.

"And there she goes," Scar, a guy in a superhero costume with an arrow sticking out of his chest said. "Getting sucked off right away."

"Take me with you," Cleo, who wore a neon workout suit pleaded, reaching up where the old home-owner had gone through the roof.

The room was dim once more.

"I wonder who'll get the house now?" Martyn asked. He was the one in pirate attire.

"Maybe they'll be interesting people for once," Pearl suggested, donning a red cloak and black masquerade mask.

"That'd be nice," Impulse, who donned a black vest tied over a puffy sleeved shirt agreed.

"Or they could be a pain," Grian suggested. He wore a simple red tunic and trousers.

"I'm sure only distinguished people could afford this place," Mumbo assured him, not noticing the doubtful looks some of the others shot each other.

"All we can do is hope..." Scott said. "...does anyone want to go take a look at the birdbath?"

"Oh, I'll catch some birdbath action with you," Impulse responded cheerily.

***

"Woah... look at this place!" Lizzie exclaimed, not even taking the time to close the car door as she got out to marvel at the house.

It was the grandest thing she'd ever seen, an old mansion with faded bricks that was three storeys tall. There was no way that she and Joel would've been able to afford it on their own, but turns out Lizzie had some aunt that passed away, and the house was left to her in the will.

"It sure is big," Joel agreed, getting out and closing both doors.

"We have to go explore!" Lizzie said, bounding up the driveway to the house. She stuck the key in the door, and it swung open with a loud creaking noise. "We can probably oil that," she assured her husband.

They stepped into the foyer, a grand staircase leading to the second floor on the right and various rooms on the left. The marble floor could do with being mopped, and there were cobwebs in the corners, but all in all, the place was pretty nice.

Unbeknownst to Lizzie and Joel however, they weren't the only people in there.

"They're here!" Scott called up the stairs, and ghosts started coming from all different rooms in the house.

"A young couple!" Martyn mused from the upstairs landing, before sliding down the rail.

"That's sweet," Scar said.

"Let's look at the kitchen!" Lizzie decided, pulling Joel along.

"This kitchen looks older than the house," Joel remarked, unimpressed.

"I'll have you know that that kitchen is the best that money can buy!" Mumbo stated, affronted.

"You do realise it's been over a century since that was the case?" Cleo asked.

Mumbo bristled at that statement.

"Well, we can upgrade it," Lizzie said, "it can be the greatest kitchen in Lifeville!"

"I doubt there'd be much competition," Joel muttered.

"Hey-" Lizzie gently grabbed her husband's chin so that he was facing her- "there definitely won't be any once we open the B&B and become the biggest hotspot in the area!"

The ghosts erupted into exclamations of outrage at this statement.

"A B&B??" Mumbo demanded, "do they have no respect for the dead?"

"Just think of all the litter," Grian said, cringing.

"I don't want anyone sleeping in my bed!" Scott exclaimed.

The ghosts were too busy to notice Joel's unsure expression.

"Well, why don't we look upstairs?" Lizzie suggested, unaware of the uproar she had caused.

"Sure," he agreed, letting his wife excitedly drag him up the stairs.

"Well, we can't just sit pretty and let them ruin our afterlives," Martyn decided, rallying the team, "we need to take a stand!"

"But how? We're dead," Impulse reminded him.

"Isn't it obvious?" Cleo asked. Everyone gave her puzzled looks. She sighed. "We need to scare them away! Haunt them, it's what we're known for!"

"Like in the movies!" Scar agreed.

"I still don't fully get what that is," Pearl commented.

"I guess that's my signal," Martyn declared, "one helping of lights on the fritz coming right up!"

As the ghosts schemed, Lizzie and Joel explored the master bedroom.

When Joel made a face, Lizzie was quick to reassure him. "With a little paint, this place will be a home in no time-"

"Lizzie!" Joel interrupted, "stop, just stop!"

Lizzie blinked.

"I know you have all these dreams and ideas of opening a B&B in the countryside, but I can't- this place is falling apart at the seams and quite frankly I don't want to move to the middle of nowhere!"

"Oh." Lizzie slowly turned away.

Joel sighed. "Look, I'm sorry-"

"No, it's fine... I need a minute." She quickly walked out of the room.

The lights flickered in the hallway as Lizzie walked across the landing towards the library. Great, another problem with the house. Just what she needed.

"Seriously? How do you not react to that?" Martyn asked.

"Alright, stand back everyone, I've got this," Grian announced, stepping forward and stretching his fingers out in front of him.

The others watched as Grian crouched next to an end table, and pushed his finger against the vase that sat atop it. His face scrunched up in concentration as he put all his focus into his finger and the vase.

After an agonisingly long moment, the vase fell off of the table and hit the carpeted floor with a quiet thud.

Lizzie slowly turned around, the confusion written all over her face as she looked at the vase. She did a quick once over of the landing, trying to spot whatever knocked the piece onto the ground.

She found nothing, and walked over to the vase, gingerly picking it up. She looked over the railing to the floor below. "Joel? Did you knock this vase over?" She called.

Before she got a response, the biggest spider she's ever seen crawled out of the vase and onto her hand.

Lizzie screamed, throwing the vase away from her as she stumbled back, trying to shake the monster from her hand.

The ghosts then watched in horror as she toppled backwards and tumbled down the stairs.

Grian's eyes went wide, quickly looking around the group to gauge their reactions.

"Oh my god..." Cleo said.

Impulse's hand was over his mouth.

Scott's jaw hung open.

Pearl and Martyn leaned over the railing to get a better look at their murder victim.

"Grian!" Mumbo exclaimed, nervous laughter escaping through his lips.

"Don't look at me!" Grian shot back.

Joel ran out of the master bedroom. "LIZZIE!"

The rest went by in a blur, as the paramedics showed up and brought her out on a stretcher, Joel staying by her side.

The house was empty of life once more.

"...At least the B&B won't be happening anymore," Mumbo said into the silence.

"Mumbo!" Scar scolded.

"What, can't I look for the sunny side of things?" He asked innocently.

"When you were alive you literally thought everyone was out to get you," Scott reminded him.

"Ah, well..." Mumbo tried to come up with an excuse.

***

The ghosts gathered at one of the second-storey windows as Lizzie and Joel's car pulled up once more, a few weeks after the spider incident.

“I thought you said we were going home," Lizzie said, looking up at the house.

"Sure," Joel replied.

Lizzie's eyes narrowed. "You said you didn't want to move…"

Joel took her hands in his, and looked into her eyes. "Yeah, well… when you were legally dead for five minutes, it had me thinking; I love you, I want to be with you, and I don't care where that is, whether that's in a cramped apartment where you can reach the fridge from the bed or a decrepit old mansion in the middle of nowhere."

Lizzie smiled. "That was so sappy."

Joel chuckled. "Yeah, well that's all you're getting from me, so come on!"

The pair got out of the car together, and Lizzie marvelled as a bunch of contractors pulled up and got out of their vans and trucks.

Inside the foyer was chaos, as people rushed around with wood and paint and other supplies.

"Come on, come on, come on!"

As Joel excitedly ran up the stairs, Lizzie noticed a guy standing amongst the builders who wasn't running around to get odd jobs done. He was dressed sort of oddly too.

"Cool shirt, I like the sleeves," Lizzie commented, before following Joel up the stairs.

Impulse blinked. Was he dreaming? He could've sworn she was talking to him, but if that's true, then that means-

He ran from the room, almost tripping over his feet. "Guys!" He called out, "Lizzie's a witch!"

"What, did she use the toaster? We already went over this-" Cleo began as Impulse nearly ran into them.

Impulse quickly shook his head. "No! She could see me, she spoke to me!"

Cleo suddenly began treating this more seriously. "For real?"

Impulse nodded.

"Show me."

***

"Voilà."

"Woah," Lizzie said, admiring the master bedroom.

No longer were the walls covered in peeling wallpaper, as they were now a bright yellow.

"Jim and I painted the room while you were asleep," Joel explained.

"I wasn't asleep, I was in a coma," Lizzie reminded him.

"Yeah, right; anyway, he picked the colour, said the piss yellow called to him for some reason."

"Piss yellow?"

"Well technically it's canary yellow but y'know-"

Joel kept talking, but the next words out of his mouth flew over Lizzie's head as the man from earlier stepped through the door, and by through I don't mean via opening it, but through the wood, as if it didn't exist.

"What the-"

Another ghost followed him, one with firey orange curls who was dressed like she came out of an eighties workout video. Lizzie could've swore she had blood on her clothes.

It wasn't long until the room was full of people who could walk through walls, people in masquerade masks, a superhero, a pirate, a knight out of armour-

"Lizzie?" Joel asked from far away.

"By the gods she can see us," the pirate said in awe, looking at her like he'd never seen anything like it before.

"Who are you?!" Lizzie demanded, her voice shaking from fear. What the hell was happening?

"We are the ghosts of this house," a moustached man in a suit that didn't quite look new explained.

"Lizzie, are you feeling alright?"

The last thing Lizzie remembered was opening her mouth to scream.

[suzukiblu]

Day five of fic NaNoWriMo; obligatory sugar daddy Tim/sugar baby Kon AU.

The Superboy problem is a problem, but it's a backburner problem. There isn't really much Tim can do about it, after all. Bruce isn't gonna accept "hey so I know secret identities and maintaining the Bat-mystique and everything but could you just like . . . take in an extremely high-profile teenage superhero with no vested interest in maintaining any kind of secret identity of his own, maybe?" as a plan. Tim needs something better. Something more functional. And also something Kon will actually go for.

And there's just no way that Tim can just walk up to a notoriously independent and proud and defensive teammate who barely considers him an acquaintance and say "do you want an apartment and monthly living expenses and maybe also an allowance, no strings attached?"

That would be weird, definitely.

Like. Very definitely.

Tim's still tempted to try it, mind. It's not like he couldn't afford it, with a little bit of abuse of his trust fund and a lot of lying to his dad. And really, would that even be an abuse? If helping his teammate live his fucking life outside of a fucking lab counts as an abuse . . .

Well, maybe he really will move up his supervillain timeline, that's all.

But it's a backburner problem, still, and Tim isn't actually thinking about it at all when his best chance to solve it pops up. What Tim is doing is suffering through a field trip to a Metropolis art museum, because the school board is full of cowards and thinks sending his grade to an outside-Gotham museum will decrease the chances of said field trip being interrupted by a museum robbery.

Obviously it will, but come on, they're from Gotham. Like they can't handle a museum robbery.

Also all the art here is pretentious. Like, in obnoxious Metropolis-type ways.

If Tim has to look at one more stylized interpretation of the sun reflecting on a skyscraper while a "subtle" caped figure flies by in the background, he will actually choke. Like literally, actually choke.

Get one original thought. Please. Someone. Anyone.

(No, the stylized interpretations of the moon reflecting on a Gothic building while a subtle caped figure looms among the gargoyles are not equally uncreative, thank you very much. At least duplicating Gotham architecture involves some actual artistry beyond "paint a few straight lines and add a lens flare".)

Tim takes some half-assed notes about the boringly generic exhibit they're here to see and then goes looking for literally anything more interesting than said exhibit. There's got to be some photography somewhere in this place, right? Or at least some loaner art that somebody outside of Metropolis put together before Superman's public debut. Or something.

He ends up in the ancient Mesopotamian exhibit mostly by trying to avoid people and, unfortunately, immediately runs straight into a magical artifact. He doesn't actually know it's magic at the time, but the assholes who are about to blow in an outside wall in pursuit of it sure do.

Tim, unfortunately oblivious to phenomenal cosmic power in clay form, thinks it looks kind of like a cute little toy goat and is just grateful it isn't another skyscraper.

Then the wall gets blown in.

"The school board deserves this," Tim mutters, closing his notebook and sticking it back in his bag because sure, why not. This might as well happen.

Ugh.

The very obvious thieves rush in through the gap in the wall. A few people scream–Tim assumes to be polite, since this is already the most unimpressive museum robbery he's seen in months–and the civilians scatter as the guards rush forward. Tim wonders why anyone's even bothering, given that this is Metropolis. What, are they worried the thieves aren't gonna validate their parking for them?

Seriously, Tim knows all the robbery statistics in this city. Even when Superman doesn't show up, the injury and fatality rates are shockingly low. It's statistically more dangerous to go for a walk in Gotham Park mid-afternoon than it is to be present for an armed robbery in Metropolis.

Which is funny, considering the people doing armed robberies in Metropolis come armed for Superman.

Look, Tim doesn't understand the statistics, he just records them.

The thieves tie up the guards first, which seems like a waste of time to Tim when time is of the essence but probably will be for the best if they get pinned down in the gallery, he supposes. Then again, that'd likely end up in a hostage situation anyway, so why worry about containing a couple of unarmed guards over saving thirty seconds when you're doing a smash and grab?

Seems inefficient to him, considering.

He keeps assessing the situation and taking mental notes as he ushers various classmates and museum-goers towards comparative safety, since a successful supervillain timeline requires appropriate research and development. And also, Metropolis-based criminals should know how to work around Superman, at least in theory, so it's best to keep an eye on what does and doesn't work for them.

Not for any specific reason, obviously.

Definitely not.

One of the thieves goes for the little clay goat, smashing its glass display case with their armored elbow, and only then do the museum alarms start screaming. Seems like a stupid design choice when an exploding wall doesn't set them off, but whatever, at least there are alarms.

Honestly, if it were him, Tim would have a silent alarm and a secondary alarm set to a specifically Superman-discernable frequency, though he's sure Superman would get sick of that quick in non-life-threatening situations, so maybe there are local regulations about that or something, who knows. He should look into that, actually. Or just play something annoying on a frequency normal human hearing can’t discern and see what happens, if nothing else.

They make sonic fences to keep dogs in and teenagers out, don't they? Same theory.

The thieves are all yelling orders to each other and arguing; no clear chain of command and a poorly-established plan, Tim notes. Most of the civilians are clear or behind cover, so if he just–

Right, Tim remembers belatedly as one of the thieves makes a grab for him. He's currently wearing civilian wear, isn't he.

That probably means he needs to let this incredibly clumsy grab work, doesn't it, he reflects resignedly. Definitely it does, actually.

Ugh.

Tim, dubiously, lets the thief grab him and debates how upset he's supposed to look about this situation. A Gothamite can't look too freaked out over a Metropolis criminal, obviously; he'd never live it down at school. Seriously, is this guy even armed, he–

Ah, never mind. Definitely armed.

And an idiot with no concept of trigger safety, judging by the way he's holding the gun he's currently jamming into Tim's temple.

Great. Just great.

What does this moron even think he's doing, anyway? The guards are all tied up, as far as he knows there's no superheroes on scene, and nobody's actually trying to stop them. If he accidentally murders a civilian right now, they're all going to be in way, way worse trouble than just stealing a little clay goat would entail.

Tim resists the urge to point that out since there is, again, a gun to his head right now and the person holding it there is in fact a moron with no concept of trigger safety. Not an ideal time to start a conversation, especially not to criticize said moron.

It's tempting, just again, not ideal.

"The fuck are you doing?!" one of the thieves yells to the one going to a really unnecessary amount of effort to drag Tim along. "You were supposed to grab a little kid for the hostage!"

"There's no little kids, Mark!" the thief holding Tim protests petulantly. "I'm doing my best here, man!"

"No names, asshole!" the apparent "Mark" yells back at him.

Tim is pretty sure these thieves are just not very good at crime in general. Or possibly just not very good at anything at all.

He starts calculating the best place to "trip" out of this guy's arms and "accidentally" elbow him in the dick–off-camera, obviously, he doesn't want to leave any footage for anyone to review later–and pretends to be a good little hostage in the meantime, if not a particularly cowed one. Again: Gothamite. He can't actually let it look like a Metropolis criminal did anything worse than mildly annoy him.

Okay, maybe like, Lex Luthor or Brainiac could get a Gothamite past "mildly annoyed", but not a half-assed handful of petty thieves with a shitty plan and an even shittier exit strategy. They would've been better off running in, grabbing what they wanted, and then just scattering; even Superman can't be everywhere at once, especially if the thieves all blended into the crowd or had a couple of getaway cars waiting or something similar. Multiple targets, it'd be easy for him to miss the right one until it was too late.

That would require actual skill and planning and genuine forethought, though, which are very clearly not things this crew has bothered with either developing in themselves or outsourcing to someone competent.

Tim is going to be so fucking embarrassed if he dies to a low-level Metropolis criminal's craptastic trigger discipline. At least the Joker got Jason. There was a plan and actual malicious intent there, and also intentional targeting of specifically him. Tim has apparently just been tagged as "person who looks easiest to hold hostage", which he guesses he could take as a good sign for his acting abilities but honestly is more likely just this guy being a fucking dumbass with less brains than a mummified limpet.

God, imagine what his classmates would put in the yearbook if he died on a Metropolis field trip, too. Actually, no, never mind, he doesn't even want to think about it. Too fucking mortifying a possibility.

The thief drags Tim closer to suitable "tripping" territory, Tim debates how hard he can elbow him and still claim it was accidental, and somebody says, "Are you fucking serious, man?"

Somebody, specifically, is Kon. He's standing in the middle of the hole in the wall in the full leather jacket and S-shield combo, hands on his hips and expression exasperated. Tim has a weird, irrational moment of thinking he actually recognizes him and wants to know how he fucked up this bad, but Kon's eyeing the thieves, not him.

"You know I'm gonna get blamed for this, right," Kon says, gesturing meaningfully at the smashed-in wall. "I always get blamed for the property damage."

"Back off or I'll shoot!" the thief holding Tim yells, jamming the barrel of his gun annoyingly hard into his temple.

"Does 'faster than a speeding bullet' mean nothing to you people?" Kon asks, tilting his head just enough to make it obvious that he's rolling his eyes exaggeratedly.

"Superman is faster than a speeding bullet," another thief snaps. "Not you, you shitty little poser."

"I mean, you could try testing me and then get attempted murder on your crime bingo cards for absolutely zero reason," Kon suggests conversationally, smirking in amusement. "Security cameras still running in here?"

Tim guesses he's saved, technically, but this definitely means he can never tell Young Justice his secret identity, because if Kon recognizes him he will never, ever let him live this down.

Also, everybody at school is going to give him so much shit for getting saved by a Super.

[literaphobe]

IM LAUGHING… so if marinette becomes a yellow ladybug because she wore a yellow safety vest and yellow dominated the color of her pre-transformation outfit what would happen if she got recruited by the blue man group and then had to take care of an akumatization midway through. and if that’s just the way it is for every holder too do superheroes just show up sometimes in really bizarre color combinations of their usual superhero outfit. do any of them ever get roasted for their fashion choices