#ok also hes my type

[shoujo-wizard]

I see everyone joking abt Bobby only making 3% bc yeah tht does sound like a pittance but considering the scale & level of stardom tht Huntr/x is written to b at: their combined net worth is likely astronomical so 3% is definitely A LOT more money than we're all thinking it is

also I saw someone say Bobby doesn't do anything important(???) Um tht man does everything except design wardrobe (tho considering how ready he was w his own Golden look I can't help but wonder) & write the music & choreograph their dances, like, EVERYTHING.

He organizes the tech crews (probably does the payroll too lbr), he manages their band socials, keeps an eye on where they r in the charts, he has backup dancers on standby, he has snacks waiting for them immediately after their final show, he booked them a stay at a spa resort, HE KNOWS ALL OF THEIR CHOREOGRAPHY... they tell Bobby to take tht spa resort booking for himself saying tht he's worked just as hard BC HE HAS the beginning of the movie is the end of a whole ass world tour & the logistics of a world tour r absolutely INSANE & I doubt the girls were involved in them very deeply. Bobby's job is to do the nitty gritty organizing & advertising & hiring of crew & monitoring of public opinions so tht the girls can (from his POV) focus on creating music & art & staying healthy bc HE LOVES HIS GIRLS

I saw someone say they headcanon tht Bobby is a former idol (likely from the 2000s going by his possible age) & I love tht idea bc it explains so much: how little of a percent he takes, how ready he is w snacks tht many kpop idols IRL r told to avoid, how he encourages their eating & staying hydrated, how he has to take a breath & remind himself tht socials r just numbers, how he was aware they had Golden ready to drop but didn't know/control when or how beyond he knew the choreo & to have a 'fit ready & to have those billboards ready to go considering there was an entire music video.....

It explains how Gwi-Ma got to him BY BRINGING UP THT HE COULDNT KEEP HUNTR/X TOGETHER

[lokh]

sketchies..... wanted to practice drawing various snakes

[waffleofwisdom]

Underfell Pete be like “I respect women” or smth

[rasoyas]

just bestie things: casually theorizing where your alien baby hails from . ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁ 🛸

[juicerca]

“make me dizzy,, ₍^. .^₎⟆

sylus x reader ₊˚⊹ ᰔ

a/n : i got a fever too. me and xavier synched up like we on our periods together (WHICH IM ON </3) or some shit. my nose is stuffy and my body is burning 😭 !!!!! sylus fever fluff written to comfort my pain. just a short lil thing <3 SUPER SHORT </3333 cus my brain is broken and ill and i have an exam in two days WAAAA

synopsis : f!reader gets sylus to cool her down when her fever gets too unbearably hot by calling him over

content : pure fluff/comfort fic. i can't bring myself to write sylus angst (˚ ˃̣̣̥⌓˂̣̣̥ ) also sorry i keep writing MC in pathetic situations. i love girlboss MC as much as the next girlie i SWEAR, mc is cat-like/a little spoiled AGAIN (sylusMC is SOOO CATTY TO ME)

pet-names : kitten, sweetie, cutie, princess,

word count : 642

₍^. .^₎⟆ ⋆ 🐾 °

you lay in his (basically yours at this point) black silk sheets, tossing and turning, kicking your feet in nothing but a small black vest and your underwear. no matter how much you shimmied around, your feet felt hot, your entire body burned with a heat that made your sweat feel unbearably lukewarm and sticky on your skin.

the sheets were most definitely damp from all the cold (now room temperature) towels that you had used to try to cool your body. but to no avail. nothing was making it more bearable. 5 cool towels around your neck just didn't cut it.

and so, you crawl across the endless expanse of bedding to grab your phone (with some difficulty). there was only one person you wanted to see you like this.

you spam him with this sticker about 10 times before the three dots finally appear. you wait for two seconds...five...ten...god why is this message taking so long? you grumble, huffing with his pillow tucked under your chin and contemplating throwing your phone against the plush back of his bed.

he calls you before you manage to hurl your device,

"kitten? do you need something? i'm at the store now."

"huh? i thought you said you'd be at an auction?"

he chuckles,

"i was at one. but you only text when you want something... or if you miss me... and considering how you're in my room and i saw you this morning, i assume it's the former. though i'd be very flattered if it was the latter."

"i also text when i see something that reminds me of you."

"that fits into the latter." he smile through the phone. you can faintly hear the bustle of the convenience store as well.

"...i feel a fever coming on. can you get me some ice cream?"

"got it. what else?"

"i want you..." you mumble into his pillow, feeling sluggish.

"..."

"respond..." you whine close to tearing up.

but before you can pick up more of a fuss, he's already next to the bed with a grocery bag in one hand and his phone in the other and his evol swirling around him.

not really thinking, you immediately go to nuzzle your heated face into his tummy. it's not really that comfortable, and you brush against the cold metal of his zippers that scratch at your face. but, nonetheless, it's just what you needed. he always is.

he puts away his phone and the bag onto the floor, gently carding through your hair and his voice a soft rumble,

"hi sweetie... want your ice cream now?"

"later..." you take his hands, putting them on your face in a happy mewl, "so cool..."

"aren't you just a cutie? does my princess want me to cool her down?" he smiles, sliding one hand down to your sweltering neck. you exhale in satisfaction, it's a little congested and you look like a sticky mess...but he thinks you're adorable. he always will.

spoiling you was irreplaceable to him. there was nothing in the world more special than the feeling of being your one and only prince, dictated by his only princess. you could have anything you wanted, be as bratty and as demanding as you wanted, surrounded by luxuries and comfort and you chose him to be your supplier and partner in it all. it was undeniably his favourite feeling in the world.

you nod, settling like putty into his large hands. gently but surely bringing you back to a comfortable temperature. as you drift off, you hear him softly humming to you a lullaby. something familiar but yet not quite. he might not have ever experienced the song in his own childhood, but everything he found beautiful and comforting was something he would share with you.

your life adorned in joy and comfort would always be his priority.

₊˚⊹ ᰔ

[ratfest]

[starscream-is-my-wife]

A what if on fire in the sky where Skyfire never met the autobots a second time so he doesn't know he has options and sticks with the Decepticons for a couple more days

“Starscream got you good today, Skyfire.”

Skyfire was silent, looking off into the dark abyss of the ocean.

“I need to leave. He’s going to kill me, Thundercracker.”

Thundercracker snapped his head up, optics widening. “What?!” Who just confesses to a high ranking faction elite that they want to leave?! And out in the open too?! Luckily no one was there to hear Skyfires sudden declaration of defection.

“Megatron won’t let that happen, he’s spent way too much resources bringing you back! And where would you go?” Thundercracker felt strange, isn’t this the argument that he had in his processor time and time again, now with another bot?

“Anywhere is better then here. What if Megatron finally gets overthrown by Starscream? When he’s gone, he won’t hesitate to kill you too.”

Thundercracker felt a chill go up his spine, as if the coldness of space went through him, before continuing to weld.

“Everything I do, he finds some sort of way to push me, and when I refuse, it’s never an option, he wants me to break.” Skyfire ranted with gritted teeth, “I refuse.” Skyfire paused, remembering something and turned his attention on Thundercracker.

“Thundercracker, please leave with me! We can do so much more, BE so much more!” He pleaded, the proposal has been on his mind for a while, but Thundercracker didn’t look up.

“Can you stop moving? I won’t stop you from leaving, I won’t even tell the others anything. But this… this is my purpose”

Thundercracker felt Skyfires stare on him, “I’ve only known you for 4 days, but even then, I feel you don’t belong here, what can the Decepticons give you for you to stay?”

“And you can give me something more?! I’ve spent more time fighting in this war than you have been active!”

“Yes! I know I can! Something more than hauling around energon cubes, more than living in this damp ship! There’s a whole world to explore! I may have nothing right now but I promise, I can help you find a better purpose!” Skyfires optics shined bright with determination. Something Thundercracker hasn’t seen since the first day he’s been revived. And something else that seemed so familiar to him…

Ah. The day Megatron convinced him to join the Decepticons. Why he joined, why he stayed, was it all for a promise?

… What a fool he is, throwing everything away again for the same old, sweet words. But now he’s older and stronger, with a fresh face who is neither Autobot or Decepticon.

“Fine. You’ll probably need me to actually survive out there anyways, I can’t just let you die by yourself.”

[oneroomjestershow]

when

[salmonlyster]

what if they were littlest pet shops. what then

[sunlitriddle]

...and I haven't even played First Soldier

Once again, I took some liberties with costuming. I tried to stay on model but also wiggling some things around to better meld with his standard silhouette. So I put his belt back inside his coat and made his collar stand up. I do very much agree with his rebellious "I'm growing my hair out and there's nothing you can do to stop me" vibe... like, I wouldn't be surprised if his hair was buzzed short. for science.

Speaking of science, this was an experiment in shading in black and white then overlaying color. I think it works for him since he's already pretty much black and white with a pop of color. It was great for (over)rendering his leather coat, but terrible for his face... I struggled with getting the shading even remotely satisfactory... by reverting to my normal coloring methods on top.

[sentientsheepdog]

Yipyip < this was a brainworm turned festering pest and I was gonna rework it but now its resting here in its baby shoes to rot while I reanimate its corpse in a fucked up way at a later date.

--------

Reader adopts a big fluffy dog that's very opinionated, when and where walks happen is entirely the dogs decision. It's a good dog, perfectly pleasant but thick headed as a bull. Demands pets with authority a dog has no business having.

They love that mutt, got it from a shelter and doesn't have the heart to take charge when being a bit bossy is the only 'misbehavior' the dog ever shows, until it's walkie time in the middle of the night, new moon and cloudy, pitch black. Resigned you get the harness, leash and treat bag and bundle up. In a hurry to get the head of the house their wish you forget any kind of light, left your phone on your bedside table when you heard the grumbles of demands.

It seems to be a night for adventure, leash pulled taught in a direction you've never even walked by daylight and nose glued to the floor. The gates to a park at least let you know where you're going, not that you recognize the name, its far out of your usual range especially in the middle of the night. You cope by clinging to the 'scary dog privilege' even though the mutt never showed an ounce of aggression towards anything.

Looking around to not get caught off guard by a malicious stranger you miss your dog perking up, fixating a direction and taking off, the "STOP" leaves your mouth the second your body is jostled but its no use. You're dragged to the floor, into the mud, thankfully mostly grass but it still hurts. Digging your feet in is no use, hopelessly outmatched by the dog the shelter told you was perfectly sized for you. "Manageable my ass you stupid dog stop pulling!", you scream no care for time of day when you come to an abrupt halt, sliding a little on the muddy ground until someone grabs the leash and is immediately crowded by the traitor. All wags and tip taps, it'd be adorable if you weren't on your ass god knows where thanks to him.

"Bad dog thief if you can't even train one.", you can't place the tone, or read the strangers face through his balaclava. Thief? You would never steal someones beloved pet. "Fuck you, I'm no thief. He's from a shelter, if I wanted a free dog I'd get a stray." The amount of awkward eye contact that followed made your skin crawl, you shivered in discomfort from your mud cake clothes to the scary stranger starring you down. Was he not going to react at all? Your attitude had always been your biggest flaw. Why couldn't the floor just open up and swallow you whole? You were going to die for mouthing off for sure, or worse. "C'mon boy, home.", he was looking at you but definitely talking to the dog, voice even as he yankes you up by the leash and herds you after the dog happily trotting the way it came. Oh no, your dog was going to YOUR home, backtracking through the park, mindful of the grooves he, or rather you, left. Caring about tripping you now, between treating you like a crash dummy and a lamb to the slaughter.

The streetlights flickered back on one by one, the silent man at your back cast eerie shadows over you every time you passed one. You could barely breath, fear clogged your throat, choking you. Running was out of the question, he would catch you, no doubt in your mind. You didn't dare think about what your- well, his dog really would do. He might even be trained to bite, maul you to bits for the crime of displeasing his master. Tears threatened to spill over your lashes at the thought, you blinked them away as hard as you could, whatever he thought of you now wouldn't be improved by turning into a sobbing mess. No crying about whatever this was, you wouldn't give him the satisfaction of seeing you dissolve, if he wanted to he would crush you either way.

Your front door looked like a guillotine, the slanted window that once charmed you now made your stomach turn. You fumbled with the keys, hands shaking in helplessness. When they slipped your grasp, a gloved hand reaches out from behind you and catches them, palm up, the keys to your doom cradled in the hand of death. Slowly, you lifted your hand to take the keys back. The thought to stab him with them crossed your mind, but you had no follow-up. You stretched your fingers towards the house key. The next moment, you were crowded against the door and heard the keys jingle. The hinges protest when the door swung open. Unsteady legs carry you inside, mechanically taking off the harness and hanging the gear up in the dog corner.

The door clicks shut, and you refuse to acknowledge it in any way. Frozen in place, no useful thoughts in your head, your mind was screaming to do something anything at all. Time trickled by you in slow motion, for the first time you heard footsteps that weren't yours on your living room floor, the clicky noise of dog paws soon followed. Sounds from the kitchen startle you back into thought. That's where your knives are. He could take the damn fridge for all you cared right now, but you were not getting stabbed by knives you had picked out and paid for without a fight.

The sound of water hitting something metal had you confused, that weirdo did not follow you home to fill his dogs water bowl, that would be insane, and yet a few seconds later the water is being gobbled up loudly.

Something fills with water again, you're still looking at the slow swinging leash on the hook.

The stove beeps, the glasstop clinks quietly, something was placed on it.

Nails on the floor tell you the dog is scampering towards you, probably dripping water all the way. Soft fur brushes your fingers accompanied by the wet nose and tongue licking your hand. "You broken, pet?", leaning against the wall as nonchalant as the question he asked. The nickname had you glancing at the dog for a second before it clicked - this fucking guy dragged you around on a leash and called you pet like it was a normal thing to do.

You turned to give him a piece of your mind, freezing again when you saw him in the light. He'd been scary outside, dressed entirely in dark clothes and towering over you like a bad omen. In the light he looked downright terrifying, the skull print balaclava blending with his eye black, equally dark eyes looking at you with a bored expression, you had to guess. Good thing you hadn't tried anything, he looked perfectly able and willing to really hurt you. Not like how your bruised body ached from being dragged, real agony that would rip through you and fray every nerve you had. You were once again starring at each other, him waiting for a reply and you desperately trying to keep it together, whether you'd laugh or cry or attack him you didn't dare guess but something was boiling over.

The kettle whistles - you burst into a fit of nervous giggles.

[maggotmoment]

transfem vyncent save me. save me transfem vyncent save me

[ronanlynchusurper]

declan lynch is the type of guy to despise workplace gossip and drama but enjoys going home to retell it all to jordan while she paints. he maybe even ends up eavesdropping and subtly pressing for answers in a disinterested way just to get conclusions on certain theories him and jordan come up with.

[logicheartsoul]

if you like it, maybe you should put a pin on it

Based on this post where Bucky finds Sam's board that's filled with pictures of Bucky with strings pushed into it when he was trying to find him back in 2014-2016 and Bucky puts post it notes grading him if he was correct or not. People in the tags commented about this spinning off to a proposal and this was born.

This is my first finished fic in years so, I may be rusty. I hope y'all enjoy!

One day, Sam looks over at the board again— amongst all the chaos and dangling string and pinned up pictures and paper…

He tilts his head, squinting, before blinking his eyes.

There, on the map, is a new picture, stuck through with a blue pushpin.

Familiar brick, that doormat given by his nephews, the dark wood door.

Home.

100%, scribbled in black sharpie, across the surface of a bright yellow post it.

But what catches his eye—

“Will you marry me?”

Sam turns his head, footsteps creaking the wood underneath Bucky’s feet. He’s wearing a suit, not uncommon these days, but something different than the typical navy and grey suits he’s pilfered from Sam’s closet along with his ties.

No, there’s a svelte silhouette to his form, as if it’s important the fit is right. He’s in a three piece wearing a pin attached to the lapel.

And in his left hand is a small, velvet box.

The words on the post it note ring in his head as Bucky steps closer toward him.

“You found me,” he says, close enough his heat emanates from his body, seeping deep into Sam's own.

His eyes, those nowadays soft eyes, hold a glimmer of trepidation, but also hope.

“I sure did,” Sam replies, smile smug. “I’m good at what I do.”

Bucky’s other hand is warm when he reaches out, his thumb resting over Sam’s knuckles in a solid grip. There’s a slight tremor that seems to ease and settle when he brushes his thumb over Sam’s skin.

“Wouldn’t want anyone else to try and find me.”

“Well, you said I was 100% right on the last time I found you. No one can top that.”

A smile blooms across Bucky’s face, his eyes glowing.

“You’re right.”

Sam laughs, the joy bubbling through him, light and airy and warm.

“Can I get that in writing? Or better yet, on video?”

With a flick of Bucky's vibranium thumb, the box gently opens.

“Only if you say yes.”

Sam shakes his head, the line of his grin softer but no less strong, his eyes peering down at the ring gleaming in the lights of their home.

“You drive a hard bargain there.”

Bucky releases his hold, the absence creeping in, until he pulls the ring out of the cushion. Sam’s hand is still hovering in the air when the cool metal slides along his finger.

”What, do you want me to beg?”

The box snaps closed; Bucky’s hand slips into his pocket before drawing it out, resting his left hand on Sam’s waist. His other is holding Sam’s, thumb resting on top of the ring.

Their bodies draw closer, not quite a dance, but movements of a beat they’ve done so often, it’s like breathing.

Sam’s lips brush against Bucky’s, not quite a kiss.

“That could be a start.”

Their foreheads are pressed together, touching, gaze so focused all they can see in the reflection of their eyes is each other. Their hands warming the other’s waist.

“Say yes and I’ll do anything,” Bucky declares.

He tries one more time.

“Marry me?”

He strains to hear in the silence but his enhanced senses register Sam’s whisper like a yell.

“Yes.”

The taste of triumph, of victory, of finding peace and home, is on their lips, and steals their breath before they part for air.

They don’t move far away, foreheads still leaning against each other. Sam’s smile is a bit devious now, a cheeky twinkle in his eye.

“Gonna hold you to that, husband,” he says, and Bucky just laughs.

“Whatever you want, sweetheart. Whatever you want.”

_

If you like my writing, feel free to check out my writing tag!

[xxplastic-cubexx]

was talking to my brother the other day after i rewatched dark phoenix and he was like 'why is everyone so mean to charles in this movie?? were they always this mean to him ?? is it cause he's bald now- he lost his pretty privilege??' and i fear i havent recovered

[mrmeepsmadmind]

i think cyberverse soundwave should be like rlly buff. like all over. as shockwave's little treat