f4ndomh0pper

[f4ndomh0pper]

I'll syp if u get me this istg

Great gift idea for your Gooner friend just dropped

[f4ndomh0pper]

Owen is so oml

THE STARLING GIRL 2023 | dir. Laurel Parmet

[f4ndomh0pper]

THANK UUU \>○</

Even the strongest people have desires.

Robert "bob" Reynolds x reader [one shot]

Cw: smut, mentions of y/n, catching him masturbating. / English isn't my first language, first time sharing my fanfics. Enjoy!

You weren’t supposed to be in the tower that night.

But insomnia had claws in your skin, and your thoughts were too loud. Screaming over each other, echoing in the high ceilings of your mind. So you wandered. The Tower always felt quieter after midnight. The kind of quiet that pressed against your lungs and made you forget you weren’t alone.

Or so you thought.

You were passing by one of the rooms, just glass and steel and silence. That's when something pulled your gaze to the shadowed room beyond.

And there he was.

Bob.

Standing with his back turned to you. Alone. Unaware.

You were close with Bob. Probably closer than with anyone else on the team. Of course, you loved the others. They were family. But Bob? He was something else entirely. You've seen him wander around the tower, always looking like a neglected hamster. You've seen him as void. As Sentry.

But you’d never seen him like this.

His blue hoodie was pulled up, seemingly tucked between his lips. The muscles in his back flexed and tensed as he gripped the edge of the table before him. His breathing was heavy. Too heavy.

Then his hand moved.

Slow. Controlled. Familiar.

And your breath caught.

He was… touching himself.

And not gently.

There was frustration in the movement. A raw edge. Like he was trying to chase something just out of reach—or maybe outrun something instead.

Your first instinct was to turn away. To give him privacy.

But your feet didn’t listen.

You weren’t sure why. Maybe it was curiosity. Maybe it was the way his name had been haunting the corners of your mind lately. Maybe it was the way he looked at you when he thought you weren't looking.

Or maybe it was the heat low in your stomach that burned hotter with every breath he took.

His other hand gripped the table hard, knuckles white. His jaw clenched. He let out a sound, not quite a groan, not quite a plea. And you realized it wasn’t just desire driving him. It was need. Desperation.

The most powerful man in the world, unraveling quietly in the dark.

And still, he hadn’t seen you.

You shifted, just slightly, your weight betraying you with the faintest creak on the floor. His head snapped up, eyes glowing faintly in the dimness. He turned.

He saw you.

For a heartbeat, neither of you moved.

He didn’t reach for a shirt. Didn’t try to hide himself. He just stared. Breathless. Caught.

You should’ve run.

But you stepped inside instead.

His voice was low, rough. Yet, shakey with that familiar quietness.

“Y-you weren’t supposed to see this.”

You swallowed.

You wanted to answer, but you couldn't. Your breath was stuck in your throat, suppressing the not so hidden desire.

His eyes searched your face, reading every twitch, every breath, every war between retreat and curiosity.

“You should go,” he said, but it sounded more like a warning than a dismissal. A frayed tether holding back something much darker.

You didn’t go.

You stepped closer.

“You didn’t stop.”

That made something flicker in his expression. Surprise. Shame. And then… something darker.

“No,” he admitted, voice gravel over fire. “I didn’t.”

You were close now. Close enough to see the way his pulse jumped at his throat. Close enough to feel the temperature shift in the air, like standing next to a furnace. There was restraint in his eyes. Barely.

You didn’t touch him.

But you leaned close enough that your breath ghosted over his skin.

“What are you afraid of, Bob?”

His jaw clenched again. His hand was still gripping the table, the other one speeding up.

“Of losing control.”

Your lips brushed his ear.

“What if I want you to?”

He let out a sound, something between a gasp and a growl.

And then he stepped back.

Not out of fear. But out of restraint. His whole body shaking from it.

“If you stay,” he said, low and dangerous, “you won’t be able to pretend later that you didn’t want this.”

The silence that followed was heavier than gravity. It pulled at you both. Unseen, unrelenting.

Your heart was pounding.

“I’m not pretending anything.”

And then, he was in front of you.

Not quite touching you. But almost.

His hands hovered near your hips, trembling. Not from weakness. From restraint. From fury. From desire wrapped too tightly in a cage of morality.

His breath mingled with yours.

“Then don’t run,” he said, voice like thunder on the edge of a storm. “Don’t lie. Don’t ask me to stop once I start.”

Your answer was a whisper.

“I could never."

Thank you sm *yk who u are* for convincing me to post it!!

[f4ndomh0pper]

Even the strongest people have desires.

Robert "bob" Reynolds x reader [one shot]

Cw: smut, mentions of y/n, catching him masturbating. / English isn't my first language, first time sharing my fanfics. Enjoy!

You weren’t supposed to be in the tower that night.

But insomnia had claws in your skin, and your thoughts were too loud. Screaming over each other, echoing in the high ceilings of your mind. So you wandered. The Tower always felt quieter after midnight. The kind of quiet that pressed against your lungs and made you forget you weren’t alone.

Or so you thought.

You were passing by one of the rooms, just glass and steel and silence. That's when something pulled your gaze to the shadowed room beyond.

And there he was.

Bob.

Standing with his back turned to you. Alone. Unaware.

You were close with Bob. Probably closer than with anyone else on the team. Of course, you loved the others. They were family. But Bob? He was something else entirely. You've seen him wander around the tower, always looking like a neglected hamster. You've seen him as void. As Sentry.

But you’d never seen him like this.

His blue hoodie was pulled up, seemingly tucked between his lips. The muscles in his back flexed and tensed as he gripped the edge of the table before him. His breathing was heavy. Too heavy.

Then his hand moved.

Slow. Controlled. Familiar.

And your breath caught.

He was… touching himself.

And not gently.

There was frustration in the movement. A raw edge. Like he was trying to chase something just out of reach—or maybe outrun something instead.

Your first instinct was to turn away. To give him privacy.

But your feet didn’t listen.

You weren’t sure why. Maybe it was curiosity. Maybe it was the way his name had been haunting the corners of your mind lately. Maybe it was the way he looked at you when he thought you weren't looking.

Or maybe it was the heat low in your stomach that burned hotter with every breath he took.

His other hand gripped the table hard, knuckles white. His jaw clenched. He let out a sound, not quite a groan, not quite a plea. And you realized it wasn’t just desire driving him. It was need. Desperation.

The most powerful man in the world, unraveling quietly in the dark.

And still, he hadn’t seen you.

You shifted, just slightly, your weight betraying you with the faintest creak on the floor. His head snapped up, eyes glowing faintly in the dimness. He turned.

He saw you.

For a heartbeat, neither of you moved.

He didn’t reach for a shirt. Didn’t try to hide himself. He just stared. Breathless. Caught.

You should’ve run.

But you stepped inside instead.

His voice was low, rough. Yet, shakey with that familiar quietness.

“Y-you weren’t supposed to see this.”

You swallowed.

You wanted to answer, but you couldn't. Your breath was stuck in your throat, suppressing the not so hidden desire.

His eyes searched your face, reading every twitch, every breath, every war between retreat and curiosity.

“You should go,” he said, but it sounded more like a warning than a dismissal. A frayed tether holding back something much darker.

You didn’t go.

You stepped closer.

“You didn’t stop.”

That made something flicker in his expression. Surprise. Shame. And then… something darker.

“No,” he admitted, voice gravel over fire. “I didn’t.”

You were close now. Close enough to see the way his pulse jumped at his throat. Close enough to feel the temperature shift in the air, like standing next to a furnace. There was restraint in his eyes. Barely.

You didn’t touch him.

But you leaned close enough that your breath ghosted over his skin.

“What are you afraid of, Bob?”

His jaw clenched again. His hand was still gripping the table, the other one speeding up.

“Of losing control.”

Your lips brushed his ear.

“What if I want you to?”

He let out a sound, something between a gasp and a growl.

And then he stepped back.

Not out of fear. But out of restraint. His whole body shaking from it.

“If you stay,” he said, low and dangerous, “you won’t be able to pretend later that you didn’t want this.”

The silence that followed was heavier than gravity. It pulled at you both. Unseen, unrelenting.

Your heart was pounding.

“I’m not pretending anything.”

And then, he was in front of you.

Not quite touching you. But almost.

His hands hovered near your hips, trembling. Not from weakness. From restraint. From fury. From desire wrapped too tightly in a cage of morality.

His breath mingled with yours.

“Then don’t run,” he said, voice like thunder on the edge of a storm. “Don’t lie. Don’t ask me to stop once I start.”

Your answer was a whisper.

“I could never."

Thank you sm *yk who u are* for convincing me to post it!!

[f4ndomh0pper]

Peter…😒

[f4ndomh0pper]

[f4ndomh0pper]

I love them sm sigh

Another day, another rant (and in too much physical pain to do something else).

Each ghostbuster is essential to the team.

They all each represent something that, if taken out, would lead the group to perish (I’m thinking the Gozer and the Vigo battles).

First. Ray is the heart.

Across every films, he is the one that keeps the team alive (he buys the firehouse, continues the job on the second film…). He is the one who keeps holding on to wonder and compassion no matter how strange or dark things get. Yes, he is the one who chooses the “face of the Destructor” at the end of the first film, and look who it is : the stay puft marshmallow. He is gentleness, he is kindness. Even when faced with annihilation, he reaches for innocence, for something soft and sweet.

While others might see a haunting as a threat or a nuisance, Ray sees it completely differently, for him it’s a bridge : a last chance for peace, for forgiveness, for letting go. He literally opens a shop where he can help people to find closure. He is the one bringing back the team together, again and again.

Second. Winston is the soul.

Winston arrives a few weeks after the others have founded the Ghostbusters. But, my gosh, it’s when he gets there that they become the Ghostbusters.

He doesn’t need to see to believe, but he also doesn’t let belief cloud his sense of right and wrong. He asks the big questions : about God and the apocalypse with Ray, about life after death, about the cost of saving the world. He doesn’t need any scientific degree, he has the trust and belief in his team. And that’s more than enough for him.

At the beginning of the first film he says he would believe in anything as long as “there’s a steady paycheck in it.”. But in the end, he still stays. In the second film he still is with Ray at the birthday party and after that, Winston is the one who keeps the legacy alive.

Third. Peter is the arms.

He’s the handshake, the door-kick, the arm thrown around a friend’s shoulders. He’s the first to face down a ghost with nothing but a wild grin and a witty remark. And it would be easy to think of him only as Peter Venkman the chatter, the comical one.

But he is so much more. His arms keeping reaching outward throughout the first two films : and it’s to push, to pull, to provoke, but most of all : to protect.

Peter is the arms that catch his friends when they fall : the one who lifts them back up, even if he pretends he doesn’t care. He may roll his eyes at sentiment, but he’s the one who acts, who steps in, who gets his hands dirty when it counts.

Fourth. And we might think last but no. Egon. The brain.

Yes, everyone knows, Egon is the brain of the Ghostbusters, it’s not a big surprise. He is the “mad scientist”, the creator of the devices. We all are aware of it. But it’s more about how he uses his brain as his secret silent language to care and love.

Every plan he makes, every tool he builds, is for the sake of those he loves. He keeps the dangers at bay not just because he’s able, but because he can’t bear the thought of losing the people who matter most (let’s not enter the whole Afterlife discussion because I don’t even want to imagine how it felt like to care so much for everyone inside this massive haunted house).

Lastly, because she is the Ghostbusters too and without her there would be nothing : Janine. She is the ears.

The one who listens, truly listens, in a world too loud with chaos.

She’s the first point of contact for every desperate client, the doorstep between the public and the boys. Janine hears it all and stays. She could quit, she keeps repeating it in the first film : but she doesn’t. Because she adores them.

She is more than a secretary: she is a member of the team and a confidant. Her listening is active, fierce, protective of them. She is the ear that links everyone together.

Because, in the end, to answer the question : who you gonna call ? Not just the ghostbusters. But Janine Melnitz too.

[f4ndomh0pper]

Russell Ziskey funko pop....

[f4ndomh0pper]

This video is giving me oxygen

[f4ndomh0pper]

[f4ndomh0pper]

Need to be cuddled into his chest and just listen to him (bby come back alive)

I love his soft chuckles and everything else about him. Also his voice is so perfect.

[f4ndomh0pper]

They did it

posts a gay little Stripes (1981) yaoi

tovi and i were watching it a few days ago n it was my first time seeing it and he made a joke about them being gay and ofc naturally i said “stripes yaoi” and he had such a viscerally negative reaction that i felt obligated to draw it

timelapse under the cut if u care i mostly did this on a couch in my college hallway waiting for a test to start sgshfhnfef

[f4ndomh0pper]

Gang I'm gonne eat them

here have more !! ignore that i clearly have a favorite angle to draw 🥲 in return i give u TIGER JANINE!!!!

i fixed up egon’s design a bit so it’s not as much of an eyesore anymore w/ all that yellow. also learned that red pandas don’t have paws pads, just little fur patches lol

[f4ndomh0pper]

[f4ndomh0pper]

Ghostbusters headcanons because I've been absent lol

Fears/Phobias

Peter - Technically canon but most bugs. Especially roaches, earwigs, spiders (yes I know they're arachnids leave me alone), and probably centipedes - Heights (yes, i know it's canon in the rgb comics) - He never speaks about it but severe discomfort and phobic behaviors related to lockiophobia

Egon - Used to be afraid of the dark until leaving for college (because, yknow, the boogeyman) - Doesn't particularly enjoy being around clowns (like, yknow, the boogeyman) - He doesn't do typical closets and prefers to have dressers in closets where he has the doors removed

Ray - Not really any major fears, but absolutely cannot be around someone who is puking

Winston - Rodents as a whole (sort of canon with the mention of rats in the second movie) He genuinely cannot stand being near them or hearing them

Janine - Hates spiders - Hates mice specifically - Cannot stand going to get any sort of dental work done

[f4ndomh0pper]

Reminder that bro basically forgot Janine in the 2nd movie and spent a lot of time with Ray

Hey

[f4ndomh0pper]

The ghost clips were so not necessary

Thinking about my smiley boy 💝

His hairr!!!

I love harold and egon hes so cute